After I was reborn, when Vince Costello’s personal assistant, Bella, once again slipped a dog collar around my neck as a joke while I was sleeping, I didn’t pull out my Glock and press it to her head like I did in my last life. And I didn’t smash half the crystal chandeliers in the Westchester estate and scream for a divorce when Vince defended her. I just sat up, unclasped the damned chain from my neck, and dropped it on the floor. “She’s got some nerve,” I said to Vince, my voice terrifyingly calm. “You two have fun.” I grabbed my trench coat from the nightstand. “I’m done. Happy anniversary.” Then I walked out of the bedroom without looking back. I had no choice. My last life was a nightmare after I left Vince. He treated me like a family traitor—all my bank accounts were frozen overnight, every credit card canceled. I searched all over Manhattan for a divorce lawyer willing to take a “gray case” and ended up with a check for forty-eight dollars. The moment they heard the name Costello, they wouldn’t even let me in their offices. Worse, right after I escaped New York, I was diagnosed with late-stage adenocarcinoma at a free clinic in New Jersey. The doctor said I had six months, tops. No insurance, no money. The cost of late-stage cancer treatment was astronomical. I tried to apply for Medicaid, but the process was too slow. I contacted several medical charities, but they all rejected me, saying my case “didn’t meet priority assistance criteria.” The pain devoured me like a wild animal. I survived on ibuprofen from CVS, and then I couldn’t even afford that. At my most desperate, I swallowed all my pride and crawled back to Vince’s estate on Long Island. It was a late December night, right after a blizzard. I knelt in the snow outside the iron gates, begging the guard through the intercom to let Vince know I was there. Vince’s voice came through, as cold as ice. “You chose to leave, Ava. It was over the moment you walked out that door. Don’t come crawling back.” Then he hung up. I collapsed in the snow. My body temperature was dropping, my consciousness fading. In my last moments, I saw him through the iron bars. He had his arm around Bella in the rose garden I had so carefully tended to. They were drinking champagne from the Waterford crystal glasses I had picked out, and then they kissed. I died right outside my own home. So in this life, fuck dignity. Survival is the only thing that matters. … But I didn’t expect Vince to follow me. He caught me at the end of the hallway, still in his robe. “Ava, wait.” There was a rare urgency in his voice. “Just… hear me out.” He paused, as if trying to find the right words. “Bella’s young, she doesn’t think. The dog collar—I know it was messed up, but it was just a stupid prank.” “Her father worked for my father. She’s seen me as family since we were kids. She doesn’t know boundaries,” he said, rubbing his brow. “You are my wife. Don’t let her get to you.” He had said those exact same words in my last life. Back then, Bella had just burned the back of my hand with a Zippo lighter custom-made for the Costello family, the one with their crest engraved on it. I was shaking from the pain, and hearing Vince’s casual defense of her made me snap. I pulled the Glock 19 he’d given me from my waistband and fired three shots into the marble floor at his feet. Shards of stone flew everywhere. All the core family members were there, including his father. “We’re done!” I shrieked, then stormed out of the estate.

Thinking back now, I was so stupid. Did I really think a woman who was an artist could threaten the boss of New York’s biggest crime family? The reality was, as I walked all night in the winter rain, my Louboutins rubbing my ankles raw and my fever spiking to 103… as I curled up waiting to die in a cheap motel on the Lower East Side, Vince didn’t even send anyone to look for me. He flew to Sicily with Bella that same night. A picture of him adjusting her gun holster and a video of her kissing his cheek on tiptoe spread through the family’s encrypted chat groups the next day. It was sickeningly ironic. I couldn’t help but let out a cold laugh. Seeing my expression, Vince suddenly yanked his hand away from my wrist. “I’m tired of repeating myself, Ava,” he said, his voice turning cold. “Bella’s father was loyal to my father. I look out for her because of that. Nothing more.” “It’s just a mark on your neck. Put some Neosporin on it. It’ll be gone in two days.” His eyes grew distant. “Stop imagining things between us. You’re being paranoid.” I saw the chill in his eyes, and a bitter feeling rose in my chest. Not for him. For that foolish woman in my past life. In my past life, after I left him, the cancer tormented me beyond belief. The chemo side effects made me vomit blood every day. When the pain hit, I would claw at the walls until my fingernails broke. I lived in a moldy basement in New Jersey that cost four hundred dollars a month and didn’t even have heat. I was so broke that I even went to a pawn shop to sell the engagement ring he gave me—a three-carat black diamond Tiffany custom piece engraved with the Costello family crest. The pawn shop owner offered five thousand dollars. I stared at that ring for a full ten minutes before putting it back in my pocket. When the doctor told me I had a month left, I dragged my eighty-pound body onto the Long Island Rail Road for a two-hour ride back to the estate. I told myself he had once knelt in the blood of my parents and sworn to protect me for the rest of my life. Maybe… maybe he still remembered. But when the guard announced me, Vince’s voice came through the intercom, as calm as if he were talking about the weather. “She made her choice. Tell her to leave.” I knelt outside the iron gate, my forehead pressed against the cold metal bars. “Vince, please…” My voice was so hoarse I could barely speak. “I’m dying. I just want to… see you one more time.” Only static came from the intercom. Then he hung up. I knelt there in the snow until all the warmth left my body. In my final moment, I saw him and Bella in the rose garden. The roses were David Austins I had ordered from Portland, the ones I pruned and fertilized every weekend. They clinked the Waterford crystal glasses I had chosen, and then they kissed. In that moment, the death of my heart hurt more than the cancer. Now, I quickly composed myself. “I’m not jealous, Vince,” I said calmly. “And I’m not mad at Bella.” “I’m just tired. I need some space.” I looked at him. “You should get back to your guests. It’s your anniversary party, after all.” A flicker of shock crossed Vince’s face. He probably didn’t expect me to be so calm. Without another glance, I turned and walked toward the night-shrouded driveway. The estate’s security lights cast my shadow long behind me. I heard him call my name, but I didn’t turn back. This time, I just want to live. Nothing else matters.

It was two in the morning by the time I got back to the SoHo penthouse. Vince bought the apartment for me after we got married—a 4,000-square-foot loft in a converted 1920s industrial building, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking all of lower Manhattan. Only my name was on the deed. It was part of the prenup. His legal team spent three months drafting the two-hundred-page document. I bolted the door and the first thing I did was text my private doctor. Need a full cancer screening. Tomorrow morning, if possible. Paying cash. At 2:30 a.m., she replied. There’s an opening at Memorial Sloan Kettering at 7 a.m. I’ll arrange it. Is everything okay? Memorial Sloan Kettering. The best cancer hospital in New York. Last time, I couldn’t even get in the door. I replied: Just a check-up. Thanks, Dr. Chen. Putting my phone down, I walked to the floor-to-ceiling windows. The Manhattan skyline was a sea of lights. This city never sleeps—even now, there were taxis and people on the streets. I used to love this city. When I was at RISD, I would take the Amtrak to New York every weekend, wandering through the galleries in SoHo and the art districts in Brooklyn. Then I gave it all up for Vince. RISD offered me a full scholarship for my master’s. I turned it down. A curator at MoMA saw my work and wanted to give me a solo show. I turned that down, too. I spent all my time learning how to be a “proper mob boss’s wife”—how to cook Italian food, how to taste wine, how to maintain a polite smile at family gatherings. How ridiculous. My phone suddenly buzzed. Vince was back. He pushed the door open, yanking off his tie, his brow furrowed with annoyance. “What the hell was that, Ava?” “You embarrassed me in front of everyone. Just walking out like that?” Ever since Bella became his “special assistant,” Vince had become increasingly harsh with me. He could find fault in anything I did—the coffee was too weak, the dinner too salty, the dress I was wearing “inappropriate for a family event.” In my last life, it was his change in attitude, coupled with Bella’s constant provocations, that made me lose control time and time again. I suppressed the tightness in my chest. “Vince, believe it or not, I’m not throwing a tantrum.” “Look.” I pulled down the collar of my shirt, revealing the ligature mark already hidden by foundation. “I’ve already covered it up. So no, I’m not holding a grudge.” He froze for a second. “I just need to get some sleep. That’s all.” With that, I went into the bathroom and locked the door. When I came out of the shower, Vince was gone. But my burner phone was buzzing nonstop. Bella. It was her habit—whenever she was with Vince, she’d send me pictures. Using my phone as her personal photo album. In my last life, I would break down crying or storm into Vince’s office every time I saw them. Now, I opened the message. The first photo: they were in the study at the estate. Vince was looking at documents, and Bella was standing behind him, her hands on his shoulders. The second: in the car, Bella taking a selfie while Vince drove. The third: Bella holding a champagne glass, with the estate’s terrace in the background. I calmly typed back. Wrong angle. The shadow on his left cheek is more flattering. Hold the phone higher. And there’s too much empty space in the second one. Makes you two look distant. A few seconds later, Bella replied. Did someone hack your account??? I sent a smiley face emoji. Nope. Just a friendly tip—Vince is all yours now. I closed the chat. Then I blocked her. Putting my phone down, I felt a wave of relief I’d never felt before. This love triangle was fine by me: I wanted the status of being the Costello family matriarch and the unlimited AmEx Black Card. As for Vince’s body and soul, Bella could have them. Unlike last time, when I was foolish enough to believe love could conquer all.

After dealing with Bella, I lay down and tried to sleep. But I couldn’t. Even reborn, the nightmares still came. I dreamt of my teenage years again. Back then, we lived in Red Hook, Brooklyn—a neighborhood filled with dockworkers and Italian immigrants. My family lived on Third Avenue, Vince’s across the street. His father was the former boss of the Costello family, known for his iron fist. Because Vince was quiet and withdrawn, he was disciplined harshly from a young age. Late at night, I could often hear sounds from their training yard across the street—the crack of a whip, gunshots, and low, stern reprimands. He’d get beaten every time he failed his combat training or shooting drills. I always felt sorry for him back then. So whenever I got candy, I would secretly slip it into the pocket of the coat he left hanging on his door, along with a sticky note. Eat one. It helps. The first time he caught me, his ears turned bright red. “I… I don’t like sweets.” I just smiled and waved my hand. “Then don’t eat it. But Vince, you should talk more. You have a nice voice.” It became our routine. The boy who was always alone started waiting for me. We would walk together down the cobblestone alleys of Red Hook, and sit on the edge of the abandoned pier to watch the sunset. Then, the year he turned eighteen, right before he was sent to a private academy in Switzerland as the family heir, he came to find me. He handed me a brochure for the Rhode Island School of Design. “I looked it up. The security is good, and it’s close to where I’ll be based.” He paused. “Your grades might not get you into the undergrad program, but… there’s a pre-college program. A summer session. I can pay the tuition.” I never told him my parents had already planned to send me to Florence to study art. They were successful gallery owners and could easily afford it. But I secretly changed my application and chose RISD. My father yelled at me for an hour, but I never regretted it. Later, we ended up in the same region—he was in New Haven, Connecticut, “learning the family business,” while I was studying art in Providence, Rhode-I. Free from his father’s control, Vince became a different person. He ditched his thick glasses for contacts, cut his hair short, and started wearing Tom Ford suits. He even learned to play Chopin and Rachmaninoff. I didn’t know why he changed. Until one day, I was celebrating in my studio at RISD for my upcoming solo exhibition when he suddenly appeared at the door. His eyes were red. “I changed everything for you,” he said, grabbing my wrist. “Can’t you just… look at me?” “I’m in love with you, Ava. I have been since we were kids.” In that moment, my heart felt like it had been shot. Of course, I’d heard the rumors about him—how he’d cleaned out family traitors at sixteen, taken over half the East Coast arms trade at eighteen, and was already considered the next boss by twenty. Countless women documented his “transformation” on anonymous, Gossip Girl-style forums, complete with candid photos. I thought a world of blood separated us. But he said he was in love with me. Without thinking, I stood on my toes and kissed him.

We got together after that. I spent all my time researching how to brew his Lavazza coffee, how to pick out Hermès cufflinks, how to choose Blue Note jazz vinyls. My life had no plan; it just revolved around him. Meanwhile, Vince’s life continued its meteoric rise. He consolidated the family’s power, eliminated his rivals, and was officially crowned Don at twenty-three. Even the New York Post reported on it—though they didn’t dare call him a “mob boss,” just a “shipping magnate.” It was an ironic contrast to me. I gave up my art and became his accessory. Even more cruelly, my parents were killed by a car bomb planted by his enemies on their way to see my art show. The NYPD ruled it an “accidental explosion due to vehicle malfunction.” But I knew the truth—my father’s gallery had once refused to launder money for a rival family. Now an orphan, I clutched their charred belongings and cried until I passed out. Vince knelt before me in the funeral home in Brooklyn, under his father’s grim gaze, and swore he would take care of me for the rest of my life. A month later, we got married at City Hall. No wedding, no guests. Just two witnesses—his lawyer and my best friend. After we married, I had multiple miscarriages. The first at six weeks, the second at ten, the third at thirteen. The doctors said my body was “unsuitable for pregnancy” and suggested surrogacy or adoption. Vince said it was okay, but I could see his father’s disappointment. The Costello family needed an heir. My health deteriorated. Insomnia, anxiety, depression. Until Vince met Bella. She was the daughter of his father’s most trusted man, studying international relations and criminology at Columbia University. She interned at Vince’s “company” and quickly became his special assistant. She could discuss the arms market, turf wars, and how to handle FBI investigations with him. She could accompany him to any bloody scene—underground fights, smuggling docks, family “clean-ups.” All I could ask him was, “What do you want for dinner?” or “Does this tie match this suit?” He started to find me empty. I could see it. My eyes started to burn. When I opened them, it was already light out. The pillow was wet again. There was a text from Vince on my phone. Going to see the old man this afternoon. Connecticut. Be ready by two. I looked at the message and replied calmly. Can’t make it. The phone rang immediately. “Why?” Vince’s voice was tight with suppressed anger. “Ava, seriously. There’s nothing going on with Bella and me. Why are you still stuck on this?” Hearing him bring up Bella again, unprompted, made me want to laugh. Vince was always a man of few words. This was the first time he’d ever explained something so many times. Was he trying to convince me, or himself? A sharp pain shot through my chest. “I don’t feel well. I have a doctor’s appointment.” I paused. “Besides, your father has a heart condition. He never liked me—said I was too ‘artsy’ for this family. Why raise his blood pressure?” “And anyway…” my tone was even, “doesn’t he always say someone like Bella is a better fit for you? You should take her.” I was genuinely suggesting it. But Vince exploded. “Fine. Keep throwing your tantrum. Just don’t come crying to me later.” He hung up. I listened to the dial tone and laughed out loud. See, that’s the difference between being loved and not. The Vince who used to love me would panic if I so much as frowned, asking if he’d done something wrong. The Vince who didn’t love me anymore thought I was throwing a tantrum even when I was giving him sincere advice.

I didn’t waste any time. I took an Uber straight to Memorial Sloan Kettering on the Upper East Side. I turned off my phone and left it in the apartment. I was afraid it would mess with my head. This check-up was about whether I would repeat my past mistakes. I arrived at seven in the morning, right on time. The Memorial Sloan Kettering building was a fortress of glass and steel at the corner of 68th and York. This was the top cancer treatment center in the country—if there was a cure for cancer, it was in this building. When the receptionist saw the name “Costello” on my appointment, her attitude shifted immediately. “Mrs. Costello, Dr. Chen is waiting for you. Please follow me to the VIP area.” The VIP area was on the twelfth floor. It was decorated like a five-star hotel—teak floors, modern art on the walls, a Nespresso machine, and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the East River. It was a world away from the free clinic I went to in New Jersey in my last life. That clinic was in an industrial area of Newark. The plastic chairs in the waiting room were cracked, the fluorescent lights flickered, and the air always smelled of disinfectant and sweat. I had to wait in line for three or four hours every time, just to see a doctor for ten minutes. And their equipment was ancient—the CT machine was from the 1990s and sometimes jammed. It took a week to get results, but the bill was still thousands of dollars. In my last life, I had no insurance. Vince froze all my accounts after the divorce, including my health insurance. I tried to apply for Medicaid, but the process took three months, and I couldn’t wait that long. I had to sell everything—my Hermès bags, my Cartier watch, my Tiffany jewelry. I sold each piece for a fraction of its worth because I needed the cash. In the end, I even took my wedding ring to a pawn shop. The owner was a bald Jewish man with thick glasses. He looked at the three-carat black diamond ring with a magnifying glass for a long time before offering five thousand dollars. “The market price is at least a hundred and fifty thousand,” I said. “Market price is market price, cash is cash,” he shrugged. “Do you want the money or not?” I held the ring, my fingers trembling. In the end, I put it back in my pocket. I’d rather die than sell it. How pathetic. Now, Dr. Chen walked into the exam room, holding an iPad. She was in her forties, Chinese-American, a Columbia Med school graduate, and the chief of oncology at MSK. “Ava,” she said, sitting down with a serious expression. “I’ll be direct. When you texted me at two in the morning asking for an emergency screening, I was very worried.” “Is there something you haven’t told me? Any symptoms?” I took a deep breath. “I just… have a bad feeling. Family history, you know.” It was a lie, of course. But I couldn’t exactly say, “I died of cancer in my last life, so I’d like to get checked.” Dr. Chen nodded. “Alright. We’ll do a full workup. CT, MRI, bloodwork—tumor markers, genetic testing, everything. I’ve also scheduled you for a PET scan and an endoscopy.” “Given your request, I’m treating this as a high priority. Preliminary results will be back in three days.” Three days. In my last life, it took a week just to get CT results. For the next ten days, I stayed in a VIP room at MSK. The room was like a hotel suite—king-sized bed, private bathroom, Netflix, and gourmet meals three times a day. The window looked out over the East River, and in the evening, the sunset would paint the entire room gold. I underwent all sorts of tests: CT, MRI, PET scan, colonoscopy, endoscopy, bone marrow biopsy. Every time they drew blood, the nurse used the thinnest needle and applied a numbing cream first. “You’ll barely feel a thing, Mrs. Costello.”

In my last life, at that clinic in New Jersey, the nurse used a thick needle and would miss the vein on the first try, leaving my arm covered in purple bruises. This is what money does in the American healthcare system. If you have money, you get a VIP room, the latest drugs, and the best doctors. If you don’t, you wait in line for four hours, use outdated equipment, and want to cry when you see the bill. On the tenth day, Dr. Chen came with the report. She sat down by my bed, her expression complicated. “Ava, I have news. And it’s… a bit complex.” My heart skipped a beat. “We found something. Adenocarcinoma. But it’s early—Stage 1A, to be exact.” “The tumor is small, localized, and hasn’t spread to the lymph nodes. The survival rate after treatment is over 90%.” She paused. “I’m so sorry. I know this is terrifying. But you caught it incredibly early. Most people are asymptomatic at this stage.” As I listened to her, tears suddenly welled up in my eyes. But they weren’t tears of fear. They were tears of relief. I finally have a chance to live. “Can… can you treat it?” my voice trembled. “Of course. We’ll start with surgery to remove the tumor, followed by adjuvant chemotherapy to clear out any remaining cancer cells. Given the early stage, we can use targeted therapies with minimal side effects.” She took my hand. “Ava, you’re going to be okay. I promise.” I signed the treatment consent forms that day. The surgery was scheduled for a week later. Chemo would start after I recovered. Dr. Chen created a personalized treatment plan for me—the latest targeted drug, Keytruda, combined with a low-dose chemo regimen. Six cycles, once every three weeks. “The side effects will be managed,” she said. “Hair loss, fatigue, some nausea. But not as severe as traditional chemo. We’ll monitor you closely.” The cost was astronomical. Surgery: one hundred and twenty thousand dollars. Chemotherapy: thirty-five thousand per session, totaling two hundred and ten thousand for six. Targeted therapy: forty thousand a month, for a total of two hundred and forty thousand over six months. Hospital stay: The VIP room was twenty-five hundred a day, estimated at seventy-five thousand for a month. The grand total: over six hundred thousand dollars. When the nurse gave me the bill, she said cautiously, “Mrs. Costello, we can set up a payment plan if you need…” I pulled out the American Express Black Card. “Put it all on the card.” She stared for a moment, then nodded. “Of course. I’ll process that right away.” In my last life, I couldn’t even afford a ten-thousand-dollar down payment. That New Jersey clinic demanded cash upfront before they would operate. I begged them with the five thousand dollars I got from selling my jewelry, but they refused. “We need at least a 50% deposit, ma’am. It’s hospital policy.” I knelt in the billing office, crying and pleading with the financial administrator. “Please. I’m dying. I’ll find a way to pay, I swear…” She looked at me with pity, but mostly helplessness. “I’m sorry. I really am. But I don’t make the rules.” In the end, I had to forgo the surgery and live on painkillers. I bought them on the gray market—expired OxyContin, ten dollars a pill. I only took one when the pain was unbearable because I couldn’t afford more. Now, I lay in my bed at Memorial Sloan Kettering, looking out at the New York skyline. This time, I have money, the best doctors, and a chance to live. But at what cost? Being tied to a man who no longer loves me. Is it worth it? I looked at the wedding ring on my finger. The black diamond glittered in the sunlight, cold and beautiful. It’s worth it. To live, everything is worth it.

The surgery was a success. Dr. Chen removed the tumor, and the lymph node biopsy showed no spread. “Clean margins,” she said. “We got it all.” Recovery took two weeks. Then chemo began. The first session was on a Wednesday morning. The nurse took me to the infusion center—a bright room with a dozen reclining chairs, each with an IV stand beside it. The windows overlooked the East River, and Monet prints hung on the walls. Soft music played from a Spotify playlist—Norah Jones, Coldplay, Bon Iver. The nurse set up my IV, and the drugs began to drip into my veins. Keytruda and a low dose of Carboplatin. I felt nothing for the first two hours. In the third hour, the nausea started. The nurse immediately gave me an anti-nausea shot of Zofran. The sickness eased, but it lingered. In the fourth hour, fatigue washed over me like a tidal wave. I closed my eyes, listening to the drip of the IV machine, feeling my body in a tug-of-war with death. The side effects were a little worse than Dr. Chen had described. Week one: Nausea, vomiting, total exhaustion. I could only manage small amounts of plain porridge and crackers. Anything else made me want to throw up. Week two: My hair started falling out. First a few strands, then handfuls. I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, looking at the clumps in the drain, and cried. Week three: Mouth sores, loss of taste, numbness in my hands and feet. I couldn’t even drink water and had to get fluids through an IV. But I didn’t experience the soul-crushing pain of my last life. Because it was early stage. Because I was on the best drugs. Because I had money. After the second cycle, I had lost fifteen pounds. Dr. Chen suggested I shave my head. “It’s all going to fall out anyway. Better to take control of the process.” She was right. I had a stylist come to my hospital room and shave it all off. Looking at my bald self in the mirror, I smiled. “Not bad. Very Furiosa.” The nurse laughed. “You’re handling this better than most patients, Mrs. Costello.” I didn’t tell her this was my second time with cancer. I already had my breakdown in the last life. This time, I just wanted to live. Before the third cycle, I needed to pay for the next round of treatment. A nurse came to my room to notify me. “Mrs. Costello, we need to process the payment for your next cycle. The total is seventy-three thousand, five hundred dollars.” I nodded and took out the black card. She took it to run the charge. Five minutes later, she returned, looking embarrassed. “Um… Mrs. Costello, the card was declined. The system says the account has been frozen.” I froze for a second. Then I smiled. Of course. Vince froze the card. I put my coat on over my hospital gown, slipped on a wig (a gift from a nurse who said it would make me “look less scary”), and took an Uber to Vince’s headquarters in Midtown Manhattan. The Costello “Shipping Corporation” headquarters was on Fifth Avenue, a 1930s Art Deco building, thirty stories high, with Vince’s office on the top floor. When I reached the entrance, security immediately stopped me. “Ma’am, do you have an appointment with Mr. Costello?” I looked at him—he was in his twenties, Italian-American, clearly new to the family business. I pulled my marriage certificate out of my purse. “Does this work?” He glanced at it, and his face changed. “Mrs. Costello. I’m so sorry, I didn’t recognize you. Please, this way.” He led me through the marble lobby to a private elevator that went to the top floor. Every employee we passed stared at me. I knew what I looked like—bald (the wig wasn’t sitting right), in a hospital gown, thin as a piece of paper, with the tape from an IV still on the back of my hand. I looked like a walking corpse. But I didn’t care. In my last life, after the divorce, I came to this building to try to borrow money. But back then, I didn’t even make it past the front door before security threw me out. Because all I had was a divorce decree, not a marriage certificate. The elevator reached the thirtieth floor. As the doors opened, I could hear laughter and chatter from the office area. “So, Miss Bella, is it true the boss is finally divorcing that wife of his? About time, I say.” “Right? I’ve worked here for three years and I’ve never even seen her. Heard she’s just some artist. An orphan, too. She was lucky to marry him.” “Yeah, last time the boss met with that Russian arms dealer, the guy kept asking where you were, Miss Bella. Said the boss wouldn’t even touch his vodka without you there to toast with him.” Bella chuckled lightly. “Come on, guys. The boss and I are just colleagues. My father trusts him, that’s why I’m here.” “But…” She paused. “A divorce? It won’t be long.” I stood in the hallway, listening to this conversation, a sarcastic smile playing on my lips. The difference between being loved and not? Before Bella came along, Vince forbade anyone from gossiping in the office. Anyone who broke the rule was fired immediately. But now, they could be so casual. I pushed the door open and walked into the office. Everyone turned to look at me, their faces filled with shock. I said calmly, “Sorry to disappoint you all. Your boss won’t be getting a divorce.” “He’ll be a widower first.”

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Three years into my marriage, I walked into a Swiss immigration office for my residence permit. The officer told me I wasn’t his wife. After we got married, Alistair got recruited by ETH Zurich with a three-hundred-thousand-franc package. I gave up everything to move from the States to Switzerland with him. Three years later, I still didn’t have so much as a residence permit. But his research assistant, the one who came over with us, already had her B permit through his sponsorship. I was furious. I started packing right then and there. Alistair never lost his cool. That day was the first time I saw his eyes go red. He took my hands and begged me to stay. “You have me. I’m not going anywhere. Don’t rush this, okay? The permit process is all standard procedure, but my position is sensitive right now. I have to be careful about how things look.” “As for Sienna, she uprooted her whole life to come work for me here. Helping her get settled first is the least I can do as her employer.” My heart softened. I put the suitcase down. Until the day I decided to handle things myself. I’d been teaching myself German on the side, slowly, so he wouldn’t have to deal with the paperwork on top of everything else. I walked into the office and handed over our marriage certificate. The clerk looked at her screen, then back at me. “Ma’am, our records don’t show you as Professor Vance’s spouse. You may want to check with your husband.” I couldn’t move. I was never his wife. Not in any way that counted. So there was no spousal permit. No family reunification. None of it was real. I packed everything without a word and booked the next flight home. Some goodbyes were never meant to be said out loud. … I got back to the apartment and punched in the code three times. Three times the lock flashed red. That knocked me out of the fog I’d been in since the clerk’s office. I double-checked. Right apartment. But the lock wasn’t the same one Alistair and I had set up when we first moved in. I called him. “What’s up?” He picked up right away. “Why was the lock changed?” It was fine when I left this morning. Two seconds of silence. “Oh, Sienna’s lock broke today. She likes the same model as ours and didn’t want to wait for a replacement, so I just swapped ours over to her place. The new one’s already in, I just haven’t set up your code yet.” “Get a hotel tonight. I’m pulling a late one, not coming home.” Sienna’s lock broke. So he gave her ours. And I was supposed to find a hotel. I thought I’d misheard him. I opened my mouth. Nothing came out but “Okay.” What was I supposed to say? This was our home and Sienna’s code was already in the system. She had her own room here. Alistair had set it up for her when she first got to Zurich. She was used to our lock. Of course she was. I hung up. I found a hotel down the block. A hundred and twenty francs a night. My card barely went through. When we first moved to Zurich, Alistair had put me on his bank card. No spending limit. Then Sienna started handling all his purchases. Clothes, watches, even the thermos on his desk. Everything went through her. Little by little, the card migrated to her wallet. Alistair started wiring me three thousand francs a month instead. He said she was better at it. Better eye, better taste. She said she was simply doing her job. I let it go. Until our third anniversary. Just the two of us, dinner at home, candles lit. The mood was right. Then the doorbell rang. Alistair got up to answer. Sienna was standing in the hallway, slightly breathless, holding out a box of condoms. “Professor Vance, big night tonight. I grabbed these for you.” She glanced my way and smiled like it was the most natural thing in the world. “You always say this brand is your favorite. Tell me I’m not the best assistant you’ve ever had.” He took the box with an awkward grunt. She waved and left. Door closed. He walked back to the table and tossed the box down next to the wine. I stared at it. I never knew which brand he liked. We’d been trying for a baby. We never used them. That dinner felt like sitting through a trial. He finished eating, said something came up at the department, and grabbed his coat. The door closed and it finally landed. An assistant’s job can be that thorough. That night I dreamed about our first year in Zurich. Me walking out of the airport dragging two oversized suitcases. Alistair waiting right there at arrivals. He was still the man who teared up because I’d thrown away my whole career to be with him. Still the man who took my bags without asking and pulled me close when I could barely stand. Then Sienna showed up. He said she’d left everything behind for his work. The least he could do was help. So he got her a residence permit. Got her a job at the university. And eventually got her the lock off my front door. Next morning, I went to book a flight home. Standing at the crosswalk, waiting for the light, my phone buzzed. A friend from back home.

“Clara, that thing you asked me to look into…” She hesitated. “I called in a favor, but all I could access was the registration info. Privacy laws are strict. Couldn’t get the full file.” “It’s fine,” I said. “Whatever you found.” Two seconds of silence. “The woman registered as Alistair’s legal spouse… it’s Sienna. Sienna Reed.” I held the phone. Said nothing. “Are you okay?” “I’m great,” I said. “Thanks.” I hung up. The light turned green. The crowd moved. Bodies brushed past me on both sides, one wave after another, and I just stood there. Rooted to the concrete like something left behind at the curb. Across the street, sunlight hit the glass of a high-rise and bounced back so bright it burned. Sienna. Sienna Vance. His real family had been right next to him this whole time. I stood on the sidewalk and laughed. For three years I’d been killing myself trying to prove I was worth something, refusing to settle for housewife. And the whole time, I’d missed what was right in front of me. Like how every weekend he said the department needed him. Gone the whole day. When I asked what it was about, it was always the same: “You wouldn’t understand even if I told you.” Like the time he forgot a file and I dropped it off at his campus office. Two toothbrushes sitting on the bathroom counter. One blue, one pink. I never let myself think about it. … I pulled myself back and kept walking. Two blocks, three turns, and I was at the airline counter. Standing in line, I thought of the queue at Zurich Airport three years ago. Just as long. But back then I was about to see the man I loved. I was so stupidly happy I didn’t feel tired at all. When Alistair spotted me at arrivals, he picked me up and spun me around. Then a girl waved at him from behind me. “Professor Vance! What a coincidence, Clara and I were on the same flight!” Sienna. Alistair smiled and took her suitcase. He turned to me like it had just slipped his mind. “Oh, I forgot to mention. Sienna’s coming on as my research assistant. She came all this way on her own. That takes guts.” Sienna gave me a sweet smile. “Clara, I hope we’ll get along.” My smile stiffened for half a second. I nodded. On the ride home, I watched them talk. When she spoke, he tilted his head to listen. When she pointed at the lake, he looked where she pointed. The attention that used to be mine alone was quietly being split in two. It stung a little. But I was happy for him, too. Good assistants are hard to find. Having someone he trusted would make his work at ETH go smoother. Those first months in Zurich, I tried to find work. Everything was in German. My field was too niche, and without the language, I didn’t stand a chance. Hundreds of resumes sent. Either silence, or a one-line rejection. I’d been top of my class my whole life. Everything had come easy. I’d never once been told no. Every night I lay awake turning the same thought over and over. Was I just not good enough? Eventually I swallowed my pride and went to Alistair. After dinner one night, I sat down next to him. Stumbled through it. “Could you maybe… ask around at ETH for me?” “There’s a spousal placement in the recruitment package, right? I was thinking, if something could be arranged…” I couldn’t finish the sentence. I had never in my life asked anyone to pull strings for me. It was a standard benefit, something the university offered as part of his hire. But saying it out loud made my face burn. Like I was begging for something I didn’t deserve. “Sure,” he said, not looking up from his papers. “I’ll ask around.” Something in me unclenched. That was three months ago. When I brought it up again, he said he’d been swamped. He’d get to it. But by then Sienna had already been working at ETH for a while. Administrative role, weekends off, solid pay. Alistair said she got in through the normal hiring process. I believed him. Looking back, her qualifications didn’t come close to mine. No German. No French. Could barely order coffee without pointing at the menu. So why did hundreds of my applications go nowhere while she walked right in? The answer had been sitting in front of me the whole time. I just refused to look at it.

The line moved forward a step. My turn. Over three years, I’d gone from sounding out street signs to filling in government forms. Free apps, secondhand textbooks from the Brockenhaus, and every spare hour I had. For three years Alistair had handled every piece of paperwork, every phone call, every official letter. I’d trusted him with all of it. Not anymore. This time, I would go myself. I handed over my passport. The woman behind the counter typed a few keystrokes and frowned. “Es tut mir leid, mit diesem Dokument kann ich kein Ticket ausstellen.” I understood every word now. I’m sorry, I cannot issue a ticket with this document. “Why not?” She switched to English, slowly. “Your residence status shows as irregular. You have overstayed your permitted period.” I blinked. “Overstayed?” “Your last permit extension was never approved.” She looked at me. “There is no valid authorization on file.” I stood at the counter. Said nothing. Three years. I’d been in this country for three years and I didn’t even have valid papers? “So what do I do?” “You will need to contact the cantonal migration office. Pay the penalties, get your status cleared, and then you can travel.” She slid my passport back. “Nächster, bitte.” I stepped aside. The person behind me pressed forward and the counter disappeared behind them. I stood there, staring at the passport in my hands. I wasn’t even here legally. Then what were the last three years? Outside the terminal, I called my immigration consultant. “Linda, I need to ask you something. My permit extension keeps getting denied and now I’m looking at a huge fine. What’s going on with my case?” Linda Wyss was as upbeat as ever. “Mrs. Vance, that doesn’t make any sense. Your husband is a professor at ETH. Family reunification through his B permit should be completely straightforward. Did he file the sponsorship documents?” “He did.” “Then there shouldn’t be an issue…” She paused. “Hang on, let me pull up your file.” Silence on the other end. When she came back, her voice was lower. “Mrs. Vance, let me ask you something. When your husband filed for your permit, did he go through the spousal reunification route?” I held the phone. Didn’t answer. “What I’m seeing in the system…” She chose her words carefully. “The spousal dependent slot linked to your husband’s B permit was approved for a woman named Reed.” “He did submit something on your behalf, but not through the spouse category. It was filed under a different channel.” “That channel was discontinued about a year ago. That’s why your extensions have been stuck ever since.” I paused. “Got it. Thank you, Linda.” I hung up. Stood there, remembering. Three years ago, right after we arrived in Zurich, Alistair said he’d handle all the immigration paperwork. He took my documents and I handed them over without a second thought. Later he told me everything was taken care of. I never followed up. Turns out what I thought was following the man I loved to a new life was actually becoming an illegal overstayer. I stood on the sidewalk for a long time. I went to every office I could find. Tried every option. In the end there was only one way out. Alistair, as my original sponsor, had to submit a sworn statement to the cantonal migration office. Confirming that he had failed to notify me of changes in my permit status, and that my overstay was not willful. Then I could pay the fines, apply for a short-term visa, and leave the country legally. Simple. All he had to do was sign. But how was I supposed to ask him? Walk up and say, “Since you gave the spousal slot to someone else, could you at least sign a piece of paper so I can leave?” And if I did, wouldn’t the bill for the last three years come due with it?

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I returned early from an overseas business trip to surprise my wife, Lily Osborn. I quietly came to her gathering to find her, but instead I was framed for stealing a watch there. The man stormed up to me. “My wife is the president of Domino Group. Who the hell do you think you are, stealing from me?” He kept slapping me and even broke my hand. Only then did I find out that Lily had been cheating on me during the three years I was abroad. I was furious. I stared at Lily, who rushed over, and said, “I put you in the president position of Domino Group. How dare you cheat on me while I was abroad!” Jack swung a slap across my face. “You dare steal my watch? You’ve got some nerve!” I ignored the burning pain on my face and stared at him. “Who did you just say your wife is?” Jack thought I was scared and smiled smugly. “Listen carefully. The famous Domino Group belongs to my wife. Give my watch back right now, or I’ll send you straight to jail!” The people around us started pointing at me and whispering. “Stealing Ms. Osborn’s husband’s watch? He really got a death wish or something.” “Exactly. I heard the watch was a gift from Ms. Osborn. A limited-edition Patek Philippe worth five million. There’s only one in the world.” Shouldn’t that limited-edition Patek Philippe be sitting in my collection at home? Lily actually dared to spend my money on some kept man! What a joke. Just half an hour ago, she had texted me: [Chris, when are you coming back? I miss you so much. Love you.] I looked at Jack and gave a cold laugh. “What evidence do you have that I stole your watch?” Jack looked me up and down with contempt. “You went into the restroom with me. When we came out, my watch was gone. If it wasn’t you, who else could it be? You look like you can’t afford anything anyway!” I said coldly, “You make the claim, you prove it. Without evidence, you’re just accusing me.” Jack grabbed my collar, arrogant and domineering. “I say you stole it, you stole it. I don’t need evidence!” I frowned. “Where is Lily? Bring her to me.” The disdain in Jack’s eyes deepened. “Since you know my wife, you should know what happens when you cross me!” I pried his fingers off and took out my phone to call Lily. Before I could dial, Jack slapped the phone out of my hand. The phone fell to the floor. I bent down to pick it up, but Jack stepped on the back of my hand. He ground his foot down hard, his voice vicious. “Don’t even think about calling for help. I’m telling you right now, if you don’t hand over my watch today, you’re not walking out of this door!” The pain made me gasp. I grabbed his leg with my other hand and yanked hard. He fell to the ground. Jack glared at me in rage. “You dare knock me down? I have to teach you a proper lesson today!” He called over a group of bodyguards. “Beat him. Don’t stop until he hands over my watch!” If I remembered correctly, these were the bodyguards I had arranged for Lily before I left the country. They forced me to the ground and slapped me over and over again. Faced with so many bodyguards, I had no way to fight back. Soon my mouth filled with blood. In my whole life, no one had ever dared lay a finger on me. I stared at Jack in fury and said, “If you don’t tell them to stop right now, I swear you’ll regret it.” Jack spat down at me from above. “You piece of trash dared to steal my watch and still talk big? Crushing you is as easy as crushing an ant!” The rage in my chest surged wildly. I let out a cold snort and said, “That’s my watch. I don’t need to steal it!”

The whole place went silent for a moment. Then Jack burst out laughing. “You poor bastard, what did you just say? The watch is yours?” “You’re insane. Why don’t you just say the entire bank belongs to you?” The people around us joined in the mockery. “He must’ve lost his mind. He stole it, and he thinks it belongs to him now.” “Ms. Osborn’s husband is covered in designer brands. Everything he’s wearing looks cheap and low-end. Even looking at him makes me feel uncomfortable. How dare he claim that limited-edition Patek Philippe as his?” Although I was born into a wealthy family, I was used to keeping a low profile. I had loved Lily for many years. Because her family was poor, she always felt inferior. After we got married, she refused to rely on me and insisted on starting her own business. So I started a company for her, pulled every string I could to land deals, and step by step made her the president of Domino Group. She even said she didn’t want anyone to think she got where she was because of me. She wanted to keep our marriage a secret and asked me not to go to her company. I agreed, for the sake of her pride. I never imagined that the wife who was usually so gentle, considerate, and caring would cheat on me. I directly pulled out the receipt for the watch. “This is the invoice from when I bought the watch. It proves the watch is mine.” Everyone present froze. “Could the watch really be his?” “Did we misjudge him? Could he be some lowkey rich guy?” Jack snapped back to his senses and shouted, “Don’t listen to his nonsense! This watch was given to me by my wife. There’s no mistake!” “The receipt must be fake. He’s just a thief. How could he possibly be some rich guy!” The moment they heard Jack’s words, they believed him again. “The stamp on this invoice looks wrong. You can tell at a glance it’s fake.” “That’s right. He came in here to steal. He must have prepared this in advance. He’s just fooling us!” I let out a cold laugh. These people all worked in business, yet they were stupid enough to be fooled by a kept man. I looked at Jack. “Call Lily out right now. Everything will be clear then.” Jack kicked me. “Who do you think you are? Why should I listen to you?” I asked coldly, “You keep saying Lily is your wife. Are you married?” Jack raised his phone with a smug expression. “Open your damn eyes and look carefully. This is our marriage certificate!” Lily and I weren’t divorced yet. If this marriage certificate was real, then she had committed bigamy. Jack then showed several photos of himself and Lily to me. When I saw the background in those photos, it hit me instantly—my blood boiled. Lily had brought him back to my villa and slept in my bed. No wonder she had insisted on replacing all the housekeepers a few years ago. She did it so I wouldn’t find out. And I even felt guilty for leaving her alone in the country. I transferred money to her all the time. In the end, she spent it all on this kept guy. Jack’s phone suddenly rang. He answered excitedly. “Babe, why aren’t you here yet?” “There’s a fucking idiot. He stole my watch and even claims it’s his. I’m teaching him a lesson right now.” “Who the hell is he? I won’t let him off. Wait for me. I’m coming over right now to deal with him.” Jack had the call on speaker. Lily’s voice rang clearly in my ears. I was shaking with rage. Seeing that Lily was rushing over to back him up, Jack became even more arrogant. He stared at me viciously. “Hand over the watch, or I’ll break your arm!”

I glared at him. “Are you insane? Break my arm? It’s against the law!” Jack laughed. “A thief talking about the law? I am the law here!” He was completely deranged. I ground my teeth and said, “If you dare break my arm today, I guarantee you’ll pay the price. You won’t get away with this.” Jack showed no fear at all. He was still extremely arrogant. “Are you seriously threatening me? I’ll break your arm right now and see what you can do to me!” He then ordered the bodyguards to bring a baseball bat. I was held down tightly. Jack raised the bat and swung it down hard at my right arm. I screamed in pain. Cold sweat broke out all over my body. I stared at my blood-soaked arm and wished I could skin Jack alive. But I couldn’t move at all. I didn’t even have the strength to speak. Someone exclaimed, “He’s bleeding so much. Is he dying?” A trace of panic flashed through Jack’s eyes, but he quickly regained his composure. “He stole my watch, but I didn’t call the police. I’ve tried to be nice.” “Besides, it’s just a bit of blood. He won’t die.” He lifted his foot and stepped on my head. “Talk. Where did you hide my watch?” “If you don’t hand it over now, I’ll break your other arm too. Let’s see how you steal things in the future!” Someone nearby suggested, “Search him. Maybe the watch is on him.” Jack nodded and told the bodyguards to search me. They didn’t find the watch. They only found a USB drive. My eyes went red with fury. “Give it back!” The USB drive contained confidential data from my overseas company. If it was destroyed, the losses would be immeasurable. Jack toyed with the USB drive, then threw it on the ground and stomped on it hard. He laughed wildly. “It’s just a piece of junk. Seeing you so nervous makes me want to crush it even more!” I clenched my fists as I watched my USB drive being crushed. “That contains my company’s confidential files. It’s worth a billion. I wonder if you’ll still be laughing when the bill comes due.” Jack kicked me a few more times when he heard that. “You think you can extort me like that?” “A broken USB drive worth a billion? Who would believe that? Stop pretending. I’m not an idiot!” I was beaten until my whole body was covered in injuries. I said coldly, “Even if you kneel down and beg me now, I still won’t let you off.” Jack’s expression changed. “Still talking tough? Strip him. I want my watch back!” As his words fell, several bodyguards started pulling off my clothes. I struggled desperately. “Don’t touch me!” I only had one hand free. I clutched my collar tightly and refused to let go, but the buttons of my shirt were still torn open. They then reached for my pants. Looking at Jack’s arrogant face, humiliation and hatred surged together. If I had a knife in my hand, I would have stabbed him without hesitation. Jack still wasn’t satisfied. He humiliated me further. “You dare steal my watch? I’ll make sure you don’t survive this!” Just as my pants were about to be pulled down, a voice suddenly rang out. “Stop!” Lily pushed through the crowd and rushed over. When she saw me lying on the ground, disheveled and half-naked, her face turned deathly pale. Jack instantly changed his attitude. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and whined, “Babe, why did you take so long?” He pointed at me. “This shameless bastard stole the limited-edition watch you gave me and refuses to give it back to me.” “I broke his hand so he’ll never steal again.” “You have to help me teach him a good lesson!” Lily suddenly shoved Jack away. “Get lost!” Jack fell to the ground, completely stunned. “Babe, what’s wrong with you?” Lily said nothing and didn’t dare look at me. After getting up, Jack leaned over again and asked in confusion, “Did someone upset you?” “Just chill. Tonight, I’ll do whatever position you want in bed, okay?” He kept talking to himself and didn’t notice Lily’s trembling body at all. She turned to him and roared, “Shut up! Stop talking!” Jack looked shocked and aggrieved. “Babe, so many people are watching. At least save me some dignity.” I used all my strength to climb up from the ground. I wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth and looked at Lily with icy eyes. “Tell them who I am.”

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When I finished studying design abroad and returned home, my grandfather told me that he had arranged a childhood betrothal for me long ago. The moment I returned to the country, he brought me straight to the Parker family to discuss the engagement. I found it too boring, so I wandered off alone to stroll through the Parker family garden. Suddenly, a woman rushed over and slapped me hard across the face. “Where did you come from, you pathetic thief? How dare you steal from me!” I covered my face, stunned. She lifted her chin arrogantly, her tone full of condescension. “That ruby you’re wearing was a birthday gift from Ross to me! You poor bitch! Why is it with you?” I opened my mouth, about to say that it was mine, but she suddenly slapped me hard again. “Do you even know who I am? I’m Ross Parker’s future wife! The entire Parker family will answer to me!” I took out my phone and, right in front of her, sent a message to my fiancé Ross. “Ross, there’s a crazy woman in your house. Are you going to do something about it?” To my surprise, the message failed to send. I laughed in anger. The engagement hadn’t even been settled yet, and he had already deleted me. “How did you sneak in? Hurry and give that back to Ms. Lester!” A Parker family maid lunged at me aggressively, but I dodged her with a quick sidestep. “I’m a guest here at the Parker family estate. How can you treat me like this?” Karen let out a scornful laugh and immediately took out her phone to call Ross, who was actually my fiancé. In less than a second, a gentle, low voice came through the line. “What’s wrong, Karen?” I listened closely. His voice was nice, and I kinda liked it. It seemed my grandfather did have good taste. “Ross! There’s some woman here claiming to be your fiancée—and she stole my ring!” I cut off her sugary, affected voice and introduced myself to Ross so he wouldn’t misunderstand the situation. “Mr. Parker, I’m Diana Summers, your fiancée.” He paused for a moment, as if processing my name, then his tone turned cold. “What fiancée? Anyone who enters my house needs an invitation. Otherwise, it’s trespassing.” After saying that, his voice softened again. “Karen, don’t be upset. It’s just a ring. When I get back, I’ll buy you another one.” That pigeon-blood ruby of mine was my parents’ love token. There wasn’t a second one like it in the world. As I was thinking about how reliable this marriage alliance really was, Karen beside me was already laughing so hard she could barely stand straight, looking me up and down with contempt. “You? Wearing trash without even a brand on it! And you dare claim to be Ross’s fiancée? Hilarious!” I had been studying design abroad, and all the clothes I wore were designed and tailored by myself, so of course they had no brand logos. My designs were already sought after by many wealthy ladies overseas, yet she couldn’t recognize them. That made me start to doubt her identity instead. After this mess, I completely lost interest in strolling through the garden and turned to leave. But Karen stepped in front of me. “Didn’t you hear Ross? You need an invitation to enter the Parker family. Didn’t you say you’re a guest? Where’s your invitation?” I rolled my eyes and reached into my pocket to look for it, but couldn’t find anything. Then I remembered my grandfather saying that we didn’t need invitations to visit the Parker family. Karen thought I couldn’t provide one, so the mockery on her face grew even stronger. “So you really are a liar! Someone, take the ring off her hand, tie her up, and throw her out!” I covered the ring with one hand and stepped back, glaring at her with a dark expression. Several servants approached me and tried to persuade me. “Miss, you’d better return it to Ms. Lester now. Otherwise, you will be in serious trouble.” “That ring is a love token between Mr. Parker and Ms. Lester. They’ve been close since childhood. If Mr. Parker finds out, he won’t let you off.” “I saw it with my own eyes last time. Someone only dirtied Ms. Lester’s skirt, and his hand was gone the next day!” Their words only made the mockery in Karen’s eyes grow. “Did you hear that? Get on your knees, put the ring on my finger, and then get lost. Otherwise, your fate will be the same as the person who dirtied my skirt!”

All my life, I’d only ever had others kneel and beg in front of me. The last person who dared speak to me like that already disappeared for good. I stepped forward and slapped Karen across the face. She turned her head, eyes wide in disbelief. “How dare you?” She instantly covered her face and pointed at me, ordering several maids to rush over. I looked at them and smiled. When I first went abroad, my grandfather worried I might get bullied, so he taught me Sanda himself. They were just a few maids. I took them all down in under a minute. “Weak.” I rubbed my slightly numb knuckles and turned to leave amid Karen’s furious screams. Suddenly, a maid shouted, “Mr. Parker is back!” I looked up to see a man in a perfectly tailored suit striding over with a cold expression. Karen’s fierce expression vanished in an instant, replaced by a pitiful look. Then she threw herself into Ross’s arms. “Ross! You’re finally back! I got bullied!” To be honest, Ross was quite good-looking. Even in the entertainment industry, he could carve out a place for himself. Unfortunately, knowing full well that he was engaged to me, he still got too close to his childhood sweetheart. I frowned at them. I needed to call my grandfather immediately. This marriage was impossible. So I ignored their clingy display and walked straight toward the garden exit. “Stop! You hurt my girl and think you can just leave like that?” Ross didn’t even look at me. He lowered his head and wiped Karen’s tears. Several bodyguards quickly stepped forward from behind him and blocked my path. I took a deep breath and turned to look at him. “Mr. Parker, my grandfather is currently in your grandfather’s study discussing our engagement. Do you want them to know about all this?” When I mentioned Ross’s grandfather, the servants’ expressions shifted slightly. “What? Is she really Mr. Parker’s fiancée?” “So what if she is? Look how much Mr. Parker cares about Ms. Lester. This marriage might not even happen.” “Exactly. We’d better not say anything and offend Ms. Lester. With her temper, we might all suffer later.” When Ross heard the word engagement, his face darkened more. “What engagement? I never agreed to it. Besides, Grandpa has always doted on me. How could he possibly force me to marry some shrew like you?” Karen lifted her head from his arms and looked at me smugly. “Ross and I are childhood sweethearts. A thief like you actually dares to covet the position of his wife?” I nodded but said nothing. That scumbag and that shameless woman were a perfect match. They deserved each other—better they stay together than hurt anyone else. It was just that my grandfather had said the Parker family had put in the most effort among all the families who were proposing back then. I had met Mr. Nick Parker a few times. He was a very decent elder. How would he react if he found out that the alliance he worked so hard to secure had been ruined by his own grandson? It would probably be a disaster. But there was no helping it. His own grandson ruined everything.

I shook my head regretfully and was about to leave. Suddenly Karen screamed sharply, “Can’t let her go! Ross’s ruby ring is still on her hand!” As soon as she said that, several bodyguards restrained me at Ross’s signal. Then they reached straight for the ring without any explanation. But the ring had been specially adjusted to fit my finger, and no matter how hard they tried, they couldn’t move it even a little. “Karen, if this really belongs to you, how is it exactly the same size as my finger?” I looked at her teasingly. Instead of backing down, she became even angrier. She grabbed Ross’s arm and shook it hard. “She must have thicker fingers! She forced it on, that’s why it won’t come off!” “Then use a drill!” I was kinda flustered, because I hadn’t brought any bodyguards with me today. Ross’s bodyguards were tall, strong, and far more numerous. After resisting for a short while, I was caught off guard and pinned to the ground. Karen immediately squatted in front of me excitedly, her blood-red nails pinching my chin. “Weren’t you so arrogant? Come on!” After saying that, she used all her strength to slap me across the face. Sand scraped against my cheek, leaving several bloody scratches. Ross stared at me for two seconds, then smiled. “Karen, does your hand hurt? Want to see something even more fun?” Karen’s eyes instantly lit up. “Tie her to the boat in the pond!” I widened my eyes and looked at Ross’s faintly excited expression. Did he know something? “No! You’ll regret this!” Karen’s face was full of scorn and excitement. “Regret? I’ve never regretted anything.” “As for you, today I’ll make you regret stealing from me!” The bodyguards dragged me to the pond in the center of the garden. They tied me up with a rope before throwing me onto a rickety old canopy boat by the shore. Before I could even open my eyes, they flipped me over. Then an electric saw was started and brought straight toward my fingers. The intense pain made me scream uncontrollably. Very soon, my blood stained the pigeon-blood ruby. That made it look eerily sinister. “Looks like that girl is dying here today.” “Such a pretty young girl, but she’s just too stubborn. Look at her. Mr. Parker won’t let her off. She’s gonna lose her finger or even her life!” “This is too cruel. I can’t bear to watch anymore.” The maids and servants chattered among themselves at the edge of the pond. I could no longer hear them clearly. The pain in my hand made me struggle violently. The old boat, long overdue for repairs, creaked and splashed against the water under my movements. It was eerily similar to the scene when my parents died at sea. The fear buried deep in my heart was instantly dragged back out. My face turned deathly pale. My hands moved on their own to clutch my head tightly. Bright red blood streamed down my cheeks. “No! Don’t! Let me go back up!” But Karen and Ross stood on the shore, watching like this was a show. They even stretched out a foot and kicked me toward the center of the pond. I forced my eyes open and saw Karen holding the ring with a smug smile. Ross had an arm around her and said gently, “The ring’s been stained with that bitch’s dirty blood. Throw it away. I’ll buy you a new one.” After that, amid my screams, they casually tossed the ring into the lake. “Ross! Aren’t you afraid my grandfather will come after you for this?”

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I spent two years as a human punching bag in underground fight clubs. Finally scraped together enough for my son’s surgery. Then my wife gave it away to her childhood friend. For the fifth time. Fifty thousand dollars. Not a penny more, not a penny less. But this time, my organs were wrecked beyond repair. I’d never earn another fifty grand. I cornered Harvey in his hospital room, still clutching my bloody boxing gloves. “Give me back my son’s money! He’s dying of heart failure!” Vivian sighed. She convinced Harvey to return it. But the day Ryan was rushed into emergency surgery, the payment bounced. Insufficient funds. That same day, Harvey updated his social media. [Some psycho tried to scare me today. Good thing I’ve got this $50k watch to cheer me up. My girl’s the best—real ones know how to treat their childhood friends right!] I called Vivian over and over. When she finally picked up, all I got was a lecture. “Jason, you were too aggressive that day. You terrified Harvey so badly that he had an episode. I need to stay with him while he recovers.” “I’m a doctor—I know Ryan’s condition better than anyone. He’s not that fragile. He can hold on a little longer.” “Once my research grant comes through, I’ll get him into surgery immediately.” I hung up. Calm. Empty. With what little money I had left, I purchased a double burial plot. Holding my son’s cold, stiffening body, I sent Vivian one last text. “Vivian. I want a divorce.” I’d barely confirmed the burial plot when Vivian’s call came through. “Stop being dramatic, Jason. Harvey had a heart attack that day—you scared him half to death. His condition was way more critical than Ryan’s.” “Ryan has a chronic condition. A few more days won’t hurt.” “Once Harvey stabilizes, I’ll figure out the money for surgery.” Critical? How critical could a man be if he just bought a fifty-thousand-dollar watch? All I could see was Ryan’s face in those final moments. He’d tugged weakly at my sleeve. “Daddy… if Mommy comes, will the pain stop?” “It’s okay if it hurts. I just want her to visit me… I want to see her one more time before I fall asleep.” He never got to. My throat tightened. “We don’t need your help anymore.” “Vivian, answer me honestly. Does Harvey matter more to you than your own husband and son?” Her voice was sharp with impatience. “Jason, Harvey and I have been friends for decades. He got his heart condition because he shielded me from human traffickers when we were kids. They beat him so badly his heart never recovered.” “I owe him. Can’t you just understand that?” In the background, I heard Harvey’s whiny complaint. “Your husband bothering you again? God, he’s so annoying. Can’t he grow up?” Vivian’s tone softened immediately. “You’re right, you’re right. No one’s as good as you.” “Don’t get worked up, baby. Your heart can’t take it.” Then Harvey sent me a private message. “Yo, Jason, I just overheard. Actually, Vivian’s got money—she just dumps it all into research. I suggested she ‘borrow’ yours instead.” “Didn’t think she’d actually go through with it lol. If you really need it back ASAP, I can tell her to return it.” “She’s being kinda shitty to you, not gonna lie. Want me to yell at her for you?” Tears dripped onto my phone screen. Every time Vivian got her hospital bonus, Harvey would “borrow” it for his treatments. She always said she owed him. That she’d do anything he asked. So when Ryan got worse and we had no money, I had no choice. I became a punching bag to pay for surgery. My phone buzzed. A message from the fight club manager. “Jason. Got a big spender tonight. Yeah, he hits hard—but he pays harder. One hour and you’ll have enough for your kid’s surgery. You coming or not? Offer won’t last.” Before, I would’ve jumped at this. No matter how badly my insides were already damaged, I was always first in line. Now, Ryan’s cold body pressed against me like ice seeping into my bones. “Not coming.” “Never again.” I ignored the flood of question marks that followed. The morgue was freezing. Ryan hated the cold. He must be so uncomfortable. I forced a smile at the nurse. “Could I borrow a blanket? My son gets cold easily.” The nurse’s face softened with pity. She brought me a brand-new fleece blanket. “Here, sir. Let the little one rest comfortably.” I whispered my thanks. She waved it off. “If you want to thank someone, thank Dr. Vivian Parker from our hospital. She’s got a friend staying here as a patient.” “To make sure we’d take extra good care of him, Dr. Parker spent thousands on gifts for the entire staff. This blanket alone costs a few hundred dollars.” “Spending that much on him? I bet he’s her boyfriend.” I froze. I thought of those days when Ryan was dying—when I went on my knees begging doctors for help, scraping together pennies, drowning in desperation. Tears streamed down my face before I could stop them. “Yeah. Thanks to Dr. Parker.” My hands shook as I wrapped Ryan in the blanket. The nurse looked at me with unbearable sympathy. “Where’s the child’s mother? Why isn’t she here at a time like this? If she could’ve scraped together the money, you wouldn’t have lost him to something as treatable as surgery…” I smiled bitterly. “His mother? She’s gone.” The nurse started to apologize, then fell silent. She didn’t know what else to say. As I stumbled through the paperwork, I turned a corner—and ran straight into Vivian. She was rushing down the hall, pushing Harvey in a wheelchair at full speed. She barreled into me so hard I slammed sideways into the wall. “Get out of the way!” My head cracked against the concrete. Blood trickled down my forehead. Vivian didn’t even glance back to see who she’d hit. She just kept running, screaming at a doctor up ahead. “Dr. Walker! Harvey needs a cardiac exam—NOW!” I slid down the wall, curling into myself as pain wracked my body. I sat there for a long time. Eventually, Harvey came back with Vivian in tow. “See? I told you that you hit someone. You should apologize. The doctor said I’m fine—I’m a grown man, I can handle a little scare.” He glanced down. His eyes met mine. “Oh. Wait… the guy you just mowed down is Jason?”

Vivian’s face shifted. Guilt flickered across her expression as she reached down to help me up. But Harvey’s eyes glinted. He cut in smoothly. “Jason, Vivian barely touched you. Why’d you fall over like that? You mad because she came with me to the doctor? Don’t be so petty, man.” He gave Vivian a little nudge. “Go on. Go make up with him.” Vivian’s outstretched hand froze mid-air. She frowned at me instead. “Seriously, Jason? I didn’t even push you that hard. Are you really throwing a tantrum over fifty thousand dollars again?” My heart felt like it had turned to ice. I braced myself against the wall and tried to stand, but my legs buckled. I stumbled forward—toward Harvey. He jerked back immediately, pinching his nose. “Dude, what is that smell? You reek.” “Vivian’s a doctor, for God’s sake. Jason, look at yourself…” Vivian wrinkled her nose in disgust, taking in my exhausted, filthy appearance. “Jason, you’re a mess. You seriously stink. Why didn’t you go home and shower?!” Since Ryan died, I’d been holding him. Holding him until his body started to decompose. Rage boiled up inside me. I wanted to scream at her. “Yeah. That’s the smell of YOUR son.” But before I could, a nurse walked by and lit up at the sight of Vivian. “Oh! Dr. Parker! I thought you were off today. What are you doing here?” The nurse’s curious gaze bounced between the three of us before landing on me. “And who’s this?” For years, Vivian insisted that doctors needed to avoid nepotism. She said if people at the hospital knew she had a son and was still doting on Harvey, there’d be rumors. People would talk. So she never told anyone at work about Ryan or me. Vivian’s expression darkened. Panic flashed in her eyes. “Oh. Harvey’s staying here as a patient. This is… the caregiver I hired for him.” I stood there, frozen. Every word I wanted to say died in my throat. Once the nurse was out of earshot, Vivian exhaled in relief. She stepped toward me, trying to pull me into a hug. “Jason, I didn’t mean it like that. Doctors just have to maintain a certain image—” I laughed. Cold and bitter. “What image?” Harvey snorted. “Come on, Jason. Vivian’s a respected doctor at this hospital. Look at you—you’re dressed like a homeless guy. You want people to know she’s married to that? You’d embarrass her.” Vivian said nothing. Her silence was agreement. I clenched my faded, threadbare shirt in my fists. My eyes locked onto the diamond-studded watch glittering on Harvey’s wrist. That watch was bought with my broken body. With my son’s life. The hatred inside me exploded. I swung. But before my fist even touched him, Harvey let out a bloodcurdling scream. “Vivian! My heart—it hurts! Don’t let him hit me!” CRACK. Before I could process what happened, Vivian’s hand flew across my face. The slap sent my world spinning. I tasted copper. She cradled Harvey in her arms like he was made of glass. “Jason! You KNOW Harvey has a bad heart—and you still tried to hurt him?!” I pressed my hand to my bleeding nose, glaring at him with pure hatred. “His heart’s bad? What about Ryan? MY son has end-stage heart failure!” “I could beat him to death with my bare hands, and it still wouldn’t be enough!” Harvey clutched his chest dramatically, gasping. “I’m so scared, Vivian…” Vivian’s face went cold. She grabbed me by the hair and yanked—hard. “You wouldn’t DARE.” My scalp tore. I felt warm blood trickling down. My phone slipped from my pocket and clattered to the floor. The screen lit up with a notification—a payment confirmation from the cemetery. Vivian’s eyes narrowed. She shoved me hard against the wall. “What the hell is this, Jason? Are you so desperate to hurt me that you’d curse our own son?!”

She rushed Harvey to his hospital room, cradling him like he was made of glass. “Tell Ryan to wait for me. I’ll perform the surgery myself. He’ll be perfectly healthy!” “Once I’m done here, I’ll spend quality time with you two. I promise.” I thought of the past two years—Ryan suffering through his illness, always so optimistic, always comforting me. “It’s okay, Daddy. Don’t be sad. Mommy’s a super amazing doctor. She’ll make me all better.” He trusted Vivian so completely. And he’d never see her again. I coughed up blood. The bitterness flooded my mouth. I bought cheap painkillers and left the hospital to handle Ryan’s paperwork. I scraped together just enough for the final payment on the burial plot. But when the payment went through, my card declined. My hands shook as I swiped the thin piece of plastic over and over. “Please, try again. This can’t be right… I just deposited the money!” The cemetery staff just shook their heads. I frantically opened my banking app. The screen showed a cold, merciless “0.” All the blood drained from my face. I immediately called Vivian. “Vivian! If you need money for Harvey’s treatments, use your OWN! Give mine back!” Her voice was sharp with irritation. “All my money’s tied up in research! I’ll pay you back when my grant comes through! After what you did to Harvey yesterday—putting him back in the hospital—you’ve got some nerve asking for money!” My eyes burned red. I screamed into the phone. “GIVE ME MY MONEY BACK!” “Vivian, you take this money—aren’t you afraid you and Harvey will be cursed?!” My words set her off. “If you need money so badly, why did you turn down that shift your boss offered you?” “He contacted me to convince you not to pass up such a good opportunity. I felt bad for you working so hard.” “So if you’re this desperate, why didn’t you take it?” I froze. I never expected the fight club manager to contact her. My organs twisted in agony. “Vivian… if I go back there, they’ll beat me to death.” I’d never told Vivian or Ryan what I really did for money. I didn’t want them to worry. But I couldn’t understand—Vivian could care so much about a childhood friend, yet not give a damn whether her husband and son lived or died. I begged. My voice broke. “Please. I’m begging you. I can’t go back there. Please just give me the money.” She went silent for a moment. Then finally relented. “Fine. I’ll transfer it to you.” I hung up, relief flooding through me. I could buy Ryan’s plot now. I waited all day. All evening. The money never came. Instead, the fight club manager called me. “Where are you? Your wife said you agreed to come back. I’m coming to pick you up. You’re still the best punching bag we’ve got—the regulars are asking for you by name.” “She already took a 30% deposit. You back out now, I’ll kill you myself.” My phone kept buzzing with messages from the hospital. “Mr. Parker, the morgue can’t hold bodies indefinitely. Please complete your son’s paperwork and make arrangements soon.” The setting sun bled red across the sky. I called the fight club manager back, my voice hollow. “Okay. I’ll come.” I asked how much I’d make after the deposit. The number he gave me wasn’t enough for a double plot. Only enough for a single grave. I pulled my lips into something like a smile. Then I’ll use this broken body one last time. At least Ryan will have a resting place.

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My husband’s parents were trapped in a deadly mudslide, and I risked my life to pull them onto my Zodiac boat. I thought we were saved, but then my husband was going to kill us. Carter’s drone fleet, diving straight at us. He stood at the helicopter window with his arm around his assistant, watching like it was entertainment. I frantically dialed his number. “Carter! Have you lost your mind?! Your parents are on this boat!” His laugh came through cold and easy. “A year ago, Chloe’s parents got caught in that flash flood. You were the rescue captain. You picked strangers over them.” “So today? I’m giving you a front-row seat to watch your parents go under. How’s that feel?” Chloe’s voice jumped in right after, bright with excitement. “Yes! Let me watch those two get dragged down!” The boat lurched hard. Gerald and Marie pressed against me, shaking. I screamed into the phone. “Carter, open your eyes! Those are YOUR parents on this boat!” “Riley.” His tone didn’t shift at all. “You really never get tired of this.” “Mom and Dad flew out to Aspen this morning. I dropped them at the airport myself. You want to lie, at least put some effort into it.” Chloe grabbed the phone from him. “You killed my parents, Riley. Today you and those two old fools are going down with them.” I tried to hand the phone to Gerald so he could speak for himself. But he was shaking head to toe, face caked in mud, hair plastered flat. Marie looked the same. Like that, they were barely recognizable. “You’re both out of your minds!” I killed the call. No time. If I didn’t move now, the boat was going over. Marie’s face had gone ash-white. She grabbed my arm with both hands. “Riley, what is wrong with him? He wouldn’t actually—I’m his mother.” Gerald had never shown fear a day in his life. Right now his face had no color in it at all. I couldn’t stop to explain. One mistake out here and all three of us were dead. The drone swarm was churning the water around us, pulling at the hull. “Hold on. Both of you, hold on tight.” I shoved the throttle all the way forward. That’s when one of the drones swept in low. The blade caught my cheek. “Riley — you’re bleeding — your face —” Gerald’s voice cracked open. “Carter, you bastard! That’s your wife!” I bit down against the sting. God, that hurt. Carter’s voice came back through the helicopter’s speaker, cool as ever. “Watch your mouth, old man. Nobody asked you.” The drones hit us again. The boat pitched so hard we nearly went over the side. Water poured in. Half the hull dropped into the current. Marie screamed. Then a grappling hook shot down from Carter’s helicopter and locked onto the bow. His call came through. I put it on speaker. “Scared yet? There’s a document waiting in your email. Sign it, and maybe I let you walk away.” I opened my phone. I had to know what this was actually about. What I saw stopped me cold. He wanted me to sign a confession — that I’d deliberately let Chloe’s parents die during the rescue. Full liability for every casualty from that disaster. But it was Carter’s own construction company that violated the regulations. They cut corners on the mountain reinforcement. That’s what caused the flood. He wanted me as the fall guy. So Chloe could pocket the settlement. If I signed this, I was looking at prison. The rest of my life gone. Marie leaned over and saw the screen. She broke down completely. “What kind of monster — how did we raise something like this —” “He’d throw away his own wife for that woman. He’d throw away his own parents —” Gerald grabbed the phone out of my hand and jabbed it toward the helicopter. “Carter! I’m your father! You hear me? Your father! Call them off right now!” “There is no way in hell Riley is signing that!” My chest pulled tight and aching at the same time. Three years. His parents had never treated me as anything less than a daughter. Carter just laughed. “My father? Really? You’re going with that?” “Look at yourself. Covered head to toe in mud, begging for your life. My father doesn’t look like that.” “Riley, I’m done playing around. Sign it. I mean it.” Three drones broke formation and came straight at us. Gerald’s arm took the hit — a deep gash, bone showing through. “Clock’s ticking,” Carter said. “Sign it, or I send all three of you to the bottom.”

“Honey!” Marie fumbled to press both hands over Gerald’s wound. I looked up at the drone fleet. “Carter, you think you’ve already won?” “You’re all on your deathbeds, so shut the hell up.” he scoffed. I shook my head. “Someone’s been playing you. And you’re so sure you’re the one holding the cards.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” “It means you’re going to regret this. Soon.” Chloe cut in before he could respond. “Don’t listen to her. She’s buying time. Finish it, Carter.” That did it. “Fine. You want to do this the hard way.” All at once, the drones extended their metal prongs and drove toward us. One hit and they’d punch clean through the hull. I reached into the emergency kit and pulled out the flare gun. Bang—the flare gun fired! Carter burst out laughing. “A flare gun. Seriously?” “Riley, I’ve got the emergency frequencies jammed. Nobody’s picking up distress signals in this zone. You could set the whole sky on fire and it wouldn’t matter.” The wind picked up. The waves got worse. Gerald and Marie had their eyes shut. They’d stopped fighting it. I watched the flare climb. Hit its peak. Burst open. “Carter. You know what’s loaded into this flare gun besides the flare?” He went quiet. One second. Then every drone in the fleet twitched, spun out, and dropped straight into the river. Gone. All of them. “What just happened? Carter, what happened to your drones?” I unhooked the grappling line and pushed us toward the bank. Then Carter lost it completely. The helicopter dropped toward us. “You think that changes anything?” The grappling hook came down again. “Off the boat! Now!” If those rotors caught us we were done. Gerald shoved Marie toward me. “Take her and go! Move!” “Gerald —” Marie’s voice broke. Too late. The hook drove through Gerald’s injured arm and hauled him into the air. He screamed. Blood ran down his side and dripped into the water below. “Tough guy, right? Let’s see exactly how tough.” Carter worked the winch, swinging Gerald back and forth in the air like he was nothing. Marie fainted. Collapsed into my arms. Gerald had come out here himself — insisted on it. The construction project that triggered this disaster was his company’s mess to fix. He wouldn’t send lawyers. He never did. He’d shown up in person to handle the compensation, face the families directly. That’s who he was. That’s how he ended up here. That’s how Carter got him. “Carter!” My voice came out raw. “Stop! You’re going to kill him!” “Begging now?” He sounded delighted. “Sign the document. Do it right now, or I drop him.” “Okay. Okay, I’ll sign. Right now.” I dragged my phone out with shaking hands. The screen was smeared with mud and blood — I could barely read it. My fingers wouldn’t stop trembling. I found the email. Uploaded the signature. Gerald’s voice had dropped to almost nothing. “You bastard. I’m your father!” Carter got the confirmation. His tone shifted into something uglier. “You’ve all been such a pain in my ass. Go keep Chloe’s parents company.” He let go of the winch. Gerald dropped. Hit the water and gone. “No —” “Dad —”

I threw myself at the edge of the boat and grabbed at the water. Nothing. “Go ahead and cry, Riley.” Chloe’s voice was almost giddy. “Is this what you watched happen to my parents? Just stood there?” “Carter, get the old woman too.” Marie came around slowly, looking for Gerald. “Riley. Where is he.” She followed my eyes to the water. She understood. Carter was already pushing toward us. I grabbed Marie and dragged her toward the bank. The helicopter’s rotors churned the air behind us, close enough to knock us off our feet. I shoved her forward. “Run, Mom. Don’t stop.” “Riley, it’s over.” Carter’s voice through the speaker, almost cheerful. I looked back. He was leaning out of the cabin door, holding a modified nail gun. Aimed at us. Chloe was clapping. “Shoot her in the knees. I want to watch her crawl.” “Mom.” My throat tightened. “Faster. Go!” The slope was right there. If we could get to the rocks, find any cover at all — Bang. My right knee blew out. I hit the mud and couldn’t get back up. The pain was white and total. Through the wound I could see bone. “Riley!” Marie had made it up the slope. She looked back, saw me go down, and turned around without thinking. I was soaked in cold sweat. I yelled until my voice cracked. “Don’t come back! Keep running!” “Find Julian! Julian can stop him! Go!” Julian Sterling. Carter’s uncle. The one person Carter actually answered to. If Julian found out what Carter had done to his own parents, Carter was finished. “I’m not leaving you.” She was already crying. “I’m not leaving you alone down here.” She tried to pull me. We both just sank deeper into the mud. Finally, with one last look at me, she turned and ran. “Stay alive, Riley. I’m coming back.” I’d pulled people out of burning buildings. Out of collapsed structures. Out of floods worse than this one. Today I couldn’t even get myself off the ground. I pushed up onto my elbows. Watched until she was farther up the slope. The helicopter swung around. Carter’s nail gun tracked her. “Carter.” My voice was gone. Barely anything left. “Look at her. That’s your mother. That is your mother.” A short, dismissive sound through the speaker. “Still doing this, Riley? Really?” Chloe’s voice, sweet and certain. “She’s trying to trick you, babe. Your mother is back in Aspen right now. Sipping tea somewhere nice. This woman is nobody.” “You’re right,” Carter said. “My mother isn’t rolling around in the mud. Time’s up, Riley.” “Carter — come after me instead — leave her alone —” I screamed it as loud as I could. Marie’s body locked up. She looked back at me. Then the shots came. And didn’t stop. My mind went blank. The helicopter came down low. Dropped Marie’s body in front of me. Her eyes were still open. Still looking at me. Worried about me. Even at the end, she was worried about me. “There we go. Peace and quiet.” Carter sounded satisfied. “Enjoy the gift, Riley. Two for the price of one.” Chloe cheered. “That’s what they get.” The helicopter touched down. Carter climbed out, nail gun in hand, and walked toward me. I looked at him. This man I’d loved. This thing that had just killed his own parents. He smiled at me. “Rough day, Captain.” Chloe called out from behind him. “Do it. I want to see it.” My knee had gone past pain into nothing. I lay in the mud and reached out and took Marie’s hand. Already cold. I held it. “Carter.” My voice came out steadier than I expected. “If I make it out of this, I will destroy you completely.” He laughed. “Last words. Cute.” He raised the gun. “Say hi to my parents for me.” He took aim at my head. Finger on the trigger. Then the sound of rotors. Getting louder. A fleet of helicopters emerged overhead, the Sterling family crest on every one. The color drained from Carter’s face. He stared at the man stepping out.

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To spare his omega mistress the agony of delivering pups, my alpha father had bound a witch’s curse to my mother — a pain-transfer spell. The ninety-seventh transfer had just completed, and all of it had been dumped onto Mom. Inside the hospital room, she lay barely conscious, crumpled like a rag doll someone had wrung out and tossed aside. Out in the hallway, my father and his mistress were laughing — full-throated, shameless laughter — celebrating the birth of their child. My eyes burned red. Despair settled over me like a second skin. His mistress, Serena, looked down at me with pure contempt. “Save the pitiful act. Your mother owes me this.” “She’s just taking on a little pain. It’s not going to kill her.” My father’s voice was ice-cold, each word landing like a blade. “Your mother brought this on herself. She’s the one who pushed Serena down the stairs and nearly caused a stillbirth. A little pain is getting off easy.” I thought of every time Mom had screamed and writhed alone in a room while they celebrated outside. I curled my fists until my knuckles went white. I wanted to burn everything down with them still inside. And then — I heard it. A voice, crystalline and otherworldly, rising inside my mother’s mind. “My child. I offer you the gift of rebirth, and the power to return every wound to those who gave it.” “From this moment forward, when the one hundredth pain transfer is complete —” “All harm will be returned to its source, doubled.” “The witch’s curse will shatter. Every fortune, every title, every glory belonging to those who hurt you — all of it will be surrendered to you.” Silence. Then, slowly, color crept back into Mom’s pale cheeks. The despair that had clouded her eyes dissolved. Serena noticed. She let out a sharp, mocking laugh. “Damien, what did I tell you? She’s faking. Look at her — color in her face already. She’s been performing this whole time.” My father stared at the woman in the bed. Whatever flicker of guilt had been in his eyes went out entirely. “Elara Voss, you disgust me. Pulling a stunt like this just to make me feel sorry for you?” “Since your body’s so fine, drag yourself out there and kneel in front of Serena. You stay on your knees until she forgives you.” My face went cold. A year ago, Serena had heard that winter swimming could help with weight loss. She had waded into a frozen lake, pushed herself too hard, and spiked a fever of a hundred and four. She could barely stand. My father had coaxed my mother with honeyed words, transferred Serena’s fever and pain directly into her. Mom had spent three days and three nights unable to sleep, rolling across the bed in agony. She never fully recovered. Her joints ached every time the temperature dropped. And now he wanted her to kneel on cold stone floors with those ruined knees. He knew. He knew exactly what that would do to her — and he was asking for it anyway. There had been a time he was gentle with her. All of that gentleness now belonged to Serena. Over the years, he had transferred pain into Mom for everything — Serena’s surgery recoveries, Serena’s gym injuries, even once when Serena clipped her fingernail too short and nicked the skin. Every ache, every inconvenience, tunneled straight into my mother. Mom, who had once had bright, clear eyes — she had grown dim under the weight of it all. I was about to step forward and say something. Mom caught my arm and shook her head, once, quiet and firm. She looked directly at my father, her voice low and hoarse. “Damien Ashford. Sever the bond.” He blinked, startled. Then his hand shot out and he yanked her upright from the bed, his grip vicious. “Is that a threat, Elara?” Her face went paler. He saw it. His grip loosened just slightly, his voice dropping half a degree. “You are and will always be my luna. But the fact remains — you put Serena in danger. You nearly cost her and the baby their lives.” “Kneel before her and mean it, and I’ll have ginger broth and a heating salve sent up. I’ll protect your legs.” When she heard that, Mom let out a smile — hollow, heartbroken — as though she had just remembered the punchline to a very old joke. The rage I’d barely tamped down flared back to life. Even now, after everything, he was still dangling the title of luna over her head like bait on a hook. Hadn’t that title already taken enough? Because of it, she had run every ceremony in Ashford Pack — every coming-of-age ritual, every pack feast, every full moon gathering — organized by her hands alone, while he stood at the front and took the credit. Because of it, she had taught herself to cook from scratch, never having set foot in a kitchen before the bond. Her hands were maps of old scars from burns and cuts. And Serena — Serena had everything except the title. Money. Devotion. His time. His protection. And when it came to bearing his children, he wouldn’t even let her feel the pain of it. I had begged him. On my knees, I had begged him not to put Mom through it again. She was a werewolf — she could heal — but there were limits. Do it enough times and it would kill her. He had told me Mom had already been through childbirth. She could handle it. Serena, he said, was too delicate. Too delicate. Serena was a full year older than my mother. She only looked younger because she had spent years wrapped in his affection like a hothouse flower, while Mom had aged in his shadow. I tightened my fists. Every nerve in me screamed to go at him. Mom held me back again. Then she reached for the fruit knife on the bedside table and pressed it to her own throat.

“Kneeling isn’t enough. Take my life instead. Will that satisfy you?” The blade was thin but sharp. A line of red opened across Mom’s neck, and blood slid down the pale column of her throat. My father’s pupils blew wide. For the first time tonight, he looked genuinely afraid. “Elara, have you lost your mind? Lyra — don’t just stand there! Do you want to watch your mother bleed out?” Mom looked at him, and the bigger his panic grew, the calmer her smile became. “Damien, wouldn’t it be easier if I were gone? Then there’s nothing standing between you and Serena.” His face tightened, words stumbling over each other. “That — you’re being ridiculous. I have never thought of Serena as anything but a sister—” A sister. Right. A sister he had shared a bed with for three years and fathered a child with. “Elara, stop making a scene. If someone reports this to the Lycan King, we’ll lose our honored pack status before the year is out.” And there it was. Three years he had been with Serena. Three years, and now he wanted to play devoted mate? No — he was afraid of the scandal. Afraid the rumors would reach the throne and undo everything he’d spent years building. His reputation. His pack’s standing. His perfect image as a faithful, noble alpha. He wanted Mom to stay because she kept everything running and made him look good. He wanted Serena because she made him feel good. He didn’t want to lose either one. I looked at the blood on Mom’s neck, my eyes burning, and pressed a fold of gauze against the cut to slow the bleeding. “Mom. Don’t do this to yourself. He isn’t worth it.” She lifted her hand — slow, effortful — and brushed the hair from my forehead. She looked at my red eyes, and gently wiped the corner of one with her thumb. “Don’t cry. It will all be over soon. And then… we’ll be free.” She swayed. I caught her before she could fall. But Serena wasn’t finished. “Damien—” Her voice went honeyed and pitiful. “It hurts. I think my incision tore open.” Damien crossed the room in three steps. He lifted the hem of Serena’s hospital gown, and there it was — the surgical wound, split open in a way that did not look accidental. His jaw hardened. He spun toward the nurses. “Transfer Serena’s pain to Elara Voss. Now.” And in the same instant, the voice returned — crystalline and cold — inside my mother’s mind. “The ninety-eighth transfer is complete.” Serena sagged against Damien’s chest and pressed her fingers delicately to her eyes. “Elara, I’m so sorry. I hate to keep putting this on you.” Mom shuddered — the full-body kind, the kind that meant the pain had arrived in a wave. Her face went white as paper. But she clenched her jaw and made no sound. Her lips curved into a cold, anticipatory smile. I understood. She had done this on purpose. She had pushed them — goaded them — into triggering the transfer. Two left. Only two more. But God, the thought of her enduring two more— I gripped the hem of her sleeve, blinking hard against the sting in my eyes. “Mom… we can walk away. Leave everything. I don’t care about any of it.” Mom tried to smile. Serena cut in before she could speak. Her voice dripped sweetness, laced with poison. “Elara, I know you blame me for taking Damien away from you.” “But what could I do? We fell in love. I gave up everything — I didn’t even ask for the title of luna. I’ve been so patient. And then you nearly killed me on that operating table.” She paused and sighed, theatrical as a stage actress. “All I’m asking for is an apology. Why play the victim?” “Fine. Maybe it’s my fault for everything. Maybe I deserve to die.” She turned — and her foot swung, hard and deliberate, straight into my mother’s body.

“Ahh—” For the first time all night, Mom couldn’t hold it in. The cry tore out of her, raw and broken. My father flinched. He started to raise his hands toward her — Then Serena threw herself into his chest, eyes shimmering, bottom lip trembling. “Damien — it hurts—” One look at her face, and whatever fragment of conscience had stirred in him was gone. “Elara! She stepped back to give you room and you shoved her? After everything she’s done to accommodate you?” “Transfer the pain. Do it now.” He never even glanced at my mother. He didn’t see her face going the color of ash. He just held Serena and murmured into her hair while the nurses scrambled to carry out his order. Within minutes, Mom’s breathing had gone shallow and ragged. My eyes flooded red. I fixed my gaze on Serena, still nestled in my father’s arms, and watched the corner of her mouth pull up in a small, triumphant smirk. I was already moving when Mom grabbed my wrist and held on. Her lips barely parted. Four words, barely a breath. “One more. Just one.” I stopped. My whole body went still. One more transfer. That was all that stood between us and one hundred. Serena caught the pause. She shifted deliberately in my father’s arms and pressed a hand to her abdomen, right over the incision, rubbing it in slow circles. My father tensed immediately. He opened his mouth — Mom lifted her eyes. The ruin of her face held no expression at all. Her voice came out like iron. “Damien Ashford. After this one, there is no going back.” Serena’s eyes filled on cue, her chin wobbling. “Elara, even if you don’t want to take on my pain, you don’t have to keep threatening Damien with things like that.” She turned to him, voice breaking. “Damien, let’s just stop here. I can’t keep watching you be torn apart like this.” She made to walk away. My father’s brow creased. He looked at Mom with open disappointment, then immediately reached out to pull Serena back against him, his voice a sharp crack aimed at Mom. “Elara, enough. If you don’t want to be luna of Ashford Pack, fine — I’ll release you from it. But even if I dissolve the bond, you’re not leaving this pack. You will continue to take on Serena’s pain. That is what you owe.” He paused, and his eyes hardened further. “I was going to authorize pain medication for you. I’m rescinding that.” “Let’s see how long you can hold out.” He had them lock us in the room next door. No food. No water. No medication of any kind. I pressed cloth against Mom’s wounds, watching them multiply — wounds that had no source, opening on her skin from nowhere, blooming red. “Mom, let me stop the bleeding—” “Silly girl. Don’t cry. It doesn’t hurt. Not compared to the other ninety-eight times. This is nothing.” She could barely lift her arm. But she tried again and again until her hand found my face, and she touched my cheek — so softly. “Lyra… when it’s done… I’m taking you away from here.”

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My curse has never once been wrong. When I speak misfortune into someone, not even God can stop it. I was five years old when a trafficker grew tired of my crying and beat me half to death. I stared up at him through the blood running into my eyes. “You’ll be crushed flat by a truck.” The words had barely left my mouth when a runaway semi plowed through the yard and turned him into something that couldn’t be pieced back together. Later, at the group home, the director skimmed the food budget and locked me in a storage closet when I complained. I told him he’d choke to death on his own greed. That same afternoon, he died at the lunch table — a chunk of meat lodged in his throat while he was eating the good stuff he’d bought with our money. After that, I became the monster everyone avoided. I learned to keep my mouth shut. I kept it shut even after the Holts found me and brought me home. Dad arranged for me to join the family company. I’d only made it through one day when I pushed open the front door and found Nora Blake, the girl who’d been living my life for twenty years, sobbing in Nathan Cole’s arms. “Does Rhea hate me?” she whimpered. “She’s been telling people at the office that I slept with Mr. Stratton to land the Westside Project. That I came back with diseases. That I’m—” Mom crossed the room and slapped me across the face. “Nora is a decent girl. How dare you drag her name through the mud like this?” Dad pointed at me, his voice shaking with rage. “This is what happens when you raise a child in the gutter. Jealousy and filth. Get to your room. You don’t come out until I say so.” I pressed my hand to my stinging cheek and looked at the satisfaction glinting in Nora’s eyes. I let out a slow, cold laugh. Me — spread rumors? Fine. If I’m carrying the blame either way, you’d better be ready for what happens when I actually open my mouth. — “Mom, Dad, Rhea’s still smiling,” Nora murmured, pressing herself deeper into Nathan’s chest, her shoulders trembling. “Look at her.” Mom’s face went red. She grabbed a glass of water off the table and threw it in my face. “You blight on this family! I never should have brought you back!” “We pulled you out of nothing, gave you everything — and you repay us by destroying your sister’s reputation!” “What kind of person are you?” I locked my jaw so hard I tasted blood. Nathan rubbed Nora’s back with one hand and looked at me like I was something scraped off the bottom of his shoe. “Rhea. I’ve said it before — a girl like you doesn’t belong in the Holt family. You sure as hell don’t belong on my arm.” “The only reason I ever agreed to this engagement was because Nora kept asking me to give you a chance.” “Get on your knees and apologize to her. Or I end this engagement right now.” I dropped my gaze to the puddle of water spreading across the floor and said nothing. My curse has never been wrong. Not once. In the six months since the Holts brought me home, they gave me something I’d never had — the feeling of being wanted. Mom sat up through the night when I had a fever, pressing a cool cloth to my forehead. Dad burned three batches of food trying to cook for me, then beamed when he finally managed a decent pork chop and set the first piece on my plate. My brother Blake, who had sworn he’d never accept me, started quietly tucking snacks into my bag when he thought I wasn’t looking. Mom would cup my face in her hands, eyes wet, and say the last twenty years must have been so hard. Dad would call for the car and ride with me to the office himself, telling me to build connections, learn the business — that someday all of it would be mine. I kept my mouth sealed to hold onto even that small, fragile warmth. I was terrified that if I spoke the wrong words, I’d take them from myself. But Nora caught the look on my face and cried harder. “She thinks if she stays quiet, she can just wait it out, doesn’t she?” “She destroyed my reputation. People at the office look at me differently now. How am I supposed to survive in this industry?” Nathan grabbed the thin silver chain at my throat, the one with the christening charm I’d worn since birth, and ripped it free. The skin burned. The clasp snapped. That charm was the reason Mom recognized me. She’d clasped it around my neck herself the day I was born. Twenty-something years of hoping I’d come home safe. “Give it back.” I lunged for it. Nathan shoved me to the ground. Right there in front of me, he fastened the charm around Nora’s neck. “Something this precious deserves to be worn by someone pure,” he said, his eyes sliding over me with contempt. “A girl like Nora — kind, clean, worth something.” “You?” He let out a short, disgusted laugh. “You’re a foul-mouthed nobody. You’d taint it just by touching it.” Blake came thundering down the stairs, his face dark, and grabbed me by the collar before I’d taken another breath. “I said from day one we never should have brought you here!” he snarled, his grip twisting the fabric at my throat. “You know who begged me to give you a chance?” “Nora. She’s the one who asked me to treat you like family. She gave up her own bedroom for you, do you understand that?” “Every good thing in this house — she handed it to you first. Every single time.” His lip curled. “And this is what you are. A damn snake we pulled out of the dirt and warmed up, and you bit us the second you got the chance.” He wrenched his hand away and wheeled toward the door. “Someone get the house manager up here right now!” he bellowed. “Lock her up — I don’t care how long it takes.” “Nobody brings her so much as a glass of water without mine or my parents’ permission. Nobody.” Two guards were on me in seconds, wrenching my arms behind my back, and dragged me up the stairs.

They kept me in that room for seven days. Once a night, the housekeeper slid a bowl through the door. Leftovers. Cold by the time they reached me. Outside, the house rang with laughter. The Holt family, complete and content. Nora made a point of standing just outside my door with Nathan, her voice honeyed and just loud enough to reach me through the gap. “Nathan, this necklace is too expensive. You should give it to Rhea.” “I know you love me. But she’s their real daughter.” “Maybe we should just… stop. I can stand back and watch you be happy from a distance—” She let her voice crack on the last word. “Even if it breaks me. It would still be worth it.” Nathan pulled her close and kicked my door hard enough to rattle the frame. “Don’t talk nonsense,” Nathan said, his voice dripping with disdain. “That girl we dragged in from nowhere isn’t fit to carry your shoes.” “Honestly, every time I look at her, it turns my stomach. What right does she have to wear anything that costs real money?” “Don’t worry. Even if I go through with the marriage, I won’t touch her. Not once. You’re the only one, Nora. That will never change.” I sat with my back against the door and listened to the two of them perform their devotion for me. I dragged my cracked lips into a smile. “Sleeping in a necklace that heavy,” I said quietly. “Hope she doesn’t wake up with a stiff neck.” The next morning, Nora’s scream split the hallway. “Ow — it hurts — Blake, I can’t move my neck!” Then Blake’s voice, tight with panic, stumbling over reassurances. The housekeeper’s quick footsteps. Someone calling for ice. I sat still and listened to the chaos outside my door. Slowly, I closed my eyes. The smile on my face kept growing. — On the eighth day, the lock finally turned. Nora stood in the doorway, chin lifted. “Look at you. You’re a mess.” She clicked her tongue. “Come on. Mom and Dad want you downstairs. We’re going to the office.” “All you have to do is stand in front of everyone and clear my name. One apology. Then we move on.” I got up and walked out. I was almost at the top of the stairs when Nora stepped close and put her lips near my ear. “You grew up with nothing and came crawling into my family. Did you really think you could take my parents? My man?” Her voice was silk over gravel. “Know your place.” I stopped. Before I could say a single word, Nora let out a piercing shriek. “Rhea, don’t — I’m not trying to take the inheritance, I swear—!” She threw herself backward and tumbled down the staircase. “Nora!” Nathan was at the bottom in seconds. Blake. Mom. Dad. Nora collapsed against Nathan’s chest, tears streaming. “Don’t blame Rhea,” she gasped. “I lost my footing. It was an accident.” Blake’s eyes were red when he looked up at me. “You’ve lived in this house for over twenty years and never once slipped on those stairs,” Blake said, his voice cracking. “Don’t stand there and tell me that was an accident.” Mom came up the stairs two steps at a time and hit me across the face — twice, hard, open-palmed. I’d had nothing but scraps for seven days. The force of it sent me straight to the floor. The hallway tilted. My ears rang. Dad stood at the bottom of the staircase and pointed up at me, his voice breaking with rage. “How did this family produce something like you? What kind of person does this to someone who took her in?” I pressed my hand to my face and looked down at all of them. There was a hollow in my chest where something used to be. Just cold air moving through an empty space. I pulled the corner of my mouth up. “If I had actually wanted to hurt her,” I said, “I wouldn’t have needed to be in the same room.” Blake’s whole body shook. He turned and kicked the hall table hard enough to send it crashing into the wall. “Did you hear that?” he shouted at our parents, his voice raw. “Are you listening to her?” “Nora’s lying in Nathan’s arms half-conscious and she’s standing there acting like the victim!” Nathan held Nora against him and stared at me with murder in his eyes. “You are unbelievable. No remorse. Not one word of it.” Dad turned his face away like the sight of me disgusted him. “Take her back upstairs. Lock the door.” I pulled against the guards’ grip and laughed once, short and cold. “Keep performing like that and she might actually break something. Then you’ll have a real problem.” Nora, who had been fake-crying beautifully in Nathan’s arms, went suddenly still. Her head dropped. Mom screamed. “Nathan — the car, now! Hospital!” Nathan scooped Nora up and ran. Mom and Dad and Blake scrambled after him. The courtyard filled with engine noise. Then they were gone. The guards threw me back in my room.

A few days later, Nora was discharged. Mom and Dad loaded me into the car and drove me to the office. The lobby — usually all clean lines and quiet professionalism — was packed. Every employee in the building had been called down. The LED screen at the center of the room looped two videos on repeat. The first showed Nora on a volunteer trip, handing out school supplies to kids in a rural county. The second showed her at the office past midnight, surrounded by Westside Project files. Dad took the microphone and stepped up to the front. “I owe each of you an explanation. The Holt family made the mistake of bringing back a young woman with no character and no gratitude.” “Out of jealousy, she spread vile rumors about Nora throughout this company.” “She has damaged our reputation and disgraced this family.” Mom stood beside him dabbing her eyes, every inch the wounded mother. The murmuring started immediately. “Rags to riches and rotten underneath — what a surprise.” “Heard she grew up rough. People like that, you can never trust them around nice things.” “She’d slander her own sister. What wouldn’t she do?” The voices crashed over me from every direction. Nora let Nathan guide her forward until she was standing directly in front of me. She was holding a single sheet of paper — Statement of Confession and Apology printed across the top in clean, official type. “I know why you did it, Rhea.” “Sign this, clear my name properly, and get on your knees and apologize in front of everyone. Do that, and I’ll forgive you.” I stared at her face. That carefully arranged expression of wounded generosity. My chest was heaving. “I never said any of those things,” I said. “And if I had actually said you slept with—” Nathan’s foot drove into the back of my knee. My legs folded. Both knees hit the marble floor at once. The pain detonated up through my joints and exploded along every nerve in my body. Cold sweat soaked through my shirt before I’d drawn another breath. Laughter broke out across the lobby. Phones rose. Flashes went off in my face. Around me, people laughed. Phones came out. Cameras flashed. “Serves her right.” The humiliation moved through me like something physical — slow, corrosive, thorough. And then, from somewhere in the crowd, a voice cut through everything. “She didn’t spread those rumors. I was there. I can prove it.” The room went silent. Every head turned. It was Casey — the intern I’d found crying in the break room on my first day, after her supervisor had torn into her in front of the whole floor. I’d sat with her for ten minutes. Brought her a coffee. Told her she’d done nothing wrong. She pushed through the crowd and planted herself in front of me, facing Nora. “I was working late that night.” Her voice shook but held. “I saw Ms. Blake get into Mr. Stratton’s car in the parking garage. I saw what happened in the back seat. I recorded it.” The lobby went airless. The color drained from Nora’s face. Then she turned it around in two seconds flat, spinning toward Nathan, burying her face in his collar. “How much did Rhea pay her?” she sobbed. “She couldn’t spread enough lies herself, so she hired someone?” “I can’t do this anymore. I don’t want to live like this.” The crowd’s shock curdled back into contempt. Nathan stepped forward and backhanded Casey across the face before she could say another word. She stumbled and went down hard. Blood at the corner of her mouth. I pulled against the guards holding me. “Stop—” “Get her out of this building,” Dad said into the microphone. “Terminate her contract. Blacklist her across the industry.” Four security guards moved in. Casey curled on the floor with her arms over her head while they hit her. Her cries got quieter. Then quieter still.

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The night before Valentine’s Day, my fiancé texted me that our wedding had to be postponed again. [Babe, I’m sorry. Something came up with the team before the hockey game. We’ll have to postpone the wedding again.] Then I looked up. Right there at the arena entrance, Liam had Chloe, his cheer captain, pinned inside his open jacket. He lost patience, pressed Chloe against the wall, and devoured her mouth. “Just to keep your little game going, I’ve stood Ava up six times,” Liam said. “This is the last time. Next year, no matter what, I’m marrying her.” Chloe was laughing against his mouth. “I heard your new bed’s ready. I think I’ll try you out in it first.” “Don’t thank me. Call it an early wedding gift.” I dug my nails into my palm and called Liam’s parents. [Mr. and Mrs. Carter, can you gather everyone and come to the apartment tonight? Let’s get it ready early.] [Yes. I want to surprise Liam.] If this was how he wanted to play, I would make sure he regretted it. …… [Don’t tell Liam we’re all in the city yet.] [Perfect. I’ll meet you all downstairs.] After I hung up, I opened the security app on my phone. The footage showed everything — from the front door all the way to the master bedroom. On screen, they tangled together from the moment they entered, kissing their way down the hallway, hands everywhere, until they disappeared into the bedroom. I saw the custom team mascot charm I’d had made with his jersey number. It was lying on the floor in the wreckage. I stood still and let the cold go through me. Both families arrived before long. My parents reached me first. “Did you find him, Ava? Did you see Liam?” “Don’t worry — your dad already called the team’s front office. Nobody is pulling Liam into a meeting this weekend. The wedding goes ahead.” I held everything down and made myself smile. “Good.” “Ava, weren’t you going to surprise him? Stop standing there — let’s go up.” I looked at the red balloons and streamers in everyone’s hands. My nose stung. The tears came anyway. Liam and I had known each other ten years. Together for eight. The wedding had been pushed back six times. Six years ago, one month out — he said he was going for team captain. I agreed to delay. Three years ago, one week out — closed playoff camp. I agreed again. This year, as I got older, my parents couldn’t wait any longer. Three days ago, they arrived in our city with a whole group of relatives, ready to help me prepare for the wedding. But I never imagined that the apartment I had spent six years decorating with hope, every piece of furniture I chose, every inch of flooring, would be occupied by another woman. She settled in like she belonged there. My stomach turned. I made it to a trash can and stayed there for a while. I wanted to tell them everything. Half an hour ago, Liam texted me personally to say the wedding was being pushed back another year. I wanted to tell my parents he had been cheating. That every time he called off the wedding weekend, he was with Chloe. But I found that my throat had been seized by something invisible. Not a single word came out. In the elevator, I forced down a mouthful of cold water. “Liam. It’s time you found out what it feels like to be the one made a fool of.”

Everyone stepped off the elevator and stopped. A lace bra. Men’s boxers. A hockey jersey. Scattered across the hallway floor. I kicked them toward the wall and pretended to be embarrassed. Liam’s mother covered her mouth to hide a smile. She unlocked the door. From the master bedroom came unmistakable sounds — a woman’s breathless moaning, shameless and wild. “Big boy — you’re so strong — feels amazing —” “When you’re here with your wife — will you think of me?” “Every time you see the furniture she picked out — will you remember today?” The room froze. Nobody moved toward the bedroom. Nobody said a word. I made my legs move. I walked to the bedroom door and stopped at the threshold. I bit down hard. I tasted blood. “Liam. Get out here. Right now.” “Did you hear me?” “You betray my daughter and you think you’re standing there?” My father charged toward the bedroom. Both fists hit the door. Just as he drew his foot back to kick it in, Liam squeezed out through the gap wrapped in a towel. “Mr. Hayes — Mom — Dad — Marcus —” “How did you all — why didn’t anyone —” He didn’t finish. My father’s fist landed on his face. “You disgusting piece of work. Ava waited six years for you.” “Six years. Is this what she was waiting for?” Before Liam could recover, my mother had already come back from the kitchen with a knife. “Where is she. Where is that girl. She thinks she can touch my daughter’s fiancé.” “I’ll deal with her myself.” Liam tore the knife away and threw it on the floor. “Mr. Hayes, Mrs. Hayes — this is a misunderstanding.” “I had just planned to come home early to surprise Ava.” “I’d just gotten out of the shower when you all showed up.” My cousin Marcus had already pushed into the bedroom. “Liam — don’t you dare betray my sister.” He stopped. The bed was made. Tight, clean, untouched-looking. He checked every corner. No second person. Liam’s mother exhaled and spoke first. “See? Liam would never do something like that.” “We all jumped to conclusions.” “Ava, sweetheart — next time just wait upstairs with him instead of bringing everyone up.” She picked up the jersey from the floor and threw it at her son. “And you — watching porn on your phone. Look at this mess you made.” Liam’s younger cousin jumped in. “Honestly though — did you two already hook up and just throw your clothes everywhere without cleaning up?” “That’s a bit much, man.” Liam pulled his clothes on fast, trying to cover his tracks. “Talk about bad luck. What kind of person gets busted watching porn in their own apartment?” He fake-coughed, trying to steer the conversation away. “Since everyone’s here — should we go out for dinner?” “Ava — what do you think?”

I didn’t move. He crossed the room and pulled me into his side. “Weren’t you just curled up against me before? Now you’re shy?” He dropped his voice next to my ear. “Let’s take everyone to dinner. I’ll explain the thing later. It’s not what it looked like. Trust me. Say something — everyone’s waiting.” Sure. Everyone’s waiting. Or maybe the person hiding was the one who’d been waiting longest. Ten years together. Liam knew exactly how to handle me. Every time he and Chloe crossed a line and called it friendship, I had let it go. I had believed every excuse, every single time. But he didn’t know: the moment I found out he had stood me up six times — for her — I stopped wanting to marry him. I didn’t want to expose the truth. I wanted to see them suffer the results of their own actions. I stepped out of his arms. Slowly, I turned to face the crowd. “It really was just a misunderstanding. We got a little carried away before you all arrived — sorry about that.” “Mom, Dad and Liam’s parents.” “Since everyone came all this way, why don’t we just cook at home?” “Absolutely not.” Liam and his parents refused at the same moment. Liam’s mother recovered first. “The fridge is empty. It’s already late. A restaurant is easier for everyone.” “Exactly. Let’s not keep standing around.” “Come on, Ava.” All three of them knew. The master bathroom had a hidden door. They wanted everyone out so Chloe could slip away. Not happening. I ignored the three pairs of Carter eyes and dropped onto the sofa. “We’ve all been on our feet all day. Nobody wants to drive across town now.” “I’ve already ordered the groceries. They’ll be here in twenty minutes.” “No Smoked ham for anyone? Marcus — still nothing spicy? Already noted.” The Carters sat down. They had no choice. In the kitchen, Liam found me and lowered his voice. “Ava. Did you get my text? I was trying to surprise you. It went sideways.” I looked up like I hadn’t heard anything. “What text? I never checked my phone — I’ve been setting up all day.” I reached for my pocket. He caught my wrist. “Forget it. The wedding is still on. Tomorrow you’re officially my wife.” I pulled free and went back to the living room. By the time the groceries arrived, everyone was already busy in the kitchen. The master bedroom was left to the two of us. I stared at the bedding. It was a mess — rumpled, disheveled. The air still carried the faint scent of sex. Liam’s eyes darted around nervously. He rushed over and yanked the entire set — duvet, sheets, all of it — onto the floor. “It’s been sitting empty. I don’t want dust.” He pulled a fresh set from the closet. “Sit down. I’ll do it. You’ve carried all of this alone — I see that.” “Once I make the All-Star roster I’ll push for a home trade. We’ll have the life you always wanted. I promise.” I stopped listening and reached for the handle of the hidden bathroom door. He grabbed me from behind. “Wait —”

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Today, my husband came home with his mistress and forced me to sign the divorce papers. Then he threw me out. Because I had been a housewife and had not earned any money, they refused to let me take even a single suitcase. My bank cards were frozen. All I had left was twenty-three dollars from grocery shopping. Twenty-three dollars was not enough to find a place to stay in Manhattan. I did not want to sleep on the street, so I stubbornly kept scrolling through job apps. But every job requires work experience. I had none. Then one posting caught my eye. Wanted: Stepmother for a child. Food and lodging included. The words “lodging included” instantly caught my attention. That night, I went there. Standing outside the gates of a luxury estate, I did not expect the employer to be the Blackwell family—the richest family in the world. Beside me stood a proud-looking butler. “Mr. Blackwell is looking for a mother for his son, not a wife for himself. Please keep that in mind. Do not have any inappropriate ideas.” I lowered my head slightly and kept my eyes forward. In truth, I had only finalized my divorce that morning. I had no interest in marrying another man right now. But if I could take care of a child and have a place to stay, I would not have to spend money renting an apartment. For me, trapped in such a desperate situation, this was a very good chance. I nodded respectfully. “I understand. I won’t overstep.” Butler Whitman nodded and led me into the dining room. Beside the long dining table, a young father and son were locked in a silent battle. The calm, cold-looking man held a bowl and spoon, his face dark. The gloomy little boy bit his lip and refused to back down. After a long while, the man sighed and put down the bowl in defeat. “Leo, just one bite. Please?” Butler Whitman brought me forward. “Mr. Blackwell, another applicant is here.” The man slowly turned around. He wore simple black trousers and a white shirt. The top button was undone, faintly revealing his collarbone. I had seen this face before on financial news. He was too handsome and too striking. One look was enough to remember him forever. The moment I saw his face, I finally relaxed. He was Adrian, the richest man in the world. There was no reason for a man like him to scheme against a divorced woman as broke as me. His deep gaze swept over me lightly, his voice carrying a trace of exhaustion. “What is your name?” “Nora,” I said. He nodded and handed me the bowl. “Try feeding Leo. If you succeed, you can stay.”

I had to perform well. If I could stay, at least I would not have to sleep on the street tonight. Holding the bowl, I smiled gently and walked toward Leo. But before I could take two steps, Leo shot under the dining table. Only a pair of dark, grape-like eyes remained visible. He shouted angrily at Adrian. “No! Make her leave! I don’t want her to feed me! They are all bad women!” It seemed that before me, Leo had already met several “stepmothers.” I looked around and noticed superhero figures everywhere in the house. An idea immediately came to me. I picked up a superhero figure and placed it under the table beside Leo. Then I smiled and said, “Don’t worry. I’m not here to feed you. I’m here to feed Spider-Man.” After saying that, I pretended to feed Spider-Man. “Eat more. You need to be full before you can save New York.” “A child who doesn’t eat will have skinny arms and legs. If he can’t even protect himself, how can he protect the city?” Leo lay beside me with a pitiful look, as if he had been completely forgotten. He smacked his lips several times. I pretended not to notice. Only when his nose turned red from anxiety and he was about to cry did I act as if I had just discovered him. “Oh my! Why is there a tiny hero here too?” “Spider-Man, can you share the rest of your food with him? Only after he eats can he grow as strong as you.” I lowered my voice and pretended to speak like Spider-Man. “Of course. Only when you’re full will you have the strength to save the world.” Then I returned to my normal voice and smiled as I brought the spoon to Leo’s mouth. “Do you want to eat now?” Leo nodded hard and immediately took the spoon into his mouth. After several big bites, he even glared at me accusingly. “Why aren’t you feeding me more? Are you scared I’ll become stronger than Spider-Man? Bad woman!” I laughed. By accident, I met Adrian’s eyes. I saw the tension between his brows ease. He gave me an approving smile. I knew I had passed the interview. That night, I stayed in the estate. Four-year-old Leo and I lived on the second floor. Adrian lived alone on the third. Butler Whitman reminded me again and again. “You must never go to the third floor. A woman once got bold and sneaked upstairs in the middle of the night, trying to climb into Mr. Blackwell’s bed. Mr. Blackwell had security throw her out on the spot.” I nodded repeatedly and promised I would never cross the line. Leo was very independent. At only four years old, he could sleep by himself. That saved me a lot of trouble. The next afternoon, when Adrian came home from work, I was feeding Leo at the front of the mansion. There was a pet leash around Leo’s neck. He sat side by side with a Golden Retriever on the lawn. The Golden Retriever took one bite. Leo took one bite. They were both enjoying themselves. Adrian’s face darkened on the spot. “Nora, what the hell are you treating my son as?”

His voice was cold and sharp. I trembled. Before I could say anything, Leo spoke first. “Daddy, Nora and I are role-playing. Look, I ate way more than Max!” “Woof! Woof woof! Woof woof woof!” Adrian’s frown deepened. Slowly, he turned to look at Butler Whitman. Butler Whitman hesitated before speaking. “Mr. Blackwell, Miss Nora’s method is a little unusual, but it clearly works.” “Before, no matter how we chased after Leo to feed him, he refused to eat. But this afternoon, Leo already ate two large bowls of pasta and even swore that he must beat Max.” Adrian coldly looked at Leo, who was eating without the slightest dignity. In the end, he let out a breath. “Fine. But people and dogs should still use separate tableware.” I immediately replied, “Please don’t worry, Mr. Blackwell. Your dog is very clean.It didn’t even touch Leo’s spoon.” Adrian froze. The next second, his face turned black, and he turned around and went into the house. Because Leo had eaten too much, I had no choice but to walk him and Max around the garden for half an hour. What I did not know was that Adrian was standing by the second-floor window, watching us. Seeing Leo laugh as he raced Max, the corners of Adrian’s tightly pressed lips lifted into a rare smile. Butler Whitman sighed again and again. “Miss Nora really is impressive. Leo usually doesn’t like eating, talking, or exercising. But in just one day, he has changed so much.” “Mr. Blackwell, this time, we may truly have found the right person.” When I went upstairs, Adrian was sitting on the sofa in the first-floor living room. His long legs were crossed, and his presence was outstanding. I removed the leash from Leo and was about to take him upstairs for a bath when Adrian suddenly stopped me. “Nora, let’s talk.” I handed Leo to Butler Whitman and sat properly across from Adrian. Adrian looked at me and asked, “You’re very good with children. Have you had a child before?” “No. I once helped look after my ex-husband’s sister’s child for two years.” I shook my head. Back then, my ex-husband’s family thought I earned too little and ordered me to quit my job. After I quit, they said I was freeloading at home, lazy and useless. So they simply fired his sister’s nanny and threw all the childcare work onto me. Adrian nodded. “Your file says you were divorced?” “Yes.” “Why?” I fell silent for a moment, then said calmly, “We had different values.” Adrian looked at me with deep eyes. “You saw the job posting yesterday. I’m looking for a mother for Leo.”

He continued, “This child has no sense of security. He only wants to stay at home. He refuses to go out, and he refuses to go to kindergarten.” “I’m very busy with work, so I want to find a patient woman to be his mother.” “I will sign a prenuptial agreement with you. There will also be a property notarization.” I nodded.“I understand.” Families like theirs all did this. Although my last marriage had been for love, the gap between our backgrounds was too large, so I had also signed a prenuptial agreement. So when that love finally wore down to nothing, I was left with nothing in the divorce. Even my wedding ring had been taken back. After thinking for a moment, I said seriously, “Actually, I’m already satisfied as long as I have a place to stay. We don’t need to legally register the marriage.” But Adrian insisted, “The marriage certificate is for Leo.” “I want to find him a long-term mother. Marriage is the strongest contract.” I obediently nodded. “Then we’ll do as you say.” Adrian added, “I will give you twenty thousand dollars a month for living expenses. It will be for your personal use. Don’t worry. That money will belong completely to you.” “Okay. Thank you.” He paused, then continued, “As for married life, I have no need for it for now. So you will still sleep on the second floor.” I immediately nodded. “Okay. I have no need for that either.” And just like that, on the third day after my divorce, I got married again. Just like my first marriage, there was no wedding. At dinner, Butler Whitman specially asked the kitchen to add a few extra dishes. Adrian handed me a diamond ring. I quickly waved my hand. “That’s not necessary.” Adrian said, “For Leo.” “Oh. All right. Sorry for the trouble.” That night, I had just lain down when Leo pushed open my door and stood there nervously. “What’s wrong?” I asked. He twisted his fingers and said awkwardly, “Nora, can you read me a bedtime story?” “I’ll ask my daddy to pay you more. Of course, if you don’t want to, forget it.” My heart softened instantly. I smiled at him. “Come here.” I lifted the blanket, and the little boy climbed in smoothly. That night, Leo fell asleep in my arms while listening to my bedtime story. Early the next morning, Adrian was shocked when he heard about it. Once again, approval showed between his brows. “Nora, thank you for your hard work. I’ll add another ten thousand dollars to your monthly allowance.” “Mr. Blackwell, that’s too much!” It really was too much.

After all, I had done far more in my last marriage. But when I got divorced, I was so broke I could not even afford a motel. During the day, I looked after my ex-husband’s sister’s child. At night, I cooked for my ex-husband. After satisfying his physical needs, I still had to get up in the middle of the night to clean the house. Even so, when we divorced, the Reed family said I had enjoyed three years of good life. “Mr. Blackwell, you’re giving me too much.” “I really like Leo. He may seem cold on the outside, but he is warm inside. He is very kind.” “I only read him a story. It was nothing difficult.” As I spoke, I suddenly felt something small and warm grab my right hand. I looked down and saw Leo holding my hand, looking up at me. His little face was serious, but his dark, grape-like eyes were watery. I did not expect him to be moved so easily. Adrian said, “The women who came before only cared about pleasing me. They ignored Leo’s feelings.” “The extra ten thousand dollars is decided.” Since I could not refuse, I could only thank him. From that day on, Leo became inseparable from me. Until one day, I needed to go to the hospital for a checkup and get my medicine. Butler Whitman had told me that Leo could not leave the estate gates, or he might easily have a stress reaction. So I discussed it with him and asked him to wait for me at home. I promised I would come back as soon as possible. But Leo held my hand and refused to let go. He said nothing. He only looked at me with those beautiful, gloomy eyes. I was about to keep coaxing him to stay home obediently. But he had already climbed into the car first. Butler Whitman asked anxiously, “ Leo, are you going to the hospital with Miss Nora?” Leo nodded silently. Butler Whitman instantly burst into tears. “God bless us! Leo is actually willing to leave the house!” In the end, Leo came with me to see the doctor. The doctor said my depression had improved recently and encouraged me to keep staying positive and relaxed. Before I left, he prescribed me a pile of medicine. After we came out of the consultation room, Leo asked worriedly, “Nora, are you sick? Does it hurt?” His face was full of worry. “If it hurts, I can give you candy.” As he spoke, he took a piece of chocolate from his pocket and placed it in my palm. “If you eat candy, you can forget the pain. Daddy told me that.” Looking at his innocent, concerned little face, my tears fell without warning. I had once told my ex-husband Ethan that I had depression. But he said I was pretending to be depressed for sympathy. He said I was deliberately annoying him and causing him trouble. Yet this cold-faced little boy was willing to take out his favorite candy to comfort me. I could not hold back anymore. I pulled Leo into my arms. He quietly curled up in my embrace and even patted my back with his chubby little hand. “Nora, I will eat properly. When I grow up, I can protect you.” I laughed through my tears. “Then you’d better grow up quickly.”

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