On our mating ceremony day, another she-wolf bet my mate wouldn’t leave me at the altar. He proved her wrong. Liam dropped my hand right there on the altar steps. Turned to his packmates. Laughed. “Emily’s soft. A few nights without my scent and she’ll come crawling back.” His packmates erupted in catcalls. They called me a weak she-wolf. A bitch begging for a mark. Chloe sauntered up the aisle. Plucked the veil right off my head. Looped her arm through Liam’s. Walked out of the chapel laughing. Every wolf in the chapel stared at me. I didn’t cry. I didn’t move. I stood there with the same composed expression I’d worn walking in. But only I knew the truth. I wasn’t enduring anything. In that moment, I was carving him out of my life. One clean cut at a time. Deep inside me, my wolf let out one final whimper. And went dead silent. Liam glanced back over his shoulder. Almost approvingly. He left me with one last line. “That’s the composure a future Luna should have. Go home and wait for me.” I watched him walk away and almost laughed out loud. Composure? No. I was just done with him. My wolf was done with him. Three years later. Liam Fox showed up at my boutique with nine black Maybachs and a pink diamond ring. “Cooled off yet?” He smiled like the last three years had never happened. “I’m here to keep my promise.” I didn’t even look at him. I cradled my belly and said flatly, “Excuse me. My mate is waiting for me at the infirmary.” “Cute. You strapped on a fake silicone bump for the drama?” Liam had one hand in his pocket. His gaze slid lazily across my stomach like he was watching a bad joke unfold. His voice carried that smug certainty I used to mistake for confidence. I met his eyes without flinching. “Mr. Fox. Move.” The front of my boutique—Lambert & Co. on Madison—was sealed off by all nine of his blacked-out Maybachs. A drone hovered overhead trailing a banner across the morning sky. MARRY ME, EMILY. Pack members had started to gather. My staff stood pressed against the glass storefront. Phones were coming out. Whispers rippled around us. Liam didn’t seem to register any of it. He stepped closer and held out a bouquet of red roses. “Three years, Emily. The tantrum’s gone on long enough. Time to come home.” He looked at me with what he thought was indulgent affection. “You know how I feel about she-wolves who throw fits. But for you—” he tilted his head “—I made an exception. I gave you three whole years.” I looked at the roses in his hand. Three years ago, I’d been hooked up to an IV at the pack infirmary. Hives. Pollen reaction. He’d sent the exact same bouquet that day. Told me Chloe had picked them. Told me I should be grateful. I didn’t reach for the flowers. I slid a hand over my stomach and took a small step back. “Liam. I’m not throwing a tantrum.” I held his gaze. My voice was quiet. “I’m mated. I’m five months pregnant.” Liam’s pupils contracted. He drew in a sharp breath through his nose—instinctively, trying to catch my scent. Trying to confirm what his wolf was already telling him. But the only scent on me was Damien’s. Possessive. Absolute. Wrapped around me and my wolf like armor. His face darkened. But he still refused to believe it. He laughed softly under his breath. Then he tossed the roses into the trash can at the curb like they were used napkins. “You’d really make up a lie like that just to get a rise out of me?” He pulled a Tiffany-blue velvet box from his inside pocket and snapped it open. A pink diamond. Six carats, easy. “We didn’t get to finish three years ago. I’m making it up to you now.” He didn’t even kneel. He just held the box out. “Put it on. Tomorrow we’ll pick out a Mating Gown. This time, I swear on the Moon Goddess—I won’t walk.” I almost laughed when I heard that. The Moon Goddess doesn’t bless an Alpha who abandons his mate at the altar. He said it like he was handing me the keys to heaven. I looked at the diamond and felt nothing. That night three years ago, I’d peeled the dress off alone in my apartment. I’d taken a pair of scissors to the stained hem. Then I’d thrown both the scraps and the engagement ring into the fireplace and watched them burn down to ash. The part of my wolf that had once belonged to Liam Fox had let out one last whimper that night. And gone silent forever. From that moment on, Liam Fox was dead to me. “I don’t need it.” I stepped around him toward the curb. Liam’s brow finally creased. He reached for my wrist. I twisted away. His hand grabbed empty air. “Emily. Enough.” His voice dropped, low and warning. His Alpha aura flared. A few low-ranking she-wolves nearby flinched. Bared their necks on instinct. But I didn’t move. “My patience has limits. Who is this performance for?” Right then his phone buzzed. A custom ringtone. A she-wolf’s voice—breathy, sweet, helpless. “Liam? Did you find Emily yet? I’m not feeling so good… I’m really dizzy…” The kind of helpless little tone that had always worked on him. Liam’s expression softened instantly. He held the phone up and pressed the voice reply. “Take something for it, sweetheart. I’ll bring her home soon.” Then he turned back to me. Harder again. “Chloe’s sick. And she’s still worried about you. You need to stop being so hostile toward her.” A note of reproach crept into his voice. “What happened three years ago was a joke. The Sinclairs spoiled her—she doesn’t always think things through. You’re the mature one, Em. Why hold a grudge against a girl like that?” Sinclair. The pack his family had spent decades trying to bond with. Chloe’s father was Liam’s father’s strongest pack ally. A mating between their bloodlines had been the Foxes’ lifelong dream. I had been Liam’s college rebellion. The she-wolf he’d picked up at a frat party because she wasn’t on his mother’s approved bloodline list. I watched him stand there—righteous, certain—and felt my stomach turn. It was the pregnancy. But the man in front of me made it worse. I drew in a slow breath and pushed the nausea down. “Liam. Do you not understand English?” I pointed to the Uber pickup zone. “My mate is waiting at the infirmary. Move.” Liam’s face went cold. His eyes dropped to my stomach. “Emily. You’re really not going to stop? You’d stoop this low just to force me to apologize?”

“Stoop this low?” I rolled the words around in my mouth. They almost made me laugh. “Think whatever you want.” I was done arguing. An Uber pulled up at the curb. I went straight for it. I yanked the door open. Slid into the back seat. One hand cradling my belly. Liam slammed his palm against the door before I could close it. “Which infirmary? I’ll drive you.” He stared down at me — every inch the entitled Sinclair heir. “I want to see for myself which rogue you hired to play house with you.” I stared at his hand on the door. “Let go.” “Emily. Don’t push it.” His patience was gone. He yanked open the front passenger door and got in. I sighed and gave the driver the address of a private pack infirmary in Midtown. The driver glanced from me to Liam. Hesitated. Liam tossed a handful of hundreds onto the dashboard. “Drive.” The car merged into traffic. The silence was suffocating. Liam leaned back against the headrest, head tilted toward me. “You used to flinch at a flu shot.” His gaze settled on my stomach, sharp and assessing. “And now you’re walking around with a fake bump just to spite me?” “Take it off. Aren’t you boiling in there?” I zipped my coat all the way up to my chin. Closed my eyes. Stopped answering him. Any adult Alpha’s wolf should have been able to read what was written all over me. The mating mark scent on my skin didn’t belong to him. He just refused to accept it. ⸻ Thirty minutes later, the car stopped at the infirmary. I got out. Liam followed. The lobby was hushed — the kind of quiet that only money could buy. I walked straight to the self check-in kiosk and tapped my insurance card. Liam stood at my shoulder, eyes on the screen. Obstetrics – Follow-up. 20 weeks. A muscle twitched at the corner of his jaw. Then he composed himself. “Quite a commitment to the bit.” A cold little laugh. I took my slip and walked toward the elevators. He stayed glued to my side. On the third floor, I found an empty seat in the waiting area. I’d barely settled in when the elevator chimed again. Chloe Sinclair stepped out in red-soled stilettos, cradling a bouquet of white roses against her camel cashmere coat. She spotted us instantly and made a beeline over. “Liam. Em.” She thrust the bouquet at me, all wide-eyed innocence. “I heard you were pregnant. I just had to come and congratulate you.” The pollen hit me like a slap. I jerked my head away and sneezed hard. Liam frowned at her. “She’s allergic to pollen. Keep them away from her.” Chloe bit her lower lip. Her eyes welled up on cue. “Oh — Em, I’m so sorry. I totally forgot.” She pressed a hand to her chest, eyes wide. “I was just so excited for you.” Then she dropped the bouquet on the empty chair beside her and slid right down next to Liam, settling in like she belonged there. “But Em…” Her gaze drifted theatrically across my belly. “Isn’t this all a little fast, though?” She covered her mouth with her fingertips and giggled. “The baby’s already this big. You didn’t just marry the first rogue who looked at you to get back at Liam, did you?” “And on such an important day — where is your Alpha, anyway? Did he leave you here all by yourself?” Liam didn’t stop her. Didn’t even glance her way. He was watching me. Waiting. Almost curious to see how I’d react. “Her Alpha’s too busy to bother,” he supplied for me, the sneer curling under the words. “What kind of paid actor takes a gig like this seriously?” I sat there listening to the two of them play off each other. Something cold and clear settled behind my ribs. This was the Alpha I had loved for seven years. He could stand in an infirmary waiting room and watch another she-wolf humiliate his pregnant ex — and pile right on for sport. “Excuse me — is Mrs. Lockwood here?” A healer’s assistant appeared in the doorway of the exam suite, chart in hand. “That’s me.” I stood up. The healer assistant’s eyes flicked from me to Liam, then to Chloe. “For your appointment today, I’ll need your mate to sign some consent forms. Which one of you is the mate?” Liam stepped forward without thinking. “I am.” I turned. My voice cut between us — flat, final. “He’s not.”

The healer’s assistant froze mid-step. Her eyes flicked back and forth between me and Liam. Liam’s outstretched hand — the one already reaching for the chart — hung in the air, suspended. His face darkened. “Emily. Don’t do this.” He lowered his voice. The warning underneath it was sharp. “This is an infirmary. Not the place for one of your scenes.” I didn’t look at him. I kept my eyes on the healer’s assistant and offered her a polite, almost apologetic smile. “I’m sorry — I don’t know these people. They followed me in. My mate is on his way. He’ll be here any minute.” The healer’s assistant nodded smoothly — the way assistant do when they’ve seen worse — and tucked the chart back under her arm. “Of course, Mrs. Lockwood. Please wait out here until he arrives. Some of these forms have to be signed by the mate in person.” She turned and disappeared back into the exam suite Liam’s hand fell slowly to his side. He slid it into his trouser pocket — that same casual, in-control gesture I’d watched him use in a hundred Pack Council meetings. But his eyes had changed. There was something dangerous in them now. “Mrs. Lockwood. Strangers.” He let out a short, brittle laugh. “Three years, and look at you, Em. You won’t even let me sign as next of kin?” Chloe shot to her feet and clutched at his arm. Her white roses were forgotten on the seat behind her. “Liam, please. Don’t get worked up.” Then she turned to me. Right on cue, her eyes filled with tears. “Em — are you still upset about that silly little joke three years ago?” She sniffled. Voice quivering at exactly the right register. “I just made a bet with him. I was trying to make the reception more fun. How was I supposed to know you’d take it so personally and run off for three whole years?” She had reduced an Alpha walking out on his Luna at the altar to a silly little joke. She had reduced my breaking point to not being able to take a joke. I stared at her tear-streaked, doe-eyed face. I almost admired the sheer nerve of it. “Turning a mating ceremony into a bet — that was a joke?” I turned to Liam. “Leaving me at the altar in front of my parents and two hundred guests — that was a joke?” I looked back at Chloe. “Stepping on my gown. Yanking the veil off my head. Putting it on yourself and laughing all the way out of the chapel. Calling me a low-ranked she-wolf begging for a mark. Was that a joke too?” Chloe shrank back and ducked behind Liam. Liam’s brow tightened. He stepped between us — putting himself in front of her like a shield. “Enough.” His voice was hard now. “Chloe grew up with everything handed to her. Her wolf is still young. You’re older than her, Em. Just once, can’t you be the bigger person?” He looked at me with open disappointment. Like a parent at a pup who’d let him down. “You take one small thing and turn it into a three-year grudge. You weren’t always this petty.” This petty. I held his gaze. For that mating ceremony, I had stayed up half the nights of an entire month. Hand-stitching his initials — L.F. — into the inner cuff of his groom’s shirt. By candlelight. Because I’d wanted something only the two of us would know about. I’d waited until two in the morning for him to come try on his tux. He’d never showed. Just a text. Too busy. I’d thought our mating day was the start of everything. It turned out to be the glass of poison he handed me with a smile. “Liam.” I said his name quietly. “Do you really believe that all you have to do is crook your finger, and I’ll come crawling back, baring my neck?” His eyes flickered. “That’s not what I said.” He shifted, recalibrating. “I just don’t think you needed to mate with some random wolf to make a point.” He paused. Softened his voice — that low, coaxing tone he used on the Council elders when a vote started slipping. “This so-called mate of yours can’t even make it to a prenatal appointment on time. You really think he knows you better than I do?” He even remembered. “You hate needles. Someone always has to talk you through a blood draw. Does he know that?” I looked at him — that arrogant, self-satisfied tenderness on his face, like he thought he was being deep. Something close to pity prickled along the inside of my chest. “He doesn’t need to know.” I rested a hand on my stomach. “Because he’s never let me face any of this alone.” The door to the exam suite opened again. The healer’s assistant stepped out with a slim stack of papers. “Mrs. Lockwood — these are from your previous intake. Could you confirm the information is correct?” She held them out to me. Liam was taller. He read over my shoulder in a single glance. His eyes snagged on the spouse signature line. And stayed there. Two words. Black ink. Confident, slanting strokes. Damien Lockwood.

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When the storm came, my knight chose another woman. By the time he returned, my little brother was dead. I will never forget his first choice. I was oiling my husband’s sword when I found it. A dried white rose petal. Pressed flat into the lining of the leather sheath. The kind Bianca always wore in her hair. He walked in from the training yard then, sweat on his brow, and saw what I was holding. “Court audience yesterday,” he said, not missing a beat. “Royal Choir performed afterward. She handed it to me on the steps. I didn’t want to be rude.” “Mm,” I said. “It’s fine.” I dropped the petal into the hearth and watched it curl into ash. Lorenzo Castellani. My husband. Knight Commander of the Sun Kingdom. Commander of every sword and lance under King Leo’s banner. They said the Crown Prince of Tide Kingdom would take a three-day detour just to avoid crossing his path. A man like that had no shortage of women trailing perfume through his audience hall. But only Bianca Conti could make him sit through an entire performance with a petal hidden in his sheath. Later, on the battlefield, I threw myself between him and death. I nearly bled out digging a Tide arrowhead from his chest. By the time the healers arrived, I was the one slipping away. But he was the one who shattered. He knelt at my bedside and swore on his Knight Commander’s blade. “I, Lorenzo Castellani, swear by my sword. Outside the duties of the crown, I will never see Bianca Conti alone again.” That was five years ago. He saw me turn back to the medicine chest. Watched me sort dried yarrow and willow bark like nothing had happened. Something flickered behind his green eyes. He crossed the room in three strides and caught my wrist. “Sera.” His voice was too careful. “You’re not going to say anything?” I looked up at him. At the man I had bled for. At the man who had promised me the world on the steps of King Leo’s throne room. I twisted my wrist out of his grip. Once, I would have torn his audience hall apart over a single white petal. Not tonight. I picked up the willow bark and went back to work. Lorenzo wasn’t letting it go. He stood behind me, voice pitched low. “Sera. It was one petal.” I kept sorting. “Bianca’s father gave his life for me at Westmark Strait. Marco Conti took five arrows meant for my chest. She is the last of his blood. As Knight Commander, watching over her is my duty.” I closed the medicine chest. Set the willow bark on the shelf. Wiped my hands on my apron and went to fetch water from the well. He followed me. “What is this really about? Talk to me.” I drew the bucket. Carried it in. Washed my hands at the basin. The herb stains under my nails wouldn’t come out. They never came out. He hated my hands. He had told me, once, after too much wine, that Bianca’s hands were like fresh-peeled pearls. Mine were too rough. I dried my hands. Reached into the cedar drawer where I kept my work. Pulled out the bound manuscript I’d been writing for three months. A hundred and sixty pages. Coastal herbs. Tide-poison antidotes. Field amputation procedures. Things my old master had taught me with his last breath. Things I’d discovered on my own pulling soldiers back from the brink. Last week, Master Klaus — the man who ran the Royal Academy of Healing — had ridden all the way from the capital to read it. He’d turned the last page in silence. Then he’d told me, eyes wet, that I was his pick. It was the highest training a healer could receive in the Sun Kingdom. The dream of every coastal apothecary. I had been twelve years old when I first heard the name Royal Academy. I had whispered it into my pillow like a prayer. I handed the manuscript to Lorenzo. He flipped through it. Barely looked. He set it on the corner of the table, on top of yesterday’s correspondence. “I’ll have it forwarded when I have a free morning.” I didn’t answer. I went to the kitchen to start supper. He didn’t speak again until I set the bread down. Then, very lightly: “There’s only one apprentice spot.” The ladle paused over the soup. “I know.” “Sera, you’re already the best healer on this coast. You’ll be respected here whether you go to the Academy or not.” I looked up. “But Bianca,” he said, “is different. Her health is failing. Dancing in the Royal Choir is killing her. The Academy is her only path out.” I set the ladle down. “Her father took five arrows for me. I owe him that life until the day I die.” A pause. “So I submitted her application alongside yours.” The blood drained out of my hands. “Lorenzo. Master Klaus told me, with his own mouth, that the spot was mine.” “Nobody promises anything in this life. Best candidate gets it.” His voice hardened. “And Bianca’s record is stronger than yours. A martyr’s daughter. Lead dancer of the Royal Choir. Her file’s stronger than yours. Yours started in a fishing village.” He saw my face. Tried to soften. “Don’t be small about this, Sera. My stipend can keep you in silks for ten lifetimes. If you stay at the village clinic forever, no one will think less of you.” “But Bianca can’t go back to the Choir. That world will eat her alive. The Academy is her only way out.” I didn’t say anything. I set down my spoon. I couldn’t eat another bite. In bed that night, he huged for me from behind. I pushed him away. He went still. “Now what?” “I’m tired.” “Sera Russo.” His voice cooled by ten degrees. “You’re becoming difficult.” He rolled onto his back and faced the wall. I lay in the dark with my eyes open. The wind off the harbor rattled the shutters. Somewhere in the village, a dog was barking. I thought about the first time I’d ever seen his face. A boy of twenty-two, half-dead on a horse blanket, blood foaming at his lips. He’d opened his eyes when I cut the leather of his cuirass. Green eyes. The color of the sea after a storm. He’d looked at me and tried to smile. “Are you,” he’d whispered, “the Healer?” A month later, in the audience chamber, on his knees before King Leo, he’d taken my scarred hand in both of his. “This hand,” he had said to the entire court, “saved the Knight Commander of the Sun Kingdom. I will spend my life trying to deserve it.” I’d believed him. What a fool I’d been. That girl in the white silk gown — nineteen years old, the scar on her finger still pink — she had believed every word. That girl, I realized, had been dying for a long time. Tonight she was finally done.

It was late afternoon when I passed the Choir’s practice hall on my way to the apothecary. Bianca was on the steps with a half-dozen other girls. Pale silks. Ribbons in their hair. Voices light as glass. She saw me. I knew she saw me. Her voice rose half an octave. “Oh, Renzo is too honorable. I told him I wasn’t strong enough for the Academy. But he insisted. For my father’s honor, he said. He even drafted the application himself.” A girl beside her giggled. “Bianca. You and the Knight Commander are made for each other. A hero and a beauty. Whereas Lady Castellani—” Bianca lifted her fan to her mouth. “Stop. If Sera hears you, she’ll think I’m bullying her again. You know how she is. Fishing village girl. Such a temper.” I tightened my grip on the apothecary basket and kept walking. I didn’t stop to confront her. There was no point. I went to Lady Cass’s. Wife of Duke Bell. The King’s oldest friend. The gentlest man in the Sun Kingdom court. Three years ago, the Duke had taken a Tide bolt while inspecting border defenses. I had ridden through the night from Castellammare and pulled the barb out of his thigh by lantern light. He had lived. Lady Cass opened her own door for me. She always did. She’d looked at me like her own daughter from the first day I rode through her gate. “Sera.” She read my face. “You and him fighting again?” I followed her inside. I shook my head. “Lady Cass. I need to ask about the Academy.” She exhaled, long and slow. “That husband of yours.” Her eyes were tired. “Sera, the spot was yours. Master Klaus chose you himself. Renzo went over his head. Submitted Bianca’s name alongside. Used the old Knight Commander’s name.” “Vittorio Castellani has been retired five years. But his old students are scattered across the royal council, the King’s Guard, the Academy review board. When the Castellani name asks for a favor — even now — people listen.” My stomach dropped. So it wasn’t just an application. He fought for it. Against me. For her. That was the moment I knew. I left the Duke’s manor as the sun was setting. The sea wind off the harbor was harder than usual. It scraped at my face. I pulled my hood up. I heard the footsteps before I heard the voice. “Sera.” I turned. My little brother. Matteo. Fifteen years old. Half a head taller than me. Squire’s leathers. A short blade at his hip. A face still soft with boyhood. He came at a run. “Sera, what happened. What did he do.” “Nothing, Teo.” “Don’t lie to me. I saw Lady Cass’s groom. I saw your face.” I tried to smile. He grabbed my sleeve. “Tell me.” I told him. Just the Academy. Just the application. His face went red. Then white. “That lying little—” “Matteo. Don’t.” “No, Sera, listen to me. You nearly died pulling that arrow out of his chest. You took a barb through your hand for him. Your hand still doesn’t close properly. And he—” “Stop.” “He forgot. That’s what he did. He forgot.” His voice cracked. “Eight years and he forgot. And now he’s giving your spot to that—” “Teo. We don’t say that here.” I clamped my hand over his mouth. That was the rule. Lorenzo had told me himself, a month into our marriage. Sera. A Knight Commander does not owe his life to his wife. Anyone who hears that — anyone — will think less of me. So I’d buried it. For eight years. Matteo tore my hand off his mouth. His eyes were wet. “I’m going to make her say it to my face.” “Matteo—” He was already running. …… By the time I caught up, it was too late. Two of the King’s Guard had Matteo face-down on the steps of the Choir hall. His cheek was pressed against the stone. There was blood on his lip. Bianca was sobbing into Lorenzo’s chest. Her hands were trembling on his cuirass. Tears streamed down her face. “Renzo,” she whispered. “I only wanted to explain, her brother — he came up the steps and he — he put his hands on me—” “I never touched her!” Matteo thrashed under their hands. “She’s lying through her teeth!” Lorenzo’s boot came down on his back. “Quiet.” Then again. Harder. “You think the royal court is your tavern, boy?” I shoved through the guards and threw myself between them. “Lorenzo. Stop.” He looked up at me. I had seen those green eyes on a battlefield. I had seen them across a dying soldier. I had seen them on our wedding night. I had never seen them like this. His eyes were ice. “Sera. Move.” “He put hands on a daughter of the Royal Choir. Two witnesses. He’ll be tried in the morning. Move, or you’ll be charged as an accomplice.” I didn’t move. He looked past me. At the Captain of the Guard. “Take him.” They dragged Matteo off the steps. His leathers scraped the stone. He was crying — not from the pain, I realized. From the look on my face. They hauled him through the archway and he was gone. Bianca raised her tear-streaked face from Lorenzo’s chest. And in that heartbeat, I saw her flicker of triumph. Then she was sobbing again. His hand came up and cupped the back of her head. Voice softer than he’d ever used on me. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.” I stood three steps away from them. A woman watching her own funeral. …… I went to his study that night to beg. He was at his desk, polishing the gold lion brooch King Leo had pinned to his cloak three years ago. The Golden Lion Cross. Three men in the kingdom had been granted one. He was the youngest. He didn’t look up. “It’s discipline, Sera. He put hands on a court woman. The law’s the law.” “He didn’t touch her.” “Two witnesses say he did.” “They’re Choir girls. They’d say the sky was green if she told them to.” “And you have nothing but a brother’s word.” He set the brooch down. I stared at him. “He is the only family I have left.” His mouth tightened. “I told you to manage him.” He stood. Walked around the desk. His voice was very quiet. “You want me to break the law of the court — for your family. After everything I have done for you.” The words tasted like iron. “I expected better from you.” He picked the brooch back up. “The Academy spot has been confirmed. It’s Bianca. The announcement goes out Monday.” He polished the gold lion’s eye. “I’ll do what I can for your brother. No formal record. But he serves his confinement, and he takes the reprimand. That’s the most I can give you.” The most he could give me. Like he was sliding a copper coin across a table to a beggar. I turned around and walked out. The door clicked shut behind me. In the dark corridor, with my back against the cold stone, I finally understood. The world I had built for the last eight years had been a painted curtain. And tonight, somewhere behind it, the whole world went black.

The coast guard hoisted the red banner before dawn. A storm. The worst they’d seen in a hundred years. Bearing down on Castellammare within twenty-four hours. And under cover of the storm, Tide Kingdom’s fleet had been spotted off the western shore. The largest raiding force in a century. Coming to crack open the Sun Kingdom’s eastern coast like an egg. The whole harbor went to first-level war footing. Lorenzo took command from the war room in the keep. Every banner of the Knight Commander’s office spread across the long oak table. Couriers running in and out at full sprint. The whole apparatus of the realm under his hand. I had my own war. The clinic by the harbor was the only one for forty miles. I cleared the cots. I pulled down every shelf. I had two apprentices boiling linen at the hearth and counting tinctures by the lamp. Matteo’s company had drawn the worst post on the line. The eastern bulwark. B Outpost. The breakwater that ran straight into the teeth of the storm. The most likely point where the Tide raiders would try to land. If it fell, the eastern shore went with it. Before Matteo marched out, he sent a folded note up through a stable boy. I unfolded it on the clinic counter. Three lines, in his sloppy careful hand. > Sera. Don’t worry. I’m fine. When the storm passes I’ll come and stay with you. Love you, Sis. — Teo I read it twice. Then I folded it small. Tucked it inside the leather pouch at my breast, against the skin. Then I went back to boiling linen. …… The storm came in at midnight. Black wind. Walls of rain. The whole keep shook on its foundation. Slate tiles ripped from the roofs and went sailing through the dark like knives. And under that cover — exactly as the scouts had warned — the Tide ships came in. Low, dark hulls riding the swells. Sails reefed. Bowmen at the rails. They threaded the breakers in the dark and beached on the eastern shingle while the storm pinned every coastal patrol in their barracks. By the time anyone on the cliffs saw them, they were already coming up the rocks. The wounded came in one after another. Some were soldiers. Most were villagers — fishermen pulled half-drowned from collapsed roofs, an old woman with her arm split open by flying tin, a child with a scalp wound that wouldn’t stop bleeding. I stitched. I poured. I bandaged. I didn’t have time to drink water. At three in the morning, the first messenger bird struck the war room shutter. I was passing through with an armful of linen when I heard the clerk read it aloud. The hand belonged to Giorgio. Captain of the Seventh. > Knight Commander. Enemy on the eastern shore. They came in under the storm. We’re holding the wall but they keep landing. We need reinforcement. Now. The ink had run with the rain. Giorgio’s neat hand had gone ragged. You could almost hear him over the wind. Lorenzo’s voice was steady as stone. “Hold the line. Reinforcements are coming.” Then a second bird hit the shutter. The clerk pulled it inside. Read the scrap of vellum. Ran for the war room. He read it out loud. > Renzo. The rehearsal hall in the choir wing collapsed. Bianca tried to save the ceremonial regalia. A roof beam fell on her. She’s bleeding. We can’t dig her out. Please send someone. She cannot die here. Lorenzo’s breath caught. I heard it from three steps away. “Is she alive?” “They don’t know, my lord. They can’t reach her.” The clerk’s voice was shaking. In my hand, the iron clamp I’d been holding hit the floor with a clean bright sound. A third bird from the Seventh slammed into the shutter. The clerk barely got it inside before it tore loose. Giorgio again. His handwriting was extremely messy. Like it had been scrawled in the middle of dying. > Knight Commander. The wall is going. The men are buying every breath with their bodies. They’ve landed three ships and another four are coming in behind. I beg you. Send the two reserve companies. Let us hold long enough to evacuate the villagers. Knight Commander — > Matteo’s bleeding. He’s your wife’s brother. He’s Sera’s brother. Please. The war room went still. Every man around that oak table understood the math. The Knight Commander had two reserve companies under his personal seal. Two. The only forces he could move on the spot, without sending up the chain. Send them one place, the other place was being told to die. I stared at Lorenzo. I didn’t run forward. I didn’t drop to my knees. I just stood in the doorway, holding a roll of bloody linen, and I waited for him to do the right thing. For a moment — just a moment — I thought he would. His eyes flicked to me. They flicked back to the war table. He closed his eyes. And then he opened them. His voice was a stranger’s. Cold as a sword laid in snow. “First reserve, full ride to the choir wing. Get Lady Bianca out alive. That is the order.” A pause. “B Outpost holds. That’s an order.”

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I had just lost my mate,Alpha Zachary Blackthorn,Alpha of the Silverfang Pack. As the Luna-in-waiting and pregnant with his child,I was granted temporary sanctuary in the Blackthorn estate. My in-laws,the former Alpha and Luna,treated me kindly on the surface—but I could feel the shift in their auras,the unease in their glances.Perhaps they pitied me. Or perhaps,they already knew the truth I was yet to uncover. After the Moon Rite that honored Alpha Zachary’s death,the elders suggested something I could barely believe—they proposed that his twin brother,Beta Ethan Blackthorn,should”unite the bloodlines,”and take responsibility for both females under the ancient law of Dual Protection. Without formal mating bonds,he would serve as guardian and provider to both me and his existing mate,Sophia Hale. Sophia,who had always treated me like a walking curse,exploded with rage upon hearing it. Her amber eyes turned feral,and before I could utter a word,she collapsed into unconsciousness. Her wolf,fragile and unstable,had taken a toll on her health long ago. That night,I approached the Alpha quarters,desperate to plead with Alpha Zachary’s parents to abandon such a humiliating idea. But just as I reached the wooden door carved with the sigil of the Moon,I heard voices from within. “You’re sure it was your brother who died?”my mother-in-law asked,her voice trembling slightly. The man who answered was not Alpha Zachary. A heavy sigh followed. “Sophia’s wolf is too weak to endure such pain.If she knew I was the one truly gone…she’d unravel.So I took my brother’s place.For her,”he said. “I never stopped loving her.I only accepted the bond with Rachel so my brother could be free.Now that she carries a pup,my duty is done.I owe her nothing.Don’t speak again of me caring for both females—it would tear Sophia apart.” The air left my lungs. The man I had grieved,the one I’d mourned and buried…wasn’t my mate. Alpha Zachary was alive. And the one who had died protecting me—was Beta Ethan. At the next family dinner,I lifted my chin and looked the elders in the eye. “You’ve been urging me to move forward,”I said calmly.“I’ve thought it through.I’ll terminate the pregnancy.And start a new life.” The male across the table—Alpha Zachary—froze mid-motion.He had been serving me stew like nothing had happened,as if he hadn’t betrayed me with a lie that reshaped my entire existence. After the funeral rites of“Alpha Zachary,”I found out I was carrying his child.For the sake of the pup,I bottled every tear,every howl of grief.My own wolf,Lyra,urged me to hold on—for him,for his legacy. Because of Alpha Zachary’s weak lycan bloodline,conceiving had been nearly impossible. This pup was a miracle.I needed injections daily to stabilize the fetus,while morning sickness wracked my body until I dropped forty pounds.I hovered between life and death. Even the elders began to soften. They advised me gently:“You’re young,Rachel.Let the past go.Heal.Abort the child,and we will guide you to a better path.” But how could I? Alpha Zachary—no,Beta Ethan—was the one who truly saved me. Years ago,I had been promised to Beta Ethan through a sacred mate-marking.But three nights before the ceremony,I was kidnapped by a rogue pack.Abused.Torn. Beta Ethan called off the bond,disgusted that I was no longer“pure.” It was Alpha Zachary—his gentle twin—who risked his life to save me.He bled for me.He knelt before my father,sword in hand,and asked for my hand in marriage,claiming he had loved me from the beginning. And under his kindness,I healed.Slowly,painfully.And I thought we had found peace. Until the car crash took his life—or so I was told. And now,the child I was desperately trying to protect was not Alpha Zachary’s,but Beta Ethan’s.Conceived during a moment of confusion,of duty—not love. I almost collapsed under the weight of it all. Still,I held on.For the child. Until,during lunch,they suggested the ancient rite of Twinned Guardianship—a ritual where the surviving twin would become protector of the deceased’s mate and offspring. Sophia lost control. “You whore!”she screamed,slapping me across the face.“You think you can seduce him just because your mate’s dead?!You’re shameless!” Before I could explain,her wolf took over,and she fainted. Alpha Zachary—no,Beta Ethan—looked at me with scorn.Then swept her into his arms like a hero from an old wolf tale,leaving me alone with the taste of blood and betrayal.

Sophia’s Slap Caused Pregnancy Complications Again Sophia’s slap made my vision go black,and a sharp pain shot through my abdomen,as if I had been sliced open. I pressed my hand to my stomach,trying to ease the overwhelming pain,but my body couldn’t control itself,and the world seemed to tilt. “Rachel!Calm down!”I heard a familiar voice by my ear,filled with urgency.”Breathe!Breathe deeply!” “Pack doctor,what should I do?”I spoke with difficulty,my voice broken by the pain. The voice belonged to our Pack doctor,Faron Ashcroft,one of the most respected healers in our pack.He moved quickly to my bedside,lowering his head to check my pulse,his expression serious.”You need to stay calm,Rachel.You have to relax so that your wolf spirit can regain its balance,”he said,placing a cold hand on my forehead,gently pressing down. “But…”I groaned in pain,my hands gripping the bedsheet tightly.”I feel it…it’s restless,it’s uneasy.” “Your wolf spirit is agitated,”Faron whispered,”If you lose control of your emotions,it will harm the baby.I’ll prepare some herbs to keep you calm.” “Thank you,Faron.”I closed my eyes with difficulty,though his touch brought a brief sense of coolness,it didn’t ease the storm of emotions inside me. “Relax,Rachel.Breathe deeply,”he reassured. I nodded,trying to quiet my mind,though the turmoil inside me still threatened to explode. Two days later,I was finally able to get out of bed. After recovering a bit of strength,I decided to go speak to my in-laws,hoping to convince them to abandon that absurd idea and never bring it up again. I slowly walked to my in-laws’room.As I reached the door,I overheard my mother-in-law’s voice,filled with confusion. “Alpha Zachary,it was clearly your brother who died.Why are you insisting it was you?” Alpha Zachary? My heart skipped a beat,and I froze in place.Did that mean it wasn’t Alpha Zachary who had died,but Beta Ethan? I was struck with shock,unable to process the words.My hands gripped the doorframe,my whole body tense as if I had been struck by lightning. I shook my head,trying to convince myself it was a hallucination.“It can’t be…it just can’t be.” But the next words shattered the fragile belief I held. “Mom,don’t let Sophia know about this.She’s always been weak,with a bad heart.If she knew it was my brother who passed away,her body definitely couldn’t take it.” Beta Ethan—no,it should be Alpha Zachary. My husband,Alpha Zachary. He paused for a moment,seemingly considering his words carefully,then continued in a cold tone,“Actually,the person I’ve always loved is Sophia.I only married Rachel to let her be with my brother.” I widened my eyes,my heart pounding.It was as if everything I believed had begun to collapse. “Now,Rachel is carrying my child,so I don’t owe her anything anymore,”he said.“From now on,I will take care of Sophia for the rest of my life,in place of my brother.Don’t mention taking care of both families again,it will only upset her.” “You…”I couldn’t help but yell.”What are you saying?What are you really saying?” Just as I was about to storm into the room,the door opened.I froze as I saw Alpha Zachary standing there,his expression serious,his eyes filled with a mixture of emotions. “Rachel,”he said,his voice heavy with fatigue,“You heard everything,didn’t you?” “You lied to me!You’ve known everything all along…”I shouted,my voice filled with anger.“You’re living as your dead brother,aren’t you?You never told me the truth!” He remained silent for a moment before lowering his head.“Yes.I had to replace him to protect Sophia,”he said,his voice low.“Rachel,you don’t understand,this is all about our family’s legacy.” My rage almost consumed me.It felt like my entire being was on the verge of exploding.My wolf spirit was seething with fury.I could feel it stirring inside me,ready to break free,but I forced myself to take a deep breath to calm it. “I don’t need your explanations.I don’t need you to take anyone’s place,”I retorted,my voice trembling with a mix of fury and heartbreak. “You don’t understand,”Alpha Zachary’s voice deepened.“You don’t have a choice.We,as wolves,have our responsibilities.You’re carrying my child now,that’s a bond between us,a responsibility.” “Responsibility?”I sneered.“I thought it was love between us,not responsibility.” Just as I turned to leave,Faron suddenly appeared in front of me.“Rachel,calm down,”he said softly,his expression full of concern.“The air here is wrong.The situation is becoming urgent.” I turned to look at Faron.There was something in his eyes,a warning that I couldn’t ignore.“You know your wolf spirit is on the verge of losing control,don’t you?”he said,his voice tight. I froze,looking into his eyes.Faron’s gaze was filled with a deep,unspoken anxiety.“I understand your pain,but right now,you need to stay calm,or we won’t be able to protect you and the child.” “I understand,”I whispered,my voice quiet but firm.“I’ll stay calm.”

“But Rachel has already suffered enough.Back then,to break off her engagement with your brother and let your brother be with Sophia,you deliberately had someone kidnap Rachel for three days and nights,causing her to be abused.Now that she’s finally moved on and is carrying your child,it’s only right for you to take care of her…” My mother-in-law’s voice was trembling as she continued to argue,but Alpha Zachary interrupted her sharply,his voice tinged with frustration and something darker. “Enough,Mom!”Alpha Zachary’s tone was harsh,filled with frustration. He stood with his arms crossed,his gaze cold and distant.“To make up for what happened,I married her even though I knew everyone would mock me for accepting a‘tainted’woman.I took care of her for three years,helping her heal.Isn’t that enough?” I could hear the bitterness in his voice,like a snarl that was barely held back. “Do you want me to spend my whole life repaying her?I’ve suffered for three years,pretending for three years.I’ve had enough!”Alpha Zachary’s eyes flickered for a moment,and I saw something primal in them,something raw and angry. His wolf spirit seemed to be clawing at the surface,desperate to break free. His hands clenched into fists at his sides.“Living with her every day,watching her struggle…it’s been torture.Now,heaven has given me a chance to be with Sophia again.I’m not going to throw that away.” His words hit me like a slap,and the pain in my chest intensified. I heard more muffled voices from inside,but I couldn’t make out the words.All I could focus on was the deafening silence that followed. The coldness seeped into my bones,and I felt as if the very air around me had frozen. It was as though my heart had stopped beating,and every word they spoke was a dagger that cut deeper into my soul. I stumbled backward,my feet barely holding me up. I turned and staggered down the hallway,not caring about the tears that fell freely down my face. The sharp,biting cold of the night air met me as I reached my room,but it couldn’t freeze the burning pain in my chest. I fell to my knees,gasping for breath,my body trembling uncontrollably. It wasn’t just the cold,though.It was the realization—everything was a lie. The man I had trusted,the man I thought loved me,had been playing me all along. The truth hit me harder than I had imagined. Alpha Zachary hadn’t been my salvation—he had been my tormentor all along.It wasn’t just that he had pretended to love me for three years—it was that he had orchestrated everything.The kidnapping.The suffering.All of it was to push me aside for Sophia. I couldn’t breathe.I couldn’t think.The reality of it all left me paralyzed,and my mind raced back to those dark days. The kidnapping.The three days and nights of hell. I had been taken because they wanted me broken.They wanted me ruined.Alpha Zachary—no,both he and Beta Ethan—had planned it all. But why?Why hadn’t they just called off the engagement openly?Why hadn’t they simply walked away from me? Why did they have to destroy me instead? I collapsed onto the floor,my body wracked with sobs.Everything I had believed,everything I had fought for,had been shattered.And the worst part?I had trusted him. I had believed in him so completely. “I’m carrying his child…”I whispered to myself,but it felt like a cruel joke.My body was still shaking,my wolf spirit struggling to hold control.It was as though my emotions were pulling at my soul,threatening to tear me apart. The image of Alpha Zachary’s eyes—cold,indifferent,with that familiar but hidden wolf-like hunger—flashed in my mind. Meanwhile,Inside the Room Alpha Zachary’s back was to the door,his posture rigid as he spoke to his mother,voice laced with frustration. “Why do you insist on this?You think I don’t know how to carry the weight of this family?My brother’s death wasn’t just a loss for me,Mom.I’ve been pretending for years that I didn’t want to be with Sophia.I’ve been living a lie.And now,you want me to keep pretending?” His voice lowered,growing darker,raw with emotion. “You don’t understand,”he said softly,almost to himself.“She doesn’t belong with me.She never did.My wolf…”He clenched his fists,his nails biting into his palms,“She’s not my true mate.” His mother took a step back,clearly taken aback by the rawness of his words.“But Alpha Zachary,what about Rachel?She’s already suffered enough.You can’t just—” Alpha Zachary spun around,eyes flashing with a dangerous light,and his wolf instincts began to bleed into his voice.“I’ve done more than enough for Rachel.Do you think I owe her my life?Do you want me to spend my days pretending to care when all I can feel is the pull to be with Sophia?To return to my true mate?” His mother remained silent,unsure of how to respond. Back in Rachel’s Room I lay there on the floor,my body still trembling. Suddenly,the door creaked open,and Faron,the Tribal Doctor,stepped in. “Rachel,you need to calm down,”Faron’s deep voice broke through the haze of my thoughts. His presence was steadying,but I could see the concern in his eyes as he knelt beside me. His calm demeanor was a stark contrast to the chaos in my heart. “Faron…”I gasped,struggling to hold back tears.”Why?Why did they do this to me?Why did Alpha Zachary—why did he—” His voice softened,and he placed a hand gently on my shoulder.“I don’t have all the answers,but I know this—your wolf spirit is fighting,Rachel.You’re not alone in this.” “But my child…”I whispered through the tears.“I can’t lose him.I can’t lose everything I’ve been fighting for.” Faron nodded,his expression grave but compassionate.“You won’t lose him,Rachel.You have the strength of your pack,and the strength of your wolf.Together,we can protect him.But first,you need to control your emotions.If you don’t,both you and the child could be in danger.” “I…I’ll try.”My voice was shaky,but something inside me stirred. It was faint,but it was there—my wolf.Lyra.Her energy was faint,but her presence was still with me. Faron stood and placed a hand over his heart,a gesture of peace and protection.”Trust yourself,Rachel.The path ahead may be dark,but you have the power to change your fate.”

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The car had only been on the road for three minutes. Daphne, Alpha Asher’s first love suddenly let out a little “Ah!” “What is it?” Alpha Asher of the Silverfang Pack immediately tensed up, his canines slightly protruding behind his lips. She pinched the hem of her skirt with her fingers, eyes reddening. “I think my hair got caught in the seatbelt… It hurts a bit.” My wolf soul, Zaia, exploded in my head: “With acting like this, she might as well be the lead at the werewolf theater.” I didn’t look back. In the rearview mirror, Alpha Asher had already turned to her, his fingertips glowing faintly gold as he carefully untangled her hair — that soothing aura appeared only when an Alpha was trying to comfort someone. “A few strands got pulled out,” Daphne pouted. “I knew I shouldn’t have worn my hair down. Such a hassle.” “Not a hassle,” Alpha Asher smiled. “It looks nice this way.” Zaia snorted. “He said the same thing to you last year. Forgotten already?” I tugged at my own seatbelt. The metal buckle was digging painfully into my collarbone. Alpha Lycan of the Blackthorn Pack suddenly let out a short laugh. Daphne immediately turned to him. “Alpha Lycan, do you think I’m being dramatic?” “No,” he replied calmly, hands on the steering wheel. “Just think your hair’s tougher than steel wire.” Daphne’s face stiffened for a second before she turned back to Asher. “I didn’t mean to…” “It’s not your fault.” Alpha Asher cut her off immediately, his eyes flicking toward me. “Kiara, stop moving around back there — you bumped into Daphne.” I froze. “I didn’t move.” “Then how did her hair get caught?” he frowned. “Can’t you be a bit more considerate? It’s her birthday today.” I laughed. “Sure.” Alpha Asher seemed surprised but said nothing. Then Alpha Lycan spoke, “Pull over at the next intersection. I need to grab some water.” The wolf fang tattoo on his wrist glinted with his movement. The car had barely stopped when Daphne made another scene. “Ah!” This time, louder, with a sob. “My bracelet!” Asher looked down. His night-vision eyes gleamed faintly in the dim light. Her wrist was bare. “It was just here…” she was on the verge of tears. “It was a birthday gift from my mom…” Zaia sneered. “Here we go. Trying to set you up again.” “Where’d it fall?” Asher bent down immediately, nose twitching slightly as he sniffed around. “Maybe it rolled to the back?” Daphne looked straight at me, eyes full of suggestion. I lifted my foot and felt something hard under my heel. Looking down, I saw the bracelet tangled in my heel. “Here.” I nudged it. Asher picked it up and without even wiping it, fastened it back on Daphne’s wrist. He rubbed her back gently, “Glad we found it. Gave me a real scare.” Daphne leaned against his shoulder. “It’s all my fault for being so careless. Kiara doesn’t blame me, right?” “If you’re not feeling well, she should give you space.” Asher’s wolf tail gently swished beneath the seat. Not feeling well? She was bouncing around downstairs fighting me for ice cream just minutes ago. I said nothing more. Pulled out my phone and started scrolling through Instagram. The first post on my feed was one from Asher — three minutes ago. In the photo, Daphne leaned on his shoulder, a visible hickey on her neck. Caption: “Birthday girl’s personal driver.” Nine-photo carousel. Not even my shadow made it in. My chest clenched. The pain radiated numbness — then came a stronger surge of fury. Alright, then. I tucked my phone away and looked at Alpha Lycan. Zaia was instantly excited. “I know what you’re about to do! Brilliant move!” He glanced over, raising a brow. “Boiling mad already?” I didn’t answer. I just unbuckled my seatbelt. “What are you doing?” Alpha Asher turned around. “Changing seats.” I slid into the open spot next to Alpha Lycan. His body stiffened slightly. “What are you doing?” Asher frowned. “Too stuffy in the back.” I let my fingers deliberately brush Lycan’s arm. “It’s cooler next to Alpha Lycan.” Zaia urged gleefully: “Closer! Let that jerk see!” A flicker of surprise passed through his eyes before he smirked. “Is that so?” I tilted my head toward Alpha Lycan. “You don’t mind, do you?” He didn’t reply. Just turned the air vent to face me. Daphne suddenly started sniffling. “Asher… I feel a little dizzy…” “Car sick?” Alpha Asher immediately forgot about me, fumbling for medicine and offering her water. Beneath my dress, my knee brushed lightly against Alpha Lycan’s thigh — closely pressed. I kept my expression calm, staring straight ahead, avoiding his gaze on purpose. But my knee stayed right there, and then… inched a little closer. Only a thin layer of fabric separated us. I could feel the firmness of his muscles, the heat radiating through. Zaia licked her imaginary paw. “Don’t stop now. Keep going.” The heat spread through the cloth, like an electric current igniting every nerve in my body.

My knee was pressed too close. The sound of fabric rubbing together was especially loud in the quiet car. My fingertips tingled, and I instinctively wanted to pull back. At that moment, it felt like my heart skipped a beat — and then started racing uncontrollably. Zaia kicked me in the mind: “What are you flinching for? Press in closer!” Alpha Lycan stared straight ahead, his side profile sharp and cold, as if he hadn’t noticed me at all. His breathing was so steady, he didn’t seem like a werewolf. “Can he not feel it?” I wondered. Zaia snorted. “You think an Alpha from Blackthorn is made of wood?” Just as she said that, Daphne suddenly leaned against Alpha Asher. “My head’s spinning,” she murmured, lips almost brushing his jaw. “Let me rest on you a bit.” Alpha Asher stiffened, but didn’t push her away or say anything. Zaia snapped: “Oh please. Keep pretending.” Daphne suddenly looked up and pecked a kiss on Asher’s cheek. “Mmm…” she bit her lip and smiled. “A reward for you.” Asher sharply turned his head, the tips of his ears flushing red. “Don’t fool around.” “What’s wrong?” Daphne blinked. “You didn’t like it?” “Kiara’s still in the back.” His voice lowered, tinged with discomfort. “She’s the one who…” Daphne cut him off, her fingers curling around his shirt button. “It’s not like I did anything inappropriate.” I let out a cold laugh. Daphne immediately looked over. “Kiara, are you upset? I’m sorry, but Asher and I have always been like this since we were kids.” “Since you were kids?” I raised a brow. “Since when did kissing someone else’s Alpha become part of childhood games?” “What are you saying?!” Asher glared at me. “Daphne only sees me as an older brother!” “Brother?” I laughed. “What kind of sister clings to her ‘brother’s’ shirt button like that?” “I didn’t!” Daphne’s eyes reddened. “I was just… just dizzy and couldn’t stand straight…” “Enough!” Asher shouted at me. “Can’t you stop picking on her?” At that moment, I didn’t even have the strength to argue anymore. Be generous? Fine. But I hope you can be just as “generous” in the future. Zaia screamed: “Rip those two dogs apart!” Asher’s face turned liver-purple, his eyes gleaming. “Why can’t you just be a little more understanding?” Daphne nestled into his chest and cast a triumphant glance at me. I took a deep breath and suddenly felt… tired of it all. Then I turned to Alpha Lycan — and my heart skipped a beat. At some point, he had turned his head and was staring at me. His eyes were deep, no longer the indifferent gaze from earlier. Before I could react, he leaned toward me. Our shoulders brushed. His warmth seeped through the fabric. I froze. Zaia shrieked: “Holy hell! He moved!” Alpha Lycan didn’t say anything. He simply lifted his hand and tucked a loose strand of my hair behind my ear. His fingertips grazed my ear — it tickled a little. “You…” My tongue stumbled over itself. He curled his lips slightly — such a subtle arc, yet dazzling. “Your hair was in your eyes.” I stared at Alpha Lycan’s jawline, my heart pounding like it was going to burst. This man… he was the most unique presence in the Blackthorn Pack. Everyone said he was cold as ice — in all of his twenty-five years, he’d never been seen with a single female. All the flirting from Omegas was frozen on the spot, and Betas who tried to get close were outright ignored. He was also one of the top healers in the entire werewolf realm. The last time I got grazed by a silver bullet because of Alpha Asher, it was him who treated my wound. He was surprisingly gentle when disinfecting — completely unlike his usual aloof demeanor. His clinic always smelled faintly of herbs, and there was a steady stream of werewolves coming in, from elders to pups. I’d heard he even knew ancient healing techniques. My mind buzzed. This man… Zaia chimed in: “He’s literally the prototype of every female wolf’s first crush — distant and untouchable.” I didn’t respond. Because… she was right. “We’ve never really had much interaction,” I thought. “The only times we crossed paths were when I had chest pain and ended up at the pack hospital… and he happened to be there.” Zaia snickered. “You were blushing all the way to your neck, remember?” Who could forget? “I was embarrassed at first, but he was so professional and calm, I quickly relaxed.” “And then you scolded yourself afterward — he’s a healer. What kind of body hasn’t he seen before?”

“Continue?” I asked, feigning innocence in a whisper. Alpha Lycan didn’t respond, but his fingers slid slowly up along my waistline. Zaia shrieked, “What is he trying to do?!” I grabbed his hand abruptly—his palm was burning hot. “Stop,” I said, voice trembling. In the front seat, Asher was still panting. His wolf ears were perked up, clearly eavesdropping. Suddenly, Daphne cried out, “Oh no!” “What’s wrong?” Asher immediately turned back. “My heel broke.” She held up the snapped shoe heel, her eyes misty. “I can’t walk anymore.” “Let me see.” Asher bent down to pick it up. “No need.” Daphne tugged his arm, “There’s a shoe store nearby. Will you come with me and get me a new pair? Consider it a birthday gift?” Asher hesitated, glancing at me. “Go ahead,” I said, turning away. Zaia snapped, “Pretending to be generous! He’s probably dying to go with her!” The car door slammed shut. Asher and Daphne disappeared around the corner. The car fell silent. Now, it was just me and Alpha Lycan. The air turned heavy. His breath grew closer, pressing in like a storm. Zaia taunted, “Heart racing? Getting scared now?” I pulled out my phone, fingers shaking. “What are you doing?” Alpha Lycan raised an eyebrow. “Calling Asher,” I bit my lip. “Asking how long they’ll be.” The call connected. By the third ring, someone picked up— But no one spoke. Only the static buzz of the line, tangled with soft, shallow gasps. It was Daphne’s voice, syrupy sweet: “Don’t touch… there…” Then came Asher’s husky murmur, “What are you afraid of…” “Mmm… be gentle…” “Do you like it?” “You’re awful…” The obscene sounds poured through the receiver, stabbing into my ears. I dropped the phone to the floor mat with a loud thud. Then I grabbed Alpha Lycan’s tie and yanked him toward me. “Kiss me,” I demanded, voice laced with fury. He didn’t hesitate. His lips crashed down on mine. I didn’t expect him to actually do it. My eyes widened—I instinctively tried to push him away, but his arms only tightened. Zaia yelled, “Push him, you idiot!” I gasped, and he took the chance to slip in deeper, his kiss unrelenting. Zaia cursed, “No backbone! But… damn, what a kiss!” He chuckled lowly, then tore open my shirt. Buttons flew and bounced off the car window. His fingers traced my skin—but never forced, never rough. Outside, Daphne’s flirtatious laugh rang out, crystal clear through the closed car window. Alpha Lycan suddenly bit my earlobe and whispered, voice like sandpaper, “Say my name.” “No…” “Afraid he’ll hear you?” he ground his hips forward. “Didn’t seem so shy earlier.” Shame was drowned out by rage. I wrapped my arms around his neck and tilted my head back. The sound that escaped my lips cracked—but it was loud enough to overpower everything outside. His hand slipped under my skirt, and the heat of his werewolf body made me tremble. “Remember this,” he kissed my chest, “from now on, this only beats for me.” The phone was still ringing. Asher and Daphne’s voices were getting closer. Zaia shouted, “They’re coming back!” My shirt had slipped down to my elbows, my skirt bunched at my waist. The scent of herbs and lust thickened the air in the car. “Alpha Lycan…” “Call me Lycan.” “Lycan…” I collapsed into the seat, too weak to even lift a finger, panting hard. He calmly adjusted his tie, a smirk still lingering on his lips. Alpha Lycan curved his lips into a smile, his fingertip gently wiping the moisture at the corner of my mouth. “Kiara.” “Hm?” My eyes were dazed; I still hadn’t caught my breath. He leaned in again, planting a long, tender kiss on my swollen lips. Then, pressing his forehead to mine, he whispered huskily in my ear: “When we arrive at the birthday party in the Rose Garden, I’ll give you… much more.” Zaia screamed, “What does that mean?! Is he making a promise?!”

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I came home after five years working out, only to find my husband had a new family. Christmas was coming. I took time off early, planning to surprise my husband. I knocked on the door with gifts in hand, bursting with excitement. A stranger opened it—a woman. With a crying baby in her arms. I froze. She looked me up and down. “Can I help you?” “I… I just came back home.” I stammered. The woman scoffed. She leaned against the doorframe, blocking my path. “Lady, you’ve got the wrong place.” “This is my home. My husband’s and mine. Your house couldn’t possibly be here.” Her home? My eyes shot past her into the house. They landed on a massive wedding photo on the wall. In it, my husband had his arm around this woman. Both of them grinning like idiots. The background, the furniture, the layout— Identical to my home. She noticed the gift in my hand. Her tight expression relaxed. “Oh, I get it. You’re here to see my husband about something medical, right?” She stepped aside, clearing the doorway. “He’s got surgery this afternoon, won’t be back till later. Come in and wait if you want.” “But he cannot accept gifts. please take it back.” … I followed her inside like a ghost. My mind was blank. Buzzing. “Don’t bother with the shoes. We’re not that formal here.” The woman adjusted the baby on her hip, gesturing to the couch. “Help yourself to water. I’ve got to settle him down. Dr. Grant’s swamped—you’re not the first patient’s family to track him down at home.” She thought I was some desperate relative here to beg favors. I stood in the middle of the living room. My hands and feet were ice. This house was mine. Five years ago, Grant and I got our marriage license. I was just a waitress. He was a doctor. People whispered we didn’t match—that I was punching above my weight. I didn’t want anyone thinking I married him for his money. So I worked myself to the bone. Double shifts, triple shifts. Saved every tip. I sold the house my parents left me and scraped together the down payment for this penthouse. I wanted to prove I could contribute. That I deserved him. Right after we bought it, I got an offer to work at a casino in Las Vegas. The tips there were insane—some gamblers who win money throw it around recklessly. I could make three times what I made here. But it meant five years away. Grant held my hand and said, “Babe, go. For our future, I can handle the distance.” “Don’t worry about the renovations. Mom and Dad are here. When you come back, we’ll move straight into the new place.” I believed him. For five years, I worked every shift I could get in Las Vegas. Breakfast rushes, lunch crowds, late-night bar service. My feet bled in my shoes. Every month, I kept just enough for rent and food. The rest went straight to Grant. I told him to use quality materials for the renovations. Eco-friendly. Don’t cheap out. He said okay. I told him to get smart appliances. For when we had a baby. He said okay. Now I was back. The house was finished. It looked great. Except the woman of the house had been replaced. In the wedding photo on the wall, Grant’s smile was radiant. Crow’s feet crinkling with joy. The woman in his arms was young, her face full of collagen. She couldn’t be older than twenty-two. “Hey, why are you just standing there?” The woman finished soothing the baby and came over to pour me water. “Dr. Grant looks serious, but he’s a softie. You’re here about a hospital bed, right?” She played the hostess, voice dripping with pride. “All I have to do is whisper in his ear at night. This kind of thing? Easy.” I stared at her face. My stomach clenched. “How long have you two been married?” My throat was dry. The woman paused, then smiled shyly. “Almost two years. The baby’s already six months old.” Two years. Back then, I was pulling triple shifts in Las Vegas. I worked until my ankles swelled, until I couldn’t stand anymore. Came home one night with a 103 fever. I called Grant just to hear his voice. He said he was in a conference. Hung up fast. Turns out, he was here. Researching how to make a baby. My fingers tightened around my purse strap. The leather dug into my palm. “The house is beautifully decorated,” I said, scanning the room. The woman lifted her chin proudly. “Of course. Grant designed it himself. He personally picked out every single piece of furniture.” “He said he wanted to give me the best. He’d never let me suffer.” Designed himself? Personally picked? The high-end coffee table. The crystal chandelier. The leather couch. I paid for all of it. I told him to buy it. My money—money I earned one grueling shift at a time—had become a monument to their love. I’m such a goddamn idiot.

I ran my hand along the armrest. “This couch wasn’t cheap, was it?” She laughed. “Eight thousand. Grant said I work so hard nursing, I deserve it.” Eight thousand. That was two months of tips working the casino floor in Las Vegas. I glanced around the room. “Can I see the bedroom? I heard Dr. Grant’s place is gorgeous. I’d love to get some ideas.” She nodded. “Sure. Take a look.” She led me into the master bedroom. That king-size bed—the brand I’d admired for months but couldn’t justify buying. On the nightstand: their wedding photo. A photo from the baby’s first month celebration. The closet door was ajar. His dress shirts hung next to her sundresses. On the vanity: a full set of expensive skincare. Last month, Grant said his mom’s birthday was coming up. He asked me to wire money for a gift. Turns out, his “mom” is in her early twenties. I pointed at the skincare. “That’s expensive.” She smiled. “Grant bought it. He says women need to take care of themselves. Can’t let yourself turn into a hag.” A hag. I touched my own face. Fine lines from years of working in smoke-filled casinos, smiling through graveyard shifts serving drunk gamblers. I became a hag working doubles for this family. And he used my money to keep her dewy. She grabbed a serum bottle, about to squeeze some onto my hand. “Try this. The repair effects are amazing.” I pulled my hand back. These hands had carried trays loaded with drinks through packed casino floors, dealt with grabby drunks at 3 a.m., and smiled through every humiliation for tips. They didn’t deserve anything this expensive. But she grabbed my wrist anyway, frowning. “Your hands are so rough. You’ve got to take care of yourself. Our Grant can’t stand seeing a woman suffer.” She held up her own hand. Her fingers were pale and soft. The diamond on her ring finger was blinding. “This—he gave me this when he proposed. He said he makes money just so me and the baby can live our best lives.” She kept going. “Last time I mentioned wanting some pizza from across town, he drove over an hour after a midnight surgery to get it for me.” “Didn’t get home till 2 a.m. The pizza was cold, but my heart was warm.” Mine was cold. I remembered one night when I collapsed from dehydration after an eighteen-hour shift. The casino floor had been packed, no breaks, no water. “Babe, I can barely stand.” He cut me off, irritated. “I’m in a meeting. Busy. You’re an adult. If you’re sick, go to a hospital. Stop being so dramatic.” Then he hung up. I said, “He treats you well.” She walked over to the crib, face glowing. “He does. After I had the baby, he got even better. He says childbirth is suffering. He owes me for the rest of his life.” “We never run out of supplements. He says his mom’s health got wrecked giving birth to him. He won’t let me go through that.” I lived on casino staff meals and energy drinks for months to save money for the mortgage. Got acute gastritis from the stress and irregular eating. Curled up in my tiny apartment, writhing in pain. I called him. He said his mom’s back was hurting. He had to take her to the hospital. Told me to tough it out. He knows how to care for people. Just not me. I asked, “You’re so young. Why’d you want a baby so soon?” Her face flushed. “Grant was in a rush. He said he’s not getting any younger, that he loves kids. A family isn’t complete without a baby.” “He says he’ll work hard, make money. Our kid will go to the best schools.” I smiled faintly. The first year we were married, I brought up having kids. He said his career was just starting. Too much pressure. We couldn’t afford it. Turns out, he just didn’t want kids with me. And my money became the foundation for their perfect little life. This whole family bled me dry. I was still thinking when the front door rattled. “Ooh, is my baby awake yet?” That was my mother-in-law’s voice. “Keep it down. Don’t wake the baby.” My father-in-law’s voice. I turned around. My in-laws came through the door loaded down with grocery bags. They saw me standing in the bedroom. Their faces went white. They froze. “J-Jane?” My mother-in-law dropped the dragon fruit she was holding. Red juice splattered across the floor.

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The day I walked out of prison, it was pouring. My husband drove me to the cemetery to visit our daughter’s grave. Rain hammered the headstone. Jerome, a law professor, broke the silence without warning. “The security footage from the day Lily drowned. I had someone destroy it.” I froze. I turned and met my son’s eyes. Not a trace of guilt in them. “I testified that you abused her,” Daniel said. “It was the only way to clear Vanessa’s name.” Over a thousand nights in that cell. None of them came close to what this truth did to me. Blood welled up in my throat. I grabbed Jerome by the collar. “What did I do to deserve this?” Daniel almost smiled. “Lily is dead. Is a pianist like Vanessa really going to rot in prison for this?” “You’re just a housewife, Mom. A few years inside. What’s the big deal?” Jerome pried my fingers loose one by one, his voice flat. “You were my wife, Claire. You had the name, the position, everything that mattered. Vanessa, whatever she gave me, whatever child she bore, she was never going to have that.” “As long as you stay away from her and Pearl, I won’t send you back to rot in prison.” …… I sank to my knees in front of my daughter’s grave. Jerome bent down and brushed the wet hair from my face. “You brought this on yourself. You went digging into Vanessa.” “So I arranged for someone to teach you a lesson.” “I didn’t expect them to go that far. I didn’t know they’d leave you with a permanent injury.” The sound of iron against bone rang through my head again. That day, I’d just found the first lead proving Vanessa had pushed Lily into the water. Before I could even feel relieved, a group of men had me pinned to the ground, driving a rod into my legs over and over. I dragged myself through the blood to the door. “Help me…” The footsteps in the hallway only walked away. Daniel glanced down at me sitting in the mud. “Stop playing the victim.” “Vanessa had a recital coming up. You chose to go after her at the worst possible time.” “Dad didn’t want to do it. You forced his hand.” My own child, speaking for the enemy. The last thread in my mind snapped. I hauled myself upright and slapped him hard across the face. Daniel stood frozen, his hand pressed to his cheek. Jerome lunged forward and shoved me away. “Claire. Don’t you dare touch him.” I hit the headstone hard. Blood and rainwater ran into my eyes and turned the world red. Two bodyguards dragged me to the car and back to the house. Jerome slid an adoption agreement across the table. “Pearl will be registered in your name.” Pearl. Vanessa’s daughter. The child she’d had with my husband. I swept everything off the table, my eyes burning. “You want me to adopt your mistress’s child? Not a chance.” “She killed Lily. I will never raise that girl.” A ceramic shard split the back of my hand. Blood dripped onto the carpet. Jerome frowned and pressed his handkerchief to the wound. “Claire. Stop.” “Accept Vanessa and Pearl. Show some grace.” “You’re still my wife. That position is yours. It will always be yours.” My stomach turned. I yanked my hand away. Jerome’s expression went cold. “You need to calm down.” “When you’re ready to talk, come find me.” He walked out. The door slammed behind him. The room went quiet. Blood kept seeping from my hand, taking the last of the warmth in me with it. I took out my phone and bought a one-way ticket south. I was never coming back to this place.

Through the closed door, the maids’ voices drifted in from the hallway. “Mr. Harlow really does spoil little Pearl. Tomorrow’s adoption banquet is even bigger than the wedding was.” “Young Master Daniel flew to Paris overnight just to commission her a custom diamond gown.” I sat with my back against the cold wall, my phone screen casting pale light across my face. In prison, I’d run a fever of a hundred and three. I’d dragged myself on a broken leg and beat on the iron door all through the night. It turned out that same night, the TV had been looping news coverage of Jerome spending a fortune on Vanessa. The voices outside kept going. “Isn’t tomorrow the anniversary of the young miss’s death? Why would Mr. Harlow pick that day?” “Watch your mouth. Don’t say ‘young miss.’” “Tomorrow’s banquet is being broadcast live across the whole city. From now on, there’s only one daughter in this family.” My thumbnail split my palm open. Blood welled up. On Lily’s memorial day, Jerome was going to throw a celebration. Standing on the bones of his dead child, for his mistress’s daughter. Not long after, the bedroom door opened. Jerome set a cup of warm milk gently on the nightstand. “Claire, I’ve contacted the top orthopedic specialist in Germany.” “Your leg can still be repaired. I’ll arrange the surgery for next week.” He reached toward my hair. I knocked his hand away. The softness left his face. His voice went hard. “I do everything for you. I find you the best doctors.” “Claire. How long are you going to keep this up?” I looked at him coldly. “You do everything for me? You had my leg broken.” “You do everything for me? You covered for the woman who killed our daughter.” Jerome sighed, his tone heavy with impatience. “You spoiled Lily. She was barely five and already screaming insults at grown women.” “Vanessa barely touched her. Who could have known she’d fall into the lake?” “Vanessa has been torturing herself with guilt ever since. She’s suffered enough.” “You can’t put all of this on her.” Something tore in my chest, so sharp I could barely breathe. To defend a murderer, he was smearing a five-year-old child. I was eighteen when I collapsed to the ground, covered in blood. My father’s body was at my feet. My mother had just slit her wrists beside him. Jerome burst in and held my trembling body tight. “Don’t be afraid, Claire. I’ll spend my life protecting you.” Every word he’d ever said to me turned to ash. “Jerome. I want a divorce. I’ll let you go.” “All I’m asking for is Lily’s ashes.” Jerome went quiet. His expression grew darker and darker. Then he gave a cold laugh. “Divorce? Not a chance.” “Tomorrow’s banquet. You’ll attend as my wife.” “Refuse, and you will never find out where Lily’s real ashes are.” He let go and slammed the door behind him. I stumbled out of the room and stopped at a familiar door. I pushed it open. Designer gowns, a full wall of Hermès bags. Lily’s desk, her toys, her bed. All gone. A huge portrait of Vanessa and Pearl hung on the wall. Limited-edition jewelry Jerome had given her was arranged on the vanity. This room had become their private dressing suite. “Like what you see?” Vanessa leaned in the doorway in a silk robe. “When that little brat was dying, she kept calling for you.” “I held her under, again and again.” “She fought for about five minutes before she went still. Her eyes were wide open at the end.” My blood rushed straight to my head. I raised my hand and hit her with everything I had. Vanessa didn’t move. She just smiled. A wave of dizziness hit me. Everything went black and I went down hard.

A bucket of ice water hit my face and I jolted awake. A bodyguard forced a dress over me and dragged me into the banquet hall. Under the blazing lights, every bit of my ruined state was on display. “That’s the woman who killed her own daughter?” “How does she have the nerve to show her face? It’s disgusting.” “Poor Professor Harlow. Stuck with a crippled lunatic.” Laughter came at me from every direction, each voice like a slap. Vanessa walked in holding Pearl’s hand, glowing. She was wearing a white gown I recognized immediately. Jerome had given it to me the year his company turned its first profit. His first real gift to me. “Claire.” Vanessa’s eyes were soft, her voice gentle. “You’ve been through so much.” I stared at that gown. My stomach turned over. Pearl suddenly ran at me and drove her heel hard into my injured leg. The pain exploded. I cried out and pushed her away. Pearl let herself fall and hit the floor, wailing. “What are you doing!” Daniel shoved through and scooped Pearl up. “Haven’t you been in prison long enough? Now you’re going after Pearl too?” Jerome grabbed my wrist. “This is an important occasion. I will not have you causing a scene.” I wrenched free and moved toward the exit, dragging my leg. Vanessa’s tears were already falling, her voice rising over the room. “Claire abused Lily, fine. But why take it out on innocent little Pearl?” “As Jerome’s foster sister, it isn’t my place to interfere. But I can’t stand by and watch.” “Pearl is just a child. How can you be so cruel?” She wept beautifully. Guests around her shook their heads. The screens at the front of the hall lit up. A group of reporters I’d never seen closed in around me. “Ms. Harlow, our sources indicate your father had a history of domestic violence and your mother killed him before taking her own life.” “Is it possible you inherited your mother’s violent tendencies? Is that what happened with your daughter?” Camera flashes strobed. Microphones pressed close to my face. I stood frozen, the noise drilling into my skull. Then I found my voice. “I was framed.” “Vanessa is not his foster sister. She is his mistress.” “Pearl is their illegitimate child. They killed my daughter and put me in prison to cover it up.” The room went completely silent. Vanessa’s face drained white. She swayed and nearly fell. Jerome reached out and steadied her, his arm going around her naturally. He looked out at the room with practiced calm. “Please forgive her. My wife has been unstable since her release. The trauma of incarceration.” He turned and put his mouth close to my ear. “Apologize to Vanessa. Tell them you were jealous. Tell them you made it up.” I looked straight ahead. “No.” Jerome opened his phone. One message on the screen, already composed. Destroy the ashes. My whole body went cold. “Jerome. You’re insane. That’s your own daughter.” “You won’t do it. You won’t.” Jerome looked at me without expression and pressed send. “No!” I dropped to my knees. Tears came without warning. “I’m sorry. I was jealous of Vanessa. I lied about her.” “I take it back. I apologize.”

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The text came ten minutes before the wedding. My fiancé sent it. “Daisy’s in the ER. I have to go. Can we push the ceremony back?” The makeup artist was still tracing my lip line with a brush. Behind me, my maid of honor was adjusting the folds of my veil. Outside the dressing room door, the wedding coordinator was already running through the timeline. The officiant’s mic checks bled through the walls. The terrace at the Brooklyn Botanic Garden hummed with champagne-bright energy. I looked down at my phone. And then I laughed. Maya caught it first. She grabbed the phone from my hand and read the screen. Her face went pale. “Has Caleb lost his damn mind?” She kept her voice low, but the fury still cut through. “It’s your wedding. He’s running off to play hero for Daisy Reed?” The room went dead quiet. The makeup artist froze. The bridesmaid stopped moving. Everyone was staring at me. I was calm. So calm it almost made me want to laugh at myself. I’d been up since six that morning getting hair and makeup done. At seven, my mom made blueberry muffins. She said it was the big day. Couldn’t do it on an empty stomach. At eight, Caleb called. He said he was on his way. Told me not to be nervous. At nine, he sent a text. “You’re going to look insanely beautiful today.” At nine-fifty, he told me he was going to be with another woman. Unbelievable. The coordinator knocked. “Amelia? Almost time to go in.” Maya’s hands were shaking. “Mia. Say something. What do we do? I’m calling Caleb right now. I’ll rip him apart so hard he’ll question his entire existence.” I reached over and took my phone back. I looked down at the text one more time. Short. No explanation. No guilt. Not even a decent apology. He was informing me. Like a wedding could be paused. Like a bride could just wait. Like two hundred guests and both sets of parents could step aside for Daisy’s emergency. Like that was the natural order of things. I twisted the ring off my finger. Slowly. It was tight. It left a red mark on my knuckle. The second it came off, something inside me let go. “We’re not starting,” I said. Maya froze. “Mia?” I looked up at myself in the mirror. Flawless makeup. The Vera Wang gown was stunning. The veil draped over my shoulders. It was just like my hopes for this wedding. Light as air. Pull one thread and it all unravels. “The wedding’s off.” *** Ten minutes later, I walked onto the terrace in my wedding dress and heels. The string quartet hadn’t even finished their piece. The guests had been smiling. When they saw me walk out alone, those smiles stiffened and died. My mom rose from her seat. Her face went white. Caleb’s parents sat in the front row. They looked panicked. The officiant tried to smooth things over. He held his mic and forced a laugh. “Looks like our groom might be preparing a very special surprise for the bride…” I reached out and took the mic from his hand. The terrace fell silent. “No surprise,” I said. “Just an announcement.” My voice carried through the speakers. Clear. Every single person heard it. “The wedding is canceled.” The crowd detonated. Gasps. Whispering. Phones coming out to record video. I looked at all those stunned faces and felt something absurd settle in my chest. I’d spent four years in high-end event planning. I’d built contingency plans for countless couples. What to do when the lighting failed. When the flower wall collapsed. When the groom was stuck on the Long Island Expressway. When the bride got cold feet. I’d prepared for every disaster. I just never thought the first wedding to go off the rails would be my own. I held the mic and kept going. “We’ll handle all gift returns shortly. The reception and dinner will proceed as planned. Please enjoy yourselves. Consider it my treat for a less-than-perfect hosting.” The silence was so absolute you could hear ice cubes hitting glass. Someone whispered, “Where’s the groom?” I looked down and smiled. “He went to be with someone more important than his own wedding.” The atmosphere imploded. Caleb’s mother shot up. Her face twisted. She started toward me. “Amelia, don’t you dare. Caleb had an urgent situation, that’s all—” “Mrs. Hayes.” I looked at her. My voice was quiet. “I’ve already been more than gracious today.” She choked on her next words. My mom stood below the stage. Her eyes were red. Her lips trembled. But she still looked up at me. I knew she was aching for me. She also knew I wasn’t the kind of woman who cried in front of a crowd. I handed the mic back to the officiant. I gathered my skirt and stepped down. Halfway to the exit, my phone started buzzing. Frantic. Caleb. Call after call. I didn’t answer. He texted. “Mia, don’t make a scene.” “Daisy’s in bad shape. I can’t just leave her.” “Hold things together at the venue. I’m coming back now.” I stared at those words. Seven years together. And it all looked like a joke. I didn’t reply. I pulled up his contact. Hit “Block This Caller.” Then I dropped the phone in my bag.

Back in the dressing room, Maya was furious. Her eyes were bloodshot. “He actually had the nerve to tell you to hold things together?” I sat down and took off my veil. “He’s always been like this.” Maya went still. She knew about Caleb and Daisy. Everyone in our circle knew. I used to cover for him. I always did. They were just childhood friends who grew up together. They just happened to leave their small Ohio town for the city together. Daisy had a complicated family background. She was all alone in New York. It was hard for her. She got conned by some guy when she was struggling. He ran off and left her drowning in debt. Caleb just wanted to help. That’s all. Just that. Too many times. Too many justifications. They piled up into a blade. By the time it finally sank into my chest, even I thought the pain was what I deserved. Seven years with Caleb. The year we graduated college, he had nothing. I lived with him in the cheapest basement apartment in Bushwick. I helped him push his dead used car through a thunderstorm. When his startup needed cash, I emptied my savings for the bridge round before his angel investment came through. His mother was distant. She never remembered my name. Every time we met, she called me “that girl.” Caleb always just shrugged. “That’s how she is.” He never fought for me. Not once. We were supposed to get married. I picked the dress myself. I pulled two all-nighters designing the venue layout myself. I dragged him to three jewelry stores to pick the ring myself. I tried so hard to marry him. If it weren’t for that text today, I might still be lying to myself. This wasn’t the first time. The night I had a 102-degree fever, he went out to get me medicine. On the way, Daisy called. Her pipe had burst. He stood outside CVS for three seconds. Then he turned around and went to her place. I took an Uber to the ER alone. I sat there on an IV drip until dawn. And the night he proposed. He booked the Michelin restaurant. He bought the flowers. I even knew the exact second he was going to pull out the ring. Then Daisy got drunk. She called from Brooklyn Bridge Park, sobbing about ending her life. He left me alone in that candlelit private room. Ran out. The waiter came over awkwardly. “Ma’am, do you still need the flowers?” I sat by the window. That was the first time I tasted what it felt like to smile while your hands shook under the table. Seven years. So many moments like that. Every time, he told me it was the last time. Every time, I believed him. Because I loved him. Because I thought if we just got married, the boundaries would finally be clear. Once that certificate was signed, I’d become his priority. Legally. Officially. Irrevocably. Now I understood. A man who puts you second on your wedding day will keep you second for the rest of your life. The dressing room door swung open. Caleb was back. His jacket was draped over his arm. His tie was crooked. Sweat soaked his forehead. He looked like he’d sprinted the whole way. The moment he saw me, relief flickered across his face. Then his expression hardened. “Amelia. What the hell is this?” I looked up at him. There was a stain on his shirt cuff. Something dark. I didn’t know whose it was. He walked up to me. Kept his voice low. “I told you to hold things together. Why did you cancel the whole wedding?” I stared at him. I almost laughed. “You’re asking me why?” “Daisy was showing signs of a miscarriage. She’s pregnant. She had no one. Who else was supposed to go?” “Where’s the father?” I asked. Caleb frowned. “You know that bastard ran off.” “So you stepped in?” His breath caught. Like he finally heard how insane that sounded. “Mia. It’s not what you think with Daisy.” “Then what is it?” I stood up. The layers of my gown pooled around me like a cloud pressing down on my chest. “Ten minutes before our wedding. You left your bride to rush another woman to the ER. Tell me, Caleb. What exactly would qualify as ‘something’?” His jaw tightened. “Can you stop being unreasonable at a time like this?” Unreasonable. I looked at the man I’d loved for seven years. He felt like a stranger. “Caleb.” My voice was soft. “Did you really believe I would always forgive you?” He flinched. “Was it because I forgave you every single time before? Did that make you certain? That today I’d stand on that stage like a good girl and clean up your mess? Wait for you to come back? Listen to you say sorry? Pretend nothing happened?” His throat moved. But his voice stayed hard. “I didn’t think that.” “That’s exactly what you thought.” I picked up the ring from the vanity and placed it in his palm. “The wedding’s off. We’re done.” His face crumpled. “Mia. Don’t be impulsive.” “I’m not being impulsive.” I met his eyes. “I’m finally seeing clearly.” He grabbed my wrist. His grip was tight. “Do you have any idea how many people came today? Do you know what you made me look like in front of two hundred guests?” That sentence. It hit me like a bucket of ice water. Even now. He was thinking about his image. Not about me. Standing alone on that stage with every pair of eyes on me. Not about my mother. Sitting in the crowd listening to people whisper. Not about the wedding I’d spent a year planning. Crushed under someone’s heel. He was worried about how he looked.

I pulled my hand free. One finger at a time. “And what did I look like in front of those two hundred people?” I stared at him. “Like a pitiful abandoned woman? Or like an accomplice covering up your lies?” Something flickered in his eyes. He opened his mouth. I didn’t let him speak. “Forget it. Don’t bother thinking about it. From now on, my life has nothing to do with you.” I gathered my skirt and walked around him. He called after me. “Amelia!” I didn’t look back. I didn’t go back to our apartment that night. Maya took me to her place. She spent the entire forty-minute drive cursing Caleb out. She didn’t repeat a single insult. I listened. I felt almost nothing. When we got inside, she kicked a pair of slippers toward my feet. Then she went to boil water. Halfway through, she ran back and threw her arms around me. “Cry if you need to. Don’t hold it in.” When she held me, my nose finally stung. But the tears didn’t come. “Maya.” I said. “I don’t think I can cry anymore.” Her eyes went red. “That’s worse.” Yeah. It was worse. The deepest pain doesn’t come with tears. It comes with numbness. Like getting punched in the chest so hard your lungs forget how to expand. I sat on her couch. My phone screen kept lighting up. Caleb. His mother. Even Daisy called. I didn’t answer any of them. Then Daisy sent a voice message. “Mia, I’m so heartbroken it came to this… Caleb was just worried about me. You know how he is. He’s too soft-hearted. You must be so strong. Not like me. I honestly don’t know what to do right now…” Her voice was light. Soft. With just the right amount of tearful quiver. A year ago I might’ve replied. Told her to take care of herself. Now it just made me sick. I transcribed the audio. Read it. Then I blocked her number. Maya came back with hot water. She saw what I’d done and froze. “You finally cut her off?” I stared at the steam rising from the mug. Gave a quiet hum of acknowledgment. “Took you long enough,” she said. I smiled. “Yeah. Way too long.” The next morning I went back to our apartment. Caleb wasn’t there. Probably at the office. Or the hospital. I didn’t ask. The apartment was in Williamsburg. Two bedrooms. Thirteen hundred square feet. I’d supervised every inch of the renovation. I picked the couch in the living room. I built the plant shelf on the balcony. The white dinnerware set in the kitchen took me weekends of browsing home stores. I used to imagine our whole future there. Marriage. Kids. Growing old. Now it just felt like a cruel joke. I dragged out a suitcase and started packing my things. Clothes. Skincare. Laptop. Documents. Photo albums. Inside the bottom drawer of the nightstand, I found a bank transfer slip. Sender: Caleb Hayes. Recipient: Daisy Reed. Amount: $5,000. Date: Two weeks ago. The memo line was blank. I held that slip for a long time. My fingers went cold. Two weeks ago. That was when we were paying the final deposit for the wedding venue and the honeymoon hotel. I’d asked Caleb why our joint account was short. He said the company needed temporary cash flow. He’d replace it in two days. He did replace it. I didn’t think twice. Now I knew. That five thousand dollars didn’t go to the company. It went to Daisy’s account. I sat down on the edge of the bed and let out a low laugh. I’d been played. Completely. Every layer of it. I took a photo of the slip. Saved it. Then I tore the apartment apart. I found every piece of paperwork connected to money I’d put in. The down payment transfer record. Renovation material receipts. Appliance invoices. Wedding deposit contracts. A huge stack. Maya stood in the doorway watching me sort everything across the coffee table. “Mia. You don’t look like you’re going through a breakup. You look like you’re preparing for court.” “I am preparing for court,” I said. Her eyes lit up. “You finally came to your senses?” I slid the last receipt into a file folder and zipped it shut. “I’m not here to talk things out with him. I’m here to settle accounts.”

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“Your wife’s medical application has been rejected. Again.” Three years in a row. Her leukemia had progressed from early stage to terminal. Standing outside her husband’s office door, she heard him say: “She’s been traveling with the military her whole life. What serious illness could she possibly have?” The slots are limited. Give them to someone who needs them more.” The person he deemed “more in need” was the female student he sponsored. For a mild concussion, he mobilized every medical resource he had. The seven years of savings she had put aside to save her own life — he spent them on a New Year’s gift for that girl. She didn’t push the door open. Didn’t cry or make a scene. She just turned and walked into the freezing snow. Three days later, she collapsed. When he finally opened her medical file, he saw the diagnosis: Leukemia. Terminal. He fell to his knees, begging for forgiveness. She signed the divorce papers with a smile. …… “We are so sorry, Dr. Elara. Your application for the Military Family Medical Coverage has not been approved. We apologize.” This was the third rejection. Elara accepted her fate. “You denied Elara’s Medical Coverage application again this year?” Colonel Hayes’ voice was laced with confusion. After the rejection, she had made a simple decision. She would spend whatever time she had left by her husband Liam’s side. That was all she wanted. She had not expected this. Three days on a train, exhausted and worn to the bone, and the first thing she heard standing outside his office door was that single sentence. She went completely still. The door was slightly open. Warm yellow light bled into the dark hallway. The voices inside were sharp and heated. “You know how rare this slot is. Once a year, one chance. The last two years I kept quiet because you gave it to your comrades. But this year you handed it to Chloe for a mild concussion?” Every word reached her ears. Elara’s expression froze solid. The cold started at the soles of her feet and crept slowly upward through her whole body. It was like being dropped into ice water. Chloe. A college student Liam had been financially sponsoring. A girl from a broken home. Gambling father. Dying mother. Elara’s jaw clamped shut. The first time she had applied for the Coverage, her leukemia was still early-stage. When she was denied, she assumed she simply was not sick enough to qualify. The second time, she decided she had been unlucky. Someone else had needed the slot more. This was the third time. And it came at the exact moment she had made peace with her fate. The exact moment she had stopped fighting and come home simply to be near the man she loved. That was when she heard the truth. “I am the Commander,” Liam said. “She is the Commander’s wife. If she cannot push through a minor difficulty, she does not deserve that title.” “Chloe grew up with nothing. She never had enough food or warm clothes. Her body is naturally weaker. ” “Elara spent years traveling with the military. What illness could she possibly have that would justify wasting a slot this valuable?” “Liam!” Colonel Hayes’ voice shot up. “You rejected her application without reading a single word of it?” He had not even known what illness she had. The realization made Colonel Hayes visibly angrier. “I know Elara,” Liam said. “No matter how hard things got, she never once complained. She is fine. The New Year is one week away. When she comes home I will take her to the hospital myself.” “I genuinely cannot figure out what Chloe has done to get inside your head like this.” “This has nothing to do with Chloe,” Liam said. “I would have made the same call for anyone.” Colonel Hayes’ voice dropped, heavy with resignation. “And if Elara has something life-threatening, Liam? If blocking her application is the same as blocking her only chance to live?” The office fell completely silent. Outside in the corridor, Elara slowly lowered her outstretched hand. So it had never been fate working against her. “It had been him. The one person she had spent her entire life loving.” She wanted to push that door open. She wanted to look him in the eye and demand an answer. “Everyone else’s pain mattered to him. Did hers mean nothing?” She stood there for two full seconds. Then she turned and walked away without a sound. On her way out of the base, she stopped at the guard post and pressed the gift she had brought into the hands of the soldier on duty. “Do not tell the Commander I was here,” she said softly. She turned and walked straight into the bitter wind. Liam. Since I was never worthy of your slot, I do not need it anymore.

If that was the case, she refused to accept her fate. A thought took hold of her. If no one was coming to save her, she would save herself. She sat down at the desk and wrote a letter. A new application. This time, in her own name. After finishing it, she gathered up the savings she had accumulated over the years. “In the seven years she had been married to Liam, she may not have held the same standing as him, but she was far from an ordinary Combat Medic. She was a Mortuary Restorer for Fallen Heroes.” And it was precisely this role that might allow her to apply for a partial military medical subsidy. Combined with the money she had saved over the years, perhaps it could save her life. After doing all this, she felt a flicker of appetite for the first time in a long while. She walked into the kitchen and made herself a bowl of noodles. The clock on the wall showed it was nearly eleven at night. She made a quiet plan: first thing tomorrow morning, she would go to the post office and mail the application. Then, footsteps sounded outside the door. Liam pushed it open and stopped when he saw her. “You came back and didn’t tell me?” At the sound of his voice, she looked up. Across the room, the radio on the low cabinet crackled with static. The snow outside was interfering with the signal. Liam glanced at it, walked over, and turned it off. “I’ve told you not to listen to the radio.” “It’s late. The base’s subsidies haven’t come through yet this year. Cut back.” No word of welcome. No question about how she had been. She had spent three days on the train. Even a casual acquaintance would have asked if she was tired. Elara’s chest ached with a dull, persistent pain, but her voice remained steady. “I haven’t eaten all day. I was starving. And I only used a little.” By the time she finished the sentence, bitter tears were already silently slipping from the corners of her eyes. The truth was, she could barely eat anymore. Her body no longer had the strength to digest food properly. Liam was a commander. His monthly salary alone exceeded a thousand dollars, plus additional supply subsidies. There was no shortage of food. But in his eyes, she was made of iron. She didn’t get sick. She didn’t need to eat. Yet for Chloe, a mild concussion, he had unhesitatingly mobilized medical resources. Bitterness spread through Elara’s chest, growing heavier and heavier, until it was almost suffocating. Then, without warning, a sharp, piercing pain erupted in her chest. Moments later, the metallic taste of blood filled her nose. A single drop of blood fell onto her pale hand, blooming outward. She instinctively raised her hand to wipe it away. But the blood kept coming. Before she could stop it, it had splattered across the lower half of her face. Liam walked toward her, his voice impatient. “I was just reminding you. There’s no need to lose your temper at me.” “You—” He stopped mid-sentence, staring at the blood spreading across her face. His tone shifted. “What… what’s wrong with you?” Her voice came out weak and choked. She couldn’t hold it in any longer. Fighting through the pain and the grievance, she forced out the words, one by one: “That is my blood, Liam.” The emotional turmoil made everything worse for a body that was already barely holding together. Her legs gave way beneath her. She swayed, steadying herself only by gripping the edge of the table. She wiped the tears from her eyes and looked up at Liam. And she realized—she no longer recognized the man standing before her. Had these years together been nothing but her imagination? It was Liam who had pulled her out of that suffocating, backward family. It was he who had used every connection he had to persuade a military doctor to take her as an apprentice, so she could stay by his side. He had broken his own principles. Just this once. All for her. “You’re bleeding so much… Are you—” As she thought this, the light in Elara’s eyes dimmed, leaving behind only emptiness and numbness. Perhaps he would have done all this for anyone. Perhaps she had never been special. Perhaps she had simply been lucky. After all, he had broken his principles again. For Chloe. He had given up a spot without hesitation. For a girl with a minor injury. She wanted to ask him why. But before the words could leave her mouth, a searing, needle-like pain stabbed straight through her chest. Breathing became difficult. She forced herself to endure it. “It’s nothing.” Then, without another word, she turned and walked out of the room, step by unsteady step, until she reached the courtyard.

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My boyfriend said he had to do one hundred little things for his first love, and once he was done, he’d come back to me. On the night of our seventh anniversary. My boyfriend, Declan, proposed to his first love, Sienna. He did it with 999 red roses and the exact Tiffany ring I had been dreaming of for years. His group of frat-boy friends went crazy liking the post on Instagram, leaving comments saying they were “born for each other.” I silently typed a comment under that viral video: “I wish you both happiness.” Declan called me almost immediately. His tone was dripping with impatience. “Harper, stop making a scene. This is just the 99th thing on the list. Once I do the last one, I’ll come back.” … The video of Declan standing in a sea of flowers proposing to Sienna had been filmed by countless bystanders. It was uploaded to TikTok and Instagram, trending instantly. The comments section was filled with strangers praising them as the perfect couple, saying “true love always finds a way.” I clutched my stomach, which was cramping from hunger. I stared at the steak dinner in front of me that had gone stone cold hours ago. My heart sank to the bottom of the ocean. Today was supposed to be our seventh anniversary. Ever since Sienna came back into the picture, Declan and I had been drifting apart. I had planned to have one final, serious talk with him tonight. He had promised me that today would be Sienna-free. Just the two of us. This morning, he even bought my favorite Napa Valley Cabernet. But this afternoon, he suddenly texted saying there was an emergency at the startup. He said he’d be late and told me to wait for him. So, I sat at the dining table from 6:00 PM until 1:00 AM. I never expected that while I waited, I’d be watching a livestream of him passionately proposing to another woman. Mechanically, I chewed on a piece of cold, tough steak and opened Sienna’s Instagram. In her latest Story, Sienna was blushing, standing on her tiptoes to whisper something in Declan’s ear. “For the last thing,” she whispered, “I want you to propose to me right now. And then kiss me.” Declan froze for a second. But then, without hesitation, he dropped to one knee and pulled out the ring box he had prepared long ago. “Sienna, will you marry me?” I stared at the ring in his hand, completely stunned. A few days ago, I found that little blue box in his jacket pocket. I thought it was my anniversary surprise. After all, I was still wearing the simple silver band he gave me when we were broke and launching his tech startup in Silicon Valley. I remember the first time I put on that silver ring. He hugged me, his eyes red with tears. “Harper, I’m sorry you have to suffer with me. I swear, one day, I’ll buy you a ring ten thousand times better than this.” I smiled and told him, “Then I want a Tiffany.” I told him I wanted him to belong only to me for the rest of his life. He promised me everything back then. It turns out, the Tiffany ring was for Sienna. No wonder he snatched the box away so nervously when I said “I love this” the other day. He lied and said his buddy Brody was storing it with him for a proposal. In the video, Sienna covered her mouth, moved. She extended her slender fingers and nodded gently. “Declan, I do.” The silver ring Declan used to wear was gone. There was only a faint tan line on his ring finger where it used to be. After slipping the ring onto Sienna’s finger, they embraced and kissed deeply while his friends cheered in the background. I picked up my phone and dialed Declan’s number. Sienna answered. She only got out a “Hello?” before the phone was snatched away by Declan. I heard her mutter unhappily in the background, “I’m going to go take a shower first.” So, they proposed, kissed, and went straight to a hotel room. Terrifyingly efficient. Declan’s voice was icy cold. “What is it?” I pressed my lips together. He clearly didn’t know he was already viral on the internet. “Where are you?”

“I’m working overtime at the office. If you have something to say, make it quick.” He seemed to walk away from the bathroom, and the sound of the shower faded slightly. My eyes were still fixed on the paused video of them kissing. “Declan, let’s break up.” “Harper, I am really busy right now. I don’t have time to play these games with you.” He paused, his tone shifting to a warning. “I’m serious.” After saying that, I hung up. … I packed my luggage and checked straight into a hotel. I slept until eight o’clock the next morning. When I turned on my phone, a string of texts from Declan popped up. “Didn’t I tell you I’d be late? Where the hell did you go to mess around?” “I’ve been exhausted all night, and you just have to make a scene?” “Don’t tell me this is about Sienna again.” Because I hadn’t replied for so long, his later texts obviously lost patience. I didn’t know if he was too busy to scroll through his phone or if he had turned off all social media notifications. I didn’t reply to his messages. I silently added him to my block list. Honestly, I should have done this a long time ago. Ever since Sienna showed up with that notebook where Declan had written down “100 Things To Do For Her” years ago, he granted her every wish. I couldn’t understand it, so I cried and fought. But Declan said it was a promise he made after Sienna saved his life in the ocean years ago. He claimed it had nothing to do with love; he just wanted to honor his word. Back then, I didn’t realize the severity of the situation, and I couldn’t bear to let go of our seven-year relationship. So, I was forced to accept it. I accepted everything. From Declan going out to buy tampons for Sienna, to accompanying her to bars late at night when she was sad. He even went on a spontaneous road trip with her. And I had to swallow all the grievances and sadness alone. I watched my boyfriend go through fire and water for another woman. If I raised even a single question, he would call me “petty,” “immature,” or “jealous and mean.” The funny thing is, I actually thought that once he paid off his “debt” to Sienna, we could go back to how we were. It wasn’t until now that I clearly saw how ridiculously wrong I was.

After deciding to give up on Declan, my work efficiency skyrocketed. My manager asked if I wanted to compete for a spot in the London transfer program. I was a bit stunned. It wasn’t until he emailed me the company’s talent development plan that I realized what was happening. Leaving work that evening, I walked out of the office building and saw Declan’s tall figure standing downstairs. He attracted quite a few glances from my colleagues. In the past, I would have run over proudly to hug him and claim him as mine. But now, I pretended not to see him and turned to walk away. He caught up in a few strides, calling my name as he ran. I dodged the hand he reached out to grab me with, stopping to look at him. I used to love his hugs and kisses, enjoying those simple intimacies. He seemed surprised that I dodged him. His hand hung in mid-air, and his expression turned cold. “I’ve barely talked to Sienna lately because of you. What are you angry about now?” “Nothing. There are a lot of people here after work, I don’t want to make a scene,” I said calmly, making up an excuse. He studied me for a moment. Once he was sure I wasn’t throwing a tantrum, he put his hand back in his pocket and smiled. “Shy?” There was a hint of smugness in his eyes. His tone softened, which was rare. “I was so busy yesterday I forgot our anniversary. I’ll take you out for a good meal tonight.” I wanted to refuse, but more and more colleagues were looking over. I was in a critical period for the overseas transfer, and I didn’t want personal drama affecting my career. I had no choice but to get in the car. When I walked to the passenger side, he opened the door for me. Immediately, I saw a Polaroid of Sienna stuck to the vanity mirror. Written on it in sharpie was: Sienna’s Exclusive Seat. Clipped to the photo was a strand of curly brown hair. Declan casually tore the photo off, plucked the hair, and threw them away. “Sienna was just pranking. Don’t mind it.” “It’s fine.” I silently closed the passenger door and walked to the back seat myself. He looked at me in shock. Only when I reminded him to unlock the back did he react. Sitting in the car, I saw a pair of black stockings stuffed in the corner. The scent of Sienna’s favorite rose perfume lingered in the air. I could pretend not to see the stockings. But I am allergic to rose pollen. I couldn’t help but sneeze twice in a row. Declan remembered this too and quickly rolled down the windows to air it out. Through the rearview mirror, I noticed his eyes looked uneasy. He opened his mouth several times but said nothing. This was the first time since Sienna returned that I observed him so calmly. On his wrist, he was wearing a light pink hair tie—Sienna’s favorite. There were faint lipstick marks on his collar. On his shirt cuff, a small letter “S” was embroidered in pink thread. His wallet was tossed casually on the passenger seat. If I remembered correctly, opening it would reveal a selfie of him and Sienna. Not to mention the little trinkets—lipsticks, mirrors, stickers—that he never allowed me to keep in his car. Now, Sienna’s things were scattered everywhere. Those “100 little things” had infiltrated every aspect of our lives like an invisible web, strangling me. I had been avoiding these details for so long. But now, looking at this version of Declan, soaked in Sienna’s labels, I realized something. The things that used to make me toss and turn at night could no longer hurt me. Even if they gathered into steel needles and stabbed me, I felt nothing. Fresh air filled the car, and my nose slowly felt better. I rubbed my nose and took the bottled water he handed me, squeezing the plastic unconsciously. Seeing my expression return to normal, he quietly sighed in relief. “I’m glad you understand. I’m done with what I promised Sienna. Just be good, stop being so paranoid.” Is it really… done? Thinking of Sienna’s Instagram and the congratulations from his frat brothers, I felt incredibly bored. “Mhm,” I gave a muffled, perfunctory response. We didn’t speak again. Just as I was dozing off, the screeching sound of emergency brakes woke me up. I looked at him in confusion. He had just ended a call, looking torn. “Sienna says her stomach hurts really bad. How about we drop her at the ER first, then go eat?” I looked at the sunset glowing outside the window. The last shred of illusion in my heart shattered completely. He and Sienna would never end. The one who needed to end things completely was me. I shook my head. “No need. You go. I’m a bit tired from work, I want to rest early.” “Don’t overthink it, I’m just afraid something will happen to her.” “I know. Just drop me off at the intersection past this suburban highway.” I thought what I said was perfectly reasonable. But he suddenly turned to look at me, furious. “Sienna is crying from pain, do you have to be so passive-aggressive? Even if you’re jealous, that’s a human life! Do you only want to be happy if she dies?” I looked at him indifferently. “I didn’t say anything. I didn’t stop you from going to her. Why are you dragging this to me wanting her dead?” He choked on my question, seemingly too lazy to argue further. “Either come to the hospital with me or get out now.” “What?” I blurted out subconsciously. We were on a loop highway around the city. Getting out here meant walking for at least two hours to get an Uber. And I was wearing high heels. He completely lost patience and slammed the car door shut. Then he roughly dragged me out of the back seat. “Reflect on yourself!” He drove off, leaving me standing in a cloud of dust. I stood blankly on the roadside, my eyes tearing up against my will. … When I got back to the hotel, the skin on my heels was rubbed raw, and I had two bloody blisters on my soles. I popped them with a needle, the pain making my nose sting. After bandaging the wounds, I sat eating a burrito I picked up from Chipotle. My mom called, asking how Declan and I were doing lately. I held the phone, my hand unconsciously picking at the takeout box. Tears finally couldn’t be held back, dropping plip-plop into my rice. “We’re good.” “That’s good, that’s good. Do you have enough money? Is Declan treating you well?” “I have enough. He treats me very well.” My throat felt like it was blocked with wet cotton. I made up an excuse to end the call. A moment later, Mom transferred me two thousand dollars. Note: Harper, keep this money. Your dad and I don’t need much at home. My last bit of strength collapsed. I bit my lip and sobbed out loud. Through blurred vision, I sent the money back. Text: No need, Mom. Did you forget? Declan is a successful entrepreneur now. He treats me well and loves spending money on me. Actually, my job in San Francisco isn’t far from my parents’ home in Oakland. But to take care of Declan, I hadn’t gone back to visit them in a long time. I made a silent decision. Once the transfer was settled, I would go home and spend real time with them. While I was lost in thought, Declan called from a different number. “Are your feet okay? You should really learn from Sienna. Stop being so jealous and competitive.” He opened with his typical tactic: a slap followed by a piece of candy. It was his go-to method for manipulating me all these years. Punish me, then offer symbolic concern. Usually, I would feel like I was the unreasonable one, beg for his forgiveness, and thank him for his “tolerance.” When he didn’t hear my apology after a long silence, he was surprised. He called my name. “Mhm,” I responded. He continued, “Sienna’s stomach really hurts.” Realizing my reaction was off, he actually explained, which was rare. “The doctor said it’s a stomach ulcer. She needs an IV drip. How about… I order you some takeout?” I swallowed the burrito in my mouth. “No need. I already ate.” Declan fell silent, probably not knowing what else to say. On the other end of the line, Sienna whimpered twice. He said, “I gotta go,” and hung up. After the call, I opened Sienna’s Instagram. Her latest Story was updated three minutes ago. In the video, Declan was gently holding her, rubbing her stomach. The background was the living room of Sienna’s apartment. I stuffed another mouthful of rice into my mouth and silently blocked this number too.

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Everyone at Hayes Medical Group knew I was the CEO’s model wife. Then my son died, and I became a ghost. I stopped pressing Carter’s suits at dawn. Stopped timing dinner to his schedule. And today I came alone to fill out Leo’s death certificate. The clerk took my paperwork and asked without looking up, “Where’s the father?” “His father’s dead.” She frowned. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but our records show the father is Carter Hayes, CEO of Hayes Medical Group. Mr. Hayes is alive.” “Alive or dead,” I said. “What’s the difference anymore.” “Why didn’t you wait for me?” I went stiff but didn’t turn around. Carter strode up beside me, voice tight. “My assistant found you here. I’m Leo’s father. Why the hell would you shut me out?” I finally looked at him. “You’re busy. I didn’t want to interrupt.” I saw the anger in his eyes. Maybe more than that. I used to ask permission for everything, like which wine to serve at dinner parties, whether she should cut her hair. Always checking with him first. Since Leo died, I’d stopped asking. “Mr. Hayes!” His assistant burst in, cutting him off. “Another incident at the hospital. That nurse, Tessa, mixed up patient meds again. The family’s threatening to sue!” Carter’s jaw went tight. Annoyance flickered across his face. “How many times do I have to tell her to be more careful?” But his body was already turning toward the door. Feet already moving. He glanced back at me. Half a second of hesitation. “Wait here. I’ll handle this fast and come back.” He didn’t wait for an answer. Just walked out, his expensive shoes clicking against the tile until he was gone. I stared down at the death certificate in my hands. Then I laughed. Tears hit the paper before I even felt them coming. Again. Always Tessa. Carter and I grew up in the same world. Old money, summer houses, prep school. He built Hayes Medical Group into a billion-dollar empire by thirty. I graduated top of my Ivy League research program with offers from institutions all over the world. Everyone thought I’d chase that. But I turned it all down for Carter. Walked away from my career to become Mrs. Hayes to stand beside him at galas, run his household and give him a son. And for years, Carter had cherished me. When my migraines got so bad I couldn’t see, he used to drive across town at 2 AM to get that specific herbal tea I liked. When I mentioned a vintage Hermès bag once—once—he spent weeks tracking one down. When insomnia kept me up, he’d read to me in bed, moonlight on his face. I loved him completely. No conditions. And in return, I made his life run like clockwork. Society magazines called me the perfect wife. Every year we topped the Power Couples lists. Then we had Leo.He was a beautiful boy with Carter’s eyes and smile like me. I thought it would last forever. Then Tessa showed up. She was an orphan the Hayes family had taken in after her parents died. Carter, playing the hero, gave her a job as a clinical assistant at his private hospital. I’d welcomed her myself. And helped her settle in. I never imagined that kindness would become my nightmare. The day Leo spiked a fever, his face flushed red, crying nonstop, I panicked and rushed him to the hospital. Tessa was on duty. I left Leo in her care, reminded her twice about the medication, and ran home for his medical records. Fifteen minutes. That’s all it was. When I got back, Leo was convulsing. Tessa stood there frozen, face white, hands shaking. It was already too late. I held his cold body and screamed until I had nothing left. The memory broke apart. I gripped the death certificate, chest cracking open, barely able to breathe. I wiped my face, stood up and went home. The mansion was empty. Leo’s toys still on the coffee table. His little sneakers lined up by the door exactly where he’d left them. I went to the study. My hands were shaking when I dialed the number I’d buried for years. “Hello?” “Dr. Sterling. It’s Serena Hayes.” My voice came out quieter. “That research position in Switzerland. I’ll take it.” A beat of silence. “Serena? Are you sure? It’s a ten-year contract. You might not see Carter for a long time, the NDA alone—” “I’m sure,” I said. “I don’t love him anymore.” “Don’t love who anymore?” The door slammed open. Carter stood in the doorway, face drained of color.

I tightened my grip on the phone for a split second before hanging up. “Just a guy from my old research program who keeps asking me out. I told him I’m not interested.” Carter’s shoulders dropped slightly, though his jaw stayed tight. “This is exactly why I never wanted you working. Too many men hovering around.” He stepped closer, studying my face like he was looking for cracks. “So you do still love me, right, Serena?” I didn’t answer. I sat on the edge of the bed and stared at nothing. Carter waited. I could feel his patience thinning, some edge of anxiety creeping into his silence. Finally I gave the smallest nod. Barely anything. Could’ve been nothing. But he caught it. The tension in his chest visibly loosened. He reached toward my hair, fingers stopping just before making contact. Fine. She’s still grieving, but he could wait. The front door lock clicked. Tessa breezed in like she owned the place. “Carter! You were amazing today!” She spotted him immediately and threw her arms around him without hesitation. “If you hadn’t shown up, those people would’ve destroyed me. I made one tiny medication error and they’re acting like I killed someone. I didn’t do it on purpose!” Halfway through her complaint, she seemed to notice the silence in the room. Her eyes slid over to me on the bed. “Oh. Serena. Didn’t see you there.” Carter’s expression darkened. He didn’t want her words dragging me back to Leo. “Enough. Go to your room.” Tessa pouted but caught his look and left, slowly and with obvious reluctance. That night, Carter showered and climbed into bed beside me, skin still damp. We hadn’t been close since Leo died. He watched my back, turned away from him, then slowly wrapped his arm around my waist and pressed his lips to my neck. “Serena…” My whole body went rigid. I didn’t turn over. I just shifted away until I was nearly off the mattress. His arm dropped. “Serena, what the hell do you want from me? Last time you said you had your period. Time before that you felt sick. What is it now? I’m your husband.” I buried my face in the pillow. “I’m tired.” Three words. He stared at me for a long moment, then threw back the covers. “Fine. Rest.” He grabbed his jacket and left. The door clicked shut behind him. Only then did I let my body go slack. Around midnight I got up for the bathroom. Passing Tessa’s room, I noticed the door was slightly open, and strange sounds drifted out. It was suppressed breathing and low moans. Then Tessa’s voice, sweet and deliberate: “Carter… does this feel good?” I froze. “So good…” Carter’s voice, low and rough. “These past two months, Serena’s been so lost in her grief. Thank god you’ve been here to help me through it.” “Aren’t you worried she’ll hear?” “She sleeps like the dead. Nothing wakes her. Don’t worry about it.” The floor dropped out from under me. My ears rang. I clamped my hand over my mouth before the nausea could come out. So that was it. Carter wasn’t defending Tessa out of pity for some orphan. It wasn’t family obligation. They were sleeping together. I pressed myself against the wall to keep from going down. I don’t remember walking back to my room. I just found myself sitting on the bed, phone in my shaking hands, barely able to dial. “Dr. Sterling. It’s me. How soon can I leave?” “…Seven days at the earliest. We’ll send someone to pick you up and take you straight to the airport. I’ll expedite everything on my end. Serena, are you absolutely sure?” I closed my eyes and breathed. “I’m sure.” I hung up and pulled the blanket tight around myself. The sounds from next door continued for a long time. I lay there with my eyes open and let the night go on forever.

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