On Christmas Eve, I flew halfway across the world to surprise my fiancé. And caught him kissing another girl under our Christmas tree. All afternoon at work, the girls were losing their minds over deliveries. Roses everywhere. Little Tiffany boxes. Velvet pouches with red ribbons. The whole floor smelled like a Bath & Body Works. Marissa, my team lead, plopped down on my desk and grinned at me. “Willow. Your man is an art professor. In Paris. The bar he’s gonna set today? Criminal.” She wasn’t wrong. Two Christmases ago, Julian sent me 999 burgundy roses. Last year? A framed I love you spelled out in pink diamonds. Stupid amounts of pink diamonds. When it came to showing off, Julian Carter didn’t let me lose. Ever. But this year? My phone was dead silent. All day. Nothing. I started spiraling. Something happened to him. Something has to be wrong. I burned every vacation day I had, threw a flight on my credit card, and flew halfway across the world through a snowstorm. I got to his building in Paris right as the snow started coming down hard. And there, under the giant Christmas tree out front—gold lights, red ribbons, the whole Hallmark thing— Julian was kissing another girl. I just… stopped. Right there on the sidewalk. He scooped her up like she weighed nothing, laughing into her hair, coaxing her to write a wish on one of the ribbons hanging off the branches. “Baby. Tomorrow’s Christmas.” “Santa grants every wish on this tree. So go ahead. Tell him.” She looked up at him with these big shiny doe eyes and curled her arms around his neck. “Every wish? You swear?” Julian winked. His hand slid down and patted her butt. “Swear.” It wasn’t even the kiss. It was the patting her butt. That’s what gutted me. I scrambled behind a hedge like some kind of stalker, watching my own fiancé through a wall of falling snow. The tears came before I even understood they were coming. Eight years long-distance. This was the first time I’d ever shown up without telling him. She pouted and pretended to punch his chest. “Put me down.” He didn’t. One hand on her waist, the other on the back of her neck, pulling her down into another kiss. My fingers were shaking so bad I could barely unlock my phone. Breathe. Just breathe. Maybe—maybe—if he lied. If he said she was nobody. A drunk mistake. A one-night thing. I could choke it down. I could pretend. I could still believe in us. I typed: Babe, who are you with rn? A phone chimed somewhere in the snow. Close. Close enough I heard it over the wind. She huffed and turned her face. “Your phone’s been blowing up all night. Which slut is it this time?” Julian threw up three fingers like a Boy Scout. “Chloe. Baby. I swear on my life. There’s no one else.” “I dumped my fiancée for you. I stayed in Paris six years just to be with you.” Eight years. Julian and I had been together eight years. He’d been with her for six of them. This laugh just tore out of my throat. Wet. Ugly. My knees folded and I sat down right there in the dirty snow. My phone buzzed. Marissa. landed safe babe?? don’t go TOO crazy with that man of yours, come back to us in one piece okay? That made me cry harder. The girls at the office had picked my outfit for me. They’d chipped in on matching couple bracelets, wrapped them in silver paper, the whole thing. We’d all decided together. Julian was going to lose his mind when he saw me. The voices behind me got quieter. I peeked out from the hedge. She’d jumped onto his back, arms locked around his neck, giggling like a kid. “Carry me! Practice! You’re gonna have to do this on our wedding day!” Wedding day. Julian had thought about marrying her. Then what was I? What were our eight years? The ring he promised me, what the hell was that? I checked into the hotel across the street. The one with a perfect view of his bedroom window. All I had to do was pull the curtains back and I had a front-row seat to their happy little life. A couple hours of digging gave me a name. Chloe Winters. His grad student. On campus, they played strangers. Off campus, they lived together. They were in love. Universities don’t actually punish professor-student stuff. They look the other way. But cheating on your fiancée. With your own student. That kind of thing? That ends a man.

I stood at the window like I was punishing myself. Watched Julian peel her sweater off, slow. Watched him kiss her like she was something precious. Their shadows tangled on the curtain. The yellow light didn’t go out all night. It was like watching myself bleed out in slow motion. Three a.m. He finally texted. sorry babe — stuck at the studio, deadline killing me. forgot to wish my wifey merry christmas A money transfer. From your husband, with love. I stared at the number. Cold. Mocking. Back when we were new, Julian flew across continents for every holiday. I’d tease him for being clingy and he’d nuzzle into my neck and whine— “A husband’s supposed to be clingy, Will. Soon as I finish school, we’re getting married. We’re never doing this long-distance crap again.” Five years ago, he got his PhD. I asked when he was coming home. He told me—almost shy about it—that a friend had hooked him up with a studio in Paris. He couldn’t leave just yet. Three years ago, I heard the studio was relocating Stateside. I asked when we were getting married. He stammered. Said he’d just been offered a teaching gig at the École des Beaux-Arts. Couldn’t pass it up. The wedding got pushed. And pushed. And pushed. I asked him once if there was someone else. After that, he started video-calling me every week like clockwork. Just to show me, he said. But I scrolled back through our texts that night. His last real reply was two weeks ago. Everything after that? Me. Talking to myself. I didn’t take the money. I typed: I’m flying out tomorrow. Spending Christmas with you. Typing… Typing… Three hours later, he sent a cutesy sticker. nooo babe don’t do that to yourself, the flight is brutal. let’s just facetime He could’ve come clean. He chose to keep lying. That told me everything. I didn’t give him time to think. Sunrise, I was at his door. Julian opened it half-asleep, eyes barely focused. He didn’t even look up. “Just leave it on the table, man,” he mumbled, waving toward the couch. He thought I was the doorman. I followed his hand. A pink lace nightgown. Crumpled across his couch. Twisted in places that made my stomach flip. “Julian.” His spine snapped straight. His eyes opened all the way. “Willow?” I nodded. The bedroom door creaked open behind him. Chloe drifted out in lingerie, rubbing one eye like a kid. “Why are you guys being so loud—” She saw me. Julian went the color of paper. He yanked off his sweater and threw it over her like he could erase her by hiding the skin. “Willow—she’s my student. She had a fight with her boyfriend last night, like a real bad one, I didn’t want her wandering around alone, so I let her crash—” Chloe bit her lip. Looked up at me with those big wet eyes. “It’s so nice to finally meet you, Willow.” I nodded. My mouth wouldn’t do anything else. Julian made breakfast himself. The whole spread. Eggs, pancakes, fresh-pressed juice, the works. Eight years. He’d finally learned how to cook for a woman. Just not me. Chloe stood up first. Said she had class. Julian grabbed his keys. I swallowed every scream sitting in my chest, slipped my arm through his, and smiled so hard my face hurt. “Take me with you. I’d love to see the campus.”

We pulled up to the red light right before campus. Chloe ducked away when Julian reached over to unbuckle her seatbelt. Made a whole show of it. Then turned around and gave me this soft, sweet little nod. “Thanks for the ride. So nice meeting you, Willow. I’ll just hop out here.” She shot Julian one quick look—pale, almost scared—and slipped out the door. Julian’s eyes locked onto her back. And then—I swear, like a switch flipped—he threw open his door and bolted after her. I dug my nails into my palms until I tasted blood from biting the inside of my cheek. He pulled a hand warmer and a packet of ginger tea out of his coat pocket and pressed them into her gloves like she was made of china. His voice carried back through the wind. “First day’s always the worst, baby. Take care of yourself, okay?” The tears came before I could stop them. I scrubbed them off fast. He watched her walk in. Then turned around like he’d forgotten I existed. He climbed back in the car. Sheepish. “Chloe’s an orphan, Will. It’s a teacher-student thing. Don’t read into it.” I nodded. Sure, Julian. We barely got through the front gate before we ran straight into a pack of his students. Their eyes ping-ponged between us. Curious. Knowing. One of them grinned. “Professor, is this your girlfriend?” Before Julian could open his mouth, I dug a handful of holiday candies out of my purse and started passing them around. “Not girlfriend,” I said sweetly. “Fiancée.” Their faces lit up. “Oh my God, congrats!” Julian’s jaw locked. He grabbed my wrist. “Willow. Let’s go somewhere else. Now.” I waved at the students. Told them the wedding was coming up soon. Promised to send invites. Around the corner, I saw exactly what I wanted to see—Chloe’s silhouette, shoulders shaking, wiping her face, scurrying off. Julian whirled on me. “What the hell is wrong with you?” I straightened my back. Met his eyes dead-on. “Wrong with me? We saved enough to get married, didn’t we?” “Wasn’t that the deal? Hit our number, we’re done waiting?” “Or are you backing out, Julian? Are you in love with someone else?” The last one came out as a scream. He flinched. Then his whole face went cold. “Psycho.” He took off after Chloe. Left me there. I couldn’t hold the smile anymore. I slid down the wall and sobbed. My phone exploded. Mom. I picked up. She was crying. “Willow, baby—your dad had a stroke. He needs surgery tonight, and I—I didn’t want to bother you, but the doctor says it’s bad, sweetheart, I can’t pull the money together fast enough—” No time to fall apart. I opened our joint savings, ready to send everything. Insufficient funds. There was supposed to be seventy thousand dollars in there. Our wedding fund. I’d built it from nothing. I typed the password again. Insufficient funds. I pulled up the transaction history. Three minutes ago. Julian had moved every cent. Something inside me ripped wide open. Julian came from money. Real money. People had whispered for years that I was a gold digger. To shut them up, I’d insisted on saving it myself. Every penny. Seventy grand and we marry. That was the deal. He took it without telling me. My fingers were shaking so hard I couldn’t get the call to connect. His ringtone floated toward me—he was already walking back, holding Chloe against him. I lunged. Grabbed his arm. Chloe whimpered at the bump. “Julian, where’s the money? Where is it? Do you know what—”

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My husband’s colleague called again in the dead of night. Another urgent body that couldn’t wait to handle. Liam hung up the phone and decided to leave at once. Even though he had been working non-stop for several days. “Olivia couldn’t handle it alone. Fortunately I was awake,” He said. I ignored him, staring blankly at the ceiling. Liam wrapped his arms around me from behind, his voice soft and coaxing. “I know I’ve neglected you lately, but it’s my job. I had to go.” “We’ll take a trip once all these work done, I promise.” I didn’t respond. I pulled away from his embrace and spoke coldly. “I want a divorce.” Liam froze and forced me to turn around and gripped my hands tightly. Dark circles shadowed his eyes from weeks of sleepless nights. “Emma, please don’t do this… I know you’re tired. I’m tired too.” “But this is my responsibility. You can understand that, right?” I pulled my hands free and looked away. His voice began to tremble, but he kept it gentle. “Is this because I haven’t been home for dinner? Or I forgot your birthday last week?” “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I promise once I finish this rush, we’ll take a long vacation. Just the two of us, okay?” He reached for my hand again, stroking it the way he used to after every argument. I remembered our first year of marriage when I struggled with work and insomnia. He’d sit beside me just like this, never complaining and just saying, “Emma, I’m here.” Now it felt like a sick joke. “Don’t touch me,” I said. His hand froze. “What’s wrong with you? Is this really about me leaving for work in the middle of the night?” “Emma, death doesn’t wait. What was I supposed to do, just leave a bead body alone?” “I don’t care what you say. I want a divorce.” I repeated it, my voice low but final. His eyes turned red instantly, like he was seeing me for the first time. “Are you serious?” I turned away from him, enunciating each word. “Tomorrow morning. 9 o’clock. My lawyer’s office. I will have him draft the divorce agreement.” Liam let out a bitter laugh, his voice breaking. “Emma, you owe me a reason. Is it because I am too busy? Or do you think Olivia and I—” “Leave her out of this,” I cut him off. “It’s you! You disgusts me.” His face went white. His lips trembled, but no sound came out. “Is that really what you think of me?” His voice was hoarse and strained. “Olivia and I are just colleagues.” I didn’t want to hear another word. I got up and walked out of the bedroom, shutting the door behind me. He didn’t follow and didn’t try to explain. I heard the sound of glass shattering inside, followed by a muffled curse. Then my phone rang. It was Olivia. She was Liam’s college ex and his partner at the funeral home. The phone rang for a long time before I finally answered. Her voice sounded tired. “Emma, Liam just called me in tears. Let me explain for him.” “We’ve been followed up cases from the Park Avenue lately—” I hung up before she could finish. I sat on the couch, thinking back to six months ago when he came home late from a night shift. He was so exhausted he collapsed beside me without even changing. Eyes closed, he touched my face and whispered, “Emma, thank God you’re here.” Back then, I thought we’d last forever.

By the time I woke up, Liam was already gone. The living room was spotless. Even his coat from last night was neatly hung back on the rack. There was a breakfast prepared by Liam on the table. Next to it was a sticky note: Wait for me to come home. I’ll make your favorite steak. I picked up the plate, walked to the kitchen and poured the breakfast into the rubbish bin. My phone buzzed in my pocket. A text from him. Emma, I’m at the funeral home. Did you have the breakfast? I didn’t reply. A few minutes later, another message came through. Once I finish this week, I’ll spend more time with you. Olivia and I really are just colleagues. I stared at the screen for a long time before finally typing back one line. 9 AM. Don’t be late. Then I blocked his number. At eight-thirty, I stood outside my lawyer’s office. People came and went. Most were couples, some clinging to each other sweetly, others staring ahead with cold indifference. I leaned against a pillar, watching the street. Nine-thirty. He didn’t show. I pulled out my phone, unblocked him, and called. It rang three times before he declined it. Rage flared in my chest. I called again. This time, it went straight to voicemail. I waited another half hour. Just as I was about to dial again, an unknown number called me. I answered. A young woman spoke rapidly on the other end. “Mrs. Vance? This is City General Hospital. Your husband Liam was in a car accident and is currently in the emergency room. We need you to come at once.” I froze, unable to process it. The voice on the line grew more urgent. “Mrs. Vance? Can you hear me? Mrs. Vance!” Before she could finish, I hung up and flagged down a cab. By the time I arrived, Liam had already been moved out of emergency surgery and into a private room. The hallway was packed with people. Several figures in dark funeral home uniforms stood in a cluster, speaking in low voices. One of them, a young woman, looked up and saw me. Her eyes immediately turned red as she rushed over. “Where the hell have you been?! Do you know Liam was calling your name the entire time he was being wheeled into the OR?!” “How is he?” I asked, looking toward the room. The woman’s eyes went wide with fury, tears streaming down her face. “What are you planning to do?!” I ignored her and walked steadily toward Liam’s bedside. He didn’t look too bad. One eye was swollen shut, but the other stared directly at me. “You came… Don’t worry. I’m okay.” I clenched my fists, pulled a manila envelope from my bag, and took out the divorce settlement and a pen. “Sign this, or I won’t pay a single cent of your medical bills.” My voice was cold and detached, drawing shocked stares from everyone in the room. The woman from earlier lunged forward and slapped me hard across the face. “Liam got into that accident because he was distracted answering your call while working!” “And you have the audacity to threaten him with this?! Are you even human?!” Olivia’s face was grave. She put a hand on my shoulder. “Emma, Liam and I really are just colleagues.” “If you truly don’t believe us, I’ll resign. But you can’t treat him like this. You’re the only one in his heart.” My cheek stung with pain. I shoved her hand off. “It’s none of your business.” I walked back to Liam’s bedside and spoke again. “Sign the papers, or you may be kicked out of this hospital.” Liam’s open eye overflowed with tears. “Why?” he whispered. I looked down at him and said flatly, “Because you are so disgusting.” Liam cried harder, his chest heaving with sobs. “I won’t sign. I’d rather die than sign. I love you, Emma. I haven’t done anything to betray you.” “I already bought tickets to Hawaii… You said you wanted to go diving…” Several of the women in the room began crying softly. A sharp pain flared in my chest, but it faded just as quickly. I gritted my teeth and gripped the settlement papers even tighter. “Sign it.”

Olivia snatched the divorce settlement out of my hand and tore it to shreds. “Emma! How can you do this?! Liam just got out of surgery. He’s still weak and you can’t do that now!” I turned and glared at her. Before I could speak, Liam cut in weakly. “Olivia, don’t talk to Emma like that. This is my fault. I wasn’t a good husband.” He reached out with trembling fingers and tugged at the hem of my coat. I stepped back. “Don’t touch me.” Liam’s face went even paler. “I’ll never divorce over something this small. I already requested time off to stay with you…” Olivia stepped forward again. “We have nothing to hide. There’s absolutely nothing between us.” Her words made her sound noble and righteous, casting me as the hysterical, unreasonable wife. The others in the room looked at me with anger. I suddenly found the whole scene absurd. After a long silence, I finally spoke. “Fine. You two have nothing. But I still want to divorce.” Liam stared at me, tears sliding silently down his cheeks. Olivia lowered her voice, sounding almost pleading. “Emma, can we talk about this after he recovers? Please. I’m begging you.” I ignored her, my gaze fixed on Liam. “Sign it, or I walk out right now. Your choice.” The young woman who had slapped me earlier tried to charge at me again but was held back by someone nearby. “How can you be so cold-blooded? He just barely survived!” “”It’s his own life,,” I said evenly, almost wearily. “It has nothing to do with me.” Liam suddenly began coughing violently, his chest jerking with each breath. Olivia immediately pressed the call button. A nurse hurried in, frowning as she scanned the room. “The patient needs rest. Family members need to stay calm.” The room fell into silence again. Liam bit his lip and stared at me, but he still didn’t give in. “I’m calling our parents,” I said. “Whatever.” I turned and walked out.

I wandered aimlessly until I found myself standing outside the funeral home where Liam worked. “Mrs. Vance?” An older man approached me, though I didn’t recognize him. “Do you know me?” I asked. He scratched his head, his tone hesitant. “Your picture is on Liam’s phone case. I’ve seen it before.” I pulled out a cigarette and offered him one, forcing a smile. “Could you show me where Liam usually works?” He took the cigarette and sighed. “Come on. I’ll take you.” The room was cold. I looked around, tapping on surfaces. Accidentally, I kicked something—a Zippo lighter. I remembered Olivia had one just like it. Just then, the older man spoke up. “Last night, Liam really was handling an urgent case. I probably shouldn’t say anything, but Liam is a good kid.” I didn’t respond. Then my phone rang. It was the woman from the hospital. “Emma! Where the hell did you go?! Your parents are here now! Get back now!” “Do you hear me?!” I clutched the lighter tightly in my hand, my heart hollow and numb.

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My fiancé Alaric dragged me to the basement of the Voss estate and kept me there for seven days and seven nights. “How dare you glare at Isabella at the banquet. You deserve everything that comes to you.” With that, he gouged out my eye. No anesthesia. The pain knocked me unconscious. It was not until the eighth day that my three brothers finally showed up. Julian arrived first and slapped me across the face without a word of explanation. “Because of your attitude, Isabella had a complete breakdown last night. As compensation, I have already transferred your trust fund and every personal asset you own into her name.” Marcus came next. Ex-Special Forces, built like someone who had spent his entire life becoming a weapon. He planted his boot on my knee and pressed down until something cracked. “From today, Isabella is the only Voss heir that matters. I will not acknowledge you as my sister.” Last was my brother who practiced medicine. No one in Los Angeles dared show him anything less than respect. He was the only one who crouched down and wiped the blood from my face. But what he said frightened me more than anything my other brothers had done. “Isabella’s leukemia is progressing. She needs a bone marrow donor, and you are a match.” He held up a syringe. “This will not be comfortable.” I had no chance to speak. The needle went in. …… After the extraction, they moved me upstairs. Clean sheets, a private nurse — the kind of careful attention that arrives too late to mean anything. When I opened my eyes, Julian was standing by the window. He had dark circles he had not bothered to hide, which was unusual. Julian always appeared composed. In his line of work, it was necessary. He rarely let his appearance slip like this. “You are awake,” he said, turning around. “You gave us quite a scare.” I watched his performance without saying a word. “Do not look at me like that,” he said. “As if we have been cruel to you. Was it not you who made the first mistake — frightening Isabella into a breakdown?” “What you are going through now is simply paying for what you did.” “Everything you know about this came from Isabella alone. Did anyone ask me?” His eyes shifted for just a moment. The movement was small, but I caught it. None of what I said mattered here. Only Isabella’s happiness did. Silas walked in then, holding a tablet. “Vitals are stable. Take your medication on schedule and you will be mobile within two days.” I turned my face away. “Vivian, you have always had a strong constitution. This will not cause you any irreversible damage.” “Do not think that a few tears will earn you our sympathy.” “Or make us turn against Isabella on your behalf.” In the past, faced with this kind of misunderstanding from my own family, I would have defended myself with red eyes, crying as I insisted on my innocence. But now, there was no point. I closed my eyes and said quietly, “You can all go. I want to be alone.” For me, the fastest relief at this point was to let this broken body die as soon as possible. Julian heard something entirely different in those words. “Vivian! Are you saying this just to spite me?” He pressed down on my wound in anger. The stitching that had just been sewn together was wrenched apart, and the pain hit me in waves. Watching me convulse, a flicker of hesitation crossed his eyes. His voice softened slightly. “You are my own sister. We three brothers spared nothing to find you, spent everything we had to bring you back. How could we possibly let you die just like that?” “But when it comes down to it, if you were not so petty, always making Isabella cry, how did you end up in this situation?” As he spoke, he brought a cup of something over and pried my mouth open to pour it in. “Just swear that when you go back, you will stop going after Isabella and apologize to her properly. Then I will take you home. Otherwise, you can stay here.” Listening to him speak as if he were granting me a favor, I felt a chill go through me that had nothing to do with the cold. I had suffered from a young age. Three years ago, they finally found me. They held me and wept, saying they had owed me eighteen years and would give me only the best of everything from then on. But when I arrived at the Voss household, I found there was no place left for me. Years earlier, when we were both wandering the streets, Isabella had seen the notice the Voss family put out searching for me. She locked me inside a room, took my identity, and was taken in by the Voss family in my place. For all those years, she had enjoyed the love and privilege that should have been mine. I had struggled alone in the mud. Yet no matter how she stirred things up, no matter how she performed her victimhood, my brothers always took her side and found fault with me. Even Alaric, the man I was engaged to, doted on her and treated me with ice. I was too tired of the endless entanglement and pain to waste another breath defending myself. While the sedative had not yet fully taken hold, I tore open the wound that had just been sutured. As blood and torn flesh surged out, Julian screamed. “You have lost your mind! You will die!” Watching him panic with reddened eyes, I pulled at the corner of my mouth into a faint, hollow smile. “Dying sounds wonderful.” “Every second I keep living is suffering.” After those words, I could hold on no longer. Everything went dark.

I do not know how much time passed before I woke from the darkness. When I opened my eyes, I found Julian’s cold gaze. He stood by the bed in a pressed suit, his expression impatient, though his eyes held shadows he could not quite conceal. He had clearly not slept in days. “You finally woke up.” His voice was hard. “How old are you now, acting so impulsively — making such a scene over nothing. You have embarrassed the Voss name.” The thought of having to face this nauseating world any longer drained me of all energy. I had no interest in arguing. I looked at him with empty eyes. “You are right, Julian. I am shameless. I do not deserve to be alive.” “It would be cleaner if I just died.” Julian’s expression went cold and rigid. His hand rose instinctively to strike me, but when his gaze fell on my bloodless face and the thick bandaging wrapped around my shoulder, his hand stopped in midair. “Vivian! I am warning you. Do not say things like that.” His voice trembled slightly. The impatience in his eyes faded a little, replaced by a trace of panic he had not yet noticed in himself. “I used every connection the Voss family has to get you out of that place. Not so you could lie here talking like this.” I pulled at the corner of my mouth and laughed inwardly. Every connection. He was probably only afraid that if I died, there would be no one left to serve as a backup donor for Isabella. No one to make her look like the fragile, pitiable creature that fed their need to protect her. While I was thinking this, the door opened quietly and Silas walked in carrying a cup of nutritional supplement. When he saw I was awake, a brief flicker of relief crossed his eyes, but his voice was still cold when he spoke. “Now that you are up, drink this. Do not make me force you.” He held the cup toward me. I turned my head away instinctively. “No need. It is a waste.” “You—” Silas’ hands were shaking with anger, but he did not actually force me. Instead, he placed the cup on the nightstand and reached over to carefully lift the bandaging from my shoulder to check beneath it. In that moment, his hands were surprisingly gentle. “Good. The wound is healing reasonably well with the treatment we used.” He rewrapped the bandaging, shot me a look, but his voice had softened. “Stay still. If you touch that wound again, I am done with you.” The words were harsh, but I could clearly see the shadows under his eyes. He had probably not slept properly in days either, keeping watch here the whole time. In the past, that rare gentleness would have moved me. I would have held onto him and wept through all my years of grievances. But now, I only found it grotesque. This was the man who had done this to me with his own hands. Whatever this was now, it was nothing but a crocodile’s tears. I pulled free of his hand, threw off the covers, and moved toward the edge of the nightstand. Every second spent alive in this place was suffering. Only death would give me any real release. “Have you lost your mind!” Marcus appeared in the doorway without warning and rushed over, grabbing me in one motion. I let out a muffled sound of pain. He immediately eased his grip. “Vivian! What do you think you are doing?” “I want to die.” My voice was calm. “Let me die. It is better for everyone. You will not have to struggle with this anymore, and Isabella can settle comfortably into her place as the Voss heiress and Alaric’s fiancée.” “So please, Marcus. Let me go quickly.”

Marcus went rigid. He raised his hand and struck me across the face. But compared to the boot he had pressed down onto my knee, this was almost gentle. “I will not allow it. You are the true daughter of this family. Who would dare let you die?” Silas panicked too. He stepped forward and pressed me back down onto the bed. “Vivian, stop this. I know you are in pain, but just recover properly. From now on, I will treat you better. I promise.” I looked at the plea in his eyes and found it completely absurd. Where was all this before? I closed my eyes and stopped looking at them. I let Silas pull the covers back over me, let him bring the cup to my lips — but I refused to open my mouth no matter what. While we were at an impasse, the door opened again. Alaric and Isabella came in together. Isabella was dressed in white, her face pale, occasionally coughing softly. She looked fragile and unwell. Julian immediately stood and went to her. “Isabella, you are barely recovered. Why did you come? Sit down, rest.” Isabella shook her head. Her gaze moved to me, full of guilt. “This is all my fault. If I had not said what I said that day, Vivian would not have had to suffer like this.” “I have not been able to settle, so I prepared something and came to bring it myself. It is the least I can do.” As she spoke, she took the cup from Silas and sat down at the edge of my bed. “Vivian, stop being angry with yourself. Rest and recover properly. Everything in the Voss family was always meant to be yours. I have never wanted to take anything from you.” These words sounded like a concession. In reality, every line implied that I was petty and narrow-minded, making a life-or-death spectacle over nothing. Before she could bring the cup anywhere near my lips, I knocked it away. The cup hit the marble floor and shattered. The liquid splashed across Isabella, and her wrist reddened immediately. Isabella cried out, her eyes filling as if on cue, threatening to spill over. “Vivian, how could you do this? I only wanted to help you.” She bit her lip with the look of someone who had been deeply, unjustly wronged. “Vivian! Have you gone mad!” Julian erupted. He pulled Isabella behind him and stared at me with barely contained fury. Silas rushed to check Isabella’s wrist, his face taut with worry. “How bad is it? Did the heat reach you?” “Vivian, you have gone too far. After everything Isabella has done for you, you still cannot let it go.” Marcus pressed his brow together, disappointment filling his eyes. Alaric moved to Isabella’s side, took out a handkerchief and gently dabbed at the liquid on her, then cast a cold glance in my direction. “Vivian, Isabella came here in good faith. Even if you cannot appreciate it, you had no right to hurt her.” All of them crowded around Isabella, attentive and concerned, with no thought spared for me — the one who had just had her bone marrow forcibly extracted.

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Six years of dating Caelum Voss, and he slid a document across the table. I thought it was a mate registration form. I reached for the pen, ready to sign. The heading read: MISTRESS AGREEMENT. Three-year term. On call at all times. Renewal subject to satisfaction. My fingers went cold. “Caelum. What exactly is this?” He lit a cigarette with the ease of a man unbothered by anything, his voice light and careless and cruel all at once. “The pack elders have been pushing hard. My father already arranged a status-matched bond for me. I need to register a formal mate.” “Then what am I?” My voice came out rough. He looked up and smiled, thin and without warmth. “Be fair to me, love.” “Your father abandoned your mother and came crawling back sick. You supported him. Your ex drained you dry and left you with his debts. You paid those, too.” “All I am asking is that you step into the shadows. That is not unreasonable.” The terms sat on the page in clean, merciless lines. Party B shall remain available on demand and shall not inquire into Party A’s whereabouts. Party B shall not display physical affection toward Party A in any public setting. Should Party B become pregnant, the matter shall be resolved at Party B’s sole discretion. I stared at that last line. My hand moved to my stomach without thinking. My fingertips were ice. Caelum reclined on the sofa, smoke curling from between his fingers. His eyes drifted over me. “Sign it.” He flicked the ash. “What are you waiting for?” I set the contract down. My voice shook with something I refused to call grief. “Caelum. We have been together six years.” “So?” He almost laughed. “Six years, and you still have not walked through the front door, have you?” That landed exactly where he intended. Six years. He had taken me to pack functions and family gatherings too many times to count. The introduction was always: ” My assistant.” His mother had pulled me aside more than once to suggest, warmly, that a woman my age ought to be thinking about settling down. I had believed she was nudging us toward a formal bond. She had been nudging me out the door in the most civilized way she knew. “Then what were these six years?” I asked. He crushed the cigarette out, stood, and crossed to me. “Mutual benefit.” He reached out and ran his thumb along my jaw. “Sera. You gave me six years, and I covered six years of your life. How many medical bills did your salary actually cover? That debt your ex left behind, you cleared it on my account.” He paused, then smiled. “You used me freely. Now I want to keep using you. That is an equal exchange.” My eyes burned. I did not let a single tear fall. He had not said it before, but that did not make it untrue now. My father had walked out on my mother and come back broken and old. I had been too soft to turn him away. His care had emptied every account I had. As for my ex, he had barely been more than a stranger who called us official one month and disappeared the next. I only found out he had taken out loans in my name when the collectors showed up at the doors of pack headquarters. It had been Caelum who made that problem disappear. I had always known I owed him. I had not known he was keeping score. “So,” I said, stepping back from his hand, “you are telling me these six years held no real feeling. Only investment.” Caelum laughed once. “Investment? What investment value do you think you have?” He produced a card and set it beside the contract. “Five million. Sign, and it is yours.” “Three years as my mistress. Renew after that if you want. Walk away if you do not. Either way, the money is yours.” I looked down at the card. Five million. Enough to clear every debt. Not enough to buy me. That sentence circled three times in my throat and never came out. Because I thought of my father’s care facility and the overdue notice already sitting in my bag. Caelum knew I had nothing left to pay with. That was why he could drop that card in front of me like he was tossing a bone and waiting to see if I would take it. “What is wrong?” He watched me go still, then lit another cigarette. “Not enough?” I said nothing. “Fair enough. Six years of your life, five million is not generous.” He exhaled slowly, and the smoke drifted into my face, stinging my eyes. “But that is mistress pricing. Not mate pricing. That is the number your position is worth right now.” He let that settle, then added, “Of course, you are free not to sign. If you do not, you cannot stay in the apartment either.” Something clenched hard around my chest. Six years in that apartment. I had stopped thinking of it as his. The succulents on the balcony were ones I had chosen and tended pot by pot. The spice rack in the kitchen was arranged the way I liked it. The photo on the nightstand had always been the two of us. I had believed it was our home. It turned out I had always been a tenant he could clear out whenever he chose.

“Caelum.” My voice was still unsteady. “If you have no real feeling for me, we can end this cleanly. You do not need to humiliate me to do it.” “Feeling?” He said the word as he had never heard it used seriously before. “Sera, did your father have feelings for you?” “Did your ex?” “All those people you gave everything to. Did any of them have feelings for you?” He needed me to say it out loud: every bond I had ever stretched myself thin for had never truly held. “Probably,” he answered himself, and his voice went quieter. “At least at the start.” My tears finally fell. Not because he was cruel, but because somewhere inside what he had just said, I recognized something true. “Are you signing or not?” He held the pen out, patience gone. I reached out and took it. I turned to page two, clause five: Should Party B become pregnant, the matter shall be resolved at Party B’s sole discretion. My hand paused. Caelum added offhandedly, “Do not worry. I will not let that happen. My intended mate’s family is traditional. No pups born outside a registered bond.” Intended mate. The title I had waited six years for, and it had never once belonged to me. “Caelum, what if I told you I was already…” The words reached my lips, and I swallowed them back. There was no point. I looked down and said, very quietly, “What if I told you I had already spoken with my mother and arranged a bonding ceremony for early next month. Would you still make me sign this?” “Your mother?” He almost laughed. “The one who threw herself into the river? Who exactly did you consult?” He exhaled slowly, and the smoke blurred the lines of his face. “Even without all of this, I had no intention of registering a bond this young.” “Early next month. You have quite an imagination.” I closed my eyes. Six years. We were both nearly thirty. That was not young. The bond that could never happen had been impossible from the very beginning. When I opened my eyes, my fingers had stopped shaking. I signed the final page. “Good girl.” Caelum lifted the agreement, satisfied. “Everything stays the same. The only difference is, from now on, you call me Alpha Voss.” He leaned down and pressed a cold kiss to my forehead. “Good.” He left. The door closed behind him without a sound. I stood there looking at the card on the table. Slowly, I folded down until my face was buried in my knees. Outside, rain had started. The same kind of rain that was falling the night he pulled me in off the street six years ago. That night, he had been the one holding the umbrella. Now he was the one who had pushed me back out into it. I do not know how long I stayed like that, until my legs went numb and there were no tears left. I stood slowly, walked to the bathroom, turned on the cold tap, and pressed the water against my face. I held it there until the face in the mirror was steady again. Then I picked up my phone and dialed. “Mom. You were right. I lost.” “That thing you mentioned before. You do not have to wait anymore. I am ready.” There was a pause on the line. “Are you certain? Once we begin, there is no going back.” I looked out at the rain. “I am certain.”

The next morning, I went to the care facility first. My father was in his wheelchair, being pushed through the courtyard by an attendant, letting the morning sun fall on him. He had aged past recognition. His hair had gone entirely white, and he looked like a tree hollowed out from the inside. I held out the card. “This card has five million on it. Enough for the best care facility, enough for a private nurse. I will not be coming back after today.” “Because she asked me to come to her clean.” His lips trembled. He looked as though he had a hundred things to ask. I did not give him the chance. Some memories I have no wish to touch again. “But the moment I turned to leave, the past came flooding back anyway.” I remembered the year his business collapsed, the way he knelt in front of me and asked if I could forgive him. I found it funny, in a hollow sort of way. My mother had spent herself fighting to hold on to a man, and in the end, all she received from him was one cheap word of regret. So I had promised myself I would never do what she did: beg, cling, and lose everything in the end. I was about to tell him I did not forgive him when a flash of white crossed the edge of my vision, and a van with no control came straight for me. The next second, something massive shoved me out of the way. I hit the ground hard. When I turned back, he was lying in a pool of blood, the front of the van buried into the left side of his body. He had taken the impact meant for me. That was the only reason he had ended up in that facility. The five million was not because he was my father. It was because I owed him a life.

After that was done, I went to pack headquarters as usual. Caelum walked into the operations wing while I was sorting files. He looked at me once, nothing in his expression. “Sera. Bring this quarter’s report to my office.” “Of course, Alpha Voss.” I said it without thinking twice. He stopped for just a beat. “You adjusted quickly.” He said it quietly, almost to himself. He passed me and let his fingers graze the back of my hand as he went. I did not pull away. I did not respond. Their relationship had never been a secret inside pack headquarters. Six years of him walking me out after shifts, six years of appearances at pack functions together, and everyone had known without it ever being said out loud. But because it had never been made official, his calling me Sera and my calling him Alpha Voss looked, to everyone else, perfectly appropriate. That evening, he sent me a location. I took a car there. When I pushed open the suite door, rose petals covered the floor, and a silk slip hung from the rack by the wardrobe. “She was gone, but her perfume still lingered in the air.” Behind me, Caelum’s voice came from the doorway. “Seen enough?” I turned around. He leaned against the frame, cigarette in hand, watching me with something that was not quite a smile. “The bonding ceremony is next week. I need you there to help manage the guests.”

I pulled out the calm I had been training into myself all week. “Help how?” They had hired a full professional coordination team for the engagement party. The last thing they needed was me, a former girlfriend, getting in the way. “Receive the guests. You know the pack members. Keep things running smoothly.” He exhaled slowly. “Vivienne also feels you must witness our happiness.” I laughed once. That second part was the real message. “Fine.” I took out my phone to make notes. “I will confirm the details with you at headquarters tomorrow. If there is nothing else, may I go?” Vivienne had only just left. He would not need me to stay the night. A mistress, after all, exists only to serve one particular kind of need. He narrowed his eyes. “You are not upset?” “Does Alpha Voss want me to be?” He said nothing. He stubbed out the cigarette, crossed to me, and caught my jaw between his fingers. “Sera. You have changed a great deal lately.” “Changed into something,” he tightened his grip two degrees, “that I find quite irritating.” I kept my eyes down. “Tell me what you would prefer. I can adapt.” What had drawn him to me, once, was exactly this: I had been close enough to reach for him every single day, and I never had. He had called it discipline then. Now he called it irritating. The one who had changed was never me. “Never mind.” He stared into my eyes for a long moment, then released me. “Go.” I turned to leave. He pulled me back from behind, arms wrapping around me. His chin came down on my shoulder. His voice was low. “Do you know why I would not let you go?” He meant the agreement. The one that kept me tethered. I did not know either. I had believed that without feeling, a clean ending was still possible. “Because you are too easy. You never put me in an impossible position. You never cause scenes, never ask where I have been or who I was with. Not like her, watching my every move.” His arms tightened. “Sometimes I think, if only you had come from a stronger pack line, I would not need to bond with anyone else.” I almost laughed. In the end, he was blaming my bloodline. He had forgotten that he was the one who had first reached for a woman with no powerful pack behind her. “Alpha Voss.” I gently pried his hands away. “What color do you want me to wear to the engagement party? I will prepare in advance.” His hands hung in the air between us. He was perhaps too drained from the evening to keep pulling. He let me go. Outside the hotel doors, I found that my palm had been cut by my own nails.

On the day of the engagement party, I stood at the hall entrance managing the guest registry. A glass of champagne in my hand. My eyes would not leave the pair that everyone was congratulating. In a daze, I thought back to the day I signed the Mistress Agreement. I had quietly slipped a pregnancy report into the study drawer. I had told myself that when he found it, the next step would follow naturally. A formal bond. A real future. So when he produced that document, my heart had leapt. I had been certain it was a mate registration form. High-pack alliances came with paperwork. Signing made sense. I had been willing. Because all I had ever wanted was him, not the status that came with him. I had not imagined that six years would close into a joke, and I would end up as a mistress who could not see the light of day. Near the end of the reception, Vivienne stopped in front of me with a wide smile. “You must be Sera?” I nodded, caught off guard for just a moment. “Caelum has mentioned you. He said you have been with the pack operations team for years. Very capable.” I said something polite in return. “By the way, I will not be letting him stay in that apartment from next week. We have already found our new home.” “I imagine it is not very convenient for you there anyway. You might want to start looking for somewhere else soon.” My fingertips went sharp with cold. The heat behind my eyes almost broke through. I bent over the registry instead and swallowed it back. “Of course. I will make arrangements.” Before the words had fully settled, she reached across and lifted the champagne glass right out of my hand. I had not processed it yet when she screamed. “You threw that on me!” A slap caught me across the face before I could move. When I looked up, I saw her standing there, soaking wet, eyes red, every line of her face performing injury. Half the hall had turned to look. Caelum appeared with his brow drawn. “What happened?” Vivienne pressed herself against him at once. “Caelum, I only told her nicely that you would not be at the apartment anymore and asked her to find somewhere else to go. And she threw champagne at me.” “Sera.” “I did not.” My voice had gone rough. “Are you saying she poured it on herself and then slapped you?” His logic was airtight. No one was going to believe a future Luna staged a scene at her own engagement party. And he had already decided I was defending territory that was not mine. “Apologize,” he said, cold and flat. I did not move. “Do not make this harder than it needs to be. You know what today is. If this gets bigger, it will only hurt you. Apologize, or do not come to headquarters tomorrow.” I looked at him. Six years ago, he had pulled me in off the street and told me no one would dare touch me while he was there. Six years later, he had the person who touched me pressed to his side, and he was asking me to apologize. Something freshly healed inside my chest tore open again. I lowered my head. “I am sorry. I should not have done that.” Caelum was not fully satisfied. But he turned and dispersed the crowd. “Nothing to see here. Everyone, go back.” Before he walked away, he looked at me one last time. “Go clean yourself up. Do not stand here embarrassing everyone.” I touched the swollen side of my face and the loose knot of hair the slap had scattered. He was right. What an embarrassment. But the most embarrassing thing of all was that the man I had loved for six years had convicted me in front of everyone without asking a single question. I picked up my phone and typed a message: I want to move up the timeline. Then I laughed through the tears I still had not let fall.

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We were eating cake when Ethan put down his fork and looked at me. “Who’s James Miller?” My knife and fork froze in midair. My heart clenched. James Miller. That name was a code Lily and I came up with freshman year of college, after too many drinks and a stupid, tender night. We agreed that if either of us ever got into trouble, ever went silent, the other one would use that name as a signal. No one else knew. Just the two of us. And Lily had been missing for thirty-two days. She said she was going to Harlow, Montana to clear her head. And then she never came back. I looked at Ethan’s calm face and felt my blood go cold. How did he know that name? I still remember the night we came up with that stupid code. Lily had her arm around my shoulders. She was a little drunk. “Everly,” she said, “let’s make a code.” “What kind of code?” I told her she was being dramatic. But I stayed up with her thinking about it anyway, and we settled on James Miller. Because it was so ordinary. The kind of name you’d pass on the street without a second thought. No one would ever suspect its meaning. Only the two of us in the whole world knew what it meant. One was me. The other was Lily Hart. She said she was going to Harlow, Montana for a few days. She even sent me a voice message the morning she left, her voice bright and excited. “Everly! What do you want me to bring back?” That was the last time I heard her voice. After that, her WhatsApp went silent. Her phone went straight to voicemail. Her Instagram stopped at a photo she’d posted by the lake, blue sky, white clouds, her standing in front of a flower stall with her eyes crinkled shut from smiling. I filed a missing person report. Her family filed one too. Local authorities in Harlow, Montana were looking. But there was nothing. No sign of her alive, no sign of her dead. Lily had vanished like she’d never existed. And now. My husband Ethan Cole. A man who didn’t even have Lily’s number. A man who would barely nod at her when they were in the same room. Had just asked me that name, casually, between bites of cake. “You okay?” Ethan watched me go still and raised an eyebrow. “You look weird.” “I’m fine.” I looked down and put a piece of cake in my mouth. It tasted like nothing. “James Miller? Never heard of him. Is he someone you know?” “Oh, just scrolling.” He picked up his coffee and took a sip. “Never mind.” He changed the subject. Started talking about a golf game he had planned for the weekend. I didn’t hear a word. There was only one thought in my head. How did he know? How did he know that name? After dinner, Ethan went to take a shower. I sat on the couch with sweat on my palms. The sound of water came through the bathroom door. I glanced at it, then stood up and walked to his phone on the coffee table. I knew the passcode. It was my birthday. I unlocked it and started going through his WhatsApp, his call log, his notes. My fingers were shaking. Nothing. It was too clean. Clean in a way that wasn’t normal. A real person’s phone doesn’t look like that. I went to his laptop next. It was in the study. The password was my birthday too. He had never hidden it from me. I went through his browser history, his folders, his downloads, one by one. Then I opened a ride-share app and pulled up his trip history. My hand stopped. A month ago. Ethan told me he was going to Boston for two days on a work trip. I had helped him pack. But the app said something different. He hadn’t gone to Boston. He had gone to Harlow, Montana. He left one day before Lily did. He came back two days after she disappeared. The shower turned off. I closed the laptop, walked back to the living room and sat on the couch and picked up my phone like I was watching videos. Ethan came out with a towel around his shoulders. He glanced at me. “You’re not sleeping?” “In a bit. Just finishing something.” I smiled. He went into the bedroom and turned off the light. I sat there staring at the dark line under the bedroom door and felt my fingers tighten one by one around the arm of the couch. Ethan. What did you go to Harlow, Montana for?

The next morning I told Ethan the office had a last-minute project and I needed to travel for a few days. He was buttoning his cuffs and didn’t look up. “Where to?” “Miami.” “How long?” “Three or four days.” He turned and looked at me and smiled. “Stay safe.” I smiled back. I had a noon flight. I didn’t go to Miami. I went to Harlow, Montana. The plane landed at two in the afternoon local time. The air was dry and sharp and the sun hit me the moment I stepped outside. The last photo Lily sent me was taken somewhere in this town. The lake, the blue sky, white clouds. Her standing in front of a flower stall with her eyes crinkled shut. I didn’t stop to feel anything. I went straight to the B&B where Lily had stayed. I’d looked it up before I left. She’d sent me the location in a message before she flew out. A place called The Pineridge Lodge, right by the lake. At the front desk I pulled out a photo of Lily and asked if they remembered her. The woman shook her head. “Her name is Lily Hart. She’s from Chicago,” I said. The woman checked her computer and nodded. “We have a record. She stayed two nights, then she didn’t check out and didn’t extend. Her luggage is still in our storage.” My chest pulled tight. Her luggage was still there. And she was gone. I steadied myself and asked the question I’d been dreading. “About a month ago, was there a man from Chicago also staying here?” I put Ethan’s photo on the counter. She looked at it and checked her screen. Then she looked up, her expression uncertain. “Yes. He stayed four nights.” Four nights. Two more than Lily. “What room?” “203.” “And Lily Hart?” “205.” Same floor. One room between them. I stood at that counter and felt the noise in my head build to a roar. My first thought was the obvious one. That something was going on between them. Lily and Ethan, staying in rooms next to each other in Harlow, Montana. But the moment that thought came, something else pushed it back down. No. Lily hated Ethan. Not the polite kind of dislike people hide behind small talk. The kind where she couldn’t even bother to fake it. Every time I brought Ethan to a group gathering, Lily went quiet. Once, when she’d had too much to drink, she looked right at him and said, “Everly is perfect in every way. I have no idea what she’s doing with you.” Ethan’s face had gone rigid. After that they barely saw each other. These were not two people sneaking around together. So why was he in the room next to hers? What was he doing there? I took a slow breath and looked at the woman behind the desk. “I need to see your security footage from that period.” She hesitated. “I’d need to check with the manager.” “Please do.” “We may also need the police involved.” “My best friend is missing.” I kept my voice flat, but my hands were shaking. “A month. No trace of her. This B&B may be the last place she was seen. Do you think your manager is going to say no?” She looked at me for a moment. Then she picked up the phone.

Twenty minutes later the B&B manager walked me to the security room. It was small. One desk, one computer, two monitors. He pulled up the footage from the day Lily checked in. I sat down and watched. Day one. Lily came through the front door pulling her suitcase, checked in at the desk, smiled and chatted with the staff. She was wearing a blue dress and her hair was down. My eyes stung. In the corner of the frame, at the entrance. A man pushed through the door. Black polo shirt. Baseball cap. Sunglasses. The build. The way he moved. Ethan. He didn’t go to the desk. He sat down in the seating area near the lobby and picked up a magazine. But his eyes followed Lily the entire time. From check-in to room key to the stairs. He watched all of it. My back went cold. “Fast forward,” I said. The manager sped up the footage. Day one, afternoon. Lily left the B&B to walk around. The exterior camera showed her stepping out. About three minutes later, Ethan came out the side door. Same cap. Same sunglasses. Thirty feet behind her. Day one, evening. Lily had dinner at the restaurant next to the B&B. Ethan sat outside at a table with a cup of tea. From where he sat, he had a clear view of her table. Lily never noticed him once. Day two. Lily went to the lake. Ethan followed. Lily walked through a small market district. Ethan followed. Lily stopped at a street stall and crouched down to take a photo of something she was buying. Ethan stood in a bookshop doorway across the road, pretending to browse. Every frame. Every shot. He was there. My hands started shaking. This wasn’t an affair. People having affairs walk side by side. They eat together. They touch. He hadn’t spoken a single word to her. He stayed back. He kept distance. He wore a disguise. From start to finish, Lily had no idea he was there. This wasn’t an affair. He was tailing her. “What happened the next day?” I said. “Please, show me.” The manager pulled it up. Day two, afternoon. Lily left the B&B. She had her bag, her phone, and she looked relaxed. The camera showed her walking out the front and heading north along the road. Three minutes later. Ethan came out the side door and walked in the same direction. Then the footage ended. The B&B’s cameras only covered the building and the immediate street. Fifty feet out and the world disappeared. “Do you have anything else?” I asked. He shook his head. “Just these. The road cameras would be with the police.” I sat there for a moment. Then I stood up, thanked him, and walked out. Outside on the front step I opened the map on my phone. The direction Lily had walked was north. North along that road took you past a few small neighborhoods, some open land, a parking area. And then, at the end of it, the base of the mountains. Undeveloped terrain. No trails. No markings. I stared at that spot on the map and my fingers went cold. She walked there. He followed. And then she was gone.

I rented a car and drove forty minutes to the end of that road. It ran out at a stretch of rough hillside. The slope was steep, loose rock and scrub brush all the way down. The wind was strong enough that I had to brace myself just standing there. This wasn’t a trail. There were no signs, no path, just a dirt track leading up into the slope. I walked to the top and looked down. Below was rock and dry grass and a ravine cut through by what looked like old floodwater. If someone went over the edge here. I stopped the thought. I started asking around the area. There was a small cluster of houses nearby, maybe eight or ten of them, spread out along the base of the slope. I went door to door with Lily’s photo. No one recognized her. Seven doors, eight doors. Every one of them shaking their head. I was turning to leave when I saw a little girl sitting under a tree at the edge of the road. Six or seven years old. A faded pink t-shirt. Barefoot, sitting in the dirt playing with stones. She was holding something. A phone. Pink case. A cartoon rabbit sticker on the back. Everything went quiet in my head. That case was a birthday gift I’d given Lily. I’d picked it out myself. Pink, rabbit design, because Lily loved rabbits. I walked over and kept my voice gentle. “Hey. Where did you get that phone?” The girl looked up at me and pulled it behind her back. “Is it yours?” “No,” she said quietly. Her eyes moved away from mine. “I’m not going to get you in trouble,” I said. I crouched down so I was at her level. “The person this phone belongs to is my best friend. She’s lost and I’m trying to find her. Can you tell me where you found it?” The girl pressed her lips together. She didn’t say anything. But there was something in her eyes I don’t often see in kids that age. Fear. Not of me. “Did you see something that scared you?” I asked, keeping my voice low. Her lip moved. Still nothing. I reached into my pocket and held out some bills. “You tell me, and I’ll get you something nice. Okay?” She looked at the money. Looked at me. A long pause. Then she said, very quietly, “I found it at the bottom of the hill.” “Which hill?” She raised her hand and pointed toward the mountains. My stomach dropped. “Did you find anything else?” She went quiet again. Her eyes shifted. “You did, didn’t you.” Slowly, she brought something out from behind her. A small bag. Canvas, floral print, with a little tassel on the zipper. Lily’s. I knew that bag. Two years ago she’d seen it at a store and couldn’t bring herself to spend the money, so I went back the next day and bought it for her without telling her. She was happy for days. Now the fabric was dark with mud and water stains. The canvas had started to go moldy. I took it from her. My hands were shaking. I opened it. Inside: lip balm, a portable charger, and a photo of the two of us. Everything still there. Lily would never throw these things away. If they were at the bottom of that slope. Then where was she? “Can you take me to where you found these?” I asked. The girl shook her head hard. “I’ll pay you.” Still shaking her head. “Please.” My voice cracked. I wasn’t thinking about whether I was scaring her anymore. Lily’s phone and bag were at the bottom of that hill. Lily wasn’t. I had to go there. The girl looked at my face for a long time. Maybe my expression was frightening. She stood up slowly and brushed the dirt off her shorts. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll take you.”

She walked ahead. I followed. The path got narrower and the brush got thicker and something in the air started to change. My stomach turned. I repeated it to myself, over and over. I would rather she had something going on with my husband. I would rather she had betrayed me. I would rather she had run off with Ethan. Anything. As long as she was alive. Anything. The girl stopped. She turned and looked at me. Her face had gone pale. “Ma’am.” “What is it?” “That place.” She swallowed. Her voice was almost nothing. “It smells bad.” I didn’t keep walking. I understood what that meant. And I knew that if I went down there alone and found something, it wouldn’t count for anything. I needed professionals. I needed it on record. I took the girl’s hand and walked her back to the road, then pulled out my phone and called the local police. It took two tries to get through. I explained everything. “You’re saying your friend might be at the bottom of a slope?” “Yes. Her phone and bag were found there by a child. She’s been missing for a month. Please just send someone.” They said they would. It would take time. I hung up and called a search and rescue team. I’d looked them up before I flew out. There was a volunteer group in the Harlow, Montana area that worked with police on searches in rough terrain. The rescue team said they could be there by afternoon. Waiting was the hardest part. I sat on a rock at the edge of the road and held Lily’s bag and didn’t move. I opened it and took out the photo. The two of us standing outside our dorm building on graduation day, in our caps and gowns, arms around each other, laughing. Lily was making a heart with her fingers. We were twenty-two years old. Lily was my roommate all four years of college. Across from me. She slept on the left, I slept on the right, and every night we’d talk across the gap between our beds until two or three in the morning. About the future. About gossip. About boys we liked. About what we thought our lives would look like. On the last night of graduation, there was a party in someone’s dorm. We slipped out to the fire escape with two beers and sat there looking up at the sky. That was the night she came up with James Miller. “Everly, let’s make a code.” “If one of us ever gets into trouble, the other one hears that name and knows it’s time to act.” I told her she was being dramatic. But I remembered it. I thought I’d never need it. Now I was sitting in the dirt outside Harlow with her bag in my hands, waiting for a search team to come find her body.

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I was the real daughter. The true bloodline of Blackwood Pack, finally brought home. But the second I stepped through the door, the fake one threw herself into my parents’ arms, sobbing. “Dad, Mom, I’m sorry—I just can’t call her my sister. She’s the one from school. She told everyone my parents were just Omegas. She said my bloodline was dirt. She said it to my face, in front of everyone. And then she let her wolf loose on mine. My wolf hasn’t come out since. She won’t even respond to me anymore.” Mom held her tight, stroking her back, murmuring soft things. Dad turned to me. A low growl rumbled in his chest. His eyes were nothing but disappointment. “I can’t believe a few years outside this Pack turned you into this.” “Steward—get her out of my packhouse. Blackwood has no daughter who would attack other’s wolf.” I stood there, completely blindsided. My hands flew through the signs so fast they blurred. I bullied her? I’m mute. I don’t even have a wolf. How could I have done any of that? I stood in the front hall. Fingertips still cold from outside. Victoria was draped over my parents, crying so hard she could barely breathe. Her face was buried against my mother’s neck. Her shoulders trembled violently. When she finally looked up, the rims of her eyes were raw and red. “Dad, Mom, you don’t know what it’s been like.” “After the last trial, I placed second among all the young wolves. She went around telling everyone I cheated—that Dad threaten the teachers. That I slept with Xavier to secure my ranking—things I can’t even say—” With every sentence, Mom’s hand patted harder against her back. Dad’s jaw clenched tighter. I opened my mouth. Only air came out. I hadn’t spoken a word since I could remember. The healers said something broke in my throat at birth and never healed. My wolf never came either. No voice. No wolf. Just silence. Over the years, I’d gotten used to it. Sign language. Paper and pen. That was how I talked to the world. I raised my hand. My fingers barely started forming the sign for “no” before Xavier launched off the couch. Three strides and he was in my face, towering over me. The disgust in his eyes was barely contained. “Seraphina, how long are you going to keep this shit up? Victoria’s wolf won’t even surface anymore because of you. And you’re still standing there trying to deny it?” I froze. My hand hung in the air. Xavier was Blackwood’s only son. From the moment I walked in, he’d been glued to Victoria’s side—soft eyes, gentle voice, like she was something precious. When he looked at me, it was like looking at something scraped off his boot. “Brother, don’t say that to her…” Victoria tugged gently at Xavier’s sleeve. Her voice was soft as water. But every word drove a blade into my chest. “Maybe she just wanted so badly to fit in. Maybe this was the only way she knew how. I don’t blame her. Really, I don’t…” “That’s because you’re too damn soft!” Mom pulled Victoria tighter. When she turned to me, her eyes could have frozen the room. “Seraphina, we brought you home to give you a Pack. A family. Not so you could terrorize someone weaker. Whatever gutter tricks you learned out there—you drop them. Now.” Dad slammed his knuckles on the oak table. The whole thing shuddered. A vein pulsed at his temple. “Any daughter of mine—even one raised outside these walls—should know what honor means. And what do you do? You walk through the door and hurt Victoria’s wolf. You’ve shamed this entire Pack.” The servants huddled near the archway, not even bothering to keep their voices down. “Heard she grew up out by the borders. Ran with the Rogues. No wonder she’s rotten inside.” “Victoria is the sweetest shewolf in the whole pack. Who would do that to her?” “Look at her, waving her hands around like that. Bet she’s faking it. Playing the poor little thing so someone takes pity.” Those whispers needled into my ears like pins. I drew a deep breath. Forced myself steady. Reached for the side pocket of my bag. I had a notebook in there—from the academy. I could write it all down. Explain everything. My fingers barely touched the zipper when Xavier grabbed my wrist. His grip was crushing. His knuckles ground against my bones. “What the hell are you pulling out? More lies?” I struggled. Reached around with my free hand, dug into the bag. Managed to pull out the stack of paper. Before I could unfold a single sheet, Xavier ripped it from my hands. Tore it in half. Then again. White scraps exploded into the air. Paper drifted into my hair. I stared at him. Whatever warmth I had left went dead. Victoria let out a sob—right on cue—and buried her face deeper. “Xavier, don’t. She was only trying to—” Xavier cut her off. His voice dropped into a snarl. “She’s already crushed your wolf and you’re still defending her? Someone like this doesn’t deserve to walk free in our pack.” Dad’s face went dark. Completely dark. He jerked his chin toward the steward at the door. When he spoke, his voice carried the weight of an Alpha’s command—low, final, and absolute. “Throw her out. This pack has no such daughter.”

I curled up on a hard cot in the pack gear house all night. Morning came. The first bell for lessons hadn’t even rung. I’d just spread my textbook open when the pack instructor called me to his office. I pushed the door open. Victoria was already sitting in the chair across from him. Her shoulders hitched in little spasms. A handkerchief was balled up in her fist. Her eyes were swollen like walnuts. The second she saw me, she looked up—just the right mix of hurt and fear in her eyes—and shrank behind the instructor. “Seraphina. You’re here.” The instructor’s voice was cold as steel. “Come in and tell me what you did to Victoria yesterday.” I stood in the doorway. Didn’t move. Victoria began to cry, right on schedule. “Sir, please don’t push her. Yesterday she cornered me in the corridor. She called me a cuckoo in someone else’s nest—a stray pretending to be Pack. She said she’d make sure I couldn’t stay at this academy. I… I was so scared.” Her voice was quiet. But every word was razor-clear, like small knives landing one by one. The instructor’s face darkened. He picked up the phone on his desk and dialed. “I’ve already called the Alpha and Luna. They’ll be here soon.” It didn’t take long. The office door swung open. My parents walked in. Dad’s face was ashen. Mom was holding Victoria’s hand, eyes full of tenderness. Dad’s voice was barely controlled. “What happened? Did Seraphina bully Victoria again?” The instructor adjusted his glasses. His tone was grave. “Based on Victoria’s account, Seraphina has repeatedly verbally abused and spread lies about her at the academy. She even threatened to force Victoria out of school.” “This kind of behavior is absolutely not tolerated here.” Dad whipped his head toward me. The disappointment in his eyes could have drowned me. “How did I raise a daughter like you? Are you not going to stop until you’ve dragged the whole Blackwood name through the dirt?” I opened my mouth. Only a thin wisp of air came out. I raised my hand. My fingers barely started the sign for “no” before Dad’s palm cracked across my face. The slap rang out—sharp and clean. My head snapped to the side. My ears buzzed. My cheek burned. I stared at him. The tears finally fell. “You dare cry?” Dad’s voice dripped with open disgust. “You do something like this and you still have the nerve to cry? You’re just playing the victim for sympathy!” Victoria buried her face in Mom’s arms and let out another soft sob. “Dad, Mom, don’t scold her. I don’t blame her.” Mom shot me a cold glare. “Born cursed. Wolfless and rotten to the core. All you know how to do is hurt our Victoria!” The office door had been cracked open at some point. A few students peeked in, heads crowded together. Their whispers carried clearly. “So she really did bully Victoria…” “She seems so quiet. Didn’t expect her to be this vicious.” “Heard even her own parents didn’t want her. No wonder she’s so twisted.” Those words pricked my ears like needles. I took a deep breath. Forced myself to stay calm. I raised my hand again. Signed the words: “I didn’t.” But halfway through, the instructor cut me off. He frowned, his voice thick with impatience. “Seraphina, can you stop with these cheap tricks? If you have something to say, say it. Stop putting on a show.” I froze. My fingers hung in the air. So even my silent defense—the only defense I had—was just another performance to them. Right then, the office door was pushed open gently. A girl stood in the doorway. Her voice was small and shaky. “Sir… she’s not putting on a show. That’s sign language.” Everyone turned to look at her. She kept her head down, fingers gripping the hem of her shirt so hard her knuckles were white. But she gathered her courage and added, quietly: “My brother was deaf. I picked up some sign language when I volunteered there over the summer. What she just signed was ‘I didn’t.’ And… she’s really mute. She’s never spoken a single word at this school. Everyone knows that. She doesn’t have a wolf no one has ever heard her wolf. How could she have bullied anyone like this?”

The air in the room froze solid. The girl stood in the doorway, her cheeks flushed red. But she repeated herself, word by word. “I’m not making this up. ” The instructor pushed his glasses up. Skepticism dripped from his voice. “You’re sure about that? This isn’t something to joke about.” The girl lifted her chin. Her eyes were steady. “Sign language has fixed gestures. I wouldn’t get it wrong. And—Seraphina has never spoken. Not once.” The office went silent. My parents’ faces shifted. Mom looked at me. Her lips moved. She seemed about to say something. A flash of guilt—barely visible—crossed her eyes. But then Victoria let out a few sharp sobs. She wiped her tears with one hand and spoke softly. “Sister, even if you’re too scared to admit what you did, you can’t just hire someone to put on a show and pretend to be mute.” Her crying cut like a blade—sliced right through whatever faint guilt my mother had felt. Dad’s face went hard. He whipped around to face me, rage blazing in his eyes. “Seraphina, you really are something! To dodge punishment you’d even cook up a lie like this? And drag in an accomplice to act it out? You’re rotten to the bone!” I was trembling. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the folded piece of paper—my healer’s certificate. The one that documented my condition. I wanted to show them. But the second my fingers touched the paper, Dad snatched it away. He didn’t look at it. He tore it in half with both hands. The thin sheet became confetti. I stared at him. The tears fell. “You little liar!” Dad’s voice was raw with contempt. “You need to be taught a lesson. Learn not to mess with your Alpha. I’ll have you sent to the West border, be close to the Rogues may beat some sense into you. Then we’ll see if you keep playing this little trick!” Mom turned on me too. She held Victoria close, her eyes full of scorn. “Seraphina, we were so wrong about you. To think you’d stoop this low just to escape what you’ve done. You’re a disgrace.” Victoria leaned against Mom’s chest. The faintest smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. But her face was still a mess of tears—the perfect picture of a wronged angel. “Dad, Mom, don’t be so hard on her. Maybe she’s just confused. She didn’t mean it…” “Confused?” Dad let out a cold laugh. “She’s beyond saving. Someone this twisted will only poison our Pack. I’m summoning Garrett right now to come take her away.” The instructor stood to the side, his expression shifting between light and shadow. He looked at me. Then at my parents. In the end, he just sighed and waved at the girl in the doorway. “You can go. We’ll handle things here.” The girl opened her mouth. She wanted to say more. But the instructor’s look stopped her. She gave me one long, final glance—full of sympathy and helplessness—then turned and left. I stood where I was. Looked down at the scraps of paper scattered on the floor. And laughed. So this was it. Everything I had—every last shred of proof—was just a joke to them. I never mattered in this family. Not for a single second. I crouched down slowly. Picked up the pieces one by one. A paper edge sliced my fingertip. I didn’t feel it. Compared to the pain inside, what was a little cut?

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On the way to our holiday trip, I broke up with Rhys in the airport departure lounge. “You’re dumping me just because she got the seat next to mine instead of you?” He laughed. “Yes.” He smirked and tapped the voice memo app on his phone. “Fine. You chose it. Don’t regret it.” We’d known each other since we were seven, and started dating at eighteen. He thought this was another one of my dramatic episodes. He was so sure I’d never actually walk away from him. What he didn’t know was that the seat assignment was just the excuse. I’d already canceled the ticket he booked for me and changed my destination. And in a few hours, we’d be flying to different cities, starting different lives. ………………………. Rhys held the phone up between us. He was indicating to me that he was recording. I kept my voice flat. “May 1st, 2026. Day 2,591 together. Liora is breaking up with Rhys.” He paused for a second, then shook his head like I was being ridiculous. “Okay, how long are we breaking up for this time? What’s our record, three days? Four?” He scrolled through his phone and tapped on another recording. “Rhys, I miss you so much. I take it back, please don’t break up with me.” My own drunk, sobbing voice cut through. A few travelers turned to stare. He grinned. “That one’s from three months ago.” His finger kept scrolling, looking for more. I shoved the phone away from my face. “I mean it this time.” The smile dropped off his face. His eyes hardened. “You’re seriously breaking up with me over a seat assignment? Babe, come on. Aren’t you better than that?” “No. I’m not.” We’d planned this holiday trip to Miami with his friends months ago. Then his intern, Talia, decided she just had to come along. To make it work, Rhys canceled the original tickets and rebooked the whole group on a different flight. Somehow, he and all his friends ended up in Rows 3 and 4. I was the only one stuck back in Row 35. The seat next to him? Saved for Talia. He’d even posted a screenshot of the seat map on his Instagram Story. [Who’s coming on a spontaneous trip with you?] Their two seat numbers, side by side, were impossible to miss. “Liora, don’t be like this.” “I already explained. I forgot to add you when I booked the first time. By the next morning, the only seats left were in the back.” “It’s a four-hour flight. You’re really gonna get jealous over four hours?” He said it like forgetting to book his girlfriend’s seat was nothing. Like I was the crazy one. I took a deep breath. “You don’t get it. This isn’t about who’s sitting next to you for four hours.” “Okay, okay. I’ll buy us first-class tickets right now, just the two of us. Happy?” I just stared at him. I was so tired. “Are you guys upgrading? Rhysie, can I come too? I’ve never flown first class before.” Talia popped up out of nowhere. She slid an iced Americano into Rhys’s hand and started sipping from her own iced latte like she belonged there. She caught the tension and tilted her head at me. “Oh, sweetie, I didn’t know what you liked. I always grab them an Americano and a latte, total habit. I totally spaced on getting you one.” I turned to leave. Talia grabbed my arm. “Liora, please don’t get the wrong idea. Rhysie and I are just friends.” “I’m just an intern, you know? Graduation’s coming up and I’m honestly so stressed out. That’s the reason he lets me tag along when you guys do stuff.” “Don’t let little things mess up what you two have, please.” “Little things?” I laughed in her face. “Asking my boyfriend to a movie alone is a little thing? Sending him pics of you in dressing room outfits is a little thing? Crashing our couples’ trip is a little thing?” “You’re not stressed. You’re just blind. You don’t see a single line you shouldn’t cross.” “You want him so bad? Take him.” Talia’s eyes welled up instantly. She bit her lip and looked down at the floor. “Liora, that’s enough!” Rhys grabbed a napkin and handed it to her. “I get that you’re pissed, but take it out on me. Why are you screaming at her?” A tear rolled down Talia’s cheek. “Rhysie, please don’t fight. This is my fault. I shouldn’t have come.” She turned and hurried toward the exit. Rhys sighed and went after her. The crowded terminal felt thick and suffocating, like I couldn’t get a full breath.

I’d packed until past midnight the night before, and now my head was killing me. I went to grab a coffee, hoping the caffeine would clear it. That’s when I heard the familiar voices coming from the seating area outside the Starbucks. Rhys’s friends were posted up there, killing time before boarding. “Where’s Liora? She not coming with you?” “She’s threatening to break up again.” Someone snorted. “Seriously? You haven’t even taken off and she’s already starting? What is it this time?” “She’s mad I didn’t save her the seat next to mine.” “That’s it?” The guy shrugged. “Honestly, only you could put up with her.” Rhys ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it off his forehead. “Yeah, I need a break too. I’ll deal with her once we land in Miami.” Another one of his buddies jumped in. “Bro, you spoiled her rotten. This is what you get.” “Honestly though, give me a chill girl like Talia any day. Hey Tal, what’s your type? You into guys like me?” Talia covered her face and giggled. Looked like Rhys had already smoothed things over with her. Before she could answer, Rhys kicked his friend’s chair. “Back off, dude.” Then his voice softened. “Stay away from this guy. He’s a serial cheater. If he tries to add you on Instagram, do not accept.” They started cracking up. “Damn Rhys, why so protective of Tal?” “You bring her along but won’t let any of us talk to her? What’s that about?” “Trying to keep her for yourself, huh?” Talia’s cheeks went pink. “You guys, stop. Even if I was into someone like Rhys, he’d never go for me anyway.” Every head turned to Rhys. He just smiled. He didn’t say a word. Talia gave a small, self-deprecating laugh. “See? That’s a no. So please, if any of you know someone good, set me up.” Rhys finally spoke, slow and casual. “Didn’t say no.” I set my coffee cup down on the counter. They erupted in laughter. “Oh shoot.” Talia suddenly froze, counting heads on her fingers. She fumbled for her phone. “Oh my god. I screwed up the room reservations.” “I just looked at the headcount, four guys and three girls, so I only booked three rooms…” She kept scrolling. “The hotel is completely sold out now. What do I do?” Then she looked up and spotted me across the lounge. She got up and walked straight over. “Liora, I swear it was an honest mistake.” “There’s another hotel right next door but it’s like a thousand bucks more a night. I mean, you guys aren’t exactly hurting for money, right? Maybe you could just book it?” I stared at her, expressionless. “You really have it out for me, don’t you? Out of seven people, somehow I’m the one who has to pay extra?” “And you screwed up the booking. Why am I the one fixing it?” She made a pained face. “Liora, I’m just an intern, okay? I’m not even out of school yet, my paychecks are basically nothing…” I cut her off. “You’re the one who insisted on handling the bookings. We already Venmo’d you our share. If you couldn’t handle it, you shouldn’t have volunteered.” Talia dropped her head and started quietly crying. “Enough.” Rhys came up behind her. He said it like it was no big deal. “It’s not the end of the world. We just book another room.” “Liora, you’re an adult. You should be able to roll with stuff like this.” I laughed coldly. “Roll with your intern freezing me out, you mean?” Talia looked at Rhys with watery eyes. “I really didn’t mean to.” Rhys lowered his voice. “Liora, Talia’s a sweet girl. She doesn’t think like that. You’re being unfair to her.” “I’ll book us an ocean view suite. Drop it. Stop making a scene.” “I’m the one making a scene?” I let out a sharp laugh. My phone buzzed. I didn’t have the energy to keep arguing. I picked up the call and walked away from them.

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“Chad, slow down…” Chad let out a low laugh. “Can’t keep up already, babe?” My legs went weak. I just closed my eyes and let him do what he wanted. I spent five years in a secret relationship with him—my bestie’s little brother. He liked it rough, loved pushing boundaries, so bit by bit I molded myself into exactly what he craved in bed. Five years of this recklessness. Three marriage proposals. All three rejected. “Chad, my family gave me an ultimatum. I have to get married this year.” His movements paused. He kissed my ear softly. “Just… wait a little longer.” Then, right before Memorial Day, my bestie grabbed me, her face lit up with excitement. “Sera! Guess what I just found out! Chad—the one who never even looks at women—is planning to propose! He already bought the ring!” My heart lurched. Hope bloomed in my chest like a flower breaking through concrete. “Really? You already know?” She looked at me in surprise. “You know, too? Oh, right, she’s an intern at his company. I think she was your younger classmate.” I froze. The bitterness rose in my throat. I swallowed it down, agreed to my family’s arranged marriage, then turned to her. “What a coincidence. I’m getting married Memorial Day weekend, too. Beach wedding. Come be my maid of honor.” … Maya—my bestie—grabbed my arm, shock written all over her face. “I’ve introduced you to so many guys over the years, and you turned them all down. Why the sudden wedding?” I hesitated. “Family arrangement. I can’t wait anymore.” Maya sighed, her heart too big to hold grudges. “Yeah, I guess. Your grandma’s getting worse. She just wants to see you married before…” I looked down. My grandmother raised me. Now Alzheimer’s was stealing her away, and all she wanted was to see me married while she could still understand what that meant. Chad knew. But all he ever said was “wait a little longer.” Five years of hiding, and I couldn’t take it anymore. Maya shoved my shoulder playfully. “Forget that. Show me a picture of your guy!” I forced a weak smile and reached for my phone. The screen lit up. A hand reached over my shoulder and snatched it away. We both whipped around. Chad stood there, holding my phone in one hand, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “Sera’s got a boyfriend? Let me see too.” But I could see exactly what he was doing—deleting the few photos we had together. My heart clenched like someone had wrapped a fist around it. Did he think I was about to show Maya our photos? Even now, he wouldn’t let our relationship see the light of day. “You little punk, how dare you grab Sera’s phone?” Maya snatched it back and shoved it into my hands. “I just wanted to make sure he’s good enough for her.” Chad’s eyes flicked to me, loaded with meaning. “Sera’s like a little rabbit. So innocent. Easy to take advantage of.” Heat flooded my face. That’s what he called me in bed. Said I was in my thirties, how come I didn’t act like a woman with any fire in her—still playing the innocent. Maya scoffed, then suddenly looked at me. “Sera, why are your eyes red?” “It’s nothing. I’m tired. I should go.” I left quickly. Behind me, Maya shoved Chad. “Go apologize! I’ll be right there after I pay.” Chad caught up with me in the parking garage. The lights were dim. He pinned me against the car door, his chin pressed into my shoulder. “Babe mad at me? I just didn’t expect you’d want to tell everyone about us so suddenly.” He was too close. Close enough for me to smell the cologne I’d given him. Close enough to see the lipstick mark on his collar that wasn’t mine. My heart felt like someone had squeezed it. Acid rose from my chest to my throat. I used all my strength to push him away. “Weren’t you going to drive us home? Let’s get in.” Chad clearly froze. In five years, I’d never used that tone with him. No matter how much he played around, how wild he got, I’d only sigh softly and let him go. He paused, then opened the passenger door. But I slipped into the back seat instead. He climbed in after me, impatience creeping into his voice. “I have my own plan. I’ll tell them eventually. Why the rush?” I turned to look at my reflection in the window. At the crow’s feet at the corners of my eyes. My voice came out quiet. “I’m getting married.”

Chad went rigid. The next second, his phone rang. A soft, sweet voice came through—Daisy. His company’s intern. Five years younger than him. “Chad, I messed up a spreadsheet…” “Don’t worry, I’m on my way.” He hung up, pressed his forehead against mine like he’d misunderstood something. “I’m still young. I need to focus on my career. Marriage can wait.” He pulled open the car door and dragged me out with him. “Something urgent at work. Go home with Maya.” He circled back to the driver’s seat, leaving nothing but exhaust fumes. I closed my eyes. Last time was exactly like this. He said he wanted to see the ocean. I researched beaches for weeks, found the perfect spots. He said he wanted seafood. I compared restaurants one by one, made all the reservations. At the airport, one second he was holding me, saying: “It’s so great going on trips with you, babe. You plan everything perfectly.” The next second, his phone rang. Company emergency. Then he walked away without looking back. I waited in the Maldives for a week. He never came. “Sera!” Maya finally ran over. “Where’s that punk?” “Work thing. He left.” Maya let out a cold snort. “Bet it was that Daisy again.” “I really don’t get it. Besides being young and pretty, what’s so special about her?” Young. Pretty. I turned those words over in my mouth. They only tasted bitter. Five years ago, when Chad was chasing me, he said I was young and pretty too. Last month, in bed, he grabbed my waist with a hint of disgust masked as teasing. “Babe, you really need to work out more.” Maya pulled me into a cab. Inside, she kept venting. “You don’t even know—that Daisy once booked a client incentive trip and somehow ended up booking herself instead!” “Chad went to comfort her! Spent a whole week with her in the Maldives! A whole week!” My brain exploded. Maya had already pulled out her phone. “I added her as a friend. Chad tried to cover for her, said since she went to the same college as you, he couldn’t be too harsh.” “Look, this post.” The date matched exactly—the week I was alone in the Maldives! Every location in the photos I recognized. They were from the itinerary I’d sent him. Daisy’s caption read: [Day One with him!] My mouth opened, but no sound came out. Our five-year anniversary had been their first day in the light. After dropping Maya off, I said goodbye as calmly as I could. But when the door closed, I gave the driver Chad’s office address. I’d been to this building many times, but they all thought I was just his sister’s best friend. They didn’t know he’d pin me against the couch in his office, against the floor-to-ceiling windows, on his desk—every reckless thing imaginable. The office door was half-open. I was about to push it when I heard voices inside. “Let’s take a trip this Memorial Day weekend.” My hand froze mid-air. Chad’s voice came after a few seconds. “Perfect. There’s something I need to tell you anyway.” My heart contracted. I shoved the door open hard. “What a coincidence. My wedding’s Memorial Day weekend too.”

They both turned to stare. The air went still. Daisy quickly walked over to me, smiling. “You’re getting married over Memorial Day weekend, Sera? Then, as your bestie’s brother, Chad definitely has to come to the wedding, right?” “I’ll catch up with Chad another time.” After Daisy left, Chad walked over to me. His proposal trip ruined, he’d completely lost his gentle facade. “Why did you follow me here?” “Are you that desperate to get married? Do you have to force me into it?” Desperate. Force. My mouth opened. My chest felt like it was caving in. “Enough.” Chad let out a cold laugh, his eyes drifting to the window. “Just go home.” I paused, then realized—outside the window, Daisy and several coworkers were staring in. I looked down. I’d come to tell him we were done officially. But suddenly I realized there was no point in saying it. Breaking up requires having been together. And in his eyes, we probably never were. The last thread of hope inside me snapped. I turned and left. After that, Chad never came back to our apartment. I thought about all the times we’d fought before. I was always the first to apologize. He always said it was because I was the more mature one in the relationship. But I get tired too. So much so that these past few days, beyond the hurt, I actually felt… relief. Meanwhile, Maya enthusiastically helped me prepare everything. “The timeline’s tight, but you’re getting everything a bride deserves!” She dragged me to try on wedding dresses. That night, she posted photos of us at the bridal shop. Then, at the bar, I got the first message from Chad in days. [You really dare to try on dresses with my sister? You think you can actually tell her about us?] I lifted my drink and drained it in one go. “Maya.” “Yeah?” “If I told you I dated your brother… would you be upset?” Maya stared at me for a long time, then smiled. “Actually, I suspected before. He chased you, didn’t he?” I nodded. Maya suddenly threw her arms around me tightly. “It’s all in the past now. You’re getting married. He’s about to propose. It doesn’t matter anymore.” Right. It doesn’t matter. Five years of suppressed emotions suddenly burst through like a dam breaking. I didn’t know how long had passed before I heard Maya’s husband arrive. “Why’d you drink so much…” Another pair of hands lifted me up. I opened my eyes. Chad stood in front of me, brow furrowed. They left first. Outside, only he and I remained. I crouched by the curb, arms wrapped around my knees. Chad tossed his jacket over my head and half-dragged, half-carried me toward his car. But the next second, he suddenly let go. I stumbled. My knee hit the ground. I hissed in pain. A group was walking toward us—Chad’s friends. Daisy was with them. Chad hesitated, then helped me up again. When they asked, he paused. “This is Seraphina. You’ve met her—my sister’s best friend. She had too much to drink.” I suddenly wanted to laugh. But then I remembered he once said my laugh lines were too deep when I smiled. So I just nodded, playing along. Cutting ties. “Here’s my wedding invitation. You’re all welcome to come.” I pulled out the invitation we’d just printed yesterday. Inside were both the bride’s and the groom’s names written out clearly. The moment I handed it over, Chad’s hand shot out.

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The San Francisco Bay Bridge Expansion Project. The biggest infrastructure contract in a decade. And my wife just let some punk summer intern swap out the precision explosives for blue fireworks. I moved to stop him. He shoved a termination letter in my face. “Who the hell are you to question me? Do you know who my wife is?” He grabbed my three years of bridge designs—every calculation, every blueprint—and lit them on fire with a Zippo. “Blue fireworks, precision charges, whatever. When this bridge is done, it’s taking MY name.” My eyes locked on his left hand. On his ring finger sat my wedding band. Custom platinum with micro-engraved coordinates. One of a kind. The same ring that disappeared from my nightstand three months ago. I smiled. Then pulled out my phone and called the Federal Bridge Authority. “Hey, Director William. I heard the project got privately contracted. I’m pulling out.” — The second I hung up, Blake grabbed the remaining structural plans and hurled them out the window. They tumbled down toward the bay. Thirty floors down. He lit a cigarette, looking at me like I was dirt. “I don’t care if you call God himself. You’re done here.” Watching three years of work hit the water below—getting soaked, ruined— My fists clenched. I lunged forward and grabbed his collar. “Do you have any idea what you just destroyed? You don’t have enough lives to pay for this!” Security grabbed me before I could finish. Threw me out the conference room door. I hit the floor hard. Knees screaming. Blake flicked ash on my face. His laugh echoed through the office. “Couple pieces of paper. Only wage slaves like you get worked up over trash.” “I’m Ava’s handpicked project director. Get the fuck out before I have you arrested.” The whole office erupted in laughter. “Blake’s an Ivy League grad. Those designs? He can redraw them in five minutes.” “Blake’s marrying the boss. He’s gonna OWN this company. Firing a barking dog like you? Child’s play.” I ignored the pain in my knees. Stared Blake down. “Ava’s husband?” “You want her to stand here and say that to my face?” Funny thing was, the woman who shared my bed last night— The woman who promised to reveal our secret marriage once the FBA project finished— Was apparently Blake’s wife now. Blake made a show of it, flashing his ring finger. My eyes widened. That ring. MY ring. The one I had custom-made when I proposed. The only one like it in the world. Three months ago, it vanished. Ava told me I probably left it at my workstation during an all-nighter. I’d torn that office apart looking for it. Now I understood. The ring and her heart both went to someone else. Of course I couldn’t find it. Blake’s voice dripped contempt. “You? You’re nobody. Why would my wife waste her time on trash like you?” “You want to keep your job? Get on your knees. Three kowtows. Promise you’ll never question my decisions again. Maybe I’ll let you stay.” I didn’t move. Just swept my gaze over the vultures behind him. “Mountain blasting isn’t a game. Every explosive is calculated to the gram. Swapping them last minute—using goddamn fireworks—one mistake and this project kills people. Who’s taking that responsibility?” Then Blake sneered. “Liam, quit the fear-mongering.” “You’re just jealous Ava gave me the project. So you’re trying to sabotage me.” “Don’t forget—I’m her husband. If something goes wrong, I’ve got plenty of people covering my ass.” The office door opened. Ava walked in.

Blake spun the story before she could see the truth. “Ava, thank God you’re here. Liam publicly challenged my authority. He said he’s going to throw me out of the company.” Ava’s eyes turned to ice when she looked at me. “Liam. Who gave you permission to fire MY people?” I kept my voice level. “First, I didn’t fire him. He tried to fire me.” “Second, his material budget makes no sense. The calculations are wrong.” “Ava, are you really going to let your boy toy build a death trap that’ll kill innocent people?” *CRACK.* Her hand came out of nowhere. Open palm across my face. A perfect red handprint bloomed on my cheek. “Guilty minds see guilt everywhere.” “Blake graduated top of his class from Yale’s Architecture program. He’s a genius I brought in at considerable expense. His designs are flawless.” “You, on the other hand—you’re spreading lies because you’re jealous. You owe Blake an apology.” I worked my tongue against my stinging cheek. Bitterness spread through my chest. I couldn’t remember the last time Ava defended me like this. Blake, a Yale Architecture grad? Funny. As a tenured professor in that exact department, I’d never heard his name. She didn’t know, of course. Didn’t know this federal bridge project only went to her company because I pulled strings. Because I asked my father to call in favors. Without me, she wouldn’t have even been considered for the bid. I gave her everything. And now she wanted to kick me to the curb. Before I could process it, Ava was already at Blake’s side. Her voice went soft, doting. “Don’t worry. I won’t let anyone question your abilities.” Blake played the victim perfectly. “Ava, maybe we should let Liam lead the project after all. He’s trying to destroy my reputation. How am I supposed to work in this industry after this?” Ava’s expression hardened even more. “Liam. You want to stay at this company? Apologize to Blake. Right now.” “Or pack your shit and get out.” The employees smelled blood in the water. Started piling on. “Ava, you don’t know what it’s been like. Liam acts like he owns the place just because he’s close to you!” “Exactly. Blake earned his position. Unlike some people who wave around fake authority.” Listening to them tear me apart, Ava’s glare turned colder. “Liam, you’re out of control! You finished ONE small project and now you think you run this company. You’re even bullying the expert I brought in!” “If I let you continue, you’ll tank the whole business!” Her eyes gleamed with calculation. “Effective immediately, you’re no longer the chief engineer. You’re Blake’s assistant.” “From now on, he gives the orders. You follow them.” I stared at this woman I’d spent five years with. Laughed quietly. To help Ava’s company establish itself, I’d turned down offers from global firms. Goldman. McKinsey. Arup. To secure this bridge project—this career-defining, national spotlight project—I’d used my family’s connections. Called in every favor. And for what? My wife was fucking a summer intern. Wearing my wedding ring while she did it. Ava whispered in Blake’s ear, her eyes full of admiration. Blake kept glancing at me, smug satisfaction radiating from every pore. Ava noticed I wasn’t moving. Her affection turned to irritation. “Assistant Liam. What are you waiting for? Apologize to Director Blake. Now.” Something in me died right then. I met Ava’s eyes. Spoke clearly. “Ava. I want a divorce.”

Ava froze. Then something flickered in her eyes. Almost like relief. “Liam, are you sure? This is YOUR idea. I’m not forcing you.” I caught the subtext immediately. She’d been wanting this divorce. Just waiting for me to say it first. No wonder she’d been so obvious with Blake. I laughed bitterly. “I’m sure.” She pulled a folder from her desk and threw it at me. “Then sign.” I opened it. Of course—divorce papers. Already drafted. Her signature already on the line. I read through the terms. My eyebrows shot up. “You want me to leave with nothing?” Ava’s tone was casual. “That’s right. You leave with nothing, Liam. It’s what you promised.” “Don’t remember? Let me refresh your memory.” She pulled up a video on the projector. Me in a tuxedo. Holding flowers. Grinning like an idiot. Off-camera, someone asked: “Liam, what happens if you betray Ava or ask for divorce?” My past self answered immediately: “That’ll never happen. I’d never do that.” “Words are cheap, Liam. Promise something real on camera.” I looked at Ava beside me—stunning in her white wedding dress, tears of joy in her eyes. “If that day ever comes, I’ll leave with nothing.” “Ava, I love you. You’re the only woman I’ll ever love.” The video cut off. Ava drummed her fingers on the conference table. Smiled smugly. “You made that promise on camera. You’re not backing out now.” I stared at the frozen frame. The two of us looking at each other. Eyes only for each other. But the real Ava stood next to another man. Looking at me with contempt. When I recorded that video, I believed we’d grow old together. Turns out my “forever” lasted five years. The other employees looked at me with pity. Blake couldn’t hide his greed and excitement. “Ava.” My voice was calm now. Empty. “Fine. I’ll leave with nothing.” “And I’m withdrawing from the bridge project.” I signed the papers and turned to leave. Needed to get out of this suffocating place. “Stop.” Ava’s command froze me mid-step. I didn’t turn around. “Liam, the bridge project has already started. You can’t just quit.” “I’ve already submitted the personnel roster to the FBA. If you go around badmouthing Blake and me, who takes responsibility?” “What do you want?” “You need FBA approval to leave. Until then, you work as Blake’s assistant.” I spun around, staring at her in disbelief. Taking everything wasn’t enough? She wanted me to stay and be humiliated by Blake? Blake grinned at me, malicious and triumphant. “Assistant Liam. Looking forward to working together.”

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I gave the stolen sandwich to a scrawny girl shivering in the alley, and she became my shadow. Two orphans with nowhere else to go. We survived together. At sixteen, I found Seraphina cornered by three gang punks behind the bodega. I grabbed a broken bottle and took down four before their leader showed up with his crew. They left me half-dead on the pavement. Two weeks in bed before I could walk again. Seraphina loved music. On her seventeenth birthday, I broke into a high-end music store in SoHo and stole a vintage keyboard. Got arrested that same night. Spent two weeks in juvie. When I got out, she was waiting with red-rimmed eyes. “Never do something that stupid for me again,” she whispered. At nineteen, Seraphina got her acceptance letter to Juilliard. I wasn’t built for college, but I so happy when I got the news.I worked three jobs—sometimes pulling double shifts at the construction site—just to cover her tuition. By twenty-four, Seraphina was a rising star. Piano prodigy. Concert halls across the country. We moved into a penthouse on the Upper East Side. Twenty-six years old, and I was still breaking my back on construction sites. She’d just won the International Tchaikovsky Competition. Gold medal. Front page of every music magazine. I saved for weeks, bought a secondhand keyboard, and planned to surprise her. Play something I’d been practicing. Tell her I loved her. I sat at that keyboard all night, waiting. She never came home. The next morning, my phone blew up with notifications. “Piano Prodigy Seraphina Wells Goes Official with Music Dynasty Heir Sebastian Thorne!” The photo showed her leaning into him, her eyes soft in a way I’d never seen. Not for me. Never for me. I knew Sebastian. Old money, Juilliard graduate, violin virtuoso. Everything I wasn’t. I pressed a key on the keyboard. Dead silence. The batteries had died. Just like us.

“Bro, you’re really coming back?” Leo’s voice crackled through the phone, disbelief bleeding through every word. “After everything you did for Seraphina—she’s a superstar now and you’re leaving?” “Is she coming with you?” I dug my thumbnail into my palm, forcing my voice to stay light. “Just me. She’s got her career in Manhattan. Big things happening.” Silence. Then: “Something happen between you two?” I didn’t know how to answer. How do you explain that love dies slowly? That we’d been boiling in the same pot for years, and the water had evaporated without either of us noticing? “There was never anything to begin with,” I said. “You not happy I’m coming home?” “Hell no—I mean, hell yes! You’re my best friend, man. Come back anytime.” When I hung up, I stared at the penthouse. Two years we’d lived here. Fifteen years we’d survived together. Seraphina had carved herself into every corner of my life. Letting go wasn’t an option—it was an impossibility. But I had to try. I grew up with nothing. No parents. Bounced between shelters and streets, begging for scraps. Then I met Seraphina. She was eleven, same as me. Gas leak explosion took out her entire apartment building. She came home from school to black rubble and police tape. The girl had nothing left. When she saw me stealing bread from a dumpster, she recognized something—kinship, maybe. Desperation. She followed me for three days before I finally split my sandwich with her. We’d been inseparable ever since. I saved her life more than once. Pulled her out of the East River when bullies threw her off a dock. Gave up my shot at trade school to work construction so she could attend Juilliard. When she got that acceptance letter, she sobbed into my chest. “I won’t let you down,” she’d promised. “I’ll make this worth it.” And she did. Within six years, she was headlining Carnegie Hall. We traded the crumbling studio in Queens for a penthouse with floor-to-ceiling windows. But the gap between us grew wider with every standing ovation. She was a prodigy. A sensation. I was a high school dropout with a criminal record. We didn’t fit anymore. Maybe we never had. Especially after Sebastian entered her life. “Sebastian has such a deep understanding of Chopin. He can hear the smallest variations in my tempo.” “Sebastian and I are planning a joint recital. His violin with my piano—it’ll be incredible.” “Sebastian helped repair the old Steinway today. He even knows how to voice hammers.” Then, a week ago: “Won’t be home tonight. Celebrating the gold medal with Sebastian.” I needed to see him. Needed to understand what kind of man lived in the space I used to occupy.

Lincoln Center felt like a cathedral built for people I’d never be. I stood in the marble lobby wearing a faded jacket I’d owned since I was nineteen. Every person who passed me radiated wealth—tailored suits, silk scarves, designer shoes. I was a stain on their pristine world. “Excuse me, sir. Are you here for Miss Wells’ rehearsal?” The voice belonged to a man in an immaculate navy suit. Warm smile. Perfect posture. The kind of guy who’d never had to fight for anything. Sebastian Thorne. I recognized him from the photos. “I’m looking for Seraphina. Can you point me in the right direction?” His smile dimmed. “Miss Wells is in rehearsal. I’m afraid she can’t be disturbed right now.” He studied me like I was a vagrant who’d wandered in from the street. “Who are you to her?” The question stabbed deeper than it should have. “I’m the person who raised her,” I paused,and added, “Her brother.” The words felt like a surrender. His expression softened immediately. “Oh,Welcome! You’re Seraphina’s brother. I apologize—I didn’t realize.” He gestured down the hall. “I’m actually headed to the rehearsal space now. You can walk with me.” I followed him through the labyrinth of hallways, past musicians warming up in practice rooms, past posters of Seraphina’s face plastered on every wall. People greeted Sebastian like royalty. He responded to each one with practiced charm. When we reached the rehearsal room, Seraphina was just stepping out. She froze when she saw me. Her eyes darted to Sebastian, then back to me. “Jax. What are you doing here?” Her tone wasn’t warm. It was guarded. Almost… afraid. Afraid I’d embarrass her? Afraid I’d hurt Sebastian? I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. Sebastian broke the tension. “Your brother came to see you. I thought we could all grab dinner together.” She didn’t refute it—not a word, not a single flicker of denial. The restaurant was the kind of place where they don’t list prices on the menu. I sat across from Sebastian and Seraphina, watching them speak a language I didn’t understand. “The rubato in the third movement needs to breathe more,” Sebastian said. “You’re rushing the diminuendo.” Seraphina nodded, her eyes bright. “I was thinking the same thing. And the left-hand voicing in measure forty-seven—” “Needs more weight,” Sebastian finished. “Exactly.” They smiled at each other. I might as well have been invisible. Sebastian glanced at me, almost apologetic. “Sorry—this is all technical jargon. Seraphina and I talk shop constantly. Occupational hazard.” He said it kindly. Like he was trying to include me. But it only made the gap more obvious. I pushed food around my plate, swallowing words I couldn’t form. The conversation swirled around me, a current I couldn’t enter. After dinner, Sebastian insisted on showing me around Lincoln Center. We walked past rehearsal halls and performance spaces, Sebastian pointing out details I didn’t care about. Stagehands whispered as we passed. “Miss Wells and Sebastian Thorne are perfect together. Total power couple.” “A piano prodigy and a violin genius? They’re like something out of a movie.” “Who’s the guy in the old jacket? He looks so out of place.” I heard every word. That night, I bought a one-way ticket back to Montana.

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