I signed my new lease and hit “send” on the email to Damian. The wedding is off. An auto-reply hit my inbox. Noted. Olivia choked on her champagne. “That’s it? The invites go out next week!” “A cold email?” “My last breakup took three months of lawyers!” I swirled the Burgundy. “He didn’t even read it. His AI filters his inbox.” I pushed my phone to her. A sea of blue checkmarks. Years of long texts. His only reply? Received. I thought I was numb. Until last night. I found his private iPad. Unlocked. There was a sixty-second voice memo. Played all the way through. In that moment, the delicate scale I had spent eight years trying to balance finally shattered. …… Damian was asleep beside me. The screen lit up my face. I opened our chat. Rows of unplayed voice notes. Red dots. A tear slipped down my cheek. Damian hated inefficiency. Voice memos were a waste of time. Long texts were too emotional. Over the years, I learned to swallow it. But that sixty-second memo? It was from Chloe Vance. It cut me straight to the bone. His so-called “top-tier business partner.” They talked market trends. They chased the next big thing. Wrapped in Wall Street jargon. Their chat history was a hundred times longer than ours. He didn’t hate texting. He just didn’t love me. Damian shifted in the dark. His heavy arm pulled me against his chest. “Baby…” “Come here.”

I didn’t move. He smelled like cedar and expensive leather. That scent used to calm me down. Now it just broke my heart. Even in his sleep, he reached for me. I wanted to shake him awake. I wanted a screaming match worthy of our eight years. But I was just too tired. Lying right in his arms, this king-size bed never felt so empty. …… The next day, I called a broker. Two weeks later, I signed a lease for a loft in Soho. Damian never noticed a thing. He even kissed my forehead while I was on the phone with the movers. His mind was already on his board meeting. After dinner with Olivia, I went back to our Upper East Side penthouse. His family bought it for our wedding. I didn’t need to come back today. I already packed up all my things. I only left behind the expensive jewelry he gave me. But I wanted to see it for myself. Damian could spot a market shift in seconds. I wanted to see how long it took him to realize his fiancée was gone. The front door clicked open. Damian strolled in, casually loosening his cufflinks. “You’re home early.” No panic. No questions. He never even opened the email.

I opened my mouth, but the words died in my throat. “What? Is Jean-Georges canceled?” He frowned at the empty dining table. Every Tuesday, I booked his favorite Michelin-starred restaurant. I just stared at him in silence. Damian dropped his briefcase. He walked straight into his home office. Through the heavy oak door, I heard him typing. Then came the low murmur of a phone call. I knew it was Chloe. We used to fight about her all the time. He always turned it around on me. “Ava, we share a bed every night.” “If it’s a real emergency, call my assistant.” “Chloe is different. We have a nine-figure deal on the table.” “You want me to lose millions just to babysit your feelings?” His ‘Wall Street efficiency’ was a weapon. It always shut me up. I rubbed my temples and retreated to the bedroom. When I came back out, the private chef was finishing up.  There was only one plate on the long dining table. He didn’t even order for me.

I gripped the back of the empty chair. “Why is there only one plate?” Damian didn’t even look up from his files. “You’re eating?” “I thought you were strictly on your pre-wedding diet.” If he had looked at me for one more second, he would have seen my tears. He didn’t look up. His eyes stayed glued to the pages. I pulled out the chair across from him. “Damian, we need to talk.” Before I even sat down, he was already on his feet. He grabbed his suit jacket. “No time.” “Chloe and I have a charity gala preview.” “We’re already late.” The heavy front door slammed shut. I was left alone with his cold steak and an empty chair. The silence in our Central Park penthouse was deafening. Then, a faint voice drifted from his home office. His AirPods lay abandoned on the desk. Still connected to his open laptop. Chloe’s voice leaked from the tiny earpieces. “Are we going to the Monaco F1 Grand Prix next month?” “I’ve been dying to go!” Then came Damian’s recorded reply. “Already on it.” “I secured VIP passes last week.” “It was supposed to be a surprise.” Chloe’s giggles filled the room. “You know me better than anyone!” Every single word hit me like a freight train. For Chloe, he planned weeks ahead. For Chloe, he planned surprises. For me, I only ever got his favorite excuse. “She’s a partner. You’re my fiancée. It’s different.” If this was what being his wife meant… I’d rather be a stranger.

Footsteps echoed. Damian walked right back in for his AirPods. He froze when he saw my face.  Beep. The call disconnected. He lunged to kill the audio. Too late. He frowned in confusion. “What’s with that look?” “Ava, are you losing your mind again?” “We have a fitting at Vera Wang tomorrow at 10 AM.” “Did you forget?” My voice was razor-sharp. I barely recognized it. Damian rubbed his temples. “I’m flying out with Chloe tomorrow.” “We have a meeting with a European fund manager.” “The tickets are booked.” He didn’t even pause to think. “It’s just a dress, Ava.” “Go by yourself. Don’t you trust my taste?” “Or take Olivia.” In one second, he replaced me. A once-in-a-lifetime wedding dress? Totally useless. Networking with his “partner”? Top priority. “No.” I didn’t blink. Damian stared at the stock charts on his screen. Chloe’s voice still nagged through his earpiece. He finally lost his patience. “Ava Sterling! Can I have my own career?” “Do I have to revolve around you 24/7 just because we’re getting married?” Revolve around me? A bitter laugh escaped. He was unreachable all day. His nights belonged to Chloe and their conference calls. Every detail of our wedding was dumped on me. My time is money. You handle the little things. That was his favorite excuse. His world was packed with VIPs and big deals. I was just background noise in his grand blueprint. I looked at him. My chest was hollow. “Damian.” “Am I the only one getting married here?”

“You’re being dramatic.” He slipped his AirPods back in and turned his back on me. “God, women are exhausting.” He muttered into the mic. “Thank god you’re not high-maintenance, Chloe.” Chloe’s crisp laughter echoed through the room. We met at an NYU alumni gala. Back then, he actually made time for me. He skipped networking events just to walk with me by the Hudson River. He bought a twenty-thousand-dollar painting at the gallery just because I glanced at it. But he set his boundaries from day one. “I hate inefficiency.” “Texts and calls need a clear purpose.” “I am like this with everyone.” I bought that excuse for eight years. Then I saw his chat with Chloe. They sent endless paragraphs. They shared inside jokes. Their messages were full of pure warmth. I saw his comments under every single one of her LinkedIn posts. His words were always perfectly supportive. He stayed up at 2 AM discussing life philosophy with her. He never shared a single moment of vulnerability with me. It was like a needle to the chest. It slowly chipped away at me every single day. That night, Damian never came to bedroom. He locked himself in his office until sunrise.

The next morning, I stuck a post-it note right on his Wall Street Journal. Vera Wang. 10 AM. We need to talk. AI could filter his emails. He could ignore my voice notes. But he couldn’t miss black ink on white paper. I forgot one thing. He didn’t miss it. He just didn’t care. I sat alone in the VIP suite at Vera Wang. Happy couples walked in and out all day. The staff refilled my sparkling water five times. Finally, the boutique director walked in. “Miss Sterling… we’re closing up for the night.” The pity in her eyes was humiliating. I walked home numb. I refreshed Chloe’s Instagram over and over again. Her latest post went up thirty minutes ago. Another huge win! Time to celebrate. The photo showed a high-end sushi bar. In the corner of the frame was a man’s hand holding a sake cup. A limited-edition Patek Philippe wrapped around his wrist. Damian. Moving out was my final test. This was the final straw. I was done. Right below our apartment building was a jazz club we used to frequent. Through the dim light, I saw a familiar silhouette. He had his back to me. Chloe sat across from him, laughing brightly. She spotted me first. Damian finally turned around. The loud jazz music faded out. A dead silence suffocated our table. “Ava! Oh my god, sit down!” Chloe patted the empty seat next to her. “How was the fitting?” “I bet the dress looked stunning on you!” She flashed a bright, plastic smile.

Damian’s knuckles turned white around his whiskey glass. He didn’t wait for me to speak. He flagged down the waiter. “We need another dozen oysters.” “Truffle fries.” “And the mango mousse.” He was guilty. This was his way of smoothing things over. The dessert arrived quickly. He pushed the plate toward me. “Eat up. Their mango mousse is amazing.” I stared at the yellow pastry. I didn’t move a muscle. Damian frowned in confusion. “What’s wrong?” “You love mangoes.” Chloe let out an obnoxious giggle. “Damian, you’re terrible at this!” “I’m the one obsessed with mangoes!” Damian rubbed his temples. A rare flash of embarrassment crossed his face. “Sorry, Ava. I mixed it up.” He didn’t mix it up. He just never cared. I planned every detail of our eight years together. He never had to try. But he didn’t just forget my favorite food. He forgot one crucial detail. I am deathly allergic to mangoes. I picked up the silver spoon. I scooped up a large piece of the mousse. I locked eyes with Damian, my fork trembling, and took the bite. They watched me in stunned silence. I finished the entire plate. By midnight, I was rushed to the ER. Anaphylactic shock. I woke up to the harsh fluorescent lights. Damian was gripping the edge of my hospital bed. Panic washed over his face. “Dammit, Ava!” “I forgot you were allergic!”

His guilt finally caught up to him. He canceled a week’s worth of meetings just to sit by my hospital bed. Suddenly, he was the flawless fiancé. “Your husband is amazing.” The nurse smiled enviously. Damian was adjusting my pillows. I watched him fuss over me. I felt nothing. Amazing? If he was amazing, I wouldn’t be in this bed. Through three hours of IV drips, he never left my side. He didn’t touch his phone once. On the drive home, something finally clicked in his brain. “You left a note yesterday.” “You said we needed to talk.” “What was it about?” My hand froze on the seatbelt. He saw the note. He remembered it all along. I shook my head and clicked the belt into place. “It’s nothing.” There was nothing left to say. We stepped out of the elevator. Chloe was waiting right outside our penthouse door. Damian’s face filled with regret. “Chloe, I’m so sorry.” “I completely forgot our project review.” Chloe pouted, playing the perfect victim. “You ignored my texts.” “My calls went straight to voicemail.” “I thought something terrible happened to you!” “So… are we still working?” Damian looked back at me. He was completely torn. I ignored him and walked inside. Damian followed me in. He kept his voice low. “Let me get you settled in bed.” “Chloe and I will do a quick meeting in the office.” “We won’t make a sound.” Chloe slipped inside right behind him. I looked at them with dead eyes. “Suit yourself.”

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For three years, Kael and I were bonded. To the entire Blackrock wolf pack, he was the icon of loyalty. After every hunt, he made a grand public display. He’d carve out the heart of the kill and present it to me. Declaring in the Old Tongue: “For my fated mate.” I always accepted, playing my part in the charade. The powerful mate, cherished by our future Alpha. It was all a beautiful lie. In three years, his most romantic gesture? He brushed my black and shiny fur in my wolf form, once, during a full moon. That was the extent of his private devotion. That all changed on the day we were meant to move. Into the new den, built for the future Alpha couple. In his stone chest of old texts, I found a journal. It was bound in animal hide, ancient and worn. Every page was filled with delicate wolf runes. Detailing rituals, moonlight intensity, and herbal remedies. The handwriting was gentle, full of care. Nothing like his usual harsh, forceful script. “Seraphina can’t stand Sunfire Herb. Grind the moonstone to powder for her. The ritual water must be pristine, no trace of blood.” My hands trembled as I flipped to the last entry. The date was the third blood moon after our bonding. I remembered that night vividly. A piece of silver had burned my skin. My fever was so high, I could barely hold my human form. I sent him three desperate mindlink pleas. He told me he was patrolling the pack borders. But his journal told a different story. “She wanted a soul-soothing moon bath today. I channeled lunar energy for her for three hours. She was so happy.” I slowly closed the book and placed it back exactly where I found it. The movers asked where the stone chest should go in our new den. My voice was perfectly calm when I answered. “Leave it. He can have it. Along with this entire den.” After his patrol, his voice echoed in my mental link. “I’ve seen the new den, Ella. The perch is the perfect height. I can watch over you so much better from there.” A cold smile touched my lips. I sent one final message before severing our link forever. “Don’t bother. My name isn’t in your ritual journal.” … “You touched my rune journal?” Kael stormed in, his brow knotted in fury. The journal in animal hide lay open on the stone table between us. I just sat on the fur rug, watching his chest heave from his frantic sprint back here. “I was looking for a territory scroll,” I said, my voice flat. “Happened to see it by accident.” His eyes flickered to the journal, his tone shifting to annoyed pity. “That’s just some healing rituals I jotted down for a fragile friend, ages ago. Is that why you sent that insane message? Threatening to sever our bond over this?” He stepped closer, reaching to wrap his arms around me. That familiar gesture he used to claim his property. I recoiled from his touch. “Jotted down?” I locked my eyes onto his. “Every page notes the exact phase of the moon. The herbal doses are measured to the last grain. It even says she hates the smell of Sunfire Herb. That the ritual water must be the first snowmelt from the highest peak.” I slid the journal right across the table to him. “So you tell me, Kael. Which ‘friend’ earns three years of your life? A whole book of healing rituals, written only for her?”

Kael’s hand froze mid-air. The warmth in his eyes turned to ice. “Ella, are you seriously picking a fight right now? I am drowning in pack business, and I still made time to plan our new home. I’m focused on our future, on securing our status as the Alpha pair. And you’re in here, digging up old ghosts.” His voice dripped with the false sting of being wronged. If I hadn’t seen the date on that final page… I would have caved, just like I always did. I would have apologized for daring to question his loyalty. But not this time. “The last page,” I said, cutting through his performance. “The date was the day that silver burned me, the day I was consumed by fever. I sent you three mindlinks for help. You told me you were fighting rogue wolves at the border. But your journal says you spent three hours with her. Channeling moonlight to heal her ‘soul wounds’.” His jaw tightened as he saw it. He opened his mouth, scrambling for another lie. But a soft sound came from the den’s entrance. Seraphina drifted in, a pouch of rare herbs in her hand. Her gaze fell on the open journal, and her eyes flickered. “Kael… you promised me she would never find out.”

So this journal was their little secret. And I, the “fated mate,” was the only one in the dark. Kael shot to his feet and went straight to her. “What are you doing here? I told you to wait for me.” All the anger in his voice vanished, replaced by a gentle murmur. “My chest started to hurt…” Seraphina whispered, head bowed. “I was worried you couldn’t find the right herbs, so I brought them.” She held out the small pouch. His brow creased with worry. “The pain is back? Did you absorb the moonlight today?” He looked down at her, his eyes swimming with concern. I watched them, lost in their own little world. A world of primal, protective instinct that didn’t include me. I’d seen enough. I stood and walked to the mouth of the den. “Ella, where are you going?” Kael finally snapped back to reality, his head whipping towards me. “Hunting,” I said, brushing past them both. I pushed aside the curtain of vines at the entrance. “Can you stop?” His hand shot out, clamping down on my wrist. “Seraphina’s old injury is flaring up. I’m taking her back to heal. We will talk about this later.” He said it like I was the one in the wrong. His eyes blazed with blame. I stared down at his hand on my wrist. Then, slowly, deliberately, I ripped my arm free. “Fine.” I took a step back, out of the den’s shadows. The cool moonlight washed over me. Seraphina finally lifted her gaze to meet mine. Her eyes were wide, her voice trembling and small. “Ella… if I’m getting in the way, I’ll go.”

I stared at Seraphina’s carefully crafted innocent face, saying nothing. The look on Kael’s face turned to thunder. “Why are you looking at her like that?” he snarled. “She’s fragile. She can’t handle your oppressive aura.” He physically shielded her with his body. “I’m not doing anything.” My voice was ice. “I’m making room for you two.” I turned without another word and vaulted from the rock, melting into the deep woods. Kael didn’t follow me. But just as the darkness swallowed me whole… My wolf hearing caught his low, soothing voice. “Don’t mind her. She just gets like this. It’ll blow over.” So that’s all my anger was to him. Cheap and meaningless. I sat by the creek at the edge of our territory for hours. I only went back after I sensed his presence leave her den. He was returning to our home. Pushing back the vines, I found the den silent. The journal on the table was gone, of course. I went to the inner chamber to wash my hands. And my eyes snagged on something new by the basin. It was a small pendant, carved from moonstone. I only wear obsidian. This one reeked of her scent. I stared at it for a long, cold moment. Back in the main room, I sat on the fur rug. And there, caught in the fibers, was a single strand of silver-white hair. My fur is jet black. I pinched the hair between my fingers. My gaze fell on the Echo Crystal. “Show me today,” I commanded in a low whisper. A blue light swirled to life inside the stone. An image flickered, and Seraphina’s voice filled the silence. “Kael, this wall hanging is so dark. Let’s get a moon-colored one instead.” Then came his reply, his voice thick with a sickening fondness. “Alright. Whatever makes you happy.” I watched the memory fade. There was no tearing pain in my chest. Just a cold, primal fury. The feeling of my territory being invaded. This wasn’t a recent betrayal. She had been seeping into our life, our home. Poisoning everything, drop by drop.

Kael came back late into the night. He was holding a freshly killed snow rabbit. My favorite. “Caught it for you while passing the cedar grove,” he said. His voice dripped with condescension as he unbuckled his gear. “Look, about today… I was out of line. I shouldn’t have snapped.” He moved closer, trying to dissolve the tension in the air. “Seraphina has no one else in this pack, Ella. I just look out for her sometimes. You shouldn’t read so much into it.” I stared at his face, a mask of false sincerity. “What herbs did you use on it?” I asked. He blinked, thrown by the sudden question. Then he smiled. “Rosemary. Your favorite, of course.” My eyes drifted to the perfectly cleaned rabbit. “I’m allergic to rosemary, Kael.” The air in the den went dead silent. His hand froze on his belt buckle, panic flashing in his eyes. “I… I must have gotten them mixed up. I wasn’t thinking.” He tried to sound casual, but the confidence was gone from his voice. “You didn’t get them mixed up,” I said, rising to my feet. I looked straight into his eyes. “You mistook her favorite for mine.” He swallowed hard, his gaze darting away. He reached for the rabbit. “Fine, my mistake. I’ll toss it and hunt you a new one tomorrow.” He just wanted to make it all go away. “Don’t,” I said, stopping him cold. Kael paused, turning back to face me. “So when you’re out ‘patrolling’… Are you really just visiting her den?”

Kael threw the rabbit on the ground. “Ella, what the hell do you want?” His jaw was tight, his eyes burning into me. “I already said I was sorry. Are you going to crucify me over one mistake?” “One mistake?” I let the words hang in the air. “So bringing another female wolf’s things into our den… forcing her preferences on me… that’s just one mistake?” I pulled out the moonstone pendant and slapped it down on the stone table. “Then whose is this?” Kael’s eyes darted to the pendant, then away. “Seraphina must have left it. She stayed over once.” “Stayed over?” A cold, humorless laugh escaped my lips. “When was she staying over? Why didn’t I know?” He dragged a hand through his hair in frustration. “While you were at the Mountain Alliance summit. Her den flooded. She just needed a place for two nights. It was two nights! Why are you interrogating me like a criminal?” He sounded so offended. Like I was the one being unreasonable. I turned my back on him. I walked into our chamber and dragged my pack from under the bed. Kael followed right behind me. The color drained from his face when he saw it. “What are you doing?” He lunged forward, his hand clamping down on my pack. “Packing.” I brushed his hand off, my voice dangerously calm. “Don’t you dare threaten to walk out on me, Ella!” His voice cracked, jumping an octave. “We are about to move into the new Alpha den! Who is this little show for?” I ignored him, opening my chest. I began laying out my armor and weapons, piece by piece. “Answer me!” He grabbed my shoulders, whipping me around to face him. “I already explained. She’s like a sister to me!” “What kind of sister mindlinks her brother in the dead of night for ‘comfort’?” I stared right through him. “What kind of sister gets to redecorate our future home?”

For a moment, Kael was speechless. He let his hands fall, taking a full step back. I ignored him and went back to my packing. Then I pulled open a drawer and found a folded blueprint. I unrolled the plans for our new den. The margins were covered in notes, scrawled in red berry ink. “Lower the resting platform by three feet.” “Move the water channel closer to the Moon Well.” “Custom-build the weapon rack to this design.” A shopping list was attached to the back. A pale green moss carpet. Bowls with tiny, burned-in flowers. And a warming nest, for a sick pup. I despise green and never use patterned things. I certainly don’t need a warming nest. This was all hers. All for Seraphina. I shoved the blueprint right in his face. “So this is you planning our future, thinking all the time about how to take care of me?” Kael paled as he stared at the red ink. “The builders got it wrong. I just haven’t fixed it yet.” He was still lying. And his excuses were getting pathetic. I threw the plans into the fire pit. “Kael. Who is this new den really for?” He took a deep breath, his eyes turning to ice. “Ella, don’t make this ugly.”

“What is it you want to say?” I stopped what I was doing, watching him. Kael pointed to the blueprints curling into ash in the fire. “I earned this den defending our borders in the last raid. I’m the one overseeing its construction. Seraphina gave me a few suggestions. That’s it. Who are you to stand there and question me?” A laugh escaped my lips, cold and full of rage. So that’s how he saw it. I didn’t even have the right to an opinion about my own home. “Fine.” I nodded, pulling the leather straps of my pack tight. “The den is yours. The credit is yours. And Seraphina is yours. I’m giving it all back.” I grabbed my pack and started for the entrance. Kael blocked my path. “Today is our bonding anniversary.” He was barely holding onto his temper, playing his last emotional card to make me stay. “I’ve already prepared the Oath Hunt. For the Shadow Panther you’ve always wanted. We complete the ritual, seal our bond with its blood… And we put this all behind us. Okay?” He laid out my future like it was a gift he was granting me. Just then, the comms crystal on his belt lit up. A unique pulse. It was Seraphina.

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Eight figures! Thanks to my dad’s VC fund, that’s what my startup, Aetheria, was worth after I graduated. I’m a total tech geek, always hated networking and public speaking. So I pushed my boyfriend, Leo, to be the face of the company. Big mistake. The charismatic CEO. He has been playing that part to the outside world ever since. Over time, his ego spiraled out of control. He actually believes this company can’t function without him. All of a sudden, he calls an emergency board meeting. Saying it’s for “Corporate restructuring.” He sidelines me to the very edge of the boardroom table. He begins talking about his major blueprint. Then he turns the entire table against me. Armed with a flashy pitch deck, he plays the righteous hero. “Board members, as harsh as this may sound, I propose the immediate termination of our co-founder and CTO — Miss Chloe Sterling.” “Her long-time absence from critical pitches brings zero value to our market growth, which makes her Aetheria’s biggest liability.” “To put it bluntly, she’s holding us back!” “I will bring in a new tech partner to take us to the next level.” Then, he leans down, whispering with toxic satisfaction: “Babe, once the board votes you out, your equity will be diluted to nothing.” “This company is mine to take now. Just sit back and be a good little trophy wife.” I stare at him, unfazed. Then, I open my laptop and mirror my screen to the projector. “You think I’m just a clueless nerdy girl you can step on?” “I just didn’t want all those networking, and you’ve been my free puppet. Did you seriously think you call the shots at Aetheria?” … The smug smirk vanishes from Leo’s face. He stares at the screen, completely frozen. He’s looking at a bulletproof, super-voting Founder’s Agreement, signed in red ink by my father — Julian Sterling. The new tech guy waiting to replace me turns ghostly pale. “How… how do you actually have super-voting power? Even your damn emails had to be handled by your assistant!” Mr. Harvey, my dad’s general counsel and a board member himself, adjusts his gold-rimmed glasses, dropping the hammer. “Miss Sterling owns the exclusive patents to every single core algorithm of Aetheria.” “Furthermore, under the Series A terms, her Golden Shares grant her absolute veto power over the entire board.” Mr. Harvey hands me a stack of documents, then shoots Leo a death glare. “Mr. Martinez, what do you think you’re doing? Is this board a joke to you?” “You colluded with outsiders to dilute a core founder’s equity.” “This is corporate fraud! You’ve breached your fiduciary duties!” “I can strip you of every asset, every stock option, and ruin your career before dinner!”

Leo’s so scared his knees go weak. He slams his laptop shut, instantly groveling to Mr. Harvey. “Mr. Harvey, it’s a misunderstanding! Chloe was never interested in our operations, I just thought… Just take it as a couple’s quarrel, please, ignore us!” “Couple’s quarrel? Is this a joke to you?” I cut him off, cold as ice. I stand up, walk straight to the head of the table, and slam my laptop down. “Your office keys. Corporate AmEx. Hand them over.” Leo clutches his suit pocket, his face turning ashen, refusing my order. “Chloe, please don’t make a scene, okay? The board is watching! At least show me some respect!” He drops his voice, adding a pathetic edge of threat. “Aetheria is scaling fast now. We’re at the key stage of expansion. Those VCs only recognize my face!” “You’re just a tech girl behind the scenes. What do you know about closing multi-million dollar deals?” “Be a good wife. Let me stay on as CEO. I promise I won’t use the board against you again.” I almost laugh out loud at his sheer, shameless audacity. “Those investors show up for my father, Julian Sterling, not you.” “You are just a broke gold-digger who mooches off my credit card.” “Who do you think you are?” I don’t even blink, nodding directly to the Head of Security. “Throw him out.” Leo is caught off guard. Two muscular security guards drag him out of the room like a bag of trash. Out in the hallway, the entire office erupts into whispers, everyone pointing fingers at him. His fragile ego shatters. Feeling totally humiliated, he thrashes around like a maniac, screaming at the glass doors: “Chloe Sterling! Don’t push your luck! You’re just a woman who doesn’t know any business! You wanna be the CEO? What a joke!” “Fire me today, and you’ll be begging on your knees for me to pitch your investors again! And I won’t say yes!” I don’t even give him a second glance. I take my rightful seat as CEO at the head of the table, making my announcement to the board. “Sorry, everyone. Let’s continue. Agenda number one: Immediate termination of Leo Martinez from all duties at Aetheria.”

I spin my leather chair around, coldly watching him get dragged away. “Free puppets are a dime a dozen. That backstabbing jerk had his chance. He won’t touch a single dollar of this company for the rest of his life.” I press the intercom button, my voice echoing across the entire executive floor: “Freeze all corporate access for Leo Martinez immediately. Revoke his keycard. As of today, this man has zero affiliation with Aetheria.” Early the next morning, the intercom to my penthouse wouldn’t stop buzzing. The second I crack the door open, Leo’s mother, Mrs. Martinez, pushes her way inside like a hurricane, plopping down on my Hermès sofa. Leo trails in behind her, sulking. “Chloe, you’ve got some nerve! Hiding the Golden Shares from our Leo this whole time? Are you treating my son like a thief?? He’s your boyfriend, for god’s sake!” Mrs. Martinez glares at me, her voice dripping with venom. “Well, since you’re officially the CEO now, I guess that works. Just assign Leo a personal chauffeur for his commute. It’s the least you can do as his fiancée.”

Did I hear that right? I lean against the wall, staring at this mother-son duo in disbelief. “Get him a personal chauffeur?” “You heard me.” Mrs. Martinez rolls her eyes, shamelessly dropping her real demand. “Oh, and, Leo’s younger brother has an interview on Wall Street next month. Hand him back the CEO title tomorrow.” “That way, his brother can put it on his resume. Having a sibling as the CEO of a unicorn company. It looks good on paper.” “Besides, you’re a young girl. Parading around in a room full of men? People will think you slept your way to the top! This company needs to be run by the Martinez family!” Is she hearing herself? She’s actually talking to me like that? Instead of stopping her, Leo takes a step forward, putting on his usual hypocritical mask. “Chloe, my mom may be harsh on words, but she has a point. An eight-figure company is way too much for a woman to handle.” “I’m the only one who can hit the golf course with those high-rollers as CEO. Only then will people see us as a real powerhouse, and close the big deals. It’s for our own good. Don’t you think?”

His shameless face makes my stomach turn. “Did you forget to take your meds before going out today? What century are you living in?” I stand up straight, staring them down coldly. “My dad funded this company, and my code built it. Wanna pad your deadbeat brother’s resume with my company? You Martinez family… I can smell the desperation from a mile away.” Mrs. Martinez snaps, jumping up from the couch, shoving her finger directly in my face, screaming: “How dare you talk to me like that, you little brat! You’re getting married sooner or later. We’ll share the same fortune anyway!” “In your dreams, you old hag!” I smack her hand out of my face, walk straight to the entrance, ripping the door open for them. “Now, get the hell out of my house! Or I will have security throw you both out like homeless trespassers.” Leo’s face contorts with rage, his teeth clenched as he glares at me. “Chloe Sterling, don’t push it too far! It’s just a title. Why are you treating me like the enemy?” “Did I not make myself clear?” I pull out my phone, dialing the front desk number immediately. “Hello, security? This is Penthouse A. I have two psychopaths trespassing in my place…” Seeing that I’m getting serious, Mrs. Martinez panics, grabbing Leo’s arm and cursing at me as they back out the door. “You’ll pay for this! You cheap bitch! Leo is going to dump you anyway!” I slam the heavy door shut, locking out the toxicity of that pathetic family. Leaning against the door, I replay replay Leo’s frantic, unhinged desperation in my head. My brows slowly knit together out of suspicion.

Something feels off. Leo is obsessed with his image. He usually plays the sophisticated gentleman in front of outsiders. But today? First, he tried a board coup, and now he lets his mom barge into my house to strong-arm me. His obsession with this company is getting way out of hand. Why is he so desperate to steal the company from me? What dirty business exactly is he pulling behind my back? To find out what he’s really up to, I head straight to the company data center early the next morning. When I first built our internal comm system, I left a master-access for myself. So I can pull every server log and recording backup — including Leo’s internal office lines. I trusted him so blindly that I never bothered to look at his logs before. I pull up his call history and surveillance footage from the past month. The progress bar loads. A whiny, high-pitched voice echoes from the speakers. “Leo, you are so impressive. When we merge next month, I wanna be co-CEO!” In the video, a woman caked in makeup is leaning against the desk in Leo’s former office, adjusting his tie while flirting. Leo holds a glass of scotch in one hand, while his other hand slides around her waist, like he’s done it a thousand times. He’s grinning like he owns the world. “Not just a merge, babe. What’s mine is yours. I built this eight-figure powerhouse from scratch. It’ll all belong to our kids someday.” Those words make my blood run cold. My knuckles turn white against the mouse.

The timestamp on the footage is last Friday night. That night, Leo texted me saying there was an urgent PR matter, that he had to pull an all-nighter, and told me not to wait up for him. Now I realize it. His “all-nighter” was all about bringing that bitch into my office, plotting to steal my life’s work! I’ve always preferred to keep a low profile. Throughout my four years at college, basic hoodies and ordinary backpacks were my everyday outfit. I also kept a complete secret about my dad. That he is the VC tycoon, Julian Sterling. Leo always believed I was just some clueless nerd with a knack for coding, that the company’s success depended entirely on his business brilliance. Now I see through him. This toxic leech didn’t just look down on me as a “tech geek” — He didn’t just use me as a stepping stone, he was out there hunting for a real heiress to fund his lifestyle! The video keeps playing: That woman suddenly spots my sketchbook sitting on Leo’s desk. “Leo, what is this childish graffiti? You’re not seeing another woman besides me, are you?” she whines. Leo doesn’t even miss a beat. He snatches the sketchbook and shoves it straight into the shredder.. That’s countless hours of my inspiration! “Don’t even mention it. Just some intern. She’s desperate for a full-time offer, so she drew this garbage to suck up to me. That girl reeks of poverty. If you ask me? She’s just disgusting.” “An intern?” That woman giggles. “Leo, don’t play the nice guy. If it were me, I’d just fire her already.” Leo leans in, planting a hard kiss on her cheek. “Right after our merge, she’ll be gone.” Suddenly, my phone pings. A security alert. Someone just unlocked my penthouse door. I quickly switch over to my penthouse security feed. It’s Leo. He thinks I’m out. Using the spare keycard I gave him, he slips inside the apartment. I watch through the screen as he heads straight for my study, ransacking the safe where I keep my important files. Looks like he’s done this many times before, too. Finally, his fingers wrap around the encrypted hard drive, which contains the master backup of Aetheria’s entire source code. A sick grin spreads across his face. He actually kisses the drive. Then he shoves it into his briefcase, rushing out the door.

I trusted him so much, and he uses the spare keycard I gave him to steal my source code! Watching him walk out on the security feed, I pick up my phone with a cold smile. I was going to let him walk away with some dignity, but he had to play a corporate spy. Now I’ll just put him behind the bars in a federal prison. I open the tracking app on my phone. The red dot is moving fast. He’s heading straight for Coleman Capital—another VC giant on Wall Street.. I follow the GPS tracking all the way to their top-floor boardroom. Perks of being a Sterling — the lobby security recognized my name and waved me through the private elevator. As soon as I push the door open, I spot Leo. He has his arms around that woman from the footage, while lounging in the head seat with his legs crossed. “Mr. Coleman, take a look at the technical architecture. Perfect, isn’t it?” Leo is bragging arrogantly, swirling a glass of champagne. “Honestly, if not for my engagement with Isabella and our merging plan, I’d never share core tech of this caliber.” “So, do we have a deal?” Across the table, the investment tycoon — Isabella’s father — looks hesitant as he reviews the technical transfer letter of intent. “Leo, the tech is revolutionary, I’ll give you that.” “But regarding the source code ownership… Your signature alone isn’t enough. Compliance dictates that a transaction of this scale requires two items: The original patent certificates and written consent from all co-founders.”

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Five years. That’s how long I spent chasing my best friend. Tonight was our senior grad party. And we were finally crossing the line. Liam booked a lakeside cabin just for us. My face burned. Then I heard him in the next room. Bragging to his football buddies. “I’m heading out, boys. Got a busy night ahead.” Cheers and whistles erupted. I turned to leave. Then my name dropped. “What about Ava? You just gonna leave her hanging at the cabin?” I froze. A lazy, arrogant laugh cut through the noise. “Sophie hates the noise. I gotta take her home first.” “Ava is a sure thing. I’m just getting some practice. She’ll thank me later.” The room was packed and sweaty. I felt like I was freezing to death. The guys went crazy. “Classic QB move. Banging the head cheerleader while using Ava as a decoy.” “Her folks are in Europe. She’s crashing at your place. Aren’t you worried?” “My parents are in Cabo. We’re eighteen now. I deserve some fun.” The room broke into nasty laughter. “Damn man. She gave up Yale to follow you to State. You don’t feel bad at all?” “For real though. Ava is drop-dead gorgeous. Total good girl vibe. You’re really putting her on ice?” More dirty laughs. “You guys don’t get it. You save the best for last.” “I’m actually doing her a favor. If we hook up now, I’ll get bored. What’s left for the honeymoon?” “It’s a win-win. I get my reps in. She gets the perfect guy in the end.” It was the middle of July. Cold sweat soaked through my dress.

I looked across the crowded room. Sophie. My best friend since freshman year. The only person I trusted as much as Liam. She caught me looking and flashed an innocent smile. My vision blurred. I bolted for the bathroom. The door was paper-thin. I clamped my hand over my mouth. Choked back a sob. Footsteps. “Ava? Babe, you in there?” A soft knock. That same gentle voice I fell for. I stared at my tear-streaked face in the mirror. Swallowed hard. “I’m fine.” He didn’t walk away. He sounded relaxed. Not a clue. “Cool. Head to the cabin without me. I gotta drop Sophie off.” “You know how it is. She lives alone. Just wanna make sure she’s safe.” “Don’t wait up if I’m late.” “We’ve got all the time in the world.” His deep voice echoed in the tiny bathroom. Ten days ago. Sitting on his back porch. He leaned in and kissed me out of nowhere. The smell of fresh-cut grass and summer heat. I could barely breathe. I asked him what that was for. He smiled like a predator. “Because you finally grew up. And I’m making my move.” I really thought my five-year crush was paying off. Now? I was wide awake. Were all those kisses just a game? “Liam.” I whispered to the wood. “Do you love me?”

Dead silence. He hesitated. “Don’t be crazy, babe. Would I be doing all this if I didn’t care?” What about Sophie? Is that love too? I swallowed the words. I asked something else. “Are we official?” A heavy sigh through the wood. I could picture his face. Brows knit. Patience running out. “Does it really matter, Ava? We have so much history. Why do we need to put a label on it?” Classic Liam. Never making promises. Never owning up to his shit. Just deflecting. Gaslighting me with that soft voice. Making me the crazy one. The boy I grew up with. The center of my universe. Rotten to the goddamn core. I wiped my eyes. Matched his soft tone. “Okay. I get it.” He mumbled a few sweet nothings. Walked away. His footsteps faded down the hall. I pulled up my dad’s text thread. My hands shook. “Dad. I made a mistake.” “I’m doing the Paris program. I’ll send the application tomorrow.” “Right after my birthday party, I’m out of here.”

The bass thumped through the floorboards. I stepped out of the bathroom. Liam was already playing hero. Some guy was pushing a shot on Sophie. Liam snatched the red Solo cup. Knocked it back in one smooth motion. The crowd cheered. Sophie blushed. Biting her lip like a lovesick puppy. “I could’ve handled that.” Liam slumped onto the couch. His knee brushing her bare thigh. “You’re a total lightweight. Can’t have you getting trashed on my watch.” He actually tracked her drinking habits. The sexual tension was suffocating. A few guys smirked. Then they noticed me standing in the hall. The room went dead silent. Liam shifted. Pulled his knee away. Sophie played it off with a smile. Scooted over and patted the empty cushion between them. “Ava! Come sit.” She leaned forward. Something caught the light. A silver chain around her throat. I stopped breathing. The infinity pendant. I saw it in Liam’s Amazon cart right before Prom. The listing literally said, For Your True Love. It was cheap jewelry. But I spent weeks praying it was for me. Prom came and went. He kissed me. I forgot all about it. Now it was resting right on her collarbone. Bile rose in my throat. Heartbreak mixed with raw humiliation. I fought to keep my face blank. But my voice betrayed me. “Have fun. I’m out.”

Liam shot up from the couch. “Why are you leaving?” I didn’t answer. Just turned and walked away. Halfway down the hall, a hand clamped around my arm. Liam pulled me close. His voice was a low, angry hiss. “Are you seriously throwing a fit right now? Because I took a shot for Sophie?” “If I don’t look out for her, these guys will get her trashed. You know how they are.” I looked him dead in the eye. “And what about you?” He blinked. “What exactly do you want with her?” A split second of blank panic flashed across his face. My mind raced back to Freshman year. Everyone knew Sophie’s deal. Drop-dead gorgeous. Scholarship kid from the wrong side of the tracks. Fresh meat. She drew all the creeps. Some sketchy townies cornered her after school once. I was the one who grabbed security and saved her. After that, I made sure she always had a ride. My car. Liam’s car. I sat in the back with her every single day. Talked her ear off so she wouldn’t feel like a charity case. Liam just smiled. Barely said a word. I thought they weren’t even close. Until Valentine’s Day. I walked into an empty hallway. Saw Liam toss a heart-shaped box right into the trash. Some guy had bought it for Sophie. “Back off. She doesn’t need your garbage.” Liam barked. The guy’s face turned bright red. “You’re not even her boyfriend, man. Back off.” Liam stepped right into his space. “Who says I’m not? As of today, she’s mine.”

My water bottle hit the floor. Plastic clattered against the tiles. They both snapped their heads toward me. Liam rushed over. Panic in his eyes. A massive lie spilled right out of his mouth. He claimed he was just playing the fake boyfriend to scare off the creeps. He only did it because she was my best friend. I bought every single word. I even helped cover for them. Months later, Sophie actually got a “boyfriend.” She claimed some out-of-town college guy was sweeping her off her feet. The perks started rolling in immediately. Ubers magically appeared whenever it rained. Daily DoorDash deliveries kept her fed. Her closet filled up with designer clothes. Someone even footed the bill for her expensive SAT prep. She lived like absolute royalty. Sometimes I would spot red marks on her neck. I always teased her about those nasty mosquito bites. She always forced an awkward smile. I thought she was just being shy. Now I see the truth. She was drowning in guilt. I stared at the liar standing in front of me. “When did it start?” I asked softly. “When did you two start hooking up?” “Was it Valentine’s Day? That ski trip sophomore year? Or—” “Ava, stop.” Liam’s voice dropped. Total ice. “This right here is exactly why I didn’t want a label on us.” He glared at me like I was the villain. He twisted the knife with every word. “Sophie doesn’t have your safety net. She has to fight just to survive.” “What is so wrong with me helping her out?” “You used to be so chill. Now you’re just suffocating.”

Tears spilled over. I hated myself for it. Hated how much I still needed him. My chest heaved. The ice in his voice melted. “Lose the spoiled princess act.” “Do it for our future.” “We leave for college in a few weeks.” “I don’t want petty drama ruining freshman year.” “Are we good?” I forced my lungs to steady. Wiped my face dry. “No, Liam.” “I’m not going down South with you.” A loud scoff. Total dismissal. “Deposits are already paid, Ava.” “Don’t wreck your future over a stupid tantrum.” The joke was on him. My parents’ company just expanded to Europe. They’d been begging me to study in Paris. I turned them down just to stay close to a liar. Yale was off the table now. But snagging a spot at a top school in Paris? One phone call from my dad, and I was in. My face stayed blank. A heavy sigh broke the silence. “Look. You were browsing off-campus housing, right?” “I found a sick penthouse. Let’s just sign the lease.” “It’ll be our first real place.” “You can decorate it however you want. Deal?”

He smiled at me. Like he was doing me a massive favor. It made my stomach turn. I wanted my own apartment. Not a love nest. But in his head? I was just a desperate groupie. A sure thing. He aimed for my lips. I turned my head. He kissed empty air. He froze. The nice-guy mask vanished. His patience was gone. “Go to the cabin. Cool off.” He spun on his heel. Walked right back into the party. Didn’t even look back. My chest felt entirely hollow. I didn’t go to the cabin. I called an Uber and went straight home. The house was dark and empty. Sleep was a joke. I tore my bedroom apart. Dragged out every single memory of him. His old varsity jacket. He wrapped me in it when I caught the flu. The giant carnival bear. He spent fifty bucks winning it for me. The limited-edition Jordans. He camped out all night to buy them. A pile of garbage in the middle of my floor. My throat tightened. It wasn’t just a five-year crush dying tonight. It was my entire childhood. Gone. I shoved it all into heavy black trash bags. The sun crept through the blinds. I collapsed onto my bare mattress. Total blackout. My phone buzzed at noon. Dad. We didn’t need a long talk. He read right between the lines. “So, how do we feel about Paris for your birthday?”

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On my wedding night, the giant screen in the ballroom suddenly started playing a video of me holding a woman and kissing her passionately. I stood there, completely defenseless, as my father-in-law, Mr. Miller, grabbed me by the collar and dragged me out of the venue, demanding an explanation. By the time I managed to prove that the video was a deepfake generated by AI, my bride, Chloe, had already slept with my foster brother, Tyler. My mother merely sighed, her face completely expressionless. “What’s done is done. You just have to accept it and never bring it up again.” Since that night, a thick wall of disgust had built up between Chloe and me. Every time she tried to touch me, I found an excuse to push her away. She cried and acted miserable for a long time. Eventually, unable to bear her tears, I started preparing myself to accept her again. But then, I accidentally overheard a conversation between her and her friends in a private lounge: “Chloe, you are literally a mastermind when it comes to relationships!” “You wanted to make up for lost time with Tyler when he got back to the country, so you used AI to make that fake cheating video of Ethan. You did it just so your dad would drag him out, giving you the perfect chance to sleep with Tyler!” “That was legendary!” “Your whole family and even his own mother knew about it. Only that idiot Ethan was kept in the dark.” Chloe placed her hand over her stomach. “And now, I’m pregnant with Tyler’s baby. I don’t even know how to tell Ethan.”

Maybe it was because she hadn’t been sleeping well, but there were dark circles under her eyes. This sudden pregnancy was clearly something she hadn’t anticipated either. Her best friend, Sarah, walked over and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “Chloe, you only have two choices now.” “First, break up with Ethan. Second, get an abortion and cut ties with Tyler forever.” These two options seemed to put Chloe in a tough spot. She was usually decisive, never one to hesitate like this. She cupped her stomach for a long time, unable to let go. “No, I won’t get an abortion.” “This baby is the symbol of what Tyler and I lost. Since I can’t be his wife, I’ll give birth to his child as a keepsake.” Standing outside the door, the blood in my veins turned to ice. So, the cheating video that ruined my reputation was Chloe’s doing all along. Her entire goal was to get rid of me so she could satisfy her lust with Tyler. Was their “regret” really just about sleeping together? I let out a bitter, silent laugh. What shocked me even more was that my parents-in-law and my own mother knew everything. They had teamed up to deceive me. I remembered when the video played on the screen. My mother-in-law had slapped me across the face, and my father-in-law had dragged me out by my hair. My mother had apologized to everyone in shame, calling me a worthless beast. And Chloe had wept, claiming I had broken her heart, promising she would make me pay. My fingernails dug deep into my palms until they bled. My chest felt suffocated, filled with an agonizing, choking pain. I leaned my back heavily against the wall, standing there like a hollow shell. Inside, Chloe had made her decision. “I won’t break up with Ethan. I know how to separate love from marriage.” “Ethan loves me. He caters to my every whim, and he’s a stable provider. He’s the perfect husband material.” “Oh, come on. Doesn’t Tyler have money too?” Sarah teased. Chloe took a sip of her juice. “Tyler is too dominant—the classic arrogant alpha male type. He’s great as a lover, but not for marriage.” Instantly, the room erupted into laughter. “So you’re saying Ethan is just your golden retriever backup husband?” “How can you bully him like that?” “Haha, totally!” Sarah suddenly stopped laughing, her tone turning dead serious. “But wait, let me ask you something.” Everyone’s curiosity was piqued by Sarah’s sudden change in tone. “You and Tyler couldn’t have gotten pregnant from just that one night, right?” “You guys must have hooked up multiple times!” Chloe’s face flushed bright red, looking like an innocent, naive girl. Seeing her reaction, everyone sat up straight, eager for the gossip. “Of course it wasn’t just once,” Chloe mumbled. “Every time Ethan is out of the house, we hook up… you know how it is…”

“You guys are insane!” “I seriously want to ask Tyler what kind of vitamins he’s taking to have that much energy!” “No wonder Chloe looks so glowing lately. Ethan is the ultimate fool, raising another man’s kid without even knowing it.” Chloe’s friends filled the room with mockery and disdain directed entirely at me. Not a single one of them found Chloe and Tyler’s behavior disgusting. Birds of a feather really do flock together. Even though she hadn’t explicitly detailed her encounters with Tyler to me, I already knew. They had left their traces of lust all over our house. On the surface, Chloe would act guilty and apologetic in front of others. But behind closed doors, she would let Tyler drain all her energy and then fall fast asleep, showing absolutely no genuine remorse. Waves of dull pain washed over my chest, nearly breaking me. Finally, I took heavy steps away from the door, choosing not to confront her right then and there. When I walked out of the bar, the night wind was freezing. Just then, my phone rang. It was my business partner. “Ethan, does Chloe understand you like I do? Is she prettier than me?” “Does she have my wealth? You are so heartless. GC Group just made the Fortune 500 list, yet you abandoned us to go back and marry her.” Victoria sounded drunk. She was usually quiet, cold, and professional. If she weren’t deeply hurt, she would never have let her guard down like this. “Victoria, wait for me,” I said softly. “I will cut ties with Chloe as soon as possible. Once I settle things here, I’m coming back to you.” The drunk woman on the other end instantly seemed to sober up. After hanging up, I walked along the sidewalk. A fiery red Ferrari sped past me. It was Tyler’s car. He was probably on his way to see Chloe. I didn’t care anymore. Nothing they did could trigger any emotion in me now. When I got home, my mother was waiting for me in the living room. “Ethan, where have you been so late?” I stared coldly at my seemingly warm and loving mother. Remembering what Chloe had said in the lounge, the last shred of familial affection I had for her turned to ash. I was her biological son, yet she always favored Tyler. During our poorest year, I wore patched-up hand-me-downs while Tyler got brand-new clothes. He got a fancy cake for his birthday; I only got two boiled eggs. And now that we were adults, she was still helping Tyler, conspiring with outsiders to deceive me. Knowing all this, I had no intention of being polite. “Drink this,” she said, pointing to a pot on the counter. “I thought Chloe was home, so I made some chicken soup. Since she’s not here, you drink it.” I grabbed the pot and smashed it onto the floor. It shattered into pieces. My mother looked at me in shock, startled by my sudden rage. “What is wrong with you? Are you still upset about what happened at the wedding…?” “You already know she’s pregnant with Tyler’s baby, don’t you? That’s why you brought over this soup—to nourish her.” I cut her off. Panic flashed across her face, followed by disbelief. “How… how do you know?” I didn’t answer. I stepped closer, my anger radiating. “I’ve always wondered why you were so biased. I am your flesh and blood, yet you love a foster son who shares no blood with you. Now I know.” “Tyler is the son of your first love. You projected your obsession with his father onto him.” “Even if it meant destroying your own son’s life, you didn’t care.” Having her deepest secret exposed, my mother choked on her words, unable to speak.

“Ethan, I hope you can understand my position.” “Both you and Tyler are my boys. I love you both equally. I don’t favor anyone.” “Get out,” I said coldly. I didn’t want to waste my breath on her lies. In her heart, Tyler was her only beloved son. I was just a shadow. But my mother made no move to leave, looking as if she had something difficult to say. “Spit it out.” She only ever came to me when she wanted something, and I figured it was for Tyler again. “Ethan, I need a favor.” “Tyler’s startup failed. He wants to start over, but he doesn’t have the capital.” “I see how well you’re doing. Besides, he is your brother. Can you give him a million dollars…?” “The door is right there. Don’t let it hit you on the way out.” I gave her an eviction notice, refusing to discuss this nonsense. Right then, Chloe walked in, supporting a limping Tyler. She must have overheard our conversation. “Ethan, how can you speak to your mother like that? She’s just worried about Tyler!” As soon as she spoke, my mother rushed over to them. The three of them stood together, looking exactly like a happy family. From beginning to end, I was the only outsider. “If she’s so worried about him, she can go to the bank and take out a loan.” “Ethan, he is your brother…” “My brother? Ha! What a joke.” “If he really saw me as his brother, would he have crawled into bed with my fiancee?” “And my own mother always takes his side.” “Tell me, how much more do you expect me to tolerate?” Silence fell over the room. No one dared to speak. This house was suffocating. Just as I turned to leave, my mother yelled in frustration. “Wasn’t the wedding thing just a misunderstanding?” “They are innocent! Why can’t you just let it go instead of stabbing everyone in the heart?” I turned back and looked coldly at the three of them. The urge to argue died in my throat. One mouth couldn’t outtalk three hypocrites. Finally, Tyler, trying to play the good guy, stepped in to defuse the situation. “Ethan, I’m sorry.” “That night, I was completely drunk. I made a terrible mistake.” “I am begging for your forgiveness. Can you please forgive me?” “This is your home. If anyone should leave, it’s us.” Seeing Tyler’s seemingly sincere apology, both my mother and Chloe looked at him with immense pity. When I remained silent, refusing his apology, Chloe’s face hardened. “Tyler has already apologized to you personally. What more do you want?” “Nothing. I just want both of them to disappear from my sight right now.” Hearing my words, Tyler lowered his head, looking incredibly hurt. My mother glared at me defensively. Before she could speak, Tyler turned and ran out of the house in tears. But he ran too fast and slipped, tumbling down the stairs. “Tyler!” “Tyler!” Chloe screamed, then turned on me with venom in her eyes. “Ethan, why did you have to push him? You are worse than a monster!” “We don’t care if you forgive us anymore. We don’t need your forgiveness!” “Get out! I don’t want to see your face!” My mother didn’t say a word, she just kept glaring at me with cold eyes. I had told myself to let go and walk away, but being stabbed by them again still brought a wave of sharp pain to my chest. My own wife and my own mother would always choose another man. At this very moment, I finally realized that whether it was love or family, I didn’t want any of it anymore. “Chloe, we’re done.”

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From elementary school onward, I spent sixteen years chasing after Julian Vance. I went from being an unnoticed little shadow trailing behind him, to his personal assistant, and finally, his secret girlfriend. At last, I had earned his attention. But the moment Maya came back, she became the only person he could see. “Julian, you’re so afraid her future will be ruined… but aren’t you afraid of ruining mine?” During an emergency surgery, Maya made a fatal mistake that caused the patient to suffer massive hemorrhaging. And Julian actually expected me to take the blame for her. With obvious impatience, he said, “As compensation, we’ll get married next week. Isn’t that what you’ve wanted all these years?” I spent more than a decade loving and following him, only for him to use marriage as a bargaining chip—to convince me to shoulder a crime that would destroy my entire future for another woman. I let out a bitter laugh. “Let’s break up.” Chloe’s POV I chased Julian Vance for over ten years. I went from being his quiet little shadow to his first surgical assistant, and finally, to his girlfriend. But just three months after we officially became a couple, I decided to let go. “Mom, I want to come home. I’m going to resign from my job here in Boston.” On the other end of the line, my mother sounded incredibly shocked. “Aren’t you and Julian dating now? Did you guys have a fight? Does he know about this?” “It took you so long to finally be with him. Don’t do anything impulsive, sweetheart.” I blinked back the tears that threatened to spill over and kept my voice steady. “I’m not being impulsive, Mom. We didn’t fight either. I’ve just thought it through.” “I have to go, Mom. Let’s talk another day.” Before she could say anything else, I hung up. I had to. If I stayed on the line any longer, I wouldn’t be able to choke back my sobs. Since we were kids, everyone around me knew I loved Julian. My parents, teachers, classmates, colleagues. It was obvious to everyone. After high school, I abandoned my dream of studying literature and applied to medical school just to follow him. At the hospital, I gave up opportunities to lead my own surgical team and perform solo surgeries. Instead, I willingly worked as Julian’s assistant. I did that for five whole years. I didn’t just assist him at work. I took care of every single detail of his personal life. After every late shift or overnight surgery, no matter how late it was, a hot bowl of homemade soup was always waiting on his desk. Before work every morning, his clothes were ironed, perfectly matched, and hung in front of the mirror. In the operating room, our chemistry was flawless. Our colleagues called me Julian’s perfect match on the table. To our co-workers, I was already someone special to him. Julian, a medical prodigy with an extreme neat-freak personality, never allowed anyone inside his private lounge. Except for me. Julian, who was always cold and distant to everyone, would occasionally smile just for me. But what was the reality? Every time I entered his lounge, it was only to clean and disinfect it. The moment I finished, I left. I never even dared to sit on his bed. And those rare smiles? They were just polite gestures. He was well-mannered, and he smiled out of basic courtesy for my endless efforts. Not to mention, absolutely nobody knew we had actually become a couple three months ago. And this hidden relationship wasn’t because Julian had suddenly fallen for me. It was something I bought with half my life. Three months ago, our department admitted a critical patient in the middle of the night. By the time the patient arrived, they had missed the optimal surgical window. Julian operated for over ten hours, but the patient died on the table. The patient’s son refused to accept the outcome. Drunk and furious, he rushed into Julian’s office wielding a knife. Exhausted after the surgery, Julian couldn’t even react. I threw myself in front of him and took the blade. The stab wound was less than half an inch from my spleen. I spent three days in the ICU. When I finally opened my eyes, Julian, who was always meticulously neat, had messy hair and a wrinkled shirt. He held my hand, his voice raspy. “Be my girlfriend.” Having known him for twenty years, I could read his eyes. I saw fear, and I saw guilt. But there was not a single spark of love. He didn’t want to date me. He just felt like he owed me his life, and he wanted to pay me back. But I nodded anyway. Back then, I thought that even if he didn’t love me, I would be satisfied just staying by his side forever. Too bad my romantic bubble burst after only a month. Because Maya Mitchell appeared. Just before clocking out today, the big screen in our department was broadcasting a live stream of the International Medical Forum that Julian was attending. This forum was an annual event. In the past, I had asked Julian if I could go with him. His answer back then was, “You aren’t a lead surgeon. You don’t have the credentials.” But Maya wasn’t a lead surgeon either. Right now, Maya was sitting next to him on the screen. She leaned in to whisper something, and Julian tilted his head closer, offering her a warm, gentle smile. My colleagues were gossiping excitedly. “Maya is so lucky. Her dad is the Chief of Medicine, and she has Julian mentoring her. She gets to attend this kind of international forum during her residency!” “That’s nothing. Look at Julian’s face. He’s never even looked that close to Chloe. If you ask me, there’s definitely something going on between them.” Someone noticed me, cleared their throat, and cut the conversation short. The looks they threw me were filled with pity. Everyone knew I liked Julian, but nobody knew I was his actual girlfriend. I looked at the screen, a bitter taste in my mouth. I couldn’t blame them for thinking they were together. Even I thought so. Usually, Julian smiled at me too. But that smile was always polite, reserved, and distant. But his smile toward Maya was natural, effortless, and warm. I used to think Julian was just a naturally cold person. But the moment Maya showed up, his coldness melted away. Maya was the Chief’s daughter. After graduation, she was placed directly into Julian’s surgical team. She was bubbly, outgoing, and completely ignored social boundaries. She didn’t care about Julian’s personal space or his neat-freak habits. She dared to grab food directly from his plate, and she even napped in his private lounge. Julian would, at most, scowl a little. He never said a harsh word to her. But he was never like that with me. Once, when we were walking, I stepped slightly too close and brushed against his sleeve. His face immediately darkened, and he stopped talking to me for the rest of the day. The contrast was brutal. I had to face the truth: he really didn’t love me. Not even a little. I pulled my thoughts back, stood up, and started packing my things. Actually, I didn’t have much to pack. This was Julian’s apartment. I had moved in after we made things official. I just wanted to make it easier to take care of his daily life. But Julian’s apartment was so aggressively minimalist that buying even a decorative mug felt like a crime. Even so, I had managed to add two potted plants, two throw pillows, a small rug, and a few colorful plates over the months. I had hoped to slowly blend into his life. I just didn’t expect it to end so quickly. I had just packed these things into a cardboard box, intending to throw them out, when the front door opened.

Chloe’s POV Julian was back. “You didn’t make soup tonight?” The man asked as he kicked off his shoes at the door. Indeed, I hadn’t. And I never would again. Ever since Maya joined the team, most of the soup I left on Julian’s desk ended up in her stomach anyway. I held the cardboard box and kept walking. “I didn’t feel like making any.” “Wait.” Julian called out. I stopped, but I didn’t turn around. Julian glanced at the box in my arms. “What are you doing with those?” “They’re old. Time to get rid of them,” I said, and walked out the door. Julian stood by the entrance, watching me carry the box to the trash chute. He didn’t say anything else and went back to his room. Even though I had lived here for three months, we slept in separate bedrooms. We never disturbed each other. The next morning, I arrived at the hospital and went straight to the Chief of Medicine’s office instead of my department. I was there to hand in my resignation. Dr. Mitchell listened to me, thought for a moment, and said, “Chloe, I highly respect your work ethic. But I won’t interfere with your personal choices.” “However, Maya just joined the team, and she still needs to get used to working with Julian. The resignation process takes thirty days. During this month, could you stay and help Maya out?” He paused, then added, “Let Maya take over as the First Assistant. You can work as the Second Assistant. What do you think?” Dr. Mitchell was Maya’s father. It was no surprise he wanted me to act as his daughter’s training wheels. I nodded. “Okay.” I stood up to leave. Just as I reached the door, Dr. Mitchell’s voice came from behind me. “I’ll approve your resignation directly. There’s no need to tell Julian. I don’t want this affecting his surgeries.” I paused for a fraction of a second, then let out a dry laugh. “Understood, Chief.” I hadn’t planned on telling Julian anyway. When you decide to let go, you don’t need a grand announcement. I didn’t even need Julian to know. When I walked back to our department, I could hear Maya’s laughter before I even opened the door. She was sharing stories from the medical forum with our colleagues, talking about a cutting-edge surgical technique she had seen. Everyone was listening intently. The moment I walked in, Maya greeted me with a bright smile. “Chloe! Julian was complaining about stomach pain after his surgery last night. I went to his lounge to grab some soup for him, but I couldn’t find any. Did you forget to make it?” The room went dead silent. Everyone looked at me with different expressions. Some felt pity, some were curious, and others quickly looked down, pretending they hadn’t heard. I ignored the unspoken drama in the room. I met Maya’s gaze, my voice calm but crystal clear. “I’m Julian’s surgical assistant, not his housekeeper. Late-night meals aren’t in my job description. If you want to make it yourself, Maya, I can send you the recipe.” Maya’s smile froze on her face. She looked incredibly embarrassed. “Get back to work, everyone,” Julian’s voice cut through the awkward silence as he stepped into the room. But his scanning gaze immediately landed on me. In the past, colleagues often teased me about acting like Julian’s personal maid. Julian always ignored it. And I never defended myself. This was the first time I had ever fired back, and I had done it so formally and coldly. “Chloe, in my office. Now.” I followed Julian into his office. Once the door clicked shut, he turned to face me. His tone was the same as always, like a boss checking in on an underperforming employee. For a moment, I was speechless. I didn’t know where his question came from, nor did I know how to answer. Seeing my silence, Julian actually attempted to explain. “Taking Maya to the forum was just to help her gain experience. You don’t need to be petty about…” I lost all patience to hear him out. So, he thought I was throwing a tantrum because he took Maya to the forum, and that was why I didn’t make him soup. I laughed at myself in my head. What a pathetic excuse. Years ago, when I was the one who lacked experience and knowledge, he had never offered to take me to help me “gain experience.” “Julian.” I cut him off. This was the first time in over ten years I had ever interrupted him. Julian had a beautiful voice, and he didn’t talk much. Whenever he spoke, I used to listen intently. Even if he was scolding me, I never had the heart to cut him off. Julian was visibly stunned. “I don’t care about that,” I swallowed the bitterness in my throat, trying my best to sound calm. “Let’s end this relationship.” I couldn’t even bring myself to say the word “breakup.” Only people who were actually in love had the right to use that word. Had he and I ever truly been together? I was just his girlfriend in name only.

Chloe’s POV For a moment, Julian looked completely lost. He didn’t seem to comprehend what I was saying. “What?” Before I could reply, the office door was thrown open. “Dr. Vance, we have an emergency!” The only person who dared to enter Julian’s office without knocking was Maya. Julian’s attention shifted instantly. His expression turned dead serious as he strode toward the door. As he passed me, he said out of habit, “Chloe, prep for surgery.” Maya stood at the door. Her eyes lingered on my face for a second with a hint of smugness before she quickly hurried after Julian. I stood in the empty office, motionless. I was no longer Julian’s First Assistant. Prepping for surgery was no longer my job. The Chief had settled this morning, and though Julian didn’t know yet, it didn’t change the outcome. I slowly walked back to my desk and sat down, staring into space. My colleagues rushed in and out. Some were changing into scrubs, others were checking charts. Everyone was busy. Only I sat there, feeling like a gear that had been forcibly removed from a fast-spinning machine. I used to be the most precise part of his machine. Now that I was cast aside, I had no idea what to do. I somehow survived until clock-out time. To make matters worse, the moment I stepped out of the hospital, a torrential downpour slammed the city. Because of the rush hour and the terrible weather, the wait time on my rideshare app was over three digits. I didn’t have an umbrella. I had to hold my bag over my head, standing by the curb trying to hail a cab in vain. Rain ran down my arms, and within minutes, I was soaked to the bone. Julian had a car, but I had never once thought about hitching a ride with him. Even though we lived together, Julian had never suggested driving to work together. Since he never offered, I was too embarrassed to ask. Over time, this became our silent agreement. Suddenly, a sleek black Bentley pulled up smoothly in front of me. The window rolled down, revealing Maya’s face in the passenger seat. “Chloe, get in! The rain is crazy. We’ll give you a ride.” We. That word, combined with the icy rain, made me shiver. “No, it’s fine. My clothes are soaked.” Usually, even when I had to ride in Julian’s car for work-related reasons, I was incredibly cautious. Before getting out, I would wipe down every surface I touched with disinfectant wipes. Looking like a drowned rat right now, I didn’t want to annoy his inner neat freak. A deep male voice came from the driver’s seat. “Get in.” The storm was getting worse, so I finally opened the door and climbed into the back. My dripping clothes soaked the leather seat. I sat stiffly, trying to minimize the contact area as much as possible. In contrast, Maya was completely at ease in the front seat. She turned around to look at me, smiling. “Chloe, where do you live? We’ll drop you off first.” I didn’t answer. Nobody knew Julian and I lived together. And nobody knew I was his girlfriend. An awkward silence filled the car. Finally, Julian spoke to Maya. “I’ll drop you off first.” The atmosphere returned to normal. Maya started chatting with Julian about today’s surgery. She talked about how nervous she was, how her hands were sweating, how her heart felt like it was going to explode during the suturing, and how she almost screamed with joy when the patient’s vitals stabilized. Julian smiled occasionally, responding softly without a trace of his usual impatience. When she mentioned her anxiety as the First Assistant, Julian actually offered a rare compliment. “You did great. Much steadier than Chloe’s first time on the table.” Maya laughed happily, turning her head back. “Really, Chloe?” I forced a silent smile. I was surprised Julian still remembered my first time on the operating table. But so what? He only remembered it to use as a negative contrast. He used my past struggle just to highlight how perfect Maya was. Maya casually turned on the car radio, and a lively pop song filled the car. It was definitely not the kind of music Julian listened to. Julian frowned slightly, but he didn’t turn it off. Maya hummed along with the melody, then opened the glove compartment. She pulled out a pack of cookies and offered one to me. “Want a cookie, Chloe?” I shook my head. I didn’t mean to spy on the glove compartment. But the space was too small. I couldn’t help but notice what was inside. There was a lipstick, a hairbrush, and a compact mirror. It was Maya’s personal drawer. Knowing how much Julian hated clutter, I never touched anything in his car, let alone left my personal items there. The brutal reality slapped me in the face once again. I had spent over ten years trying to blend into his life, and I failed. Maya did it in just two months. I had lost completely. Maya tore open the packaging and popped a cookie directly into Julian’s mouth. Julian froze for a split second, then slowly chewed. The sound of his chewing was painfully loud in the quiet car. I turned my head to look at the rain sliding down the window. When we reached Maya’s apartment complex, she ran into the building under her umbrella. She turned around to wave at the car, her smile incredibly bright. Julian waited until she safely entered the lobby before driving off. Now that it was just the two of us, the silence in the car became heavy. Then I heard him ask, “Why weren’t you the First Assistant today?” “Maya needs the experience,” I replied, staring out the window. Julian stayed quiet for a long moment before uttering, “It’s good that you can be understanding about this.”

Chloe’s POV Over the next few days, the three of us fell into a silent routine. As long as the surgery wasn’t overly complex, Maya took the role of First Assistant. I stepped back to Second Assistant. Nobody found this weird, even though Julian still had no idea I was resigning. This afternoon, right after I finished my rounds, I heard a loud commotion coming from around the corner. Dr. Sarah Miller, my closest colleague, was being cornered and screamed at by a heavily built male relative of a patient. “My mom has been in this hospital for a week, and she’s only getting worse! You guys are just trying to scam us! You useless hacks!” Beside him, a woman with curly hair screamed hysterically, “Exactly! She was fine before, just some chest tightness! You guys intubated her and hooked her up to machines, and now she’s dying! You did this on purpose!” Sarah’s eyes were bloodshot, and she tried desperately to explain. “The patient has severe aortic stenosis. When she was admitted…” “I don’t care about your excuses!” The man refused to listen. He grabbed Sarah by her collar and raised a fist to punch her. I rushed forward and stepped right between them. “Sir, please calm down. We can sit down and discuss this. Violence won’t solve anything. We can call the attending physician to explain the situation to you. If you continue to disrupt the hospital, we will call security and the police immediately.” “Who the hell do you think you are, lecturing me?!” The man redirected all his fury toward me. He grabbed a heavy metal IV pole nearby and swung it violently at my head. Sarah screamed, and the surrounding crowd gasped and scattered. There was no time to dodge. I could only grit my teeth and close my eyes, bracing for the impact. But the expected pain never came. A body shielded me, locking me into a tight, solid embrace. It was Julian. The heavy metal pole slammed hard against his back with a sickening thud. I stared in shock as cold sweat broke out on Julian’s forehead. He gasped in pain, but his arms remained locked around me, protecting me completely. Security rushed in and tackled the man to the ground. The hallway was a chaotic mess, with people running everywhere. Julian finally let me go. His expression had already returned to his usual cold mask, showing no signs of pain. I stood frozen, my heart hammering against my ribs. In my eyes, the way Julian looked right now, silhouetted against the hallway lights, overlapped with a memory from fifteen years ago. Back then, my family had just moved next door to Julian’s. As a new transfer student, I didn’t have any friends, and I always walked home alone. One day, at the corner of an alley, a group of older students blocked my path and demanded money. I was terrified. I couldn’t even speak; I just stood there sobbing. One of the bullies sneered, “Is this girl mute? Maybe a few punches will make her talk.” I closed my eyes, waiting for the blows, but a thin, teenage boy stepped in front of me. The bullies’ fists and kicks rained down. But that boy held me tightly in his arms, never letting go for a second. When they finally got tired and left, cursing, the boy slowly released me. I burst into loud tears. The boy, sweat dripping down his cold, handsome face, just muttered, “So annoying,” and walked away. I followed him blankly, only to realize we lived next door to each other.

Chloe’s POV Julian had been a prodigy since he was a kid. He was always at the top of his class and a favorite among the teachers. Because of his status, the school took the bullying incident very seriously. The older students were suspended, and they never bothered us again. I was safe. From then on, I walked home from school right behind Julian, keeping a short distance, acting like his little shadow. I was terrified he would find me annoying and push me away, so I never dared to initiate a conversation. Julian never spoke either, but he never ran me off. I wasn’t a genius like him, but I studied as hard as I could just to get into the same schools he chose. We walked like that from middle school to high school, and then to medical school. I really thought we would walk together for the rest of our lives. “Are you okay?” His cold voice snapped me back to reality. I blinked. “I’m fine. Thank you, Julian.” In that brief second, my heart wavered. “No need to thank me. You saved my life last time. Consider this payback,” Julian said coldly. His words felt like an icy bucket of water dumped over my head. So that was it. I took a knife for him, so he took an IV pole for me. We were even now. He didn’t owe me anything anymore. Julian, when you asked me to be your girlfriend, you must have been so reluctant, right? It’s okay. Soon, you won’t have to play the part anymore. You’re free. Suppressing the sharp pain in my chest, I nodded. “Right. We’re even now.” Julian stared at my face for a second, then turned and walked away without another word. With the aggressive family member escorted away and Julian relatively unhurt, the crisis was over. But the Cardiology Department was the crown jewel of the hospital, and Julian was their star surgeon. Naturally, Chief Mitchell had to come down to personally show his concern. After a few minutes of professional pleasantries, Dr. Mitchell said with fatherly concern, “Julian, you are the face of our hospital. You must protect yourself.” His eyes shifted to me as he continued, “Don’t just throw yourself in front of danger for anyone. Leave that to hospital security.” Julian didn’t say a word. Maya quickly stepped in to ease the tension, tugging at her father’s arm. “Dad, Julian was just looking out for his colleague.” Dr. Mitchell chuckled, looking at Julian warmly. “Julian, you’ve trained her well. Maya has been stubborn since she was a kid. She never listens to me, but she hangs onto your every word! I guess I’ll have to trouble you to keep looking after her in the future.” Anyone with a brain could hear that the Chief wasn’t just talking about work. Julian glanced over at me. I was holding my thermos, slowly sipping water, looking completely detached as if their conversation had absolutely nothing to do with me. Julian’s throat bobbed, and he finally spoke. “Dr. Mitchell is very bright and fast. She’s making great progress.” Silence meant agreement. The looks our colleagues exchanged became laced with romantic gossip, while some threw pitying glances my way. I kept my head down, sipping my water, pretending I was completely oblivious. A moment later, I went to the restroom. As I walked past the corner of the hallway, my footsteps suddenly froze. From the quiet corner came Maya’s cheerful, bold voice. “Julian, I like you. I’ve liked you since the first moment I saw you. Will you be my boyfriend?” Before he could answer, Maya leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. Julian went stiff, his ears turning bright red. He was about to say something when his eyes caught mine standing a few yards away. I just stood there, watching quietly. I had tried to initiate physical contact with him before. I had tried to hold his hand. But the moment my fingertips brushed his, he would flinch away as if he had been electrocuted. Yet, when Maya kissed him, he didn’t push her away, nor did he flinch. It was just another piece of evidence confirming a truth I already knew all too well. I turned and walked away. Maybe too many things had happened today. As I walked away, my legs felt weak, and I stumbled slightly.

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That night, Justin Lane pinned me against the floor-to-ceiling window, his movements charged with an almost uncontrollable intensity. His phone rang. He answered it in German. “Yes. My marriage to Stella was only a sham. Yesterday, I officially registered my marriage to Chloe.” Every drop of blood in my body seemed to freeze. He thought I couldn’t understand German. He even smiled at me, pressed a kiss to the side of my neck, and never paused what he was doing. How ridiculous. Ten years of love, and it turned out our marriage had only ever been a façade. After hanging up, he claimed there was an urgent matter at the office and left. A few minutes later, I saw Chloe’s Instagram post: 【He told me that whenever I need him, he’ll always be there.】 The photo showed a man’s hand wearing a watch. The Patek Philippe on his wrist was the one I had given him. Just two hours earlier, that very hand had been roaming over my body. What he didn’t know was that I’d spent six months teaching myself German just so I could read his medical records. What he also didn’t know was that I’d already signed the stock transfer agreement and booked a flight to San Francisco. Fifteen days. That was the final deadline I was giving this relationship.

Stella’s POV The rain in New York came out of nowhere, heavy drops slamming violently against the floor-to-ceiling windows of our sixty-sixth-floor penthouse. The bedroom was pitch black, illuminated only by the flashing neon lights from the city below. Justin pressed me against the cold glass. Behind me was the freezing window. In front of me was his burning chest. His kisses were wild, almost desperate, as if he wanted to consume me whole. I tilted my head back, my hands gripping his broad shoulders tightly. As wave after wave of pleasure washed over me, I closed my eyes, feeling this man’s absolute, raw desire for me. Just as we reached the peak, right at the second our sanity was about to snap, a phone suddenly buzzed frantically from the pocket of his jeans thrown on the carpet. It was Justin’s private, encrypted phone. Frustrated by the interruption, Justin cursed under his breath, his eyebrows knitting together. Still, he paused. Keeping one arm wrapped tightly around my waist, he reached down with the other to grab the phone. The moment he saw the caller ID, I felt his body stiffen. A subtle, split-second change, but I caught it. He pressed answer, pulling me flush against his chest and resting his chin on top of my head. Carter’s panicked voice came through the speaker, muffled by the loud background noise of a bar. “Justin, are you out of your mind?” Justin’s expression shifted instantly. He cut Carter off, speaking in fluent, freezing German. “I’m not alone. Speak German.” The other end went dead silent for two seconds. Then, Carter took a sharp breath. He switched to German, though the shock and anger in his voice were still palpable. “Did you really sign marriage papers with Chloe in LA?” “What the hell are you thinking?” “When you got into that car crash and ended up in a wheelchair, your company almost went under. Chloe treated you like garbage. She fled the country to marry some rich guy.” “Now she is divorced, back in town, and needs a legal husband to secure her family trust fund. And you just hand yourself over?” Those German words felt like frozen icicles piercing through the receiver straight into my ears. My brain instantly translated them into crystal-clear English. In that single second, the blood in my veins ran completely cold. An icy chill started from the soles of my feet and rushed straight to my heart. Justin didn’t notice my stiffness. He just unconsciously tightened his grip on my waist, his voice remaining cool and detached. “Chloe is in a dangerous spot right now. If she doesn’t get that trust fund, she will be buried in massive debt. I can’t just watch her drown.” “Then what about Stella?” Carter roared through the phone. “When you were paralyzed, who gave up her career as a commercial pilot to become a risk management expert just to protect your company? Who spent over a thousand hours helping you with physical therapy? She loves you more than her own life. Now you have married someone else. What is she to you?” Hearing my name, Justin’s breath hitched. A trace of impatience crept into his tone. “I’ll keep this from her. Once Chloe’s crisis is resolved, we’ll get a divorce. As for Stella… I’ll give her the grandest wedding in a few months. She won’t care about a piece of paper.” “How long do you think you can hide this? If she finds out…” “She won’t,” Justin cut him off coldly. “Keep your mouth shut. Don’t tell a soul.” With that, he hung up and tossed the phone back onto the carpet. He leaned down, kissing the side of my neck again. His warm lips tried to soothe me, and his movements became passionate once more. “Sorry, babe. Just a quick emergency with the company,” he whispered hoarsely against my ear. I didn’t say a word. I just kept my eyes wide open, staring at the reflection of our tangled bodies on the glass window. Justin had no idea. During the years he was paralyzed, in order to help him understand the medical files from top German neurosurgeons, I had stayed up late for six months straight just to learn German. So I had understood every single word he just said to Carter. To save his ex, he married her. And he planned to use a fake, legally void wedding to deceive me, the woman who had stood by him for five years. My body kept moving with his. We even reached the peak together at the very end. Panting, Justin carried me back to the bed, kissing my forehead gently, as if I were a precious gem. “Stella, I love you,” he murmured, eyes closed in satisfaction. I stared at the ceiling. My eyes burned, but not a single tear fell. I forced a faint smile, my voice as quiet as a whisper. “Yeah. I know.” I knew he loved me. But I also knew his love for me would always play second fiddle to Chloe.

Stella’s POV The next morning, I woke up to the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee. Justin was already fully dressed. His tailored suit made him look tall and commanding, his legs long and straight. Looking at him now, no one would ever guess that this man, who now dominated the New York business world, had been confined to a wheelchair for three long years. He walked to the bedside holding a cup of black coffee, leaning down to press a soft kiss on my lips. “Morning, beautiful. I have to fly to Los Angeles,” Justin said, his long fingers gently tucking a stray lock of hair behind my ear. His eyes were so warm they could melt ice. “There’s a merger deal that needs my signature. I’ll be gone for about three days.” I leaned against the headboard, holding the warm mug. My gaze fell on his right hand. It was bare. No ring. But just yesterday, he had signed marriage papers with Chloe in LA. “Okay,” I said, taking a sip of the bitter coffee. The bitterness slid down my throat, settling heavy in my stomach. “Don’t push yourself too hard. Keep your legs warm.” “I will. Wait for me at home,” Justin said, ruffling my hair before turning to stride out of the penthouse. The heavy door clicked shut, leaving the massive penthouse in a silence as heavy as a grave. I set the coffee mug down and got out of bed. Instead of heading to the bathroom, I walked straight into the study. I unlocked the safe and pulled out a pre-drafted equity transfer agreement from the very bottom, along with a sleek business card. The card read: Arthur Lane, Chairman of the Lane Group. Justin’s grandfather. No one in the Lane family had ever accepted me. To them, I was just a thrill-seeker who liked extreme sports, a girl from a common background. Even though I had given up flying for Justin, and even though I had forced myself to become a top Chief Risk Officer to stabilize their family empire, Arthur still saw me as a gold-digger trying to climb the social ladder. I picked up my phone and dialed Arthur’s number. It rang three times before a cold, commanding voice answered. “Miss Stella, if you’re calling to beg for Justin, don’t waste your breath.” “I agree to the terms you proposed last month,” I said, my voice completely flat, devoid of any emotion. “I will hand over my ten percent stock options in the Lane Group, along with all the core data from the risk management department.” There was a stunned silence on the other end, followed by a mocking chuckle. “So you finally woke up? Finally realized you don’t belong in Justin’s world?” “Yes, I don’t belong,” I said, looking out at the gray New York skyline. “But I have two conditions. First, approve my transfer to the San Francisco branch immediately, with maximum executive authority. Second, give me fifteen days to wrap things up here.” “Fifteen days? Fine,” Arthur replied, his voice dripping with the satisfaction of a man who had finally cleared a nuisance. “But after fifteen days, I want you gone from New York forever. Never show your face to Justin again.” “Don’t worry. I won’t look back.” After hanging up, I let out a long breath. Fifteen days. That was the deadline I was giving to this five-year relationship. I opened my phone. At the very bottom of my contact requests was an invite from yesterday. The profile picture was Chloe, a woman in a white ballet tutu, sporting a radiant, perfect smile. Chloe’s latest Instagram story was posted at 2:00 PM yesterday. It was a photo of a massive bouquet of red roses sitting next to two official marriage certificates. Although the names were carefully blurred, the corner of the photo captured a man’s hand. On his wrist was a Patek Philippe watch. The very watch I had bought Justin for his birthday last year. Her caption read. “He said as long as I need him, he’ll always be there. Thank you, fate, for bringing you back to me.” This story was set to be visible only to me. I stared at the photo, my chest completely numb. The pain had been replaced by a cold, calculating detachment. I wasn’t even angry. I just found it pathetic. I closed Instagram, opened the Federal Aviation Administration website, and logged into my account. A prompt popped up on the screen. “Your Commercial Helicopter Pilot License has been inactive for five years. Would you like to apply for reinstatement and schedule a re-evaluation?” Without a second thought, I clicked “Yes.” Justin didn’t need me anymore. It was time to take back my own sky.

Stella’s POV For the next few days, my life ran like a perfectly calibrated machine. During the day, I handled the complex handover process at the office. As the Chief Risk Officer of the Lane Group, I held the keys to virtually all of the company’s core secrets. I slowly deleted the encrypted data from my personal drives, packed them up, and prepared to hand them over to the transition team Arthur was sending. At night, I returned to the penthouse filled with memories of Justin and began erasing my presence piece by piece. Twelve days left. Chloe updated her Instagram again. This time, it was a photo of a candlelit dinner. Justin’s face wasn’t in the frame, but his hands were visible as he cut a steak, a bottle of Romanee-Conti resting on the table. The caption. “My favorite person across from me, my favorite wine in hand.” I had just finished a brutal four-hour simulator retraining session at the flight center. Drenched in sweat, I sat on the locker room bench, sipping ice-cold water. I looked at her story and calmly tapped the heart icon to leave a like. Five minutes later, a message from Justin popped up on Snapchat. “What are you up to, Stella?” I stared at the screen, my fingers hovering over the keyboard for a second before typing. “Just finished some overtime, heading home. How about you? Is the merger going well?” “Very smooth. I’ll be back in New York tomorrow,” Justin replied instantly, followed by a voice note. I tapped it. His deep, soothing voice echoed in the quiet room, with soft piano music playing in the background. “I miss you so much, Stella. I got you a gift. See you tomorrow.” I listened to his voice while my eyes remained fixed on the glass of red wine in Chloe’s Instagram post. I typed back a single word. “Okay.” Eleven days left. Justin arrived back in New York half a day early. I had just shredded a highly confidential file when my office door was pushed open. Justin walked in hurriedly, not even taking off his coat. He locked the door behind him, strode over to my desk, and spun my chair around to face him. He braced his hands on the armrests, leaning down to kiss me. It was a possessive, aggressive kiss, carrying his signature cedarwood cologne… and a faint, sugary scent that belonged to another woman. My stomach churned with a sudden, violent wave of nausea. I jerked my head to the side, dodging his lips, and pressed my hands against his chest to push him back. “Justin, we’re in the office.” Justin froze, a flicker of annoyance passing through his eyes, though it was quickly masked by his usual warmth. He buried his face in the crook of my neck, inhaling deeply. “I couldn’t help it. I missed you.” He nuzzled against me like an eager puppy, then straightened up, pulling a small, navy-blue velvet box from his pocket. “Open it.” I took the box, my fingers cold. With a soft click, the box popped open. Inside lay a breathtaking diamond bracelet. The design was intricate, featuring a rare, brilliant pink diamond as the centerpiece. “I saw it at an auction in LA and thought it would look perfect on you,” Justin said, his eyes filled with anticipation. “Do you like it?” I stared at the bracelet, but all I could see was the Instagram story Chloe had posted this morning. In Chloe’s photo, she was wearing a diamond necklace with the exact same design. Her caption had been. “He said this is his exclusive love for me.” So, his so-called “exclusive” love was just a buy-one-get-one-free deal. I looked up, meeting Justin’s affectionate gaze, and forced a smile. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.” Instead of putting it on, I closed the box and tossed it into my desk drawer. Justin’s brow furrowed slightly. Usually, whenever he got me a gift, I would put it on immediately and wrap my arms around his neck. Today, I was far too detached. “Is something wrong? Are you just tired from work?” Justin reached out to touch my forehead. “Yeah. The quarterly risk reports are due soon. I haven’t been sleeping well,” I said, casually dodging his hand as I stood up. “You just got back. Go rest in your office. I have a meeting to run.” Justin stared at my cold demeanor. He looked like he wanted to say something, but seeing my blank expression, he swallowed his words. “Alright. Let’s grab dinner tonight.” Once his back was turned and the door closed, I took the blue velvet box out of the drawer and tossed it straight into the trash can. Garbage belonged in the trash.

Stella’s POV Nine days left. Chloe came to New York. I had just walked out of the conference room when I spotted a woman’s silhouette standing in the hallway of the executive suite. Chloe was wearing an oversized men’s trench coat. The sleeves were rolled up, exposing her thin wrists. She was looking at the company’s corporate history wall, her long hair falling over her shoulders. She looked delicate and gentle. I recognized that coat instantly. It was Justin’s. I had accompanied him to London last winter to have it custom-made at a century-old tailor on Savile Row. Hearing the sound of my heels, Chloe turned around. We stood face-to-face. A flash of provocation gleamed in Chloe’s eyes, but her face instantly shifted into an innocent, apologetic expression. She walked over to me quickly, her voice so soft it sounded like it could blow away in the wind. “Stella, it’s been a while.” I stopped, my eyes scanning the trench coat she was wearing. My voice was entirely flat. “Chloe. Can I help you?” Chloe instinctively pulled the coat tighter around herself, biting her lower lip. “I’m so sorry… I just arrived in New York yesterday and my luggage got lost at the airport. It was freezing last night, and Justin didn’t want me to catch a cold, so he lent me his coat. Please don’t misunderstand, Stella. Justin and I are just friends now.” Just friends. I scoffed inwardly. Friends who sign marriage certificates? “It’s just a coat. You don’t need to be so tense, Chloe,” I said, my gaze cold and precise, as if evaluating a worthless spreadsheet. “Though the size is clearly too big for you. You look like a toddler wearing her father’s clothes. Next time, if you need something, just call Justin’s assistant. He can buy you clothes that actually fit.” Chloe’s face stiffened. She clearly hadn’t expected this reaction. She probably thought I would scream, throw a tantrum, or lose my mind like a jealous lunatic. Right then, the door to the CEO’s office swung open. Justin stepped out. When he saw the two of us standing in the hallway, his face paled. Instantly, he rushed to Chloe’s side, shielding her behind his back, his eyes locked onto me with intense wariness. “Stella, what are you doing here?” Justin’s voice carried a nervous tremor. Looking at his protective stance, I found it hilarious. I was his actual girlfriend, yet he was guarding his fragile ex-wife from me as if I were a threat. “Just walking back from my meeting,” I said, waving the folder in my hand with a casual smile. “Carry on. I have reports to review.” Without giving Justin another glance, I clicked my heels and walked past them. Justin froze. Suddenly, he pushed Chloe aside and caught up to me, grabbing my wrist. “Stella!” Forced to stop, I turned back to look at him. “Do you have a work-related question, Justin?” Addressing him by his first name so formally drew an instant, icy boundary between us. Justin lowered his voice, his tone almost pleading. “Don’t be mad. Chloe just got back to the country and is facing a lot of trouble. I’m just helping her out. There is absolutely nothing going on between us.” I looked into his anxious eyes. Those were the eyes that had been blind for six months after his car accident. During those six months, I had held his hand, guiding him back into the light step by step. I used to believe those eyes would only ever look at me. “I’m not mad,” I said, gently pulling my wrist from his grip, my lips curving into a flawless smile. “I mean it, Justin. She’s in trouble, and it’s nice of you to help. Go back to her, don’t keep her waiting.” My tone was completely tranquil. He probably would have preferred me to throw a fit or slap him across the face. Anything would be better than me looking at him like a total stranger. I didn’t give him a chance to speak. I turned and walked straight through the glass doors of the risk management department. The moment the doors shut behind me, the smile died on my face, leaving only a cold, dead silence.

Stella’s POV Six days left. A rare, violent storm hit New York. I left the office early and returned to the penthouse. There were still too many things to clean out. I grabbed a large black trash bag and began purging the place of my existence. In the bathroom: our matching electric toothbrushes. Tossed. In the walk-in closet: the limited-edition silk tie I spent an entire month’s salary on for him. Tossed. In the study: the Lego model we spent a month building together. I knocked it over without hesitation and swept the pieces into the bag. Finally, I walked over to the display cabinet in the living room. Inside sat a custom-made flight helmet. It was the first gift Justin gave me after he recovered. On the side, he had hand-painted an eagle soaring through the clouds, with the words. “To my Queen, Stella.” I used to treat this helmet like a holy relic, polishing it every single day. But now, looking at that eagle, it just felt like a cruel joke. I had clipped my own wings for him, and he had painted me an eagle. With a blank expression, I opened the cabinet, pulled the helmet out, and threw it right into the trash bag. At 10:00 PM, Justin came home reeking of alcohol. I heard his heavy footsteps entering the penthouse. He had been out drinking, but I would never again brew him warm milk and gently scold him like I used to. When he opened the bedroom door, all he found was darkness. I hadn’t left a light on for him, hadn’t prepared any hangover soup, and wasn’t waiting on the sofa. I heard Justin flip on the lights and stumble around the living room. Then, his frantic footsteps began pacing around the penthouse, searching for something. He must have noticed. The helmet was gone, the toothbrushes were gone, the mugs had been downsized to one, and even his favorite tie had vanished. “Stella!” Justin burst into the bedroom. I was propped up against the pillows, reading a book. I didn’t even look up at his voice. “What?” “Where is the helmet?!” Justin’s eyes were bloodshot, his voice trembling with a mix of fury and sheer panic. “The flight helmet I got you! Where is it?!” I flipped a page, my voice as casual as if I were commenting on the weather. “Oh, that. I accidentally cracked it while cleaning the other day. It was ruined, so I threw it out.” “You threw it out?!” Justin stared at me in disbelief, as if looking at a complete stranger. “That was our first-anniversary gift! That was our memory! Even if it was cracked, we could have fixed it! Why would you throw it away?!” I finally closed the book and looked up at him. My gaze was clear, sharp, and freezing, cutting right through his lies. “Justin, when something is broken, it’s broken,” I said softly, yet ruthlessly. “You can’t fix a crack. Keeping a broken object only risks cutting yourself. It’s much easier to just throw it away.” Justin looked as if he had been struck by lightning. He stared into my eyes, trying to find any trace of spite or jealousy. But there was none. There was only absolute calmness. A calmness that bred despair. “Do you…” Justin’s throat bobbed with difficulty, his voice raspy and terrified. “Do you know something?” Looking at his guilty face, I only felt pity. I didn’t even have the energy to expose him. “I know you’ve been stressed lately,” I said, reopening my book and returning to my professional, distant tone. “Go take a shower and get some sleep. I have to meet with the San Francisco team tomorrow. Goodnight.” Justin stood frozen by the bed, watching me look back down at my book. He didn’t say another word. I wasn’t going to argue with him. I was just preparing my quiet exit.

Stella’s POV Three days left. I went to the salon and chopped off the long hair I had kept for five years. Justin used to love playing with my long hair, saying it felt like fine silk. Because of that single compliment, I had kept the same hairstyle for five years, spending thousands of dollars a month on hair treatments. But now, looking at my sleek, shoulder-length bob in the mirror, I felt lighter than ever. Leaving the salon, I met my only close friend in New York, Nora, at a Michelin-starred restaurant. “Are you really doing this?” Nora looked at my short hair, her eyes red. “Moving to San Francisco? What about Justin? You literally almost died for him, and now you’re just handing him over to that ex on a silver platter?” I raised my wine glass and downed it in one go. The burning liquid slid down my throat, settling into a dull ache in my chest. “Nora, he’s not worth fighting for,” I said, setting the glass down with a self-deprecating smile. “He already married Chloe on paper. If I stay, what am I? His mistress?” Nora’s eyes widened in shock. She slammed her hand on the table. “That piece of trash! I’m going to the Lane Group headquarters right now and exposing him to everyone!” “Don’t,” I said, catching her hand. My eyes were cold and focused. “Arthur gave me full authority over the San Francisco branch, plus a massive payout for my stock options. Trading a garbage man for all of that is a steal. If we make a scene, the deal might fall through.” As a risk expert, I always knew how to minimize losses. My heart was bankrupt; I couldn’t afford to lose my financial leverage too. Just then, my phone buzzed on the table. It was an Instagram notification. Chloe had posted. In the photo, Chloe was wearing an extremely luxurious custom wedding gown, standing in front of a massive mirror. Reflected in the background was Justin, sitting on a sofa, waiting for her. The caption. “He said even if it’s just a formality, he wants me to be the most beautiful bride.” I stared at the post and calmly pressed the heart icon. Less than a minute later, Justin’s call came through. I answered and put it on speaker. “Stella, where are you?!” Justin’s voice was filled with panic and desperation. “Let me explain! Chloe has a charity gala next month and needed to borrow a dress. I only came along to help her choose. It’s not what you think!” His voice carried a guilt he didn’t even realize he was projecting. I leaned back in my chair, looking up at the restaurant’s chandelier. My voice was sweet and perfectly calm. “I know. The gown is gorgeous. It suits her perfectly. You’ve always had great taste.” The other end of the line went dead silent. Only Justin’s heavy, erratic breathing filled the quiet air. “Stella…” Justin’s voice began to tremble. “Don’t talk to me like that. Please, just yell at me. Don’t use that tone…” “Justin, I’m having dinner with a friend. I have to go.” Ignoring his unraveling sanity, I hung up. Half an hour later, the door to our private dining room was slammed open. Justin stood at the threshold, drenched in sweat, his tie askew, his eyes bloodshot. When his eyes fell on my short hair, all the strength seemed to drain from his body. He had to grip the doorframe to keep from collapsing. “Your hair…” His voice shook, his eyes wide with terror. “It was getting too long and was a pain to wash, so I cut it,” I said, standing up and grabbing my coat from the chair. I looked at him as if nothing were wrong. “What are you doing here? Weren’t you helping Chloe with her dress?” Justin suddenly lunged forward, locking me in a suffocating embrace. He held me so tightly, as if trying to fuse me into his bones. “I’m done helping her. No more dresses, ever again,” Justin sobbed, burying his face in my shoulder. His voice cracked. “Stella, let’s get married. Let’s go register tomorrow! I’ll transfer all my shares to your name. Just marry me!” I let him hold me, my arms hanging uselessly at my sides. I stared at the painting on the restaurant wall, my heart completely flat. Register tomorrow? Did he forget he was legally another woman’s husband? Bigamy is a felony. He could go to prison for that. “Sure,” I said, gently patting his back. My voice was as sweet as a dream. “But not tomorrow. I have to hand over my final risk assessment reports tomorrow. Let’s do it in a few days.” Justin pulled back, his eyes lighting up with joy. “Okay. In a few days, I’ll plan everything. I’ll give you the most romantic proposal ever.” I looked down, hiding the mocking smirk in my eyes. Too bad you don’t have a few days left.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “431748”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

I am the only daughter of the billionaire Vance family, pampered to no end by my three gorgeous, incredibly successful older brothers. I thought I would live the life of a princess forever. Until one day, I received a letter from my future self: “Chloe, Your oldest brother, Carter, will sign a high-stakes valuation bet for a female secretary, wiping ten billion dollars off the Vance Group’s market cap. Your second brother, Julian, will be framed by a female secretary and kicked out of the board, completely penniless. Your third brother, Dominic, will give up his entire inheritance for a female secretary, leaving the Vance family utterly ruined.” I panicked. I immediately investigated every single female secretary in my brothers’ offices. But I found absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. That was until Victoria Sterling, a new secretary, was suddenly dropped directly into Carter’s executive suite. She glanced at me, her voice sweet but her eyes cold as ice: “Sweetie, the executive suite isn’t a playground. If you want to play, please get the hell out.” I looked her up and down. She was gorgeous, I’d give her that. But she seriously underestimated how much my brothers adored me. I let out a cold laugh. “The one who needs to get the hell out is you.” Carter, the ultimate sister-protecting CEO of the company, was about to walk through that door any second. …….

I still had a piece of durian halfway to my mouth. There were five people in the VIP lounge. Even the one with the shortest tenure had been with Carter for six years. Right now, their expressions were hilariously identical. It was that perfect mix of wanting to speak up but being terrified of saying the wrong thing, wanting to drag someone back but not knowing who to grab. Brenda, the senior admin, was the first who couldn’t sit still. She let out a forced laugh. “Ms. Sterling, this is Mr. Vance’s…” “I know, his sister,” Victoria interrupted, not even sparing Brenda a glance. When she said the word “sister,” her tone pitched upward slightly, carrying a subtle, mocking disdain. “But even a sister shouldn’t be eating, drinking, and playing in the executive suite, right?” “The smell of durian is so strong. What if a client comes by later?” She glanced at the food container in front of me, her brows knitting together. “Besides, today is my first day. The rules of the executive suite need to be established.” “When Mr. Vance is away, I coordinate the daily affairs here.” She smiled, tilting her head to look at me like she was talking to a spoiled toddler. “Be a good girl, pack up your things, and I’ll have the receptionist call an Uber to take you home, okay?” Brenda panicked, her voice raising half an octave: “Ms. Sterling, you really don’t understand the situation. This lounge was specially set up by Mr. Vance for—” “It doesn’t matter who it was set up for.” Victoria turned around. Her voice was still sweet and gentle, but every word carried an undeniable authority. “Brenda, you’ve been with Mr. Vance for so many years. You should know better than anyone that the executive suite represents the image of the entire Group.” “If she’s in here eating smelly exotic fruit and word gets out, what will people think of the Vance Group?” Marcus, the Operations Director, finally couldn’t help but speak up as he set down his coffee cup. “Ms. Sterling, I highly suggest you wait until Mr. Vance gets back before you—” “Marcus,” Victoria cut him off, her smile unchanged as she turned her head. “Mr. Vance authorized me to manage the daily affairs of the executive suite. This falls directly under my responsibility.” “Or are you suggesting that Mr. Vance’s authorization is questionable?” Marcus opened his mouth, but quickly shut it again. I picked up a napkin and slowly wiped my fingers, my movements completely unbothered. “What did you say earlier? Told me to get the hell out?” Victoria’s smile stiffened for a fraction of a second. “I didn’t use those exact words,” she said. “I said ‘go play somewhere else.’” “Oh,” I nodded. “So you mean you get to decide where I can stay?” “Chloe, everyone in the company knows Mr. Vance spoils you. But business is business…” “By the way,” I interrupted her. “The keypad on the door? The passcode is my birthday, 0816. You can ask anyone in this room.” “Technically speaking, this lounge belongs to me.” Brenda nodded furiously beside me, looking like a woodpecker. Victoria fell silent for two seconds. She took a deep breath, resetting her expression. This time, she wasn’t smiling anymore. “Chloe, every word I say today is for the good of the Vance Group. It’s nothing personal.” She turned to Brenda, her tone shifting into that of a cold corporate director delivering an order. “Brenda, notify reception. Starting today, any non-staff members entering the executive suite must register and get pre-clearance.” She paused. “No exceptions for anyone.” Brenda’s face instantly went pale. “Ms. Sterling, this rule… I’m afraid only Mr. Vance can…” “Mr. Vance gave me the authorization,” Victoria cut her off coldly. “I don’t need to consult him on every minor detail.” Then she turned back, her gaze landing on me once more. This time, she didn’t even bother to keep up her sweet, gentle facade. “Chloe, your behavior in the executive suite today has already disrupted our normal workflow.” “As the administrative coordinator of this office, I have the right to handle this.” She walked to the door, opened it, and nodded to the two security guards standing in the hallway. “Please lock this lounge temporarily.” She looked at me, her voice quiet but crystal clear. “You can stay here for a bit, Chloe. Cool your head.” “Once I report today’s situation to Mr. Vance, I’ll let you out.” “Consider it… a little lesson.” Brenda snapped, jumping to her feet: “Victoria! How dare you!” Victoria raised a hand to stop her, the chill-inducing smile returning to her face. “Don’t get so worked up, Brenda. I’m doing this for Chloe’s own good.” “A spoiled little girl needs someone to teach her some rules, right?”

The security guards closed the door. The lighting in the lounge didn’t change, but the atmosphere felt like it had been plunged underwater. Victoria stood by the door, clapping her hands lightly as if she had just disposed of some minor garbage. “Alright,” she turned to Brenda, her voice returning to that sweet tone. “Brenda, please organize the minutes from this afternoon’s meeting and send them to me. Mr. Vance will want to review them later.” Brenda didn’t move. “Ms. Sterling,” she said, her voice incredibly low. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing?” “I do,” Victoria said. “I am maintaining order in the executive suite.” “And Brenda, I’m not asking for your opinion.” Brenda snapped her head up, her eyes rimmed with red. She had been with Carter for eleven years, starting when the Vance Group was just a mid-sized company. She had never dealt with this kind of audacity before. She took a deep breath, about to speak… But Victoria had already turned away, pulling out her phone and dialing a number. The call was answered almost instantly. A deep, commanding voice came through the line. “Victoria, what’s wrong?” Victoria’s tone softened by seventy percent in a second. “Uncle Richard, I just arrived at the executive suite, but I ran into a bit of trouble. I wanted to report it to you.” The name “Uncle Richard” sent another wave of silence through the lounge. Robert’s coffee cup rattled slightly, and Marcus’s expression shifted. The “Uncle Richard” Victoria was talking about was none other than Richard Harrison. He was a founding board member of the Vance Group, a close ally of my late father, and the current Head of the Compliance Committee. Victoria explained the situation, her tone dripping with victimhood. Her words were precisely crafted to paint herself as a diligent worker and me as a spoiled, unreasonable sister throwing a tantrum. “…I really had no choice. With Mr. Vance away, the office was in chaos. I had to enforce the rules.” “Uncle Richard, did I do the right thing?” There was a two-second silence on the other end of the line. “Victoria, you did nothing wrong. The executive suite needs rules.” Richard’s voice wasn’t loud, but it was clear enough for everyone in the room to hear. “I’ll call Carter later and tell him to get his sister under control.” “Running around the office all day—it’s highly unprofessional.” Victoria looked up, her eyes sweeping over everyone in the room as a smirk crept onto her lips. “Thank you, Uncle Richard. I knew you were the most reasonable one.” Hanging up, she slid her phone into her pocket and stood tall. Her entire aura was completely different now. Before, she still felt the need to maintain a polite facade. Now, she didn’t even bother. She turned back to me. “Chloe, you’re a smart girl, so I won’t beat around the bush.” She folded her hands over her knee, her tone calm. “I didn’t join the Vance Group to make an enemy out of you. But rules are rules.” “If you cooperate with me today, I’ll say some good things about you to Carter. In the future, when you come here, I’ll turn a blind eye.” “Isn’t that a win-win?” I looked down at my durian. Then I looked up, preparing to speak. Footsteps echoed from the hallway. “Who gave the order to lock this door?” It was the Chief Executive Assistant, my brother’s shadow.

Jeremy Ross stood at the door, still holding the spare key. He was in his early forties and had been with Carter for thirteen years, since the very first office the Vance Group ever leased. Everyone in the company knew an unwritten rule: when Carter wasn’t around, Jeremy’s word was Carter’s word. His gaze swept from the locked door, across everyone in the lounge, and finally locked onto Victoria. “I’ll ask one more time,” he pushed up his glasses, his tone as flat as if he were verifying meeting minutes. “Who gave the order to lock this door?” Victoria didn’t answer immediately. She sized Jeremy up for two seconds, her gaze lingering on the ID badge pinned to his chest. “Chief Executive Assistant: Jeremy Ross.” “I did.” When she said those two words, her chin lifted slightly, devoid of any guilt. “There was an incident in the executive suite. I used the authority granted to me by Mr. Vance to handle it temporarily.” Jeremy didn’t say a word. He walked past her, straight to me. “Chloe, are you okay?” I shook my head. “I’m fine.” Jeremy nodded, then turned to Brenda. “Go get some seafood soup ready. Mr. Vance knew Chloe was coming today and specifically ordered it.” Brenda looked like she had just been granted a presidential pardon. She quickly gasped an “On it!” and turned to leave. “Wait.” Victoria’s voice cut through the air. Brenda’s footsteps halted. “Mr. Ross,” Victoria stepped forward, positioning herself right between Jeremy and Brenda. “As I just stated, non-staff members are not allowed to dine in the executive suite. This rule is effective immediately.” “Having someone fetch food now—are you trying to overrule my decision?” Jeremy turned to look at her. “Ms. Sterling,” Jeremy began, “I handled your onboarding process myself. I know your authorization limits better than you do.” “Mr. Vance authorized you to coordinate the daily administrative affairs of the executive suite.” He paused. “That does not include HR, it does not include security dispatch, and it certainly does not include… locking doors.” Victoria’s expression stiffened. But she recovered quickly, even letting out a soft laugh. “Mr. Ross, those are just terms on a piece of paper.” “But do you honestly believe Mr. Vance brought me to the executive suite just to do busywork?” “You’ve been with him for thirteen years. You should know better than anyone…” “Mr. Vance doesn’t hire people based purely on a job description.” She tilted her head, her voice adopting an almost intimate undertone. “The relationship between Mr. Vance and me is not something that can be summarized by a mere authorization letter.” “Mr. Ross, you’re a smart man. I shouldn’t have to spell this out for you.” As soon as she said this, Robert almost dropped his coffee cup. Marcus turned his face away entirely. Brenda stood by the door, her mouth opening and closing in sheer disbelief. Jeremy simply pushed up his glasses, his expression completely unfazed. “Ms. Sterling, regardless of your personal relationship with Mr. Vance, within the office space of the Vance Group, everything goes by the rules.” “And those rules were set by Mr. Vance himself.” He turned back to Brenda, his tone unchanged. “Go. Get the food.” Brenda didn’t hesitate this time. She turned and practically bolted down the hallway. Victoria watched Brenda disappear, the smile on her face vanishing inch by inch. She turned to face Jeremy directly. This time, the polite mask was entirely gone. “Mr. Ross, I respect your seniority, which is why I’ve been speaking to you nicely.” “But undermining me in front of everyone today makes things very difficult for me.” Jeremy remained silent. “I locked this lounge because Chloe’s behavior was actively disrupting the workplace,” Victoria sneered, her voice dropping, forcing out each word. “Even Board Trustee Richard Harrison has already expressed his support on this matter.” “Are you saying a mere assistant is more powerful than a board trustee?”

Jeremy tucked his iPad under his arm, his voice still as flat as a dead pond. “Ms. Sterling, Mr. Harrison is indeed a senior trustee, responsible for supervising compliance.” “But the human resources and daily management of the executive suite have never fallen under the board’s jurisdiction.” He paused. “That is written in the company bylaws in black and white. It is not up to me, nor is it up to Mr. Harrison.” Victoria’s eyes turned absolutely icy. “Jeremy,” she said, addressing him by his first name for the first time, dropping even the polite “Mr.” “Do you have any idea who you are talking to?” “I do,” Jeremy said. “Victoria Sterling, the newly hired secretary of the executive suite. Today is your first day.” The words weren’t loud, but they stung. She turned around and looked at me. Realizing she couldn’t break Jeremy, she decided to shift her pressure back to me. “Chloe,” she walked over, her voice barely a whisper. “I am giving you one last chance.” “Cooperate with me on today’s matter, and I’ll act like nothing happened.” “You can keep coming to the executive suite, I won’t stop you. We can stay out of each other’s way.” “But if you keep pushing this…” She paused, her eyes scanning my face. “I won’t hesitate to have Mr. Harrison handle this personally.” “If things blow up, it won’t end well for anyone.” I pushed the plate of durian aside and looked up at her. “Victoria,” I said, “how long have you been in this lounge today?” Victoria frowned. “What does that have to do with anything?” “Just curious,” I said. “You walked in, locked the door, brought up your backer, threatened the chief assistant, and now you’re trying to negotiate with me.” I tilted my head. “Do you honestly think you have any leverage left?” The look in Victoria’s eyes shifted instantly. It wasn’t anger; it was the sudden panic of someone whose bluff had been called, leaving her completely cornered. But she masked it quickly. She took a deep breath, forcing a cold smirk onto her lips, her gentle disguise entirely shattered. “Chloe, you’ve got a sharp tongue.” “I’ve been like this since I was a kid. My brothers are used to it.” “Brothers?” Victoria repeated the word, her tone dripping with mockery. “Your brothers aren’t here right now.” “And no matter how much they spoil you, they can’t shield you from this.” She took a step closer. “So, Chloe, you’d better think carefully.” She raised her hand, pointing toward the door. “Now, are you going to walk out yourself, or should I have security escort you out?” Jeremy stepped forward. “Ms. Sterling—” “Jeremy, if you stop me again,” Victoria turned, her voice dropping to a freezing register, “I will call Mr. Harrison right now and have him ask you why an assistant is repeatedly obstructing the administrative management of this office.” Jeremy stopped. Victoria turned back to me, keeping her hand pointed toward the hallway. “Let’s go, Chloe.” I looked down at her outstretched hand. I stared at it for about three seconds. Then, I raised my eyes, looking past her shoulder toward the doorway. Sensing my gaze, Victoria frowned and slowly turned around. Heavy footsteps echoed from the hallway. The door swung open. Carter was standing at the entrance. “What,” he spoke, his voice dangerously level, “is going on here?”

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In the fifth year of my marriage to Ruby, I suddenly began to see the leaderboards in everyone’s minds. On my mother’s leaderboard, I was number one. On my best friend’s, I was number two—right behind his newborn son. Even the owner of the bagel shop downstairs ranked me sixth. Heart full of warmth, I looked at Ruby’s. Number one: her mother. Number two: Darren. It was me! I was second. I smiled for an entire day. Until my eyes drifted down to number six: Oliver. A name I had never heard in my life. I told myself it didn’t matter. I was second; he was only sixth. But over the next few days, his name crept upward, slot by slot, until he was almost neck-and-neck with me. That night, Ruby came home and wrapped her arms around me as usual. “I missed you,” she whispered. I looked at the leaderboard floating above her head. Oliver, now sitting at number three, was still climbing. “Ruby,” I said quietly. “Who is Oliver?” Her arms around my waist stiffened for a fraction of a second. … The pause was too brief, so fleeting it felt like a trick of my imagination. Ruby quickly looked down at me, her expression smooth and effortless. “A new designer on my team. He’s assisting me with the latest project, so I’m showing him the ropes.” She smiled, reaching up to ruffle my hair the way she always did. “Why do you ask? You’re not actually getting jealous of a coworker, are you?” I looked up at her. Above her head, Oliver’s name sat firmly in the number three spot. It didn’t even flicker. If he were just a coworker, my sudden question should have caused at least a tiny ripple in her mind. A momentary panic, or even mild annoyance. But there was nothing. I mumbled a quiet “Oh,” and took a sip of water. I kept the glass pressed against my lips for a long time, staring into the dark liquid. The next morning, Ruby left twenty minutes earlier than usual. She claimed the morning rush hour had been brutal lately. The kitchen island still held a warm glass of milk and a perfectly fried egg, the crusts of my toast carefully trimmed off. She had done this every single morning of our five-year marriage. I stood by the door, waving goodbye and telling her to drive safe with a smile. But the moment her taillights vanished around the corner, a strange impulse took over. I opened the location-sharing app on my phone. Her car wasn’t heading toward her office. Instead, it detoured, stopping in an unfamiliar residential neighborhood for about fifteen minutes before starting up again. I stared at the flashing red dot, my chest tightening. The third day, it was the exact same time, the exact same detour. By the fourth day, I no longer stood by the window to wave. I just watched her go, then watched the GPS dot crawl to that same quiet street and pause. Every morning she left, Oliver’s name edged a fraction closer to mine. It wasn’t a sudden leap—just a slow, agonizing crawl. But it was enough to leave me hollowed out with anxiety all day long. It happened at night, too. Twice she told me she had to work late, but her location hovered over an unfamiliar apartment complex miles away from her office. I stared at the street address until my eyes burned. One evening, I sat at the dining table, watching her lean over the counter making pour-over coffee. A sweet, floral scent of lavender syrup slowly filled our apartment, seeping into every corner of the home we built together. It was a flavor I had never bought. A scent that didn’t belong to us. Ruby brought the mug over, placing it near my hand. There was a faint, almost imperceptible flicker of tension in her eyes. “Try it,” she said. I took a sip. It was sweet, velvety, with a subtle floral creaminess. It was nothing like the bold, black americanos we had both drank for years. I looked up. “Since when do you like lavender?” She hesitated, just a beat too long, before laughing it off. “Just wanted to try something new for a change.” That split second of hesitation felt like a needle pricking my eye. Later that night, while she was in the shower, she left her phone on the sofa. The screen was still unlocked, open to her Notes app. I only meant to glance at it. Lavender syrup to milk ratio: 3 to 7. He prefers it a little sweeter. He. Not a name. Just a simple, devastating pronoun. My finger hovered over the glass screen, completely frozen. The sound of running water continued in the bathroom. I slid the phone back exactly where it had been, pretending I had seen nothing. That night, we curled up on the couch to watch a movie. She leaned back against my chest. On screen, people were laughing, but I couldn’t process a single line of dialogue. Her phone buzzed. She picked it up, and a soft, barely visible smile touched the corners of her lips as she typed a brief reply. The whole thing took less than five seconds. But in those five seconds, Oliver’s name surged forward on her leaderboard, landing right against my heels in the number two spot. I could feel her chest press against me, her heart skipping a beat. It wasn’t because of me. When she put the phone down, she reached out and wrapped her arms tighter around my waist, pulling me close. It felt like compensation. Or perhaps, she was trying to hold down a secret. I couldn’t sleep. The yellow glow of the streetlights cut through the gap in the curtains, painting the contours of her face. She was sleeping peacefully, her features relaxed, a faint, contented smile gracing her lips. I used to love watching her sleep. But that night, my gaze drifted upward. The leaderboard hung silently above her head. Number one: Her mother. Number two: Darren. Number two: Oliver. A tie. I stared at our names sitting side by side, feeling as if I’d been hit squarely in the chest. Five years of marriage, balanced perfectly on the scales against a man she had known for God knows how long. I gently lifted her hand off my waist, turned over to face the cold drywall, and kept my eyes wide open until the sun came up. The next morning, while doing the laundry, I found a crumpled receipt in her coat pocket. The name of the cafe was unfamiliar. The timestamp read 7:48 AM. Exactly during those twenty minutes she’d been leaving early. I carefully smoothed out the slip of paper. Two lavender lattes. We only ever drank black coffee. She hadn’t been practicing a new flavor for herself. She was learning how to make it exactly the way another man liked it. Sunlight streamed over the edge of the laundry basket, but my fingertips went entirely cold as I held the thin paper. After a long moment, I folded the receipt back up and slipped it into her pocket. Then I sat on the balcony, pulling my knees to my chest, unable to move for hours. The leaderboard didn’t lie. The receipt didn’t lie. The only liar in this house was her. I looked up the coffee shop online. Navigating through the tagged photos on Instagram, I easily found Oliver’s profile. He was a film photographer. His feed was filled with pictures of stray cats, moody skies, city lights reflecting off the river, and pour-over setups. He looked quiet, clean-cut, like a fresh, blank sheet of paper. I scrolled down his feed, post by post. When I hit a photo of the riverfront at night, my thumb froze. I knew that exact spot. Ruby and I had walked that path a thousand times during our college years. The iron railings, the vintage streetlamps, the distant silhouette of the bridge—I could have drawn them from memory with my eyes closed. The caption was simple: “Someone brought me to see the best view in the city.” My breath hitched. That was my place. Our place. And she had taken someone else there to trace our footsteps. I kept scrolling. I found a photo of his desk. Tucked into the corner of the frame was a fountain pen—black body, platinum clip. It was the Montblanc I had bought for Ruby. When she got accepted into her dream graduate program, I spent months scrimping and saving to buy her that pen. She had kissed my wrist and promised, “I’ll use this every single day, and every time I do, I’ll think of you.” Months ago, she told me she lost it at the office. I had torn the apartment apart trying to find it for her. It wasn’t lost. She had given it away. I touched my wrist, feeling a cold chill seep into my skin. In another post, Oliver shared a screenshot of an obscure indie documentary—the exact one Ruby had suddenly started watching. I had begged her to watch movies with me for years, but she always complained they were boring, that she’d rather just sleep. It took me five years, and I couldn’t change a single habit of hers. Oliver had been in her life for three months, and she had already rewritten her taste in coffee, movies, and hobbies. I looked up toward our bedroom closet. She’d bought so many new clothes recently—sharper tailoring, brighter colors, moving away from her usual muted palette. Once, I had pulled her toward a mirror in a department store, picking out a beautiful light-gray trench coat for her. She’d dismissed it: “Who has the energy to dress up like that?” I had bought us couple’s gym memberships; she never went once. I bought her luxury hand creams, which she left untouched because she “hated the sticky feeling.” But lately, she was going to pilates, wearing expensive perfume, and keeping her hands meticulously soft. Five years of marriage couldn’t inspire her to change. But the moment Oliver arrived, she reinvented herself. It wasn’t that she was incapable of effort. She just didn’t want to make it for me. That afternoon, I dug out our wedding video. Ruby, in her white dress, stood under the soft lights holding my hands, her eyes brimming with tears. “You’ll always be my number one,” she said into the microphone. “If there ever comes a day when you aren’t, it means I’m no longer in this world.” I had wept like a child. She wiped my tears away as our friends and family clapped. I shut the laptop, flipping the screen down. When I looked back up at the empty room, Oliver’s name was pressing tightly against mine on her leaderboard. She came home very late that night. There was a faint red mark on the side of her neck. Before I could even ask, she laughed it off quickly. “My new coat’s collar is so stiff, it kept rubbing against my skin all day.” She headed straight for the shower, washing away whatever scent she carried, changed into her silk pajamas, and climbed into bed, wrapping her arms around me from behind. “Hey, handsome. Hard day?” She kissed my cheek, her breath warm, her movements practiced and familiar. Just like every other night for the past five years. But once she fell asleep, I looked above her head. Number two: Oliver. Number three: Darren. I had finally been displaced. Right on the night she held me, called me her husband, and kissed my cheek. I lay there in the dark, my eyes dry. No tears came. Only a deep, radiating coldness that slowly spread through my limbs. The next morning, I opened Oliver’s photo of the riverfront again. The streetlamps, the railing—they looked more and more familiar. Then it clicked. Just around that bend was the little Italian bistro we used to frequent back in college. It wasn’t just the Montblanc pen. It wasn’t just the taste of lavender. Even the streets we had walked hundreds of times had been recycled for someone else. I stared at the photo for a long time. I didn’t feel anger, nor did I feel resentment. I only had one clear thought: I needed to go see it for myself. I wanted to see how much sincerity she had left when she used our sacred places to charm another man. Over the weekend, I suggested we go back to that old bistro near campus. “It’s been so long. I really miss their lasagna,” I said. Ruby agreed instantly. The owner, an old Italian man, recognized us immediately, his face lighting up. “Look who finally decided to come back! The newlyweds!” Ruby laughed, pulling out a chair for me. She ordered all my favorites—garlic bread, baked ziti, and spicy sausage penne, even remembering to tell the kitchen no onions, just the way I liked it. She chatted with the owner about our college days, how I used to sit by the window to study, and how I’d drink two bowls of minestrone when I was nervous before finals. She acted so natural, as if nothing had changed. But I kept my eyes on her leaderboard. Oliver sat firmly at number two, unmoving. I laughed, I joked, I desperately tried to piece our history back together. But over the course of the meal, my name didn’t budge even a millimeter. Halfway through the meal, her phone rang. She glanced at the screen. “I need to take this,” she said. Through the glass window, I watched her stand on the sidewalk, her back to me, one hand tucked casually into her pocket, her posture loose and relaxed. At some point, she ducked her head and laughed. I knew that laugh too well. It was defenseless, soft, the kind of laugh she reserved only for those closest to her. I looked down at the food on the table. It was everything I loved. But the steam was fading, and though she was standing just outside the door, her heart was miles away. On her leaderboard, Oliver’s name was slowly drifting closer to the number one spot. When she came back inside, she picked up on my mood instantly. Her instinct to compensate kicked in immediately. She put food on my plate, apologizing softly, claiming a client had called with an emergency. Then, as if sensing my skepticism, she added, “For our anniversary next month, I took three days off. I’m taking you to Maui—the trip you’ve been wanting for years.” The moment she said it, I instinctively looked at her leaderboard. My name actually budged upward, just a tiny fraction of an inch. A bittersweet realization hit me. She wasn’t being sweet because her love for me had returned. She was doing it out of guilt. Three days in Hawaii was the price she was willing to pay for peace of mind—a glossy receipt to settle the tab on her betrayal. I forced a smile. “That sounds great.” Even to my own ears, my voice sounded like a stranger’s. As we left the restaurant, I saw a young couple on the sidewalk. The boy was holding the girl’s hand, his smile bright and unburdened. Above his head, the girl’s name sat cleanly in the number one spot. No other names. It was the same with the elderly couple crossing the street near our apartment. The wife gently supported her husband’s arm, her leaderboard showing him as her undisputed number one, a ranking untouched by the decades. I stood frozen on the sidewalk. So that’s what it looks like to be someone’s priority. I turned to look at Ruby. She was staring down at her phone, typing away. Number one: Her mother. Number two: Oliver. Number three: Darren. I had never once been her number one. Back home, she retreated to her home office, claiming she had work to wrap up. I sat alone in the living room without turning on the lights. In the silence of the dark, I finally made a decision. I wasn’t going to wait around anymore. I wasn’t going to watch myself slide further down her list until I vanished entirely. I unlocked my phone, went back to Oliver’s social media, and tracked down a tagged photo from his company’s office. It showed the coffee shop he visited almost every single afternoon. The very next day, I arrived at that cafe early. I ordered a black coffee and took a seat in the back corner. Shortly after noon, Oliver walked in. He had neatly styled hair, wore a clean white button-down, and carried himself with a quiet, unassuming grace. He ordered a lavender latte. He looked incredibly ordinary. Yet, my eyes immediately locked onto the leaderboard above his head. Number one: Ruby. My wife was the most important person in his life. And he was fast becoming the most important person in hers. Their leaderboards locked together like a closed circuit, a perfect circle. And I was left standing on the outside. Oliver sat down and opened his laptop, beginning to edit some design drafts. I stood up to use the restroom. As I walked past his table, my eyes caught the back of his phone. Inside the clear plastic case was a Polaroid of two silhouettes standing shoulder-to-shoulder by the river. The railing, the streetlamp… I knew them intimately. Then I saw the silver chain bracelet on his wrist. I recognized the brand instantly; it was from the boutique where Ruby bought all my jewelry. I walked into the restroom, stared at my reflection in the mirror for a few seconds, and turned on the tap. I splashed cold water onto my face, watching it drip off my chin. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking. When I returned, I picked up my coffee, walked over to his table, and sat down opposite him. “Hi there. Mind if I sit? I notice you’re a regular here too.” Oliver blinked in surprise, then offered a polite, warm smile. “Sure, go ahead. Yeah, I love their lavender lattes.” I stared at the milky, pastel-colored coffee in his cup, feeling a dull ache grind deep into my chest. We chatted idly for a few minutes—about cats, the weather, and the cafe’s pastries. He spoke softly, with a gentle, non-threatening cadence. The kinder he seemed, the tighter my throat felt. I kept my tone casual. “Are you here alone today?” Oliver looked down, a soft blush spreading across his cheeks. “No, actually. My girlfriend had a meeting nearby, but she’s stopping by to pick me up soon.” Girlfriend. The word echoed in my mind, freezing me in place. He didn’t know. He had absolutely no idea. In his world, Ruby was his sweet, unattached girlfriend. Not someone’s wife. Not a woman with a home and a husband. And I, in this alternate reality she had crafted for him, had been completely erased. I didn’t even exist. Oliver’s phone buzzed. He picked it up, his voice softening into an affectionate hum. “Hey. Yeah, I’m at our usual spot. You’re almost here? Perfect.” Hanging up, he gave me an apologetic smile. “Sorry about that. She’s here. She’s really wonderful, you’d like her.” Before I could find my voice, the bell above the door chimed. Ruby walked in. She was holding a cardboard carrier with two lavender lattes. Her eyes scanned the room, landing effortlessly on Oliver, a relaxed, beautiful smile gracing her face. Then her gaze shifted a mere inch to the left. When she saw me, her entire body went rigid. The smile froze on her face, the color draining from her skin until she was paper-white. Next second, her fingers went limp. The cardboard carrier crashed to the floor. The plastic lids popped off, and coffee splattered across the hardwood. The sweet, cloying scent of lavender instantly filled the air. The entire cafe fell dead silent. Oliver looked at her, then back at me, entirely bewildered. Ruby stood by the entrance, rooted to the spot like a ghost. I slowly stood up and walked toward her, stepping over the pale coffee pooling across the floor like the remains of a dream that was never mine. I stopped a foot away from her and looked up at her leaderboard one last time. Number one: Oliver. Number two: Her mother. Number three: Darren. I let out a soft, humorless laugh. “Ruby.” “Do you have any idea where I rank in your heart?”

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Ever since the diagnosis, the voice had been on a relentless loop. A cold, synthetic voice inside my head, practically weeping as it begged me not to hold on. “Please, just get a divorce.” “She slept with her intern the moment you were diagnosed. This marriage isn’t worth the slow, excruciating compromise!” “Without her, without this marriage, you’ll finally be free.” I woke up in a cold sweat, gasping. Beside me, Lucy immediately pulled me into her arms. “Sweetheart, are you okay? Are you hurting?” Lucy’s eyes were filled with nothing but raw concern. We were childhood sweethearts; we knew each other inside out. Since we got married, everyone in our neighborhood praised her as the perfect wife. Her? Having an affair? While she went to fetch me a warm glass of water, I reached for her phone. The passcode used to be my birthday. Now, it had been changed. Just then, the doorbell rang. Late at night, a drunken man was shouting her name outside our door. When he saw me, his grin turned mockingly wide. “Hey, brother-in-law. I just came to get something from Lucy. Do me a favor and check under her pillow. See if there’s a pair of men’s boxers there?” I didn’t say a word. I just felt a sharp, stabbing pain bloom behind my eyes. He was the intern the voice in my head had warned me about. Brody. … Before Brody could say anything else, Lucy had already called a cab and shoved him inside. When she walked back into the room, I was tearing the bed sheets apart, searching. “What are you looking for?” she asked, letting out a soft, casual laugh. “You’re really going to believe the ramblings of a drunk?” She actively lifted her pillow. “See? Anything there?” She reached out to wrap her arms around my waist, but I quietly stepped back. “A man gets wasted, calls you repeatedly, and shows up at our door in the middle of the night. Don’t you think you owe me an explanation?” I stared at her, trying to catch even a flicker of guilt. But she only sighed, her face softening into a look of deep, exhausted pity. “I know you’re sick, Gary. It makes you paranoid. He’s young. He got drunk and did something stupid. It happens. Please, don’t let these thoughts ruin what we have, okay?” That was the first night we slept in separate rooms. The next morning, I didn’t make her breakfast. The silence between us froze over, thick and unyielding. By the fourth day of our cold war, Lucy hadn’t come home, and it was past midnight. Agonized, I called her phone repeatedly. When someone finally picked up, it wasn’t her. It was Brody. “Gary? You need something from Lucy?” I let out a harsh, bitter laugh. “I’m calling my own wife. Do I need to clear that with you?” “Whoa, man, no need to be so aggressive. I didn’t mean anything by it… It’s just that Lucy’s pretty drunk, and honestly, given how sick you are, are you sure you’re in any condition to come get her?” The line went dead. I threw on a jacket and took a cab to a private lounge downtown. Before I even opened the heavy double doors of the private room, I heard the rowdy cheering inside. “Take a shot! Take a shot!” Through the glass pane, I saw Brody walk up to Lucy with a shot glass. She pulled him in by the collar, cupping his face, and leaned in—pressing her lips to his, transferring the alcohol from her mouth to his. Bang! I kicked the door open. The rage in my chest was a physical fire, and the laughter in the room died instantly. “Gary?” Lucy frowned, her eyes scanning my pale face. “What are you doing here?” I nodded toward the innocent-looking kid beside her. “Your little friend practically dared me to come. You think I’d stay home?” Brody scrambled to defend himself. “Lucy, I swear, when you went to the restroom, he kept calling… I just didn’t want him to worry, so I told him we were at a business dinner…” Lucy didn’t look angry at him at all. Instead, she patted the back of his hand reassuringly. “It’s not your fault.” She stood up and walked toward me. “Have you made enough of a scene? Are you satisfied now?” Without waiting for my reply, she brushed past me and walked out. I tried to follow her, but a sudden, blinding pain exploded in my skull. I slid down against the wall, clutching my head. “Lucy… it hurts… I’m hurting so bad…” That night, I was rushed to the hospital and admitted. Lucy ran around handling the paperwork, getting the medications, doing everything she could. By the time she could finally sit down, dawn was breaking. She sat by my bedside, exhausted, pulling the blanket over my hand with the IV drip. “Listen to the doctor, okay? You’re going to be fine. Look at you, making such a massive deal out of nothing.” Her dismissive tone ignited a dry, hot anger in my chest. “Nothing? You think this is a minor thing, Lucy? If I hadn’t shown up tonight, would the two of you have ended up in bed together?!” “Gary!!” she yelled, her eyes suddenly bloodshot and terrifying. “Do you have any idea what it takes to close a client?! You sit at home all day doing absolutely nothing, so of course you have time to make up these sick fantasies! Do you have any idea how exhausting my job is?!” The words hung in the air. We both went completely still. When I was first diagnosed, the nausea had been unbearable. I lived in front of the toilet bowl, losing twenty pounds in a single month. She was the one who begged me to quit my job. “Just stay home and focus on getting better,” she’d said, holding my face in her hands. “Do you really think I can’t support my own husband? Don’t worry about the money.” Those sweet promises had curdled into the sharpest knives. A flash of regret crossed her eyes. She ran a hand through her messy hair, looking frustrated, and reached for my hand. “Gary, I didn’t mean it like that… What are you hungry for? I’ll go grab you something.” I stared at her, then slowly held out my palm. “Your phone.” She froze for a beat, forcing a dry chuckle. “What? Still don’t trust me?” I didn’t blink. “Your phone.” “Why did you change the passcode? What is in there that I’m not allowed to see?” Lucy shoved her hands into her pockets, her fingers clenching around something. She glared at me, her face contorting with sudden, ugly rage. Suddenly, she whipped the phone out and slammed it onto the floor. The screen shattered, shards of glass sliding right up to my bed. “Are you happy now?” she hissed. “Are we done throwing tantrums?” She walked out, slamming the door. The empty hospital room swallowed me whole. I stayed in that ward for seven days. Lucy never showed up. Every morning, the nurses looked at me with pity. Compared to the other patients whose bedsides were crowded with loving family members, I was a ghost. When it was time to discharge, the young nurse finally asked gently, “Do you want me to call your emergency contact? There are a lot of post-discharge instructions to go over.” I didn’t say anything, which she took as a yes. But deep down, a pathetic ember of hope flared up. Unfortunately, after four or five calls, Lucy never picked up. The nurse looked at me sympathetically. “Maybe she’s in a meeting?” I forced a smile, thanked her, and called an Uber myself. When the car pulled up to our apartment building, I looked up and saw the warm glow of the lights in our living room window. Lucy was home. Then why didn’t she answer? Was she just punishing me? A cold, quiet fury rose within me. I headed upstairs, determined to have it out with her. But the moment I opened the door, I froze. There was a pair of men’s leather dress shoes sitting neatly on the mat. Upbeat music was blasting from the speakers, so loud they hadn’t even heard the front door click. “Lucy, grab the bowls! Dinner is ready!” “Should we open that red wine I bought?” Brody’s voice floated out from the kitchen. I walked forward like a zombie, watching through the open doorway as Lucy wrapped her arms around his waist from behind while he wore an apron. “Smells amazing,” she murmured against his shoulder. “But honestly, I’d rather eat you first…” My mind went entirely numb. It felt as if they were the married couple, living their beautiful, domestic life, and I was just an intruder who had accidentally walked into the wrong apartment. Brody giggled, turning his head to kiss her lips. It was in that split second of turning that they finally saw me standing there. I slowly took a step forward. Lucy instinctively stepped in front of Brody, shielding him. Tears had crept down my face, tasting salty and cold. When I spoke, my voice was barely a whisper. “Lucy… why?” Suddenly, I was ten years old again, standing in the doorway of my childhood home on a warm Tuesday afternoon. I had gotten out of school early, clutching a straight-A report card, desperate to show my parents. Instead, I walked in to find my father in the back bedroom with a woman from down the street, grunting like stray dogs in an alley. My mother had come home early that day, too. She was carrying two heavy bags of groceries, smiling warmly. “Go do your homework, sweetheart! I’m making lasagna tonight!” I never got to eat that lasagna. Because seconds later, she was chasing my father down the street with a butcher knife, while he scrambled to pull up his pants. I didn’t grab a knife. I just stood there, static as stone, watching Brody frantically gather his things and bolt out the door. Shortly after he left, Lucy walked past me holding a heavy black trash bag. “Gary, I… I’m just going to throw this out. I’ll be right back.” I snatched the bag from her hands. Before she could react, I ripped it open, dumping the contents onto the floor. Thigh-high stockings. Handcuffs. Lipstick. A spare toothbrush. Lace lingerie. A remote-controlled toy. The air in the room felt thick enough to suffocate us. Shaking, I walked over to the front door, turned the deadbolt, and locked it from the inside. “Starting today, you aren’t going anywhere,” I whispered. “If you try to walk out that door, we both die.” On the first day of our confinement, Lucy acted normal. She got down on her knees, crying, begging for forgiveness. She swore it was a temporary lapse in judgment. “…You were too sick for us to be intimate, and Brody was assigned to my team. Gary, I’m a human being. I have needs! I swear I’ll never do it again, please!” She repented like a devout sinner, clinging to my feet. She cleaned every corner of the house until it was spotless, cooking gourmet meals and brewing herbal soups for me. But by the third day, her phone wouldn’t stop ringing. She looked at me, her eyes pleading. “There’s a crisis at work, Gary. Please, just let me go for a few hours. I’ll come straight back. You can set a timer, track my location! You can monitor me the whole time!” I held her wrist so tightly my knuckles turned white. “Brody is at the office, isn’t he? You’re just going to see him.” Lucy let out a long, weary sigh, reaching up to gently stroke my hair. “Fine, fine. I won’t go. Stop overthinking. I’ll stay right here with you. I won’t leave.” We had one more day of fragile peace. Until the fifth day, in the dead of night. I heard the faint rustle of keys. I got out of bed to find Lucy quietly unlocking the front door. “What are you doing?” She jumped, startled, then rubbed her temples with a look of pure exhaustion. “Gary, you are ruining my life. I have so much work piling up. I promise you, the second I finish this meeting, I will come right back.” I lunged forward, grabbing her arm, shaking my head violently. “I won’t let you leave! You’re going to him, aren’t you? No!” Panic and madness consumed me. I threw my body against the door, completely out of my mind. “Gary! You are a literal psycho!” Lucy struggled against me. Finally, snapping under the tension, she swung her hand and slapped me hard across the face. Slap! My cheek burned. Her sneer pierced through the ringing in my ears. “Now I finally see why your dad left. Your mother was a lunatic, and so are you. Why don’t you just go join her in the grave?!” The heavy door slammed shut behind her, leaving me alone in the dark. My mother did go crazy after that day. She refused to sign the divorce papers, spending her days pacing the house, screaming curses, her face smeared with tears and saliva. She would beat me, scream at me, and I was too terrified to even cry out loud. Back then, Lucy would always find excuses to sneak me into her house. She would share her snacks and let me read her comic books. “Don’t be scared, Gary,” she’d whisper, her little hand squeezing mine. “I’ve got you. I’ll protect you.” When my mother finally took her own life, teenage Lucy was the one who stood by me through the funeral, kneeling beside me to thank every guest who came to offer condolences. “Gary, from now on, I am your family.” She had been the sole light in my dark world. She was the one who had stitched my childhood wounds closed. And now, she was the one ripping them open and pouring salt into them. Lucy didn’t answer my calls for the rest of the night. I didn’t sleep a wink. The next morning, her best friend called me. “Gary, this is messed up, even for you… Every woman makes mistakes. But exposing them online like this? How is Lucy supposed to show her face ever again?” Bewildered, I hung up and opened my laptop. That was when I saw it. Someone had leaked private photos of Lucy and Brody online under a sickening headline: Cheating Scum: A Love Story. There were uncensored photos and videos. In the office, in our bedroom, in her car, in a public park… Lucy, pouring all her passion into him. Those eyes, which used to look only at me, were filled with nothing but desire for another man. But I hadn’t posted those photos. Panicking, I tried calling her again. She still wouldn’t pick up. Desperate, I left a voicemail: “Tonight at eight. The Ferris wheel where I proposed. I’ll wait for you.” Hours later, a text came back. Okay. Eight o’clock. See you there. Those six words brought a tiny sliver of peace to my chest. I even reached for a tie—something I hadn’t touched since my diagnosis. I arrived two hours early, sitting on a bench beneath the massive wheel. Watching the couples and families pass by, a deep, aching envy hollowed out my chest. Years ago, we had been one of them. When the Ferris wheel was first built, Lucy had dragged me here, practically bursting with excitement. “Gary, they say if a couple kisses at the very top, they’ll stay together forever.” With her cheeks flushed, she had dropped to one knee in the small glass cabin, pulling out a ring. “Marry me,” she’d said. “I swear I’ll love you forever.” The memory was so vivid it burned. By the time I snapped out of it, Lucy was already sitting quietly beside me. “Gary…” she said softly. “Let’s go.” Her voice was flat. I followed her, reaching out to grasp her hand, but she pulled away. Even after we sat down inside the cabin and the wheel began to turn, she refused to look at me. After a heavy silence, I finally spoke. “The photos… I swear, I didn’t do that.” “You didn’t?” She let out a dry, mocking laugh, finally turning her eyes to me. “Gary, stop acting. Didn’t you want everyone to know? Well, congratulations. You got what you wanted.” “But let me tell you something,” she continued, her voice rising, echoing inside the small glass box. “You ruined his reputation. Now, I have to take responsibility for him!” Right there, in the very spot where she had promised to love me forever, she was telling me she had to take care of another man. It felt like ice water poured directly down my throat. I shook my head, desperate. “It wasn’t me! I swear to God, Lucy, it wasn’t me!” “You said you only loved me!” Her face turned cold as stone as she violently wrenched her hand from my grip. “I genuinely detest you right now, Gary. You make me sick.” Her words paralyzed me. Before I could process the pain, the cabin touched the ground. Lucy didn’t even wait for the attendant; she shoved the latch open, leaped out, and slammed the door shut from the outside, locking me in. A second later, my phone buzzed. It was a text from Brody. Since you love the Ferris wheel so much, why don’t you stay up there for a while? I looked toward the control booth. It was empty. Through the glass, I watched Lucy wrap her arm around Brody’s tall frame as they walked away into the night. Suddenly, a violent spasm of pain exploded in my brain. The world spun. I threw myself against the glass door, screaming in absolute terror. “Help! Please, help me!” “Stop the wheel! I’m sick! Help!” By the time the ambulance arrived, I had lost consciousness. I was vomiting blood, coating the floor of the cabin. With the very last thread of my consciousness, I felt myself being lifted onto a stretcher. “Where is his family? Do we have an emergency contact?!” I weakly gestured for the pen, signing the consent form myself. I managed a small, empty smile. “Sorry…” I whispered. “My family is all dead. There’s no one.”

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