My best friend, Lila, threw the bridal bouquet right into my arms. All the werewolves turned their eyes to my boyfriend, Caleb, the Alpha of the Grayfang Pack. “Caleb! Go for it! Marry her!” “Eight years, Alpha! What are you waiting for?” The crowd pushed Caleb toward me. He was wearing a silver-gray groomsman suit, looking as handsome as the man I’d loved for eight years. My heart raced as I gripped the ribbon of the bouquet. But he just smiled, reached out, and pulled the bouquet from my hands. Then he turned and handed it to Serena, an Omega standing nearby. The little Omega blushed, her ears flushing pink. “Thank you, Alpha Caleb,” she whispered. “She caught it first. We shouldn’t steal from a young girl,” he said, rubbing my hair with his usual tenderness. “Next time, I’ll take you to the Silvermoon Forest and pick you a whole basket of fresh white roses. They’re much prettier than this.” I looked at the joy and shyness in Serena’s eyes and sneered inwardly. Caleb didn’t know there would be no next time. My wedding was in exactly seven days. 0

Lila’s face fell instantly, her wolf ears twitching in anger. I grabbed her hand before she could slap him. She turned to me, her eyes redder than mine, her voice shaking with rage. “That bitch did it on purpose! I told all the bridesmaids that the bouquet was meant for you…” “Lila,” I interrupted gently, squeezing her wrist. “The wedding isn’t over yet. Don’t ruin the mood.” The crowd’s attention had already shifted from Caleb and me. Following the bouquet, everyone was staring at Serena’s delicate face. She held the flowers, looking up timidly, stealing a quick glance at Caleb before lowering her head. Caleb had already retreated to the edge of the crowd, as if the public humiliation he had just dealt me was nothing but a trivial matter. The priest, Elder Marcus of the Silvermoon Pack, was experienced. With a few witty blessings, he got the crowd cheering again. Lila gave a bitter glare, took her groom Ethan’s arm, and finished the ceremony. During the reception, I sat at the head table, enduring sympathetic and curious stares from all directions. Caleb was at another table, laughing and drinking with his Grayfang Pack brothers. Serena sat right next to him, her shoulder practically glued to his arm. That was way too close for a secretary. She wasn’t even supposed to be a bridesmaid. Caleb had claimed they needed an extra bridesmaid at the last minute and put her in. He often took her to pack events, saying she was a capable Omega who helped with pack business. He even brought her to Lila’s wedding. When Lila and her groom came to our table to greet us, she hugged me tightly and whispered in my ear, “That Omega has been throwing herself at Caleb for six months. I had her investigated—she plays dirty. Caleb is…” “Lila,” I patted her back, my fingers brushing the pearls on her wedding dress. “You’re the most beautiful bride today. Don’t let bad vibes ruin it.” She snorted but dropped it. When the party ended and guests started to leave, Caleb walked over. “Ready to go?” He naturally took my purse, his other hand reaching to drape over my shoulder in a comforting gesture. I slipped away slightly, avoiding his touch. “You’ve been drinking. I called a pack driver.” He didn’t mind and nodded. “Fair enough.” The car drove into the night. My face was blurred in the window—makeup flawless, but unable to hide the deep exhaustion in my eyes. “Serena reached for the bouquet first tonight. She’s a young Omega, and it’s her first time at a major pack wedding. It’s normal she wanted some good luck,” he said casually. “I was just returning it to the rightful person. Don’t take it to heart.” I didn’t reply, just watched the forest road lamps flash by. After a moment, he looked up from his phone. “Are you mad?” He leaned closer, his fingers running through my hair, gently rubbing the back of my neck like soothing a grumpy pup. “Didn’t we agree? Once we secure the northern mining territory, we’ll have our wedding. I’ll invite the entire pack to witness it, okay?” A wave of bitterness washed over me. It was always like this. Using a gentle tone to make a vague promise of “next time.” And then expecting me to just let it go. “Caleb,” I said, looking at his reflection in the window. “Yeah?” “There’s something I need to talk to you about.” 0

“Lila and I made a vow when we were kids,” I said seriously. “Whoever gets married first, the other must get married within seven days.” “We promised to wear the bridesmaid dresses we made for each other and be the first to witness each other’s happiness.” The car fell silent. His hand on my neck stopped. “A childhood joke, and you took it seriously?” He laughed, his hand moving again in a dismissive rub. “Getting pack territory approvals and Elder Council clearance isn’t that simple. It takes six months to a year of prep.” “We’ll plan it properly. I promise you the perfect wedding. What’s the rush?” He didn’t explain why he refused to publicly promise to marry me. He just skipped straight to “planning the perfect wedding.” I remembered a month ago when Lila excitedly dragged me to her workshop to try on the bridesmaid dress she made. When I put it on, Lila’s eyes lit up, but then she got emotional. “Lyra, you look stunning in this. I made this just for you. When you get married, I’ll design an even better wedding gown!” Caleb was there too. He had been looking down, replying to Snapchat messages from Serena. Hearing Lila, he looked up, smiled, and said, “It looks nice.” Then his eyes went right back to his screen, his fingers typing rapidly. At that moment, besides feeling happy for my best friend, I felt a deep chill for my own eight-year, fruitless relationship. The car pulled up to our villa in Grayfang Pack territory. Caleb unbuckled his seatbelt. Thinking our little chat had cleared the air, he leaned in for a possessive kiss. I placed my hand against his shoulder, stopping him. The Alpha’s aura stiffened for a second. “I’m tired, Caleb.” He stared at me, silent for a few seconds. Finally, he patted my shoulder, his tone carrying his usual condescending patience. “Being a bridesmaid is exhausting. Get some rest.” “Serena said she couldn’t call an Uber back to her pack. It’s not safe for an Omega. I’m going back to give her a ride.” “Okay,” I said flatly, not even looking at him. He didn’t leave immediately. He seemed to be waiting for me to say “drive safe” or complain about him going out so late. But I just pushed the door open and got out. The engine sound faded into the distance. Locking the door, I collapsed onto the couch. It took me a long time before I dragged myself to the bedroom. Passing the nursery, I paused. We had planned this room when we bought the house four years ago. It was supposed to be for our future pups, but now it was filled with junk. I walked in and pulled a dusty box out from the crib. Inside were his handwritten love letters, pack festival tickets, polaroids from our hunting trips in the snowy woods… At the very bottom was a photo from our college pack mixer. He was carrying me on his back under a cherry blossom tree, my arms wrapped around his neck. On the back, he had written: I, Caleb, will carry you on my back for the rest of our lives. I promise. The dim light of the hallway hit those words like a silent slap in the face. Downstairs, I heard a car pull into the garage. A moment later, the door opened softly. Caleb stood at the doorway, smelling strongly of Serena’s sweet perfume. “Not asleep yet?” I didn’t turn around, still kneeling by the crib. “No.” “Why did you dig all this out?” he asked casually. “Feeling nostalgic?” I didn’t answer. I just asked quietly, “Did you drop her off safely?” He paused, then explained, “Yeah. She lives near the pack border, Ubers don’t really go out there.” “Oh.” I lowered my head, carefully packing the photos away. “It’s late. Let’s go to bed,” he said, reaching out to pull me up. I didn’t take his hand. Instead, I pushed myself up, my legs numb and wobbly. “Caleb.” “Yeah?” He stopped. “Let’s break up.” 0

He froze for two seconds, then chuckled. He loosened his tie, his tone carrying a hint of irritation. “Still thinking about that bouquet? Don’t be petty.” It was that same condescending tone he used when I was “throwing a tantrum.” “Fine, I’ll order you a bigger bouquet tomorrow, okay? Go wash up. I have an important pack meeting tomorrow morning.” He turned toward the bathroom. “Within a week,” I said to his back, my voice quiet but crystal clear. “I am getting married.” His hand froze on the bathroom doorknob. A few seconds later, he turned around. His mask of casual patience was gone. “Lyra, stop playing games.” He rubbed his temples, his Alpha pressure slipping out slightly. “Marriage is a big deal. You don’t just do it out of spite.” “October 28th,” I added. “The venue is booked. The dress is ready.” He let out a cold laugh. “Did Lila get in your head again today? Just because she rushed into a marriage doesn’t mean the whole world should be reckless.” “Lyra, wake up. Don’t let her influence you. We’ve been together for so many years…” “Caleb,” I interrupted, looking him dead in the eye, my gaze completely calm. “The invitations are being printed tomorrow.” A muscle in his jaw twitched. “Lyra, do you think this is going to work? It just makes you look childish and unreasonable!” “My career is peaking right now. Securing the mining territory will elevate the Grayfang Pack. Marriage right now would only distract me and ruin my plans.” “Are you really that desperate to get married?” His words were heavy, designed to suffocate. In the past, this tone would have made me panic, make me apologize and back down. But now, there was only peace. His attention was indeed expensive. He had to give it to the mining project, and to his sweet Omega secretary. Late-night texts, birthday surprises, and weekend spa trips under the guise of “business trips”… What was left for me, his girlfriend, was practically nothing. I met his gaze and nodded. “Yes. My friends are all married. I want a husband too.” With that, I walked into the bedroom. On the nightstand lay a bridal magazine from six months ago. The cover read: The Perfect 3-Month Wedding Prep Guide. I had bought it excitedly back then, but after he said “no rush,” I never opened it again. In the dark, I stared at the ceiling. My phone buzzed. It was Lila on Snapchat: Ugh, can’t sleep. I’m so mad thinking about that Omega. What is wrong with Caleb? We agreed our weddings would be a week apart, remember? Who knew your man would be such a blockhead. The bouquet was literally in your hands and he still didn’t get the hint! You’ve been together eight years, not eight months! Whatever. This is the one time I’ll let you break our promise. My fingers hovered over the keyboard. I typed: When have I ever broken a promise to you? 0

Caleb moved out to his office penthouse. Probably because my sudden wedding plans suffocated him, and he wanted some peace. Good. It gave us both space. I quietly handled everything. I listed our villa on the pack real estate market. The afternoon I handed the keys to the agent, I was packing up some leftover belongings. I found a folder for the mining project tucked inside an old magazine. It was the one Caleb had been working on. After a moment’s hesitation, I decided to drop it off at his penthouse. When I got there, the door was shut, but I could hear laughter inside. He wasn’t alone. I raised my hand to knock. Then, a familiar, sweet voice echoed from inside, sounding helpless. “Alpha Caleb, it’s all my fault. It was my first time catching a bouquet, I didn’t know.” “Now the pack forums are going crazy. A bunch of pack members asked me if we were… you know.” “You have to clarify it in the group chat, or I’ll be too embarrassed to show my face.” My hand froze in midair. Before Caleb could speak, one of his pack brothers laughed teasingly. “Come on, Serena. Do you really want Caleb to clarify, or are you just trying to get him to say something else?” A wave of suggestive laughter followed. Serena whined “Oh, stop it,” but there was no real anger in her voice. “Alright, stop teasing her,” Caleb’s voice sounded warm and gentle. “Don’t worry about it. People will forget in a few days.” People will forget in a few days… Those words triggered a memory. Years ago, I went to his office to help out. He forgot himself and casually put his arm around my shoulder. An Elder walked in and saw us. That afternoon, Caleb made a very dry clarification in the pack group chat, telling everyone not to misunderstand and to focus on work. Back then, I understood. To avoid gossip, I stopped going to his office. But now, my fingers trembled. He didn’t hate office romance. He just hated it when I was the one seen with him. Because I was just an ordinary werewolf with no background, of no help to his career. Another friend asked, “But seriously, Caleb, what’s going on with Lyra? I got her wedding invitation this morning. That came out of nowhere!” A brief silence followed. Caleb let out a cold, humorless chuckle. “Let her play her game.” “I usually indulge her on little things. But this time, she needs to learn that throwing tantrums won’t get her what she wants.” “Whoa,” someone joked. “So the groom is planning to stand her up?” Caleb didn’t deny it. Then, another friend spoke up hesitantly. “Caleb, is this really smart? You and Lyra have been together forever. We’ve been waiting for this wedding…” He paused, then joked half-seriously, “Unless… you actually have other plans? Like… our Serena here?” Serena let out a soft, giggling laugh. “Don’t tease me like that. Alpha Caleb… knows what he’s doing.”

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My boyfriend, Austin Miller, always called me by his ex-girlfriend’s name. On my birthday, when he handed me a gift, the words slipped out of his mouth: “Summer, this is your favorite shade of lipstick.” When he accompanied me to the hospital for an IV drip, he asked: “Summer, does it hurt?” Even on Valentine’s Day, as he held me by the waist in the dark, he whispered: “Summer, just relax.” Every single time, I corrected him with rising anger: “My name is Sera, Austin. Not Summer.” Over time, Austin began to pause for a solid two seconds before calling my name. Eventually, he would manage to get it right: “Sera.” I thought he had finally trained himself to forget her. Until Summer Reed, his ex, joined our company. And just like that, he started slipping up again. Even when he went down on one knee, holding a ring in front of me, he blurted out: “Summer, will you marry me!” But this time, I didn’t get angry. I didn’t correct him. I stopped forcing him to get my name right altogether.

When Austin realized what he had said, his face went completely blank. He scrambled to his feet, trying to reach out to me, but he still hesitated for two seconds before speaking. “Sera, I…” An overwhelming wave of irony washed over me. Even in a moment like this, he still had to calculate before addressing me. I knew exactly what he was going to say. It was just a habit. He was too nervous. After three years together, I was sick to death of his excuses. I took a step back, dodging his hand. “Save it.” “We’re done, Austin. Let’s break up.” “No…” Austin tried to grab my arm. But the commotion had already drawn our coworkers over. This was our annual company retreat, and seeing a proposal, everyone instantly lost their minds. “Oh my god! Austin is actually proposing at the retreat!” “Summer! I had no idea you and Austin were together! Why didn’t you tell us?” I turned around and saw Summer standing not far behind me. My figure had been completely hidden by the trees along the pathway. From a distance, it really did look like Austin was kneeling right in front of her. Summer was covering her mouth, her eyes wide with a mix of shock and pure joy. Our coworkers swarmed her, cheering and pushing her toward Austin. Someone pushing past aggressively shoved me aside. “Hey, they’re proposing here! Why are you standing in the middle like a total third wheel?” I stumbled. My long dress was stepped on, and my styled hair got caught on someone’s jacket zipper, ripping painfully. I was shoved and squeezed out of the crowd, looking utterly pathetic. By the time I managed to look up, the two of them were surrounded by a thick circle of cheering people. Summer, wearing a white lace dress, stood in the center like a glowing bride waiting for her happily ever after. And I, like everyone else, was just a random spectator watching their beautiful moment. Through the gaps in the crowd, my eyes met Austin’s. His expression was incredibly complicated. I saw his lips part, as if he wanted to shout an explanation. But looking at Summer, who was crying tears of joy, he swallowed his words. He forced a smile and slid the ring—the ring meant for me—onto her ring finger. I let out a bitter laugh. I didn’t make a scene. I didn’t demand answers. I just turned around silently, walking away from the celebration that was supposed to be mine. The sky grew dark, and the wind blowing off the river was freezing.

I walked across the bridge alone. My mind kept flashing back to how excited I had been when I accidentally saw Austin’s proposal plans. I had booked the makeup artist a month in advance. I ordered the perfect dress online. I spent eight hours at the salon getting my hair done. Last night, I was so nervous I couldn’t even sleep. I had hugged my blanket, trying to picture Austin’s face when he proposed. He was always so calm and collected. Would he stutter? Would his ears turn bright red? No matter what, I had planned to grab the ring, throw myself into his arms, and scream: “Yes! A million times yes!” If the sunset over the river was just right, the light would coat us in gold, just like in those cheesy romance movies. Maybe a passerby would take a picture of us. I wanted to use it as the cover of our wedding album, placing it in the most visible spot of our future home. Thinking about it back then, I had actually laughed out loud with sweet anticipation. The harsh honk of a car horn snapped me back to reality. Now, with ruined hair and dusty footprints covering my dress, I was walking alone in the dark. My phone buzzed. It was a text from Austin. [Sera, I’m so sorry.] I stopped walking. [But let’s just go with it for now. Summer already accepted in front of everyone. Don’t make it humiliating for her.] [I’ll explain to everyone later that it was just a dare.] I stared at those lines for a long time. But I wasn’t surprised. The second Austin said the wrong name, I knew exactly how he would handle it. It was just like Valentine’s Day, when the massive bouquet of red roses he ordered was accidentally delivered to Summer’s desk. When I wanted to go claim it, he had gently held my hand down. “I’m sorry, Sera. I put the wrong recipient name by accident.” “Just let Summer keep them. Taking them back in front of the whole office would make her look bad.” Another notification popped up in the company retreat group chat. [Austin is buying drinks for the engagement party! Everyone meet at the hotel’s second-floor restaurant now!] This wasn’t a spontaneous decision. It was part of his original proposal plan. Since he had proposed to the wrong person, he decided to just let Summer have everything else too. That was always Austin’s logic. Someone posted a photo of the dinner table. It was the hotel’s highest-tier menu, and the main course was King Crab. I am severely allergic to seafood. Austin could never remember that. But it happened to be Summer’s absolute favorite. Maybe this was the universe guiding him back to where he belonged. I closed the app and opened Uber. Whatever the case, I was officially bowing out. I unlocked the door to our apartment. The first thing I saw was our couple’s portrait sitting on the entryway cabinet. My footsteps faltered. Austin hated taking pictures. I had to beg him for months to get that photo. I remembered the day we moved in. I ran around the apartment holding the frame, trying to find the perfect spot. Austin had watched me, shaking his head. “It’s just a photo, Sera. What does it matter where it goes?” I had turned around and looked at him seriously. “It matters! I want everyone who walks through that door to see how happy we are the very second they enter!” I chose the spot right by the door. The hallway light would hit it perfectly the moment the door opened. It was my only comfort after working late-night overtime in this crowded city, trying to build a life with him. But was I really happy? I picked up the frame, running my fingers over the glass. Even in our couple’s photo, Austin looked stiff and emotionless.

Suddenly, the dozens of photos my coworkers had spammed in the group chat rushed into my mind. In every single one of them, Austin was holding Summer, smiling with a warmth I hadn’t seen in years. Maybe I was the only one who ever felt happy in this relationship. I placed the photo face down on the cabinet and started packing my bags. My clothes, my shoes… When I got to my jewelry, my hands paused. The necklace hanging in the center of the rack was the birthday gift Austin gave me last year. I cleared out all the gifts we had exchanged over the years. Since we were breaking up, there was no point in keeping any of it. For the first and second year, our gifts were mutual and thoughtful. But for the third year, there was nothing from Austin. Not for our anniversary, and not for Valentine’s Day. Because he had “accidentally” addressed them to Summer. I sent Austin a text. [I threw away the things you gave me. The things you bought for me are in the bedroom closet.] [Do whatever you want with them.] By the time I finished packing, he still hadn’t replied. I opened Snapchat. The party had just ended, and everyone was raving about how fun it was. Summer had posted a story. [You said she was just a compromise, a responsibility you couldn’t shake. It’s okay. I will wait for you forever…] No views, no replies yet. She had customized her settings so only I could see it. I tapped the heart icon, closed my phone, and rolled my suitcase toward the door. What they did next was none of my business. But the moment I opened the door, I ran straight into a panting Austin. Seeing me, he let out a sigh of relief. But in the next second, his brows furrowed, his voice filled with annoyance. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming back? I was looking all over for you.” I didn’t answer. I just found it hilarious. Looking all over for me? More like he had finished his fancy dinner, accompanied Summer through the entire celebration, and only came looking for me when he finally had some free time. Austin pushed past me into the apartment. Under the bright hallway light, he finally noticed my suitcase. His face fell. “Where do you think you’re going this late?” I looked at him, completely expressionless. “I’m moving out. I’ll come back for the rest of my stuff later.” Hearing this, Austin didn’t beg me to stay. Instead, a familiar look of impatience washed over his face. It was the exact same look he gave me whenever I got upset over him calling me Summer, back when he would half-heartedly promise he didn’t love his ex anymore. He took a deep breath, trying to play the patient partner, and pulled the ring box from his pocket. “Fine. I swear I only love you, okay?” “Today was genuinely an accident. And I only took the team to dinner because the deposit was non-refundable. I didn’t want to waste the money.” He brushed it off as if he had just grabbed a casual burger with coworkers. “I explained everything to Summer, too. Look, I even got the ring back.” “Let’s just drop it.” Austin grabbed my hand, trying to force the ring onto my ring finger. But it was incredibly loose. The moment I let my hand drop, the ring slid right off my finger and clinked onto the floor, rolling to Austin’s feet. The air went dead silent. Looking at Austin’s stunned face, I let out a mocking laugh. “Another accident? Did you get the wrong size when you ordered it too?” When that ring was on Summer’s finger, it had fit flawlessly. Like it was custom-made for her. For once, Austin looked guilty. He picked up the ring, coughing to hide his embarrassment. “It was an oversight. I’ll get it resized tomorrow.” “Don’t bother,” I cut him off coldly.

“When I said we’re breaking up, I meant it. We’re done, Austin.” Austin froze. Slowly, he put the ring back in its box. As he snapped the lid shut, the guilt on his face evaporated, replaced by his usual cold, indifferent mask. “Sera, I said I’d get it fixed.” He looked at me like I was a toddler throwing a tantrum. “Every time something minor happens, you threaten to break up and run away. It’s getting really exhausting.” My breathing hitched. Suddenly, I remembered the night of our project launch party. I had won the grand prize in the company raffle: a fully sponsored, week-long paid vacation. I had been ecstatic. I hadn’t taken a day off in three months, and I hadn’t seen my parents in two years. But after I booked my flight and my parents took time off work to wait for my arrival, HR called me. They told me my prize had already been claimed. “Austin came by and redeemed it. He said he had your permission to transfer the vacation voucher to your department’s new intern, Summer Reed.” When I confronted him with tear-filled eyes, Austin didn’t even look up from his laptop. “Oh, that. I must have written down the wrong name by mistake.” “Then go get it back!” I had screamed, grabbing his phone out of his hand. But the screen was open to Summer’s Instagram post. [A fully paid vacation to a music festival! Best boss ever! Thank you, A~] It was a slap to the face. My hands shook as I held the screen up to him. “An accident? You call this an accident?” Austin didn’t apologize. Instead, he blamed me with chilling coldness. “The mistake was already made. I just maximized the utility.” “Giving incentives to subordinates builds my authority as a leader.” “Sera, you’ve been at this company long enough. Can you please start looking at the bigger picture?” I was driven mad by his hypocritical corporate speak. That was the first time I ever threatened to break up with him. Even when he called me Summer a thousand times, I had never thought about leaving. I stayed in a hotel for three days, but I didn’t receive a single text of apology. Eventually, I realized Austin only treated me this way because he knew how much I loved him. He knew I would always forgive him. He knew I had abandoned a stable job in my hometown and moved thousands of miles to this city just because he said he hated long-distance relationships. The day I crawled back home, he had a smirk of victory on his face. Taking my suitcase, he had said casually: “Don’t do that again. Be mature.” The Austin standing in front of me now looked exactly like he did that day. But this time, I wasn’t going to crawl back. I repeated myself, clearer and firmer than ever. “I am serious, Austin. We are over.” He slammed the door on his way out, leaving only a cold parting shot: “You are completely unstable right now. Get some professional help and calm down!” I didn’t care where he went. Summer’s Instagram story popped up immediately. [I always knew I was your first choice.] In the photo, the proposal ring was back on her finger, fitting perfectly. I liked the post. I took one last look at the apartment I had lovingly decorated piece by piece, and quietly shut the door behind me. The next morning at work, the two of them walked in together. The office erupted in congratulations. I ignored the noise, keeping my head down to work on my transition files. Since joining this company, I had closed deals worth over a hundred million dollars. Next week, I was scheduled to be promoted to Sales Director, which meant I would lead my own department and would no longer have to work under Austin. Carrying my files, I stood up and ran right into Austin.

His mouth opened, as if he wanted to say something. I walked right past him without a word. I walked straight to HR. “Jerry, here is my promotion paperwork. Let me know if anything is missing.” Jerry, the HR rep, flipped through my file with a confused expression. “But your department’s promotion slot has already been submitted.” “What?” I froze. “Austin submitted it yesterday. He said Summer Reed was the main contributor to the high-value project, so he requested the promotion slot go to her. She’s being fast-tracked to Team Lead.” Team Lead was my current position. Austin was literally stealing my hard work and success to pave a path for his ex-girlfriend. My phone buzzed. [Summer helped cover up the proposal mix-up yesterday. Clarifying it publicly would destroy her reputation.] [Think of this promotion as compensation for her. Your promotion can wait until next quarter.] I stared at the screen, a blinding rage erupting in my chest. I was furious at Austin’s utter shamelessness. But I was even more furious at myself for loving him so blindly in the past, allowing him to treat my career like his personal playground. But this time, I wasn’t going to take it lying down. Without a second thought, I filed a formal complaint disputing Summer’s promotion. Since I had proof that I was the sole creator and executor of the project, HR verified and rejected her promotion in less than half a day. During that time, Austin sent me dozens of angry messages. I ignored every single one of them. When the notification popped up on my computer screen confirming my own promotion was approved, I finally let out a long breath. My phone lit up with a final text from Austin: [Are you happy now that you’ve thrown your little fit? Make sure you come home early tonight. Don’t make things uglier than they already are.] Even now, Austin thought I was just acting out of jealousy. With a few taps, I blocked his number and sent him straight to my blacklist. Then, I went back to my temporary hotel room. The next morning. After the sales department’s morning meeting, I was asked to stay behind to discuss my transition to Sales Director. But the moment I stepped out of the conference room, the atmosphere in the office had completely changed. When people saw me, they looked at me like I was a piece of trash, quickly lowering their heads and whispering as they hurried past. Snatches of their conversation drifted over. “So she’s the homewrecker?” “She seemed so professional. I had no idea she was that kind of person…” A terrible feeling crept into my chest. I hurried back to my desk and opened WhatsApp. The company group chat had been completely spammed by Summer. [A certain Team Lead, Sera Vance, has repeatedly harassed and tried to seduce my fiancé. When she failed, she maliciously sabotaged my promotion out of spite. How can the company allow someone so toxic to work here!] The comments underneath were brutal. “No wonder she didn’t show up to the engagement dinner. She was jealous!” Summer had uploaded dozens of cropped screenshots of my chat history with Austin. She had deleted all of Austin’s replies, making it look like I was unilaterally begging and harassing him. To avoid office gossip, Austin and I had never made our relationship public. But since everyone had just eaten his free engagement dinner, it was obvious whose side they were going to take. The rumors had been brewing for an hour, with thousands of messages flying back and forth. Yet, Austin, the co-star of this drama, had said absolutely nothing to defend me. In fact, those screenshots were taken from his perspective. My stomach turned. I started typing rapidly, trying to draft a clarification. Suddenly, a loud commotion erupted at the entrance of the office. Summer pushed past the coworkers trying to stop her and marched straight to my desk. Before I could even react, a sharp slap landed squarely on my cheek. “You cheap homewrecker! Seducing my fiancé and you still have the nerve to show up to work!”

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I loved Alpha James for ten years. But at his twenty-eighth birthday gala, I watched him announce that he had found his Fated Mate, Sophia. He mocked my devotion. Me, his adopted sister. Sophia staged a fall down the stairs. In retaliation, James whipped me with a silver-laced whip and locked my heavily wounded body in the basement. He looked at me with pure disgust. “You are so malicious. Who could ever love someone like you?” In the end, I died a miserable death in that cold, dark basement. Reborn into a new life, I stood before my mother and said with absolute resolve, “I will marry the Alpha King.” Alpha King Alexander Blackwood, the madman rumored to have killed his three previous fiancées. Emily Carter POV At the twenty-eighth birthday gala of Alpha James of the Moonhowl Pack, he gave me a massive “surprise.” In front of all the guests, he led Sophia Langley onto the stage and took the microphone. “To mark this special day, I have an announcement. I have found my Fated Mate. She is Sophia of the Ironclaw Pack. Furthermore, starting tomorrow, Sophia will take full control of the Moonhowl Pack’s core project, the development of the Silver-Purge Salve.” Instantly, the entire banquet hall fell dead silent. Every single gaze stabbed into me like a knife. Emily Carter. My parents were brave werewolf warriors who died protecting the Elder Alpha and Elder Luna. After their sacrifice, the Elder Alpha adopted me. I became James’s sister in name. I was ten that year. Since then, everyone in the pack knew that James had a loyal shadow. Eventually, I fell in love with James. Because I had never awakened my own wolf, I threw myself into studying herbal medicine to prove I was worthy of him. The “Silver-Purge Salve” project was my life’s work. I had spent three long years, pulled countless all-nighters, and poured my blood, sweat, and tears into inventing it for the Moonhowl Pack. Now, with one casual sentence, he handed my hard-won creation to his Fated Mate on a silver platter. Everyone held their breath. They were waiting for me to lose my mind. They expected me to charge the stage like a madwoman, rip Sophia’s hair out, and make a complete fool of myself. After all, everyone knew how crazily I loved James. Since I declared my love for him at twelve, I had spent ten years keeping every other woman away from him. Any woman who tried to crawl into his bed was ruthlessly thrown out. But this time, I didn’t react. I simply put down my wine glass, took a pre-prepared file and a velvet gift box from my bag, and walked up to the stage in my high heels. I pushed the documents and the box toward them. “Congratulations. Happy birthday. This file contains all the core data and formulas for the Silver-Purge Salve project, Luna Sophia.” The velvet box popped open, revealing a priceless vintage Patek Philippe watch. I had saved up for five years to buy it at an auction. The moment I said “Luna Sophia,” James’s hand froze mid-air. He lifted his gaze, his dark, piercing eyes locking onto me, trying to drill a hole through my face. After analyzing me for half a minute, his brows furrowed, and he let out a cold sneer. “Emily, what kind of game are you playing now?” His tone was dripping with mockery and suspicion. I stared at the face I had adored for a decade. He had sharp, defined brows and eyes like stars. His jawline was cold and chiseled. I used to love this face so much that I would have gladly died for him. But now, my heart was a pool of dead water. “I’m not playing games.” I lowered my eyes. “I genuinely wish you both the best. Since you’ve found your Fated Mate, I’ll pack my things and move out of the Packhouse tomorrow. I’ll make room for you guys.” James’s eyebrows knitted together tightly. He stared at me, trying to detect even a shred of pretense on my face. There was nothing. An inexplicable wave of irritation washed over him. Just as he was about to speak, Sophia gently tugged at his sleeve. “James, is Emily mad at me? If she doesn’t want me to have it, I can just reject the project.” Her voice was soft, fragile, and utterly pathetic. James immediately grabbed her hand and glared at me coldly. “She’s the one who wants to get lost. Nobody is stopping her. Emily, remember what you just said. Get the hell out tomorrow. And don’t come back without my permission!” “Fine.” Without hesitation, I turned, walked off the stage, and left the hall. Nobody knew that I had already died once. In my past life, at this very birthday gala, I had lost my mind. I screamed, threw a tantrum, and slapped Sophia in front of everyone. To punish me and please her, James locked me in the basement for an entire month. Later, relying on his mother’s affection for me, I nagged, begged, and even drugged James to get into his bed, forcing him to marry me. But a forced marriage was nothing but hell. After the wedding, he treated me like an enemy. He humiliated and crushed me at every turn. He even brought Sophia into our bedroom to make love right in front of me, watching cold-heartedly as I cried in agony. Eventually, Sophia had me secretly murdered. After my death, my soul met Selene. The Moon Goddess of werewolf faith. She told me that I wasn’t wolf-less. I was the chosen one, the destined Luna Queen. But my Fated Mate was poisoned. His agony was transmitted to me, keeping my wolf in a constant state of near-death weakness. Having a second chance at life, I finally understood. Unrequited love is just a curse. My obsession had destroyed the Moonhowl Pack and myself. But my destiny lay elsewhere. In my past life, because the Alpha King had never found his Luna Queen, the wolves of the kingdom were filled with anxiety and aggression. Even though the Alpha King used his immense power to suppress the chaos, he couldn’t stop the wars instigated by ambitious rebels. Of course, another reason was that the Alpha King was poisoned. He was forced to miss almost every major pack celebration, which kept him from noticing the dark undercurrents rising among the packs. But this time, things would be different. I would stop it all from happening. Returning to the Packhouse, I walked straight to my adoptive mother’s room. Seeing her face so alive and healthy, tears spilled from my eyes. She rushed forward and hugged me tight. “Emily, what’s wrong? Did James bully you again? I heard about him giving your patent to Sophia. I’ll go rip him a new one tomorrow!” I shook my head, staring deeply into her eyes. “Mom, I heard the Council is demanding you send a bride to the Alpha King for an alliance.” I lifted my chin, my gaze absolute. “I want to marry Alpha King Alexander Blackwood.”

Emily Carter POV “You want to marry Alpha King Alexander Blackwood?” My mother’s face went pale with horror. She gripped my shoulders, her voice shaking violently. “Emily, have you lost your mind? Do you have any idea what kind of man he is? Ever since that battle years ago, he goes completely feral every single night. The Council is desperate to find a compatible mate to suppress the poison in his blood. But the previous three fiancées sent by other packs, they all vanished into thin air the moment they entered his castle. If you go there, will you even survive?” I didn’t try to pull away. I just squeezed her hands back. My voice was soft but steady. “Rumors aren’t always true. Besides, in everyone else’s eyes, aren’t I just a crazy woman who would do anything to steal her brother? A madman and a madwoman. We’re a perfect match.” “But…” Tears rolled down her cheeks. “I’ve always loved you like my own daughter. How can I push you into a burning hell?” “You know the state of the Moonhowl Pack better than I do, Mom. James has been embezzling a massive chunk of pack funds just to buy Sophia luxury items. Didn’t the Council say that if we send a bride, the Alpha King will provide a massive financial bailout for our pack?” I calmly laid out the facts, watching her face crumble as I pushed harder. “And once I’m married, James can finally be with Sophia without constantly worrying about me. The Moonhowl Pack is saved, and James gets his freedom. Everyone wins.” My mother stared at me for a long, painful moment before burying her face in her hands, sobbing uncontrollably. “My sweet girl… I am so sorry…” I gently patted her back, feeling nothing but a profound sense of relief. “Please keep this a secret from James for now. I don’t want him thinking I’m doing this to guilt-trip him. In two weeks, I will leave directly with the Alpha King’s men.” Two weeks. What a coincidence. That was the exact day James planned to formally propose to Sophia. In my last life, I ruined his proposal. In this life, I would use my marriage to buy him the future he wanted. After comforting my mother, I went back to my room. The moment I pushed the door open, the room suffocated me with reminders of James. The walls were plastered with candid photos I had taken of him. The closet was stuffed with clothes he had casually bought for me. Even the lighter sitting on my desk was a cheap thing he had tossed aside, which I had cherished like a sacred relic. Looking at these things I once valued more than my life, I felt a wave of nausea. I grabbed several large black trash bags and began to purge. Photos? Ripped to shreds. Clothes? Cut into rags. Gifts? Smashed to pieces. Bit by bit, I swept ten years of pathetic, unrequited delusion into the trash. It took me three grueling hours. I was dripping with sweat, and my fingers were bleeding from sharp plastic edges, but looking at the empty room, my chest felt lighter than ever. I took a shower and had just lain down to sleep when my bedroom door was violently kicked open. A loud crash echoed through the room. I bolted upright, startled. James stood at the doorway, radiating pure fury. He was gripping a tablet in his hand, his eyes dark enough to kill. He marched over to my bed and slammed the tablet hard against my chest. “Emily Carter, look at you! You pretend to be all sweet and compliant on the outside, voluntarily handing over your research, while stabbing us in the back with this disgusting stunt!” I gasped from the impact, wincing as I picked up the tablet. On the screen was the top trending topic on the pack’s internal forum. “Sophia Langley of the Ironclaw Pack, Bully and Abuser Exposed.” “Sophia Langley’s Criminal Past!” “Sophia the Homewrecker!” The leak was highly detailed, complete with photos and documents. It listed Sophia’s punishment records for bullying pack members back in the Ironclaw Pack, and even featured intimate photos of her with several different male wolves. To an ordinary werewolf, these actions might not seem like a death sentence. But Sophia was about to become the Luna of the Moonhowl Pack. A Luna was expected to possess impeccable morals and a nurturing grace to balance the rough, hot-tempered Alphas. She was the anchor of the pack’s stability. Unsurprisingly, the comment section was flooded with members questioning her fitness to lead. I glanced at it briefly before tossing the tablet back onto the bed. “I didn’t do this.” “If it wasn’t you, then who?!” James suddenly lunged, wrapping his hand tightly around my throat. He pinned me against the headboard, the veins on his hand bulging. “Who else but a psycho like you would keep digging up dirt on Sophia? Do you honestly think that ruining her reputation will make me accept you? In your dreams!” My breath was cut off, but I didn’t claw at his hand. I just stared back at him coldly. “James Whitfield, calm down! I said, it wasn’t me.” “You dare lie to me!” He gritted his teeth, his grip tightening. “For years, you’ve been hostile to every single woman who got close to me. Private threats, public defamation. You did it all! Emily, you are so disgusting and wicked!” Just then, hurried footsteps echoed outside. Sophia rushed into the room, tears streaming down her face, and threw her arms around James’s arm. “James, stop! Please! Emily didn’t mean to… she just cares about you too much. It doesn’t matter if my reputation is ruined, as long as you two don’t fight because of me…” She gasped for air, looking as if she might faint. James immediately let go of me, pulling her protectively into his chest. When he looked back at me, his eyes were cold as ice. “Emily Carter, make a public statement right now. Admit that you fabricated all of this, and apologize to Sophia publicly!”

Emily Carter POV “Why should I?” I clutched my bruised neck, coughing hoarsely as I looked up to meet James’s gaze. “I will never apologize for something I didn’t do.” James’s face darkened instantly. He let go of Sophia and took a menacing step toward me, his voice dangerously low. “Emily, have I been too soft on you? Sophia is my Fated Mate and the future Luna. If this scandal isn’t cleared up, the pack will reject her! If you don’t issue a statement, she’s ruined!” “If she’s ruined, how is that my problem?” I let out a cold laugh. “She knows exactly what kind of trash she did in her past. James Whitfield, you’re protecting her so blindly. Aren’t you afraid you’re holding a piece of garbage?” Slap. A violent slap struck my face. My head snapped to the side, my ears ringing as the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. The room fell into a suffocating silence. Sophia gasped, covering her mouth in mock horror. “James, why did you hit her…” James’s hand hung in the air, trembling slightly. He hadn’t expected to hit me that hard. A flash of regret crossed his eyes, but it was quickly replaced by cold indifference. “That’s the price for your filthy mouth.” He said coldly. “Emily, I’ll give you one last chance. Are you going to clear her name or not?” I slowly turned my head back, wiped the blood from my lip with my thumb, and laughed. I laughed so hard tears almost came out. This was the man I had loved for ten years. For a woman filled with lies, he played judge and jury without knowing the truth, and even raised his hand against me. “Alpha James, didn’t you say I did this because I love you?” Barefoot, I stepped off the bed and walked over to the corner, kicking open the massive black trash bags. Shredded clothes, torn photographs, and smashed gifts spilled across the floor. James’s pupils contracted instantly. He stared at a torn photo on the ground. It was a picture from his eighteenth birthday, a photo I had practically begged and annoyed him to take with me. He had hated it, but I had framed it and kept it by my bedside like a treasure. Now, his face in the photo was cut to pieces. “Do you see this?” I pointed at the mess on the ground. “I don’t love you anymore. Your things disgust me. So believe me, I don’t have the time or energy to waste on your little precious princess.” James’s face drained of color. “You…” He opened his mouth, but his throat was too tight to produce words. Seeing this, a flash of jealousy and malice shot through Sophia’s eyes. She quickly grabbed James’s sleeve, whispering gently, “James, since Emily said it wasn’t her, let’s just leave it. We’ll find another way. Don’t force her.” James took a deep breath and gave me one last frigid look. “It better not be you. Otherwise, I will make you pay.” With that, he pulled Sophia and walked out. I stared at their retreating figures and muttered, “Get lost.” James paused for a fraction of a second, his back stiffening, but he didn’t turn around. He stormed off. I collapsed onto the floor amidst the wreckage and closed my eyes. It was over. Truly over. The next morning, I carried my suitcase downstairs, ready to leave the Packhouse. I wanted to find a quiet place to stay before the Alpha King’s men arrived, away from their drama. As I reached the living room, James and Sophia were heading out to manage the public relations crisis. Seeing my suitcase, James frowned. “Where do you think you’re going?” “Back to my parents’ old house,” I said flatly. “Didn’t you tell me to get the hell out yesterday?” James choked on his words, his expression souring. Before he could speak, the front doors were violently thrown open. A disheveled woman with bloodshot eyes burst in, clutching a gleaming silver dagger. She lunged at Sophia like a maniac. “Sophia Langley! You bitch! You framed me for seducing the Alpha and got me kicked out of my pack! My mother died protecting me from rogues because of you! Today, I’m taking your life!” It happened too fast. Nobody had time to react. The dagger sliced through the air, heading straight for Sophia’s chest.

Emily Carter POV “Sophia!” James reacted with lightning speed. He wrapped his arm around Sophia’s waist, pulling her into his chest and spinning away from the lethal blade. But he forgot that I was standing right behind him. Not only did his spin expose me directly to the danger, but he also shoved me hard. The force sent me crashing right into the path of the frantic woman’s dagger. The sound of metal tearing through flesh echoed sharply in the quiet living room. An agonizing pain erupted just below my left shoulder blade. The cold silver blade sank deep into my back, and hot blood immediately spurted out. The burning sensation of silver began to eat away at my wound. I let out a strangled groan, my knees buckling as I collapsed onto the floor. “Emily!” My mother screamed, rushing down the stairs. I clutched my wound, but blood kept oozing through my fingers. My vision began to blur, but before darkness claimed me, I saw James’s face clearly. He was holding a trembling Sophia, staring at me lying in a pool of blood. His eyes were wide with shock and a fleeting moment of pure panic. His lips moved, seemingly calling my name. But I couldn’t hear him anymore. When I woke up, I was in the Packhouse clinic. The sharp smell of antiseptic made me wince. The moment I opened my eyes, I saw my mother sitting by the bed, her eyes swollen. “Emily, you’re finally awake! You scared me to death…” She squeezed my hand, tears spilling over again. I forced a weak smile. “Mom, I’m fine.” “Fine?! The blade was an inch away from your heart! And it was silver!” My mother snapped, turning her head to glare at James, who was standing by the window. “James Whitfield, are you blind?! It’s one thing to protect that trash, but why did you throw Emily in front of the knife? She is your sister!” James stood in the shadows, his face incredibly dark. He stared at me, his jaw clenched tightly, his voice hoarse. “It wasn’t intentional. It was an emergency, and I didn’t see her behind me.” “Didn’t see her? You’re an Alpha, and you can’t even protect your own family?” My mother was shaking with rage. “Let me tell you, Emily is about to…” “Mom!” I used every ounce of my remaining strength to cut her off. My mother froze, seeing the pleading look in my eyes, and reluctantly swallowed the rest of her words. James’s sharp instincts picked up on the tension. His brow furrowed. “She’s about to what?” “Nothing,” I said coldly, looking straight at him. “My mother means I’m leaving the Packhouse soon anyway, so I won’t be an eyesore. My wound is fine, so please don’t trouble yourself, Alpha James.” James’s face hardened instantly. He walked to the bedside, looking down at me with his usual arrogant contempt. “Emily, you don’t need to play the victim in front of me. Don’t think that taking a knife for Sophia will make me soft on you. This trick is pathetic.” I stared at him, feeling absolutely nothing. “James, do you have a persecution complex?” I said quietly. “I took this hit to pay you back for the ten years you acted as my brother. From now on, we are even. The door is right there. Get out. I need to rest.” He glared at me, trying to find a crack in my armor, but ultimately just sneered. “Good. Keep it that way.” He turned and stormed out of the clinic. I spent a week under the healer’s care. The moment my wound closed up, I demanded to be discharged. The day the Alpha King’s escort was coming was drawing near, and I didn’t want any complications. On the day of my release, it wasn’t my mother who came to pick me up, but James’s Beta, David Mercer. The car didn’t head back to the Packhouse. Instead, it pulled up outside an exclusive private VIP lounge. “Miss Emily, Alpha James is waiting for you inside,” David said respectfully. I frowned but got out of the car. When I pushed the VIP room door open, the dim lights revealed a room filled with the heavy scent of alcohol and smoke. James sat in the center, with Sophia clinging weakly to his chest. Opposite them sat a bulky, greasy-looking man with a disgusting leer on his face. It was Marcus Reed, a notorious scumbag in the city. He was a lone wolf who ran underground businesses, interested in nothing but money and women. The moment I entered, Marcus’s eyes lit up, his gaze roaming shamelessly over my body. “Ah, so this is Emily? A real beauty.” My stomach churned. I looked coldly at James. “What is the meaning of this?” James flicked his cigarette ash, his tone incredibly casual. “Because of the forum scandal, some Council members are trying to impeach Sophia. She needs a win to prove herself. Mr. Reed here is willing to sign a major contract with us. Didn’t you say you don’t owe me anything anymore? Have a few drinks with Mr. Reed tonight, help Sophia secure this contract, and then your debt to the Moonhowl Pack will be fully paid.” I stared at him in utter disbelief. To pave the way for Sophia, to squeeze every last drop of value out of me, he was willing to throw me to a notorious predator? “James, you make me sick.” I turned to leave. “Stop right there!” James’s voice was like ice. “Emily, if you dare walk out that door today, I will freeze all your accounts and kick you out of the Moonhowl Pack. You are an orphan. Without us, you are nothing but a stray dog.”

Emily Carter POV My feet froze in place. It wasn’t because I was afraid of being kicked out of the Moonhowl Pack. It was because if I had a total fallout with James right now, the alliance with the Alpha King might fall through. I had to endure this for just two more weeks. Taking a deep breath, I turned around and sat down at the very edge of the sofa. Seeing my submission, a cold smirk of triumph flashed in James’s eyes. “Mr. Reed, I leave Emily in your hands. Enjoy your chat.” James stood up, wrapping his arm around Sophia’s waist as they walked out. At the door, Sophia looked back at me, her lips curling into a wicked, triumphant grin. The heavy door shut, blocking out all outside noise. Marcus immediately slid closer, his suffocating mix of cheap cologne and alcohol making me gag. “Emily, don’t be so cold. Alpha James practically gave you to me. Stick with me, and I promise you a good life.” He poured a glass of wine and held it in front of my face. “Come on, have a drink. Let’s get friendly.” I pushed his hand away coldly. “I don’t drink. Mr. Reed, just because James is crazy doesn’t mean you have to be.” Marcus’s face darkened, but then he let out a filthy chuckle. “I like feisty girls. Today, you’re drinking this wine whether you want to or not!” He suddenly lunged, grabbing my jaw with brute force and forcing the wine down my throat. I fought back wildly, spilling most of it over my clothes, but a small gulp still went down. Marcus let go, grinning wickedly. “There we go. There’s a little ‘extra ingredient’ in that glass. You’ll find out how good I am in a minute.” My heart sank. The drug hit me incredibly fast. Within minutes, my body started burning up, my limbs felt like lead, and my vision blurred. Grinning like a maniac, Marcus began to unbuckle his belt, lunging at me. “Get off me!” I bit down hard on my tongue, the sharp pain bringing a brief moment of clarity. As Marcus came at me, I grabbed a heavy crystal ashtray from the coffee table and slammed it into his temple with all my remaining strength. “Ah!” Marcus screamed, clutching his bleeding head as he collapsed onto the couch. I seized the opportunity to stumble out of the room, running for my life. The drug was getting stronger. My steps were uneven, and I almost fell several times. The wound on my left shoulder tore open from the frantic movement, blood soaking through my bandage, but I couldn’t care less about the pain. I didn’t even know how I managed to escape the venue, hail a cab, and make it back to the Packhouse. But when I pushed the front doors open, what welcomed me wasn’t my mother’s concern, but an interrogation. The living room was brightly lit. James sat in the middle of the sofa, his face livid. Sophia stood beside him, looking smug. And Marcus Reed’s parents were pointing at me, screaming at the top of their lungs. “Alpha James, we came to negotiate a partnership out of respect for you! And this little bitch dared to assault my son! You must give us justice today, or we will take this to the Council and put her on trial!” I collapsed onto the floor, panting heavily, my body burning like fire. “He drugged me.” I rasped. “Drugged?!” Marcus’s mother shrieked. “My son can have any woman he wants! Why would he drug you? It’s obvious you tried to seduce him, and when it failed, you violently attacked him!” Sophia chimed in at the perfect moment. “Exactly, Emily. Mr. Reed is so wealthy, why would he do such a thing? You must have lost your temper again. Just apologize to them.” I lifted my head, staring directly at James. “James, do you believe me?” James looked at me, a complex flash of emotion crossing his eyes. But in the end, his voice was cold and detached. “Emily, you’ve disappointed me. I gave you a chance to serve the Moonhowl Pack, and you repaid us by almost turning the Reed family into our enemies.” He stood up, looking down at me as if I were a piece of irredeemable garbage. “Since you refuse to behave, don’t blame me for being ruthless. I will have to punish you according to pack law!” Pack law. The punishment of the Moonhowl Pack was a whip lined with silver thorns. I stared at him in utter horror, my heart completely dying in that very second. “James, I still have a fresh stab wound…” my voice was hoarse. “You brought that on yourself!” James snapped coldly. “Kneel!” Two werewolf warriors stepped forward, forcing me down onto my knees. James took the silver-thorned whip. Without a single trace of hesitation, he brought it down hard across my back. Flesh tore. I bit my lip so hard it bled, refusing to let out a single scream. With every strike, a spray of blood flew, accompanied by the agonizing burn of silver. By the tenth strike, my back was a bloody mess. Combined with the reopened stab wound on my shoulder, blood completely stained the carpet. I lay on the floor like a dying dog, finding it painful even to breathe. “Throw her in the basement,” James tossed the bloody whip aside, his voice devoid of any warmth. “No food or water without my permission. Let her reflect on what she did!” The heavy basement door slammed shut. Complete darkness swallowed me. Curled up in the cold, damp corner, feeling my life slowly slipping away, my soul felt a strange sense of liberation. James Whitfield, in this life, I have finally paid you back, with interest. There were only three days left until the Alpha King’s arrival.

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The day I was released from prison, I watched my husband bring Brenda into our home. Seven years. I had taken the fall for him and served his sentence. In the prison hospital, I nearly bled to death giving birth to our child. And now, my own son was nestled in Brenda’s arms, calling her “Mommy” in his sweet little voice. I stood in the autumn wind, wearing the same faded coat I had gone to prison in, my entire body numb with cold. Logan Vance pulled a plane ticket from the inner pocket of his tailored suit and handed it to me as if he were dismissing a beggar. “Everything’s been arranged for you overseas. Take the ticket and leave. Don’t come back and disrupt the peaceful life we’ve built here.” I accepted the ticket. Its sharp edge sliced my fingertip. “Does he know who I am?” I asked. Logan’s face darkened. “Chloe, don’t make a scene.” The front door slammed shut in my face. I tore the ticket in half, checked into a motel, and burned my son’s first lock of hair together with my wedding ring until both turned to ashes. Then I signed a body donation agreement. The contract stated that after my death, my husband, my child, and even my parents would have no legal right to claim a single handful of my ashes. Logan Vance… We’re even now. I owe you nothing anymore.

Chloe’s POV On the day I was released from prison, I stood across the street and watched my husband welcome Brenda into our home. Not only that, but my own biological son was cuddled up in Brenda’s arms, sweetly calling her “Mommy.” I was still wearing the same worn-out coat I had on when I went to prison seven years ago. The autumn wind swept past, and the pilled, faded hem of my coat clung coldly to my legs, carrying a musty smell that no amount of washing could ever remove. Inside the living room, the curtains were only half-drawn. The lights were on, blindingly bright. Logan sat on the sofa in a perfectly tailored suit, his tie flawlessly knotted. Brenda sat right beside him. The delicate diamond bracelet on her wrist sparkled under the lights. She was sitting in the exact spot that used to be mine. On the coffee table, my old photos were gone. In their place was a brand-new family portrait. In the photo, Brenda held Logan’s arm, smiling as if she were his real wife. Just then, the sound of cheerful footsteps came from the hallway. A little boy ran out like a happy little bird, throwing himself straight into Brenda’s arms. “Mommy, I want some chocolate cake!” My fingernails dug violently into the hem of my coat, my knuckles turning white from the strain. That was my baby. The baby I had given birth to on a cold, iron bed in the prison hospital, nearly bleeding to death. But before I could even get a proper look at my newborn son, Logan’s family had violently torn him away from me. Back then, I only got to hold my baby for ten minutes. Seven years had passed. My baby could run and jump now, but he was burying his face in Brenda’s lap, calling another woman “Mommy.” Click. The front door of the mansion opened. Logan stepped out. The moment his eyes landed on me, I saw his brows furrow in pure disgust. His cold gaze swept over my miserable, shabby clothes. His eyes lingered on my bare wrist for half a second before quickly looking away. He reached into his suit jacket, pulled out a one-way plane ticket, and coldly thrust it in front of my face. “I’ve set everything up for you over there. Once you land, start a new life.” I didn’t take it. I just stared down at the destination printed on the ticket. “Don’t go inside,” Logan said, his voice dropped low, carrying an commanding tone. “Mason is doing great. Brenda takes amazing care of him. You just got out of prison. Don’t ruin the peace we have in this house.” He forced the ticket into my hand. The sharp paper edge cut into my finger, a stinging pain. After handing over the ticket, Logan’s hand remained suspended in the air. I calmly folded the ticket and slipped it into my pocket. Seven years ago, I had accepted another piece of paper from the Vance family with the same submissive obedience. Back then, Logan was facing charges of embezzlement and wire fraud. The entire Vance Group was on the brink of collapse. Logan’s mother, Mrs. Vance, had called me into her study. She slammed a stack of false confession documents in front of me and said coldly, “Logan cannot go to jail. Our family only let you marry him because your face resembles his late first love. The Vance family gave you status and luxury. Now, it’s time to pay us back.” Even though I was married to Logan, I was never allowed a seat at the main family dinner table. Logan’s mother despised me. Even the maids looked down on me. Yet, for Logan’s sake, I was foolish enough to take the fall. I went to prison for him. On the day of my sentencing, the officers escorted me into the police cruiser. Through the tinted window, I looked back. Logan was standing at the back of the crowd, his black overcoat buttoned tightly, his face deathly pale. Back then, I was still stupidly making excuses for him, thinking he was just as heartbroken and helpless as I was. In my second month of prison, I found out I was pregnant. My baby was born in the dingy prison ward. There was nothing but cold metal and sterile walls. When Mason let out his first cry, I struggled to pull him to my chest, ripping the IV out of my arm and leaving a trail of blood. But that very afternoon, the Vance family’s lawyers forced me to sign a termination of visitation rights agreement, taking my baby away. I held him for only ten minutes. Three months before my release, dragging my terminally ill body, I begged a guard for a pen and wrote a letter. I pleaded with Logan to bring Mason to see me just once. That letter was still tucked under the thin mattress of my prison cell. And now, my Mason was sitting on the plush carpet of our old home, eating oranges peeled by Brenda, calling her “Mommy” again and again. I lifted my head, my eyes burning red. “Does he even know who I am?” Logan’s face instantly darkened. “Chloe, stop throwing a tantrum. Mason is doing perfectly fine.” “I asked you,” I took a step closer, my voice raw and raspy, “Does he have any idea who actually gave birth to him?!” “Logan, the phone keeps ringing. Come inside and grab it. Mason is asking for you, too.” Brenda’s sweet, gentle voice drifted out from the house. Logan glanced back, his tone turning incredibly harsh and ruthless. “All your shares and assets were liquidated years ago. This house has nothing to do with you anymore. The Vance family owes you nothing. Take the ticket and leave. Don’t ever come back.” He turned around coldly and slammed the heavy oak door. Thud. The door shut right in my face, completely blocking out the warm, golden light of the house, leaving me in pitch darkness. I let out a self-deprecating laugh. Battling the freezing wind, I walked numbly along the estate’s brick wall toward the main road. The phone in my pocket vibrated. It was a missed call from a research laboratory. I called back. A man with a highly professional, robotic voice answered immediately. “Hello, Miss Vance. We have received your authorization form. Once you sign the final papers, it will take effect immediately. We will take full control according to the agreement.” “Alright. Thank you.” The moment I hung up, a sharp, agonizing pain erupted in my lower abdomen, radiating up to my pelvis. My vision went black. Losing all strength, I collapsed against the brick wall and slid to the ground, cold sweat breaking out across my forehead. With trembling hands, I unzipped my bag. The pill bottle rolled into my palm. I couldn’t even wait to find water. I twisted the cap off, grabbed a handful of pills, threw them into my mouth, and swallowed them dry. The chalky tablets scraped down my dry throat, leaving a bitter taste exploding on the back of my tongue.

Chloe’s POV With shaking fingers, I pulled the plane ticket out of my pocket. Printed on it was the foreign city Logan had chosen for me. He had arranged a tiny apartment and a meager monthly allowance there, his most “respectable” way of throwing away his ex-wife. The corner of my mouth twitched into a bitter smile. I gripped the paper. Rip. I tore the ticket to shreds. I didn’t need his charity. Without looking back, I grabbed my suitcase and left. I found a cheap, run-down motel on the edge of the city. I dragged my heavy suitcase up the creaky stairs, opened it, and pulled out a yellowed envelope hidden deep in the inner lining. The edges of the envelope were frayed. Over the last seven years, I had lost count of how many times I had opened it in the dark. My fingers trembled as I poured out the three items inside. The first was my wedding ring. On the inside of the gold band, our wedding date was clumsily engraved. On our wedding day, Logan had slipped it onto my finger himself. The crowd applauded, though his mother sat in the front row looking absolutely furious. Back then, I was naive enough to believe that if I just loved him unconditionally, we would eventually build a beautiful life together. Now I saw it for what it was, a pathetic, one-sided joke. The second item was a tiny lock of baby hair. On the day Mason was born, while the Vance family was busy signing the discharge papers outside, a kind nurse had secretly snipped this lock of hair and pressed it into my sweaty palm. It was the only piece of Mason I had left. The hair was so fine and soft. I had kept it hidden in prison for seven long years, protecting it like it was my very life. The last item was a photograph taken at the visitor’s booth. In the photo, I was wearing a baggy prison uniform, my face pale and my smile forced. I had just been brought back from the prison ward after giving birth. My C-section incision hadn’t even healed, and my legs were shaking so hard I could barely stand. Logan’s mother stood next to me, holding the baby as far away from me as possible with an expression of pure disgust, cursing at me under her breath. But back then, just getting a glimpse of my baby made me feel like all the suffering was worth it. I closed my eyes, letting out a soft, mocking laugh. Without a second thought, I threw the wedding ring and the lock of baby hair into a cold metal trash can. I clicked my lighter three times before a weak blue flame flickered to life. I dropped the flame into the can. The moment the fire touched it, the soft baby hair shriveled into a black speck. A pungent, burnt smell immediately filled the cramped, dark motel room. I crouched on the floor, hugging my knees, staring blankly at the dancing orange flames. For seven years, during those countless sleepless nights in my cell, that lock of hair was the only thing that kept me sane. Whenever the prison lights went out, I would press a damp towel over my face to muffle my tears, while clutching that tiny bit of my son’s warmth in my palm. I had told myself over and over: Logan is waiting for me. My baby needs his mother. I took the fall for Logan, so the Vance family will always keep a place for me. But today, that door had been slammed in my face. As the fire engulfed the ring, the bright gold metal turned black, and the engraved wedding date was swallowed by the ashes. Looking at the ruins, I decided to keep the damaged photograph. I didn’t throw it into the fire. Mason still owed me a “Mommy.” The Vance family still owed me an apology. I would keep this photo until the day I couldn’t hold on anymore, until the day I was finally free. The metal can gradually grew cold. What once represented love and blood was now nothing but a pile of black soot. I picked up the can and dumped the ashes into the trash. When I wiped the bottom of the can with a tissue, a layer of stubborn black soot stained my fingers. My phone vibrated on the table. A flight confirmation message popped up on the screen. Passenger Name: Chloe Vance. Destination: Erlangen, Germany. Departure Time: October 15, 2030. The ticket Logan gave me was designed to exile me so his mistress could take my place as his wife. But the ticket I bought for myself was a one-way trip to my final destination. During my third year in prison, I happened to find a medical journal in the prison library. At the very end of an article, the address of a highly advanced neurological research lab in Erlangen was listed. That was also the year I was diagnosed with terminal cancer. The brain injury I suffered years ago when I fell off a cliff to save Logan had finally deteriorated to its absolute limit. I suffered from agonizing, daily headaches and occasional temporary blindness. I knew I didn’t have much time left. I had copied that address into my diary, filling an entire page with it. I turned off the bathroom faucet. The black soot swirled down the drain. My hands were clean, but my heart was completely hollow. The envelope on the table was still open, revealing a corner of the visitor’s booth photo. The peeling white walls of the prison booth looked exceptionally cold under the dim motel light. I pulled out a piece of tissue, carefully wrapped the photo, and tucked it deep inside my suitcase. Outside the window, I could hear the noisy footsteps of other motel guests, mixed with the cheap television static from next door. I turned off the light and lay down on the narrow, rock-hard bed. I packed my pill bottle into the purse I would carry tomorrow. Before falling asleep, I checked in for my flight on my phone. The next morning, I landed at the airport in Erlangen, Germany. I dragged my heavy suitcase out of the terminal. The damp, freezing wind rushed in through the exit, causing my stomach to cramp violently. I pulled the yellowed diary page from my pocket, the address written in faded pencil. The handwriting had become blurry from years of rubbing. I clutched the paper tightly, like it was my only lifeline. The road in front of the motel in the old district was extremely narrow. At the front desk, a stack of yellowed registration forms sat under a glass counter. The owner eyed me suspiciously from head to toe before sliding a key across the counter. “End of the hall, second floor. Hot water is only available before 10 PM.” I bent over and began filling out the registration form. In the emergency contact box, I wrote down Vanessa’s name and phone number.

Chloe’s POV At 2:00 PM sharp, I walked into the laboratory. The facility was quiet, sterile, and smelled heavily of disinfectant. After verifying my ID, the receptionist led me into a cold, windowless conference room. A thick stack of documents was laid out in front of me with a dull thud. “Miss Vance, today is your final in-person consultation. We need to confirm your absolute consent one last time.” The coordinator flipped to the most critical clause, reading it aloud clearly: “Once signed, this agreement is legally binding and completely irrevocable. Upon your passing, your body will be under the sole custody of this laboratory for irreversible medical and neurological research. Your husband, children, parents, or any direct relatives will have no legal right to claim your body, nor will they have the right to revoke this agreement.” The papers on the table felt as cold as metal. I looked at the text. A soft, relaxed smile actually appeared on my pale face. “So,” I spoke softly, my voice hoarse but incredibly firm, “after I die, they won’t even be able to get a single grain of my ashes. Is that correct?” The coordinator looked at me with a complicated expression, then nodded. “Yes. All your physical remains will have absolutely nothing to do with your family.” “Perfect.” Without a single moment of hesitation, I grabbed the pen. The tip of the pen swept across the signature line, leaving a sharp, decisive stroke. Along with the scratching sound of the pen, I closed my eyes. I had finally severed the very last tie binding me to the Vance family. By the time I walked out of the building, the sky had already turned dark. On my way back to the motel, the streetlights flickered on, casting a warm glow through the windows of local shops, reflecting the happy laughter of ordinary families. I paused, watching the warm scenes through the glass for a moment. Then, as if nothing had happened, I looked away and kept walking into the dark alley. The creaky wooden stairs of the motel groaned under my feet. I held onto the peeling banister as I walked back to my room. I pushed open the bathroom door and plunged my hands into the cold water. Suddenly, a rush of copper sweetness welled up in my throat. A massive amount of dark red blood splattered violently across the stained sink. I doubled over in agony, my hands gripping the edge of the porcelain sink so hard my nails made a screeching sound. Every violent cough felt like dozens of rusty knives hacking away at my chest and abdomen. Another wave of blood splattered directly onto the mirror. The cold water kept running, washing the blood down the drain in a swirling, pink vortex. My body was completely giving out. I tried to reach for my pills, but my legs gave way. My back hit the wall hard, and I slid down onto the freezing, wet tile floor. My pain medication was in my bag right next to the bed. I struggled to reach out, my fingers clawing at the empty air, but I couldn’t even reach the bathroom threshold. The faucet was still running, and the water began to overflow onto the floor, seeping through the crack beneath the door. Night fell completely. I heard the motel owner’s heavy footsteps coming up the stairs to collect deposits. He stopped outside my door, pounding on the wood. “Miss Vance? Miss Vance, are you in there?” He knocked three times. But other than the sound of rushing water, there was no response. I heard his voice, but I couldn’t make a sound. Suddenly, I heard the owner let out a terrified scream. “Oh my God! Someone’s dead! Call the police!” His frantic footsteps scrambled back down the stairs. He would probably call the emergency contact on my form, Vanessa. In the corner of the dark bathroom, I slumped against the wall, surrounded by a pool of diluted blood. I looked up at the flickering bulb on the ceiling, my vision slowly fading. Before slipping into complete darkness, only one thought remained in my mind: Logan… we are finally even. By the time Vanessa rushed to the motel, I was slumped against the wall. The blood on my lips had dried, and my face was terrifyingly pale. “Chloe!” Vanessa knelt down, slapping my cheeks gently, but I had absolutely no energy left to respond. I saw her pull out her phone, her voice shaking with panic as she called for an ambulance, repeating the motel address twice before I finally blacked out. The emergency room lights stayed bright past midnight. I heard the doctor walk out into the hallway with my lab results, his tone grave. “The patient is in the terminal stage of cancer. Multiple organs are already showing signs of failure. She has been pushing her body to the limit with heavy medication.” Vanessa stood in the hallway. “Is there any way to treat her?” The doctor replied, “We are stabilizing her now, but she needs to be moved to an ICU. Her family needs to get here as soon as possible.” “She has no family.” As soon as Vanessa said that, I heard her dial a number. Someone answered quickly. Half an hour later, a lawyer arrived at the hospital, his suit jacket still carrying the chill of the night wind. “The authorization agreement has already taken effect.” The lawyer handed the legal documents to the doctor, then turned to Vanessa. “She signed the donor agreement in advance. Our partner hospital is ready to receive her. Her former family has no legal right to make decisions for her.” Vanessa’s fingers trembled as she stared at the papers. “When did she sign this?” “She signed it remotely while she was still in prison. We finalized the in-person verification today.” Vanessa turned her head to look at me through the glass. I lay on the bed with an oxygen mask strapped to my face. My wrists were so thin that the IV tape looked ridiculously wide. Vanessa walked into the room and pulled up a chair. She opened her phone and looked at the message I had sent her on the day I got out of prison. It was just one sentence: Vanessa, I’m leaving. She turned off the screen and placed the phone on the nightstand. The lawyer walked in to inform her that the transfer paperwork was complete. They would move me to the research facility first thing in the morning.

Logan’s POV I sat in the back of my car. My assistant sent over Chloe’s bank records from the past few months. The screen was completely blank. No withdrawals, no purchases, and no check-in record for the flight I had booked for her. She had torn up the ticket. I stared at the screen for a long time, then dialed another number to track down the apartment Chloe lived in before her arrest. The next afternoon, I stood in front of that apartment. A stranger opened the door, holding a young child in his arms. “Who are you looking for?” I gave him the address. The man shrugged. “This place was sold years ago. The transaction went through a law firm.” I pressed for details about where the money went. The man dug up an old folder and placed a transfer receipt on the shoe cabinet. The recipient’s account name was Logan Vance. The date was exactly one week before Chloe went to prison. I pulled out my phone and accessed my old, deactivated bank account. Sure enough, the transaction was sitting in my history. The amount matched the receipt perfectly. She had sold her only apartment and transferred every single penny to me. A week before going to jail, she was still desperately trying to cover my company’s financial deficit. When I walked out of the building, the sun was already setting. The streetlights flickered on, casting a dim light on the cracked steps. I stood by the curb, clutching the photo of the transfer receipt. The cold night wind blew past. My phone lit up multiple times with incoming calls from my mother, but I let them ring out. By the time the first street sweeper drove past the block at dawn, I was still standing outside her old apartment. As daylight broke, I finally got back into my car. I sat in the driver’s seat, my fingers stiff from the cold. The record of that bank transfer remained open on my screen. The date burned into my eyes, refusing to fade. A notification from my assistant popped up. It was a screenshot of several trending local gossip articles. “Billionaire’s Ex-Wife Steps Out of Prison and Straight into Another Man’s Bed.” “The Woman Who Took the Fall for Her Husband Was Already Dirty.” “Cheating on the Day of Her Release: How the Vance Family Was Scammed for Years.” None of the articles used real names, but the details, taking the fall for a husband, the marital home, cheating on the release day, all pointed directly to Chloe. My assistant added, “The posts were all published last night. The initial accounts sharing them look like paid bots.” I shut off the screen. I started the engine, but instead of setting the navigation back to the office, I drove aimlessly down the streets surrounding her old apartment. Half an hour later, Brenda appeared by my car door. She was holding a stack of printed photos, standing outside my window. Her makeup was flawless, but her eyes were filled with anxiety. “Logan, stop looking for her.” I rolled down the window. Brenda thrust the photos through the gap. They were cropped photos of Chloe standing next to various men, taken from highly misleading angles. One showed her in a hospital hallway being supported by a man, with a scandalous caption. Another was taken outside a motel, showing her walking in while a man stood closely behind her. “I didn’t want to show you these,” Brenda bit her lip. “She was already cheating on you before she went to prison. She never planned on coming back to you. She took your money to fund her affairs, and now people online are starting to dig up her past.” I looked down, refusing to touch the photos. Brenda’s voice grew frantic. “If you keep digging, it’s going to ruin you, and it’s going to ruin Mason! If she makes a scene, what will happen to the Vance Group? What will happen to Mason’s future?” I reached out and shoved the photos back into her arms. The papers hit Brenda’s chest, scattering all over the car floor. Brenda froze. “Logan?” “Who gave you these?” Her lips trembled, but she couldn’t find her words. I pushed the car door open and stepped out. I bent down and picked up the top photo from the floor mat, my thumb pressing against Chloe’s face. She had gotten so thin. Her cheeks were hollow, and even in a blurry photo, she looked incredibly sick. And people were using these photos to spread disgusting rumors. I threw the photo back at Brenda. “Don’t ever bring this garbage to me again.” Brenda’s face drained of color. By the time I returned to the Vance Group headquarters, the PR department was already waiting in the conference room. Media inquiries were piling up in our inbox. The online narrative had escalated from a scandalous personal life to Chloe conspiring with outsiders to steal Vance family assets. In the comment section, someone had leaked Chloe’s old identity details, including the address of her pre-marriage apartment. The head of PR asked, “Mr. Vance, should we issue a statement to distance ourselves from her?” “No response for now,” I placed my phone on the table. “Find the source. Trace the initial accounts that posted the rumors. One by one.” The PR head nodded and hurried out. Immediately, my mother’s call came through. I picked up, and her voice instantly boomed through the speaker. “I saw the news online. I told you years ago that a girl like Chloe would eventually cheat on you!” I leaned back in my chair, rubbing my temples. My mother continued, “The Sinclair Group has already agreed to the merger. Victoria Sinclair is waiting to finalize the marriage paperwork with you. Get the divorce papers signed with Chloe within the week. Stop dragging this out.” I remained silent. “Don’t let Chloe embarrass us any further. She’s a convict, and now she’s involved in this disgusting scandal. Do you want the Vance family to become a laughingstock? If you don’t sign those papers, I will come to your office myself.” I heard the sound of papers rustling on her end. Her final words were icy cold. “Don’t make me lose face in front of our business partners again.” The line went dead. I sat in the empty conference room. The bright daylight streamed in through the glass windows. A new message from my assistant popped up on my phone: “We found the law firm. Mr. Davis, the attorney who handled the apartment sale back then, is still practicing.”

Logan’s POV I drove to the law office that very afternoon. The firm was located on the seventh floor of an old commercial building. The hallway was narrow, and the walls were lined with faded licenses. After verifying my identity, the receptionist, Mia, led me into a small meeting room next to the archive room. Mr. Davis was waiting for me. His hair was mostly gray, and his eyes locked onto mine the moment I walked in. “Mr. Vance, the files from back then are still in our database.” Mr. Davis pulled a folder from the cabinet. The label was faded, but Chloe’s handwritten signature on the bottom right corner was perfectly clear under the clear tape. The handwriting was thin but steady. He placed the folder on the table. Mr. Davis pulled out the apartment transfer agreement first, flipping to the signature page. “She signed this herself. Her fingerprint is right here.” A red ink fingerprint was pressed firmly onto the paper. My throat tightened as I stared at it. Then, Mr. Davis pulled out another document. “She requested we keep this one on file as well.” The cover read: Deed of Gift. I opened it. The text was incredibly short: I hereby donate all proceeds from the sale of my apartment to my husband, Logan Vance, to help him overcome his current financial difficulties. The date was exactly one week before she went to prison. When she signed this, she already knew she was going to take the fall and go to jail for me. My fingers pressed against the paper, trembling for a long time before I could let go. Mr. Davis waited patiently, reaching out to pack up the files. I brushed his hand away and kept flipping through the folder. At the very back of the folder, there were a few appended documents. When I reached the final page, my fingers brushed against a photocopy of a newer document. It was kept separately at the back, with a bold header: Irrevocable Personal Authorization and Release Form. I looked up. “What is this?” Mr. Davis glanced at it. “A copy for our records. The original is kept at the research laboratory.” “What laboratory?” “An independent neurological research facility she contacted while she was in prison.” I looked down at the document. The first section was identity verification. The second section stated that upon her death, her body would be under the sole custody of the laboratory for irreversible medical and neurological research. The third section was a limitation of relative rights, with a bolded sentence at the bottom: No relatives, including spouse, parents, or children, shall have any right to claim the body or make any post-mortem decisions. My eyes locked onto that sentence. At that moment, the hum of the air conditioner in the room seemed to vanish. While she was still in prison, she had completely excluded me from her death. She had given me her apartment, given me seven years of her life, and given me a child. But in the end, she didn’t even want to leave a single cell of her body to the Vance family. I picked up the copy, the paper shaking slightly in my hand. “Give me the name and address of the laboratory.” Mr. Davis checked his database index, frowning as he scanned the screen. “The specific name is in another transfer document in our main archives. I can’t access it today.” “When can you get it?” “Tomorrow morning, at the earliest.” Clutching the copy of the deed of gift and the authorization form, I walked out of the law firm. I sat in the back of my car, placing the two documents on the passenger seat. Outside, the sky was gradually darkening as people rushed in and out of the office building. I pulled out my phone and messaged my assistant: “Search for all independent laboratories in the country specializing in neurological or brain science research.” My assistant replied almost instantly: “There are three main facilities.” I set my phone down, my gaze falling back on the passenger seat. The bold header of the authorization form peeked out, the paper fluttering slightly in the draft from the window. By the time I returned to the Vance estate, the night was pitch black. When I pushed the front door open, the shoe rack looked empty. Chloe’s old light-colored slippers were no longer in their usual spot. The bottom shelf of the cabinet had been wiped clean by the maids, looking cold and sterile. The corner of the sofa by the window was empty too. Before she went to prison, she used to sit there every night waiting for me to come home, a book resting on her lap. The moment she heard the door, she would look up and smile. Later, that corner was replaced with decorative pillows, designer vases, and a light-colored cashmere blanket that Brenda liked. I walked upstairs and pushed open the guest room door. Inside the closet, there were only a few empty hangers. The drawers were completely cleared out, leaving only a faint, dusty ring on the vanity table. That was where her perfume bottle used to sit. The bottle was slender. She rarely used it, only spraying a little when the Vance family hosted formal dinners. The scent was so light that it would vanish the moment she turned around. I had never once asked when these things were thrown away. I stood in the center of the silent room, the ceiling light casting a harsh glare over me. Chloe had lived in this house for seven years, yet the last traces of her existence couldn’t even secure the space of a single perfume bottle. I turned and walked into my study. The bookshelf lined the wall. On the very bottom shelf, there were a few old leather-bound books. I knelt down, sliding my fingers across the spines. When my fingers brushed against a book with a cracked cover, I felt a slight bulge. I pulled the book out and opened it. Tucked inside were several folded sheets of paper. The edges were yellowed and frayed. When I unfolded the first page, I saw tight, delicate handwriting filling the paper. It was Chloe’s handwriting. The entry was dated during her second year in prison. She wrote about giving birth to Mason in the prison ward. There were only nurses and guards by her bedside. When the baby let out his first cry, someone wrapped him in a blanket. She reached out to hold him, but the guard told her that the Vance family’s representative had already arrived to take the baby. She begged them for just ten minutes. The handwriting on the paper grew heavy here, the pen almost ripping through the page. I just wanted to hold him for ten minutes. I stared at the words, my fingers gripping the edge of the paper. The second page talked about the ocean. Chloe wrote that the coastal town she lived in as a child had a beautiful beach with fine sand that wouldn’t hurt a child’s bare feet. She hoped that once she got out of prison, she could take Mason there and let him run around all afternoon. She had even drawn a clumsy little sand shovel in the margin. The third page was about her diagnosis. Terminal cancer. The doctor told her she didn’t have much time left and urged her to contact her family. She had crossed out that line, writing underneath: No need to trouble them. The last page had only a few short lines. I don’t want to drag this body back and forth between the prison and the Vance family anymore. If I can still walk on the day of my release, I just want to see him one last time. Just one look before I die. The date was three months before her release. My thumb pressed against the date, crushing the paper into new creases.

Logan’s POV On the day she stood outside my villa, wearing those threadbare clothes and looking deathly pale, I had shoved a plane ticket into her hand and told her not to ruin my life. She had fought through her terminal illness just to see me one last time, and I had told her to get lost. My body slouched back. My head hit the doorframe with a dull thud that echoed through the quiet study. The pages of her diary scattered across the carpet. A wave of intense nausea surged up my throat. I scrambled out of the study, stumbled into the bathroom at the end of the hallway, and bent over the toilet, vomiting violently. My stomach was empty, so I only threw up bitter bile, the acid burning my throat. I gripped the edge of the sink. In the mirror, my eyes were bloodshot, my collar was torn open, and the veins on the back of my hands were bulging. Where was I when Chloe was begging on the delivery table for ten minutes? Where was I when Mason was taken away? And where was I when she wrote that her only wish before dying was to see me one last time? I slid down onto the cold tile floor, the chill seeping into my back. Tears spilled over, hot and heavy, tracking down my face. I pressed the back of my hand against my mouth to muffle my sobs, the metallic taste of blood mixing with the sour bile. The scattered pages of her diary still lay on the study carpet. The last page was facing up, the date clear under the soft light. The next morning, my mother and father stormed into the villa. Before the maids could even stop them, my mother marched into the living room. Her gaze swept over the open books on the sofa and the unwashed glass on the table, her face contorting with undisguised disgust. “Look at you! What is wrong with you?” I sat on the sofa, my shirt wrinkled and my eyes heavily bloodshot. My mother snatched a set of divorce papers from her designer bag and slammed them onto the coffee table. “Victoria Sinclair’s family is waiting to finalize the marriage paperwork. They’ve given us plenty of respect. Are you really going to ruin this family over a convict like Chloe?” My father stood behind her, his face grim. “The company needs this merger, Logan.” I looked up at them, my eyes shifting to the phone in my mother’s hand. The screen was lit up with urgent messages from the Sinclair family. My mother pushed the papers closer to me. “Sign it! She’s been to prison, and now she’s wrapped up in this cheap cheating scandal. Do you want the Vance family to lose all credibility? If you don’t sign, I will make the announcement myself.” I suddenly stood up. I snatched my mother’s phone from her hand and threw it violently onto the hardwood floor. The sound of the screen shattering instantly silenced the room. My mother shrieked. “Logan! Are you insane?” “The merger is off.” “What did you say?” “I am not marrying Victoria Sinclair,” I stood before her, my voice incredibly raspy. “And I am not signing these divorce papers.” My mother’s face turned pale with fury. “You’re rebelling against your own family for Chloe? What is she to you?” I stared at her. “Who was the one who went to prison for me?” My mother bit her lip. “She did that voluntarily.” “On the day she went to prison. On the day she gave birth in that cell. On the day her baby was snatched away. Did you ever mention her name even once?” My mother froze. My father stepped forward. “Logan, that happened years ago. Bringing it up now serves no purpose.” I pulled out my phone and dialed my assistant’s number. “Freeze all accounts under my parents’ names that are funded by my company. Cancel their black cards, repossess the luxury vehicles, and lock down the estate properties. Do it today.” My mother’s eyes widened, and she lunged forward to grab my phone. “How dare you!” I stepped aside. The assistant confirmed the order on the other end of the line, and I hung up, slipping the phone back into my pocket. “If you want to merge with the Sinclairs so badly, fund it yourselves.” My mother’s voice shrieked to a high pitch. “I am your mother. You’re doing this to me for a convict?” The security guards stood at the entrance. The moment I said, “Escort them out,” they stepped forward immediately. My mother clutched the crumpled divorce papers, crying and cursing as she was ushered out. My father’s face was dark as night. He glared at me one last time before leaving. Once the front door closed, the living room fell silent again. Only the shattered glass of the phone remained on the floor.

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I have extremely strict personal boundaries, but my contract-marriage husband has severe separation anxiety. Two years into our marriage, we had a son, Leo. He completely inherited his father’s personality—a total clinger who couldn’t survive a second without me. I always found them too draining and did everything I could to avoid them. Just as I was about to push them out of my bedroom door once again, a floating text—like live chat comments—suddenly flashed before my eyes. [So this is how the evil female lead iced out the male lead and their son.] [She didn’t even show up for the Parent-Teacher Conference. Ethan and little Leo are going to be completely heartbroken this time.] [It’s fine. The real female lead is about to show up soon.] [She’ll warm Ethan up with her sunshine personality. Even little Leo, who always dogs the evil female lead’s heels, will be drawn to her.] [When that happens, the rejected wife will be kicked out of the house with a frozen bank account and sent to a run-down cabin upstate, never to return.] What? I would be kicked out upstate? And never allowed back here? I tightened the sash of my silk robe. The next second, I threw the bedroom door wide open, rushed forward, and wrapped my arms tightly around my husband and son who were just about to leave.

I pulled Leo into my arms and ruffled his soft hair. “Mommy isn’t going to the office that day. I’ll go to your Parent-Teacher Conference, okay?” Leo looked at me in shock, his face lighting up with pure joy. He looked like he was about to bounce off the walls. But very quickly, something crossed his mind, and his little head drooped. “Mommy, are you lying to me?” “Last time, you said you’d come to my school field day, but only Daddy showed up in the end.” “I’m already in elementary school, and some of my classmates say I don’t even have a mom!” Hearing Leo’s words, the floating screen instantly went wild with comments. [Lmao, she has completely lost the kid’s trust.] [Who can she blame? Leo used to be her little shadow. Didn’t she push him away time after time to cause this?] [The male lead too. He’s been rejected so much he doesn’t even dare to get close to her anymore.] [Just look at his face. He doesn’t believe for a second that she’s being genuine.] I looked up. Ethan noticed my gaze and quickly, almost reflexively, let go of the corner of my robe he had been secretly twirling between his fingers. He turned his head slightly, biting his lip. His voice was laced with disappointment. “Elena, it’s fine if you can’t make it. But please, don’t promise Leo if you aren’t sure… Otherwise, he’ll wait for you all day, and he’ll cry again when you don’t show up.” Wait, what? I froze. Quickly, I grabbed Ethan’s hand, pressed it firmly against my chest, and practically begged him to believe me. “I won’t! I swear! This time, I’m really going!” “You have to believe me!” Ethan and I were married for business. My parents had a similar marriage of convenience. They lived apart year-round and had zero emotional connection. Aside from business, they barely spoke. I used to think that was a great arrangement. Because I was a textbook low-energy introvert. Even back in college, I found social relationships exhausting. Once I took over the family business, managing projects and negotiating contracts all day, I would come home feeling completely drained. I never wanted to date. I had hoped my partner would be a low-energy corporate drone with strong boundaries just like me. But I never expected Ethan to be a human Golden Retriever who could run ten corporate mergers a day without breaking a sweat. Not only did he have boundless energy, but he also had severe separation anxiety and touch deprivation. He loved sticking to me. “I don’t want to sleep in a separate bed from you, El.” “Wherever you go, I go.” “I love you so much, El. Let’s never be apart, okay?” In our second year of marriage, we had Leo. We hadn’t planned on having a baby so early, but it was an accidental pregnancy, and my doctor advised against an abortion due to my physical condition. Ethan was terrified of putting me through too much pain, so he promised he would take on all the parenting duties. But who knew our son would completely inherit Ethan’s high-energy traits? Leo loved following me everywhere. He was way more attached to me than to his dad. Dealing with one clingy adult was exhausting enough. Now I had a mini-clinger. It instantly triggered my avoidant attachment style. I started hiding from them. Ethan asked me out on dates. “Too tired, not going.” Leo wanted me to go to his school events. “Too tired, not going.” Family weekend trips. “Too tired, not going.” … Lately, though, I had finally gotten the company’s operations under control. I had promoted a few reliable assistants to take over the heavy lifting, so I wasn’t nearly as exhausted anymore. And then I suddenly realized… why hadn’t my two clingy boys been bothering me the past few days?

I raised my eyes and saw the chat comments scrolling again. [Has the cold wife finally realized she’s been ignoring her husband and kid?] [Too late. The male lead is so used to being rejected that he just pleases himself now. He doesn’t want to bother her.] [Ugh, speaking of which… why is Ethan pulling her lingerie out of the drawer again and getting off to her photo?] […Come on guys, cut him some slack. A man has needs.] [Well, it doesn’t matter. Once he meets the sunshine female lead, he won’t have to starve himself anymore.] [The real female lead is super active in bed. She would never leave our boy hanging.] I stood there, dumbfounded. What was Ethan doing? My hand pressed against the bedroom door, and I pushed it open instinctively. Inside the master bedroom. Ethan had one hand tucked under the waistband of his sweatpants, and his left hand was holding his phone. His cheeks were flushed with a deep crimson. Hearing the door, he slowly turned his head. When he saw me, his eyes widened instantly. His entire body froze like a massive Golden Retriever caught stealing food from the counter. “E-El… Elena! When did you get back?” “I… I was just…” I walked over, picked up the phone Ethan had hurriedly tossed onto the bed, and unlocked it with my birthday. The screen showed a photo of me sleeping in my silk pajamas. It was actually a beautiful shot. The morning sun hit my skin, giving me a soft, ethereal glow. I bit my lip. I pulled Ethan out from under the duvet, slipped off my outer cardigan with one hand, and crawled right onto his lap. Oh, so the new girl is supposed to be “active,” huh? Who says I can’t be active? If I’m active enough, you can forget about sending me to some upstate cabin! The body beneath me instantly turned scalding hot. Ethan’s ragged breath tickled my ear. He wrapped his hands gently but firmly around my waist, his voice husky. “What’s gotten into you today? Aren’t you tired?” I bit my lip and shook my head. “I missed you.” Ethan couldn’t hold back anymore. He leaned up and kissed me hungrily. The next morning, sunlight poured through the window. Ethan was downstairs in the kitchen making breakfast. As I lay in bed alone, the live comments popped up again. [Are there any VIP users who know what happened last night? Did they actually do it?] [They did! I’m shocked. Why did she suddenly become so aggressive… what about our sunshine girl Chloe?] [It doesn’t matter. With her weak stamina, how could she satisfy Ethan?] [Look at him. He looked so unsatisfied when he went down to cook this morning.] [He obviously stopped after one round just to make sure she wouldn’t get too tired. If this keeps up, he’s going to get bored of her sooner or later.] … “Sigh.” I closed my eyes as the memories of last night flooded back. The comments weren’t entirely wrong. Ethan’s stamina was insane. Plus, since he had been starved for so long, his desire last night was incredibly intense. When we were newly married, he would usually wrap himself around me all night, going multiple rounds until we were both completely exhausted. But last night, he really did stop after just one round. Was he really just worried that I’d be too tired to keep up? With that thought, I threw on a thin satin slip dress and walked down to the kitchen. Ethan was putting scrambled eggs onto the plates. When he looked up and saw what I was wearing, the tips of his ears flushed bright red. The chat comments started complaining again. [See? I told you one round wasn’t enough!] [The moment he saw the hickey on her collarbone, he got a massive hard-on. The man is starving.] [If she can’t satisfy him, she should just hand him over. Seriously.] [Chloe would never say no to him. Once they’re together, they can have all the wild nights they want!] I closed my eyes, forcing myself to ignore the text. I walked over, wrapped my arms around Ethan’s waist, and pressed my front against his back. Mustering up my courage, I was about to tell him that I wasn’t actually that tired, and that last night had felt amazing… But before I could speak, my phone buzzed. It was my assistant, Carter. “Hey Elena, do you have some time today? The team from Eastside Realty wants to discuss the contract details this afternoon. Can you make it to the office?”

Hearing Carter’s voice on the line, Ethan’s body instantly went rigid. He gently untangled himself from my embrace. “Is it work?” “If it’s urgent, you should go.” Carter was a workaholic just like me. His brain was 100% occupied by work. Not only did he grind, but he also expected everyone else to grind. Sometimes he’d text me spreadsheets at midnight. But I had promoted him specifically so he could take over my position. Now that he was ready, he needed to start handling things independently. Besides, Leo’s Parent-Teacher Conference was this afternoon. I absolutely couldn’t miss it. I shook my head and declined Carter’s request over the phone. “The real estate deal is basically wrapped up. The remaining stuff is just minor details. Handle it yourself, and just email me the meeting notes.” Carter grunted in agreement. “Got it. I’ll let you know if anything goes sideways.” The comments began scrolling rapidly. [Wait, what? The workaholic wife actually declined a meeting? What’s going on?] [Every time that little assistant called her, she used to run off. I honestly thought they had something going on.] [Even Ethan is shocked. Look at the way he’s looking at her right now.] I turned to look at Ethan. Sure enough, his eyes were wide with surprise. He clearly hadn’t expected me to stay. I hugged him again, leaning into his chest, wanting to pick up where we left off. “Ethan, do you want to…” To my surprise, Ethan gently pushed me back. This was the first time he had ever rejected me. He looked down, his voice slightly raspy. “I’m sorry, El.” “The hospital just called. My mom’s condition got worse.” “She might need emergency surgery this afternoon, and I have to go sign the consent forms. I’m afraid you’ll have to handle Leo’s school conference on your own.” Ethan’s mother had always been in poor health. Thanks to advanced medical tech and the private doctors the family hired, she had been stable for the past few years. But if Ethan was this worried, it had to be serious. I immediately agreed. “Go. You head to the hospital, and I’ll go to Leo’s school. Don’t worry, your mom is going to be fine.” After setting the plan, Ethan and I went our separate ways. Leo’s school was in the city center, which was a bit of a drive from our suburban estate. After eating, I jumped into my SUV and started driving. According to GPS, I would arrive about thirty minutes early. But halfway there, the chat comments popped up again. [Attention, everyone!] [We have finally reached the plot twist! The male lead is about to meet our sunshine girl today!] [Chloe works at the very hospital where Ethan’s mom is admitted.] [As the lead doctor, Chloe won’t just save his mom with her incredible medical skills; she’s also going to warm Ethan’s lonely heart with her bright personality.] [Ethan has been iced out by his wife for so long. How could he not fall for someone as warm and sweet as Chloe?] [The chemistry between them is going to be off the charts. Get ready for some major romance, guys!] … The female lead. The girl the comments claimed was Ethan’s destiny. Was she really appearing today? And were they really going to… fall in love? Reading those comments, my chest tightened. My mind went completely blank for a split second. In my daze, my hands slipped on the steering wheel. The SUV veered off course, scraping violently against the guardrail with a loud screech of rubber on asphalt. I gasped, slamming my foot hard onto the brakes—

Fortunately, my reflexes were fast enough to prevent a major accident. I got out of the car to inspect the damage. There were some nasty scratches, but nothing structural. Still, by law, I had to wait for the police to file an accident report. I checked my watch. Time was ticking away, and anxiety began to claw at my chest. The comments turned on me, mocking my failure. [Lmao, she promised she’d go to the school event, and now she’s going to flake again, right?] [Don’t make promises you can’t keep. You’re just disappointing the kid.] [Thank god Leo meets Chloe later in the story and finally gets the maternal love he deserves.] [Chloe is never cold to Leo, which is why he gets so attached to her.] My chest felt incredibly heavy. If I could tolerate Ethan being taken away from me by some cosmic plot, there was absolutely no way I was going to let another woman take my son. I grew more and more frantic. By the time the police finished the report, I quickly called our estate manager to tow the car for repairs. Then, I hailed an Uber and rushed to the school. When I finally slipped into the classroom, the conference had already been going on for an hour. The teacher was answering questions from other parents. I tried to sneak in through the back door and spotted Leo sitting in his seat. His head was low, looking incredibly dejected. The chubby kid sitting next to him was poking his arm with a pen. “Where’s your mom?” “Why didn’t she show up for you?” “School started weeks ago, and no one has ever seen her… Leo, do you even have a mom?” Leo clenched his little fists, his eyes welling up with tears. Seeing this, I rushed over to him. “Sweetie, I’m so sorry. Mommy got into—” Before I could finish, Leo squirmed out of my embrace. His voice trembled with a tiny, heartbroken sob. “You lied to me again, Mommy.” “I… I don’t ever want to love you again.” That was the first time Leo had ever said he didn’t love me. In the past, no matter how many times I rejected him after work, he would always run up to me the next day with a huge smile, acting like my little shadow. The chat screen exploded. [Karma is a bitch. Love to see it.] [She’s never getting Leo’s affection back!] [Don’t cry, Leo! Your daddy is about to find you a much better mommy who will actually cherish you!] … I froze in place. The conference ended shortly after. The teacher, noticing the tense atmosphere, walked over and asked to speak with me privately in the hallway. Her tone carried a hint of disapproval. “Leo is a very sweet, brilliant boy, Mrs. Henderson. You don’t have to worry about his academics.” “But he has high emotional needs. You really need to show up for him more.” “Take today, for instance. You can’t just show up when the meeting is basically over—” She suddenly stopped. Her eyes fell on my arm, and she gasped in horror. “Oh my god, Mrs. Henderson, are you hurt?” “Your sleeve is covered in blood! Let me call an ambulance!”

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We were playing a drinking game at a party when my boyfriend’s female best friend, Monica, suddenly pushed a shot glass in front of me. “Drink up if you’ve ever been a mistress.” No one looked surprised. They just snickered. “Summer, you really should drink. They announced their marriage on Instagram a year ago. They only blocked you because Ethan was afraid you’d make a scene.” “So legally, you’re the homewrecker here.” My fingers trembled. I looked at Ethan, who was casually swirling his glass, giving a careless nod. Monica nudged Ethan’s shoulder with a giggling explanation: “My family was pressuring me to get married, so he offered to help me out. You don’t mind, do you, Summer?” “It’s just a piece of paper. We can get a divorce anytime.” “What about me?” my voice cracked as I asked Ethan. Ethan pinched my cheek, wearing a nonchalant smirk. “I drank too much the night before we signed the papers and mistook her for you. I had to take responsibility, right?” “Our wedding next month will go on as planned. She gets the legal paper, and you get the wedding. It’s a win-win, isn’t it?” Eight years of love crumbled into dust in an instant. I choked back my tears, said nothing, and texted my dad back: “Dad, I agree to the arranged marriage.” 1. “Summer, just drink it. Don’t tell me you’re being a party pooper?” Monica waved the glass in front of me, her eyes gleaming with pure provocation. The crowd joined in, cheering and jeering. “Drink! Drink! Drink! They’re legally married, which makes you the side chick! You owe us a shot!” The mocking, malicious stares felt like a thousand needles pricking my skin. This wasn’t the first time Ethan’s friends had tried to humiliate me. But this was the first time they had brought it so shamelessly into the open. In the beginning, Ethan would always protect me. But ever since Monica returned to the country, everything changed. He went from warning his friends never to disrespect me, to looking at me coldly and saying: “Why are you being so dramatic? They’re just joking around. Can’t you take a joke?” I bit my tongue hard, letting the metallic taste of blood spread in my mouth. Ethan kept a smirk on his face and said nothing, as if he, too, was waiting for me to drink that cup of humiliation. Sensing my stiff posture, he reached out and squeezed my hand. “Come on, Summer. Just drink it. All the guys are watching. Don’t ruin the mood for everyone.” I looked at him, my expression dead cold. “Do you also think I’m a homewrecker?” He wrapped an arm around my waist, whispering in a soothing tone. “Nobody’s calling you a homewrecker. It’s just a game.” I pushed his arm away, my voice hard. “Don’t touch me. She’s your wife, not me.” Ethan’s face darkened, impatience flickering in his eyes. “What is your problem? Monica and I are just best friends. Signing those papers was a joke at first, and then it was just to help her escape her family’s matchmaking. What’s wrong with helping out a close friend?” Seeing the tension, Monica quickly chimed in. “Summer, don’t get the wrong idea. Ethan and I are purely platonic.” “The only night anything happened was when he got wasted and mistook me for you. He was like a sex-deprived beast, leaving me so sore I couldn’t even get out of bed the next day. Honestly, his performance was trash. If he weren’t my best friend, I would have killed him.” With that, she playfully punched Ethan’s chest. Ethan grabbed her hands, pulling her right into his lap. “My performance was trash? Then who was the one clinging to me all night, screaming so loud that the downstairs neighbors probably heard everything?” Monica’s face flushed red. She sat straddled on Ethan’s lap, covering his mouth with her hands. “Shut up! Stop lying!” Then, she turned to me with a sweet smile. “Summer, if you really care about the marriage certificate, Ethan and I will go get a divorce in the next couple of days. I’ll drink this shot for you as an apology, okay?” Ethan’s expression changed instantly. He snatched the glass from her hand. “What are you doing? You’re on your period, you shouldn’t be drinking alcohol!” “And did I say we’re divorcing? If we do, your mom is just going to harass you to get married again!” My chest felt incredibly tight and hollow. Over the past few years, my parents had pressured us to marry countless times. Every time they brought it up, Ethan would scowl and say: “It’s just a piece of paper. Is it really that important? Our love doesn’t need a certificate to prove it.” But now I saw the truth. It wasn’t that the paper didn’t matter. It mattered too much. The legal commitment I had waited eight years for was something he happily handed over to his female best friend on a whim. When Ethan looked back at me, his patience had completely run out. He shoved the glass into my hand. “Summer Vance, are you done throwing a tantrum? It’s just a game. If you lose, you take the penalty.” I suddenly laughed, nodding slowly. “Yeah. I’m done.” I was completely done with this toxic relationship. I took the glass and downed it in one gulp. The burning liquid made tears stream down my face. “Ethan Thorne, we are over.” 2. Ethan froze for a second, a flash of panic crossing his eyes. I grabbed my purse, turned around, and walked out. Just as Ethan was about to chase after me, someone called out: “Ethan! If you leave, who’s going to drive Monica home?” Ethan paused in his tracks. Monica’s mocking voice echoed behind him: “Come on, a friend is never as important as a girlfriend. Go pamper Summer. I’m not one of those delicate girls who needs a man to escort her home.” In the end, he didn’t follow me. While I was in the cab, a text from Ethan popped up on my phone. “Summer, stop talking out of anger.” “It’s late, and it’s not safe for Monica to go home alone. I’ll head back to our place right after I drop her off. Be good and wait for me at home.” I looked out at the pitch-black night outside the window and let out a bitter laugh. He never worried about me being alone. He only worried about Monica. Ethan didn’t come back until the next afternoon. By then, I was already packing my things, getting ready to move out. Ethan hugged me from behind, slipping a bakery bag into my hands. “Don’t be mad anymore, okay? I went way out of my way and waited in line for hours just to get your favorite cake.” I opened the bag. It was a mango mousse cake—Monica’s favorite. And just half an hour ago, Monica had posted on her Snapchat story. “Since my bestie waited in line for hours to buy me my favorite cake, I’ll forgive him for his wild behavior last night~” The post was accompanied by a picture of Ethan standing in line at the bakery. Their mutual friends had commented underneath: “Wild behavior? Like, wild in bed?” Ethan leaned down, trying to kiss me. A strong scent of citrus drifted from his collar—the exact same perfume Monica wore. A wave of intense nausea hit my stomach. I pushed him away violently. Ethan’s face twisted in frustration. He grit his teeth and yelled: “Summer Vance, what is your deal?!” “I stood in line for hours just to make you happy! What more do you want from me?!” I looked at him, a cold smile playing on my lips. “To make me happy? Or to make your precious best friend happy?” I turned and threw the cake straight into the trash can. Ethan’s face darkened completely. “What nonsense are you talking about?” I tried my best to hold back my tears, my voice trembling. “Whether it’s nonsense or not, you know the truth.” “You remember everything she likes to eat. You pick the cilantro out of her food during group dinners. You even remember her period cycle perfectly. But you don’t even remember that I am deadly allergic to mangoes.” “You went as far as secretly marrying her at the courthouse, and you’re still acting like you did nothing wrong?” The moment the words left my mouth, Ethan slammed his fist into the vanity mirror. The glass shattered into pieces. Several shards flew and cut my arm, drawing blood. He roared at the top of his lungs: “I already told you I was just helping her out! Why do you keep digging up the past?!” “It’s just a piece of paper! I said I would marry you! Are you really that desperate for a stupid marriage license?!” My ears rang from his screaming. I stared at him. He had the exact same face, but he felt like a complete stranger. Years ago, my parents had strongly opposed our relationship because he was dirt poor. For him, I cut ties with my family. I followed him to New York to start his business. When he had no capital, I emptied my entire savings account for him. I worked three jobs a day, eating expired bread for three meals just to save a few pennies. I overworked myself to the point of collapse and lost our first baby. Back then, he knelt by my hospital bed, crying his eyes out, swearing he would never betray me. So when his company finally started making money, he couldn’t wait to buy me a diamond ring. I still remembered how his eyes shone back then. “Summer, my greatest dream is to have my name next to the love of my life on a marriage certificate. And that person will only ever be you.” My chest ached so badly I couldn’t speak. Maybe the despair on my face was too obvious. Ethan looked slightly regretful. He reached out to hold me, but before his hands could touch my shoulders, his phone’s VIP ringtone blared. He glanced at the screen, and his face instantly turned into a mask of anxiety. He grabbed his coat and headed straight for the door. “Summer, you need to check your attitude.” The door slammed shut. I fell to my knees, dry-heaving uncontrollably. I clutched the fabric over my chest tightly. It felt like the only way to stop myself from suffocating. When I was too exhausted to cry, I dragged myself off the floor and went back to packing. My phone buzzed. It was a text from my dad. “The wedding is set for the 30th of next month.” The date of the wedding was unchanged, but the groom was someone else. 3. I was almost done packing when Ethan returned. Monica was right behind him. Her ankle was wrapped in gauze, and she limped into the apartment. I watched as Ethan knelt, gently held her ankle, and helped her slip into a pair of indoor slippers. He supported her waist, guided her to the couch, and poured her a glass of warm water. He used his favorite personal mug. He was a germaphobe and never shared cups with me. Once, I had accidentally drank from his mug, and the very next day, I saw it in the trash can. Ethan looked up at me, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Monica fell and injured her leg in her bathroom. There’s no elevator in her old apartment building, so it’s hard for her to go up and down the stairs. She’s staying here for a few days.” I didn’t say a word. I just continued packing. Monica let out a sigh, draping an arm over Ethan’s shoulder. “Look, your wife is jealous again. You should just take me back. I don’t want Summer accusing us of having an affair again.” She pouted. “We are totally platonic, and I hate being falsely accused.” Ethan looked at me with annoyance, about to snap, but I cut him off: “I don’t mind.” After all, I was leaving. He stared at me, clearly taken aback by how easily I had agreed. At that moment, Nugget, our cat, ran out of the bedroom. Monica shrieked and jumped back on the couch. “Ethan! Get that thing away from me!” Ethan frowned and kicked Nugget away, then scooped Monica into his arms and carried her into the guest bedroom. When he walked back out, his voice was cold and demanding: “Monica is terrified of cats. Take Nugget to a boarding center for a while.” The moment Monica arrived, even the pet we had raised together for five years was no longer welcome. I swallowed the bitterness in my throat and nodded. “No need. I’ll take Nugget with me.” Only then did Ethan notice the suitcases by the door. His brows furrowed. “Where are you going?” “Home.” He paused, but then his tense expression relaxed. “Fine. We both need some space to cool off anyway. Plus, you’ve always had an issue with Monica. It’s better if you leave for a bit. Once she’s fully recovered, I’ll bring you back.” But I had no intention of ever coming back. As I turned to open the door, I called out his name one last time. “Goodbye, Ethan.” Meeting my gaze, a strange wave of panic washed over Ethan. It felt like something was slipping away from him forever. He instinctively reached out to grab my hand. But in the next second, Monica’s cry of pain echoed from the guest room. Ethan instantly panicked and rushed back inside, throwing a final sentence over his shoulder: “I need to take care of Monica. Don’t bother me with those tedious wedding details. Just handle them yourself.” In his eyes, anything concerning Monica was a matter of life and death, while our wedding was just a tedious chore. I stared at his retreating back. My eyes burned, but no tears fell. They had probably dried up long ago. Our love had lasted from college into adulthood. I honestly believed we would go from school uniforms to a white wedding dress. But at this moment, my heart was completely crushed, never to beat for him again. 4. After returning to my parents’ house, I took some time off work to clear my head. A week before the wedding, my best friend called me in a panic. “Summer! Oh my god, open TikTok right now!” My heart skipped a beat. I quickly opened the app. I found that the video of us playing that drinking game had been uploaded by Monica. She was a minor influencer who regularly posted “day-in-the-life” videos with her male friends. The video had been heavily edited. It cut out the context and only showed the part where I “admitted” to being a mistress. The internet was absolutely ruthless. People quickly doxxed my name and found out where I worked. My social media accounts were flooded with thousands of hateful messages. “A college lecturer acting as a homewrecker? How shameless!” “Die, mistress!” “No wonder she became an associate professor at such a young age. She probably slept her way to the top. Disgusting!” … Some people even sent anonymous letters to the university board, demanding I be fired for moral turpitude. I shook with rage, slammed my foot on the gas, and drove straight to Ethan’s apartment. Facing my fury, Monica just chuckled casually. “I just thought that part of the video was funny, so I posted it. Don’t be so sensitive, Summer.” Seeing the blatant malice in her eyes, my anger erupted. I slapped her across the face. “SLAP!” Ethan shoved me back violently, his face pale with rage. “Summer! Are you insane?!” “It’s just a stupid video! Do you have to make such a big deal out of nothing?!” I unlocked my phone and shoved the screen in his face. “Look at what she wrote! Because of her, I’m about to lose my job—” Ethan cut me off impatiently: “Monica is just clumsy and carefree. She’s not like you—always calculating and bitter. How could she have known a simple video would go viral?” “Besides, did she lie? What she posted is the truth!” I stared at him in utter disbelief, a sharp pain piercing my chest. “What did you just say?” Suddenly, I lost all energy to argue. I gasped for air, still feeling like I was suffocating. One sentence from him made the last eight years look like a complete joke. At this moment, my heart went completely cold. My phone rang. It was the bridal shop. “Hi, Ms. Vance. You have a wedding dress fitting scheduled for 3:00 PM today. It’s time. Are you still coming?” I nodded. “Yes. I’ll be right there.” After I hung up, Ethan let out a mocking laugh. “So this whole dramatic scene was just to force me to go to the dress fitting with you, huh?” He naturally assumed I was just trying to grab his attention. “Too bad. I have to take Monica to her follow-up appointment today. Go by yourself.” Sensing my silence, he added warningly: “If you keep throwing tantrums, don’t expect me to show up at the wedding next week.” He was absolutely certain that I was desperate for this wedding, desperate to marry him. But that was the old me. I let out a cynical chuckle. “Suit yourself.” I turned and walked away. My wedding had absolutely nothing to do with him anyway. … On the day of the wedding, Ethan stood on the stage in a sleek tuxedo, his eyes locked onto the grand doors of the ballroom. He thought he would feel calm. But his palms were sweating. Only now did he realize how much he had actually looked forward to this day. Memories of our past flashed through his mind, and the only thought left in his head was how beautiful I would look in a wedding dress. He waited and waited, but the doors remained closed. An intense feeling of dread began to creep into his chest. Finally, the doors swung open, and the bride stepped out. Ethan let out a huge sigh of relief. But the moment he saw her face, his expression froze. At that exact moment, his best friend whispered in shock beside him: “Holy shit, Ethan! This is insane! The wedding next door… the bride’s name is also Summer Vance! And her photo on the welcome board looks exactly like your Summer!”

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When I saw my best friend’s Instagram post of her sitting in my boyfriend’s car again, a flood of caring messages from Justin popped up on my phone. “It’s raining hard. Don’t forget your umbrella.” “The temperature dropped today. Wear a jacket.” “Don’t walk through the garage when you get back. The water is freezing and the floor is slippery.” “Drink some hot tea. Your hands and feet get cold easily. Keep warm.” Looking at the screen full of sweet words, I thought of Sophie’s bright, smug smile on my Instagram feed. [Just Dr. Justin doing his daily duty of pampering his girlfriend’s bestie.] [Chauffeur service in a storm. Not a single drop of rain touched me. Today’s score: A+!] My phone kept buzzing with new texts. I didn’t open them. Instead, I calmly opened my email and replied to the relocation offer that was about to expire. “I’ll take the Chicago transfer next Monday.” Then, I turned around and took a route with fewer puddles. On a rainy day, I could walk home by myself.

Even with an umbrella, the storm was too fierce. By the time I got home, I was soaked to the bone. I pushed the door open, and the hum of a hairdryer filled the air. Sophie was sitting on the sofa, wearing nothing but her lace bralette. Standing behind her was Justin, gently drying her hair. Every move, every touch was filled with tenderness. The atmosphere in the living room was so intimate that neither of them noticed me walking in. Justin sighed softly. “Which hair oil do you want? The rose scent?” Sophie giggled, her voice dripping with sweetness. “Use your favorite scent.” Justin expertly picked out the oil, squeezed it into his palm, and carefully massaged it into her hair. He held her hair as if it were the most precious treasure in the world. I stood there frozen. My wet clothes clung to my skin, freezing and sticky. Sophie saw me first. Her eyes curved into a smile, and she let out a soft laugh. “Chloe, why are you just getting back? Is it pouring outside? Why are you completely soaked?” Three questions in a row. I didn’t even know how to answer. Justin’s hands paused. He looked at me, frowning slightly. “Didn’t I tell you to wear a jacket and bring an umbrella? Did you forget again?” For Sophie, he provided a door-to-door chauffeur service. For me, he only offered cheap text reminders. Sensing my cold gaze, Justin stiffened. He offered a clumsy explanation. “Sophie got off work early, so I picked her up first.” “Besides, you’ve always been independent. You can handle yourself.” A cold, heavy sensation traveled from my skin straight to my heart. I set my umbrella down and took off my ruined, waterlogged heels. I looked at him. “Justin, let’s break up.” With a sharp crash, the bottle of hair oil slipped from Justin’s hand and shattered on the floor. The strong scent of roses instantly filled the room. Justin knit his brows, his eyes locked onto me. Before he could speak, Sophie stood up. She rushed to explain, her voice frantic. “Chloe, it’s all my fault. I forgot to tell Justin to pick you up.” “I got a few drops of rain on me downstairs, so he rushed to dry my hair. He just couldn’t leave.” “Please, don’t be so dramatic. Don’t pick a fight with him again, okay?” I stared at Sophie, completely numb. Six months ago, she got divorced. She had been a stay-at-home wife for three years and ended up with nothing. In the middle of the night, she sat on a curb, crying over the phone, completely wasted. It was me who left my work behind to bring her home. It was me who took the heat to get her a job at my company and taught her everything step by step. And now? Her eyes showed fake apology, but the corners of her lips were curled up. I suddenly felt a chill run down my spine. I pushed past her and walked toward the bathroom. Justin grabbed my arm tightly. His voice was cold. “Just because you got a little wet, you’re taking your anger out on me? And now you’re giving Sophie attitude?” “Chloe, are you seriously doing this?” I stared at the bathroom sink. In it sat a pair of lace panties, soaking in soapy water, half-washed. My tightly suppressed emotions snapped. Like a crazy person, I smashed everything on the counter. Then, I grabbed the wet lace panties and threw them right into Justin’s face. “Am I doing this?” “How could I compare to you, Justin? You’re literally hand-washing another woman’s underwear! Are you out of your mind—” “Slap!” Before I could finish, a sharp pain flared across my cheek. Justin had snapped. “Chloe, watch your mouth!” “Don’t forget that you’re just an unwanted foster kid who has nobody!”

After the slap, Justin froze. I did, too. Panic flashed in his eyes. He reached out to grab my hand. “Chloe, let me explain…” But he didn’t get to finish. Sophie grabbed his arm. Her eyes were red, looking small and helpless. “Justin, apologize to Chloe!” She was shivering, and Justin immediately forgot about me. He threw one last look at me. Then, he let out a cold laugh, took Sophie’s hand, and walked out the door without looking back. “Who cares! I don’t owe her anything!” Before the door closed, Sophie turned to look at me. Her voice was as gentle as ever. “Chloe, don’t be mad. Just let Justin cool down.” “I’ll make him come back and apologize to you, okay?” The door slammed shut. With a high fever burning inside me, my legs gave out. I collapsed onto the messy floor, shivering violently as waves of dizziness hit me. I fumbled for my phone and dialed his number repeatedly. No one picked up. By the time the ambulance arrived, I used the last bit of my strength to unlock the front door. Then, my mind went black, and I collapsed. In my semi-conscious state, I heard the EMT trying to call my emergency contact. Justin’s voice sounded faint but pierced my ears like needles. “Stop acting, Chloe. Is playing victim your only trick?” When I woke up again, it was past midnight. There was not a single text from Justin. In my call log, there were only dozens of unanswered calls I made before I passed out. The contact name “My Beloved Husband” on the screen felt like a cruel joke. The emergency room was empty. I curled up on the cold chair, my hand aching from the IV. Just then, a commotion came from the hallway. Through the glass door of the ward, I saw them. Sophie was covered in tears, shaking her head. “I’m pregnant.” “We can’t keep this baby, Justin. We can’t.” “I can’t betray Chloe any more than I already have.” Justin held her tightly against his chest, his eyes filled with pain, conflict, and longing. Finally, his voice broke. “But I can’t let it go.” Sophie looked up, her eyes filled with desperate hope. “Then what about Chloe?” Justin fell silent. After a long time, he let go of Sophie. He closed his eyes in despair and slowly got down on his knees before her. “I’m sorry…” Sophie stiffened, her gaze turning cold. Suddenly, my phone buzzed. It was a message from her. It was a photo of Justin kneeling before her, looking utterly devoted. “Chloe, I tried to convince Justin.” “He always listens to me, but this time, he refused.” “Love doesn’t care who got here first. Step aside and let us be together, okay?” Staring at the text, I wanted to laugh. We had known each other for twenty years. It felt like this was the first time I actually saw who Sophie was. I dragged her out of the misery of her divorce. I brought her into my home. Because I worried she would feel lost in a new city, I let her move into the apartment I shared with Justin. I even let Justin, who was a licensed therapist, counsel her and help her through her depression. She once held me, crying and shaking. “Chloe, I swear, I will never betray you in this lifetime.” And now, she was pregnant with my fiancé’s baby. She told me love had no order. She asked me to let them be. But who was going to make up for the ten years of love I gave him? My vision blurred. I ripped the IV needle out of my hand and walked out.

The emergency hallway was empty now. I crouched on the floor, the fever taking over my body again. It wasn’t until the next morning that the doctor finally let me leave. As expected, Justin didn’t come back all night. I pulled out my suitcase and started packing my things. Just then, Sarah from HR called. “Chloe, did you make a mistake? Why did you send me a resignation letter?” I froze. “Your profile has already been transferred to the Chicago branch. I don’t have the authority to process your resignation here, so I rejected your request.” “But seriously, if you leave, so many people are going to fight for your position.” My nails dug deep into my palms. In my inbox, the rejected resignation email was glowing on the screen. The reason was short and clear. “Resigning to get married and focus on family. Cannot balance work and personal life.” Attached to it was also a recommendation letter. A letter recommending Sophie to take over my position. The wording and tone were exactly Justin’s. Sarah’s voice continued on the other end of the line. “The director wanted to send you to manage the branch before, and you refused. Why the sudden change of heart?” I stared at the black text on the screen, my voice completely devoid of emotion. “It’s nothing. I just… changed my mind.” The apartment door suddenly burst open. Justin stood there in a sharp suit, holding a massive bouquet of red roses. A group of our mutual friends rushed in behind him, cheering. Justin pulled out a stunning diamond ring, dropped to one knee, and looked up at me with deep devotion. “Chloe, marry me. Let me take care of you.” “I know you’ve always wanted to go to Tahiti for our honeymoon. I already booked the tickets.” “We’ll leave right after the wedding, okay?” The crowd roared, chanting, “Say yes! Say yes!” Everyone’s eyes were on me. Family, friends, a proposal, flowers… This was the proposal I had dreamed of for years. I should have been thrilled, crying tears of joy. But I felt absolutely nothing. He logged into my email and threw away my career just to give it to Sophie. And then, he used a lazy, cheap proposal to tell me he would “take care of” me. My phone buzzed in my hand. It was another text from Sophie. “Justin said he would take responsibility for the baby. I get the marriage license and your job.” “To make it up to you, he’s giving you the wedding ceremony.” “But I don’t want that.” “Chloe, I suffered so much in my last marriage. I have nothing.” “You feel sorry for me, don’t you?” Following the text was a video. In the video, Justin’s eyes were red as he grabbed Sophie, forcing a kiss on her. Even though she pushed him away, he kept chasing her. Again, and again, until finally, Sophie melted into his arms, and they kissed passionately. The corner of my mouth twitched. I opened Sophie’s latest Instagram post. I looked at Justin and asked, “She really is the perfect one to marry and have a baby with, isn’t she? Is that why you had to steal my job and give it to her?” Justin’s expression froze. A wave of panic, which I had never seen before, washed over his face. He stared at the photo Sophie had just posted—standing right in front of an OB-GYN clinic. His eyes turned blood-red. Before I could say anything else, Justin leaped to his feet, pushed past the crowd, and ran out. He ran so fast, as if his life depended on it.

Everyone thought I would be devastated after being abandoned by my long-term boyfriend at my own proposal. The look in their eyes was full of pity. But I just calmly watched the bouquet of roses get tossed into the corner, trampled and ruined. Justin was my college senior. Back then, he worked part-time at the campus counseling center. During my second month of college, I called his line in the middle of the night. Eventually, Justin became my personal therapist. That was the time I depended on him the most. I opened up my heart, showing him every scar of being an abandoned foster kid who struggled to survive in an orphanage. He held me, his eyes red with tears. “Chloe, from now on, I will be your family.” “The family you chose yourself. I will never leave you.” It took Justin two years to heal me. And I spent eight years staying by his side. But before I could even get a real proposal, our relationship had reached its dead end. Sophie asked to meet me. At a cafe downtown, the moment she saw me, she instinctively put her hand over her belly. Her eyes were filled with fake fear. “Chloe, I know you’re mad at me. I’m sorry.” “But the baby is innocent. You wouldn’t want him to grow up without parents like you did, right?” Her eyelashes fluttered, and tears began to fall. “Justin is good to me. He loves me.” “Chloe, you graduated from a top university. You’re so strong. You can survive without anyone. But I can’t.” I stared at her in silence. Sophie suddenly grabbed my hand, begging in a low voice. “If I lose Justin, I’ll die.” I shook my head. “Sophie…” Before I could finish, she suddenly let go of my hand and fell backward onto the floor. Justin rushed out from nowhere, shoved me aside, and pulled Sophie into his arms. He glared at me, his eyes burning with fury. “Chloe, you psychopath!” “If you have a problem, take it out on me! I was the one who fell for Sophie first! She did nothing wrong!” I was pushed to the floor. Something fell out of my bag and clattered on the ground. It was a small dagger. I looked down at the dull blade, my chest aching. Years ago, when Justin found the self-harm scars on my arm, he custom-ordered this dull dagger and gave it to me. “Chloe, you need to face your fear to overcome it.” I reached out and picked it up. Sophie shrieked, shielding Justin, her voice trembling. “Chloe! I’m the one who hurt you! Leave Justin out of this!” Holding the dagger, I took a step forward. Just one step. In the next second, I was violently shoved again. The back of my head hit the hard tile floor, and my brain started ringing. Through my blurry vision, I saw Justin shielding Sophie, walking away without looking back. His voice floated back in the wind, soft and gentle. “Are you hurt anywhere?” Sophie sobbed and shook her head. From beginning to end, he didn’t look back at me once.

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I was Alexander Williams’s dirty little secret for three years before I finally woke up. At a charity gala, right in front of everyone, he took the rare vintage necklace I had been trying to bid on for weeks and personally clasped it around his first love’s neck. I didn’t cry. I didn’t demand answers. I just quietly walked out. I went straight to the wildest underground racetrack in the city and climbed into the passenger seat of a rebellious street racer. “Win this race, and I’m yours tonight.” I held a cigarette between my lips, letting the young driver’s hot breath brush against my neck. But the next second, the car door was violently yanked open from the outside. Alexander stood there, his face dark as thunder. He dragged me out of the car and slammed me against the cold metal door. A storm of madness raged in his eyes, his voice raw and furious. “Valerie, who the hell gave you permission to get into another man’s car?” The crystal chandeliers at the charity gala were blindingly bright. I sat in the corner of the third row, gripping my bidding paddle so tightly that my palms were covered in cold sweat. On stage, a rare, vintage antique necklace was on display. I had fallen in love with it two weeks ago. Today was the celebration of Alexander’s new film topping the North American box office, and it was also the third anniversary of my secret relationship with him. I wanted to win the bid. I wanted to buy it as a gift to myself, and perhaps use it as leverage to finally ask him for a public status. “Five million.” A deep, cold male voice rang out from the front row. The entire hall fell dead silent. It was Alexander. He was wearing a custom, pitch-black suit, leaning back lazily in his chair, casually spinning his wine glass with his long fingers. The dim lighting outlined his sharp, cold jawline, exuding the suffocating pressure of a man used to being in absolute control. My heart skipped a beat. He knew I wanted this necklace. Last night in bed, I had curled up in his arms, pointing at the picture of this necklace in the catalog. At the time, he had just closed his eyes, smoking a cigarette, saying neither yes nor no. And now, he was bidding on it himself. My eyes welled with warmth. Just as I was about to lower my paddle, a slight commotion came from the front. “Oh, Alexander, that necklace is beautiful.” A woman in a moon-white haute couture gown, surrounded by a small entourage, quietly sat down next to Alexander. Serena Bennett. Alexander’s first love, and a well-known socialite in New York. She had just returned from Europe, radiating elegance and effortless grace. Alexander turned to look at her. His hard, cold features softened visibly. “Do you like it?” his deep voice murmured. Serena smiled gently without speaking, her eyes fixed on the necklace on stage. The auctioneer’s gavel banged down. “Sold! Congratulations to Mr. Williams.” Amidst the roaring applause, a hostess presented the velvet box containing the necklace to Alexander. Sitting in the third row, I looked at his back through the crowd, my heart bursting with anticipation. As long as he turned around to look at me, as long as he had his assistant hand me the necklace, all my silent endurance over the past three years would be worth it. But he didn’t turn around. Without a single second of hesitation, his elegant fingers picked up the dazzling necklace. He leaned in slightly and slowly, deliberately, put it around Serena’s neck. “It suits you perfectly,” he said softly. Immediately, envious whispers broke out around them. “Mr. Williams spent millions just to make his lady smile!” “Miss Bennett just got back, and Mr. Williams is already claiming his territory. They are truly made for each other.” Alexander didn’t deny it. He kept his eyes lowered, gently adjusting Serena’s hair behind her neck. The gesture was natural and incredibly intimate. I sat less than fifteen feet away. I felt like all the blood in my body had been drained. My fingers tightened, and the hard edges of the bidding paddle dug painfully into my palm. If this were the past, I would have lost control. I would have rushed over, demanded to be acknowledged, or sobbed and questioned him after the gala. But tonight, looking at their matching backs, a wave of profound, ridiculous exhaustion washed over me. Three years. I had lived like a shadow, kept in his suburban villa. He gave me career opportunities, he gave me protection, but he refused to give me dignity. Slowly, I let go of my hand. The bidding paddle fell onto the thick carpet with a soft thud. I stood up, gathered my skirt, and walked toward the exit. I didn’t look back.

“Valerie! Where are you going?” My assistant caught up with me in the hallway, looking panicked. She took one look at my face and quickly tried to make excuses for Alexander. “Mr. Williams only gave the necklace to Miss Bennett for PR. The Bennett family is the biggest investor in his new film. Mr. Williams is just playing the game…” I stopped, looking at her frantic eyes, and suddenly smiled. “Playing the game?” I wrapped my shawl tighter around my shoulders, my voice so calm it even surprised me. “Well, he’s a fantastic actor then.” The calmer I was, the more terrified she became. She knew I loved Alexander past the point of sanity. Usually, if he so much as frowned, I would worry for hours. There was no way I should be this indifferent. “Go back inside. I’m tired.” I ignored her pleas and walked straight out of the hotel. A cold wind blew, whipping up my thin dress. I hailed a taxi and gave the driver an address. An underground racetrack on the outskirts of the city. The place was filled with the roar of engines, the acrid smell of burning rubber, and deafening rock music. It was the exact opposite of the suffocating, fake high-society party I had just left. Wearing an expensive gown and high heels, I walked into the crowd, looking completely out of place. But I didn’t care. I walked to the edge of the track, leaned against a rusty iron railing, and lit a cigarette. I didn’t actually know how to smoke. I had just breathed in Alexander’s secondhand smoke for three years and picked up the habit. “Hey, beautiful. You alone?” A young guy in a black racing suit walked over. He had a faint scar over his eyebrow, and his eyes were wild and untamed. He practically radiated pure testosterone. Diego. The wildest wolf on this track. He and Alexander were from two completely different worlds. Alexander was a man of cold calculation, always keeping his emotions locked away. I blew out a puff of smoke, looking at him through the hazy screen. “Need a co-driver?” I asked casually. Diego paused, then grinned, showing sharp canine teeth. “Princess, my car is a death trap. That dress doesn’t look like it’s made for speed.” “Win this race, and I’m yours tonight.” Tinged by the alcohol I had at the gala, I leaned in close to him on purpose. As the distance closed, I could clearly feel his muscles tense and his breath turn hot. Honestly, I didn’t know how to flirt. My movements were stiff and awkward, but I just wanted to force myself out of Alexander’s suffocating cage. Diego’s adam’s apple bobbed. His eyes darkened. He reached out, his hand moving toward my waist. But just before his fingers could touch my dress— BANG! A row of metal oil drums nearby was kicked over violently, making a deafening crash. The entire place fell dead silent. The crowd was roughly pushed aside, and two big men in black suits cleared the way. Then, Alexander strode in. He was still wearing his tuxedo from the gala, though his tie had been loosened, and his sharp jawline was dangerously tight. His face, usually so calm and unreadable, was now dark enough to kill. His eyes bypassed Diego, locking onto me like twin daggers.

“Clear the area,” Alexander said coldly. The bodyguards immediately moved forward, pushing the crowd away with brute force. Diego frowned, about to snap, but the track owner quickly grabbed him. The owner’s face was pale as he frantically shook his head at Diego. In New York, nobody messed with Alexander Williams. The crowd dispersed quickly, leaving only the rumble of idling engines. Alexander took long strides, closing the distance between us. He carried the chill of the night air, along with a faint, subtle scent of Serena’s perfume. That scent stung my nose. I forced myself to stand tall, meeting his gaze with a perfect, flawless smile. “What brings you to a place like this, Mr. Williams?” I flicked my cigarette ash. “Shouldn’t you be helping Miss Bennett try on her new necklace?” Alexander’s gaze fell on the cigarette between my fingers, his brow twitching violently. He suddenly reached out, snatched the cigarette from my hand, threw it to the ground, and crushed it with his shoe. The next second, his fingers wrapped around my wrist with enough force to crush my bones. “Valerie, have you lost your mind?” He slammed me against the cold car door, his tall frame looming over me like a dark shadow. “Who the hell gave you permission to get into another man’s car?” He growled, his voice laced with unmasked fury. My back ached from the impact, but I didn’t even flinch. “I’m single. Whose car I get into is my own business,” I said, looking him dead in the eye. Alexander’s pupils dilated. “Single?” He let out a dark, angry laugh. His fingers gripped my chin, forcing my face up. “Three years, and now you’re telling me you’re single? What does that kid have that I don’t?” “Can he fund your movies? Can he get you lead roles?” He was always like this. Arrogant, measuring everything with money and power. To him, I was just a pet he could keep in a cage with money and fame. Looking at his handsome face, I suddenly felt incredibly sick. “He can’t give me anything,” I said, shoving his hand off my chin. “But at least he wouldn’t take the one thing I wanted and put it on another woman right in front of my face.” Alexander froze. The anger in his eyes flickered, as if he finally realized why I was acting out. He frowned, his voice returning to his usual cold, rational tone. “It was just a necklace.” “Serena just got back. The Bennett family is crucial for my new project. I had to show her some respect.” “Tomorrow, I’ll have my assistant take you shopping. You can have whatever you want. I’ll pay.” It was charity, not an explanation. “I don’t want it anymore,” I said quietly. “What?” “I don’t want the necklace. And I don’t want you, either.” I pushed past him and walked away. Alexander’s voice boomed behind me. “Valerie! Are you done throwing this tantrum?” “Don’t mix business with your personal feelings. Come back now, and I’ll pretend tonight never happened.” I stopped but didn’t turn around. “Alexander, we’re done.” I said it softly, then walked out into the falling snow.

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I have a secret: whenever my skin touches someone else’s, I can see the person they love the most. Three years ago, Anderson proposed to me to secure his family inheritance. The moment he slid the diamond ring onto my finger, I saw myself in his heart, wearing a wedding dress. I thought it was a mutual redemption. Until three years later, at a charity gala, we stood with our fingers intertwined under the spotlights. But this time, I didn’t see myself. I saw a young girl in a faded white dress. In a cramped apartment, Anderson had her pinned against the wall, kissing her desperately while her eyes welled with tears. It turns out love doesn’t just fade. It transfers. When he left me dying on a cold operating table for that girl, I let him go completely. Later, that arrogant man knelt in the pouring rain, begging me to touch him just one more time. But I only found him disgusting. The annual high-society charity gala in New York was blindingly bright with camera flashes. As the wife of Anderson Sinclair, the head of the Sinclair Group, I held his arm. We walked the red carpet, bathed in the adoration of the city’s media. “Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair, could you step closer and hold hands, please?” a reporter we knew called out with a smile. Anderson turned his head. A perfect, gentle warmth flickered in his deep, icy eyes. He reached out and wrapped his long, elegant fingers tightly around my palm. The moment our skin met, my heart skipped a beat. I have a secret that no one knows. Whenever I touch someone’s skin, I can see the person they love deepest in their heart. Three years ago, in this man’s palm, I saw myself. That was what gave me the courage to entrust my life to him. Full of anticipation, I closed my eyes, letting the sensation from my fingertips transmit his inner world into my brain. But in the next second, my blood turned to ice. The image in my mind wasn’t me in a haute couture gown. It was a young girl with a ponytail, wearing a faded white dress. In a cramped, dimly lit apartment, Anderson was pinning her against a peeling wall, kissing her with wild, greedy desperation. Her eyes were red. She responded clumsily, her hands gripping his expensive, custom-made shirt. That was a side of him I had never seen—a raw, possessive, uncontrollable passion. Buzz— The phone inside Anderson’s suit jacket suddenly vibrated. He let go of my hand almost instinctively. The warmth left my palm, and the cold draft rushed between my fingers. He pulled out his phone. As the screen lit up, I caught a glimpse of a text message before he could hide it on Snapchat. “Mr. Sinclair, it’s pouring rain. The dorm gates are locked. I’m alone on the street, and I’m so scared…” Sender: Vivian. Anderson stared at the screen. A rare, uncontrollable flash of panic and heartache crossed his face, a face that usually never showed emotion. “I’m sorry,” he said, turning to me. His voice was low but filled with undeniable urgency. “There’s an emergency with our European branch. The board directors are waiting for my decision. I have to leave right now.” He didn’t wait for my reply, nor did he even drape his coat over my shoulders. He turned and strode down the red carpet. The camera flashes went wild, freezing me there, completely alone in front of the massive backdrop. I watched his retreating back and forced a smile that felt more painful than crying. Three years of devotion. It turns out the deepest love in someone’s heart really can transfer to someone else.

I handled the media alone and returned to our sprawling, ten-thousand-square-foot estate. Empty. Dead silent. This was the home I had built with all my heart for three years. Right now, it felt like a giant freezer. At 3:00 AM, the beep of the smart lock echoed at the entrance. Anderson was back. He took off his damp black trench coat, handed it to the butler who hurried over, and stepped inside with his usual elegant composure. “Why aren’t you asleep yet?” He walked into the living room. Seeing me sitting on the sofa, his brow furrowed slightly, his tone carrying a touch of gentle scolding. “Did you sort out the emergency in Europe?” I raised my head, looking at him quietly. “Yeah. It was a bit tricky, but it’s taken care of.” He walked over to me, leaning down out of habit to kiss my forehead. But as he drew closer, a completely unfamiliar scent invaded my nose. It wasn’t the cedarwood cologne I had personally blended for him. It was a cheap, sickeningly sweet peach perfume. The scent of a young college girl in her early twenties. I abruptly turned my head away, avoiding his lips. Anderson froze mid-air. A flash of annoyance crossed his eyes, but he quickly masked it. “What’s wrong? Still mad that I left early?” He straightened up and looked down at me, a hint of impatience in his voice. “Elise, you’ve always been sensible. You know that in my position, there are things I can’t avoid.” Sensible. For three years, to be worthy of him, I had hidden all my sharp edges. I learned to be the perfect high-society wife. I thought it was mutual devotion. He just took it for granted. “I’m tired. I’m going to sleep.” I stood up, not giving him another glance, and walked straight upstairs. After washing up and lying in bed, my phone screen suddenly lit up. As if possessed, I opened Anderson’s Instagram. A new post stabbed my eyes. There was no photo, just a short sentence: “Even if it pours, I will hold the umbrella for you.” The posting time was exactly thirty minutes after he had abandoned me on the red carpet. I bit my lip so hard I tasted copper. The man who had once sworn before a priest to protect me through sickness and disaster was now holding his umbrella over someone else.

The next morning, Anderson left for the office early. In his study, I found a bidding proposal for the Southside project that he had “forgotten” the night before. It was a major project he had been preparing for six months. He needed it for a 10:00 AM meeting today. I changed into a well-tailored suit, took the document, and drove to his private penthouse. That was where he had proposed to me. He had said it was a secret base just for the two of us. Now, I wanted to see what was hidden in our “secret base.” The elevator went straight to the penthouse. I stood in front of the smart lock and entered my birthday. “Access denied,” the mechanical female voice chimed coldly. I paused, then entered the time the girl had sent the text last night: 0927. Click. The door unlocked. Immediately, I was hit by the sweet, sickening peach perfume from last night. By the floor-to-ceiling window in the living room lay a pair of white canvas shoes. And on the girl’s feet were the custom Italian leather slippers I had commissioned an old craftsman to make—slippers that were supposed to belong only to me. The girl walked out of the kitchen holding a warm glass of milk. She wore an oversized white button-down shirt. The hem barely covered her thighs, and the collar was loose, revealing her pale, slender neck. The shirt belonged to Anderson. When she saw me, she gasped, almost spilling the milk. “Mrs… Mrs. Sinclair?” She recognized me. But there was no panic of a mistress caught in the act. Instead, she had a timid, innocent look, like a startled fawn. “Why are you here?” she asked nervously, pulling down the oversized hem to cover herself. I looked at her pure, clean face. It was exactly the same face I had seen in Anderson’s heart last night. Vivian. “I came to deliver a document to Anderson.” I tossed the bidding proposal onto the console table, my voice completely flat. “Anderson is… he’s in the shower,” Vivian whispered, biting her lower lip. “The storm was too bad last night, and the dorms were locked. He was worried about me, so he let me crash here for the night.” She said it so naturally, so intimately. “Mrs. Sinclair, please don’t misunderstand. Nothing happened. Anderson just felt bad for me trying to make it alone in New York…” The more she explained, the guiltier it felt. Just then, the bathroom door opened. Anderson walked out, drying his dripping hair with a towel. He only had a towel wrapped around his waist, exposing his toned upper body. Seeing me standing in the entryway, he froze, his pupils contracting instantly. “Elise? What are you doing here?” He strode over. His very first instinct was to step in front of Vivian, shielding her entirely behind his back. He was protecting her. Protecting his sweetheart from me.

Watching his defensive stance, the last shred of my hope shattered into dust. “You left your bidding document in the study. I was in the area, so I brought it over.” I looked him dead in the eye, catching every micro-expression on his face. Anderson’s tense jawline relaxed slightly. He let out a quiet sigh of relief. “Thanks. You could have just sent a driver.” He turned to look at Vivian behind him, his tone instantly returning to his usual arrogant composure. “This is Vivian. She’s a college student our company sponsors.” “She ran into some trouble last night, so I lent a hand. She’s young. Don’t scare her.” Lent a hand. By giving her your private apartment, your personal shirt, and kissing her with a passion that looked like he wanted to merge their souls? “Is that so?” I curled my lips into a faint, mocking smile. “Mr. Sinclair is certainly hands-on with his charity work.” Anderson’s face darkened. “Elise, cut the sarcasm.” “I’ll wait in the car.” I didn’t spare the happy couple another look. I turned and walked out. Fifteen minutes later, Anderson got into the passenger seat. He had changed into a brand-new custom suit. The faint scent of body wash had completely washed away any trace of the other woman. The silence in the car was deafening. “Elise, are you angry?” He reached to loosen his tie, his voice carrying a trace of exhausted indulgence. “Vivian is just an innocent kid who hasn’t seen the world. I treat her like a sister.” “As Mrs. Sinclair, you don’t need to get jealous over a poor student.” He always knew how to use the most dignified words to cover up his dirtiest betrayals. My hands gripped the steering wheel so hard my knuckles turned white. “Anderson.” I suddenly turned, reaching out to grab his wrist tightly. Skin contact. This time, I saw it clearer than ever. In my mind, Vivian stood on her tiptoes, gently pressing her lips against Anderson’s. And Anderson, eyes closed, actually let a tear slip down his cheek. In his heart, he was screaming wildly, “I can’t live without you.” I pulled my hand back as if shocked by electricity. A wave of nausea surged in my stomach. “You don’t view her as a sister at all.” I looked at the red light ahead, my voice so calm it terrified me. “You love her.” Anderson snapped his head toward me, his eyes sharp as daggers. “Elise, what nonsense are you talking about? Have you been too idle lately? Now you’re getting paranoid?” “Let’s get a divorce,” I said casually. The air in the car instantly froze. Screeech! Anderson lunged over and slammed his foot onto the brake. The tires shrieked against the asphalt, stopping the car in the middle of the road, nearly causing a pileup. “Are you crazy?!” His eyes were bloodshot as he glared at me. “Just because I took in a sponsored student, you want a divorce?” “Elise, don’t use divorce to threaten me. It’s not funny at all!” “I’m not joking.” I looked at his twisted, angry face. “It’s been three years, Anderson. You might not be tired of acting, but I’m tired of watching.” “I’ll have my lawyer send the paperwork to your office tomorrow.” The light turned green. I started the car again, shutting him out of my world completely.

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“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” The chants at the party echoed through the crowded bar, loud and relentless. I stood at the edge of the crowd, quietly watching my wife of three years, Kylie. She giggled, took a mouthful of whiskey, and leaned in close to her male friend, Robertson. Moving her lips to his, she slowly poured the alcohol directly into his mouth. Once the drink was transferred, Robertson wrapped his arm around her waist. He gave her cheek a playful, teasing pinch. “Aren’t you afraid of being allergic to my spit?” Kylie patted his hand away, her eyes crinkling into beautiful crescents as she spoke in a sweet, whiny tone. “Why would I be? I’d never be allergic to yours.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she stood on her tiptoes, wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, and pulled him into a deep, ten-second French kiss. My mind went completely blank. In that instant, my mind flashed back to our wedding three years ago. I had merely brushed my lips against hers at the altar, and she had immediately gone into anaphylactic shock. She was rushed straight to the ICU. The doctors told me she had a severe saliva allergy. Even the slightest contact with someone else’s spit could be fatal. Since then, during every single intimate moment, she forced me to wear a sealed silicone mask. She wouldn’t even let my lips touch a millimeter of her skin. Because of her “condition,” rumors spread like wildfire in our social circles that I had chronic bad breath or some kind of contagious stomach bacteria. They said I was the one who forced Kylie to live like a nun. To protect her self-esteem, I silently took the blame. I endured the whispers and mocking glances for three whole years. But right now, looking at her smudged lipstick, I finally got it. She wasn’t allergic to saliva. She was only allergic to me.

If I hadn’t happened to walk into that exact bar tonight, I would have never known. I would have never seen Kylie—who told me she was working late at the office—holding alcohol in her mouth and feeding it to Robertson without a single shred of hesitation. After she finished feeding him the whiskey, the crowd around them went wild. “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” And Kylie actually did it. Egged on by the crowd, she pressed her lips against his. She closed her eyes, tilting her head to change angles several times. She even leaned in deeper, completely lost in the moment. I stood there, frozen. At our wedding, when our guests chanted for us to kiss, she had flatly refused, using her deadly saliva allergy as the perfect excuse. I clenched my fists and started walking toward them. But after only a few steps, I lost my footing and crashed straight into the bar counter. Glasses shattered, sending a loud clatter through the room. Instantly, every eye in the bar turned to me. The kissing couple stopped. Robertson, looking like a smug winner, raised an eyebrow. He walked over and stretched out a hand, pretending to help me up. “Well, if it isn’t Howard? What’s wrong, buddy? Can’t even walk straight?” I slapped his hand away. “Get out of my face!” Robertson shrugged, putting on a perfectly innocent act. “Hey, don’t be mad. We were just playing a game. You know Kylie and I have been like this since we were kids…” I swung my fist at his face. But before my punch could land, Kylie threw herself in front of Robertson, completely ignoring how humiliating this was for me. “This is a private party with all our friends. Have you thrown enough of a tantrum? Get the hell home right now!” I let out a cold, humorless laugh. I walked straight past them, took a seat right in the middle of her friend group, and sat down. “A gathering of friends? As your husband, don’t I deserve a seat at the table?” A heavy silence fell over the group. The two people sitting closest to me instinctively slid their chairs a few inches away. “You have chronic bad breath and H. pylori bacteria, and yet you still have the nerve to crash our game? Aren’t you afraid of infecting all of us?” The guy sitting next to Robertson spoke up, his voice dripping with righteous indignation. The others exchanged awkward glances. I looked at Kylie. She was sitting right next to Robertson, smiling and nodding along with the insult. Because Kylie had refused to let me touch her all these years, the rumors about my “disgusting bacteria” and “terrible breath” had run rampant. To save her face, I had never once defended myself. And now, a secret so private was being thrown in my face as a joke by her friends to mock me. And she just sat there, refusing to say a single word in my defense. I pulled out my phone, opened my medical app, and flashed my latest digital health report. “Take a good look. I don’t have any bacteria, and my breath is perfectly fine. So, I’m joining the next round.” Kylie stood up, trying to snatch my phone. “Stop it, Howard! Why are you being so childish?” “Oh? And what about your saliva allergy, Kylie? Seems like you can kiss whenever you want now!” Dozens of curious, gossiping eyes instantly locked onto us. Kylie’s ears turned bright red. She grabbed my arm, trying to force me to shut up. I shook her hand off. This time, she didn’t try to stop me from joining the game. I grabbed the dice cup and shook it violently. When I lifted it, I revealed the highest possible roll. Everyone stared in utter shock. Including Kylie. She rarely brought me to her social gatherings. She had no idea how good I actually was at these bar games. “I win,” I said coldly. Robertson, who had been looking smug next to Kylie just a second ago, was now frozen like a statue. “Robertson, since you love mouth-to-mouth so much, why don’t you give Hillary a kiss?” The rule of the game was simple: the winner could choose anyone at the table for a Dare. Robertson couldn’t back out, but his face turned incredibly sour. Kylie had told me before that Hillary had been chasing Robertson for years. This dare should have been a favor to her. But Kylie immediately spoke up to defend him. “Babe, come on. Robertson is shy. Let’s just skip this round, okay?” I felt my chest tighten, my voice turning incredibly cold. “You play, you pay. Why is it okay for Robertson to kiss my wife, but he can’t kiss anyone else?” Robertson clenched his fists so hard his nails dug into his palms. “It’s just a game, Howard. Don’t make things difficult for Robertson,” Kylie pleaded, throwing me under the bus just to protect his feelings. My stomach started to churn with a sickening pain, but I refused to lose my ground. “He’s the one with bad luck. Why is that my fault?” Unable to take it anymore, Robertson stood up and stormed out of the bar in a rage. Kylie stood up immediately. She threw a freezing glare at me. “Are you happy now?” With that, she ran out after him. The party fell apart because of me. Strangely, I didn’t feel like a winner at all. I only felt a deep, crushing exhaustion. I slowly stood up, the pain in my stomach growing sharper by the second. By the time I stumbled into the restroom, I was vomiting nothing but burning, sour bile.

I don’t even remember how I got to the hospital. When I finally opened my eyes, a doctor was already standing over my bed, his voice urgent. “Mr. Vance, you have severe gastrointestinal bleeding. It’s an emergency. We need your family to sign the consent forms for surgery immediately!” I didn’t want to call Kylie. “Doctor… can’t I just sign it myself?” The doctor shook his head. “You are in critical condition. You cannot make these medical decisions alone.” I swallowed the bitter taste in my mouth and dialed Kylie’s number. The first few times, the call went through but was left unanswered. After that, her phone was turned off completely. “What’s taking so long? Where is your family?” the nurse urged. I silently dialed her number over and over again. The irony was unbearable. While Kylie was ignoring my life-or-death calls, she had just posted an update on Instagram. The caption read: “Best friends for life! ” The picture showed the back of her and Robertson, clinking glasses at a cozy lounge. I slowly lowered my phone and closed my eyes. A few minutes later, Robertson sent me a Snapchat video. In the video, on the bed I swept and made every single day, messy clothes were scattered all over the floor. Kylie and Robertson were snuggled up together under the same blanket. To top it off, Robertson sent a text: “Hey Howard, is there something urgent? Kylie is exhausted. She’s already asleep.” I stared at the ceiling for a long time. “We can’t wait any longer. The bleeding is getting worse. Where is your wife?” the nurse pressed anxiously. I shook my head. “No one is coming. My wife… she can’t make it.” Hearing this, the nurse’s annoyed expression instantly softened into shock and deep pity. In the end, I signed the consent form myself and was wheeled into the operating room alone. I had no idea how long the surgery took. But the moment I regained consciousness, my phone was buzzing non-stop. I checked. It was Kylie. Instead of calling her back, I blocked her number on every single app. During my five days in the hospital, my bedside remained completely empty. The nurse, unable to watch me suffer alone, helped me hire a private caregiver. While tending to me, the caregiver gently asked, “Where is your family, dear?” I stared blankly out the window. “They’re not here. It’s a long flight, and they’re getting old. I didn’t want to worry them.” The caregiver patted my hand gently, saying nothing. Suddenly, I missed home. My fingers hovered over my phone, and I accidentally dialed my father’s number. The moment I realized what I had done, I hung up in a panic. He was probably buried in work, trying to rebuild his business. I couldn’t let him see me in this pathetic state. A moment later, my father called back. I swallowed my tears and let the phone ring until it went silent. The day I was discharged, I rushed straight back to our apartment to pack my bags and leave. But to my surprise, I ran into Robertson.

When I opened the door, Robertson was sitting comfortably in my favorite spot on the couch, eating popcorn and spilling it all over the floor. He wasn’t even surprised to see me. He casually gestured for me to sit down, as if he were the master of this house. I kicked his shoes out of the doorway and walked straight past him into the bedroom. But he followed me in. “Haven’t seen Kylie in a few days. Are you throwin’ a tantrum?” Treating him like air, I opened the closet. That was when I realized how little of my stuff was actually left in this house. “Don’t worry, Kylie is doing great at my place. Honestly, she doesn’t really want to come back here anyway.” I still ignored him, silently packing my suitcase. Seeing my silence, he lost his cool. He stepped right in front of me, blocking my path. “Kylie loves me, Howard. Just face it and get out.” I honestly couldn’t comprehend this man. One minute he was claiming they were “just friends,” and the next he was demanding I step aside. I stopped packing and looked him dead in the eye. “Are you done?” He blinked, taken aback. “If you’re done, get out. I need to pack.” Robertson’s face twisted in anger, his voice turning sharp and nasty. “Damn, Howard. You really are a pathetic coward, aren’t you? Your wife is sleeping with another man, and all you can do is pack your bags?” BANG! I slammed my fist against the closet door right next to his head. The heavy wood let out a deafening boom. Robertson gasped, stumbling back two steps in terror. “You’re right. I can’t take it anymore,” I said, my face completely expressionless. “But even if I leave, it doesn’t mean a piece of trash like you gets to act tough in front of me.” Right then, I heard the sound of keys jingling at the front door. Kylie walked in. The second she saw a pale Robertson standing by the bedroom door, she didn’t even ask what happened. She immediately started lecturing me. “What is wrong with you, Howard? You block my number, you don’t come home for days…” “Robertson was worried about you! He’s been waiting here for days just to make sure you’re okay, and you decide to bully him the second you get back?” “I’m bullying him?” I laughed, completely exhausted. I didn’t even want to explain. “Fine. Since you love him so much, go live with him!” At that moment, Robertson started playing the victim again. “Kylie, maybe I shouldn’t be here. I’m just making Howard uncomfortable. He hates me anyway. I’ll just leave…” “Look at you, Howard. We’ve been friends for so many years, and you’re still acting so childish,” Kylie said, grabbing Robertson’s hand before turning to glare at me. “I’ve told you a thousand times, Robertson and I are just best friends. If we wanted to be together, we would have done it long before you came along!” She always used that line. But whenever Robertson snapped his fingers, she would drop everything and run to him. On our engagement day, Robertson had just returned to the country. One phone call from him, and Kylie abandoned our families at the restaurant to pick him up from the airport. On our wedding day, Robertson couldn’t stand seeing us get married, so he threw a tantrum and went missing. Kylie literally paused the ceremony, demanding everyone search the venue just to find him. And now, it was the exact same thing.

“Kylie, since you think I’m not as important as him, let’s get a divorce.” “What did you say?” Her voice was filled with disbelief, laced with a mocking laugh. “Sign the papers. Let’s divorce. Since you feel so free with Robertson, you can finally be with him legally.” I pulled out the divorce papers I had drafted while lying in the hospital bed. “Howard, stop playing games. Robertson could never replace you!” Seeing that I wasn’t backing down, she let out a cold sneer. “Do you really think you can just divorce me, Howard? Have you forgotten what your father told you?” She actually had the nerve to bring up my father! Five years ago, if my father’s company hadn’t been targeted by a massive corporate rival, Kylie would have never received his $5 million seed funding. Without that money, Kylie’s startup would have crashed and burned. She would never have achieved the success she has today. Back then, with her status, she would have never been able to marry into my family. My father had made Kylie promise to take me away from our hometown to protect me, telling me not to come back unless the storm cleared. So for five years, no matter how hard things got, I never went back. I stayed quietly by Kylie’s side, playing the role of a perfect, obedient husband. She knew exactly why I was staying, and she used it to walk all over me. Seeing that I didn’t respond, Kylie smirked, feeling victorious. “Besides, even if you don’t care about yourself, think about your dad. He’s getting old. Can his heart take the stress of you running back like a failure?” With a slow, deliberate movement, she tore my divorce papers into shreds. “So, forget about a divorce. Just be a good husband and keep quiet, okay?” “Sure,” I said quietly, looking past her at Robertson. Robertson’s face was incredibly sour. He had realized that Kylie was refusing to divorce me, which meant he was still just the sidepiece. He immediately threw another silent tantrum, and Kylie quickly left my side to comfort him. I silently swept up the torn pieces of paper and threw them into the trash. I knew Kylie too well. She would never willingly sign those papers. So, I stopped arguing with her. She thought I had finally submitted to her will, and she lowered her guard. A few days later, while she was away on a business trip, I held my phone for a long time before finally dialing my father’s number. “Dad… I want to come home.” In that single moment, all the pain and exhaustion I had bottled up for years finally overflowed. I didn’t tell him what happened. He was silent for a few seconds, then said softly, “I’ll have a car waiting for you at the airport.” I took one last look at the city I had lived in for five years, and walked through the boarding gate.

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