The wedding Annelise Vance had waited five years for was postponed. Again. Because of Everett Beaumont’s foster sister, Cassandra. She stood in the Plaza Hotel’s ballroom. Just like the ninety-nine times before, she moved through the routine flawlessly. Apologized to every guest. Asked them to leave. A bone-deep exhaustion settled into her. “Annie, Cassie ran off to some street art fair in Brooklyn again.” Everett Beaumont approached, apology in his voice, fingers brushing her elbow. “You know that girl. Always forgetting things. We’ll do it next time, okay?” Annelise didn’t turn around. She stared at the carved doors across the room, watching a server carefully remove the floral sign that read *Beaumont & Vance Wedding*. “Okay?” Everett asked again. That assured tenderness in his voice. “Okay,” she said. It wasn’t the first time anyway. Everett exhaled in relief. He reached to ruffle her hair. She tilted her head, and his hand met empty air. “I need to go get Cassie. She bought too much stuff.” He already had his car keys out, feet moving toward the door. Annelise watched him walk away. “Everett. You promised me. If the hundredth time still doesn’t happen—” “There haven’t been that many.” He didn’t turn around. His voice even carried a smile. “You’re remembering wrong. Next time. I promise.” The door closed behind him. Annelise stood still. Slowly, she pulled out her phone. A memo on the screen. She’d recorded every postponement. From the first entry to the hundredth one now. Every single one documented, clear and precise. He said she remembered wrong. A laugh escaped her. Quiet. Hollow. “Annie?” Her mother’s voice came from behind. Mrs. Joan Vance, eyes red-rimmed, gripped her daughter’s arm. “This wedding…” Annelise looked up. She saw the tears her mother was holding back. The unspoken worry. “It’s off.” Her voice was barely a whisper, like she was discussing something that had nothing to do with her. “You and Dad go back to Queens first. I’ll come home after I sort out the joint account with him.” Mrs. Vance froze. “Annie—” “Mom.” Annelise squeezed her hand. “I’m just… done running into a wall.” Joan Vance opened her mouth. She let out a heavy sigh instead. She looked into her daughter’s eyes and saw something she’d never seen there before. Not sadness. A deep, unsettling calm. She turned and got into the yellow taxi. Annelise watched the car merge into traffic. Then she walked back into the ballroom. She stood in the empty hall. For five years, she’d been the one to apologize to every guest. The one to clean up every mess. But this time, she just stood there. Then she turned abruptly. Headed for the parking lot. She didn’t know why. She followed him. She drove her car. Trailed Everett’s black Range Rover from a distance. Watched him park outside the crowded street art fair. Cassandra was in a puff-sleeved dress. She threw herself into his arms like a leaping fawn. The smile that broke across Everett’s face was so radiant it looked foreign to Annelise. That completely relaxed, unreserved adoration. She had almost never seen it. She stared. Her fingers dug into the steering wheel without her noticing. Cassandra dragged him through the booths of street artists. Forced a ridiculous fluorescent bucket hat on his head. Held up her phone for selfies. Everett looked exasperated. But he indulged her anyway. Even bent down when she stood on tiptoe to stick a decal on his face. Annelise watched it all. Five years. Every time she suggested a simple beach wedding in the Hamptons, or a lawn ceremony in Central Park, Everett would frown and refuse. A Beaumont wedding had to follow tradition. Nothing casual. But here he was. Doing every single “casual” thing with Cassandra. He wasn’t rigid. He wasn’t bound by rules. He just didn’t want to break them for her. She followed them all day. She watched Everett stand in line with Cassandra to buy street food. Watched her act coy until he carried her across the street on his back. Watched him trail behind, arms full of colorful shopping bags, wiping her sweat, even crouching down to tie her undone shoelaces. He had never done any of these things for her. The sky darkened. Annelise finally turned the car around. She couldn’t watch anymore. Back at their Upper East Side apartment building, her car couldn’t open the garage gate. She froze. Then remembered. The last time Cassandra threw a tantrum at their place, she’d smashed Annelise’s favorite coffee cup. Annelise said a few words, and Cassandra ran out crying. That night, to soothe her, Everett deleted Annelise’s license plate from the access system. “You ride in my car anyway,” he’d said then. As if it were the most natural thing in the world. Annelise let out a bitter laugh. She parked at a metered spot on the street. Started walking back. The night wind was cold. She wrapped her arms around herself. Stepped onto the sidewalk. Blinding headlights swung at her from the side. *Bang—* The impact was massive. Her body flew through the air like a broken marionette. The last second before consciousness slipped away, she saw it dimly. Cassandra in the driver’s seat, panic-stricken, throwing herself into the passenger seat. Into Everett’s arms. And him. Holding her tight. His face full of ache.

Annelise opened her eyes to a hospital room washed in stark white. The anesthesia had worn off. Pain spread through her limbs like crawling vines. She tried to move. Her right leg was in a cast. Her left arm wrapped in bandages. Voices came from outside the door. Familiar ones. “Ev, I really didn’t mean it!” Cassandra’s voice, thick with tears. “How was I supposed to know she’d just walk out from the curb—” “Stop. Don’t cry, Cassie.” Everett’s voice was low, gentle. “I’m here. Nothing’s going to happen.” Annelise stared at the ceiling. She propped herself against the bed edge. Moved inch by inch through the searing pain. Gripped the wall and dragged herself to the door. Shoved it open. In the corridor, Cassandra was pressed against Everett’s chest, cheek against his shirt, fingers clutching his suit lapel. Everett’s hand moved on her back in slow, soothing strokes. Like calming a startled cat. They both turned at the noise. Tears still clung to Cassandra’s face. But the moment her eyes landed on Annelise, a flash of irritation crossed them. She turned her face away. Everett froze for a beat. Then he released Cassandra. Hurried over to support Annelise. “Annie, why are you out of bed? The doctor said—” “I’m fine.” Annelise pulled away from his hand. Her gaze settled on Cassandra. “Your sister, on the other hand. She hits someone with a car. Can’t even manage a ‘sorry’?” Everett frowned. Turned to Cassandra. “Cassie. Apologize to your future sister-in-law.” Cassandra’s eyes flew wide. “For what? I said I didn’t do it on purpose!” She stamped her foot. Her voice pitched higher. “Ev! You never forced me to do anything before—” “Before was before.” Annelise’s voice was quiet. Every word distinct. “Now I’m lying in a hospital. She won’t even say sorry. Is that too much to ask?” Everett’s expression hardened. “Cassie. Apologize.” Cassandra bit her lip. Her eyes reddened again instantly. She glared at Annelise. Then grabbed her own phone and hurled it at the floor. “I won’t!” She spun to run. Annelise’s cold voice stopped her. “Block her.” Two men in black suits appeared at the end of the corridor. They blocked Cassandra’s path. Everett stared. “Annie, what is this—” “Since she doesn’t understand basic decency,” Annelise looked at Cassandra’s suddenly panicked face, each word measured, “send her somewhere she can learn it.” Cassandra screamed. “Ev! I don’t want to go to some etiquette school in Switzerland! You promised Mom and Dad you’d always take care of me!” Everett’s mouth opened on reflex. Then his gaze landed on Annelise’s bandaged arm. His throat moved. He just said quietly, “Go. Come back when you’ve learned.” Cassandra stared in disbelief. Tears rolled down her face in fat drops. This time, Everett didn’t soften. The bodyguards hauled her away. The corridor finally fell silent. The next few days, Everett never left the hospital room. He fed her water with his own hands. Wiped her face. When she woke in pain in the middle of the night, he was on his feet instantly, pressing the call button. Annelise watched him fussing over her. Quiet. Still. Her mind drifted to a winter night five years ago. She’d worked late. Her stomach was cramping so badly she broke out in cold sweat. Everett drove across half the city through a snowstorm. Brought food. Brought medicine. He’d cupped her ice-cold hands in his palms and said, “You have me now. I won’t let you go through anything alone again.” That one sentence. That’s what made her endure ninety-nine times. “Annie?” Everett’s voice pulled her back. “Still hurting?” Annelise shook her head. Everett took her hand. His voice thick with guilt. “When you’re better, I’ll tie Cassie up if I have to. She’ll be at the wedding. Nothing will go wrong this time—” “That joint account,” Annelise said suddenly. “How long does it take to unbind?” Everett went rigid. “What?” “Just asking.” Her tone was even. Everett stared at her for several seconds. His throat worked. “Quick. A day or two.” Annelise nodded. Said nothing more. The room fell into sudden silence. After a long while, Everett stood. “I have a meeting at the company. I’ll come see you tomorrow.” Annelise answered with a soft sound. Watched him walk to the door. “Everett.” He looked back. “Nothing.” His back stiffened noticeably. But he didn’t turn around. He just pulled the door shut gently behind him.

The day Annelise was discharged, Everett didn’t show up. She dragged her still-healing body straight to the bank. The private banker took her ID with both hands. Typed briefly on the keyboard. Looked up with a professional smile. “Miss Vance, the joint account unbinding can take effect today. Would you like me to process it now?” “Do it now.” Annelise’s voice was calm. “All of it.” Back home, Annelise eased herself into a chair at the dining table. Pain from her wounds made cold sweat bead at her temples. She was reaching for a glass of water when the apartment door slammed open. Everett burst in. Carrying Cassandra. Annelise froze. Cassandra was shaking violently. Her expensive tweed dress was crumpled and twisted around her body. Her bare arms were mottled with bruises. Her eyes were unfocused. Mouth muttering something incoherent. She looked like someone who’d suffered a complete breakdown. “Satisfied?” Everett’s voice was ice. He shoved Cassandra toward Annelise. “Look at what you did!” Annelise stood up. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “Playing dumb?” Everett flipped the dining table. Glass cups crashed to the floor, shattering. “What kind of place did you send her to? Psychological conditioning? Drug injections? Locking her in dark rooms? That’s your so-called etiquette school?” Cassandra shrieked suddenly. Covered her head and crouched down. “Don’t lock me up! I’ll be good! I’ll be good—” Annelise stared in shock. “I arranged a legitimate finishing institution. Right here in New York.” She didn’t finish the sentence before Everett grabbed her chin. “Security footage shows she was transferred the night she arrived. You’re telling me you didn’t order that?” He threw her aside. Barked at the door. “Now!” Two men in black suits stormed in. They seized Annelise. “Since you think this kind of education is so effective,” Everett picked up the treatment center brochure Cassandra had dropped. He flung it in her face. “You go experience it yourself.” Annelise struggled violently. She was shoved roughly into a car. What she couldn’t see was the thing churning in Everett’s eyes as the car door slammed shut. It wasn’t just rage. It was something deeper. A predator watching prey try to leave its territory. Cassandra’s ordeal might have been an accident. But Annelise’s recent behavior. The quiet test of unbinding the account. The way she’d stopped looking at him with that dependent gaze. These small shifts had triggered a specific kind of panic in him. He needed a way to make her understand. Without him, she couldn’t even have basic safety. This opportunity had presented itself. He would use it. Make her learn completely what it meant to be *his*. In his arms, Cassandra’s mouth curved. An almost invisible arc. Darkness. That was the only thing Annelise felt after being locked inside that “mental health retreat” in the Utah badlands. By the time she was pushed into the treatment room, the wound on her right leg had split open. Dark blood seeped into her pant leg. Every step made her nearly scream. The orderly behind her saw her slow pace. Kicked her directly in the back of the knee. “Ah—” She crashed to her knees on the concrete. The pain whited out her vision. Before she could catch her breath, agony tore through her scalp. The orderly had her by the hair. Dragged her across the floor to a cold treatment chair. “I hear you’re the Beaumont family’s almost-bride?” The orderly sneered, strapping down her wrists and ankles. “What’s wrong? Your fiancé personally sent you in for discipline?” Cold restraints bit into her skin. “I didn’t,” her voice was hoarse. “I really didn’t know—” “Shut up!” A slap cracked across her face. “First rule here. No talking back.” Annelise’s head snapped to the side. The taste of rust flooded her mouth. Her vision swam. She heard dimly as the orderly spoke into the intercom. “Mr. Beaumont, your fiancée isn’t very cooperative. Shall we add the special prescription?” A few seconds of silence. Then Everett’s cold voice came through. “Do what you want.” No rage in that voice. No loss of control. Just a calm so absolute it was terrifying. Annelise shuddered. This wasn’t revenge. This was breaking. The orderly pulled a syringe from the medicine cabinet. Tapped the barrel. Walked toward her. The sting of the needle piercing her vein. Ice-cold liquid pushed into her bloodstream. Then a second injection. Unknown drugs began peeling her consciousness away. Her heart raced wildly, then slowed to a near stop. Like a fist squeezing the organ and releasing it. Nausea and vertigo crashed over her in waves. This wasn’t treatment. This was punishment. Late night. Annelise was thrown back into the isolation cell. A few square meters of space. A hard plank bed. She curled in the corner. The wound on her right leg had festered. The slightest movement sent bone-deep pain through her. She was burning with fever. On the edge of consciousness, she heard the iron door crash open. “Annie? Annie—”

By the time Everett carried Annelise out of that hell, her consciousness was nearly gone. Her body was on fire. The wound on her right leg was blackened with necrosis. But when the doctor moved to administer anesthesia, Everett stopped him cold. “No. Let her remember this lesson.” The pain of needle and thread tearing through flesh made her vision go dark. She bit down on her lip until blood dripped down her chin. Tears fell uncontrollably. Trembling, she clutched Everett’s sleeve. “Why… do this to me?” Everett looked down at her. For one moment, the cruelty in his eyes seemed to crack open. Something deeper underneath. Exhaustion. Weariness. But the crack sealed fast. He used his fingers to lift her chin, pressing hard enough to leave white marks on her skin. His voice was low. Certain. “Because you started wanting to leave me. And I won’t allow it.” Annelise’s whole body jolted. Her eyes went wide. “You think I didn’t know? Unbinding the account. The way you’ve been looking at me lately. Like you’re trying to talk yourself out of something.” His tone was light. Almost carrying a faint smile. Like he was discussing something trivial. “You’re mine. Every inch of your skin. Every flicker of emotion. It all belongs to me. That I didn’t find a way to make you remember this fact earlier. That was my oversight.” Annelise suddenly laughed. Tears streaming down her face. “I understand now.” “Good that you understand.” Everett’s voice softened a fraction. He gestured for the doctor to continue bandaging. “I love you. But some boundaries you don’t cross. This time you took some pain. There won’t be more unpleasantness like this between us in the future.” “The wedding?” Annelise’s voice was raw. “There won’t ever be a wedding.” Everett’s expression froze. Before he could speak, the doctor cut in. “Mr. Beaumont, the wound infection is severe. She might run a high fever tonight. Someone needs to stay with her.” “I’m staying.” Everett’s voice left no room for argument. He turned back to Annelise, tone gentler. “Sleep. I’m not going anywhere.” When the doctors and nurses had left, he pulled a chair to the bedside. Reached out and gently brushed the sweat-damp hair from Annelise’s forehead. Annelise stilled. Five years ago, when she had that bad flu, Everett had sat by her bed in her apartment just like this. Awkwardly made soup. Fed her spoonful by spoonful. “Sleep.” Everett’s voice was soft. His fingers combed slowly through her hair. He began humming a low melody. The lullaby her mother used to hum when she was little. His voice was deep and gentle. Nothing like the cold man issuing orders moments ago. Her body surrendered before her mind did. Her eyelids grew heavy. In the haze, she felt Everett gently patting her back. Still humming that song. Like countless times before, she slowly relaxed into his presence. Into his voice. Sank into the dark. In the middle of the night, Annelise woke to searing pain. Her body was burning up. Through blurred vision, she called weakly. “Everett.” The empty hospital room gave back only her own echo. She strained to reach the call button. Couldn’t press it. Her throat was parched. She struggled up. The moment she reached her wheelchair, she fell to the floor. “Is anyone there?” She crawled toward the door. Through it, she heard two nurses whispering in the hallway. “All the attending physicians have been pulled to the VIP wing!” “They’re saying Miss Beaumont woke up and won’t stop crying. Mr. Beaumont was so frantic he had every specialist reassigned.” Annelise’s vision darkened. She pushed against the wall. Moved toward the VIP section. She had to find a doctor. The door to the VIP suite was ajar. She was about to knock when she saw through the gap. Everett stood over Cassandra’s bed. One hand braced on the nightstand. Leaning down close to her face. From Annelise’s angle, it looked exactly like a kiss about to land. She didn’t even have time to register whether it did. Cassandra’s eyes snapped toward the door. Met hers. In that instant, Cassandra’s mouth curved. Not surprise. Not panic. A smile. A satisfied curve. Annelise stepped back. Her knee hit a metal trash can in the hallway. The clang was deafening. “Who’s there?!” Everett whipped around. His face went pale when he saw Annelise. He rushed out, grabbed her shoulders. “What did you see?” Annelise couldn’t speak. Only tears fell. “Listen.” Everett pulled her a few steps away. Lowered his voice. His expression was grim with an intensity she rarely saw. “Some things aren’t what you think. She’s holding something over me. I can’t tell you much. But you need to stay away from her. Don’t talk to her alone. Don’t take her calls. Can you promise me that?” Annelise looked at the rare vigilance and agitation on his face. She couldn’t tell if it was concern or another layer of lies. He didn’t wait for her answer. Helped her back to her room. Ordered the bodyguards, “Watch her. No one in or out.” The door slammed shut behind her. Annelise was trapped inside. Her body too weak to resist. The next day, Annelise woke to agony. She opened her mouth. No sound came out. Panicked, she pressed the call button. The doctor who examined her shook his head. “The high fever and stress response caused severe damage to the vocal cords. It may be very difficult to regain normal speech.” Everett, who had rushed over, stood frozen.

“Why wasn’t a doctor called?” Everett grabbed the bodyguard by the collar. The bodyguard stammered in terror. “A-all the specialists were with Miss Beaumont… by your own orders.” Everett’s hand went slack. He turned toward the bed. Annelise lay quietly against the pillow. Her gaze was empty, fixed on the window. No reaction to his rage. “Annie.” He sat at her bedside. Reached for her hand. “I will get you the best treatment. I will fix this.” Annelise pulled her hand back. Slowly. Didn’t even spare him a glance. “Last night,” Everett lowered his voice. “Forget it. We’ll go back to how things were.” The door burst open. Cassandra bounced in. “Ev! The doctor says I’m all better now!” Everett frowned. Looked at his bouncing sister. Looked at his barely conscious fiancée. He opened his mouth. Cassandra’s eyes flickered. She burst into tears. “Ev doesn’t want me to be okay?” “…No.” Everett rubbed his temple. “Isn’t there a party tonight? Go get ready.” Cassandra’s tears vanished into a smile. She glanced at Annelise. “Annie should come too.” Annelise shook her head violently. Everett was already nodding. “Of course she’ll be there.” Once Cassandra left, Everett bent to straighten Annelise’s blanket. “Play along. When she’s happy, we can keep living our lives.” Annelise closed her eyes. “My indulgence of Cassie,” Everett said suddenly, voice low, “it’s not what you think. Some things, once she exposes them, the Beaumont family is finished. And if the Beaumont family is finished, I lose everything. Including you. Do you understand?” Annelise’s mouth pulled into a bitter curve. He’d said “including you.” Like she was an item on his asset list. Some piece of fixed property. A line item he didn’t have to worry about losing. The party was a blur of clinking glasses and murmured conversation. Annelise sat silent in the corner. Listening to the whispers around her. “I heard she did terrible things to Miss Beaumont. Just to force her way into the family.” “Shameless. How many times has that wedding been postponed?” She clutched the fabric of her dress. So this was what everyone thought. She was the vicious outsider. From the corner of her eye, she caught Cassandra furtively pouring something into Everett’s glass. She handed it to him. Not long after, Everett stumbled upstairs. Cassandra followed. Annelise looked away. She stood. Headed for the restroom. She’d just pushed the door open when a force yanked her into the adjacent room. “Ah—!” She stumbled to a stop. The scene before her froze her in place. On the large bed, Cassandra huddled to one side. Disheveled. Weeping. Clutching the sheets around herself. Everett’s face was abnormally flushed. His eyes unfocused. Clearly not in a lucid state. “Why did she make me come here… I want to die—” Cassandra cried. Everett jolted upright. Grabbed the water glass from the nightstand. Hurled it at Annelise. *Crash!* Blood trickled down her face. “You drugged her drink?” Everett’s eyes were bloodshot. Fury and the remnants of whatever drug he’d been given churned together. “Then sent her here. I warned you to stay away from her!” Annelise shook her head desperately. Her silence was the perfect evidence of guilt. Everett pulled his jacket around Cassandra. Pushed her toward the door. “Go. Don’t worry. No one will know.” When only the two of them remained, he grabbed Annelise’s chin. His breathing was heavy. His voice carried the hoarse edge of a cornered animal. “She’s driving me insane. Do you know what she’s threatening me with? She says she’ll send footage of tonight to every gossip outlet. Along with those photos she had someone doctor. It won’t just be me. You’ll be dragged into it too.” He released her. Stepped back. Fists clenched. “And what she wants most. Do you know?” He looked into Annelise’s eyes. His voice suddenly went soft. “You gone. Completely, thoroughly erased from my life.” What followed happened fast. He spoke coldly to the men outside. “Bring the sedative.” The bodyguards forced her mouth open. Poured the liquid down her throat. Annelise thrashed. Useless. “Since she thinks I also consumed something,” Everett dragged her by the arm, “let everyone else believe it too. You’ll spend a few hours in the cold storage. Wait until the guests are gone. It’s the only way to satisfy her temporarily. You just need to endure one night.” In the cold storage, Annelise curled in the corner. The drug was taking effect. Her consciousness wrapped in damp, freezing cotton. She clawed at her collar, desperate for coolness. The icy air turned her exposed skin to frost in seconds. “Hah… hah…” She gasped, mouth open. Her breath crystallized into white mist. Between the sedative’s stupor and the bone-deep cold, in the haze, she saw it. The first time she met Everett. The sunlight had been beautiful that day. He’d stood under the cherry blossom trees at Columbia University and said, “Annelise Vance, I’m going to make you the happiest woman in the world.” But she was dying now. All because of him.

When the cold storage door was forced open, Annelise had already lost sensation. In the blinding light stood Everett’s tall figure. He nudged her curled body with the toe of his shoe. “Learned your lesson?” The frost on Annelise’s lashes crumbled. She nodded. Slow. Painful. Everett bent and scooped her up. His palm touched her burning skin. He paused. “The drug hasn’t worn off?” The private doctor followed nervously behind. “The sedative combined with hypothermia… now that her body temperature is rising, circulation is accelerating. The residual drug effects will intensify.” Before he finished speaking, Annelise was tossed onto the massive bed in the master bedroom. Everett tore off his tie and pressed down, his hot breath against her ear. “No…” Annelise pushed him away with everything she had. He stumbled back a step. Stood there. Watched her for a long moment. She didn’t look at him. Just turned her head away. Her entire body looked drained of every last drop of strength. Her rejection wasn’t anger. Wasn’t hate. It was the complete void of someone who couldn’t even bother to feel hatred anymore. Everett didn’t come closer. He stared at her for a long time. His throat moved. Then he turned and slammed the door behind him. Through the door came his muted voice. “Give her fluids. Just don’t let her die in my house.” That night, Annelise stood in the shadow of the hallway. Through the crack of the master bedroom door, warm light spilled out. Everett sat alone on the bed. Elbows on his knees. Hands pressed together against his forehead. On the phone before him, a video seemed to be playing. One Cassandra had sent. She couldn’t make out the screen from the gap. Only a distorted synthetic voice. “Guess how much the gossip sites would pay for this?” He rubbed his eyes with his palm. Stayed in that position. Didn’t move for a long time. Just him alone in that room. And the cold blue light of the phone. Expressionless, Annelise moved. At the turn of the corridor, she came face to face with Cassandra. Two glasses of wine in her hands. Cassandra was in a nearly transparent silk nightgown. She smiled when she saw Annelise. Leaned in. Her voice was for only the two of them. “He won’t bother you tonight. After tonight, he won’t even have the nerve to look at you anymore.” She walked past. Around the corner came a soft gasp. A heavy thud. The sound of shattering glass. “Ev…” Cassandra’s tearful voice. “I know you’re just scared. Let me be with you. Okay?” Then the sound of something being knocked over. And Everett’s hoarse answer. So quiet it was almost inaudible. But his tone was like someone pushing away something he shouldn’t touch. “Stay away from me, Cassie. Now.” The door closed from the inside. The lock clicked. Annelise didn’t keep listening. She walked into the spare bedroom across the hall. Calmly pulled out her phone. On the encrypted messaging app, she tapped the pinned number. “Mr. Shaw. Interested in a deal?” “I’ll sell you an opportunity to destroy Everett Beaumont’s reputation.” “In exchange, find me the best throat specialist in the country.” The reply was instant. “Tomorrow. Ten a.m. I’ll send the address.” The next day, Annelise sat in a Baltimore examination room. Watched the white-haired doctor Declan Shaw had brought remove the laryngoscope from her mouth. The old man frowned. Shook his head. “Vocal cord nerve damage is significant. But not beyond hope.” Declan leaned by the window. The business magnate who’d fought the Beaumonts for years smiled. Not quite a smile. “Now. Time to deliver on your promise.” Annelise typed on her phone. Turned the screen toward him. Photos of Everett and Cassandra together in private settings. A detailed timeline. And the family secret explosive enough to detonate every media outlet. Cassandra was not the Beaumonts’ legally adopted daughter. She was the late Mr. Beaumont’s illegitimate child. Born from an affair. Once this came to light, the entire foundation of the family trust would be legally contested. Declan raised an eyebrow. “And here the Upper East Side has been calling you devoted. Suffered all that. And you only just now decide to play this card.” She lowered her head. Said nothing. She’d been a fool. If she’d used this earlier, how would she have ended up here? The door to the exam room swung open. Everett strode in. Cold air clung to him. His gaze turned icy when it landed on Declan. “What are you doing here?” Annelise locked her phone instantly. Looked up at Everett. The familiar concern was still in his brow. But now, to her, it was only mockery. “Come back with me.” Everett reached for her. Paused at the bandages on her wrist. His voice softened slightly. “I know I went too far. But from now on, listen to me. Stop acting on your own. The more you know about Cassie’s background, the less she’ll leave you alone.” Annelise yanked her hand back. She looked at him. A cold smile curved her mouth. So everything had been within his control all along. Not that he couldn’t protect her. He didn’t think she needed protecting. Not that he was powerless. He thought she hadn’t been broken enough yet. In the car back, Everett gripped the steering wheel. “There’s a charity auction tonight. A piece of antique jewelry from a European royal collection. I saw the photos. It would suit you.” He glanced at her. “I’ll win it for you.” Annelise gazed out the window. Nodded slightly. But when night fell and she stood in the corner of the auction, watching Everett walk in with Cassandra on his arm, her heart seized with a violent stab of pain. “Ev, that diamond necklace is so beautiful!” Cassandra tugged his sleeve. Coquettish. Everett raised his paddle without hesitation. “Two million.” “Those emerald earrings are gorgeous too!” “Three million.” Annelise watched Everett raise his paddle again and again for Cassandra. A bitter laugh rose in her throat. How could she have been so blind? How had it taken her this long to see it?

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At her son’s birthday party, the host asked him his biggest wish. He grabbed the mic, face lit with anticipation. “I want Genevieve Sinclair to be my mom.” The guests roared with laughter. Every glance aimed at me was barbed. Mocking. Hungry for a scene. Genevieve was Nathaniel Whitmore’s assistant. This wasn’t the first time my son had tried to replace me with her. I didn’t want a public meltdown, so I let it slide. Then the party photos arrived. My face had been edited out. Genevieve’s face was in my place. I asked around. My son had demanded it. And Nathaniel had allowed it. In that moment, I felt hollowed out. A bone-deep exhaustion that drowned every flicker of rage. That night, I told him I wanted a divorce. He sat in his study, in that leather chair, and didn’t even lift his eyes. “Over a photo?” “Yes. Over a photo.” *** “How many times is this, Catherine? Stop threatening divorce every time we hit a rough patch.” Nathaniel pinched the bridge of his nose. He looked like a man dealing with an unreasonable subordinate, not his wife of eight years. “This time it’s real. Nathaniel, let’s end this.” I held his gaze. His mouth twitched, dismissive. He looked back down at the papers on his desk. “I don’t have time for this. The board meeting is this afternoon. My father will be there in person.” Genevieve was waiting at the study door. She cradled Nathaniel’s bespoke suit jacket in her arms like a sentry on duty. “Mrs. Whitmore, the chairman himself will be at this meeting. It wouldn’t look good for Nathaniel to be late.” Her eyes held a veiled reproach. Like I was the one being unreasonable. The anchor dragging my husband down. The fury ignited and burned through every rational thought I had left. “Did anyone ask you?!” “Catherine!” Nathaniel slammed his palm on the desk. The coffee cup jumped. Dark liquid splattered across his documents. Genevieve’s eyes welled up instantly. Her voice quivered. “Nathaniel, it’s fine. Please don’t fight with your wife because of me.” Right in the middle of this standoff, her phone rang. She answered it. “Accidentally” hit speaker. A thick Boston accent exploded into the room. “Gina, where’s your man? Still not out the door?” “Don’t tell me the wife’s got him on lockdown again. Jesus.” “Honestly, Nathaniel should just get the divorce and be with you openly. You two actually look right together.” I knew that voice. Marcus. Nathaniel’s best friend. He used to call me Cassie, sweet as pie, every time he saw me. “Marcus, stop it. We’ll be right there.” Genevieve fumbled to hang up. But the flush creeping up her ears was unstoppable. “Sorry, Mrs. Whitmore. Marcus just jokes around. Don’t take it to heart.” I ignored her. I pinned my eyes on Nathaniel. “So this is how your friends see me? In your social circle, I’m just a joke? Publicly. Openly.” Nathaniel rubbed his temple, exasperated. “Catherine, can you please stop fixating on things like this?” “I can’t control what other people say.” He grabbed his papers and moved to walk past me. As he brushed by, a scent hit me. Cedar and juniper. Exactly like the fragrance clinging to Genevieve. A silent declaration. That scent snapped my last thread of sanity. I stepped in front of him and screamed. “Sign the divorce papers! Now!” Nathaniel’s face went rigid. His knuckles were bone-white. “Over a retouched photo? Are you serious?” “I already told the photographer to rush the original negatives. We’ll hang the real one back up. Okay?” “Owen wanted the picture changed because you’re always busy. Gina’s the one raising him most of the time. Is it a crime for a kid to want a photo with the person he’s close to?” “Maybe you should reflect on that.” Genevieve’s eyes were brimming. She cut in at the perfect moment. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Whitmore. I’ve gotten too close to Owen. But Nathaniel has been preparing for this board meeting for two weeks. I’m begging you. Please don’t do this to him right now.” I looked at them. One playing the martyr, delicate and wronged. One seething with rage, hiding behind his moral high ground. And I was the only unreasonable person in this room. But they made me this way. Step by step. My marriage to Nathaniel was a business deal. My father was a founding partner at Kensington Capital, a private equity firm in Boston. The Whitmores needed to partner up for a prime commercial real estate acquisition in the Seaport District. The elders of both families sealed the deal in the boardroom. I was part of the package. The second year of our marriage, the SEC launched a surprise investigation into my father. Securities fraud. Conspiracy to commit money laundering. He never even got the chance for bail. Federal prosecutors took him straight into custody. His company’s management was purged overnight. The man who took over was his lifelong enemy. The Whitmores panicked. Less than forty-eight hours after my father was taken away, they were already pushing Nathaniel to divorce me. It was my father who begged him. In the visiting room of the federal detention center. Begged him not to abandon me then. I only found out about that later. At the time, I thought Nathaniel stayed because he had feelings for me. Then I got pregnant. They made me sign a brutal marital property agreement. I waived any claim to the Whitmore family trust. I gave up my say in my child’s education and inheritance rights. In exchange, my child would be acknowledged by the family. After I gave birth to Owen, they took him to the old estate on Nantucket. They said my “mental state made me unfit” to raise him. I was allowed to see my son once a week. Supervised by the housekeeper and a lawyer. Like a prison visit. Years later, Owen finally came back to live with me. But by then, his grandparents had taught him everything. He’d learned to despise me the way they did. He never called me Mom. Just Catherine. He introduced me to his classmates as “my father’s wife.” At one family dinner, he told Genevieve in fluent French that she should have been his mother. Then he turned to me, all innocence. “Sorry. Forgot you don’t speak French.” I wanted so badly to repair things with him. I turned a blind eye to every insult, every dismissal. I kept trying to win him over. But he only had warmth for Genevieve. Before the birthday party, I’d heard him tell his friends a hundred times. He wanted a Jellycat bunny. I bought it. I was going to give it to him when he blew out his candles. But when the host asked for his wish, he shot me a look full of spite and screamed it out. “I want Genevieve Sinclair to be my mom.” It felt like ten thousand knives stabbing into my heart at once. The guests’ laughter flayed me alive. And Nathaniel let it all happen. I swallowed the hurt and humiliation. I forced a smile. I greeted every guest like nothing was wrong. In the end, I wasn’t even allowed to have my own face in my own family photo. This time, I was truly done. I just wanted to escape this suffocating nightmare. “Nathaniel, you’re not leaving this house until you sign.”

I locked my fingers around Nathaniel’s arm. My nails bit into the fabric of his tailored suit. “Catherine! Are you trying to drive everyone insane?!” He seized the crystal paperweight off his desk and hurled it to the floor. The shatter echoed through the entire house. “Ah!” Genevieve screamed, cowering in place. Nathaniel rushed to her instantly. He shielded her behind him, patting her back, murmuring reassurances. He didn’t notice the shards of glass that had sliced open the top of my foot. Blood trailed down my ankle. It dripped onto the dark walnut floor. “Nathaniel,” Genevieve’s voice cracked. “I should’ve never gone to that birthday party. I never imagined it would cause this much trouble between you and your wife.” “It’s not your fault. This is on me.” Nathaniel’s gray-blue eyes were thick with guilt. “I should have handled this.” Genevieve shook her head, a delicate sob escaping. She tugged at his sleeve. “The most important thing right now is to calm Mrs. Whitmore down.” One sentence. That was all it took to bring Nathaniel back to cold focus. He ordered the butler to bring Owen down. A few moments later, Owen trudged down the stairs. The second he saw Genevieve, he tore free from the butler and ran into her arms. “Auntie Gina, I missed you so much.” Genevieve scooped him up, patting him affectionately. “Auntie missed you too, sweetheart.” Owen noticed the tear streaks on her face. He waved a tiny fist in the air. “Why are you crying? Who hurt you? I’ll punch them!” From start to finish, Owen didn’t spare me a single glance. I forced the words out. “Owen. Come to Mommy.” Owen finally turned his head. He looked at me with a calm far too old for his age. “Please don’t act like this in front of guests, Catherine. It’s unbecoming.” A dull blade. That’s what it felt like. Sawing slowly, cruelly, through my heart. “Owen! That’s no way to talk!” Nathaniel’s reprimand had almost no weight behind it. Just going through the motions. “He’s just a child. Give it time.” Genevieve’s voice was butter-soft. Owen immediately clung to her like she was his fortress. “Auntie Gina is the best. Not like some people. Always giving Dad trouble.” “Owen!” Nathaniel’s face finally hardened. But I knew. It wasn’t to defend me. He just didn’t want the situation to get uglier. “Apologize to your mother. Or she’s really going to leave.” Owen’s eyes lit up. Pure, unfiltered joy. “She’s really leaving?” He turned to me, his face bright with victory. “Then I apologize for my wording. You can go now.” My heart was being carved out piece by piece. Was this truly the child I’d carried inside me for ten months? Nathaniel’s brow furrowed hard. “You do not speak like that! Apologize properly to your mother!” Owen had inherited Nathaniel’s stubbornness. Stubborn as a mule. His eyes went red. He shook his head violently. “I already apologized. If she won’t accept it, that’s her problem.” Even Nathaniel was powerless against him. It was Genevieve who crouched down. Her voice was a soft coo. “Sweetheart, be good for Auntie. Say a proper sorry to your mom. Okay?” Owen bit his lip. He hesitated for a long moment. Then, impossibly, he gave in. “Sorry. Is that good enough?” Nathaniel exhaled in relief. “He apologized. Now can you stop this?” “Enough is enough. I’ve done everything I can.” Right then, Genevieve’s phone buzzed. She glanced at it and typed a reply. Immediately, Owen’s Apple Watch lit up. For the next two minutes, the phone and the watch vibrated in a steady rhythm. A secretive little smile played on Owen’s lips. He shot me a furtive glance. My stomach dropped. I realized they were chatting. Privately. About me. My fingers trembled uncontrollably. Before rational thought could stop me, I lunged forward and ripped the watch off Owen’s wrist. “That’s mine! Give it back!” Owen shrieked and flew at me. His small fists rained down on my face and neck. I barely felt the pain. I stared at the screen. Owen, Nathaniel, and Genevieve had a group chat. The name blazed at the top: The Dream Team ✨. Owen: She’s got that sour face on again today. I can’t stand her. Genevieve: Sweetie, that’s not nice to say~ But Auntie hates seeing you so upset too 🥺 Owen: Why doesn’t she just move out? Then Owen can be with Auntie Gina forever! Genevieve: Darling, we keep those thoughts right here in our hearts, okay? Saying them out loud might make Mommy sad… My vision blurred. Every drop of blood in my body turned to ice. My husband. My son. And another woman. Their “Dream Team.” What a monumental joke. The watch hit the floor. The screen shattered into pieces. “You broke my watch!” Owen was shaking with rage. “Do you know Auntie Gina gave me that?!” He scooped up the broken pieces and hurled them at my head. A sharp burst of pain. Warm liquid trickled down. I touched my fingers to the wound. They came back red. “Owen. Enough.” Nathaniel finally reached out to stop him. He pulled a few tissues from the side table and handed them to me. “Sometimes when your child isn’t close to you, you need to look at yourself.” “You’re always this aggressive. Who would want to be near you?” “Alright. He apologized. You should be satisfied now.” The blood soaked through the tissues fast. I stood there in silence, looking at the three of them. My husband. Shielding Genevieve. My son. Glaring at me from the space between them. And Genevieve. Clutching Owen with such tender concern. What a blissful little family they made. “Sign.” My voice came out eerily calm. “This marriage is over.”

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Damien Sinclair loved tossing the word breakup around like it cost him nothing. The day I stopped was the day he started begging instead. Every time we fought, he’d throw it out. And every time, I came crawling back. Until the day I found a round-trip ticket to Charleston on his phone. The city where his ex-wife lived. I went into his study to ask for an explanation. He didn’t even look up from the contract he was signing. “Sophia’s been feeling down lately,” he said, like it was obvious. “I have a business trip that way. I’ll stop by and check on her.” Flat. Bored. “Olivia. If you can’t give me that much trust, then let’s break up.” I stared down at the screen in my hand. Then back up at him. Two seconds. “Okay. Let’s break up.” …… Damien’s pen stilled. He hadn’t expected me to agree. He glanced up. Dropped his eyes again. Scrawled his signature with cool, practiced ease. “Suit yourself.” I set the phone on his desk and walked out. At the doorway, I closed my eyes for a moment. My chest hurt. But I didn’t look back. That night, Damien didn’t come to the bedroom. I knew what he was doing. He was waiting. Waiting for me to knock on his study door, red-eyed and trembling. Waiting for me to say the words I’d said a thousand times before. I’m sorry. But this time, I didn’t feel like apologizing. The next morning, I dragged my suitcase down the stairs. He was on the phone. When he saw me, he muttered a quick, “OK, see you the day after tomorrow.” Hung up. I knew exactly who was on the other end. His eyes dropped to my suitcase. Then climbed back to my face. “Where are you going?” “Moving out.” “Moving out?” His mouth curled. “And when are you coming back?” I heard the sneer in it. “I’m not coming back.” His brow furrowed. He rubbed his temple, annoyed. “Olivia, don’t be dramatic. I’m stopping by on my way. That’s all. Is this really worth all the drama?” I looked at him for a long moment. “Yes. It is.” Because it wasn’t just one ticket. It was a ticket every month. For two years. Flight after flight. All to the same place. Charleston. Sophia Reed. I wasn’t making a scene. I was just done. “Since when did you become so petty?” Petty? Maybe. “Yes, Damien. I’m petty.” I held his gaze. “That’s why I’m agreeing to break up.” He hadn’t taken me seriously last night. He’d assumed I couldn’t bear to let him go. For three years, I was the one who chased. The one who apologized. The one who swallowed her pride. He was used to it. Even my friends thought I was wasting myself on him. Damien’s expression hardened. He let out a cold laugh. “Fine. If that’s what you want, we’re done.” So I left. He didn’t call. He never did. He never chased anyone. When he came back from Charleston, I went to see him one last time. Damien didn’t look surprised. He was sure I’d come back. Sure I’d bend again. Three years, and that was the pattern. He waited for me to soften. But this time, I just took off the ring and held it out. “Here. I’m giving this back.”

Damien lowered his eyes. He didn’t take it. He laughed under his breath. That familiar, mocking laugh. “Olivia, you’re even giving the ring back?” Six months ago, he had surprised me with a proposal. The moment that ring slid onto my finger, I finally felt loved. Truly loved. I’d never taken it off. I’d even slept with it. Damien used to tease me for being dramatic about it. “Yes,” I said quietly. “It was never mine to keep.” He went still for a beat. Then the corner of his mouth twitched again. “Keep it. Returning it is a hassle.” A hassle. What wasn’t a hassle to Damien these days? Squeezing in monthly trips to Charleston wasn’t a hassle. Remembering his ex-wife’s birthday down to the hour. Sending her gifts that arrived precisely on time. That wasn’t a hassle either. Dropping every meeting on his desk because she was upset. Leaving me waiting at home with cold dinner on the table. None of that had ever been a hassle. I had never let myself think about it before. I’d told myself: just a little longer. He’ll come around. Until I saw everything in his phone. I’d been wrong. No matter how much I lowered myself. No matter how much of me I gave away. There was a place in his heart that had never belonged to me. It belonged to Sophia. “Keep it yourself,” I said evenly. “Damien, we’re done. For real this time.” The smile faded from his face. “Olivia, knock it off.” “You really think you can let go?” I set the ring down on the entry console. Once, I wouldn’t have been able to. Once, I’d have run after him crying. Even my friends used to ask what was so special about him. What made me keep making myself this small. “Yes,” I said softly. He hadn’t caught it. “What did you say?” I looked up. Met his eyes. “I said—I’m done.” “Damien. We’re over.” He stared at me for two seconds. Then scoffed. “Fine. Whatever you want.” He didn’t believe me. I could see it in his face. But it didn’t matter anymore. At least I wouldn’t have to keep chasing him. At least I wouldn’t have to wonder which night he’d fly to her again. …… Damien and Sophia had grown up together. Everyone thought they were perfect for each other. No one expected them to get divorced. Damien just said it was amicable. No reason. They just weren’t right for each other. When I’d first moved in, I’d seen their wedding photos. I’d also seen Sophia. In person. Damien was working late that night. I was home alone when I heard the fingerprint lock click. I thought it was him. But when I stood up, I saw a pair of unfamiliar, beautiful eyes. She’d blinked, startled. Then she’d smiled. “I’m sorry—I didn’t realize Damien had a girlfriend.” By that point, Damien and I had been together for nearly two years. He’d never told her I existed. I left the ring on the desk and turned to leave. Then a soft, familiar voice came from inside the house. “Damien, who’s at the door?”

For once, Damien looked genuinely flustered. Before he could answer, she walked out. The woman he flew across the country to see every month. Sophia Reed. I hadn’t expected him to bring her into the home we once shared. The moment I moved out, he moved her in. Sophia noticed the ring on the entry table and picked it up naturally. “Wait—isn’t this the one you gave me? What’s it doing here?” I froze. I watched Damien avoid my eyes. And in that moment, I felt how ridiculous I really was. The ring I had treasured for six months. The one I never took off. It was never meant for me. It was the ring he had given his ex-wife. The one she returned to him. The one he then passed to me like a hand-me-down. Damien opened his mouth. No explanation came. Sophia didn’t notice anything wrong. She slid the ring onto her finger. It fit perfectly. No wonder it was always loose on me. From the beginning, that ring was never made for me. “Damien, look, it still fits.” She smiled at him. Then seemed to remember I was there. She turned to me with an innocent look. “I’m sorry, did I interrupt something?” Damien glanced at me. “No,” he said quietly. “You’re Damien’s girlfriend, right?” She smiled at me again. “We’ve met before.” “You two have met?” Damien frowned at me. I didn’t answer. I turned and left. …… That night, my phone rang. It was him. In three years of fighting, I had always been the one to reach out first. This was the first time he had ever called me. I answered. Said nothing. The silence stretched. I was about to hang up when his voice finally came through. Flat. Controlled. “Sophia’s apartment was broken into recently. She doesn’t feel safe staying there alone. I told her she could stay in the guest room until things are sorted out. Once the apartment is secured, she’ll move out.” He could have put her up in a hotel. He could have hired security. But he chose to let his ex-wife live with him. I gripped the phone. Something cold settled in my chest. “Is there anything else?” I asked. “If not, I’m hanging up.” “Olivia, do we really need to do this?” His voice dropped lower. Edged with that familiar impatience. “What are you actually trying to prove?” “Nothing.” I just didn’t want to do this anymore. I heard a lighter flick on the other end. He was lighting a cigarette. “You’re ending things over a plane ticket?” “Damien, is it really just a plane ticket?” I asked softly. He went quiet. There was no rule that said two divorced people had to disappear from each other’s lives. If it had been one ticket, I would have let it go. But it wasn’t one ticket. It was every month. For two years. And those were just the trips I knew about. What I couldn’t accept wasn’t that he saw her. It was that he had always put her ahead of me. “Olivia, do you have to be this petty?” His voice thinned with the irritation I knew too well. “She’s alone over there. Is it really a crime for me to check on her?” “I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d overreact.” I said nothing. He could see whoever he wanted. That was his right. I wasn’t being petty. I just couldn’t keep doing this to myself. He hadn’t even bothered to buy a new ring. Hadn’t bothered to explain. Just expected me to swallow it, smile, and forgive— Because I always had. I opened my mouth to speak. And from his end, a soft voice cut through the line. “Damien? You’re still up?” He went silent instantly. In the second before he hung up, the question I’d been carrying for months finally rose to my lips: “Damien, if you had never met me… would you have remarried her?”

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On the day of our mating ceremony, Silas Blackthorn broke his promise in public, bonded with another woman, and had me thrown out of the ritual hall. He looked at my heartbroken, confused eyes and said coldly, “Serena is carrying my pup. I won’t let my child be mocked because of his status, so I’m bonding with Serena first. That way, the pup can be registered under the Blackthorn bloodline.” “After I dissolve the bond with her, I’ll give you a grand mating ceremony.” Everyone thought I would wait for him again. After all, I had already waited seven whole years. From the boy he used to be, to the Alpha heir he had become. But I was done waiting. That very night, I accepted my family’s arrangement, left the Southern Territory, and went north to marry into the Greystone Pack. From then on, I vanished completely from his world. Three years later, I had to return to Blackthorn Pack. I never expected to run into Silas at the airport. He had no idea I was now the most honored Luna of Greystone Pack. He still thought I was the same miserable woman from three years ago, someone he could mock and humiliate whenever he wanted. He stood in front of me, arrogant as ever. “You’ve made enough of a scene.” “It’s time to come back.” He paused, then added as if it were only natural, “Serena’s child is starting at the pup academy. From now on, you’ll be responsible for picking him up and dropping him off.” … His absurd words almost made me laugh. But the people around him were still sneering. “Look at you. Bare-faced, no fitted dress, no expensive makeup. Looks like these three years have treated you badly.” “You used to care so much about how you looked. Now you show up like this? Don’t tell me that after leaving Silas, you can’t even afford a decent dress.” They burst into laughter. In the past, because Silas liked it, I paid attention to everything. I wore perfect makeup. I chose the most delicate dresses. Because I loved him, I wanted to give him the best version of myself. But now, none of that mattered anymore. Because I was pregnant, my mate, Adrian, wouldn’t let me wear heavy makeup or tight gowns. He said comfort and safety mattered most during pregnancy. The soft dress I was wearing had been custom-made for me by the Greystone Pack tailor. I had no interest in their meaningless mockery. The welcoming banquet for Greystone Pack was about to begin. As Greystone’s Luna, I had to arrive on time. I looked at the name board in their hands. It said Helena. That was the name I used in Greystone Pack. So Silas and Serena had brought these people here to welcome me. They just had no idea that I was Helena. I didn’t want to waste any more time with them. I was about to reveal my identity when Serena spoke first. She looked me up and down, her eyes full of undisguised contempt. “Elena, don’t blame Silas. He’s only doing this to help you.” “After all, you disappeared for three years. Who knows what you went through out there? Who knows which rogues you mixed with?” She sighed hypocritically. “Now that you’ve fallen this low, even working as my nanny would be embarrassing. But don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.” “As long as you take good care of my son, I promise no one will dare look down on you.” Her arrogance disgusted me. But Silas mistook my silence for jealousy. He thought I was still angry about what happened three years ago. A trace of satisfaction flashed through his eyes. His tone became even more condescending. “You should know your place by now. After disappearing for three years, you can never be my Luna again.” He paused, then added lightly, “Serena is being kind. Don’t worry. There are plenty of servant rooms in the manor. You can choose whichever one you like.” As soon as he finished speaking, the people around him burst into malicious laughter. “Elena, see? Silas is so good to you.” “He’s afraid you’ve suffered outside, so he even arranged food and shelter for you.” “You’re only helping Serena take care of her child. Isn’t that better than living in poverty?” “Hurry up and thank Silas.” Serena touched her earrings and pretended to be gentle. “Elena, don’t worry.” “If my son is naughty or disobedient, I’ll discipline him for you. I won’t let you suffer.” Silas let out a low laugh and glanced at me casually. “What suffering could she have?” “She disappeared over one little thing back then.” “Now that she can’t survive outside and has come back, it’s only right that she suffers a little.” Even though I no longer cared about him, my heart still tightened when I remembered the humiliation from that day. So even after three years, he still thought abandoning me at our mating ceremony and bonding with another woman was just one little thing. So the Silas who once loved me had already become unrecognizable three years ago. He was no longer the wolf who had nothing, yet stood under the moonlight and swore he would give me everything. He was no longer the future Alpha who, after gaining power, would still cook soup for me with his own hands and brush my hair. But that was fine. It was all in the past. There was no point mentioning it anymore. After all, I was about to give birth to Adrian’s second child.

I pushed down the emotions surging in my chest. I had no interest in arguing with them. I looked at Silas and said calmly, “Aren’t you here to pick me up?” “Let’s go.” The scene fell silent for a moment. The others exchanged glances. Then, as if they had heard the funniest joke in the world, they burst into laughter. Serena sneered and looked at me with contempt. “Pick you up?” “Elena, who do you think you are?” She pointed at the sign with Helena written on it. “Look carefully. We’re waiting for Helena.” “Do you even know who she is?” Of course I knew. After all, Helena was the name I used in Greystone Pack. But Serena didn’t give me a chance to speak. It was as if she had finally found a way to crush me, and she lifted her chin eagerly. “Helena is the mistress of Greystone Pack.” “She is Alpha Adrian’s true mate.” “Alpha Adrian of Greystone is ruthless and decisive in both the Northern Territory and the business world. But when it comes to his wife, he is completely devoted.” “They say he refused to bond with anyone for years because he was waiting for Helena.” “Everyone in the werewolf world knows that pleasing Alpha Adrian is nothing compared to pleasing his Luna.” “Because Lady Helena is the one he truly holds in his heart.” Listening to their excited discussion, I couldn’t help but smile. In the three years since our mating, Adrian’s power had only grown stronger. Greystone Pack had expanded from the Northern Territory into the South. Even many ancient wolf packs had no choice but to avoid challenging him. But what was even more famous than his power was his reputation for spoiling his wife. Serena had always wanted to show off in front of me. Naturally, she would not miss this chance. She deliberately raised her voice. “I heard that to please Lady Helena, Alpha Adrian once bought a bracelet called ‘Eternal Heart’ at the Black Moon Auction.” “It was worth twenty million.” She paused deliberately, as if afraid I would not understand, then added, “It was made of moon silver and deep-sea sapphires. The entire bracelet is engraved with ancient werewolf protection runes.” “Lady Helena is the envy of every she-wolf in every pack.” At that moment, Serena’s gaze suddenly landed on my wrist. The next second, her voice turned sharp. “That’s the one!” The whole place fell silent. Everyone’s eyes landed on my bracelet. Silas suddenly stepped forward and grabbed my wrist, lifting my hand. His grip was strong, almost painful. He lowered his head to examine it, then sneered. “It’s a pretty good fake.” “Which rogue gave this to you?” “Even his gift is counterfeit. How pathetic.” His eyes were full of mockery. “Trash.” I yanked my hand free, curled my lips, and gently stroked the bracelet on my wrist. It was indeed from Adrian. He had put it on me himself when I was pregnant with our first child. It was his protection charm for me. When Silas saw the faint happiness on my face, his pupils tightened. For some reason, he seemed stung by it. Suddenly, he grabbed my wrist again and tore the bracelet from my arm. I didn’t expect him to attack so suddenly. Before I could react, he had already taken it. “Silas!” My face darkened. But Serena had already stepped forward and taken the bracelet from his hand. She held it in her palm and examined it carefully, greed flashing in her eyes. “It really is more delicate than the fake one I bought.” “But I would never wear a counterfeit in public and embarrass myself.” Then, as if she had thought of something, she laughed mockingly. “Don’t tell me you’re Helena.” “Are you saying you’re the legendary Greystone Luna?” The moment she said that, everyone around us burst into laughter. To them, it was simply too ridiculous. Adrian’s power made every werewolf pack fear him. He was undoubtedly the Alpha King of the entire werewolf world. And I was nothing but the woman who had been abandoned by Silas at the mating ceremony three years ago. A joke who had left in disgrace. No matter how they looked at it, I could never be connected to the mistress of Greystone Pack. Serena hooked the bracelet around her finger and swung it carelessly. “Elena, give me this bracelet.” “I’ll pay double.” Afraid she would drop it, I immediately said coldly, “Give it back.” “Adrian gave that to me.” Before I could finish, Silas slapped me hard across the face. Slap! My face snapped to the side. The taste of blood filled my mouth. Silas glared at me, his expression dark and furious. “Shut up!”

Silas glared at me, furious. There was even a trace of fear in his eyes. “Elena, do you think Greystone Alpha’s name is something you can say whenever you want?” “How dare you spread rumors that you have anything to do with him? Are you trying to get me killed?” His friends immediately surrounded me, glaring at me as if I had committed some unforgivable crime. “Elena, do you even know how hard Silas worked to get this chance to welcome Greystone Luna today?” “The Blackthorn family’s businesses were taken over by Greystone Pack last year. We all depend on Greystone Alpha now.” “And you’re here talking nonsense, claiming you’re connected to Greystone Alpha?” “Are you trying to destroy Silas?” I raised my hand and wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth. Then I slowly lifted my head and met Silas’s gaze. Maybe my eyes were too cold. Silas frowned, and for a brief second, panic flashed across his face. When Serena saw the way he looked at me, she immediately glared at me with hatred and pointed at my nose. “Elena, you bitch!” “Silas already agreed to take you in. Don’t repay kindness with betrayal.” “Even if you still resent him for not sealing the mate bond with you back then, you can’t use this kind of lie to get revenge.” Silas frowned and muttered in disappointment, “Jealous woman.” After a moment of silence, he took a check worth two hundred thousand from his pocket and placed it in front of me. “For the sake of what we once had, I won’t punish you.” “Take the money. Buy yourself some decent clothes.” “If you don’t want to take care of the child, I’ll arrange a respectable job for you in a few days.” He paused. His tone was full of condescending charity. “Don’t worry. Since Greystone Pack took over my company, this amount of money means nothing to me anymore.” His charity made me sick. It seemed he really had been doing well these past three years. No wonder he was still so confident when he saw me again. No wonder he still believed I would return to him like before. Under everyone’s shocked gaze, I did not take the check. I only pushed away the hand Silas was holding it with, then took my bracelet back from Serena. After that, I looked at him and smiled faintly. “No, thank you, Mr. Blackthorn.” “I don’t accept things from strangers.” I ignored Silas’s instantly darkened face and turned to leave. But before I could take more than a few steps, Silas grabbed my wrist. His face was cold as he questioned me. “Elena, I’m giving you money, and you still refuse?” “What do you mean by that?” “I’m a stranger to you?” I lowered my eyes and looked at his hand on my wrist. My voice was cold. “We ended three years ago.” “It’s better if we don’t have anything to do with each other.” “Otherwise, people might misunderstand.” I thought of a certain man who got jealous far too easily. If Adrian found out Silas was holding my wrist like this, the entire Blackthorn Pack would probably pay for it. But Silas glanced at Serena, as if he had suddenly understood everything. “I see. You’re still jealous of Serena.” He released me, and his tone became arrogant again. “But do you even know what’s happening tonight?” “The Southern branch is hosting a welcome banquet for Greystone Alpha.” “I was going to take you there to broaden your horizons, but you need to buy a proper gown first.” “Don’t embarrass me.” Before he could finish, I rejected him directly. “No need. Thank you.” When Silas heard me refuse again, his face turned completely cold. His hand froze in midair with the check still between his fingers. His knuckles tightened little by little, as if he had never imagined I would reject him again and again. “Elena, you really have become bold.” “Looks like the poorer you are, the worse your temper gets.” He sneered, anger rising in his voice. “In that case, I really should take you to the banquet.” “I’ll let everyone see how cheap and pathetic you look.” “And I’ll let you stand next to elegant Serena, so you can understand the difference.” He forced me into their car. Since we were going to the same place, I didn’t struggle too much. When the car arrived, Serena’s mocking voice rang out loudly.

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I find out my husband is getting married this weekend , which is news to me, since he told everyone I died in a car crash two years ago. I’m on my way home when I spot two of Ryan’s childhood friends — guys I haven’t seen in years. I’m about to wave when their conversation stops me cold. “Ryan’s finally catching a break. He’s getting hitched again this weekend.” “Good for him. His first wife was a sad story — dropped dead not long after the wedding.” I freeze right there on the pavement. I’m dead? Last I checked, I’m very much alive. So what the hell is this about another wedding? Ryan and I have a son who’s almost three. We got married five years ago. Who exactly is he marrying? I stand there, quiet as a ghost — ironic, right? — and keep listening. The bride’s name is Vanessa Mills. Never heard of her in my life. I memorize the venue and the date, then slip away without a word. That Saturday, I show up at the hotel. The place is packed — music, flowers, guests everywhere. I walk up to the card table, grab an envelope, and stuff two hundred dollars inside. The girl minding the table smiles. “What name should I put on it?” I flash her a grin — all teeth. “Write ‘the dead ex-wife.’” She blinks at me. “That’s… a weird thing to say at a wedding.” I don’t bother responding. I turn and scan the room. Familiar faces everywhere — Ryan’s aunts, uncles, cousins. He didn’t even bother hiding this. He invited his whole family to watch him marry someone else. My eyes drift to the family table up front, and my blood turns to ice. Sitting right there — his parents. Richard and Linda Carter. My in-laws. Relatives keep stopping by to congratulate them, and the two of them are glowing. Smiles so wide they haven’t dropped once. Fragments of conversation float over to me — “Vanessa is such a sweetheart — she’s the best thing that ever happened to your son. You two must be thrilled!” Linda eats it up, beaming. “Oh, we are. Ever since Ryan met her, everything’s been going his way. Not like the last one — that girl was nothing but bad luck. A curse on this family, really.” She waves a hand. “But let’s not ruin today talking about her…” Her words hit me like a blade between the ribs. Six years I spent respecting these people, caring for them, treating them like my own parents — and behind my back, I’m a curse. If I were really cursed, they’d be six feet under by now. Richard chimes in. “I told Ryan not to marry her from the start!” Excuse me? Her? He means me. “Her family had nothing — no money, no connections. She brought absolutely zero to the table. The only reason she got in the door was because Ryan was young and stupid.” “That’s why we made sure to do it right this time. Dropped a hundred and fifty grand on this wedding — top-shelf everything. This is the kind of daughter-in-law the Carters deserve.” So that’s what I get. Back then, I knew his family wasn’t well off, so I told them we didn’t need anything big. A courthouse ceremony was fine. I didn’t want them spending what they didn’t have. And now I’m the joke. The poor girl who wasn’t worth a real wedding. They blow a hundred and fifty grand on Vanessa’s fairy tale and can’t stop bragging about it. Every cell in my body screams at me to march over there and blow this whole thing apart. But I don’t. Not yet. This bill is coming due. Just not this second. I turn and walk out of the banquet hall. In the bridal suite down the corridor, Vanessa is surrounded by her bridesmaids, putting on finishing touches before the ceremony. She notices me and smiles — warm, friendly, completely unsuspecting. “Hey! You must be one of Ryan’s coworkers, right?”

My chest is a hurricane, but I swallow every word trying to claw its way out. I just give a soft “Mm-hm.” One of the bridesmaids grabs Vanessa’s wrist, eyes wide, staring at the diamond bracelet glittering there. “Vanessa, you lucky bitch. Ryan dropped serious cash on this. What is that — six figures?” “He insisted.” Vanessa traces her fingers over the stones, her smile spreading on its own. “He said you only get married once, so why not go all out.” Something inside me cracks wide open. When Ryan and I got married, I had nothing. Not a single piece of jewelry. I’d suggested we at least get matching wedding bands — something to mark what we were to each other. He’d waved me off. “Why blow money on that? You can’t eat a ring, babe. And you’re not one of those high-maintenance girls.” When my face fell, he softened. “Give me a couple years, babe. I’ll get you something really nice. I promise.” And he did — sort of. Every year at bonus time, he’d buy me a gold bar. Said it was our safety net. Mine and our son’s “rainy day fund.” Wait. Where the hell did he get the money for a six-figure bracelet? Every paycheck goes straight to me. His bonus is a known number. I’ve seen the stubs. Before I can finish that thought, another bridesmaid pipes up, voice dripping with envy. “I heard his company’s been killing it — he pulls in over a million a year just in equity dividends. He could buy you ten of those bracelets and not even blink.” Equity dividends. Over a million a year. We’ve been married for almost six years, and I’m hearing about this for the first time. What Ryan brings home every month? About four and a half grand after taxes. He hands me four thousand and keeps the rest for “work stuff — drinks with the guys.” I never questioned it. Not once. Meanwhile he’s been pulling in seven figures on the side. Vanessa turns to look at me. “You work with Ryan, right? You’d know what he actually makes. Come on — just between us girls. I want a number in my head so he can’t hide money from me later.” A dull knife, twisting slow between my ribs. What does he make? Honey, you’d know better than me. The real money went to you. A six-figure bracelet I couldn’t have dreamed of. Million-dollar dividends I didn’t even know existed. And you’re asking me? My lip twitches. I almost lose it. Vanessa must catch something on my face because she rushes to smooth things over. “No worries if you don’t know! Forget I asked.” She tilts her head. “Actually — I’ve met most of Ryan’s coworkers. You’re a new face. You must’ve just started?” I push the storm down. “Yeah. Pretty new. Honestly, I have no clue what Ryan makes.” One of the younger bridesmaids sighs dramatically. “Your man is unreal, Vanessa. Hot, rich, and he doesn’t smoke? What kind of fairy tale are you living?” Vanessa laughs. “Oh, he used to smoke. He quit on his own — wants a honeymoon baby, so he tossed the whole pack.” My phone almost slips out of my hand. When I was pregnant — the worst two months of morning sickness — one whiff of cigarette smoke sent me straight to the toilet. I begged him to quit. He told me it was impossible. Client dinners, networking, stress — he couldn’t do it. Then three months ago, out of nowhere, he changed. Threw every pack in the trash. Told me he was finally doing it — for me and our son. No more secondhand smoke in this house. I cried. I hugged him. I thought he loved us. He wasn’t quitting for me. He wasn’t quitting for Noah. He was quitting because she wanted a baby. Vanessa gives me a sheepish little smile. “Sorry — the girls get wild. Don’t mind us.” My head is a roaring mess — waves crashing, sirens blaring — and before I can stop myself, the words rip out of me. “You really trust him that much? What if he’s got a whole other family you don’t know about?”

Vanessa stares at me, her smile faltering. “What’s that supposed to mean?” One of the bridesmaids jumps in before she can say more. “What — just because your husband cheats, you want everyone else to be miserable too?” I let out a bitter laugh. “Yeah. You actually nailed it.” Vanessa’s chin lifts, a flicker of superiority in her eyes. “My Ryan isn’t like your husband. He would never betray me.” “That so? Then where is this loyal, perfect man? I don’t see him anywhere.” “Oh, he’s picking up some college friends who flew in for the wedding. He’ll be here any minute.” Right on cue, her phone rings. She answers, voice bright. “Babe! Where are you?” The bridesmaids go quiet on instinct. His voice spills out of the speaker — “Almost there, baby. I keep thinking about how I’m finally gonna marry you and I can barely focus on the road.” Vanessa’s cheeks flush. She bites back a grin. “Just drive safe, okay?” The bridesmaids lose it. “Oh my God, did you hear that? Five years together, about to be husband and wife, and he’s still this whipped?” “Can you blame him? We only get to be together six months out of the year.” Something hits me in the back of the skull — a blunt, invisible blow. My ears start ringing. Five years. They’ve been together for five years. I don’t know if I was too blind or if he hid it too well. No — he didn’t hide it well. I just trusted him too much. I believed him when he said the company required rotational assignments. That he had to travel for work every other month. I thought he was ambitious. I thought I shouldn’t hold him back. So I carried everything alone. The baby, the cooking, my own job. Never once complained. One night Noah spiked a fever. I sat in the ER holding him until dawn. I didn’t call Ryan. I didn’t want to disturb his rest. All those months he was “on the road” — he was with her. The bridesmaids are groaning now, clutching their chests in exaggerated jealousy. “Your man is unreal — hot, rich, doesn’t smoke, clingy, and he talks sweet? Is there no justice in this world?” “Seriously! Give us one flaw. Just one. Let us feel better about our lives!” Vanessa laughs as they shake her shoulders, pretending to think it over. “A flaw? Hmm… I guess he makes me drink bone broth every single day. Says it’s good for my health.” “Gets up early and makes it himself. Every morning. Never misses.” The group erupts in groans, and the hit lands square in my chest. Every morning. Ryan has never made me breakfast. Not once in six years. When I was pregnant with Noah — belly so big I could barely bend over — he said he’d handle mornings. He burned batch after batch of oatmeal. No matter how many times I walked him through it, he couldn’t get it right. I always assumed he was just hopeless in the kitchen. Turns out it wasn’t a skill problem. It was a motivation problem. I stand there, feeling my heart go cold inch by inch. The bridesmaids won’t let up — they insist she’s showing off, demand a real flaw. No more humble-bragging. Vanessa bites her lip. Her expression shifts — suddenly serious. “There is one thing. But promise me — never bring it up in front of him.” “Ryan was married before.” “His ex-wife and their son — they were in a car accident a couple years ago. Didn’t make it. It destroyed him. He still can’t talk about it.”

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The night I officially took over my family’s New Orleans operations was the wildest night of Mardi Gras. I stepped out of a formal dinner. A mob of drunk party idiots surrounded me. They blasted super soakers straight at my chest. The one shooting hardest was my fiancé’s childhood sweetheart. Daisy-Mae Thorne. My custom gown soaked through in seconds. The fabric clung to my body like a second skin. Humiliating. I stepped forward and smacked the water gun out of Daisy-Mae’s hands. My voice stayed level. “There’s a limit to partying.” I didn’t finish the sentence. Daisy-Mae’s face was already drenched in tears. “Avalon, don’t be such a killjoy. It’s Mardi Gras. Why do you always have a problem with me?” Preston Vance’s expression shifted instantly. He pulled Daisy-Mae against his chest. Shot a look behind him. In that moment, a dozen super soakers aimed at me. They opened fire. A dozen high-pressure streams hit my chest and stomach. The water blasted through the fabric. The lace outline of my bra was visible to everyone. *** The crowd of onlookers swelled. My eyes burned red. I screamed. “Preston, I’m calling the cops!” “Call the cops?!” Preston snorted. His grin got wider. “Avalon, get this through your head. This is New Orleans. Not New York. This is my territory. God himself could come down from heaven and he’d still have to answer to me.” A cold smile pulled at my lips. I reached slowly into my pocket and pulled out the encrypted satellite phone. I dialed the only number saved on it. “Notify the New Orleans grid control center. Cut all power to Bourbon Street, Star Sea Square immediately. Lock down the block. Send in the Cleaners.” The words barely left my mouth. The crowd erupted in deafening laughter. Preston lunged forward and snatched the phone from my hand. He was bent over laughing. He waved it around for everyone to see. “Avalon, did the water fry your goddamn brain?!” He shouted at the crowd at the top of his lungs. “Hey, everyone get a load of this! She’s holding some no-brand piece of junk and she’s gonna lock down the block! You believe this? I’m dying over here!” A louder wave of laughter crashed through the square. Preston caught his breath. The amusement in his eyes sharpened. He grabbed my chin and squeezed. “Avalon, save that New York act for someone who’s scared of it.” Daisy-Mae stepped forward, pressing herself against Preston’s chest. Triumph was written all over her face. “She’s right, Avalon. This is Preston’s territory. Nobody here buys your New York attitude.” “Baby, no point wasting words on someone like her.” Preston pulled Daisy-Mae tight. He pointed at me. His voice turned sharp. “Apologize to Daisy-Mae.” “Or you won’t be leaving here in one piece.” Dozens of men aimed their super soakers at me. Their eyes crawled over the curves of my body, clearly visible through the soaked fabric. Their faces wore lewd, hungry smiles. I scrambled to grab the shawl I’d dropped. Cover myself. Preston ripped it out of my hands. He locked his grip around my wrist. A brutal squeeze. He shoved me down. I hit the ground on my knees at Daisy-Mae’s feet. “Avalon, are you deaf?! I said apologize to Daisy-Mae!” Daisy-Mae stepped forward. Her stiletto heel came down on my hand. She ground it in with vicious pressure. But her voice came out sweet and wounded. “Avalon, I really was just being nice. Getting wet is the whole point of Mardi Gras. Why can’t you just take it in good fun? Preston, is she mad at me? I was only playing around. Before Preston really loses his temper, you really should just apologize.” The crowd pressed closer. Pointing. Commenting on my exposed body.

“Hey, check out the body on that one. Not bad.” “Curves in all the right places. Definitely got something going on.” “Look at that outfit. She was asking for trouble.” The whispers fed the smug satisfaction in Preston’s eyes. A cold wave of disgust washed through me. I had turned down every arranged match my family proposed. I stuck with Preston for eight years. Eight years. Three times the Vance family business faced collapse. Three times I begged my father to pull strings from New York to save them. Earlier this year, Preston proposed. I thought I had finally found my happy ending. The day after he put the ring on my finger, his childhood sweetheart Daisy-Mae came back from Europe. Everything changed the moment she returned. The reason I agreed to take over the family’s New Orleans operations was to give Preston one last chance. Give us one last chance. I didn’t need to anymore. “Avalon, if you don’t apologize soon, I’m going to be really sad.” Daisy-Mae pouted. Tears rolled down her face like pearls falling off a broken string. I swallowed the nausea clawing up my throat. I surged to my feet. I swung my arm. My palm cracked across Daisy-Mae’s face. I grabbed the super soaker from the man next to me. Aimed at Daisy-Mae’s chest. Pulled the trigger. Instantly, her thin dress was drenched in filthy water. Her hot pink bra was on full display. “Don’t run!” I kept the water gun trained on her. Didn’t let up for a second. “It’s Mardi Gras! Getting soaked is the whole point! Come on!” Daisy-Mae clutched her chest. She shrieked the whole way as she scrambled into Preston’s arms. My handprint was still bright red on her face. I ripped the shawl out of Preston’s grip and wrapped it around myself. I shot him a cold look. Turned to walk away. I barely took a step. A boot slammed into my lower back. Preston. A searing, bone-deep pain spread from my spine through my entire body. But it didn’t come close to the ache in my chest. Three years ago, Preston was kidnapped by a rival. I led my family’s elite team from New York to extract him. A knife stabbed straight through my lower back. Eighteen hours of surgery. Thirty-six titanium screws to barely hold it together. When I was discharged, Preston knelt in front of me. He swore he would spend the rest of his life repaying what I did for him. For three years, every rainy day left me paralyzed with pain. Preston canceled every meeting, every obligation. He stayed by my side and applied heat packs without stopping. And now, for another woman, he aimed his boot directly at that same spot. “Avalon, I told you. Apologize. Or you don’t walk away from here in one piece.” Preston’s cold voice snapped me back to reality. He pressed his foot down on my lower back. A sickening crack. An unbearable, numbing ache shot through my spine. A strangled sound escaped my throat. I knew something in my vertebrae had snapped. The doctors warned me after surgery. Another serious injury to my lower back, and I would be paralyzed. Not even a miracle could fix it. The pain turned my vision black at the edges. My father’s warning echoed in my ears. I gritted my teeth and forced the words out. “Preston. Stop now. And I’ll—” “What’ll you do?” He cut me off. Nothing but vicious cruelty in his eyes. “Beg? Too late.” “Avalon, these eight years, I’ve spoiled you rotten. Today, I’m going to teach you your place.” He glanced behind him. Dozens of water guns aimed at me in perfect unison. Instantly, the dense water streams hit me like whips.

The force slammed me to the ground. Preston took Daisy-Mae’s hand. He guided her water gun. Pointed it directly at my face. Water flooded my nostrils, my ear canals. A sharp, burning pain exploded through my head. I tried to get up. The pressure blurred my vision. I couldn’t even lift my head. I just lay there, letting the freezing water pound against my body. Every hit came with the agonizing pressure of those high-powered streams. Daisy-Mae watched me flailing on the ground. High, piercing laughter spilled out of her. Preston only stopped when he saw Daisy-Mae was satisfied. He wrapped an arm around Daisy-Mae’s waist. His voice dripped with tenderness. “Baby, you happy now?” “Preston, everything you do makes me happy.” Daisy-Mae’s coy reply pulled a smug laugh from Preston’s throat. But the laugh barely hit the air. Daisy-Mae’s expression shifted. Her voice went soft and wounded. “But…” Preston’s smile vanished instantly. His brow creased. “But what, baby?” “Daisy-Mae, you’re with me. Whatever you want, just say it.” Daisy-Mae took Preston’s hand from her waist. She stroked the back of it, slow and deliberate. Her voice turned sickly sweet. “My dress got all wet because of Avalon. I’m so cold.” “No problem. I’ll take you to get a new one right now.” “No.” Daisy-Mae pointed at me. She tugged on Preston’s arm, pouting up at him with pleading eyes. “I want the one Avalon’s wearing. Right now.” “Absolutely not.” My sharp voice cut through her whining. This dress was the sacred heirloom of the Romano family. My family valued this dress as much as our family honor. This specific gown had been altered to fit my body by my mother’s own hands. Stitch by stitch before she died. My father had kept it safe for twenty years. He waited for the day I would take over the New Orleans operations. This was that day. I wrapped my arms around myself. I stumbled to my feet. The cold, wet fabric against my skin made me shiver uncontrollably. Preston glanced in my direction. Something unreadable flickered through his eyes. A few seconds of silence. He pulled Daisy-Mae into his arms. His voice dropped low. “Baby, that dress isn’t even special. The style is outdated. And it’s soaked in dirty water. You’ll catch a cold if you put it on. Let’s not take that one. I’ll buy you a new one.” “No!” Daisy-Mae tore herself out of his arms. Tears flooded her face instantly. Her voice pitched into a tearful tantrum. “I want Avalon’s dress! If you won’t get it for me, is it because you’re protecting her? Is she more important to you than me?! Oh my God, Preston, you’re still in love with her, aren’t you?!” “No. I just don’t think it looks good. And it’s wet.” “I think it’s beautiful! I don’t care if it’s wet!” Preston froze for two seconds. “You definitely still have feelings for her.” “I don’t!” Preston’s denial came fast and sharp. He spun around to face me. His voice went ice cold. “Avalon, you heard her. Daisy-Mae likes your dress. Take it off and give it to her.” I swept my gaze over the dense crowd of men surrounding us. I stared at Preston in disbelief. I lowered my voice. “Preston. You want me to undress. Here.” “Take it off!” The moment I spoke, the mob erupted. They tightened the circle around me. Their eyes devoured every visible curve of my body. “Take it off! Preston told you to strip! What are you waiting for?!” “Preston, thanks man! Without you, we wouldn’t be getting this show!”

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Liam stood at the entrance of the foster home, wearing a faded, wash-worn shirt. My sister Bella, who had loved money more than life itself since childhood, ran toward him cheerfully. She threw herself into his arms and sweetly called out his name. “Liam!” In that moment, I knew. Bella had been reborn, just like me. In our past life, we faced a choice between the Sterlings, a top-tier New York dynasty, and the Lombardos, who were dirt poor. Back then, Bella had shoved me to the ground. She was the first to rush toward the extended black Lincoln. “I don’t want to live a hard life, Chloe,” she had sneered. “You can suffer for me this time.” She got her wish and lived the life of an Upper East Side socialite. But her smile faded day by day. Five years later, she was kicked out of the family and died miserably on the streets of Brooklyn. I, on the other hand, relied on my grades to get a full scholarship. I got into an Ivy League school and went abroad with Liam for further studies. With the blessings of our foster parents, I married Liam, had children, and lived a happy, smooth life. Now, given a second chance, Bella made the opposite choice. I looked at Liam, the man who had spent a lifetime with me in my previous life. I waited for him to say something. Instead, he shielded Bella tightly behind him. His blue eyes looked at me with ice-cold hostility. “Don’t come near Bella.” Under Bella’s triumphant gaze, I turned and walked toward the extended Lincoln. That’s fine. I wanted to experience a different life this time anyway. … “Get in, Miss Chloe.” The Sterling family hadn’t sent anyone important. Just a chauffeur in a uniform. As he drove, he watched me through the rearview mirror, lecturing me on the rules I had to follow at Sterling Manor. The car soon arrived in the wealthy Hamptons area of Long Island. I followed the driver into the mansion, which was as luxurious as a palace. “Mrs. Sterling, I’ve brought her.” A beautiful woman sitting on a genuine leather sofa looked up from her Earl Grey tea. Her gaze swept over me, assessing my worth. She beckoned to me. “Come here, dear.” “What is your name?” “Chloe.” The woman nodded. “Very good. From now on, you are Chloe Sterling.” “Alfred, take her upstairs.” “Yes, Madam.” I followed Alfred, the butler, step by step. The staircase railing was made of precious mahogany. The floor was imported Italian marble. Everything screamed of the luxury and heritage of an Old Money family. In my past life, I had obtained all these things through my own hard work. So, I wasn’t particularly impressed or curious. The butler glanced back at me, a flash of surprise in his eyes at my calmness. He pushed open a door. A massive, princess-style suite appeared before me. “Miss, this will be your room from now on.” “Rest for a while. I will come back later.” After the butler left, I walked in and looked around. The environment was perfect. The Sterling family had adopted a daughter for tax breaks and charity points, but they certainly weren’t stingy. The room revealed the exquisite luxury of high society in every detail. Deep inside, a wave of excitement surged. In my past life, without a powerful family background, I had to fight my way up Wall Street with my own two hands. That was the only way I could afford a life like this. In this life, I was inside the Sterling house. With the resources of a billionaire family, I would achieve even greater success.

Just as I was thinking, shouting came from behind me. My bedroom door was suddenly thrown open. A basketball flew in without warning and smashed right onto my head. Thud. “Hey, you new hillbilly. Bring me my basketball.” The voice was arrogant, dripping with that specific type of wealthy American entitlement. I turned around slowly. A blond boy, about my age but much taller, stood there. He had his chin up, chewing gum, looking completely overbearing. If I remembered correctly, this was the sole heir of the Sterling family, Asher Sterling. He loved underground racing, skydiving, and extreme sports. A typical rich playboy. He had zero interest in the family’s multi-billion dollar business empire. In my previous life, he ended up paralyzed from the waist down after an accident during an underground drag race. His temperament became incredibly violent after that. “Hey, why are you spacing out? Did you hear me?” His impatient voice rang in my ear. I snapped back to reality, picked up the basketball, and handed it to him. Remembering the driver’s advice, I said softly, “Asher, here.” He paused for a second. “You really know how to suck up, don’t you? You don’t actually think this will get you a piece of the Sterling trust fund, do you?” He scoffed, turned around, and walked away. Over the next few days, I rarely saw Mrs. Sterling. Asher was even more elusive, probably out partying. Alfred took me around to get familiar with the estate. The manor was exceptionally large. When we finished the tour, he handed me a schedule. It was packed with elite education courses. “This is your schedule starting tomorrow. You will receive one-on-one training in business management, equestrianism, and etiquette. Madam has arranged everything. You just need to study hard. There will be benefits for you in the future.” “Can you handle it?” These were things I only encountered when Liam and I started our business in Silicon Valley in my last life. In this life, I was getting access to them at fifteen. Of course I was happy. I nodded. “Absolutely, Sir.” A trace of surprise flashed across his face, but he didn’t say anything more. To ensure I didn’t fall behind in my regular schoolwork, Mrs. Sterling hired expensive private tutors. But I had already learned all of this in my previous life. It was a piece of cake. In just one year, I absorbed and applied all the AP course material. “This child is a genius. She’s not only mastered the high school curriculum but also understands obscure MBA case studies,” the Ivy League tutor praised me in front of Mrs. Sterling. I sat on the side, listening quietly. He looked excited. “At this rate, she doesn’t even need prep school. She can apply directly to Harvard or Yale.” But Mrs. Sterling had a different plan. She wanted me to accompany Asher through an elite private high school, then go to the Ivy League together. She claimed it was so we could take care of each other. In reality, she wanted me to rein in that wild horse, Asher. Mrs. Sterling gave the teacher a check with a generous bonus. Her gaze toward me held a newfound approval. “Come here.” She pulled me to sit beside her and handed me an acceptance letter to St. Jude Preparatory Academy. “Good job. Asher’s GPA is terrible. Help him out. I don’t expect much, just get him to pass.” “Once high school is over, I’ll send you both to study in the UK. How does that sound?” Without any preamble, Mrs. Sterling laid her transaction on the table. I didn’t hesitate. “Thank you, Mom.” Her eyebrows raised, and she clearly became happier, holding my hand a little tighter. “Good child.”

As a reward, Mrs. Sterling gave me a Black Card and let me have a free day out. This was the most relaxing day I’d had since arriving at the Sterling home. The driver took me to the most bustling part of Manhattan, Fifth Avenue. I got out of the car alone. I hadn’t walked far when a familiar figure appeared. It was Bella. Or rather, Bella Lombardo now. She was standing on the roadside under the scorching sun, handing out flyers for a fast-food joint. The Lombardo family lived in a low-income area and had almost no spare money. It wasn’t surprising she was forced to work. I had lived that life previously. During summer breaks, I worked three jobs a day while studying for the SATs. I also had to do all the household chores for my foster parents. They claimed to treat everyone equally, but they never let Liam lift a finger. I only found out later that they didn’t adopt me because they wanted a daughter. They just wanted the government foster checks and free labor. “Hello, would you like to see this—” A flyer was shoved in front of me. Bella looked up, saw me, and stopped mid-sentence. “Chloe?” Noticing my new season Chanel outfit and my well-maintained skin, jealousy flashed across her face. She forced a laugh. “You look comfortable. But don’t say I didn’t warn you. Rich families aren’t easy to survive in. Mrs. Sterling is scarier than you think. You’ll find out soon enough.” “Oh,” I replied flatly. My indifference annoyed her. She started showing off her new family. “Uncle and Auntie Lombardo treat me so well. My days are so full. Liam helps me with my homework. Oh, and we both got full scholarships to St. Jude Academy this year.” St. Jude… That was the same school on the acceptance letter Mrs. Sterling gave me. Most students there were offspring of Old Money. Except for a few charity cases with exceptional grades. In the last life, Liam and I were the ones who got those spots. “Our life is only going to get better,” Bella said with certainty. “And you? You’re going to die miserably on the street.” The corner of my mouth twitched. I was about to speak when a voice called out. “Bella!” “Liam, you’re here!” Bella’s face lit up, and she threw herself into Liam’s arms. Liam was holding a cheap lunch box. “Mom asked me to bring you food. It’s hot out. You must be tired. Let me take over for a while.” “No need, Liam. I can do it.” The Lombardo family would rather starve than let Liam miss an expensive tutoring session or do manual labor. In my last life, I was the one being exploited like this. “You’re working so hard,” Liam said tenderly. Then, he noticed me standing there. “Liam, this is my sister Chloe. You saw her at the foster center,” Bella introduced. Liam looked me up and down. His cold expression held a trace of disgust. He didn’t greet me. Instead, he turned to Bella. “Don’t associate with trashy people. Let’s go.” Without giving me a chance to speak, Liam pulled Bella away. “Liam, why are you being so mean? What if you scared her?” Bella’s voice drifted back. “Silly girl. She doesn’t look like a decent person. Stay away from her, or she might hurt you behind your back one day.” His harsh words faded into the distance. I didn’t understand where Liam’s hostility came from. My heart rippled slightly, but not much. I took the Black Card Mrs. Sterling gave me and walked into a luxury store, buying a mountain of things.

When I walked out carrying bags stamped with luxury logos, Bella’s face turned green. “Tch. What are you showing off for? You’re going to die anyway. Unlike me and Liam—we’re going to run a huge company one day.” I smiled, laughing at her naivety. I turned and returned to Sterling Manor. Actually, none of the items were for me. They were gifts for Mrs. Sterling, Asher, and the household staff. When I got back, Asher was unexpectedly at home. Seeing me, he sneered. “Yo. You haven’t been here long, but you already learned how to drag bags of shopping home? Do you think our family’s money grows on trees?” “Asher!” Mrs. Sterling warned him. “She is your sister.” Asher curled his lip. “What kind of sister is she? I don’t have a hillbilly sister. It’s embarrassing to be seen with her.” Asher had always been against me, but I didn’t take the bait. I took the gifts out of the bags one by one. “Mom, this is for you.” I handed over a box containing an Hermès scarf. Then I gave gifts to Alfred the butler and the other maids, one by one. I saw a look of relief and pride on Mrs. Sterling’s face, different from her usual coldness. The butler and the staff looked flattered and touched. Asher’s face fell immediately. “Che. Do you think these cheap bribes will win people over? You really think—” “Asher, this is for you.” I ignored his tantrum and took out the final gift. It was a limited-edition Ferrari model car. “Mom told me you like racing. I saw this at the mall and bought it.” He froze. “Who cares about toys like this,” he muttered. But he still took it.

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Three years after my own brother exiled me to the lawless borderlands of South America, we finally met again at a private airport in New York. That place was Cartel territory. I had been gravely injured trying to protect the local children in that chaotic war zone and was rushed back to the States for emergency treatment. Meanwhile, Julian was preparing to take his precious adopted sister, Chloe, on a vacation to Europe. Our eyes met. He looked at my blood-stained clothes, his voice dripping with that familiar, arrogant disappointment. “I warned you, Serena. That place is a Cartel crossfire zone. No one but the Vance family could protect you, yet you still ran around causing trouble like a wild brat.” He adjusted his cufflinks, looking down at me. “I can let the family’s private doctor save you, but only on one condition: You must apologize to Chloe for what happened three years ago!” I lay paralyzed on the stretcher, coldly averting my gaze. “No need, Julian. We haven’t been siblings for a long time.” I had found a new protector in hell—he was the King of the Underworld. The best surgical team in New York was already on standby for me. … My body was riddled with shrapnel wounds of various sizes. Especially my leg. The nerve pain was so intense it felt numb. Just speaking that one sentence brought the taste of rusty iron to my throat. Julian’s face darkened. It was the typical look of an alpha male being defied. “Three years, Serena. Are you still playing this rebellious game?” “You’re half-dead, and you still haven’t learned your lesson?” I wanted to retort, but the movement pulled at my wounds, making me hiss in pain. The two soldiers from the Moretti family carrying me tried to move forward, but Julian’s bodyguards blocked them. “Serena Vance, is it so hard to just say ‘I’m sorry’?” The stretcher jerked to a halt, sending a piercing agony through my right leg. I gritted my teeth. It was an instinctual reaction to extreme pain. “I did nothing wrong. Fuck your apology!” Beside him, Chloe grabbed Julian’s arm. He was wearing an expensive custom suit. She tugged at it gently, acting like a frightened little deer. “Julian, forget it. My heart is fine now, really…” “You’re still defending her?” Julian looked at her with a mix of adoration and frustration. “If she hadn’t slapped you three years ago, would you have suffered that heart attack? Would you have needed to recover for this long?” He glared at me again. “Look at her. Covered in injuries. She obviously got into a brawl with some gang members. Since she still doesn’t know she’s wrong, sending her to the border was clearly too light a punishment!” The South American border is a lawless place. Naturally, Julian assumed my injuries were from a street fight. But he was wrong. Those were fragments from an RPG explosion. I had thrown myself over two children to save them. My leg was ruined, and one of my ears was nearly deafened by the blast. I looked at him with mocking eyes. “Yeah, you should have just put a bullet in my head back then.” “You want an apology? Maybe when hell freezes over!” Julian’s face turned green. His fists clenched tight, a sign he wanted to hit something. Just then, the airport announcement called for him and Chloe to board their flight to Paris. My soldiers were getting impatient. Hands rested on their holsters as they scowled, ready to push past. Chloe tugged his sleeve again. “Julian, let’s go. We’ll miss the flight!” Her face was pale, her voice weak and breathless. Julian always fell for this act. His tone softened immediately. “Okay.” When he looked back at me, his eyes were ice-cold again. “Wait until I get back from vacation with Chloe. We will settle the score then!” Surrounded by bodyguards, he and Chloe disappeared down the VIP channel. The two foreign soldiers rushed my stretcher to the waiting ambulance, speeding straight toward Mount Sinai Hospital. Three top surgical experts examined me quickly, their expressions grave. The only Asian doctor among them spoke to me in a heavy tone. “Ms. Vance, please rest assured. You came back in time. Your leg can be saved.” “Mr. Moretti gave a strict order to cure you at all costs. We are prepping for surgery immediately!” Mr. Moretti was my new brother—Dante Moretti. Hearing his name, I instantly felt safer. I nodded weakly and was wheeled into the operating room. The shadowless lights turned on. Anesthesia flowed through my veins. Consciousness faded, and I slowly closed my eyes. But right then, a commotion erupted outside the operating room. It was Julian’s furious roar. “Where are the doctors? My sister Chloe is having a heart attack! Get me your best surgical experts! I have money!” My heart sank with a heavy thud. But before I could think, the drugs took over, and I plunged into darkness.

I thought that after three years, I wouldn’t care about the old nightmares anymore. But in my sleep, I returned to the Vance family manor—that place that eats people alive. I was kidnapped at seven. When Julian found me, I was seventeen. In that lost decade, our parents died in a plane crash. Crushed by grief, Julian developed severe depression and fell into substance abuse. His therapist suggested adopting a child to shift his focus. That was Chloe. Chloe was three years younger than me and knew exactly how to wrap Julian around her finger. When I was found, their bond was at its peak. Julian always warned me: “Serena, Chloe has a congenital heart condition. She can’t handle stress. Stay away from her and don’t provoke her.” “She helped me through rehab. I can’t send her away, but don’t worry, you are my only blood relative!” I knew Julian had a hard time running the family business, so I endured everything. But in corners Julian couldn’t see, Chloe showed her fangs. She got me grounded during charity galas, claiming I didn’t know etiquette. She stole the jewelry family friends gifted me. If I said a word, she would clutch her chest and collapse on the sofa, gasping for air. Eventually, Julian became disappointed in me. “It’s just small stuff, Serena. Chloe has a bad heart. Do you want to kill her?” I held it in until Chloe “accidentally” smashed the herbal medicine I had spent hours brewing for Julian’s stomach ulcers. It was a small thing, but it lit the fuse of all my grievances. “Julian drank too much and has gastric bleeding! If you won’t help, why make it worse?” I slapped her. The next second, she collapsed, clutching her chest. An Oscar-worthy performance. I will never forget the cold look Julian gave me. “I’ll deal with you when I get back!” He carried Chloe and rushed to the garage. I was terrified. The next morning, Julian came home, threw a passport and a one-way ticket at me. “Chloe has heart failure. It’s serious. You can’t stay here. Go to the house in South America and reflect on your actions.” I couldn’t believe it. I screamed and cried, “If you send me away, I’ll never recognize you as my brother again!” He didn’t care. He signaled the bodyguards to drag me to the car. “You’ve been nothing but trouble since you came back. You think you’re a princess? If you can’t fix that temper, don’t come back!” “I can protect you in New York, but down there, it’s Cartel territory. No one will save you!” I cried until I couldn’t breathe, repeating myself like a broken record. “I didn’t do anything wrong! If you send me away, you’re dead to me!” He pressed his lips together and crushed my last hope. “Then consider me dead. You are going to South America!” It was an exile. Within a year, I was on the streets, living in a slum worse than a refugee camp. I don’t dare think about how I survived those three years. When I opened my eyes again, I was crying. The surgical lights stung my vision. A young intern stood next to me, holding a scalpel, his voice trembling. “I’m sorry, Ms. Vance… All the specialists were forcibly transferred by a Mr. Julian Vance. He donated ten million dollars to the board and used family connections, so…” My ribs were broken, and I had hundreds of stitches all over my body. The intern had managed to clean the wounds, but my right leg… Because Julian took my surgeon away, I missed the window for vascular reconnection. I faced amputation. “Ms. Vance, the bone is shattered, and the tissue is necrotic. You don’t have time to think.” “Amputation is the only way to save your life. Prosthetic technology is very advanced now.” Someone kept buzzing in my ear with that damn professional tone. My head was spinning. Images of maimed people in the slums flashed before me. When the RPG hit, those who couldn’t run were blown to pieces. I wanted to keep my dignity. I didn’t want to be buried missing a leg. My voice choked with sobs. “What happens if I don’t amputate?” “Sepsis. Muscle atrophy. Infection spreading. You could lose the other leg, or even die. If you amputate now, you can use crutches. If you wait, it’ll be a wheelchair for life…” I covered my face with my hands, tears streaming through my fingers. Suddenly, the phone under my pillow rang. It was a FaceTime from Dante. I took a breath, wiped my face dry, and forced a smile before answering. “Hey, Dante. What’s up?” He showed me a plane ticket, his dark eyes full of worry. “I’ll be in New York the day after tomorrow. Just wanted to let you know.” “Is the surgery done? How’s the recovery?” “I found the best trauma experts in the US. Everything went well, right?” I shifted the camera, showing only half of my pale face. “It went great. Don’t worry.” He let out a sigh of relief. A rare smile appeared on his stern face. “Leo and Mateo insisted on coming. They say you saved their lives.” Two little Latino boys burst onto the screen, waving and speaking excited Spanish. I forced a smile to greet them, then hung up, claiming the anesthesia was making me sleepy. As soon as I put the phone down, Julian’s voice came from the hallway. “Is this Serena’s room? I was in a rush earlier and borrowed her doctors. I want to apologize and discuss compensation.” The door opened. Seeing me, Julian froze as if he’d seen a ghost. “The person in the OR… was you?” I looked at him with pure mockery. “Let me guess. Did Chloe make a miraculous recovery the moment she arrived at the hospital? Just like every time before?” Before Julian could answer, the intern urged urgently. “Ms. Vance, have you decided? Amputation or not?” “If you choose amputation, we must operate immediately. Infection markers are rising!” Julian’s face turned pale. “Amputation? What’s going on?” The intern confirmed our relationship and explained the situation. When Julian learned that because he stole the experts for Chloe’s “palpitations,” I missed the golden hour for surgery… His expression became hideous. But almost instantly, he reverted to the decisive head of the Vance family and made the choice for me. “Amputate. We can’t let both legs rot!” I clenched my fists and shouted, “No! I choose conservative treatment!” I had to wait for Dante. Maybe there was a way. Moretti resources were far superior to Vance resources. Julian scowled. “Serena, why are you so stubborn? Did you hear the doctor?” “It’s just an amputation. Even if you can’t stand, the Vance family will support you forever. Who dares to mock you?” My voice cracked. “No! I’d rather die than lose my leg!” “We cut ties long ago! You have no right to decide for me!” “This…” The doctor looked conflicted. This was America; patient consent mattered. Julian frowned and pulled out legal documents. Passport, ID, and a medical power of attorney. He handed the papers to the doctor with a grim satisfaction. “I am Serena Vance’s legal guardian. She signed this proxy agreement before. Her mental state is unstable. Listen to me!” “We choose amputation. Do the surgery now!”

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I am the illegitimate half-blood daughter of Hermes, god of trickery—forced to become my stepsister Victoria’s body double in bed. Every night I endured her husband, the war god Ares, taking me like a beast that knows no satiation. And every morning, I knelt before her and recited his pillow talk back to her, word for word. When our three-year agreement expired, she tried to marry me off to a violent, deranged guard. I begged Ares for some kind of status. He laughed and said: “You’re nothing but a gift with purchase.” So I turned around and knelt before Geneteira, the Mother Goddess—and volunteered to marry the dying god, Apollo. Everyone thought I was walking into my own grave. But in the end, it was Ares who dragged his broken, stripped body through the dirt, weeping. And my name was already carved at the very top of the divine register. …… …… Ares had come to Victoria’s bedchamber again. The two sat entwined in candlelight, temples brushing, murmuring sweet nothings only they could hear. Victoria rose with flushed cheeks to bathe. Before she left, she blew out every candle, as she always did. Half an hour later, I pushed open the door. The chamber was pitch black—only a thin wash of moonlight seeped through the latticed windows. Ares lifted his eyes lazily, amusement lacing his voice. “What took you so long?” He pulled me into his arms in one swift motion, then frowned. “Why are you so cold?” “I was outside watching the stars for a while,” I answered, keeping my voice low. The truth was, I’d been standing outside the chamber door in nothing but a thin handmaiden’s robe, waiting. I didn’t dare stray far—I had to be ready to take Victoria’s place at any moment. The whole night was relentless. Ares left countless marks across my body. He was a beast that never knew satiation, and I was prey thrown into his cage. Just before dawn broke, I slipped out of the bedchamber barefoot. Victoria was waiting for me in the side hall. I knelt before her despite the ache in every muscle, reciting every word Ares had spoken during the night—each one repeated exactly as he’d said it. That was her rule. Her gaze settled on the red marks along my neck, and her expression darkened instantly. Then she smoothed her gown and slipped silently into the bedchamber, easing herself into the bed beside Ares. Ares rolled over, half-opening his eyes, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from her cheek. “Where’d you disappear to in the middle of the night? Sneaking off to meet some other man behind my back?” His tone was teasing. Victoria pouted and swatted his chest playfully, and the two dissolved into laughter. I withdrew from the chamber without a sound and pulled the door shut behind me. Victoria was Hermes’ legitimate daughter—pure-blooded divine, noble in every sense. But she’d been gravely injured before, leaving her body too frail to endure anything remotely intense in bed. Because of this, despite her unmatched beauty, no god had been willing to offer her a marriage contract when she came of age. Until a spring banquet, when Ares saw her. The war god was captivated at first sight. He proposed to Hermes on the spot, offering her the position of principal wife. Victoria was equally smitten. The two became inseparable—the most celebrated couple in all the divine realm. As her attendant, I’d once been genuinely happy for her. But on their wedding night, Victoria fainted dead away on the marriage bed. Ares was the god of war. Strength and dominance were etched into his very bones, and nowhere more so than between the sheets. Victoria’s body simply couldn’t withstand it. For three consecutive nights, the marriage went unconsummated. Word spread fast, and Victoria became the laughingstock of the entire realm. The war god’s bride can’t even survive the first night—everyone was waiting to see her cast aside, replaced. Desperate, Victoria devised a solution. Each night, she would extinguish every candle and have someone take her place in the dark. And I—as her father’s illegitimate daughter, our shared blood giving us similar builds and voices—was her perfect choice. I didn’t want to do it. But I had no choice. My mother was mortal. Her affair with my father had been nothing more than one of Hermes’ passing amusements in the human world—no one cared whether she lived or died. She was gravely ill, and only the divine realm’s spirit medicine could keep her alive. The supply of that medicine was entirely in Victoria’s hands. I was forced to become her handmaiden. I knelt and thanked her for the privilege. “Relax—three years at most. Father’s already looking for a healing god to restore my body. After that—” She glared at me with undisguised revulsion. “Even if you wanted to stay, I’d never let a half-breed mongrel like you remain.” Then, fearing exposure, Victoria used sorcery to seal my voice. She announced to everyone that I was a born mute. Only in Ares’ bed was I permitted to speak. And every night thereafter, when the candles died and the chamber doors closed, I ceased to be Nysa. I became Victoria’s shadow—bearing everything in the darkness that was never meant to be mine.

Half an hour later, Victoria and Ares finally rose. I returned to my small room for a quick wash, changed into clean clothes, and went to the main hall to set out breakfast. Ares sat behind the table, and his gaze landed on me. He paused. “Why are you dressed like that?” I instinctively tightened my collar, pressing my lips together nervously. Ares never knew restraint in bed. He always left marks on me—bite marks, bruises, finger-shaped imprints. My only option was high-collared garments to hide them, even when they clashed with what I’d normally wear. Victoria gave him a gentle push, her voice sweet and coy. “You forget? Nysa’s a mute. She can’t speak.” I nodded quickly. But Ares raised an eyebrow, studying me with open interest. “This little mute of yours is rather pretty, in that pitiful, waif-like way.” Victoria feigned jealousy, chiding him playfully. “And what’s that supposed to mean? Don’t tell me you’ve got your eye on her.” She shot me a glance—the warmth in her eyes plummeting to nothing, a blade’s edge hidden beneath. Ares laughed, unbothered. “I haven’t even accused you of anything, and you’re already accusing me.” He rolled up his sleeve, revealing a clear ring of teeth marks on his forearm, his expression somewhere between amused and challenging. “Come on. Tell me—is this your handiwork from last night?” Those marks hit me like a slap across the face. Last night he’d been too rough, pushing me past my limit. I’d clenched my jaw against the pain but couldn’t hold back a cry. In a frenzy of desperation and fury, I’d bitten him. I knelt on the floor, hands ice-cold, body rigid. Sure enough—the instant Ares’ footsteps carried him out of the hall, scalding tea came splashing toward me. I jerked my head up and met Victoria’s face, twisted with rage. The next second, her palm cracked across my cheek hard enough to fill my mouth with blood. “You worthless mongrel—how dare you leave marks on his body? Are you trying to provoke me?” Before I could utter a single word in my defense, the servants she’d summoned bound my hands and feet and dragged me into the confinement chamber. No water. No food. Nothing but darkness and myself. Ares had departed to inspect the war territories. He wouldn’t return for three to five days—which meant Victoria had no use for me, and I could be left to rot here just as long. Victoria also sent people in. Every night, they administered punishments. They were careful about it—nothing that would leave conspicuous scars. But they could make me wish I were dead. By the third day, I was barely clinging to life. A bowl of chicken broth was slid under the door—my sister Phoebe had been worried about me and found a way to send food in. My younger sister. Born to my mother and a mortal man. She was human too, scraping by at the border between the human and divine worlds, unable to even set foot inside the realm proper. She knew nothing about the body-double arrangement—only that I served as Victoria’s handmaiden. “Nysa, I heard you were punished. What did you do to upset her?” Phoebe had also sent word through a messenger. I couldn’t answer her. All I could do was ask the low-ranking servant who relayed the message: When would Ares return? The servant said, “He should be back tonight. He’ll go to the mistress’s bedchamber as usual.” I let out a breath of relief. Once he returned, Victoria would need me. I also asked about recent happenings in the divine realm. The servant sighed. “Nothing major. Only that Apollo’s condition has worsened. Thaniel says there’s nothing more he can do. Geneteira wants to find him a wife before he goes, so he might leave behind an heir—but no one’s willing.” Apollo. Above Ares, there was an elder brother—the one who should have been the most likely heir to Zeus’s power and position. But his life had been borrowed. If not for a forbidden art performed by a healing god named Thaniel, barely extending his life by thirty years, he would have been stillborn. Perhaps fate had shown him a sliver of mercy: in his youth, his brilliance was unmatched, his radiance blinding. He was hailed as the most extraordinary genius in ten thousand years. But at eighteen, an “accident” cast him into the abyss. Since then, he’d been confined to the Lake Heart Temple, waiting to die. And marrying a dying god meant a lifetime of confinement. Never mind noble goddesses—even the lowliest handmaiden would flee from such a fate. But it was precisely because of his decline that Ares had been able to seize control of the divine clan.

By the evening meal, Victoria had me released. She ordered food prepared and even arranged her features into something resembling remorse. “Nysa, I was too impulsive with that punishment. I got busy and forgot about you. Don’t hold it against me.” I kept my head down. “I wouldn’t dare.” After a moment of silence, I mustered the courage to bring up leaving. Victoria’s expression shifted instantly. “You want to leave?” I nodded carefully. The three years were up. She’d promised me. Her lips curved into a thin smile, but her tone was that of someone discussing something utterly trivial. “My body hasn’t recovered yet. Ares still needs you.” I froze. She’d given her word—three years, no more. Victoria lifted her teacup and blew on it idly. “If you absolutely insist on going, I’ll have someone fetch Phoebe to replace you. You’re blood sisters—your voices and builds are close enough.” Every drop of warmth drained from my body, as though I’d been plunged into an ice pit. After a long silence, I heard my own teeth chattering. “Then… could you at least ask Ares to give me some kind of status?” “Climbing the ladder now, are we?” Victoria’s smile went glacial. “If I wanted to find Ares a mistress, I’d have my pick of candidates—none of whom would be you. And don’t even think about going to Ares yourself. To him, you’re nothing but a plaything. Even if you became his personal attendant, I could make you and your decrepit mortal mother disappear with a snap of my fingers.” My throat felt as if someone had a hand around it. “I can’t stay unmarried forever.” “The gate guard’s son is willing to take you,” she said flatly. “He’s a bit rough-tempered, but he’s still a minor god. More than good enough for someone like you.” That guard’s son—I’d seen him. Intellectually impaired. Violent by nature. His favorite solution to everything was his fists. Especially in bed. I understood Victoria’s intent immediately: she wanted to weld me permanently into her grip. Married to someone like that, I’d never escape. I’d have no choice but to keep being her shadow—invisible, unspeakable, forever. Ares returned to find me still kneeling on the floor in a daze. Victoria rose with a smile to greet him. “You’re back. These past few days must have been exhausting. This handmaiden was clumsy—broke a crystal lamp. I’m having her kneel for a quarter hour.” Ares stepped past me without a second glance, hair slightly disheveled, fatigue written across his face. “What’s the status on the Apollo situation?” Victoria sighed. “Marrying a god who’s practically dead? Everyone thinks it’s bad luck. No young goddess will agree.” Ares frowned. “Find someone low-born. Get leverage over her family. Offer enough incentives or apply enough pressure—it’ll get done. Geneteira’s never approved of you. Handle this well, and her opinion will change.” Geneteira—the Guardian of Progeny, mother of both Apollo and Ares, and the most revered mother goddess of the entire divine realm. In all matters of bloodline succession and marriage contracts, her verdict was final law. Perhaps out of a mother’s guilt and tenderness, she cared about Apollo’s situation above all else. She’d even put out word across the entire realm: anyone willing to be Apollo’s companion could name one wish, no conditions attached. Clearly, Victoria also craved the approval of the divine mother. She agreed obediently. And I remained rooted where I knelt. Both knees had long since gone numb and swollen, but my mind had drifted far away. A bold idea was taking shape in the depths of my heart.

That night, Ares naturally stayed in Victoria’s bedchamber. Every time he returned from inspecting the war territories, he’d go at it all night long. It was how he released his energy—whatever he couldn’t kill enough of on the battlefield, he made up for in bed. That night, I gave everything I had to match him. Ares lost control several times, gripping my waist, laughing. “What’s gotten into you tonight? Did you miss me?” I said nothing. With great effort, I propped myself up and pressed a trembling kiss to the side of his face. Near dawn, I came back to my senses and tried to push away, to leave. His arms clamped down like iron, locking me against him. “What—still thinking about leaving the realm?” My entire body went rigid. Ares nuzzled the tip of his nose against my cheek, his voice lazy and unhurried. “Don’t bother hiding it. I’m extremely sensitive to scent. You and Victoria pulling your little switch—I knew from the very first night.” “Besides—” He paused, bringing his breath close to the back of my neck. “Vic doesn’t have a mole here.” My body turned to stone. No wonder he’d grown more brazen each time, more reckless without limit—he’d known from the very beginning that the woman beneath him wasn’t his wife. I was silent for a moment. Then, carrying a hope I couldn’t quite name, I spoke softly. “Then… when are you going to give me a proper status?” “Proper status?” Ares laughed—as if he’d just heard the funniest joke. “You’re Victoria’s handmaiden. Only she gets to decide your status. If I said something, wouldn’t that be an insult to her?” “Tell you what—give me your name. I’ll have someone send you some dresses and jewelry. Once Victoria’s body recovers and she conceives, I’ll promote you to my personal attendant.” I closed my eyes, bitterness flooding my chest. Victoria had been right. In his eyes, I was nothing but a toy. Why would Ares go out of his way to publicize a scandal and invite trouble upon himself? When I didn’t respond, his tone hardened. “Just because I’ve bedded you for a few years, you think you’re the lady of the house now? Personal attendant isn’t enough? What else do you want?” He’d always despised greedy women. There was open anger in his words now. I knew perfectly well: with my birth, I didn’t even qualify to be his mistress. And Ares would never turn against Victoria for my sake. Hermes valued this daughter, and had helped Ares in countless ways, openly and covertly. He would never create conflict with Victoria over a woman who meant nothing to him. Finally, I spoke quietly. “My station is too low to hope for anything. I only wish you and Victoria a thousand years of happiness together.” I knew now. My way out—I’d have to find it myself.

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I’m an A-list actress. But I have the worst makeup artists in the business, my boyfriend, Dorian Cross. Every time he touches my face, he turns me into a failed Picasso painting. And the night before the Vanity Fair Oscar Party, the biggest night of my career. He pressed a serum mask loaded with chemical irritants against my skin. Until my face was so badly burned I couldn’t even get foundation on. He dropped to his knees and wrapped his arms around my waist: “Baby, I can’t figure it out. I really can’t figure it out.” I just sighed. Later I snapped a photo of his profile when he was working and posted it. [HELP. This man destroys my face every time.] [Ma’am you’re kind of asking the impossible here] [Hold on! Do you guys not know who he is? He used to be the super model Odette Laurent’s personal makeup artist. He designed the look behind her most iconic shoot.] [Girl, are you sure he’s not doing it on purpose? Did you piss him off?] He literally formulated the serum the British royals use. There’s no way he’s accidentally burning your skin. I touched my still-raw cheek. A push notification hit my screen: [Odette Laurent makes her comeback and stuns at the Vanity Fair Oscar Party.] The party I’d just missed. Because of my face. “Dorian, have you seen Vesper’s face?” Dorian’s brother’s voice carried through the phone as I stopped outside the door. “Honestly looks terrifying. She used to be so pretty. Now I’m having nightmares.” My chest went tight. Dorian’s voice cooled: “I don‘t care. She’s not my girlfriend.” “Oh, my bad — Odette’s the real one. And honestly? If Dorian hadn’t given Vesper the wrong face mask, her comeback wouldn’t have hit half as hard. This whole thing was genius.” I covered my mouth. His sister’s voice chimed in: “He knew Vesper would steal Odette’s thunder, so he made sure she couldn’t show up. I’d love to see her try to walk a red carpet looking like that. Watching her suffer? Honestly, I’m living.” Dorian, flat and unbothered: “It was Odette’s comeback. It mattered to her.” “Please — when has Odette’s anything not mattered to you? Remember that tiny cable interview three years ago? You pulled three all-nighters designing her look. We genuinely thought you were going to drop dead.” Tears slid down my face without a sound. Dorian let out a quiet laugh. The call ended. Through the gap in the door, I watched him scroll his phone. The internet was losing its mind over Odette’s look from last night. Every beauty account was breaking it down, replicating it — posts racking up twenty thousand likes minimum. He scrolled through the #QueenIsBack tag, pausing on photo after photo of Odette. A smile crept onto his face. And in the second I saw it, I finally understood what his real smile looked like. So the one he’d been giving me all this time — that was fake. He kept scrolling. Hit pieces about me. [Vesper Sinclair skips Oscar Party — too scared to face Odette Laurent?] The top comment was a photo of Odette from last night: Honey, Vesper could never. Odette isn’t just back — she’s untouchable. Dorian let out a short laugh. My legs went weak. I made it back to my dressing room. Looked at myself in the mirror. Red, raw, broken skin in patches — one spot near my cheekbone had started to weep. I touched it. Like pressing a bruise, but with needles. My phone buzzed. A message from him: [How’s your skin today? Any better?]

I stared at the message on my screen. Then I put the phone face-down and didn’t answer. I called Nyx instead — a Gen-Z TikTok makeup artist I’d been following. Underground, no industry ties and no agenda. She showed up with a full kit. She’d barely gotten started when Dorian appeared in the doorway. “Why aren’t you replying to me?” He crossed the room and gently cupped my face, tilting it toward the light. “It looks better than yesterday. I’ve been—” I turned my face away. His hand froze in the air. “Vesper?” “I think you should take a break from my prep for now,” I said. “Nyx will handle it.” “You’re mad at me.” He seemed to be a better actor than I was. Every time he “accidentally” ruins my makeup, he feels guilty and gets even more anxious than I do. Now he’s resorting to this trick again. Acting pitiful. Even Nyx glanced up for half a second. Only I stayed cold: “Go back and practice. I don’t need you here.” He looked at me for a long moment. His eyes went slightly wet. He murmured something to Nyx about my skin sensitivity, then left. “Vesper, he’s not that bad—” one of the assistants started. “Drop it,” Nyx cut in, already uncapping a brush. “He wrecked her face. She’s allowed.” Nyx’s team worked their magic. By the time I got home that evening, the pain was mostly gone. I unlocked the door quietly. Dorian was on the phone in the living room, back to me. “You think I went too far? Did she ever go easy on Odette?” “She’s the reason Odette spiraled for three years. Three years off every major stage — she could’ve gone international by now. ” “Vesper did that. So who’s going to give Odette back those three years?” Odette Laurent? When had I ever done anything to Odette? “If Vesper hadn’t pushed her into that depression — forced her out of the industry for three years — Odette would be a global name by now. ” “I spent three years pulling her back from the edge. Three years before she finally had the guts to come back. Vesper took that from her. ” “She only burned a face. But who compensates Odette for three years?” Tears hit without warning. I slid down the wall until I was sitting on the floor. Only I and a few other artists knew the truth about Odette’s previous depression. Odette had gotten tangled up with a married studio executive. His wife had put out the word — Odette’s career, her safety, everything was on the line. Odette was terrified. She begged everyone who knew to stay quiet. I stayed quiet for three years. Without a word. The executive’s wife died of cancer six months ago. And right on schedule, Odette’s “depression” made a full recovery. So this whole time, Odette had been telling Dorian that I drove her to it? I pressed both hands over my eyes. Odette had Dorian to make up for her three years. Who was going to make up for mine? This Oscar Party was supposed to be my shot at breaking internationally. Instead I didn’t show. And the major jewelry partnership pulled out the same night. My stomach turned over. I made it to the bathroom just in time. Apparently, when you find out your partner has been playing you, your body just — reacts. “Vesper?” Dorian appeared in the doorway. Rushed over to rub my back, face full of concern. I pushed his hand off. “Vesper—” I wiped my mouth. Stood up straight. “You’re not my makeup artist anymore.”

“Vesper—” His voice cracked, just barely. I walked to the bedroom and lay down. He followed. Sat on the edge of the bed. “I promise it won’t happen again. Please don’t shut me out — okay?” I pulled my hand out of his and closed my eyes. “I’m tired.” He went quiet. A long time passed. Then I heard him stand. Careful footsteps across the floor. He turned off the light and gently closed the door. I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling. Tears ran sideways into my hair. After that, I stopped letting him anywhere near my prep. Nyx’s team handled everything. Dorian didn’t push. He just — lingered. Hovering at the edge of makeup room I was in, watching from a distance. When I accidentally caught his eye, he’d drop his head and walk away. Without him, my skin healed fast. Visibly, almost by the day. Within a few weeks, it was down to a faint redness. Easy to cover. My doctor said I was ninety percent recovered. And on the red carpets, I started trending again. Three years ago, I’d already been pulling ahead of Odette. Three years later, my face could still hold its own against hers. I don’t play the comparison game. It’s not my style. But Odette and Dorian came at me first. They wanted to ruin my face and hand her the crown. Fine. The Vanity Fair after-party — Hollywood’s unofficial power gathering — was in three days. I was going to remind Odette exactly why she was afraid of me three years ago.

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