We worked at the same company and had been secretly married for five years. Today, my husband, Alex Carter, handed out slices of his assistant Chloe Jensen’s birthday cake to everyone’s desk. The entire open-plan office was buzzing about them. When Chloe cut the cake, she made a point to walk over to me, a bright smile on her face. “Emma, you have to try this. Alex said he ordered it from the best French patisserie in town.” I took the paper plate without an expression, turned around, and dropped it directly into the trash can beside my desk. Chloe’s smile froze. She quickly walked to Alex’s office and shut the door. I could hear her muffled sobs through the glass. A few minutes later, Alex stormed out of his office, his face dark. He stopped at my desk and hissed, “My office. Now.” The moment I was inside, he exploded. “What the hell are you doing? This is an office, not a place for your tantrums!” I looked at him calmly. “You’re the one who turned the office into a birthday party.” “Chloe’s father is our biggest client! Can’t you be mature for once? This is about the company’s business, about my promotion!” “So your promotion is more important than your wife’s feelings?” He froze for a second, then got even angrier. “Don’t you dare start with that here. If you don’t want to work here anymore, HR is on the second floor.” I nodded. “Fine.” He clearly didn’t expect that answer. A flicker of panic crossed his face. “Emma, you…” “I’ll go talk to HR about my resignation,” I cut him off. “And by the way, we should also talk about a divorce.” With that, I turned and walked out of his office. That night, Chloe updated her Instagram story: a selfie of her with the birthday cake, captioned, “The best boss! So lucky to have you ❤️” A few minutes later, she added a screenshot of a reply. “Someone asked if we’re a thing? Hehe, my lips are sealed~ 😉” I stared at the post, opened my contacts, and long-pressed Alex’s name. Block. Delete contact. Unfollow on Instagram. It was time to end this.

After the cake incident, the atmosphere in the office was tense. Alex stood in front of my desk, and I could feel our colleagues listening in. “Are you insane?” he whispered fiercely. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing?” “Perfectly,” I said, continuing to pack my personal belongings—a picture frame, a coffee mug, a small succulent. “Emma,” he said through gritted teeth. “Don’t make a scene. We’ll talk about this at home.” “There’s nothing to talk about.” I sealed the last box. “And for the record, Chloe needs to learn some professional etiquette. Bringing a cake for your boss is one thing, but that Instagram caption? Does this company not have a social media policy?” His face paled. I picked up my box to leave. As I passed the trash can, I casually picked up the slice of cake and held it out to him. “Since it’s from the best patisserie, don’t let it go to waste. Enjoy your work.” I heard his voice behind me. “Emma! You stop right there!” “If you dare walk out that door…” I didn’t stop. It had started to rain outside. After getting together with Alex, I had gotten used to him driving me to and from work. To keep our secret, I always had him drop me off at the Starbucks a block away from the office. Now, I stood in the lobby of our building, pulling out my phone to order an Uber. Just then, Alex’s black Audi drove past. The passenger-side window rolled down, and Chloe leaned out. “Emma! Need a ride? I see you don’t have an umbrella. Alex was going to just leave, but I made him stop.” In the driver’s seat, Alex stared straight ahead, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. I had told him countless times that the passenger seat was my spot. I even had a small, custom-made sign from Etsy that I’d hung there—”Emma Vance’s Official Seat.” He had laughed at me. “How old are you? Still doing this stuff?” Then he ripped it off and threw it in the trash. Now, I just turned my head away, ignoring Chloe’s “kindness.” Her eyes immediately welled up. “Emma, I was just trying to help… Why are you always so mean to me?” That move always worked on Alex. He turned his head and said coldly, “If she wants to get soaked, let her. Let’s go.” As the car sped away, it sent a wave of dirty rainwater splashing onto my pants and shoes. By the time my Uber arrived and I got home, I was shivering. I changed into dry clothes and saw that it was starting to hail. On days like this, I used to always text Alex: “Be careful driving home, the roads are icy.” I instinctively reached for my phone, only to see an Instagram post from Chloe, uploaded ten minutes ago. It was a picture of a restaurant, and you could clearly see Alex’s profile and the dark blue shirt I bought him. The caption read: “A cozy dinner on a cold night 🥰” The office gossip channel on Slack immediately blew up. “@Chloe Congrats! Are you two finally making it official?” “OMG, I knew there was something between them!” “I totally ship them!” Both Alex and I were in that channel. He never once tried to shut down the rumors. I left the channel immediately. Late that night, Alex came home. “You’re still up?” he asked, tossing his suit jacket onto the sofa. “Are you over it yet?” He walked to the kitchen to pour a glass of water, his voice filled with impatience. “When you’re done with your drama, get some sleep. You have work tomorrow—oh, wait. I forgot you quit.” I walked out of the bedroom. “I’ve made up my mind.” He paused. “I want a divorce.”

Alex stopped loosening his tie. “What did you just say?” “A divorce,” I repeated. “We’re over.” He scoffed. “Weren’t you the one who was dying to get into this company? You agreed to a secret marriage for five years just for this job. And now you’re just walking away?” “Yeah, well, I was naive back then.” “Emma,” he said, walking toward me. “Do you even hear yourself? Is this about Chloe? She’s just an intern. Her father is a major client, and I have to maintain that relationship. Can’t you understand that?” “Understand what? That you let her sit in my seat? That you run out in the middle of the night to take her calls? Or that you let the entire office think you two are dating?” “That’s all for work!” he yelled. Just then, his phone rang. The name “Chloe” flashed on the screen. He hesitated, glancing at me. Ever since Chloe started, calls like this had become a daily routine. We had fought about it countless times. I asked him not to take her calls at home, and he said I was being unreasonable. This time, I just turned calmly and went back into the bedroom. I heard his hushed voice from the other room. “What’s wrong?… Uh-huh… Okay, I get it… Don’t cry, I’ll deal with it when I get to the office in the morning…” Then the sound of the front door opening and closing. He was gone again. I thought I would be up all night, but I slept surprisingly well. The next morning, I woke up with a dull ache in my lower abdomen. I tried to ignore it, but by noon, the pain was getting worse. I decided to go to the hospital. When I got the lab report from the OB/GYN, I froze. I looked up and saw Alex at the end of the hallway. He was helping Chloe walk, and the Burberry trench coat I had bought him was draped over her shoulders. Chloe saw me too. She walked over, her face pale and her voice weak. “Emma, what are you doing here?” “I had acute gastroenteritis last night, the pain was awful. Alex took care of me all night, and he was still worried this morning, so he insisted on bringing me in for a check-up,” she said, managing a faint smile. I clutched the lab report in my hand. “How thoughtful of him.” Alex finally noticed me and let go of Chloe. “Why are you at the hospital?” I forced a smile. “Just a check-up. Company benefits.” “Didn’t you quit?” “It’s a routine check-up before I leave,” I said, turning to walk away. “Emma,” Chloe called out from behind me, a hint of triumph in her voice. “Want to grab lunch? I know a great brunch spot near here. My treat.” I turned back. She was holding Alex’s arm, her eyes full of provocation. “No, thanks,” I said, pausing. “By the way, Chloe, acute gastroenteritis should be treated in the ER, not the OB/GYN department. If you can’t even find the right department, maybe you should see a neurologist first.” Without waiting for a reply, I walked straight to the doctor’s office and knocked. “Doctor,” I said as I walked in. “I need to ask about the procedure…”

Alex came home unusually late. “Have you eaten?” he asked as he walked in. “We could go out. Remember that taco truck from our old college town? They opened a spot near here. You used to love their tacos.” He was trying to use our memories to bridge the gap between us. “I don’t like them anymore.” It wasn’t that I didn’t like them; it was that my stomach couldn’t handle them anymore. Over the years, to help Alex establish himself at the company, I had worked day and night, entertaining clients and taking drinks for him. Chronic gastritis, stomach ulcers… my doctor said I was close to a perforated stomach if I wasn’t careful. On the nights he was out with Chloe, I would often be curled up on the sofa in pain, relying on painkillers to get through. Alex’s face immediately darkened. “You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you? Just trying to pick a fight.” “I don’t have time to coddle you. Look at yourself, how old are you? Still throwing tantrums like a twenty-year-old girl?” He grabbed my arm and pulled me in front of the bathroom mirror. “Take a good look, Emma. Do you really think you’re still some fresh-faced college grad?!” He slammed the door on his way out. I stood in front of the mirror, looking at the tired woman staring back at me, with fine lines already forming around her eyes. He was right. We weren’t kids anymore. It was time to take responsibility for our choices. Alex and I met in college. He pursued me for a whole year before we finally got together. Like all young couples, we had our romantic moments: driving to a mountaintop at 4 a.m. to watch the sunrise and kissing in the morning light; chasing each other through the first snow in our college town; comforting each other on a park bench after a failed job interview, saying, “It’s okay, we still have each other.” Right after graduation, we rented a tiny studio apartment, less than 200 square feet. We kept the heat on the lowest setting to save money in the winter, often huddling together to stay warm. No matter how late I worked, he would always leave a plate of food for me in the microwave. Even if it was cold by the time I got to it, I ate it happily. Nine years with Alex. There were too many memories to count. But it seemed he was much more forgetful than I was. Nine years. My entire youth was marked with his name. The next morning, Alex left for work without me. He sent a text: “You need some space to cool off. Let me know when you’re ready to talk like an adult.” I didn’t reply. Without a car and with snow falling, both Lyft and Uber had surge pricing. It took me a long time to get a ride. By the time I reached the office, the snow on my coat had melted, and I was soaked. I pushed open the office door, and all eyes turned to me. Chloe was slumped over her desk, her shoulders shaking slightly. As I stepped inside, Jessica from marketing—one of Chloe’s friends—walked over with a cup of coffee and sneered, “Some people act so proper, but behind everyone’s back, they’re just shameless.” A colleague next to me nudged me, motioning toward the office gossip channel on Slack. Someone had posted a photo: me getting out of the back seat of Alex’s Audi this morning. The angle was sneaky, like it was taken by someone following us. The caption read: “Some people really know how to take advantage, don’t they? 👀” The replies were a firestorm. “OMG, isn’t that Alex’s car?” “So that’s why Emma is always picking on Chloe…” “So she’s the other woman.” “Disgusting. Everyone knows Alex is Chloe’s boyfriend.” I had become the homewrecker.

Chloe’s crying continued as other colleagues joined in. “Emma, you knew Alex and Chloe were together. How could you do something like this?” “So shameless. You should just quit and get out of here!” “HR should fire people who ruin workplace relationships…” Chloe lifted her head, her eyes red and swollen. She looked at me and said, “Please don’t be like this… If Emma just apologizes to me… I… I can forgive her…” “Yeah! Apologize now!” “Beg for Chloe’s forgiveness!” Just then, Alex walked out of a conference room. “Is this an office or a high school cafeteria?” his voice was cold. “Doesn’t anyone have work to do?” The office fell silent instantly. But Chloe chose that moment to start sobbing again, walking over to Alex. “Alex, they’re saying Emma… they’re saying you two… but I know it’s all a misunderstanding, right? There has to be something wrong with that photo…” Alex’s expression tensed as he looked at me. Chloe pressed him. “Tell them. Tell everyone that there’s nothing between you two…” Everyone stared at Alex, waiting for him to clear the air. He was silent for a few seconds before finally speaking. “She lives in my apartment building. I just gave her a ride because of the snow. That’s it.” A wave of understanding washed over the crowd. Chloe’s tears turned into a smile. “I knew it… Alex, thank you…” I suddenly found the whole situation hilarious. Nine years of marriage, and in his words, I was just “a neighbor from the same building.” I walked to the center of the office, looked around, and spoke clearly. “Alex Carter and I are legally married. We registered at City Hall and have a marriage certificate. I am not his neighbor, and I am certainly not the other woman.” I paused, then added, “However, we are in the process of getting a divorce.” The office was dead silent. Alex’s face was pale with fury. “Emma, what the hell are you talking about?!”

Alex grabbed my arm and dragged me into his office. The door slammed shut. “Are you out of your mind?” he hissed, his anger obvious. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing?” “I do. I’m telling the truth.” “The truth?” he sneered. “Do you know how this is going to affect my career? Company policy explicitly forbids office relationships! I’m about to be promoted to Vice President, and you pull this stunt now…” “So your Vice President title is more important than our marriage?” “This isn’t about what’s more important!” he said, angrily loosening his tie. “Emma, what has gotten into you lately? If you’re not feeling well, just take the day off and go home. Get some rest.” “I’m perfectly calm,” I said, looking him straight in the eye. “Alex, let’s get a divorce.” He finally snapped. “On what grounds? Why do you get to just call it quits?” “Do you really think you’re in a position to be calling the shots right now? Emma Vance, you better think this through!” “I’ve thought it through very clearly,” I said, walking toward the door. “I’ll take that as a yes.” My hand had just touched the doorknob when I heard him call my name from behind, his voice laced with a threat. I pretended not to hear him, opened the door, and walked out. As expected, people had been eavesdropping outside. They scattered awkwardly when they saw me. Only Chloe stood behind the crowd, her eyes cold, but with a smug smile playing on her lips.

That night, for the first time in a long while, Alex came home early. The dull ache in my abdomen had returned, and I was already in bed. I didn’t move when I heard the door open. The bed dipped beside me. His hand rested on my shoulder. “Sleeping so early? I ordered takeout for you, your favorite Thai food. It’s in the kitchen.” I didn’t respond. He tried again. “Emma, can we please talk?” I opened my eyes. “There’s nothing to talk about.” He leaned in to kiss me, but I turned my face away. “Emma,” his voice hardened. “Don’t be like this.” “Then stop making me sick,” I said, getting out of bed. “I make you sick?” He was instantly furious. “I’m your husband!” “Oh, so now you remember you’re my husband.” I was about to leave the bedroom when he grabbed my arm and pushed me back onto the bed. “After all these years, now you’re disgusted by me?” I tried to push him off, but he held my wrists tightly. “Let go!” I was scared he would do something worse, and even more worried about the baby… Just then, his phone rang. It was Chloe. He glanced at the caller ID and let me go. Then, he walked out of the bedroom to take the call. I sat on the edge of the bed, gasping for air. A few minutes later, Alex came back. “I have to go out. Chloe’s… her father is in the hospital. She needs someone with her.” He grabbed his coat. “Heat up the takeout. Use my card.” And with that, he left. I never knew Alex could be so greedy. He wanted me to stay in this marriage while he played the hero outside, protecting his “career prospects.” After he left, I started packing my bags.

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At Old Mr. Sinclair’s eightieth birthday gala, my husband’s first love sobbed that my brother had forced himself on her. The elite guests murmured amongst themselves, tongues sharp enough to draw blood. “Clara Hayes was hand-picked by Old Mr. Sinclair as a potential bride for his grandson. The Carver boy has gone too far!” Out of respect for the two families’ long-standing ties, Old Mr. Sinclair chose not to pursue legal action. Instead, he decreed that my brother marry Clara, using the union to atone for the alleged offense. But my husband Sebastian stepped forward in front of everyone and personally shattered both of my brother’s legs. Afterward, he took my hand with a helpless expression. “The Sinclairs have reach on both sides of the law. If we don’t let them have this, the whole Carver family could pay for it later.” Seven and a half months later, Clara gave birth to a healthy baby boy. Ethan sat in his wheelchair and screamed until his voice broke. “I told you — I never laid a single finger on her!” He had said it a hundred times that night. Not one person had believed him. They mocked him instead and called him a coward who couldn’t own what he’d done. He scooped the newborn out of the bassinet and moved to take the story to the press. Sebastian came up behind him and brought something down hard against the back of his skull. Ethan dropped to the floor. I lunged forward to scream — and Sebastian’s hand closed around my throat. “If you two blow this open, what kind of life do Clara and the child have left?” His eyes were cold and without mercy. He squeezed until everything went dark. When I opened my eyes again, I had been reborn — back to the evening of the gala. This time, I zip-tied Ethan’s wrists myself and locked him in the supply closet. Three deadbolts. But Clara still walked into that ballroom claiming someone had violated her. … Clara had nothing on but Sebastian’s suit jacket draped over her bare shoulders, angry red marks trailing down her skin. She covered her face with both hands, her sobs wretched and practiced. “I’ve shamed myself in front of Mr. Sinclair. I can’t face anyone.” She twisted toward the nearest marble pillar. “Sebastian, don’t stop me — just let me die!” Several society wives lunged forward to pull her back. Their eyes, when they turned to me, were full of contempt. “Ethan Carver thinks he can come back from abroad and act like an animal?” “His family scraped together their reputation off military service, and now he puts his hands on the woman Old Mr. Sinclair himself chose? He clearly has no respect for this family.” “Clara was supposed to marry the Sinclair heir next month. That’s finished now.” I glanced at Sebastian, Clara sheltered behind his broad back like something precious, and swallowed the sneer threatening to curl my mouth. I pushed through the crowd and walked straight to Clara’s side. “Miss Hayes.” My voice came out even. “Look carefully. Is the man who attacked you actually my brother?” Clara flinched. Fresh tears spilled down her face. “Miss Carver, I understand you want to protect Ethan. But who would lie about something like this?” Her voice cracked. “I don’t want to live anymore.” She threw herself toward the pillar again. The society wives caught her in a flurry of silk and pearls. Sebastian crossed the room in three strides and yanked me aside, fingers biting into my wrist hard enough to leave bruises. His face was a thundercloud. “Lena. Your brother commits something unforgivable, and instead of making him apologize, you come here and bully Clara?” “Your father spent his whole life building something decent. You and Ethan just burned it to the ground.” His grip was iron. My wrist throbbed. But inside, I was laughing. Thirty minutes ago, I had tied Ethan up myself and padlocked him in the supply closet. Three locks. Unless someone physically broke him out, there was no way he’d touched Clara Hayes. I met Sebastian’s eyes without flinching. “Are you certain, Sebastian? Certain the man you saw was my brother?” His brow creased. He bit out his answer through clenched teeth. “I watched him put his hands on her with my own eyes. I knocked him out myself to pull her free. You think I can’t recognize my own brother-in-law?”

My stomach dropped. The certainty in Sebastian’s voice made something cold crawl up my spine. Had Ethan somehow gotten out? “Mrs. Holt.” An older socialite cut across the room toward me, voice shrill with indignation. “How much longer do you intend to make a scene?” “You’re the wife of the Holt Group’s heir. Instead of protecting this family’s name, you’re shielding a criminal from your own bloodline. You have no business calling yourself the mistress of the Holt household.” “What — should Sebastian turn a blind eye while your thug of a brother destroys Clara and drives her to her grave?” Sebastian shot me a withering look. “Lena. Stop embarrassing yourself.” I let out a short, cold laugh and swept my gaze across the room — all these people so certain of their righteousness, so eager to follow whoever was loudest. “It seems no matter what actually happened tonight, the blame was always going to land on my brother.” “How dare you—” Clara recoiled as though I’d slapped her, fresh tears streaking her cheeks, her expression the perfect portrait of wounded innocence. She bit her trembling lip. “I have never tried to attach myself to anyone. I have never wanted anything I didn’t earn.” “And now I’m being called shameless. Desperate.” Her voice splintered. “Fine. If the Carver family won’t believe me, I’d rather die than have any part of this.” She spun and threw herself toward the floor-to-ceiling window. Three society wives caught her in a shrieking tangle of arms. “Miss Hayes, don’t!” “It’s that Carver boy’s fault — every bit of it!” “You can’t let him win by doing something like this!” They comforted Clara with one breath and spat venom at me with the next. “Clara was going to be the Sinclair heir’s wife. The Carvers are what — a mid-tier business family? You think a woman with her future would risk her reputation to frame you?” Sebastian stepped in close, his tone softening into something that might have looked like concern. “Lena. It’s over. Let Ethan marry Clara, issue a public apology, make the financial settlement.” “If this goes to court, a sexual assault charge alone puts him away for ten years. The Carver Group’s stock collapses overnight. How do you explain that to the board?” In my last life, I had believed every word of this. I’d convinced myself Ethan had done it — drunk, reckless, out of control — and I’d spent years drowning in guilt. I handed over Carver Group’s most valuable contracts to the Hayes family. I treated Clara like royalty. And seven and a half months later, she delivered another man’s child and took everything we had built. Nausea rolled through me in a slow, vicious wave. I pulled my arm free from Sebastian’s grip. “Letting Clara Hayes walk into my family without the truth coming out first?” I said. “Not a chance in hell.” The last trace of warmth vanished from Sebastian’s face. His eyes went flat and mean. Before he could speak, Mr. Hayes stormed through the doors, his face the color of iron. He crossed to Clara without a word and struck her across the face — clean, sharp, loud enough to echo. Clara staggered and hit the floor, blood welling at the corner of her mouth. “You embarrass me in front of these people?” he snarled. “Get out. Buy a plane ticket. Die abroad if you have to — just don’t come back and drag the Hayes name any further through the dirt.” Two bodyguards moved in to drag her out. “Don’t touch me.” Clara snatched a fruit knife off the nearest table and drew it across her wrist without hesitation. The room erupted. Someone screamed. Others rushed to stop her. Hands grabbed at my sleeve. “Mrs. Holt — you’re just going to stand there?” “If Ethan hadn’t done what he did, she wouldn’t be doing this!” “Can the Carver family even live with themselves?” I watched the performance in silence. A flash of something vicious crossed Clara’s eyes. Her grip on the knife tightened. The blade parted skin. Blood came fast and bright. The society wives shrieked in unison. “The Carver family has blood on their hands!”

Sebastian’s face went white. He crossed the room and wrenched the knife from Clara’s hand. “Get the house physician — now!” He stripped off his tie and wound it tight around her bleeding wrist. Clara let herself be surrounded, blinking weakly up at the crowd. Her eyes slid to me for just a moment — no despair in them, no death wish. Only the bright, quiet gleam of someone who thought she was winning. Once Clara had been carefully arranged on a chaise in the rest area, Sebastian turned and came straight for me. “Lena.” The slap landed before I could move — open-handed, full force, ringing off the walls of the ballroom. I staggered into the edge of a marble table. The corner caught my forehead. Blood ran into my eyebrow. My left cheek burned, my ear rang, and the room tilted sideways. Sebastian stood over me, pointing down like I was something he’d scraped off his shoe. “You wanted her dead, right? You didn’t stop until you pushed her there?” “I don’t need such a wife. I want a divorce. Tonight.” The room erupted in agreement. Someone actually smiled. “He’s right to do it. A wife like that is a curse.” “The brother’s a predator and she’s no better — God knows how she landed Sebastian in the first place.” “The Holt family and Clara Hayes are the real victims here. These two Carver siblings are a plague.” The words came in waves, each one uglier than the last. They looked at me like I was something that needed to be put down. I swallowed the blood pooling at the back of my throat. I pressed a hand to the floor and pushed myself up, slowly, until I was standing straight. “Proof.” My voice didn’t shake. “Show me one person in this room who actually witnessed my brother attack Clara Hayes.” Silence. Faces exchanged glances. Sebastian’s smile was brittle. “You never learn, do you?” He turned and walked to the far corner of the ballroom, where two bodyguards stood flanking a large black duffel bag. He crouched, unknotted the drawstring, and reached inside. When he straightened, he was holding a custom lapel pin between two fingers — small, expensive, engraved with a single letter: C. He raised it above his head so the whole room could see. “This pin was commissioned for Ethan Carver’s twenty-first birthday. Custom design, one of a kind. No duplicate exists anywhere in the world.” He turned and threw it at my chest. “Still want to tell me your brother wasn’t there?” The floor shifted under me. Cold sweat broke across my back. That pin. I recognized it instantly. Ethan had been wearing it tonight. Had someone gone to the supply closet and let him out? But I had left a guard posted. I had given specific instructions. Something wasn’t adding up. Mr. Hayes spat on the ground at my feet. “The evidence is right in front of you. What exactly is left to argue?” I held Sebastian’s gaze and let the smile come slowly. “Funny thing, isn’t it?” “Ethan and I haven’t been back long. We don’t run in these circles often, but we’ve never caused trouble. We know how to conduct ourselves.” “So why is it that on the one night I specifically asked my brother to stay close to Sebastian and keep his head down — this happens?” I let the question sit. “Someone set Ethan up. Someone who wanted my family to take the fall.” “That is a lie—” The composure cracked. Just for a second — but I saw it. Sebastian’s eyes flickered with something he couldn’t quite bury. The men closest to him grabbed his arms, quietly, firmly — keeping him from doing something he couldn’t walk back. The room turned on me instead. “Lena, have you lost your mind? You’re accusing your own husband to cover for your brother?” “You want to take the Holt family down with you?” “The Holts have suffered enough bringing you into this family!” Several older women rushed over to pull me aside. “Lena, apologize to Sebastian. There’s still time to fix this.” I shook them off. “I have nothing to apologize for.” Someone murmured nearby. “Sebastian and Clara grew up together. If something was really going on between them, they’d have married years ago. Why would she need to bother with any of this?” It was a small thing — barely above a whisper. But in a room full of people who’d been so certain a moment ago, it landed like a stone in still water. Eyes shifted. Expressions changed. The crowd that had been pointing at me began, almost imperceptibly, to point somewhere else.

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After my husband’s childhood friend committed suicide, he forced wolfsbane potion down my throat. The Southern Border had always been our kingdom’s shield against the Rogue Fang Syndicate. This day, the Alpha himself presided over the inspection—a rare honor that proved how crucial our position was. Gamma Silas marched proudly leading the way among all warriors. Every warrior’s eyes blazed with anticipation, waiting for the Alpha’s praise. But Silas didn’t know that before the inspection, his spoiled little “childhood friend” had already swapped out his silver bullet gun with a prop replica handgun. The moment he pulled that trigger, a plastic rose would pop out from the barrel, ending his brilliant career right there and then! *** In my past life, I was an elite pack warrior who also participated in this very inspection. During backstage preparations, Gamma Silas ignored all protocols and forcibly brought his cousin and childhood friend Mia to observe. I caught Mia acting suspiciously—she’d switched out Silas’s silver bullet gun with a toy replica. I reported it immediately. Fortunately, we caught it in time. The inspection proceeded flawlessly to thunderous applause. We stood on stage receiving praise from alpha, while Mia—who’d acted suspiciously and switched out the Gamma’s gun—faced public censure and punishment. Mia’s relatives and friends, mortified by the disgrace, disowned her. Her university, convinced she was connected to the Rogue Fang Syndicate, expelled her after issuing a formal notice. Unable to show her face anywhere, Mia ended her own life with a silver dagger. But Silas blamed everything on me! He bound me tight and rammed wolfsbane potion down my throat. The toxin seeped into my veins, burning my lungs. I was consumed by crippling pain, my breath ragged and failing. “Nora, she was just trying to joke around with me, help me relieve the pressure—but you were so vicious you drove her to suicide!” “In your heart, is an inspection more important than a human life? I think you’re just pathologically jealous, looking for any excuse to cause trouble. Die, you vicious bitch!” I gasped for air, desperately begging for help, yet he only sneered and kicked me to the ground, as if revelling in my agony. “Might as well tell you—I’ve already forged letters in your handwriting implicating your parents in treason with the Rogue Fang Syndicate. This time, not only will you pay with your life, your entire family will pay the blood price!” I died full of regret, struggling until my last breath. When I opened my eyes again, I’d somehow returned to the day before the inspection! “Mia sweetie, you came all this way to see me in this blazing sun—come inside, sit down, don’t be shy.” Hearing that familiar voice, my heart clenched. I accidentally knocked over the cup in my hand. Mia, pressed up against my husband Silas, heard the noise and glanced at me with contempt. “Gamma Silas, maybe I should wait outside. With me here, certain people will get upset.” Silas’s expression immediately darkened. He grabbed Mia’s hand and, under everyone’s astonished stares, led her into the backstage area and sat her down front and center. “Nora, don’t go too far. Mia’s just curious and wanted to take a look.” “I’m warning you—this inspection was specifically requested by the Alpha himself. If you dare cause a scene at such a serious event because of your jealousy, I won’t let you off!” Mia blushed as she pulled out a bag of candy and distributed pieces to Silas’s teammates one by one. “Sorry, my sister-in-law tends to be petty. She’s probably offended all of you before, so I’m apologizing on behalf of Silas.” As she spoke, she stuck out her tongue playfully. Her adorable manner prompted everyone to speak up for her. “Ma’am, Mia’s so sweet—don’t make things difficult for her.” I looked at Silas. He was nodding approvingly. After Mia finished handing out candy, she nestled happily against Silas’s side. Compared to me, they looked like the real mates! I took a deep breath and quietly clenched my fists. I’d love to see if you’ll still defend Mia when this grand inspection turns into a circus act!

Seeing I hadn’t exploded, Mia lazily lifted her eyelids. “Nora’s in such a good mood today. If this were any other time, she’d be all over me like a hawk, not letting me anywhere near Silas.” Laughter rippled through the crowd, followed by murmurs. “If you ask me, Mia’s the one who’s actually the perfect mate—gentle, considerate, beautiful, fun-loving. You’d be proud to take her anywhere!” “You must not have tasted Mia’s homemade pizza. Last time she came to visit Gamma Silas, she made extra for us. Absolutely divine!” Mia giggled and bantered with them. Only now did I realize that in this place where I’d never been allowed to visit, this so-called childhood friend had been countless times! While I stayed home being the good wife and good daughter-in-law, managing the household and caring for his paralyzed mother, he was flirting with a woman he claimed not to be close to, letting her bond with all his men. All these years—I was such a blind fool! The group seemed deliberate in their actions, crowding around Mia and Silas until I was squeezed outside the circle. Mia glanced at me smugly through the crowd, then actually took out a bottle of wine! “Everyone’s so bored waiting around—why don’t we have a quick drink to settle our nerves?” “Nora, I’m only thinking of everyone’s benefit, helping them unwind. You wouldn’t stop me, would you?” By my usual standards, I would never allow warriors about to be inspected to drink. But I’d been reborn once already. Whether they lived or died—what did it have to do with me? Seeing my cold expression, Silas frowned deeply. “Nora, don’t stir up trouble. Mia’s doing this for everyone’s sake. What’s with that sour face!” I rolled my eyes and walked out. You’re all looking for death yourselves—don’t drag me down with you! Just as I stepped out, a camera crew documenting the inspection walked over with their equipment. An idea struck me. “You’re here to film backstage at the inspection, right? I’m a warrior. I’d like to borrow a camera to document our team’s preparation. Could you help me film?” In our pack, warriors were revered as heroes. So they agreed immediately, not only lending me the camera but thoughtfully teaching me how to record video! I thanked them, turned on recording mode, and positioned the camera on the side of Silas and his men. Just as I finished setting everything up, Mia’s loud complaint rang out. “Who gave you permission to come in here? Was it that bitch Nora!” “What gives you the right to film here? I suspect you’re trying to leak secrets. Get out, all of you!” The moment I approached, I saw Silas with a furious expression, his arm around Mia. Seeing me return, Silas’s face turned completely cold. “Nora, how impressive!” “Acting all virtuous and magnanimous on the surface, but scheming behind everyone’s back—sending people to film us drinking. What exactly are you trying to do!” The group chimed in, accusing me of being malicious. I actually laughed at the absurdity. “Seems you all know drinking is wrong, since you’re so afraid.” “If that’s the case, why insist on doing it anyway!” Mia’s eyes reddened with anger. “Silas, look at her—she’s just jealous that everyone likes me…” Silas glared at me viciously, declaring he’d deal with me after the inspection ended. Just then, the assembly whistle sounded. Everyone forgot the argument and quickly grabbed their equipment to form ranks! Stirring music filled the venue. With the blast of military horns, Silas held his head high, secured his silver bullet gun, and led the warriors in precise marching steps! Silas cut an impressive figure—broad shoulders, narrow waist, one in ten thousand. Applause thundered from both sides of the route. At the command to “fire salute,” Silas raised his gun proudly. Everyone held their breath in excitement, covering their ears, staring at Silas with anticipation. Silas took a deep breath and pulled the trigger. After the bang of the gunshot, before the watching crowd, an inferior plastic rose slowly emerged from the gun barrel.

The Alpha’s face turned green, his mouth hanging open, unable to make a sound for what felt like an eternity. It was the civilian spectators who reacted first, erupting in mocking laughter and angry shouts. “What kind of joke is this? At such a solemn occasion, are you messing with us?” “This is the Alpha inspecting the troops—what’s with the rose? Are you celebrating your love life?” “This is insane! What’s going on? We came to see a military inspection, not a magic show!” Silas stood frozen, his mind completely blank, still holding the same pose. It wasn’t until the warriors behind him kept jabbing him that he finally snapped out of it, and crushing the gun. The smiles on the elders’ faces in the viewing stand faded inch by inch, their gazes toward Silas growing progressively darker. Silas panicked so badly he didn’t know what to do with his hands and feet. He was completely stunned, walking stiffly through the entire route with his limbs moving in awkward synchronization! As his formation exited, our female warrior unit received the signal to enter. I walked at the front, specifically instructing everyone that no matter what mistakes others made, don’t lose focus—we cannot disappoint the watching crowd. With Silas’s formation as contrast, we garnered countless applause and cheers the moment we appeared. Wherever we marched, applause followed, and even after the inspection concluded flawlessly, the applause beside us continued unabated. When everything ended, I sprinted into my parents’ waiting arms. My parents affectionately helped me remove my cap and wiped the sweat from my forehead, praising me nonstop. “Nora, you were amazing! You’ll always be our pride!” After saying this, they thought of Silas, their voices dropping with slight concern. “What’s going on with that Silas? How did he end up with a toy gun instead of his silver bullet gun? Has he lost his mind?” The memory of my brutal death in my past life flashed before my eyes. I sneered coldly. “Who knows? Maybe his wolf’s gone feral and scrambled his brain.” I didn’t want Silas to ruin the mood. I pulled my parents along, asking them to throw me a celebration banquet. Our family was just about to leave cheerfully when someone with a dark expression suddenly blocked our path. “Nora, after doing something so vicious to frame Silas, you still dare to leave?!”

My parents’ expressions hardened as they immediately stepped in front of me. “Who are you people to make baseless accusations against our daughter?” Seeing the gleaming honor medals covering my parents’ chests, the accusers slunk away, though their voices still drifted back. “What baseless accusations? Gamma Silas crossed her, and his gun was immediately switched. Now he’s been taken in for investigation—bet she’s thrilled!” “I’m telling you, it has to be her. Backstage was all our own people. Who else would be vicious enough to frame our Gamma?” My parents’ faces flushed with anger, but they stood firm in defending me. Silas’s supporters glared at me viciously before turning to leave. My mind stirred, and I grabbed my parents who were about to argue on my behalf. “Don’t bother with them now. I need to sever the bond first.” My parents had long heard the gossip about Mia and had been critical of Silas for ages. But because I’d been devoted to Silas, they’d held their tongues. Now that I was initiating the bond severance, they naturally agreed and immediately took me to see the elders. The High Elder was my parents’ close friend. Learning I’d been wronged, he immediately dispatched someone to process the paperwork. While waiting for the severance documentation, my parents and I went to the restaurant we’d reserved. For this inspection, we female warriors had prepared for three full months, forging deep bonds of camaraderie. For this celebration banquet, my parents had reserved three large tables of fine food and drink. Everyone took their seats, celebrating not only the applause and praise our formation had received, but also toasting repeatedly to celebrate my finally having the resolve to sever my bond with Silas. “Nora, I’ve had my eye on that Silas for a while now. Out of respect for you, I didn’t want to say anything, but I once saw him and that ‘cousin’ embracing on the street!” “I saw it too! Last time I went to the supply store, I saw Silas buying Mia a whole outfit of designer clothes!” “Thank the Moon Goddess you finally came to your senses, or those bastards would’ve completely walked all over you!” My hand on the table clenched slightly, nails digging into my palm. In the past, Silas always said Mia was his cousin, orphaned young and forced to rely on him. I’d pitied Mia, treating her like a sister and helping her in every way. Who knew that in the end, I’d helped myself right into being betrayed! Fortunately, the topic quickly shifted as everyone began celebrating my new beginning. But just as we were raising our glasses in harmony, a crying voice suddenly came from the restaurant entrance. “Nora, you’ve destroyed your own husband like this—how can you still have the face to throw a celebration banquet!”

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My boyfriend locked me in a hotel room with men to test if I was a slut. April Fools’ Day. My boyfriend sent me a hotel room number. We’d only been together for six months. It felt too fast. I was still figuring out how to turn him down when I opened Reddit to kill time and a trending post caught my eye. *Apex Industries heir setting up the ultimate loyalty test on his girlfriend tonight* I clicked in. Someone was hyping up their friend Logan, the so-called heir to Apex Industries, and his plan to test his girlfriend on April Fools’. There was a livestream link in the comments. I scrolled down and my stomach dropped. *lol she actually fell for it* *imagine walking into a room full of dudes thinking it’s a romantic night* *this is cruel but I’m here for it* *plot twist: she calls someone else to come save her lmaooo* I blinked. So this was what an April Fools’ prank looked like when someone went all out? I smiled and forwarded the room number to Silas Thorne, the guy who’d been chasing me for years. Sure enough, the next morning my boyfriend kicked the hotel room door open with a whole crew behind him. He held up his phone and screamed at me while I was still half-dressed. “I knew it! You’re nothing but a cheap slut! I send you a room number and you actually show up!” “Good thing Chloe tipped me off, or I’d never have known how dirty you are!” The woman standing next to him gave a coy little laugh. “I told you she was a gold digger. Believe me now?” “And thank god you never told her you’re the heir to Apex Industries, or she would’ve bled you dry!” Heir to Apex Industries? Silas owned Apex Industries. Since when did he have a son this old? I was about to ask Silas what the hell was going on with this supposed son of his. Then I remembered. He’d gone out to buy condoms. Last night wasn’t enough apparently, because he’d just gone out for more. My phone buzzed. New comments on the thread. *wait what happened?? the guys just ran off??* *I work there lol. she called some dude and he beat them all up* *bro is like 6’4 and built like a tank* *so she’s cheating… loyalty test successful I guess?* I almost laughed. What even were these people saying? So Logan could scheme to destroy me and that was fine, but I wasn’t allowed to protect myself? He saw me smiling and lost it. “What are you laughing at?!” “Where are those guys? Where did they go?!” “If you don’t talk, I’m posting the video online! Let the whole world see what a shameless whore you are!” I rolled my eyes, then straightened my clothes and stood up nice and slow. “Those guys?” “Logan, so you knew ahead of time there’d be more than one man in this room?” He froze. His eyes darted to Chloe. Chloe frowned, and then she saw something and clapped a hand over her mouth with a shriek. “Elena! You did all this and you still need someone to spell it out for you?” Before I could figure out what she meant, she snatched Logan’s phone and started snapping photos of the nightstand next to my bed. “Look at all these condom wrappers! There’s no way this was just one guy!” “Elena, you’ve really been having yourself a party.” She turned to Logan with tears already forming. “Babe, you never slept with her, right?” “I don’t mean anything by it, I’m just worried about, you know, diseases. You’re going to be somebody important and your health matters.” Logan glanced at the wrappers on the floor and his face went green. “Elena, have you no shame?! All these wrappers and you still won’t admit it?!” “Thank god I never brought you home to meet my dad, or you’d have dragged our whole family name through the mud!” The people behind him got even more fired up at the mention of his family. They all held up their phones and pointed them at me. “This is hilarious. What are you gonna say, Elena? You just like blowing them up for fun?” “A girl like you doesn’t deserve Logan!” “Exactly. A slut like her thinks she can marry into the richest family in the country? Dream on!” “Good thing Logan caught her before it was too late!” Excuse me? I finally couldn’t hold it in anymore. I looked at every single one of them and said, word by word, “The richest family? You all just say it and it’s true? Where do you get the nerve?” The smug look on Logan’s face went cold. He pulled out a paternity test result and slapped it in my face. “Open your damn eyes and read! The DNA test confirms it. I’m his biological son!” “My dad said he’s coming to bring me home any day now! What do you know!” My phone buzzed again. The thread was blowing up. *he just pulled out a whole paternity test lmaooo* *girl fumbled BAD* I picked up the test and scanned it, and I froze.

The names on the test were Logan Sterling and Arthur Reeves. Arthur Reeves, if I remembered right, was the old butler at Silas’s estate. Silas lost both his parents when he was little. His aunt raised him. Because he missed them, he never let go of anyone who’d worked for his parents. The old butler, even the nanny. He kept every single one. Did Logan actually think Arthur Reeves owned Apex Industries? Since I hadn’t walked into the trap they’d set, since I hadn’t been assaulted by those thugs and left broken, everything after that had gone off the rails. And the people commenting on that thread didn’t seem to know the actual relationships between any of us. Still, I had to thank whoever posted it. If it weren’t for that thread, I’d never have known Logan was a piece of shit. When I didn’t say anything, Chloe got even more pleased with herself. She checked her phone and grinned. “The livestream just hit a hundred thousand viewers, babe! We’re going viral!” “Everyone’s saying you’re a genius for exposing a gold digger!” “The comments are saying that many wrappers means at least five guys!” “Ew, Logan, is it just me or does the air in here suddenly smell rotten?” I glanced at the phone in Chloe’s hand. The comments section was filthy. I refreshed the Reddit thread on my phone. More comments rolling in. *that many wrappers??? girl was BUSY* *wait so she cheated on him with some other guy?* *lol she belongs to the streets* *honestly both of them are trash for this* Both of them? I was trash for protecting myself? Chloe was the one who introduced me to Logan in the first place. I met Chloe during my internship at my dad’s company. I knew her family didn’t have much, so I looked out for her. We got close over time. When she found out I was single, she brought Logan to meet me without a second thought. After a few dinners, he started pursuing me and I thought he was fun, so I said yes. And now somehow in their minds I was the villain? Were these people even paying attention to the same reality I was living in? I snapped back to the moment and looked at Logan with a cold smile. “A few condom wrappers and you’re already losing it?” “Not my fault you can’t keep up.” “Logan, since you were willing to set me up for Chloe’s sake, we’re done.” “We’re breaking up.” Logan didn’t expect me to be the one saying it. His face flushed red in an instant. “Elena! Have you lost your mind?!” Chloe threw herself into his arms. “See, babe? She’s basically admitting it!” “This is all my fault. I never should have introduced you two.” Logan didn’t push her away. He patted her on the back to comfort her. “She’s the dirty one. That has nothing to do with you.” He turned to look at me, his eyes full of disgust. “Chloe’s right. Thank god she doesn’t know I’m the Apex heir, or she’d have wormed her way into the family and I’d be the one humiliated!” “You want to break up? Fine! Once my dad takes me back, she’ll be crawling on her knees begging me to take her back!” So it was true. When you’re stunned beyond words, you really do just laugh. I smiled, stood up and rolled my wrist, and slapped Logan across the face. The crack echoed through the room. He stood there in total shock, holding his cheek and staring at me. “You! You’re the one who cheated! And you have the nerve to hit me?!” I smiled. “I hit you because I want to. Do I need to book an appointment?” Then I threw the paternity test back at him. “Logan, the owner of Apex Industries is a Thorne, not a Reeves.”

They all froze when they heard me. But Chloe recovered fast. She doubled over laughing, clutching her stomach. “Elena, are you seriously this jealous?” “Logan already showed you the DNA test and you’re still making excuses?” “The owner of Apex Industries is a Thorne, not a Reeves? That’s hilarious. Who do you think you are? You think you know more about his family than he does?” Logan snapped out of it too. He smirked and pulled a set of car keys from his pocket, dangling them in front of my face. “See these? My dad gave them to me.” “Every car registered under his name, I can drive whenever I want.” “Rolls-Royce. You probably won’t sit in one your whole life.” “And he told me once I come home, shares in the company are mine too. If that’s not the heir to Apex Industries, what is?” He was getting more and more worked up, like he could already see himself inheriting it all. But did Arthur Reeves actually say all that? He was just a butler. Where did he get the nerve? Chloe chimed in with her sugary little voice. “Elena, it’s too late to regret it now.” “Logan is going to inherit an entire empire. Why would he ever want a girl who can’t even respect herself?” The people behind them with their phones out started piling on. “Elena’s so salty right now, it’s pathetic.” “Can’t have him so she starts making stuff up. What a joke.” “Logan just flashed a Rolls-Royce key and she’s still talking back!” I rolled my eyes internally. Thank god I’d listened to my dad and kept my family’s money a secret. Otherwise a nobody like Logan would’ve thought he’d hit the jackpot and treated me even worse. Whatever. Not worth thinking about. I took a deep breath. I was done arguing with these people. “Logan, since you’re so sure you’re the Apex heir, I’ll be here waiting to watch you eat those words.” “We’re broken up. If you’ve got nothing else, get out.” Logan stepped forward and grabbed me by the collar. “What did you just say?!” “You still want to run that mouth?!” He was strong. I stumbled from the force of it. Chloe rushed over and shoved me. “Elena, how dare you talk to Logan like that?” She shoved me again as she said it. I staggered back two steps and my shoulder slammed into the bedpost. It hurt. “What the hell are you doing?!” I snapped. Before I could even touch her, she let out a shriek and threw herself backward. She dropped to the floor and grabbed her knee, sobbing. “I was just trying to calm you down! How could you push me?” Logan rushed over and helped her up. “Chloe, are you okay?” She shook her head, eyes brimming with tears. “I’m fine. I’d rather it be me than you getting hurt.” Logan looked like his heart was breaking. He whipped around to face me, eyes burning. “Elena! Get on your knees!” “Apologize to Chloe!” I almost laughed from the sheer audacity. “Why should I?!” “Why?” Logan sneered. “Because I’m the Apex heir!” “Because you slapped me and pushed Chloe!” “Now get on your knees and apologize!” Right then, the door handle turned. Silas? I looked toward the door, and hope surged through me. But before I could react, a figure walked in. “I’d like to see who has the balls to cause trouble in my hotel!”

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On the eve of signing our marriage contract, I discovered my fiancé was hiding a girl. That day, I slammed the mafia marriage contract on the table and gave him two choices. Either tear up the contract, or send her to the asylum. Matteo Rossi smoked all night at the firing range, but ultimately picked up the pen and signed. Later at the wedding, a girl with scarred wrists suddenly rushed to the altar. “Matteo, my brother died for you, won’t you even give me this last bit of love?” The bouquet handed to me fell to the ground, and he only left me with a hurried back. I tore off my corsage and held down the Don’s hand. “If you walk out that door today, our marriage contract is void.” His footsteps paused, but he still left. … The wedding music stopped, and the guests’ whispers pierced my ears like needles. I froze at the altar, staring at the empty doorway. My parents walked up and draped a coat over my shoulders. “Elena, let’s go home.” I nodded and followed them down the aisle. Passing the Rossi family’s table, I stopped. The Donna grabbed my hand, her eyes red: “Elena, Matteo didn’t mean it, don’t blame him.” I pulled my hand away and bowed to them. “I am sorry.” After speaking, I didn’t linger and left the cathedral with my parents. That night, Matteo didn’t come back. The next day, neither. On the third night, he returned reeking of alcohol. He stood at the door, looking at me sitting on the sofa: “Why haven’t you slept?” I didn’t answer and pointed to a document on the table. “Read it.” He walked over and picked up the document. It was Sofia Conti’s involuntary commitment order. Because she self-harmed at the wedding and violated the Family’s code, she was sent to the mob sanitarium. “You did this?” he asked coldly. “It’s the rules,” I said flatly. He crumpled the document and smashed it to the floor: “Elena, she is just a patient, her brother died to save me, I owe her!” “What you owe her shouldn’t be paid by me.” “Can’t you be a little considerate of me?” I looked at him, suddenly feeling he was a stranger. We had known each other for ten years, and he had never spoken to me in this tone. I stood up and walked back to the bedroom. “Matteo, let’s separate for a while.” I closed the door, listening to him smashing things outside. Lying in bed, I was sleepless all night.

When I woke up the next day, Matteo was already gone. A note was left on the table. [I went to take care of Sofia.] I threw the note into the trash and went to the underground trauma center. I was the youngest neurosurgery director in the Family’s medical network. Today there was a highly difficult surgery. I stood for thirteen hours. Finally walking out of the operating room, I was almost too exhausted to stand. A colleague handed me a bottle of water: “Dr. Vargas, you broke the record again.” I smiled and said nothing. Returning to the office, I saw a thermos on the desk. It was delivered by Matteo. I opened it, and inside was my favorite squab soup. The soup was still warm. I put the lid back on and pushed it aside. My phone rang; it was a call from Matteo. I didn’t answer. He sent another message: “Did you drink the soup? Made it just for you.” I replied with one word. “Yes.” He replied quickly. “I’m sorry, I was impulsive yesterday.” “Elena, after all our years together, let’s not fall apart over this small matter.” I stared at that message and didn’t reply for a long time. At night, I returned to the Manhattan penthouse we prepared as our marital home. Someone was standing at the door. It was Sofia Conti. She was wearing a hospital gown, pale-faced, and looked at me timidly: “Dr. Vargas.” “Why are you here?” I asked. “Matteo brought me out.” She lowered her head: “He said the sanitarium is too depressing.” I took out my keys to open the door: “Do you need something?” “I… Can I come in and sit down?” “No.” I refused directly. She bit her lip and tears fell: “Dr. Vargas, I know you don’t like me, but I really have nowhere else to go.” “Matteo said he would take care of me, just like my brother took care of him.” “I just want… to have a home.” I looked at her, only finding it ridiculous: “Your home shouldn’t be my home.” I pushed the door open to go in, preparing to close it. She suddenly stuck her foot in the doorway and tumbled inside. Her forehead hit the doorframe and immediately turned red. “Ah!” she cried out in pain. Matteo rushed out from the elevator lobby. He shoved me aside and helped Sofia up. “Sofia, are you okay?” Sofia trembled in his arms, crying and shaking her head. Matteo looked up and glared at me: “Elena, do you have to be like this?” “Did I push her?” I asked. He didn’t speak, just held Sofia, his eyes full of disappointment. “She is my fallen friend’s sister, he died for me, she is homeless now, and her mental state is unstable.” “I just want her to stay here temporarily, is it that hard?” “This is our marital home.” I reminded him. “It’s just temporary!” he emphasized. I looked at him, unable to say a single word. He carried Sofia past me, walking into our home. Into our master bedroom.

Sofia moved into the master bedroom. Matteo didn’t leave that night; he also stayed in the master bedroom, claiming he was “afraid something might happen to her at night.” I locked myself in the guest room, listening to the low murmurs of comfort and sobbing from next door. The next day, I went to work as usual. Coming home after work, the house had changed. My favorite landscape painting in the living room was taken down and replaced with an oil painting. The orchids I grew for three years were gone, replaced by a pot of lucky bamboo. Sofia was wearing my nightgown, busy in the kitchen. Seeing me, she smiled somewhat embarrassedly. “Dr. Vargas, you’re back. I made dinner, I don’t know if it suits your taste.” I stared at the nightgown she was wearing. That was hand-sewn for me by my mother, and I had never even brought myself to wear it once. I walked over and pointed at the painting: “Who told you to touch that?” “It… it was Matteo.” She spoke timidly: “He said the landscape painting’s colors were too depressing, not good for my recovery.” “And the flowers?” “Also… also Matteo, he said orchids are too delicate, I wouldn’t know how to keep them alive.” I walked right up to her. “Take it off.” She froze: “What?” “Take off the nightgown you are wearing.” Her face instantly flushed red, tears welling in her eyes: “Dr. Vargas, I’m sorry, I just thought this dress was pretty… I didn’t mean anything else.” Matteo walked out of the bedroom. “Enough, Elena!” He walked to Sofia’s side and shielded her behind him. “It’s just a nightgown, is this really necessary?” “She likes it, just let her wear it. You have so many clothes, are you short of this one?” I looked at his self-righteous expression. The last bit of feeling I had for him in my heart was gone. “Matteo, make her leave.” “Impossible.” He answered categorically. “Fine, I’ll leave.” I turned and returned to my room, sorting out my treasured manuscripts and notes. I placed the manuscripts on the desk to start packing my luggage. Just as I turned around, Sofia walked in holding a glass of water. “Dr. Vargas, drink some water, don’t be angry anymore.” She handed the glass over. I didn’t take it. Her hand tilted, and the entire glass of water splashed over my notes. The water rapidly seeped into the paper. My brain buzzed loudly. I rushed over, grabbed the notebook, and desperately soaked up the water with tissues. But it was useless. The ink was already a blurred mess. I looked up at the panicked Sofia. She kept apologizing: “I’m sorry, I’m sorry Dr. Vargas, I didn’t mean to…” Matteo also came in. Seeing the scene, he frowned, pulled Sofia over, and checked her hands. “Did you get burned?” Sofia shook her head, crying even harder: “Matteo, I ruined Dr. Vargas’s things…” Matteo glanced at the soaked notebook. “Isn’t it just a book? I’ll buy you a new one.” He said indifferently: “Sofia didn’t do it on purpose, stop holding a grudge over it.” Holding the ruined notebook, my hands were trembling. That was left to me by my mentor. It was the only copy in the world. I looked at Matteo: “You’ll replace it?” “How will you replace it?” He choked on my question, looking a bit embarrassed. “Elena, stop being unreasonable.” I laughed. I threw the notebook on the floor, turned around, pulled out my suitcase, and began packing. Matteo stood at the door, watching me: “What are you throwing a tantrum about now?” “I said, I’m leaving.” I didn’t look back. “You’re running away from home over this little thing?” “Elena, can’t you be a bit more mature?” I ignored him and continued packing. Sofia cried softly on the side: “It’s all my fault, Matteo, don’t fight with Dr. Vargas…” Matteo sighed, walking over to comfort her. “It has nothing to do with you, she is just too childish.” I zipped up my suitcase and stood up. Walking past Matteo, I didn’t spare him a single glance. Reaching the door, I stopped. “Matteo, this is what you chose.” With that said, I pulled my suitcase and left the place I once thought would be my home. That was my first time walking out on him. Three days later, Matteo found the hotel I was staying at. He brought my favorite desserts and a beautifully wrapped notebook. “Elena, stop being angry, come home with me.” “I had someone restore that book, look, it’s as good as new.” I opened the notebook. The handwriting inside was forged, and many of the data didn’t match. I handed the notebook back to him: “Matteo, just go.” The smile on his face froze: “Elena, how long are you going to keep making a scene?” “I already sent her away, what more do you want?” “Can’t you stop blowing things out of proportion?” I looked at him. “I never blow things out of proportion.” I closed the door. He stood outside the door for a long time, but eventually walked away.

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On the eve of our engagement party, my fiancé, Asher Sterling, and his female “best friend,” Harper Sloan, flashed a marriage license in the middle of a nightclub. Asher looked completely unbothered, waving his hand dismissively. “Relax, Elena. It’s just a prank. We’re going to annul it tomorrow morning. Everyone knows Harper and I are just buddies.” His tone was light, as if he were talking about the weather. But in Vegas, a marriage license is never just a piece of paper. The real trouble lies in the legal process required to revoke it, and Asher clearly had no intention of taking this seriously. Harper, looking like she was deliberately trying to provoke me, blinked her doe eyes. “Hey, don’t be such a buzzkill. You all witnessed us getting officially married. Aren’t you going to give us wedding gifts?” Sitting on the other side of the booth, Carter Brooks burst into laughter. He was Asher’s frat brother from college. “Sure thing. My real estate project in the Hamptons just got approved. I’ll put that up as a gift. But in Vegas, we play by Vegas rules—if you want this big gift, you have to win it from me at the table.” I didn’t speak. I just silently sat down on the velvet sofa and picked up a martini. Seeing Asher’s frowning face, I gently swirled my glass and flashed a perfect, polite smile. “Aren’t we rolling dice for wedding gifts? Count me in.” As I settled in, the noisy VIP booth fell into a momentary, deathly silence. Asher reached out, trying to wrap his arm around my waist, his tone filled with his usual superiority and dismissal. “Stop it, Elena. We’re just drunk and joking around. You should go back to the hotel and rest.” I shifted backward, dodging his touch, and swept a cold glance toward Harper. “Keep your hands to yourself, Asher. Legally speaking, Mrs. Sterling is sitting over there.” Asher’s face instantly darkened, and his voice turned impatient. “I’ve told you a million times, Harper is just my best friend. If I actually wanted to date her, do you think you would have had a chance these past few years?” I didn’t respond. I had heard this gaslighting script too many times. Because of Harper, he “forgot” our anniversary dinner. Because of Harper, he would dump me on the side of the road at 3 AM just to pick her up because she was drunk. And now, impulsively getting married in Las Vegas. All explanations converged into one classic excuse: We are just friends. The atmosphere grew stiff, so Harper leaned in. She sat directly on Asher’s lap. “Alright, don’t ruin the vibe.” She turned to me, smiling harmlessly. “Elena, there’s really nothing going on between me and Asher. We were just drunk and impulsive tonight. The lawyers will handle it first thing in the morning. If you’re upset, I’ll drink a few extra shots to apologize, okay?” Saying that, she grabbed a bottle of champagne from the table and chugged it. Asher’s expression changed. He immediately reached out to stop her, scolding loudly. “Are you crazy? Why are you drinking so fast!” When he turned back to look at me, his eyes were freezing cold. “Elena Vance, don’t go too far.” I couldn’t help but let out a self-deprecating laugh. “It’s fine. I’m not someone who can’t take a joke. Since everyone says I don’t understand you two, I’ll join you in being crazy tonight.”

The people in the booth were stunned for a moment, then immediately started smoothing things over. “That’s the spirit, Elena! We’ve wanted you to hang out with us for ages. It’s Asher’s fault for always hiding you away.” Carter winked at the couple. “Asher, get over there and take care of your girl.” Asher sneered, leaning back deep into the sofa. He pulled Harper back onto his lap, his large hand resting on her waist. “Don’t look at me. Tonight, she’s my legal wife.” Seeing that I maintained a faint smile and showed no signs of causing a scene, the group started to cheer. “Alright, alright! Happy wedding! How are we playing?” Harper had played with them for a long time. She laughed and explained. “Same as always. Dice game. But since Elena is here, and she probably doesn’t get the complex rules, let’s keep it simple—High or Low.” “The loser not only has to drink, but to celebrate my marriage to Asher, they have to add a bet to the pot.” The crowd got even more excited. “That’s not fair, is it? Everyone in our circle knows Harper and Asher are the best duo here. You two have husband-and-wife telepathy now; how are we supposed to win?” Asher’s hand stayed on Harper’s waist. He hadn’t looked at me for even half a second. He scoffed. “Then you can just fold now.” Carter, feeling competitive, took off the Patek Philippe Nautilus watch on his wrist. “I’ll start with a chip. Just won this watch at a Sotheby’s auction last week.” The electronic dance music in the club got louder, pumping adrenaline into everyone’s veins. Others started taking off expensive jewelry and luxury watches. Another socialite named Sienna threw down a Van Cleef & Arpels diamond bracelet. Asher didn’t say anything. He undid his custom Hermès cufflinks and tossed them on the table. My gaze froze for a second. Those were the engagement gifts I had given him. The back was engraved with our initials. Harper was still buzzing with excitement. She squeezed Asher’s hand and pouted. “Honey, I want that bracelet. Win it for me.” I said nothing. I took off the full-diamond studs from my ears and gently placed them on the table. “Happy wedding to you both. I’m in.”

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The wedding was ten days away. I pushed open the fitting room door. Cole Harrison was bent over Sadie Hayes, his fingers working the laces at the back of her wedding dress. The Vera Wang. The one I’d swiped my card for two days ago. Paid in full. The one I was supposed to wear walking down the aisle to him in ten days. The boutique consultant stood off to the side, her face locked in that standard-issue professional smile. She was telling Sadie her shoulders and neckline were absolutely flawless. That this gown looked like it had been made for her. Sadie had walked in with Cole. The staff had probably already decided they were the couple here for the final fitting. I stood in the fitting room doorway. Veil still on. My fingers curled inward, one inch at a time. The photographer I’d brought to capture behind-the-scenes moments had been filming my reveal. Now her phone hung frozen in the air. Like she didn’t know who to point it at anymore. Sadie spotted me through the mirror. Her reaction came a beat late. Her hands flew up to cover the sheer fabric draped across her chest. “Eleanor. Don’t misunderstand.” Her voice was pitched low. Soft. Practiced innocence. “I just thought the dress was so beautiful. I said I wanted to try it on, and Cole said—” “She’s never worn a wedding dress.” Cole straightened up. Finished her sentence. His tone was casual. Like he was explaining why he’d lent the spare key to the neighbors. “Just letting her try it on. It’s not a big deal.” I looked at him. A laugh almost broke through. Last night I’d been up until one in the morning on Zola, cross-checking the final guest list. I’d paid the balance on the gown the afternoon before last. This morning I was still picking fonts for the place cards. And now my fiancé was standing in front of my wedding gown. Fixing the laces for another woman. Tossing me a line about how it was no big deal. I didn’t speak. I walked toward them. The boutique went silent. The sales assistant who’d been holding my gloves took an instinctive step back. Cole glanced at me. Something in my expression must have finally registered. His voice dropped into that tone I knew too well. The one that told me not to make a scene. “She just got back from the West Coast. She’s not in a great place.” “It’s just trying on a dress. Don’t do this here.” I looked straight at him. “Do this? Since when did it become me doing something? The moment you put my wedding dress on her body—that’s when things got ugly.” His brow creased. Sadie bit her lip. Extracting herself. “Eleanor, I really didn’t mean anything by it. I just—” “You meant something.” I cut her off. “If you didn’t mean anything, you wouldn’t have known exactly whose dress this was. And you wouldn’t be standing here letting him fix your train.” The color drained from her face. Cole’s voice hardened. “Eleanor.” “Why are you going after her? She said she just wanted to try it on. Do you have to make this so ugly?” I looked at him. And then I understood. When a heart dies, it doesn’t hurt. It hollows out. So empty you can’t even find the energy to be angry. Not a stabbing pain. Just emptiness. A vast, quiet void. And in that silence, one thought echoed. Clear as a bell. It’s over. *** I reached up and pulled the veil from my hair. The tulle slipped through my fingers. Drifted down into the hands of the sales assistant standing beside me. Everyone froze. Cole’s face finally shifted. “Eleanor. What are you doing?” I ignored him. Looked down at my ring finger. Worked the diamond off. He’d slid that ring onto my hand last month. Said we’d upgrade to something better after the wedding. Turns out in his mind, everything was shareable. The dress. The wedding. Even the dignity of being his fiancée. All available for loan. Anything to comfort someone else. The ring was snug. I twisted it. A red mark bloomed around my knuckle. Cole stepped forward. Reached for me. “Don’t do this.” I sidestepped him. Dropped the ring into the velvet accessory tray. “She wants to try on the wedding dress? Let her marry you.” I lifted my eyes to his. One word at a time. “Find your own groom. Throw your own goddamn wedding. This one was mine.” The silence in the boutique was absolute. You could hear people breathing. The photographer’s phone was still up. The frame trembled slightly. Sadie’s face had gone nearly bloodless. Her voice started shaking. “Eleanor, please don’t be like this. I really wasn’t trying to—” “The problem isn’t whether you were trying to take him, Sadie.” I looked at her. “The problem is he’s already yours. All you have to do is reach for him. His loyalty to me was always rented.” Cole’s expression darkened. “Enough. The wedding is in ten days. You’re pulling this now? Have you thought about the consequences?” That sentence. It snuffed out the last flicker of hope I’d been holding. He knew. He knew exactly how far over the line this was. He’d just assumed I was too deep in—too much money spent, too much effort sunk, too many years invested—to flip the table. He was betting I couldn’t let go. Betting I’d swallow it like I always did. Tell myself to let it go. The wedding was almost here anyway. I nodded. A laugh escaped me. “I’ve thought about it.” “So as of now, the wedding is canceled.” Cole looked like he hadn’t heard me right. “What did you say?” “Canceled.” I turned to the boutique staff. My voice came out so steady it surprised even me. “Pull up the payment records for this gown. The alteration records. The appointment booking information. All of it.” The sales assistants exchanged a glance. Looked at Cole on reflex. I followed their gaze. “What’s the problem?” I asked. “I ordered this dress. I paid for it. Do I not have the right to see my own records?” That landed. The two women looked at each other and immediately went for the iPad and files. Sadie was wobbling now. She clutched the skirt and stepped back. “Cole, I should just take this off—” “Yes. Take it off.” I looked at her. “Now.” Her eyes went red. Like I’d just done something unspeakably cruel to her. I didn’t even have the energy to watch the performance this time. A few minutes later, the staff brought up the system records. Reservation name: Eleanor Vance. Deposit payer: Eleanor Vance. Balance payer: Eleanor Vance. Rush alteration fee payer: Eleanor Vance. I took the iPad. Flipped to the payment page. Held it up in front of Cole’s face. “You see this clearly? I ordered the dress. I paid for it. I scheduled the wedding. You took what was mine to play hero for your high school nostalgia crush. And you wanted me to be gracious about it. Is that right?” Cole’s lips moved. “Eleanor. That’s not what I meant.” “Whether you meant it or not doesn’t matter anymore.” I handed the iPad back to the assistant. Bent down and lifted the train of the gown off the floor. Just enough so I wouldn’t step on it. “As of now, this wedding is on hold.” “The cancellations, the accounting, the liability determinations—I’ll handle every single item. One by one.” “And as for you—” I looked at Sadie. At the wedding dress she still hadn’t managed to take off. My voice went cold. “You want the benefits of someone else’s fiancé? Fine. But don’t use my wedding as your runway.” I turned and walked out. Cole came after me. Grabbed my wrist. His voice was low and tight. “Was this really necessary?” I stopped. Looked back at him. “Cole. You weren’t asking me to calm down today. You were betting I wouldn’t flip the table.” His fingers went rigid. I pulled free. One finger at a time. “Too bad. You bet wrong.”

I walked out of the bridal boutique. The sun outside was blinding. The kind of bright that makes your eyes sting. Maya ran after me. Shoved my phone and bag into my arms. Her voice was still shaking. “Ellie. Are you really calling it off?” I looked down. Pulled the ring box out of my bag. The empty box felt impossibly light. “I’m calling it off. Seven years is enough. No need to throw in the rest of my life too.” I got in the car. Cranked the AC to max. Cold sweat still soaked through the back of my shirt. Maya sat in the passenger seat. She glanced back at me several times. Opened her mouth. Closed it. I knew what she was thinking. Was I being impulsive. The wedding was ten days away. Flipping the table now—the venue, the planner, the invitations, the banquet, the party favors. Every single piece needed to be unwound. And more than that: seven years. Not seven days. Not seven months. Seven years. From the time I was twenty-two. The ride-along years with Cole. From a fresh graduate who had nothing and was nothing. To now. In the beginning, I was the one who got him through the hardest stretches. He caught the flu. Fever spiked to a hundred and four. I was the one who drove him to the ER at two in the morning. When he was grinding through his career change, I was the one balancing my own projects while rewriting his résumé and running mock interviews with him. Later, his career stabilized. The money came. Everyone said my suffering had finally paid off. Only I knew. I wasn’t waiting for someone to hand me a result. I’d taken all those years and genuinely poured them into what I thought was our future together. So even later, when the name Sadie Hayes started flickering at the edges of our relationship, I kept telling myself not to overthink it. Two people who never got together in high school. A shadow left in someone’s heart. Didn’t mean anything real would come of it. On his birthday, a message popped up on his phone. The contact was just a letter. “S.” He said it was an old classmate saying hello. The day she flew back from California, he canceled dinner with my parents at the last minute. Said it was an urgent work thing. Later, I saw Sadie’s Instagram story from the airport pickup. The edge of the frame caught half a shirt cuff. His cuff. I held my phone and stared at it for a long time. I never asked. It wasn’t that I didn’t see. It was that I took every single one of his ambiguities and explained them into something acceptable. Until today. Until he stood in that boutique and fixed the laces on my wedding gown for Sadie Hayes. That was the moment I understood. Some relationships don’t rot overnight. You just kept refusing to admit they’d gone crooked a long time ago. Maya finally couldn’t hold it in. “You want to go home first?” “My place,” I said. “I need to sort out the numbers.” She blinked. “You’re going to do accounting right now?” “If I don’t do it now, you want to wait for him to strike first? Let him spin me as the hysterical bride who lost it right before the wedding?” I unlocked my phone. Pulled up the master wedding budget spreadsheet. I’d built this table with my own hands. The gown. The venue deposit. The planner’s down payment. The party favors. The décor for the new house. The custom rings. The invitation printing. The photographer. Every item was tagged by date and payment account. Clean. Clear. Years of project management had made me good at one thing: taking chaos and breaking it down into executable line items. I used to use that skill to build a life. Now I was going to use it to cut my losses. I highlighted every expense I’d fronted from my personal account in red. Exported the corresponding transfer records and signed contracts into PDFs. One by one. Wedding gown balance: forty-five hundred dollars. Rush alteration fee: six hundred. Venue banquet deposit: ten thousand. Planner down payment: three thousand. Party favors: fifteen hundred. New house décor balance: two thousand. The scattered numbers added up to a sum that went far beyond what any “don’t be like this” could smooth over. Maya stared at the figures and sucked in a breath. “You never squared any of this with him before?” “We talked about it,” I said. “He said let me front it. He’d pay me back when the quarterly bonus hit. Some of it, we just defaulted to me paying. I understood the process better. I could get payments out faster. We’d reconcile everything later.” I laughed at myself when I said it. Reconcile everything later. Turns out in his mind, I was suitable for marriage. Not just because I was stable. Sensible. Good at building a life. But because I could pay. I could cover the gaps. I could manage every headache into neat, tidy order. And all he had to do was show up when required. Keep being the respectable groom-to-be. He used to joke about my Excel sheets. Said they looked like I was executing a merger, not planning a wedding. But he was right. I was managing a project. Only now, it was time to strip this failed project out of my life. Completely.

My phone screen lit up. A text from Cole. “Just calm down first.” The second one came right after. “What happened today isn’t as serious as you think.” The third one was fast. “Sadie just got out of a relationship. She’s in a bad place. I was just looking out for her. Don’t blow this up.” I stared at the words “don’t blow this up.” My fingers went cold at the tips. Even now. He was still fixated on whether this was a big thing or a small thing. Not whether it was wrong. Maya leaned over. Read the screen. Her laugh was pure rage. “He actually has the nerve.” I didn’t reply. A second later, my phone buzzed again. Not a private message this time. Cole had posted in the bridesmaids and groomsmen group chat. The one we’d set up to coordinate wedding logistics. The group had Maya. His best man. A handful of close friends. Cole dropped a message. “Small misunderstanding at the fitting today. Eleanor got a little emotional. The wedding is still on. No need for anyone to overthink it.” I stared at that line for three full seconds. Maya said it flat out. “He’s seizing the narrative.” I made a sound of agreement. Not surprising. Cole’s greatest talent had always been dressing ugly situations up as presentable misunderstandings. He was never afraid of hurting me. He was afraid of other people knowing that ten days before the wedding, he’d used his fiancée’s gown to placate his high school first love. The replies started rolling in fast. “Pre-wedding jitters. Happens to everyone. Cole, just pamper her a little.” “Eleanor’s probably just stressed.” And then Cole’s best friend, Ben, dropped his line. “Bro, you’re at the finish line. Don’t flip the car now.” Almost at the same moment, my mom’s text appeared. “Ellie. Don’t be scared. Take care of yourself first. Dad and I are here.” I looked at the best man’s message. Then at my mom’s. Something hot pressed against the back of my eyes. Some people were afraid their friend might wreck his image. Some people were only afraid I might break. I could see it all now. Who cared about appearances. Who cared about me. I set my phone on my lap. Took a breath. “Maya.” “Yeah?” “The fitting room footage. You were recording, weren’t you?” Maya paused. Nodded. “I was trying to capture you walking out in the dress. Ended up filming Cole fixing Sadie’s laces. It’s not the full thing, but that moment’s in there.” “Send it to me.” She forwarded the raw video immediately. I opened it. The footage was shaky but clear enough. Cole stood behind Sadie. His fingers on the laces at the back of the gown. The movements practiced. Familiar. Agonizing. And the dress. The waistline. The crinoline. The train. Every detail was something I’d confirmed with my own eyes two days ago. This wasn’t a misunderstanding. This was a receipt. I took the boutique payment records screenshot. The wedding expense master sheet. The corresponding bank transfer records. Dragged them all into a single folder. Attached the video. Then I opened a new message in the group chat. Recipients: Bridesmaids, Groomsmen, and Wedding Planning Core Group. I wrote one line. “Cole says it was a misunderstanding. Let’s clear up the misunderstanding. Please see attachments.” Attachment one: Boutique payment records screenshot. Payer: Eleanor Vance. Attachment two: Master wedding expense breakdown. Personally fronted items highlighted in red. Attachment three: Today’s fitting room video. Attachment four: Screenshots of Cole’s three private messages from today. Send. Maya watched me set the phone down. It took her a moment to find her voice. “Ellie…” “He said it was a misunderstanding.” I looked out the window. “I’m just helping him clarify.” The moment the messages went through, the group chat went dead silent. But I knew. The real second half was just beginning.

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In the high society circles of Manhattan, every woman talked about how lucky Sarah Miller was. I married Julian Thorne and became the envied Mrs. Thorne. But only I knew how suffocating the reality behind the title actually was. Every day, I numbly watched him bring home woman after woman. He even fell in love with a “gold-medal housekeeper,” Chloe, and let her set strict rules for our home. She not only froze all my cards and threw away my designer clothes and bags, but she also stipulated that I only had a five-dollar daily allowance. And I wasn’t allowed out past eight o’clock. Even when the hospital sent a critical notice at 8:01 PM, Chloe still ordered the bodyguards to stop me at the door. I suppressed the panic burning inside me. “My mother is having a heart attack. I need to go to the hospital right now.” Chloe sat on the sofa, filing her nails. “Mrs. Thorne, rules are rules. You can’t go out after eight. No exceptions, even if your mother is dying.” Trembling with rage, I turned and rushed into the study to find Julian, begging him to let me leave. He glanced at me coldly. “As long as you are Mrs. Thorne, you must obey the rules Chloe set.” Looking at the man I had loved for ten years, I felt nothing but strangeness. If this is what it takes, then I don’t want to be Mrs. Thorne anymore. … The front door was blocked tight by two burly bodyguards in black. My legs went weak with anxiety. My hands shook as I dialed the ER. “Please, start the resuscitation on my mother first. I promise I’ll pay the fees later…” “But, Miss Miller…” Before I could hear the rest, my phone was slapped out of my hand by a manicured hand. “Rule number one of the Thorne household: No loud noises!” My phone hit the floor and shattered. The screen went black. I stared helplessly at the broken device, tears pattering onto the floorboards. “Who are you putting on this pathetic show for? Are you unhappy with my rules?” Chloe rolled her eyes, pouted, and picked up her handbag as if to leave. “Since your wife can’t tolerate me, I’ll just leave. I’m obviously not welcome here anyway.” “Don’t be like that.” Julian walked up from behind, pulling her into his arms and kissing her forehead. “Baby, who dares to disobey you here?” As soon as he finished speaking, he gripped my chin with one hand, forcing me to look up. His tone was icy. “Sarah, smile.” My heart was with my dying mother, but I didn’t dare anger him. I forced out a smile that was uglier than crying. “My mom is in critical condition. Julian, for the sake of all our years together, please let me go see her.” “She only got hurt in that car accident last year because she was saving you. You can’t just ignore her…” Julian’s eyes flickered slightly. A trace of guilt passed through them. He looked at Chloe in his arms and asked tentatively, “Baby, just this once?” “No!” Chloe struggled out of his grasp, crossing her arms and sitting on the sofa like a spoiled princess. “It’s just a heart attack. She’s not dead yet. What’s the fuss?” “When you brought me here, you promised that everything in this house would go my way!” “I don’t care. If you dare to indulge her, don’t expect to enter my room tonight!” “Okay, okay. I really can’t say no to you…” Julian shook his head helplessly, picked her up, and placed her on his lap, tapping her nose affectionately. Chloe giggled, looking at me with pure provocation. Bringing a mistress into the house and trampling on my dignity as the legal wife. This scene had played out countless times in the Thorne mansion. Seeing the sympathetic looks from the servants, a sense of despair rose from the soles of my feet. I clenched my fists and summoned all my courage. “Julian, let’s get a divorce.” As long as we divorced, I wouldn’t be Mrs. Thorne anymore. I could leave this hellhole.

The living room went instantly silent. Julian’s expression turned cold. A sneer curled his lips. “Sarah Miller, what did you say? Threatening me with divorce?” “When your chauffeur father knelt and begged the Thorne family to take care of you, you weren’t this tough.” His words felt like invisible hands choking me, stealing my breath. Memories played in my mind like an old movie. My father was the private driver for the Thorne family. Ten years ago, Julian’s father was attacked by a gunman. My father took the bullet for him. In the ICU, Mr. Thorne asked him what he wanted. With his dying breath, my father said, “Please, Mr. Thorne… take care of my daughter…” Back then, Julian and I were best friends. At the funeral, he hugged me while crying. “Sarah, don’t worry. I’ll take care of you forever. With me around, no one will dare to bully you.” Unfortunately, Julian had long forgotten his childhood promises. Now, the person hurting me was him. Watching the intimate couple in front of me, I choked back my tears. Seeing my silence, Julian reached out and patted my head, like petting a pet. “As long as I don’t sign the papers, you will always be my wife.” I knew that without his consent, no law firm in New York would dare take my case. Desperate, I tried to rush for the door. Slap! A crisp sound echoed. My face instantly swelled up. “I told you, my rules cannot be broken!” Chloe directed two bodyguards to intercept me. Looking at her smug face, I couldn’t take it anymore. I lunged at her, grabbing her carefully styled hair. “If my mom misses her surgery, I won’t let you get away with it!” I strangled her neck, but Julian kicked me away. My head slammed into the corner of the marble coffee table. The sharp pain nearly knocked me out. “Throw the Madam in the wine cellar. Let her cool off.” Several men dragged me into the cold, damp underground cellar. No matter how much I banged on the heavy oak door, no one answered. I leaned against the door in despair, thinking of my mother’s haggard face in the hospital bed. Finally, the tears fell. Knock, knock, knock. The door was tapped gently. Through the small ventilation window, a rough hand pushed in some food. “Madam, please eat something.” It was Martha. She had watched me grow up and loved me like her own daughter. “Martha, please let me out. I need to go to the hospital…” “Madam, I don’t dare.” Martha’s voice was full of helplessness and trembling. She lifted her sleeve, revealing thin arms covered in crisscrossed scars—Chloe’s “discipline.” “…Thank you.” I didn’t want to make trouble for her. I slumped to the ground, looking at the dry sandwich and bottle of water. Since Chloe came to the Thorne house, she set my daily living allowance at five dollars. Discount sandwiches from the convenience store became my staple diet. Meanwhile, she pestered Julian to take her to three-star Michelin restaurants every day for caviar and black truffles. I couldn’t help but laugh at myself. The wife of a billionaire, living worse than a homeless person on the street.

I suffered through a sleepless night in the freezing wine cellar. The moment the door opened the next morning, I rushed to the hospital like a madwoman. Mom was lying in the hospital bed, wearing an oxygen mask, gasping weakly. Tears poured down my face. I grabbed her hand tightly. “Mom, I’m here…” “Miss Miller, you’re finally here.” The attending physician walked in, holding a chart, looking worried. “Miss Miller, we performed emergency surgery last night, but your mother needs a second heart bypass immediately—it’s her only chance.” “Then do the surgery! I’ll pay whatever it costs!” “However…” The doctor lowered his voice. “Your previous medical team was replaced. The new doctors were arranged by Miss Chloe. Without Mr. Thorne’s authorization, we cannot perform a surgery of this level.” I went numb. Cold sweat soaked my back. The doctor looked at me with pity. “Miss Chloe said if you can come up with two hundred thousand dollars, she will agree to the surgery. Otherwise, she will completely cut off the funding for your mother’s medical bills.” I never expected Julian to go this far just to play this absurd “housekeeper game” with Chloe. He stopped the money for my mother’s life! Seeing my pale face, Mom struggled to tug at my shirt. “Sarah… don’t beg him for me anymore…” I shook my head desperately, sobbing. “Mom, you’re the only family I have left. Even if I have to sell my blood, I will cure you.” Tears blurred my vision. I didn’t see the heartbreak in my mother’s eyes. I also missed the look of longing and finality as she watched me leave. When I rushed back to the villa, Julian was in the dining room, coaxing Chloe to eat breakfast. A long table was filled with luxurious dishes. From French omelets to top-grade Kobe steak. The stark contrast fueled my rage. Thinking of my dying mother, I rushed over. “Julian, why did you stop my mom’s medical funds?” Julian put down his knife and fork, looking surprised. “When did I…” “I ordered it.” Chloe dabbed her mouth elegantly with a napkin. Her look was full of arrogance. “Mrs. Thorne, your daily allowance is five dollars. If your mom needs two hundred grand for surgery, go earn it yourself.” I shook with anger, looking at Julian in disbelief. “You’re just going to watch her do this? That’s a human life!” “Chloe.” Julian finally spoke. “Maybe we should…” His words were cut off by Chloe’s scream. “You’re going to give in to her again?” She stood up abruptly, her chair scraping harshly against the floor. “When you brought me back, you agreed that I would be in charge! Now your wife wants to break my rules with just one word? Then why am I even here? I’m leaving!” Julian quickly grabbed her. “Okay, okay, I’ll listen to you. Whatever you say.” I stared blankly at the scene. My heart felt like it was splitting open. This was the man I had loved for ten years. My mother and I were nothing but tools for him to please his mistress. Looking at the table full of food, I let out a cold laugh. “Chloe, you tell us to be thrifty, but why are you so extravagant? If I recall, that couture dress is from this season’s runway. It costs tens of thousands of dollars.” Chloe pouted nonchalantly. “The rules are for the Thorne family. I’m not a Thorne…” “Do you know how hard it is for normal people to make money? Your breakfast alone costs a month’s rent for a worker.” Looking at the jewelry dripping off her, I lunged to slap her. The next second, my face burned with pain. Julian used full force to slap me to the floor. He then turned to check Chloe’s neck with concern. He looked down at me, his face dark. “I said, no one is allowed to bully Chloe.” Chloe lifted her chin defiantly. “You want money? Go earn it yourself! Don’t play the victim here.” She grabbed my arm and had the bodyguards drag me into the black Maybach. “I’ll allow you out past eight tonight. I’m taking you to a good place.”

She took me to Manhattan’s most exclusive private club. Seeing my pale face, Chloe smiled triumphantly. “People should work hard for themselves. Go serve tea to the bosses, or kneel and shine their shoes. You might earn some tips.” “When you scrape together two hundred thousand, go save your mom.” Before I could resist, she had me pushed into the noisy hall. For my mother’s medical fees, I had to compromise. I knelt on the expensive carpet in humiliation, polishing the leather shoes of arrogant men. A shiny Italian shoe lifted my chin. A stack of hundred-dollar bills slapped my face like a mockery. “Isn’t this Mrs. Thorne? How did she fall so low?” “Ironic, isn’t it? Can’t even keep her husband.” “You didn’t see Julian’s new girl. I heard last week at the auction, just to make her happy, he spent a hundred million without blinking…” Their words were like poisoned knives, slashing my heart until it bled. My mom’s life was worth less to him than a trinket at an auction. I knelt numbly before rich heir after rich heir, enduring their ridicule. But no matter how hard I tried, the tips didn’t come close to the needed amount. My vision began to darken. Between low blood sugar and stress, I was about to faint. Until a pair of familiar high heels stood before me. “Still trying hard, huh?” Chloe squatted down and patted my cheek. “Since you’re working so hard, I’ll show you something. You’ll love it.” I didn’t understand what she was doing. She took out a delicate porcelain box, opened the lid, and used a silver spoon to scoop out some gray powder. “Guess what this is?” A bad feeling hit me. “Chloe, what is that?” She covered her mouth in mock surprise, malice flowing in her eyes. “I thought you two were close. You don’t even recognize your own mother’s ashes?” “Look how pretty. It looks like fireworks under the lights.” She slowly poured the ashes onto the carpet in front of me. “Thank me. I reunited you two.” Trembling, I pulled out my phone and called the hospital. Every second felt like a century. When the voice answered, mine was distorted by fear. “Doctor, where is my mother?” The other end paused. The tone was heavy. “Mrs. Thorne, I’m so sorry… Your mother passed away this morning.” “She had a heart attack last night. We called both you and Mr. Thorne, but no one answered. Finally, Mr. Thorne’s secretary picked up.” “She said, per Mr. Thorne’s instructions, to cremate the body immediately.” I stared at the porcelain box on the floor. Grief crashed over me like a tsunami. That box really contained my mother… Meeting my gaze, Chloe started laughing. “You and your mom are so stupid! I just showed her a video of you kneeling here shining shoes, and she got so angry she had a heart attack and died.” “If you ask me, you two should go to hell together.” “Chloe, I’m going to kill you! I’ll kill you!” I lunged at her like a wild animal, hands reaching for her throat. If what she said was true, I couldn’t imagine how broken my mom was seeing that video before she died. “Julian, help! She’s going to kill me!” The next second, I was kicked away. I rolled across the floor, my forehead smashing into a table leg. “Sarah, are you crazy?”

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When I was seven, my father brought home a woman with blonde hair and perfect makeup. She handed me a box of sliced mangoes. My mother sat at the dining table, watching silently as I ate the fruit with delight. Then, she signed the divorce papers, walked to the balcony of our Manhattan apartment, and ended her life. From that day on, mangoes became my nightmare. That’s why, after Julian Chase and I exchanged our wedding vows, I looked him in the eye and said: “Julian, if you ever want to divorce me, you don’t need a lawyer. Just hand me a mango.” That day, wearing his custom suit, Julian held me tight on the lawn of Central Park. He swore that from then on, mangoes would be forbidden in his life too. On the Christmas Eve of our fifth year of marriage, Julian’s high school friend, Chloe—the girl who always played the innocent victim—placed a mango tied with a red ribbon on his desk. Julian flew into a rage at the office. He announced he was cutting ties with Chloe and fired her on the spot. At that moment, I thought I had married true love. Six months later, I spent a grueling month in Europe to close a two-hundred-million-dollar merger for our company. I returned in triumph with the contract in hand. At the celebration party in a Manhattan lounge, Julian smiled and handed me a glass of golden yellow drink. I drank half of it. The taste was familiar, yet strange. Suddenly, the woman who was supposed to have vanished—Chloe—appeared behind me in an eye-catching red dress. She leaned into my ear and giggled. “Natalie, how does that mango juice taste?” I froze. I looked at my husband in disbelief. Julian was holding his wine glass, trying to suppress a laugh, like he was watching a prank show. “Don’t be like that, Nat. Chloe just wanted to help you.” “We didn’t give you the pulp, just a little juice.” “I think Chloe is right. Not eating mangoes is just psychological. You need to get over it.” He shrugged. “See? You were drinking it happily just now. You’re fine.” The acid in my stomach began to churn. My expression went cold. I raised my hand and splashed the rest of the drink directly into Julian’s face. Then I turned and walked away. Some things are never a joke. Mangoes aren’t. And neither is my divorce.

“Mrs. Chase—apologies, Ms. Sterling. You are suffering from acute gastric spasms caused by severe stress triggers.” In the ER at Mount Sinai, the doctor looked at the report with a serious expression. “You have a severe psychosomatic rejection to a certain ingredient. If you aren’t careful, next time it won’t just be a stomach ache. It could be a perforated stomach or anaphylactic shock.” “We need to keep you overnight for observation. Notify your family immediately.” I fell silent listening to the doctor. For that new project, I hadn’t relaxed for a single minute during thirty-nine days of negotiations in London. I didn’t expect that a glass of mango juice from Julian at my own celebration party would send me to the emergency room. I subconsciously opened our pinned text conversation. I typed a word, then stopped. Something felt wrong. I looked closer. Julian’s profile picture had changed. It was no longer our photo under the Brooklyn Bridge. It was a cartoon of a green mango. While I stared at the screen, Julian called. Through the receiver, his voice was cold and impatient. “I’m back at the apartment. Where are you? You ran off before the party ended. How does that look to the investors?” I remained silent. In the past, I would have softened my tone, apologized like a little girl, and tried to please him. But tonight, my stomach was cramping, and my heart was cramping too. Julian seemed annoyed. “Natalie, how long are you going to keep this up? Chloe just wants to help you overcome your fear. Is this drama necessary?” “I’m in the hospital,” I interrupted coldly. The line went silent for a moment. In all our years of marriage, he had never truly cared about my health. He probably didn’t expect his little “joke” would actually hospitalize me. “Wait there. I’m coming over,” his tone softened slightly. I didn’t want to talk to him. I hung up. I was so weak I didn’t even want to move a finger. Time ticked by. The nurse checked on me three times and changed my IV drip once. But Julian never showed up. Before going to sleep, I checked my phone one last time. Social media pushed Chloe’s latest “story” to my feed. The photo showed a man’s hand tenderly applying a Band-Aid to a girl’s knee. The background was the familiar interior of our Porsche. The caption read: “Every time I get hurt, someone is always there to save me. So blessed~” Chloe’s profile picture had changed to a yellow mango. Bright, sweet, and absolutely disgusting. We’ve known each other for ten years. Julian has always known where my bottom line is. He’s been in the business world long enough to know how to maintain boundaries with the opposite sex. But now, he was crossing the line repeatedly. Fine. The love that bound our marriage together is gone. And that two-hundred-million-dollar European merger I risked my life to secure? That decides the life or death of his company. And it doesn’t need to exist for him anymore either.

I woke up the next day to a silent phone. Not a text or a missed call from Julian. I wasn’t even angry. After the doctor cleared me, I signed the discharge papers and went straight home. The luxury penthouse in Tribeca, overlooking the Hudson River, was something we bought in cash last year. Seven years ago, when we graduated from Columbia, we squeezed into a basement in Queens, sharing a box of cheap Chinese takeout. Five years ago, on the day we got our marriage license, we signed the papers at City Hall, bought two hot dogs from a street cart to celebrate, and shared a supermarket cupcake at home. And now, I was alone in this empty showroom of an apartment, bearing all the pain by myself. I guess I’ll get used to it. I was sitting on the sofa reviewing the draft divorce agreement my lawyer sent when the electronic lock beeped. Julian walked in. A strong scent of rose perfume rushed in with him—Chloe’s favorite Chanel scent. I frowned slightly at the smell. Julian has sensitive skin and is allergic to many chemical fragrances. He used to hate perfume. Because of this, I only used fragrance-free skincare for years. Even our laundry detergent is hypoallergenic. Turns out, he was only strict with me. When he saw me lying on the sofa with my tablet, he froze for a second, then put on a nonchalant expression. “Chloe had too much to drink at the party last night and fell. I took her home.” He scratched his head. “It got too late, so I crashed at a hotel nearby. That’s why I didn’t come to the hospital. You okay?” I nodded. My finger swiped on the tablet, canceling a supplier order, and I replied casually: “Yeah, I got it.” Julian opened his mouth, seeming surprised. My reaction was too calm. It was nothing like the Natalie who used to worry if he was ten minutes late. He hesitated, walked closer, loosened his tie, and looked down at me. “It’s Saturday. Don’t worry about work. I’m planning to take Chloe to Paris to clear her head and check out the market. Do you want to come?” Seven years ago, on my birthday, Julian and I took a Polaroid in Times Square with a street performer dressed as the Statue of Liberty. Looking at the crowded background, he swore that when we were rich, he would take me to Paris and take the exact same photo under the Eiffel Tower. Later, his company grew, and he got busier. He coaxed me time and time again: “Nat, this is a critical period for Series B funding.” “I’m the CEO. I can’t just take a vacation to Europe whenever I want.” He would lean in and pat my shoulder. “You understand, right?” I understood. So I stopped mentioning Paris. I threw myself into operations, building his business empire. But it turns out, as long as Chloe wants to go, he has time. I opened the next email, my tone as flat as if discussing the weather. “Three’s a crowd. I’m not interested.” He seemed relieved hearing this, his tone relaxing. “Alright, I’ll grab my passport and go. Order some takeout for lunch. We’ll eat together when I get back tonight.” “Also, this merger is crucial for opening the global market. I’ve invited investors and major media outlets. We’re holding a press conference at Cipriani Wall Street on Monday.” He paused, looking at me seriously. “Don’t worry, this time I’ll formally introduce you as the co-founder. I won’t let Chloe cause trouble. Haven’t you always wanted to stand by my side openly? Monday is your chance. Prepare well.” I looked up and gave him a faint glance. I knew this was his so-called compensation for last night. But that’s fine. Canceling the European project requires a few days of legal processing anyway. Announcing it on the day of the press conference seems perfect.

That evening, I arrived early at the Michelin-starred French restaurant we frequented. In seven years together, waiting for him had become muscle memory. While waiting, I received a call from London. It was my opponent from the recent negotiations, and an old friend from business school, Ethan Vance. He is now the Executive Vice President of the industry giant, Vanguard Global. Ethan’s voice was warm and magnetic. “Nat, have you thought about my offer to join Vanguard?” He sighed. “Your company is too small. It doesn’t deserve your talent. Julian, that guy… he doesn’t know how to cherish an ace.” This was his third time trying to poach me. The first time was seven years ago. I turned down a high-paying offer to join Julian’s startup shell company, taking a meager salary and paying the rent myself. Ethan called me brain-dead back then. He talked until his mouth was dry, but I wouldn’t budge. The second time was a few days ago at the negotiation table. As a competitor, he was crushed by my proposal. After it ended, he was both impressed and worried. “Nat, I heard your salary at your own company is lower than my assistant’s? Come to me. Don’t let your talent be buried by someone who doesn’t know quality.” I laughed and refused back then. Buried? That was my husband’s company. It was the status I fought seven years to build with him. The third time was now. I only paused for three seconds. I signaled the waiter to open the best bottle of red wine, then spoke crisply into the phone. “Send the offer letter. I start next Tuesday.” There was a two-second pause on the other end, followed by Ethan’s loud, hearty laughter. “Deal! I’m having HR prep the contract right now.” He hung up immediately, afraid I’d change my mind. I smiled. Just as I was putting down my phone, a message from Julian popped up. [Plans changed. Chloe can’t wait to see the tower lights. I took her to change flights and we took off already. Eat dinner by yourself.] [I have a surprise for you when I get back.] Immediately after, my social media feed refreshed with a post from Chloe, specifically tagging me. “Thanks for making my dream come true! As a thank you, I’ll treat you to a Michelin meal tomorrow.” The picture was Chloe holding Julian’s hand. The background was the light show of the Eiffel Tower in Paris. The composition and pose were exactly the same as that photo from seven years ago. I stared at the photo for two seconds. Then I exited the app and found Ethan’s chat. [I’m bringing a welcome gift for my onboarding. Is Vanguard interested in that two-hundred-million-dollar European merger?]

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My wedding day was supposed to be the happiest day of my life. Instead, my new husband sold my little sister to the heir of the local mafia. It was their dirty transaction. …… My little sister came to see me off on my wedding day. Marcus’s groomsmen cornered her in the bridal suite upstairs. I grabbed a chair. Slammed it against the door. Screamed for them to stop. Marcus wrapped his hand around my throat and threw me to the floor. “Relax, baby. It’s our wedding day.” “The boys are just blowing off some steam.” His mother sat on the velvet sofa, swirling red wine in a crystal glass. Her eyes never left the La Dolce Vita rerun on the television. She didn’t even glance up. When the door finally opened, my sister stumbled out. Her clothes were torn. Her mouth was full of blood. She’d bitten through her own tongue trying to end it. The Mafia – Zane family lawyers buried it as an “accident.” They forced me to stay quiet — for the honor of both families, they said. I picked up a knife. Ready to take someone down with me. Marcus kicked me square in the chest. I coughed blood and died at the door of the bridal suite. My white dress soaked dark red. …… Then I opened my eyes. I was back. Back to the moment the limousine pulled up outside Hollow Oak Estate. The first thing I did was send Sophie away. I told her to find Uncle Ray. Don’t come back. Don’t look back. I watched her walk through the iron gates and finally let out a breath. I thought I’d outrun fate. A few minutes later, a scream came from upstairs. I stared at the closed door in horror. Sophie was already gone. So who the hell was in that room?

A scream from upstairs. Then a heavy thud — something hitting the floor hard enough to set the crystal chandelier in the foyer trembling. I looked up at the closed door on the second floor. My bridal suite. I gathered my skirt and bolted for the staircase. A hand shot out and shoved me hard in the shoulder. I lost my footing. My lower back slammed into the banister. I sucked in a sharp breath through my teeth. Chloe was leaning against the railing, chewing gum. She wiped her hand off on her bridesmaid dress like I’d dirtied her. “Where do you think you’re running off to, Yara?” “It’s your wedding day.” “You jinx whatever’s going on up there, and trust me — you can’t afford the karma.” I stared at her face. That thick, carefully applied foundation. That smug set of her jaw. Another crash from upstairs. Glass shattering. Then the sound of fabric ripping. A woman’s muffled sobs. The noises came through the door — muffled. Desperate. I tried to push past her. “Move! Someone’s crying for help!” Chloe didn’t budge. She shoved me back. Her long nails raked three bloody lines down my arm. “Help? Honey, the groomsmen are just having a little fun with her.” “That girl should count herself lucky.” “Half the women in Ashford Bay would kill for a night with Bash.” “Today’s your wedding. You should be on your knees thanking him for noticing that little nobody.” I was shaking. I raised my hand to slap her. Someone caught my wrist mid-air. Marcus. My brand-new husband. Reeking of bourbon. He flung my arm aside. I staggered back several steps and nearly went down on my heel. He yanked at his tie, impatient. “Yara, what the hell is wrong with you?” “Those are my groomsmen up there blowing off steam.” “Why are you trying to kill the mood?” I jabbed a finger toward the second floor. “Kill the mood? Raping a girl is the mood?” “That’s a crime, Marcus. Open that door. Now.” He blocked the stairs with his whole body. “Rape? Don’t be so dramatic.” “It’s just roughhousing.” “Your nobody sister plays the virgin act all the time.” “Bet she’s loving it up there. One night with Bash, and she’s set for life.” Donna remained seated on the velvet sofa, sipping her wine. She didn’t even glance up. “Enough already. Stop embarrassing yourself.” “Bash taking an interest in her is an honor for your family.” “You should be grateful, not screaming like a lunatic.” Another scream from upstairs. Sharp. Desperate. “Help! Please, someone help me!” My heart hammered. I lunged for the stairs again. “I’m calling the police.” Marcus’s eyes went dark. He kicked me hard in the stomach. I doubled over, gasping. My phone flew from my hand. He stomped on it. The screen cracked under his heel. He picked it up and tossed it into the champagne ice bucket. It sank to the bottom. Good thing he didn’t know about the second one. Then he pulled a key from his pocket, walked to the front door, and turned the deadbolt. “Nobody leaves until Bash is done.” “Yara, if you screw this up for me, I’ll kill you right here.” Donna stubbed out her cigarette. She flicked the burning butt at my wedding dress. The ember caught on the white silk and burned a small black hole through it. “Really bad bitch,” she said. “Calls the cops on her own husband on her wedding day?” “Honestly, some women deserve what they get.”

The noises upstairs lasted ten more minutes. I tried to run to the window to call for help. Chloe grabbed my hair and yanked me back. A whole clump tore from my scalp. Tears flooded my eyes. I clawed at her face. Chloe shrieked and dug her nails into my cheek, drawing blood. Marcus rushed over. He pinned my shoulders and threw me onto the sofa. Donna stood up slowly. Almost lazily. From her wine. She lit another cigarette. Took her time. Then pressed the burning tip into my arm. The skin sizzled. “You little bitch — want to hit my niece?” “I’ll teach you!” She ground the cigarette into my flesh. “How dare you hit her?!” I curled up in the corner of the sofa, protecting my head. Then the sounds upstairs changed. A dull thud. Like a skull hitting a wall. A few weak, spasmodic noises. Then silence. Absolute silence. That kind of quiet was worse than any scream. Chloe smoothed her dress. A smug smile spread across her face. “Well. That’s quiet.” “Guess she finally gave in.” “I told you. She’s just like the rest of them.” “Yara, you should be thanking me. Don’t forget who set it up.” Donna set her wine glass down on the coffee table. She lifted her espresso cup instead. Took a slow sip. “These young girls. All ‘no, no, no’ until they get a real man.” “Bash has the stamina.” “Not everyone can tame a wild one like that.” I stared at the closed door upstairs. My nails dug bloody crescents into my palms. I had seen Sophie walk out of the estate gates with my own eyes. But what if she had come back? Marcus checked his watch. He straightened his tie and allowed himself a satisfied smile. “Alright, time’s up. Bash is probably done.” “I’ll go check on him. Bring our guest of honor down for a toast.” “Once this deal goes through, the harbor construction bid is ours.” “After that, the Castello name walks tall in Ashford Bay.” He climbed the stairs. Each footstep echoed through the foyer. Each one landed somewhere inside my chest. He stopped in front of the dark wood door and reached for the handle. *Click.*

The door swung open. Marcus disappeared inside. Seconds of dead silence. Then his voice cracked through the house. “Jesus —” Bash’s furious shout followed. “Don’t just stand there yelling! Goddammit, what a mess—” “This bitch is insane!” “Threw herself at the wall — I couldn’t stop her!” “Almost got her blood all over me!” Downstairs, Donna flinched. Coffee spilled down her dress. She shot up from the sofa. “What happened? Oh my God, is someone dead?” She ran for the stairs. Chloe’s face went pale. She hiked up her dress and chased after her. “Marcus! What’s going on?” The living room emptied. Only me. I dragged myself off the floor and lunged for the front door. Locked tight. I grabbed a crystal vase and hurled it at the window. Glass shattered. But wrought iron bars sat on the other side. I turned and stared at the stairs. Five minutes passed. Then heavy footsteps came down. Marcus led the way. His face was the color of paper. Sweat ran down his temples. Donna gripped the banister, her legs shaking. Chloe followed, hand over her mouth. Bash came last. Shirtless. His chest and hands dotted with blood. The victim was not with them. Marcus collapsed onto the sofa. His hands shook so badly he couldn’t light his cigarette. Three tries before the flame held. Bash shrugged the shirt back on, still cursing under his breath. “Marcus, your sister is unhinged.” “I barely touched her, and she went ballistic.” “Started slamming her own head into the wall. Nothing I could do.” “If word gets out, people are going to think I have some kind of problem.” I grabbed Marcus by the collar. “Where is she? What did you do to her?” “I’m calling an ambulance!” He shoved me off, his eyes bloodshot. “Shut up! No ambulance!” “She’s upstairs. She just passed out, that’s all.” “Nobody goes up there!” Chloe patted her chest, relieved. “God, that scared me.” “Her face is so swollen I couldn’t even tell who it was.” “She did that on purpose, didn’t she? Wants to bleed Bash dry.” Donna narrowed her eyes. “Exactly. It’s a shakedown. Classic gold-digger move.” “Trying to worm her way into the Zane family with that sob act.” “Bash, don’t worry. It was an accident. We all saw it.” “She slipped. The whole family will swear to it.” Bash dropped a bloody tissue onto the floor. He opened his wallet and tossed a black card onto the coffee table. “There’s half a mil on that.” “Clean this up. If this leaks, I’ll make your whole family disappear.” Marcus’s fear turned to greed in real time. He snatched the card. “You got it. We’ll clean it up. A family matter. That’s all.” “You’ll never hear about it again.” I scrambled for the landline in the corner. “It’s a human life! She needs a hospital!” Marcus seized the heavy crystal ashtray and brought it down on the phone. Crack. He turned on me, finger inches from my face. “Yara. Are you trying to put us all in prison?” “Bash is running for Chamber president. This can’t come out.” “We handle it here. We’ll bring in a private doctor.” “Until that doctor walks through that door — nobody opens the one upstairs.” A thin, scraping sound drifted down from the second floor. Like fingernails dragging across hardwood. In the dead quiet of the living room, it was hideous. Donna jumped. Her coffee cup fell. “That girl… she’s still alive up there?” “After all that blood — she’s still moving?”

Watch👉 https://cps-front.novelix.live/app-api/ext/new/20260619W1LLE6ertp 🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “Novelix” app 🔍 search for “ni019112”, and watch the full series ✨! #Novelix