“I’m sorry, Eira,” Bryn Holt said. “The final list is locked in. There’s no mistake.” I stood in front of the bulletin board and stared at the roster for almost five minutes. My name was gone. In the slot for the full-scholarship tryout at the Northern Shifter Academy, where it should have read Eira Vane, it now read Senna Ashford. At first I assumed it was a clerical error. A mixed-up data entry, a delayed email, some idiot confusing the shortlist with the final roster. Then it hit me. This wasn’t a mistake. This was Kael Blackthorn’s doing. Black Dragon heir. My boyfriend. I found him in the parking lot, leaning against that black sports car of his. He gave me a lazy glance. “Senna was cast out by her clan. She lost everything,” he said first, as if I’d shown up for a verdict. “This is her only shot.” “You’re strong. You can make Regionals on your own.” “That’s a full ride to the Northern Academy, Kael.” My voice came out steadier than I felt. “Coaching, housing, Federation certification—everything. You know what that means to me.” “You’ll figure something out.” I looked at him and said nothing. Then he sighed, pulled a black card out of his wallet, and held it out between two fingers—the way you’d tip a valet. “Fine. I’ll cover all of it. Coaches, training hours, gear, everything. Consider it me buying the slot off you. We’re square, right?” It started to rain. I looked at the card, then back at his face. He was the one who’d told me that if I trained hard enough, I’d claw my way out of that wretched house, out of this town that reeked of cheap liquor, poverty, and the bone-deep despair of shifters who’d given up on themselves. No one would ever spit the word halfblood at me again. So I’d trained. Spent every free hour in Bryn’s equipment room—patching gear, mopping floors, doing the jobs no one else wanted. And now he was sticking a price tag on all of it. I turned and walked away. His voice followed me across the parking lot, flat and cold. “Are you serious? You bust your hands open in that shop. You’ve spent your whole life chasing pennies.” “I’m offering you more than you’ll see in ten years. Don’t let your pride be the thing that gets you killed, Eira.” I stopped and turned to look at him. Everything I’d thought was unbreakable rotted through in a single second. I laughed. “Believe whatever you want, Kael.” I’d barely made it back to the training grounds when Tessa came storming in. She was a gray wolf like me, bottom of the pack. But she was purebred. We worked the same shifts in the equipment room. “Eira. Tell me I read that list wrong. Tell me that fox isn’t standing in your spot.” “You read it right.” “It was Kael. It had to be. Did you go to him?” “Just got back.” Last week’s training scabs were still on my hands. “He offered to pay my way to the Northern Academy in full. Buy my place out from under me.” She was quiet for a long beat, then muttered a curse under her breath. “That smug Black Dragon bastard. Please tell me you threw the card in his face.” “I walked away.” “Eira, you have to fight for this. That spot is yours. Everyone knows what you went through to earn it. The scars on you, your father—” “It doesn’t matter.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” “His clan funds the sponsorship program, Tessa. They picked me once. They can pick someone else.” She fell silent. “Oh—I just saw Senna’s feed.” Tessa lowered her voice. “Kael booked out an entire restaurant for her. A celebration dinner. Eira.” “Okay.” “Okay? That’s it?” “I need to get back to work. Go home.” I didn’t wait for her to say anything else. I turned and walked into the back of the shop.

The next morning I went down to the training center to file my paperwork for Regionals. That’s when I saw them. Senna on Kael’s arm. She spotted me first. Then she ducked behind his shoulder. “Kael, I’m scared.” Kael stepped forward. “Eira, don’t make a scene.” I tried to go around him. He grabbed my wrist. “What is your problem? Senna hasn’t done anything to you. None of this was her call. Do you really have to take it out on her?” I yanked free. “Let go of me.” People in the hallway started staring. Right on cue, Senna’s tears showed up. She slipped out from behind Kael and took a step toward me. “Eira, I’m so sorry. I never wanted any of this. If you want to hit someone, hit me. I deserve it.” She lifted her chin and leaned closer. Kael’s arm came around her from behind, sliding to her waist, pulling her back against his chest. “Look at her.” His face hardened. “Look at what you’re doing to her. I didn’t think you could be this cruel, Eira.” The whispers started. “That’s her, right? Works in the equipment room over at Bryn’s.” “The one who lost the Northern spot? The halfblood?” “Can she even shift? I’ve never seen a hint of wolf on her.” “At least Senna’s a real shifter. I’d have picked her too.” I didn’t look at any of them. My eyes stayed on Kael. “I said let go.” He didn’t move. He shoved me. I staggered back into the row of metal lockers behind me. My shoulder blades hit the door and the whole row rattled. I stayed there for a second, my back against the cold steel, looking up at him. He looked back at me. His face was blank. Not a flicker. Nothing. We grew up together. He was ten when his family sent him here. His first week in town, he got into a fight with three older boys in the alley behind the training grounds. They split his lip and kicked him until he was spitting blood. I came around the corner with a freshly sharpened claw blade in my hand. They ran. After that he followed me everywhere. Whenever someone in town called me a halfblood waste, Kael was the one grinding their face into the dirt for it. “Eira. I’m here. Always.” “We’re getting out of this town. Just the two of us. The North, the Federation, all of it. You and me.” Now he was standing in front of me with another girl in his arms, and he’d just slammed me into a wall. Senna cried harder. “Kael, please, let’s just go. It’s my fault, it’s all my fault.” He turned his head and kissed her hair. “It’s not your fault. Not even a little.” He gave me one last look—a warning—and walked past me with her. I stayed against the lockers until I could breathe properly again. The office was at the far end of the corridor. On the way I passed the Rising Stars display wall. Senna’s photo hung dead center—bigger than every other one. Beneath it, in neat black lettering: This extraordinary shifter has overcome exile and persecution. A story of resilience. I laughed. It tasted bitter. I remembered one night, coming back to the equipment room after evening training. My father, Garrett, was waiting in the parking lot. “Where’s the money?” I didn’t answer. I tried to walk past him. He grabbed a fistful of my hair and slammed my face into the exterior wall. “I’m talking to you. Are you deaf?” “There isn’t any.” “Bullshit.” He pinned me against the brick. “That Black Dragon kid throws cash around like water and you’re glued to his side every day. You expecting me to believe you can’t squeeze a few hundred out of him for your old man?” He backhanded me. He started patting me down, ripping at my pockets. I shoved him off. That was a mistake. It set him off. He drove his boot into my stomach and put me down. “You ungrateful little bitch. Just like your mother. Both of you, useless.” Garrett was a purebred gray wolf. He could break bones in a body like mine—a body with no beast form to soak the hit. That was when Kael’s car pulled into the lot, just as I thought it was all over. He put Garrett on the ground in two moves and hauled me up. His hands ran over my face, my arms, my ribs, checking. His voice was shaking. “Where did he hit you, Eira? Tell me.” I couldn’t speak. He pulled off his jacket, draped it over my shoulders, and held me. “It’s okay. I’m here. I’m right here.” He didn’t go home that night. He sat on the beat-up couch in the back of the shop until daylight. The next day he walked into the local enforcement office and didn’t leave until they’d put suppression cuffs on Garrett and locked him in a holding cell. When he came back, he sat down next to me and said: From now on, I take care of you. You don’t have to worry about anything. Ever. I believed him.

A week before Regionals, the training grounds ran a full dress-rehearsal mock trial. Full judging panel, full scoring system, everything identical to the real thing. The mock covered three events: beast-form sprint, alpha pressure resistance, and survival tracking. I took first place in human form. My total beat second place by nearly twelve points. Senna was the last one to arrive. She extended one clawed finger, ripped the results sheet off the board, crumpled it, and tossed it in the trash. “Whatever. The Northern spot is mine. I don’t need to bother with these trials.” Kael was waiting at the railing with two coffees. He handed her one. She smiled at him like nothing had happened. Like she hadn’t just thrown a tantrum in front of everyone. “You look beautiful.” She rose on her toes and kissed his cheek. I walked past them toward the locker room. “Eira.” I didn’t stop. “Eira. Hey.” He stepped in front of me, blocking my path. “Still pissed about the slot?” I didn’t answer. “I get it. But let it go. Look at where she is. She needs this more than you do. You could win Regionals blindfolded.” “Why hang onto it? You should learn how to lose gracefully.” He stepped closer and lowered his voice. “The offer still stands. Whatever you need—coaches, off-season camps—it’s yours.” He thought money fixed everything. He thought money could buy back what he’d already broken. He was wrong. “I don’t want it.” “There it is again.” His jaw tightened. “How long are you going to keep this up? Do you have any idea what you earn in a month? What I’m offering is more than you’ll make in a lifetime at that place.” Senna hooked her arm through his. “Kael, don’t. She just hasn’t accepted it yet.” She gave me a sad little smile. “Eira. I know you hate me right now. But I really, truly have nowhere else to go. I don’t want the two of you fighting because of me, but I’ve already lost everything.” Her eyes welled up on cue. For a whole year I’d watched her run this routine. In every conversation, she was the victim. In every room, I was the one making her cry. “Kael said he’d take care of you,” she went on, her voice soft and magnanimous. “If there’s anything you need, you just let us know, okay?” Us. As if she’d already walked into his life. I couldn’t help it. The corner of my mouth pulled. Kael frowned. “What’s so funny?” “Nothing,” I said. “Just admiring the two of you. You make a great pair. Hope it lasts.” His expression changed. “Eira—” I walked past him and into the locker room. “Eira, get back here.” I tuned every word out. That night Tessa sent me a screenshot—caught before it disappeared from Senna’s feed. Senna and Kael at a bar. Kael holding up a bottle of champagne, Senna draped sideways across his lap. Their friends behind them lifting glasses, shouting: Congrats, Senna! Tessa: Don’t look at her. She’s not worth ruining your night over. I tossed the phone aside. Then I pulled my training log off the nightstand, turned to the next blank page, and started mapping out my route for Regionals. As long as I was training, I didn’t have to think about anything else.

A week out from Regionals, the training grounds scaled the program down to taper sessions. Most people used the time to rest. I picked up extra shifts in Bryn’s equipment room. Wednesday afternoon, Kael’s car pulled up outside. He got out and leaned against the driver’s side. The music was deafening, pulsing through the window hard enough to rattle the glass, sunglasses pushed up into his hair. “Eira, come here.” I kept fiddling with the guard set in my hands and didn’t look up. “I’m talking to you.” He walked over, frowning, and reached for my arm, then saw the grease and metal shavings on my hands and pulled his fingers back without touching me. “Go clean up. We’re heading to the cabin in the mountains. Senna wants to get off the ground for a few days. You’re coming too.” “I’m not going.” “Don’t be like this. I drove all the way out here. Senna wants to make peace with you. Stop being difficult.” “There’s nothing between her and me to fix.” “Eira.” “I need to train.” He laughed, short and ugly. “Training. Right. Like you have to. You could show up half-dead to Regionals and still take first.” “Come on. Don’t spend the weekend in this dump. Senna’s genuinely trying.” “I’m not going.” His patience finally snapped. “Suit yourself.” He pulled out his wallet, peeled off a stack of hundreds, and threw them at my feet. The bills scattered across the concrete like a command. “There. That’s your salary for the month. I already paid your boss. Take the money, keep your precious pride intact, and stay away from me.” I didn’t move. “Not enough?” He pulled out another stack and dropped it on top of the first. “How about now?” Bryn Holt. Bear shifter. He stepped out of the back office, looked at the money on the floor, and walked past it. “Mr. Blackthorn. What’s going on here? We don’t need any of this.” Kael didn’t even look at him. His eyes were locked on me. “Pick it up.” I still didn’t move. Senna got out of the car wide-eyed and ran over in a pair of blindingly white leather boots. “Kael, please don’t. You’re scaring her.” She crouched down and started picking the bills up one by one. “Eira, don’t be angry with him. He’s just protecting me. He didn’t mean it.” Her eyes filled as she held the stack out to me with both hands. “Please. Come with us. I don’t want to be the reason you two aren’t speaking.” I looked at her, then at Kael. Not a flicker of remorse. He thought he was being generous, so I was supposed to be grateful. I walked past both of them, went into the back of the shop, and shut the door. Through the wall I heard him say: “See? That’s what you get. You try to help her, and this is how she treats you.” The engine started. The music faded down the street. A minute later, Bryn came in. He set the stack of bills on the workbench in front of me. “Take it, kid.” “No.” “Eira.” He pushed it closer. “Your father, your situation. You need this.” I stared at the cash. It smelled like Kael. A scent that didn’t belong in this town. I went to the sink in the corner, turned the water as hot as it would go, and started washing my hands. Over and over. Until my skin was red and raw. That night, Garrett came back. Drunker than usual. He spotted the money through the front window. He took the cash, then started smashing everything else. He grabbed a chair and put it through the front window. I called the enforcement office. When the officers arrived he was still in a rage. It took two of them to bring him down and lock the suppression cuffs onto his wrists. As they dragged him out, he spat blood and saliva in my face, eyes red. “You called the law on your own father. I hope you know what kind of person you are. I hope you rot, you little bitch.” I watched them take him away. So this was what it felt like. No one standing behind me.

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On his deathbed, in front of everyone present, Don Vittorio left his final will: Whichever of his sons reached his bedside first would inherit the ring bearing the family crest, and would become the next Don of the Corleone family. His second son, Damian, was all the way out in Sicily. My husband, Luca, was only ten minutes from the hospital. It should have been a foregone conclusion. But I called him until my phone nearly burned out, and Luca simply switched his off. All because his first love, Sofia, was in a bad mood that night and wanted him to watch a fireworks show set off solely for her. In my last life, I’d gone half-mad. I rounded up the family bodyguards, charged onto the pier, and dragged him off that yacht and back to the hospital by force. He made it in time, took the ring, and was crowned the new Don. But Sofia, left alone in the river wind for half an hour, caught a nasty cold and ran a high fever. She wept and cursed him for not caring about her, said she was through with him for good. Luca’s face never showed a thing. But in his third month of total power, he tied heavy stones to my body with his own hands and threw me into the Atlantic. “If it weren’t for you — you greedy bitch with nothing in your head but family interests — Sofia wouldn’t have gotten sick. The Don’s seat was always going to be mine. Who asked you to meddle?” After my rebirth, I came back to this exact moment — to Enzo, the consigliere, urgently pressing me to make the call. I glanced down at Instagram. Luca had just posted an update. A silhouette photo from the deck of a yacht, captioned: *Even if the sky falls, I’ll watch these fireworks with my princess to the end.* Expressionless, I tapped the like button. Then, calmly, I opened the DM window with my brother-in-law, Damian: *Damian. Want to make a deal?* … “Mrs. Corleone, what are you waiting for? Call Master Luca, now!” Beside me, the consigliere, Old Enzo, was so frantic he was nearly hopping in place, his graying beard trembling. “The Don has left his will. Whoever walks into this room first, before he passes, and takes the ring from his hand — that man becomes the new head of the Corleone family.” “Ten minutes by car. If Master Luca leaves right this second, the family is his!” I forced down the hatred boiling up in me, the kind that threatened to swallow me whole. In front of the consigliere, the priest, the doctor, and the representatives of the Five Families, I dialed Luca’s number. The phone rang for a long, long time. Long enough that Enzo’s forehead beaded with cold sweat, and the priest began murmuring prayers under his breath. Then, finally, it picked up. The deafening crackle of fireworks burst out of the receiver, along with Luca’s deeply irritated voice: “Vera, are you fucking done? How many times do I have to tell you — Sofia’s in a bad mood tonight, and I’m watching the fireworks with her!” I crushed down the urge to laugh in his face, my voice as flat as if I were reading off a balance sheet: “Your father’s been in a serious car accident. He’s in the hospital, in critical condition. He said—” Before I could even mention the will, a tearful, choking cough cut me off from the other end. “Luca… are you going to leave me again…?” Sofia must have taken the phone. Her voice was soft, laced with just the right amount of hurt. “Vera, my heart’s really not in a good place tonight. That’s the only reason I begged Luca to come keep me company.” “You really don’t need to make up lies like this to force him back. Do I have to get down on my knees and beg you before you’ll let him stay with me a little longer?” Luca’s voice instantly shifted, soft enough to drip honey: “Sofia, don’t be scared. I’m not going anywhere. Nowhere.” Then he turned back to the receiver, and his tone went as cold as Arctic ice: “You hear that? Sofia’s already fragile, and now she’s upset, and you’re still calling to push her over the edge. Are you trying to drive her to her death? Is that what you want?” Beside me, Enzo’s temple veins were bulging. He snatched the phone right out of my hand: “Master Luca, this is Enzo! Mrs. Corleone is not lying — the old Don really has been in an accident. He’s at Mount Sinai right now.” “Please, you must be here within thirty minutes. The Don has left his final will—” “Well, well, if it isn’t Mr. Enzo himself?” A lazy, mocking male voice cut in from the other end. Luca’s personal assistant — and Sofia’s younger brother — Marco. Marco’s tone was insufferable. “Vera, you really went all out tonight, huh? You even got the consigliere to play the part? Pity. You miscalculated one little thing.” “Luca, listen — I’ve got a friend working the ER at Mount Sinai tonight. The whole place is dead quiet. There’s no Don, no accident, none of it exists!” “Vera’s just jealous. She paid people to put on this little show to trick you home!” That was all it took. Luca exploded with fury. “Vera Marino! You’d stoop low enough to use my father’s life in your sick little games? You make me sick.” The line cut off without mercy. Enzo stood frozen, the dead phone clutched in his hand, his lips trembling. “How… how could Master Luca be this much of a fool?!”

The words had barely left Enzo’s mouth when the hospital room door slammed open. “Vera Marino, you jinx!” Rossana — Luca’s mother, the so-called *future* matriarch of the Corleone estate. She came rushing in, eyes bloodshot, hand already raised to strike me across the face. This time, I was ready. I gave a cold smile and stepped back. Rossana put too much force behind the swing, hit nothing but air, and stumbled forward, sprawling across the chair behind her. Half her carefully arranged updo came loose, snagged on her pearl tassels. She didn’t even feel the pain. She jabbed a finger at my nose, screaming. “Where is Luca? I asked you, where is Luca!” “How did I ever pick a useless wife like you for him? If Luca doesn’t make it back, if the family falls to that little bastard, I’ll skin you alive!” Behind her came a pack of distant relatives who’d been mooching off the Corleone coffers for years. Every one of them had drunk her wine at the Long Island estate, worn the gold chains she’d doled out. Now they all swarmed around me, spitting as they shouted. “Useless! Can’t even get her own man to come home! If Master Luca doesn’t inherit the Don’s seat, we’ll have your hide!” “That’s the Marinos for you. They marry off nothing but garbage!” I watched their ugly faces with cold eyes. I knew exactly what they were afraid of. Rossana wasn’t the real matriarch. She had started out as one of Vittorio’s mistresses. When the actual Donna was pregnant, Rossana rushed to give birth to Luca first. Twenty years ago, when the Donna was about to deliver, Rossana deliberately showed up with infant Luca in her arms to provoke her. The shock sent the Donna into early labor — she hemorrhaged and died on the operating table at Mount Sinai. The motherless second son, Damian, became the enemy of Rossana and Luca from the moment he could understand words. At best, he was publicly humiliated at family dinners. At worst, he was locked in the wine cellar and beaten with belts. Eventually, under the pretext of “toughening him up,” they shipped Damian off to the Sicilian countryside, sealing him out of the Corleone family’s core power. As for Vittorio — he had let Rossana live in the Long Island estate, but he never thought her fit for the role. In all those years, he had never once acknowledged her status in front of anyone else. Which meant: the moment Vittorio died, if Luca failed to claim that ring, Rossana wouldn’t even hold the title of “Corleone widow.” By the family’s own rules, she’d be thrown out without ceremony. Now, eyes blood-red with panic, she lunged forward and grabbed my wrist. “Are you deaf? Call that little hanger-on next to Luca! Tell him to bring my son back this instant!” I looked at her coldly, said nothing, and obediently dialed Marco’s number. This time, it picked up fast. The background was still all laughter and cheers, the boom of fireworks bursting overhead, and Sofia’s deliberately amplified, soft, girlish giggles. “Vera, are you fucking serious right now?” Marco’s lazy, smarmy tone shoved its way through. “Can’t you give your man a little personal space? Stop clinging to Luca like some pitiful, nagging old housewife.” He warmed to his own performance, even taking on a lecturing tone. “You want my honest opinion? If you were my wife, I’d beat you ten times a day, just to knock some sense into you.” “A woman should stay home, iron the shirts, boil the pasta. Stop sticking her nose in a man’s real business!” His arrogance was so brazen that the whole room went still. Enzo’s graying eyebrows knotted into a furious tangle. The priest instinctively crossed himself. But I stayed perfectly calm. I slowed my voice deliberately, hammering down each word. “Marco. I don’t care whether you believe me.” “The Don is dying.” “He has left his will. Whichever son — Luca or Damian — reaches his bedside first to take the family ring, that son inherits the Corleone family.” On the other end, a strange silence fell. Only the faint sputtering of distant fireworks remained. Marco’s tone shifted, suddenly uncertain. “You… you serious?” Rossana caught his words like a lifeline. She rushed to the phone, weeping with relief. “It’s true! It’s true! Marco, get Luca back, I’m begging you, this is the whole Corleone family at stake!” “Oh… well, if it’s true, I’ll go report it to Luca right now.” Marco answered, smooth as silk. Rossana let out a long breath, patting her chest, muttering: “Thank God… as long as Luca comes back…” The next second, the phone erupted with the most unrestrained, mocking laughter. Marco was howling, gasping for breath, as if he’d just heard the most ridiculous joke in the world. “Oh my *God*, Vera, you really are good at pretending, aren’t you? I already called your bluff and you’re still putting on the whole show with your little troupe of actors?” He let out a smug snort. “Let me tell you something. Luca just made his position very clear.” “Even if God Himself came down from heaven tonight, He couldn’t interrupt the private world of him and my sister!” “Your sob-story act is so last season.” “Be smart. Get the hell out.” “Luca’s going to file for divorce. For the rest of your life, you can dream all you want, but you’ll never set foot in the Corleone house again. As for you and the rest of your Marino people — start packing. You’re heading back to Sicily to beg, you idiots!” The line went dead a second time, without ceremony. The wild joy on Rossana’s face froze, then turned a deathly white. My eyes reddened, and I made a show of looking devastated. Inside, I was as cold as river silt. I had been married into the Corleone family for three years. To keep Luca’s position in the family stable, I had pulled more all-nighters than I could count, balancing his books, smoothing things over with the heads of the Five Families, cleaning up the messes that nearly turned into bloodbaths. Those shipments at the Brooklyn docks, the ones the Feds were watching — I’m the one who arranged for them to be moved overnight. The witness in Queens, the one about to flip on Luca — my Marino people made him disappear. And in return, Luca had taken family money and funneled it to Sofia. A penthouse in Manhattan. A private island in the Mediterranean. A yacht docked at Port Monaco. He’d even said it to my face, with a clear conscience: “Vera, you’re already the *Mrs. Corleone*. Sofia has nothing. What’s wrong with me giving her a little compensation?” And Rossana, back then, had chimed in airily: “What man doesn’t stray? Women in families like ours — we turn a blind eye and let it go. So long as Luca still comes home to the Long Island house, who cares how many he keeps on the side?” Yes. Luca Corleone believed his *true love* came before everything. Family. Code. His dying father. None of it mattered next to his *true love*. Fine. Then he could lose all of it — half a century of Corleone empire built across New York. He could lose every bit.

A sudden chaos of heavy footsteps came pounding down the hallway. A handful of mid-tier capos — men who had all bet everything on Luca — burst into the hospital room. Carlo was at the front. He was one of Luca’s most important money men, and his eyes were red with panic. “Where is Master Luca? Why isn’t he here yet?!” Rossana whipped her finger toward me. “It’s her! It’s all this useless Vera’s fault! She couldn’t even get Luca to come back!” Carlo’s composure shattered. He snatched up a thick stack of family ledgers from the table and hurled them at me. “Vera Marino, what the *fuck* do you do all day?!” “Every one of us has staked our lives, our entire fortunes, on Master Luca.” “If he misses this ring tonight, every drop of blood we shed, every brother we buried, every enemy we made — it all goes down with him!” “You stupid, worthless woman!” I said nothing. I let the papers scatter at my feet. You bet on the wrong man, gentlemen. But that — I couldn’t say. Not yet. Before Carlo could finish his cursing, the cardiac monitor by the bedside let out a sharp, urgent alarm. Every heart in the room seized. The attending physician lifted his head from his stethoscope and let out a heavy sigh. “Gentlemen… Mr. Corleone has, at most, twenty minutes left. I suggest you act quickly.” Twenty minutes. Truthfully, if Luca would just glance at his phone, take one call — From the East River pier to Mount Sinai on the Upper East Side, ten minutes was more than enough. A flicker of hope rose in Rossana again. With shaking hands, she picked up the phone again, her voice ravaged to a hoarse whisper. “Luca… baby… this time, you *have* to pick up Mommy’s call…” Meanwhile, on the East River. The forty-million-dollar private yacht was gliding gently beneath the Manhattan skyline. Brilliant fireworks bloomed across the night sky, one after another, lighting up the entire city. On the open-air deck of the yacht’s top level — Sofia was nestled against Luca’s chest. Her slender fingers pointed at the phone that wouldn’t stop vibrating. “The ringtone is so loud, my head hurts… Luca, could you turn it off, or, better yet, throw it into the river for me?” She lowered her lashes, looking more pitiful by the second. “For these thirteen minutes and fourteen seconds of fireworks, your entire world needs to be just me. Can you do that for me?” Luca paused for a moment. The words from the call earlier flashed across his mind: *Your father’s been in a serious car accident.* But when he looked up and saw Sofia, her eyes slightly red from the river wind, those eyes brimming with dependence on him — every last doubt evaporated. Just Vera Marino, picking another fight out of jealousy. His father was as strong as a lion. There was no way he was actually dying. “Okay.” Luca bent and kissed her forehead, his voice tender enough to bleed honey. “As long as my princess is happy, even if the sky falls, I’ll be right here.” He raised his arm. Without a moment’s hesitation, he hurled the vibrating phone over the railing and into the black water of the East River. A faint *plop*. Swallowed completely by the roar of the fireworks.

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“Don’t touch me. You make me sick.” The moment he drove that knife into my chest for another woman, I knew our five years together had come to an end. Alexander Sterling—the man who had deceived me with a fake marriage certificate for three whole years—was now holding his first love after her suicide attempt, screaming at me. “Emily! Will you only be satisfied after you drive her to her death?” The wail of police sirens grew louder outside. I touched the bleeding cut along my neck and smiled. So, in his eyes, I wasn’t even worth believing over a liar. What a pity he had forgotten one thing. I was never the kind of woman who stayed behind, waiting for someone to turn back. Since you refuse to believe me, then I’ll make sure you never find me again. Emily’s POV The espresso machine let out a long, low hiss as the rich, dark aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the cozy space behind the counter. I kept my eyes down, carefully pouring the steamed milk into the cup. With a gentle flick of my wrist, a perfect tulip patterned in the foam. “Wow, Emily. Your hands are so steady,” Amy, our college-student part-timer, said with pure envy in her voice. I set the cup on the counter, grabbed a clean towel to wipe my hands, and said nothing. My hands were steady. Even half an hour ago, when the clerk at the County Clerk’s Office looked at me with pity and said those words, my hands hadn’t shaken once. “Ms. Carter, we’ve searched the county’s marriage database. There is no record of a marriage registration between you and Mr. Alexander Sterling.” “In fact, public records show that Mr. Sterling legally married a Ms. Sophia Delaney just twenty days ago.” Five years. I had been with Alexander for five whole years. Just three days ago, when he handed me that beautiful, fancy-printed marriage certificate, the warmth in his eyes was enough to drown me. He had whispered, “Emily, you’re finally Mrs. Sterling.” Then, he immediately took the certificate back, saying he’d keep it safe until they could get a certified copy made. If I hadn’t needed the original certified copy to apply for my visa for the barista exchange program in France, I might have gone my entire life without knowing the truth. The chime above the door cut through my thoughts. Alexander Sterling walked in, bathed in the warm afternoon sunlight. He was wearing a perfectly tailored dark gray suit. He was tall, handsome, and carried himself with the effortless confidence of old money. The moment he stepped inside, half the customers in the shop turned to look at him. I stared at his familiar face, trying to find a single crack, a single hint of guilt. Nothing. He was still the same, composed, rational, and radiating that subtle, upper-class aloofness. “How did the visa application go?” Alexander walked up to the counter, naturally reaching out to cup my cheek. I tilted my head slightly, dodging his hand. His hand froze in mid-air, and his brows furrowed slightly. “What’s wrong? Is the shop too busy? Are you tired?” “I couldn’t apply,” I said, looking straight into his eyes. My voice was completely flat. “The clerk at the County Clerk’s Office said our marriage certificate doesn’t exist in their system.” Alexander’s pupils contracted instantly. But in a split second, he let out a soft laugh and shoved his hands into his pockets. “It must be a database glitch. You know how slow and buggy government systems are. I’ll have my assistant look into it tomorrow. Let me take care of the paperwork from now on so you don’t lose anything.” He lied without even blinking. The very last spark of hope in my heart died quietly in the face of his casual cover-up. “Alexander,” I said his name softly. “Have you been really tired lately?” “It’s the end of the fiscal year. The firm has a lot of loose ends to tie up. So yeah, a little,” he replied casually, his eyes already drifting toward the window. Right then, a white Porsche pulled up right in front of the cafe. The door opened, and a woman in a soft white knit dress stepped out. She looked delicate, fragile, and utterly elegant. She walked straight in, came up to Alexander, and naturally wrapped her arm around his. “Alexander, is this the cafe your girlfriend owns?” She smiled at me, but her eyes held a cold, patronizing judgment. “Hi, I’m Sophia Delaney. Alexander talks about you all the time.” I looked at her hand resting on his arm. Sophia Delaney. The first love Alexander had chased for three years, only for her to run off to the UK and marry someone else the day after they officially started dating. Twenty days ago, Sophia returned to the country, and Alexander legally married her. Three days ago, Alexander handed me a fake marriage certificate. How pathetic. Amy stood there, completely dazed. She stammered, “Mr. Sterling? Who is…” Alexander quietly pulled his arm out of Sophia’s grasp. His voice was completely calm. “She’s just an old friend. She’s going through a tough time, and I’m helping her out.” Sophia didn’t seem mad at all. Instead, her smile grew sweeter. She leaned against the counter, staring at the nametag on my apron. “Emily, since I’m a close friend of Alexander’s, do I get a discount on my coffee today?”

Emily’s POV “A discount?” I repeated the word, letting out a cold laugh. “We don’t do that here. That’ll be eight dollars. Cash or card?” Sophia’s smile stiffened. She immediately turned to Alexander, her eyes filling with instant tears of victimization. “Alexander… did I say something wrong to upset Emily? I was just kidding…” Alexander’s frown deepened. He pulled out his wallet, grabbed a black card, and handed it to Amy. His voice carried a hint of sternness directed at me. “Emily, Sophia just got back to the country and is going through a lot. Don’t take it out on her.” The way he spoke her name was so gentle. I passed him the receipt without a single expression on my face. “Here. There are two orders ahead of yours. Please wait.” I turned my back to them and started pulling espresso shots, refusing to give them another second of my attention. I could practically feel Alexander staring at my back, his frown deepening. He was probably wondering why the sweet, compliant Emily wasn’t being sweet today. For the past five years, no matter how late he came home, I would leave a light on and warm up a cup of milk for him. But that was the past. Outside the counter, Sophia tugged at Alexander’s sleeve. “Alexander, does Emily misunderstand our relationship? Maybe I should just leave. I don’t want to come between you two.” “It’s not your fault,” Alexander said, patting her hand reassuringly. “She’s just tired today.” Once their coffee was ready, I had Amy serve it. I grabbed my phone and walked straight into the back breakroom. Closing the door behind me, I leaned against it and let out a long, shaky breath. I unlocked my phone, opened Snapchat, and sent a message. “Jenny, is that offer to partner up for your new shop in Seattle still open?” My phone buzzed almost instantly. “Of course it is! I’ve been begging you to come! But wait, didn’t you just get your marriage certificate? Is Alexander really going to let you go?” I stared at the screen, my fingers typing rapidly. “The wedding is off. I can leave anytime.” “Oh my god, yes! I’m flying back next week to wrap things up. I’ll come pick you up!” I locked my phone and took off my apron. Since Alexander had made his choice, there was no reason for me to stay here and be the joke of his story. When I went back out, Alexander and Sophia were already gone. At 10 PM, I finally dragged my exhausted body back to our shared apartment. The moment I pushed the door open, I heard the sound of rushing water from the bathroom. Alexander walked out after his shower, towel-drying his hair. His phone on the coffee table started buzzing. The screen lit up with an unsaved number. I was about to walk past to pour myself some water when Alexander rushed past me like a gust of wind. His shoulder slammed hard into mine. I lost my balance, and my leg scraped violently against the sharp glass corner of the coffee table. A sharp, agonizing pain shot up my leg. I gasped, tears immediately springing to my eyes. But Alexander didn’t even glance at me. He grabbed his phone and swiped to answer. His voice carried a frantic, gentle tone I had never heard before. “Sophia, don’t be scared. Lock your doors. I’m coming right now.” He hung up, grabbed his jacket from the couch, and headed straight for the door. As he walked past me, he threw a casual line over his shoulder. “Emergency at the office. Don’t wait up.” In the past, I would have stood up, fixed his collar, and warned him to drive safely. But tonight, I just sat on the floor, holding my bleeding leg, not even bothering to look up. The front door slammed shut, leaving the apartment in a deafening, dead silence. I dragged myself to get the first-aid kit and quietly patched up my wound. Once that was done, I walked into the master bedroom, pulled out a large suitcase, and started packing. The jewelry Alexander had bought me, the matching mugs we picked out together, the scrapbook I had stayed up nights making for our wedding… Anything I couldn’t carry, or anything that had to do with him, I threw straight into a large black trash bag. It took me three hours. The once cozy, warm bedroom was now half-empty. At 2 AM, the smart lock beeped. Alexander walked in, bringing the cold night air with him. He pushed the bedroom door open. When his eyes landed on the empty vanity and the bare shelves, he froze. “Emily, what are you doing in the middle of the night?” He stared at the black trash bags in the corner. It took him several seconds to find his voice. “Where did all your stuff go?”

Emily’s POV I folded the last sweater, packed it into the suitcase, and zipped it shut. Standing up, my voice was as calm as if I were talking about the weather. “Just clearing out some old junk to throw away tomorrow. It was taking up too much space.” Alexander stood at the doorway, watching me with a tight frown. “Stop messing around and go to sleep. The photographer is coming early tomorrow for our engagement shoot. Don’t be late.” He pulled off his tie and walked into the bathroom. I watched his back, finding the whole thing incredibly hilarious. He had legally married someone else, yet he still wanted to take engagement photos with me? How did he even have the nerve? The next morning, I carried the black trash bags out. Alexander actually reached out to take them. “These are heavy. What’s inside? Let me throw them out for you.” He reached to open the bag. I placed my cold hand over his, stopping him. “Just old, useless trash. It’s dirty.” He didn’t think twice about it and tossed them into the dumpster downstairs. Watching five years of memories go down the garbage chute actually made it easier to breathe. The photographer met us in a historic district downtown. The makeup artist was already waiting in a van to do my hair and makeup. I changed into a dress I brought myself and stood on the cobblestone street, waiting for the shoot to start. On the way over, Alexander had stopped by a boutique and bought a dress for me. It was cream-colored, with vintage lace and a soft, ruffled hem. “Wear this one,” he said, handing it to me with absolute certainty. “You’ll look beautiful in it.” I took it and stared at it for a second. The style of this dress was almost identical to the white knit dress Sophia had worn yesterday. They looked like they came from the same wardrobe. I didn’t even have the energy to argue. I went back into the van and changed. Before the camera could even click, Alexander’s phone rang. He glanced at the screen, his face changing instantly. He walked off to the side to take the call. A few minutes later, he walked back with a guilty expression. “Emily, there’s an absolute emergency at the firm. I have to go. We’ll do your solo shots today, and we can reschedule the couple shots later.” The photographer and makeup artist exchanged awkward glances. Who leaves their fiancée alone during an engagement shoot? But I just nodded. “Sure. Go do what you need to do.” Alexander seemed surprised by how easygoing I was. A flash of guilt crossed his eyes, and he reached out to pat my head. “I’m sorry. Once this busy season is over, I’ll take you to Hawaii for a proper honeymoon.” “No need,” I said, dodging his hand and turning toward the photographer. “Go. Don’t let me hold you up.” After Alexander left, I finished the entire shoot by myself. Standing alone on the cobblestone street, looking down to fix my hair, holding the bouquet. The photographer kept praising me, saying, “So natural!” and “Perfect!” I smiled on cue, but I knew deep down that this “natural” look was just pure acting. When it was over, I changed into my normal clothes, wiped off the makeup, and took an Uber back to the apartment. As I reached the door, the smell of food greeted me. I pushed the door open, and the scene inside made me freeze. Sophia was wearing one of Alexander’s white dress shirts, the sleeves rolled up several times. Her hair was up in a messy bun, and she was carrying a pan out of the kitchen. Seeing me, Sophia didn’t look flustered at all. Instead, she flashed a warm, hostess-like smile. “Oh, Emily’s back! Alexander said you’d be starving after shooting all day, so he asked me to whip up some dinner.” Alexander walked in from the balcony. When he saw me, a brief flash of awkwardness crossed his face. “Sophia’s apartment had a major pipe burst, and her landlord is fixing it. She has nowhere else to go, so I told her she could stay in the guest room for a few days.” “Is that so?” I kicked off my shoes, not even glancing at the food on the table. “Enjoy your dinner. I’m going to bed.” I walked straight toward the guest room at the end of the hall to grab the charger I had left there last night. “Don’t go in there!” Alexander suddenly yelled, his voice laced with panic. But it was too late. I pushed the door open. Hanging on the wall right in front of me was a massive, professionally shot wedding portrait in a dark wooden frame. In the photo, Alexander was wearing a sharp black suit, and Sophia was in a stunning white bridal gown. They were sitting side by side, Sophia’s head resting gently on his shoulder, smiling like a dream. In the bottom right corner was the date of the shoot: exactly twenty days ago. I stared at the photo, my nails digging deep into my palms to suppress the rising urge to throw up.

Emily’s POV “Emily, let me explain.” Alexander rushed over and grabbed my wrist. “The photo isn’t what you think. Sophia’s family was forcing her to marry some creepy older guy who wouldn’t stop stalking her. We only took these photos to make her family back off and help her escape.” Playing along was an excuse. Taking wedding photos was an excuse. And bringing her into the apartment we were supposed to share as husband and wife was also just an excuse. I violently shook his hand off, my eyes cold as ice. “Alexander, don’t touch me. You make me sick.” In five years, this was the first time I had ever spoken to him with such venom. Alexander looked as if he had been stabbed. He froze completely. He opened his mouth to say something, but Sophia suddenly ran out of the living room. Her eyes were red, and tears were streaming down her face. “Emily, please don’t blame Alexander. It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have been so shameless to crash here. I’ll leave right now…” She turned and ran toward the door. “Sophia!” Alexander grabbed her arm. “It’s the middle of the night, where are you going? That guy is still looking for you!” “Then let him find me!” Sophia sobbed hysterically, struggling to pull away. “I’m just a burden anyway! I’d rather die than ruin your relationship!” As she struggled, her hand knocked a ceramic vase off the side table. With a loud crash, the vase shattered into pieces on the floor. Sophia suddenly knelt down, picked up a sharp shard of ceramic, and without hesitation, brought it toward her wrist. “Sophia! Are you crazy?!” Alexander’s face turned pale. He lunged forward and knocked the shard out of her hand. But a thin line of blood was already forming on Sophia’s pale wrist. Alexander pressed down on her wound, turning to scream at me. “Emily! Are you happy now? Do you really have to drive her to suicide to be satisfied?!” I stood there quietly, watching Alexander’s bloodshot eyes and the veins popping on his neck. It felt incredibly absurd. “I drove her to this?” I let out a dry laugh. “Aren’t you?!” Alexander snapped. “She’s been pushed to the edge, and you don’t have an ounce of sympathy? You’re a woman too, how can you be so cold-blooded?!” He paused, his next words cutting deeper than any knife. “No wonder people say you were born heartless. When your mother died in that car crash, you didn’t even shed a single tear. I thought you just struggled to express your emotions, but now I see you simply don’t have a heart!” Those words ripped open the deepest scar in my soul. I was only fifteen when my mother died. I was in the passenger seat during the crash. The violent impact had caused temporary hearing loss and left me in extreme shock. I physically couldn’t cry. That was the most painful memory of my life. I had once bared that wound to Alexander, and he had held me all night, comforting me. And now, he was using that very scar as a weapon to tear me apart in front of another woman. I closed my eyes, forcing the tears back down. “Yes, I have no heart,” I said, opening my eyes to look at him with dead silence. “So both of you can go die wherever you want. Just don’t get your blood on my floor.” Alexander stared at my indifferent face, his mouth opening as if to explain. But Sophia let out a painful gasp in his arms, instantly pulling his attention back. “I’m taking her to the ER,” Alexander gritted his teeth, lifting Sophia in his arms, and rushed out the door. The front door slammed shut again. I walked over to the broken ceramic shards and knelt down. The flowers I bought yesterday were crushed, mixed with water and blood on the floor. Without any expression, I grabbed a broom and swept the mess away. Then, I went into the master bedroom, dug into the bottom drawer, and pulled out a photo. It was a photo of Alexander and me from our first year together. He had his chin on my shoulder, smiling like a boy who had just won the lottery. I took a pair of scissors and cut right down the middle, separating us. I tossed Alexander’s half straight into the trash can.

Emily’s POV Alexander didn’t come back all night. I was glad for the peace. I packed up almost everything that belonged to me, just waiting for Jenny to pick me up next week. The next day, I slept until noon, woken up by the clanging of pots and pans in the kitchen. I walked out of the bedroom and saw Alexander wearing an apron, busy at the stove. A pot of soup was bubbling, filling the air with a rich aroma. Hearing me, he turned around, a hint of awkwardness and pleading in his eyes. “You’re awake? I made some seafood chowder. Have a bowl later.” He walked over, trying to hold my hand. “I was too rash last night. I said things I shouldn’t have. Please don’t take it to heart.” I stepped back, looking at the shrimp and scallops bubbling in the pot. “Seafood chowder?” “Yeah. Sophia lost some blood, and the doctor said she needs protein. I remember you like soup too…” I looked at him and suddenly smiled. “Alexander, we’ve been together for five years. Do you even remember that I’m severely allergic to seafood?” Three years ago, Alexander took me to a sushi place. I had one bite of sea urchin and broke out in hives, which triggered an acute asthma attack that put me in the hospital for three days. Since then, no seafood was ever allowed in our apartment. Alexander froze, his face turning pale. “Emily… I… I forgot. I’m so sorry! I’ll throw it out and make something else right now!” He frantically turned off the stove, almost burning himself in the process. “No need,” I said, turning toward the bathroom. “Save it for Sophia. I don’t deserve it.” “Emily!” Alexander chased after me, blocking my path. “Do you have to be so sarcastic? I already apologized, what more do you want? I’ve already told Sophia she needs to move out once she heals. Can you please just be the bigger person?” “I am being the bigger person,” I said, looking up at him. “She can stay as long as she wants. I won’t interfere.” Alexander stared at my calm, emotionless eyes, his brows furrowed. He seemed to be searching for any sign of jealousy or hurt. Before he could say anything, my phone rang. It was Amy from the shop, saying the espresso machine was acting up and asking if I could come take a look. I hung up, put on my shoes, and left without giving him another glance. For the next few days, I left early and came back late, basically living at the cafe. Every time I went back to the apartment, Alexander was either peeling fruit for Sophia or watching TV with her. The atmosphere between them was so comfortable they looked like the actual married couple. I ignored them completely and went straight to my room to sleep. Until Sunday night. I got home after closing the shop and heard laughter coming from the living room. Along with Alexander and Sophia, there were a few of Alexander’s college buddies. “Oh, Emily’s back!” one of his friends stood up to greet me, but his expression was incredibly awkward. Sophia was sitting incredibly close to Alexander, her hand practically resting on his thigh. I gave a curt nod and headed toward my room. “Emily, since you’re back, come sit with us,” Alexander called out. “We’re celebrating Sophia getting discharged today.” I stopped in my tracks. Celebrating Sophia’s discharge, in my apartment? I turned around, looking at the group of uncomfortable faces, before letting my gaze settle on Alexander. “Sure.” I walked over and sat on the single armchair. The room fell into a dead silence. One of his friends, trying to break the tension, joked, “Man, Alex, you’re living the dream. You chased Sophia for so long back in college, and now look at you guys. Still as close as ever.” The moment those words left his mouth, the room went ice-cold. Sophia blushed and looked down, whispering, “Don’t say that. Alexander has a girlfriend now. I just view him as family.” “Family?” I let out a soft laugh. It wasn’t loud, but everyone heard it clearly. “What kind of family? The kind that brings you to live in his marital home, or the kind that takes wedding photos with you?”

Emily’s POV The living room went dead silent. His friends stared at me, holding their breath. No one expected me to put it out in the open like this. Alexander’s face darkened instantly. He stood up abruptly. “Emily, what nonsense are you talking about?!” “Nonsense?” I leaned back against the chair, looking completely relaxed, though my eyes were like ice. “Do you want me to bring out the wedding photo from the guest room for everyone to see?” Sophia’s face drained of color, and her eyes welled up with tears. “Emily, why are you doing this to me? Alexander was only trying to help…” She covered her face and started sobbing. “Enough!” Alexander yelled, pointing a finger at me. “Emily, you are being completely unreasonable! How many times do I have to tell you it was fake? Do you have to embarrass me in front of my friends like this?” “I’m embarrassing you?” I stood up, staring him down. “Alexander, you brought her into my home. You hung that photo in the guest room. And now you’re blaming me for making a scene? You have the guts to do it, but not the balls to admit it?” “You.” Furious, Alexander raised his hand high. I didn’t even flinch. I just stared at him coldly. “Do it. Hit me, and these five years are officially over.” Alexander’s hand froze in mid-air. I locked eyes with him, refusing to look away for even a second. A few seconds later, he gritted his teeth and slowly let his hand drop. He pulled at his collar in frustration. “You guys should leave. Sorry about tonight.” His friends quickly stood up and practically ran out the door. Once the door shut, only the three of us were left in the living room. Sophia cried harder, tugging at Alexander’s shirt. “Alexander, I’ll leave. I’ll leave right now. I shouldn’t have dragged you into this…” “Why are you leaving?!” Frustrated, Alexander pushed her back down onto the couch. “This is my place. Let’s see who dares to kick you out!” Watching this drama unfold, I only felt amused. “Since she’s not leaving, I am.” I turned, walked into the bedroom, and dragged out my pre-packed suitcase. Seeing the suitcase, Alexander’s expression completely changed. It was as if he finally realized what I had been doing the past few days. “Where do you think you’re going?” Alexander rushed over, grabbing the handle of my suitcase. His voice was much tighter than usual. “Let go.” “No! Emily, don’t overreact. I told you, nothing is going on between Sophia and me. Once her situation is resolved, we’ll get married immediately!” “Alexander, do you honestly think I’m that stupid?” I let out a cold laugh. “Would a man bring a woman he doesn’t care about into his home? Would he let her wear his shirt? Would he abandon his girlfriend in the middle of the night to comfort her? Is it really just sympathy?” Alexander froze. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. Looking at his reaction, the very last piece of my heart shattered into dust. “See? You can’t even lie to yourself,” I said, yanked the suitcase out of his grip. “We’re done. I’ll mail you the keycard.” “No! I don’t agree!” Panicking, Alexander wrapped his arms around me from behind. “Emily, I was wrong. I won’t talk to her anymore, okay? Just don’t leave…” Right then, Sophia let out a sharp scream, rolling off the couch and curling up on the floor, clutching her stomach. “It hurts… Alexander, my stomach hurts so bad.” Alexander’s body stiffened. He instinctively let go of me and rushed over to her. “Sophia. What’s wrong?” “I don’t know… it hurts…” Sweat was pouring down Sophia’s face as she clutched his arm tightly. Alexander scooped her up, giving me a highly complex look. “Emily, wait for me. Wait for me to come back, and we’ll have a real talk.” With that, he ran out the door with her in his arms. I stood there alone as the cold night wind blew in through the open door, making me shiver. Wait for him? I pulled my suitcase and walked out into the night, never looking back. I would never wait for him.

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The third time Austin Vance caught me “in bed” with another man, I didn’t panic. I didn’t scramble to put on my clothes, and I didn’t bother to explain. Sienna Montgomery, the head of the Vance Group’s legal team, stood at the front of the crowd. “Mrs. Vance, this is your third strike of marital infidelity.” “According to the prenup, you will walk away with nothing and waive all custody rights to your son.” Austin had long lost his patience. The look in his eyes was pure disgust. He threw the divorce papers right at my face. “The first time, you claimed you didn’t even know the guy.” “The second time, you said you had no idea how you ended up in that hotel room.” “Three strikes and you’re out, Elena. What’s your excuse this time?” He expected me to make up another pathetic lie. But I said nothing. I just quietly picked up the pen, signed my name on the divorce papers, and prepared to vanish from his world forever. I wondered, though—now that I had finally given him exactly what he wanted, leaving with absolutely nothing, not even our child… why was he the one losing his mind?

Sienna snatched the signed papers away instantly. As if terrified I would change my mind, she turned to Austin and said, “Mr. Vance, it’s signed.” Austin stared at me, his brows knitted tightly. He probably expected me to tear up the papers like I did the first two times. He expected me to drop to my knees, slap myself, and beg him through tears: “Please, think of our son! Just trust me this one last time!” I capped the pen and placed it back on the nightstand. “I’ll pack my things and move out as soon as possible. As for my visitation rights—” “You don’t deserve to be a mother,” he interrupted coldly. “You are never seeing Leo again.” I didn’t look up. I just let out a soft laugh. “I was actually about to say… I don’t want visitation rights either.” The coldness in Austin’s eyes didn’t waver, but he shot me a sharp, questioning look. He couldn’t comprehend my sudden “indifference.” For the past four years, he and our son were my entire world. Back then, if Leo so much as called Sienna “Auntie Sienna” one extra time, my heart would ache for days. Now, I was giving him up without a fight. It wasn’t like me. He let out a harsh sneer, seemingly finding a logical explanation for my behavior. “Throwing away your own flesh and blood for some cheap flings. Was this your plan all along when you climbed into my bed and forced me to marry you?” Listening to his venomous words, I felt absolutely no desire to defend myself. The first time he caught me “sleeping around” in a hotel, I was completely blindsided. I had begged and screamed, swearing I had never betrayed him. But Austin had always assumed I was obsessed with him. And since the man in my bed had fled, leaving only a blurry silhouette on the hotel’s security footage, Austin barely let it slide. Yet, he still took Leo away from me. To see my son once a month, I had to schedule an appointment with Sienna a week in advance. During our short visits, Sienna would tail us like a warden. If I held Leo for a second too long, I had to watch her displeased face. Even buying toys or clothes for my own son required Sienna’s prior approval, or they would never make it to Leo’s room. The emotional abuse broke me, and soon after, I was framed for a second time. I had taken a job to distract myself, but during a business trip, I woke up in a hotel room with a repulsive, overweight stranger drooling next to me. I called the police, but the medical exam showed I hadn’t been assaulted. Despite the lack of physical evidence, Austin decided I was just caught before the “crime” could happen. From that day on, I wasn’t even allowed to attend Leo’s kindergarten parent-teacher meetings. Whenever the school called, Austin sent Sienna instead. He told me to stay home so I “wouldn’t embarrass the family.” Even when our four-year-old son pointed at my face and called me a “bad woman,” Austin just stood there, saying nothing. And now, the third time… I was tired of this twisted game. I was ready to let them have each other. And yet, he had the nerve to ask why I didn’t want my own child anymore? Sienna walked up to Austin and whispered loudly enough for me to hear: “Austin, even though the prenup says she waives custody… in all my years of legal practice, I’ve never seen a mother give up her child so easily.” “Elena has cheated so many times; she probably planned this long ago. After all, a child is just baggage for a woman who wants to play around… Don’t waste your breath on her.” She looked up at me, a brief, heavy glint of triumph flashing in her eyes. I chuckled softly. She seemed to have forgotten… Four years ago, she was the one who drafted this absurd prenuptial agreement, specifically detailing the “three-strike” cheating clause. Austin’s face darkened. “You better mean what you say. Don’t come crawling back on your knees begging me later.” Leaving those cold words, he turned and walked out. I watched his retreating back, the corner of my mouth curling into a bitter smile. I won’t, Austin. My knees will never bend for you again.

Sienna looked at me, a smirk playing on her lips. “Well, Elena, a night of romance is worth a thousand bucks. We won’t disturb you and your… friend anymore!” The moment the door slammed shut, the room fell into a heavy silence. I looked down at the unconscious man still snoring on the bed. A wave of nausea hit my stomach. I had woken up much earlier than them. I could have escaped before they “caught” me. But I was just so sick of this cat-and-mouse game. I wanted it to end. I threw on my coat and walked out without looking back. The next evening, I went back to the Vance mansion to pack my things. When I pushed open the master bedroom door, I realized all my clothes and personal belongings were gone. The maid stood there, fidgeting nervously, not daring to meet my eyes. “Ma’am… your things have been moved to the backyard storage room. Miss Montgomery said… she said the master bedroom will have a new mistress soon, so we had to clear it out immediately.” I smiled faintly. Four years of marriage, and I wasn’t even allowed a decent departure. I turned and walked toward the storage shed in the backyard. Pushing the door open, I saw boxes stacked upon boxes, trash bags piled high. I knelt down and began rummaging through them one by one. Nothing else mattered, but I had to find my mother’s antique sapphire bracelet. It was passed down from my grandmother to my mother, and then to me… It was the only thing in this godforsaken house that truly belonged to me. Finally, I found it at the very bottom of a dusty box. Clutching the velvet pouch tightly in my palm, I let out a long, shuddering sigh of relief. Just as I was about to grab a few changes of clothes, a childish voice came from the doorway. “What are you doing?” I turned around. Leo was standing at the door. He looked exactly like Austin, but his arrogant, condescending posture was a carbon copy of Sienna’s. “Getting my things,” I said quietly, turning back to my packing. Usually, even if he pushed me away, I would rush to hug and kiss him. But this time, I was completely numb. “Those are not your things.” Seeing me ignore him, he stormed inside. He stomped his dirty shoe right onto my scattered clothes. “Auntie Sienna said everything in this house belongs to Daddy. You are not allowed to take a single thing.” I paused. “These are my personal belongings.” “You bought them with Daddy’s money,” he said, putting his hands behind his back. “Daddy’s money belongs to the Vance family. Strangers have no right to it.” A stranger? I looked up at him. My four-year-old son was standing over me, looking at me as if I were a thief. The coldness in his eyes was even worse than Austin’s. “I’m only taking one thing,” I said, clutching the sapphire bracelet. “The rest can stay.” “No!” He stepped forward, blocking the doorway with his arms spread wide. “You can’t steal from the Vances!” “Leo, move.” “No!” he shouted. “You’re a beggar! A thief! Auntie Sienna said once you leave, you can never come back. If you do, you’re just here to steal!” My temples throbbed painfully. “I’m telling you one last time, move.” “No! Give it to me!” He lunged forward, grabbing the velvet pouch in my hand. I instinctively pulled back, and the pouch ripped open. The antique sapphire bracelet slipped out, hitting the concrete floor. The delicate gold chain snapped, and the small diamonds framing the sapphire shattered into pieces. I froze, staring at the ruins. I remembered the day my mother put this bracelet on my wrist. She had said, “Elena, this has been in our family for six generations. Pass it down to your daughter, or your daughter-in-law…” I had no daughter. And I would never have a daughter-in-law. I only had this bracelet. It survived six generations, only to be shattered by my own son.

Leo stood beside me, suddenly murmuring under his breath: “It’s your fault for not letting go…” My eyes welled with tears as I looked at him. “I told you, this was the only thing my mother left me.” “Do you even know why your mother is rotting in that hospice care?” Leo blinked, taking a step back. “I don’t have a grandma. I only know she’s a money-draining old hag…” The blood rushed to my head. “Auntie Sienna said she stays in such an expensive room, wasting Daddy’s money when she can’t even be cured. She’s just a black hole for money—” “Say that again.” My voice changed. It was so cold and hollow, even I didn’t recognize it. Leo was startled by my expression. He bit his lip but forced himself to yell, “She is a money-draining old hag! What are you gonna—ah!” I shoved him. His foot caught on a box, and he fell backward onto his butt. He froze for a second, then burst into loud, dramatic wails. “Daddy! Daddy!” I stood there, my palms completely numb. Looking at my crying son on the floor, the words “money-draining old hag” echoed in my ears. That “old hag” was my mother. His grandmother. She was the one who, despite just undergoing major surgery, spent nights hand-knitting a baby blanket for him when he was born. She was the one who, every year on his birthday, would call from the hospice, begging the nurse to read her birthday wishes to him. And he called her a money-draining old hag. The sharp edges of the broken diamonds dug into my palm. The pain cleared my head. Austin rushed in, seeing Leo crying on the floor. He knelt down and scooped him up. “Leo, what happened?” Leo buried his face in Austin’s chest, sobbing hysterically. “Daddy! She pushed me! Kick her out! I want Auntie Sienna…” Austin held him, glaring at me. His eyes were filled with absolute disgust. “Elena, have you lost your mind? You’re physically abusing a child now?!” “I didn’t abuse him,” I said quietly. “I just shoved him.” “Is there a difference?!” I looked down at the broken pieces of my mother’s bracelet in my hand. “Yes,” I said. “Abusing him would be me trying to discipline him as his mother. Shoving him was just him getting what he deserved.” Austin stunned, looking down at his son. Leo shrank into his father’s arms, his crying softening into a whimper. “But I was just telling the truth… Auntie Sienna said that old woman is just wasting Daddy’s money…” Austin pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why are you picking a fight with a toddler?” He shot me an annoyed look. “Sienna manages our family finances now. She was just stating a financial fact, and Leo overheard it. Don’t blow things out of proportion.” “You have no idea how much she stresses over managing this estate.” He glanced at the broken jewelry in my hand. His tone softened slightly, though his annoyance remained. “I brought Leo here today so we could have a proper talk. But about the… other thing, let’s keep it from him for now. I don’t want it affecting his mental health.” I knew he was talking about the divorce. I remained silent. A proper talk? About what? In our four years of marriage, the amount of time he and Leo spent talking to me wouldn’t even add up to half of what he shared with Sienna. Back in college, he was the one who pursued me relentlessly, breaking down my walls. Even without that “accidental pregnancy,” I had already gathered the courage to ignore our social class difference and say yes to him. Looking back, I wished I had never agreed. My mother was still lying in that hospice, waiting for me to visit. With that thought, I grabbed my bag and walked out of the shed.

In the living room, Sienna was kneeling in front of Leo, gently consoling him. I walked past them, expressionless. Behind me, Leo wailed louder, “Why is that bad woman ignoring me?!” He stomped his feet, throwing a tantrum. He was used to me immediately crying, hugging him, and apologizing every time he threw a fit. So when I didn’t even spare him a glance, he felt wronged. Austin said nothing, but I could feel the icy glare burning holes in my back. I didn’t stop. Just as I reached for the front door, his furious voice boomed through the hall: “Stop right there!” I paused. “Come back here and apologize to Leo,” he demanded. “You shoved him. You scared him.” I closed my eyes. Realizing this would probably be the last time we ever spoke, I didn’t want to waste energy arguing. I walked back and knelt in front of Leo. “I’m sorry,” I said, looking into his eyes one last time. “I shouldn’t have shoved you.” Leo sniffled, and suddenly, he spat right in my face. The warm saliva slid down my cheek. He said in his cute, childish voice, “Dirty woman. You deserve it.” Austin watched coldly, adding a flat remark: “You’re so busy sleeping around that even your own son can’t stand you.” I slowly raised my hand, wiping my cheek. I let out a soft laugh. “Me? Sleeping around?” These three “affairs” were set up so poorly. Did he honestly not see the loopholes? Or maybe he did, but chose to ignore them because he wanted an excuse. Fine. If that’s what he believed, so be it. “We’ve been married for four years, Austin, and you’ve been parading around with her for four years!” “You even sent my son to stay at her place. Who is the one sleeping around here?” “We’re getting a divorce. Can we stop lying to ourselves?” Sienna’s face drained of color. Tears welled up in her eyes instantly. “Elena, how could you slander me like this? Austin, I…” “Elena, it’s been four years. Are you ever going to stop this drama?” Austin glared at me, taking a slow step forward. “Fine. Since you’re so convinced we’re sleeping together…” He grabbed my wrist, dragging me toward the bedroom. The moment the door slammed shut, he pinned me down, took off his silk tie, and bound my wrists tightly before tossing me onto the floor. Then he turned, pulling Sienna into his arms, leaning close to her ear. “Do you want me?” Sienna gasped softly, then wrapped her arms around his neck. “Austin, I’ve waited so long for this…” The two of them immediately began tearing at each other’s clothes, shedding them onto the carpet. I bit my lip so hard it bled, my voice scraping out of my throat: “Austin, we’re getting a divorce! You can do whatever you want later! Why do you have to humiliate me like this?!” He paused, his hand gripping my jaw tightly. “Humiliate you? Elena, do you really think you still have any dignity left to be humiliated?” “Austin, don’t get distracted…” Sienna wrapped herself around him from behind, blowing softly against his neck. He let go of me, turning back to sink into her embrace. I closed my eyes, tears silent and bitter, running down my face. Suddenly, my phone, which had fallen onto the carpet, began to vibrate. It was my mother’s number. I struggled, dragging myself across the floor to answer it with my chin. But it wasn’t my mother. It was the frantic voice of her nurse: “Elena! You need to get here right now! Your mother heard rumors that you’re getting a divorce. She thinks she’s a burden to you and has climbed onto the roof of the hospice—” “What?!” “She said… “static”…”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “435693”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

I was sexually assaulted. My husband, Marcus Sterling, was just on the other side of the wall. He remained completely indifferent to my desperate cries for help. Because he had taken off his hearing aids. Again. Throughout our three years of marriage, he was the perfect husband in everyone else’s eyes—handsome, wealthy, and incredibly level-headed. Only I knew the truth. Every time we argued, he would take off his hearing aids. He didn’t have a good temper; he just found me annoying and refused to waste his time communicating with me. That night, Marcus didn’t come looking for me. When I finally dragged my broken body back home, he was sitting under the dim light, looking down, editing a research paper for his first love, Sienna Montgomery. “I was sexually assaulted. We need to go to the police,” I said, walking up to his desk. “Yeah, my bad. I won’t do it next time,” he replied smoothly. He didn’t even look up, throwing out a practiced apology like it was second nature. I looked at his ears. His hearing aids were gone. A sudden, bitter laugh escaped my throat. This silent world of his—I really couldn’t stay in it anymore. “Marcus, let’s get a divorce.” His voice was as cold and detached as ever: “Fine. Let’s stop fighting then.”

I stared at him, my eyes completely dry. I didn’t even have tears left to cry. This was the man I had loved for three years. While I was being tormented, he was helping another woman with her work. Even when I threw the most painful truth right in his face, his only response was a lazy, dismissive brush-off. Seeing that I didn’t keep nagging like I usually did, Marcus finally put his hearing aids back in. He raised his head, his eyes falling on my torn, disheveled clothes. He frowned. “Why are you so dirty? Is that blood?” The living room was only lit by a single, dim lamp, so he couldn’t see clearly. “I tripped on the street. Just a scratch,” I said, my voice dead and flat. Marcus’s frown deepened. “After all these years, you still have that dramatic temper. It was just a routine physical exam. Even if I couldn’t make it, you could have gone by yourself. Did you really have to make such a mess of yourself just to throw a tantrum?” “Go change into some clean clothes. I’ll help you with the cuts.” I didn’t reply. I grabbed a fresh set of clothes from the closet and went straight into the bathroom. I turned on the shower, letting the freezing water pour over my head. I looked at myself in the mirror. My neck and back were covered in dark bruises and horrific, unmistakable marks. Suddenly, a sharp, tearing pain shot through my lower abdomen, as if someone were violently ripping my insides apart. I looked down. On the white bathroom tiles, a bright, shocking red was slowly spreading. That splash of red felt like a nail, pinning me to the floor. I placed my trembling hand over my stomach, grasping onto the absolute last shred of hope. Tears mixed with the shower water, pouring down my face. “My baby…” But the blood kept trickling down my legs, slowly, relentlessly. Marcus didn’t know. Just this morning, I had gotten a positive result on a pregnancy test. I was afraid it might be a false alarm, so I only told him I wanted to go to the hospital for a quick checkup. But the moment we reached the parking garage, Sienna’s call came through on his Snapchat. “Marcus, I messed up my residency case presentation. The chief of medicine is breathing down my neck. Can you log on to your laptop and help me fix it real quick?” Marcus hung up and immediately turned on his heel to head back upstairs. I stared at him, trying to suppress my rising anger, but I couldn’t hold it in anymore. “Marcus, who is actually your wife? Me, or Sienna?” His face instantly turned icy. “I’ve told you a thousand times, Sienna and I are just colleagues now. Stop being so dramatic, Elena.” “Dramatic? On our anniversary, she had a mild fever and you abandoned me to drive across town to bring her medicine. When my mother was hospitalized, Sienna said she was scared of her night shift, and you went to keep her company. Now, I’m going in for a medical exam, and you’re abandoning me for her again. Who is the one being dramatic here?” The moment those words left my mouth, Marcus’s eyes went entirely cold. The last bit of his patience vanished. “Elena, you’re too hysterical right now. It’s impossible to talk to you.” My heart sank. In the next second, he reached up and pulled out his hearing aids. It was a perfectly practiced motion. He did this every single time. Whenever I tried to talk about my pain, my disappointment, or the sheer unfairness of our marriage, he would shut himself in his own silent world. Marcus turned and walked away. He didn’t see what happened next. He didn’t see the two drunk men who dragged me into the dark corner of the garage. He actually hadn’t walked far. I saw him waiting for me near the exit for a brief moment. But he never turned around, and he never put his hearing aids back in. His world was completely quiet. And he locked my screams for help right outside his silent wall. I turned off the shower and forced myself to walk out. In the living room, Marcus—who had promised to help me with my cuts—was on a FaceTime call with Sienna. He had completely forgotten about me. His voice carried a gentle patience he had never once shown me. “I’ve fixed the errors for you. You can just print it out now.” The usually serious Dr. Sterling was actually smiling at a phone screen. “Thank you, Marcus! I knew I didn’t have to worry about anything as long as you were around,” Sienna’s sweet voice echoed through the speaker. Watching this scene now, I didn’t even feel my heart break anymore. It was just numb. I went back to our bedroom, contacted a divorce lawyer, and had a separation agreement drafted. Then, I put on a high-neck sweater to cover the bruises. And I walked out the door.

I took an Uber to a hospital further across town and admitted myself to the emergency room. It was almost 1:00 AM, and the lobby was nearly empty. Seeing how pale I was, a nurse immediately rushed over to support me. “Sweetheart, where is your family? Is anyone here with you?” I thought of Marcus. He was probably still enjoying the sounds of the night with his hearing aids on. I opened my mouth, but my throat felt like it was clogged with cotton. “I’m alone. No one is coming.” The nurse gave me a look of pure pity and helped me into the exam room. “Let’s get you checked out first.” The ultrasound room was freezing. When the cold probe pressed down on my abdomen, the pain made my fingers curl tightly. The doctor stared at the screen for a few seconds and sighed. “The embryo is unstable. I’m so sorry, but you’ve miscarried.” I couldn’t process it. “What?” She pulled off her gloves. “You need a D&C procedure immediately to prevent infection.” My brain went entirely numb. A loud ringing filled my ears, and I couldn’t hear anything else. The nurse handed me a consent form. “Elena, where is the baby’s father? We need a signature from a spouse or family member for the procedure.” I looked down at the blank line for “Emergency Contact/Spouse.” My eyes burned. After a long silence, I whispered, “Is it absolutely required? I don’t have a husband anymore. My parents are out of state, and they can’t make it in time.” The nurse’s expression softened with deep sadness. “If there’s truly no one else, you can sign the self-consent and liability waiver yourself.” I took the pen, my fingers shaking violently. “Elena Vance.” As my messy signature hit the paper, I felt a physical hollow space open up inside my chest. Marcus, the very last connection between us is officially gone. Blood tests, payments, paperwork. I had to do every single step by myself. Passing by the OB-GYN wing, I saw a young girl crying just because she had to get a blood draw. Her husband was kneeling beside her, showing no annoyance at all, gently whispering to her. “Don’t worry, baby, I’m right here. Once we’re done, I’ll cook your favorite dinner.” I averted my eyes, staring down at the cotton ball taped over the vein in my hand. So, having someone stay by your side was actually that simple. Yet in our three years of marriage, every time I caught a fever and had to go to the clinic, Sienna would suddenly fall even sicker. I never understood it. Sienna was a doctor herself, but Marcus always told me, “She has a weak immune system. She needs me more than you do.” Only now did I finally realize—Sienna wasn’t weak. Marcus just didn’t love me. Before they wheeled me in, the nurse asked one last time. “Is there really no one we can call for you?” I shook my head. “No.” As the anesthesia was pumped into my IV, I found myself wondering if Marcus would feel even a tiny bit of sorrow if he knew about the baby. But in the next second, I realized how pathetic I was being. He had blocked me out of his entire existence, yet I was still wasting my thoughts on him.

When I woke up from the surgery, dawn was breaking. My throat was incredibly dry. I opened my eyes and instinctively reached for my phone. I had been gone all night, but Marcus had only sent a single text at 3:00 AM. [Where are you?] Right below his text was an Ins notification. Marcus had gone to a karaoke lounge with Sienna. In the photo, Sienna was wearing a pretty sundress, holding a microphone, and singing right next to his ear. Marcus was wearing his hearing aids, looking down at her with pure indulgence. Marcus’s hearing loss was due to a severe childhood ear injury. In the past, I used to love humming soft songs near his ear. But Marcus always told me that his ears couldn’t handle sharp, close-range sounds, and he would promptly take off his hearing aids. He couldn’t stand the sound of my voice. Yet, he could perfectly tolerate a loud microphone blasting right next to his ear for her. I didn’t look at his Ins post again. Instead, I called him. He was still at the venue, and the background noise was incredibly loud. To his surprise, I didn’t scream, cry, or demand answers like I used to. I just said calmly, “Meet me at the police station in an hour.” I had to admit, I was still terrified to handle this part alone. There was a pause on the line. “The police station?” “Are you still trying to track down that lost wedding ring?” Two weeks ago, Marcus had lost his wedding band on his way home from work. We looked everywhere but couldn’t find it. He said we could just buy a new set eventually. But I didn’t want to replace it. We had so few memories together. So, I had filed a police report, and I had been checking in with them periodically to see if anyone had turned it in. Before I could answer him, Sienna’s whiny voice echoed in the background. “Marcus, we finally got a day off together. You promised you’d take me shopping after this.” The rest of her words were muffled. Marcus had probably covered the receiver. After a moment, his voice came back. “Elena, the ring has been gone for weeks. It’s not going to turn up, and honestly, it’s just an object. If you’re absolutely obsessed with going to the station, can I take you tomorrow instead?” I stared at the sterile, white walls of the hospital and let out a soft laugh. “Is shopping with Sienna really more important?” I paused, my voice dropping to a whisper. “Marcus, I was assaulted last night. Does that not matter to you either?” “Never mind. Don’t worry about tomorrow. Just meet me at the law firm so we can sign the divorce papers.” Silence fell over the line. If it weren’t for the faint thumping of the music in the background, I would have thought he had hung up. But I knew Marcus too well after three years. I didn’t even have to guess. The moment I started speaking, he had already switched off his hearing aids. I calmly saved the call recording and hung up. I discharged myself, took a cab to the police station, and went through the grueling process. I gave my statement, submitted the forensic evidence collected by the hospital, and signed the paperwork. The female detective repeatedly comforted me, assuring me they would catch the predators and telling me not to let this ruin my life. Looking at her, a tiny part of my frozen heart finally felt a sliver of warmth. When I got back to our apartment, it was nearly evening. Marcus wasn’t home. I stuffed the discharge papers, medical bills, and ultrasound records into a manila folder and slid it deep into his study desk drawer. It was his child, too. He deserved to know it had existed. At 11:00 PM, Marcus finally walked through the door. He was looking down at his phone, texting as he kicked off his shoes. When he saw me sitting there, his first words were: “Where the hell were you last night?” I curled up on the sofa, my body still aching all over. I didn’t say a word. Perhaps realizing I wasn’t fighting back like usual, his tone softened slightly. He walked over and held up his phone, showing me our neighborhood group chat on WhatsApp. “I’m not trying to yell at you. It’s just dangerous out there right now, and I was worried.” “Look, the police are in our neighborhood investigating. A woman was raped in our parking garage last night.” I looked up, locking my eyes onto his. “Marcus, what if I told you that woman was me?”

“Alright, that’s not funny at all.” “Just tell me next time you go out. Don’t make me worry.” Marcus didn’t take my words seriously. He patted my head dismissively and walked into the bathroom. His phone, which he left on the coffee table, kept buzzing. Even though I tried to ignore it, my eyes caught the screen. His lock screen was no longer our wedding photo. It was a picture of a girl’s back—Sienna. Sienna’s messages kept popping up on Snapchat: [Marcus, I had so much fun today. You’re still just as sweet and caring as you were when we were dating in college.] [You always said you’d only be patient and gentle with me, and that you’d always listen to my voice. I’m glad you kept that promise.] The last trace of warmth inside me evaporated. I fought through the physical pain, turned away, and crawled into bed, pulling the duvet over my head. When Marcus came out of the shower, his phone screen was still lit up. He looked at his phone, then at me, clearly torn between his two worlds. But that hesitation was already an answer in itself. Surprisingly, he didn’t reply to Sienna immediately. Instead, he climbed into bed and wrapped his arms around me from behind. “How was your physical exam? What did the doctor say?” I lay completely still, not turning around. “It went fine.” He let out a sigh of relief. Before he could say anything else, I spoke up. “Marcus, let’s get a divorce.” “I was assaulted, and the baby is gone. I don’t want to do this with you anymore.” This time, his hearing aids were in. He heard every single word. His face darkened instantly. “Elena, is this your new way of starting a fight now? Making up horrific lies?” His hand instinctively went to his ear, a gesture of sheer annoyance and exhaustion. In the next second, he pulled his hearing aids out. I watched him do it, and my entire world fell completely still. He didn’t believe me. To him, this was just another dramatic scene he didn’t want to deal with. “Fine. We’ll talk when you calm down.” Marcus and I entered a state of complete cold war for the next few days. Occasionally, I’d see Sienna posting photos of the two of them on Marcus’s Ins account. Marcus hated taking photos. In our three years of marriage, we only had one photo together—our wedding portrait. But on Sienna’s feed, every post was a beautiful gallery of their memories. I quietly liked her post, and then I blocked Marcus’s number and social media. For the next week, Marcus spent most of his time on shift at the hospital or staying at a hotel near his clinic. He never came back to the apartment. He didn’t even notice that I was packing up. I rented a small apartment on the outskirts of the city. Before I left, I placed the signed separation agreement in the center of the kitchen counter. The only reason I hadn’t left the city entirely was because the suspects had been caught, and I had to attend the preliminary court hearing. On the day of the hearing, the courthouse steps were packed with local news reporters broadcasting live. … Meanwhile, at the hospital, Marcus was doing his rounds. He noticed a group of patients gathered around the TV in the waiting room, whispering excitedly. “The sexual assault case from that downtown garage is in court today.” “So tragic. She was dragged away right from her building’s garage. I heard she was pregnant, too. Those monsters…” “Hey, Dr. Sterling, don’t you live in that building complex? Do you know the poor girl?” A patient stepped aside, pointing at the TV screen. Marcus finished writing his chart, about to shake his head, when his eyes locked onto the screen. There I was, surrounded by reporters. For the first time in his life, he desperately wished he could rip his hearing aids out, but his hands felt as heavy as lead. “Ms. Vance, did you fight back?” a reporter asked. “Yes,” I replied on screen. “Was there really no one around?” “There was.” “Did you call for help?” “I did.” The reporter looked furious. “Then who was it? Who could just stand by and do nothing?!” I paused, my voice trembling but clear. “My husband.” “He took out his hearing aids. He couldn’t hear me.” With every answer, I looked as if I were being dragged back into that cold garage all over again, my hands shaking uncontrollably. A loud crash echoed in the hospital corridor as Marcus stumbled, knocking over a medicine cart. But he didn’t care about the pain. Like a madman, he tore through the crowd and ran out of the hospital lobby, leaving his white coat behind.

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The person who turned me into a mute was now sitting in a rehabilitation center, pretending to have aphasia. Alexander handed me a tablet. On the screen was our shared case file. He said, “She’ll pay for everything she did to you. Every last bit of it.” I believed him. Until the middle of the night, when the steady beeping of the monitors woke me up. His side of the room was empty. The tablet was still on the bedside table. On the screen was Allison’s latest medical report. Alexander Sterling has arrived at the rehabilitation center and is reviewing Allison Brooks’ speech and language assessment. Below it was an automatically transcribed voice recording. Her voice came in broken fragments, trembling with grievance. “I… I can’t… speak…” “They’re… making me apologize…” “Only… Alexander… is patient enough… to wait… while I try…” I turned off the screen. During the day, I couldn’t speak either. I needed someone willing to wait for me, too. But in my hospital room, there was no one left except me.

Evelyn’s POV Six months after the heavy stage lighting crashed onto my head, my biggest fear wasn’t the chronic migraines. It was the fact that although I recognized every single word in the dictionary, I could no longer string them into a complete sentence. And the irony? The very person who did this to me was currently pretending to have the exact same trauma at the rehab center. Alexander had promised me. He held my hand and swore that Allison would pay for what she did. He said he would make her give everything back. When I first woke up from the coma, Alexander was sitting right by my bedside. His eyes were bloodshot. The moment he saw me open my eyes, he slammed his hand onto the call button to summon the doctors. Then, he leaned over, his breath warm against my cheek. “Evelyn, can you see me? Can you hear me?” I wanted to scream his name. Alexander. But my throat felt like it was blocked by wet cement. The first syllable managed to escape, but it sounded cracked, broken. The remaining letters caught at the back of my tongue. No matter how hard I pushed, they wouldn’t come out. Alexander’s expression immediately darkened. The medical team rushed in, crowding around the bed. A specialist handed me a tablet with a simple question written on it. I stared at the words. What is your name? I knew the answer. I knew every single letter. But when I opened my mouth, the sounds came out scrambled, chopped into pieces. The more I forced it, the more my voice failed me. In the end, I was just gasping for air. No words. Just empty, pathetic puffs of wind. Alexander squeezed my hand. His palm was ice cold. “Run the scans again,” he ordered the doctors, his voice dangerously low. “Do every single test. From scratch.” The report was on his desk by evening. The impact had damaged the language center of my brain. The recovery timeline was unpredictable. In the short term, I couldn’t handle complex communication. More importantly, I was in no condition to deliver a public speech. When I read the words public speech, my heart stopped. My fingers clawed into the bedsheets. The Legacy Foundation Board Meeting was in exactly one month. It was my late mother’s seat on the board. I had spent half a year preparing for this presentation. I was supposed to stand before the trustees and reclaim my family’s legacy. But now, I couldn’t even say Alexander’s name. Alexander slammed the medical report onto the table. “Keep treating her,” he barked. “Don’t you dare write her off yet.” The doctor hesitated before speaking up. “Mr. Sterling, the Board cannot postpone the confirmation hearing any longer. If Miss Carter cannot speak, her uncle will claim the seat by default.” The hospital room fell dead silent. I stared at Alexander’s tense back. My throat burned as if it had been scraped with sandpaper. Six months ago, the day before the dress rehearsal, Allison had texted me to meet her backstage. She said she had some urgent budget sheets to show me. But the moment the staff stepped out, Allison unlatched the heavy background metal frame. The heavy steel structure crashed directly onto my head. I woke up in the ICU, covered in blood, with a fractured skull and a broken voice. Allison had only gotten a tiny scratch on her arm. Yet, she immediately claimed she had a concussion. She claimed she had post-traumatic aphasia. She even lied, saying she was only trying to warn me about the loose equipment. Alexander didn’t believe her back then. He personally initiated the legal investigation, the settlement negotiations, and demanded a public apology draft from her legal team. Every single therapy session she attended, every dollar she paid in compensation, and every draft of her apology had to be logged in a shared file. Alexander tapped the tablet screen and placed it in front of me. It was our shared Snapchat and iCloud folder. Her therapy updates, payment receipts, and the apology drafts were updated in real-time. “She will pay back every single thing she owes you, Evelyn.” Alexander sat on the edge of my bed, kissing my knuckles. “The Board meeting will not be canceled. I will help you practice. I’ll stand right beside you when you deliver that speech.” I wanted to say thank you. I wanted to say okay. But all that came out of my mouth was a faint, pathetic squeak. Alexander pulled me into his arms, stroking my hair. “Shh. Don’t rush,” he murmured. “Take your time.” When I closed my eyes that night, I genuinely believed he would stay by my side forever. But at 3:00 AM, I woke up. The seat beside me was empty. I reached for the tablet on the nightstand. The screen was still open on the shared iCloud file. Allison’s rehab log had just been updated ten minutes ago. The nurse’s note read: Alexander Sterling has arrived at Pinecrest Rehab. He is currently reviewing Allison Brooks’s vocal test results. Beneath that, there was an audio transcript of Allison’s voice. “I… I can’t say it… Everyone is forcing me to apologize… Only Alexander… is patient enough to listen to me…” I stared at the glowing screen. I couldn’t talk today either. I also needed someone to be patient with me. But my hospital room was empty, save for the rhythmic, lonely beeping of the heart monitor. Alexander never came back that night. I flipped the tablet face down, my fingers pressing so hard against the screen that my knuckles turned white.

Evelyn’s POV The next morning, Alexander returned. He was carrying a box of speech therapy flashcards. The nurse mentioned I had woken up several times during the night and barely slept. Alexander walked over, felt my forehead for a fever, and then spread the cards on the overbed table. “I got you a new set of training cards. Let’s try these today.” I stared at the colorful flashcards. My stomach twisted. In Allison’s rehab log last night, the exact same brand of flashcards had appeared. According to the log, Alexander had personally asked the therapist to bring them, and he had spent half an hour practicing with Allison. Now, he was offering me the leftovers of his patience. I looked up at Alexander, wanting to ask if he had brought these from Allison’s room. But before the first syllable could form, my throat locked up. Alexander seemed to read my mind. “I only went to the rehab center last night to force her to sign the apology agreement,” he said, pulling out a card. “I wasn’t there to comfort her, Evelyn.” I slowly nodded. Nodding was so much easier than speaking now. Alexander held up a card and guided me through the short sentence, word by word. I focused on the line. On the first try, my mind jumbled the third word. On the second try, I managed the beginning, but the last two words blurred together, turning into a slurred mess. Cold sweat broke out on my forehead. Alexander slowed down his voice. “It’s okay. Let’s do it again.” I followed his lead, my fingers trembling with frustration. Before Alexander could say anything else, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He glanced at the screen but didn’t pick up. But I caught the preview of the Snapchat notification. Pinecrest Rehab: Allison Brooks is requesting a co-signature on her daily speech evaluation log. The atmosphere in the room instantly froze. Alexander turned his phone face down on the nightstand. “Let’s focus on your cards first.” But the preliminary board review was scheduled for this afternoon. This was my first time leaving the hospital wing. A nurse pushed my wheelchair into the executive conference room. Alexander was supposed to accompany me. He even had his coat on. But the moment the elevator doors opened, his phone rang. It was Pinecrest Rehab again. The therapist on the line said Allison was having a “panic-induced vocal block” and was refusing to sign the final apology draft. If she didn’t sign it today, the legal acknowledgment would be delayed. Which meant my board confirmation would be postponed too. Alexander held his phone, his brows furrowed in a deep, tense line. I sat in my wheelchair, clutching the printed speech draft he had edited for me. He leaned down, his eyes filled with apology. “Go up first, Evelyn. I’ll handle this and come right back.” The elevator doors slowly slid shut. I watched his face get sliced in half by the metal doors, until only his promise lingered in the empty air. “I’ll be right back.” Inside the conference room, three board trustees were waiting. My draft lay on the mahogany table. The leather chair next to me was empty. That was where Alexander was supposed to sit. The lead trustee flipped through my file and looked up. “Miss Carter, we may begin.” I pressed my fingertips against the paper. The first sentence was slow, but I got through it. By the second sentence, my grammar scrambled. By the third, I was just repeating the same syllable over and over, trapped in a loop of my own broken voice. The secretary stopped typing. The trustees exchanged low, worried glances. I gripped the paper, my knuckles white, and tried one more time. Still, nothing but broken sounds. The lead trustee closed his folder with a heavy sigh. “Let’s call it a day, Evelyn. Once your speech therapy stabilizes, we will schedule another review.” I sat there, a high-pitched ringing echoing in my ears. I didn’t cry. I just stared at the empty chair beside me. Alexander never showed up. By the time the nurse wheeled me back to my room, the sun had already set. The room was pitch black. No one was there. I opened the shared iCloud folder. Allison’s profile had just uploaded a new update. The note read: Alexander Sterling has revised Allison Brooks’s recovery plan. The therapist is instructed not to put too much pressure on her. Focus on basic emotional stability first. The words felt like a slap in the face. When Allison couldn’t speak today, Alexander made the entire medical team wait for her. When I couldn’t speak today, Alexander was nowhere to be found. I took a screenshot of the update, saved it to my private vault, and cleared the notification. Late at night, Alexander finally returned. He was holding the signed apology document from Allison. Seeing that I was still awake, he immediately rushed to my side. “Evelyn, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to miss it. Her legal team was threatening to block the whole process. I had to resolve it personally.” I shook my head, trying to say it’s fine. The word it’s died in my throat. Alexander mistook my silence for heartbreak. He reached out to pull me into his arms. “We can reschedule the preliminary review,” he whispered. “I’ll make sure of it.” My gaze fell on the document in his hand. The cover page had Allison Brooks printed in bold letters. Following my gaze, Alexander quickly flipped the document face down on the table. “It’s just paperwork, Evelyn.” I nodded slowly. Then, I closed my eyes and turned away from him. That night, I didn’t touch the speech draft again.

Evelyn’s POV The next day, Alexander rescheduled my speech training. He cleared out the small meeting room next to my ward, leaving only the head trustee and my speech therapist. The draft sat on the desk, alongside a version Alexander had marked with red ink to show me where to pause and breathe. When I sat down, the first thing I did was look at his phone. He got the hint. He turned it face down on the desk. “I’m not taking any calls today,” he promised. “I’m staying right here with you.” The way he said it made it sound like he was doing me a massive favor. I remained silent. I looked down at the paper. On the first run, I choked halfway through. My tongue felt heavy, completely disconnected from my brain. I knew the next word was legacy, but my lips refused to form the ‘L’ sound. Alexander didn’t rush me. He just sat there, waiting quietly. On the second run, I managed to get through most of it. The therapist nodded encouragingly. “If we keep this level of stability, the Board confirmation is still highly possible.” Possible. That word gave me a tiny spark of hope. My tense shoulders relaxed slightly. Once the training ended, the therapist and the trustee left the room. Alexander stayed behind, sliding his chair closer to mine. I pointed to the sentence where I always got stuck, signaling him to help me practice it again. Alexander leaned in, breaking the sentence down into single words, teaching me the pronunciation as if I were a child. I repeated after him. The first time, the sound broke. The second time, it was jumbled. But on the third try, I got it out. A complete, perfectly clear sentence. My eyes welled with tears. My fingers pressed into the paper so hard they left indents. Alexander whispered, “You’re going to take your mother’s seat, Evelyn. No one can steal it from you.” I opened my mouth, wanting to repeat those words. But before I could speak, a frantic knocking disrupted us. Alexander’s assistant pushed the door open, his face pale. “Mr. Sterling, there’s an emergency at Pinecrest. It’s Allison.” My hand was still resting on the page I had just mastered. The assistant explained that Allison was supposed to record her video apology today. But she had a breakdown during the recording, knocked over a heavy medicine cart, and injured her head again. The clinic was demanding Alexander’s presence immediately to sign a liability waiver. Otherwise, Allison’s family threatened to sue us for harassment and pressuring a brain-injured patient. Alexander’s face turned incredibly cold. “Call our lawyers.” But the assistant didn’t leave. He lowered his voice. “She keeps screaming your name, sir. She says you’re the only one who knows she isn’t faking it.” The room fell into a suffocating silence. Alexander looked back at me, his eyes pleading for understanding. I pushed the draft toward him. I can still practice. Please stay. But Alexander was already standing up, grabbing his coat. “I need to put out this fire, Evelyn. I’ll be back as fast as I can to finish practicing with you.” I wanted to tell him not to bother coming back. I wanted to tell him to stay. But both thoughts clashed in my throat, leaving only a broken, choked gasp. Alexander leaned down and gave me a quick, comforting hug. “Don’t worry. Your board confirmation will happen.” Then, he turned and walked out. Only after the door clicked shut did I notice his phone, which he had left face down on the table, was buzzing relentlessly. Missed call after missed call from Pinecrest Rehab. I was left alone in the cold meeting room. I picked up my draft. But when I tried to read the sentence I had just mastered, my voice cracked. The words were gone. I opened the shared iCloud folder. Allison’s profile had already updated with a new medical log. There was no mention of her knocking over a cart. It only said: Alexander Sterling is en route. Therapists and legal counsel are waiting at the entrance. Beneath that, there was a screenshot. It was the schedule for my Board confirmation meeting. Allison had typed in the notes: Evelyn’s confirmation can only go smoothly if Alexander settles my case first. I stared at the schedule, and slowly, I folded my speech draft into a small, tight square. Alexander didn’t return until past midnight. I was still awake, sitting in the dark with the folded paper on my lap. The moment he walked in, he started explaining. “Allison’s head injury caused a major legal dispute. If I hadn’t gone, all our previous progress on her lawsuit would have been thrown out.” I listened quietly, my hand resting on the folded draft. Very slowly, with immense effort, I asked, “Does… my… confirmation… have to… wait… for her… to finish?” I had to pause three times just to get those words out. Alexander fell silent for a long moment. “Legally, the two cases are linked,” he said softly. “But I will handle it, Evelyn. Trust me.” I nodded. Then I placed the folded paper into my bedside drawer. Alexander reached out to stop me, but the drawer was already shut.

Evelyn’s POV After Alexander left again, I stayed up until the early hours of the morning. I kept pulling the draft out of the drawer and shoving it back in. The edges of the paper were now frayed and wrinkled, mirroring my broken, useless voice. The shared iCloud log updated three times before dawn. Allison’s status changed from Refusing to cooperate to Requires 1-on-1 counseling, and finally to Completed preliminary vocal test, accompanied by Alexander Sterling. The final note read: Alexander Sterling suggested postponing the public video apology to ensure Allison Brooks is emotionally stable first. I stared at those words. He had waited for me like that once. But every time Allison had a crisis, he dropped everything to run to her. I shut down the tablet and pressed the call button for the nurse. The nurse rushed in, shocked to see me out of bed. “Miss Carter, you can’t leave the hospital. Not without Mr. Sterling’s permission.” I shook my head, my throat tight. I forced out two words: “Pinecrest… Rehab.” The nurse understood and immediately called Alexander’s assistant. When the assistant arrived, he looked incredibly stressed. “Miss Carter, Mr. Sterling explicitly said you must rest.” I simply handed him the tablet with Allison’s updated log. The assistant looked at the screen, fell silent, and finally sighed. He arranged a car to take me to Pinecrest. When the car pulled up to the back entrance of the rehab center, the sky was still a dark, dusty gray. Only a few windows in the building were lit. The assistant wheeled me down the quiet hallway, stopping right outside the evaluation room. The door wasn’t fully closed. Through the crack, I heard the therapist’s voice. “Miss Brooks, please read the apology script from the screen.” Allison read a few words, then stopped, clutching her head as she sobbed. “I… I can’t… My head hurts…” Alexander stood beside her. His voice was cold at first. “Keep reading.” Allison looked up at him, tears streaming down her pale face. “Every time I open my mouth… I see her falling… covered in blood… I’m so scared, Alexander…” The therapist tried to prompt her again, but Alexander raised his hand. “Give us a moment. Everyone, out.” Soon, only Alexander and Allison were left in the room. Through the gap in the door, I saw Alexander pick up a printed document from the desk. My heart shattered. I recognized that paper. It was my marked-up speech draft. The one he had spent the afternoon editing for me. The one with all my personal breathing marks and highlighted sentences. Alexander pulled out a page and set it in front of Allison. “Follow this rhythm. Read it slowly.” My grip on the wheelchair handles tightened until my fingers went numb. That page contained the exact sentence I had finally managed to read fluently yesterday. Allison couldn’t do it. She suddenly grabbed Alexander’s sleeve, resting her forehead against his arm. Alexander didn’t pull away. He lowered his voice, his tone incredibly gentle. “Breathe. Just match the pauses.” Allison leaned into him, her shoulders shaking. Alexander held her, comforting her, without calling the doctors back in. I wanted to push the door open and scream. But my throat couldn’t produce a single sound. The assistant standing behind me saw the draft in Alexander’s hand too. His face went pale, and he looked away. Inside the room, Allison finally managed to read the sentence smoothly. Alexander handed her a glass of water. Allison looked up, her voice sweet and fragile. “If Evelyn finds out I used her speech script, she’s going to hate me even more.” Alexander was silent for a long time. Finally, he said, “Let’s just get through the apology process first.” He didn’t deny it. He didn’t tell her she shouldn’t have touched my script. He didn’t say a word about my feelings. I let go of the wheelchair handles and gestured to the assistant to wheel me away. Back in my hospital room, I dumped all the pages of my draft onto the bed. One page was missing. The page with the sentence I had finally mastered. I stacked the remaining pages, put them into a clean manila envelope, and sealed it. A new notification popped up on the tablet. Allison Brooks has passed the first stage of her vocal evaluation. Note: The patient was highly cooperative and emotionally stable during Alexander Sterling’s presence. It is recommended that Mr. Sterling remains present for future sessions. I swiped the notification away and shut down the screen. The room was dead silent. The sound of the manila envelope sliding into my bag was incredibly quiet, but to me, it sounded like a door slamming shut forever.

Evelyn’s POV The Board of Trustees moved up the emergency review meeting. This time, I didn’t need to deliver the whole speech. I just had to show up and answer a few direct questions from the committee. Alexander rushed back to my ward early in the morning, holding a fresh printout of the speech and a voice recorder. “I’m going to be with you the entire time today, Evelyn,” he promised. I noticed a faint smell of clinical disinfectant on his coat sleeve. I didn’t ask about Pinecrest. There was no point. As long as Allison kept playing the victim, Alexander would always find a logical, noble reason to run to her. The drive to the corporate headquarters was dead silent. Alexander kept glancing at me, but I kept my eyes on the window, clutching the voice recorder in my palm. As we walked down the hallway outside the boardroom, I heard some board members whispering. “She can’t even get a full sentence out. Why are we keeping her mother’s seat for her?” “Did you see the leaked rehab logs? Alexander is treating Allison like a fragile glass doll.” “He’s basically doing damage control for her. If Evelyn fails the presentation next month, the Sterling Group is going to look ridiculous.” I froze near the entrance. I wanted to defend myself. I wanted to tell them I was fine. But my voice caught on the very first sound. Seeing me, the whisperers immediately shut their mouths. That mocking silence hurt worse than their words. Alexander stepped up behind me, placing a hand on my shoulder and glare sweeping over the executives. “Anyone who has an issue with Miss Carter’s status can submit their resignation today.” The executives’ faces turned pale. Before they could apologize, Alexander cut them off. “Did I stutter? Get out of my sight.” Once the meeting started, the head trustee flipped open my file. “Evelyn, your current medical status makes a live presentation highly risky. We suggest submitting a written report and letting a proxy read it for you.” Alexander immediately rejected the proposal. “Absolutely not.” The trustee frowned. “Alexander, if she has a vocal block during the live broadcast, the legacy seat will be suspended by the regulators.” “Then give her one last chance to prove herself,” Alexander said, his voice firm and unyielding. “Her mother built this foundation. No one is taking her seat before she gets to speak.” I sat beside him, my fingers squeezing the voice recorder. I wanted to say I can do this. But it felt like my throat was filled with dry sand. The boardroom was locked in a tense standoff. Eventually, the committee agreed to give me a final, one-month extension. After the meeting, Alexander wheeled me into the private lounge. For the first time, I turned on the voice recorder and slowly spoke a short sentence into it. It took every ounce of my energy, but I finished it. Seeing this, the tension in Alexander’s shoulders finally broke. At that exact moment, his assistant knocked and walked in, holding an urgent legal document from Pinecrest. “Mr. Sterling, Allison’s family is claiming that our aggressive legal pursuit caused her mental distress. They want you to sign a liability waiver now, or they will halt the public apology process.” Alexander grabbed the folder, his face turning incredibly dark. I looked up at him, still holding the voice recorder. Alexander put the file down on the table. “I’m not going today.” The assistant whispered, “Sir, if you don’t go, they will withdraw her apology draft. Without that, Evelyn’s board confirmation next month will lack the necessary legal clearing.” Alexander’s jaw clenched. I placed the voice recorder on the table and slowly pushed it toward him. I gestured for him to go. Alexander stared at me, his eyes filled with pain. “I’ll be back as soon as I sign it.” I didn’t nod, and I didn’t shake my head. I just put the recorder back into my bag. After Alexander left, I sat alone in the quiet lounge. The executives he had kicked out earlier were still lingering in the hallway. Soon, rumors about how Alexander was “covering up my incompetence” began to spread on the company’s internal Snapchat channels. Someone posted a screenshot: She can’t even speak, but she’s still holding onto the legacy seat. Alexander is doing all the heavy lifting behind the scenes. I stared at the screen, then turned my phone face down. The shared iCloud log updated again. Allison’s nurse had typed: Alexander came back to protect Evelyn’s board seat. He really has no choice but to handle my issues. I stared at the text. For the first time, I didn’t take a screenshot. I simply turned off my phone. I waited in that room until the sky turned black. Alexander never came back.

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Wyatt was bankrupt. He owed two million dollars, and his creditors had supposedly broken his leg. To keep him alive, I worked five jobs a day. I even signed up for shady, underground medical trials and sold my blood plasma twice a week. He used to hold me, sobbing, swearing that once he got back on his feet, he’d make me the happiest woman alive. Until today. Outside the VIP wing of a private hospital, I saw the man who was supposed to be paralyzed in bed. He was wearing a bespoke Tom Ford suit, looking incredibly handsome as he gently helped the city’s richest heiress out of a car for her prenatal checkup. The bankruptcy was a lie. The shattered leg was a lie. The only thing real was how he had drained me dry, body and soul. I didn’t make a scene. I simply turned around and handed all his dirty secrets to Gabe, the most powerful, ruthless billionaire in New York. “Mr. West,” I said, looking into his cold eyes. “Want to make a deal? I’ll help you destroy him.” I didn’t even flinch when the needle pierced my vein. The nurse drawing my blood looked at me like I was a crazy person. “Miss Roxy, this is your third time donating plasma this month. If you keep this up, you’re going to collapse.” “Just do it. I need the cash,” I said, my voice dry and raspy. As the bright red blood flowed through the tube and into the bag, my vision blurred, dark spots dancing before my eyes. To get the thousand-dollar compensation for this experimental drug trial, I had signed a waiver releasing the clinic of all liability. Suddenly, my phone buzzed. It was Wyatt. “Roxy, they’re here again,” Wyatt whimpered, his voice shaking violently over the line. “They said if they don’t get the money today, they’re going to break my other leg…” “…I’m so scared. Please, save me…” In the background, I could hear the terrifying sound of furniture being smashed to pieces. I bit my pale lip so hard it almost bled, forcing down the dizziness as I tried to soothe him. “Don’t worry, Wyatt. I got the money. I’m transferring it to you right now. Lock the door and don’t go outside.” After hanging up, I immediately transferred the $3,000 I had just earned into his account. This was the third month of Wyatt’s “bankruptcy.” Three months ago, his tech startup collapsed, leaving him with a two-million-dollar debt. The loan sharks had tracked him down. Right in front of me, they had brutally shattered his right leg with a metal pipe. That day, covered in blood, Wyatt had shielded me with his body, screaming, “Don’t touch her! I’ll pay you back! Every cent!” Because of those words, I willingly threw myself into this bottomless pit. I quit my decent corporate job. I loaded pallets in a warehouse by day, took night shifts at a diner, and spent my weekends selling blood and testing experimental drugs. I turned myself into a mindless, money-making machine. All because of what Wyatt had promised: “Roxy, once I get through this, I’m going to give you the most beautiful wedding in New York.” After the blood draw, I braced myself against the wall and slowly stumbled out of the clinic. It was pouring outside. I couldn’t even afford an Uber, so I pulled my cheap jacket tightly around myself and walked toward the subway. As I passed the city’s most exclusive private maternity hospital, a sleek black Rolls-Royce pulled up to the curb. The door opened, and a large black umbrella was raised. Under the umbrella stood a man in a perfectly tailored designer suit. He stood tall, walking with a perfectly steady, confident stride as he carefully helped a pregnant woman out of the backseat. “Slow down, Wyatt. The baby is kicking,” the woman giggled, her face radiant with happiness. The man wrapped his arm tenderly around her waist, whispering in her ear, “Careful on the steps, sweetheart. Today is our baby’s first 4D ultrasound.” A flash of lightning illuminated the sky, lighting up his face. I froze in the pouring rain, the blood in my veins turning to ice. It was Wyatt. The same Wyatt who, just thirty minutes ago, had been sobbing on the phone, screaming that he was being beaten by loan sharks. The Wyatt who was supposed to be paralyzed in our damp basement apartment. He didn’t need a wheelchair. His legs were perfectly fine. He was wearing a suit that cost more than my annual rent, sporting a Patek Philippe watch, gently escorting another woman. I stood there like a hollow doll, staring at the happy couple. I recognized the woman. Chloe Monroe. The sole heiress to the massive Monroe empire. A true princess of New York high society. Suddenly, things clicked. I remembered how Wyatt had started wearing a subtle, expensive cologne recently. He told me he used it to cover up the smell of his pain-relief patches. But now, even through the heavy curtain of rain, I could smell the scent of his new life—expensive, exclusive, and built entirely on lies. I didn’t rush over to scream at him. I was too exhausted. I didn’t even have the energy for anger. I just stood in the rain, watching them walk through the revolving glass doors of a world I could never enter. My phone buzzed in my pocket. A Snapchat message from Wyatt. “Roxy, got the money. The guys left. My leg hurts so bad, I miss you. Can you come home early tonight?” Looking at the text, I suddenly started to laugh. I laughed until my tears mixed with the rain, washing down my face. Roxy, you are a complete, utter fool.

It was late at night when I finally returned to our damp, dark basement apartment. As soon as I pushed the door open, the heavy, medicinal smell of cheap ointment hit my nose. Wyatt was lying on our worn-out single bed, his right leg encased in a thick plaster cast. His face looked incredibly pale. Hearing the door, he turned his head with difficulty, his eyes instantly filling with worry. “Roxy! Oh my god, you’re soaked! Go take a hot shower before you catch a cold.” He struggled to sit up, groaning in pain before falling back onto the mattress. What a brilliant performance. If I hadn’t seen him earlier, I would have truly believed he was on the verge of death. I walked over and stood by the bed, looking down at him. “Does your leg still hurt?” I asked softly. “It does,” he said, reaching out to grasp my hand, his eyes red. “But now that you’re here, the pain is gone.” “Roxy, I don’t know what I would’ve done without you today. You saved my life.” I looked down at his long, clean fingers. These same hands had been wrapped around Chloe Monroe’s waist just hours ago. With a cold shudder, I yanked my hand back. Wyatt blinked, sensing the sudden shift in the air. “Roxy? What’s wrong? Are you just exhausted?” “Wyatt,” I said, staring directly into his eyes. “Were you home all day?” His eyes flickered for a fraction of a second before he nodded without hesitation. “Of course. How could I go anywhere with this leg? If you hadn’t sent that money, those thugs would have killed me.” “Is that so?” I walked to the foot of the bed. Before he could react, I raised my foot and slammed it down with all my might onto his “shattered” right leg. “Ahhh!” Wyatt let out a blood-curdling shriek, curling into a ball. “Roxy! Are you insane?!” he roared, sweat pouring down his face from the pain. I watched him coldly. “The cast is fake, isn’t it? Just stuffed with foam.” “Because if your leg was actually broken, my kick would have snapped the bone right in half.” Wyatt’s face drained of all color. He stared at me, his lips trembling, unable to utter a single word. “I saw you today, Wyatt. Outside the Presbyterian Maternity Clinic.” I stated the facts calmly, as if I were telling someone else’s story. “The suit looked great. The watch was stunning. And Miss Monroe’s bump is really starting to show, isn’t it?” Silence, heavy as death, filled the room. The pain and helplessness on Wyatt’s face began to fade, replaced by a cold, arrogant sneer. Now that his cover was blown, he didn’t bother pretending anymore. He ripped the fake cast off his leg and stood up. He towered over me, any trace of the gentle boyfriend completely gone from his eyes. “Since you saw us, there’s no point in hiding it,” he said, casually straightening his collar. His tone was as casual as if he were discussing the weather. “Chloe and I are getting engaged next month. She’s four months pregnant.” I felt my heart shatter into a million jagged pieces. “So the bankruptcy was a lie? The debts were a lie?” My voice trembled despite my best efforts. “The bankruptcy was real,” Wyatt said, lighting a cigarette and taking a drag. “But I don’t owe any money to loan sharks. Those guys were just actors I hired.” “Why?” I screamed, my eyes burning with tears. “Why would you do this to me?” “Because I needed the fucking cash!” Wyatt snapped, raising his voice. “My company went under. I was broke! If I wanted to be with Chloe, I needed money to present myself as a successful entrepreneur!” “If I didn’t play the victim, would you have worked yourself to the bone to give me every cent you made?” I stared at the man in front of me, utterly horrified. Was this really the boy who used to write me love letters on our college campus? “Don’t look at me like that, Roxy,” Wyatt sneered, blowing a cloud of smoke in my face. “Let’s be real. You’re an orphan with no family, no connections, and a useless degree. What could you possibly offer me?” “Chloe can give me the life I want. She can save me twenty years of hard labor. I just made the smart choice.” “And what about me?!” I gestured to my exhausted body. “I worked five jobs for you! I sold my own blood!” “I turned myself into a ghost for you! Wyatt, do you even have a soul?!” “Nobody forced you to do that.” Wyatt let out a harsh laugh, pulled his wallet from his pocket, and threw a credit card right at my face. “There’s $50,000 on this card. Consider it compensation. Take the money and get out.” “And don’t ever show your face in front of Chloe or me again. Your cheap, ghetto vibe will only embarrass me.” The plastic card struck my cheek, stinging sharply. I looked at the card on the floor, and suddenly, a laugh escaped my lips. I bent down and picked up the card. Wyatt’s eyes flared with disgust. “That’s more like it. I knew you’d be reasonable. At the end of the day, girls like you are always about the money—” Slap! I swung my arm and slapped him across the face with every ounce of strength I had left. The impact spun his head around, a trickle of blood appearing at the corner of his mouth. “Keep the fifty grand,” I spat, throwing the card back into his bleeding face. “You’ll need it for your funeral.” I turned on my heel and walked out. “Roxy! Don’t you dare walk away from me!” Wyatt screamed behind me, his voice cracking with rage. “Who the hell do you think you are? Without me, you’ll be starving on the streets in a week!” I didn’t look back. I pushed open the heavy door and stepped out into the endless, dark night.

I had nowhere to go. I wandered the streets of Manhattan all night until the sun began to rise. My phone was completely dead. I found a public restroom, splashed cold water on my face, and stared at the gaunt, hollow-eyed woman in the mirror. For three years, I had sacrificed my pride, my health, and my life for Wyatt. And it had all been a lie. I couldn’t just let this go. I walked to the diner where I used to work and borrowed a charger from my former boss. The moment my phone buzzed back to life, dozens of missed calls and text messages flooded the screen. They were all from Wyatt. None of them were apologies. They were all threats. “Roxy, take the money and keep your mouth shut.” “If you dare say a word to Chloe, I will make sure you never get a job in this city again.” “You’re just a cheap girl who sells her blood. You think you can fight me?” Reading his venomous words, a strange, icy calm washed over me. I dialed a number. “Hey, Jax. It’s Roxy.” Jax was a street-smart guy I’d met during my late-night shifts. He knew everything about everyone in the underbelly of New York. “Hey, Roxy. What’s up?” “I need you to dig up some dirt on someone. Wyatt Thorne.” “I want his bank statements, call logs, and business transactions for the past three months. I’ll pay whatever it takes.” “Consider it done, sweetheart.” After hanging up, I used the last few dollars in my pocket to rent a computer at an internet cafe. I began searching for any news regarding Wyatt and Chloe Monroe. The news of the Monroe heiress’s engagement had already taken New York by storm. In the articles, Wyatt was painted as a brilliant, self-made young entrepreneur, a rising star in the investment world. I scoffed. A rising star? He was just a parasite feeding on women to climb the social ladder. Two days later, Jax sent me a file. As I scrolled through the documents, the blood drained from my face. Wyatt hadn’t just conned me. He had ruined his mentor, Arthur. Arthur was a legendary figure in the financial world. He had taken Wyatt under his wing, mentored him, and even invested his own retirement savings into Wyatt’s startup. But Wyatt had cooked the books, embezzled all of Arthur’s money, and framed the old man for the fraud. Arthur had suffered a massive stroke from the shock and was now lying in the ICU, in a vegetative state. And those “loan sharks” who had broken Wyatt’s leg? They weren’t actors. They were Arthur’s former employees—people who had lost their life savings because of Wyatt’s greed. Desperate, they had confronted Wyatt. To get them off his back, Wyatt had intentionally provoked them, letting them injure his leg slightly. The cast was fake, but he used the incident to police-report them, putting them behind bars. He had used the money I earned with my blood to pay off the victims’ families and buy their silence. That absolute bastard. My hands shook violently as I bit my lip, tasting copper. I wasn’t just a fooled girlfriend. I had unwittingly become an accomplice to a monster. I took the files and went straight to the hospital. Outside Arthur’s ICU room sat an elderly, white-haired woman. It was Beatrice, Arthur’s wife. She looked as though she had aged ten years overnight, staring blankly at the heart monitor inside. I walked over and knelt directly in front of her. “Beatrice… I am so, so sorry…” I pressed my forehead against the cold tile floor, tears streaming down my face. Beatrice gasped. Recognizing me, she began to tremble, stood up, and slapped me hard across the face. “Get out! How dare you show your face here! You’re with that monster, Wyatt!” “You destroyed Arthur! You destroyed our family!” I didn’t move. I let her strike me. “Beatrice, I didn’t know… I swear to God I didn’t know he was stealing from Arthur…” I sobbed, pouring out the entire truth. I told her about the clinical trials, the plasma donations, how I was conned, and how I finally discovered his secret. Beatrice collapsed back into her chair, covering her face as she wept bitterly. “Oh, Arthur… how could you trust such a snake…” I wiped my tears, pulled a checkbook from my bag, and handed her a cashier’s check for $10,000. It was all the money I could max out from my credit cards over the last forty-eight hours. “Beatrice, take this for Arthur’s medical bills.” “I swear to you, I will make Wyatt pay. I will make him return every single cent he stole from you, with interest.” Leaving the hospital, I stood on the busy New York street, my eyes cold as ice. Wyatt, you think marrying into the Monroe family will protect you? I am going to strip you of everything. I will make your life a living hell.

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After I caught Ethan cheating with my intern, Chloe, things went wild. In the heat of the moment, she fell and got seriously hurt. Because of that accident, Chloe lost her ability to have children, and I was sent to prison for two years. But Ethan’s torture didn’t stop there. The day I was released, he drove to the prison entrance, planning to drag me straight to Chloe to beg for her forgiveness. Only, he never saw me. He only saw the other inmates walking out of the iron gates. As the crowd thinned out, Ethan grew impatient. He grabbed a random woman by her arm and demanded, “Where is Elena?” It had been nearly six months since anyone had uttered that name. The woman looked at him in shock. “Elena?” “She passed away from an illness six months ago.” Ethan didn’t believe her. His grip tightened, his voice dripping with sheer disdain. “What did Elena pay you to make up this pathetic lie?” The woman, already annoyed at being grabbed by a stranger, scoffed. She violently shook off his hand. “You are freaking crazy.” She walked away, and Ethan didn’t chase her. He clearly didn’t take her words to heart. He just sneered. “Using death to hide from me? Pathetic. I will find you, Elena.” With that, Ethan got into his sports car. The engine roared, and I found myself sitting in the passenger seat beside him—as a ghost. As the streets outside became familiar, it hit me. Ethan was heading to my apartment. I let out a bitter, silent laugh. When it came to me, Ethan had zero trust. Two years ago, he refused to believe I was innocent. Now, he refused to believe I was dead. But I was truly dead. I couldn’t even defend myself anymore. A sharp ringtone broke my train of thought. Ethan picked up a FaceTime call. Chloe’s face popped up on the dashboard screen. Before I died, she had been transferred to a branch office in another city. Every time Ethan went to visit her, I was locked inside his villa. It had been two years since I last saw her. She no longer wore those cheap, faded clothes from when we first met. Now, she was draped in Chanel and Cartier, her cheeks rosy. Clearly, Ethan had been taking great care of her. “My transfer is finally over, babe!” Chloe squealed through the screen. “No more long-distance!” Ethan smiled warmly. “You worked so hard these past six months. Let me take you out for a fancy dinner when you get back.” “What’s your flight number? Let me book the ticket for you.” Chloe looked like the happiest girl alive. “No need, silly! You always treat me like a baby. Focus on driving, okay? I have a client meeting in a bit.” “Alright. Take care, and make sure you eat properly…” Ethan’s voice was incredibly gentle. I used to hear that same voice years ago. I thought I had numbed myself to this pain. Yet, my ghostly eyes still welled up. The car stopped outside my old apartment building. Ethan jumped out of the car. Within two minutes, he was at the lobby. By some twisted fate, he ran right into my sister, Lily, who was walking downstairs. I hadn’t seen Lily in six months. I stared at her, taking in every detail. She no longer looked pale and exhausted like she did before my death. She wasn’t crying her eyes out anymore. Indeed, she was doing much better without me dragging her down. When I was sick, Lily was the one who stayed by my side through the chemotherapy. She watched me wither away and die. Seeing Ethan now, the hatred in Lily’s eyes was blinding. But remembering my dying wish—for her to live a life free of hatred—she tried to walk right past him. But Ethan blocked her path. “Where is Elena? How long is she going to hide?” Lily ignored him, but then Ethan barked, “Tell her to get the hell out and apologize to Chloe!” That was the breaking point. Lily snapped her head back, her body trembling with rage. “How dare you even speak Elena’s name? If you hadn’t sent her to prison without a second thought, she wouldn’t have died!” “And besides, the only one who needs to apologize is you—the cheating bastard!”

Ethan froze. Maybe Lily’s words brought back the memory of the day I caught them. Catching him was an accident. That day, I was folding his laundry when I found a bright red lipstick stain on his collar. Lily saw it too. We had grown up together, relying only on each other. She couldn’t stand seeing me get hurt. She immediately hired a private investigator. When we got the hotel room number, Lily tried to calm me down. But all my sanity evaporated the moment I pushed that hotel door open. Two naked bodies were tangled on the bed. The girl was Chloe—the intern I had mentored like my own family. My mind went completely blank. I grabbed a heavy vase from the entryway and threw it at them. “How could you do this to me?!” I screamed. Ethan shielded Chloe with the duvet. His eyes held no guilt. Only fury. “Elena, what the hell are you doing here?” “I should ask you that!” I cried, my voice breaking. “You met Chloe through me! You knew she was my intern!” “You knew I treated her like a little sister! How could you both do this to me?!” Ethan choked on his words. Chloe quickly slipped on her robe and got on her knees in front of me. “I’m sorry, Elena. I know it’s wrong, but I love Ethan…” Before she could finish, my palm slapped hard across her face. “How dare you, Chloe! After everything I did for you!” The next second, Ethan lunged forward and slapped me across my face. The force of his blow sent me spinning. My cheek burned. I stared at him in utter disbelief. “You… you hit me for her?” Ethan and I had been together since college. After he took over his family’s firm, he took me to every gala to make me feel secure. When I had a high fever, he stayed up all night at my bedside. We never had major fights, and in our three years together, he had never laid a hand on me. For a split second, regret flashed in Ethan’s eyes. But it was gone instantly. He grabbed Chloe and walked out, leaving me with cold, brutal words. “You have no right to judge me, Elena. Not after your cozy pictures with your ex-boyfriend got leaked all over Snapchat.” He was talking about the photos. I had met up with my ex-boyfriend, Leo, just to discuss a business project. Someone took photos and used AI to make them look incredibly intimate. The moment those photos leaked, the design firm was filled with nasty rumors. Everyone called me a slut. I had asked Ethan if he believed me. He nodded back then. Even when I noticed him avoiding physical contact with me afterward, I still chose to trust him. But the truth was, he never believed me. His affair with Chloe was just his sick way of getting revenge. I laughed. I laughed until tears streamed down my face. Just like Lily was doing right now. “You cheated on her for ‘revenge.’ You didn’t believe a word she said. You sent her to prison and ended up killing her!” Lily screamed at Ethan. “You were the one who ruined everything! Why is she dead while you get to live perfectly fine?!”

Ethan frowned, his voice cold. “You two really went all out with this lie just to avoid saying sorry, didn’t you?” “I thought two years in prison would teach her a lesson. I guess she’s still as manipulative as ever.” Lily knew exactly what he was referring to. She wiped her tears and stood up for me. “Elena never lied to you! The design portfolio Chloe used to win the Grand Plaza bid? Those were Elena’s original designs!” That happened so long ago. I thought I had forgotten the pain, but hearing it again made my chest ache. Back then, Ethan’s parents found out about the affair and forced him to apologize to me. They made him promise to cut ties with Chloe. I knew I shouldn’t have forgiven him, but I couldn’t let go of our years together. So, I accepted his apology. After that, Ethan really did stop seeing Chloe. I thought we could go back to the way we were. But reality slapped me hard. To get promoted to Senior Designer, we had to submit an original portfolio. I spent six months in the studio, drawing, rendering, and revising. But right before the submission deadline, the HR manager told me Chloe had already submitted an identical portfolio under her name. I lost my mind. I cornered Chloe in the office. I threw the printouts at her face. “Is this how you build your career, Chloe? Stealing my work?!” Chloe squeezed out fake tears. “Elena, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” My fists clenched. “You are my intern! Who else had access to my desk and laptop?!” “I didn’t do it! You’re just projecting your anger because of Ethan! But Ethan and I are over!” Before I could reply, Ethan’s voice cut in from behind. “Elena, have you not had enough?” “I cut ties with her. Why are you still bullying her?” “I’m not!” I protested. “She stole my—” “Enough!” Mr. Davis, the managing partner, walked in. After hearing both sides, Mr. Davis looked at me. “Elena, where is your proof? Can you prove these files are yours?” I had the raw CAD files on my USB drive. But before I could even grab it, Ethan spoke up. “I can prove it. I saw Chloe working on these designs at my place.” Ethan was a major shareholder of the firm, and everyone knew we were engaged. With him backing Chloe, no one believed me. Chloe walked away scot-free, while I was fired for “academic fraud and malicious slander.” I remember standing in the pouring rain that day, screaming at Ethan. “Why are you doing this to me?! What did I do wrong?!” Ethan looked at me like I was trash. “Your mistake was stealing Chloe’s work and playing the victim.” That was the moment I realized Ethan trusted Chloe more than me. I became the most hated person in the industry. Lily was the only one who believed in me. And now, two years later, she was still the only one defending me. But Ethan still didn’t believe her. Lily had no strength left to argue. She looked at her watch and made up her mind. “You want to see her so badly, don’t you?” “Come with me.”

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I had spent the last month at a private hospice care center, sleeping by my terminally ill mother’s bedside. I was dying to get back home. I couldn’t wait to surprise my five-year-old daughter, Lily, at our suburban mansion. But the moment I pushed the front door open, my mother-in-law, Beatrice Carter, looked at me and frowned. “Olivia? Isn’t it the weekend? Why are you back here tutoring so early?” Her words hit me like a physical blow. I froze. I am Georgina. Since when did I become Olivia, our daughter’s college-student tutor? Before I could process this, my husband Anthony came downstairs, holding Lily in his arms. I rushed toward him like a drowning woman grabbing a lifeline, waiting for him to laugh and end this sick joke. Instead, Anthony gently pulled Lily back, shielding her from me. He looked at me with a soft, patronizing scold. “Olivia, we’ve talked about this. Please stop touching my wife’s personal belongings. Why are you wearing Georgina’s slippers again?” My eyes followed his gaze. There, walking out of the kitchen, was the real tutor—Olivia Bennett. She was wearing my silk pajamas, holding a warm cup of tea. My daughter, Lily, ran to her, wrapping her arms around her legs. “Mommy!” she chirped. Horror washed over me in waves. Anthony walked up to me and patted my shoulder with a sigh of pity. “Olivia, I get it. You come from a poor background, and you want a shortcut in life.” “But Georgina is the love of my life. Stop playing this pathetic imitation game. You don’t need to come in for tutoring tomorrow. You’re fired.”

“Anthony, what the hell is wrong with you?” I stared at the face I had loved for seven years. It felt completely unrecognizable. My blood ran ice-cold. His eyes were dead. No guilt. No nervous laughter of a prankster caught in the act. He was looking at me like I was a delusional stranger causing a scene in his house. “Olivia, my patience has limits,” Anthony said. He pulled his sleeve out of my grip and casually ironed out the wrinkles with his hand. He turned, took the warm tea from Olivia’s hands, blew on it gently, and held it to her lips. Olivia took a sip, looking up at him with a shy, blushing smile. That was my gesture. The exact angle of her head, the curve of her lips—it was a carbon copy of me. My stomach churned. I bolted toward the console cabinet in the corner of the living room. “You want to play this game? Fine! Let’s look at the paperwork!” I slammed the drawer open. “Our marriage certificate is right here. It has my name on it. Georgina Williams!” My fingers brushed against the familiar leather folder. I grabbed it and whipped it around, holding it high in the air. Beatrice let out a harsh laugh, rolling her eyes so hard I thought they’d get stuck. “This girl is gold-digging mad. Rummaging through our house, pretending she’s the lady of the manor. Pathetic.” I ignored her. My hands shook as I flipped open our wedding album clipped to the certificate. The moment my eyes hit the page, my knees buckled. I collapsed onto the hardwood floor. In the photo, Anthony was smiling warmly in his black tuxedo. But the woman leaning against his shoulder, glowing in her white wedding gown, was Olivia. And printed clearly in elegant cursive on the certificate below was: Georgina Williams. “No… this is impossible,” I whispered, rubbing my eyes until they burned. This couldn’t be real. Just yesterday, Anthony and I were on FaceTime. He was whining about how he couldn’t sleep without me in our bed. How could my identity, my husband, and my daughter be stolen overnight? I snapped my head up, glaring at Olivia. “What did you do? You are Olivia Bennett!” “I hired you six months ago to tutor Lily in French!” Olivia shrank back, hiding behind Anthony’s broad shoulders. “Anthony… is Olivia okay? Has the stress from college finally broken her mind?” her voice trembled, her eyes instantly filling with tears. Anthony wrapped his arms around her. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ve got you.” Then, he turned to me. His eyes were pure steel. “Olivia, you stole my wife’s clothes, forged documents, and now you’re threatening her in our own home.” Anthony pulled out his iPhone, his thumb sliding across the screen. “I tried to give you some dignity because you were good to Lily. But since you want to act crazy, I’m calling the police.” The police? He was going to arrest me for trespassing in my own home? The sheer absurdity of it drove me mad. I scrambled across the floor, lunging toward Lily on the sofa. “Lily! Look at me! Look at Mommy’s eyes!” “I’m your mommy! I’m the one who reads you bedtime stories every single night! Have you forgotten?” I reached out to hold her. But Lily shrieked as if she were looking at a literal monster. She kicked her legs, dodging my hands. “Go away! You’re not my mommy! You’re a bad woman!” She was only five. The terror and disgust in her eyes were real. She couldn’t fake that. She ran to Olivia, burying her face in Olivia’s silk pajamas, sobbing loudly. “Mommy, I’m scared! Make the bad lady leave!” Olivia scooped Lily into her arms, crying tears of motherly devotion. “Shh, baby. Mommy’s here. I’ll protect you.” Watching them, my heart shattered into a million jagged pieces. Beatrice marched over, grabbed me by my collar, and dragged me toward the front door. “Get out! Do we need to wait for the cops to throw you in a cell?” “What did our family do to deserve a psycho stalker like you?” I thrashed wildly. “Let go of me! I bought this house! This is my home!” Anthony walked over. One by one, he pried my bleeding fingers off the doorframe. His grip was gentle, almost polite. But his words were poisoned daggers plunged straight into my chest. “Olivia, here is your final paycheck for the month.” “If you ever step foot on this property again, or harass my wife, I will make sure you never find a job in this city again.” A thick stack of hundred-dollar bills slammed into my face, scattering across the wet concrete. The heavy oak door slammed shut in my face. The warm lights and happy laughter of my family were locked away. I sat on the freezing stone steps, shivering violently. This wasn’t a prank. This was a calculated, cold-blooded conspiracy to erase me from existence.

The night wind cut through my thin pajamas as I wandered down the dark, tree-lined streets of our gated community. Occasionally, a car drove past, its headlights illuminating my pathetic, shivering figure. Calm down, Georgina. Think, I told myself. If they managed to wipe every trace of me from the house, the rest of the world couldn’t have gone crazy too. I reached into my pocket. Thank God. Before leaving the hospice, I had slipped my phone and my wallet into my pocket out of habit. I pulled out my driver’s license. Under the dim glow of a streetlamp, my pupils dilated in shock. The photo on the card was definitely me. But the name printed next to it read: Olivia Bennett. The date of birth, the address—everything belonged to that broke college student. My hand shook, and the card clattered onto the asphalt. How? My wallet never left my side. When did they swap my ID? I grabbed the card, my heart hammering against my ribs, and dialed my mother’s primary care physician, Dr. Evans. The phone rang for a long time before a sleepy voice answered. “Hello, Dr. Evans. It’s Georgina,” I gasped, trying to keep my voice steady. Silence stretched for two seconds. Then, Dr. Evans spoke, his voice laced with confusion. “Olivia? Why are you calling this late?” “Mrs. Williams was discharged this afternoon. Georgina took her home hours ago.” Olivia. Even he called me Olivia. The world spun around me. I bit my lip so hard I tasted copper. “Dr. Evans, listen to my voice! I am Georgina!” “I’m the one who paid for her chemotherapy! We discussed her surgical options just last month!” The doctor sighed, his tone turning annoyed. “Olivia, have you been drinking? Every time Georgina came in, she was accompanied by her husband, Anthony.” “Anthony signed all the financial paperwork. You’re just the tutor. Stop calling me with this nonsense.” Click. They hadn’t just stolen my life. They had rewritten everyone’s memories. But how? That was impossible. It defied all logic. Unless… A terrifying thought crossed my mind. I sprinted to the main road, hailed a taxi, and gave the driver the address of the company I built from scratch—Aether Technologies. Even if Anthony bought off the hospital and my home, Aether had hundreds of employees. Someone had to recognize their CEO! The skyscraper was still glowing with lights at 2:00 AM. I burst through the glass doors of the lobby. The night receptionist immediately stood up. “Olivia? What are you doing here at this hour?” Her voice was sweet, but it felt like a sledgehammer to my chest. I ran to the desk, slamming my hands down. “What did you just call me? Look at my face!” “I am Georgina Williams! I built this damn company!” Terrified by my crazed look, she took two steps back. “Olivia, stop playing around.” “Mr. Carter announced at the company-wide meeting this afternoon that you were let go from tutoring Lily. He explicitly blacklisted you from entering this building.” As she spoke, her hand snucked under the desk, pressing the silent security alarm. I bypassed the desk, running toward the elevators. “I need to see Anthony! I want to see the corporate registry! I am the majority shareholder!” Within seconds, three burly security guards tackled me to the ground, pinning my arms behind my back. “Let me go! You blind fools! I’m the one who pays your salaries!” I screamed, my hair tangled, looking like a literal lunatic. The head of security looked down at me with disgust. “Olivia, Mr. Carter was kind enough to fund your college tuition and give you a job.” “And this is how you repay him? Trying to steal his wife’s company? Get her out of here before I call the cops!” They dragged me out of the lobby and threw me onto the cold, wet pavement. My knees scraped against the asphalt, blood seeping through my pajamas. I looked up at the massive neon sign of Aether Technologies. I designed that logo myself on the night Anthony proposed to me. Now, it felt like it was mocking my stupidity. I had lost everything. My name, my family, my money, my business. In a matter of hours, I had been completely erased from the world. I curled up under the streetlamp, tears finally spilling over. Why? Why did Anthony do this? If he fell in love with Olivia, he could have just asked for a divorce. I would have walked away. I was never a beggar for love. Why use such a sick, elaborate scheme to skin me alive? As I drowned in despair, my phone vibrated in my pocket. It was a calendar notification: [Tomorrow, 10:00 AM: Replace smart vacuum filter.] My eyes snapped open. My heart skipped a beat. The smart vacuum! To keep an eye on Lily while she played in the living room, I had secretly modified the camera on the smart vacuum cleaner. It didn’t run on our home Wi-Fi. It bypassed the main network, connecting to a private cloud server I had set up during my college coding days. An account Anthony didn’t even know existed.

With trembling, frozen fingers, I walked into a 24-hour convenience store and paid to use their guest computer. My hands shook so violently I kept mistyping the encrypted URL. Enter. The screen refreshed. The private cloud storage opened. Inside were thousands of photos of Lily and me, along with digital logs of my entire life as Georgina. No Olivia. Only me. I covered my mouth, tears dripping onto the keyboard. I wasn’t crazy. I was Georgina Williams. I quickly clicked on the hidden security footage folder and pulled up the live playback from this afternoon. The camera angle was low, gliding across the living room floor, but the audio was crystal clear. Anthony was lounging on our Italian leather sofa. Olivia was curled up in his lap. “The look on her face when she walked in was priceless,” Olivia giggled, tracing circles on Anthony’s chest. “The neurotoxin we slipped into her coffee really did its job, didn’t it?” Anthony smirked, taking a sip of red wine. “Keeping her doped up and exhausted at her mom’s bedside for a month was the easy part. It gave us all the time we needed to swap her documents and reprogram the smart home.” Olivia laughed, a cruel, mocking sound. “Her mother’s doctors were so easy to buy. A little cash, some deepfake videos, and they actually believed I was Georgina visiting her.” “Though, that Dr. Evans guy cost us a pretty penny to sign off on the fake medical records.” Anthony pinched her chin, his eyes dark with greed. “Who cares about a few thousand dollars when we’re about to take 100% control of Aether Technologies?” “Once she goes fully insane and we lock her up in an asylum, all her shares legally transfer to me. We’ll be billionaires.” My jaw clenched. So my mother’s sudden illness was their doing. The hospital staff and my employees had been manipulated through bribes and deepfakes. They didn’t just want my money. They wanted to drive me to actual madness so they could lock me away forever. I won’t let you, I thought, a cold fury replacing my despair. This video was concrete evidence. If I could get the physical SD card from the smart vacuum, I could go straight to the federal authorities. I logged out of the cloud and wiped the computer’s browsing history. I checked the clock on the wall. 2:00 AM. At this hour, they would be sound asleep. I took a cab back to the estate. Avoiding the main security gate, I scaled the fence from the woods behind the property. I crept into the garden and reached under a terracotta pot for the spare house key. I had hidden it there years ago, a habit Anthony always called “tacky.” Click. The side door swung open. The mansion was pitch black and silent. The only sound was the rushing of my own blood in my ears. Barefoot, I slipped onto the hardwood floor. Guided by muscle memory, I crawled under the living room sofa. My fingers brushed against the cold plastic shell of the smart vacuum. Holding my breath, I popped open the bottom latch and pulled out the micro SD card. Got it! With this, Anthony and Olivia were going to prison. I clenched the tiny card in my fist and turned to leave. Snap— The massive crystal chandelier above flooded the living room with blinding light. I winced, shielding my eyes. “Looking for this, Georgina?” My body froze. I slowly opened my eyes. Anthony was standing at the top of the grand staircase in his silk pajamas, swirling a glass of Merlot. He was looking down at me with a sickening smirk. Behind him stood Olivia, holding an iPad, a smug smile plastered on her face. “You… you were awake?” I stammered, stepping back, hiding my hand behind my back. Anthony walked down the stairs, step by slow step, his eyes locked onto my arm. “Did you really think your little DIY camera hack went unnoticed?” He opened his left hand. Lying in his palm was an identical micro SD card. My mind went completely blank. “Did you honestly think you could outsmart me in my own house?” Anthony chuckled. With a flick of his fingers, he snapped the card in half and threw the pieces onto the floor. He leaned in close, his breath smelling of expensive wine. “Do you want to know why everyone played along so perfectly this past month, Georgina?” He snapped his fingers. Olivia turned the iPad around, facing the screen toward me. “Did you really think this was just about a simple betrayal?” Anthony whispered. “Welcome to your very own, custom-made, real-life Truman Show.”

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On our wedding day, my bridesmaid decided to test Carter with three simple questions before the ceremony. I thought he’d ace them easily. I never expected him to get the very first one wrong. “What’s Chloe’s shoe size?” Without a second thought, he blurted out, “Size 6.” “What’s her favorite color?” “Blue.” An awkward silence fell over the bridal suite. Everyone exchanged nervous glances. He was wrong on both. Then came the final question: “What year did Chloe graduate from college?” Everyone relaxed, thinking there was no way he could mess this up. After all, we were college sweethearts. “2013,” Carter said confidently. “I made her a custom pair of crystal heels as a graduation gift that year. I’m 100% sure.” My gaze drifted to Hailey, my maid of honor, who was wearing a dusty blue bridesmaid dress and sparkling crystal heels. She bit her lip, whispering to Carter in a small, tense voice: “Chloe graduated in 2012. I was the one who graduated in 2013.” In that split second, everything clicked. The last lingering doubt in my heart vanished. I let out a cold, quiet laugh, looked down at my phone, and texted my parents: “Mom, Dad, get the car ready. I’m calling off the wedding.”

The room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. “My bad. I mixed up the years. It was 2012,” Carter corrected himself coldly, acting as if it was no big deal. Hailey quickly forced a smile to break the tension. “Chloe, Carter’s just been super stressed about the wedding planning lately. It’s normal to get a little confused. Don’t make a scene. All our friends and family are waiting downstairs.” Instantly, the other bridesmaids chimed in, trying to appease me. “Yeah, babe, it’s your big day! Smile a little!” “You can punish him tonight. Don’t let a silly mistake ruin the ceremony!” They all thought I was overreacting. But only I knew that Carter had changed. Years ago, if I so much as frowned, he would immediately panic, doing whatever it took—buying me gifts, telling stupid jokes—just to make me smile. But now, his eyes were glued to my best friend, and he couldn’t seem to look away. “Fine. Let’s go,” I said. I didn’t want to make things awkward for the guests who had flown in from across the country. I followed the itinerary and let Carter carry me out to the car. As he lifted me, he laughed and said, “Have you been stress-eating lately? You definitely feel heavier than 110 lbs.” 110 lbs. That was Hailey’s weight. She had just bragged about it on her Ins story yesterday. “Have you been carrying someone who weighs 110 lbs lately?” I asked casually. Carter stiffened. He quickly shook his head. “Of course not. Don’t be paranoid.” Right then, Hailey jumped in, eager to clarify. “Oh, actually, I’m 120 lbs now, so it’s definitely not me!” I looked down, hiding my mock scoff. Guilty people always scream the loudest. But I didn’t call them out. I wanted to see how long they could keep up this pathetic show. Inside the cramped sports car, Hailey insisted on squeezing in, sitting right between Carter and me. “You don’t mind, do you, Chloe? The other shuttle cars are totally full. Let’s just squeeze.” I didn’t say a word. The entire ride, Hailey chattered away, looking far more excited than the actual bride. And Carter answered her every word. It made me feel like the third wheel at my own wedding. As we rounded a corner, Hailey suddenly tapped Carter’s shoulder. “Carter, I’m dying for those honey lavender cupcakes from that bakery uptown.” “Sure, I’ll grab some for you.” With that, Carter spun the steering wheel, taking a sharp turn in the exact opposite direction of the wedding venue. My brows furrowed. “Carter, stop. We don’t have time.” “That bakery is ten miles away. The ceremony starts in an hour. We’re going to be late.” He glared at me through the rearview mirror. “It’s on the way! Buying cupcakes takes two minutes. You’re just being petty because of those trivia questions.” I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood, clenching my fists to keep from crying. When he got my graduation year wrong and I stayed quiet, I was “ruining the mood.” But when Hailey wanted cupcakes from across town, it was “on the way.” Fine. If he wasn’t in a rush, neither was I. After all, I had no intention of marrying him anyway. My phone buzzed. A text from my parents: “Sweetheart, the SUV is parked by the side entrance of the venue. We’re ready when you are.”

I don’t care for sweets, so I just stood near the bakery entrance, watching them. The baker was incredibly friendly and offered Hailey a sample of their new flavor. “Haven’t seen you and your boyfriend in a while!” “You guys look so fancy today. Going to a gala?” Hailey blushed, pointing a manicured finger toward me. “Oh, no! It’s my best friend’s wedding today. I’m her maid of honor.” The baker’s smile froze. He looked back and forth between the three of us, his expression turning highly uncomfortable. “Oh, my bad,” he apologized awkwardly. “You two come in for afternoon tea so often, I just assumed you were a couple.” “I didn’t realize there was a third party.” The “third party” he was referring to was, without a doubt, me. I waited for Carter to speak up and defend me. But he didn’t. He didn’t care at all. Instead, he bought every single flavor of cupcakes they had, walking out with three giant shopping bags. I made one passing comment: “Don’t waste food if you can’t finish them.” And just like that, Hailey burst into tears. “Chloe… I know this isn’t about the cupcakes,” she sobbed, sounding incredibly fragile. “You’re just mad because Carter spent money on me.” “I’m so sorry.” She shakily pulled two hundred-dollar bills from her purse and tried to force them into my hand. That was the final straw for Carter’s patience. His jaw tightened, and he looked at me with pure disgust. “Chloe, do you have any sense of the bigger picture?” “It’s our wedding day, and you’re choosing now to throw a tantrum? Hailey is your best friend. It’s completely normal for me to buy her some treats.” Normal? I looked at her. I wanted to laugh. The LV bag on her shoulder, the Cartier necklace she was wearing, the designer heels on her feet—Carter had bought every single one of them. Meanwhile, in our seven years of dating, the most expensive gift I had ever received from him was a electric toothbrush. Even the outdated wedding dress I was wearing today was a cheap rental I paid for myself. I had never asked Carter for a single dime. I used to think that by not caring about his money, I would get his pure, unadulterated love. How naive. In the end, I got neither. “Carter, don’t blame Chloe,” Hailey pleaded, playing the saint. “It’s her first time being a bride, so she’s probably just anxious. Please don’t fight because of me. You know my parents got a messy divorce, and all I want is for you guys to be happy.” I stared at Hailey. In that moment, my heart felt like it was being stabbed by a thousand needles. The year her parents divorced, she couldn’t sleep for months. I was the one who stayed up with her, cooked for her, washed her clothes, and held her hand through her darkest times. I never expected her to stab me in the back like this. “Yeah, whatever you say,” I murmured. It took me a long time to pull myself out of my memories. By the time my vision cleared, the tears on my face had already dried. Back in the car, silence fell over us. But it didn’t last long because Hailey… was thirsty again. “Carter, these cupcakes are kind of dry. I really need an iced matcha latte.” Her voice got quieter with every word, her eyes darting to my face to check my reaction. But my face was blank. Carter hesitated for a second. “Hailey, we are… actually running really late.” “But,” he quickly pivoted, “if you’re thirsty, let’s grab one fast.” Just then, Carter’s phone started ringing off the hook. “Carter! Where the hell are you?” “The guests are all seated! We’re just waiting on you and Chloe!” Carter ignored the calls, hit the gas, and sped toward the nearest Starbucks.

When he and Hailey came back to the car, there was a bright red mark on Carter’s neck. Noticing my stare, panic flashed through his eyes, and he quickly covered it with his hand. “The bugs around here are crazy…” Hailey blushed and nodded. “Yeah, Chloe, the mosquitoes are so bad. You don’t think it’s something else, do you?” I shook my head. “Must be a really desperate female mosquito. Biting people like a shameless animal.” Their faces instantly turned pale. “Excuse me, I need a cigarette,” Carter muttered, stepping out of the car. A few yards away from the car, Carter looked incredibly anxious. He whispered to Hailey, “Do you think… she knows?” Hailey took the cigarette right out of his mouth and took a drag. “No way. She loves you too much. Even if she suspects something, she’ll forgive you.” “I know her. She’s soft-hearted. Years ago, when I got dumped, she literally skipped her finals and flew a thousand miles just to comfort me.” “I didn’t want to hurt her either, but… I fell for you.” Her sweet words were too much for Carter. He blushed all the way down to his collar. I watched them through the tinted car window. Their silhouettes, stretched by the afternoon sun, looked so intimate. The two people I loved most in the world had hurt me the deepest. I had spent years catering to them. It was time to wake up. I looked down and called the HR director of my family’s conglomerate, Vance Group. “Hi, Audrey. You asked me what I wanted as a wedding gift, right?” “I want you to fire Hailey. Effective immediately.” Because she had failed multiple classes in college, Hailey couldn’t find a decent job after graduation. I practically begged my father to pull strings and get her into Vance Group. In just three years, she went from a receptionist to a junior project manager, her salary jumping from $40k to $150k. I paved every single step of her career. But to protect her fragile ego, I kept my family’s identity a secret, letting her believe she achieved it all on her own merit. Now, it was time to take back what was mine. When Carter got back in the car, perhaps out of guilt, he handed me a cup of black coffee. “I grabbed this while waiting for the matcha. I know you hate sweet drinks.” I didn’t take it. He shook the cup, getting annoyed. “Take it. We don’t have time for this.” I ignored him. “Are you seriously still throwing a fit over some cupcakes and matcha?” “She’s your best friend! Are you even human, being this jealous of her?” Carter was always so incredibly harsh with me. He would never dream of speaking to Hailey like this. “Chloe, I’ve been exhausted for weeks planning this wedding. Can you please grow up? Don’t make me deal with your attitude on my wedding day.” I nodded, swallowing my tears. “Thank you.” My voice was polite, cold, and distant. But it seemed to reassure Carter. He relaxed, turned on the radio, and laughed with Hailey all the way to the venue. He didn’t notice the black Maybach parked near the side entrance of the hotel. He should have recognized the license plate—it belonged to my family. But his eyes were only on Hailey, who had just tripped on her dress. “Hailey! Are you okay?” Hailey pouted, looking pitiful. “This bridesmaid dress is too long. I tripped.” Carter shot me a glaring look. “This is your fault. Why did you have to pick such a long style?” He forgot that Hailey was the one who insisted on this specific design. “She’s hurt. I’ll carry her to the bridal suite first. Find your own way up.” Before I could answer, he swept Hailey into his arms and walked straight toward the elevator.

I gathered up my heavy train and slowly made my way to the bridal suite. I could have left right then. But if I was going to run, I had to take my makeup artist with me. I was the one paying her, after all. When I finally pushed the door open, the scene inside shocked me. The celebrity makeup artist I had booked two years in advance was currently being scolded by Carter like a child. She looked like she was on the verge of tears. “Perfect timing,” Carter said, dumping a pile of cosmetics onto the vanity. “Hailey said you gave the artist a different contract. You used the premium, high-end products for yourself and left her with cheap, knockoff brands.” I stared at them, speechless. What kind of drama was this now? Hailey wiped her eyes, fake-apologizing. “I’m sorry, Chloe. I shouldn’t have said anything. I didn’t mean to steal your spotlight. I’ll just go wash my face. I can go bare-faced for the wedding, really!” I scoffed. “I never told the artist to do that, and I would never do something so petty.” But Carter didn’t believe me. He thought I was just acting out. “Chloe, this reverse psychology is getting pathetic. Do you really think playing hard to get is going to make me beg for your forgiveness?” I shook my head. “I don’t need you to beg.” “What is up with your attitude? Just because I got Hailey some treats, you do this? You made her cry! You need to apologize to her right now.” “Why should I apologize for something I didn’t do?” Frustrated, Carter gripped my shoulders. His grip was so tight it bruised. “Chloe, I don’t have time for your games. The ceremony starts in thirty minutes. Apologize now, or I’m calling off this wedding.” I smiled. For the first time today, a real smile spread across my face. Carter still thought he could threaten me. He had no idea I didn’t care anymore. “Okay.” My nonchalant response pissed him off even more. He was about to yell when Hailey quickly stopped him. “Carter, please don’t. It’s your wedding day.” “It’s all my fault. Go downstairs and greet the guests. I’ll handle things here.” Carter hesitated, then nodded. Before leaving, he gave me one last disappointed look. “Why can’t you be more mature like Hailey?” As soon as the door closed, I turned to my makeup artist and whispered a few words. She immediately started packing up her kit. Hailey, thinking we were just moving to another room, waved her hand dismissively. “Whatever, I don’t care. Let her get her makeup done first.” The makeup artist just rolled her eyes at Hailey’s delusion. Thirty minutes later, the grand ballroom was filled with music and laughter. The officiant gave a beautiful opening speech, then looked toward the grand entrance with excitement. “And now, ladies and gentlemen, please stand for our beautiful bride!” “Three…” Under the spotlight, Carter nervously adjusted his bow tie. “Two…” A bead of sweat rolled down his temple as he probably pictured our future together. “One…” The heavy doors swung open. But there was no one there. The officiant gasped, looking at Carter’s back, and whispered, “Where… where is the bride?” Carter spun around. The hallway was completely empty. In that moment, sheer panic set in.

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