I was born with a curse—whoever I doom dies exactly as I say. When I was five, the trafficker who kidnapped me beat me half to death because I wouldn’t stop crying. I stared at him through the blood streaming down my face and whispered, “You’ll be crushed into meat paste by a truck.” The words barely left my lips when a runaway semi barreled through the gate and flattened him so thoroughly. Later, at the orphanage, the director embezzled our food and locked me in the punishment closet for days. I told him he’d choke to death on his own greed. That very noon, he died at the dinner table, a chunk of expensive steak lodged in his throat. After that, I became the monster everyone feared, so I learned to shut my mouth and play mute. Until the day the Sterling family found me and brought me home. My parents enrolled me in the family company, saying it was time I learned the business. But I’d only been there one day when I pushed open the front door and saw Lydia—the adopted sister—sobbing in my fiancé’s arms. “Julian, does Evelyn hate me now?” she whimpered. “She’s been spreading rumors at the office, claiming I slept with Mr. Harrington to secure the Westside Development deal—and that I caught syphilis from him.” My mother stormed over and slapped me hard across the face. “Your sister is innocent! How dare you spread such vile lies about her!” My father’s voice was even worse—cold and filled with disgust as he pointed at me. “I knew it—you grew up poor and bitter, and now you’re rotting from jealousy! Get to your room and don’t come out until I say so!” I covered my face, saw the smug look in Lydia’s eyes, and sneered. You think I’m spreading rumors? Fine—then you’d better be ready to live with the consequences when I open my mouth. “Mom, Dad, look—Evelyn’s laughing.” Lydia buried her face in Julian’s shoulder, clutching his hand and trembling. My mother’s chest heaved with fury, and she grabbed the teacup from the table and hurled the scalding liquid straight into my face. “You cursed brat! I should never have brought you back!” “We gave you everything—food, clothes, a home—and this is how you repay us? Slandering your own sister at the company!” “How can you be so vicious?!” I bit down hard on my tongue until I tasted iron. Julian gently rubbed Lydia’s back, then shot me a look of pure disgust. “Evelyn, I told you from the start—you don’t belong in the Sterling family, and you sure as hell don’t deserve to be my fiancée.” “If Lydia hadn’t begged me to give you a chance, I would’ve called off this engagement ages ago.” “Now get on your knees and apologize to her, or I’m ending this farce right now.” I lowered my head, staring at the puddle of tea soaking into the marble floor, and said nothing. My curse has always been absolute—once I speak, fate obeys without fail. In the six months since they brought me home, the Sterlings gave me something I’d never had before: warmth. When I had a fever, my mother stayed up all night changing cold compresses on my forehead. My father, who never cooked, clumsily made me pork chops and gave me the first piece. Even my brother—who swore he’d never accept me—started sneaking pastries into my bag. My mother would stroke my face with tears in her eyes and whisper that she was sorry for the years I’d suffered alone. My father even drove me to the office himself, saying I needed to start building connections because one day, the entire Sterling empire would be mine. To protect this fragile sliver of warmth I’d finally found, I sealed my lips shut. Because I knew the moment I spoke, I might kill them all. Seeing my silence, Lydia’s sobs grew louder. “Does Evelyn think she can just play dumb and get away with this?” “She’s been spreading those disgusting lies about me all over the company—everyone’s looking at me like I’m dirty now! How am I supposed to show my face in this industry again?!” Julian’s face twisted in rage, and he stormed over and grabbed the fine chain around my neck, yanking hard. Pain seared across my skin as the gemstone necklace—the heirloom of the family’s successor—snapped off. Six months ago, my mother had recognized me because of this necklace. She said she’d put it on me the day I was born, a mark of my identity as the sole legitimate heir. “Give it back!” I lunged forward, trying to grab it. Julian sidestepped with a sneer, letting me crash to the floor.”Don’t touch me! If you come near me again, I’ll call the cops and tell them you assaulted me!” Then, right in front of me, he placed the necklace around Lydia’s neck. “A treasure this priceless should only be worn by someone pure and kind like Lydia.” “A vicious, foul-mouthed nobody like you would only taint it.” Before I could get back on my feet, my brother came charging down the stairs and grabbed me by the collar. “I knew we shouldn’t have brought you back, you filthy charity case!” “It was Lydia who begged me to be kind to you! She even gave up her own bedroom to you!” “And for the past six months, she’s handed you every good thing she’s ever had—and this is how you repay her?! You ungrateful snake!” He shoved me to the ground and turned to scream at the staff. “Butler! Lock this trash in her room right now!” “No one gives her a single drop of water without my permission—understood?!” Two security guards rushed forward, dragged me upstairs.

I was locked in that room for seven days straight. Every night, the maid would slide a single bowl under the door. Inside was nothing but cold leftovers and scraps. Outside, I could hear laughter echoing through the halls—the four of them, a perfect little family. Lydia made sure to parade Julian past my door every single day, her sickly-sweet voice dripping through the crack. “Julian, this watch is too expensive—why don’t you give it to Evelyn instead?” “I know you love me, but Evelyn is their real daughter, and she’s the one you’re technically engaged to.” “Maybe we should just… end this. As long as I can see you happy from afar…” Her voice cracked into a sob. “I’d die a thousand deaths and it would still be worth it.” Julian pulled her into his arms, then kicked my door hard enough to rattle the frame. “Stop talking nonsense. That piece of trash they dragged back from the gutter isn’t even worth carrying your shoes.” “Just looking at her pathetic face makes me sick—why the hell would I give her something this expensive?” “Don’t worry, Lydia. Even if I marry her, I’ll never lay a finger on her. You’re the only one I’ll ever love…” I leaned against the door, listening to their declarations of undying devotion. A dry, bitter laugh scraped out of my throat. “Wearing something that expensive to bed? Better be careful—you might wake up with a stiff neck.” The next morning, Lydia’s shrieks tore through the hallway. “Ahh! It hurts! My neck—I can’t move it!” Then came my sister’s panicked voice, followed by the frantic footsteps of the household staff scrambling to help. I sat in the dark, eyes closed, a slow smile spreading across my face. On the eighth day, the lock finally clicked open. Lydia stood in the doorway, arms crossed, looking down at me like I was something she’d scraped off her shoe. “Oh my God, Evelyn, you look like death. Did you really starve yourself just to guilt-trip us?” “Come on, get up. Mom and Dad want you at the company.” “All you have to do is stand in front of everyone and admit you lied, apologize to me, and we can all move on.” I pushed myself to my feet and walked toward the door. The moment I reached the top of the stairs, Lydia leaned in close and whispered in my ear. “You poor little bastard—did you really think you could steal my parents and my man?” I froze mid-step and turned to look at her. Before I could say a word, Lydia let out a blood-curdling scream. “Evelyn, no! I swear I won’t take the inheritance from you!” Then she threw herself backward and tumbled down the stairs. “Lydia!” Julian bolted toward the staircase, and my parents and sister came running from every direction. Lydia lay crumpled at the bottom, her face pale and twisted in pain, but somehow she still managed to force out a weak smile. “Julian… don’t blame Evelyn… I just… lost my balance…” My sister’s eyes went bloodshot. “You’ve lived in this house for over twenty years and never once fell down these stairs—there’s no way this was an accident!” My mother flew up the steps and landed two brutal slaps across my face. I was so weak from starvation that the force sent me crashing to the floor, my ears ringing. My father stood at the bottom of the stairs, pointing at me with pure hatred in his eyes. “How did we ever give birth to a monster like you?!” I pressed my hand to my burning cheek and stared back at them, feeling the last shred of warmth in my chest turn to ice. I let out a cold, humorless laugh. “…If I really wanted to hurt her, I wouldn’t need to lift a finger.” My brother’s entire body shook with rage, and she kicked over a decorative plant stand. “Dad! Mom! Do you hear this?! Do you hear what she’s saying?!” “Lydia’s lying there in pain, and Evelyn has the audacity to double down on her threats!” Julian cradled Lydia in his arms, his face contorted with fury. “You’re still refusing to admit what you’ve done! Stop pretending you have some kind of supernatural power, you delusional freak!” My father turned his face away, as if even looking at me disgusted him. “Get her out of my sight. Lock her back in her room—now!” I struggled against the guards’ grip and let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “You’re all playing your parts so well—just make sure she doesn’t actually break a bone and pass out from the pain.” Lydia, who’d been sobbing dramatically in Julian’s arms, suddenly went rigid. Her head lolled forward, and she slumped, unconscious. My mother screamed. “Someone get her in the car! We need to get to the hospital—NOW!” The guards scooped Lydia up and sprinted out the door, with my parents and brother racing after them. The roar of engines filled the courtyard, and within seconds, they were gone. I was thrown back into my room like garbage.

A few days later, Lydia was discharged from the hospital. My parents shoved me into the car and dragged me straight to the Sterling Group headquarters. The normally spacious lobby was packed wall-to-wall with employees. My parents had summoned the entire company to publicly clear Lydia’s name. On the massive LED screen in the center of the room, a video played on loop—footage of Lydia handing out backpacks to underprivileged children in remote villages, and late-night shots of her working tirelessly on the Westside Development project. My father stepped onto the platform, microphone in hand, his voice booming across the lobby. “Ladies and gentlemen, it is my great misfortune to announce that we brought home a daughter of such rotten character.” “Out of pure jealousy, she spread vicious, slanderous rumors about Lydia throughout this company.” “She has not only damaged our family’s reputation—she has committed an unforgivable moral crime!” My mother stood beside him, covering her face and sobbing like a victim in a courtroom drama. The employees, not knowing the full story, began whispering amongst themselves. “Once trash, always trash—doesn’t matter if you put her in a mansion.” “I heard she grew up in some backwater foster home. People from places like that are all liars and thieves.” “If she’s willing to slander her own sister, there’s nothing she wouldn’t do.” Their venomous words surrounded me like a tightening noose. Lydia, supported by Julian, walked up to me and held out a piece of paper—a printed confession titled Statement of Guilt and Apology. “Evelyn, I know why you did this.” “All you have to do is sign this, admit you lied, and apologize to me in front of everyone. Then I’ll forgive you.” I stared at her smug face, my chest heaving with barely restrained rage. “I never said those things.” “But if I had said you slept with Mr. Harrington—” Before I could finish, Julian’s polished oxford slammed into the back of my knee. I collapsed onto the marble floor with a sickening crack, pain exploding through my leg. The employees around me erupted in laughter. Some even pulled out their phones, snapping photos and recording videos of my humiliation. “Karma’s a bitch!” Shame tore through me like a serrated blade. And then— “Stop! Evelyn didn’t lie! I can prove it!” Everyone froze. A young woman shoved her way through the crowd. She is the intern I’d comforted on my first day at the office, who’d been crying in the break room after getting chewed out by her supervisor. She planted herself in front of me, her voice shaking but firm as she pointed at Lydia. “I saw it with my own eyes that night when we were working late!” “Lydia got into Mr. Harrington’s car, and they were in the backseat together—I recorded the whole thing!” The entire lobby went dead silent. Lydia’s face drained of color. But she recovered quickly, throwing herself into Julian’s arms and wailing at the top of her lungs. “Julian! How much did Evelyn pay this girl to lie for her?!” “First she makes up disgusting rumors, and now she’s bribing people to back her up! What kind of monster does that?!” “I can’t take this anymore—I just want to die!” The crowd’s shock instantly morphed into contempt. Julian’s expression darkened, and he pulled Lydia closer, glaring at the intern with pure hatred. He stepped forward and backhanded her across the face. The intern lost her balance and hit the floor hard, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth. My eyes went wide. “You’ve gone too far—” “Throw this traitorous little bitch out of my building!” my father roared. “Fire her immediately! Blacklist her from every company in the industry—I want her name ruined!” Four security guards swarmed the intern, raining fists and kicks down on her fragile body. She curled into a ball on the floor, her screams growing weaker and weaker.

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For two years, I let men use my body as a punching bag in an underground fight club. When I finally scraped together enough for Finn’s surgery, Landon handed it to his childhood friend for the fifth time. Five hundred thousand dollars. Not a cent more, not a cent less. This time, though, my internal injuries were too severe. There was no clawing back another five hundred thousand. I showed up at her place with my gloves still in hand and backed her into a corner. “Give back my son’s surgery money. He’s in end-stage heart failure. That money is the only thing keeping him alive.” Landon sighed, then told her to return it. The day Finn was rushed into the ER, the payment terminal blinked: insufficient funds. At the same moment, Sienna updated her social media. “Nearly got myself attacked by a crazy woman today. Thank god I had a $500K alexandrite diamond necklace to make me feel better. Real ones always come through for you!” I called Landon until my phone burned hot. He finally picked up. “Mia, you really scared Sienna the other day. She had a cardiac episode. I need to be here with her.” “I’m a doctor. I know Finn’s condition better than anyone. He’s not as fragile as you think. He can hold on a little longer.” “Once my research grant comes through, I’ll schedule the surgery immediately.” I hung up. With the last few dollars in my account, I reserved a double burial plot. Cradling Finn’s body as it slowly went cold, I sent Landon one final text. “Landon. I want a divorce.” … I had barely confirmed the burial plot when Landon called back. “Stop being dramatic, Mia. You scared Sienna so badly she had a cardiac episode — her situation is far more critical than Finn’s right now.” “Finn’s condition is chronic. A few more days won’t kill him.” “Once Sienna stabilizes, I’ll find the money and get him into surgery.” Critical. A diamond necklace bought with our son’s life — how critical could she really be? I kept seeing Finn’s face in those last moments. His small fingers closing around my sleeve: “Mommy, if Daddy comes… will it stop hurting?” “It’s okay if it still hurts. I just want to see him one more time before I fall asleep.” He never stopped waiting. My throat tightened. “It doesn’t matter anymore.” “Landon. In your heart, is Sienna more important than me and Finn?” Impatience crept into his voice. “Mia, Sienna and I have been friends for over two decades. And she got her heart condition because she stepped in front of a kidnapper to protect me when we were kids. I owe her. Can’t you understand that?” “I’m asking you to be a little compassionate.” From the background, Sienna’s voice filtered through, sharp and lazy all at once. “Your wife calling to start drama again? God, she’s so exhausting.” Landon’s tone softened immediately, like a different man entirely. “Yes, yes, you’re right. Don’t get worked up — your heart can’t take it, sweetheart.” Then a message from Sienna hit my phone. “Hey sis, I just overheard. Honestly? Landon does have money — but his research eats through everything. I’m the one who suggested he borrow from you.” “I had no idea he’d actually go through with it every single time lol. If you need it urgently, I’ll tell him to pay you back.” “What kind of man does that to his own wife? I’ll give him hell for you.” My tears hit the screen. Every time Landon got his bonus, Sienna would “borrow” it for her treatments. Landon always said he owed her — so he said yes, unconditionally, every single time. So when Finn got sick and there was nothing left, I went underground. I stood in a cage and let strangers beat me for money. A message popped up from the fight club manager. “Mia. Big client tonight. Heavy hands, but he pays triple. One hour and you’re looking at Finn’s full surgery fee. Come now if you’re in.” Any other night, even with my organs already hemorrhaging from the inside, I would have been the first to say yes. Finn’s cold seeped into my bones through my arms. “I’m not coming.” “I’m never coming back.” I didn’t look at the string of question marks the manager sent after that. The morgue was cold. Finn had always hated the cold. He would have been so miserable. I forced a smile at the passing nurse. “Could I borrow a blanket? My son gets cold easily.” The nurse looked like she might cry herself. She came back with one still in its packaging. “Take it. Let the little one go comfortably.” I thanked her quietly. She waved it off. “Don’t thank me — thank Dr. Graves from our cardiac ward. He has a friend admitted here right now, and he’s been so generous to the staff to make sure she’s well looked after. These blankets run about two thousand a piece.” “The way he spoils her? I’d guess girlfriend.” I stood very still. I thought of the weeks I had spent on my knees begging doctors to help Finn, of how we couldn’t afford the surgery no matter who I asked. My tears came without warning. “Thank you, Dr. Graves.” I wrapped Finn with trembling hands. The nurse hesitated. “Where’s his father? He should be here. If he could just help pull together the money, it never would have come to this.” I pulled a crooked smile. “His father… isn’t here anymore.” The nurse opened her mouth and closed it again, not knowing what to say. I was in the middle of filing the paperwork when I heard him — Landon, running through the corridor with Sienna in his arms, not watching where he was going. I had just stepped around the corner when his shoulder caught me full force and sent me into the wall. “Watch it!” My head cracked against the plaster. Blood ran down my temple. Landon didn’t look back. He was already shouting down the hallway at the attending physician. “Dr. Smith — run a cardiac workup on her immediately.” I slid down the wall and stayed on the floor for a long time, the pain making it impossible to move. Eventually I heard footsteps — Sienna, pulling Landon back in my direction. “I told you you hit someone. Come and apologize. The doctor said I’m fine — I’m not some fragile little thing who falls apart at nothing.” She looked down. “Wait — Landon, the one you knocked over is your own wife.”

Landon’s face shifted — guilt crossing it for half a second before Sienna turned to me with a bright, cutting smile. “Mia, he barely grazed you. Did you fall on purpose? Are you this upset that I asked him to come with me?” She gave him a light nudge. “Go on. Go say sorry to her.” Landon’s hand, already extended to help me up, went still. He looked at me with a frown. “Yeah, Mia. I barely touched you. And you’re still going on about the five hundred thousand.” Something in my chest turned to ice. I braced against the wall and pulled myself upright on shaking legs. I stumbled — falling toward Sienna. She stepped back. Pinched her nose. “God, what is that smell?” “Landon is a doctor with a reputation, Mia. Look at yourself.” Landon’s expression soured too. “Mia, you’re a mess. You smell. Is it too much to ask that you shower and get some rest?” After Finn died I had held him until his body began to change. The hatred in me boiled over. I wanted to scream it at him. “That’s your son’s smell.” A nurse walked by and lit up when she spotted Landon. “Dr. Graves, you’re on leave today — what brings you in?” Her eyes traveled curiously between the three of us before settling on me. “And this is?” For years, Landon had said doctors needed to be careful about public perception. That people would gossip if they knew he had a son and still spent this much time at Sienna’s side. So he had never told anyone at the hospital about Finn. About me. A flicker of panic crossed his face. “Oh, she’s — she’s a caregiver. For my friend.” I stood there with all the words I would never say jammed in my throat. Once the nurse moved on, Landon exhaled and reached for me. “Mia, I didn’t mean it. It’s just — I have a professional image to maintain here.” I laughed. It came out sharp. “An image.” Sienna clicked her tongue. “Mia, Landon is a respected physician. You show up looking like you crawled out of a dumpster and you want him to claim you? Give him a break.” Landon said nothing. He agreed by staying silent. I gripped my washed-out shirt in both fists and looked at the necklace blazing at Sienna’s throat. That necklace. Bought with my broken body. Bought with my son’s life. The rage came out of me before I could stop it. I swung. I never made contact. Sienna screamed before my fist came anywhere near her. “Landon — my chest — don’t let her hurt me!” The slap split my vision in half. Landon hit me so hard my knees buckled. Copper filled my mouth. He gathered Sienna against his chest. “Mia, do you have any idea how weak her heart is? And you try to attack her?” I pressed my hand over my bleeding nose and looked up at him. “Her heart is weak? And Finn’s wasn’t?” “I wish I’d hit her harder.” Sienna whimpered, clutching her chest harder. Landon’s face went to stone. His fingers closed in my hair. “Don’t you dare.” My scalp tore. I felt something wet. My phone slipped from my pocket. Landon’s eyes caught the notification on the screen — the cemetery’s deposit confirmation. His brow creased. He shoved me back against the wall. “What is this, Mia? You’re so desperate to make me feel guilty you’re dragging our son into it too?”

He carried Sienna away toward her room. “Tell Finn to wait for me. I’ll perform the surgery myself. He’ll be fine.” “Once this is settled I’ll spend real time with both of you.” I thought about Finn over those two years — how he would always smile through the pain to reassure me. “Mom, don’t worry. Dad is the best cardiac surgeon there is. He’s going to fix me.” He trusted Landon completely. And Landon never came. I doubled over and vomited blood. It tasted like everything. I bought a handful of painkillers at a pharmacy, finished Finn’s paperwork, and scraped together enough for the burial plot deposit. The day the balance came due, my card was declined again. I ran it three times. “Please — try once more. This can’t be right. I just put money in.” The attendant only shook his head. I opened my banking app. The balance read zero. The screen felt like a blade. I called Landon immediately. “Landon. If you need money for Sienna’s treatment, use your own. Give mine back.” “My money is all tied up in research. When the grant posts, you’ll get it back. After the way you went after Sienna yesterday and put her back in the hospital, you have a lot of nerve asking for anything.” My eyes burned. “Give me back what’s mine.” “Landon, you took that money. Doesn’t that keep you up at night?” “You want to talk about money? Your old boss has been calling me. He said there was a temporary shift he offered you that you turned down. He wanted me to talk you into taking it. I was going to tell you no. I didn’t want you overworking yourself.” “But since you’re this desperate — why did you say no?” I went cold. The fight club manager had contacted him. Everything inside me lurched. “Landon. If I go back to that job, it will kill me.” I had never told him what I actually did. I’d let him believe it was a second shift somewhere, anything but the truth. What I couldn’t understand was how he could pour himself into caring for someone else’s life and feel nothing for ours. “Please. I’m begging you. I can’t go back. Give me back the money.” A long pause. Then, begrudgingly: “Fine. I’ll transfer it.” I hung up with something close to relief. Maybe Finn could have his burial plot. I waited all day. Into the evening. Nothing came. Instead, the fight club manager texted. “Where are you? Your husband said you agreed to come back. He already collected 30% from tonight’s client. If you don’t show, that’s on you — and I will make it on you.” The hospital’s automated system also started pinging. “Ms. Calloway, the morgue has holding limits. Please complete your son’s arrangements as soon as possible.” The sky outside burned red. I dialed the fight club manager. “I’ll be there.” I asked how much I’d clear after the client’s deposit was deducted. He gave me a number. It wasn’t enough for the double plot. It was only enough for a single. I pulled the corner of my mouth up. Then I’d use what was left of this body to buy Finn the ground he deserved.

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I used to be a top-tier deep-sea explorer, but now I just sell fish in a filthy market. Eight years ago, I was sentenced to life imprisonment for cutting off my companion’s oxygen tube. After enduring eight agonizing years in prison, I was released early due to good behavior. Today, my family barged into my stall like maniacs, my parents dropped to their knees and wailed. “Chloe, your sister went diving two hours ago and hasn’t surfaced. Something’s wrong!” “You’re the best diver in the world, get in the water and save her!” My ex-husband Liam pushed forward next, forcibly shoving our old wedding ring onto my finger, his voice cracking. “I promise you, Chloe, bring Mia back alive, and I’ll remarry you.” I didn’t say a word. My fingers drifted up to the hearing aid tucked behind my ear. Had they forgotten? Eight years ago, their precious adopted daughter Mia killed a teammate underwater over gold bars from a sunken wreck. Liam made me sign the confession to protect her. My own father slapped me so hard he ruptured my eardrum permanently. If I dove now, the water pressure would burst a blood vessel in my brain. I’d die on the spot. “Chloe, don’t push your luck!” Mr. Davis, the market manager, stormed over when I stayed silent. He’d been bowing and scraping to Liam and my parents, but the look he threw me was pure contempt. “The Liam Group and Grant Famliy pay more taxes than this whole district earns in a year! You think this shitty fish stall makes you somebody? Why are you playing hard to get?” The onlookers started jeering. “What a cold-blooded bitch! That’s her sister.” “Probably holding out for more money. Scum.” “Looks decent, heart black as coal.” Each word stabbed me. I was the victim. I was the one whose life they destroyed. Why was I still the villain? I pulled the ring off and pushed it back into Liam’s hand. Then I pointed to the hearing aid and shook my head. “It’s not that I won’t. My ear is destroyed. I’ll die down there.” My mother Susan let out a shriek and threw herself into the bloody muck, pounding the ground. “Chloe! Eight years and you’re still this heartless? Faking a disability to dodge responsibility? That’s your little sister!” My father Arthur’s finger trembled an inch from my nose. “How did the Lu family spawn something like you? Letting her die and lying about it—you’re not human!” Liam’s eyes burned red. He yanked a bank card from his wallet and forced it into my palm. “Chloe, I’m begging you. Five million. Enough to live on forever. Save Mia and name your price—anything.” His hot tears hit the back of my hand and burned like acid. Eight years in prison, and he never visited once. Now he crawled back—for her. For the woman who framed me. Using money to humiliate what was left of my dignity. I couldn’t take another second of it. Hands shaking, I pulled a folded medical certificate from my pocket—proof of severe eardrum perforation. Liam didn’t even glance at it. He slapped my hand away, the paper fluttering into the fish slime. “You want more money? Is that it? I GAVE it to you! Mia doesn’t have time!” Then Mr. Davis flipped my entire stall over, fish and ice crashing across the concrete. “Chloe, you murdering bitch! Get out! Don’t contaminate my market! Refuse to save her, and you’re done here forever!” The crowd spat on me. Literally spat. “Get out, murderer!” “Scum like her doesn’t deserve to breathe!” I stared at the crumpled medical certificate soaking in fish blood, and something inside me cracked. All I wanted was to live quietly in a corner of the world. Was even that too much to ask? Were they really going to hound me until I was dead?

I ran. I don’t remember how I made it back to my rented room through the rain of curses. I’d barely caught my breath when my phone exploded with notifications. Every single one was a trending topic. #Murderer Sister Refuses to Save Drowning Sibling# #Grant Family Heiress Missing, Biological Daughter Watches Coldly# #CEO Liam Offers Reward for Cold-Blooded Ex-Wife# I tapped the top link. It was Liam’s livestream. Susan sat in front of the camera, voice cracking on cue. “I’m sorry everyone, I’m sorry for wasting public resources. But as a mother, I have nowhere left to turn. We failed to raise her right! ” ”Eight years ago she killed a man over gold, and I thought prison would change her. It didn’t. Her own sister is dying in the ocean right now, and she RAN!” Arthur bowed deeply into the lens. “Please, help us find our daughter Chloe! The Lu family will pay one million dollars in reward—anything to drag that bitch back!” The comments scrolled like poison. “Dox her! Burn her!” “I know where she lives—west side slums!” “Any brothers in Haicheng? Go teach her a lesson!” “Grab your tools, let’s go!” Before I could move, my door exploded inward. My landlord stormed in with a mob, phones raised, flashes in my face. “You’re a murderer? Hiding in my building?” They smashed my pots, my dishes, everything. Two men grabbed my head and forced it toward a camera. “Kneel down!! Apologize to the livestream! Say you’re a bitch! Say you don’t deserve to live!” The humiliation crashed over me in waves. I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. Then the crowd parted. My parents stood in the doorway. For half a second, I thought they’d come to stop it. Then Arthur pulled a thick length of rope from behind his back and handed it to the mob. “Please—tie her up. If she won’t go willingly, we’ll drag her.” I snapped my head up, voice breaking. “Dad? DAD—do you know what you’re doing? I’ll die in that water!” “Mom, isn’t your real daughter’s life worth ANYTHING? Are you really going to kill me for that girl?” Susan’s eyes flickered, then hardened. “Shut up! Mia may be adopted, but she’s a thousand times cleaner than you! While you rotted in prison, she took care of us, not you! ” “Now she’s in trouble and you, her sister, refuse to lift a finger? How do you live with yourself?” My chest was shredded, but somehow it still hurt more. In their minds, blood meant nothing. I was a stain. A disposable piece of trash. “I didn’t kill anyone! There were things about that case you never knew—why would you never believe me?” I thrashed against the rope. Nobody listens to a murderer. Then Liam walked in, a high-voltage stun baton in his hand. “Chloe, don’t make me do this. For Mia, I’ll do anything.” He didn’t hesitate. He jammed it into my back. My body convulsed, and the world went black.

When I woke up, I found myself being thrown onto the deck like a dead dog. Open ocean in every direction, waves slapping the hull like a warning. Liam stood over me, handsome face twisted with urgency. “Stop playing dead, Chloe. Get down there and bring Mia back.” When I didn’t move, his jaw tightened. “I promise you—save her and I’ll consider remarrying you. You’ll come home. You’ll never have to gut fish in that filthy market again.” Filthy? That word gutted me. Six months ago, fresh out of prison, I’d gone back to the Lu family mansion, still stupid enough to hope for a scrap of family left. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, I watched my parents, my ex-husband, and their precious Mia share a warm Christmas Dinner. Laughing. Toasting. And I stood outside in the freezing wind—an ex-con, a half-deaf wreck who’d done eight years for someone else. That’s when I finally understood. The hell I lived in was built by their hands. In that house, I was the stranger. My eyes snapped back to a photo clutched in Liam’s fist. A beach volleyball shot—Mia in a bikini, laughing among the dive team. What stopped my heart was the scar on her right shoulder. Ten years ago, I was the dive team captain. Liam and Mia were both on my crew. That day the current turned vicious without warning. I signaled everyone to surface. Then the riptide hit. I shoved Liam and Mia toward safety and got dragged under. By some miracle, I washed up on an uninhabited island and survived three days unconscious before rescue. When I finally came home, Mia threw herself at me sobbing. “Chloe! You’re alive! If only I’d stopped you from diving—if only I’d been stronger, I wouldn’t have only saved Liam, I wouldn’t have watched you get swept away!” And now I understood everything. That’s why Liam would frame me to save her. He’d spent ten years believing Mia was the one who saved his life. For three days, while I was presumed dead, she’d rewritten history. She became his hero. But I became the reckless fool who almost got them all killed. What a goddamn joke. “I TOLD YOU,” I screamed, voice cracking. “My ear can’t take the pressure! I’ll have a brain hemorrhage! Are you trying to kill me?” Liam’s eyes flickered—a brief, real flash of doubt. Then Arthur lunged and kicked me in the ribs. “Keep acting! You’re rotten to the core, Chloe! Even now, faking a disability to save your own skin!” Susan collapsed on the deck, sobbing. “God… Mia is such a good girl, so sweet, so obedient.” “If she doesn’t come back, how are we supposed to live?”

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My husband brought up divorce while I was boiling noodles. “Split the savings down the middle. You keep the condo.” “The startup capital for the fragrance company was mine. So were every client and connection I built from scratch. None of that goes to you.” I didn’t stop stirring. I just nodded. Julian looked surprised. “That’s it?” I grabbed a handful of cilantro and dropped it into the bowl. “What else?” He stared at the green scattered across the surface, frowning. “You never put cilantro in your noodles.” I paused for a second. “People change their taste.” Julian looked at me with an expression I couldn’t quite read. What he didn’t know was this: I’d never eaten cilantro because he hated the smell of it. But that was over now. ······· The moment I lifted the noodles from the pot, the doorbell rang. Julian moved quickly to answer it, his voice soft. “Why did you come all the way up? I told you to wait in the lobby.” The woman at the door laughed, bright and easy. “I’m here to help you move. I didn’t want you carrying everything alone.” I walked out with my bowl and found her already stepping inside, Julian’s arm loosely around her waist. I knew her. Cara Wynn — the new intern Julian had hired just six months ago. Supposedly a top graduate from the University of Washington’s fragrance program. From the day she walked into the office, Julian had never stopped finding reasons to praise her. Cara gave me an apologetic smile. “Sorry to intrude, Rowan.” Rowan. She knew we were married and still called me by my first name like we were colleagues at a networking event. I didn’t respond. I sat down and kept eating. Julian, sensing my silence, offered an explanation. “Don’t read into it. I just asked Cara to help me pack.” Cara slipped off her shoes and moved into the apartment like she’d been here before. A scent hit me immediately. Familiar. Too familiar. I set down my chopsticks. “Did you give her the prototype I’ve been developing?” Cara’s hands went still on the jacket she was folding. She glanced at Julian. Julian shrugged it off. “You developed it as a company employee. Legally, it belongs to the company.” “Rowan. Business is business.” I went back to eating without a word. Ten years of marriage. To help Julian build his dream, I walked away from a seven-figure salary and started over with nothing. I never asked for a paycheck. Not once. And now he was telling me business is business. Cara chimed in. “Right, Rowan — you basically just submitted a formula. The real development and production work? That was all the company.” Just a formula. I almost laughed hearing that. I set down my bowl and looked at Julian calmly. “I pulled references from over a dozen historical texts to piece that formula together.” Julian’s eyes flickered with impatience. “So? The sources were public. If not you, someone else would’ve found them eventually.” Cara nodded along. “Honestly, I’ve read those same texts. The only reason it wasn’t me is because you knew Julian before I did.” This time I actually did laugh. Julian looked irritated and turned to leave. “I’ll be at the courthouse tomorrow. Don’t be late.” While I washed the dishes, my phone lit up. A photo had been posted in the work group chat. The whole company, standing together. Julian and Cara in the center, matching outfits, champagne flutes raised. They looked like a couple on a magazine cover. The messages kept coming. [Celebrating the Odoeologie IPO!] [Thank you, Julian and Cara!] Water rushed over my hands. I stared at the company name until my eyes stung. That was the name I gave my first perfume. I tried to type something. But the screen returned: [You cannot send messages in a group you’ve left.] A second later, Julian’s message appeared in my inbox. “Send me the formula.”

My finger hovered over his name for a long time. I called him anyway. “Why did you remove me from the group chat?” There was noise in the background — music, voices, the sound of a party still going. “We’re getting divorced. It’s weird for you to still be in there.” He paused, then added: “Besides, I’m having Cara take over the fragrance development side going forward.” Before I could say anything, other voices broke through. “Julian, who are you on the phone with?” “Don’t leave Cara standing there alone all night.” I heard Cara’s voice next, playful. “Marcus, stop it.” Julian laughed softly. “Be right there.” Then the call ended. I stood there for a moment. Julian had always kept work and home completely separate — not a single person in the office knew we were married. For ten years I was just his distant relative, or some quiet consultant nobody looked twice at. Cara had been there six months. And everyone already acted like she’d always belonged. I took the bowl out of the water and dropped it in the trash. The next morning, I went straight to the office. The employees were still glowing from the night before. “I didn’t expect Julian to be so soft when Cara’s around.” “She mentioned offhand that the team was overworked — and Julian sent everyone a thousand-dollar bonus.” I stopped walking. A hundred employees. A thousand each. One hundred thousand dollars, just like that. Something shifted in my chest. When the company was just starting out, I accidentally ingested a toxic compound while testing a fragrance ingredient. In the hospital, the doctor turned to Julian. “There’s an imported treatment and a domestic one. The imported version is more effective. Which do you want?” Julian didn’t hesitate. He chose the domestic one. At the time, I told myself it was because money was tight. Now I understood. He just didn’t think I was worth the difference. I walked to my office, only to find that my keycard didn’t work. Cara appeared from around the corner and let me in herself. “This is my office now. Julian had the code changed.” She walked me in like she owned the space. Because she did now. The layout had been redone. Minimalist, expensive. My aesthetic, but erased. And sitting in the trash can: every certificate and trophy I’d earned over the years. Cara followed my gaze. “They looked dated. Julian thought they cluttered the space.” “So I tossed them. Hope that’s okay.” I picked them out of the bin, wiped them down, and tucked them into my bag. Then I walked to the small back room. Good. It hadn’t been touched. The shelf along the wall was lined with the raw materials I’d collected over the years — resins, dried botanicals, extracted oils, things I’d sourced myself from markets and forests and remote suppliers. I reached for them. Cara stepped in front of me. “Some things aren’t yours to take anymore.” I walked past her and packed everything into my bag. “I collected each of these personally. None of it belongs to the company.” Cara opened her mouth to argue — then suddenly slapped herself across the face. Julian burst through the door a second later.

“Why did you hit her?” I watched Julian rush to Cara’s side, shielding her like she was something fragile. A heaviness settled in my chest. “Julian. I used to think I was the blind one. Now I think it’s you.” I turned to leave. Julian blocked the door. “Apologize. Or you know what I’m capable of.” I didn’t respond. But I found out exactly what he was capable of a few days later. My closest friend called, stumbling over her words. “Did you and Julian actually split? Why is everyone online saying Cara founded Odoeologie?” “And that perfume — I swear that was yours. Why is her name on it now?” I gave her a vague answer and opened the app. The top trending story was about Odoeologie’s power couple and their ‘modern love story.’ I tapped it. It was a recorded interview with Julian. He spoke warmly, gesturing toward Cara as he explained the origin of the Odoeologie name. “This fragrance exists because of my partner’s love for me. Without her, Odoeologie would never have been born.” He wasn’t entirely wrong about that, actually. The inspiration behind the formula had come from someone’s love for him. It just wasn’t Cara’s. I kept watching. Julian held Cara’s hand on camera, looking at her with the kind of attention I hadn’t seen directed at me in years. The comments were flooded with people shipping them. Marketing accounts had already dug up Cara’s academic credentials and her supposed background in fragrance chemistry. No one mentioned me. Not the woman who built the formula, not the wife who was discarded. My grip on the phone tightened. Julian was systematically removing every trace of me. I sat down at my laptop and pulled up the National Copyright Registration portal. I searched my name. The filings were all there. Every perfume formula I’d registered. The tension in my chest loosened slightly. I’d always been careful about intellectual property — even when I didn’t think I needed to be. Because I’d trusted Julian, I never asked for a salary or a contract. Which meant the IP was entirely mine. Two messages came in. One from Julian: [Why hasn’t the core formula come through yet?] [Odoeologie is presenting at the Seattle Fragrance Founders Summit tomorrow. I need it tonight.] I ignored it. The other was from Theo: [Heard you got written out of Odoeologie. Come work with me instead.] Theo Nash. I’d met him while foraging raw botanicals in the Cascades two summers ago. Another obsessive — someone who loved scent the same way I did. I sat with the message for a while. Then looked at my savings. I replied. [I want equity. Fifty-fifty.] He didn’t pause. [Done. I already have a studio space. Meet tomorrow?] [Yes. Let me wrap something up here first.] Julian called before I could put the phone down. “Why haven’t you sent the formula?” I was quiet for a moment. “Julian. I made that formula myself.” He stopped. “You made it as a company employee. It’s company property.” I laughed. It felt genuine. “Julian — did we ever sign a contract?” “Did you ever pay me a single dollar?” His voice shifted. “You’re the one who said you didn’t need a contract. Don’t throw that back at me now.” True. I’d said that because I thought we were partners. I didn’t realize my generosity would become the blade he’d use to cut me out. He kept talking. I hung up. A text came in an hour later. [Given our ten years together — name your price. Just send it.] I set the phone face-down and laid out my outfit for tomorrow.

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“When she goes into labor, she most likely won’t survive.” I stood outside the room, listening to the nurses discuss my case. I had two hearts inside my body. One was my baby. The other was a cloned heart that growing inside me for another woman. And my husband had approved this himself. ********** Nine months pregnant. My last ultrasound before delivery. “Both heartbeats sound are strong and healthy.” The doctor said. I was confused because every single prenatal checkup showed a single fetus. Outside the exam room, I grabbed my husband Alexander’s hand. “The doctor said there were two heartbeats. How could it be? The previous checkups showed it was one.” He paused for a split second, then laughed and patted my shoulder. “That’s impossible. You misheard. He meant your heartbeat and the baby’s are both healthy.” He smiled. “Don’t overthink it. Once the baby’s here, I’ll take you to see the Northern Lights. Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted?” I believed him. Just a mix-up. Until that night, when I got up to use the bathroom and passed the nurses’ station. Low voices drifted out. “Mrs. Sinclair’s organs are starting to fail. Carrying the baby and incubating the cloned heart at the same time—her body can’t handle both. ” “When she goes into labor, she most likely won’t survive.” “What about the cloned heart?” “It’s perfect. Mr. Sinclair’s investment in chimera organ technology paid off. His childhood sweetheart’s heart failure finally has a cure.” A nurse gasped. “So Mr. Sinclair knows the mother will probably die?” “Of course. He approved this protocol himself.” Ice flooded my veins. I didn’t storm in to confront them. I clamped my hand over my mouth and shuffled back to my room, step by step. Alexander was still asleep. Moonlight fell across his handsome face. That face had stayed by my side, eyes red from sleepless nights, when my parents died. That face had wept when I was so dehydrated from morning sickness I needed an IV. He’d said, “Natalie, you’re the only family I have in this world. I’d give my life to take care of you.” I’d believed his words for eight years. The next morning, Alexander brought me a glass of warm milk and a handful of colorful pills, same as always. “Natalie, sweetheart. Take your prenatal vitamins.” His eyes were gentle. He kissed my forehead. I looked at those pills. They weren’t prenatal vitamins. They were something to keep my body from rejecting the heart growing inside me. For the woman he actually loved. I reached out and took them. I looked him in the eye and tested him. “Alexander, I’ve been having chest pains lately. The doctor said I might have a difficult labor. If something happens—” He pressed his hand over my mouth and pulled me into his arms, his voice shaking. “Don’t say that.” “I hired the best medical team. They’ve assessed everything. The risk is less than one percent.” “You and the baby are going to be fine. Just take your medicine. After the birth, we’ll be a family of three. We’ll never be apart again.” He believed I wouldn’t die. So to save that woman, he’d put me on a one-percent gamble without a second thought. I lowered my eyes, swallowing the nausea rising in my throat. “Okay. I’ll take them.” I swallowed the pills in front of him. He smiled, satisfied, and tucked the blanket around me. “I need to run to the office. I’ll be back later to stay with you.” The door clicked shut. I rushed to the bathroom and shoved my fingers down my throat, purging every last pill. I stared at the bloody mess in the sink and pulled out my phone. I need to find a underground clinic.

Three days after I started secretly spitting out the pills, my body began to revolt. First came a low fever that wouldn’t break. Then my joints ached like someone was hammering them with a mallet. At its worst, I couldn’t even grip a glass of water. But I never let Alexander see any of it. He came to the hospital every day, bringing me chestnut cake from that bakery across town I loved. “Natalie, did the baby kick today?” He pressed his hand to my belly, feeling for movement. His palm rested right over the place where the extra heart was growing. I watched the smile crinkle at the corners of his eyes. It felt like a knife carving into my chest. “Alexander.” My voice came out soft as a breath. “If something goes wrong during the delivery, will you take care of our baby?” His hand froze mid-slice on the apple. The knife slipped and cut his finger. Blood welled up. “Natalie, what’s wrong? Why do you keep saying things like that?” He grabbed a tissue, pressed it carelessly to the wound, then came over and took my hand. His voice softened. “I told you, as long as I’m here, nothing will happen to you. I already booked the postnatal care center.” “Stop worrying. When this is all over, I’ll take you traveling. You’ve always wanted to see the Northern Lights in Iceland, right?” What a cheap promise. I lowered my gaze to hide the storm inside me. He was so greedy. He wanted to use my body to save his precious first love, and he still wanted me safe and sound, bearing his children, playing the dutiful wife. Did he really think he was playing God, deciding who lives and who dies? Just then, his phone rang. A special ringtone. One I’d never heard for anyone else. Alexander glanced at the screen. His expression changed instantly. “Okay. I’ll be right there.” He hung up and grabbed his coat. “Natalie, something urgent came up at work. I need to handle it. Get some rest.” He didn’t even wait for my answer before he was out the door. I didn’t ask where he was going. I just walked to the window and looked down. His car didn’t leave the hospital grounds. It drove toward the VIP building at the back—the one with security so tight even senior doctors needed special clearance. I changed into regular clothes, put on a mask, and slipped past the nurses. I followed him. Sixth floor of the VIP wing. The door at the end of the hall was slightly ajar. A weak female voice drifted out. “Alex, don’t worry about me…” “I won’t live much longer anyway. If saving me hurts Natalie, I’ll never forgive myself.” Alexander’s voice came next. Nothing but tenderness. “Lily, don’t talk like that. You’re not going to die.” “The medical team is ready. The cloned heart is perfect.” “Just five more days, and you’ll be able to live like a normal person.” “But Natalie, she—” “She’ll be fine.” Alexander cut her off. His voice was certain. “I’m using the best medication. The risk is minimal. And even if, worst case scenario—” He paused. His voice dropped. “I owe you this. If you hadn’t saved me back then, you wouldn’t have ended up with heart failure.” “Lily, as long as you survive. I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to Natalie.” I stood outside that door, biting down on my lip until I tasted blood. Make it up to me? That’s pure bullshit. All this time, I thought he loved me. Clearly, Lily mattered more to him than me or our child ever would.

After I got back to my room, I started coughing up blood. The rejection was hitting full force. My body was fighting the heart that didn’t belong to me. Two forces tearing each other apart inside. Doctors and nurses rushed in. Chaos everywhere. By the time Alexander got back, I was already on oxygen. He thought I was asleep. He grabbed the doctor by the collar. “How did this happen? How the hell were you taking care of her?” For a split second, he looked terrified of losing me. The doctor stammered out an answer. “Mr. Sinclair, your wife’s immune system suddenly started attacking the cloned embryo. ” “Her liver and lungs are failing. We may need to terminate the incubation—” “No.” Alexander let go of him. Didn’t hesitate for a second. “The heart needs three more days to mature. If we take it out now, it won’t function properly. Lily won’t be able to use it.” Dead silence. I lay there with the oxygen mask on, watching him through the haze. The man who swore he loved me. When it came down to life or death, he didn’t waver for even half a second. The doctor tried again. “Mr. Sinclair, your wife really can’t take much more—” Alexander cut him off. “Keep the incubation going. Save the heart.” “Give her the strongest immunosuppressant injections. The best drugs. Whatever it costs, you keep her alive for three more days.” I closed my eyes and let the tears slide down. He’d just snuffed out the last flicker of hope I had left. The moment the needle pierced my skin, I made my decision. For the next two days, Alexander didn’t leave my side. He canceled all his work. Dark circles bruised his eyes. He wiped my face, held water to my lips, sat up holding my hand through the night. “Natalie, hang in there. It’s almost over.” “When this is done, you can hit me, curse me, whatever you want. Just please, hold on.” I looked at how worn down he was and felt nothing but pity. He didn’t even know I’d heard everything. He was still dreaming that he’d pull me back from the edge of death and we’d go on being the happy couple. “Alexander.” I struggled to pull off the oxygen mask. My voice was barely a whisper. “I want some of that honey walnut shrimp from the place downtown. Fresh out of the kitchen.”

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I was nine months pregnant when I suddenly started bleeding. I asked my husband for help, but he took my hospital bag, went to another woman, and locked me in the house alone. I called out to my husband, Lucas, who was sitting on the couch beside me. *Take me to the hospital.* He answered a call instead. He listened for a few seconds, then stood up. Without a word, he grabbed the hospital bag from the living room floor and headed for the door. “Lucas, wait. I haven’t changed yet.” At the door, he turned back. His face was tight with urgency. “Vivian’s going into labor. She didn’t pack anything. I’m borrowing yours.” I gripped the wall, my legs unsteady. “What about me? I’m bleeding.” He slipped my phone and keycard into his pocket. “You’re not due yet. Don’t play the victim to get attention.” “Just stay home. I’ll be back when it’s over.” … The heavy door slammed shut. The lock clicked into place. I dragged my swollen body to the entrance and twisted the handle. He had locked it from the outside. There was no way to open it from in here. The dull pull in my belly sharpened into something cruel. A warm rush slid down my thighs and hit the hardwood floor. My water had broken. Lucas had taken my phone. I crawled toward the landline in the corner of the living room. The moment my fingers touched the receiver, I saw it — the cord had been cut clean at the base. The cut was fresh, the copper wire still bright. The contractions came harder, faster. Sweat poured down my forehead. I slid down the wall and sat on the cold floor, my nightgown soaked. Survival pushed me toward the balcony. I couldn’t give up. I crawled toward the balcony. We lived on the second floor. Below was a strip of garden. I pushed the window open and shouted into the dark. “Help!” “Someone — please — call 911!” A security guard’s flashlight beam swept up and hit my face. He squinted up at me. “Mrs. Valentine. Please don’t make a scene.” “Mr. Valentin told us you’ve been emotional during pregnancy, that you like to scream. “He said you’ve been imagining you’re in labor. He told us not to come up, no matter what we heard.” My fingernails scraped against the aluminum frame. I clung to the sill, my knuckles white. “My water really broke! Please. I’m in labor. Please call an ambulance.” The guard shook his head. “Mr. Valentine was very clear. Anyone who calls 911 or the police on your behalf would be undermining your marriage. He said he’d hold us responsible.” “Please go back inside, ma’am. Don’t make trouble for us.” He clicked off his flashlight and walked away, his footsteps fading into the dark. I stared at the empty garden. No sound came from my throat. Lucas had blocked every escape. He had even cut off the kindness of strangers. I stumbled back inside. My vision was starting to blur. The baby inside me must have sensed it — he started kicking, frantic, desperate. My knee gave out. I went down beside the coffee table and knocked over the fruit bowl. Glass scattered across the floor. The whole room was a mess. *I can’t die here.* My fingers closed around a long shard of glass. I would break the door open. I didn’t care if I tore my hand apart. Then the red light on the ceiling security camera blinked on. Lucas’s voice came through the smart speaker, cold and distant. “Veronica. haven’t you made enough of a scene?” His voice echoed through the empty room, looking down at me from somewhere safe. I lifted my head and stared at the blinking red light. He had been watching the whole time. He had time to watch me bleed. I raised my bloody hand toward the lens. “Lucas. I’m bleeding. I’m really in labor.” A small, dismissive scoff came through the speaker. “Here we go again.” “Last time it was red ink. What is it this time?” “Vivian is in agony right now, and you’re putting on a performance for sympathy.” “You disappoint me, Veronica.” My whole body was shaking. Blood pooled beneath me, warm and spreading. “Lucas. For the baby……Please.” “Call me an ambulance.”

There was a pause on the other end of the speaker. Then Lucas sighed. “Veronica. The lengths you’ll go to for attention.” “I read your prenatal report before I left. The doctor said everything was fine. You aren’t due for another two weeks.” “You’re lying on the floor playing dead just to pull me away from Vivian, don’t you?” I dragged in a breath. “I’m not lying to you.” “My water broke. The baby is going to suffocate.” “Lucas. This is your child.” Through the speaker, I heard a woman’s weak moan—Vivian’s. “Vivian, are you in pain again? The doctor is on his way.” His voice softened, full of care. “Veronica. Vivian is an orphan. She has no one but me.” “You have a family. You have money. Why do you have to compete with a poor girl?” “She’s just borrowing your hospital bag, and you stoop to such a dirty trick to force me back. You’re despicable.” My cheek pressed against the cold floor. Tears mixed with sweat and dripped off my chin. I pulled my eyes away from the camera and started crawling toward the door, gritting my teeth. Glass cut into my palms. I didn’t feel it. I only had one thought: *Get out.* I reached the entryway, raised the shard, and slammed it against the lock. The glass shattered. My hand opened up in a deep red line. The deadbolt didn’t even shift. Lucas’s voice came back through the speaker, low and furious. “Veronica. What are you doing?” “If you damage that door, I swear —” I wiped my bloody hand on the shoe cabinet and searched frantically. I remembered there was a spare key here. If I could find it, I could live. I threw everything onto the floor. At the bottom of the lowest box, my cold fingers touched a metal key. I dragged myself upright against the wall and pushed the key into the lock with both hands. It wouldn’t go in. I leaned down to look. Someone had filled the keyhole with dried glue. I just sat there, staring at it. “Don’t bother.” Lucas’s voice came through the speaker, a little smug now. “I know how stubborn you are. I was afraid you’d sneak out and cause a scene at Vivian’s hospital.” “So I sealed the lock with super glue before I left.” “Just apologize. Veronica, just admit you were wrong and promise not to bother Vivian. The moment she’s done, I’ll come straight back.” My back slid down the door until I slid down slowly, the wood cold against my spine. He hadn’t sealed me in to protect Vivian. He had sealed me in to make sure I had no way out. He wanted to take away my very right to survive. I looked up at the camera, my voice hoarse. “Lucas. Let’s get a divorce.” A pause. Then his enraged voice exploded from the speaker. “*Veronica*. You’re threatening me again?” “You think saying *divorce* will make me come running? Is that the only trick you have? Crying, screaming, threatening — is that *all* you know?” I closed my eyes. I didn’t answer him. The contractions came one after another now, relentless, crushing. I felt something descending, a terrible pressure. “Lucas. I don’t want you anymore.” Then I gathered the last of my strength, raised the metal key, and threw it at the camera. The lens shattered. The red light went out. The room fell silent. I lay there in the spreading blood, breathing hard.

Lucas had taken control of the apartment automation system through his phone. The living room lights cut out all at once. The hum of the air conditioner died. The fridge fell silent. Every appliance stopped breathing at the same second. Darkness swallowed the room. Through the smart speaker, his voice came cold and hard. “Veronica, since you don’t want to behave, you can reflect in the dark. ” “When you’re ready to admit you were wrong, I’ll turn the lights back on.” “Don’t expect any sympathy from me. You brought this on yourself.” I curled up on the floor, biting down on my lip so I wouldn’t cry out. I could feel the blood draining out of me. Each contraction was sharper than the last. I had to stay conscious. I had to. I crawled toward the bathroom, my hands slipping in the wetness. There were scissors in there. Towels. If no one came to save me, I would have to deliver the baby myself. I had just reached the bathroom door when the speaker came back to life. This time he forced a video call through, casting it onto the TV in the living room. The screen lit up the room in a pale blue glow that fell across my face. Vivian was on the screen, propped up in a hospital bed. Her color was good. Her hair was brushed. She was curled against Lucas’s chest, my hospital bag resting on the bed beside her. “Lucas… is Veronica really upset with me?” Vivian’s voice was sugary, laced with fake concern. “I didn’t mean to take her bag. The contractions just came so fast.” “Maybe you should go home and check on her. I’ll be okay on my own.” Lucas brushed a tear from the corner of her eye, painfully gentle. “Don’t worry about her. She just can’t stand seeing me good to you. She smashed the security camera—she’s probably throwing a tantrum somewhere right now.” Then he turned to face the screen, and his expression hardened. “Veronica. Look at Vivian. Look at how sweet she’s being.” “Now look at yourself. Screaming. Breaking things. Cutting yourself off like some lunatic.” “I’m warning you. If you upset Vivian one more time —” “Tomorrow morning, I cut off your brother’s medical bills.” My heart sank into a bottomless pit. My younger brother was the only family I had left in this world. He was still in the ICU, kept alive by machines. Lucas knew that. He knew exactly where to strike. All his tenderness was reserved for Vivian—the woman who called me “sister” to my face. Watching the two of them on that screen, I felt sick. “You disgust me, Lucas.” I forced the words out with what little I had left. On the screen, Vivian flinched and pressed herself against Lucas. “Lucas, she’s so mean. My stomach hurts.” His face went black with fury. “Veronica, you’re asking for it. Since you love throwing fits so much, you can stay locked in there until you rot.” The video cut. Then I heard a hollow sound from the pipes—air sucking through empty lines. He hadn’t just cut the power. He had remotely shut off the main water valve. I dragged myself to the sink and twisted the faucet. A few drops fell. Then nothing. No water. No electricity. No way to call for help. He had backed me into a corner with no way out. My back rested against the cold tile wall. I panted, each breath a struggle. The blood had soaked through my dress completely. The metallic smell filled the small bathroom. The baby’s movements had slowed. From frantic kicks to weak, barely perceptible shifts. “It’s okay, baby.” I whispered, my hand pressed to my belly, tears finally spilling down my cheeks. “Mommy will save you. I promise.” I gritted my teeth and reached under the sink. My fingers brushed against something rusted. A pair of old scissors. I closed my hand around them. This was my last chance to save myself.

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I’m nine months pregnant. Bleeding out on the living room floor. And my husband just stepped over me to go hold another woman’s hand while she has her baby. A sharp cramp pulls low in my belly. Something warm slides down my thigh. Blood. “Liam.” My voice is shaking. “Liam, something’s wrong. I’m bleeding. Take me to the hospital.” He’s right there on the couch. Phone pressed to his ear. He doesn’t even glance up. He hangs up, stands, snatches my hospital bag off the coffee table, and heads for the door. “Liam—wait—I haven’t even changed—” He turns at the doorway, already half out of it. His face is flushed. In a hurry. “Ruby’s water broke. She doesn’t have anything ready. I need to borrow your bag.” I sag against the wall. My legs won’t hold me. “What about me? Liam, I’m bleeding.” He slides my phone and key fob into his own pocket. Doesn’t even slow down. “You’re not due yet, Stella. Quit playing the victim. I know you’re just jealous.” “Be a good girl. Sit tight. I’ll come keep you company when I get back.” The front door slams shut. The deadbolt slides into place from the outside. I drag my heavy body to the foyer and grab the handle. Twist. Yank. Throw my shoulder against it. He locked me in. There’s no way to open it from inside. A pain rips low through my belly. Hot liquid gushes down my thighs and splashes onto the hardwood. My water just broke. He took my phone. I drop to my hands and knees and crawl toward the landline in the corner. My fingers close around the receiver— The cord is sliced clean through. Right at the base. The cut is fresh. The contractions are coming faster now. Cold sweat beads on my forehead. I slide down the wall, leaving a long red streak behind me. Some last animal instinct in me hauls itself toward the balcony. We’re on the second floor. There’s a sidewalk down below. Somebody walks their dog at this hour. Somebody. I shove the French doors open and lean out into the dark. “Help!” “Somebody—anybody—please call 911!” A flashlight beam swings up and catches me square in the face. It’s the night patrol guy the HOA hires. “Mrs. Holt.” His voice is flat. Bored. “Ma’am. Come on. Cut it out.” My fingernails screech down the aluminum frame. “Mr. Holt told us before he left. Said the pregnancy hormones have been real hard on you. Said you’ve been having these episodes—screaming, imagining you’re in labor.” He sighs. “He said no matter what we hear out of this house, just leave you be.” “My water broke!” I’m digging my nails into the railing now. ” Please. Just call an ambulance, I’m having the baby—” He shakes his head. “Mr. Holt was real clear. Anybody who calls the cops or 911 on you is interfering with your marriage, and he’ll come at us with a lawsuit. Go on back inside, ma’am. Don’t make this hard.” He clicks off his flashlight and walks away. I watch his back disappear into the dark. No sound comes out of my throat. Liam thought of everything. Every door. Every neighbor. Every stranger who might’ve shown me a scrap of kindness—he killed it all before he ever walked out. I stumble back inside. Black spots are eating the edges of my vision. The baby is kicking like crazy, like she knows. My knees give. I crash into the coffee table and the glass fruit bowl on top of it shatters across the floor. Not here. I am not dying here. My fingers close around a long shard of glass. I’ll break that door down. I don’t care if it costs me my hand. The red light on the ceiling camera blinks on. Liam’s voice comes through the smart speaker. Calm. Bored. Disappointed. “Stella. Are you done throwing your tantrum yet?” His voice fills the empty house like he owns the place. Like I’m a toddler having a meltdown and he’s the grown-up. He’s actually checking the cameras. He’s got the time. I lift my head and stare straight into the blinking red dot. I raise my bloody hand to the lens. “Liam. I’m bleeding. I’m really in labor.” He scoffs. “Here we go again.” “Last time it was red ink. What is it this time? Ketchup?” “Ruby is screaming in agony right now and you’re putting on a one-woman show in our living room.” “Stella. You really disappoint me.” My whole body is convulsing. The blood under me has spread into a wide black pool on the hardwood. “Liam.” It comes out as a whisper. “For the baby.” “Call an ambulance.”

Liam goes silent on the other end for a couple of seconds. Then he sighs. Long. Disappointed. “Stella. The lies you’ll tell to keep my attention—it’s unbelievable.” “I looked at your prenatal report before I left. The doctor said you’re perfectly fine. You’ve got two more weeks till your due date.” “You’re rolling around on the floor playing dead because you want to trick me into coming home, away from Ruby. That’s it, isn’t it?” I’m gasping for breath. “I’m not lying to you.” “My water broke. The baby’s going to suffocate.” “Liam—this is your daughter.” A soft whimper crackles through the speaker. Ruby. “Sweetheart, another contraction? Hang in there, the doctor’s coming.” He soothes her in that warm, melting voice—the one he used to save for me—and then he turns back to the mic. His voice goes cold enough to cut. “Stella. Ruby is an orphan. I’m all she’s got in this world.” “You have a family. Money. A whole life. Why are you so determined to take from a girl who has nothing?” “All she did was borrow your hospital bag. One bag. And you pull this disgusting stunt to drag me back.” “You are an ugly person. I never knew how ugly until tonight.” My cheek is pressed flat against the cold floor. Tears mix with sweat and roll onto the back of my hand. I pull my eyes away from the camera. I start crawling toward the front door. Glass shards bite into my palms. I don’t feel them. There’s only one thought left in my head. Get out. I make it to the foyer. I lift the biggest shard of glass and smash it into the lock with everything I have left. The glass shatters. My hand splits open—deep, to the bone. Blood sprays the door. The lock doesn’t move. Liam’s voice explodes through the house, choked with rage. “Stella Hayes! What the hell are you doing?!” “You damage that door and I swear to God you will regret it the second I walk back through it!” I’m already clawing my way to the entryway closet. There’s a spare key in there. I know there is. I put it there myself. I rip everything out onto the floor with bloody hands. Shoes. A scarf. A toolbox. I find it at the bottom of an old shoebox—a small, cold brass key. My way out. I haul myself up against the wall. My whole body is shaking. I jam the key into the lock. It won’t go in. I bend closer and squint. The keyhole is packed solid with something dried and clear. Sealed shut. I stare at it. Dumbly. “Don’t waste your strength.” There’s a smile in his voice now. Pride. “I know how stubborn you get, baby. I was worried you’d try to sneak out and go after Ruby. So I sealed the lock before I left. Little tube of superglue.” “Stella. All you have to do is apologize. Promise me you’ll leave Ruby alone.” “As soon as she delivers, I’ll come right home and take care of you.” My back slides down the door. Inch by inch. He planned my last way out. He didn’t seal the lock because he was worried about Ruby. He sealed it to take my right to live away. I tip my head back and look straight at the camera. “Liam. I want a divorce.” Dead silence on the other end. Then he erupts. “Stella Hayes, are you threatening me again?!” “You think waving ‘divorce’ in my face is gonna make me come crawling back? Is there a single thing in your bag of tricks besides crying, screaming, and threatening to leave?!” I close my eyes. I don’t answer him. The contractions have stopped being waves. It’s one long endless tearing now. Something is pushing down. Something is coming whether I’m ready or not. “Liam. I don’t want you anymore.” I lift the brass key with the last of my strength. And I hurl it at the camera. The lens shatters. The red light dies. The living room goes black and silent. I lie in the spreading pool of my own blood, and I breathe.

He’s controlling the smart home from his phone. The living room lights cut out instantly. The AC. The fridge. Every appliance in the house dies in the same heartbeat. The whole place drops into black. His voice comes through the speaker, ice cold. “Stella. Since you don’t know how to behave, you can sit in the dark and think about what you did.” “When you’re ready to apologize, I’ll turn the lights back on.” “Don’t sit there waiting for me to feel sorry for you. You brought this on yourself.” I curl up on the floor. I bite my lip until I taste blood. I will not let him hear me scream. I can feel the blood draining out of me. Actually feel it. Warmth, leaving, replaced by cold. The pain in my belly is coming in waves now—each one worse than the last. Some part of me still alive enough to think tells me: stay awake. I crawl on my hands across the floor toward the bathroom. There are scissors in there. Towels. If no one’s coming for me—and no one is coming—I’m going to have to do this myself. I’m almost at the bathroom door when the speaker hums back to life. The TV in the living room flickers on with it. He’s hijacked it. A video call, pushed straight onto the screen through the smart home app. Pale blue light floods the house and washes the color right off my face. Ruby is on the screen. Tucked into a clean hospital bed. Cheeks pink and healthy. She’s curled into Liam’s chest, holding my hospital bag like a stuffed animal. “Liam, is Nova mad at me?” Her voice is small. Wobbly. Pitiful. “I didn’t mean to take her bag. My contractions just started so suddenly.” “Maybe you should go home and check on her. I’ll be okay by myself.” Liam kisses her forehead and gently wipes a tear off her cheek with his thumb. “Don’t worry about her. She just can’t stand seeing me be nice to anyone but her.” “She smashed our security camera. God only knows what she’s smashing in there now.” Then he turns. Looks straight into the lens. His face goes flat and hard. “Stella. Look at Ruby. Look how good she’s being.” “Now look at yourself. Like some screaming, glass-breaking lunatic.” “I’m warning you. If you make one more sound that upsets Ruby—” “Tomorrow morning I am cutting off your brother’s hospital bills. Every cent.” My heart drops through the floor. Ethan is the only family I have left in this world. He’s in the ICU. He’s only alive because of those machines—and those machines are alive because of Liam’s money. Every soft thing in this man—every drop of tenderness—he gives to the girl who calls me sis. Looking at them on that screen, I think I might actually be sick. “Liam.” I force the words out. “You make me sick.” Ruby flinches against his chest like I hit her. “Liam, Nova sounds so scary—my stomach hurts—” Liam’s face goes black with rage. “Stella, you want to die in there?! Fine! Stay in there till you do!” The call cuts off. Then I hear it. A hollow sucking sound deep in the pipes. He didn’t just cut the power. He shut off the main water valve too. Remotely. I drag myself to the bathroom sink and twist the faucet. Two drops. Then nothing. No power. No water. No phone. He’s buried me alive in my own house. I slump against the cold tile, gasping. The blood has soaked through my dress. The thick, metallic smell of it fills the tiny bathroom. The baby has gone quiet inside me. The wild kicking is gone. There’s only the faintest flutter now, like a moth dying in a jar. “Baby. Don’t be scared.” My hand splays across my belly. The tears finally come. “Mommy’s gonna get you out. Mommy promises.” I bite down hard and dig under the sink with shaking fingers. Rusty scissors. Cold metal. I close my fist around them. This is the last thing in the world that can save me.

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My husband’s mistress complained that our daughter snubbed her by refusing to touch her food. That night, he ripped out Lily’s tongue — and served it to her as dinner. I snapped. I severed Amber’s tendons , hands and feet,then ripped her womb out and fed it to the dogs. I wanted her to feel exactly what I felt. Everyone thought Ethan Cole would kill me for it. Instead, he locked me in a psychiatric facility for two years — then shoved our daughter’s ashes in my face and made me sign the papers. “The Cole family doesn’t keep dogs that bite. Die in here, or crawl out and disappear.” After that, I was gone. Completely. Until three years later — when I inherited my father’s empire, every piece of it, legit and underground — and came back to find Amber still breathing. She slapped me the second she saw me. “Oh my God, Zoe. You’re alive? Could’ve sworn you’d be rotting in a gutter somewhere by now.” I smiled. Grabbed her forearm. And snapped it. “Funny — you forgot what I’m capable of. Let me jog your memory.” Amber screams like something dying. Her little entourage loses their minds — pointing, shoving, screeching all at once. “What the fuck is wrong with you!” “Do you have any idea who she belongs to?!” Some guy rushes forward to pull Amber away from me. I plant my foot in his chest and send him flying. Amber’s ghost-white, drenched in cold sweat, but she still manages to point at me with her good hand. Shaking. “Zoe! You crazy bitch! You actually—” “What? Surprised I would?” I cut her off. Drop her arm. Watch her stumble backward, clutching the twisted mess of it. “Three years, and the only thing Ethan taught you is how to talk shit? That’s it?” Dead silence. Ethan Cole’s name hits the room like a kill switch. The noise cuts out almost entirely. Amber’s voice cracks. Pitches high. Desperate. “Ethan’s going to make you pay for this! You hear me?! You’re DEAD!” I pull an antibacterial wipe from my bag. Clean each finger. Slow. Deliberate. Like I just touched something diseased. “Then tell him to come. I’ve been dying to ask how he raised you to be this useless. All bark. No bite. Just a yappy little thing that can’t do anything but make noise.” Gasps ripple through the crowd. Everyone in this room knows. Amber is Ethan Cole’s. His untouchable. Even back when she was just a dirty little secret on the side, nobody dared cross her. Three years under his wing turned her into one of the most dangerous women in this city. And I just shattered her arm and spat in both their faces. She’s shaking. Rage. Tears and sweat running together. Pathetic. “You’re NOTHING! A thrown-out ex-wife! A goddamn mental patient! Who the fuck do you think you are, putting your hands on me?!” I step forward. She scrambles back. Terror flooding her eyes. “Amber. Want me to remind you what it felt like? When the dogs got into you? Because I remember every second. And I can do it again.” Every drop of color drains from her face. Like she’s seen a ghost. Screaming, stumbling backward. “Someone grab her! Get this psycho away from me!” People shift. Nobody steps forward. Then the crowd parts on its own. Tall. Familiar. Flanked by bodyguards. Ethan Cole. Amber spots him and collapses into full hysterics. Throwing herself at him. “Ethan! She broke my arm! Oh God it hurts—” His eyes land on my face. Hold for one second. Brow tightening. Then he looks down at Amber — sobbing, shaking against his chest — and reaches for her. But not to comfort her. He grips her dislocated forearm. She gasps. Crack. She shrieks. Goes limp. He catches her. Pulls her close. “Shh. You’re fine.” His voice — dead flat. But the look he gives me is pure murder. “Zoe.” My name. Even. Measured. The pressure behind it could crack stone. “Three years gone, and you come back swinging like this? Hell of a homecoming gift.” I look at him. I think about the windowless days in that facility. I think about him forcing Lily’s ashes into my hands and making me sign away everything. I let my lips curl. No warmth behind it. “That was just the appetizer. You want the main course? I can serve it right now.”

Amber wails louder into Ethan’s chest. “Ethan it hurts so bad — she’s completely lost it — just kill her already!” He pats her back. Twice. Then keeps his eyes on me. “Seems those years locked up didn’t teach you a damn thing, Zoe. If anything, you got dumber. Bolder. Stupider.” I toss the used wipe into the nearest trash can. Look him dead in the eye. “That’s hilarious coming from the guy who let his whore get his own daughter killed. You wanna talk about stupid? Let’s talk about stupid.” “You—!” Vein pops at his temple. His arm crushes tighter around Amber. She yelps — but doesn’t dare say a word. “Take that back. Apologize to Amber.” His voice drops into command mode. Low. Absolute. “Then break your own hand. I might — might — let you crawl out of here still breathing.” I laugh. Loud. Right in his face. Like he just said the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard in my life. “Ethan. Sweetie. You actually still think you’re God in this city?” I step into his space. Ignore the bodyguards going tense all around me. “You want me to apologize?” I point at Amber. Sneering. “Tell that bitch to give my daughter her tongue back first.” Amber shrinks behind him. Trying to disappear. His face goes black. Like a storm about to break. “Lily brought that on herself! She pissed Amber off!” The way he says it. Casual. Offhanded. Like he’s talking about a spilled drink. Something inside me goes ice-cold. Lethal. “Over one bullshit made-up complaint — you ripped your own daughter’s tongue out of her mouth? Even the sickest, most fucked-up animal on this earth wouldn’t do that to its own young. You’re not even an animal, Ethan. You’re something worse. Something that shouldn’t exist.” That night. When they brought Lily back. Her mouth — a lake of blood. Her tiny body curled on the cold floor like a shattered doll. She was staring at the ceiling. Big eyes — nothing left in them but tears and terror. Already gone. Drowned in her own blood. No breath. And Ethan stood right there. Looking down at me — collapsed, destroyed — and said in that dead flat voice: “She won’t piss Amber off anymore.” That was the moment I knew. One of us was going to die. And it wasn’t going to be me. “Shut your MOUTH!” Ethan. Roaring. I hit the nerve. “You wanna play it this way?! FINE! We do it the hard way!” Hand raised. Signaling the guards. “Pin her down! She won’t do it herself — then you do it for her!” They close in around me. Amber’s mouth curves into a smile. Already tasting my blood on the floor. I don’t move. Don’t flinch. Just look at Ethan. “You actually think I’m still her? That scared little wife you pushed around? The one who couldn’t save her own baby?”

Ethan charges. Hand clamping around my throat. Eyes bloodshot. Nothing behind them but murder. “You really think I won’t, Zoe? You really think I give a shit?” Vision going dark. But I look right at him. And smile. Force the words through his grip. “Do it then… squeeze…” “…just like you watched Lily choke on her own blood.” Her name. His fingers loosen. Just a fraction. I drive my knee up between his legs. Hard as I can. He grunts. Grip gone. I stagger back. Gasping. Throat raw and burning. Guards swarm me. Arms wrenched behind my back. Face slammed into cold marble. Amber peeks out from behind him. Pure poison in her eyes. “Baby, are you okay? Make her kneel! Force that bitch to her KNEES!” He straightens. Fixes his collar. Looks down at me like I’m something on the bottom of his shoe. “You heard her. Amber doesn’t like you standing.” He crouches. Quiet. Clear. “Get on your knees. Apologize. Then smash the hand you touched her with.” Pause. “Or I dump Lily’s ashes in a pig trough. Your choice.” Lily. Every muscle in my body goes rigid. Pinned flat. Can’t move. I can only wrench my head up and stare at him. That tiny girl. Who called me Mommy in her little voice. All that’s left of her now — a handful of ash. And he’s using even that. To break me. “You don’t deserve to be called her father. You don’t deserve to breathe the same air as her memory—” My voice is shredded. Blood on my lips. He scoffs. Amused. “Monster or man — wasn’t that your choice? You married me, Zoe. You picked this.” And he’s right. I fell for Ethan Cole when he was nothing. Broke. Empty pockets. Big mouth. I ignored my father’s warnings. Walked away from everything the Sinclair name meant. Poured it all into him — the connections, the resources, my own blood and sweat — built the throne he’s sitting on right now with my bare hands. And what did I get? My daughter slaughtered. Myself thrown out like garbage. “Hard way it is then.” He stands. Patience gone. Nods at the guard. The man grabs my right hand. Ethan watches. Eyes flat. Unreadable. My voice — raw. But steady. “You sure you wanna go there, Ethan? You really sure?”

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“Luna. Let me tell you a secret.” Alpha Kaelen leaned in close, voice barely a whisper. “The late Alpha didn’t just die of illness. I switched out his medicine that night.” He smiled. “Funny, isn’t it? You saved a Rogue’s pup, Luna. And I killed your Alpha.” *********** Six months since Kaelen took over the pack. Six months, and my guards, my servants, my food had been cut three times. The fourth time, the Beta who delivered the message didn’t even bother to bow. He said the Alpha had found me a quiet cabin at the edge of the territory. “The Alpha thinks it would be good for you to rest there.” I sat all day, sorting through everything my late mate had left me. The Obsidian Fang. Three Blood Decrees that the late alpha made. The next day, I attended the Full Moon Council as usual. From my seat, I watched the pack through the flickering firelight. Kaelen turned his head and glanced at me. The woman standing beside him wasn’t the Luna. It was Chloe—his chosen Mate, the one he’d publicly claimed just last month. She adjusted his collar, her fingers lingering on the fresh bite marks on her neck. She leaned in and whispered something. Then Kaelen raised his voice for everyone to hear. “I don’t think our Luna has been feeling well lately. She doesn’t need to worry about pack affairs anymore.” A few Betas murmured in agreement. I didn’t move. “So you think it’s time for me to go?” I paused. “Let me ask you something.The late Alpha left three Blood Decrees. Did you konw?” Dead silence. Kaelen’s fingers dug into the armrest. “The first one protects my position as Luna. You’ve seen that one. But you seem unwilling to comply.” “The second one—do you want to open it now? Or would you rather wait until I’m gone?” Not a sound. Every wolf in attendance lowered their heads. Even their breathing seemed to slow. Kaelen’s face drained of color. He stared in my direction, his throat bobbing twice. His knuckles had gone white from gripping the armrest. I watched his eyes through the dim light. That wasn’t guilt. That was fear. “Luna, you can’t be serious.” His voice dropped low, barely holding steady. “The Blood Decrees is sacred. You can’t just throw it around like this. We can talk about this in private after the council.” He was stalling. I wasn’t going to give him the chance. My hand slipped into my cloak. My fingers brushed against the Blood Decrees. In the front row, a few of the late Alpha’s old allies lifted their heads. “Well. Since you’re in no rush.” I flicked my wrist. The Blood Decrees flew from my hand and tumbled down the stone steps. Every pair of eyes followed it down. No one moved. Kaelen shot to his feet—but the woman beside him was faster. Chloe grabbed her skirts and rushed down the steps, bending low to snatch the Blood Decrees. “Our Luna hasn’t been sleeping well. I think the stress is getting to her head. Don’t worry, I’ll keep this safe—” I watched her bent figure, and a memory surfaced. Twelve years ago. Dead of winter. I had found him half-dead in the snow, a rogue’s unwanted pup, and brought him into the pack. I gave him a home. A name and a future. And this was what I got in return. “How dare you.” Four Luna’s Guards burst through the entrance, half-shifted, claws out and pressed against Chloe’s throat. She froze. Hand in midair. All the color gone from her face. Someone gasped. Chloe’s legs shook. She looked desperately at Kaelen, lips trembling, but nothing came out. Kaelen’s eyes went wide. He pulled Chloe behind him, voice rising. “She was just trying to help! What the hell are you doing? You want to tear this pack apart over nothing?” His hand clamped down on Chloe’s shoulder. Veins popped along the back of his hand. The Betas who had backed him up moments ago were now staring at their feet. Silent. I didn’t acknowledge him. “Head Elder.” In the front row, the white-haired elder’s knees gave out. He sank to the ground. “I… I’m here.” “Pick it up. Read it out loud.” The old man crawled to the bottom of the steps. His hands trembled as he lifted the Blood Decrees. His fingers shook so hard that flakes of dried scattered across the stone. Kaelen opened his mouth, ready to stop him—but dozens of eyes snapped toward him at once. The words died in his throat. His eyes scanned the text. Left to right. His face changed. He looked up at me. Then back at Kaelen. His lips moved, but no sound came out. “Read it.” I said.

The Head Elder’s voice shook as he read, every word forced out. “The late Alpha’s second decree: Should the new Alpha neglect his duties for personal pleasures or permit any mate to overstep her place” “—the Luna holds the right to strip all ranks from those involved. No appeal. No council vote. Effective at once.” Silence. Then every pair of eyes turned to the same spot. Chloe stood behind Kaelen. Her face had gone gray. Her nails dug into her palms so hard they nearly drew blood. The Decree bore the late Alpha’s blood seal and scent. Every stroke, every mark is unmistakable. Impossible to forge. Kaelen’s jaw clenched. He couldn’t get a single word out. I rose to my feet. Every wolf in the room turned to look at me. The old guard in the front lowered their gazes. The younger wolves in the back were shaking. “Beta Hendricks failed to teach his daughter her place. He let her snatch the late Alpha’s Blood Decree in front of the entire pack. A direct insult to this council.” “The Blood Decrees carries the late Alpha’s blood seal. Only the Luna has the right to unseal it. ” “Beta Hendricks failed to teach his daughter her place. She tried to snatch it in front of the entire pack—that’s not just disrespect. That’s a direct challenge to his final command.” My voice was calm. But everyone heard it. On the left side, third row—Beta Hendricks, Chloe’s father, went purple in the face. He swayed twice but forced himself to stay standing. My voice was calm. But everyone heard it. “Effective immediately: stripped of his rank and banished from the inner territory. He runs with the strays now.” I looked at Kaelen. “Alpha. Any objections?” His lips pressed into a thin line. His jaw was clenched so tight a vein bulged at his temple. Blood seeped from the corner of his mouth. He’d bitten through his own lip. Behind him, Chloe clutched his arm, trembling all over. Kaelen closed his eyes for a moment. “…Granted.” The word came out through gritted teeth. Beta Hendricks stood frozen. Chloe’s knees buckled. She collapsed against Kaelen, sobbing without a sound. He held her shoulder and lowered his head. But when his eyes lifted to meet mine— Pure hatred and ice cold. Less than two hours after the council ended, every guard outside my quarters was gone. Replaced by Kaelen’s warriors. The marks on their collars bore his initial. I stood by the window, watching them line up in the courtyard. Finley came in with tea, his steps lighter than usual. He set down the cup and gave me a small bow. “Luna. The guards have changed. We’ll need to be more careful from now on.” I glanced at him but said nothing. He backed out quietly. I opened the hidden compartment and spread out the third Blood Decree and the Obsidian Fang on the table. My fingers traced over the fang’s carved surface, inch by inch. Before my mate —the late Alpha died, he had pressed these into my hands. His last words to me— “Keep them. Don’t give them to anyone.” I thought he was being paranoid. That night, an unfamiliar servant walked in carrying a bowl. He set it on the table without so much as a nod. His eyes swept over me with open contempt. “Alpha’s orders. The Luna hasn’t been well. One bowl Every day. No exceptions.” He paused, then lowered his voice. “And if Luna still refuses to hand over the Obsidian Fang… well, the recipe for this tonic might change.”

After the servant left, I picked up the bowl. It smelled faintly sweet. I walked to the window and poured the entire thing onto the ground outside. The liquid splashed against the stone, spreading into a dark stain. Late that night, a soft thud came from the rooftop. A shadow dropped down and knelt before me. One of my hidden scouts. The ones I’d kept outside the territory. “Luna. Something Urgent. Chloe’s cousin intercepted General Marcus’s supply convoy at the border. Thirty thousand pounds of provisions. Not a scrap left.” My grip tightened around the arm of my chair. Marcus—my brother—was stationed at the northern border. Thirty hundred warriors depended on those supplies. Cutting them off was the same as sentencing them to death. The wood cracked beneath my fingers. “Got it.” I sat in the darkness, staring at my hands. He wasn’t just coming for me. He was coming for the whole pack. The next morning. My door was kicked open from the outside. Kaelen strode in, boots echoing against the floor with every step. Chloe followed behind him. Kaelen walked straight to the table and slammed a piece of paper down. “Luna. Read this.” A letter. My brother’s handwriting. The contents accused him of conspiring with enemy packs. Treason. The handwriting was close. But Marcus had an old injury in his right hand. His strokes always hitched at the end. This letter was too smooth. Every line too perfect. It was forged. “Your brother, Marcus has been caught red-handed. Conspiring with rogues. Plotting against the pack.” Kaelen crossed his arms, looking down at me. “Hand over the Obsidian Fang. Maybe I’ll let him die in one piece.” Chloe smiled maliciously. “Luna, I’m only trying to help. Marcus’s bad leg—he got that protecting our Alpha, didn’t he? Such a shame if he dies a traitor.” Years ago, during a rogue attack on the border, Marcus had shielded Kaelen with his own body. Took a blow meant for a boy who was nobody back then. He’d walked with a limp ever since, stationed at the frozen border for seven years. And now they wanted to execute him for treason. Kaelen shifted. His claws extended, gleaming in the low light. He held them inches from my chest. “I only ask once more.” His voice dropped low. “Give me the Fang and the last Blood Decree. Or tonight, I’ll feed Marcus’s remains to the rogues.”

I didn’t back down. I shifted just enough for my claws to extend. In one swift motion, I grabbed Chloe’s wrist and yanked her in front of me. My claws pressed against her throat. Chloe screamed. Kaelen’s eyes went wide. His claws shifted instantly—away from my chest, now aimed at my neck. Three years ago, I took him in during the dead of winter. Now his claws were at my throat. “Kaelen. This is how you repay the one who saved you.” My voice was quiet. Only he could hear. “Fine.” I let go of Chloe. She stumbled and fell, then crawled back to Kaelen’s feet, sobbing. I walked to the hidden compartment and took out an obsidian fang—but not the real one. A replica. One I’d prepared long ago. It sat heavy in my palm. The late Alpha had told me the day he gave me the real one: This is your last safeguard. Now I was going to throw this fake at his feet. I held it up in front of Kaelen. Watched his eyes. It was greedy. I let go. The fang dropped from my hand and hit the stone floor. A piece chipped off the edge. “Take it. And my family doesn’t need your mercy.” Kaelen bent down and picked it up. He turned it over three times, checking every inch. The tension in his face finally eased. A smile crept onto his lips. He grabbed Chloe and walked out without looking back. The moment the door closed, Chloe’s laughter drifted in from outside. I turned and reached into the deepest part of the hidden compartment. My fingertips touched something cold. I pulled it out. The real Obsidian Fang. Black as midnight. Carved with ancient wolf runes. “They think that fang can command the warriors.” I gripped it tight. “They don’t know all pack warriors only answers to this real one.” A hidden passage opened silently. One of my scouts slipped out and knelt at my feet. I placed the fang in his hand. “Get word to my brother. Fake a defeat. Pull back from the border. Bring three hundred warriors. Surround the territory. Cut off every exit. Wait for my signal.” The scout took the fang and vanished without a sound. I stood by the window. The sky had gone dark. Finley hurried in. “Luna. Kaelen used that fang to reassign the border patrols. Every post is now held by his wolves.” I didn’t turn around. “Finley.” “Yes, Luna.” “The third Decree. It’s time everyone knowned what he really is.”

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A year after the car accident stole my memories, I got married. On my way to my prenatal checkup, a kid blocked my path. He scowled at me, voice ice-cold: “Dad sent me to bring you home. Are you done throwing your tantrum?” I almost laughed. I crouched down, reaching to pat his head. “Hey sweetie, I think you’ve got the wrong person.” He jerked away from my hand, irritated. “Stop pretending. Fine—I’ll let you tuck me in from now on.” I felt bad for him, but for safety’s sake, I walked him back to his house. Outside a massive mansion stood a man—tall, sharp-featured, radiating cold authority. When he saw me, something flickered in his expression. But his voice dripped with contempt: “Chloe. So you finally decided to come back.” He grabbed my hand, trying to drag me inside. I yanked free and dialed my husband: “Babe, I think I just ran into a family of psychos!” … Before he could respond, my phone was slapped from my hand. It shattered against the stone driveway. The man’s jaw clenched with barely controlled rage: “Chloe, quit the act.” “So what if you took the fall for Evelyn and did three years? You weren’t exactly suffering.” “But no—you had to jump out of the car on your way home from prison. Made Evelyn feel guilty for a whole year!” “When you see her, you’re going to apologize.” My chest tightened with sudden, inexplicable pain. My hands trembled as I reached for my broken phone. “You’ve got the wrong person. I don’t know you!” I turned to run. He caught my wrist and pulled me against his chest. Close enough to feel his breath, I could see the impatience in his eyes: “Chloe, how many years in prison does it take for you to learn? Nobody’s watching your little performance!” My heart felt like it was being ripped apart. I couldn’t breathe. Nameless terror wrapped around me. I opened my mouth but couldn’t speak. Then a strange woman emerged from the house. She wore a fitted lace nightgown, peeking out from behind the man: “Chloe! You’re back!” “Where have you been this whole year? You abandoned your husband and your son!” “What Julian did back then was wrong, I already punished him for you…” Julian. The name was familiar. But I couldn’t remember who he was. “Don’t touch me!” I instinctively shoved her hand away. She cried out and fell. “I don’t know any of you! I need to go home, I need to find my—” Pain exploded across my forehead. Blood dripped down my face. The kid had thrown a rock at me. “Bad woman! Don’t bully my mommy!” Julian glanced at me with something like concern, but he scooped Evelyn into his arms first. She struggled free, eyes red as she grabbed my hand: “Chloe, don’t blame Leo. He’s been raised by me these past few years—he forgot you’re his real mother.” She pulled me inside, grabbing iodine and bandages to patch me up. “You have no idea how hard Julian searched for you…” I realized I was trapped. I stopped resisting. Silent, I scanned the photos covering the walls. A happy family of three. Holding hands through spring, summer, fall, winter. The dates ranged from last January through December. I smiled bitterly, pointing at the glaring kid. “You say I’m his mother. So who are you?” “I…” Evelyn flushed, glancing at Julian. The man frowned, his voice sharp: “Evelyn is your sister-in-law. Why are you playing dumb?” “All those years you were locked up, she took care of me and our son. You should be thanking her.” I almost laughed. I turned to Julian. “You say I’m your wife. Then answer me this.” “Why would I go to prison in her place?” He froze. His voice rose: “Evelyn’s delicate. She can’t handle suffering. How could you compare to her?” I stood, pressing him: “Then what do I like? What’s my favorite flower? What size do I wear?” He retreated, step by step, his face draining of color. His lips moved. No words came out. I asked my final question, each word deliberate: “When is my birthday?” Julian went silent. His fists clenched. Then he exploded: “Enough! Stop this!” I laughed coldly, raising my left hand to show the massive diamond on my ring finger. “I’m sorry, Mr. whatever-your-name-is. I don’t know what kind of delusion you’re all having, but I really don’t know you.” “And I’m already married. My husband is waiting for me at home.” “As for my injuries and damages—my lawyer will be in touch.”

Evelyn dropped the ointment in her hand. She stood in disbelief: “Chloe, what did you say? Husband?” “No wonder you wouldn’t come home—you did something to betray Julian!” Julian’s eyes went dark. He gripped my wrist so hard his knuckles turned white. “Chloe, who’s the bastard?” “Is that why you’re pretending not to know me?!” Like a madman, he dragged me upstairs by my arm and threw me onto a bed. “Let’s see if that bastard left any marks on your body.” “Get off me!” I screamed, slapping him across the face. “If you touch me, my husband will make you pay—” Before I could finish, he covered my mouth with his. Julian ripped at my clothes with one hand, shoving the other inside my body. He kissed and bit my neck, voice hoarse: “Chloe, you’ve got some nerve.” “If I can’t touch you, who can?” I sobbed and struggled. Then he suddenly froze. His hand found not smooth skin, but layer after layer of crisscrossing scars. Julian’s hand trembled. He reached for the nightstand lamp. Someone pounded on the bedroom door. Evelyn’s soft crying filtered through: “Julian, I dreamed about your brother again! I dreamed he was hitting me, coming for my life!” The man immediately released me and rushed out to hold her, soothing her. “Sweet Evelyn, it wasn’t your fault.” “If he hadn’t abused you, you wouldn’t have killed him in self-defense.” “It’s over now. Don’t be afraid. I’m here.” His gentle words drifted to my ears. I trembled as I buttoned my clothes. When I touched my face, I felt wetness. I crawled to the door, pounding desperately. Even when my fingers bled, no one came. I curled up in the corner, whispering his name over and over. Silas, when will you find me? I sat alone in that room all night. The next morning, a maid finally let me out. When she saw the dead snake, she wasn’t even surprised—just tossed it in the trash like routine. Julian sat downstairs reading the financial paper. When he saw me, he ordered: “Evelyn wants the chicken soup you make. Go cook it.” “And Leo’s milk needs to be room temperature.” “I’m putting you in charge of ironing my shirts too. The staff don’t have your touch.” The words felt coded into my DNA. I actually started walking toward the kitchen. Only when my hand touched an apron did I snap out of it. I stormed out, shaking with rage: “You’re holding me against my will. I’m calling the cops!” Julian looked up, tossing the paper aside with a cold laugh: “Chloe, what game are you playing now?” I was about to answer when I caught sight of the newspaper. There was a photo of Silas at last week’s charity gala. My voice burst out, excited: “That’s my husband! If you don’t believe me, call him!”

Julian narrowed his eyes, about to speak. Evelyn stood on the spiral staircase, eyes full of contempt. “Chloe, what kind of joke is this?” “Everyone knows Silas Thorne doesn’t do women. Hell, he won’t even get a female dog—only males.” “Plus, our companies have been collaborating. We’d know if he got married.” I clenched my fists to argue back when a sharp pain hit my abdomen. My baby… I saw the unguarded front door and bolted. “Chloe, where are you going?” Evelyn rushed down and grabbed me. I’d had enough. I bit down on her hand, hard enough to taste blood. She fell screaming, clutching her hand: “Julian, my hand—it hurts so much…” The tenderness in his eyes as he looked at her turned to ice when he looked at me. “Chloe, have you lost your mind?!” CRACK. A vicious slap across my face. My vision went black. My ears rang. When I came to, Julian had dragged me in front of Evelyn and kicked my knees out from under me. “Apologize to Evelyn. On your knees.” “You hurt my mommy! I’ll kill you!” The kid swung his toy car at my head over and over. The wound split open. Blood poured out. I swallowed blood and struggled to my feet, trying to run. Someone shoved me hard. My stomach slammed into the steps. Sharp, brutal pain engulfed me. Blood ran down my thighs. Feeling the blood beneath me, tears streamed down my face: “My baby—please, get me to a hospital…” I shakily tried to stand. The world spun. Everything went black. When I woke up, the smell of disinfectant filled my nose. Muffled voices nearby: “Pregnant? Amnesia? What the hell does that mean!” “Mr. Montgomery, it’s dissociative amnesia—the patient’s defense mechanism against trauma.” Julian’s voice was barely controlled fury: “She was pampered and spoiled. How could she have this?!” The doctor sighed. “The patient has lacerations from sharp objects, contusions and fractures from blunt force trauma—clear signs of long-term, sustained violent abuse.” “Her body has endured unimaginable torture. When her mind finally broke, it activated self-protection and selectively erased all painful memories.” Silence. Then Julian’s voice, hoarse and raw: “I’ll investigate…” “But the baby goes. I’m not raising another man’s kid.” Terror seized me. I forced my eyes open but couldn’t move. They want to hurt my baby! Medical staff approached. A needle slid into my arm. Julian stood beside me, eyes red-rimmed, jaw tight. I used my last strength to grab his collar. “Don’t…” He covered my desperate eyes with his hand. I lost consciousness. When I woke again, I was back at the Montgomery house. Strapped to a metal chair. Electrodes clamped to my head. “Chloe, you’re awake.” Evelyn crouched in front of me, smiling with cruel satisfaction: “I just heard from Julian about your amnesia.” “Don’t worry. We’ll help you remember real soon.” I touched my empty, aching stomach and broke down sobbing. Julian knelt, kissing my tears, his eyes red: “The doctor said 99 shocks and you’ll remember everything.” “Then everyone who hurt you will pay. Every single one.” “As for the baby—I won’t hold it against you anymore.” I shook uncontrollably, shaking my head: “No, I really don’t know you, please—” “Do it.” Julian stood and gave the order. The button was pressed. Electricity—like molten wire—shot through my veins, from fingertips to organs. Every jolt brought bone-shattering agony. I screamed until my throat was raw. Blood poured from my lips. My vision went black. Only endless, tearing pain remained. The dam of memory finally broke. Numb tears fell one after another as I whispered: “I remember…” I remembered eight years of soul-crushing pain.

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