In my past life, during my Silvermoon Pack’s Mating Ceremony, I saved a wolf who had been brutally defeated in a territorial dispute. He turned out to be Julian, the Alpha heir of the Crimson Sun Pack. To repay my kindness, Julian returned to his pack and immediately declared me his future Luna. Within a year, I gave birth to a pure-blooded Alpha, a miracle not seen in a century. Julian was ecstatic. When his father stepped down, he officially made me his Luna. I had a mate who was outwardly loyal and a status that was second to none. Meanwhile, my sister, Rosalie, chose Jacob, the fierce Alpha of the Stone Ridge Pack. But she was cast out for her betrayal, tortured and broken, and sent back to us in shame. Our pack believed she had disgraced our name and drove her away. I pitied her, alone and helpless, and brought her to live with me in the Crimson Sun territory. But she grew jealous of my life. She murdered me with silver-laced poison and threw our child from the highest tower to his death. When I open my eyes again, I’m back at the Mating Ceremony. I watch my sister run without hesitation toward the wolf lying half-dead in the woods—Julian. I know instantly. She’s been reborn, too. But she doesn’t know the truth. Saving an Alpha is one thing, but carrying his pure-blooded heir is a living hell. The title of Luna of the Crimson Sun Pack is not so easily won. … To ensure the strength and future of our pack, all young women of the Silvermoon Pack must choose a mate upon coming of age. My sister Rosalie and I were known as the beauties of our pack, and the news of our ceremony drew nearly every eligible male from the neighboring territories to our camp. My mind is a chaotic mess, my head splitting with a pain so intense I want to curl up on the ground and scream. Rosalie is standing beside me, her face glowing with excitement, while one of the pack elders drones on and on. Seeing this familiar scene, my fists clench. I’ve been reborn. I’m back on the day we were meant to choose our mates. Looking at Rosalie’s sweet smile, I can’t stop myself from trembling. If I hadn’t lived through her betrayal, I never would have known the venomous heart that hid behind that beautiful face. In my last life, on our way to the ceremony hall, we found a wolf grievously wounded, his skin seared by silver. My sister, desperate to pick the strongest mate before I could, ran ahead to the hall while I stayed to heal the injured wolf. After she chose Jacob, the Stone Ridge Alpha, she lied, telling everyone I had scorned the ceremony. She dismissed all the remaining males. When I finally arrived, the hall was empty. The elder scolded me for my willfulness and sentenced me to the confinement chamber for reflection. Rosalie was thrilled. I was born with more of the Moon Goddess’s favor, my wolf form more beautiful than hers. I had always outshone her, and the pack members had always preferred me. Now, I was mateless and had angered several packs. It was exactly what she had wanted. Just as our people worried for my future, an envoy from the Crimson Sun Pack arrived with a lavish bride price, asking for my hand on behalf of their Alpha heir. The dying wolf I had saved was Julian. When Rosalie heard the news, her face twisted with rage. Less than a year after my union with Julian, I gave him the pack’s first pure-blooded Alpha in a hundred years. Julian was overjoyed. After his father abdicated, he immediately made me his Luna. The entire Crimson Sun Pack was grateful to me for giving them such a powerful heir. The elders constantly warned Julian to be faithful and never betray me. My glory was infinite. My sister’s fate, however, was tragic. After marrying Jacob, she was exposed for infidelity and sent back to our pack, her body covered in scars. Our people, ashamed of her, exiled her. She wandered the wilds, fighting with rogue Omegas for scraps of food, even suffering their assaults. I took pity on her lonely state. Remembering we were sisters, I brought her to the Crimson Sun Pack. But seeing my noble status, Rosalie’s heart filled with jealousy. She poisoned me when my guard was down and dashed my child to his death. She hated me to the core. The poison she used was an agonizing toxin designed to inflict maximum pain on a werewolf. The memory of my death sends a shiver down my spine, and I subtly edge away from her. My sister glances around anxiously. As we approach the same patch of woods where I saved Julian last time, I don’t make a move. She shoves me aside. “This poor wolf,” she says with a smile. “I have to save him. Clara, you go on to the ceremony hall.” Without a second thought, she begins tending to Julian’s wounds. Seeing this, I understand everything. My sister has been reborn, too. I wait for her, but she impatiently urges me to leave. I turn and walk away without hesitation, leaving her to bask in her dream of becoming the supreme Luna. Rosalie, saving a life is easy. Being a Luna is hard. In your last life, you only saw the power and glory that surrounded me. You never saw the thorns that tore my flesh to ribbons.

I arrive at the ceremony hall to find it packed with males from various packs. Their muscles are bulging, and the air is thick with the scent of testosterone. I don’t try to sabotage Rosalie like she did to me in our last life. Instead, I offer them a graceful curtsy and explain that my sister was delayed but will be along shortly, asking for their patience. They smile and tell me they understand. These male wolves are all eager to find a mate, each one trying desperately to show off their charm. The naive girl I was in my past life would have been swept off her feet. But now, my heart is filled with a bitterness that makes it impossible to smile. My eyes immediately find my sister’s former mate, the Alpha of the Stone Ridge Pack—Jacob. He stands out in the crowd, his presence calm and steady. Jacob isn’t fawning over me like the other males. In fact, he’s standing at a distance. If it weren’t for the flicker of admiration in his eyes when he looks at me, I might have thought he wasn’t interested at all. Just then, my sister Rosalie rushes into the hall, beads of sweat on her forehead. A look of surprise flashes in her eyes when she sees the room is still full. Did she really think I would stoop to her level and seek revenge? Rosalie announces, “I’m sorry, everyone, but I have already given my heart to another. I have decided to be his mate.” A wave of disappointment ripples through the males, but they quickly turn their attention back to me, their enthusiasm renewed. A spark of jealousy flashes in my sister’s eyes. She points to Jacob in the distance. “I think that one looks good enough for my sister. Our mother is gone, so as the elder sister, I’ll make the decision for Clara. I betroth you to him.” Seeing her smug, meaningful smile, I lower my gaze to hide the complex emotions swirling within me. My sister wants me to suffer the same fate she did in her last life. And just like that, with Rosalie’s silver tongue, my marriage to Jacob is decided. The elder is annoyed that she participated in the ceremony despite already having a mate, but he only sentences her to confinement for a few days of reflection. I count the hours, knowing the envoy from the Crimson Sun Pack should be arriving soon. What I don’t expect is that this time, Julian comes to ask for her hand himself. The elder is stunned by the news. Our Silvermoon Pack’s status has long since faded. Even in our prime, we never managed to attract a suitor from a noble bloodline like the Crimson Sun Pack, let alone their direct heir, Julian. The elder bows low, speaking to Julian with the utmost respect. My sister has already been released and now stands beside the elder, gazing at Julian adoringly. “I’ve been waiting for you. The elder even locked me up.” Her words make both the elder and Julian flinch. Julian’s face darkens with anger. “Why would you lock up my future Luna?” Julian has always been domineering. He sees the elder’s action as a direct insult. Seeing Julian’s displeasure, beads of cold sweat form on the elder’s forehead. His lips move, but in the end, he bows his head in defeat. “I accept any punishment, Alpha Heir.” I can’t bear to see this old man who raised us treated so humbly. I step forward. “Your Highness, you misunderstand. My sister participated in the Mating Ceremony even though her heart was already promised to you. The elder was only trying to protect her reputation. Otherwise, the other packs would surely hold it against her.” Julian’s eyes fall on me, and a flicker of surprise and admiration crosses his face. Sensing his interest, Rosalie becomes defensive, quickly linking her arm with his and whining for his attention. Watching my sister’s frivolous display, the elder looks as if he might faint.

At Julian’s forceful insistence, the date for my sister’s union ceremony is set. Then, with a glint in her eye, Rosalie maliciously suggests that I should have my ceremony on the same day. She claims that as sisters, we are very close. Now that she is to become Julian’s Luna, she wants me to share in her good fortune, to let Jacob know that I have a powerful pack backing me. Her words sound so sincere that even Julian’s gaze softens. The elder is hesitant. A union ceremony is the most important day in a wolf’s life. The bride is meant to be the sole focus of attention. It’s unheard of for two brides from the same pack to be wed on the same day. Besides, Rosalie is marrying the noble heir of the Crimson Sun Pack. Her procession and dowry will far outshine mine. He is about to protest, but I place a hand on his arm and smile at my sister. “You’re so good to me, sister.” I feel Julian’s undisguised stare on me, and my smile tightens. Rosalie glares at me and steps in front of him, blocking his view. Jacob arrives with the bride price. Following an ancient tradition, he has personally hunted a rare white stag as a gift. My wedding in the last life was rushed, so I never saw Jacob’s courtship of my sister. But I imagine she must have received this same magnificent gift. Rosalie’s face darkens slightly, annoyed that Jacob would value me so highly. I have to stifle a laugh. She isn’t even his mate in this life, yet she’s still angry over this. What a strange person she is… The elder, weary from the day’s events, retires to rest. The days leading up to the ceremony are pure bliss for me. In my past life, I was married in a hurry and immediately shackled by the endless rules of the Crimson Sun Pack. This time, I get to enjoy the freedom and anticipation a bride-to-be deserves. I take Jacob for walks through the Silvermoon territory, while my sister spends her days clinging to Julian, constantly in his quarters. The day before our ceremonies, the elder summons us both to his room. He first presents a list of parting gifts. “Rosalie,” he says, “your union is a matter of pack honor, but Clara is our child, too. I would like to give her a larger share of the pack’s blessing. Do you think…” Rosalie’s face hardens. She snatches the list from his hand. “No! I’m marrying the heir of the Crimson Sun Pack. I represent the face of the Silvermoon Pack. My parting gift must be bigger, not smaller. My sister is just marrying into the Stone Ridge Pack. She doesn’t need such extravagance.” She scans the list, pulls out the most meager one, and tosses it in front of me. The elder is furious, but I simply thank my sister and pick up the paper. Swallowing his anger, the elder looks at Rosalie with concern. “Our pack hasn’t had a union with the Crimson Sun Pack for a very long time. Though it is a marriage, our status is not equal to theirs. I worry you will be mistreated when you go there, and we will not be able to help you. You must be careful.” Rosalie looks down on him with a sneer. “I know you’re useless. Useless and obsessed with saving face! Of course I won’t be mistreated. You, on the other hand, Clara…” Her eyes are filled with mockery, as if she can already see the miserable fate awaiting me with Jacob. But I want to laugh, too. Does she really think that just because she saved Julian, she can safely birth a pure-blooded heir and become the supreme Luna? An ancient bloodline like the Crimson Sun Pack struggles with heirs for a reason. Their Alpha blood is so potent, so aggressive, that an ordinary female body cannot withstand it. Carrying a pure-blooded heir is the highest honor, but for every day that child is in the womb, it drains the mother’s life force, torturing her day and night. If the mother weakens, the Crimson Sun Pack will sacrifice her without a second thought to save their precious heir. They only show concern for the mother if she herself possesses an equally powerful bloodline. I was lucky in my past life. I stumbled upon a Moonpetal Flower before I knew I was pregnant. Without it, I would have been sacrificed, too. But Rosalie doesn’t know that. She’s still lost in her beautiful dream, and I have no intention of waking her. She looks at me and says, “Clara, Jacob is a violent man. Don’t expect the pack to stand up for you. You’ll just have to endure it. I was going to help you, but you shouldn’t have tried to seduce my Julian.” The moment the words leave her mouth, Jacob kicks the door open, his eyes blazing with fury as he stares at my sister. Rosalie flinches. Then she sees Julian standing behind Jacob, and her face lights up. She runs to Julian’s side and clings to his arm. Julian ignores her. He looks at me, a playful glint in his eyes. “The Alpha of Stone Ridge is violent? Why don’t you marry me too, Clara? I can give you and Rosalie equal status. You two sisters can serve me together.” At his words, my sister’s face turns deathly pale.

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“Luna, are you certain you wish to proceed with the Bond Severance rite? Once it begins, the sacred connection between you and the Alpha will be permanently severed. Your power, your station, everything you hold within the pack—it will all be forfeit.” The aged she-wolf priestess held Faye’s hands, her ancient eyes clouded with worry. Faye nodded. Her voice was calm. Absolute. “I’m certain.” The priestess tried once more. “This will bring you unimaginable pain. And the Alpha will suffer a crippling blow as well. You are the Moon’s Heart of this pack, our very pulse. Please, reconsider.” “No need.” Faye took up a silver stylus, sliced open her fingertip, and pressed a blood print onto a consent form written in the Old Tongue. “Begin.” “Very well. After the rite, you will relinquish the name Faye. In return, the Moon Goddess will bestow upon you a new identity. You’ve chosen… Fern, is that correct?” “Yes.” Fern. Fern, flying far away. A new life, reborn in the forest. That was the future she had mapped out for herself. She was going to leave this place for good. Leave this pack drowning in lies. When the rite concluded, the priestess handed her a new set of human documents and a passport. “May I leave the territory now?” “You may. The receipt slip carries the Moon Goddess’s blessing. It will temporarily mask your scent, making it impossible for the Alpha to track you. But the effect lasts only one week.” Faye had prepared everything at top speed. But the rest—the Luna’s scepter, her name on the ancestral scrolls—she took none of it. In a week, she would be gone, new passport in hand. The Luna’s identity could be buried here forever. She didn’t need it anymore. She stepped out of the sanctuary, new passport in hand. Across from her stood Silvermoon City’s landmark—the Apex Group tower. The massive screen on the building’s facade was broadcasting an interview with Alpha Kael. The host, sharp enough to catch his small movements, smiled and asked, “Mr. Kael, I notice you keep touching your ring. But it seems to be just a very ordinary moonlace silver band. Is there something special about it?” Kael’s smile softened. He raised his hand for the camera. “This is my bond token. Moonlace silver is a special metal blessed by the Moon Goddess. Exceptionally pure. It causes us wolves no harm—on the contrary, it holds the power of the bond.” “Oh, forgive me. I assumed someone of your status would have a token set with ancient gemstones. Something far more ornate.” Kael said, “I made this myself the first time I successfully shifted. I forged it with my own hands for my Luna, using moonlace silver. I shaped it, polished it, and engraved our initials inside the band.” “Oh, there really are two sets of letters. K and…” “S,” Kael said. “My Luna’s name is Faye.” “Goodness. Your Luna is a lucky woman. She must have saved the entire wolf race in a past life to be your fated mate.” Kael simply said, “Truthfully, I was the one who saved an entire galaxy in a past life. The Moon Goddess blessed me by making her my Luna.” Almost every voice in the passing crowd was full of envy. All except the one person who actually mattered. Faye. A thin, sardonic smile touched her lips. Her bond with Kael had been real once. From their first meeting under the moonlight as juveniles to becoming Alpha and Luna, they had walked fifteen years together. In the eyes of every pack member, they were the Moon-blessed perfect pair. Until two months ago. Through the fated bond, she felt something. A violent surge of pleasure that came from Kael’s body, but did not belong to her. It was a strange, feral scent. And then, moments later, an anonymous magic-image arrived. The young she-wolf in the image was Lila. She wore a seductive nightgown. From her neck to her chest, she was covered in bite marks and deep scratches—the unmistakable evidence of a brutal, recent coupling. No guesswork required. She had just come from a “session.” She threw up a V-sign at the viewer. And on her index finger, she wore a silver ring. It was a size too large, clearly a man’s band. Engraved on the ring was a line of letters: K & S. Later, Faye met Lila in Kael’s office. Lila was Kael’s newly promoted assistant. In that moment, Faye’s mind went somewhat blank. She truly wanted to storm into Kael’s office and ask him one question: “Does the Alpha’s assistant’s job description also cover satisfying his primal urges?” But later, she let it go. That image. The marks all over Lila’s body. The raw sense of betrayal bleeding through the bond. The answers were already written there. Faye turned and walked away from the gasps and envious murmurs of the crowd. She walked into an old jewelry workshop. When she pulled the ring off her left ring finger, she felt as if a piece of her own soul had been ripped away. “Ma’am, what work do you need done?” “This ring. I want it melted down.” “This is a moonlace silver bond token. It has engravings on it. It must hold sacred meaning. Are you really sure you want it melted?” “Yes. As quickly as possible, please.” Half an hour later, Faye returned home carrying a small box carved from obsidian, designed to seal away aura and scent. It was deep into the night when Kael came back. He held a bouquet of moonlace blossoms in his hand. “Sorry, Sera. Pack business has been overwhelming lately. I haven’t had time for you. I brought your favorite moonlace flowers. Do you like them?” He leaned in close. Faye caught a scent clinging to his body—a cloying, cheap sweetness that belonged to Lila. She turned her head slightly and saw a small patch of teeth marks on his Adam’s apple. And on his shirt collar, a woman’s lipstick stain. Bright red. Unmistakable. Faye let out a cold laugh to herself. Pack business? Or were you just busy plowing Lila’s field? “Why aren’t you saying anything?” Faye pushed him away. “Just a little tired.” “Let me carry you to bed to rest?” He crouched down, ready to scoop her up. Faye pushed him away again. “You’re tired too. Take a shower and get some rest.” Kael reached for her hand, then suddenly froze. “Sera, where’s your bond token?”

“I took it off.” “I made that with my own hands. It’s the proof of our bond. Why would you take it off?” Faye brushed him off. “I haven’t been feeling well lately. The size doesn’t fit anymore.” Kael’s expression eased slightly. He smiled again. “I’ll take it to the sanctuary one of these days and have it resized and blessed again.” “We’ll see.” “By the way, what’s that on the table?” Kael pointed at the obsidian jewelry box sitting on the desk. A hint of pleasant surprise crossed his face. “Sera, is that a gift for me?” Faye nodded. “Yes.” Inside that box sat a small, cold lump of silver. Stripped of all spiritual essence. Dead metal. She had melted their bond token. And placed it inside. Kael, however, was delighted. “What’s the occasion? My Luna voluntarily prepared a gift for me?” Another vast stretch of Faye’s heart went cold. “Today… is the anniversary of our bond rite.” Kael’s face crumpled into an ugly expression. He scrambled to placate her, almost fawning. “I’m sorry, Sera. Work has been genuinely insane lately. How about we go out tonight? To the Moonlace Lake…” “No need. I don’t have an appetite.” “Then let me take you to the mountaintop to see the stars?” “I’m tired. I want to sleep.” Kael wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, his voice a plea. “Come on, Sera. We haven’t gone on a walk together in so long. Lately, I feel like your bond response has been so cold. Keep this up and I’ll start suspecting my Luna’s heart has strayed.” My heart has strayed? Your soul betrayed our bond first. Your heart left me first. And this time, I’m permanently withdrawing my bond. And myself. Both. All of it. On the drive out, Kael took the wheel, talking and laughing the whole way, telling her amusing little stories from the pack. Faye sat in the passenger seat, staring out the window, tuning him out completely. Because earlier, while fastening her seatbelt, her hand had brushed the crevice of the passenger seat. She had pulled out a woman’s stocking. It still carried the thick, musky scent of another she-wolf. She had shoved it right back into the gap. And acted as if nothing had happened. She had already decided to leave. She had no desire to argue with him anymore. Nothing to be gained from it, except a fresh load of useless lies. If she couldn’t get anything, then she didn’t want anything. They reached the lake. Kael got out first and opened her door. “Sera, we’re here.” Faye hadn’t really wanted to come. But this lake—Moonlace Lake—was where they used to go constantly when their bond was newly forged. It started here. So it could end here. “Wow, isn’t that Alpha Kael? The one who handcrafted his own bond token!” “I remember, I remember! The most devoted Alpha in our entire race!” “He’s even shielding his Luna from the car roof so she doesn’t bump her head. Oh my god, that’s so attentive!” As they spoke, Kael’s phone rang. He gave her an apologetic look. “Sorry, Sera. Give me a second. Pack business. I’ll take this call and be right back.” “Go ahead.” “Wait for me right here. Don’t wander off.” The surrounding crowd, naturally, erupted in another wave of sighs. “The Alpha treats his Luna like a daughter. He’s actually afraid she’ll get lost.” “Too doting!” Faye alone stood there, face utterly blank, standing at the lake’s edge, gazing out at the moonlit ripples on the dark water. Just now, when Kael saw the caller ID, the smile that tugged at the corner of his lips had been impossible to suppress. Doting. Sweet. Laced with a hint of mischief. Pack business? She couldn’t even be bothered to expose him anymore. The lakefront was chilly. She decided to head back to the car and wait. The in-car screen was still on. Kael’s social account hadn’t been logged out. It was synced with his phone. Messages were scrolling up, one by one. The contact on the other end was named [Your Little Wildcat Lila]. Kael: Miss me? Little Wildcat Lila: Nights without my Alpha feel so empty. Kael: Little wildcat, I had you seven times today. Still not enough? Little Wildcat Lila: Not enough. Alpha, I want more. Kael: Fine. Tomorrow. My office. I’ll satisfy you. Little Wildcat Lila: Heehee. I’ll wear black stockings to work tomorrow then. The chat history that followed was even more revolting. Filthy words. Graphic flirtation. Faye felt a wave of cold sweep through her entire body. She shut off the screen. Her whole body was trembling. She couldn’t tell if it was from the cold or from pure rage. Her nails bit deep into her own palms. Kael returned quickly. About fifteen minutes. He slid back into the driver’s seat, clutching his chest, letting out a heavy breath of relief. “After I hung up the phone, I turned around and you were gone. Scared me to death. Thank the Goddess. You’re okay.” Faye couldn’t bear to look at his hypocritical face anymore. She stared down at her own hands. “It was cold outside. I came back to the car.” “Of course, of course. Wherever you like, that’s where you should be.” Faye’s head snapped up. After reading their chat history, that phrase hit her with a second, much darker meaning. Wherever you like. That’s where you should be. The stocking. In the crevice of the passenger seat… Could it be… they had done it in this seat too? A violent wave of nausea hit Faye. She shoved the car door open and threw up.

Kael panicked, rushing over. “Sera, what’s wrong?” Faye vomited until she was completely wrecked, unable to pull herself together for a long while. She didn’t understand. Why? Why would the Alpha who once swore before the Moon Goddess to remain loyal to her forever betray their bond? Did he not fear the Goddess’s punishment? Or did he think he was clever enough, perfectly capable of keeping her in the dark forever? A night breeze blew past. Faye’s thoughts cleared considerably. Kael asked her, “Are you okay, Sera? If you’re not feeling well, I’ll take you to the pack healers right now.” “No. It’s probably just something I ate at dinner.” “Then come find me at Apex tomorrow. We’ll eat together.” Faye let out a cold, silent laugh. Go to Apex and watch you and Lila tumble around your office? A sudden impulse for mischief seized her. “Alright. I’ll go with you to Apex tomorrow morning. Keep you company while you work. Then we’ll have lunch together. Then we’ll come home together at night.” Kael clearly hadn’t expected her to agree. His expression stiffened, strained. “But… my schedule’s packed. I might not be able to stay with you the whole time.” “You do your work. I’ll just wait in your office for you to come back.” “…Alright.” Back at their villa, Kael offered to run a bath for her. He went into the bathroom and, unusually, shut the door behind him. Faye, meanwhile, went back downstairs alone and got back into the car. The moment she started the engine, the screen lit up, displaying the latest messages. Kael: Change of plans. Tomorrow, we can’t use my office. Little Wildcat Lila: Aww, that’s disappointing. Kael: Don’t be disappointed, little wildcat. I’ll take you to the rooftop terrace instead. Even more thrilling. Little Wildcat Lila: Heehee. Alpha is the best. By the time Faye returned to the bedroom, Kael was just stepping out of the bathroom. “Sera, your bath’s ready. Go take a nice soak.” “No. I want to rest.” “Alright. If you’re tired, sleep. By the way, that gift you put on the desk… can I open it now?” Faye said, “Open it in one week.” “Why wait a week? I want to see right now what my Luna has prepared for me.” “Because…” Because in one week, I will have permanently severed our bond. “Because in one week, this gift will have meaning.” Kael pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Fine. As you wish.” The next morning, Kael’s phone started ringing just past six. He silenced it, then turned and wrapped his arms around Faye. “Ignore it. Sleep a little longer.” The phone rang again. Insistent. Kael frowned, irritable. “It’s not even time for work yet. Pestering me this early. Sooner or later, I’ll make every last one of those useless Council elders disappear.” He silenced it again. When the phone rang a third time, Kael got up in a huff. “Sera, sleep a while longer. I’m going to go find out what kind of earth-shattering emergency they’ve got.” Faye gave a soft “Mm.” She turned over. Her back to him. Kael took his phone and left the bedroom. But moments later, his figure appeared at the front gate, one floor below. A human delivery driver in a yellow uniform stood outside. He handed Kael a package. Kael took it. But when he came back inside, his hands were empty. Faye asked him, “Is the pack situation serious?” Kael said, “It’s manageable. Sera, don’t worry. Just rest. I’ll go make you breakfast.” Whether it was guilt or genuine concern about her upset stomach, Kael made an elaborate breakfast. Milk. Eggs. Toast. Jam. And her favorite oatmeal. “From now on, no more eating random things. I’m going to hire a private chef for you. Someone to come cook for you at home every day.” “No.” “Be a good girl. My Luna needs to listen. Otherwise, I’ll be worried sick about you while I’m at Apex.” “Kael, can I ask you a question?” “Ask.” Faye set down her fork and knife. Her voice was flat. “Among our kind… the curse for betraying a bond. Do you think it actually comes true?” Kael instantly put on a deeply righteous, disgusted expression. “That’s a punishment for the weak-willed. The faithless. I’m different. I will be loyal to my Luna for life. I love only you.” “Love only me. For life.” “Yes.” “And what if you fell in love with another she-wolf?” “Then may the Moon Goddess forsake me. Strip my power. May I howl in solitude for eternity.” Faye’s smile was pure mockery. “Such a heavy vow. Aren’t you afraid it might actually be fulfilled?” “What I speak is the truth. Why should I be afraid?” Kael said, “Sera, you need to trust our bond.” Faye simply said, “Eat your breakfast.” “You still don’t believe me? Do I need to carve out my heart and show it to you before you’ll trust me?” “People are waiting for you at Apex. Don’t be late.” Kael finally relaxed, sitting down across from her. “Let them wait. A bunch of worthless creatures. I’ll replace them all eventually.” “Replace *her*. Could you bear to?” Faye had said “her.” Not “them.” She didn’t know whether Kael caught it or not. All she heard was him say, “Besides you, there’s no one I couldn’t bear to lose.”

After breakfast, the two of them headed to Apex together. But Faye was utterly repulsed by the passenger seat. She insisted on sitting in the back. “I’m feeling a little carsick. The back’s more comfortable. I can get some air.” Kael didn’t press further. “Alright. I’ll drive as smoothly as I can.” At the entrance of Apex Tower, Kael jogged around to open her door. The moment Faye stepped out of the car, she was once again swarmed by pack members in the thick of the morning rush. Two of them strode up quickly, faces glowing with eager warmth. “Luna, it’s so good to see you!” one of them said, grinning. “Alpha’s always talking about how much you love caramel lattes. I’m heading out on an errand anyway. I can grab one for you.” The other chimed in immediately. “Then I’ll go get pastries. Still those red velvet cupcakes you like?” Kael let out a soft laugh, pulling Faye closer, his arm protectively wrapped around her. “Alright, you two. You’ll spoil her at this rate. Her appetite’s been so good lately, she can barely fit her bond token anymore.” “Hey, Alpha, you can’t pin that on us,” the first one shot back, joking. “Luna looks as radiant as ever. Must be the token’s fault. Maybe it shrank in the wash!” “Get out of here,” Kael said, slapping him good-naturedly on the arm. “Shrank in the wash? Moonlace silver doesn’t shrink, you idiot. But fine, go on. Just a small latte.” “You just don’t get it. Alpha loves Luna so much. If Luna’s happy, Alpha’s happy. And if Alpha’s happy, we all get an easier life, right?” Kael laughed, his tone good-humored. “Fine, fine. You’ve all got me figured out. You know exactly where to press.” The group burst into laughter. Faye was practically escorted into Kael’s office. Fruit. Snacks. Bubble tea. Everything imaginable. Kael even pulled up a drama series on his computer for her. “Sera, I’ve got to get to work. Just hang out here. If you need anything, tell the assistants outside.” Faye asked him, deliberately casual, “What about that new assistant of yours, Lila? I didn’t see her today.” Kael said, “I don’t know. I’ll have HR call her later to check in.” On his way out, Kael gave her hair an affectionate stroke, murmuring softly, “Wait for me to come back. We’ll have lunch together.” Kael left. The Council elders left too. Faye spotted his phone lying on the desk. She hurried out to catch him, but as she reached the door, she caught the tail end of the elders’ conversation. “…Rooftop terrace? Alpha and Lila are getting more adventurous by the day.” “What can you do? Who knew Luna would suddenly show up at Apex today? They had to relocate.” “So, are we still supposed to deliver condoms to Alpha today?” “No need. I saw him heading up earlier. He had several boxes stuffed in his pockets.” “Heh heh heh. Alpha’s something else, isn’t he? Ordering condoms right under Luna’s nose?” “Human courier service. Those apps are so damn convenient now. You can get anything delivered.” A cold, sudden clarity washed over Faye. So that’s what it was. Those insistent, unrelenting calls this morning. They were from the human courier. He had placed the order first thing in the morning. Had the courier buy him condoms. Clearly, he had been very much looking forward to today’s rooftop rendezvous. Preparing since dawn. “…Wonder if a few boxes will even be enough. Remember that time Alpha and Lila went at it in the car for a whole day and night? The next day, when Lila came to work, the way she walked was… off.” “If it’s not enough, we’ll just deliver more! Isn’t it our job as subordinates to serve the Alpha well?” “Didn’t you just say we should serve the Luna well too?” “Tch. What does she know? A cup of coffee, a couple pastries, and she’s pacified. A man with Alpha’s status and power… who doesn’t have a few lovers on the side? He’s got power and money. Playing around with women is perfectly normal. Just gotta keep it from Luna.” “True. She seems so naive. Keeping her in the dark shouldn’t be hard.” Just then, Kael appeared. “Don’t any of you go running your mouths in front of Sera. Understood?” The elders nodded frantically. “Understood, Alpha. We know how to handle it.” One of them asked, “Alpha, why did you bring Luna today? Now you and Lila have to hide out on the rooftop, and we all have to watch every word we say.” Kael shot him a hard glare. “Faye is the pack’s Luna. She comes and goes as she pleases. Do you have a problem with that?” “No, no, no…” Kael’s face hardened into a warning snarl. “Take good care of Sera. She wasn’t feeling well yesterday. No cold or raw food. And one more thing: if a single word about me and Lila gets out, you’ll be exiled from the pack immediately. Do I make myself clear?” The elders nodded, their smiles fawning. “Crystal clear, Alpha. Crystal clear…” Faye didn’t hear the rest. She had already slipped back into Kael’s office at full speed. She buried his phone amidst the pile of snacks. A moment later, Kael walked in. He was wearing that same gentle, gentlemanly mask. “Little glutton. What’s got you eating so happily?” The words “little glutton” sent a violent shudder of revulsion through Faye. Suppressing her full-body discomfort, she asked, “Weren’t you going to a meeting? Why are you back?” “Left my phone here. Have you seen it?” Faye shook her head. “No.” Kael rummaged through the pile of snacks and fished his phone out. “Buried in the snacks. Well, take your time eating. I’m off.” Brrrring— This time, it was Faye’s phone that rang. She picked it up. “Hello, may I speak to Ms. Fern?” “Yes, speaking.” “Ms. Fern, this is a confirmation call regarding your flight to Norway, booked for one week from today. Your ticket has been successfully issued. You may proceed directly to the airport with your passport on the day of departure.” “Do I need any other documents besides my passport?” “No. Just your passport will suffice.” “Thank you.” She hung up. Kael’s expression was puzzled. “Passport? Sera, what do you need a passport for?”

Faye said, “A human friend of mine. She lost her passport. She was asking me how to get it replaced.” Kael strode forward and wrapped her in a tight embrace. “You scared me to death. I thought you were planning to go abroad without me.” Faye turned her head away and retched. He reeked. The thick, cloying, post-coital scent of Lila was all over him. Kael’s face creased with concern as he rubbed her back. “What did they give you to eat this time? I specifically told them your stomach’s been fragile. They needed to take care of you… Just wait. I’ll fire every last one of them!” This time, Faye shoved him away with every ounce of strength she had. “Fire whoever you want! Just stop using me as your excuse!” Kael was momentarily stunned by her sudden outburst. “Sera, are you angry with me? Because I was busy with pack business all day and couldn’t be with you?” He said, “Alright, then. Tomorrow, I’ll push everything aside. I’ll spend the entire day with you. Just you. Okay?” Faye let out a humorless laugh. “Just me?” “Yes. Just you.” Faye drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Let’s hope you mean that.” That evening, out of nowhere, a downpour began. Faye had been vomiting nonstop from the moment she got home. Kael tried to get close to her. Faye rejected him harshly. “Don’t come near me. The smell on you makes me vomit even worse.” Kael sniffed his sleeve and said, “Maybe you’ve developed an aversion to my cologne. I’ll switch to a different scent next time.” “Kael, you know perfectly well. Cologne has nothing to do with it.” “Alright, alright. Don’t be upset. I won’t wear any cologne from now on. Is that better?” Faye splashed cold water on her face and looked up, staring at her reflection in the mirror. And behind her, just outside the bathroom, Kael stood holding a glass of hot water, his face etched with frantic worry. She just didn’t understand. Why, when he was drenched in the scent of his intimacy with Lila, could he still put on this flawless performance of loving her? She didn’t understand. Kael clearly seemed to care about her, yet he still brazenly, recklessly betrayed their bond. Was it really true, what those elders said? A powerful Alpha playing around with women on the side was nothing, as long as he kept his Luna at home in the dark? He had misjudged her. She wasn’t that naive. She wasn’t that easy to fool. And she would never abandon her bottom line. Since the bond was no longer wholehearted, she didn’t want a single shred of it. The next morning, Kael took her to see the pack healers. After a series of examinations, the healer concluded, “The Luna appears to be suffering from extreme emotional turbulence. It’s destabilizing the bond, which in turn is manifesting as physical distress.” Kael asked, “Extreme emotional turbulence?” “Yes. The Luna has recently undergone a severe emotional shock. A massive impact. That’s what triggered the vomiting.” Kael turned to Faye. “Sera, have you been dealing with something upsetting lately? Tell me. Maybe I can help fix it.” Faye turned her face away, dodging his proximity. “You can’t fix it.” “Just try me. There’s very little in this pack that I can’t fix.” Right. And this was one thing that only he could fix. For a split second, Faye almost wanted to ask him. If she and Lila fell into the water at the same time, who would he save first? But then she thought— A person shouldn’t place her fate in someone else’s hands. Lean on a mountain, the mountain crumbles. Lean on a man, the man runs. She knew how to swim. She could save herself. She no longer needed Kael. In Norway, she had applied to an art school under the name Fern. Years ago, to become a worthy Luna, to support Kael, she had abandoned her dream of painting. From now on, she was going to live for herself. “Sera, how about I take you to a movie this afternoon? There’s a new comedy out. It might cheer you up.” “This afternoon? Don’t you have pack business to handle?” “Didn’t we agree? The whole day today, I’m all yours. I’m a man of my word. I never go back on a promise I’ve made.” The next second, his phone rang. He moved to silence it, but after staring at the caller ID for a beat, he hesitated. Faye watched his expression shift in real time. From irritation. To conflict. She smiled. “Take it. Pack business is important.” Kael said, “It’ll be quick. Just give me five minutes.” “Mm.” Kael moved to take the call outside. Faye stopped him. “Take it here. It’s not like I’d understand your pack business anyway. No need to worry about me eavesdropping.” Kael froze, a flicker of awkwardness crossing his face. After a two-second hesitation, he answered. Irritation gathered between his brows. “Didn’t I tell you not to call me today? What the hell is it?” She couldn’t make out what the other party said. But she faintly heard the sound of a she-wolf crying. Kael, conscious of her presence, spoke carefully. “Fine. I understand. Hold on.” He hung up. Facing Faye, his voice was apologetic. “Sera, there’s a very important document at Apex that needs my signature. A Council elder brought it over. He’s downstairs at the medical center. I’ll sign it and come right back. Half an hour at most.” Faye nodded. Kael practically ran out of the examination room. The healer smiled. “Luna, the Alpha truly adores you. He’s even throwing aside pack business for your sake.” “Is that so.” Faye’s lips twitched. “Excuse me, I need the restroom.” She stepped out of the room and saw Kael, too impatient for the elevator, bolting down the stairwell. He had indeed gone downstairs. But the next floor down— Was the pack’s maternity and fertility ward. Buzz— Her phone vibrated. Lila: Luna, I’m so sorry. I’m afraid Alpha won’t be able to keep you company today after all. One phone call from me, and he’ll come running to my side. 😉

Lila’s messages kept flooding in, one after another. Lila: Oh, and here. Take a look at this. [Image] My ultrasound report. I’m pregnant. Faye enlarged the image. She finally made out the top line of the report. Wolf pup, 8 weeks. Signs of threatened miscarriage. Lila: Yesterday, we did it countless times on the rooftop. Tried every position. Maybe Alpha was a little too… vigorous. The baby’s showing signs of distress. Ugh, it’s his fault. He said being with you at home is like being with a block of wood. Boring. With me, he wants to do exciting things. Lila: The healer said whether it’s to save the pregnancy or terminate it, it requires the father’s signature. So I had to call him down. After all, between your little stomach bug and the continuation of his bloodline, the baby is a little more important, don’t you think? Faye took a cab from the hospital. Alone. She went to a law firm run by human attorneys. “Hello. I’d like to retain your firm to draft a divorce agreement.” She asked for nothing. The lawyer was competent. Within half an hour, she held the completed divorce papers in her hands. The lawyer explained, “Under human law, his signature isn’t required. As long as you live separately for two years, this divorce agreement automatically goes into effect.” Faye was walking out with the divorce papers when her phone rang. Kael. “Sera, where are you? I’ve searched the entire hospital. I can’t find you.” Faye said, “Waited for you for ages. You didn’t come back. So I came home.” “Good. As long as you got home safe. I’m sorry, Sera. Some pack matters really did require my personal attention. I might have to travel to another territory for a few days. You take good care of yourself at home. Next week. Next week I’ll push everything aside, I promise. Just for you.” Faye let out a long, heavy sigh. A lie, told ten thousand times, convinces no one. She felt no emotional fluctuation now. None at all. “Mm. Go ahead.” “My Sera. So understanding. Be good. Tomorrow, your husband will be back with moonlace flowers for you.” “Understanding?” Faye asked. “Kael, is that what you like? Women who pout and cling and act helpless? Am I too understanding? Too boring?” Kael paused. “Of course not. I love you the most. Whatever you are, that’s what I love.” “Kael, could you ever fall in love with another she-wolf?” “Of course not.” “If you ever betray our bond… I will leave you forever.” Kael let out a soft, amused chuckle. “Go ahead and run. I’ll lock down the entire territory. Every human airport and train station. As long as your scent still reads as Faye, I will never allow you to leave me.” But my passport no longer says Faye. It says Fern. And the Moon Goddess’s blessing will mask my scent. Faye’s voice hardened. “I’m serious. I have a way to leave you. I have a way to make sure you can’t find me.” Kael was still laughing, like he was indulging a playful kitten. “Fine. Run, then. I’ll give you a three-day head start. Then I’ll come find you. I told you. As long as you’re still Faye, no matter where you run, I will find you. You can’t shake me off.” Can’t shake you off? Faye smiled. Let’s put that to the test, then.

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Every wolf in the territory knew the rule: to become Cassian’s Luna, you had to survive his bloody Trials. He’d round up ten she-wolves, run them through a Trial, and cut the weak ones. Survive, you moved on. Win all hundred rounds, and he’d mark you as his mate. Out of all of them, I was the only one who’d made it to round ninety-nine. I’d taken every cruel thing he threw at me without a sound. He’d started looking at me like I was something rare. He even paraded me past the other Alphas and made them call me his Luna. Then, right before tonight’s Trial, I saw him. He had Aria backed into the VIP room, kissing her like he was starving for it. “There’s a bullet in the fifth chamber,” he murmured against her mouth. “Don’t fire it.” “Got it.” My chest went tight. I couldn’t breathe. No time to think. The Trial had already started. I watched Aria pull the rigged draw—second to fire, the safe spot. My stomach dropped. If I kept going, this round was already lost. I breathed in and looked dead into Cassian’s calm, empty eyes. “Wren.” He swirled the wine in his glass, his voice all warmth and favor. “Still want to play? You know I’d never let you lose.” The room broke into knowing jeers the second he finished. His packmates whistled, eyes flicking between us, mocking. “Alpha’s always soft on his Luna. This round’s already over.” “New wolf’s got some nerve, going up against the Luna. Doesn’t she know who he’s actually got eyes for?” “Be smart. Just forfeit. At least walk out with your head up.” Across the table, Aria was shaking, but she set her jaw. “I’m not forfeiting. I’m playing.” I caught the flicker in Cassian’s eyes—something almost impressed. “Interesting. Then let’s make it quick.” His mouth curved, lazy and indulgent. “Wren. I’ve got plans for you tonight.” Pathetic. He’d already stacked it for Aria, and here he was, still running the lovesick act. My heart felt like it was going under in ice water. Numb. I breathed in and met his eyes. “Start it.” I wanted to see for myself—whether the male who kept swearing he’d never let me lose could really sit there and watch me take the fall. The Trial started. I drew first. I lifted the revolver, pressed the muzzle to my chest, and squeezed. Click. Empty. The room let out a breath. Someone even laughed and started taking bets. Cassian’s eyes dropped, and he gave a soft chuckle. “Wren. Don’t worry. I always bet on you.” Aria’s turn. Her hand shook, but she pulled the trigger without stalling. Empty again. Then me. Third chamber. Empty. But my heart only slammed harder, because he’d said the bullet was in the fifth. I was shaking all over. My eyes stung, my vision swimming. The draw that put me first—he’d rigged that too. He wanted me to lose. Aria fired the fourth. She knew she was safe, but she let out a scared little whimper anyway. The jeering picked up. “Just quit! Get on your knees, grovel to the Luna, beg—maybe the Alpha lets you off!” “Come on, little wolf, a rubber slug still stings!” Aria didn’t flinch. She just slid the revolver across to me. My heart shot into my throat. I stared at Cassian, waiting for him to call it off. He just watched. There was even a faint smile on his mouth. He didn’t lift a finger to stop it. The seconds dragged. Cassian frowned. “Wren. Don’t be scared. You always come out on top.” My mouth twisted, bitter, and with a shaking hand I pressed the muzzle to my chest. Bang. The slug slammed into me. Rubber. Not deadly. But it hurt so bad I almost couldn’t breathe. Aria screamed. “I—I’m so sorry, Wren, I didn’t know it’d—” The whole room had gone white, every eye snapping to Cassian. By the rules, whoever took the shot lost. The winner became his mate. “Cassian, I—” He stood slowly and looked down at Aria, his voice cold as ice. “It’s fine. She bet, and she lost.” Then he bent and scooped the shaken Aria up into his arms. The move was smooth, dripping with that flat, unquestionable dominance. His eyes swept the room, his voice frigid. “Wren. You lost. I’m disappointed. But there’s only one Luna in my heart, and it’s you.” Aria flinched against him, but the look she shot me was pure dare. It hurt, bad, deep in my chest. I sneered anyway. He carried Aria toward the door and didn’t break stride. He didn’t look back at me once. Only when his back disappeared through the door did the tears I’d been holding finally break and pour down. This Trial was never fair. Whoever he wanted won. That was it. I wiped my face, picked up the wine glass, and drained it in one swallow. Outside, I held my throbbing chest and dialed a number with a shaking hand. “You want a Luna—fine. I’m in. Seven days. I’ll see you at the ceremony.”

Back home, I knocked back a handful of painkillers. After ninety-nine rounds, my body had gone numb to pain a long time ago. But tonight, somehow, it hurt worse than any of them. I sat staring at the portrait of us that had gone up on the wall not long ago. When the Trials hit round ninety-nine, Cassian had taken me to have it done. I’d laughed and asked if that broke his own rules. He’d scoffed. “My Trials. I’m the rule. And you’ll always be the reason I break it.” Now, for someone else, he’d broken that rule for good. And he’d sat there and watched me go down like a clown. That night, Cassian didn’t come home. Aria sent me a video of him going at her like an animal. He had her in his most lavish den, taking her in every corner of it. The whole place reeked of them. That black pearl he’d burned a fortune on for me last month—it was in his mouth now, dragging over her skin while she moaned under him. I’d never seen him that wild. That far gone. [Miss Wren, you saw how hooked Cassian is on me. Be smart. Walk away.] I stared at the message, fingers gone white, holding the tears back. When I first met Cassian, my grandmother was dying—wolfsbane in her blood, and not a coin for the cleansing she needed. Cassian came down on us like a god. He paid for her treatment. Then, like it was nothing, he handed me a token into his Trials. He looked at me the way a predator looks at prey, a smile pulling at his mouth. “It’s just a game. Play it right, and you’ve got nothing to lose.” Even outside the Alpha circles, everyone had heard Cassian was twisted. He ran the Trials because someone he’d loved once betrayed him. After that, he stopped believing in love. He made a game out of it—seeing how low a she-wolf would crawl to mate him. I took the token anyway. I needed the coin. I needed to save my grandmother. In the Trials, he called himself King, lounging on his throne, watching she-wolves tear each other apart for the Luna’s place. His twisted Trials—I gritted my teeth through ninety-nine of them. Diving off cliffs. Locked in a box with vipers. Seven minutes underwater. Eating live roaches. The ones that made everyone else scream and crack—I took them all without a sound. One Trial was a jump from way up high. A rival, eyes wild, slashed my arm and ripped away the only thing that would’ve slowed my fall. Bleeding, dropping toward the sea, I heard his voice crackle through the link in my ear, amused. “Over forty rounds in. Didn’t think you’d die here, did you? Any last words?” I closed my eyes. “Just make sure my grandmother gets her cleansing.” His low laugh came through the link, and I let go. They fished me out, and I woke up in the healer’s den, half dead. Later he came to see me, his eyes dark and heavy. “This one’s yours. I changed my mind—the winner’s whoever’s bolder.” “Wren, you won. Not the round. You won me.” “Still want to keep going? Walk now, and you leave with a fortune.” He said it with a self-mocking smile, his eyes strangely hollow. Something in me gave. I didn’t say a word. I just put my arms around him. The next second his whole face lit up, wild with it. He cupped the back of my head and kissed me deep. “Wren. From now on, you’re mine. I’ll give you everything—the best of it all.” He bought me a mansion. He signed over a tenth of the pack’s wealth to my name. He paraded me through the Alphas and made them call me his Luna. And when the she-wolf he’d once wanted came crawling back—the one who’d betrayed him, the love he never got to have—and tore into me in front of everyone, crying, begging him to take her back— He didn’t blink. He cracked a bottle over her head, then had her dragged off and torn apart. Then he left them with one line: “Anyone else want to insult my Luna? Step up.” He favored me so openly that everyone was sure I was the special one. They had me believing it too—that I was the one who could make him believe in love again. Until tonight. Tonight I finally got it. The whole thing was just a story I’d told myself.

I shut off my phone and sat alone in the empty mansion all night. By morning, the lock turned. Cassian was back. His suit reeked of another she-wolf, and the marks down his neck were impossible to miss. He froze when he saw me sitting stiff on the couch. Then he rubbed his head, annoyed. “Wren. Don’t tell me you sat here all night waiting on me.” I opened my mouth. My voice came out rough. “You gonna shower?” He went still, taking in my pale face and bloodshot eyes. His brow pulled tight, and he threw his coat aside. But there was a flicker of pleasure he couldn’t hide as he came over and tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “I get it. You’re like this because you lost the Trial.” “Winner takes all—that’s the rule. By the rules, that was the hundredth round, and Aria won. I should be marking her.” He paused, then pulled a massive pink diamond ring out of his pocket and pressed a kiss to my neck. “But you’re mine. So I’ll let you run one more round to win the Luna’s place back. Call it a privilege. Just for you.” “So next time—win.” Win? It was almost funny. I’d had a fair shot. He was the one who pulled the crown off my head and handed it to Aria. I remembered the rule plain as day: the winner of the final round becomes his mate. Aria won. This ring was just a scrap thrown my way. Something moved in his eyes—a flicker of a dare. His mouth curved. “What, Wren? Not happy? You used to fight like your life was on the line to win me.” He was sure I’d cry. That I’d rage, demand answers, like every she-wolf he’d cut before me. But I just lifted my eyes, my voice flat, like I was talking about a stranger. “No. I don’t care.” “Cassian. From now on, I’m out.” His face froze. The smile stayed put, but something murderous flashed under it. “Out? Say that again.” I raised my head and held his stare, calm. “Cassian. Your Trials. I’m done.” “I’ll leave. I won’t cling. You’re free to have Aria.” His breath caught. His hands shot out and gripped my arms—and right then his phone buzzed in his pocket. He answered. Whatever they said set him off. “You lay a hand on her and I’ll have your lives!” He hung up, eyes gone black, and clamped down on my wrist hard enough to crush bone. “That hurts! Cassian, what—” He hauled me to the car without a word, his voice cold as ice. “You’re coming with me. Look at what you’ve done.” I stumbled as he dragged me, shoved into the car before I could get a word out. He drove fast, jaw tight the whole way, not explaining a thing. The car stopped at an abandoned outpost near the pack border. I stared, dazed, at Aria—tied hand and foot, blood at the corner of her mouth. Cassian rushed over, cut her loose, and crushed her against him, his eyes red with worry. “Aria. Don’t be scared. I won’t let anything happen to you.” She sobbed into him, then turned a timid little look on me. “Miss Wren, if you want me to stay away from Cassian, I will. But why’d you have somebody jump me?” I breathed in and looked only at him. “Cassian, I didn’t send anyone after her. Do you believe me?” He lifted Aria into his arms, holding her like he was shielding her from the whole world. But the look he turned on me was full of open disgust and disappointment. “She’s an orphan. She never starts anything. Who else would touch her, except the one who’s sore about losing?” “You bet and you lost, Wren. Pulling dirty tricks just means you can’t take it.” I clenched my fists till my nails cut into my palms. “Cassian, I told you—I didn’t!” “Cassian.” Aria’s voice was barely above a whisper, broken with sobs. “It’s okay. I don’t blame Wren. She just loves you too much.” He gave a cold laugh and turned to go with Aria in his arms—then called over a few pack warriors. “Tell me. A disobedient old Luna—how should we deal with her?”

The pack warriors knew exactly what to do. They wrenched my arms back in a heartbeat. “Alpha. How do you want her punished?” Cassian gave me a long, heavy look, then bent his head and asked Aria, soft, “The punishment’s up to my new Luna.” It cut into me all over again. Back when each Trial ended, he’d always handed me the right to punish the loser. I was soft. Every time, I just told them to stay away from Cassian and let them go. No punishment. But now Aria put on that sweet, harmless face, while her mouth curled into something cruel. “Cassian, I don’t really know your rules. However it was done before—do it that way now.” He got it instantly. He turned to me, searching my eyes for some reaction, and found nothing but dead silence. It made him angry. He pulled Aria in tighter and ground the words out. “You heard your Luna. Move.” They dragged me into the mansion, pinned me to the floor, and went at me with a whip soaked in saltwater. In the next room, the two of them tangled all night. Their moaning and my screaming wound together and filled the whole place. The whip tore me open. But my heart hurt worse. I thought about the day I went into the healer’s den after that fall, the two of us kissing deep, sure of each other. Cassian had wanted to stop the Trials right then. He didn’t want me hurt again. But every rich young wolf in the pack had bets riding on it—billions on the line. The Trials weren’t his alone anymore. They wouldn’t let him stop until the final round. He’d held me, eyes red, like he wanted to fold me into his bones. “Wren. I swear it. From now on, every round—I won’t let you lose.” And I didn’t let him down. Every Trial, I gave everything, outsmarting and outlasting every rival. Plenty of them came to hate me. Some teamed up and cheated, trying to get me killed. But I loved him. So I clawed my way out every time and won, and he’d pull me into his arms. The ones who’d screamed at me in those Trials, who’d played dirty to hurt me—they ended up tied down just like this, taking the whip, listening to him and me all night. Now, finally, it was my turn. In the end, Cassian had let me get hurt after all. They had each other all night. By the time the sky went pale, Cassian came out in a robe. I heard him say, “Send for my healer. Patch her up. Don’t let her die.” Then I blacked out. When I came to, I was on the couch, his coat thrown over me. “You’re awake? The Alpha took Miss Aria ahead to the party—celebrating her win. He says clean yourself up and come.” His Beta passed it on, face flat. My voice was wrecked. I grabbed my bag to leave. “I’m sorry. I have to get to the healer’s. My grandmother’s cleansing is today. Cassian knows about it.” It was Cassian who’d found the cleansing for her—my reward for surviving round ninety-nine. But the next second, his Beta had them grab me. “What are you doing? I said I’m not going! Cassian knows—my grandmother gets her cleansing today!” I fought with everything I had. My bones screamed. The warriors shoved me into a dress, didn’t even let me take my phone, and stuffed me into the car. I could barely breathe through it. Cassian used to take me to see her every month. But today, of all days, he broke his word—to celebrate a stolen win for another she-wolf. At the hall, Cassian and Aria and the whole pack of rich young wolves were already there. I came in a backless dress, the whip marks plain on my skin. People started to murmur. Cassian’s eyes dimmed. He came toward me with his arm around Aria’s waist. “Wren. Today’s the day we celebrate Aria’s win. As her elder, you should pay your respects. But you show up empty-handed—you trying to embarrass her?” Aria bit her lip, all wounded. “Maybe she thinks I shouldn’t have won. After all, she took the first ninety-nine.” I cut through her sweet little act and looked dead at Cassian. “I’m out of the Trials. I don’t owe her a celebration. Cassian, my grandmother’s cleansing is today. I’m going to her. Let me go.” Something startled flashed in his eyes, then went cold. “It’s a good day. You really have to bring up something this grim?” I pushed down the ache in my chest. “Then what’ll it take for you to let me go?” “What’ll it take?” His eyes glinted. He kissed Aria right in front of me. “Let my new Luna name her terms.” Aria pretended to think, then grinned wide. “Then strip down, crawl to me on all fours, lick my shoes, and howl three times like the bitch you are.” My breath stopped. I couldn’t believe my ears. The next second, I heard Cassian let out a soft scoff. “Done.”

I stared at him. “Cassian. And if I won’t?” He gave a cold laugh, his eyes mocking and ice cold. “Since when do you get a say?” He flicked a glance at the crowd behind him, and they all started baying. “You heard the Luna! Strip! Down on the floor!” “Yeah, lost the shirt off your back and still trying to bargain with the Alpha.” The same rich wolves who used to call me Luna had turned on me, every one of them Aria’s now. My chest seized, the pain going numb. A wall of pack warriors stood behind me. There was no running. Cassian was unpredictable. Fight it, and he’d only drag it out. I had to get to my grandmother. My pride didn’t matter anymore. “You’d better keep your word. Let me go when it’s done.” I choked it back, slowly stripped, and dropped to the floor. The whole room sucked in a breath. A howl tore out of me—the first one—and the place exploded with laughter. I swallowed the shame and the tears and howled again. Then someone in the crowd kicked me. When the last howl came out, Cassian spoke, cold. “Enough.” “Get her out of here!” I choked back a sob, grabbed my clothes, yanked them on, and stumbled out. It had started pouring while I was inside. I finally flagged a car and made it to the healer’s den. I ran into the room—and she wasn’t there. I tore the place apart looking for her. Then the doors to the treatment room opened, and the healers wheeled out someone under a white sheet. A hand hung off the edge, and on the wrist was the carved bone band I’d given my grandmother. Every drop of blood in me froze. “Grandma!” I screamed and threw myself onto her body. The healer let out a long breath. “I’m sorry. We did everything we could. At the end she wanted to see you one last time. We tried to reach you—your line was dead, every time. We had no choice but to start.” I couldn’t hear the rest. The room spun, and I went down. When I opened my eyes again, I was in a bed. A nurse came in to adjust my drip, worry on her face. “Miss, I know you just lost someone close to you. But you have to take care of yourself, especially now that you’re carrying.” It hit me like a slap. “What did you say?” I repeated it back, shaking. “I’m pregnant?” “Yes. Two months along. You really hadn’t noticed?” A shiver ran under my belly. I laid a hand over it and went cold all over. There was a time I’d dreamed of having his pup. A pup made out of love. And now, of all times—when Cassian didn’t love me anymore—the pup had come. The door opened. Cassian walked in, half a cake in his hand. “Wren, you embarrassed me today.” His voice was cold, edged with blame. “Aria’s got a good heart. She figured you hadn’t eaten, so she saved you some cake.” The hate rose up in me. That cake, picked apart past recognition, was a slap across the face. “You’re not sitting with your grandmother. You’re in here faking sick to get my attention?” “Get out!” I grabbed the cup off the nightstand and threw it at his face. He tipped his head and dodged. Something vicious crossed his eyes. “You don’t know a good thing when you’ve got it. Not even close to Aria.” His face went hard. He turned and slammed the door behind him. And right then, everything I’d held in broke loose, and I sobbed until I couldn’t breathe. For days, Cassian paraded Aria around, spoiling her rotten. And I buried my grandmother alone. The day I put her in the ground, the sky was black with clouds, and soon it was pouring. While I stood there, Cassian was making a show of buying Aria a diamond nobody else in the world could get. I went back to his mansion, packed everything that was mine, and moved into a small place out near the pack border. Cassian realized I was gone and called, demanding to know where I was. I didn’t answer that. I just said, “Cassian, the Trials are over. There’s nothing between us.” A day later, he showed up. He looked at the little room and wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Wren, you’re living in a dump like this now? You want out of my life this bad—you’re playing hard to get.” My face went cold. “It’s none of your business. Get out.” The next second his eyes flashed, and he had his warriors grab me. “Let’s go. Aria wants to take you to an auction.”

I fought as hard as I could, but I was no match for the warriors. They took me to a huge private estate. There was an underground arena down below, and the owner kept a massive serpent—he liked to gather rich, powerful wolves to watch it feed. Aria was already there, decked out in a gorgeous gown. “Wren. They’re doing a feeding show. But honestly? It’s so boring.” In the cage on the platform, a golden serpent, thirteen feet long, was tearing into a slab of bloody meat. Her eyes were wide and innocent, but the smile on her was cruel. “You won the first ninety-nine Trials, so a snake’s nothing to you, right? Cassian, I want to watch her tame it.” The second she said it, my whole body went cold. The little life inside me seemed to feel it too. It trembled. “Are you insane? This’ll kill someone!” Cassian looked at my white face, and something flickered—almost like he didn’t want to. He leaned close to my ear, his voice low and coaxing. “Wren, you know what I hate most about you? You’re too stubborn. Show me a little weakness, just once, and I’ll let you win.” “Here’s your chance. Beg me, and the last Trial—I’ll make sure you win.” But I just looked at her, numb to the bone, and dragged out a hollow smile. “Cassian, the thing I regret most is ever stepping into your Trials.” His face finally twisted. Right on cue, Aria stoked it. “How can you not know what’s good for you? Cassian’s giving you a chance. If I were you, I’d be thanking him on my knees. You won’t play—that proves you never loved him at all!” Something murderous crossed Cassian’s eyes. He shoved me hard and ground out three words. “Throw her in.” The word dropped, and they shoved me into the giant cage. The serpent saw me and went still, like it had spotted prey. Then it slid toward me, tongue flicking. “Ah!” I scrambled back, but it caught my leg and coiled around it. “Cassian, please, let me out!” My scream came out raw. “I’m pregnant!” The crowd was too loud. No one could make out a word I said. Cassian frowned a little, like he was trying to read my lips. But Aria hooked her arms around his neck and breathed in his ear, “Cassian, she’s having so much fun. I want to play too. Why don’t we go to the back?” His throat moved. He scooped Aria up without another thought and carried her toward the back. The serpent had bitten me a dozen times. It wound around my body and started to squeeze. I couldn’t break free. I couldn’t breathe. My face was going purple. “Ahh!” It wasn’t until I let out one last raw, ripping scream that the crowd finally caught on. “God—the snake’s actually gone wild!” “There’s blood everywhere under her—somebody call for help!” When I came to again, I was in a bed at the healer’s den. A tearing pain ripped through my lower belly. I threw the blanket back, and my stomach had already gone flat. The pup was gone. Every drop of blood in me froze, and the grief slammed through me all at once. I screamed until my voice broke. I’d already lost my grandmother. That pup had been the only family I had left in the world. Why? Why did Cassian have to kill my child, take the last thing I had to hold onto? “No!” The door opened, and Cassian walked in, his face still flushed from sex, the marks on his neck loud and ugly. He gave me a flat look, a trace of mockery in it. “Heard you got your monthly and that’s why they hauled you in here?” “This isn’t like you, Wren. The hardest Trial, ninety-nine of them, and you never once got this dramatic.” I sucked in a breath, fought through the pain, and stood. Then I put everything I had left into my arm and slapped him across the face. “Cassian. I hope you rot.”

The crazed look in my eyes caught Cassian off guard. He ran his tongue over his cheek, something dark crossing his face, and grabbed my wrist. “Have I gone too easy on you lately? Hm?” Then his phone rang. He picked up, and his face changed in an instant. “Aria, I’m coming. Don’t be scared.” “Aria’s hurting. I’m going to her. That new place of yours—I had it torn down. Stay put.” And he walked out without looking back. I sat there, frozen, for a long time. Then I lifted my hand and dialed that number, my voice shaking. “Before you come for me—help me put on a show first.” I hung up, and a taunting message came through. Aria was curled against Cassian, drawing circles on his chest. [Wren, look—even bitten up by a snake, one word from me and Cassian leaves you flat to come running to me. He doesn’t love you. You almost died for him, and he still only wants me. Pathetic.] I gripped the phone, tears hitting the screen, my vision blurring. There were warriors posted outside the ward. Nowhere to go. I had to stay in the bed. The second I closed my eyes, the nightmares came. Ninety-nine brutal Trials. Cassian’s cold, final stare. My grandmother, hopeless in her bed. The pup that vanished before I ever got to meet it. Another day passed, and Cassian brought Aria to see me. “Wren, are you okay?” Aria said, all wounded. “Cassian really does care about you. Even now, he still wants to give you one more fair shot against me.” “If you won’t play, it means you don’t really love him. You don’t want him at all.” This time I turned and looked dead at the two of them. “Fine. I’ll play.” His eyes lit up for a second. Aria froze, like she hadn’t expected me to fold so fast. Something venomous flickered, but her voice stayed soft. “Of course I want a fair fight too. But this time, I’m setting the rules.” Cassian stroked her hair, indulgent. “Of course. You won last time.” Where he couldn’t see, the corner of her mouth twisted up, cruel. “Last time you lost the gun game. That must’ve stung.” “So let’s bet on the gun again. What do you say?” My eyes were strangely calm. I nodded. “Fine.” “Then it’s settled.” Aria smiled, scheming. “Cassian, let’s go get ready. Let her rest.” The next night. They brought us both to the top of a cliff. A table had been set up there, two chairs. A black revolver lay in the middle, the barrel cold in the moonlight. The warriors walked me and Aria to opposite sides of the table. Then Cassian’s car rolled up beside us. He stepped out and lowered himself into a lavish throne of a chair. A warrior beside him held a bottle of champagne. “When the game’s done,” he said softly, his gaze drifting between us, “I’ll announce it on the spot—and the winner gets the name of Luna.” “Now. Begin.” Aria played humble. “You roll first, sis. Fair’s fair. Odd number, you shoot first.” I rolled without hesitating. Odd. I’d go first. I heard Cassian’s breath catch, his fist cracking. His nerves gave it away. The bullet had to be in an even chamber. Aria’s face went pale too. “No, no—best two out of three!” I gave a cold little laugh and didn’t argue. Somehow Aria rolled odd twice, and now she went first. “I’m first. So I’ll start.” Cassian didn’t stop it. He just said, flat, “Get on with it.” Aria gave him a coy smile, gripped the gun backward, pressed it to her own chest, and pulled. Click. A faint tap of metal. Empty. Then the gun came to me. I weighed it in my hand for a second and laughed under my breath. This wasn’t the fake from last time. The weight was real. So was the bullet.

“What are you waiting for, Wren?” Something smug flashed in Aria’s eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re scared? Or were you just humoring Cassian when you said you’d play?” Cassian’s face darkened, his voice low. “Wren. It’s your turn.” I didn’t move. The warrior beside me spoke up. “Miss Wren, the rule is, once it starts, it can’t stop. Refuse to play, and you take the punishment.” “And this is the hundred-and-first Trial. The punishment is every punishment from the last hundred, combined. You sure you can take that?” I twisted my mouth into a smile. There was nothing left inside me. What a load of garbage. Cassian and Aria had cooked that rule up on the spot. All he wanted was to watch me suffer. I looked at him, mockery in my eyes, my lips barely moving, my voice so soft the wind could’ve carried it off. “Cassian. I’ll ask you one last time. You really want me to finish this?” His body went stiff, his pupils flickering. He was quiet a moment, then: “Wren. A game’s a game.” The last thread in me snapped. The sea wind lifted my hair across my pale face. I gripped the gun and pressed it to my chest. “Cassian. This shot pays you back for the cleansing you gave my grandmother—for the three more years she got with me.” Click. Empty. Cassian frowned, lost on why I’d bring that up now. The gun went back to Aria. She had it in the bag, but she still played it up, all fear and grit. “Cassian, I love you. As long as I win, I’m not afraid to die!” Another empty chamber. Something moved in Cassian’s eyes—almost touched. Then he looked back at me. I didn’t hesitate. But before I pulled, I spoke again. “This shot pays you back for the three years you spoiled me.” Empty. The gun went back to Aria. Cassian’s face got darker, the unease building. He bit out, “Wren. Just play. Quit saying these things.” By then Aria had fired her fifth and let out a breath, looking at me with mock pity. “Oh, Wren. What now? I won again.” Then it was the sixth. I took the gun and stood. I walked slowly to the edge of the cliff, facing Cassian. The warriors didn’t know what I was doing. They moved in front of him, on guard. But I just pressed the gun to my own chest. “This shot—now you and I are even. For good.” Bang. The shot cracked across the cliff, and a mist of blood burst from my chest. I let go, threw the gun, and I went down backward, weightless. In that last second, I saw Cassian tear toward me, out of his mind, screaming my name. “Wren!”

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Eight years ago, my brother Rowan dropped Rohypnol into my champagne so Damien could put his ring on my sister at the engagement gala instead of me. I woke up handcuffed to a bed in a New Mexico motel — Boyd’s filthy hands on my throat. I cracked a whiskey bottle across his skull and walked twenty miles barefoot across the desert before sunrise. Now I’m a wreck — desert dust caked on my jeans. Eight feral kids tearing around my legs. A strip of beef jerky between my teeth. So, when eight years after I was thrown out of New York, my brother Rowan finally tracked me down to a dust-blown desert town on the outskirts of Vegas? So funny. “Eva—” Rowan’s eyes went red. “You hated kids. You were going to be the first female Underboss in Marchetti history. What the hell happened to you?” I kept chewing. I just chewed on a piece of beef jerky, reached into a pile of mud, and hauled out two filthy toddlers. Then I waved for the rest to head inside. Then Serena stepped in front of me. Tears already brimming, right on cue. “Eva—” Her voice cracked sweet and broken. “It was Rowan who talked Father and Mother into the Rohypnol that night. It was Damien who switched us at the altar.” Damien Marchetti just stood there, holding her hand. Calm. Waiting for me to fall apart. But I didn’t. Rowan’s voice turned cold. “Boyd was ugly, sure. But he took Serena in when she was on the streets. He wasn’t all bad. You just had a rough patch. Don’t make this ugly.” Eight years ago, Serena had shown up at the Ashford estate, claiming to be the real daughter. She told everyone I was the fake—that I wouldn’t let her through the door. And my family believed her. These eight years had been my lesson. “Eva, Boyd is dead now. We’re here to take you home.” Serena’s voice was soft, almost kind. “But these little strays are filthy. Low-blood. You can’t bring them. If they’ve made you suffer this much—let’s just get rid of them.” My head snapped up. Get rid of them? The child swinging from the rafters was Consigliere DeLuca’s only daughter. The one glaring daggers at them was Don Harlan’s daughter. In the corner, throwing dice like they didn’t have a care in the world, were the Volkov family’s two heirs. These kids weren’t strays. They were the future of every empire that mattered between the East River and the Pacific. “You’d be relieved to be rid of them, wouldn’t you, Eva?” Serena smiled, dabbing at her tears. Then her bodyguards raised their guns and formed a ring around us. I pulled the farthest child into my arms and let out a long, quiet breath. This one I couldn’t let get hurt. Don Calder’s only daughter. Fifth‑generation single heir. The whole Calder family were unhinged madmen, and they would burn the world down if anything happened to this little girl. “What? You don’t want them dead?” Damien’s voice dropped low. The heir to the Marchetti family radiated cold authority. “Eva Ashford, you want to drag eight little bastards into Marchetti territory?” I frowned and clamped my hand over Harlan’s daughter’s mouth. That girl had the sharpest tongue in the West. “Is Eva embarrassed?” Serena tilted her head, feigning concern. “But Damien doesn’t mind that you’ve been living like a whore. Come back with us. He’s willing to take you in—his woman, at least in name.” Serena said it like she was offering me a crown. Like it wasn’t a leash. “I’m not going back.” Three heads snapped toward me at once. Rowan’s face darkened. “You give Serena attitude the second you see her? Did you forget every single thing they taught you in the Ashford house?” I’d forgotten more than that. I’d forgotten the snowy night Rowan had walked Serena home with his arm around her, leaving me bleeding in the courtyard. I had forgotten the sound of my engagement ring shattering under Serena’s heel, and the way Damien barely glanced at me when it happened. Eight years was enough time to bury all of it. “Do it, Eva. Don’t tell me you’re never going to marry again because of that punk. You want to be a widow forever? Or maybe you just liked being a whore.” Damien’s smile was cruel. His eyes dragged over the kids like they were vermin. “They’re not mine. You also can’t touch them. You can’t afford to touch them.” Heir to the Marchetti throne or not—didn’t he see that these children weren’t afraid of him?They were doing their own thing. Like he wasn’t worth the breath. “You won’t even admit they’re yours?” Damien sneered, drawing his Glock and aiming at the youngest child. “I wouldn’t dare?” My stomach dropped. I lunged to block him—and Rowan’s hand cracked across my face hard enough to whip my head sideways. “I thought you were forced to have children. Now I see you spread your legs for him willingly. You disgrace every drop of Ashford blood.” The slap echoed through the dusty yard. The children finally looked up. My ears rang. I took a slow breath, my heart sinking into my stomach. “Damien. Look at him. Really look. He’s your father’s grandson.” I’d jerked Marco back fast, but not fast enough. A long, shallow cut had opened up his arm. Blood dripped down into the dust. He buried his face against my chest, white-faced and shaking. I tugged his collar back and bared his collarbone. “Look closely.” The Marchetti family crest. A black obsidian serpent, crowned in thorns. Inked in surgical-grade ink across an eight-year-old’s skin. The mark only direct blood of Don Salvatore himself was ever permitted to wear. Serena’s eyes blew wide as poker chips. But Damien didn’t lower the gun. “My father has no grandson.” “You can’t even recognize the Marchetti crest when it’s bleeding right in front of you?” Lucia ripped free of my hand, fury crackling in every inch of her ten-year-old body. “My father is Don Vincent Harlan! Marchetti runs Manhattan, sure—but Harlan owns Chicago, you idiot! You touch us and my dad puts your whole family in the East River by Sunday!” This time, Serena slapped her. Hard. The desert went silent. Even the wind died. In our world, you don’t lay a hand on a Don’s daughter. You don’t even raise your voice at one. It’s a declaration of war. Serena lifted her chin. Smiled. “Are these all the little kids you prepared for this performance, Eva?”

I tore a strip from my own robe and pressed it against Marco’s bleeding arm. My hands were steady, but my voice was hard. “Serena, harming Marchetti blood is a death sentence.” Rowan laughed. “Marchetti blood? Eva—your acting’s getting sloppy.” Serena lifted her chin, smug and satisfied, and looped her arm through Damien’s. I stared at Damien across the space, my gaze heavy. Waiting. He met my eyes for a long moment. Then he shrugged. “Eva, you’ve learned to lie.” His voice was flat, dismissive. “You almost had me.” Serena pouted, faking worry. “If word got back to Don Salvatore that Eva had some random kid pretending to be Marchetti blood, the Ashford family will suffer. She still hates me.” Damien and Rowan frowned. “I’m here. Don’t be afraid.” Damien pulled Serena close and kissed her forehead—slow, deliberate, like he wanted me to see. But Rowan was blind with rage. “Eight years and you still haven’t learned. What do you want? Serena is my real sister. You’re just a fake. What right do you have to compete with her? To resent her?” His words were knives. Every one of them found its mark. A small warm hand wrapped around my freezing fingers. “You had it bad before, didn’t you?” Harlan’s daughter was looking up at me, Lucia. My tiny demon. My tiny mercy. I forced a smile down at her, then turned back to Rowan. “Fifteen more minutes. Then you’ll know if I’m lying.” Just fifteen minutes. That was when the pickup would arrive—the rotating security details from each of the Four Families, here to collect their precious little charges. Same time every evening. Same time I usually kicked off my boots and went home to crash on the couch with the TV on. “How long are you going to stall!” Rowan was shouting now. Serena stepped in, all false sweetness. “The Ashford family can afford eight children. If Eva insists on keeping them alive, then… fine. Fine. Let her keep them.” Damien’s face flickered—annoyed. But he sighed and looked down at Serena like she’d hung the moon. “Whatever you want, Serena. I’m with you.” Rowan nodded. Even he relented. I pulled Marco closer, my knuckles bone-white where I gripped him. “We’ll tell people they’re orphans,” Serena said, voice dripping honey. “But Eva—you’re going into the Marchetti family. You can’t be tangled up with these kids. Not one inch out of line.” She drifted closer slowly. Her eyes glittered with something ugly underneath. “So just let you remember fresh. For every life you save tonight, you take a bullet for them.” The kids closed ranks around me before her words even finished. “You three are out of your minds!” “Eva is brilliant! My father says she’s smarter than half the Capos in his crew! And you—you Marchettis—treat her like this?! I’m telling my dad the second I get home and she’s coming with me! Nobody can kill her!” “My mom is still waiting for Eva to teach her piano! Don’t you dare hurt her!” “You wanna play? Just wait fifteen minutes. You’re cowards, threatening us to get to Eva. When my father comes, none of you will dare touch her!” They were brave, but they were children. In a heartbeat, all of them were pinned with Serena’s men. Mouths gagged. Forced down into the dirt. Then the clock ran out. “Miss Eva!” Tires screamed. A black SUV slammed to a stop on the edge of the clearing and Garrick threw himself out, eyes blown wide with fury. “Stand down! Who the hell are you people?!” I looked past his shoulder. No one else. My stomach dropped. “You came alone?” His voice went rough and guarded. “Trouble at the docks. Don Calder rolled out with the rest of the crew to handle it. He’s not back yet.” Trouble at the docks. Which meant the Volkov detail coming for the twins couldn’t get through either. “Stop pretending.” Damien’s eyes had gone dark. His voice dropped, scraping rough at the edges. “Eva, are those children really so precious to you? You’d risk your life for them?”

The smile froze on Serena’s face. She dug her fingers into Damien’s arm, silently urging him to react. But he didn’t move. His eyes stayed fixed on me, dark and unreadable. She shot me a glare — then her free hand flew to her mouth and she gasped at Garrick. “Boyd?! I thought you were dead. No wonder Eva won’t come back with us.” Damien’s eyes went bottomless cold suddenly. “Don’t stay here,” I told Garrick, my voice low and urgent. “Go find Don Calder. Or Consigliere DeLuca. Now.” Both names carried weight in all four families. Every made man between New York and Vegas knew them on sight. Damien would recognize them. Garrick hesitated, then turned to leave. But Damien moved faster. He lunged before anyone could react. His gun cracked once—Garrick’s shoulder burst red. Then he slammed an elbow into Garrick’s skull, dropping him to the dirt. “Damien, stop! He’s Calder family!” My chest seized. I screamed it. He didn’t listen. Garrick rolled, dodging the worst of it. But he was alone. Serena’s bodyguards swarmed him — and round after round punched into him at point-blank range. Hot blood sprayed across my face. My mouth fell open. “Don’t hurt him! He doesn’t deserve this!” No one heard me. Or if they did, they didn’t care. They kept firing. Garrick dropped to one knee in the dust, bleeding from a dozen wounds, still trying to hold himself up. One of Serena’s men stomped his boot down on the back of Garrick’s neck and ground his forehead into the dirt. Damien holstered his gun, disgust curling his lip. “Calder’s man? Eva, please. He pulled a weapon on me. That makes him an assassin.” Serena laughed, bright and relieved. She stepped closer, her voice honeyed poison. “Eva, maybe you should think about the children. Are you going to save them or not?” “I save.” Eight bullets wouldn’t kill me. These kids’ parents had kept me alive these eight years. I owed them. Four shots. The iron stink of blood hit the air thick enough to taste. Every kid in the clearing flinched. Rowan ripped a Beretta from one of the bodyguards’ hands, veins standing out at his temple. “Eva! You’re still going to save them?!” Somewhere behind me, a tiny voice choked on a sob. I was soaked in sweat and blood, trembling with every breath. “I’ll save them. And I’m not going back to the Marchetti family.” Rowan exploded. He fired again—four more rounds, each one precise. Non‑lethal. Shoulder. Hip. Thigh. Forearm. He was trained to hurt without killing. He knew exactly where to shoot. “That’s not your call. You haven’t paid what you owe Serena. You haven’t paid what you owe the Ashford name.” I swallowed the scream. Planted my palms in the dirt. Slowly — slowly — pushed myself back upright. Serena watched me struggle, her smile growing. “Rowan, look—Eva’s bleeding so much. Do you think she’s pregnant? Coming home with a baby she can’t hide… Oh, this is my fault. I shouldn’t have pushed her so hard.” I looked down. It was Marco’s blood. Pooled on my lap from where I’d been pressing against his arm. Damien’s head whipped around. The words ground out between his teeth. “Get rid of it.” The bodyguards seized my arms, wrenched them behind me, dragged me back — forcing my stomach exposed. Fists slammed into my abdomen. I doubled over, choking on air. Every organ inside me felt knocked out of place. “Lies — all of it — Miss Eva lives alone, there’s no family brand on her skin anywhere—There’s no child!” Garrick spat the words through a mouthful of blood. Still defending me. Serena slowly laid a hand on the neck of the kid closest to her. Her fingers gradually tightened. “Am I?” She caught the panic flaring in Garrick’s eyes and let out a soft, mournful sigh. “If they’re not Eva’s kids… then why do you care so much?”

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The woman who sold me to a trafficking ring is boasting about it on the dark web — and she just posted my photo. I’m scrolling through a dark web confession thread when I see it. One of those anonymous posts: “What’s the most fucked-up thing you’ve ever done?” The top answer has thousands of upvotes. “I stole the man who saved my life. Her fiancé. The Underboss of one of the biggest crime families in New York.” “She pulled me out of a shipping container when I was sixteen. Gave me a name. Brought me into the family like I was blood. Called me her sister.” “But the first time I saw her fiancé, I knew I had to have him.” “So I slipped Rohypnol into her Amaro at a family dinner, dragged her unconscious body into the Don’s bedroom, and screamed for her fiancé to come see.” “Later, I framed her for trying to poison the Donna.” “Her fiancé snapped. Destroyed her reputation. Had his soldiers drag her out of the estate and get rid of her.” “Me? I stayed. Played the heartbroken Goddaughter for five years. Cried on cue. Warmed his bed. Now we have a son in the most exclusive preschool on the Upper East Side.” “She was nothing. I became everything.” The comments are going feral. “Bitch, you literally sold the woman who SAVED you to traffickers and you’re bragging about it? What the fuck is wrong with you?” “This isn’t ‘survival of the fittest,’ this is straight-up psychopath shit. You belong in a body bag.” “You drugged an innocent woman, framed her, got her TRAFFICKED — and you’re posting this like a kill count? Rot, cunt.” Silvia’s reply comes fast. I can hear the smirk through the screen. “Guilty? She was soft. That’s the only sin that matters.” “I had better teeth. I bit harder. She lost. End of story.” “You’re all foaming at your screens because you don’t have the guts to take what you want. I did. And I’d do it again tomorrow.” She starts posting photos. Diamond choker against her collarbone. The Hudson Valley estate lit up at dusk. Her son in a tiny blazer at his preschool. Hermès bags thrown across marble like garbage. “See this? This is what winning looks like.” “My son will grow up in a palace. He’ll thank me one day.” My nails dig into my palms until the skin splits. If it weren’t for me, her own parents would have sold her before seventeen. I pulled her out of that container with my own hands. Washed the blood off her. Gave her a name, a home, a place in the Romano family. Treated her like my sister. And she repaid me by putting me in hell. For years, I’ve regretted saving that ungrateful snake. Now she waves it all away with “better teeth.” As if drugging me, framing me, and having me sold to a trafficking syndicate was just ambition with sharper claws. She keeps firing back at every commenter, fearless behind anonymity. “Cope harder. She couldn’t hold her man. I could. Natural selection, baby.” “The weak get devoured. I’m just honest about it.” But she underestimates the dark web. Within hours, someone cross-references her estate photos with property records. Someone else runs her IP through a leak database. The threads connect — the Hudson Valley compound, the family crest on the iron gate, the tech front used for laundering. They find him. Luca Romano. CEO of Romano Tech. Underboss of the Romano crime family. Comments flood his public accounts. “@LucaRomano — your wife just confessed to drugging your ex and having her trafficked. Care to comment, you piece of shit?” “So your fiancée was INNOCENT and you had her sold? What kind of man are you?” “If you found out she was framed — would you even care?” Only now does Silvia panic. She scrambles to delete — posts, photos, comments, account. All of it. Too late. I stare at the screen, five years too late, and feel — nothing. No satisfaction. No relief. Just a phantom ache where my right leg used to be. I look down. Titanium and carbon fiber, custom-fitted by the man who became my husband. The place where my leg ends and the machine begins still throbs sometimes. Ghost pain. Nerve endings remembering what was taken. My mind drags me backward. Five years. To the night that ended everything. The Cena di Famiglia. The annual family dinner at the Hudson Valley estate. My birthday. The night my life was destroyed. I was drinking Amaro with the family when the room started to blur. The next thing I remember — waking up naked in Don Marco’s bed. The old man unconscious beside me. Silvia had drugged us both. Staged the whole thing. And Luca — he stormed in and saw exactly what she wanted him to see. His hand closed around my throat before I could breathe. “Elena.” His voice wasn’t human. “You’re that desperate? That’s my father.” “You disgusting puttana.” I clawed at his wrist, choking, gasping. “It wasn’t me — I didn’t — Luca, please —” Silvia dropped to her knees behind him. Sobbing. Perfect. Rehearsed. “Luca, please let her go. She did a terrible thing, but she loves you — I know she does —” Every word poured gasoline. That was the point. He dragged me through the estate. Past the chapel. Past the Madonna in the hallway. Naked. Barefoot. December air cutting my skin like a blade. He threw me onto the gravel outside the iron gate and slammed it shut. “Get out. Don’t ever show your face at this estate again.” I pounded on that gate until my fists bled. No one came. I remember how cold it was. Frost creeping into my bones. Sitting on frozen ground outside the Romano compound all night, shaking, fever climbing. The Hudson River — black and still. Not a single light behind me. By morning, I couldn’t move. I collapsed outside the gates of the place I once called home — and the world went black.

When I come to, I’m lying on a leather sofa in the estate’s private clinic. Oak-paneled walls. Antiseptic and old money. Luca is beside me. Unshaven. Hollow-eyed. His voice is raw. “Elena. You win.” “Just promise me you won’t do this again, and we go back to how things were.” I open my mouth to explain — he grabs the glass off the side table and hurls it against the wall. “The evidence was right in front of my face!” he snarls. “You still want to play me for a fool?” “I’m already forgiving you. What more do you want?” There’s nothing I can say. So I lie there, tears sliding into my hair, repeating the only truth I have. “I didn’t do it. I’m innocent. I swear on my father’s grave.” He doesn’t hear me. After that day, things go back to “normal.” But nothing is the same. He doesn’t touch me. Every time his hand accidentally brushes mine, he goes rigid — then pulls away like I’ve burned him. Before the incident, I was always at the estate for Sunday dinner. Don Marco poured my wine. Donna Caterina kissed both my cheeks and called me figlia mia. Now — every time I walk in, Donna Caterina storms at me and slaps me across the face. Grabs my hair. Screams “Puttana! Disgusting puttana!” and shoves me toward the door. The old Luca would never have let anyone touch me. But now he watches. Eyes flickering with something — pain, maybe. And does nothing. When I beg him to stop her, his face twists. “My mother’s been half out of her mind since that night. You owe her this. Let her get it out.” I want to go to the police. The moment I bring it up, Luca explodes. “I’ve spent everything keeping this quiet. You want the other families to find out? You want them to know the Romano Underboss got cuckolded by his own fiancée and his own father?” “You want a war? Because that’s what happens when this gets out.” And just like that — what Silvia staged that night tears a wound between us that never heals. The alarm on my phone drags me out of the memory. Time to pick up Mia. I’m waiting outside the preschool gates when I check the thread one more time. Silvia’s deleted everything. Account gone. But people already screenshotted every word. Her confessions — mirrored, archived, everywhere. Now the mob is interested in me. The “poor ex-fiancée.” Within hours, they dig up my identity. A woman who came from nothing. Built herself from the ground. Ran one of the most respected anti-trafficking foundations on the East Coast — until she was publicly disgraced and blacklisted. But alongside that — they find the old smear. The story Luca planted five years ago. That I “drove the Goddaughter to attempt suicide.” That I was removed from the foundation and shut out of every circle in the city. I used to think being framed — drugged and placed in the Don’s bed — was the worst thing that could happen to me. I was wrong. Everything after pushed me closer to the edge. One thing after another. Until there was nowhere left to fall. The wedding was approaching. Luca texted me to come to the estate — said we needed to discuss arrangements. I went with my heart full. Hopeful. Thinking — finally. The family is accepting me again. I pushed open the door to his private quarters. And saw Silvia straddling him on the bed. She turned her head. Looked right at me. A slow, venomous smile. “Luca,” she purred, running a nail down his chest. “Are you going to call off the engagement with Elena?” Luca didn’t look up. Lazy. Bored. “I can’t even stand to touch her anymore. Marriage is out of the—” His words die in his throat. Because I’m already standing right in front of them.

I clench my fists so hard my knuckles crack. These two people. One — my fiancé of six years. The man who once ran into a burning warehouse to save me without a thought for himself. The other — the girl I pulled from a shipping container. The one I gave my protection. My trust. My name. And now they’re tangled together in his bed. Double betrayal. How am I supposed to bear this? Something snaps. I grab my bag and lunge at them. Before it touches Silvia, Luca kicks me away. “Are you out of your fucking mind?” The force sends me flying. My forehead cracks against the sharp corner of the nightstand. Blood pours — warm, thick, running down half my face. Luca doesn’t look at me. He wraps the sheets around Silvia, pulls her into his arms. Then turns on me, snarling. “Elena. You walk into my quarters without permission? You think you still have the right to act like this in my house?” No guilt. Just fury. My heart goes dead. I scream. “You’re in bed with her and you’re talking to me about RIGHTS?!” He lifts his head. Sees the blood. Something flickers. “Your head—” Silvia drops to her knees in front of me. Eyes red. Voice trembling. Perfect. “Elena, I’m sorry. Don’t blame Luca, okay? It’s all my fault. I couldn’t help myself.” “I’m not here to ruin things between you two. I don’t need a title. I just want to stay by his side.” She’s crying like I’m the villain. Every word soft. Every word a knife. I swing my hand at her face. My palm lands on Luca instead. He’s stepped in front of her. The handprint blooms red. His expression goes lethal. “Are you done?” “Why are you going after her?” “You want to know why I haven’t touched you?” “Silvia is cleaner than you’ll ever be.” “You make my skin crawl.” Everything goes silent. I stare at him. I forget how to cry. So that’s it. That’s why. Every flinch. Every time he washes his hands after touching me. I look at his face and don’t recognize him. This isn’t the man who used to shield me from everything. Now he stands on the other side. Arms around another woman. My legs give out. I collapse to the floor. And I laugh — the kind that comes with tears. Luca frowns. Reaches toward me. Reflex. Silvia’s voice. Soft. Silk. “Luca… my stomach hurts.” He scoops her up without a backward glance and walks out. I watch them disappear. Through the blur of tears, my heart goes quiet. Not broken. Not aching. Dead.

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In my sixth year working at NSA, it was the 99th time my husband had refused to visit. I decided to take a 36-hour train ride to surprise him. As I wrote my husband’s name on a greeting card at the florist, the clerk jumped out and accused me of trying to seduce her boss. I looked at my husband’s photo and name with suspicion, only to be told that he already had a child, and that I was his deceased sister. I laughed. I was treated like a relative, walking into my husband’s house, waiting for their true colors to be fully revealed… — I stood at the door, waited the clerk picked up her phone. I heard her murmur into it. A few minutes later, the shop door swung open and a woman walked in pushing a stroller, a little girl trailing behind her. She was pretty. Soft-featured. The kind of effortlessly warm-looking woman who shows up in insurance commercials. She looked at me and then at the roses, and something in her expression sharpened. “You’re the one who wants to send my husband flowers?” The small crowd that had started drifting in from outside shifted, curious. Someone called out: “Don’t be too hard on her, Maggie — Professor Mercer would never. You know how much that man adores you.” Another voice: “Maybe she’s here for his research. Just ask her.” The woman — Maggie — tilted her head and studied me with a cooler expression. “Is that it? Work?” I was still processing the marriage certificate on the wall. I grabbed the first thing that came to mind. “His journal submissions,” I said. “I need access to his latest work.” Something loosened in her posture. She laughed — easy and warm, like we’d just gotten past an awkward misunderstanding at a dinner party — and pulled out the chair beside her. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I completely overreacted.” She sat down and gestured for me to join her. “I’m Maggie. Daniel’s wife.” “You’re probably here about the neutron radiation research, right? That’s the one everyone wants lately.” “Neutron attenuation modeling,” I said quietly. She beamed. “You even know the name. I never could keep the projects straight. I barely got through high school.” She laughed again, the self-deprecating kind that women use when they want to be liked. “Daniel doesn’t mind. He always says I understand people better than anyone he’s ever met.” I managed a smile. Daniel and I had both earned our PhDs from the same program, the same year. He’d gone into academia. I’d been recruited — quietly, the way those things happen — into a classified division of the National Security Agency. I’d spent six years inside a compound with restricted communications, caring about the work, missing him, and wiring money home every month to cover his mother’s memory care facility. And he had been here. Building this. An older woman appeared in the doorway, recognized Maggie, and stopped to chat. “Did he actually let you out of the house on your own?” the woman teased. Maggie pressed a finger to her lips and grinned. “Don’t tell him. He’ll worry for a week.” The woman shook her head, fond and indulgent. “I have never in fifty years seen a man so devoted. He picks the jalapeños out of her food at restaurants. He walks on the traffic side of the sidewalk, every single time.” She sighed. “Where do they make men like that?” Each word landed like a small, precise puncture. Maggie slid a pastry across the table toward me. “You look like you’ve been traveling. Eat something.” I ate it. “And listen to me.” She leaned forward with the earnest warmth of someone giving advice they wished someone had given them. “I know women like you — driven, career-first — and I respect it. But don’t wait too long to find your person. Find someone like Daniel. A man who actually shows up.” She smiled. “Otherwise, honey, you’re going to be very lonely.” The irony was so complete it had become something else. Something without a name.

“Mom.” A small voice from the doorway. A little girl, maybe seven, crossed the room and pressed herself against Maggie’s side. She had Daniel’s eyes. His exact shade of gray-green. His too-serious brow. “When is Daddy coming home? I miss him.” I looked at the infant on Maggie’s lap. The girl nestled at her hip. The stroller with its cheerful mobile. A complete, self-contained world. I pressed my hands flat against my thighs beneath the table. “A son and a daughter,” I said. “You’re so lucky.” Maggie glowed. “We really are.” Daniel and I had tried to have children. Or rather: I had tried, and he had managed to be unavailable for every carefully timed attempt. Too tired. Too stressed. We were intellectuals, he said. Responsible people. A child right now would derail everything. Later it became something he called a lifestyle choice. A philosophy. He’d talk about the freedom of a childless marriage with the quiet conviction of a man who’d given it a great deal of thought. He had. Just not in the direction I’d assumed. He already had his children. He hadn’t needed mine. Maggie glanced at her phone. “He’s almost never late getting home. Today is just one of those days — sorry to keep you waiting.” I stared at her. Daniel had told me “working late” so many times the phrase had become white noise. Every unanswered call. Every canceled visit. Every holiday I spent alone in a government facility, eating cafeteria food and telling myself the work was worth it. He was apparently home for dinner every single night at this address. “My place is close,” Maggie said, standing and lifting the baby. “Want to wait somewhere warm?” I stood before she’d finished the sentence. “Does he live with your family?” I asked, keeping my voice light. “His parents are gone. It’s just mine. And honestly—” she smiled, a little proud, “—he treats my parents like his own. My dad actually cried at Christmas last year. Said he never thought he’d have a son like Daniel.” I thought about the woman in the memory care unit. The one who’d wandered out of her room during a storm, ended up in the facility’s ornamental pond, and had to be pulled out by two nurses. The one Daniel had told me was “handled” when I called in a panic from a secure phone line at two in the morning. Handled by me, as it turned out. We turned a corner, and I glanced down at the little girl’s backpack. Embroidered on the front panel, in neat yellow thread: NSA FAMILY SERVICES SCHOOL — FORT MEADE. I stopped walking. Maggie noticed and smiled back at me. “Her school. Special placement — Daniel qualified because of his sister.” Her voice softened. “She died on duty. Six years ago. NSA.” The sidewalk tilted. “His sister,” I said. “Claire.” She said the name gently, like she’d said it many times. “He cleared out all her things afterward. Said he couldn’t bear the reminders. Even the photos.” She reached into her bag and pressed a hand warmer into my palm — small, flat, already warm. “You look pale. Are you cold? Daniel always keeps extras in my bag. He worries about my circulation in winter.” My name is Claire Mercer. I am apparently dead.

Maggie talked the entire way to her building. She had a gift for it — a natural, generous warmth that would have been entirely likeable under any other circumstances. “The NSA survivor benefits have been such a blessing,” she was saying. “Healthcare, school priority, the monthly support — Daniel always says Claire would have wanted her niece and nephew taken care of.” Her niece and nephew. The dependent allowance assigned to my personnel file covered exactly two children. That was why. That was the specific, calculated reason he had spent six years explaining to me why responsible, educated people don’t rush into parenthood. Because the quota was full. Because his other children were already using it. “When was your son born?” I asked. “November third. Daniel arranged everything — a private hospital, the best OB in the city. He was so wonderful about all of it.” November third. The day my father died. The ER doctor had told me afterward: if he’d gotten there forty minutes earlier, they could have saved him. A forty-minute window. I had called Daniel seventeen times that afternoon. Seventeen. I still had the call log. He had wept at the funeral. Fallen to his knees in the parking lot and hit himself across the face with an open hand, sobbing so hard that people around him looked frightened. I had held him and told him it wasn’t his fault. That he hadn’t known how serious it was. He’d been in a private hospital suite, watching his son come into the world. “The age gap between them is funny,” Maggie continued, adjusting the baby on her hip. “Almost seven years. They fight constantly.” She laughed. “If you ever have kids, put them closer together.” I already knew everything I needed to know. Maggie gestured ahead. “Here we are.” Not an apartment. A full townhouse on a quiet, tree-lined street, with a real front door and window boxes. The kind of place that costs four times what Daniel’s university salary could cover. Inside: high ceilings, warm light, a vase of white tulips on the dining table, a gallery wall of family photographs, every sharp corner cushioned with silicone bumpers for the baby. It smelled like a candle that cost forty dollars. “Daniel did all of this,” Maggie said. “He says a home should feel like one.” Daniel, who had never once done the dishes in the apartment we shared. Who left his clothes on the bathroom floor and waited for me to pick them up. Who watched television while I scrubbed the kitchen on my four-day home leave visits, because those were the only days anyone cleaned anything. “It’s beautiful,” I said. “He must be doing well. Did he buy this place?” “Six years ago.” She poured water for both of us. “I was new to the city when we met. He set me up — the flower shop, this house. He said he wanted me to feel secure.” Daniel’s family had nothing when we married. Our apartment was my parents’ property. His salary was modest and I had seen every bank statement. The front door opened. A man stepped in — mid-sixties, heavyset, with the slow, territorial movements of someone who considered this his ground. He looked at me with immediate suspicion. “Who’s this?” Maggie introduced me brightly: a government contact, here about Daniel’s research. The man — her father, I gathered — settled into his armchair with the satisfaction of a man claiming a throne. “Daniel’s like a real son to me,” he said. “The government recognizing his work — that makes me proud. Stay for dinner. I’ll cook.” Maggie’s phone rang. She answered on speaker, without thinking. Daniel’s voice filled the room. “Hey, sweetheart. I’ll be late — probably after midnight. I know you’ve been craving that bakery on Elm Street, so I grabbed you a box on my way. Sorry to keep you waiting again.” Maggie’s whole face lit up. The call ended. My own phone buzzed. A text from Daniel: *Happy almost-New Year. Sorry I can’t be there this holiday — you know how it is. Take care of yourself at the base. I’ll check on Mom. Come home soon. You work so hard. I love you.* I read it twice. Then I opened my contacts and called my unit’s legal officer. “I need a full records pull,” I said, keeping my voice very even. “Property, dependents, financials. And get me an attorney. My husband is committing adultery.”

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Everyone in town called my father a rabid dog. And my mother held his leash. He was a mob enforcer. She was a police detective. She told him she couldn’t love a man on the wrong side of the law. So he went undercover and brought the whole organization down with him. While he was in prison, my mother was targeted for revenge. They tortured her for three days and three nights. She never broke. So they injected something directly into her brain. It turned her into a psychopath. When my father found out, he didn’t say a word — but that same night, he broke out. He put over a thousand cuts into the men who had hurt her, then turned himself in again. He earned his way out after that. From convict to criminal investigator. He married my mother. They had me. Everyone called it a love story for the ages. Then a beautiful woman showed up at our house. She stood there, visibly pregnant, and looked down at me. “Your mother is mentally ill. Your father has had enough of her.” “I’m going to be your new mom. And I’ll give you a little brother.” My mother heard every word. One second she was perfectly still. The next, she had a knife. She cut open the woman’s stomach. She dropped something at my feet, then looked at me with the softest smile I had ever seen. “Don’t worry, baby. Mommy won’t let anyone threaten your place.”

When my father burst through the door, Celeste had already passed out from the pain. “Vera.” His voice was ice. “You went too far this time.” He scooped Celeste up and left for the hospital without another word. Two hours later, he came back. My mother was still on the couch, exactly where he’d left her. Eyes empty. Somewhere far away. He filled a basin with water and cleaned the blood from her hands and face, one careful stroke at a time. “Get changed. You’re coming with me to apologize to Celeste.” My mother came back to life. She smiled. “Dream on.” “Vera!” His patience snapped. He slapped her across the face. “Her father is my direct superior. One word from Commissioner Quinn and my career is finished. My life is finished! So you are going to—” “Don’t you dare touch my mother!” I threw myself at him and bit down on his hand as hard as I could. I tasted blood almost immediately, iron flooding my mouth. His other hand closed around my jaw. He pressed his fingers in. I heard a crack, and the pain was blinding. He’d dislocated my jaw. I had no choice but to let go. He wiped his hand clean with a tissue. “Vera, you’ve raised quite a daughter.” He looked at my mother. “But do you understand what you’ve done? Celeste will never be able to have children again.” “She was barely twenty years old. She was just teasing you, and you did that to her. How ironic, for a former cop.” My stomach dropped at that last word. The worst thing anyone could do to my mother was remind her of who she used to be. She had been brilliant once. Decorated. Respected. Now she was mentally ill, living like something trapped in the walls of this house. She couldn’t walk out the front door without my father’s permission. Sure enough — her eyes went red. A sharp, terrible sound tore out of her throat. She grabbed the fruit knife off the table and lunged at him. “I’m not going anywhere! I’m not apologizing! Don’t you even think about it!” But she was never a match for him physically. He had the knife down and her wrists cuffed within seconds. He sat on top of her and made a phone call. “Madam is having an episode. Open the greenhouse.” The color drained from my mother’s face. She thrashed, screaming, “Not the greenhouse — don’t take me there — let go of me—” I grabbed the back of his jacket, sobbing. “Daddy, please. Please don’t send her to the greenhouse. Please.” He pinched my face in one hand. His smile was cold. “Ruby, your mother always said — if you do something wrong, you face the consequences.”

My mom liked flowers very much. So my father built the greenhouse for her. When she first saw it, she cried from happiness. Every flower inside — they had chosen together, grown together. It was the only love letter they’d ever written together. Every flower in it was a vow. Then his enemies destroyed it. The year Dad turned himself in, he handed over enough evidence to bring down the biggest criminal organization in the city. The whole network collapsed. He was the one who’d delivered them — but he wasn’t clean himself. He still had to serve time. Prison politics were complicated, and Dad had made too many enemies. To protect him, the authorities buried his identity and transferred him to a facility out of state. The organization wanted to know which prison. So they took Mom. They locked her in the greenhouse. Over a dozen men, taking turns to torture her. They pulled her hair out by the roots. Knocked her teeth out one by one. Ran current through her body again and again for three days and three nights. She didn’t say a single word for three days and nights. It was only when a piece of her flesh tore away that they realized she was pregnant. They forced her to consume the remains of her unborn child. Then they injected something directly into her brain. When her colleagues finally found her, she wasn’t the same person anymore. Her condition had fluctuated ever since. A doctor once said the best treatment would be desensitization therapy — in the greenhouse itself, confronting the fear at its source. My father had tried once. She collapsed before she even reached the door — beating her head against the wall, her fingernails tearing into his throat. He never took her back. He couldn’t stand to see her like that. But now he was taking her back for someone else. She broke down before they even reached the door. When she screamed, he gagged her. When she fought, he bound her. The men in white coats strapped her into the chair and began the treatment. They turned the current to its highest setting. Her body went rigid. Saliva and tears ran down her face and neck. Every sound she made landed somewhere in my chest. I dropped to my knees in front of my father and pressed my forehead to the floor. “Please stop hurting her.” “I’ll go. I’ll apologize to Celeste myself. Just please stop.” He had made up his mind. Nothing I did reached him. I couldn’t take it anymore. I ran to my mother and tried to pull the electrodes off her body. The current threw me back the moment I touched them. I was numb all over. I got up and reached for her again. Once. Twice. Three times. Then my father called out for them to stop. I thought he had finally felt something. I turned around — and saw that it was my mother who had raised her hands. Both of them, in surrender. We all understood. She had given in. She would go and apologize. Half an hour later, my father helped her change her clothes. He brought me along, and the three of us went to the hospital together. My mother stood at Celeste’s bedside and bowed her head. “I’m sorry, Celeste. I shouldn’t have hurt you.” Celeste looked past her to my father. “That’s how you’re letting her apologize to me?” “What do you want from her?” he asked. “She took my uterus,” Celeste said. “A real apology means she loses hers too.” “She doesn’t have one,” my father said. “She hemorrhaged giving birth to Ruby. They removed it to save her life.” The memory passed across his face like a shadow. He looked away. “Anything else — she’ll do.” “Alright.” Celeste thought for a moment, then smiled. “Then I want her on all fours. Crawling. Barking like a dog while she apologizes.” She tilted her head toward me. “And Ruby too.” My father’s jaw tightened. He said nothing. Which meant yes. Fury shot straight to the top of my head. “You’re the one who provoked my mother first. If she owes you an apology, then shouldn’t you—” My mother cut me off. “I’ll do it,” she said calmly. “But not Ruby.” She stepped toward Celeste. “Let my daughter go, and I’ll tell you a secret about my husband.” Celeste loved my father. Anyone could see it. She agreed without hesitating. My mother leaned in close, lips near Celeste’s ear. But she didn’t say a word. She bit down — and kept biting. Then she pulled a knife from somewhere and drove it straight into the artery on the side of Celeste’s neck. Blood sprayed hot across my face. My father tore them apart, eyes wild. My mother had taken Celeste’s ear off. He held Celeste against him, soaked in red, and looked at my mother with something I had never seen in his face before. “Vera.” Just her name. Like a warning. “You wait.”

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I grabbed my phone to call my husband when I was trapped in my car during a massive highway pile-up. Then an urgent voice rang out: [Mommy, don’t call Daddy!] I froze. The only other person in the car was my newborn baby. Where was that sound coming from? Just as I was wondering, the sound rang out again. [Daddy’s assistant told him she’s having a mental breakdown. She’s on a rooftop, threatening to jump. If Daddy comes for you right now, she’ll actually do it!] My phone connected. Julian’s voice came through the speaker. “Aren’t you tired of using the same pathetic excuse? If I show up and find out you’re just faking it, Claire, you’re finished. I won’t let you go!” [Mommy! Don’t let him come!] I became clear-headed at once. “I can handle it,” I said firmly. “Don’t come.” I hung up. Baby. It’s just you and Mommy now. A second later, something slammed into my rear bumper. Then another hit. Then another. My car was sandwiched from both sides. The doors weren’t just jammed — they were crushed completely shut. I pulled my baby tight. [Mommy, run! Daddy lent this car to his assistant Vanessa. She cracked the fuel line and the chassis and never got it fixed. It’s going to explode!] I grabbed the emergency hammer and swung it at the windshield. I clutched my baby and crawled out, rolling behind the highway guardrail. The moment I hit the ground, the screaming started. “That car’s on fire! Get back!” Flames were already tearing through the undercarriage. Black smoke swallowed the sky. My whole body screamed in pain. Blood soaked through my clothes from a dozen places at once. [Mommy… it hurts. Am I going to die?] My baby’s voice was tiny and terrified. I held her still and pressed her close. I fumbled for my phone with bloody fingers and dialed 911. “Interstate pile-up, multiple vehicles. I have a baby. We’re both bleeding—” “Ma’am, stay calm. Your exact location?” I told him. Every word cost me something. “Copy. Dispatching the nearest unit now. Keep this line open.” My shoulders dropped half an inch in relief. Then my phone rang again. “Hello? How far out are—” “Claire.” Luke. Julian’s best friend. Head of local emergency dispatch. “Julian already called me,” he said flatly. “It’s a holiday weekend. First responders are slammed. Stop tying up the emergency line.” The bottom dropped out of my stomach. Everything my baby had said — it was all true. “Luke, listen to me.” My voice cracked raw. “My car is actively on fire. It could explode any second. My newborn and I are both injured. Please—” He actually laughed. “Give it a rest, Claire. Julian warned me you’d try something like this. We don’t have time for your drama. Handle it yourself.” I sat there in the smoke and heat, phone in my bloody hand, flames roaring twenty feet away. [Mommy!] I tried to stand. Made it two steps. The world tilted hard and I hit the asphalt, curling my body around my daughter on the way down. Someone nearby said quietly, “She’s losing too much blood. I don’t think she’s going to—” No. My baby already had a father who failed her. She was not going to lose her mother too. I forced myself up, shielding my baby in my arms. I didn’t even make it two steps before my legs gave out and collapsed.

[Mommy! Ask someone for help!] The voice cut through the darkness just as I was about to go under again. I dragged myself to the guardrail. “Please—” My voice came out in a ragged whisper. “Please. Someone help my baby.” Heads turned. Within seconds, strangers were running toward me. “There’s a woman down over here!” “She’s got a newborn — the baby’s head is bleeding! Someone call 911!” “She’s still breathing! Help me move her!” More people came. Then more. “I have a first-aid kit in my car!” “Get them away from the wreckage — it’s not safe here! Anyone know first aid?” “I do!” A young woman shoved through without hesitating. “Let me through!” Tears ran down my face before I could stop them. In my worst moment, it was strangers who came. They carried us carefully to an open stretch of road away from the flames. “Ma’am, can you hear me? Can you tell me how you feel?” A calm voice. Close. I managed a nod. “She’s conscious!” he called out immediately. Someone ran back to their car for a first-aid kit. A young woman knelt beside me and began checking my wounds, then the baby’s. “Don’t be scared,” she said softly. “Your little girl looks okay. Just surface cuts. She’s tough.” The people around us moved with quiet efficiency. Some passed supplies. Others held back the gathering crowd. Then an older woman crouched down beside me, holding something small between her fingers. “Sweetheart — is this yours?” A ring. My engagement ring. I stared at it. I remembered the night Julian proposed — how nervous he’d been. He knelt down. When I said “I do,” tears streamed down his face. His hand trembled as he put the ring on my finger, vowing to love me for the rest of his life. [Mommy. He’s not worth it.] My baby’s voice was gentle. Heartbroken for me. I turned my face away from the ring. A man nearby was already on his phone, furious. “Hello? 911? Interstate pile-up — multiple vehicles! I’ve got a woman here who just gave birth and her infant — both seriously injured, both bleeding! When are you people getting here?!” The voice that came through the phone made me utterly desperate. It was Luke. “Claire.” His tone was bone-dry. “Wasn’t I clear enough the first time? Stop wasting emergency resources. We’re busy.” The man stared at his phone and then exploded. “Who the hell are you talking to?! What do you mean you’re busy?! There are people dying out here — doesn’t that mean anything to you?! You’re supposed to prioritize!” Luke paused. Then, dripping with contempt: “Nice try, Claire. Hiring actors now? I’ll admit, this one’s convincing.” “You—” Before the man could fire back, a thunderous crash shook the interstate. A heavy freight truck had lost control and plowed into the wreckage ahead of us. The sound roared through the phone. Luke finally realized the seriousness of the situation. “That sound… how bad is it over there? Everyone hold on — I’m redirecting units to your location right now.” The people around me exhaled in shaky relief. But I heard something no one else could hear again, and those were my baby’s mind voices. [Mommy, he’s lying. He still thinks you’re faking. He didn’t send anyone.] [Tell everyone to run. That freight truck — it’s about to explode.]

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I got his call while the engagement hall was already full. Calder Rhys, my fiancé of three years, had cancelled our ceremony overnight — to escort his fallen packmate’s sister to the hospital. My brother Drew grabbed my arm, his jaw tight. “Neva, call it off. We’re not sitting here to be laughed at.” “Calder doesn’t show — that’s his loss.” I looked at the slideshow still running on the reception screen. Our photos. My white dress. His uniform. I smiled at nothing in particular. “We’re not calling it off. The food’s already ordered.” “Call it an early Christmas dinner.” — The hall went quiet when I said that. My parents’ faces were unreadable, but they didn’t argue. They moved through the room, guiding relatives to their seats, filling the silence with small gestures. I stepped down from the platform and went table to table with my glass raised. No one mentioned Calder. No one asked what had happened. They said happy holidays and congratulations and drank when I drank. I drank a lot. By the end, my stomach felt like I’d swallowed embers. Drew held me steady, his eyes red at the rims. “Was it worth it, Neva?” I set my glass down. “There’s no worth it. There just is.” We said goodbye to the last guests. The hall emptied until it was only family. My mother finally broke. Tears ran down her face before she could stop them. “How could he do this to you?” My father rubbed her back. “She knows what she’s doing.” I checked my phone. No new messages. No missed calls. Calder had called in the afternoon. His voice carried no guilt, the same flat tone he used to issue orders. He said Lila Voss had sudden appendicitis. She needed to be transferred for surgery immediately. He said he was her only family. He had to take her himself. He told me to cancel the ceremony and explain things to the guests. He said it the way he issued orders on the field. I asked him one question: “An appendicitis? Our Pack Medical Center can’t handle that?” I was a field surgeon at that center. I could perform that procedure in my sleep. A pause on the line. Then one sentence. “She’s scared.” He hung up. She was scared. Lila Voss, the younger sister of Logan, his packmate who died beside him in the field. The girl he had sworn to protect for the rest of his life. She was timid. Fragile. Couldn’t stand the sight of blood. “She is my responsibility.” Calder said it so often it had become a second nature to him. So because she was scared, our engagement ceremony could be cancelled. Because of one word from her, three years of waiting could be unmade. I opened my phone. Lila had just updated her social feed. A photo. Calder sat at the edge of her hospital bed, head down, carefully peeling an apple. His profile was focused. Calm. The caption read: With my brother here, I’m not scared anymore. Wishing everyone a safe and happy holiday. In the corner of the photo, I could see his phone on the nightstand. Screen lit. A game open. He had time to play. Not to send me a single word. I closed my phone. “Drew,” I said. “Take me home.”

I spent Christmas alone. My parents and Drew wanted to stay with me. I sent them away. I didn’t want them to see me like this. I sent Calder a few messages. Asked how Lila was doing. Asked when he was coming back. No reply. Christmas Eve, every house on the street was lit up. I heated up a frozen pot pie and sat alone at the table. The holiday special on TV was loud and bright, but I couldn’t take in a single word. I scrolled through my phone instead. Lila had posted again. A video this time. Calder carried a bowl of stew to her bedside and fed it to her, spoonful by spoonful, the steam rising between them. Lila’s face was pale, but her eyes were full of warmth. At the end of the video, she turned to the camera and flashed a peace sign. Christmas dinner made by Calder himself. I swear nothing in the world has ever tasted better. The comments flooded in. “Okay what kind of perfect brother IS this??” “Lila, is that your boyfriend?? He’s so handsome!” Lila replied to one: No no, he’s my brother. My absolute favorite person. A blushing emoji followed. I stared at that bowl of stew. I remembered telling Calder once that my mother made the best Christmas stew in the world. He’d laughed and said that when he learned the recipe, he’d make it for me every single year. He had learned. The first person he made it for wasn’t me. I poured my bowl down the drain. The ache in my stomach came back. — When the holiday break ended, I went back to work. Surgery. Rounds. Charts. Life seemed to settle back into its rhythm. Until I saw them in the corridor. Calder in civilian clothes, a thermal carry bag in one hand. Lila on his arm, smiling up at him. She’d been discharged. They were here for her follow-up. They saw me. Lila’s smile faltered for just a moment, then she looked at me with careful eyes. “Neva.” Her voice was small. Calder’s expression didn’t shift. He gave a single nod. “You’re back at work.” “Yes.” I waited. For something. Anything. But he simply turned to Lila. “Wait here. I’ll get you checked in.” Then he walked past me like I was a stranger he had never met. Lila drifted toward me, her voice dropping low. “Please don’t be angry with him.” “The ceremony — that was my fault. All of it.” “I was in so much pain that day. I thought I was dying.” “I panicked and I called him.” “I didn’t know that day was your—” Her eyes went glassy. “But now you do know,” I said, cutting her off. She blinked. “Neva, I—” “Your attending is Dr. Mara,” I said. “She’s the best surgeon in this entire center.” “An appendectomy is a routine procedure for her.” “Your so-called fear wasted her time and drained this facility’s resources.” “And cost me my engagement ceremony.” Lila had gone white. She bit her lip, and the tears spilled over. “I’m sorry. I swear I didn’t mean for any of this.” Then Calder came back. He saw her face and his brow pulled tight immediately. He crossed the corridor in three strides and stepped in front of her, shielding her with his body. “Neva.” His voice was ice. “What did you do?” “I stated facts.” “Facts? You made her cry. Is that what you call facts?” He looked at me, and his eyes were full of disappointment. “I thought you were above this kind of pettiness.” “You’re a soldier, Neva. How can you be so unreasonable?” Unreasonable. I had given up a position at the capital’s top medical center to stay in this remote posting — for him. I had waited three years without a single complaint for him. And now, in his eyes, I was unreasonable. “You owe me an explanation, Calder.” My voice came out unsteady. “I explained it. Emergency. That’s all there is.” “Escorting an appendicitis patient is your idea of an emergency?” “She is not just anyone. She is my packmate’s sister.” His voice rose. “I made a promise to Logan. I swore I’d treat her like my own blood.” “Then what am I?” I looked at him. “Calder, what exactly am I to you?” He went silent. Colleagues passed in the corridor, glancing at us, murmuring to each other. I felt like something to be pitied. Lila tugged at his sleeve, her voice a wet whisper. “Let’s go. Please. This is all my fault.” “This is not your fault.” He turned to her immediately, his voice dropping to something gentle. Then he turned back to me, and the cold returned. “Lila isn’t well. Stop doing this to her.” “Apologize to her. Now.” Apologize. For telling the truth. I looked at Calder’s face — that flat, distant expression. And felt, for the first time, like I was looking at a stranger. I almost laughed. “Fine,” I said. I walked to Lila. She flinched back slightly. I met her eyes and said it clearly, one word at a time. “I’m sorry.” “I shouldn’t have interrupted such a devoted brother and sister.” Then I turned and walked away. Behind me, Calder’s voice cracked like a whip. “That’s your idea of an apology?” I didn’t turn around.

The week that followed, Calder didn’t reach out. Neither did I. The rumors started quietly, then didn’t. Some said Calder had fallen for the fragile girl he’d been protecting and was looking for a way out of our engagement. Some said I had a temper that drove away a good man. I heard all of it. I let it pass through me. Until Mara pulled me into her office and closed the door. She’d known my mother for years and had always looked out for me. “Neva, what is actually going on between you and Calder?” I shook my head. “Nothing.” “Don’t do that.” She exhaled. “I’ve heard things.” “That Lila Voss is not what she seems.” “The surgical team told me — her appendicitis never required a transfer.” “She refused treatment here. Made a scene. Said she was afraid of scarring and demanded a specialist at the regional hospital for a minimally invasive procedure.” “Calder called in every favor he had to get her that bed.” “Do you know how long one of our warriors, a real emergency case, spent lying on a cot in the hallway that night because that bed was gone?” Mara’s words hit me like a blow to the chest. I had told myself Calder was simply blinded by loyalty. I had told myself his sense of responsibility had gotten the better of him. I had not let myself think he had crossed this far. That was a warrior’s life. And in his mind, it had mattered less than Lila’s fear of a scar. “Neva,” Mara said, her voice softening. “Calder is a good man. But good men make terrible mistakes.” “They get blinded. It happens.” “Don’t let this destroy you.” I nodded. “I hear you, Mara.” I left her office and walked to the inpatient ward. Lila’s room. The door was slightly open, just a crack. I stopped in the doorway and heard Lila’s voice from inside — she was on the phone with someone. Her voice carried no weakness. If anything, she sounded excited. “He treats me so well, you have no idea.” “That Neva? Total control freak. Suffocating to be around.” “He’s been done with her for ages. Just didn’t know how to end it.” *”The ceremony? I faked the whole thing. Cried twice on the phone and he dropped everything and ran. Didn’t even look back.” “So who do you think he really cares about?” “Money? Obviously. I told him my mom was sick and needed help. He transferred the funds without blinking. Five figures.” “He said I’m like his real sister now. Monthly allowance and everything.” “The designer bag? I told him all my friends had one and I was the only one left out. It arrived the next day.” “He’ll believe anything that comes out of my mouth. Anything.” “Once I’ve got him completely, Neva won’t even be a memory.” The sunlight in the corridor was very bright. I couldn’t feel any warmth in it. Every drop of blood in my body seemed to freeze in that moment. So I was the fool all along. Calder Rhys, the man I had loved for three years, the man I thought I could build a life with. In his heart, I was nothing but a burden he didn’t know how to put down. My faith. My love. Everything I had quietly carried. It shattered completely in that moment. I didn’t go in. I simply turned and walked away. I went back to my office, sat down, and opened my laptop. I began writing my discharge petition.

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Declan Vance has worked in Chicago for eight years. Every time he drives back to our home in Naperville from downtown, I have dinner ready and waiting. Even though I know he always stops to see his “first love”—Sienna Miller—before coming home to me. Every time he visits her, he promises me some kind of compensation. It became a routine. A transaction. Until last month, when he gave the company’s only transfer slot for the Chicago headquarters to Sienna. I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry. I just calmly presented him with my 100th request. Seeing my rare “understanding” and “generosity,” he signed the document without hesitation. He even promised to take me to see a Broadway tour as a bonus. But he didn’t know what he was signing. Sandwiched inside that file was our divorce application. When you save up enough disappointment, it’s time to leave. Chicago, November. The sun was setting, casting a lead-gray shimmer over Lake Michigan outside the window. The steak on the dining table had gone cold hours ago. This was the sixth time I’d taken it to the microwave to reheat it. Six o’clock. Seven o’clock. Eight o’clock. The clock hands spun round and round, but Declan still hadn’t returned. Finally, the phone rang. “Elena.” Declan’s voice sounded tired, but mostly entitled. “I’m not coming back for dinner tonight. There’s an issue with Sienna’s transfer paperwork. I need to help her handle it.” My grip on the phone tightened. Today was our eighth wedding anniversary. But clearly, he forgot. Or rather, he remembered, but he just didn’t care. “The slot has already been submitted,” he continued, his tone like he was reporting to a subordinate. “Her family really needs her back in Chicago to take care of her parents. Whatever compensation you want, just tell Marcus.” This wasn’t a discussion. It was a notification. To him, my feelings never mattered. “Okay,” I said. My voice was terrifyingly calm. Declan paused, seemingly surprised by how agreeable I was. “So… I’ll be back late. You go to sleep first.” After hanging up, I stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, looking at my reflection. Eight years. For eight years, I forgave, I compromised, and I waited. And what did I get? Broken promises, constant absences, and him choosing someone else—always choosing her. The phone rang again. This time it was Declan’s assistant, Marcus. “Elena, I’m so sorry,” Marcus said, his voice full of apology. “Declan asked me to pass on a message. He said you can raise the ‘price’ for the compensation this time. He’ll agree to anything.” I was silent for a moment. “No need to trouble yourself, Marcus. I’ll talk to him myself this time.” “Really? That’s great. Declan will be relieved—” I hung up. I walked to the study, opened the safe, and took out the manila envelope. Inside was a property transfer agreement regarding Declan’s grandfather’s abandoned auto repair shop. And, clipped to the last few pages— Joint Petition for Dissolution of Marriage Circuit Court of Cook County, Illinois The divorce papers. I opened the notes app on my phone and looked at the list I had maintained for eight years: The Compensation List Thanksgiving 2017: He went to Sienna’s parents’ house, leaving me alone—Tiffany bracelet. Valentine’s Day 2018: Cancelled dinner to take Sienna to the doctor—Weekend spa trip. My 30th Birthday 2019: He “forgot”—Dinner the next day. 2020 Pandemic: I had a fever at home, he went to deliver food to Sienna—Apology + Cartier bracelet. … November 2025: The only Chicago HQ transfer slot given to Sienna—TBD. Tomorrow, I will ask for the 100th compensation. Then, this eight-year farce can finally end.

The next afternoon, I put on that emerald green cashmere coat—the one Declan said made me look too aggressive. Good. Today, I intend to be aggressive. The offices of Vance & Associates were in the Loop, on the 27th floor of a glass-walled skyscraper. The receptionist looked stunned to see me. “Elena… you’re here to see Declan?” “Yes.” “He’s in a meeting—” “I know. I’ll let myself in.” I walked through the open workspace. A few employees recognized me, their eyes filled with subtle pity. The whole company probably knew the boss and his “first love” Sienna were transferring to Chicago together. As for the boss’s wife? Who cares. I knocked on Declan’s office door. “Come in.” Declan sat behind his massive mahogany desk, staring at three computer monitors. Hearing the door, he looked up. Seeing it was me, he frowned slightly. “Elena? Why are you here?” His tone held a trace of impatience. “Didn’t Marcus tell you? Whatever you want, just tell him and—” “I want the old auto repair shop,” I interrupted, placing the file on his desk. “The one your grandfather owned in Pilsen. It’s closed, but the land has value. I can redevelop it.” Declan paused, then sighed in relief. “That’s it?” He almost eagerly pulled the file toward him. “You should have said so. It’s just a run-down garage.” He didn’t even read it. He flipped directly to the last page, the signature block. “Anything else?” he asked while signing. “The dividends from the Lincoln Park project just came in. You want a new car? A new house? Jewelry? Just tell Marcus—” “No need.” I took the signed document back and carefully placed it in my bag. Declan looked to be in a good mood, probably thinking this “crisis” had been easily resolved. “Seriously, Elena,” he leaned back in his chair, his tone bordering on lecturing. “The things you’ve received in these eight years are more than most people get in a lifetime. You should be grateful.” “I am grateful,” I smiled. “Alright, I have a conference call.” He waved his hand. “You go home. I might be late tonight. Sienna still has some paperwork to finish.” “Okay.” I turned and left his office. I walked into the elevator and watched the doors slowly close, shutting out that space filled with hypocrisy. Declan didn’t know that from page 15 of the document he just signed, it was our divorce application. He also didn’t remember that when we got married, he gave me 99 gifts and said the 100th gift would be growing old together. Now, my 100th “gift” has arrived. It is freedom.

I sat in my car but didn’t start the engine immediately. Instead, I opened my phone and dialed a number. “Elena?” A gentle female voice answered. “It’s Vivian, HR from the Department of Commerce.” “Vivian, I’ve decided,” I said. “I accept the offer.” “That’s wonderful!” Vivian’s voice was full of excitement. “Public Affairs Specialist, GS-11, starting salary $75,000. When can you start?” “Is two weeks okay?” “Perfect! I’ll email you the offer letter and onboarding documents immediately. Welcome to D.C., Elena!” I hung up and dialed my lawyer. “Harper, I got the papers.” “He signed them?” My lawyer, Harper, sounded surprised. “He really didn’t read the content?” “Not a single word.” Harper sighed on the other end. “Men.” “I’m taking them to the court now,” I said. “According to Illinois law, in 60 days—” “In 60 days, you will be legally single,” Harper said. “Elena, are you sure about the asset division? That house has at least $150,000 in equity. You deserve it.” “I don’t want it,” I said. “I just want a clean break.” “Alright, your choice,” Harper paused. “By the way, what if he finds out and causes trouble?” “In 60 days, I’ll be in D.C.,” I said. “He won’t be able to find me.” Back at the house in Naperville, I started packing. We lived in this four-bedroom colonial-style house for seven years. I planted the maple tree in the front yard. We painted the deck in the back together. I picked the backsplash in the kitchen. But none of that mattered anymore. I opened the closet and packed my clothes into boxes one by one. Those designer bags, the jewelry, the luxury goods he “compensated” me with— I didn’t want any of them. They could stay, or be donated. I only wanted the things that were truly mine: photos, books, my mother’s jewelry box, and my vintage Canon camera. Halfway through packing, my phone buzzed. It was an Instagram notification. Sienna had posted a photo: She and Declan standing in front of Gibson’s Bar & Steakhouse, with the Chicago River nightscape in the background. Sienna was wearing a black Hervé Léger bandage dress, linking arms with Declan, smiling brightly. Caption: “Celebrating new chapters with my favorite person 🥂✨ #ChicagoHereWeCome #DreamsComeTrue” I tapped on Declan’s profile. He had reposted Sienna’s story, adding: “Proud of you. Cheers to new beginnings.” The comments were full of congratulations: “You two are perfect together!” “When’s the wedding? 💍” “Power couple alert! 🔥” I stared at those comments for a long time, then calmly closed the app. New beginnings? Yes. For me, it’s a new beginning too. Only my new beginning doesn’t include Declan Vance.

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