I knelt in the snow, forced to kowtow—ninety-eight times already today. Three years ago, there was an avalanche. Kael Hawthorne decided I cut the rope that left his first love paralyzed. This was his punishment for me. Now he stood on the ridge with Lily’s wheelchair parked at the highest point, looking down at me. “One more left,” he said. “Do that and get on your knees and lick the snow off her shoes. Then you’re done.” The crowd of heirs laughed. Black cards came out. Bets were placed. “One million says she’ll lick Lily’s boots till they shine — just for his forgiveness.” “Two million!” “Plus five hundred thousand!” Everyone expected me to crawl like I always did. For love. For him. Instead, I unbuckled my knee pads and threw them off the cliff. “Kael. I’m not begging you anymore.” Just now, I got a text: My brother Ryan died. He sold blood on the black market to pay off the compensation money they said I owed. The infection got him. I have nothing left to lose. Time for someone else to kneel in the snow. … The crowd went quiet for a second. Then someone snorted. “Oh, new trick? Throwing things instead of kneeling?” “I’ll bet she’ll crawl back in ten minutes.” “Not just that, She’ll kneel. It’s her ninety-ninth time asking for forgiveness.” In the middle of all the noise, Lily’s voice cut through. “Zoe, don’t be stupid. The wind’s crazy out here. You’ll freeze to death and ruin the whole party.” She sat in her wheelchair, looking at me with soft, worried eyes. What a snake. Then, Kael. He nodded to his assistant. A cup of hot ginger tea appeared in front of me. “Your hands are split open. Here, drink first. You’re paying for what you did, but I’m not trying to actually kill you.” I didn’t take the tea. Even the wind ripped snow across my face. Even blood soaked through my pants, frozen stiff. His face darkened. A note of warning crept into his voice. “Zoe. Just do the last one. Then we’re done. I’ll give you what you want.” Give me what I want? Can he bring Ryan back? The red string on my wrist was broken. Ryan tied it there. Now only a small piece of thread was left. I tucked my hands into my sleeves. “No.” Silence. Then— Bang！ Glass shattered against stone. The sound came sharp and final. “Fine. Don’t take it. Suit yourself.” Kael didn’t even look at me anymore. He just tucked Lily’s blanket tighter around her. “Are you cold, Lily? Do you want to head back to the tent?” She tugged his sleeve. “I’m okay. I’m just worried about Zoe. Her brother’s still down the mountain waiting for her. Don’t be too hard on her.” My fingers curled into a fist inside my pocket. “He died. Just now.” A pause. The laughter stopped for a second. Then someone scoffed. “Here we go again.” “Last time she said her foster mom was dying. Time before that, the orphanage was starving.” “Now her brother’s dead? What’s she going to come up with next? It’s really unlucky to be her family.” “Enough.” Kael frowned. He took a napkin from the server and held it out to me. “Zoe, don’t joke about your family. That’s not you.” I pulled my phone from my inside pocket—hand shaking. The photo of the death certificate had blurred. The melted snow had gotten to it first. He barely glanced at it. Then he laughed and tossed it back at my chest. “Seriously, Zoe? You’re getting really good at this.” “Lily’s legs were hurting again yesterday, I just held back the payment to cheer her up. Are you really making a fuss over this?” “Just one day. There’s no way he’s dead.” I looked at him. My throat closed up — like it was stuffed with bloody cotton. One day. That one day, Ryan was bleeding everywhere. Curled up in his hospital bed. Too weak to even scream. I went to every hospital on my knees to raise the money for his treatment. I had no pride left. But Ryan saw me. His big sister who he thought was too good to bow to anyone. He saw me begging. Today, while I was on my knees, begging Kael for his medical bills—he dragged himself to the roof. And he jumped. Now Kael was looking at me like he was doing me a favor. “Alright, that’s the end of your punishment.” “Once we’re down from the snowy mountain, I’ll arrange for your younger brother to receive treatment abroad.” I laughed. Bitterly. “Forget it. It doesn’t matter anymore.” The air froze. “What did you just say?” He frowned, like I was a child throwing a tantrum. “Zoe, stop being so dramatic. You’re just—” He stopped himself, let out a cold laugh, like he’d just realized he was wasting his breath. “Forget it. Why am I even talking to someone like you.” “It’s freezing out here. Lily didn’t bring enough clothes. Take off your jacket and put it under her feet.” I looked down at the jacket I was wearing. Ryan had saved up for three months to buy it for my birthday. “The mountain wind is strong. Wear this so you won’t be cold,” he’d said. He was wrong. I was still cold. Freezing. But the colder I got, the more I wanted to hold on to this one small piece of warmth. “No.” I stepped back. For one stupid second, I actually thought I could keep it. That I could protect this one last thing Ryan left me. The next second, the guards were already on me. Ripping it off. “No—” It didn’t matter. Nothing I did mattered. Within seconds, the last jacket Ryan ever gave me was lying on the ground under Lily’s feet. Snow and mud soaked into it, turned it gray. The cold air hit my skin. It felt like knives. I let out a laugh. A cold one. Empty. Ryan was gone. And now this jacket — the last thing he touched, the last thing he gave me — couldn’t protect me anymore. There was nothing left. So I had nothing left to lose. Good.

Not many people knew this—but when Lily first came to the city, I was the one who brought her into Kael’s circle. She was a nobody. People made fun of her for being poor. I stood in front of her every time. Then she became everyone’s darling. And I became the monster who ruined her legs. A small receipt fell out of my jacket pocket. It landed face up in the snow. And Ryan’s handwriting was on it. “Zoe. Take care of yourself. Don’t always make me worry.” Tears flooded my eyes instantly. I bent down to pick it up. Lily flinched like I was about to attack her. Kael stepped in front of her automatically. He grabbed my wrist. “What are you doing? You already hurt her once. You want to do it again right in front of me?” I looked at where his fingers were digging into my skin. “Let go. I’m picking up the last thing my brother left me.” He paused. His grip loosened. I picked the wet receipt out of the snow. Then footsteps came running up the path. A man ran over carrying a worn cloth bag. “Anyone here named Zoe Ray?” “The funeral home down the mountain asked me to bring this. It’s the deceased’s belongings.” Every eye turned to the bag. I reached for it. The tips of my fingers touched the fabric. A short piece of old rope slipped out through a tear in the bag. It was old. Frayed. The fibers were stained a dark red that wouldn’t wash out. Kael grabbed the rope before I could. Three years ago, on the north slope of Mount Delsin, an avalanche hit. Me, Kael, Lily — all three of us got swept down the ridge. When we woke up, Lily couldn’t walk. Everyone said I cut the rope to save myself. Lily’s voice shook. “Zoe… why do you still have that?” One of the heirs slapped his leg. “See? Only guilty people keep the evidence.” The others nodded along. I didn’t care about their laughing. I stared at that rope. Back then, I was unconscious. Ryan went to the rescue station and picked up everything they’d collected from the site. Everyone was so quick to blame me. Only Ryan didn’t believe it. He kept that rope. He said one day it would prove I wasn’t guilty. “Give it back,” I said. “That’s Ryan’s.” Kael’s fingers paused on the dark stain. His brow twitched. Then he smiled coldly. “Stop using your brother as an excuse. This is evidence. You’re not getting it.” “You said you already investigated this three years ago.” He pause, then glanced at me. “I did. But that doesn’t mean you get to touch it.” I lunged for it. He stepped back and grabbed my cracked wrist with his other hand. Not hard. “Stop. You’ll tear your wounds open.” “That’s my brother’s.” He let go. Put the rope in his jacket pocket. “That’s to make you face what you did—not to let you keep lying to yourself.” lying to myself? Wasn’t it because he just doesn’t believe me at all?” When the avalanche hit, Lily’s left leg got tangled in the secondary rope. It was bleeding everywhere. I cut the secondary rope. But when I woke up, she said it was my fault. Kael said, “Lily wouldn’t lie about her own legs.” He turned and walked back to her. The wind blew ashes from the campfire onto my arms. My jacket was still under Lily’s feet. She glanced down at it. The corner of her mouth twitched. “Kael, Zoe’s hands are freezing. Can someone get her a coat?” He nodded. An assistant brought me a jacket. “No.” I walked back to the cloth bag and crouched down to look through Ryan’s things. A few old clothes. A pair of shoes with the soles worn flat. A notebook with “expenses” written on the cover. And a photo. Ryan standing in front of a blood donation bus. Giving a thumbs up to the camera. Grinning. His cheeks were sunken. His chin was sharp. But his smile was the same. I pressed the photo to my chest. My nails dug into my palms. Don’t cry. My tears would just be something else for them to bet on. I tied the bag shut and stood up. “Zoe.” Lily’s voice stopped me. She looked down at her legs. Then she smiled. “You know what I hate most about these three years?” She looked up at me. No more weakness in her eyes. Just pure satisfaction. “I hate that you ruined my legs but you still get to walk right up to Kael on your own two feet.” Ten thousand kowtows? That’s far from enough. Today, you’re going to…” She pointed at the wet snow beneath her wheelchair. “Kneel. Crawl to my feet. You took my legs three years ago. Today, you pay with your dignity.” The campfire lit up her innocent face. Kael stood behind her. He didn’t say no. “What if I don’t?” I asked. I’m sick of this never-ending paying back. Kael was quiet for a few seconds. Finally he said. “Then next month’s winter supplies for the orphanage… I’ll have to rethink it.” I froze. Winter on the plateau. Thirty below. Twenty-seven kids in the orphanage. The youngest was four years old. Not enough blankets. Not enough medicine. Not enough coal to last until spring. For years, Kael controlled everything that kept me alive under the name of punishment. He decided when to give and when to take away. Now, the same old trick. And I…I have no choice.

The path was covered in thin ice that cracked under every step. I pushed Lily’s wheelchair down the gravel road. Every time my knees bent, the old wounds opened up again. Three years of prostrations. The wounds healed and broke and healed again. My skin wasn’t normal anymore. Kael walked behind me. Two steps back. He sent someone to bring me knee pads. “Take it easy. I didn’t tell you to crawl while you push.” Someone called out from behind. “Kael’s going soft. I’d make her crawl.” Kael glanced back at him. “Punishment isn’t torture. It’s to make her remember what she did.” Remember what I did? I heard that for three years. And I was sick of it. At the bend in the path, the wind got stronger. I leaned down and pushed. “That jacket of yours. The fabric’s pretty thick.” Lily suddenly chimed in. She didn’t turn around. “How many times did your brother sell blood to afford it?” My steps stopped. Her voice was casual. “Is that even worth one pair of my shoes?” I stopped pushing. For a second, I thought about reaching for her throat — but my fingers were cramping so badly I couldn’t even grip the wheelchair handles. “What’s wrong?” Kael walked up. Lily’s eyes went red. Her voice went soft and weak. “Kael, I was just trying to make Zoe feel better. But I guess I said the wrong thing. Now she’s mad at me…” Kael looked at both of us. Then—calm and steady—he said it. “Zoe. Apologize to Lily.” Apologize to her. For what? The words stuck in my throat. Not because I couldn’t say them. Because saying them never worked. For three years, every time Lily stabbed me first then played victim in front of Kael, the ending was the same. I was always the one apologizing. I gripped the handles of the wheelchair. Think of the children in the orphanage. I told myself quietly. Then I lowered my head. “I’m sorry.” Lily tilted her head. “Sorry, Zoe. The wind’s loud. I didn’t catch that.” “I’m sorry!” Lily smiled. Satisfied. Like she’d been waiting a long time for me to break. Once, she had nothing. Not even a decent coat. I gave her my clothes. My connections. My time. Now, her favorite thing was watching me apologize on my knees. She tucked her blanket tighter and said, soft and sweet, “See, Zoe? If you had just behaved, this would’ve been so much easier.” The heirs behind us were already talking. Saying I must still love Kael. Why else would I listen? Was that it? Did I still love him? After all of this? I pushed the wheelchair forward two steps. And I asked— “Kael.” “Yeah.” “All those times I apologized… did you ever actually hear me once?” The wind howled. He didn’t answer. “Forget it,” I said. “It doesn’t matter.” I kept pushing. At four in the afternoon, the sky went dark fast. Once the sun went down on the plateau, the temperature dropped toward forty below. I pushed Lily back to the camp and stopped at her tent. She turned her head to look at me. Her mouth opened. But Kael spoke first. He stood at the tent opening. Still looking down at me. “Zoe.” His eyes went over my frozen blue hands. My scabbed knees. Like he was giving me one last piece of patience. “Stop being difficult. Do what I say and I’ll stop looking into what happened with Lily. And you won’t have to worry about your brother’s medical bills anymore.” My fingers curled tight. He thought I was giving in. His voice got softer. “I’ll send someone to the hospital. Best doctors. Best medicine. Overseas treatment too. I’ll arrange it.” “But you have to stop upsetting Lily.” The wind scraped my throat raw. I could almost taste blood. He said it so easily. He didn’t know Ryan didn’t need doctors or medicine anymore. Lily tugged his sleeve from her wheelchair. “Kael. I’m cold. Let’s go inside.” The tent flap fell closed. I stood there. The wind cut through my throat like a dull knife. My phone buzzed in my pocket. The funeral home. “Ms. Ray. Your brother Ryan’s ashes are ready for pickup. He asked that they be given to you personally. He said he owes you a trip home.” The call ended. I looked out at the snow. Ryan. Wait for me. I’m coming to get you.

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I am the most noble Phoenix Princess. The dragon I choose will become the next Dragon King. In my past life, I chose Aldric—my childhood sweetheart. I risked my life to help him survive the lethal Storm Trial and personally supported him as he ascended the throne. But on the day of his coronation, he tore my Soulstone from my chest—all for a Magpie. “If it weren’t for getting my hands on your Soulstone to help Lysara become the Phoenix Princess—” “Why else would I wed a bitch like you!” I collapsed in a pool of my own blood and watched him kneel on one knee, offering my Soulstone to Lysara. When I opened my eyes again, I had been reborn—back to the night of the Choosing. Dragon King Fenric was asking for my decision. Then Aldric cut in: “Father, I know Seraphina is fond of me. But my heart belongs only to Lysara. I want Lysara to become my Queen!” The hall erupted. Every eye stabbed into me like a needle. But I simply looked at Fenric and answered calmly: “Your Majesty, I’ve already made my choice.” Our gazes met, and I saw it—the certainty, the smugness in Aldric’s eyes. I knew then: he had been reborn too. He thought I would cling to him again, just like before. But on my wedding night in this life, it was Aldric who knelt through the entire night. Begging me to come back to him. …… …… The agony of having my Soulstone ripped from my chest nearly tore me in two. But just as I thought it was all over, the pain vanished. My eyes flew open. The clothes on my back were drenched in cold sweat. “Seraphina?” “Have you decided? Who will you choose as your husband?” That voice. This scene. I had been reborn—back to the night of the Dragon Clan’s Choosing Ceremony. “Your Majesty, I’d like to—” Before I could finish, another voice cut in ahead of me. “Father.” Aldric stepped forward from the ranks of Princes and dropped to one knee. “I know Seraphina is fond of me. But my heart belongs only to Lysara. I have sworn before the gods—if I betray her, my soul will twist into a demon, never to find peace!” Gasps nearly blew the roof off the great hall. King Fenric’s expression darkened like the sky before a tempest. The Princes who had been enjoying the show from the sidelines all whipped their heads around to stare at Aldric. Everyone knew: whomever the Phoenix Princess chose would receive her full support through the Storm Trial. Pass the trial, and you become the next King. What Aldric had just said was tantamount to publicly renouncing the throne. In an instant, every other candidate stirred with barely concealed ambition. But then Aldric spoke again. “However—I know Seraphina can’t live without me. I can marry her, so long as Lysara stands beside her as my wife. They will both be my Queens.” “Enough!” King Fenric roared, and in the next heartbeat Aldric was flung to the ground. “Lysara? A Magpie dares stand as equal to the Phoenix Princess? If she had the audacity to manipulate you into swearing before the gods—then I’ll kill her, and the oath dies with her!” A flash of resentment crossed Aldric’s eyes. He turned to me immediately. There was no plea in his gaze, no guilt—only impatience, looking down at me as though I were beneath him. “Why are you just standing there? Haven’t you always wanted to marry me? Here’s your chance!” “You’ve taken so much from Lysara. If she weren’t generous enough to overlook it, I’d never have agreed to let you share the title of Queen. You should be on your knees in gratitude!” That condescension, that certainty—it told me everything in an instant. He had been reborn too. He thought I would be just as before. That I would endure any humiliation, pay any price—even my life. How funny. Lysara. A Magpie. Daring to provoke a phoenix. The year I was born, the God-War erupted. The Phoenix Clan suffered devastating losses, and every egg was scattered. Our people searched desperately, and in their haste, they brought back the infant Lysara by mistake, raising her as one of our own blood. For a hundred years, she enjoyed everything that should have been mine. It wasn’t until the day we could reveal our true forms that my Father and Mother discovered they had been nurturing an imposter. Mother was merciful. She didn’t banish Lysara—instead, she allowed her to remain in the kingdom, enjoying privileges far above her bloodline. But Lysara was never satisfied. She even manipulated Aldric into making a public spectacle on her behalf. Now, the dragon clan’s Elderblood had been dwindling for generations. Because of this, every Dragon King opened succession beyond direct lineage. Wyrms, Serpents, Drakes, Wyverns—these lesser branches of Dragonkin could all compete alongside the King’s own children, the Princes. Anyone who could withstand the Nine Divine Thunders on the Storm Altar would inherit the throne. And bonding with the Phoenix Princess didn’t just guarantee survival through that near-fatal trial—it would vastly elevate the purity of their descendants’ bloodline. Only the King knew these details. To the outside world, the rule was simple: whomever the Phoenix Princess chose would be the next King. Aldric’s words today amounted to a public insult against the entire Phoenix Clan. If the Phoenix Clan severed ties with the dragons over this, the dragon bloodline would be doomed. King Fenric clearly understood this. His cold gaze swept over Aldric before turning to me, his tone softening in a rare display of consideration. “Seraphina, you can do whatever you want with him—so long as it eases your anger.” “King Fenric.” I lifted my gaze to meet his. “I’ve already decided who I’ll marry.”

Every eye in the hall converged on me. But I didn’t look at any of them. I walked straight to King Fenric and, using a private cipher, whispered the name—and my entire plan. Surprise flickered in Fenric’s eyes. After a moment of silence, he nodded. “If you’ve made your decision… very well. I’ll arrange everything.” Then he turned to Aldric, his voice ice-cold once more: “You will remain in confinement until you’ve reflected on your actions. Before the wedding, I don’t want to hear of any more incidents.” A slow, satisfied smile crept across Aldric’s face. The look he gave me said it plainly—I knew it. You’d give in eventually.. I didn’t bother with him. My gaze drifted to the far corner of the hall. There, half-hidden in shadow, stood a man dressed in black. The two horns on his head were slight and dark—nothing like the blood-soaked man who had fought to avenge me in my previous life. King Fenric kept me behind for a few private words. By the time I emerged from the great hall, Aldric was still there. And beside him stood a woman in white. Lysara. When she saw me, her eyes reddened just so, and she stepped forward. “Seraphina… thank you. If my parents were still alive… they’d be so happy for us.” She reached up and dabbed at the corner of her eye. The performance was pitch-perfect—just enough sorrow to tug at one’s heartstrings without tipping into melodrama. Aldric immediately pulled her into his arms. “Why are you thanking her?” He looked down at Lysara, voice gentle. “You’re the only one I want to marry. She’s the one who should be grateful. If it weren’t for your kindness, I’d never have agreed to let her share the title of Queen.” But the moment he turned to me, his eyes held nothing but ice. “Lysara’s parents died because of you. She’s been gracious enough to accept you—don’t you think you owe her some Sacred Crystals as compensation?” Years ago, Lysara’s parents had found me and raised me as their own, caring for me with nothing but love—until an outing when a monstrous beast attacked, killing them both. The shock had ignited the phoenix fire dormant within me, and ultimately led the Phoenix Clan to find me. In my previous life, I had always carried crushing guilt toward Lysara over this. I yielded to her at every turn. It wasn’t until the moment before my death that she finally smiled and told me the truth—she had lured that beast there herself. To kill me, she had murdered her own parents. I stared at them in silence, then let out a cold laugh. “You’ve given her plenty of Sacred Crystals already. That wasn’t enough?” Back when I loved him, I always wanted to give him the best of everything. Every Sacred Crystal I carefully selected and placed in his hands would inevitably appear in Lysara’s chambers the very next day. He clearly remembered this too. But there wasn’t a shred of guilt in his eyes—only self-righteous indignation. “Those were nothing.” “Give your Soulstone to Lysara.” In that instant, the memory of him prying open my chest in my past life crashed over me like a tidal wave— “Do you have any idea what it means to surrender a Soulstone?” My voice dropped low. “Without my Soulstone, my spirit will wither completely. I could die.” Aldric’s gaze darkened. “Don’t be so dramatic. Besides, we’re about to be married—what’s yours is mine. Hand the Soulstone to Lysara, and I guarantee nothing will happen to you. If you refuse, then don’t expect me to marry you!” I fixed him with a stare. Killing intent surged through my veins, and my fingertips began to burn. Phoenix fire stirred beneath my skin, straining to break free. Lysara’s face drained of color, inch by inch. She began to tremble, her knees threatening to buckle. Even Aldric’s expression was going rigid. He straightened his spine, trying to resist, but fine beads of sweat gathered at his temples. If I wanted, I could reduce him and that Magpie to ash in a single heartbeat. But at the last moment, I forced the fire back down. Death would be too easy for him. I wanted him to watch himself lose everything. “Seraphina!” Aldric recovered and lunged at me in a surge of humiliated fury, reaching for my throat. “How dare you—” And then. “Princess, King Fenric has sent me to escort you.”

I turned my head. It was the black Jiao. He hadn’t yet become a true dragon, and yet even as I released my pressure, his expression remained perfectly composed. At the same time, his form of address reminded everyone present exactly who I was. Watching Aldric force down his rage, I withdrew my power and offered him a thin smile. “Let’s go.” “Wait.” Aldric stepped forward, blocking the path, completely ignoring Lysara who was nearly collapsing beside him. His eyes fixed on us with undisguised displeasure. “What could you possibly have to say to this low-born black serpent??” He was the man I had chosen—my future husband. Naturally, we had more to discuss than I could count. But I only spared Aldric a cold glance: “If you’re so idle, perhaps you should spend your time preparing for the Storm Trial in five days.” Five days from now, the Storm Altar Trial would commence. Every Lesser Dragonkin who aspired to become a true dragon could ascend the altar. Withstand the Nine Divine Thunders, and you would be transformed in a single moment. But the force of the Divine Thunders was terrifying beyond measure. The slightest misstep, and the challenger would be annihilated on the spot. Because of this, the vast majority of Lesser Dragonkin chose to undergo the trial in stages, across multiple attempts. In my previous life, with my Soulstone and protection, Aldric had become the first being in ten thousand years to pass all nine Divine Thunders in a single attempt. His name had resounded throughout the divine realms. And now, he displayed a confidence wholly disproportionate to his actual abilities. “A few bolts of lightning—nothing more. None of the Lesser Dragonkin this time are a match for me.” He paused, then added: “In five days, just sit tight and wait for me to come claim you as my bride.” A flash of bitter jealousy slid through Lysara’s eyes. But I merely watched them with cold detachment, then turned and walked away beside Kael. Only when Aldric’s voice had faded entirely behind us did I stop. “Kael. Fenric told you everything?” He raised his head to look at me. In those pitch-black eyes, something close to obsession was burning. The next moment, he pressed his right hand to his chest and bowed his head with solemn gravity. “Princess Seraphina.” “I swear upon my soul—if I ever betray you in this life, let me be cast into demonhood, never to know peace.” A soul oath. Once forged, the gods would shred the soul of anyone who broke it. No one made such a vow lightly—unless he were willing to die for you. My heartbeat stumbled. I reached up and unclasped the Phoenix Sigil from my neck—the token a Phoenix Princess bestows upon her husband. Then I leaned forward and fastened it against his chest. “I believe you.” He looked down at the sigil. His throat bobbed once. When he raised his eyes again, they blazed with an intensity that startled me. I turned and continued walking. Before I even reached the door of my quarters, Finch came rushing out. “Princess! They’re cutting down your Ash Tree!” My head snapped up. I hurried into the inner courtyard—and froze. The Ash Tree had been severed at its roots. The trunk lay on the ground, its leaves still green. My mother had given me this tree when I left the Phoenix Clan. She told me that as long as I could see the Ash Tree, I was home. One hundred years. I had spent a hundred years nurturing it with my own hands, watering it day after day, coaxing it into a towering giant. And destroying it had taken only a moment. Aldric stood beside the shattered stump, fragments of leaves still clinging to the hem of his robes. “What gave you the right to cut down my tree?” My voice shook with fury. “It’s just a tree. It’s done.” Aldric’s face was pure contempt. “Lysara likes Bloodvine. From today on, only Bloodvine will be planted here.” “This is my home.” I laughed coldly. “I’ll plant whatever I damn well please. Who are you to dictate what grows in my space?” He glared at me with venom. “What’s yours is mine! I was simply making arrangements ahead of time! Seraphina, if you keep up this arrogance, then even if you got on your knees and begged, I would never consider marrying you!” After saying this, he searched my face for a flicker of panic or softening. He found nothing. His tone immediately shifted, smoothing itself out: “Of course, as long as you behave, I’ll live with you after the wedding—and you’ll bear the first pure-blooded heir for the dragon clan! That’s the highest honor there is!” I finally lost all patience. I clenched my fist, gathered my power, and in the next instant he went staggering out of my quarters. “Aldric, stop dreaming. My husband will never be you!” He didn’t believe me, of course. In the instant before the door closed, the triumphant smile on his face was identical to the one from my past life: “If not me, who? Father said he’d be arranging a wedding!” He didn’t know. The wedding King Fenric had mentioned was indeed his. Only…the bride would be a Magpie. Five days later. The Storm Altar. Everyone participating in the trial had gathered here. And this time, Lysara had come along as well. Actually, a Magpie of negligible power had no business being a spectator. Every gaze in attendance flickered between us. Aldric spotted me from across the grounds and strode over immediately. “Seraphina, you’ve prepared to shield me, I assume.” “Lysara will be at my side today. And afterward, I’ll take good care of you too.” I said nothing. He didn’t seem to care, his gaze sweeping over the nervous candidates with unconcealed disdain. But the next second, his expression shifted from arrogance to fury. He marched toward Kael, chest heaving. “The Phoenix Sigil—why is it on you?!”

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In my last life, my husband cut me open and threw me to the sea—on the same night he was waltzing with another woman. It was only after every woman and child on the island had been violated and slaughtered by the Morettis that the men finally believed me. The raid was real. Bodies were scattered across the courtyard like broken dolls. The men stood frozen in the blood. And then, all at once, they snapped. “Boss, didn’t you tell us Wren was just a jealous wife throwing a tantrum? That she was lying so we’d focus on Celeste’s birthday? Then tell me—why is my son dead? Why is my wife gone?” Lucien’s face turned to chalk. I looked at the slaughter at our feet, and the tears came. That night, when the Morettis had hit the island, my husband—the heir of the Vitale family—had taken every armed man out to sea. To throw a birthday party for his childhood sweetheart. Pregnant, I had crawled out through the sewers to find him. Dragged every man back to save what was left of our people. But his precious Celeste had been caught by a stray Moretti. Violated. Killed. Lucien handled the men responsible without a word. And then, on the day I gave birth to our daughter— He broke my legs. Cut me open. Threw me into the deep waters off the Sicilian coast, for the fish to feed on. “It was your fault. You dragged the Morettis here to kill her? Then you’ll die the way she did.” When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of the raid. If he wanted to save his childhood sweetheart this time, let him try. * * * I stood at the window and watched the black speedboats cut toward the shore. A cold shiver crawled up my spine. I didn’t hesitate. I hit the alarm. The siren tore through Isola Nera. But the yacht—the one that could carry every woman and child off the island—was already gone. Anita Russo stumbled into the hall, her voice breaking. “Wren—the Morettis are coming. Where are the men? Where’s the yacht? What are we supposed to do?” Anita was Marco Russo’s wife. Marco was Lucien’s right hand—the man set to become the Vitales’ Underboss. And Anita was the only woman in this family who had ever treated me like a sister. Before I could answer, the others crowded in around me. Faces pale. Eyes pleading. I was the only one who knew. So I told them. Lucien had taken every man and every weapon out to international waters. To throw Celeste’s birthday party. Lucien’s mother, Donna Isabella, let out a string of curses sharp enough to draw blood. “Has he lost his goddamn mind? He knows the Morettis hit this rock every chance they get—and he took every fucking man with him?” “That conniving bitch Celeste—I warned him from day one. Playing the fragile little angel. Now look. She’s going to get us all killed.” Her fury was a match to dry grass. The other women caught flame. Curses for Celeste. Curses for the men who’d followed her perfume off this island. Outside, the speedboats were almost at the shore. The panic was rising. I forced my voice steady and told them all to move. Now. To the tunnels. Our island sat far off the mainland. The Vitales had been building these tunnels for generations—to outlast exactly this kind of raid. * * * The narrow passage filled fast. Women clutching children. Children clutching anything they could. From above us came the laughter of the Moretti men, hunting for women. Fear spread through that tunnel like a sickness. Then the next blow came. The smuggler’s passage—the one that ran beneath the cliffs to the sea cave—had been blown. The collapse was fresh. The air still stank of powder. Donna Isabella’s face went hard. “They’ve known about this passage for a long time.” Anita and I looked at each other. The same name surfaced behind both our eyes. Celeste. The only way out now was the old sewer line that fed into the tunnel. Crawl through it. Find the speedboat. Bring help back. Donna Isabella seized my hand. Her grip was iron. “Wren. You can drive a boat. Go find Lucien. Make him bring the men back.” I gave her a tired, bitter smile and told her the truth. Even if I found him, Lucien wouldn’t come back for me. The tunnel went silent. Three months ago, Lucien had brought Celeste home from somewhere in Naples, claiming he owed her his life as a boy. Since then, he’d been glued to her side. Training together. Riding out together. Sleeping under the same roof under the polite fiction of “protection.” Half the soldati already joked the two of them looked more married than we did. When the jokes got back to him, he didn’t put distance between them. He pulled her closer. I’d screamed at him about it more times than I could count. Asked him point-blank who his goddamn wife was. He’d called me jealous. Petty. A nuisance. Whatever we’d had between us had quietly died the day she walked through our gates. The silence in the tunnel stretched. Then Mia Vitale, Lucien’s little sister, stepped forward. “Let me go. I know the soldati. And Wren’s pregnant—if something happens to her, I’d never be able to face my brother.” She didn’t wait for permission. She dropped into the sewer and was gone. I knew what was waiting for her at the other end. I had lived through it once already.

We crouched in the tunnel. Prayed not to be heard. But the prayer didn’t take. “There’s a steel door down here!” a voice shouted above us. “I’d bet my fucking life the women are behind it!” “I knew it. No way an island this big runs out of women.” “Six months at sea, boys. I’ve been dreaming about this.” They started smashing at the door. The women went white. Some of them started shaking. All they could do was pray the men would get back in time. Half an hour later, Mia came scrambling back up through the sewer. Filthy. Trembling. A few of the women cried out in relief, certain she’d brought the men. Then they saw her face. She wiped her eyes, voice small. “I’m sorry. They wouldn’t come.” Donna Isabella’s voice cracked. “What do you mean they wouldn’t come? Their wives are down here. Their children are down here.” Mia’s tears spilled over. “My brother said I was lying. He said the Morettis would never hit our family out of nowhere. He said Wren and I were running some scheme together.” She lifted a shaky hand to her cheek. “And he slapped me.” The handprint was livid against her skin. The women erupted again. Curses for that conniving bitch. Curses for Lucien, who’d left his post for the sake of one woman. Then came the explosions. The Morettis had brought charges. The steel door wouldn’t hold another hour. * * * I gathered my voice and told them. Pelle Island was twenty minutes out. The Lombardis ran it. They still owed the Vitales a favor. I could go to them. Donna Isabella seized my arm. Her palm was cold with sweat. “Wren. Every woman, every child in this tunnel—it’s on you now. You bring help back.” She pressed something into my hand. A silver crucifix on a tarnished chain. Three generations of Vitale women had worn it. She’d never taken it off, not once that I’d seen. Then a small oilcloth packet. Heavier than it had any right to be. “I’ve been watching Celeste for two years,” she said, quiet. “Photographs. Recordings. Every contact she ever made with the Morettis.” “I was waiting for my idiot son to open his eyes.” She let out a sound that wasn’t quite a laugh. “My stupid boy.” She looked at me then. Something in her gaze went soft and strange. “If I don’t make it out—give these to Mia. Tell her to learn from Wren. Not from her brother.” I nodded. I couldn’t trust myself with words. * * * Anita caught me before I climbed up. She pressed a small pistol into my palm. “Marco’s been keeping a backup speedboat under the western cliffs. He never told Lucien. Keys are in the ignition.” She smiled. The same smile she’d worn on my wedding day. “And tell that bastard husband of mine—” “His wife is down here in a tunnel.” “Waiting for him to come bring her home.”

I dragged myself out through the sewer at last. Belly heavy. Lungs burning. The stink of it clinging to my skin. I climbed onto the speedboat, kicked the engine alive, and tore east for Pelle Island. When the hull scraped onto the beach, my heart lifted for one stupid second. Armed men were waiting at the dock. Then I saw who was at the front. Marco Russo. He shouldn’t have been here. He was supposed to be at sea with Lucien. I didn’t have time to think. I stumbled toward him, the words tumbling out—the raid, the tunnel, the steel door— He caught my arm and yanked me clean off the boat. His face was carved with disgust. “Wren Costa. I don’t know how a woman can be this disgusting.” * * * I stared at him, lost. I didn’t understand what he meant. “The boss told me to wait here for you.” “He said you’d cooked up some scheme with Mia—running to another family’s island to spread fairy tales about a Moretti attack. Just to ruin Celeste’s birthday party.” The words hit me like ice water. Lucien was a cold bastard. He’d planted his own man on the only route I could take for help. I told Marco the raid was real. The Morettis had already landed. I wasn’t spreading rumors—I was begging for backup. If we didn’t move within the hour, every woman and child in that tunnel was dead. He saw the look on my face. Something flickered behind his eyes. Just for a second. His wife was on that island. His mother. His kids. Marco reached for his radio to call Lucien. Then a young soldato leaned in close and murmured, “Boss, come on. If the Morettis were really hitting us, you really think the boss wouldn’t know first?” The kid’s face was full of that quiet, religious faith. Lucien had been a soldier once. He had the instincts and the command of a man who’d survived a dozen wars. He’d led the Vitales through dozens of raids without losing the island. Marco was silent for less than a second. Then he laughed out loud. “Wren. You should’ve been an actress. You almost had me.” “I know Lucien better than anyone. He’s the goddamn boss of the Vitales. You think a man like that misses something like this?” The mockery cut deeper than the slap on the beach. Tears burned at the edge of my vision. I held them. Every second wasted was another second the women in that tunnel were closer to dying. I tried to push past him, ready to run back to the boat and go anywhere—anywhere—that might still listen. Marco caught me before I’d taken two steps. He pulled out a length of rope. “Not today, Wren. You’re not going anywhere.” He bound my wrists tight. His face was hard. He threw me into the back of his speedboat like a sack of cargo. The engine roared. The hull cut through the waves. I lay on my side, watching Pelle Island shrink. The one shore that could have saved them—slipping further away by the second. I closed my eyes. Not in despair. In my last life, I had closed my eyes at this exact moment because I’d given up. This time, I closed them to carve Marco Russo’s face into my memory. To add him to the list I was just beginning to write.

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I helped my best friend, Clara Bellamy, climb out of poverty and become a parish schoolteacher. Now she was glowing, graceful, confident. No one would ever guess that five years ago, she was still picking eggs in a backyard chicken coop. But she was still frugal. She always said money shouldn’t be wasted. So whenever I was too busy, she gladly took the things I couldn’t use: free couple vacations I’d won, movie tickets about to expire, romantic restaurant reservations I’d already booked. My fiancé, Vincent DeLuca, never complained when I canceled on him. Even though he was the next heir to the mafia family, he was always gentle with me. He always said, “I’ll support your work, no matter how long it takes. I’ll wait for you.” Until that day. I had just applied for a six-month leave from the hospital to prepare for our wedding. While helping Clara fix her computer, her photo album synced automatically. The screen filled with photos. My best friend and my fiancé sitting side by side on a ski lift. Her leaning on his shoulder during a midnight movie. The two of them kissing under an island sunset. So all those dates I missed, she had gone in my place. Then a Signal voice message popped up. Vincent’s voice came through, low and amused. “She’s sleeping at the hospital tonight. Bring a few boxes of condoms when you come over, baby.” My hands shook as I shut the laptop. Then I grabbed my car keys and walked toward the hospital parking lot. … I sped all the way to our wedding house. The second I pushed the door open, the air was thick with smoke and the smell of sex. The two people on the bed didn’t even have time to separate. Clara saw me first. She screamed, her face turning white. “Evelyn…” Vincent turned to look at me, then instinctively shielded her behind him. Clothes and wrappers were scattered all over the floor. I froze in place, so shocked I forgot how to breathe. I watched Vincent pick up Clara’s clothes from the floor and help her get dressed, piece by piece. He was gentle. Familiar. Then he walked her to the door and comforted her in a low voice. “Someone’s waiting downstairs. I’ll handle this.” I hadn’t even done anything yet. But he was already afraid I’d lose control and hurt his precious Clara. Something in my chest went hollow, like everything inside had been carved out. Then it was just me and him in the room. I stared at the face I had known since childhood. We had known each other for over twenty years. He once said he wanted to be my shadow and follow me forever. But now, that face felt so strange. Vincent took out a cigarette, lit it, and took a drag before looking at me. “You have nothing to say?” He was the one who betrayed me. So why was I the one standing there, lost and being questioned? “Vincent DeLuca. How could you two do this to me?” He flicked the ash from his cigarette. His tone was calm. “I admit I messed up. But Evelyn, ask yourself. What have you given me these past few years?” “You’re always busy. Always in surgery. I ask you to dinner, you have surgery. I ask you to watch a movie, you’re on duty. I can’t even argue with you unless I book a time three days in advance.” He sounded wronged when he said it. As if I was the one at fault. As if I was the one who cheated. “Clara is different.” His voice softened when he said her name. “She cares about how I feel. She remembers what I say. She does the things I want to do.” “She went on every date you missed.” “To her, I come first.” Every word cut into my heart. “Vincent DeLuca! I was already like this when you met me. I never changed!” He frowned, like I was being unreasonable. “Right. You didn’t change. But I’m tired of waiting.” My voice shook. “So you slept with my best friend?” He was silent for two seconds. “I told you. This isn’t her fault.” I took a deep breath, walked up to him, and slapped him across the face. “You really have no heart. How could you do this to me?” He didn’t dodge. The cigarette fell from his fingers, sparks landing on the sheets. He looked up at me. Finally, there was some emotion in his eyes. “Is that enough? If not, hit me again.” “When you’re done, don’t go after Clara.” I opened my mouth, but before I could speak, my phone rang. It was the hospital. “Dr. Moretti, surgery starts in half an hour.” Vincent suddenly gave a soft laugh. It was quiet, but it pierced my ears like a needle. “Go on, Dr. Moretti. Your fiancé just slept with your best friend, and you still have to go back for surgery.” “You really are the most tolerant woman I’ve ever seen.” I gripped my phone so tightly my fingers turned white. Afraid my tears would fall, I turned and left.

The lights in the operating room were blinding. I held back my tears and kept my hand steady on the scalpel. No one could tell that half an hour ago, I had caught my fiancé and my best friend in my bed. By the time the surgery ended, my wrist was so sore I could barely lift it. “Dr. Moretti, congratulations,” the anesthesiologist said with a smile while filling out the records. “I heard you’re taking six months off for your wedding. Everyone in the department is saying Mr. DeLuca, the man who sends you flowers every single day, finally got our ice queen Dr. Moretti to marry him.” My grip tightened around the paper cup. For the past few months, I had used up all my saved vacation days for that six-month wedding leave. I scheduled every surgery I could in advance. I worked until I passed out from low blood sugar in the changing room, then got up, drank a bottle of glucose, and went right back to work. One day, Vincent came to pick me up and saw how pale I was. For once, he frowned. “Can’t you be nicer to yourself?” I smiled and asked, “Worried about me, Mr. DeLuca?” He pulled me into his arms. “Eve, I can’t wait to marry you. I want to spoil you every day.” Now I realized, by then, those arms had already held someone else. Everything I had done these past few months was a joke. “Yeah.” I only said one word. I was afraid if I said one more, I would break down. I went into the changing room. The moment I locked the door, I slid down against it and sat on the floor. My shoulders shook hard. Tears slipped through my fingers, and I couldn’t stop them. I had never been able to get rid of Vincent since we were kids. He followed me everywhere like a shadow. When I was nine, I snapped at him, “Can you stop following me?” He lowered his head and said, “I want to be your shadow. Wherever you go, I’ll go.” At eighteen, he handed me a note. “I don’t want to be your shadow anymore. I want to stand beside you.” That was when we got together. From eighteen to twenty-eight, for ten whole years, he kept every promise. If I worked late, he came to pick me up. If I got sick, he took leave to take care of me. He remembered every word I said. Everyone said this was what love should look like. And I believed it. I took out my phone and saw the message Clara had sent two hours ago. Clara: Evelyn, I know I wronged you. But I really love him. I’ll do anything you want. Please let us be together, okay? I stared at those words and almost laughed. Clara must have forgotten how she got out of that chicken coop in the first place. Back then, her grandmother was seriously ill. She couldn’t afford the medical bills and knelt in the hospital hallway, crying helplessly. I paid for the surgery. I arranged everything for her. I paid her tuition and encouraged her to get her teaching license. She once said I was the person who changed her life. She said, “Evelyn, you’re the last person I would ever betray.” And now? She was sleeping with my fiancé, asking me to bless their so-called love. But who was going to give back the ten years I gave him? My phone screen blurred. I wiped my tears and was about to stand up. Just then, I heard nurses talking outside. “Did you hear? A patient came into the ER. She was pregnant and had heavy bleeding after sex.” “The baby survived. But her husband looked like someone important. He said if the baby didn’t make it, he’d make sure this hospital shut down.” “No wonder he’s mafia. So arrogant…” “That’s not even the point. The point is, that man looked exactly like Dr. Moretti’s fiancé!” “Oh my God. She’s already pregnant? Then is Dr. Moretti the mistress?” Their footsteps slowly faded away. I leaned against the door, my whole body cold. My nails dug into my palms so hard they drew blood. Then I shoved the door open and rushed out.

Through the glass window of the ward, I saw them. Vincent’s voice was soft, like he was coaxing a child. “Drink slowly. It’s hot.” I pushed the door open. Clara saw me first. “Eve… Evelyn…” Vincent turned around. The second he saw me, he instinctively shifted to block Clara behind him. His voice turned cold. “I told you. Don’t come after her.” I stared at Clara’s flat stomach. “You’re pregnant?” Clara’s tears fell. She turned her face away, too afraid to look at me. “Yes,” Vincent answered for her. “It’s mine. Three months.” Three months. Three months ago, Vincent said he had to go out of state for family business. Then an earthquake hit there. No messages. No calls. Nothing. I took leave overnight and drove there to find him. Halfway there, an aftershock hit. I was thrown forward, my stomach slamming into the steering wheel. The baby I hadn’t even had time to tell anyone about was gone in that chaos. When Vincent arrived, he knelt by my bed and held me, his voice shaking. “I’m sorry, Eve… We’ll have another child. We will…” That was the first time I saw him cry. I touched his hair and said, “As long as you’re safe. We can have another baby later.” So he hadn’t gone for business at all. He had been with Clara. That was when they had their child. And I lost ours on the way to find him. “Evelyn…” Clara’s voice pulled me back. Her eyes were red. She looked pitiful. “The baby can’t grow up without a father… Please let us be together…” Slap. My palm landed hard across her face. The ward went quiet for a second. Then Clara covered her face and started crying. Vincent shot to his feet and grabbed my wrist. “Evelyn Moretti! That’s enough! If you’re angry, take it out on me!” His eyes were full of rage. In twenty years, he had barely ever lost his temper with me. And every time, it was because I worked too hard and didn’t take care of myself. But now, he was angry at me because of the woman he cheated with. “Take it out on you? Vincent, do you even deserve that?” I shook off his hand and stepped back. Something slipped out of my pocket and fell to the floor. It was an Italian dagger. Vincent and I both froze. Three years ago, on the day he proposed, he put the ring on my finger. Then he placed that dagger in my hand. “Evelyn, you’re the only woman I’ll ever choose. If one day I betray you, take this knife and stab me to death.” I looked down at the knife, my head buzzing. Then I bent down and picked it up. In that moment, all the hurt and rage in my chest rushed up at once. My eyes burned red. I really wanted to stab him. I wanted to press the blade against his heart and ask him why. How dare he? I wanted him to hurt too. I wanted him to know what it felt like to be stabbed in the back by the person he loved most. Clara screamed and spread her arms in front of Vincent. “Evelyn, don’t hurt him! I’m the one who wronged you. This has nothing to do with him!” I held the knife and took one step toward them. Just one step. Vincent’s eyes changed. He yanked Clara behind him and shoved me hard. I flew backward. The back of my head hit the floor, and my ears rang. When my vision cleared, I saw him holding Clara in his arms. His voice was soft. Gentle. “Did you hurt your stomach?” Clara cried and shook her head. From beginning to end, he never looked at me once. The hallway was full of people. “Oh my God, is that Dr. Moretti? Poor thing…” “Dr. Moretti always seems so calm. Why is she acting like a lunatic…” I lay on the floor, the back of my head throbbing. When I was eight, my mother left me with my alcoholic, abusive father. I knelt on the floor, grabbed her hand, and asked her why until I cried myself unconscious. After that, I never broke down over anyone again. I didn’t cry when a surgery failed. I didn’t even cry when I lost my baby. Vincent was the one who warmed me little by little. He spent twenty years making me believe I could be loved and cherished too. And he was also the one who turned me back into a lunatic. I pushed myself up from the floor and walked out. It was fine. I only had myself left. And that was enough.

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On the day my father,Adrian Greywood,was confirmed as the Alpha heir of the northern Greywood Pack,he tore up his future Luna vow with my mother in front of everyone and demoted her to an Omega. And Lily,the personal maid who had disrespected my mother again and again,became the future Luna. From then on,Mom became Lily’s scapegoat. At the elders’banquet,Lily said the Beta families were nothing but a bunch of stubborn old bones. So Dad punished Mom by making her kneel before the stone steps of the Packhouse,holding a red-hot wolf crest in her hands until the elders’banquet ended. “You failed to stop the future Luna and caused her to say the wrong thing.You deserve to be punished.” After Mom’s palms were burned raw,she asked Dad to return the moonstone pendant they had exchanged when they made their mate vow. Lily kept misreading the prayers to the Moon Goddess. So Dad punished Mom by making her kneel beside the altar and copy the Pack law code a hundred times. “You failed to teach her properly.You deserve to be disciplined.” The night the silver wound on Mom’s wrist flared up again,she asked Dad to return the obsidian ring from their bonding ceremony. Then,during the moonlit hunt,Lily stole prey from another Pack and startled the current Luna’s youngest pup badly enough to injure him. When the Alpha was about to punish her severely,Dad,red-eyed,begged my mother,who was pregnant with a wolf pup,to take the silver lash for Lily. “Lily was only afraid of losing.She didn’t mean it.Take the punishment for her.” “I promise,this is the last time.I’ll make it up to you properly from now on.” Mom did not cry the way she used to.She accepted it calmly. When the pup in her belly dissolved into bloody water,I saw a blurred dark-red rose mark rise on her wrist. It was a mark I had never seen before. Mom looked at that mark and said softly, “Nora,when the marks becomes completely clear,Mommy will return to our real home.” … Servants carried basin after basin of bright-red bloody water past me. I did not know what that blood rose meant.I only knew Mom’s body was getting colder and colder. I clutched Mom’s hand. “Mommy,Nora doesn’t want you to die!You said you would stay with me while I grew up!” She smiled at me.There was no pain left in her eyes. “Mommy isn’t dying.Mommy is going home.” I trembled. “Mommy,we haven’t had a home for a long time.” Back then,Mom had pitied Lily and brought her here from the Bennett family when she married. But Lily accused the Bennetts of mistreating her. So,to vent Lily’s anger,Dad framed the Bennett family for secretly colluding with the Greywood Pack’s sworn enemy,the Blood Moon Pack. He had only meant to scare Mom.He had not expected Lily to accidentally leave the forged secret letter in the council hall. The Alpha was furious and ordered the execution of the entire Bennett family,who had served three generations of Greywood Alphas. Mom and I begged Dad to explain. But Dad said Lily had always been lowborn,and after she became future Luna,the elders all looked down on her. If they found out he had forged evidence for Lily,every elder would decide Lily was a burden dragging down the Alpha heir. Because of that,Dad admitted with his own mouth that the Bennett family had colluded with an enemy Pack. The Bennetts had once poured all their strength into helping him secure his place as heir.In the end,all of them were dragged onto the judgment platform. Carl,who used to let me ride on his shoulders to look at the moon,Anna,who made my little cloaks,and countless warriors and wolf pups all died. Mom broke down.She cut her wrist open with a silver blade,wanting to let all her blood drain away. But Dad held me in his arms and threatened her,forcing her to survive. I threw myself onto Mom. “I don’t want Mommy to leave.I don’t want the last person who loves me to leave too.” The moment I finished speaking,a tall shadow fell over us from behind. Dad lifted me onto his lap,stroked Mom’s cold cheek,and looked at her with eyes full of pain. “Evelyn,I know you blame me for not protecting our pup,but no matter how angry you are,you can’t use death to frighten Nora.” “I brought some things.You and Nora can see if there is anything you like.” Dad was always like this. After he did something wrong,he used whatever Lily had already picked through to compensate us. Mom did not even look.She only stared at the wrist guard on his arm. “I want that.” Dad froze for a moment,displeased. “You braided this for me yourself on the night I shifted for the first time.” Mom’s eyes were empty. “I gave it to the mate who loved me most.You are not him anymore,so I want it back.” Dad’s arms trembled around me,and his voice went hoarse. “Evelyn,I know I’ve wronged you both.But Lily has no inner wolf,and other wolves have bullied her.She’s too fragile,and she won’t accept my help.I made her future Luna only to save her.” “Evelyn,you are the only one I love.” Dad said that every time. But even I could tell Dad was not doing it to save Lily. He had simply fallen for her.

Mom used to say that one day,I should find a mate who knew how to respect me. Someone like Dad,who would make her pancakes in the morning,brush her hair for her,and give her the best prey and the warmest shawl. But after Lily came here,he gave Lily the moonlight perfume Mom loved. He also gave Lily the maple-leaf brooch Grandma had left Mom. I knew he did not love Mom anymore. “I only want this.” Mom’s hand trembled,but she insisted on asking for the wrist guard. Dad still would not give it. Not until Lily’s people came. “Heir Adrian,Lady Lily has been terrified by a nightmare.She begs you to go see her.” The next second,Dad shoved me aside so hard that I hit the fireplace. He immediately rose to leave,but Mom clutched the hem of his clothes and would not let go. “Give me the wrist guard.” The maid kept urging him.Dad sighed helplessly and threw the wrist guard onto the bed. He even took away every healer in Mom’s room. Mom had lost so much blood,and the bleeding still had not stopped. I wanted to beg him to leave one healer behind. But Mom held my hand. “Be good,Nora.Mommy is fine.” The way Mom used to care for me,I blew gently on the wound on her belly. At last,she closed her eyes to rest. But then Dad came in again,bringing Lily with him. “Lily wants blueberry ice cream,the kind she once ate at the Bennett estate.” “Now the Bennett family only has you left,Evelyn.Go make it.” Mom’s voice was very soft. “I have just lost my pup and am covered in blood.I’m afraid I might ruin the heir and future Luna’s good mood.” Lily bit her lip and knelt on the floor. “This is all my fault.I hurt Evelyn’s pup,and I caused the Bennett family to die.” Dad helped her up with aching tenderness. But when he looked at Mom,his eyes instantly turned cold and hard. He yanked Mom out of bed. “When you talk like that,Lily will think you hate her.She has no wolf.She’s sensitive and fragile.It’s only a dessert.Can’t you be a little more sensible?” Seeing the pain on Mom’s face,I stepped in front of them. “Dad,Mommy doesn’t feel well.Nora can make it!” But Mom pushed me behind the old maid. She looked at Dad coldly and laughed. “So this is your compensation?How disgusting.” Dad panicked for a second,but in the end,he said nothing. The ice cream was not carried to the table until noon the next day. I went to find Mom and found her lying motionless on the floor,her dress covered in blood. I ran crying to Dad. He was feeding Lily the ice cream. “Dad,Mommy is bleeding so much.She’s going to die!” Dad’s expression changed,and he got up to leave. But Lily grabbed him,her eyes red. “Adrian,Evelyn must be angry because she had to make dessert for an Omega like me.She only wants to make you feel sorry for her.” “It was my fault anyway.Go to her.I’ll clean myself up and apologize to Evelyn.” In an instant,anger entered Dad’s eyes. He slammed his hand hard on the table. “She’s spoiled by my favor.She has always tolerated pain better than anyone.It was only one lost pup.What’s there to make such a fuss about?” He pointed at me. “And you.At such a young age,she has already taught you to lie with tricks like this.Disgusting.Go back and tell her I’m busy.If she likes acting so much,let her put on the show by herself all night.” Before,if Mom’s hand was only burned red,Dad would be frantic with worry. How had it become like this? I cried and knelt at Dad’s feet. “I’m not lying.Mommy really fainted!I heard the healer say she would die.She really will die.Dad,please go look at her!” “Get out!” Dad kicked me away. I hit the leg of a chair.My back hurt so much,and my forehead hurt too.Blood ran into my eyes. But the father who used to cry with fear whenever I had a fever did not look at me again. He picked Lily up and casually ordered the guards, “Enough.Take Nora back.Without my permission,she is not allowed to step out of her room again.” I soon passed out. When I woke again,I was already in the eastern manor,and there was noise outside. As soon as I stepped out,I saw Mom kneeling on the ground,her face deathly pale. Lily was crying in Dad’s arms. “Evelyn,I know you hate me,but why did you put wolfsbane in the ice cream?If I hadn’t only eaten a little,I might never have been able to bear pups.”

Mom swayed where she knelt,unable even to stay upright. “It wasn’t me.” Lily pounded Dad’s shoulder,crying even harder. “Adrian,you have to help me!Last night you said you wanted me to give you a whole litter of beautiful little wolf pups!” Dad frowned,as if hesitating. I rushed over. “It wasn’t Mommy!Last time,Lily said Mommy didn’t know gratitude because she refused to drink spoiled meat broth,and punished her by cutting off half a year’s supplies.” “We can’t even trade for fresh herbs,let alone wolfsbane!” Dad’s face turned ugly. “When did that happen?How could anyone eat spoiled meat broth?” Lily froze,then looked at Dad in grievance. “Are you saying I punished her wrongly?When I was little,I ate so many spoiled things in the kitchen,and I still survived just fine.” “I know you think I’m dirty and deserve to be poisoned.You don’t want to stand up for me,so you keep finding fault with me!” “If that’s how it is,then I don’t want the future Luna position at all!” Dad pulled her back and kissed her forehead the way he used to kiss Mom and me. “Don’t say things in anger.You are my mate.Whatever you say is the truth.” “Handle it according to Pack law.Omega Evelyn poisoned the future Luna.Drag her to the training ground and give her twenty strokes of the silver lash.” Before,Dad would never punish Mom after only a few words from someone else. But Lily was not pleased. “I know.I was born low,and my life is worth nothing.Thank you for your mercy,Heir Adrian.I just wonder whether more people will poison me in the future!” Dad sighed. “Then what does Lily want?I’ll do whatever you want,all right?” Lily looked at him with reddened eyes. “She fed me wolfsbane.She should taste it herself.” Dad looked at her tearful eyes and barely hesitated. “Fine.Then force wolfsbane down her throat and make her remember this lesson.” Mom gave a bitter laugh. “Adrian Greywood,I truly regret choosing you.” Dad looked at the emptiness in Mom’s eyes and seemed to panic. He walked over,but he did not help her up.His voice dropped very low. “I know Lily set you up because she feels insecure and doesn’t want you to give birth to an heir before she does.” “But I can’t embarrass her in public and make her lose the authority of the future Luna.” “I’ll have them switch the wolfsbane for a blood tonic.We once agreed we would have both sons and daughters.I won’t let anything happen to you.Trust me.” After saying that,he left with Lily without looking back. Mom was fed three large bowls of bitter medicine. But before long,she was curled up on the ground in pain,and blood stained the stone path red. “Mommy!You’re bleeding!Why is this happening?” No matter how I pressed my hands over it,I could not stop the speed of her bleeding. I hurried to get up and find Dad. But Mom held me back. The blood-rose mark on her wrist was becoming clearer and clearer,bright red as blood. She cried. “It’s all right.Mommy is all right.Don’t beg him.Mommy doesn’t have many days left here.Going to him won’t help.” “Mommy only wants to look at you properly.Does yesterday’s wound still hurt?Mommy is sorry.I didn’t protect you,and I didn’t put medicine on you in time.Don’t blame Mommy,all right?” I cried so hard I could barely breathe. “Mommy,I’m not hurt.Nora isn’t hurt.Nothing will happen to you.I’ll go get the healing potion grandfather left for us.It will save you!” I rushed to the storeroom for the potion,only for the steward to tell me that the last bottle had just been taken by Dad to help Lily recover her health. My legs went weak,but I still rushed to the hall. “Dad,you lied!You said Mommy would be fine!You lied!” He glanced at me and seemed about to rise,but after murmuring a few words to Lily,he closed the door. No matter how I pounded on it,the door stayed tightly shut. The guards threw me out of the manor again.I looked at Mom,who had passed out,and hugged her body as it lost its warmth. “Mommy,don’t leave Nora.What can I do to save you?” Mom gripped my hand,her eyes full of tears and reluctance. “Stay with Mommy for one more night.The last night.”

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I was the Saintess of the Southern Wolf Clan, fostered in the Northern Wolf Clan since childhood and raised alongside the North’s heirs so that we could develop bonds with one another. Whichever heir became my mate would gain the South’s support. The Northern Alpha had even announced that whoever bonded with me would inherit the North and become the new Alpha. In my previous life, I chose Beacher, the man I had loved for years. I even used the South’s secret arts to help him successfully inherit the position. But after becoming Alpha, the first thing he did was order my limbs cut off. Then he summoned a witch to seal me alive inside a coffin with magic. Afterward, he ordered the slaughter of the South. Not one of my eighty thousand clansmen survived. “Who ever wanted to be Alpha?” Beacher snarled bitterly. “If you hadn’t shamelessly insisted on marrying me, Betsy and I would have been together long ago, living happily ever after!” “You made Betsy die with hatred in her heart. Now you’ll learn what it feels like to suffer while waiting for death!” After being reborn, I returned to the day I was meant to choose my mate. This time, I decided to let them have each other. Seven days later, the Alpha issued two announcements. One named my future mate. The other named the future Alpha. Neither had anything to do with Beacher. So why were his eyes red as he knelt before me, begging me to marry him? …… “Cheryl, take a careful look at my heirs. Which one do you like best? Which one would you choose as your future mate?” The Northern Alpha looked at me affectionately, his eyes filled with anticipation. The alliance through marriage between the Southern and Northern Wolf Clans had continued for a hundred years. In our generation, I was the only girl. Naturally, I had been raised in the Northern Wolf Clan from childhood alongside several of its heirs. The Alpha had always doted on me as well. But I knew perfectly well that his affection was not without ulterior motives. I represented more than myself. Behind me stood eighty thousand people of the South. Winning me meant winning the loyalty of all eighty thousand. That was why the Alpha had already announced that the mate I selected would become the next Alpha. The heirs whispered among themselves. “Everyone knows Saintess Cheryl loves Beacher. Today’s selection is nothing more than a formality.” “Beacher really is lucky. He’s neither the most handsome nor the most talented of the heirs, yet he somehow won Saintess Cheryl’s heart. Even the position of Alpha will fall straight into his lap.” “And despite that, Beacher walks around scowling every day as though Cheryl owes him something…” Everyone waited eagerly for me to say Beacher’s name. I glanced calmly in his direction. His face was expressionless, his gaze passing over the crowd to settle on Betsy below the platform. When he noticed me looking at him, he quickly looked away. A flash of disgust crossed his eyes. I laughed inwardly at myself. Beacher, if the power and prestige of becoming Alpha mean less to you than one woman, I won’t force you. This time, I simply won’t choose you. Smiling, I leaned toward the Alpha and whispered into his ear. His expression brightened. He nodded repeatedly before turning to glance at Beacher. Beacher’s face changed immediately. He pushed through the crowd and dropped heavily to his knees before the Alpha, bowing his head to the ground. “Alpha, I am willing to become Cheryl’s mate. However…” “I fell in love with Betsy at first sight, and I refuse to wrong her. If possible, after bonding with Cheryl, I hope I may also provide Betsy with a residence and allow her to…” “Enough of this nonsense!” Before Beacher could finish, the Alpha cut him off with a furious shout. His brows drew tightly together, his face reddening as his chest heaved with anger. “What status does Betsy possess that could possibly allow her to stand as Cheryl’s equal? You are an utter fool!” Beacher clenched his jaw as though reaching a momentous decision. “Betsy’s status may be lower than the Saintess’s, but that is precisely why I must protect her. If I cannot even defend the woman I love, how could I ever be worthy of becoming Alpha?” At his declaration, disappointment filled the Alpha’s face. The onlookers sighed one after another. “We thought Beacher was merely mediocre. Who knew he was also incapable of understanding what truly matters? Does the loyalty of eighty thousand Southern wolves and the position of Alpha sitting within his grasp really mean less to him than an ordinary woman?” “He must be certain Saintess Cheryl will marry no one but him. Otherwise, he would never dare make such an outrageous demand.” The Alpha sighed deeply and asked one final time, “Beacher, are you determined to marry Betsy?” Beacher slowly nodded. “Please grant us your blessing, Father.” Seeing that he refused to reconsider, the Alpha gave me an apologetic look. He then waved helplessly and announced in a grave voice, “Everyone may leave. The bonding ceremony will take place in seven days. Make your preparations.”

Beacher took the Alpha’s reaction as approval and immediately ran to the tearful Betsy. “Betsy, did you hear that? The Alpha didn’t object!” “In seven days, we’ll be together forever!” Tears in her eyes, Betsy nodded repeatedly. When she saw me passing beside Beacher, her smile instantly disappeared, and she timidly moved to bow to me. Before I could speak, Beacher pulled her upright protectively. “Cheryl, if you’re unhappy, take it out on me. Don’t treat Betsy coldly!” “Although you chose me, the Alpha just agreed that she could remain by my side with you. From now on, you’ll be my mate in name, while she’ll be the mate in my heart. You two must get along. Only then can I focus on being a good Alpha.” I blinked at him in confusion. I had not done anything. When had I treated her coldly? Besides, had he misunderstood something? The Alpha had only said that a bonding ceremony would take place in seven days. He had never said Beacher was the mate I had chosen. Seeing Beacher openly defend her, Betsy shyly tugged at his sleeve and advised him gently, “Beacher, as long as I can remain with you, I’m willing to follow you for the rest of my life without any title or recognition. Please don’t argue with the Saintess because of me…” Beacher gazed at her with tenderness and affection. “Silly girl. A witch once foretold that I would successfully inherit the position. Once I become Alpha, I’ll naturally be the most powerful person in the entire clan. Why would I need to submit to a woman like her?” He glanced at me, his expression filled with warning. “Cheryl, you had better behave yourself. If you remain obedient and sensible, I may still be willing to have a child with you in the future. Otherwise…” The threat in his words could not have been clearer. In my previous life, after Beacher and I bonded, Betsy accidentally fell into the water. Although she was rescued, she constantly yearned for Beacher. Her health gradually deteriorated, and within a few years, she died consumed by misery. Her death had nothing to do with me, yet Beacher stubbornly blamed me. “She fell into the water barely thirty feet from your residence. If you hadn’t deliberately pretended not to hear her and delayed the rescue, how could Betsy have died so young?” He blamed me for Betsy’s death and tortured me until I died. He even took his anger out on the South, turning all eighty thousand of my clansmen into restless souls. Yet this creature, incapable of distinguishing right from wrong, remained confident that he would become Alpha. It was laughable. Suppressing my murderous rage, I interrupted him. “Your devotion to Betsy is truly touching, Beacher. Allow me to congratulate you in advance. May you grow old together and have children soon.” Beacher looked me up and down in surprise, attempting to find evidence that I did not mean what I said. Before he could determine anything, I walked past him without hesitation and smiled at the man patiently waiting nearby. “I’ll be waiting for you in seven days.” “You won’t break your promise, will you?” The man smiled without speaking and gave me a solemn nod before leaving with the others. He had said nothing, but merely seeing his broad, powerful back was enough to make me feel safe. In my previous life, as Beacher nailed me inside the coffin and left me waiting helplessly for death, I vaguely heard the sound of fighting through my fading consciousness. It was Hubery, who had rushed back to save me. He screamed my name in anguish and risked his life trying to free me, only for Beacher to order his men to shoot him through with countless arrows. His burning blood seeped through the cracks in the coffin and dripped onto my face. It also fell upon my heart. Only then did I realize how deeply and silently he had loved me all those years. Beacher followed suspiciously. “Cheryl, what does it matter whether Hubery attends when we bond in seven days? When did the two of you become acquainted?”

Betsy’s eyes shifted before she rushed to answer on my behalf. “Beacher, Hubery is handsome, and he and the Saintess also grew up together. It’s perfectly natural for them to be close…” Beacher snorted coldly. “No matter how close they are, she must maintain an appropriate distance and remember proper boundaries. She shouldn’t behave like some shameless girl who seduces every man she sees!” I had endured enough of their insinuations and raised an eyebrow. “Haven’t you and Betsy been seducing each other for quite some time?” Betsy’s face instantly turned white. Beacher glared fiercely at me before immediately lowering his head to comfort her. The corner of my mouth lifted as I quickly walked away. When I returned home and saw the traces of Beacher filling every room, hatred surged within me. When we first met, he gave me a sprig of plum blossoms. Unable to bear throwing it away, I pressed it between the pages of a book and treasured it dearly. Yet not long after meeting Betsy, he gave her a priceless flower-petal-shaped gemstone. The painful contrast instantly made me realize who truly held his heart. I personally gathered everything connected to him. By the time I finished, I was so exhausted that I collapsed heavily onto my bed. Scenes from the final moments of my previous life haunted my dreams with terrifying clarity. When I woke again, three full days had passed. “Saintess, you’re finally awake! Who exactly did you choose as your mate? Why is everyone outside saying you and Betsy are both going to marry Beacher?” “You’ve been asleep these past few days, so you don’t know how wonderfully Beacher has been treating Betsy. Not only did he dig a lotus pond for her at his home, but he personally transplanted the lotuses beloved by the old Luna for Betsy…” “Betsy dislikes sweet food, so Beacher ordered that no desserts may be served wherever she is present…” “He even brought an entire wagon of expensive fabric from another clan to make new clothes for Betsy!” I suppressed the ache in my heart and forced a smile. My maid Amy looked at me in exasperation. “Saintess, how can you still smile at a time like this?” “Beacher treats Betsy like a priceless treasure. If you bond with him, won’t you only be making yourself miserable?” “That’s enough. Don’t worry. I didn’t choose him.” I smiled reassuringly at her, only for Beacher to push open the door just in time to hear me. Surprise flashed through his eyes before he gave a contemptuous laugh. “Cheryl, you’re jealous after seeing how well I treat Betsy, so you’re deliberately saying that to upset me!” I silently rolled my eyes. How had I never noticed before how shameless Beacher was? When I said nothing, he strode inside. “I came today to inform you that I moved half the treasures you brought from the South to Betsy’s home. You owe her that compensation…” My head snapped up, and I stared at him in disbelief. “Beacher! Those things were given to me by my father. They’ve been with me for more than ten years. What gives you the right to take them and give them to someone else?” I had left my home at a young age. Because my father worried about me, he carefully selected dozens of chests filled with precious jewelry and everything I loved for me to bring along. Those belongings carried all his love and longing for me. “I was merely giving you an opportunity to show goodwill toward Betsy. After all, once you marry me, you’ll need to get along with her!” Beacher spoke as though his actions were entirely justified. His shamelessness left me stunned. “We won’t take your belongings without giving anything in return. On our wedding night, I’ll enter your room and preserve your dignity as Saintess. However, I promised Betsy I would never touch you…” “So once midnight passes, I’ll go to Betsy’s room!” Beacher looked arrogant, as though he were granting me an enormous favor. I laughed coldly and met his gaze. “Beacher, return my belongings. I never said I would become your mate.”

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After six years of marriage, my husband, Michael, once again refused to meet me, using work as his excuse. I understood how hard he worked, so I made a special trip to New York to surprise him. But I never expected that when I walked into a flower shop, I would see my husband’s wedding photo with another woman. … The clerk confirmed with me again and again, “Are you sure you want these flowers sent to Michael Carter? The professor who teaches at the university?” I nodded, happily imagining the surprise on Michael’s face when he received the flowers. But the clerk suddenly shrieked, “That’s our boss’s husband’s name. What is your relationship with him?” “Don’t tell me you’re another one of his obsessed admirers?” After saying that, the clerk proudly pointed at the wall. Hanging there, plain as day, was a framed wedding photo. “Look how in love he is with our boss. Stop trying so hard to destroy their family!” The moment I saw the photo clearly, it felt as if I had been thrown into an ice cellar. For a long time, I could not say a word. The man in the photo was Michael. The woman leaning against him wore a white wedding dress, her face glowing with happiness. While I stood there in a daze, the clerk turned and went to a corner to make a phone call. A little while later, a woman pushing a stroller opened the door and walked in. Her complexion was rosy, but her expression was unusually wary. “So you’re the one trying to send flowers and seduce my husband?” Her appraising gaze was full of contempt. “Ever since my husband became a tenured professor, I’ve lost count of how many women like you I’ve had to deal with!” She looked so natural, as if she were Michael’s real wife. Everything hit me at once, so hard that for a moment I could not bring myself to believe it. I forced down the enormous shock in my chest, dug my nails hard into my palm, and struggled to keep myself calm. “Ma’am, you’ve misunderstood.” “I’m only here to ask Professor Carter for some research materials.” At some point, a few passersby had gathered around us. After hearing what I said, they joked, “Vivian, don’t be so angry. Professor Carter dotes on you so much. He wouldn’t even look twice at another woman!” Only then did the woman breathe a sigh of relief. She warmly pulled me over and had me sit down on a chair. “Don’t blame me. It’s all because my husband is too outstanding. Women are always trying to seduce him, so I can’t help getting a little nervous.” She lowered her head and kissed the baby boy in her arms. There was a showy note in her voice. “This is my husband’s and my child. What do you think? Cute, isn’t he?” I had to admit, the child looked a lot like Michael. Back then, he chose to stay at the university to teach, while I was assigned by the CIA to a covert station overseas. I was shut away there for six years. For six years, I endured all the danger and loneliness alone, risking my life in exchange for medal after medal. And what waited for me in the end was my husband keeping another family outside our marriage. He had even had children with her. Just then, a middle-aged woman walked in from outside. “Well, Vivian, Professor Carter finally let you out?” Vivian smiled playfully. “Linda, you have to keep it a secret for me.” “If Michael finds out I went out by myself, he’ll worry himself sick again!” Linda laughed along with her. “Oh my god, your husband is seriously the most devoted man I’ve ever seen in New York.” “Even when you’re having steak at a restaurant, he cuts it into bite-sized pieces and feeds it to you. Whenever you go out, he’s terrified something might happen to you. He worries like crazy.” Listening to them, a sharp ache tore through my chest, and my face turned faintly pale. Vivian handed me a cookie with a smile. “Have something to tide you over. You came all this way. You must be starving.” “I baked these cookies myself. Michael loves them, but he worries my hands will get tired, so he won’t let me make too many.” How ironic those words sounded to me. I had thought my husband only knew how to bury his head in research, careless and clumsy about daily life. It turned out he had given all his tenderness and consideration to his second family in New York.

“Mommy.” A child’s call interrupted our conversation. When I saw the little girl’s face clearly, my whole body stiffened. The girl looked a lot like Michael too. She seemed to be around four or five years old. She ran to Vivian’s side and acted spoiled. “When is Daddy coming home? I miss him so much.” I looked at the baby boy in Vivian’s arms, then at the little girl whining beside her, and the bitterness in my heart almost spilled over. Michael and I had been married for years, but we had never had children. Over the years, I had told him countless times that I wanted a child. When we were newly married, Michael once held me and said, “We’re newlyweds. We haven’t had enough time alone together yet. There’s no rush to have children.” Later, before I was selected by the CIA for the mission, I became anxious and insisted that we try for a child before I left. He agreed readily enough, but every time my ovulation window came, he would just so happen to be away on a business trip. “I’m really too tired. Why do you think I’m working so hard? Isn’t it to give you and our future child a better life?” “We’re both educated people. We can’t let a child hold back our careers.” Later still, whenever I brought up having a child, he would repeatedly say that he was worried about my health and did not want childbirth to drag down my career. For a time, I truly believed he did not like children. So it turned out someone else had already given him children. Vivian glanced down at her phone, her smile full of sweetness. “My husband almost never goes out, and he never works overtime.” “Today really is just bad timing. I’m afraid I’ll have to trouble you to wait a little longer.” At that, I was stunned again. The two words Michael said to me most often were “working overtime.” If he did not answer the phone, he was working overtime. If he could not come home to see me, he was working overtime. Even last Christmas, he had been working overtime the entire time. Three years ago, his mother was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. He said his project was at a critical stage and he had no way to take care of her, so he could only ask me to help. I was so busy I could barely breathe. But while his mother was ill, she jumped into a lake when the caregiver was not paying attention. The hospital called my workplace directly. I was truly swamped, so I asked Michael to go handle it. But he still shirked it, saying he was working overtime. In the end, I was forced to go and deal with it for him, which delayed my CIA work. Listening to Vivian, a bone-deep sense of helplessness swept through my entire body. Vivian picked up her crying little son and stood. “The baby is hungry. My home is nearby. If you don’t mind, you can come wait there with me.” I stood up almost eagerly, but still made my tone sound casual. “Do you live with his parents?” Vivian shook her head. “His parents passed away a long time ago. It’s just my parents at home. He treats my parents better than he would his own.” I picked at my nails, wondering how Michael’s mother would feel if she heard those words. When I lowered my head, my eyes accidentally caught a line of small print on Vivian’s daughter’s backpack: Department of Defense Affiliated Elementary School. Seeing me stop, Vivian smiled and explained, “That’s my older daughter’s school.” “My husband is a Gold Star Family member, so under policy, they made a special exception and let our child attend that school.” Hearing the words “Gold Star Family,” I looked up in confusion. “Gold Star Family?” Vivian nodded and sat down beside me. “Yes. His sister was a martyr who died in service to the country.” After she said that, she caught sight of the small embroidered words on the cuff of my down jacket: New York Headquarters · Central Field Station. Her eyes immediately lit up. “Oh, his sister used to work where you do.” “Her name was Sarah Carter. Do you know her? She died in the line of duty six years ago.” Those words struck me like a bolt from the blue. My body swayed, almost unable to stand. How could I not know her? I was the Sarah Carter she was talking about. As his legal wife, I had somehow become his so-called sister. It was truly ridiculous. Seeing my face turn deathly pale, Vivian considerately stuffed a hand warmer into my hands. “Did you get too cold outside? Here, warm your hands. Michael knows I get cold easily, so he stocked up on a lot of these.” Vivian’s happy smile was like a red-hot branding iron, burning my chest again and again. I struggled to steady my emotions and asked as if by accident, “How could they send someone to work in such a harsh place?” Vivian smiled and said, “My husband’s family has money, but what good is money? Without power or connections, people still bully you.” “So my husband stepped in himself and sent his sister there!” That sentence became the final straw. So back then, Michael had deliberately made me leave. He had locked me away in that isolated CIA place for six whole years. Knowing full well that I was my parents’ only daughter, he still sent me away without hesitation. So when my father died of a heart attack, I could not make it back in time to see him one last time because of work. On one hand, Michael used my “Gold Star” status to let the illegitimate children he had with another woman enjoy national benefits. On the other, he kept a beautiful woman by his side in another home, surrounded by children. My voice trembled slightly. “Have you… ever met his sister?”

Vivian shook her head. “My husband said he was afraid the family would be saddened by seeing her things, so he got rid of everything that belonged to his sister. He didn’t keep even a single photo.” “By the way, I still haven’t asked your name.” I paused, then gave a fake name. “Call me Sally.” Vivian laughed. “What a coincidence. Michael’s sister seemed to have an alias too. It was Sally.” I lowered my head and did not answer. Vivian chattered on the whole way. “Thank goodness my husband had vision and sent his sister to serve the country. My two children can enjoy Federal Gold Star Family benefits for medical care, school, everything.” “When my son was born, the government even issued a special compensation payment.” Gold Star benefits had limited slots. No wonder Michael had always insisted we remain childfree. It turned out he was afraid the children I gave birth to would take away his illegitimate children’s share. A bitter taste rose in my throat. I did not know what to say, so I asked casually, “When was your son born?” “November eleventh. The day I had my little boy, Michael booked the most expensive private hospital in Manhattan, with VIP delivery care the entire time.” My head snapped up, and my pupils shrank. That was the day my father died. That day, the doctor said that if my father had been brought to the hospital just one hour earlier, he could have been saved. But Michael, who had promised to help me take care of my parents, could not be reached no matter how many times I called. At my father’s funeral, Michael slapped himself across the face while sobbing and apologizing to me. I thought it was genuine guilt, so I forced down every doubt in my heart. Who could have imagined that he had been at another hospital that day, watching his illegitimate son be born? As the truth was laid out before me piece by piece, anger nearly burned straight through me. Vivian was still speaking. “It’s just that the two children are a little far apart in age. More than six years. They fight all the time.” At that moment, I could already be certain that when Michael married me, he had already been with Vivian. Vivian raised her hand and pointed ahead. “We’re here. This is my home.” Unlike our ordinary apartment, they lived in a penthouse near Central Park. The place was decorated so warmly. Fresh lilies sat on the dining table, and family photos of the four of them hung on the walls. Every sharp corner of the furniture had been carefully wrapped with soft padding. I forced a smile. “Your home is so clean and warm.” “Oh, Michael did all the decorating. He always says a home should feel like a home.” Hearing that, another wave of bitterness surged through me. When Michael was with me, he never touched housework. He threw clothes and socks everywhere and was too lazy even to take out the trash. If something at home broke, he would leave it there and wait for me to come back and fix it. Every time I took family leave, it became my deep-cleaning day. Thinking about it now, I was truly ridiculous. Cleaning the house, earning money to support the family, helping take care of his mother… All my efforts had become the perfect warm backdrop for my husband’s affair. I forced down the pain in my heart and asked as if unintentionally, “Your family seems very well-off. Money and status, and such a large apartment. Did you buy it yourself?” Vivian smiled. “My husband bought it.” “I was lucky. I had just come to New York from a small town when I met Michael.” “The flower shop downstairs was also opened for me with money he provided six years ago.” Michael came from a poor family. When we got married, even the home we lived in was rented with my salary. At that time, he had not yet established himself in New York and had hardly any money at all. And now that he had achieved success and fame, he spent all his money on his other family. Just then, the door clicked open from outside. It was Vivian’s father. His gaze as he looked me over was full of scrutiny and caution. “Who is this?” Vivian introduced me warmly. “Dad, this is someone who came to get important materials from Michael.” The old man nodded indifferently. “Michael is like my own son. The country values him, and I feel proud too. Tonight I’ll cook myself and make something nice for you all.” Just then, a phone began to ring. Vivian casually put it on speaker. I heard Michael’s voice clearly. “Honey, I may not get back until after midnight tonight.” “I know you’ve been craving those chocolates lately, so I made a special trip to buy your favorite handmade ones.” “Sorry to make you wait so long. Be good.”

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— Aria’s POV — I gave my rival my kidney. I gave my fiancé everything he wanted. I died exactly the way the story wanted me to. I just wasn’t there when it fell apart. The day Damien brought Sienna Locke home, he gave me three demands. “First—bow to Sienna. Lower your head and thank her for not holding a grudge against you all these years.” “Second—sign the divorce papers. Make room for Sienna.” “Third—donate one of your kidneys to Sienna for her treatment. Consider it your apology for everything you owe her.” Damien waited for a long time. He didn’t get the furious accusations or the sound of things breaking. “Of course, if you’re willing to admit right now that you were wrong—” He was still talking when I walked straight up to Sienna and bent at the waist. Deep and low—once, twice, three times. When I straightened up, I looked at Damien’s stunned face and asked flatly. “Anything else? If not, I’ll go book the kidney removal surgery.” Damien grabbed my wrist, his jaw tight with anger. “What kind of game are you playing now?!” I didn’t answer. But in my mind, I had finally made the decision I’d been sitting on for ten years. It was time to leave. This story was always going to end this way. Ten years ago, when I first woke up in this world, I’d known I was inside the pages of a romance novel. Damien Ashford was the male lead. Sienna Locke was the destined heroine. The Voice had told me the storyline couldn’t be defied—those two would fall in love in the end. But I didn’t believe it. I really, truly didn’t. Because Damien had looked at me like I was the only person in the room. Every time he’d said “I love you,” it sounded like an oath sealed in blood. I thought I’d rewritten the story. I thought I’d won. But what was the result? I looked up at him. The Voice echoed in my mind once more. [Die within three days, and you’ll be free from this world.] Our eyes locked. “Let go. If I don’t leave now, I’ll miss the surgical window.” “You think pulling a stunt like this will make me feel sorry for you?” Damien let out a cold laugh and released my wrist. “A kidney. There’s no way in hell you’d actually go through with it.” I didn’t look back. I walked out of the villa. …… The private hospital. The surgeon flipped through my file and looked up. “Ms. Moretti, Mr. Ashford already sent over the tissue-matching results. We can operate today, but we’ve run low on general anesthesia. We’d have to use an epidural—half-conscious sedation only.” “That’s fine.” “With a half-sedation, you’ll feel significant pulling pain throughout the procedure. It will be extremely painful. You might want to wait until tomorrow—” “Today.” The surgeon didn’t argue. He handed me the surgical confirmation receipt. Three years ago, when the company had hit a crisis, I’d drunk myself into a stomach hemorrhage at the negotiating table and ended up in the ICU. Damien had waited outside the ward all night, shaking from head to toe. When I’d come out, he had held me so tight it hurt and whispered: We’ll get through this. And we’ll keep loving each other. Always. But now he was a different person. The surgery took three hours. When the anesthesia faded, the pain hit like a freight train. I bit down on the gauze and didn’t make a sound. After they wheeled me out, I took out my phone and signed the electronic divorce agreement Damien had sent over. Then I sent it back. A clean break. I gave up every share I held in the company, every property under my name, every title and position. No dividends. No settlement. No compensation. I even included the account number and password for my own personal bank card at the bottom. Damien saw the contents and called me almost immediately. I declined the call. He called again. I powered off the phone. By the time I got back to the villa, it was already dark. The wound at my side still throbbed with a dull, grinding ache. Sienna had already moved in. She was lounging on the sofa when I walked through the door. She stood up the moment she saw me. “Aria! You’re back. How did the surgery go?” Her gaze drifted down to my shirt, where a dark stain of blood had seeped through the fabric. The corner of her mouth twitched upward before she could catch herself. I walked past her without a word and headed upstairs. From the very back of the closet, I pulled out a metal box. Inside were two things—a journal and a ring. I had started writing the journal ten years ago, the day I’d first arrived in this world. “I saw him on campus today. He seemed to notice me too. The storyline says he’s supposed to fall for Sienna—but the way he looked at me… maybe this story can be rewritten.” “I only had five dollars left. I spent four on a cup of hot chocolate for him. He couldn’t help himself—he leaned over and kissed me.” “We got married. We built a company together from nothing. The Voice keeps telling me the plot will course-correct, but I don’t believe it anymore. I don’t want to leave this world.” The entries stopped three months ago. That was the day photos of Damien Ashford—CEO of their company—kissing actress Sienna Locke on a sidewalk had exploded across every social media platform. I walked to the fireplace and threw the journal in. The match took three strikes to light. Ten years of handwriting curled, blackened, and crumbled page by page. When the fire was at its peak, Damien suddenly came through the door. He rushed over. He saw what was inside the fireplace and shoved his hand into the flames, pulling out half a charred page with his bare fingers. The words had burned away except for the last two lines—my handwriting from two years ago. “I love him.” Damien clutched that half-page, his eyes bloodshot as he turned to me. “Have you lost your goddamn mind?!” I didn’t look at him. I tossed the wedding ring into the fireplace after the journal. “Aria! Sienna was the one who saved me ten years ago—and you took credit for it this entire time! You owe me. Not the other way around!” He grabbed my shoulders and wrenched me around to face him. The wound at my side tore under the pressure, and cold sweat broke across my skin instantly. “All you had to do was admit you were wrong! Instead you signed everything away, burned it all, walked away from the company—what the hell do you want?!” “Look down,” I said. I pointed at the fireplace. As the flames died down, he saw the sheet of paper underneath that hadn’t burned yet. The kidney removal surgery receipt. Damien’s hands slid off my shoulders. His lips parted twice without producing a sound. He took a step back. “You… actually went through with it?” I turned toward the bedroom and no answer. Behind me, silence. He didn’t follow. He didn’t even try. Two days left.

— Aria’s POV — The next morning, Sienna showed up at my bedroom door. Behind her stood the same doctor from the private hospital. “Aria, I feel terrible for bothering you so early.” “My transplant surgery is coming up, but my blood count has been dangerously low. Your blood type happens to be a perfect match for mine.” She rested her hand lightly on her side and rubbed it, the picture of frailty. “For the transplant to succeed, I just need a small favor from you.” I looked at her. “Sure. How much?” She hadn’t expected me to agree that quickly. She paused for a beat. “Eight hundred milliliters.” The doctor behind her hesitated. “Ms. Moretti, you just had a kidney removed yesterday. Your body is in an extremely weakened state. Drawing blood right now isn’t advisable—” I cut him off and rolled up my sleeve. “It’s fine. Go ahead.” When the needle went in, I turned my head and stared out the window. Blood traveled down the tube, slow and steady. Eight hundred milliliters. A body that had just lost a kidney was already running on fumes. Halfway through the draw, my vision blurred and went dark for a few seconds. Sienna sat in the chair beside me, watching the bag swell with blood, her legs crossed, a satisfied look on her face. After I sent them away, I got out of bed. I made my way down the stairs, one hand gripping the railing the entire way. The wound felt like it was being ripped open with every step. By the time I reached the front entrance of the villa, I had to crouch down. I sat on the stone steps for five minutes, waiting for the black fog in my vision to clear. Then I called a cab. To the funeral home. The staff at funeral homes had seen all kinds of people. But apparently they had never seen a twenty-eight-year-old woman walk in to pre-arrange her own burial. “Single occupancy. The smallest you have.” I had two thousand dollars in cash left. The cheapest urn was pine. Nine hundred dollars. The cheapest niche for storage was in the northeast corner. One thousand dollars. After I paid, the attendant handed me a receipt. I folded it neatly and slipped it into my pocket. Outside the funeral home, I sat on the front steps and deleted every social media account on my phone, one by one. Ten years of posts and photos—erased. Before I deactivated my phone number, I sent one last message to my college best friend, Mia Hartley. After that, I canceled the number. That evening, I returned to the villa. Damien was sitting on the living room sofa. When he saw me walk in, his eyes went cold. “You deactivated all your social media?” “I called you all afternoon. Your phone was off.” “Are you playing the disappearing act now?” He pulled out his phone from his jacket and flashed the screen in my face. It showed a screenshot from his banking app. “I froze that card. Every linked card too. You don’t have a single cent to your name right now.” His lip curled slightly. “Sienna told me—you’re perfectly healthy. You never went through with the surgery. That receipt was a fake, wasn’t it?” “You think this kind of stunt is going to make me cave? Let me be clear—it won’t work on me.” I didn’t want to hear any more. I pressed my hand against my side where blood was seeping through again, and walked past him toward the stairs. Behind me, his voice rose. “You can’t survive without me. No money, no one left—who are you going to turn to?” I shut the bedroom door behind me. Nineteen hundred dollars had already gone to the funeral home. I had a hundred dollars left on me. Enough for one more day alive.

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After my husband gives away our tenth child to his mistress, I marry his childless godfather. I give Damien St. Clair nine babies. Every single one of them disappears before their first birthday. Nine kids. Nine empty cribs. Nine times he kneels in front of me, swearing he’ll find them. Nine times I shatter into pieces and have to glue myself back together. By the seventh, I stop eating. By the eighth, I stop sleeping. By the ninth, I’m popping three different pills just to keep myself from losing my mind completely. But Damien never leaves. Every panic attack at 3 a.m., every time I scratch my own arms bloody because the pain has nowhere else to go, he’s right there. Red eyes, shaky voice, holding me so tight like if he lets go, I’ll fall apart for good. “We’ll try again,” he whispers. “I’ll love you forever.” And I believe him. God help me, I believe every word. I let him back into my bed. I get pregnant for the tenth time. When that baby turns one, I show up at his private lounge to surprise him. That’s when I hear everything. His boys are drinking, laughing, kicked back on leather couches like kings. And Damien is standing right in the middle of them, handing MY child to some woman I’ve never seen before in my life. One of his buddies smacks his shoulder. “Bro, your wife’s basically a baby factory. You’re living the dream.” Another one cracks up. “Dude’s out here gifting whole ass kids to his side chicks. A car, a condo, AND a baby? Instant mom, zero labor pain. What girl says no to that?” Damien laughs, lights a cigarette, blows smoke at the ceiling. “Come on, they’re young girls,” he says, like it’s nothing. “You think I’m gonna let pregnancy wreck their bodies? Nah. Leave the heavy lifting to the specialist.” The whole room roars. And me? I’m standing right outside that door. Six months pregnant. Ice cold from head to toe. …… His newest fling, Sophia Mercer, is holding my baby. She looks down at the little face and scrunches up her nose. “Ugh, another girl? I already have one of those.” She tugs on Damien’s sleeve, full pout mode. “Babe, I want a new one. Something different. I don’t do hand-me-downs.” Damien wraps his arm around her, all smiles, all warmth. “Whatever you want. I’ll have her make as many as you need.” The baby starts squirming, fussing in Sophia’s arms. Sophia pinches the kid when no one’s looking. The baby screams. Sophia slaps a hand over her mouth. “Shut up,” she snaps. My heart stops. My nails dig so deep into my palms there’s blood running down my fingers. I can’t feel it. My whole body is shaking. Sophia keeps whining. “A whole year before I even get her? Obviously she doesn’t know me. Next time, I want one fresh out of the delivery room.” Damien tips his head down, smiling at her like she hung the moon. “Babe, babies under one are a nightmare. Let Claire deal with all that mess. Why would I let you suffer through it?” He leans in close to her ear. “If I ever saw a single wrinkle on you, I’d lose my mind.” Sophia giggles and slaps his chest playfully. One of his friends shifts in his seat. “But real talk, man… your wife keeps having these kids, and they keep vanishing on her. Isn’t she gonna snap at some point?” Damien goes quiet for half a second. Then shrugs. “She pops ’em out easy. Giving away a few, what’s the big deal? Worst case, I settle down in a couple years, let her keep a few. Call it even.” The room gets louder. Filthier. One guy actually says he wants me to have a baby for HIM so he can bring a grandkid home to his parents. Damien laughs and nods. Every single request, he agrees to. Like he’s passing out party favors. My legs give out. My brain goes blank. I press both hands against my belly and run.

I lock myself in the bedroom and shove my fist in my mouth. Not a sound. Not one. Every time I thought I was going crazy from grief, every time I wanted to die because another baby was gone — it was him. My husband. Their father. He planned every single one. New girlfriend, new baby. That’s how it worked. Every woman he moved on to, he took one of my kids as a gift. And now it’s Sophia Mercer’s turn. His childhood sweetheart. I cry until my voice breaks. Until I’m just choking on air. I beat my fists against my own stomach. I want this baby out. I want every last trace of Damien St. Clair scraped out of my body. I used to love being pregnant with his children. Now everything about him makes me sick. It’s past midnight when he finally comes home. He walks in already teary-eyed, drops to his knees, grabs my hands. “Baby, I’m so sorry. The nanny took her out this morning and she just… she’s gone.” I stare at him. He moves closer, squeezes tighter, eyes all big and desperate. “I’ve got people looking everywhere. We’ll find her. I swear.” Tenth time he’s fed me that exact line. Funny how he never once delivered. He’s waiting for me to fall apart. Screaming, sobbing, clawing at my own skin like I always do. But this time I just look him dead in the eye. “Okay.” His whole face goes blank. Before he can ask questions, his phone rings. He picks up, and I hear her. Sophia. That whiny little baby voice: “Babe, this little girl is SUCH a pain. I want the one Claire’s carrying right now…” I stop listening. I don’t need to hear any more. The second he leaves the room, I grab my phone. No hesitation. I book an appointment to erase my identity. Five days out. Then I dial the other number. When his voice comes through, I choke back my tears and keep my voice steady. “I’ll do it. But my condition is this — our baby will be your heir.” He says yes without blinking. I hang up. Almost right away, Damien comes back. Wraps himself around me from behind, nuzzling my neck, cooing like I’m a puppy. “There’s my good girl. See? No tears, no tantrums. That’s my Claire.” I let him hold me. My face is completely dead. Oh I’ll be good, Damien. So good you won’t even see me leave. Oh I’ll be good, Damien. So good that by the time you notice, I’ll be married to the most powerful man in London.

Next morning, Damien’s up early. That never happens. He takes my hand, all soft and sweet. “Hey, let’s go get you a checkup today. You’ve lost weight. I’m worried about you and the baby.” Before yesterday, that would’ve melted me. Now it makes my stomach turn. I let him lead me to the car. The second we get there, the passenger window rolls down and there she is. Sophia. Batting her lashes, whiny as ever. “Babe, what took you so long?” Then she turns to me, all sugary. “Oh, Claire! I haven’t been feeling great either. You don’t mind if I tag along, right?” I shoot Damien a look. He doesn’t even flinch. Just leans in close and whispers, “Let her come. Don’t make a scene. I’ll make it up to you later.” And just like that, it clicks. This whole checkup isn’t about me. It’s about Sophia getting a preview of my unborn child. Shopping before the delivery. I almost laugh. “Sure. I don’t mind.” Damien lets out a breath, lifts me into the back seat, buckles my seatbelt like the perfect husband. Sophia plants herself in the front. Shotgun. She throws me a little smirk over her shoulder and snuggles up to Damien, baby voice on full blast. I don’t say a word. Not in the car. Not walking into the hospital. Not when I sit down in the exam chair. The doctor runs the wand over my belly and asks the routine question. “How many pregnancies have you had?” I stare at the ceiling. “This is number eleven.” The doctor doesn’t react. But the women in the waiting room outside? They have plenty to say. I can hear every word through the thin walls. “You see how that man looks at the other girl? THAT’s the couple. The pregnant one’s probably the side piece.” “Eleven?! She’s gotta be popping them out for different rich guys. What a tramp.” Damien barely flinches. Doesn’t say a word to defend me. Sophia catches my eye and smirks. Then she spots the baby on the ultrasound screen. Her whole face lights up. She leans forward, can’t help herself. “So, doctor? What is it?” The St. Clairs own this hospital. So whatever Damien wants to know, he gets. He and Sophia follow the doctor into the back office. I’m left sitting alone on that exam chair. When they come back out, Sophia’s face is dark. She stares at me like I’m something stuck on the bottom of her shoe. Damien grabs my hand. Big apologetic eyes. Gentle voice. “Claire, I’m sorry. The doctor says there are serious complications with the baby. It’s not going to be viable. We need to terminate.” The doctor nods along right on cue. “It really is for the best. Carrying to term would only mean more suffering.” I look at the three of them. Here’s something Damien forgot. I was a med student once. Top of my class, actually. Until a one-night stand with him got me pregnant and I had to drop out. I saw that ultrasound screen. That baby is perfectly healthy. The only problem? It’s not what Sophia ordered. She already has a girl. She wants something new, something different. So Damien needs this baby gone so I can start over and try again. I look him dead in the eye. “What if I say no?”

Damien’s whole expression shifts. That fake softness vanishes. “Claire. You’re being ridiculous right now.” I’m done. I turn and head for the exit. But Sophia runs up behind me and grabs my arm, putting on her best worried face. “Claire, wait. Is this because I came? Are you mad at me? I’m sorry, I really am…” Her nails dig into my skin hard enough to draw blood. I try to shake her off. “Get your hands off me.” That’s when Sophia stumbles. Her body tips backward, she hits the floor. But as she goes down, she grabs my arm and shoves me forward with everything she’s got. I go down the staircase. My body flips, rolls, slams against every step until I hit the bottom. Damien sprints toward us. But the name he screams isn’t mine. “Sophia!” He drops to the floor next to her, hands shaking, checking her face. “Where does it hurt? Show me, baby, show me.” Sophia dabs at her tears, whimpering. “My ankle… I think I twisted it… it hurts so bad…” Damien’s eyes go red. He scoops her up and rushes toward the ER. Doesn’t look back. Not once. And me? I’m crumpled at the bottom of the stairs, both hands on my belly, shaking so hard I can barely see straight. Someone in the crowd yells out, “She’s bleeding! That woman is bleeding!” Pain tears through my lower belly. Something warm spreads between my legs. Bright red. Soaking through my white dress. Damien freezes. He turns around. Looks down at me on the floor. And his face isn’t panicked, isn’t guilty. It’s pissed off. “You know what, Claire? You pushed Sophia. YOU did this. So don’t you dare blame anyone else.” I shake my head, over and over, tears pouring. My voice is barely there. “I didn’t… it wasn’t me…” Damien pulls Sophia closer. His voice goes soft. Gentle, even. But what comes out is the coldest thing I’ve ever heard in my life. “Just deal with it. We were getting rid of that baby anyway. This just saved us a trip. But Sophia dances for a living. Her ankle actually matters.” Then he steps right over me. Like I’m a piece of furniture in his way. Carries Sophia into the ER and never turns around. I’m curled up in my own blood, screaming at the people staring down at me. “Help me… please, somebody help me… please…” They stare. They whisper. They pull out their phones and start recording. Not a single person moves. The last thing I see before everything goes dark is a doctor running out, shouting for a stretcher. …… Three days later, I open my eyes. The doctor is sitting at my bedside. She can’t look at me. “I’m sorry. We couldn’t save the baby. Please try to rest.” I smile. Gone. Good. My baby doesn’t deserve to be born into this family. And everything about Damien St. Clair makes me sick now. I check myself out. Go straight home. Pull together every document I need for tomorrow and shove them into a bag, hidden out of sight. One more day. And I’m gone for good. Then arms wrap around me from behind. My whole body locks up. “Get off me!” Damien nuzzles into my neck, voice dripping honey. “Hey, hey. You’re still mad? Babe, come on. I told you, there were complications. That baby was only gonna cause you more pain. I did it for you.” I laugh. Short. Ugly. “One baby after another after another. Gone. And you just shrug it off like it’s nothing?” He pulls me in tighter. His voice drops, and for the first time there’s a crack in it. “Babe… you make it look so easy. It’s never even hard on you. So we lost one. We’ll just make another one. What’s the big deal?” My whole body shakes. What kind of person says that? What kind of thing walks around looking human and says that to someone’s face? Before I can pull away, he grabs me by the waist, lifts me up, and throws me onto the bed. His eyes go dark. “Claire. Let’s try again.” I stare up at him. I can’t even process what’s happening. “Are you out of your mind? I just had a miscarriage!” He pins me down and kisses me. Hard. Like it’s not a question. “One more. Be a good girl. We’ll get it right this time.” I slap him across the face.

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The Queen called it a mercy. Thirty lashes of divine fire, and my mother died with her back flayed to the bone. That was the mercy. My mother was Basileia Chryse’s most trusted handmaiden. When the Queen was poisoned, my mother tested the antidotes. Drank them one by one. The pain knocked her clean off the cot. When the Queen’s child came out dead, the court demanded blood. My mother took thirty lashes. Half a moon she couldn’t turn in bed. I thought the Queen would protect her. Just once. The whole Sanctum was in a panic. They pinned it on my mother — said she’d murdered the divine heir. I ran to the Heraion in the rain and grabbed Basileia’s knees. Even gods aren’t supposed to refuse a plea like that. She peeled my fingers off. Brushed the rain from my hair. “Little one. Your mother is a faithful servant. Walking this road for me — that is a mercy.” So faithful servants should just die? They carried her back after dark. Blood everywhere. She didn’t look human anymore. That night I dried my eyes. Put on a servant’s dress. I’d be a faithful servant too. And her — her life was mine. Sooner or later. Years. I changed the scrolls, changed my name. Walked into the Inner Sanctum as nobody. I poured nectar without shaking. Bowed without flinching. When they yelled — Forgive me. When they hit — I deserved it. Invisible. The Heraion, where people still remembered my mother — I never went near. But she’d been kind to every forgotten soul in this court. Kairion. Old priest. Cold hearths. She’d given him her last fever medicine when plague came and no one else would help. He looked at me a long time. “Did she suffer?” “Yes.” He pulled some strings. Within days I was in the Cup Hall, pouring the God-King’s wine. Not a job anyone notices. Perfect for listening. What Aethon drank. When he got headaches reading treaty-scrolls. I worked slow. Never slipped. Everyone thought I was stupid. Good. Today a girl delivers the wrong cup. Fourteen. Shaking. White as ash. The Solarium doesn’t forgive mistakes. The lash if you’re lucky. If not — you disappear. The head matron raises her hand. I step in. Eyes on the floor. “Matron — that cup smelled off. I swapped it and had it sent to Steward Theron.” My design. I’d slipped a petal of Hypnos-bloom in. Not enough to kill. Enough to steal a man’s sleep all night. If that cup reached the God-King, everyone in the Cup Hall dies. So I swapped it. Made sure it was noticed. Theron came. “Who caught it?” I stepped forward. Small. Harmless. “I did.” “Sharp.” “I just know the God-King’s health comes first. Down here, we all fall together.” Long pause. Nod. “Name?” “Eirene Nyx.” Three days later. The Solarium. Cup Bearer to the God-King. First evening. Aethon Kronides works late. The Queen sends a gift. Bronze censer, Hera’s peacock on the rim. Sweet smoke. Her people bow. “Basileia wishes the God-King restful sleep.” Everyone smiles. How devoted. The smoke is sweet. But underneath — something bitter. Aethon rubs his temples. Gets worse. Everyone drops to their knees. All they can do is apologize. I carry his cup in. He snaps: “Get out. All of you.” They run. I’m closest to the censer. This is my chance. I set the cup down. My sleeve catches the lid — I shift the censer to the corner. Push the window open. “Who told you to touch that?” I drop my gaze to the floor. Head down. “Forgive me, my lord.” My voice shakes. “I know a little about herbs. There’s nothing wrong with the Queen’s incense on its own. But the seal on your desk — it’s new, southern tribute. The mineral in the metal reacts with this smoke. That’s what’s making the headaches worse.” Quiet. I keep going. Careful. “The Queen means well. But if her gift is doing harm — kindness has become a burden.” His gaze falls on me. Full weight. “You know about medicines.” “Just a little, my lord.” “Who taught you?” My fingers curl in my sleeves. “My family was poor. I was always sick. A healer let me learn a few things for sweeping her floor.” He didn’t press. He had the incense removed. The physician checked the seal. Confirmed. Bad reaction. Not lethal — but enough to cloud the mind, night after night. Quiet for a long time. “Your name?” “Eirene Nyx.” He said it again. Slow. Like he’d heard it before. He knows my name now. And the Queen’s censer will never be mistaken for kindness again.

After I become his Cup Bearer, I’m much closer to Aethon Kronides. He doesn’t like his wine strong. Afternoon, lukewarm. When he’s reading war dispatches, the cup goes to his left hand. If anyone tries to guess what he’s thinking, he throws them out. I never say more than I have to. Like a lamp in the corner. Standing quiet. When the Queen sends herbal draughts, I murmur before serving: “My lord, the physician said this heats the blood. If tonight’s feast has rich meat, both together may do more harm than good.” Aethon glances at me. I drop lower. “Forgive me — I only worry about the medicines clashing. Wouldn’t want the Queen’s care to go to waste.” He says nothing. Pushes the bowl aside. When Basileia plants her people in the Solarium to spy on me, I don’t report them. I make trouble for them quietly, then let Theron find the mess himself. I never say a word against the Heraion. I stay what I am. A faithful servant. But under my quiet hand, Aethon starts noticing: the Queen’s reach goes too far. Sometimes he asks: “You don’t seem to fear the Queen.” “She is your Queen. I revere her, my lord.” “Reverence and fear aren’t the same.” I lower my head. “I stand too low to fear anyone that high. As long as my work is clean, I get to live another day.” That night, the Solarium catches fire. A lamp-stand crashes into the desk. Oil splashes. Attendants scream and scatter. On the desk — urgent dispatches. Border reports. Disaster tallies. Alliance oaths he hasn’t sealed. I don’t hesitate. I throw myself between the fire and the scrolls. Pull them against my chest. The heat bites into my arms. Skin cooking. “Don’t pour water — felt! Smother it!” “Tear the curtain down — fire’s going east!” “Sand! Now! Go!” The hall is chaos. I’m shouting orders. Hair singed. Face black. Every scroll untouched. Aethon arrives. I’m on my knees sorting documents. “Who told you to risk your life for these?!” I bow low. “I didn’t want my lord’s long night to go to waste.” He stares at my arms. Something dark behind his eyes. The physician dusts powder on the burns. I flinch. “Does it hurt?” “Very much, my lord.” “Then why aren’t you crying?” I smile. Just barely. “Crying hurts just the same. Might as well save my strength.” After that, he keeps me close. I still don’t compete. When gifts come, I give them to the other girls. When Theron praises me, I say it’s his good training. When others get jealous, I stay out of their way. I know what happens to those who rise too fast in this court. A few nights later, he calls me to his private chamber. There’s a wound on his shoulder — training cut, shallow, but it keeps cracking open. The physician left a salve, but Aethon won’t let the man back in twice in one night. “You know medicines. You do it.” I sit beside him on the low bench. The salve warms between my fingers. His skin is hot. I keep my hands steady. “You saved the cup-hall girl. Protected my scrolls. Done plenty of good turns nobody asked for.” He doesn’t look at me. “Why don’t you ever take credit?” I smooth the salve along the wound. “I stand too low. If the credit gets too heavy, it’ll snap my neck.” He turns his head. Looks at me. “You really treasure your life.” “I only have one. Of course I do.” “What if I gave you a second?” I look up. Blank. He stands. Walks toward me. His shadow falls over me. The clay jar of salve slips in my hand. A small sharp sound. “Eirene Nyx.” First time he says my name like he means it. “I’m here, my lord.” His thumb traces the soot on my cheek. “Are you afraid of me?” “Yes.” My eyes flicker. “But I’m more afraid of staying at the bottom my whole life. Dying without anyone hearing the sound.” The candle flares. He bends closer. And so I enter the God-King’s bed. When I close my eyes — my mother. The day they carried her back. That body that wasn’t a body. Next morning, the word spreads through the Inner Sanctum. The Cup Bearer stays. The God-King wants her near him. Basileia Chryse finally hears my name. They say she barely looked up from her roses. “A servant who learned a few tricks. Nothing to worry about.”

I move into the chambers Aethon assigns. Finer furniture. Warm food. The charcoal doesn’t smoke anymore. Not honour. Just a new piece on the board. Visible pieces attract hungry hands. Basileia moves first. She invites me to a private dinner at the Heraion. Wine, figs, soft conversation. She asks about my family, my childhood. Smiles at everything I say. “You’re young. The court can be lonely. If you ever need guidance — my door is open.” I thank her. I smile back. I eat nothing she offers. A few weeks later, one of Aethon’s women — Ione — falls pregnant. She’s low-born, quiet, kind. Nobody important. But Aethon wants this child. He doubles her guard and has the physicians check on her every morning. The court notices. Everyone starts paying attention to Ione. Basileia most of all. In the old tradition, a woman carrying a divine heir must undergo a purification rite before the birth. Sacred water, blessed herbs, prayers to Eileithyia. The highest-ranking woman in the household is supposed to prepare the basin. That’s Basileia. She prepares everything herself. Selects the herbs. Blesses the water. Then she asks me to carry the basin to Ione’s chambers. “You’ve been so attentive to her, Eirene. It would mean a great deal coming from you.” She never does favours without reason. But I can’t refuse. I’m nobody. I bring the basin to Ione. She smiles, pale but grateful. “Thank you, Eirene.” “Let the physician test the water before you use it. Just to be safe.” On my way out, my fingers brush the rim of the basin. Cold. Deep cold. Under the nail, up the bone. Hecate’s blood — my mother’s gift. Every woman in our line carries it. Touch something that will harm, and your fingers go cold. Poison. That night, Ione bleeds. Chaos. The physician on his knees. Aethon in the high seat, face like stone. Basileia beside him. Dabbing her eyes. Louder in her grief than anyone. “A sacred rite — how could it go wrong?” “My Queen, the water contained a toxin. Someone added it after the blessing.” Guards search every chamber. In mine, beneath my bed — a vial of the same poison. Kleon drops to her knees. “Mercy, my lord! She made me hide it! She said if Ione had a son, you’d never look at her again!” Every word rehearsed. Every pause placed. Aethon looks at me. Whatever warmth was growing — gone. “I want to hear you speak.” I stand with my head bowed. “I never did this.” Basileia sighs. “You’re young. Jealousy is natural. Confess — I’ll beg for mercy.” When they pinned it on my mother, the Queen sat in that exact spot. Wearing that exact face. A servant from the market is dragged in. “She paid me for the poison. Said the stronger the better.” Vial. Kleon. The servant. Three witnesses. The noose tightens. “Take her back. She’ll wait for judgement.” Hands close on my wrists. As they drag me out, the physician calls: “The herbs too! The bundle used in the blessing — those weren’t purification herbs. Prolonged contact with the skin causes bleeding on its own!” The registry lists who supplied the herbs: Areia Pyrrhia. She’d been asked to gather them from her family’s estate — a favour for the Queen. Areia. Lord Pyrrhios’ daughter. Ares’ blood. Hot-tempered, blunt, no patience for scheming. The last woman who’d bother poisoning sacred herbs. Exactly why Basileia picked her. I understand now. This wasn’t sudden. She saw through me long ago and waited to take us both at once. If Ione loses the child — I’m the poisoner. Areia supplied the weapon. Wind cuts through the corridor. Mother. Have I been outplayed?

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