Our sister was struck down by his personal assistant in a brutal drunk-driving accident on her way home from school. She died in the ER after they failed to resuscitate her. I filed a lawsuit immediately, demanding justice. But on the day of the trial, my parents were kidnapped and tied up in an abandoned warehouse, their bodies strapped with active C4 explosives. My husband, Ethan Miller, stood over me, his eyes colder than ice. “If you don’t drop the charges, I can’t guarantee these bombs won’t go off. Your sister is already dead, Serena. Why do you have to ruin another young girl’s life?” “If your sister hadn’t run out into the street like an idiot, Chloe wouldn’t have panicked and hit the gas instead of the brake. Strictly speaking, your sister brought this on herself!” At that moment, it clicked. Ethan thought the girl who died was my sister, Maya. That was why he was willing to risk my parents’ lives just to force me to drop the lawsuit! I let out a cold, sharp laugh. “Dropping the charges requires the immediate family’s signature. I don’t have the right to sign that.”

Ethan was famously known in New York as an overprotective, borderline obsessive older brother. If his little sister so much as scraped her knee, he would turn the entire city upside down to find whoever was responsible. Later, terrified that some street hoodlum might trick her into dating, he sent her to an elite all-girls boarding school during high school, paying over a million dollars a year in tuition. Seeing me refuse to sign, Ethan’s face darkened instantly. “Serena, I am telling you what’s going to happen, not negotiating with you.” “Chloe just graduated college. Are you really that malicious that you want to destroy the rest of her life?” “Besides, your sister would have married into some other family anyway. Tell you what, I’ll throw in some extra cash for your parents. Consider it a generous compensation package.” He glanced at my terrified parents tied to the chairs, his eyes flashing with a menacing threat. “You better make up your mind fast. I can’t promise how much time is left on those timers!” Looking at Ethan’s smug, victorious face, my heart went completely numb. To bail his precious assistant Chloe out of a prison sentence, he was actually using my parents’ lives to blackmail me! I stared at the ticking countdown on the bombs, my chest tight with agony. “Ethan, are you even human? The girl who was crushed to death under that car was “our” sister!” Ethan’s eyes narrowed, and he corrected me in a freezing tone. “She was “your” sister. Not mine.” I stared at him and chuckled quietly. I had simply said “our sister,” and he couldn’t wait to draw a line in the sand. If he knew that the girl lying cold in the morgue was his own flesh-and-blood sister, would he still be forcing me to sign this liability waiver? Ethan’s parents passed away when he was eighteen. At the time, his uncles kidnapped him and his sister to steal their inheritance. To help Ethan escape, his little sister stayed behind to distract the kidnappers. She was tortured in their basement for three days and three nights. When they finally found her, she was barely breathing. From that day on, Ethan swore to God he would protect his sister and never let her suffer a single scratch. Thinking of the horror Lily had endured in the past, I couldn’t help but sigh. “Ethan, did you know that when she was hit, she was still breathing? It was Chloe. She was terrified of the medical bills and the legal fallout, so she put the car in reverse and ran her over a second time, crushing her to death.” Ethan remained completely unmoved. He slapped a settlement and liability waiver onto the table in front of me. “That was just a death rattle. Besides, living as a vegetable would have been torture for her anyway. Dying quickly was a mercy. At least now she can secure a nice payout for your parents.” Looking at the utter disgust in Ethan’s eyes, my heart completely shattered. “Ethan, she only went out that day to buy a birthday cake for you. That’s why Chloe hit her.”

Ethan looked down at me, his eyes filled with nothing but cold indifference. “Your sister only bought me that cake to kiss up to the Miller family. I never cared about her cheap gestures anyway.” “Sign the papers. Now. Stop wasting my time!” Ethan gripped my shoulder with an iron, bruising grip, forcing me to look at my parents, who were shaking violently under the strapped explosives. I looked at the timer. Less than three minutes left. I bit my lip so hard it bled. “Ethan, if my parents hadn’t used every single one of their political and business connections to bail you out when your uncles tried to ruin you, do you think you’d be sitting in the CEO chair of Miller Enterprises today?” Ethan glanced at my parents’ pale, aging faces, his lips curling into a sneer. “They only helped me so you could secure your title as Mrs. Miller. Don’t act like it was charity.” His words stripped away the last piece of warmth in my soul. I clenched my fists so hard my nails dug into my palms. “Fine. I’ll sign.” Satisfied with my answer, Ethan finally smirked and nodded to his bodyguards. “Cut them loose.” Then, he turned to me with a warning glare. “I’m releasing this signed waiver to Snapchat and Ins immediately. Don’t even think about filing a second lawsuit.” Without hesitation, he authorized a ten-million-dollar wire transfer to my account. “This is the compensation for your sister. Take it and never bother Chloe again.” I looked at the long string of zeros on my phone screen and instantly hit “Decline Transfer.” “Keep your blood money. After all, I’m not the victim’s family.” Ethan’s face turned bright red with rage. “Serena, your sister’s death has nothing to do with me. But if I catch you cursing my sister or bringing her into this, I will personally ruin you!” With that, he grabbed the signed waiver and walked out without looking back. The moment Ethan left, the adrenaline faded, and I collapsed into my parents’ arms, sobbing. My mother held me tightly, her tears wetting my hair. “Serena, you used everything we had to build his empire and put him on that throne. Was he really worth it?” A freezing coldness settled in my eyes. I looked up at her. “Mom, tell Grandpa Arthur to cancel every single contract and partnership we have with Miller Enterprises. I’m divorcing him.” The only reason Ethan survived his uncles was because my grandfather supported him from the shadows. Since he was bored of being the powerful CEO, it was time to drag him back down to the dirt. Looking at the bruises on my parents, I didn’t waste any more time. I immediately took them to the hospital for a full checkup. Thankfully, they were just shaken up and had minor bruises. They just needed a few days of rest in a private room. Right after I finished the admission paperwork, I saw Ethan walking down the hallway, supporting Chloe. Chloe was leaning weakly against his chest, looking like a fragile victim. “Ethan, ever since the accident, every time I close my eyes, I see that horrible, bloody scene. The doctor says I have severe clinical depression and PTSD. I need to be admitted, but all the private rooms are fully booked!” Ethan’s eyes locked onto the private room behind me. His face hardened. “Serena, tell your parents to pack up and give this room to Chloe.” I stared at him, unable to believe my ears. “Ethan, you kidnapped my parents and left them bruised and traumatized. And now you want them to give up their room to the murderer who killed a young girl?” Hearing this, Chloe smirked slightly before quickly hiding it behind a pout. “The car accident was just an unfortunate event! Besides, didn’t your family already take Ethan’s money? Or are you just pretending to be poor so you can extort even more money from him using your parents?” The nurses and visitors in the hallway began whispering and pointing at my parents and me.

“Oh, so that’s them! They made such a big scene online about demanding justice for their sister, but in the end, they just took the hush money and skipped the trial!” “Taking the cash and then coming to the hospital to play the victim? Talk about greedy. They probably want another payout.” “How shameless. Selling their sister’s life for a luxury lifestyle, and now they’re using their elderly parents to squeeze out more.” Ethan looked at me with disgust. “Since your family took the money, stop using your sister’s ghost to gain sympathy. Get your parents out of that room. Chloe needs it.” “Besides, if you hadn’t harassed her with that lawsuit, her depression wouldn’t have triggered. Your family owes her this.” I let out a hysterical laugh. “Chloe is the one who ran someone over. We don’t owe anyone anything!” Seeing my stubborn refusal, Ethan’s face turned ugly. “If ten million wasn’t enough, I’ll transfer you another ten million. Just get out of the room.” Chloe chimed in, “Twenty million is enough to buy your whole family’s lives, Serena. Be happy with what you got.” Ethan gave a sharp nod to the guards standing behind him. Instantly, several beefy men rushed into the room and began violently dragging my parents off the hospital bed! My heart dropped. I threw myself in front of my parents, staring at Ethan with pure hatred. “Ethan! My parents are still legally your in-laws! Aren’t you afraid of divine retribution?” Ethan sneered. “Serena, everything you have was given to you by me. Your parents are only in this high-end hospital because of the Miller family name.” I looked at him and smiled slowly, a chilling, mocking smile. “Ethan… how long has it been since you actually spoke to your own sister?” At the mention of his sister, Ethan froze for a fraction of a second, but his face quickly turned hostile again. “Your sister died because she was unlucky and stupid. She deserved it!” “My sister is perfectly safe at her boarding school. Do not compare my sweet Lily to your low-class sister!” I whispered softly, “You’ll find out soon enough who actually deserved to die.” Over the next few days, Ethan stayed by Chloe’s side at the hospital, playing the devoted caretaker. Because of this, the city morgue couldn’t reach him. In desperation, they called me. Lily’s body had been held past the limit. She had to be buried or cremated immediately. Remembering how Lily used to sweetly call me her big sister, my heart softened. I quietly organized a small funeral service for her. On the day of the funeral, I was walking with the hearse toward the Miller family private cemetery. From the opposite direction, Ethan and Chloe approached us. Seeing the black coffin, Chloe immediately pinched her nose and looked disgusted. “I just got discharged today, and the first thing I see is a coffin? Talk about bad luck!” “And Serena, why are you burying someone who died a violent death in the prestigious Miller family cemetery? Are you trying to make Ethan the laughingstock of all New York high society?” Ethan’s face was twisted in rage. “Serena! Why the hell are you bringing your sister’s dead body to my family’s cemetery? Are you trying to defile my family’s land?” My eyes turned bloodshot as I stared at the two of them. My hands trembled with fury. “Chloe, you are a cold-blooded murderer. What right do you have to speak about the dead? Aren’t you afraid she’ll crawl out of the dirt tonight and drag you to hell with her?” Chloe whimpered, looking terrified, and hid behind Ethan. “Ethan… seeing that coffin makes me relive the crash. I… I think my panic attack is starting again!”

“If she gets buried here, my mental health will be ruined forever!” Hearing this, Ethan immediately pulled her into a protective embrace, before turning to his guards with a savage look. “A dead nobody doesn’t belong in the Miller family plot. Take the coffin to the cheap public crematorium, burn her, and dump the ashes in the ocean.” Before I could react, several guards stepped forward and violently shoved me out of the way. My back slammed hard against the wooden coffin, a sharp, white-hot pain radiating through my spine. As the guards began using crowbars to force the coffin open right there on the road, I scrambled up from the dirt like a madwoman. “Ethan! Stop! You cannot do this to her!” Ethan scoffed. “Since your family accepted the blood money, her corpse belongs to me. I can do whatever the hell I want with it!” With a loud crack, the guard pried the lid open. Another guard reached in and ruthlessly dragged the body out of the silk lining, tossing it onto the grass like a sack of trash. “Ah!” Chloe screamed in terror at the sight of the pale, bloated body. She stumbled backward, knocking over a heavy ceremonial oil lantern used for the funeral procession. The lantern shattered, and the burning oil splashed instantly across Lily’s body. Within seconds, the corpse was engulfed in roaring flames. Staring at the burning body, Chloe looked up with watery, innocent eyes. “Ethan… I didn’t mean to! I was just so scared of the body that I lost my balance…” Ethan patted her back gently, comforting her. “It’s not your fault. Honestly, burning it here saves us a trip to the crematorium anyway.” I stared at Ethan, my eyes wide and bloodshot, my voice barely a whisper. “Ethan… I hope you never regret what you did today.” Ethan let out a mocking laugh. “Why would I ever regret burning your useless sister?” With that, he lifted Chloe up in a bridal carry, stepped carelessly over the burning corpse, and walked back toward his luxury SUV. I watched his retreating back, my fists clenched so hard my knuckles popped. If he had looked at the burning body for just one second… he would have noticed the silver promise ring on her charred finger. The ring he bought his sister for her sixteenth birthday. After putting out the fire and taking care of Lily’s ashes, I dragged my exhausted body back to the penthouse. The moment I pushed the door open, I saw Chloe sitting on Ethan’s lap, feeding him grapes. Seeing me, Chloe rolled her eyes. “Ugh, Serena. You just touched a dead body. Go wash up, don’t bring that bad juju into this house.” Ethan gave me a cold, warning look. “Don’t ever think about burying your family members in my cemetery again. It’s not meant for peasants.” I looked at the two of them, suddenly feeling a profound sense of disgust. I pulled a document out of my bag and threw it onto the coffee table. “Ethan, let’s get a divorce.” Ethan stared at the divorce papers, stunned for a second, before slamming his hand on the table and standing up in a fury. “Just because your sister got run over, you want to divorce me?” I nodded quietly. “Yes. Because she got run over.” Ethan sneered. “Serena, everything you have is because of me. Once you leave this penthouse, you’ll be nothing but damaged goods. No man in New York will ever look at you.” Chloe smiled like a snake. “Serena, you’ve been an unemployed housewife for years. If you leave Ethan, you won’t even be able to pay rent. Ethan is worth billions!” I looked at her and smiled. “If you want him so badly, you can have him.” Without another word, I turned and walked out of that toxic house forever.

That very afternoon, I hired the best divorce attorney in New York and filed the papers. Ethan didn’t think I’d actually go through with it. He spammed my Snapchat with dozens of angry voice notes. “Serena, you think you’re tough now? You just dropped the charges against Chloe, and now you’re suing me for divorce?” “You haven’t worked a single day since we got married. Let’s see how you survive in this city without my credit cards!” “You want a divorce? Fine. But you’re leaving with absolutely nothing. You won’t get a single penny of the Miller fortune!” To make matters worse, Ethan started spreading rumors online. He posted on Snapchat and Ins, claiming that I had cheated on him, and that I was using my sister’s “wrongful death payout” to fund a lavish lifestyle with my secret lover. The day of the court hearing arrived quickly. Because the drunk-driving case had already gained a lot of traction online, a massive crowd of reporters and bystanders blocked the courthouse steps. “Serena! Is it true you dropped the charges against Chloe just to take a hush-money payout?” “Serena, are you really divorcing your husband to run away with your lover using your sister’s blood money?” Ethan stood at the top of the steps, looking down at me with a smirk. “Serena, it’s not too late to call this off. If we go inside, I will make sure you leave with absolutely nothing.” I looked up at him and smiled coldly. “I’ll let the judge make that decision.” I walked past him and entered the courtroom. The trial began. Ethan sat at the defense table. His lawyer presented the ten-million-dollar wire transfer record along with photos of me entering hotels with various business associates (which were actually my grandfather’s executives). Ethan looked at me with a fake sigh of pity. “Serena, this should have been kept private. You forced my hand. I hope you don’t blame me.” “If your sister knew you were using her death to hook up with other men, she wouldn’t be able to rest in peace.” I looked at his hypocritical face and whispered, “I’ll ask her if she’s resting in peace. But as for your sister… I don’t think she is.” Suddenly, a young, vibrant girl stood up from the spectator gallery. “I’m literally standing right here. Who exactly died and left behind blood money?” Ethan froze. His eyes widened, and his pupils dilated in pure shock as he stared at the girl’s face. “M-Maya?! You’re alive?!” “Then… who died?” The entire courtroom erupted into whispers! “Wait, isn’t that Serena’s sister? She’s alive?” “What the hell? Is this a ghost story?” “If Serena’s sister is alive… then who was the girl crushed under the car? Didn’t Ethan have a little sister around the same age? Oh my god… could it be…?” Hearing the murmurs, Ethan began to tremble violently. He glared at me, his voice shaking. “Serena! You told me your sister died! What is this trick?!” I glanced at Chloe, who was sitting next to him, and smiled. “Whether my sister is dead or alive… shouldn’t your assistant Chloe know best?” Ethan stiffened. He turned his head slowly, staring at Chloe with a terrifying gaze. “Chloe… tell me. Who did you hit that day?” Chloe shook violently under his gaze and grabbed his arm in a panic.

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My phone suddenly received a call that I couldn’t hang up. The male voice on the other end belonged to my husband. The female voice belonged to his mistress. A muffled conversation kept playing. They were detailing a perfect murder plot against someone. Every step was chillingly precise. I tried to call 911, but every number I dialed was automatically routed back to this ongoing call. After a grueling process of deduction, I finally pinpointed the location they were describing. It was my own house. And right now, a sudden, urgent knock echoed from my bedroom door. This was step one of their murder plan. The knocking on the door was extremely rhythmic. Three long, one short. It was a unique habit of my husband, Julian. The un-hang-up-able call on my phone was still playing. On the line, Julian’s voice was cold to the core. “The sleeping pills are already in her warm milk.” “Once she drinks it, we can set up the suicide scene.” Outside the door, Julian’s voice came through, soft and gentle. “Clara, honey, I made you some warm milk. Open the door.” I stood behind the door, keeping silent. If I didn’t open it, he would definitely use his key. I turned around, rushed to the dining table, and slipped a vitamin tablet between my fingers. Then, I opened the door. Julian walked in, holding a steaming glass of milk. His mother, Martha, followed closely behind. Her eyes darted around shiftily. Julian handed me the glass with a warm smile. “Babe, you’ve been working too hard lately. Drink this while it’s hot and get some good sleep.” I looked down at the pure white liquid. “It’s too hot,” I said, taking the glass. “Let me get a napkin first.” I turned my back to them, blocking their view. I tilted my wrist. The entire glass of milk poured right into the soil of the lush monstera plant next to the TV stand. In the same motion, I popped the vitamin tablet into my mouth, crushed it, and swallowed. I turned back and placed the empty glass, still stained with a ring of milk, on the table. Julian walked over and glanced at the empty glass. He exchanged a look with his mother. Then, he looked at me. “Why don’t you lie down on the couch for a bit?” I nodded, pretending my limbs were heavy, and shuffled to the couch. I collapsed onto the cushions and closed my eyes. My breathing slowed down, becoming deep and even. The living room fell dead silent, save for the ticking of the wall clock. A moment later, I heard Julian let out a long sigh of relief. Immediately after, the bedroom door was pushed open from the inside. Light footsteps approached. “Is she completely out?” A young woman’s voice whispered. It was Vivian, the nurse from Julian’s private clinic. So, she had been hiding in our house this whole time. Martha immediately complained in a hushed, harsh whisper. “Why did the drug take so long to kick in?” “Hurry up and do it.” “I checked the ceiling beam on the balcony this afternoon. It can easily hold an adult’s weight.” The footsteps stopped right beside me. Vivian leaned over. Her perfume, mixed with the faint scent of chemical disinfectant, invaded my nose. The rough texture of a hemp rope brushed against the skin of my neck. She began measuring the rope around my neck to tie the noose. “Don’t leave any struggle marks. It has to look natural,” Julian whispered. “I know,” Vivian’s voice held a trace of sick excitement. “Once she’s dead, we’re finally free.” Martha urged from the side. “Hurry up! Don’t waste time. I’m going to file the paperwork for this house and her bank accounts first thing tomorrow.” “Once Vivian gives birth to my grandbaby, our family can finally live in peace.” They were practicing a murder right in front of me, on my own body. Julian walked back to the table. The sound of paper rustling echoed. He placed a piece of paper on the table. “The suicide note is ready.” “Now, let’s hang her up.” Vivian’s hands tightened around my neck, pulling the loop closed. “I’ll lift her up, you kick the chair,” Julian said, stepping closer. The exact second Vivian exerted force to tighten the rope. I snapped my eyes wide open. The living room instantly fell into a graveyard silence. Vivian shrieked, her hands trembling as she lost her balance and fell flat on her butt. Julian’s outstretched hands froze in mid-air. Martha gasped loudly, slapping her hand over her mouth. The three of them froze like statues, their eyes bulging out, staring at me in sheer terror. I sat up, ripped the rope off my neck, and tossed it to the floor. Ignoring their horrified stares, I reached over and grabbed the suicide note from the table. My eyes swept over the words. I looked at Julian and spoke coldly. “Very touching.” I slapped the paper back onto the table. “But if you want to fake my suicide by hanging, don’t you think you need to edit this note first?”

Julian’s face turned from pale to livid. He looked at the rope on the floor, then at my completely sober eyes, finally realizing what was happening. He gritted his teeth, his expression turning dark as he stepped toward me. “You didn’t drink the milk.” “Well, since you didn’t take the drug, you can die awake.” He shot a look at Vivian. Vivian scrambled up from the floor, grabbed the rope, and lunged at me. I let out a cold laugh. “Dr. Julian, don’t you even know the basic legal regulations when you try to commit a murder?” I pointed at the suicide note. “Your note says I hung myself due to severe, untreated clinical depression.” “But as the President of the HOA, I just led a community blood drive last Friday. My blood sample is registered in the national database, and it’s completely clean.” “A patient with ‘severe depression’ who has zero traces of anti-depressants in her system for months?” “The moment the medical examiner runs a toxicology report on my blood and hair, your ‘depression’ story is going to blow up in your face!” Julian’s footsteps abruptly stopped. Vivian panicked. She stood frozen with the rope, looking back at Julian. Martha’s face flushed red with rage. She lunged forward, claws out, trying to strangle me herself. “Who cares about that! Just kill her first!” I quickly stepped back, grabbed the heavy glass ashtray from the table, and slammed it onto the tile floor. With a loud crash, glass shattered everywhere. Martha shrieked and pulled her hands back. I glared at them. “And how do you plan to handle my body?” “Take it straight to the crematorium? Keep dreaming!” “In this district, any death that doesn’t happen under a doctor’s care in a hospital is classified as an unattended death.” “The crematorium won’t touch a body without a Coroner’s release form and a police report!” “You run a tiny, private neighborhood clinic. What authority do you have to sign a death certificate for an unattended death?” “The moment you try to move my body out of this building, the police will open a homicide investigation!” Silence enveloped the room. Vivian’s hands began to shake violently, and the rope slipped to the floor. Martha looked at Julian, terrified. “Julian… is… is she telling the truth?” I stared at Julian coldly. I thought these basic legal facts would be enough to terrify them. After all, they wanted a perfect suicide, not a messy homicide that would make them wanted fugitives. But right then, something incredibly bizarre happened. Julian actually smiled. He wasn’t scared at all. Instead, he casually walked over to the couch and sat down. Vivian stopped shaking, too. She stepped forward, grabbed the suicide note from the table, and tore it to shreds, piece by piece, right in front of me. She tossed the shredded paper into the trash can. Martha sighed, her face twisting into an expression of fake, mocking sympathy. “I told you,” Martha said sneeringly. “Her mental illness is getting worse. She’s completely delusional.” “Ranting about murder, she doesn’t even recognize her own family anymore.” My brows furrowed as I watched their sudden change in behavior. Julian pulled his phone out of his pocket. He looked at me, his voice as cold as ice. “Clara, your paranoid schizophrenia is flaring up again.” “What murder?” “That suicide note was just some garbage paper you scribbled during your episode. Vivian tore it up so it wouldn’t trigger you.” “And that rope? It’s just a cable for repairing the balcony.” He tapped his phone screen. “Your mental state is extremely unstable right now, and you’re exhibiting violent behavior.” “As your husband, I have no choice but to call the psychiatric hospital to pick you up.” My blood ran cold.

I could not let them take me to a psychiatric hospital. Once I was locked in there, any “accident” would easily be written off as a real suicide. I immediately reached into my pocket for my phone to call 911. The screen lit up. But in the top left corner, the signal bars showed a red “No Service.” Julian pointed smugly to the corner behind the door. “Don’t waste your breath.” “Before I came in, I turned on a medical-grade signal jammer.” “You can’t send a single text.” I didn’t panic. Instead, I pointed to a small, inconspicuous white box mounted on the baseboard. “You forgot what I do for a living.” “That is a Life Alert emergency button for the elderly in our community.” “It runs on a dedicated, low-frequency cellular band. Your cheap jammer can’t block it.” When I had stepped back to smash the ashtray earlier, my heel had already pressed that button. The moment the words left my mouth, heavy pounding erupted on the front door. “Clara! Open up! It’s Lily!” The door wasn’t locked. Lily, my HOA assistant, burst in. Right behind her were two police officers from the local precinct. It was like finding a lifeline in a stormy sea. I screamed immediately, “Officers! They are trying to kill me!” “The milk in that pot is poisoned! And they have a rope to hang me!” The officers instantly went on high alert, stepping between us. “Nobody move! What’s going on here?” the lead officer demanded. I pointed at the monstera plant. “Test the soil! The milk poured in there is full of sleeping pills!” The officer glanced at Julian and nodded to the accompanying forensic tech to take a sample of the wet soil. Five minutes later, the tech looked at the screen of his rapid-testing device. He looked up at the officer and shook his head. “It’s just regular calcium powder drink. No traces of sedatives or toxins.” I felt like I had fallen into an abyss. “That’s impossible!” I pointed frantically at the rope on the floor. “What about the rope?! They tried to put it around my neck!” Lily looked at me, her face filled with awkward concern. “Clara… Julian bought that cable today to secure your balcony railing. I literally registered his maintenance request this afternoon.” Lily avoided my eyes, asking softly, “Clara… did you forget to take your medication again?” I froze. “What medication?” Lily pulled a thick folder from her bag and handed it to the police. “Officers, these are Clara’s medical records.” Inside were medical reports from various psychiatric clinics over the past six months. There was even a video of me losing my temper and slamming a table during an HOA meeting. I stared at Julian in horror. Over the past six months, he had used his medical knowledge to slip micro-doses of hallucinogenic drugs into my food. It kept me in a constant state of irritability and paranoia. He had spent months painting a picture for the entire neighborhood: “Clara is a poor, unstable woman.” The officers’ guarded looks turned into sympathy. The lead officer handed the files back to Lily and sighed. I desperately pulled out my phone. “I am not crazy!” “There is a call on my phone that won’t hang up! It recorded them planning to kill me tonight! Listen!” I tapped the audio to play it out loud. But what came out of the speaker… Was not a murder conspiracy. It was the dialogue of a mystery audiobook I had downloaded three months ago! Julian must have used our shared cloud drive while I was in the shower to force-lock this audio on a loop in my phone’s background. All my evidence… In this very second, was rendered completely useless in a perfectly legal, undeniable way.

The lead officer sighed. He stepped forward and spoke to me in a very gentle, soothing tone. “Clara, please calm down. Take a deep breath.” Then, he turned to Julian. “Dr. Julian, your wife’s condition is very unstable. It’s not safe for her to stay home.” “You should contact a specialized facility immediately.” “If needed, we can assist you with an involuntary hold so she doesn’t hurt herself.” Julian’s eyes turned red. He put on a perfect performance of an exhausted, devoted husband. He walked over, wrapping an arm around my shoulder, his voice cracking with emotion. “Thank you, officer.” “I’ve already contacted the private care facility. The ambulance should be here any minute.” He looked down at me, his eyes gleaming with malicious triumph. “Sweetie, we’ll get you some help. I don’t blame you.” I struggled wildly. “Get off me! I am not sick!” Vivian immediately stepped forward in her nurse’s uniform. She held a pre-filled syringe in her hand. “Clara, please hold still.” “Your heart rate is too high. You might go into shock. I’m going to give you a mild sedative to help you rest.” The police stood right there, watching. To them, this was “professional medical staff treating a manic patient.” They had no reason to stop her. The cold needle brushed against my vein. Once this drug entered my system… I would lose all ability to fight back, and I would be dragged into a hell I could never escape. Every path was blocked. I looked into Julian’s mocking eyes. He had won. He had dismantled all my logic and common sense. Every second felt like an eternity. Just as the needle was about to pierce my skin… My eyes fell on Julian’s shoes. They were the leather shoes he usually wore at his clinic. In the crevices of the soles, there was a tiny trace of dark red powder. That wasn’t regular dirt. Suddenly, everything clicked in my mind. “So that’s what this is…”

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I FaceTimed my fiancé, Isaiah, but a ten-year-old boy answered. He looked exactly like Isaiah. He stared at me, his eyes instantly turning bloodshot. Then, he let out a heartbreaking cry, “Mom!” I froze. I was only one month pregnant and not even married yet. How could I have a ten-year-old son? Before I could say anything, the boy shook his head, tears streaming down his face. “Mom, I’m your unborn baby from the future.” “Please, don’t marry Dad. He’s been sleeping with Chloe for a long time.” My instinct was to deny it, but the boy seemed to be running out of time. He screamed urgently: “If you don’t believe me, go to our new house right now…” The call abruptly disconnected. I couldn’t believe my ears. Everyone knew my best friend, Chloe, and Isaiah were sworn enemies. They couldn’t stand each other. They bickered every time they met because of me. How could they possibly be together? Confused and anxious, I called back. This time, Isaiah’s face appeared on the screen. He looked at me with a warm smile. “Hey, Eliana. What’s wrong? Are you feeling sick from the pregnancy?” I hesitated, shaking my head. I was about to tell him about the weird video call. But then, I noticed the curtains behind him. They were the custom-made ones we ordered for our new place. “Where are you?” He looked guilty for a split second, then sighed and rubbed his forehead. “I’m working overtime at the new place. I want to get everything done so work won’t ruin our wedding the day after tomorrow.” Suddenly, a familiar female voice echoed in the background. Before I could hear what she was saying, the call was abruptly hung up. A text message came through immediately after. [I’m getting busy, Eliana. I’ll text you later.] I stood there in silence. The seeds of doubt began to sprout and grow wildly in my heart. Without even grabbing a proper coat, I rushed out of the apartment and drove straight to our new house. But when I pushed the door open, the scene wasn’t what I had feared. Isaiah was sitting on the floor, putting up the wedding backdrop. Chloe was standing next to him, tying ribbons onto balloons. Both of them gasped when they saw me. “Eliana? What are you doing here?” Isaiah rushed over to support me and guided me to the sofa. “You’re pregnant. You need to be careful.” I stared at them, totally confused. “What… what are you two doing?” Isaiah rubbed the back of his neck, looking sheepish. “I wanted to surprise you. I didn’t expect to run into her…” Chloe immediately chimed in, rolling her eyes. “As if I wanted to run into him. If it weren’t for your happiness, Eliana, there is no way in hell I’d stay in the same room as this guy.” “If you hadn’t lied to Eliana, she wouldn’t have rushed over here so worried!” Seeing them on the verge of fighting again, I quickly grabbed Chloe’s hand. “Alright, alright. I’m fine. Both of you are doing this for me, so please stop arguing.” Chloe gave him one last glare. Seeing them bicker just like they always did, I finally let out a sigh of relief. Maybe that video call was just a sick prank. I looked up at Chloe and noticed her eyes were red. “Chloe, what’s wrong? Did he bully you?” Chloe froze for a second, then shook her head. She wrapped her arms around me. “No. I’m just getting emotional. You’re getting married the day after tomorrow, and I’m feeling a bit lonely.” I gently patted her back. “Even after I’m married, we can still hang out. It’s not like I’m disappearing from your life.” She didn’t reply. She just held me tightly for a long time before letting go. “Alright, I’ll stop being a third wheel. I’m going home.” Seeing that it was pitch black outside, I grabbed my car keys from the coffee table, intending to drive her back. Isaiah gently pressed my shoulder and took the keys from my hand. “You’re pregnant. I’ll drive her home.” With that, he walked straight out the door. Chloe glanced at me, said nothing, and followed him. Watching their retreating figures, a strange, uneasy feeling crept into my chest. Just then, my phone buzzed. It was the little boy again. I demanded immediately, “Who on earth are you?” He didn’t answer right away. He just stared at me through the screen with intense emotion. Finally, he lowered his head. “Mom, I really am your child. My name is Aiden, and I came from ten years in the future.” “If you don’t believe me, go look under the bed in the master bedroom.” I looked at him skeptically. But his face held no guilt or deceit. Even though I didn’t believe in time travel, I walked into the bedroom and knelt by the bedside. With just one look, my breath caught in my throat.

There were several used condoms scattered carelessly under the bed. I froze, my entire body trembling uncontrollably. Watching me, Aiden’s eyes welled up with tears. He took a deep breath. “Mom, you can also look under the pillow…” My mind went completely blank. Mechanically, I lifted the pillow. A piece of lace lingerie met my eyes. It was Chloe’s favorite brand and style. I took a step back, unable to believe what I was seeing. “How is this possible…” “Maybe… maybe it was the cleaning lady…” Before I could even finish the sentence, I knew how pathetic I sounded. Isaiah and I had been together for seven years. I couldn’t bring myself to believe he would betray me like this. “How does this prove it was them?” I whispered. Aiden looked at me with pure heartbreak. “Mom, Dad and Chloe are arguing in the parking garage right now. If you go down, you’ll hear everything.” I turned to leave, but then I hesitated. “Can you tell me… what happens ten years from now?” Aiden seemed afraid of hurting me. He hesitated for a long time before speaking in a low, trembling voice. “Mom, you were eventually sent to a psychiatric hospital by Dad.” A psychiatric hospital? Seeing my confusion, he slowly unfolded the tragedy of my future. Chloe wasn’t satisfied with being just the secret mistress, yet she couldn’t bear losing her friendship with me. She fell into a deep depression. One night, she left a confession letter and committed suicide. After reading her letter, my mental state completely collapsed. I fell into severe depression. But instead of comforting me, Isaiah blamed her death entirely on me. He started openly dating other women—women who looked like Chloe. I couldn’t take the abuse and fought back, even hurting myself in the process. He used that as an excuse, claimed I was insane, and locked me away in an asylum. Hearing this, I sank to the floor, my stomach churning. A wave of intense nausea hit me. I rushed to the bathroom and threw up until my throat burned. When I came out, the video call had already ended. I touched my belly, my eyes filling with tears. Looking at my phone, I saw Isaiah’s car locator was still showing he was in the parking garage. This time, I didn’t hesitate. I walked straight down. As soon as I entered the dim garage, I saw Chloe pushing Isaiah away, crying hysterically. “Isaiah, what do you want me to do?” “Every time I see you treating her so well, I go crazy with jealousy!” “But she is my best friend! What else do you want me to do?!” Isaiah wrapped his arms around her tightly, looking completely devastated. No matter how she struggled, punched, or kicked him, he didn’t let go. Only when she ran out of strength did Isaiah finally speak in a soft, aching voice. “You still love me, and neither of us wants to hurt her. This is the best choice for all of us, isn’t it?” “Besides, didn’t we cover it up perfectly just now?” Hearing those words, even though I had prepared myself, a sharp, stabbing pain pierced my heart. Chloe sobbed against his chest. “No… it shouldn’t be like this…” “Isaiah, let’s end this! Let’s pretend none of today ever happened!” But he didn’t let go. Instead, he pulled her even closer. “Chloe, are you going to abandon me again after weighing your options?”

I leaned against the concrete pillar just to keep myself standing. So, they were each other’s unforgettable first loves. I remembered how Chloe used to get drunk and cry to me. “Eliana, I regret it so much…” “But he couldn’t give me the life I wanted back then. He was just a poor kid working three or four jobs, giving me every penny he earned while he survived on bread crusts…” “But the company that offered me an internship back then was the Jefferson Group—the top firm in the industry! What was I supposed to do…” She had mumbled on and on about how much he loved her, and how painful it was for her to make that choice. Later, when she heard I was in a relationship, she flew back to the States overnight just to “vet” him for me. The first time they met, I felt the awkward tension. After that, they either avoided each other or bickered whenever they were in the same room. I never could have imagined that they had such a passionate, dramatic past. Chloe cried and pushed him away. “But it’s too late now! She’s pregnant, and you two are getting married the day after tomorrow!” “What am I supposed to do…” Isaiah’s face was filled with pain, but he kept her in his embrace. “She will never know. I will make it up to her by treating her twice as well…” My heart ached with a suffocating tightness. His love for me hadn’t felt like a lie. Ever since we got together, he had surprised me on every holiday. Even when he drank himself to a stomach bleed, he still remembered to take care of me when I was sick. To get my parents’ approval, he worked day and night just to build a comfortable life for us. When my family went through a financial crisis, he emptied his entire savings account without a second thought to bail us out. And when an enemy set fire to our house, trapping me inside, he risked his life and rushed through the flames to save me. He had inhaled so much toxic smoke back then, yet he still managed to smile and comfort me. “Don’t cry, babe. I’m here.” He had gently wiped the soot off my face. “You look like a little dirty cat.” But now, this same man was holding my best friend, telling her he would make it up to me by treating me “twice as well.” My mind was a chaotic mess. On one side was the image of him holding Chloe; on the other was the memory of how deeply he had loved me. I gently stroked my stomach. For the sake of my baby, this had to end. With trembling hands, I took out my phone and snapped photos of them. I wanted to walk over and confront them, to demand an explanation for my ruined friendship and love. But right then, Isaiah’s phone rang. It was my contact calling him. I quickly pressed the call button, watching him answer it from afar. “Eliana, some urgent business came up at the office. I might not make it home tonight.” Suppressing the tremor in my voice, I asked, “I’m scared to be home alone. Can’t you do the work tomorrow?” His voice softened instantly. “Be good, babe. Once this busy week is over, I’ll spend all my time with you. How about I call Mom to keep you company?” At that moment, Chloe struggled out of his arms and turned to walk away. Seeing her leave, Isaiah got anxious and hurried to wrap up the call. “Eliana, things are really crazy here. I have to hang up. I’ll call you back later.” I watched him hang up and immediately grab Chloe’s arm. “Don’t go.” Chloe buried her face in his shoulder, sobbing. “I feel so guilty, but I’m so jealous of her. Why does she get to accept your love openly? Why does she get to carry your baby while I can’t…” Isaiah rubbed her back, whispering comforts. “Eliana is your best friend. She loves you. She will understand.” Yeah, she was my best friend. She was the girl who stood up for me and fought back when I was bullied in school. But how the hell was I supposed to “understand” this? Forcing down the agonizing pain in my chest, I sent Chloe a Snapchat. [Let’s go try on wedding dresses together tomorrow.] Since you two love each other so much, I’ll let you have each other. All I want is the baby in my womb.

Isaiah never called back that night. Instead, Aiden kept me company through FaceTime. Watching him excitedly talk about his life on the other side of the screen, my eyes filled with tears. “Aiden… I’m not around anymore in your timeline, am I?” His eyes turned red instantly, and he slowly nodded. “You committed suicide last year because of severe depression…” My heart shattered. Tears rolled down my cheeks, and I wished more than anything I could reach through the screen and hug his fragile body. “I’m so sorry, baby… This time, I promise I will stay with you. I will watch you grow up.” “We will be together forever.” The next morning, I saw Chloe’s reply: [Okay.] I drove to the bridal boutique early. On the way, an overwhelming sense of dread washed over me. Suddenly, Aiden’s FaceTime call came through. His face was pale with terror. “Mom! Don’t drive!” “Don’t—” Before he could finish, a massive truck ran a red light, speeding straight toward me. I spun the steering wheel wildly, but it was too late. The deafening crash echoed in my ears as the airbag slammed into my face. A sharp, agonizing pain shot through my entire body, and I felt something warm and wet draining out of me. With the last ounce of my strength, I looked at the phone screen. Aiden’s face was fading. In my fading consciousness, I heard his weak, sobbing voice. “Mom!” “Mom, I’m sorry… I don’t think I can have you watch me grow up anymore…” When I woke up, the smell of disinfectant filled my nose. I stared at the sterile white ceiling and slowly placed my hand on my flat, empty belly. Tears fell silently. Suddenly, Chloe’s hysterical voice drifted in from outside the hospital room door. “I did it! I hired that truck! I just wanted her to lose the baby!” “I’m a monster! Why do you still love me?!” My brain exploded with a loud buzz. My fingernails dug deep into my palms. Dragging my bruised, aching body out of bed, I leaned against the door. It was her. She had planned the crash. The screaming outside continued. “I couldn’t stand the thought of you having a child with her! I couldn’t stand seeing you treat her better than me! I am that evil!” “I tried to kill my best friend’s baby! Do you still want to be with me now?!” Chloe was crying hysterically, but Isaiah’s angry outburst never came. I expected him to yell, to be furious, to call the police and demand justice for our dead child. But instead, he just pulled her into his arms, holding her tight. “It’s okay. Don’t be scared. I’ll handle everything for you.” “As long as Eliana doesn’t find out, we can pretend none of this ever happened, okay?” She froze. And so did I. In a daze, I remembered the day I tested positive for pregnancy. He had cheered and spun me around. He was so happy that he ran around our neighborhood, telling every neighbor he passed that he was going to be a father. But now, he was holding Chloe, showing no grief for our lost baby. He was only concerned with soothing the crying murderer in his arms. I coughed, spitting out a mouthful of blood. It was all so sickeningly absurd. I pushed the door open and spoke quietly. “I heard everything.”

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I simply refused to babysit my elderly neighbor for free this weekend. So her son actually carried her—with a broken leg—straight into my office lobby to make a massive scene. Holding a forged “Volunteer Caregiver Agreement,” he wept bitterly in front of all my colleagues, accusing me of being cold-blooded and heartless. He claimed that my going out on a date had caused his mother to fall and get severely injured, and he even demanded fifty thousand dollars in compensation. The judging stares of onlookers and the vicious cyberbullying on social media rushed at me like a tsunami. He thought I was just a young, helpless girl who would quietly swallow this bitter pill to protect her job and reputation. He thought public pressure would force me to become their free nanny, all to satisfy his fake sense of filial piety. Too bad for him, he messed with the wrong woman. Instead of backing down, I called the police on the spot and demanded a forensic handwriting analysis. Step by step, I ripped off his hypocritical mask, exposing how he used his own mother as a cash cow. Trying to guilt-trip me? I’ll use the law to make sure he rots in a cell.

When the front desk urgently paged me down to the lobby, I could hear the hysterical screaming before the elevator doors even opened. “Someone help me! Look at what the younger generation has become! So heartless!” “She signed an agreement! She promised to look after my mother this weekend, but she bailed!” “My poor mother broke her leg and laid on the cold floor for three hours!” The elevator doors slid open, revealing a lobby packed with people. Security guards, coworkers, janitors, and even a few strangers holding up their phones, livestreaming the whole thing. Right in the center of the lobby lay a stretcher. An elderly woman with white hair lay on it, her leg wrapped in a thick plaster cast. Her eyes were tightly shut, and her face was deathly pale. It was my neighbor, Grace. Kneeling beside the stretcher, sobbing with tears and snot running down his face, was her son, Pierce. Pierce was wearing a faded, washed-out shirt, holding a piece of paper high in the air. The moment he saw me step out, he sprang up from the floor and pointed a shaking finger at me, screaming: “Amanda! You finally showed your face!” “Look at what you did to my mother!” Instantly, every gaze in the room stabbed into me like knives. I didn’t flinch. Stepping firmly in my high heels, I walked toward him, one deliberate step at a time. “Pierce, what kind of crazy stunt are you pulling here?” My voice wasn’t loud, but in the spacious lobby, it cut through the noise with absolute clarity. Pierce sneered, slamming the paper onto the reception desk next to him. “Me? Crazy?” “Amanda, this is the ‘Volunteer Caregiver Agreement’ you signed with your own hand!” “It states clearly right here. You promised to look after my mother every single weekend, 24/7!” “Last Saturday, you ignored my calls just so you could go out on some hot date!” “My mother wanted a glass of water, tried to get out of bed herself, and shattered her hip!” “You are going to take responsibility today!” “Pay up fifty thousand dollars for her medical bills, or I will make sure you get fired from this company!” The crowd immediately erupted into hushed whispers. “She looks so pretty, how could she be so cruel?” “How can you break a promise like that? An old lady almost died.” “Exactly. Abandoning an elder just for a date? That’s disgusting.” I stared coldly at Pierce. His face was slightly distorted with a sick sense of triumph. I could see the greedy, calculating glint in his eyes. He assumed that by making a scene at my workplace, I would desperately hand over the cash just to save my job and reputation. I picked up the so-called agreement from the desk. The paper was crisp and new, the form poorly formatted. It indeed had my name, phone number, and apartment number printed on it. And at the very bottom, there was my “signature.” The handwriting was a decent imitation. But I knew with absolute certainty that I had never signed any such thing. I laid the paper down, pulled out my phone, and dialed 911. “Hi, I need to report an incident.” “I am at the lobby of Parkview Tower.” “A man is using a forged document to extort fifty thousand dollars from me. He is currently disrupting a place of business and causing a public nuisance.” “Yes, the suspect is right here. Please dispatch officers immediately.” I hung up and looked back at Pierce. The smug grin on his face instantly froze.

“You… why did you call the cops?!” Pierce’s voice wavered, but he quickly tried to bluff his way through. “Fine! Let the cops come! Let them see what a treacherous snake you are!” “My mom’s broken leg is a fact! And your signature is a fact!” I ignored him. Instead, I turned my gaze to Grace on the stretcher. Her eyelids fluttered violently, but she kept them squeezed shut, terrified to look at me. “Mrs. Grace,” I said, my voice ice-cold. “Are you really going to keep pretending to be asleep?” “Pierce carried you here like some cheap prop just to extort money. Do you feel proud of this?” Grace’s fingers tightened instantly around the edge of the blanket on the stretcher. Pierce quickly stepped in front of her, blocking my view. “Amanda! Stop harassing my mother!” “She is in no condition to deal with your abuse!” I let out a cold laugh. “Can’t handle stress? Yet you carried her into a chaotic, noisy lobby?” “Are you trying to get her medical help, or are you parading her around like a circus freak?” The murmuring in the crowd died down. A few people started to realize something was off. Ten minutes later, the police arrived. The responding officer took one look at the scene, his brow furrowing deeply. “What’s going on here? Who called the police?” I stepped forward. “I did.” I pointed at Pierce. “This man brought a forged document to my office to extort fifty thousand dollars from me.” Pierce immediately started yelling. “She’s lying through her teeth!” “She signed this herself! Now she’s just trying to dodge her responsibility!” The officer took the agreement, examined it, and then looked at me. “Are you sure this isn’t your signature?” “I am positive.” I stared straight into Pierce’s eyes, pronouncing every word clearly: “I am requesting a forensic handwriting analysis.” “If the test proves I signed it, I will pay every single penny of that fifty thousand dollars.” “But if it’s a forgery, Pierce, extorting fifty grand is grand larceny. That’s enough to put you behind bars for a long, long time.” Pierce’s face drained of color instantly. He took an involuntary step backward. “You… stop trying to threaten me!” “My mom’s leg is broken! That’s a fact!” The officer cut him off. “Alright, that’s enough.” “Since this involves potential forgery and extortion, both of you need to come down to the station.” “As for the lady, call an ambulance and get her to a hospital! This is ridiculous!” Pierce panicked. “Officer, my mom needs me! I have to stay with her at the hospital. I can’t go to the station!” I glared at him. “Didn’t you just say I was her 24/7 weekend caregiver?” “Why does she suddenly need you now?” Pierce choked on his words, unable to reply. The ambulance arrived quickly and took Grace away. Pierce, looking like a defeated dog, was put into the back of a police cruiser. I requested a few hours off from my manager and got into another cruiser. I knew this war had only just begun.

At the station, the harsh fluorescent lights beat down on Pierce’s face. Sweat was pouring down his forehead. The detective slammed the agreement onto the table. “Pierce, let’s try this again. Did Amanda sign this paper or not?” Pierce grit his teeth, still trying to play tough. “Yes! She signed it!” “It was during the ‘Senior Care Outreach’ event organized by the neighborhood association last month. She signed it right in front of me!” Sitting across from him, I watched his pathetic performance with cold amusement. “Fine,” I said. “Detective, I want to proceed with the handwriting analysis.” “Furthermore, I want to pull the security footage from the community center from last month.” “If it was an official neighborhood association event, there must be records, right?” Pierce’s hands began to tremble. He swallowed hard, and his aggressive attitude suddenly flipped into a pathetic plea. “Amanda, come on, we’re neighbors. We see each other every day.” “Do you really have to be this cruel?” “My mom has always been so sweet to you. She even brought you homemade apple pie once!” “Even if you didn’t sign it, she broke her leg! Would it kill you to just help out with some medical bills?” I laughed out of sheer anger. “Pierce, do you think the whole world is your mother and has to cater to your whims?” “Your mother brought me dessert once, and the very next day, you came over to borrow my car. When I said no, you went onto our neighborhood Snapchat group and called me a selfish bitch.” “You call that being sweet?” “You forged my signature, crashed my office, and tried to ruin my career and reputation. And you call that being a neighbor?” I stood up, leaning over the table, pressing him hard. “Let me tell you something. You won’t get a single dime of that fifty thousand dollars.” “On top of that, I’m suing you for forgery, extortion, and defamation.” “I am going to destroy you.” The detective tapped the table. “Alright, Amanda, take a seat.” The detective then turned to Pierce. “Pierce, let me make this clear. Once the forensic handwriting analysis is done, if it’s a forgery, the charges become much more severe.” “Tell the truth now, while you still have a chance.” Pierce’s psychological defense finally shattered. He buried his face in his hands, slumping miserably into his chair. “Okay… I had someone else sign it.” The interrogation room went dead silent. I quietly turned on the voice recorder on my phone. “Who signed it?” Pierce didn’t dare to look at me. “I… I paid someone online to forge it.” “Why did you forge my signature?” “Because… because the neighborhood association was holding a contest for the ‘Community Angel Award.’ First place gets a five-thousand-dollar grant.” “The rules state you need to submit active volunteer logs for senior care.” “I… I couldn’t find anyone, so I used your info.” I stared at him, feeling utterly repulsed. For a five-thousand-dollar prize, he sold out his neighbor’s private information. For a fifty-thousand-dollar extortion plot, he dragged his injured mother to a corporate lobby. This man was absolute scum. The detective finished writing the report and slid it over for Pierce to sign. “Pierce, you are being charged with forgery and attempted grand larceny.” “You’re being booked.” Pierce snapped his head up, eyes wide with disbelief. “Booked?! No! I can’t go to jail!” “My mom is still in the hospital! Who is going to take care of her?!” I looked at him coldly. “Why don’t you use that five-thousand-dollar prize money to hire a nurse?” “Oh, wait. Now that you’re going to jail, I guess you won’t be getting that money anyway.” Pierce glared at me, his eyes filled with venomous rage. “Amanda, you’ll pay for this!” “Just wait until I get out! I’m coming for you!” I met his gaze, refusing to back down even an inch. “I’ll be waiting.”

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After coming home from working late that night, I found my husband applying ointment to the inside of his first love’s thigh. She was wearing my pajamas and lying in my bed. So I immediately listed everything in the house on a secondhand marketplace, including the house itself. When my husband found out, he kicked me out of the master bedroom, furious. “Leah got scammed by her boyfriend, and he abused her too.” “She had nowhere to go, so I brought her to our place.” “How can you have no sympathy at all? Girls should help girls!” The way he guarded the master bedroom stabbed right through me. All of a sudden, I felt that this marital home I had decorated myself was so cold it made me shiver. I did not question him like I usually did, and only turned around in silence and walked toward the couch in the living room. Julian Graham glanced at me, thought I was throwing a tantrum, shook his head helplessly, and went back into the master bedroom. Looking at the message on my phone that someone had booked a viewing for the house, I let out a breath of relief, closed my eyes, and fell asleep. I was not entering this cage called Mrs. Graham anymore.

In the middle of the night, when I woke with a start, my stomach was still cramping. The living room light was still on, and half a glass of cold water sat on the table. Julian Graham had forgotten to buy my stomach medicine again. I braced myself against the couch and sat up, the back of my hand covered in cold sweat. Light seeped through the crack under the master bedroom door, and a woman’s muffled moans came from inside. I let out a cold laugh and walked over while holding on to the wall. When I pushed the door open, the woman sleeping in my bed had stripped down to only her bra and underwear. My husband was beside her, bare from the waist up, holding a bottle of something that looked like lube. There was a suspicious little wad of tissue beside them. When he saw me, he calmly put away the little bottle and pulled the blanket over Leah Shaw, covering her bruised body. Julian Graham frowned at me. “I was just putting medicine on her.” “As you can see, Leah was beaten black and blue by her ex-boyfriend.” “She was in too much pain to sleep, and I really was only helping her put ointment on, so don’t overthink it.” Leah clutched the blanket around herself, looking soft and fragile, and her eyes started to redden. “Julian, maybe I should leave after all. Am I affecting your marriage?” “I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to.” She made a show of getting up. Julian Graham pressed her back onto the bed with a heartbroken look and wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes. When he turned back to face me, only deep disgust remained in his eyes. “Do you have to be so petty? She’s only staying here for a few nights.” I sneered. “Does staying here mean the two of you have to take your clothes off for her medicine?” Julian Graham said, “Stop being unreasonable!” He got off the bed, rushed toward me, grabbed my hand, and dragged me out of the bedroom. He shut the door and pointed at the little sign on it. [Sleeping. Please Do Not Disturb.] The sign was new. I had never bought it. He said, “You’re not allowed to disturb Leah’s rest. From now on, you’re forbidden from coming into the master bedroom!” I said, “This is the house I bought! I can’t come in?” Julian Graham frowned. “She’s only staying in the master bedroom!” I walked toward the guest bedroom. As soon as the door opened, I saw our wedding favors piled inside in a total mess. On the floor, one of my three-thousand-dollar shirts had been used as a rag and was covered in dust. Against the wall was Leah Shaw’s cello, and her yoga mat lay on the floor. I turned to look at him. “She’s staying in the guest room too?” Julian Graham avoided my gaze. “Playing the cello helps stabilize her emotions.” My phone showed a new message notification. I opened my phone. The estimate pushed by the real estate platform popped up, and it was much lower than the purchase price. I ignored him, sat back down on the couch, and opened my banking app. The remaining loan, early repayment rules, and penalty fees were all listed clearly, item by item. Julian Graham stood beside me. “What are you making a fuss about now?” I did not look up. “Checking the accounts.” He sighed. “Elaine, be mature. Leah is sick, and you’re healthy, so don’t fight her over a bed.” My fingers froze. Fight her over a bed. I had spent half a year looking at furniture and beds, and I had looked at hundreds of beds. The bed in the master bedroom was the one I chose only after trying ten different stores.

Now he used the word fight. I opened the purchase contract. Property owner: Elaine Bennett. Borrower: Elaine Bennett. The down payment transfer record was saved in the cloud. The renovation contract was there too. When Julian Graham saw the screen, his expression changed. “Why are you checking those?” I locked the screen. “None of your damn business.” He lowered his voice. “Don’t wake Leah up.” I glanced at the master bedroom door. Someone else’s sign hung on that door. Someone else’s blanket lay on that bed. Another woman lived in that room. I picked up my phone and messaged the agent, Ms. Walker. “Can this place be sold as soon as possible?” Ms. Walker replied quickly. “You can bear to let it go?” I replied: “I can.” A dull thud came from the master bedroom. Julian Graham immediately turned and went inside. “Leah? Are you okay?” “You need to go to the bathroom? I’ll carry you there.” When he came out of the bedroom, he was carrying Leah in his arms and walking toward the bathroom. From an angle he could not see. Leah gave me a victor’s smile. In the past, I would have made a scene, but now, I felt nothing. I placed my phone facedown on the table. Since the master bedroom of this house did not belong to me. There was no need for this house to belong to us either. The next morning, I opened the fridge. My cold brew coffee was gone. The chocolate milk was gone too. Where the ketchup used to be, there was now a row of low-fat milk. A sticky note was pasted on the fridge door. Leah cannot have caffeine, cold drinks, or high sugar. The handwriting was Julian Graham’s. He came out of the kitchen holding a bowl of oatmeal. “Eat light for now. Leah can’t handle strong smells.” I looked at that bowl of oatmeal. Last night, when my stomach hurt, he did not ask if I could eat. Now he remembered that Leah could not handle smells. I picked up my bag. “I’m not eating.” Julian Graham frowned. “Throwing a fit again? You have to make that face over breakfast too?” I changed my shoes. “Save it to coax her.” His voice darkened. “Elaine Bennett, don’t talk so harshly.” I went to the walk-in closet. In the main cabinet hung Leah Shaw’s beige coats, nightgowns, and shawls. My garment bag had been moved to the balcony, and the bottom of the bag was covered in dust. I picked up the gown. Julian Graham followed me in. “She gets anxious if her things are placed outside, so don’t overthink it.” “Then my gown won’t get anxious sitting on the balcony?” He pressed his lips together. “Do you have to compare yourself to a poor woman who was abused?” My phone buzzed. A message popped up in the Graham family group chat. Julian’s mother sent a voice message. “Julian, how did Leah sleep last night? Don’t let Elaine go to the master bedroom and bother her. She can’t handle being disturbed.” Julian Graham replied: “Don’t worry. I arranged everything.” Julian’s mother sent another message: “Elaine is capable, so being wronged for a few days won’t hurt. After marriage, we’re all family.” No one asked where I had slept last night. No one asked if my stomachache had gotten better. I took a screenshot of the group messages. When Julian Graham saw it, his face turned ugly. “Why are you taking screenshots?” “To keep as a memory.” He reached out to take my phone. I stepped half a step back. “Don’t touch it.” His hand stopped in midair. “Elaine, why are you so prickly now?” I put the gown back into the bag. “Your whole family speaks even more sharply. I’m just a slow learner.” That morning, I took half a day off. I exported the down payment records. I exported the monthly mortgage deductions. I exported the renovation invoices. I exported the property fees, appliance orders, and soft furnishing lists. In the spreadsheet, Julian Graham had only made a few scattered transfers for the mortgage. Among the furniture, only the TV and dining table had been paid with his card. I messaged Chloe Martin. “Help me look at the pre-marriage property settlement.” She replied: “You finally woke up?” I replied: “Cut the crap. Do the math.”

Chloe Martin sent one sentence. “The house is under your name, and you have all the evidence. Don’t go soft.” Julian Graham came back at noon. He handed me a cup of warm water. “I was too worked up last night. I’ll take you to look at wedding rings this weekend.” I looked at that cup of water. A water temperature label for Leah Shaw was still stuck to the bottom of the cup. Forty-five degrees. I did not take it. His phone rang. Leah Shaw sent a voice message. “Julian, that blanket is a little damp. I can’t sleep.” Julian Graham picked up his car keys. “I’ll go ask the dry cleaner. I’ll be back soon.” I asked: “What about the wedding rings?” He stood at the door. “That’s not urgent.” I lowered my head and submitted the early repayment appointment. A confirmation popped up on the page. I tapped confirm. He was busy protecting a blanket. I was busy dismantling a marital home. Julian Graham had promised to go with me to the wedding hotel for the menu tasting. I booked the time two weeks in advance. His parents had dietary restrictions, and I noted them three times. Before we left, he received a call from Leah Shaw. She said she did not dare go out alone and was afraid of running into her ex-boyfriend seeking revenge. Julian Graham glanced at me. “You go first. I’ll take her to buy clothes and then head over.” I picked up the car keys. “Okay.” He breathed a sigh of relief. “Elaine, you really are sensible.” I did not respond to that. The hotel manager took out the wedding seating chart. There was an extra name next to the head table. Leah Shaw. The notes were very detailed. Keep away from the speakers. Keep away from the lights. Close to the lounge. Convenient for Mr. Graham to look after her. I held the pen. “Who changed this?” The manager glanced at the computer. “Mr. Graham called last night to confirm it.” I put down the pen. “The head table is where the bride and groom’s parents sit.” The manager smiled awkwardly. “Mr. Graham said Ms. Shaw’s situation is special.” Half an hour later, Julian Graham arrived. Leah Shaw followed behind him. She had that cashmere blanket draped over her shoulders and was clutching a garment bag. “Elaine, I’m sorry. Should I not have come?” I looked at Julian Graham. He stood in front of her. “She’s getting used to the wedding venue in advance, so nothing happens on the day.” I asked: “My wedding. Who approved her getting used to it?” Leah Shaw’s eyes reddened. Julian Graham’s face darkened. “Don’t take it out on her. She can’t even handle one harsh word.” I opened the menu. “Then don’t come.” The tasting began. The first dish, salmon, was served. Leah Shaw covered her mouth. “It smells fishy.” Julian Graham immediately called the manager. “Change this dish.” The second dish, onion soup, was brought over. She frowned. “The flavor is too strong.” Julian Graham said: “Change that too.” The manager looked at me. I pushed the menu over. “Listen to Mr. Graham.” The music trial played. It was the warm-up song I had chosen. Leah Shaw lowered her head and clutched the blanket. “This sound is making it hard for me to breathe.” Julian Graham turned his head. “Change it to white-noise piano music.” I looked at him. “Are the guests coming to a wedding or to sleep?” He lowered his voice. “Elaine, the wedding is just a formality, and Leah can’t be triggered.” I asked: “What about me?” He paused. “You’ve always been stronger than her.” That sentence landed on the table. I closed the folder. Leah Shaw spoke softly. “Maybe I shouldn’t attend, so you two won’t fight.” Julian Graham immediately grabbed her wrist. “No one is asking you to leave.” I saw his hand clearly. Only then did he realize it and let go.

Leah Shaw’s breathing grew rapid. Julian Graham helped her up. “I’ll take her out first. You handle the remaining payment.” The manager handed me the bill. I did not sign it. “Put the wedding date on hold.” The manager froze. “Ms. Bennett, the deposit may not be refundable.” “Follow the contract.” When Julian Graham was helping Leah Shaw into the car, Ms. Walker the agent called me. “Ms. Bennett, if you’re serious about selling that house, I have a full-cash buyer.” I watched Julian Graham close the car door for Leah Shaw. “I’m serious.” Ms. Walker asked: “What about the price?” “Below market price is negotiable.” After I got home, I canceled the hotel booking. I also sent a termination request for the bridal shop contract. Julian Graham sent me a message. “Leah has stabilized. Don’t blow today’s matter out of proportion.” I replied with two words. “Too late.” He did not reply again. I downloaded a house sale contract template. The wedding could go on without me. The marital home could go on without him too. At nine the next morning, I went to the bank. The staff member wrote the early repayment penalty on a piece of paper. “Ms. Bennett, this is not a small amount. Are you sure you want to proceed?” I signed. “I’m sure.” She reminded me again. “After the lien is released, the property can be traded.” I handed over my ID. “I know.” When I walked out of the bank, Julian Graham sent me a message. “What do you want for lunch?” I replied: “Come back early tonight. We’ll talk about the house.” He replied: “Okay. This time, I’ll listen to you seriously.” I put my phone into my pocket. In the afternoon, Ms. Walker brought the buyers to view the house. I had packed Leah Shaw’s medicine boxes, sleep machine, essential oil diffuser, and slippers into a clear bag in advance. The bag sat by the entryway. The buyer’s wife saw the silk bedding in the master bedroom. “It’s been kept in pretty good condition. Can it stay?” I said: “The bedding won’t stay.” The buyer’s husband glanced at the balcony. “Why are you selling so urgently?” I handed him a copy of the property certificate. “I’m preparing to move to another city.” Ms. Walker pulled me aside. “You’ve cut the price too hard. They’ll still try to bargain.” “Full cash is fast, so the price is negotiable.” She said: “You’ve really made up your mind.” “Yes.” At dusk, Julian Graham came back. He saw the storage boxes in the living room. “Organizing wedding supplies?” I placed the settlement sheet on the coffee table. “Sit.” When he saw the spreadsheet, his expression changed. “Elaine, are you serious?” “It was also serious when I slept on the couch last night.” He sat down. “Go ahead.” I opened the first page. “The down payment was three million. I paid two million, and you paid one million.” He nodded. “I admit that.” “The renovation cost seven hundred eighty-six thousand, and I paid it.” “The main part of the mortgage came out of my account.” “I paid the property fees, appliances, and soft furnishings.” He rubbed his brow. “What’s the point of calculating this now?” “There is a point.” His phone started vibrating. Leah Shaw’s name jumped on the screen. He declined it. It rang again a second time. The third time, she sent a voice message. “Julian, I’m alone in the master bedroom. I had another nightmare just now. I dreamed that my ex hit me. I’m so scared…” Julian Graham stood up. I blocked his way. “If you leave tonight, we don’t need to talk anymore.” He grabbed his car keys. “She’s too pitiful, Elaine. Don’t force me to be cold-blooded.” I looked at him. “You were pretty cold-blooded the night my stomach hurt.” His face stiffened.

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My fiancé is sitting in a high-stakes back room at The Velvet Room, betting his whole life away. For a woman who isn’t me. Just to walk out the door with his ex-girlfriend Celeste Moore, the one the Bratva just shipped off to work the floors of a red-light joint. And her three friends. Two rounds in, Damien has already lost the Patek Philippe I clasped onto his wrist the day he made VP. And one third of Aurora Capital. The boutique fund in my name. The shares I quietly signed into his name a year ago, under the polite cover of “investing in his future.” Round three. Viktor, the man behind The Velvet Room leans across the felt and tells him to bet the thing he loves most. Damien doesn’t blink. He slides off the platinum cufflinks at his wrists. The ones I had engraved for our engagement. He smacks them down dead center on the table. His voice carries clean across the floor — calm like he’s closing a deal. “If I lose—” “I’ll break off my engagement to Aurora Castellano. And I’ll marry the girl on that stage instead.” “And I’ll let Aurora take her place. After all, there’s no shame in honest work.” The whole room sucks in a breath. Everyone down there knows my name. Aurora Castellano. Manhattan’s Ivy League sweetheart. Heiress to Aurora Capital. The woman who loved a man enough to give him a third of the empire she was born to inherit. He’s betting I’ll come downstairs with a checkbook and bail him out of the three million he just bled into Viktor’s table. So he can keep his perfect Wall Street record clean. And pull his sweetheart out of the fire while he’s at it. I lift my bourbon. I look down at the man I was supposed to marry. He still has no idea I’m watching. “If Mr. Cross wants to break our engagement,” I murmur, swirling the ice, “and humiliate me like this on the way out—” “He’d better think about how he’s going to explain it to my seven brothers.” Everyone knows the Castellanos have seven heirs spread across Wall Street and Silicon Valley. The world doesn’t know those seven brothers are the real shadow kings of this city. And they spoil their little sister to death. …… “Three rounds, Mr. Cross. You’re cleaned out.” Viktor, owner of The Velvet Room slams the dice cup onto the felt. The floor erupts. Drunk laughter. Catcalls. Damien stands in the middle of it all. Hands in his pockets. Chin lifted. Not a crack in his face. He looks up. Straight at my room. “Aurora. I know you’re up there.” His voice cuts through the noise like he’s calling me down to him. “Come down and cover the three million. After tonight—” “—I swear I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.” The room buzzes again. “The Aurora Capital heiress, bailing out her man’s mess?” “Cross really outdid himself—using his fiancée’s money to save his ex-girlfriend.” I sit in the velvet armchair. I look down at this man again. Three years of patience curdles in my stomach. I used to think his coldness was discipline. Focus. The mark of a man going places. I rewrote his résumé in our second year at Columbia. I introduced him to the senior partners at company. I sat in front of my own board and defended him when they asked, why him? And he took every single piece of it like it was air. Tonight I see it for what it is — self-righteousness wearing a clean suit. Damien’s brow tightens when I don’t move. He cuts a small look sideways with Celeste’s three friends. A nod. They lift the hems of their dress and storm the stairs. The first one — Brittany — kicks my door clean off its frame. The oak slams into the wall. She crosses the room in four strides. Acrylic nails go straight for the Castellano emerald around my neck. “Aurora! Damien said pay up! Get your card out and save Celeste already!” The second one — Madison — folds her arms in the doorway. “Honestly. The only reason he stayed with a controlling bitch like you was the trust fund.” The third one — Sienna — screeches over her shoulder. “You’re not worth a single hair on Celeste’s head! Pay up, or do you actually want to watch him dump you?” My bodyguard’s hand drops to his holster. Before he doesn’t get the gun out. Four men in black appear out of nowhere and pin his shoulders to the wall. Damien’s private security. He brought security tonight. So, all of this is to guard against me. I stand up. Brittany’s red-tipped nail is one inch from my throat. I raise my right hand and I slap her across the face with everything I have. *SLAP.* She stumbles back three steps and lands on the carpet. I look her down. The room temperature drops ten degrees. “You don’t get to touch what belongs to a Castellano.” I tilt my head down at her, picking the skin off my knuckle where her acrylic split it. “Cute manicure. Send the bill to your funeral home.” My voice is quiet. It carries anyway. Downstairs, Damien tips his head back. His face goes to stone. “Aurora! Are you serious right now? Slapping a girl who’s just trying to help her friend?” I step to the railing. I meet his eyes. “You want me to pay three million to save the woman you’ve been contacting on the side?” I chuckled softly. “Damien. Your face is thicker than the walls of this place.”

Damien’s nostrils flare. He must think I just shamed him. He throws his jacket open and points up the staircase. “Boys—if Miss Castellano doesn’t understand manners, escort her down. She owes Celeste an apology in person.” A dozen men with baseball bats start up the stairs. The bats thud against the staircase railing — slow, deliberate, meant to scare. My fingers slide into the pocket of my gown. The Castellano family ring waits inside. Downstairs, Damien’s private security disarms my own bodyguards, twisting their wrists until they drop to their knees. Damien climbs the marble staircase one step at a time. He stops in front of me. Tips his chin down like he’s the one with the moral high ground. “Aurora. I’ve put up with your jealousy for three years.” He gestures at the three girls behind him. “There are four lives on the line tonight. How can you be this cold?” Down below, Celeste gets walked out from the back. Cheap white dress. Red-rimmed eyes. Mascara smudged just enough to look helpless. She drops to her knees at the foot of the staircase like she rehearsed it in a mirror. “Damien! Please—don’t ruin what you have with Aurora because of me!” She lifts her face. The perfect tremor in her voice. “I’m not worth this. Let me die. Let you two be happy.” Brittany and the other two scramble across the floor to her, sobbing on cue. “You happy now, you cold bitch? You won’t be satisfied until she’s dead!” The gamblers around the room shake their heads. They point up at me. They mutter the kind of things men mutter when they want to feel righteous. I watch the show downstairs. I don’t bother lifting the corner of my mouth. But Damien stares at my blank face. His jaw locks. And now Celeste shivers right on cue — just one little shoulder twitch, arms wrapped around herself like she’s freezing. Damien’s eyes drop to the white sable coat draped over the back of my chair. Don Salvatore—the Don of this city—draped it over my shoulders himself on my eighteenth birthday. He suddenly steps forward and reaches for the clasp at my throat. “Celeste’s freezing. Just give her your coat for now. I’ll buy you ten.” His hand moves like he’s allowed to. Like I’m something he already owns. I step back at once. His fingers close on empty air. I look up at him. “Damien.” My voice is cold. “You put a hand on my anything— you’d better make sure you still have a hand afterward.” Damien’s hand stopped halfway. His jaw tightened, and the color drained from his face. “Just a coat, Aurora.” “Seriously, Aurora? Over a coat? Celeste’s been through enough tonight. If she gets sick out here, that’s on you.” “Her life matters.” I laugh once. Short. Cold. “Mine doesn’t?” “This whole night. I’ve been watching it. You’ve been showing me exactly who you are. Damien.” Downstairs, Viktor’s smile disappeared completely. He was done waiting for Damien’s check. He shifts his stance. The warmth drops out of his eyes. “Listen up, Mr. Cross — no cash, no exit. You gambled away your fiancée. House rules.” He waves one fat hand. “Boys! Get her changed and onto the stage. Let’s see what an Ivy League princess looks like in lingerie.” I keep my body calm. My right hand slides into the hidden pocket of my gown. My thumb finds the inside of the Castellano family ring. Three small grooves. The signal my seven brothers told me I could press exactly once in danger. *Tap.* *Tap.* *Tap.* Somewhere across Manhattan, seven phones light up at the same second.

Twelve men with baseball bats just sealed the only way out of my private box. My security tears free of the men holding him and throws himself at the staircase, ready to die for me. Viktor’s men don’t even hesitate. A tactical knife flashes once. *Thud.* The blade goes straight through my security left shoulder. Hot blood sprays in an arc. A few drops land on the hem of my gown. The smell hits the air. I lock my eyes on Damien. “Damien. Are you really going to stand there and watch?” For one second, he flinches. His eyes drop to my bodyguard bleeding into the carpet. Then he turns to Viktor. “This isn’t fair. Sign a promissory note. Three days. Full three million plus interest.” Viktor snorts. “Your IOU? Worth about as much as that Patek you already lost.” He nods toward the stage downstairs.. “Tonight Celeste and that three friends stay and works it off as a whore, or your fiancée goes on the stage.” Celeste screams. She flings herself at Damien’s legs and clings on with both hands. “Damien — please — I’d rather die than be passed around in a place like this — save me — !” He looks down at her. A muscle ticks in his jaw. Then he turns his head, slow and pained, and looks at me. I see the exact moment he decides. So disgusting. “Aurora. It’s one dance. Just for show.” The voice he uses when he wants to sound soft. “After tonight, I’ll give you the biggest wedding this city’s ever seen. Every name in Manhattan.” “But Celeste — I have to save her.” The room goes still. He just traded my dignity for his ex-girlfriend’s safety. I look at him with narrowed eyes. “You’ll spend the rest of your life making it up to me?” My voice doesn’t shake. “But Damien. You’re not even worth the breath it takes to be angry with you.” Celeste keeps her eyes lowered. But I catch it. That tiny, ugly little smile at the corner of her mouth. Her friends take Damien’s silence as a green light. Brittany shoves the cocktail waitresses aside and gets right up in my face. Her red acrylics close around the strap of my gown. “No more pretending. Put it on and go dance. The crowd downstairs didn’t come to wait.” *RIIIIP.* The straps tears clean off. Bare skin. The cold air of the casino hits it. I don’t scream. I don’t cry. I don’t move. I count the time. Almost. My brothers will be coming. Damien sees me standing still and reads it as defiance. He waved a hand, signaling Viktor’s men to hurry. “Enough.” He turns his back on me. And pulls Celeste behind him like she’s the one who needs protecting. “Get her on the stage. Sooner this is done, sooner Celeste and I go home.”

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The year I hated my mother most, she drugged me, tied me up, and threw me into my brother-in-law Caleb’s bed to replace my sister. One night was all it took for my heart to follow my body. I fell for him. Hard. For the next five years, I lived like a ghost in the Blood Moon Pack. Caleb told me I owed it to my sister, Sara Shannon—his fated mate who had died—to repent for the sin of taking her place. He wanted me to focus on raising Kian, Sara’s pup and the pack’s heir, so he took my womb out of my belly to make sure I’d never have a pup of my own. Finally, Caleb’s icy heart seemed to thaw. He promised to make it official. Our mating ceremony was set for five days away. I thought the Moon had finally seen my deepest love for him. But on the eve before the ceremony, the front gates of the pack house swung open, and Caleb walked in with a she-wolf I thought was long buried. “Sara was just playing dead to get back at me,” Caleb announced, his voice booming with Alpha authority. “Now that she’s back, the ceremony is off.” My fingers clutched the ritual gown I had spent six months embroidering with my own blood and sweat. Without a word, I walked to the fireplace and tossed the silk into the flames. “Whatever the Alpha commands,” I said, my voice eerily calm. … “Miss, no! Your gown!” Freya, my only friend and an Omega maid, rushed forward to save it. Before her hand could touch the silk, Sara moved. Slap! The sound echoed through the hall. Sara sneered. “A nameless thing like you, crawling around my pack house like a parasite… you think you deserve to wear a Luna’s gown?” Caleb didn’t stop her. He didn’t even flinch. “The maid is out of line,” he said, his Alpha aura crushing the room. “Just kill her. No need to get your hands dirty, Sara.” My blood ran cold. I dropped to my knees, baring my neck in total submission. “Freya has been by my side since I was a pup. She acted out of loyalty to me. Please, Alpha. Show mercy.” Sara let out a sharp, mocking laugh. “So, you’re admitting you were lusting after things that don’t belong to you, Gloria?” She turned to Caleb, her voice turning into a sweet, poisonous purr. “Caleb, darling, if she wants to save her maid, she should take thirty lashes. To learn the rules of the house. What do you think?” Caleb looked at me. There was no pity in his gaze, only a desire to erase the last five years. “You are the Luna of this pack, Sara,” Caleb said, his voice flat. “Do as you wish.” I was dragged to the courtyard and forced onto the whipping post. The silver-tipped lash cracked against my back. Once. Twice. Sweat stung my eyes, blurring my vision as the scent of my own blood filled the air. My heart had already been destroyed three times. The first was when my mother sold me to Caleb. The second was when Caleb made me kneel at Sara’s grave for three days and nights. The third was… right now. “Twenty… twenty-one…” the guard grunted, counting the strokes. By the thirtieth lash, I collapsed. The cold stone of the courtyard felt like ice against my burning skin. Sara walked over, her heels clicking near my head. She used the toe of her shoe to tilt my chin up, forcing me to look at her through the grime and blood. “Remember this, Gloria,” she whispered. “Some things aren’t yours. If you touch them, you pay. The thirty lashes were just the beginning. I’m burning away the dirt you left in this house.” She kicked my face aside. Caleb’s shadow fell over me. “Take her away,” he commanded the guards. “Find a healer to patch her up. Sara is being merciful today. This is over.” … When I woke up, Caleb was sitting by my bed. He reached out to touch my shoulder, but I flinched, my body acting on instinct. “Don’t move,” he said, his voice carrying a fake edge of concern. “The medicine just started working.” I turned my head away, staring at the wall. Caleb sighed, sounding annoyed. “I know you feel wronged, but you’ve been living in Sara’s position for five years. She’s just being a little bit jealous. She needed to make an example to establish her authority now that she’s home.” Authority. That was all my life was to him—a tool for Sara’s power. “In a few days, I’m throwing a banquet to welcome Sara back,” Caleb continued. “During the party, I’ll officially enter your name into the pack records. It’s a great honor for someone of your rank.” I stayed silent, and his patience snapped. “Don’t be ungrateful, Gloria,” he growled. A maid knocked on the door. “Alpha, the Luna is asking for you.” Caleb stood up instantly. The feigned warmth vanished, replaced by the cold, commanding Alpha I knew. He didn’t look back as he walked out. As soon as the door clicked shut, Freya crept in and pressed a crumpled letter into my hand. I recognized the handwriting. A small, genuine smile touched my lips. “Pack the bags, Freya,” I whispered, my voice raspy but firm. “The night of the banquet, when the house is loud and full of wolves… we’re leaving this hell for good.”

[Gloria’s POV] “Miss Gloria… Can you really be heartless enough to leave it all behind?” I opened my mouth to answer, but a sharp knock interrupts me. It’s Kian’s nurse. “The heir is screaming for you. Please, come quickly.” I ignored the pain in my back and rushed to his room. Kian had always been sickly. When I first joined the pack, he caught Silver-rot. I didn’t sleep for a fortnight, nearly dying myself to pull him back from the brink. He used to be so sweet, treating me like his own mother. He was the only thing I couldn’t bear to leave. But when I entered, I saw Kian snuggled in Sara’s arms. My heart stung. Just as I turned to leave, Kian called out. “Gloria, I called you here to take this filth away.” Gloria, not Mom. I froze at the title. Then, a dead cat was thrown at my feet. “I had this beast killed,” he said calmly. I stare at the small, bloodied body in disbelief. Last year, Kian begged me for this cat. I kneeled outside Caleb’s room in the freezing rain for a day and a night to let him keep it. Kian cried and rubbed my bruised knees, promising to protect me forever. “What did he ever do to you? Why would you do this?” I whispered. “He scratched my mother!” Kian shouted. “This little beast is just like you—low-ranked and useless. It upset my mother, so it had to die!” Sara stroked his hair, a smile curling on her lips. “Don’t blame my boy, Gloria. He’s just too loyal. He can’t stand to see me hurt.” Kian nodded sharply, his eyes full of coldness I couldn’t recognize. “Get this trash out of here! It’s stinking up my wing!” Caleb walked in then, standing by Sara. He didn’t even blink at the dead cat. “Just a pet,” he said coldly. “Stop making a scene. Clean it up and get out.” I didn’t say a word, just picked up the cat, carried it out, and buried it in the garden. Freya was waiting by my side with red eyes. A bitter laugh escaped my throat. “You see? Now I can leave without a single regret.” When I returned to my room, Caleb was there. He reached out to pinch my face. “Crying over a little pet? Is it really worth it?” He pulled me into his arms, sounding like he was granting a favor. “No Wolfsbane tonight. If you get pregnant, we’ll keep the pup. Consider it your compensation.” He says it so casually, as if he had forgotten that I could never have pups again. Five years ago, he was in my room every night. Even with the potions, I got pregnant. I thought he might finally love me then. I told him, trembling with hope. But Caleb didn’t smile. He called for the pack’s blade-healer and, with a single word, ordered them to carve the womb from my body. I could still remember the slap. “You low-ranked trash! You think you can replace Sara with a bastard in your belly?” I bled alone on the straw in the dungeon for twelve hours. My pup died, and my womb was scarred forever. Caleb reached into my clothes, yet I flinched away from his touch. “The Luna just returned,” I said flatly. “The Alpha should be with his mate.” The room went silent. Caleb’s hand froze. He laughed, but his eyes were dark. “You’ve certainly learned how to give me orders.” “I wouldn’t dare,” I whispered. “Sara’s tired. You should show her some care.”

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1 Seven years. That was how long Adrian and I had been together. My parents began hinting heavily about marriage. Adrian’s reply never changed: “Just wait, okay?” They assumed it was money. They set aside a wedding fund, put down deposits on a house and car. Still, he said the same thing. “Just wait, okay?” I didn’t know what clock he was watching, but I stayed by him. Until his college reunion. I brought a custom cake to the private room. “Today is Adrian’s thirtieth birthday,” I told his friends. Instead of cheers, the room stirred. A guy laughed. “Didn’t Adrian and Stella make that thirty-year pact?” “Yeah! If neither was married by thirty, they’d marry each other!” Stella blushed, tucking hair behind her ear. “Stop. His girlfriend’s right here.” Adrian didn’t reassure me. He gave me a cool look. “She’s not my wife yet. I promised to wait until I was thirty, Stella. I kept my word.” The cake box felt like lead. Cold gripped my chest. In that instant, the mystery unraveled. I knew exactly what he’d been waiting for. Amid cheers and pounding tables, Adrian leaned toward the cake, candlelight in his eyes. “First wish… I hope Stella isn’t married either.” Enough. I didn’t scream. Didn’t throw the cake. I placed it gently on the table, ignoring the awkward silence, and walked out with my head high. Outside, a yellow cab idled curbside. The driver lowered the window. “Need a ride, miss? Waiting for someone?” I opened the door and got in. “Just drive. I’m done waiting for anyone.” By the time I unlocked my apartment door, the place was pitch black. I had barely kicked off my heels when my phone lit up. It was Adrian’s mother. “Nina, sweetie! His dad and I were looking over the catering menu for the engagement party again. We really think upgrading to the premium surf-and-turf package would look so much more elegant. What do you two think?” I pressed my lips together, tasting the bitter salt of my own dried tears. “Mrs. Wright, you don’t need to worry about that. The engagement party is off.” A loud gasp echoed through the speaker. “Off? Did Adrian get cold feet again? I swear to God, I don’t know what is wrong with that boy!” I took a shaky breath, steadying my voice. “It isn’t him this time. I am the one canceling it.” She scoffed, utterly refusing to believe me. “After all these years? I know he’s the stubborn one. You just sit tight, sweetie. I’m going to call him right now and knock some sense into him!” The line went dead before I could say another word. Less than twenty minutes later, the front door burst open. Adrian strode in, bringing the chill of the night with him. He glared down at me, his jaw clenched in frustration. “Why did you cancel the engagement party?” He spoke like a man barely containing his temper. “What kind of tantrum is this? You dropped the cake and walked out of the reunion without a single word. Do you have any idea how crazy that made me look in front of my friends?” I stood up slowly, forcing him to meet my eyes on level ground. “Adrian, since you promised to wait for Stella until you were thirty, what the hell was I doing beside you for the last seven years?” The anger drained from his face, replaced by a fleeting shadow of genuine pain. “But she’s already married.” I froze. Adrian ran a hand through his hair, looking exhausted. “I promised to wait until she was thirty. I am a man of my word. Now that she’s married, I got the closure I needed.” A hollow, sickening ache bloomed in my chest. “So you dragged your feet for seven years just to see if another woman’s marriage would fail? What does that make me, Adrian? A backup plan? Your safety net?” His brow furrowed in annoyance. “Don’t say things like that. I care about you. It’s been seven years, you know I love you.” He stepped closer, his voice softening. “Besides, Stella got married three years ago. The guy she married… he’s a monster. He doesn’t treat her right. Her life is a living hell right now.” I let out a dry, bitter laugh. I was laughing at my own pathetic existence. Adrian reached out, his tone dripping with that familiar, confident reassurance he always used to pacify me. “Nina, I already called my mom. I told her you were just blowing off steam. The party is moving forward as planned. We’ve been together for seven years. I know what matters most to you. Let’s just drop this, okay?” I took a deep breath, fighting the visceral tearing sensation in my heart. The humiliation of being someone’s second choice was at war with seven years of very real, very raw memories. I remembered how he used to tuck my freezing hands inside his coat during winter walks. I remembered the late nights he would show up at my office with my favorite takeout when I was working overtime. Those moments were real. But his endless waiting for another woman was real, too. Tears pricked the corners of my eyes. I opened my mouth to finally end it, but Adrian’s phone rang. His annoyance vanished instantly. His face went pale, and his voice hitched with panic. “Stella? What’s wrong?” Muffled, ragged sobbing drifted from the speaker. Adrian’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the phone. “Did he hurt you again? Where? Is it bad?” He was already moving toward the door, grabbing his keys from the console. “Don’t panic. Find a safe place to hide and lock the door. I’m coming over right now. I’ll handle him.” He hung up, threw his coat over his shoulders, and walked out into the night without a single backward glance. He left so naturally. So effortlessly. He never even noticed that from the second he saw Stella’s name on his screen, he hadn’t looked at me once. Adrian didn’t come home that night. The following evening, he walked right through our front door with Stella in tow. He was carrying two heavy grocery bags, grinning like a teenager. “Nina! Stella insisted on coming over to thank us. She wants to cook dinner.” Stella stood awkwardly in the foyer. A fading purple bruise shadowed her cheekbone. “Nina, I really owe Adrian my life for helping me call the cops yesterday. I don’t have much to offer, so I wanted to make you guys a home-cooked meal.” Without waiting for an invitation, she slipped off her shoes and navigated my apartment like she owned the place, heading straight for the kitchen. Adrian followed her like a lovesick puppy. “I’ll be your sous-chef. Just like the old days.” Stella glanced over her shoulder, giving him a playful, exasperated pout. “You better just sit in the living room. You’re always in the way when you try to help.” But he leaned against the counter, refusing to leave. “Come on, I can wash the vegetables. Give me some credit, I’ve matured a lot in seven years.” Stella giggled, the sound light and breathy. “Alright, fine. But my hair is getting in the way. Can you tie it up for me?” Adrian complied instantly. He stepped behind her, gathering her long, dark hair into his hands with practiced gentleness. I stood in the hallway, forcing myself to look away from the agonizing intimacy of the scene. An hour later, Stella carried the plates out to the dining table. “Dinner is ready, Nina.” The food tasted like ash in my mouth, but Adrian’s eyes were practically shining. “Stella, your cooking is as amazing as ever. It’s been way too long since I tasted this.” She picked up a piece of honey-glazed pork with her fork and placed it directly onto his plate. “I know this is your absolute favorite. I made it just for you. Try this piece, it’s the most tender.” Finally, she seemed to remember I was sitting there. “Nina? Why aren’t you eating? Is it too sweet for you?” Adrian looked up, his tone shifting into a mild command. “Nina, eat a little. Stella worked hard on this all afternoon.” Before I could formulate a response, the doorbell chimed. I got up to answer it. Two delivery workers stood in the hall, holding a massive cardboard box. “Good evening. We have the canvas wedding portraits for delivery.” I froze in the doorway. We had taken those photos last month. When we placed the order, Adrian had confirmed the delivery date with the studio manager three separate times. He had been absolutely adamant that they arrive exactly one day after his thirtieth birthday, claiming it was for “good luck.” I had thought he was just being romantic. Now I knew the truth. He needed to make sure his thirty-year pact with Stella had expired before he allowed our wedding photos into his home. Hearing the delivery men, Stella’s face dropped. The glass of water slipped from her hand, shattering against the hardwood floor. Adrian leaped out of his chair, rushing over to grab her by the arms. “Don’t move! You’ll step on the glass.” The worker shifted the heavy box. “Where would you like us to hang this, ma’am?” Adrian didn’t even look our way. “Put it wherever. Nina, just sign for it.” Then, right in front of me, he scooped Stella up into his arms, carrying her bridal-style to the living room sofa. The two delivery men looked at me, their faces full of awkward pity. “Miss…” I stared at the cardboard box holding the frozen, smiling images of a future that no longer existed. My eyes burned. On the day we took those photos, we had held each other and laughed, and I had truly believed I was the happiest woman in the world. I turned my head. Adrian was kneeling on the rug, carefully dabbing a tiny scratch on Stella’s ankle with an alcohol wipe before gently applying a bandage. All his emotional unavailability over the years wasn’t a personality flaw. He was just saving his warmth for someone else. I swallowed the lump in my throat and looked back at the workers. “Don’t bother hanging it. Just leave it in the box.” Once the mandatory holding period for Stella’s husband ended, Adrian’s paranoia kicked into overdrive. He was constantly distracted. His phone was glued to his hand, his eyes darting to the screen every few minutes. That night, his phone sat on his nightstand. The screen flared to life, buzzed aggressively against the wood, went dark, and then lit up again. I rolled over, turning my back to him. “Adrian, why isn’t your phone on silent?” For the past seven years, Adrian was religious about silencing his phone at bedtime. He claimed sudden noises gave him migraines. He used to complain if my morning alarm was too loud. Silence stretched across the dark bedroom. “I know it’s annoying,” he finally whispered. “But I can’t mute it. That psycho could track Stella down at any second. If she calls and I miss it…” I sat up and looked down at him. “So you’re just never going to put your phone on silent again for the rest of your life?” He sighed, rubbing his temples. “Just until this whole mess is sorted out.” My patience finally snapped. “And when is it sorted out? When she files for divorce? When she marries someone else? Or are you waiting for her husband to drop dead?” Adrian bolted upright, staring at me like I was a stranger. “Nina, could you have a shred of empathy?!” “She is being hunted by a violent lunatic! She could be killed, and you want me to just ignore her? What if she needs me and I don’t answer?” I raised my voice, the frustration boiling over. “Does she not know how to dial 911?” “How did she survive all those years when you two lost touch? Did she just stop breathing without you? She has a family. She has other friends. Why does it have to be you?” Adrian threw the covers back and got out of bed, looking at me with pure disgust. “When did you become so cold-blooded?” “When I met you seven years ago, you were the kind of girl who would cry over a stray kitten in the rain. Look at what you’ve turned into.” I opened my mouth to fight back, but his phone buzzed again. He lunged across the mattress to grab it. “Stella? Are you okay?” Her terrified weeping filled the quiet room. “Adrian… I’m so scared to go back to my place. I didn’t grab my wallet, I have nowhere to go.” “I was just walking and crying, and somehow I ended up outside your apartment building. Could I… could I crash with you guys for a little while?” Adrian didn’t hesitate for a fraction of a second. “Of course you can. I’m coming down to get you right now.” He dropped the phone and started pulling on his jeans. I grabbed his arm. “There is a hotel two blocks away. I will pay for the room myself. But I am not letting her move into our home.” He ripped his arm away, glaring at me. “A hotel isn’t safe. What if her husband bribes the front desk? Who takes the blame if he breaks into her room?” “She’s traumatized, Nina. She needs to be around people she trusts. Staying here is the only way I can actually sleep at night knowing she’s safe.” Listening to my fiancé passionately defend his need to provide safety and shelter to the love of his life finally broke me. “Well, if she moves in, I am not safe! Adrian, I am a woman too!” He completely bulldozed over my pain, his voice dropping to a freezing chill. “I’ve made my decision. Stop making this about you.” He grabbed his jacket and headed for the bedroom door. Tears spilled hotly down my cheeks. “Adrian.” He paused. “If you bring her through that front door, I am no longer your fiancée.” He froze, his hand hovering over the doorknob. He turned around slowly, his eyes searching my face. The silence between us stretched out, heavy and suffocating. Then, he let out a long, disappointed breath. “Nina, I know you. You have the biggest heart in the world. You would never actually leave someone out on the street to die.” He picked up his keys, opened the door, and walked out. He left me totally alone in the suffocating, silent dark. I sat there for a long time. Then, I wiped my face dry, picked up my phone, and dialed my real estate agent. The agent answered with annoying cheerfulness. “Hey Nina! Is there an issue with the new house? I know you bought it for the wedding. Are we hearing wedding bells soon?” I forced a bitter smile. “No issues with the property. But I need you to list it on the market. Tonight. Sell it as fast as humanly possible.” I absolutely refused to share my own home, paid for by my parents, with a man who was busy sharing his heart with another woman. Sitting on the edge of the bed, tears streaming down my face, I made the final, immovable choice of my life. I didn’t want the house anymore. And I didn’t want the man, either. By the time Stella walked through the front door, my suitcases were zipped and standing by the entryway. She stopped in her tracks, eyes wide. “Nina? Where are you going?” Adrian glanced at the luggage, his tone dismissive and arrogant. “Leave her alone. Where else is she going to go besides running back to her parents?” Stella bit her lip, twisting her fingers together. “Nina, I am so, so sorry. I know I’m ruining everything by being here.” “But I truly have nowhere else in the world to go.” Her eyes filled with fresh tears, playing the tragic heroine to perfection. “I’m not like you, Nina. You have a warm family home to go back to. You have parents who protect you. You have a safety net. I have absolutely nothing.” Adrian reached out and gently squeezed her shoulder. “Don’t say that. You aren’t completely alone.” She looked down at the floorboards. “Adrian, I really shouldn’t have imposed on you guys. But knowing that monster is out of jail… I’m terrified to close my eyes.” He frowned, his protective instincts flaring. “Why won’t you just file for divorce?” Stella looked up at him through her wet eyelashes. “Where would I go if I did? My parents only care about my brother. They won’t take me in.” “That house hasn’t been my home for years. My brother’s wife hates my guts and won’t even let me through the gate. If I get divorced, I won’t have a single person to rely on…” Adrian’s entire demeanor softened into pure devotion. “You can rely on me.” My hand, reaching for the handle of my suitcase, stopped dead in mid-air. I gripped the plastic so hard my knuckles popped. Seven years ago, when Adrian asked me to be his girlfriend under a sky full of stars, he had used that exact same tone. He had held my hands and sworn, “Nina, no matter what happens in this life, you can always rely on me.” I had bet my entire future on that promise. I thought those words belonged exclusively to me. I was wrong. Adrian’s promises were just a charity fund. He handed them out to whoever looked the most pathetic. I pulled up the handle of my luggage and walked toward the door. Adrian finally dropped Stella’s hand, stepping forward to pat me condescendingly on the head. “Don’t forget the engagement dinner tomorrow night.” I didn’t say a single word. I dragged my bags into the hallway. As the heavy door swung shut, I heard Stella’s soft, guilt-ridden whisper. “Adrian, is she really mad at me? Should I leave? I’m driving a wedge between you two.” Adrian’s soothing voice drifted through the crack in the door. “It has nothing to do with you. She’ll get over it once she cools down. Both our families are meeting tomorrow, the engagement is locked in. We’re solid.” The elevator doors slid shut, cutting off his voice for good. It was past one in the morning by the time I dragged my bags into my childhood home. The second I saw my parents’ faces, the dam broke. I sat on their couch and sobbed out every ounce of humiliation and heartbreak I had swallowed over the last month. My parents were livid, shaking with righteous fury, but my mother just held me and smoothed my hair, coaxing me to go upstairs and get some sleep first. That night, lying in the bed I grew up in, I slept like the dead. For the first time in weeks, there was no one tossing and turning next to me. No one jumping out of bed at 3 AM to play the hero for someone else. I woke up naturally with the morning sun. I rolled over and checked my phone. Ninety-nine missed calls. Some were from Mr. and Mrs. Wright. Most were from Adrian. A text message popped onto the screen, aggressively demanding my attention. [Where the hell are you, Nina?! Why are your parents at the restaurant demanding we cancel the wedding?!]

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1 Eric and I grew up together. We were inseparable for fifteen years. Yet, the very next day after we finally made our relationship official, he dumped me without a single warning. I could never understand why. To win him back, I threw away every ounce of my dignity. I begged. I pleaded. I spiraled into such a terrifying, destructive breakdown that it nearly cost me my life. He remained completely indifferent. It was not until five years later, at our university alumni gala, that he finally confessed the truth. “You announced our relationship on social media without my permission,” he said, swirling the wine in his glass. “That is why I wanted to break up.” “I thought I was just being overly sensitive at the time.” “But looking back, I was genuinely uncomfortable. I felt like you did not respect me.” I stared at him, my face completely blank. “Over something that trivial?” He lifted his chin, his tone entirely self-righteous. “Yes. Over something that trivial.” I gave a slow, detached nod. I understood now. I turned on my heel to leave. But Eric frowned and stepped in my path, blocking my way. “Are you not going to apologize to me?” “If you show a good attitude, I might consider getting back together with you.” My thumb brushed against the diamond ring on my left hand. I did not say a word. It had been five years. Who in their right mind would still be standing in the exact same place? When my silence stretched on, Eric’s limited patience quickly evaporated. He pointed a finger at me, his voice dropping to a freezing chill. “Margaret, is it really that hard for you to just say you are sorry?” “Do you want to get back together or not!” I glanced at Valerie, who was leaning intimately against his side. I opened my mouth to tell him exactly what I thought. But Valerie suddenly released Eric’s arm and took a timid step backward. “Eric, I think Margaret is refusing to apologize because I am here.” Eric’s brow furrowed. He immediately reached out, pulling Valerie back into his embrace, his voice instantly softening into a gentle coax. “This has nothing to do with you. She has always been unstable.” He turned his glaring eyes back to me. “It has been five years. How much longer are you going to be paranoid about me and Valerie?” He did not lower his voice at all. In an instant, half the banquet hall turned to look in our direction. Seeing me standing opposite Eric, a wave of pity washed over the crowd’s faces. But the pity was not for me. It was for Eric. After all, my breakdown five years ago had been spectacularly ugly. The police had to pull me off a bridge. It made local news. Everyone thought it was a terrible tragedy that a calm, reserved, successful man like Eric had been targeted by a crazy, obsessive woman like me. Amidst the low murmurs, I could hear the echoes of the insults they used to hurl at me. “How is Margaret not locked up yet?” The crystal champagne flute in my hand turned freezing cold. A violent shiver racked my body. Terrified of having a panic attack in public, I shoved past Eric. I practically ran to the restrooms, stumbling blindly until I reached a sink. I threw up until my stomach was completely empty. Staring at my pale, sickly reflection in the mirror, a bitter laugh escaped my lips. Five years, and I was still this pathetic. A sharp knock echoed against the bathroom door. Eric’s voice filtered through the wood, sounding rigid and awkward. “Are you alright?” “Valerie went to find a doctor for you. If you are still sick in the head, why did you even show up tonight?” Why? I stared quietly at the woman in the mirror. Because I honestly thought I was cured. I had vastly underestimated the psychological hold Eric still had on me. Just hearing his voice triggered a suffocating, breathless panic in my chest. I curled in on myself against the cold marble sink. I forced my mind to focus on the warmth and peace I had found over the last few years, fighting down the venomous resentment burning in my throat. “Get lost,” I croaked out, my voice ragged. The hallway went dead silent for a second. Then, Eric slammed his fist against the door. “Are you out of your mind, Margaret?! Did you just tell me to get lost?” “Did five years teach you absolutely nothing!” I scoffed, aggressively wiping away the stinging tears in the corners of my eyes. I almost forgot. Eric was no longer that shy, highly sensitive college boy. Back then, whenever he spoke to anyone other than me, his face would flush red, and he would stutter nervously. Now, he was polished and polite. He charmed the room, the absolute picture of a successful gentleman. But the second he dealt with me, he reverted to his arrogant, reckless self. He operated under the delusion that I was still the old Margaret, the girl who would endlessly tolerate his temper tantrums and fragile ego. My phone vibrated wildly in my clutch. It was a text from my husband, asking when the event was ending so he could come pick me up. The suffocating shadows in my mind were instantly bathed in sunlight. The terrifying edge of a panic attack melted away. I took a deep, steadying breath. I prepared to record a voice note telling him everything was fine. But the bathroom door was suddenly kicked open. Eric stood in the doorway with Valerie hovering behind him. His pupils contracted when he saw me leaning over the sink, my face damp with cold water. Without thinking, he shrugged off his tailored suit jacket and draped it over my shivering shoulders. “If you feel sick, you go see a doctor!” he snapped. “What good does hiding in the bathroom do?” The heavy, intoxicating scent of Armani Thé Yulong washed over me. For a split second, I felt dizzy. I could not believe he had worn the exact same cologne for five straight years. On the very first day we officially started dating, I bought him a bottle of that Armani fragrance. I told him it was my favorite scent in the world. He smiled at me, his eyes full of devotion. “Then I will wear this exact scent for the rest of my life. Deal?” But the very next day, right after he casually ended our relationship, he smashed that heavy glass bottle against the floor right in front of my eyes. I snapped back to reality. I shoved Eric away, grabbing his jacket and tossing it right back into his chest. “Thanks for the concern.” “But my husband is coming to pick me up soon. I will just have him take me to the hospital.” I did not say it to show off. I was not trying to get revenge. I just needed him to understand. We were history. Eric’s entire body went rigid. He stared at me in absolute shock, his voice cracking. “You got married?!” I gave a simple nod, raising my left hand to flash the diamond ring on my finger. I turned to walk past him. But Eric grabbed my wrist, pulling my hand up. He stared at the diamond for a long, agonizing moment before letting out a cold, mocking sneer. He forcefully yanked the ring off my finger and tossed it onto the tiled floor. “What the hell are you doing!” My calm facade shattered. I dropped to my knees, desperately reaching for the ring. Before my fingers could brush the metal, a polished leather shoe stepped down hard, grinding the silver and diamond into the floor. Eric gripped my wrist, pulling me up. His tone was dripping with smug satisfaction. “Drop the act, Margaret. I know you are not married.” “You are a clinically unstable mess with a family history of mental breakdowns. Aside from me, what man on earth would ever love you?” I struggled to push him away, kneeling on the cold floor. Hearing his words, I just found it incredibly funny. “Are you implying that you actually love me, Eric?” He froze. An awkward, uncomfortable expression crossed his face before he rubbed the back of his neck, reluctantly admitting it. “We grew up together. Obviously, I care about you more than anyone else.” “But you know how sensitive I am. I just could not stop overthinking. I kept wondering if you actually loved me.” “When you rushed to announce our relationship, I felt disrespected. I felt like you did not love me enough. That is why I broke it off.” It took him five years to finally figure it out. And now he was back, offering me the grand prize of getting back together. I stared dead into his eyes, letting out a soft, mocking laugh. “No. You never loved me.” “If you did, you would not have dropped me cold turkey. And you definitely would not have been laying in the same bed with Valerie while I was outside begging for you back.” “The truth is, you love Valerie way more than you ever loved me. Right?” The memory was burned into my brain forever. I remembered running to his apartment, desperate to fix things, only to find the sickening sight of him and Valerie lounging together. On the first day of our relationship, I had asked to go to his place to cook a romantic dinner. He refused. He told me someone was crashing at his place and it was inconvenient. I assumed it was one of his frat brothers. I never imagined it was Valerie. I stood up and drove the heel of my red stiletto right into Eric’s shin. As he hissed in pain and lifted his leg, I quickly snatched my ring off the floor. I wiped it carefully against my dress, my voice dead calm. “So spare me the bullshit about how much you love me.” “It makes me sick.” I slid the ring back onto my finger. I completely ignored Eric, whose face looked like he was about to commit murder. I bypassed him and Valerie, walking straight back into the banquet hall. I planned to say a quick goodbye to the host and leave. But Valerie suddenly grabbed a random guest and blocked my path, projecting a sickly sweet aura of false concern. “Oh my gosh, Margaret was having a terrible episode in the bathroom just now! She looked like she was in so much pain.” “Our friend here is a psychiatrist. Why don’t we let him take a look at you!” She purposefully pitched her voice loud enough to grab the entire room’s attention again. Countless pairs of judging, maliciously curious eyes locked onto me. I frowned in deep discomfort. “I do not need help. I am fine.” Valerie took a step closer, pretending to be a caring friend. “Do not hide your illness, Margaret. You were so delusional just now you actually rejected Eric’s offer to get back together. How can you say you are fine?” She reached out to grab my arm. Pure reflex kicked in. I violently swatted her hand away. A second later, Valerie let out a dramatic shriek and stumbled backward, crashing directly into a massive champagne tower on the nearby table. Deafening glass shattered in every direction. Before I could process what happened, Eric shoved me hard in the chest. I lost my footing and crashed onto the floor, directly into the puddle of alcohol and broken glass. Black spots danced across my vision from the pain. Eric’s furious, biting voice echoed above me. “You really have lost your mind again, Margaret!” The entire hall fell dead silent, paralyzed by the sudden chaos. Eric’s accusation hung crystal clear in the air. Everyone stared at me in shock, their eyes looking at me like I was radioactive waste. The whispers started instantly. “Why would they let a psycho into the alumni gala?” “Someone call the hospital and have them drag this crazy bitch out of here.” “I feel so bad for Eric and Valerie. If I were them, I would have cut ties with a freak like Margaret years ago.” Every single mistake. Every single accident. Somehow, it was always my fault. The emotional stability I had fought so hard to build began to crack. I took a ragged, desperate breath, slowly pushing myself off the floor. Every instinct in my body screamed at me to run. But Eric grabbed my arm, his grip bruising. “You think you can just walk away after hurting Valerie?” “When did you become so completely irresponsible!” I curled my fingers into fists to hide how violently my hands were shaking. I forced myself to look at him. “Tell me how much you want. I will pay for the damages.” Eric’s jaw tightened. Before he could speak, Valerie started sobbing, complaining about the pain in her ankle. He immediately scooped her up into his arms, shooting me a look of pure disgust, ordering me to follow them to the hospital. He completely failed to notice the deep gash on my calf, blood steadily pouring down my leg from a jagged piece of glass. My face was devoid of emotion as I reached down and pulled the shard of glass out of my own skin. I limped my way out to the parking lot. Eric gently placed Valerie in the passenger seat of his car. She put up a pathetic, fake struggle. “This is Margaret’s seat. I should sit in the back.” Eric pushed her back down into the leather seat and buckled her in himself. “Do not worry about meaningless rules. She does not care about things like that anymore.” I kept pressure on my bleeding leg. I did not bother arguing. Five years ago, on the day we started dating, I had set a strict boundary with Eric. No other woman was ever allowed to sit in his passenger seat. He promised me instantly. But the very next day, when he initiated our breakup, he suffered total amnesia regarding that promise. He put Valerie in his passenger seat, exactly like he was doing right now. And he did it just to take her to the movies. Valerie looked at me through the open window, her face a mask of frightened innocence as she apologized. I ignored her completely. I pulled out my phone, pulled up my banking app, and shoved the screen toward Eric. “Give me your payment code. I will transfer the money to cover her medical bill right now.” Eric frowned, opening his mouth to reprimand me. Then, his eyes dropped. He finally noticed my leg, coated in fresh blood. His breath hitched. “You are bleeding that much and you did not say a word?!” “Are you an idiot, Margaret?!” Before I could answer, he grabbed me around the waist, practically throwing me into the backseat of the car and slamming the buckle into place. Right behind Valerie’s seat. In Eric’s world, I would always rank second to Valerie. The child safety locks clicked into place. I had zero chance of getting out. I demanded he let me out of the car. He let out a low, frustrated sigh. “Be good. Stop acting crazy. We are going to the hospital to get those cuts cleaned up.” The jealousy radiating from Valerie in the front seat was palpable. I stared blankly at the city lights blurring past the window. I did not speak another word. When we arrived at the emergency room, Eric reverted to form. He completely forgot about me. He sprinted out of the car, carrying Valerie in his arms as he rushed toward the sliding doors like she was dying of a terminal illness. I was left locked in the back. His parting words were simply, “I will come back to carry you in a minute.” Then he vanished. A full hour passed. Then two. The air in the sealed car grew dangerously thin. I gasped for breath, feeling the panic rising in my throat. I dialed 911 with shaking fingers. While I waited for the police, I frantically searched the backseat for something heavy to break the glass. I reached over the seat into the trunk area. I found a cardboard box packed full of my old things. My old makeup. Skincare I used to leave in his glovebox. And a gift I had given him. A violin. Eric was a music major. The violin was his absolute mastery. Years ago, he had played a solo in the courtyard that made every girl on campus swoon. I was one of them. I bought this violin for his birthday during the first year I realized I was in love with him. On the day of our breakup, right after he shattered my perfume bottle, he marched outside and threw this exact violin into the campus dumpster. I had no idea he had gone back and dug it out of the trash. The strings were pristine. The wood was polished. It had clearly been treated with the utmost care. My fingers traced the small engraving near the base. The initials S and T. Margaret and Eric. It survived all these years in perfect condition. It was absolutely sickening. Without a shred of hesitation, I grabbed the heavy neck of the violin and swung it with all my strength into the side window. The glass shattered outward in a spectacular explosion. The car alarm blared into the night. A few minutes later, the police escorted a completely frantic Eric out of the emergency room. Seeing me sitting in the back of the shattered car, my face pale as a ghost, all the blood drained from his face. His hands shook uncontrollably as he pulled the door open. He practically dragged me into his arms, burying his face in my neck, whispering apologies over and over again. I did not even have the energy to push him away. I let him carry me inside like a ragdoll. He demanded a nurse clean my wounds immediately. As the nurse poured antiseptic over the deep cut on my leg, she gave me a sympathetic look. “This is going to sting quite a bit. Try to hold still.” Before she even finished her sentence, Eric shoved his forearm directly against my lips. “Bite me if it hurts.” I glanced at his arm. He worked out often. His forearm was thick with muscle and faint blue veins. Right on the inside of his wrist was a faint, almost invisible smudge of lipstick. The exact shade Valerie was wearing tonight. I looked away. “No thanks.” The nurse smiled, trying to lighten the mood. “You guys are so cute! Hubby cannot stand seeing his wife in pain, and wife refuses to hurt her hubby.” Hearing her words, the panic in Eric’s eyes eased significantly. He did not correct her. He casually switched arms, offering me his clean wrist with a soft, coaxing smile. “Be a good girl. Bite down.” “You used to have the lowest pain tolerance in the world.” I did not reply. Eric conveniently forgot exactly what I had gone through. When I was shamelessly begging for him to come back to me, I had subjected myself to so much self-inflicted agony that physical pain simply stopped registering in my brain. From the second the nurse bandaged my leg until she walked out of the curtained room, I did not look at him a single time. Eric’s fragile ego finally snapped. He leaned over the hospital bed, grabbing my chin and forcing me to look at him, his teeth ground together in fury. “Fine. You win, Margaret.” “I will drop the apology thing. Is that what you want to hear!” “Everything you did to me in the past, I am willing to pretend it never happened.” His grip on my jaw loosened. His voice dropped into that intoxicating, gentle register he used on the day he confessed his love to me. “Let’s get back together.” I stared at him with empty eyes. I wanted to scream at him. I wanted to ask him what gave him the right to just “pretend it never happened.” What about my tears? What about my suffering? The words piled up in my throat, but the sheer exhaustion of dealing with him swallowed them whole. It just was not worth it. I let out a tired sigh. “I am married.” “I do not want to get back together with you. It is entirely impossible.” A suffocating, deathly silence filled the small hospital bay. Eric opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again. His eyes were bloodshot as he glared at me. “Are you really going to keep this up? You are using this ridiculous, pathetic excuse just to reject me?” “Are you trying to force me to the edge? Do I need to threaten to end my own life before you are finally satisfied?” “You just want revenge, don’t you!” I looked at him calmly. I shook my head. “You are not worth the effort.” I used to want revenge. I wanted to destroy him. Eric and I spent fifteen years growing up together. We knew each other like we knew our own reflections. That was why I could never process how he could just execute a cold turkey breakup. He severed me from his life so completely that we could not even be acquaintances. But over the last five years, things changed. My shattered, battered heart had been carefully, meticulously stitched back together by someone else. “I stopped needing you a very long time ago, Eric.” The moment the words left my mouth, my phone lit up with a notification. It was a voice memo from my husband. His deep, soothing voice played through the speaker. “Hey baby, what floor are you on?” “I am in the lobby.” A rush of absolute warmth flooded my chest. I pressed the microphone button to reply. But Eric’s hand shot out like a viper, clamping down on my wrist. His grip was terrifyingly strong. He stared at me, his eyes wild with accusation. “Who is that, Margaret?! Who is the man on your phone!”

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1 Right in the middle of our wedding preparations, my fiancé had to leave for a last-minute business trip. That night, we were on a FaceTime call. We were just going over the catering progress when the doorbell to his hotel room chimed. The door opened. A woman strolled into the frame, holding a bottle of Cabernet and two wine glasses. Without missing a beat, she playfully hooked her arm around his neck. “Finally managed to catch you. Drink with me.” James was forced to bend awkwardly under her grip. He looked at the screen with a helpless, apologetic smile. “Irene, let me introduce you. This is Sloane. We sat next to each other for three years in high school.” The woman did not let go. She just leaned in closer, peering at me through the screen. “Oh wow. Hey there, future wifey.” I offered a polite, totally detached smile. “Hello.” “Please take your arm off him.” Sloane’s smile froze for a split second before morphing into exaggerated shock. “Whoa, James! The one you bagged this time is pretty fierce, huh?” James hurriedly ducked out from under her arm, stepping toward the phone to explain. “Irene, do not misunderstand. Sloane and I are practically frat brothers. This is just how she is.” “Yeah exactly!” She laughed, totally unbothered. “I practically raised this guy. I am basically his wingman. A bro does not have inappropriate thoughts about her own buddy. Am I right?” She grinned shamelessly. James let out a helpless chuckle and kept defending her. “It is just a huge coincidence. Sloane happens to be one of the project managers for the company I am partnering with this week.” I knew this contract was massive for James’s firm. So, despite the bitter taste pooling in the back of my throat, I sat completely still and kept my mouth shut. Sloane casually pulled out a corkscrew, twisting it into the wine bottle as she completely changed the subject. “Oh, by the way, James. You have been a ghost in our fitness group chat lately. It has been forever since you dropped an abs pic for our approval.” I knew about that group chat. James had told me it was strictly a guys-only chat where his buddies posted their post-workout progress. Turns out, she was in it too. “Planning a wedding takes up all my free time,” James replied. “I barely have time to hit the gym.” “Pfft. Who told you to get married so young anyway?” James looked through the screen at me, a flicker of genuine tenderness in his eyes. “Irene has been by my side for three years. It is time I gave her a real home.” The female voice entirely ruined the moment. “Wow, you say that like I was not by your side for three years! If I knew you were handing out rings, I would have shamelessly demanded you give me a home right after graduation!” James just laughed and shook his head. “Stop messing around.” A cold scoff escaped my lips. The sickening discomfort in my chest was growing impossible to ignore. On the screen, Sloane could not pop the cork. She casually handed the bottle to James. He took it naturally, popping the cork with practiced ease. Sloane beamed at him. “Not bad, your workouts are paying off. Hey, check out my progress. Are my lines getting better?” She took a few steps back, posing in her low-cut silk slip dress, looking at him with absolute expectation. James smiled and nodded. “Yeah, looking good.” “Do not just look, feel it. I am telling you, I gained a lot of muscle lately, especially in my thighs.” She actually reached out, grabbing James’s hand and trying to pull it toward her leg. “Come on, do not be shy. I am the one letting you cop a feel, not the other way around…” My eyes turned glacial, but I maintained a terrifyingly polite tone. “Sloane, was it?” “Why do you not head back to your room? You can save the drinking for another time. We are busy tonight, so this is really inconvenient.” Maybe my tone was a little too composed. Sloane dropped his hand, but she made zero effort to leave. Instead, she looked at me with a mocking smirk. “Future wifey, we are just friends joking around. Are you seriously kicking me out?” James instantly jumped in to back her up. “Yeah, Irene. I basically view Sloane as another guy. It really is not what you think.” I looked at the very obvious curves pressing against Sloane’s thin silk slip, and I actually let out a laugh. “What kind of man walks into another person’s hotel room late at night wearing a low-cut silk negligee?” “Oh, wait. I get it. You are a cross-dressing gay man, right?” I looked at James with absolute, feigned seriousness. “Well, you cannot do that either, James. You are in danger too.” The air in the room instantly froze. Watching the smiles get wiped clean off both their faces, the corners of my mouth curled up higher. “Oh, come on. Just a joke. Sloane, you are a guy, right? Surely a tough bro like you would not hold a grudge against a woman over a little joke?” I blinked innocently at Sloane, whose face was turning a violent shade of red. But it was James who spoke first. “Irene. That joke crossed a line.” I feigned total shock. “How could it? I was just playing along with your narrative. Are guys really this sensitive?” Seeing James’s face darken, Sloane took a step forward, completely dropping the act. “Giving me an attitude the very first time we meet. Are you trying to put me in my place?” I batted my eyelashes, keeping my voice sweet. “No, not at all. Why do you jump to conclusions so easily? I was just joking. Was it not funny?” The second the words left my mouth, Sloane’s eyes filled with tears. “Fine. Fine, I am leaving. James, do not make things hard on yourself just because of me.” She turned and marched out of the room. The moment the door slammed shut, a heavy, suffocating silence fell over the screen. James rubbed his temples and let out a long, exhausted sigh. “She is literally just a friend. Why did you have to overreact like that?” “So what you are saying is, I should just sit here quietly and become a prop in your little roleplay?” “Irene! Can you please stop speaking to me so aggressively all the time!” Always. I laughed softly. Silence stretched across the connection. His jaw was clenched tight, refusing to say another word. The doorbell rang again. It was the late-night takeout I had ordered for him. He brought the food back to the desk. Just like he always did, he softened his tone first. “Look. We are getting married. Stop overthinking things, okay?” “I am going to go take a shower. You take a minute to cool off. I will call you right back.” The call ended. I sat on my couch, organizing my thoughts, figuring out exactly how to calmly communicate my boundaries when he called back. But midnight came and went. No call. James never broke a promise. When my calls and texts went completely unanswered, a rare spike of genuine panic hit my chest. I looked at the massive canvas wedding portrait hanging on our living room wall. Sleep was impossible. A minute later, I grabbed my car keys and headed for the elevator. I do not know what possessed me. I just knew I had to go see for myself. 2 Four and a half hours later, my car pulled into the parking lot of James’s hotel. I sat behind the wheel, staring up at the pitch-black sky, closing my burning eyes. If you had asked me three years ago, I never would have believed I could lose my mind over a man like this. Exhausted from the overnight drive, I walked into the lobby, planning to book a room and sleep for a few hours. But the moment I approached the front desk, I saw them. James and Sloane, dressed in matching athletic wear, laughing together as they walked through the lobby and out the sliding glass doors. Catching my intense stare, the receptionist smiled helpfully. “They are heading out to catch the sunrise. The peak nearby is famous for it. If you have time, miss, you should really check it out…” She did not even finish her sentence before I muttered a quick thanks and hurried after them. They were completely engrossed in their conversation. Because there were dozens of other tourists on the trail, they had absolutely no idea I was walking right behind them. I raised my hand, fully intending to call out James’s name. But Sloane’s voice drifted back to me. “…There is literally nothing I can eat on your wedding menu. Did you forget I am highly allergic to shellfish?” James nodded instantly. “Circle everything you cannot eat later. I will have the caterer swap the dishes out.” My hand froze in mid-air. I had attended three separate tastings and coordinated endlessly with our VIP guests to finalize that menu. And now, because Sloane complained, he was scrapping it without a second thought. “Aww, look at you being so sweet. Aren’t you worried she is going to throw a fit?” James’s voice was laced with a smile, but the words he spoke turned my blood to absolute ice. “She lost her parents when she was young. Her personality can be a bit extreme and paranoid. Just try to tolerate her.” I stared at the back of the man standing less than two feet away from me. A sharp, stinging burn hit the back of my nose. In the three years we dated, James knew my deepest, most agonizing trauma was being orphaned. He had sworn to me that he would spend the rest of his life making up for all the love I had been denied. But right here, right now, he casually handed over my deepest vulnerability for another woman to mock. Predictably, Sloane let out a cruel sneer. “Oh, so she is an orphan. And here I thought she was some spoiled heiress with the way she was disrespecting me.” James did not defend me. He just kept feeding into her narrative. “She was out of line yesterday, I know. That is why I deliberately left her on read last night. I guarantee she did not sleep a wink.” “Consider it my way of punishing her for you. Be the bigger person and let it go.” Sloane sounded incredibly smug. “Well, I am not a petty person. As long as you drink with me like you did last night, we are cool.” “Whenever you want, I am there.” “You said it! No taking it back!” My fingernails dug so deeply into my palms they almost broke the skin, but I felt absolutely nothing. So he did not forget. He did not fall asleep. He deliberately tortured me with anxiety all night just to appease Sloane. As their voices faded into the crisp morning air, I stopped walking. I stood there until the stinging in my eyes faded. Then, I turned around and walked back down the mountain. I had my answer. Following them to the peak was entirely pointless. On the hike down, my legs gave out from sheer exhaustion, and I nearly face-planted into the dirt. By the time I dragged myself into the driver’s seat, I looked like an absolute wreck. I stared at my reflection in the rearview mirror and let out a dry, pathetic laugh. Three years ago, James’s gentle, relentless pursuit broke through my walls. My friends told me I had turned into a completely different person. I used to worship my independence. Now, I willingly spent my evenings trying new recipes for him. I used to be completely untouchable. Now, I practically purred over the phone when he called. Most shockingly, the girl who swore she would never get married was suddenly planning a wedding. They warned me I was letting love make me stupid. I laughed them off. I thought because my career was thriving, I still held all the power. I genuinely believed I was the one in control. Until this exact moment. Looking at the dark circles under my eyes and the mud on my expensive boots, every red flag I had actively ignored suddenly came into sharp focus. Three months ago, when James proposed, I turned down a massive promotion that required relocation. My friends were furious. But I convinced myself that careers could be rebuilt, while true love only comes around once. I threw myself entirely into planning the wedding. In the beginning, James was fully invested. He went dress shopping. He picked out the photographer. Slowly, he got “busy.” He would leave appointments halfway through to take work calls. Eventually, his mother took his place entirely, and he went back to living like a bachelor. Meanwhile, I was constantly using up my vacation days to meet with vendors. I had been compromising my entire life away without even realizing it. As I sat there completely numb, my phone suddenly rang through the car’s Bluetooth. James’s voice filled the cabin. “Irene, the wedding planner just called me. They said they cannot reach you. You booked your bridal makeup trial for today, and the stylist is already waiting at our door…” He must have been standing at the summit. The howling wind battered the microphone, making the audio crackle. In the background, I could hear people cheering. “Wow, the sun is up!” “It is gorgeous! Take a picture!” It was so incredibly loud. Staring at the blinding rays of dawn breaking over the horizon, my voice was dead calm. “James, the wedding is canceled.” 3 “What?” He seemed to step away into a quieter spot. His voice came through clearer. “Irene, I did not catch that. I am hiking with a client right now, it is pretty loud.” Right. Because Sloane was his client. I had zero intention of arguing with him. “I will handle the wedding planner. Go back to work.” I was about to end the call when his voice spiked with sudden, nervous energy. Clearly, my freezing tone finally registered. “Are you still mad? Last night I took a shower and just passed out. I swear I did not ignore you on purpose. And when I woke up, it was so early, I knew you were a light sleeper so I did not want to wake you…” He was always so attentive. So detail-oriented. Turns out he applied that same skill to lying. I swallowed the lump in my throat and gave a vague, dismissive hum. James did not sense the absolute finality in my silence. He would have kept talking, but a high-pitched, whiny voice cut him off. “Come here! The good light is almost gone!” It was far away, but it was unmistakable. It did not matter anymore. I hung up the phone. I slumped back against the leather seat, taking a few minutes to force my heart rate down. Then, I called the wedding planner, apologized profusely, paid the stylist a cancellation fee, and told them to go home. Without resting, I put the car in drive and sped straight back to the house James and I shared. Since the wedding was off, there was a mountain of shared assets and personal belongings I needed to deal with. I wanted it done immediately. But I completely underestimated what the physical and emotional toll had done to my body. Halfway home, a massive fever hit me like a truck. I dragged my burning body into the apartment and collapsed into bed, slipping into a dark, suffocating sleep. I had so many nightmares. I dreamed of the night my parents died in the crash. The rain was so freezing cold. Then I was back in the orphanage. The porridge was always scalding hot, but the caretakers would scream at us to eat it faster. Then middle school. A kid told me I was unwanted trash. I lunged at him, ready to tear his face off. But when the boy turned around, it was James. He was smiling. “Look at you, Irene. Nobody wants you.” My entire world collapsed into an endless, dark void. I cried endlessly. But no sound came out. … I do not know how much time passed. The relentless buzzing of my phone finally pulled me out of the dark. I slowly forced my eyes open. My screen was flooded. Confirmation sketches from the custom jeweler. The finalized catering contract from the hotel manager. And a barrage of missed calls and texts from James’s mother. But the most messages were from James himself. “Irene, the planner said you canceled the trial. Did something go wrong?” “My mom said you two were supposed to pay the venue deposit today. She cannot reach you. Where are you?” “Pick up the phone.” … “I asked the building management to check if your car is in the garage. If it is, I am having them unlock the door to make sure you are okay.” That last message was sent two minutes ago. James knew I never disappeared without a word. I never broke commitments. That was why he was panicking. I frowned, pushing myself up, and dialed his number. He picked up on the first ring, his voice frantic. “Irene? Where are you?” “I am fine. I just caught a bug and slept through the day. Tell building management to stand down.” “You are sick? Did you go to the doctor?” “No need. I am better. When are you coming back? We need to talk.” He hesitated for a second. A sharp, familiar voice suddenly invaded the call. “Oh wow, she is sick? Then we definitely need to hurry back.” “A delicate little housewife like her cannot just push through it like us career women. She needs to be coddled.” I listened to Sloane’s aggressive sarcasm with absolute ice in my veins. It was a shame she was not standing in front of me, or I would have taught her some manners with the back of my hand. James coughed awkwardly. “Irene, get some rest. I will be home soon.” I ended the call, took a hot shower, forced down some takeout, and went back to sleep. When I finally heard the front door click open, the sun had already set. James pushed the bedroom door open quietly. I sat up and switched on the bedside lamp. The warm light illuminated his exhausted face. He had clearly rushed all the way back. His voice was incredibly gentle. “Did I wake you?” Looking at his worried eyes, I had to admit that tearing this love out of my chest was going to take a little time. I shook my head. I opened my mouth to speak, but a head popped into the doorway. “Oh, you are still in bed?” Meeting Sloane’s mocking gaze, the last lingering shreds of affection in my eyes vaporized instantly. I turned my head to stare at James. He immediately started explaining. “Sloane has some business to handle in the city. She does not know anyone here, so I figured she could crash with us for a few days.” “Crash where?” “We have a guest room, right?” “A guest room?” My voice was lethal. “You mean the nursery?” Aside from the master bedroom, the only other rooms with beds were my home office and James’s gym. And the nursery. When he first suggested converting the spare room into a nursery, I was entirely against it. The responsibility of raising a child terrified me. I was not ready. But James dragged me to furniture stores. We picked out the ceiling lights, the plush rugs, the exact shade of pastel paint… His endless patience and excitement slowly broke down my walls. He told me he did not care if it was a boy or a girl, as long as they looked exactly like me. Eventually, I actually started looking forward to it. And now, he was handing that room over to Sloane. Hearing my tone, James frowned in disapproval.

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