The “Golden Boy”—the one my wife always considered the great, lost love of her life—finally came back from abroad. Zavier was a classic predator, the kind of man who thrived on blurred lines and unspoken provocations. He had this infuriating habit of testing boundaries with my wife, Monica, and her tight-knit circle of friends. For a long time, I kept my temper on a short leash, swallowed my pride, and looked the other way. Until the day he pulled Monica flush against his chest. Reeking of expensive bourbon and unearned confidence, he claimed he was just “testing” the strength of their lifelong bond. “Come on, Monica,” he whispered, loud enough for me to hear. “We literally bathed together as toddlers. It’s been years. You’re telling me I can’t even get a hug?” I watched as Monica’s face flushed a deep, betraying crimson. She looked at him with a mixture of shyness and adoration that made my blood run cold. I started to lift my hand, ready to trigger the “Heartthrob System”—a supernatural edge I’d kept buried and dormant for seven long years. But the reboot sequence was agonizingly slow. As Zavier’s hands began to wander lower, venturing past the point of no return, my five-year-old son, Jamie, walked out from the hallway. He looked at me with an intensity no child his age should possess. “Dad,” he said, his voice steady. “Let me handle this.” He paused, his eyes flicking to Zavier with pure disdain. “I’ve read this story before.” 01. Zavier still had his arms wrapped around Monica. Sensing my simmering rage, he began to toy with a strand of Monica’s hair, twirling it around his finger like he owned her. “Don’t get all worked up, Ben,” he said, flashing a shark-like grin. “Monica and I are family. We grew up together. Honestly, I’ve seen her in her birthday suit more times than I can count.” Monica reacted faster than I could. “Zavier, stop! Ben, honey, don’t listen to him. That was when we were kids. He hasn’t seen me like that in forever.” She said the words, but she didn’t pull away. Seeing her hesitation, Zavier pushed harder. “Oh, you forgot? That night in college when you got trashed and I had to carry you home? I was the one who got you out of those clothes and into bed.” He tapped his lips, feigning a clumsy apology. “Oops. My bad, Ben. Don’t take it personally. It was an emergency. Besides, I’ve been seeing her change since middle school. Looking at her is like looking at one of the guys. Totally platonic.” Monica reached up to playfully cover his mouth, their bodies tangling even closer. In that moment, in my own home, I felt like a ghost. An outsider. I reached my breaking point. I closed my eyes and whispered in the silence of my mind. System? Are you there? A mechanical ping echoed in my skull. [Status: Online.] Reboot, I commanded. Now. Seven years. I never thought I’d need it again. I suppose the “seven-year itch” is real, and even a man with my natural charms couldn’t compete with the ghost of a first love. I waited, my jaw tight. The progress bar crawled: [1%]. It wouldn’t be ready in time to stop this. I’d have to use my own hands to teach this man a lesson in respect. Zavier, sensing the shift in the air, shifted his weight, pulling Monica into an even more suggestive angle. Suddenly, Jamie stepped in front of me. He pressed a small hand against my knee. “Dad,” he whispered, so low only I could hear. “Let me.” He looked back at me, his little mouth forming the words silently: I’ve read the original manuscript. Before I could process what he meant, he let out a piercing shriek. “AHHH! COCKROACH! BIG COCKROACH!” He hurled a small, brown, sticky-looking object directly at Zavier. Zavier might have acted like a tough guy, but he was a coward at heart. He shrieked, dodging frantically. He tripped over his own feet and slammed into the floor, the “cockroach” pinned squarely beneath his designer jeans. He felt something squelchy and let out a sound of pure disgust. “Monica! Control your kid!” he barked, scrambling up. “What kind of brat plays with bugs? I think I’ve actually scraped my skin!” He grabbed Monica’s arm, pulling her toward him. “You need to help me up. Take me to the ER. And you’re paying for the medical bill!” Monica’s maternal instinct misfired. She turned to scold Jamie, her face tight with embarrassment. I stepped forward, shielding my son. “The only person allowed to discipline my son is me.” Monica balked, but Zavier wouldn’t let it go. “Ben, I get that you love the kid, but this is ridiculous. I’m bleeding. He needs to be taught a lesson. Spare the rod, spoil the child.” Monica nodded, her voice sharp. “He’s right, Ben. Jamie is getting out of hand.” I sneered, ready to let him have it, but Jamie was faster. He darted toward Zavier and, before anyone could react, yanked Zavier’s waistband down, exposing his thighs. Jamie pointed a finger. “Liar! There’s no blood!” Then he looked up at Monica, his eyes wide and innocent. “Mommy, Daddy hates it when you touch dirty men.” 02. The innocence of a child’s words can be the sharpest blade. Monica’s face went pale, then mottled with a dark, ugly rage. Under the watchful, judging eye of her “Golden Boy,” she made a choice. She swung her hand. Slap. “Enough!” she screamed. I wasn’t fast enough. Jamie tumbled to the ground. “What the hell is wrong with you?!” I pushed Monica back, kneeling to scoop Jamie into my arms. Monica turned her face away, refusing to look at us. Zavier, ever the opportunist, chimed in. “Ben, don’t blame her. The kid needs boundaries. If you won’t set them, someone has to.” Monica echoed him, her voice cold. “Jamie needs to learn what he can and cannot say. Forget it. I’m taking Zavier to the hospital. You stay here and deal with your son.” She didn’t want a confrontation. She practically ran out the door, hovering over Zavier like a devoted nurse. Within seconds, the courtyard was silent, leaving just me and my boy. I checked his face. His cheek was already beginning to swell. “I’m so sorry, Jamie,” I whispered, the guilt gnawing at my gut. I hated myself for not activating the System the moment Zavier showed his face. “This is on me.” Jamie shook his head. He leaned into my ear. “Dad, remember what I told you? I know how this ends. I know the ‘original plot’.” He looked at me with a chillingly calm expression. “I did that on purpose. If I hadn’t, she would have hit you.” On the way to the pediatric clinic, Jamie laid it all out. In the “original story,” Zavier comes back after blowing his fortune abroad. His goal is to seduce four of his former female classmates, drain their assets, and leave their families in ruins. Jamie was determined to save me because, out of all the women, Zavier “loved” Monica the most—which meant he was the most ruthless toward me. In the original ending, Zavier drives me to jump off a bridge. “I love you, Dad. And I love Mom. I don’t want either of you to get hurt.” He hugged me tight, promising he would drive Zavier away and protect our family. I patted his head in silence. I decided I would talk to Monica one last time tonight. I waited until midnight. She didn’t come home. Instead, I saw Zavier’s latest post on Instagram. Zavier_Official: Real friendship is having someone hand-feed you your favorite skewers when you’re ‘injured.’ The photo showed Monica leaning over him, a sweet, complicit smile on her face. I hit “Like.” Seconds later, another post popped up. Zavier_Official: As a reward, I have to make sure my ‘best friend’ is full, too. The photo was a blurry, intimate shot of him looming over Monica. Her face was flushed with a post-coital glow. He sent it specifically for me to see. My wife was already gone. Jamie leaned over to look, but I covered his eyes with one hand. “Time for bed, kiddo.” [System Reboot Progress: 35%] Monica didn’t slink through the door until the next morning. She had a fresh, vivid hickey on her neck. I was sitting on the sofa, waiting. I didn’t waste time. “What’s that on your neck?” Without Zavier there to perform for, Monica reverted to her “loving wife” persona. She covered the mark with her hand. “A mosquito bite.” “That’s a hell of a mosquito.” She gave a forced, sheepish laugh and knelt at my feet. “Ben, don’t be like that. Look, I went all the way to that bakery downtown to get your favorite cake. Let’s just be happy. Yesterday… Jamie really crossed a line.” “My son did nothing wrong.” Monica’s expression hardened, but before she could start an argument, I spoke calmly. “Go take a shower.” I told her to scrub herself ten times. I made it sound like a request, but it was an order. While she was in the bathroom, I followed Jamie’s advice and checked her phone. Sure enough, I found a group chat titled: “Zavier’s Harem.” It was brand new. The first message was from Zavier. Zavier: @Everyone, since I’m an ‘invalid,’ I’m going to the mountain spa tomorrow! You’re all coming with me. No excuses for a sick man. Monica’s best friends were already tripping over themselves to reply. Only Monica hadn’t answered yet. I opened her camera, took a photo of my own physique—the six-pack I’d worked years to maintain—and posted it to the group from her account while sitting on the edge of our bed. Monica: Sorry guys, I’m staying in to take care of my husband. Have fun. The chat exploded. Monica’s friends didn’t hold back. “Monica, you lucky girl.” “Ben is still the hottest man I’ve ever seen.” “Must be nice to have a real man at home.” It was a direct hit. I didn’t expect Zavier to be so brazen, though. Zavier: Monica, you’re choosing your husband over your ‘brother’? Anything he can give you, I can give you better. Or has it been seven years too long? Have you forgotten what I taste like? Then, Zavier posted a photo of himself in nothing but underwear. Zavier: Since you ladies are acting like you’ve never seen a man before… Monica, did you forget? Have the rest of you? I think we really need to get together and ‘reminisce.’ The women in the chat practically swooned through their keyboards. It was sickening. Then, Zavier sent a private DM to Monica’s phone. “Ben, even if you’re not willing, you should ask Monica what she wants.” I gripped the phone until my knuckles turned white. I blocked him. [System Reboot Progress: 65%] 03. I expected Zavier to be the one to lash out. I didn’t expect it to be Monica. She threw her phone against the wall with such force it shattered. A piece of glass sliced my cheek, drawing blood, but she didn’t even blink. “Ben! Who gave you the right to touch my phone?!” She raised her hand as if to strike me, but Jamie scrambled out of his room and threw himself in front of me. “Mom, don’t! Don’t hurt Daddy!” I pulled Jamie back and looked at her with pure coldness. “You’re not even hiding it anymore, are you, Monica?” Seven years of marriage, a son, a life—all tossed aside for a washed-up “Golden Boy.” Monica sneered. “I’ll ask one more time. Who told you that you could touch my things?” “I’ll touch whatever I want.” For seven years, we had no secrets. I let her check my location, my messages, everything. Now, she had a “private life.” I told her to get out. She didn’t hesitate; she turned on her heel and walked. But the front door opened before she could reach it. Zavier was standing there, flanked by Monica’s three best friends. They were supposed to be at the spa. Zavier was wearing swim trunks and an open shirt. He took in the shattered glass and the tension in the room, then walked over to Monica and wrapped an arm around her waist. “Trouble in paradise?” He knew exactly what was happening. He took Monica’s hand and guided it toward his lap, right in front of me. I felt a wave of nausea. I covered Jamie’s eyes, ready to roar. Zavier spoke first. “Ben, I told you to ask her what she wanted. This is a friends’ getaway. Spouses shouldn’t interfere. Look how upset you’ve made her.” Every word was a needle pressed into Monica’s ego. She melted into him, cooing, “What are you doing here?” The tone she used was unrecognizable—sweet, submissive, nothing like the woman who just screamed at me. Zavier grinned, squeezing her. “I was afraid Ben’s ‘no’ wasn’t really what you wanted. So, I brought the spa to you. We’re going to use your big pool for some… private swimming lessons.” “Isn’t he the best?” one of the friends piped up. “Zavier, you have to help me with my stroke next.” Monica pulled him closer, her possessiveness flaring. “I’m teaching him first,” she snapped. They walked toward the backyard pool, the “squad” trailing behind them like disciples. I was left in the living room with the ruins of my marriage and my son. Jamie started to cry. He climbed onto the sofa and tried to wipe the blood from my face with his small sleeve. “Dad… this isn’t how the book went.” I held him tight. [System Reboot Progress: 85%] 04. Jamie was starting to doubt the “original plot.” He still held onto a tiny sliver of hope that his mother could be saved. For his sake, I went out to the pool for one last attempt at reason. What I saw made me want to burn the house down. The pool, which I had meticulously maintained with imported saltwater, was now a mess of spilled drinks and suggestive chaos. Monica was draped over the edge, completely exposed, while Zavier moved behind her. She didn’t even look ashamed when she saw me. “I’m just… helping him with his form.” Her friends stood guard, giggling, their eyes glued to the spectacle. I felt a phantom bile rise in my throat. I was done. “Monica, we’re going to the lawyer tomorrow. I want a divorce.” I turned to leave. Jamie, who had followed me, suddenly snapped. He was too young to fully grasp the filth of what they were doing, but he knew his mother was being taken. He knew his home was breaking. He sprinted toward Zavier. Before anyone could stop him, his tiny hand connected with Zavier’s face in a sharp slap. “Liar! You know how to swim! Why are you making my Mommy do this?!” Zavier let out a low, theatrical groan. “Monica, look at your son. He’s calling me a liar.” He shifted in the water, making a mocking gesture. Jamie grabbed Zavier’s arm, screaming, “Get away from her! Get out of our house!” I ran to grab Jamie, wanting to pull him away from the rot. But the three “friends” stepped in, clawing at Jamie to help Zavier. In the chaos, Zavier looked at me, a look of pure, mocking triumph in his eyes. Then, he let himself fall backward into the deep end. “Help! I can’t swim! He’s trying to kill me!” he screamed. Monica panicked. Without a second thought, she shoved Jamie and me. We weren’t prepared. We tumbled into the water, and she immediately turned her back on us to “save” Zavier. “If anything happens to him, Ben, I’ll make sure you rot in a cell!” The women hauled Zavier onto the deck. Monica looked back at me with eyes as cold as a grave. The friends crowded around Zavier, who was faking a coughing fit. When I finally surfaced, clutching Jamie, they reached down—not to help us, but to push us back under. “Ben, this is too much,” one of them said, her hand on my shoulder, shoving me down. “Zavier is a saint. You need to learn your place.” Under the water, I struggled. Jamie had swallowed a mouthful; I could see the bubbles escaping his lips. He was terrified. But the hands on our heads wouldn’t let up. Then I heard Monica’s voice from above the surface, muffled but clear: “Hold them down a little longer. They need to learn.” I pulled Jamie into my chest, shielding him with my body, my heart hammering against my ribs. Then, Zavier’s voice: “Okay, Monica, I’m feeling better. Let’s play something else.” The pressure vanished. I broke the surface, gasping, and scrambled to the tiles. I immediately started chest compressions on Jamie. He coughed up a lungful of water and started wailing. My vision went red. I looked at Monica, my voice a guttural snarl. “Monica… you’re going to regret this for the rest of your life.” She didn’t even acknowledge the threat. She just took Zavier’s hand and walked away. “What should we play next, Zavier?” I gripped the concrete until my fingernails bled. [Heartthrob System: Reboot 100%] [Would you like to activate, Host?] Activate, I screamed in my mind. Burn it all down.

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The year the Montgomery family finally found me and brought me back from the mountains, I already knew the fundamental truth of the universe: the only way to stay alive was through absolute, unquestioning submission. Cathy, the girl who had taken my place as their daughter, pointed at the industrial ozone sterilization cabinet in the mudroom. She sneered, telling me to get inside and “disinfect” the stench of dirt off my skin. I didn’t argue. I crawled into the machine in silence and pressed the button. Scalding air instantly swallowed my body whole. By the time my biological parents smashed the glass door and dragged me out, my skin was blistering, red as raw meat. My older brother, Barry, just kicked the wall in disgust. “Always putting on a show. If you wanted to die, couldn’t you just swallow sleeping pills?” So, late that night, I swallowed an entire bottle of pills. Before my consciousness faded into the black, the last thing I remembered was his voice. On the cold hardwood floor, I heard his frantic, ragged breathing as he kicked my door in, and I felt the violent trembling of his fingers as he checked my pulse. Later, Cathy tripped and scraped her knee, crying hysterically. Barry grabbed me by the hair, his face twisted in rage. “If she scars, you’ll carve the flesh from your own body to pay for it!” The moment the shattered glass tore through my thigh, my mind drifted to the Appalachian woods. To the days when disobedience meant shattered bones. When my parents’ piercing screams finally broke through the haze, Barry frantically ripped the bloody shard of glass from my hand, his eyes wild. “I was just talking! I didn’t tell you to actually do it!” his voice shook violently. But they would never understand. Seven years in that hell had taught me one singular, inescapable lesson—children who do not listen do not survive. … 1 Blood welled up thickly, trailing down my thigh and soaking into the Persian rug, turning the intricate fibers a deep, sticky crimson. Blinding pain radiated from my leg, but I was intimately acquainted with pain. For seven years in the deep woods, pain had been my daily bread. I had endured agonies a thousand times worse than this. The hand Barry used to snatch the jagged shard of glass away from me was trembling uncontrollably. My mother threw herself onto the floor with a shriek, pressing her hands desperately against my wound. The blood surged, slipping easily between her manicured fingers. My father fumbled for his phone to dial 911, his hands shaking so badly the device clattered onto the hardwood. Barry turned on me, a feral roar ripping from his chest. “Are you insane?! I tell you to cut yourself, and you just do it?!” I looked up at him. My heartbeat was steady. My voice was calm. “Didn’t you tell me to do it, Brother?” As long as you listen, you won’t be beaten. That was the only law of survival I knew. I couldn’t be disobedient. Disobedience meant being tied to a tree and starved for three days. I pressed my palms against the blood-slicked floor, trying to reach for another piece of shattered glass. “That piece was too small,” I murmured matter-of-factly. “It might not be enough flesh to pay her back.” Barry kicked the coffee table over. Crystal glasses shattered into a million sparkling knives across the floor. His eyes were bloodshot, rimmed with a terrifying panic. “Get away! Don’t touch that!” I immediately snapped my hands back to my sides. I dropped to my knees, lowering my upper body until my forehead rested firmly in the bloody glass shards scattered on the rug. “I will listen. Please don’t be angry, Brother.” A broken sob tore from my mother’s throat. She wrapped her arms around my stiff body, holding me tight. I didn’t dare move. I just let her hold me. The paramedics arrived in a flurry of noise and motion, hoisting me onto a stretcher. At the emergency room, the doctor prepared to stitch my leg. No anesthesia. Because right as the nurse went to fetch the lidocaine, Cathy came bursting into the trauma room, sobbing uncontrollably. She had a colorful Band-Aid on her knee where she had tripped and grazed her skin earlier. She threw herself into my mother’s arms, her voice trembling like a frightened bird. “Mom… does my sister hate me? She hurt herself on purpose in front of Barry just to make him mad at me.” Barry’s jaw clenched. He turned his harsh gaze toward me. “Maeve, do you really have to tear this family apart to get what you want?” I instantly held up a hand, stopping the nurse from prepping the syringe of numbing medication. “No anesthesia,” I said flatly. “I accept my punishment.” The doctor stood frozen, needle in hand. “Stitch it,” I ordered quietly. The sound of the curved needle puncturing my skin and dragging the heavy thread through my flesh was loud in the sterile room. I didn’t flinch. I didn’t even blink. Cathy hid behind my mother, covering her mouth in performative horror. My mother turned her face to the wall, unable to watch. Barry ran a hand aggressively through his hair. “What kind of tough-girl act is this? Nobody wants to punish you!” Once the wound was closed, the doctor recommended keeping me overnight for observation. My father left to fill out the admission paperwork. The hospital room emptied until it was just Barry and me. He sat heavily on the vinyl visitor’s sofa, lighting a cigarette despite the rules. “This whole martyrdom act isn’t going to work on me, Maeve,” he muttered through a cloud of smoke. “Cathy grew up sheltered. Can’t you just let her have her way for once?” I nodded slowly. “Okay. I will listen to whatever you say, Brother.” Barry crushed the cigarette into a paper cup, his eyes narrowing at me. “If you’re really going to listen, go apologize to Cathy.” I threw off the thin hospital blanket and swung my legs over the edge of the bed. The sudden movement pulled at my fresh stitches. Blood immediately bloomed through the stark white gauze. I didn’t pause. Barefoot, I walked down the cold linoleum hallway to Cathy’s private room. 2 Cathy was lounging against her pillows, eating a beautifully peeled apple my mother had prepared. The moment she saw me standing in the doorway, she shrieked and shrank back against the headboard. My mother instantly threw herself between us like a human shield. “Maeve, what are you doing here?” I walked straight toward the bed. Without a word, I dropped rigidly to my knees. The impact of my kneecaps against the hard ceramic tile echoed off the walls with a sickening thud. “I am sorry.” I leaned forward and slammed my forehead into the floor. Then again. And again. The heavy, rhythmic sound of bone striking tile filled the room. “I shouldn’t have made my sister afraid. I shouldn’t have made my brother angry. I was wrong.” My mother grabbed my shoulders, her eyes wide with mounting horror. “Maeve, stop! What are you doing?!” I shoved her hands away and continued to strike my head against the floor. Back in the mountains, an apology wasn’t accepted unless you bled for it. If you weren’t sincere enough, you didn’t get to eat. Barry stormed into the room. He grabbed me by the collar of my hospital gown and hauled me to my feet. “Are you done?!” he roared. Blood was pouring down my forehead, stinging my eyes and turning the room into a hazy, crimson blur. I stretched my lips into a wide, hollow smile. “Is Brother satisfied?” Barry recoiled, dropping his grip on me as if I had burned him. He stumbled back two steps. Cathy’s wails intensified. “She’s just trying to guilt me to death! Fine, I’ll leave! Is that what you want?!” She dramatically ripped the IV out of the back of her hand and bolted for the door. My mother rushed out frantically after her. Once again, Barry and I were left alone. A nurse hurried in, taking one look at the scene before silently re-bandaging my bleeding forehead. She let out a heavy sigh and quickly slipped out. Terrified I would cause another scene, Barry discharged me early. When we returned to the sprawling Montgomery estate, my leg was still wrapped in thick, blood-spotted gauze. The house was a labyrinth of vaulted ceilings and marble floors—so vast that I constantly got lost in it. At dinner, the massive mahogany table was covered in a feast. I was seated at the very end, farthest from the family. In front of me sat a single, small bowl of plain smashed potatoes. This was my mother’s instruction. “You just got back from the hospital. Your stomach is weak. Eat something plain.” I picked up the bowl and ate quietly. At the other end of the table, Cathy picked up a piece of red lobster with her gold-tipped fork, placing it elegantly into her mouth. She looked at me, a faint, mocking smile playing at the corners of her lips. “Sister, why are you eating with your hands? Is that how you did it in the mountains? Like a little dog?” I paused. I looked down at my hand, curled awkwardly around the porcelain bowl. Then, I set the bowl down. I leaned my upper body over the table, lowered my face, and used my tongue to lap the smashed potatoes straight out of the dish. Smack. My father, Richard, slammed his palm against the table. The crystal glasses rattled violently. “This is unacceptable! You are completely humiliating the Montgomery family!” My mother went pale, a trembling finger pointing at me. “What… what are you doing… sit up!” Barry’s face was thunderous. He stood up and violently kicked the chair out from under me. “Get out! Get out of my sight!” I obediently stood up from the floor and silently backed out of the dining room. Just as I reached the archway, Barry’s voice cut through the air like a whip. “Don’t go to your room. Go stay in the dog kennel out back and reflect on what you’ve done.” I gave a single, curt nod to show I understood. It rained that night. I pulled my knees to my chest, curling into a tight ball inside the freezing stone dog kennel. Cold water dripped through the cracks in the roof, matting my hair to my face. I didn’t dare close my eyes. They hadn’t told me I was allowed to sleep yet. 3 The estate manager found me the next morning. I was burning with a dangerously high fever, my skin radiating heat. The concierge doctor was called in to administer a fever-reducing injection. I lay in the massive canopy bed, drifting in and out of a heavy, suffocating haze. Through the fog, I heard Cathy’s sickeningly sweet voice. “Dad, Mom, my sister didn’t do it on purpose. She’s just used to living like an animal in the woods. Please don’t be mad at her.” My mother sighed heavily. “It’s a tragedy. If I had known she would come back like this, I’d rather…” She didn’t finish the sentence, but I understood the implication perfectly. My father scoffed coldly. “She’s playing dumb to get sympathy. She brings nothing but bad luck into this house.” Barry’s voice dripped with irritation. “She’s crawling with germs. Don’t let her touch anything in the house, especially not Cathy’s things.” “Take all the clothes she was wearing and burn them. God knows what diseases she’s carrying.” I opened my eyes. Barry was standing beside my bed. When he saw I was awake, the disgust in his eyes deepened. “If you’re awake, get up. Stop playing dead.” I immediately sat up. “Take off those clothes. We’re burning them.” I reached for the buttons of my pajama top and methodically began undoing them. Barry’s brow furrowed. “What are you doing? Taking them off right here?” I froze, looking up at him in confusion. “Get in the bathroom!” I nodded, walked into the en-suite bathroom, stripped naked, and walked back out, clutching the pajamas to my chest. “Brother, should I go burn them now?” Barry stared at my naked, bruised body, his face flushing crimson before draining of color entirely. He grabbed the heavy down comforter off the bed and hurled it over me, burying me in its weight. “Put it on!” I stood there, clutching the duvet, genuinely at a loss. He had just told me to burn my clothes. Now he was telling me to put the blanket on. Which order was I supposed to follow? Seeing my hesitation, Barry exploded. “I told you to put it on! Can’t you understand basic English?!” He lunged forward, roughly wrapping the comforter around my shoulders, shoving me backward until I fell onto the mattress. “Do you just love getting naked for people to see? Did you learn that from the savages in the mountains?” His words were vicious. But I was used to it. Where I came from, I heard things a hundred times worse, every single day. I just watched him quietly, waiting for his next command. My passivity seemed to fuel his rage. He pointed sharply at the glass doors leading to the balcony. “If you love taking orders so much, why don’t you go jump out that window?” My bedroom was on the third floor. I looked at the balcony, then back at him. I nodded. “Okay.” I let the comforter drop. I stood up and walked steadily toward the glass doors. It wasn’t until I actually hoisted myself over the railing that Barry realized what was happening. He sprinted forward, lunging over the threshold and yanking me back violently by my arm. The force was so brutal that I flew backward, the back of my skull cracking sickeningly against the hardwood floor. My vision whited out. “You’re insane! You’re a literal psychopath!” he screamed, his chest heaving as he stood over me. I brought a hand up to cradle the back of my head. A large, throbbing lump was already swelling beneath my hair. It hurt. A lot. But I didn’t cry. They didn’t like it when I cried. In the mountains, they said my crying sounded ugly and brought bad luck. Barry’s screaming drew my parents and Cathy down the hall. They rushed in, stopping dead in their tracks at the chaos. Cathy was the first to react. She threw herself at Barry, her face a mask of perfectly curated concern. “Barry, what happened? Did she make you mad again?” My mother looked down at me, her eyes heavy with an exhaustion that bordered on grief. “Maeve, when is this going to end? What did this family do in a past life to deserve this…?” My name is Maeve. A name I hadn’t heard in seven years. Barry pointed a shaking finger at me. “She just tried to jump off the balcony! I made a sarcastic comment, and she actually tried to do it!” My father’s face turned ashen with fury. “This is utter madness! Lock her in this room. No one lets her out without my explicit permission!” And so, I was locked away. Three times a day, a maid slid a tray of food through the small gap at the bottom of the heavy double doors. I didn’t mind. I had food. I had water. I wasn’t being beaten. To me, this room was paradise. 4 Two days later, the lock clicked. The door swung open. It was Cathy. She wore a pristine, designer silk dress, delicately carrying a steaming bowl of soup on a tray. “Sister, I had the kitchen make you some chicken soup to help you recover.” She set the bowl on the nightstand, her lips curved into a sweet, poisonous smile. “Drink it. While it’s hot.” I walked over, picked up the bowl, and drank it all in one long, unbroken gulp. It was boiling. I felt the skin of my tongue and esophagus blistering instantly, but I didn’t stop. Because she had told me to drink it while it was hot. When I finished, I held the empty bowl out to her. Cathy’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second before snapping back into place. “Wow, Sister. You’re so brave.” She took the bowl, running her fingers lightly over the rim. “You know, this is Mom’s favorite bowl. Custom Limoges porcelain imported from France. It costs thousands of dollars.” She twirled the bowl in her hands. Then, suddenly, her fingers slipped. Crash. The delicate porcelain shattered into dozens of jagged pieces across the floor. Cathy let out a short, dramatic gasp. Tears instantly welled in her eyes. Right on cue, the door opened, and Barry walked in. Cathy immediately threw herself at him, sobbing. “Barry, I didn’t mean to… the bowl slipped…” She crouched down to pick up the pieces, deliberately letting a sharp edge graze her finger. A single drop of bright red blood welled up. “It hurts…” she whimpered, holding her finger up pitifully for him to see. Barry roughly shoved me out of the way, dropping to his knees to inspect her hand. “You again! Can’t you let Cathy have one single day of peace?!” he snarled over his shoulder at me. I understood what he meant. I had broken the bowl. I had hurt her. I needed to apologize. I dropped to my knees, picked up the largest, sharpest piece of porcelain, and placed it in my mouth. Crunch. The sickening sound of grinding ceramic echoed in the dead-silent room. The metallic, rusted taste of blood instantly flooded my mouth. The color drained entirely from Cathy’s face. Barry froze. He stared at me, the anger in his expression melting into a look of profound, visceral horror. “What the hell are you doing?! Who are you performing for?! You make me sick!” I ignored him. I just kept chewing mechanically. This was how I was taught to say sorry. To use the most direct, undeniable agony to prove that I knew my place. Footsteps rushed down the hall. Cathy, sensing her audience, burst into hysterical tears. “Dad! Mom! My sister… she’s eating the glass…” My parents burst through the door, stopping dead at the sight of my blood-stained teeth and chin. My mother let out a blood-curdling scream and collapsed into a dead faint. My father caught her, pointing at me with a hand that shook violently, unable to form a single word. Barry was the only one who moved. He lunged at me, grabbing my jaw with both hands, trying to pry my mouth open to fish the shards out. “Spit it out! Spit it out right now!” His grip was agonizing, bruising my jawbone. But I didn’t spit it out. Because an apology had to be sincere. Eventually, I was forcibly dragged into the back of an ambulance and rushed to the hospital to have my stomach pumped. The surgeon extracted over a dozen pieces of sharp porcelain from my stomach. Several had severely lacerated my esophagus and stomach lining. I found myself back in a hospital bed, tubes snaking out of my arms and nose. The Montgomery family remained in the hallway. I was alone in the quiet, sterile room. Through the crack in the door, I could hear them arguing. “She’s a monster! A literal psychopath!” That was Barry. “It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have brought that bowl in there…” Cathy wept. “Oh, sweetie, it’s not your fault. There is something fundamentally wrong with her,” my mother consoled. “We need to find a psychiatric facility. Lock her up. If we don’t, she’s going to drag this entire family down with her!” my father finalized. Late that night, Barry crept into my room alone. He sat in the plastic chair beside my bed, staring at me in silence. He looked at me for a very long time. So long, I thought he might just sit there until dawn. Finally, he spoke. His voice was incredibly raw. “Why?” I looked at him, not understanding. “Why are you doing this? Is torturing us fun for you?” I shook my head slightly. “Then why?!” he suddenly exploded, his voice cracking with unchecked emotion. “Do you have any idea that Mom almost had a heart attack because of you?! Cathy hasn’t eaten all day because she’s so worried about you!” I lowered my eyes. “I’m sorry.” “Always ‘I’m sorry’!” he yelled, pacing like a caged animal. “Is that the only damn thing you know how to say?!” He grabbed the plastic water pitcher off my tray table and hurled it violently against the wall. “Maeve, do you think we owe you something? You didn’t come back to this family to heal. You came back to destroy us, didn’t you?” I didn’t answer. Because I didn’t know what to say. My silence was the final match to his powder keg. “Fine. You want to play games? Let’s play.” “You love following orders so much, right?” He pointed to the window. This hospital suite was on the fourth floor. “If you’ve got the guts, jump out that window.” “If you actually jump, I’ll believe you aren’t faking this.” “I’ll believe that this family actually owes you something.” He turned on his heel and slammed the heavy door behind him. I stared at the window. I looked at it for a long, quiet moment. Then, I slowly pushed myself upright. I slipped my feet into the hospital grips, walked over to the pane, and unlatched it. The night wind was fierce. I climbed onto the ledge, spread my arms wide, closed my eyes, and fell backward into the dark. Brother, I listened to you. I hope this time, you believe me.

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I stood in the echoing marble rotunda of City Hall, my fingers tightly crushing the little paper queue ticket, and suddenly, I laughed. Thirty-five dollars. That was the cost of the marriage license fee. Thirty-five dollars to find out the man I’d spent three years with was a complete fraud. As far as investments went, it was a bargain. Just minutes ago, Chester—the man I was supposed to be marrying today—had taken a phone call, stepped out of line, and vanished into thin air. I had paced the cold floors of the municipal building, calling him dozens of times. Every single attempt went straight to a sterile, unforgiving voicemail. It wasn’t until I aimlessly refreshed my Instagram feed that the blinding truth hit me. It was a post from Kelsey, his self-proclaimed “best girl friend” and “one of the guys.” The caption was so painfully bright it made my eyes water. [Truth or Dare got a little out of hand! Lost the bet, so I guess we’re hitched!] Below the text was a photo of the two of them standing in front of a judge’s desk, proudly holding up a crisp, gold-sealed marriage certificate. Chester’s arm was wrapped tightly around her waist, his other hand affectionately pinching her cheek. They were both wearing matching white button-down shirts, smiling so wide they looked like a bridal magazine ad. My mind flashed back to last month. I had practically begged him to go shopping for those exact white shirts. I had spent hours doing my hair and makeup, asking him to take a decent engagement photo with me. He had sighed, rolling his eyes with that signature, dismissive annoyance. “It’s just a piece of paper, Maddie. Why do you always have to make everything into this massive, exhausting production? Women are so much drama.” The irony tasted like ash in my mouth. My face completely numb, I double-tapped the photo to leave a like, and typed out a single comment: Congratulations. Less than a second later, an audio message from Chester popped up on my screen. “Maddie, what the hell are you doing? Delete that comment right now! Kelsey is just messing around, don’t make it weird. If she thinks you’re actually mad, it’s going to ruin her mood.” A pause, then his voice dropped into that condescending, placating tone he used when he thought I was being hysterical. “Look, she was playing a drinking game with the guys and lost. She didn’t want to back down. We’ve been bros forever, I was just doing her a solid so she wouldn’t look stupid. It’s just an annulment waiting to happen. Give it a few weeks, the paperwork clears, and I’ll come right back and marry you. Just go home, Maddie. Stop making a scene.” Listening to him twist reality so effortlessly, the heavy, suffocating weight that had been sitting on my chest for three years simply… evaporated. I let him go. 1 I threw the carefully ironed white silk shirt I had brought for him into the trash can outside City Hall, hailed a cab, and went home. When I pushed open the door to our apartment, the blast of noise almost knocked me backward. The living room was packed. It was all of Chester’s frat-boy friends, the ones who never seemed to outgrow their college days. Empty beer bottles and pizza boxes littered my expensive coffee table. Right in the center of the sofa sat Chester, with Kelsey tucked neatly under his arm. She was laughing loudly, her head thrown back, one leg casually draped over Chester’s thigh. “Oh, hey! Maddie’s home!” someone shouted, spotting me in the entryway. The raucous laughter died instantly. The room fell into an awkward, suffocating silence. Kelsey looked up at me. She didn’t move her leg. She didn’t untangle herself from my fiancé. Instead, she leaned a little closer to him. “Where have you been?” Chester asked, his tone perfectly even, as if he hadn’t just abandoned me at the altar to marry the woman currently sitting on his lap. “I thought you were coming straight back to cook. The guys are starving.” Kelsey leaned forward, lazily waving the official county marriage folder in the air. She wore a pout that was entirely performative. “Maddie, don’t be mad, okay? It was literally just a stupid game. Chester is just the most loyal guy ever. He took a bullet for me so I wouldn’t have to eat a spoonful of hot sauce.” She deliberately emphasized the word bullet. The room erupted into supportive murmurs from his friends. “Yeah, Maddie, Chester was just taking one for the team.” “It’s just a piece of paper. He’ll get it annulled next month. You’re not losing him.” “Come on, Maddie, don’t be a buzzkill.” I stared at the sea of faces, feeling a sharp, cold clarity settle over my ribs. Chester frowned at my silence. “Well? Don’t just stand there. Kelsey’s craving those braised short ribs you make. Go to the store and get a big batch.” Kelsey offered a sickeningly sweet smile. “Maddie makes the best ribs. Chester is always bragging about how domesticated and maternal you are. I’m so jealous. I literally only know how to eat.” I didn’t go to the kitchen. I walked slowly to the coffee table, looking down at the mess of sticky beer rings and crumbled chips. And there it was. The marriage certificate folder. I picked it up and opened it. It really was a great picture. Their heads leaned together, eyes sparkling, looking infinitely happier than Chester had ever looked in any photo with me. Too much trouble to take a picture with me, he had said. He certainly looked like he was having a great time now. “Great lighting,” I commented quietly. Chester blew out a frustrated breath. “Alright, enough with the passive-aggressive act. I told you it was a joke. I’ll get it annulled and we’ll do our thing next month. What more do you want from me?” “Nothing,” I said, tossing the folder back onto the table. It landed with a soft, final smack. “Since you signed the papers, you are legally husband and wife. Congratulations, Chester.” His face darkened. “Maddie, are you psycho? I’ve explained this to you a hundred times today. Can you stop being so completely irrational?” Looking at his righteous, defensive posture, I actually found it funny. “Let me explain something to you, then.” I looked around the room, letting my gaze sweep over every single one of his friends, before locking eyes with Kelsey’s smug face. “My name is on the lease for this apartment. The rent comes out of my bank account. So right now, I’m asking the newlywed couple, and all of your little friends, to get the hell out of my home.” 2 Dead silence. Kelsey’s smile froze. Chester jumped up, closing the distance between us, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. “Are you out of your mind? In front of all my friends? Could you give me just a shred of dignity here?” “Dignity?” I let out a sharp, breathless laugh. “Did you give me any dignity when you abandoned me to marry another woman?” “It was a game!” he roared. “The law doesn’t play games.” I pulled out my phone, opening the corporate housing app where I managed properties for my firm, and then pulled up my banking app, holding the screen up to his face. “You haven’t paid your half of last month’s rent. Since you’re a married man now, I assume your wife handles the finances?” I shifted my gaze to Kelsey. “Hey, Mrs. Pierce. That’s two thousand, five hundred dollars. Do you prefer Venmo or Zelle?” Kelsey turned pale, shrinking back into the couch cushions, her arms crossing defensively over her chest. “Chester, look at her…” Chester was livid, pointing a shaking finger an inch from my nose. “Maddie, you are crossing a line! It’s one month of rent! Are you really that desperate for cash that you have to be this petty?” “I am.” I put my phone back in my pocket, staring at him with a dead, uncompromising gaze. “You have exactly thirty minutes to pack your shit and leave. After that, I’m calling the police and having you all trespassed.” “You wouldn’t dare!” “Watch me.” I turned on my heel, walked into the master bedroom, and locked the door behind me. Outside, I could hear Chester kicking the door, shouting obscenities, interspersed with Kelsey’s high-pitched, fake-soothing voice telling him to calm down. I pulled my suitcase from the closet. I loved this apartment, but knowing that pair of parasites had lounged on my furniture made my skin crawl. As a project director at a Fortune 500 company, efficiency was my religion. I opened my corporate sublet portal. The building was in a prime downtown location; it wouldn’t take long. Within five minutes, I had a message from a traveling executive looking for a furnished six-month lease. I approved the transfer immediately. I packed only what was mine—my clothes, my jewelry, my laptops. Thirty minutes later, I unlocked the door and rolled my suitcase out. The living room hadn’t cleared out completely. A few of the guys were still hovering, offering Chester terrible advice. Seeing my suitcase, Chester’s shoulders relaxed into a smug posture. He thought I was throwing a tantrum. He thought I would bend. “Realized you’re overreacting? Apologize to Kelsey, and we can pretend tonight didn’t happen.” Kelsey tilted her chin up, looking victorious. “Honestly, Maddie, I don’t even need an apology. Just admit you’re a little insecure and—” I ignored them entirely. I gripped the handle of my suitcase, walked straight past the crowd, and stopped at the front door. I looked back at the room, breathing in the stale air one last time. “Chester, remember everything you said today. When the paperwork clears next month, don’t you dare come crawling back to me.” I booked an extended-stay suite at a luxury hotel near my office. I made mid-six figures; I didn’t need him to split the rent. I had only let him pay to make him feel like a man. Thinking back on it now, I had been an absolute idiot. The next morning, dressed in a sharp, tailored suit, I walked into the office. The moment I sat down, my assistant, Jordan, slid up to my desk, eyes gleaming with gossip. “Maddie! I heard you took PTO yesterday for City Hall! Let me see the ring! Where’s the champagne?” I opened my laptop, not breaking eye contact with the screen. “Didn’t happen. We broke up.” Jordan’s jaw dropped. “Wait, what? Why? You guys have been together for three years!” “Because he married someone else.” I dropped the bomb with the casual tone of someone discussing the weather. Jordan gasped, clutching her chest. “Shut up! Are you serious? Who is the psychotic bitch?” “His ‘one of the guys’ best friend.” Jordan inhaled sharply. “You mean the pick-me girl? The one who calls him at 2 AM because she’s sad and needs a drinking buddy?” I nodded. “That is vile! Maddie, how are you so calm right now?” “What are my options? Screaming and crying in the lobby?” I grabbed a stack of quarterly reports and handed them to her. “Here. Consolidate these metrics for the Q3 project. I need them for the 2 PM strategy meeting.” Work was the ultimate anesthetic. I stayed buried in data all morning. During my lunch break, my phone buzzed. It was Diane, Chester’s mother. “Maddie? Where are you? Chester said you threw a fit and ran away from home?” Her voice was laced with her usual grating, accusatory tone. I took a slow sip of my black coffee. “Hello, Diane. Can I help you?” 3 She huffed impatiently. “Chester told me everything. Yesterday was a misunderstanding. Young people like to play games, Maddie. As his fiancée, you need to be more secure in yourself.” “Kelsey is practically Cam’s sister. They grew up together. There’s nothing going on.” “They literally got a marriage license, Diane. Does that sound like ‘nothing’ to you?” I laughed, a cold, dry sound. “Since they signed the papers, she is his legal wife. I don’t make it a habit to be the other woman.” “Oh, for heaven’s sake, it’s not real! It’ll be annulled next month!” The old woman spoke with staggering entitlement. “Chester only loves you. Now hurry up and come home. Stop throwing this little tantrum. We’re having a family dinner tonight, all the aunts and uncles are coming. Don’t you dare embarrass Chester by not showing up.” “Oh, and to celebrate… well, just because we’re all getting together. Pick up some fresh crab on your way back. Kelsey loves crab.” My grip on my phone tightened until my knuckles turned white. A family dinner to celebrate Chester and Kelsey getting married? And I was supposed to play the dutiful maid, buying seafood to serve his little sidepiece? The absolute audacity of this family. “Diane, are you listening to yourself right now?” “Maddie Frost! Watch your tone with me! You are lucky a boy like Chester even looks at you! If you don’t show up tonight, don’t ever expect to be welcomed into this family again!” “That sounds like a dream come true.” I hung up the phone and blocked her number. Let Kelsey have that “luck.” I was done with it. After my afternoon meetings wrapped up, an unknown number flashed on my screen. I picked it up. Kelsey’s sickly-sweet voice echoed through the speaker. “Hey, Maddie. It’s me.” I frowned. “What do you want?” “Chester wants you to come to dinner tonight. His mom is super pissed, she says you’re being immature.” She couldn’t hide the gloating in her voice. “Honestly, I told Chester not to force you. But he insists you’re part of the family, and we can’t have a family dinner without you.” “Maddie, if you don’t show up, it’s going to make Chester look really bad. All his relatives are watching. Everyone thought you guys were getting married, and now…” She paused, letting out a soft, provocative giggle. “Address,” I said, my voice completely flat. Kelsey paused, clearly thrown by my lack of emotion, before rattling off the name of a high-end steakhouse downtown. “Don’t forget to dress up, Maddie. It’s a big night.” I ended the call. Looking out the floor-to-ceiling windows of my office at the crawling city traffic below, a slow, sharp smile curved my lips. A big night, huh? They wanted to humiliate me in public. They wanted to put me in my place. Fine. If they wanted to play with fire, I was more than happy to hand them the gasoline. After work, I didn’t go straight to the restaurant. I took a detour back to the apartment. The place was empty, but it was already trashed. Trash bags sat by the door, and Kelsey’s lingerie was casually draped over the arm of the sofa. All of my remaining decorative touches were gone, replaced by cheap plushies and discarded high heels. Even the bedding in the master bedroom had been swapped out for aggressive, tacky red sheets. I ignored the mess, walking straight to the bottom drawer of the built-in closet. I pulled out a thick, locked fireproof envelope. Chester thought I was so blindly in love with him that I never protected myself. He forgot what I did for a living. I was a project director. Risk mitigation was my second nature. With the envelope securely in my designer tote, I left the apartment and headed straight for the city’s luxury shopping district. 4 When I pushed open the heavy oak doors to the restaurant’s private dining room, the party was in full swing. Chester’s entire extended family was there, filling two massive round tables. Kelsey was wearing a plunging red cocktail dress. She had a wine glass in hand, holding court with Chester’s aunts and uncles, laughing radiantly. “Oh, Kelsey is just so sweet. Much better conversationalist than… well, you know.” “Exactly. Chester finally opened his eyes. They look so good together.” “Come on, let your uncle buy you a drink! To the happy couple—may you give us babies soon!” Kelsey’s makeup was flawless. She leaned heavily against Chester’s shoulder, soaking up the praise like a sponge. At the sound of the door opening, every head snapped toward me. I stood in the doorway, wearing a stunning, brand-new black Saint Laurent dress that clung to my curves, projecting the kind of untouchable power you couldn’t buy at a mall. “Wow. Looks like a party,” I said, my voice smooth as silk as I strode in on six-inch stilettos, a polite, chilling smile on my face. Diane was the first to react. She leaped from her chair, pointing a shaking finger at me. “It’s a day of celebration, and you show up wearing funeral black?! Are you trying to curse us?” “Celebration?” I arched a perfect eyebrow. “Diane, on the phone you said this was just a casual family dinner. You said the marriage was just a game. Have we changed the narrative again?” Chester’s face drained of color. He stood up, trying to grab my arm. “Maddie, stop it. Just sit down and eat. Don’t make a scene in front of my family.” “Don’t touch me.” I sidestepped him effortlessly, walking straight toward the head of the table. Kelsey crossed her legs, looking at me with undisguised venom. “Maddie, sorry, it’s super crowded tonight. But we saved a spot just for you. Right over there.” She pointed to a cramped, wobbly chair shoved in the corner near the swinging kitchen doors. It was wedged between two of Chester’s most feral young nephews. The tablecloth there was stained with spilled juice, half torn from the table. When I didn’t move to take the seat, Kelsey let out an exaggerated sigh and looked up at Chester. “Chester, look at her, she’s…” “Maddie! Sit down before you ruin the night!” Chester snapped. I laughed. It was a genuine, bright sound that echoed off the mahogany walls. “You’re terrified I’m going to ruin the night, yet you begged me to come. Are you all completely delusional?” The relatives began to whisper loudly. “God, she is so difficult. No class at all.” “Right? Chester told her it was a prank, and she just won’t let it go.” “Imagine being married to a woman like that. It’s a blessing Chester didn’t sign papers with her.” Listening to them, the last lingering thread of attachment I had to this family snapped. Top to bottom, they were rotten to the core. I casually pulled out the chair next to the head of the table—displacing an uncle who scrambled away—and sat down. I opened my designer tote, pulled out the thick envelope, and tossed it onto the spinning lazy Susan in the center of the table. “Since we’re all gathered here today, I brought a little wedding gift for the happy couple.” Chester stared at the envelope, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “What is that?” “Why don’t you open it and find out?” I poured myself a glass of sparkling water, taking a slow, elegant sip. Hesitantly, Chester reached across the table and grabbed the envelope. He unclasped it. Kelsey leaned over his shoulder to peek. A second later, Chester’s face turned the color of wet chalk. Kelsey slammed her hands on the table, leaping to her feet. “That is impossible!”

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I am a woman who treats separating ridiculously wealthy men from their money not as a hustle, but as a calling. Through a bizarre twist of fate, I found myself trapped in a world that operated exactly like a trashy romance novel, cast in the role of the tragic, disposable understudy for a ruthless billionaire’s untouchable first love. But I didn’t weep over my lot in life. In barely a year, I had managed to siphon fifty million dollars from his accounts. I was literally grinning at the staggering balance on my banking app when the hallucination started. Strings of bizarre, glowing text suddenly materialized in the air, scrolling furiously across my field of vision like a live chat feed on a screen only I could see: [The Golden Girl is flying back to the States! The understudy’s days are numbered!] [In a billionaire redemption arc, the body double never survives past chapter three.] [Girl, you better fake your own death and run, or he’s going to break your legs and lock you in a basement!] [It’s the plot! You can’t outrun the plot!] Staring at those floating neon words, the fifty million in my bank account suddenly lost its luster. Before I could even draft a blueprint for my grand disappearing act, I was dragged to the welcome-home gala for the mythic first love herself, Cathy Astor. At the center of the ballroom, Cathy flashed a saccharine, camera-ready smile. She picked up a heavy, diamond-encrusted choker from a velvet cushion and unceremoniously clasped it around my neck. “I hear you have quite the appetite for expensive things, Brooke,” she purred, her voice dripping with venom masked as grace. “My dog just got a new collar, so I thought I’d pass his old one down to you.” The cold metal had barely settled against my collarbone when the floating text exploded in front of my eyes again: [TAKE IT OFF! That thing is laced with radioactive isotopes! You wear that, you die!] [Don’t touch it! The author literally kills her off with radiation poisoning next chapter!] Oh? A slow, genuine smile spread across my face. Now I knew exactly how I was going to pull off my vanishing act. 1. A smattering of cruel laughter rippled through the crowd. I kept my chin level, letting the smile linger on the corners of my mouth. “If you feel the need to humiliate me this desperately, Cathy—” I paused, letting my gaze cut straight through her flawless veneer, right into the insecure marrow of her bones. “Is it because you still can’t let go of Tristan?” [LMAO! She went straight for the jugular!] [This girl knows exactly how to play the game!] Cathy’s manufactured smile froze. The air in the ballroom snapped tight. The mocking, dismissive silence of the crowd instantly morphed into the hungry, breathless silence of high-society vultures waiting for blood. I watched the color drain from Cathy’s face, leaving it chalky white, before it flushed a furious, mottled red. “What the hell are you talking about?” she hissed. I didn’t answer. I merely let out a soft, dismissive breath of a laugh and shifted my gaze over her shoulder. Tristan Crawford was leaning against a velvet banquette, the lazy swirling of his scotch suddenly stilled. There was a flicker of something in his icy eyes—almost like anticipation. The whispers began to swell around us like a rising tide. “Is Cathy really still hung up on Tristan?” “If she wasn’t, why would she target Brooke? Brooke is literally just her carbon copy.” “She probably wants her old life back but is too proud to admit it.” The murmured gossip hit Cathy like physical blows. Her eyes began to glisten with strategic, brimming tears. Right on cue, Tristan’s protective instincts flared. His voice sliced through the room, cold and authoritative: “Brooke. Remember your place.” I lowered my eyes in a portrait of utter obedience. “Of course, Mr. Crawford.” Without missing a beat, I reached up, unclasped the diamond choker, and held it up to the chandelier light, smiling directly at Cathy. “Thank you for the gift, Cathy. The motive might be trash, but the diamonds are flawless. I’ll gladly keep it.” Cathy was shaking now, her carefully curated composure entirely shattered. She spun toward Tristan, her voice turning shrill. “Keep your pet on a leash, Tristan. She’s dragging down the entire room.” Tristan’s jaw tightened. I looked at him, timing my next move perfectly, letting my eyes go wide and innocent. “Should I leave?” The room fell dead silent again. Every eye was pinned on Tristan. He let the silence stretch for two agonizing seconds before he suddenly reached out and wrapped his hand around my wrist. “Since we clearly aren’t welcome here, we’ll be taking our leave,” he said smoothly. [HOLY SHIT? The billionaire is defending the understudy?] [Wait, this is off-script! Isn’t he supposed to be obsessed with the Golden Girl?] I was stunned. Cathy looked like she’d been struck by lightning. She opened her mouth, but before a sound could escape, Tristan was already pulling me toward the grand double doors. We were inches from the exit when Cathy’s voice finally cracked like a whip behind us: “Tristan! Are you really going to ruin my night over her?” Tristan didn’t even bother to turn around. His tone was absolute frost. “She came with me. When you humiliate her, you humiliate me.” Cathy choked on a sob. Her face went from flushed to ashen, her chest heaving. The sycophants immediately swarmed, trying to patch the sinking ship. “Come on, Tristan, don’t be rash. Cathy was just joking around.” “Yeah, it’s her welcome-home party! Don’t ruin the vibe.” “Say something, Cathy. Apologize.” Cathy just bit her lip, stubbornly silent. I stared at the hard, unforgiving line of Tristan’s jaw. There was a tempest of emotion in his eyes, none of it decipherable. But beneath the surface, the truth was startlingly clear. He wasn’t protecting me. He had never been protecting me. This was a game of chicken. He was using me as a pawn to see if Cathy would beg him to stay. I was utterly exhausted by their toxic little pantomime. Gently, I tugged my wrist against his iron grip. “Tristan, please don’t fight with Cathy because of me. I can take a cab back to the estate.” He didn’t let go. But the whispers around him grew louder, more insistent. “Tristan, she just got back to the States. Don’t do this to her.” “Brooke is giving you an out, man. Take it. Don’t make it awkward.” Tristan stood frozen in the doorway. He was quiet for a long, heavy moment. So long, I actually thought he might defy them all and drag me into the night. And then, his fingers uncurled. He let me go. [And there it is. He folded.] [Once a lapdog for the first love, always a lapdog.] A quiet, self-deprecating smile touched my lips. I knew my cue. I turned my back on the glittering room and started walking. “Stop right there.” Cathy’s voice echoed through the marble foyer. I paused and glanced back over my shoulder. She was staring at me, the arrogant smirk finally returning to her glossy lips. “You ruined my welcome-home gala, Brooke. If I just let you walk out that door—” She paused, relishing the power. “It would make me look terribly weak, wouldn’t it?” I furrowed my brow. “What exactly do you want?” She swirled her champagne, taking her time. “I want you to—” She raised her eyes, pinning me to the floor. “Crawl out.” 2. I looked at Tristan. His brow was furrowed, his eyes darting between us as if calculating the optics of the situation. “One million dollars,” he said, his voice flat. “Do as she says.” The tiny, pathetic flame of hope that had somehow survived in the darkest corner of my chest extinguished with a quiet hiss. I pulled my gaze away from him, a bitter, mocking smile curving my lips. “Sorry,” I said, my voice echoing clearly off the high ceilings. “I have zero interest in participating in your sick little foreplay.” I walked out, not looking back. I was almost to the street when a violent, shattering crash erupted from inside the ballroom—the sound of crystal glasses being swept off a table. Then came Cathy’s piercing scream, laced with a trembling, hysterical sob: “Tristan! You’re just going to let her walk away?!” I didn’t turn around. But my footsteps, against my own will, faltered for just a fraction of a second in the cool night air. Back at the sprawling glass-and-steel mansion, I stood in the foyer, staring at the space I had occupied for over a year. I had lived here like a well-kept canary in a gilded cage. Tristan worked constantly, leaving early and coming home late. Most of the time, it was just me, the echoing silence, and closets full of haute couture I never asked for. I walked upstairs and shoved only the absolute necessities into a single duffel bag. Before I left, I hesitated by his mahogany desk. I grabbed a pen, tore off a sticky note, and scrawled a single line: Tristan: I’m leaving. A body double should know when her scene is over. Me staying will only cause more friction between you and Cathy. Take care of yourself. —Brooke I slapped the note onto the cover of the Forbes magazine he had been reading that morning, turned my back on the opulent prison, and walked out the door. To say I didn’t feel a pang of nostalgia would be a lie. But the overwhelming emotion that washed over me was relief. A profound, bone-deep relief that I had always known exactly what I was. I was a placeholder. I had never, not even for a second, allowed myself to actually fall in love with him. [Oh, honey, you are way too naive…] [If you could dodge a plot-mandated death this easily, it wouldn’t be a thriller.] [My heart breaks for her. She has no idea what’s coming.] I knew I wouldn’t get off that easy. I just needed a few days—a brief window while Tristan was too distracted by his reunited first love to care about me—to set my disappearance in motion. I rented a grim, cramped studio in a gritty neighborhood deep in Queens. It was chaotic, loud, and entirely devoid of security cameras. If Tristan wanted to find me here, he’d have to get his handmade Italian shoes very dirty. Once the deadbolts were thrown, I cracked open my laptop and started searching. High-end replica jewelry artisans NYC Early stage radiation poisoning symptoms List of corrupt radiologists/oncologists tri-state area [??? Wait, what is she doing?] [Is she getting a replica made? To fake the illness?] [Genius! Turn the white moonlight’s “gift” into a murder weapon! Let’s see Cathy play the victim now!] [But a real doctor won’t fake a medical report. She needs someone dirty.] I scrolled through page after page, my fingers flying across the keyboard into the early hours of the morning. By sunrise, wearing oversized sunglasses and a medical mask, I walked into a dingy jewelry repair shop wedged between a failing auto mechanic and a dive bar on the outskirts of the borough. The owner was a grizzled man in his fifties, chewing on an unlit cigar, looking at me with absolute apathy. I slapped a printed photograph of the choker onto the scratched glass counter. “I need an exact replica. Real diamonds, identical craftsmanship.” He picked up the photo, squinted at it, and then looked me up and down. “Lady, this ain’t a mall kiosk job. Real stones, this kind of setting? You’re looking at a couple hundred grand, minimum.” I unzipped my bag, pulled out two thick stacks of hundred-dollar bills, and slid them across the glass. “This is the deposit. Name your final price. I don’t care what it costs.” He flicked the cigar to the side of his mouth and grinned. “You got it. Give me three days.” For the next forty-eight hours, I did a deep dive on every chief radiologist and oncologist in the city’s private and public hospitals. The doctor I needed had to meet three exact criteria: One: Extensive experience with radiation patients, to forge an airtight medical file. Two: Desperate for cash, or harboring a massive, career-ending secret. Three: Good at keeping their mouth shut. I narrowed it down to three targets. Dr. Harris: 45, deputy head of radiology at a public hospital. Wife in hospice, drowning in medical debt. Dr. Evans: 38, oncologist at an elite private clinic. Rumored to take massive kickbacks from pharmaceutical reps to push experimental drugs. Dr. Miller: 52, came out of retirement to pay off his son’s staggering gambling debts to a local syndicate. I planned to make contact in the morning. I was just closing my laptop, eyes burning with exhaustion, when the space in front of me erupted in frantic, flashing red text. [ALARM! ALARM! ALARM!] [WAKE UP! YOU NEED TO RUN!] [Spoiler alert: Cathy just stabbed herself! Half an hour ago!] [She’s in the ER right now telling everyone YOU did it!] [Tristan is already on his way to your apartment! He bought it!] [HE BELIEVES HER!!!] [RUN, BROOKE, RUN!!!] The blood in my veins turned to ice. I didn’t move. I couldn’t. Because I knew, with sickening clarity, that I couldn’t outrun the author’s pen. 3. I chose to surrender in the cramped, airless studio. Even if I was trapped in the narrative of a twisted novel, it was still a society with laws. Let Cathy play the victim. Let them investigate. I hadn’t stabbed anyone. The flimsy door was finally kicked off its hinges. Tristan stood in the threshold, his face as dark and volatile as a hurricane over the Atlantic. Between his fingers, he was tightly crushing the sticky note I had left him. “Brooke.” His voice was a terrifyingly soft whisper that made the hairs on my arms stand up. “Cathy is lying in a hospital bed right now. She says you stabbed her.” I met his dead gaze. “I didn’t do it.” “She has a defensive knife wound. Her blood soaked through the mattress.” He took a slow, deliberate step into the room. “And you… you miraculously vanish from my house, leaving a note about bowing out.” His eyes were a storm of agony, rage, and profound disappointment. But there was one thing entirely missing from his gaze: doubt. He believed her completely. A sharp, hollow laugh tore from my throat. “Why are you even here, Tristan? Did you come to hear my side of the story, or did you just come to read me my sentence?” He fell silent for one single second. And in that quiet space, I got my answer. “Take her,” he commanded. I fully expected to be dragged into the back of a squad car. I was wrong. The black SUV drove for two hours into the desolate, wooded upstate mountains, finally stopping in front of a towering, rusted iron gate. Pinecrest Behavioral Health. A private, isolated psychiatric facility. “Tristan…” My voice finally broke, trembling violently. “What are you doing?” He looked down at me, his eyes as murky and stagnant as dead water. “Cathy told me you’ve been unraveling. She said you’re suffering from violent delusions. She doesn’t want to press charges and ruin your life. She just wants you to get the help you need.” “I didn’t touch her!” I screamed, lunging forward to grab the sleeve of his bespoke suit. “Tristan, please, for God’s sake, just believe me this once—” He physically recoiled, yanking his arm away from my grasp. “Get well soon, Brooke.” The heavy car door slammed shut in my face. [HOLY SHIT! An asylum?!] [This is worse than prison! A sane person will literally go crazy in there!] [Cathy is a sociopath! She eliminated the rival AND gets to play the merciful saint!] [TRISTAN YOU ABSOLUTE BLIND IDIOT!!!] Two massive orderlies grabbed me by the arms, dragging me through those rusted iron gates. Behind me, the red taillights of Tristan’s SUV bled into the thick, consuming darkness of the forest. The corridors of Pinecrest were impossibly long, stretching out like a fluorescent-lit purgatory. The blinding white lights, the sharp, metallic stench of bleach, and the distant, echoing sounds of people—sounds that hovered terrifyingly between weeping and maniacal laughter. I was shoved into an isolation room. An iron bed bolted to the floor. A barred window. A solid steel door. When the deadbolt slid into place with a deafening clack, I closed my eyes. Was I really going to be tortured to death by the plot? I wasn’t left alone for long. I was marched down the hall into a claustrophobic, windowless treatment room. Sitting behind a metal desk, casually flipping through a blank medical file, was Dr. Evans. The corrupt oncologist I had researched. Apparently, his side hustle involved private psychiatric “care.” “Brooke,” Dr. Evans said smoothly, not making eye contact. “According to the party who committed you, you are exhibiting severe violent tendencies and paranoid delusions.” “I am perfectly sane.” He smiled, a thin, patronizing stretch of lips, and gave a slight nod to the orderlies. They slammed me down into a heavy chair, immediately buckling thick leather straps over my wrists and ankles. Cold, sticky electrode pads were pressed against my temples. The second the electrical current surged into my skull, my entire universe went blinding, screaming white. It felt like a thousand needles driving straight into my brain. My body seized, violently convulsing against the restraints, entirely out of my control. I don’t know how long it lasted. Time ceased to exist. When the current finally snapped off, I collapsed back into the chair, my clothes soaked through with cold sweat, gasping for air as if I were drowning. “That was session one,” Dr. Evans’s voice drifted down to me, sounding like it was coming from underwater. “You have nine more scheduled.” I forced my eyes open, staring at him through a blur of involuntary tears. “How much… how much did Cathy Astor pay you?” He paused, clearly surprised I had named his benefactor. Then he chuckled, leaning in close so I could smell the stale coffee on his breath. “Miss Astor was generous enough to ensure you have a permanent residence here.” [ANIMAL!!!] [This is psychological murder!] [Someone spoil the ending for me! Does she escape?! Tell me she doesn’t die in this hellhole!] I was dragged back to my cell and tossed onto the thin mattress like a sack of garbage. My body wouldn’t stop violently trembling. The skin at my temples felt like it was on fire. I curled myself into a tight ball, staring blankly at the peeling paint on the concrete wall, tears spilling silently onto the rough pillowcase. It wasn’t fear. It was pure, unadulterated hatred. Cathy. The name etched itself into the inside of my skull like a brand. A few days later, Cathy appeared at the narrow window of my door. She was dressed in a pristine white designer dress, looking like an angel completely untouched by the filth of the world. Dr. Evans shadowed her, nodding obsequiously at her every word. She stepped into the cell, towering over my crumpled form. “How’s the electroconvulsive therapy treating you, Brooke?” I stared at her, my jaw locked. She smiled, crouching down so her face was inches from mine. “Tristan asked me to pass along a message. He said to focus on your treatment. Once you’re ‘cured,’ he’ll come pick you up.” Her eyes went dead, the smile turning razor-sharp. “But I am never going to let you leave this place.” She stood up, dusting off her immaculate dress, and turned to leave. At the door, she paused, glancing back over her shoulder. “Oh, by the way, I’ll be back tomorrow. I heard one round of therapy isn’t quite doing the trick? I’ve personally instructed Dr. Evans to add two more courses to your chart.” The steel door slammed shut. I stared at the heavy metal, the tears I had fought so hard to hold back finally breaking free. Tristan. He really trusted her that much. He wouldn’t even come to look me in the eye himself. I learned the hardest truth in the world in that room: the only person coming to save you, is you. The relentless electroshock sessions were beginning to fracture my mind. I couldn’t remember what day it was. Every hour stretched into a lifetime of agony. But I fought, with every ounce of my fading willpower, to stay lucid. Through the fog of pain, I noticed something crucial. They were so confident in my absolute helplessness that they only focused on breaking me; they didn’t bother heightening security. They viewed me as a bug pinned to a board. A plan began to form in the shattered pieces of my mind. The next day, I was strapped into the chair again. When the torturous current finally ended, I slumped forward, drenched in sweat, completely spent. Dr. Evans stepped close to check my vitals, leaning over me. He was close. Close enough that I could see the glow of the smartphone slipping out of his breast pocket. My fingers twitched against the leather restraints. I couldn’t reach it. But as he turned to adjust a dial on the machine, the phone slid up just an inch more. The screen was awake. I saw it. A text notification banner. Sender: Cathy Astor. The preview text read: “Kill her. I’ll double the payout.” 4. Cathy wanted me dead. And Dr. Evans was the gun she had hired. But a gun held by a man is only as loyal as the man’s greed. And every man has a price. “I saw the text,” I rasped, my throat raw and bleeding. He froze. “‘Kill her. I’ll double the payout.’” I locked my eyes onto his, refusing to blink. “That’s Cathy, isn’t it?” The color drained from Dr. Evans’s face. He straightened up immediately, taking a panicked half-step back. “I don’t know what you’re talking about—” “I don’t have the energy to play games with you,” I interrupted, my voice weak but laced with steel. “Just listen.” I took a rattling breath, forcing every word out through sheer force of will: “You kill me, you get your money. But do you really understand who Tristan Crawford is? He might not love me, but if I end up in a body bag, do you really think a billionaire isn’t going to order an autopsy?” Dr. Evans’s Adam’s apple bobbed nervously. “Cathy is the golden girl. When the feds come knocking, Tristan will protect her with his army of lawyers. But what about you?” I let the reality sink into him. “Who are you to them? A dirty doctor who took a bribe. When the murder charge comes down, you’re the one taking the fall. Think you can outrun Crawford’s security apparatus?” He remained silent. But his breathing had grown shallow and erratic. I struck the final blow. “I’ll give you ten million dollars.” His head snapped up, his eyes wide. “Where the hell would a stand-in get ten million—” I let out a weak, bloody laugh. “Why do you think I tolerated being his stand-in for a year?” Dr. Evans stood rooted to the floor. I watched the frantic calculations flashing across his face. Greed. Terror. Hesitation. The agonizing pull of self-preservation. I knew he was doing the math. Ten million was enough to buy a new identity in a country with no extradition treaty. It was ‘fuck you’ money. And the price of killing me… He looked at me, his gaze sharpening into something dangerous. “Why should I believe you?” A knot of tension in my chest loosened. It didn’t matter if he fully believed me yet. What mattered was that he was negotiating. “You’re going to fake my death,” I said, holding his stare. “You declare me dead from cardiac arrest, induced by the therapy. You give Cathy the death certificate. She pays you. Then, you let me walk out the back door, and I wire the ten million to whatever offshore account you want.” “And if she demands to see the body?” “That’s your problem to solve.” You think ten million dollars comes without a little heavy lifting? Dr. Evans stared at the concrete floor for an eternity. Just as I thought he was going to walk away and turn the machine back on, he spoke. “Deal.” Three days later. 2:00 AM. The rusted service entrance at the back of Pinecrest Asylum. Dr. Evans handed me a black duffel bag. Inside was a stack of untraceable cash and a burner phone. “Tomorrow morning at 6 AM, I’m logging a fatal cardiac event. Resuscitation failed.” I took the bag, the weight of it grounding me. “The wire transfer will be processed by dawn. If it’s short a single cent, you can call the cops and have them drag me back.” He nodded stiffly and turned to walk back inside. After two steps, he paused. He didn’t look back. “Brooke. Don’t ever come back here. You don’t belong in a place like this.” I offered a dark, silent smile to his back. I pushed the heavy iron door open, the biting wind of the early morning rushing over my face. It was pitch black outside. No streetlights. I couldn’t even see the road ahead. But I took my first step into the dark anyway. [OH MY GOD SHE ACTUALLY ESCAPED!!!] [BROOKE IS A SURVIVOR!!! Phase one of the revenge arc is a GO!] [Cathy better sleep with one eye open. The reaper is coming to collect!] [Wait, wait, wait—what if Dr. Evans double-crosses her?!] [Shut up! Don’t jinx it!] I walked down the desolate mountain highway, pulling the burner phone from the bag. I booted it up, bypassed the standard towers, and logged into an encrypted dark-web server. I pulled up the contact for a data broker I had vetted months ago. [Look into Cathy Astor.] [I want the skeletons. Every dirty, buried, illegal thing she’s ever done.] [Name your price. Money is not an object.] Send. I slid the phone into my pocket and looked up at the starless sky. Plot-mandated death. Who said the plot was only allowed to kill me?

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “419157”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Zavier is a famous director who made me work as a stunt double on his film set. He forced me to jump from a thirty-foot platform for his mistress. While I was trapped underwater in the freezing reservoir by the wire rigging, with my lungs running out of oxygen, all I could hear through the earpiece was him flirting and laughing with his mistress. “If Chrissy dies, she dies. You’re the one I love.” My heart turned to ash. Ten years of love had burned to nothing. That same day, I left for Alaska to volunteer at a wildlife sanctuary in the mountains. A year later, he was diagnosed with terminal stomach cancer and got on his knees to beg for my forgiveness. I stood there with my arm around my new lover, looking down at him coldly. “Zavier, you killed my child with your own hands and destroyed half my life. Playing the devoted lover now with what’s left of yours only makes me sick.” I turned and walked away without looking back. “In this life and every life to come, I pray I never meet you again.”

Chrissy’s POV “Cut! Perfect! That’s a wrap!” With the assistant director’s shout, the tension on set instantly dissipated. I was lowered from the thirty-foot wire rigging. The moment my feet touched the ground, a stabbing pain shot through my left knee. I couldn’t keep my balance and dropped to one knee on the mud-soaked mat. The rough blast suit choked me, making it hard to breathe. My shoulder, where I’d just crashed into the prop wall, was already bleeding through the fabric, burning hot with pain. Gritting my teeth, I was about to push myself up with one hand when rapid footsteps rushed past me, creating a gust of wind. “Lexi! Are you okay? That explosion was so loud. Did it scare you?” It was Zavier’s voice. The man I’d been with for seven years, who was now a hot new director rising in the entertainment industry. I looked up through the crowd to see him rushing anxiously toward the rest area. Sitting there was the female lead of this production, Lexi Summers. She was completely clean, not even a hair out of place, just clutching her chest with slightly reddened eyes, putting on a frightened act. “I’m fine. The blast was just so loud, my heart’s still racing.” Lexi leaned toward Zavier, her voice sweet and delicate, like a startled rabbit. Zavier didn’t hesitate to pat her back gently, his tone softer than I’d heard in ages. “Don’t be scared. I’m here. Your scenes are done for today. Go rest in your trailer.” I froze in place, watching their shameless display. The blood from my shoulder seemed to flow faster, dripping down my arm into the muddy water and spreading into dark red blooms. The crew around me was busy wrapping up. No one noticed me, the stunt double who’d just completed a dangerous high fall for Lexi Summers. I took a deep breath, fighting through the pain in my knee, and limped toward the monitor tent. I wanted to review the footage from that take to make sure there were no flaws in my performance. The tent was empty. The sound engineer had probably gone to the restroom, leaving the headset carelessly tossed on the mixer. I’d just put on the headset and hadn’t even pulled up the playback when a clear conversation suddenly came through. It was Lexi’s wireless mic. She hadn’t turned it off. “Chrissy fell so hard just now. Is she going to be okay? It looked scary.” Lexi’s voice carried a hint of testing the waters. Then came the sound of Zavier lighting a cigarette. The click of the lighter was especially sharp in the quiet headset. “What could possibly happen to her? She’s tough as nails. She survived rolling down a mudslide before. This height is nothing for her. Just routine.” Zavier’s tone was casual, even dismissive. “But… she’s still a woman. Aren’t you being too cold to Chrissy? Won’t she get upset? I heard you two used to…” “Used to is used to.” Zavier cut her off, his voice edged with irritation. “She’s hard as a rock. Doesn’t need anyone worrying about her. You think she’s delicate like you? I keep her on the crew because she’s useful. She knows what shots I need without me having to explain. As for feelings… they’ve just worn down into habit. What I feel for her is more like gratitude and obligation.” “Then… what about me?” Lexi’s voice dropped, tinged with grievance. “You?” Zavier let out a soft laugh, his voice suddenly lower, carrying an intimacy that made hearts race. “You’re nothing like her. She belongs in the mud. You belong in the spotlight.” I yanked off the headset. My stomach churned violently. Gratitude? Obligation? Useful? Tough as nails? This was the evaluation I’d earned after breaking three ribs for his independent film. I didn’t cry. I just felt cold. A chill seeping out from my bones, instantly freezing all my emotions. I pulled out my phone and opened a conversation I’d left untouched for a long time. It was with the captain of the Denali Mountain Wildlife Conservation Station. “Do you still need people for next month’s assignment?” The reply came quickly. “Need them! Desperately! But this time we’re going deep into the wilderness. You’ll be out of contact for at least three years. Conditions are extremely harsh. Are you sure you’ve thought this through?” I looked at the monitor showing Zavier helping Lexi into her trailer, my fingers typing steadily. “I’ve thought it through. I’m signing up. I’ll report to the base in five days.”

Chrissy’s POV “What are you spacing out about? Today’s sequence was beautiful. You’re my ace, as always.” A heavy slap landed on my shoulder. I gasped in pain and turned to face Zavier’s triumphant expression. He held two cans of ice-cold beer, casually tossing one to me like he was calling over a buddy. “What’s wrong? You look terrible.” He finally noticed something was off. His brow furrowed, but there wasn’t much concern in his eyes. More like he was calculating work schedules. “Did that take not go well? Want to do a safety?” I looked at the cold beer in my hand, then at those eyes that used to see only me. I suddenly found it absurd. His so-called love was treating me like a handy weapon. No maintenance needed, no care required. Just as long as I could clear obstacles for him. “No need. It was fine.” I set the beer on the table. “My shoulder’s a bit strained. I’m heading back.” Zavier paused, apparently not expecting me to refuse his “reward.” A flash of displeasure crossed his eyes, but he quickly masked it. “Alright then. Ice it when you get back. Tomorrow we’ve got an underwater escape scene. You need to be in top form. Whether this film wins awards depends on these major sequences.” He didn’t even ask if I was badly hurt. Didn’t even glance at my still-bleeding shoulder. It was so obvious. I nodded and turned toward the exit. Just as I reached the set entrance, I ran into Lexi, now changed into casual clothes. She wore an oversized black windbreaker that engulfed her frame, making her look even more delicate and adorable. I recognized that windbreaker. It was a limited edition Zavier had brought back last month when he’d gone location scouting in Scandinavia. At the time, I thought he’d bought it for me, since I often shivered through night shoots. But when I asked, he said it was a gift for an investor. Now that “gift” was wrapped around Lexi Summers. “Chrissy, are you leaving?” Lexi blocked my path, her smile picture-perfect innocence. She deliberately pulled the windbreaker tighter, the collar releasing a faint trace of the fir-scented cologne Zavier always wore. “Zavier said it would be windy tonight and was worried I’d catch cold, so he insisted I wear his jacket. Chrissy, you don’t mind, do you? Zavier said you’re tough and never get cold.” Her words were like soft needles, precisely targeting my vulnerable spots. I looked at that face, written all over with provocation disguised as innocence, and suddenly felt it was all so pointless. “I don’t mind.” I pulled at the corner of my mouth. “It’s just a jacket. If you like it, wear it. After all, I don’t need someone else’s hand-me-downs.” Lexi’s expression froze instantly, a flash of venom in her eyes. I didn’t bother with her anymore and walked straight off the set. I didn’t go back to the apartment I shared with Zavier. Instead, I took a cab to the hospital’s orthopedic department. The doctor looked at my MRI films, his brow knotted tight. “Miss Christie, your left meniscus is severely worn, and your shoulder ligaments show signs of old tears. If you continue doing these high-intensity stunt performances, you’ll likely spend the rest of your life in a wheelchair within six months.” The doctor’s voice echoed in the empty examination room like a death sentence. “I strongly recommend you stop all strenuous activity immediately and prepare for surgery.” I sat in the chair, staring at the blurry shadows on the films, silent for a long time. “Doctor, if I don’t have surgery and only do conservative treatment, will I still be able to walk normally?” “Walking normally, yes. But absolutely no running or jumping, and no heavy lifting.” The doctor sighed. “You’re still so young. Don’t gamble with your body.” I walked out of the hospital holding the medical records. Outside, the sky had gone completely dark. The city’s neon lights flickered, but they couldn’t warm my frozen hands and feet. I tore the medical records into pieces and threw them in a nearby trash can. No need for surgery. Once I got to Denali Mountain, I wouldn’t need to risk my life for anyone else. I’d only need to survive for myself. Four more days.

Chrissy’s POV Today is October twelfth. Seven years ago on this day, Zavier took me deep into an undeveloped mountain range to film a documentary. We were caught in a sudden mudslide. In that cramped cave, we held each other tight, thinking we would die there. That night, he wrapped the only dry piece of clothing he had around me and swore to me with tears in his eyes. “Chrissy, if we make it out alive, my life belongs to you. From now on, every October twelfth will be just for us. Just the two of us.” We survived. For the first five years, he kept his promise. No matter how busy he was, he’d cancel everything on this day to stay home with me, cook a meal together, and watch an old movie. But starting last year, he changed. Last year he said an investor had called an impromptu meeting he couldn’t miss. I waited for him all night, only to see him and Lexi photographed at a bar on the trending topics. He explained it was a crew dinner. I believed him. And this year? I sat in the dark living room, looking at the completely cold dishes on the table. The clock on the wall pointed to eleven at night. Heavy rain fell outside, raindrops hammering the windows with dull thuds. I picked up my phone and called Zavier. “Sorry, the number you have dialed is currently unavailable.” I called three times in a row. All went unanswered. I put down my phone and opened Instagram. The algorithm knew me well. The first post on my feed was one Lexi had posted ten minutes ago. The photo showed an elaborately romantic candlelit dinner table with a bouquet of bright red roses. Across from her sat half of a man’s shoulder. Though his face wasn’t visible, those shirt cuffs were the ones I’d personally gone to the boutique to pick out for him last month. The caption read. “He said some days shouldn’t be for dwelling on past suffering, but for celebrating new beginnings. Thank you for the surprise.” Location tagged: the city’s most exclusive revolving restaurant. Reading those words, my eyes suddenly stung. Past suffering? So our life-and-death memories had become “suffering” that needed to be abandoned in his eyes. And Lexi Summers was his “new beginning.” I didn’t smash things hysterically like some bitter woman in a TV drama. I didn’t screenshot it to confront him. I simply stood up calmly, walked to the kitchen, and dumped all the dishes I’d spent the entire afternoon preparing into the trash bin, plates and all. Then I walked into the bedroom and dragged out that black suitcase. I started packing. I didn’t actually own much. Over the years, I’d poured all my money and energy into Zavier’s films. My closet held nothing but a few dirt-resistant athletic outfits and virtually nothing of value. I took those mementos I’d once treasured. The replica of his first award trophy. The cross necklace we’d brought back from the church where we’d prayed together. Those slips of paper with his promises written on them. I threw them one by one into a black trash bag. Finally, I opened a drawer and pulled out that plain ring. He’d bought it for me with his first paycheck during our first year together. Not expensive, but I’d worn it for seven years. It had left a deep groove on my finger. I slipped the ring off and placed it on the nightstand. No nostalgia. No reluctance. When disappointment accumulates enough, leaving becomes instinct. By the time I finished packing, it was two in the morning. The living room was piled with black trash bags, while my suitcase held only a few changes of clothes and some essential medications. I sat on the sofa, quietly listening to the rain outside the window. Three more days. Zavier, you’re free now. And so am I.

Chrissy’s POV At three-thirty in the morning, the electronic lock at the entrance beeped. Zavier walked in, bringing cold air and the scent of alcohol. The living room’s main lights were off, with only a dim floor lamp glowing. His movement paused as he changed shoes, clearly noticing the several large black trash bags in the middle of the living room and me sitting silently on the sofa. “What are you doing up in the middle of the night making a mess?” He loosened his tie, his tone edged with impatience, and walked straight to the bar to pour himself water. As he approached, a heavy scent of rose perfume mixed with red wine wafted over. That was Lexi’s favorite fragrance. I lifted my eyelids and looked at him quietly. “Cleaning out some useless things.” My voice was hoarse, completely flat. Zavier stopped mid-drink. He turned to examine me in the dim light. Perhaps my excessively calm demeanor unsettled him. He put down his glass, walked over to sit beside me, and reached out to put his arm around my shoulders. “The crew had an important investor meeting today. My phone was on silent. I didn’t hear your calls.” He lied smoothly, not even blinking. “Once we get through this busy period and the film wraps, I’ll spend some quality time with you, okay?” I shifted slightly, avoiding his hand. His hand froze in midair. His expression darkened instantly. “Chrissy, what are you throwing a fit about now?” Zavier’s patience seemed exhausted, his voice rising several octaves. “I already told you it was work! Can’t you be reasonable? You weren’t like this before. The film is at the most critical stage. Do you really have to cause trouble for me right now?” I looked at his face, slightly twisted with anger, and suddenly found it laughable. “Work?” I let out a light laugh, looking straight into his eyes. “Going to a revolving restaurant for candlelit dinner, sending red roses. That’s part of work too?” Zavier’s pupils shrank sharply, panic flashing in his eyes before being replaced by anger. “You’re spying on me? You went through Lexi’s Instagram?” He shot to his feet, pointing down at me accusingly. “Chrissy, when did you become so unreasonable? Lexi was upset today. As her director, what’s wrong with comforting my actress? Why do you have to think the worst of everything?” “Think the worst?” I rolled the phrase around in my mouth, my heart desolate. He’d trampled our seven years underfoot, yet turned around to accuse me of being cynical. “Zavier, do you remember what today is?” I didn’t argue with him. I just asked that question calmly. Zavier froze. The anger on his face solidified instantly, replaced by the awkwardness and guilt of being caught. He opened his mouth as if to explain, but ultimately just grabbed at his hair in frustration. “Chrissy, I’m sorry. I genuinely forgot with how busy I’ve been.” He sat back down, trying to take my hand, his tone softening. “You know how important this film is to me. Once the movie wins awards, we’ll get married. Just bear with me a little longer, okay? We went through life and death together. Surely that means more than some meaningless anniversary?” Marriage. For the past seven years, that word had been my greatest hope. But now, coming from his mouth, it sounded like a cheap bargaining chip to cover his betrayal and neglect. He thought that mentioning our “life-and-death bond” would make me forgive him unconditionally, just like I always had. He thought Chrissy could never leave him. I looked at him and suddenly smiled. “Alright.” I pulled my hand back, stood up, and looked down at him. “I understand. I won’t make a scene. Get some rest. You have a big night shoot tomorrow.” Zavier clearly hadn’t expected me to give in so easily. He stared blankly as I walked back to the bedroom and closed the door. The moment the door shut, I heard him let out a long sigh of relief in the living room. He thought he’d placated me. But he didn’t know that when a woman stops arguing with you, stops demanding explanations, that’s when she’s completely given up on you. Two more days.

Chrissy’s POV The last day. The crew was filming the final major scene at an abandoned reservoir in the suburbs. An underwater escape sequence. In the late autumn reservoir, the water temperature was barely above forty degrees Fahrenheit. White vapor drifted across the surface. Just looking at it sent chills through your bones. Lexi stood on the shore wrapped in a thick down jacket, clutching a thermos, still complaining sweetly about the wind. And I stood in the freezing water wearing only a thin white dress, weighted down with lead blocks and wire rigging, my lips purple with cold. “All departments ready! Chrissy, after you go under, hold your breath for thirty seconds. Once we cut to Lexi’s body double, struggle to the surface. Remember, the movements need to look desperate, realistic!” Zavier sat behind the monitors, directing loudly through his walkie-talkie. His eyes stayed glued to the screens. He didn’t even glance at me once. I took a deep breath, nodded, put in my waterproof earpiece, and plunged into the bone-chilling water. The underwater world was silent and oppressive. The icy current instantly stripped away what little warmth I had. My left knee and shoulder, with their old injuries, exploded with tearing pain under the cold stimulus. I clenched my jaw, fighting through the pain, struggling underwater as directed. Ten seconds, twenty seconds, thirty seconds… Time was up. I kicked hard, trying to swim upward. But suddenly the wire rigging around my waist jammed! Abandoned fishing nets underwater had tangled in the wire’s clasps. A massive force yanked me violently back down. I panicked, frantically pulling at the wires, shouting into the earpiece. “Pull me up! The rigging’s stuck! Pull me up!” But what came through the earpiece was Zavier and Lexi’s laughter. “Zavier, look at that cloud. Doesn’t it look like a puppy?” Lexi’s voice was bright and cheerful. “Mm, as cute as you.” Zavier’s voice was full of indulgence. They weren’t even watching the monitors! They’d even cut my main microphone, leaving only the one-way command channel! The oxygen in my lungs depleted rapidly. Freezing water poured into my nose and mouth. The terror of suffocation engulfed me instantly. I looked up at the faint light filtering down from the surface, and what flashed through my mind was every injury I’d suffered, every drop of blood I’d shed over these seven years for Zavier. What a fool I was. I’d nearly thrown away my life for a man like this. Survival instinct triggered my last reserve of strength. I pulled out the tactical knife strapped to my inner thigh. A self-defense tool a friend had just sent me yesterday. With every ounce of strength left, I cut through the fishing net and wire rope tangled around my waist, stroke by stroke. I broke through the surface, gulping the freezing air, coughing violently and spitting up river water streaked with blood. Only then did the people on shore realize something was wrong. “Chrissy! Why did you surface on your own? Where’s the rigging? Do you realize you just ruined that perfect shot!” Zavier grabbed his walkie-talkie and rushed to the shore, shouting at me furiously. He didn’t see my face. Didn’t see the blood at the corner of my mouth. He only cared about his shot. I dragged my heavy body step by step up the shore. Icy water dripped from my hair onto the muddy ground. I walked up to Zavier, looked at his angry face, and suddenly felt incredibly light. I reached up, pulled the waterproof earpiece from my ear, and smashed it on the ground right in front of him. The earpiece shattered with a sharp crack. “Zavier, I quit.” My voice wasn’t loud, but it reached everyone’s ears clearly. Zavier froze, seemingly unable to process what I’d said. “What are you losing it about? We’re almost done. You’re quitting now?” “Yes. I quit.” I looked at him. “Your movie, your leading lady. You can handle them yourself.” With that, I ignored his stunned expression and the shocked stares around us, turned, and walked straight toward a black SUV parked outside the set. The window rolled down, revealing Captain Jack Morrison’s weathered face. “All settled?” Jack asked. “All settled.” I opened the door and got in. I handed Jack my phone. “Standard protocol. Surrendering communication devices.” Jack took the phone, powered it off, and tossed it in the glove compartment. “Heading out. Next stop: Denali Mountain wilderness sector.” The SUV let out a low rumble, kicking up a cloud of dust, leaving behind the man I’d loved for seven years and that unbearable past, completely behind me.

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I was the one who saved Lucas Thornfield, but he believed it was Serena who was his savior. He called me vicious and forced me to donate blood to the pretending-to-be-sick Serena again and again. “Having your blood flow into her body is the greatest honor of your pathetic life.” After three years of torment from constant blood draws, I finally signed the “Deep Sea” memory erasure agreement, willing to risk a 50 percent mortality rate just to completely forget him. But when I was reborn with a completely new identity and stood on the international stage, he knelt before me, begging through tears for my forgiveness. I sneered and pushed him away. “Mr. Thornfield, you’ve mistaken me for someone else.” Stella POV “Miss Winters, this is the ‘Deep Sea’ memory erasure and identity reconstruction agreement you applied for. The procedure is irreversible, with a mortality rate as high as thirty percent. Once you sign, in seven days, Stella Winters will cease to exist. Please confirm one final time.” In the sterile white therapy room, the doctor pushed a document toward me. I lowered my eyes and gripped the pen without a moment’s hesitation, signing my name at the bottom. The scratching sound of the pen tearing across paper severed the absurd and pitiful obsession that had consumed the last ten years of my life. Ten years. I’d finally decided to let myself go, and to let Lucas go. The entire city knew I was the woman Lucas couldn’t shake off. To marry him, I’d stopped at nothing, even driving away the woman Lucas loved most, Serena Marlowe, forcing her to leave town. But no one knew that when I was fifteen, it was Lucas who slipped a hand-carved wooden ring onto my finger under a sky full of stars, his face flushed as he said, “Stella, when I grow up, I’ll marry you and make you my one and only Mrs. Thornfield.” At eighteen, during that terrible fire, Lucas shielded me from harm. A burning beam struck his head, leaving him blind and robbing him of all his memories. To save him, I was left with horrifying burn scars covering my back. But when Lucas woke up in the hospital and regained his sight, the first person he saw was Serena in her white dress, looking delicate and pitiful. Serena took credit for saving him. From that moment on, Lucas’s memory held no trace of me. Only the image of Serena, the one who “risked her life to save him.” For the past seven years, I’d exhausted every method trying to awaken his memories, only to be met with escalating disgust and torment. Especially three years ago, when Serena was diagnosed with a rare blood disorder requiring long-term transfusions. And I happened to have the same rare blood type that matched hers perfectly. Lucas married me not out of compromise, but to turn me into Serena’s personal walking blood bank. “Stella, as long as Serena needs it, draining you dry is what you owe her!” Lucas had been saying this for three years. I gathered my thoughts and handed the agreement to the doctor, then stood and left. Walking out of the discreet private clinic, the autumn wind whipped fallen leaves against my face. The cold cut through to my bones. I’d barely gotten into my car when my phone screen lit up. The name “Lucas” flashed on the display. I pressed accept. A voice as cold as ice came through the speaker. “Get to Grace Memorial Hospital within half an hour. Serena fainted from anemia.” No greeting. No pleasantries. Just a cold command. In the past, I would have felt heartbroken, made excuses about not feeling well myself, tried to beg for even the smallest scrap of his pity. But today, I simply replied with one word. “Okay.” Lucas seemed to pause on the other end. After all, every previous time I’d been summoned for a blood draw, I’d cried and made a scene, forcing him to come back to the villa and have dinner with me before I’d agree. “Don’t try any tricks.” Lucas snorted coldly and hung up. Half an hour later, I arrived at the VIP ward on schedule. The hospital room door was half-open. Lucas sat by the bed, carefully peeling an apple for Serena. His usually hard jawline softened impossibly when facing her. “Lucas, I’m fine. Don’t keep making things difficult for Stella. She’s your wife, after all. Constantly drawing her blood makes me feel terrible…” Serena leaned against the pillow, her voice so weak it seemed a breeze could blow it away. “Wife? What kind of wife is she?” Lucas’s voice turned cold instantly, dripping with undisguised sarcasm. “She’s just a woman who’ll do anything to climb the social ladder. Having her blood flow into your body is her honor.” I stood outside the door listening to these words. My heart felt like an invisible hand was squeezing it tight, but in the next second, it went completely numb. I pushed open the door and walked in. “Go ahead and draw it.” I proactively rolled up my sleeve, exposing an arm covered in needle marks, and spoke to the nurse beside me. Lucas looked up, his sharp gaze fixed on me. Today I hadn’t become hysterical, hadn’t questioned him with red-rimmed eyes, hadn’t even glanced at him once. “400cc.” Lucas spoke coldly. The nurse gasped. “Mr. Thornfield, Miss Winters just donated 300cc last week. If we draw another 400cc today, her body won’t be able to handle it. She might go into shock…” “I said 400cc.” Lucas’s tone was freezing, brooking no argument. I didn’t object. I simply watched quietly as the thick needle pierced my vein. Dark red blood flowed through the tube. I felt the warmth draining from my body bit by bit, my vision beginning to darken. But I didn’t cry out in pain. I didn’t even furrow my brow. Seven days. Just seven more days, and I could be completely free. What was this little bit of pain?

Stella POV Blood drained from my body drop by drop. My heartbeat grew slower and slower, my breathing increasingly difficult. When the 400cc blood bag was finally full, I couldn’t hold on any longer. My body went limp and I slid from the chair. Instead of hitting the cold, hard floor I expected, a strong arm suddenly grabbed my wrist and yanked me back. Lucas looked down at me from above, his brows knitted together. “Done with your performance?” He roughly released my hand. “Drawing a little blood and you play dead. Stella, your acting is getting more and more pathetic.” I collapsed back into the chair, gasping for air in great gulps. Cold sweat soaked through my clothes, stinging the hideous burn scars on my back. I had no strength to argue. I just pressed a cotton swab against the needle mark, braced myself against the wall, and shakily stood up. “Since the draw is finished, may I leave?” Lucas grabbed my chin, forcing me to look up at him directly. “Leave? Did I say you could leave?” Lucas sneered. “Next month’s ‘StarGlow’ International Jewelry Design Competition. Serena is entering. Hand over that ‘Tears of the Deep’ design draft of yours.” I stared at him in disbelief. “Tears of the Deep” was a work I’d poured an entire year of my heart and soul into, created to commemorate my late mother. It was my masterpiece, the work I’d prepared for my comeback on the international stage as a genius jewelry designer. “That’s my work.” I bit my lip, my voice trembling. “Yours?” Lucas acted as if he’d heard the biggest joke in the world. “Stella, have you forgotten? Everything you have now, the Lu family gave you! Serena’s hands were injured saving me. She can’t hold a brush steadily anymore. As the culprit, what’s wrong with drawing a few designs for her?” “I didn’t set that fire! I was the one who saved you!” I’d been repeating this explanation for seven years, but every single time, he crushed it beneath his feet. “Shut up!” Lucas suddenly tightened his grip, his eyes terrifyingly dark. “You still dare bring up what happened back then? If you hadn’t been jealous of Serena and deliberately locked her in the equipment room, how would the fire have started? Serena dragged me out of the flames and suffered severe burns on both hands. She can never complete the designs she loved again. And you? You hid outside without a scratch!” Without a scratch? I closed my eyes in despair. My back still bore the permanent brand that fire had given me. Every time it rained, the pain was unbearable. But he didn’t believe me. He only believed in the insignificant burn on the back of Serena’s hand. “Lucas, don’t push Stella anymore…” Serena in the hospital bed started crying right on cue, tears falling in big drops. “It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t dream of standing on the design competition stage anymore. I’ll go tell the organizers I’m withdrawing right now…” “Serena, don’t cry.” Lucas immediately released me, turned, and walked to the bedside, gently wiping away Serena’s tears. “I told you, the glory that belongs to you. I’ll definitely help you get it back.” He turned his head to look at me again, his eyes restored to absolute coldness. “Tomorrow morning, I want to see the final draft of ‘Tears of the Deep’ in Serena’s email. Otherwise, I can’t guarantee that cemetery plot your mother has in the south district won’t become a commercial zone tomorrow.” My entire body trembled. I looked at this man I’d loved for ten years in disbelief. He was actually threatening me with my mother’s resting place! My heart felt like it was being sliced back and forth with a dull knife. The pain reached such extremes that it became numb. I looked at Lucas and smiled faintly. “Fine. I’ll give it to you.” Lucas froze, about to say something more when my figure had already disappeared from the doorway. I didn’t look back. Even when I heard him mutter under his breath, “Just a vicious woman. How could I possibly care?” I ignored it. After all, this would all be over soon.

Stella POV Three days later, at the “StarGlow” International Jewelry Design Competition awards gala. As Lucas’s wife in name, I was forced to attend. I wore a high-necked, long-sleeved black evening gown that covered me completely. I wore this dress solely to hide the scars on my back and the dense needle marks covering my arms. I sat quietly in a corner, watching Serena shine brilliantly at center stage. Serena wore a haute couture white dress with my heart and soul around her neck. “Tears of the Deep.” It was a necklace with a rare blue diamond as the centerpiece, surrounded by smaller diamonds, like the desperate tears of a mermaid in the deep sea. Breathtakingly beautiful. “The winner of this year’s ‘StarGlow’ Competition Gold Award is… Miss Serena! Her piece ‘Tears of the Deep,’ with its unique emotional expression and stunning cutting technique, has conquered all the judges!” The spotlight fell on Serena. She covered her mouth excitedly, her eyes filled with tears as she looked down at Lucas in the audience. Lucas sat in the front row VIP section, gazing tenderly at the woman on stage, leading the applause. Thunderous applause filled the room. I lifted the wine glass in front of me and drained it in one gulp. The bitter liquid slid down my throat into my stomach, but it couldn’t match even one ten-thousandth of the bitterness in my heart. After the awards ceremony came the media interview segment. Serena held Lucas’s arm, radiant and dazzling, accepting the media’s flashbulb baptism. “Miss Marlowe, we heard that due to your hand injury, you haven’t produced any new work in recent years. This ‘Tears of the Deep’ marks your return to the peak. What was your inspiration?” Serena glanced shyly at Lucas beside her and said softly, “This piece was designed to thank someone who has silently protected me and given me light in my darkest moments. It represents undying love.” The crowd erupted in envious exclamations. Just then, a sharp voice suddenly cut in. “Mrs. Thornfield, we heard you were also a somewhat famous talented designer in the industry. Why haven’t you published a single piece in the three years since you married Mr. Thornfield? Has your talent run out, so you can only coast on the Thornfield family’s influence?” All the cameras instantly turned toward me in the corner. Malicious, mocking, and gleeful gazes pierced me like blades, pinning me in place. I lifted my head and looked at Lucas. I wanted to see what my husband would do at this moment. Lucas’s brow furrowed almost imperceptibly, then he spoke coldly. “Stella indeed has no design talent. The only thing she can do well is hold the empty title of Mrs. Thornfield. Everyone, there’s no need to waste time on a worthless person. Tonight’s star is Serena.” Something in my head seemed to explode completely. A worthless person. My ten years of youth, the talent I took such pride in, the half-life I’d destroyed to save him. In his eyes, it was all dismissed as “worthless.” Suppressed laughter rippled through the crowd. “So she’s just useless. I thought she was something special.” “And she dares occupy the position of Mrs. Thornfield. How shameless. Mr. Thornfield clearly loves Miss Marlowe.” I didn’t cry. I didn’t even feel angry. I simply stood up slowly and, under everyone’s contemptuous gazes, lifted my dress and walked step by step toward the banquet hall exit. My spine remained perfectly straight. Lucas caught my wrist at a hallway corner and slammed me hard against the wall. “Why are you running? Embarrassed?” Lucas ground his teeth as he stared at my face. “Wasn’t I telling the truth? Besides scheming to force me to marry you, what else can you do?” I didn’t struggle. I just quietly looked at this face so close to mine. The face I’d once loved to the bone. “Lucas.” “You’re right. I really am a worthless piece of trash.” Lucas suddenly leaned down, rough and venting his anger through force. “Stella, what kind of playing-hard-to-get game are you trying now?!” The taste of blood spread between our lips and teeth. I didn’t respond. I didn’t resist. Just then, a shocked cry came from the end of the hallway. “Lucas…” Serena stood in the distance, her eyes red, looking at us tangled together as if she might collapse at any moment.

Stella POV Lucas snapped out of it as if waking from a dream and shoved me away violently. The force was so great that my back slammed hard against the solid wall. A dull pain radiated from the old wounds on my spine. I groaned. “Serena, let me explain…” Lucas strode toward Serena, his tone full of panic. Completely different from the roughness he’d just shown me. Serena covered her face, tears falling like broken pearls. “Lucas, I know Stella is your wife and I’m just an outsider… I shouldn’t be disturbing you two. I’ll leave, I’ll leave right now…” She turned to run but “accidentally” crashed into a giant decorative champagne tower nearby. The towering champagne tower collapsed with a crash, countless glass shards flying everywhere. “Ah!” Serena screamed and fell among the broken glass covering the floor. A gash immediately opened on her fair calf. “Serena!” Lucas’s eyes nearly split with rage as he rushed over and carefully gathered Serena into his arms. Serena leaned against him, trembling, but her gaze traveled over Lucas’s shoulder to me. “Stella, I know you hate me for taking your design draft, but why did you push me? My hands are already ruined. Do you want to destroy my legs too?” I stood three meters away from the champagne tower. I watched Serena’s performance without even the energy to sneer. “I didn’t push her.” I stated the fact flatly. “You still dare lie!” Lucas whipped his head around, his eyes blood-red. “Stella, you’re absolutely vicious! If anything happens to Serena, you’ll pay with your life!” He stood up holding Serena. As he passed me, his eyes were as cold as if looking at a corpse. “Get out of my way!” He shoved me aside roughly. I was already weak from the blood draw. His anger-filled shove made me lose my balance completely. I fell straight toward the pile of sharp glass shards on the floor. The sound of a blade cutting through flesh was especially clear in the silent hallway. My right hand pressed down hard on a large, razor-sharp piece of glass. Blood gushed out instantly, staining the floor red. Piercing pain shot from my palm, but I didn’t make a sound. I just bit my lip hard and watched Lucas carry Serena away, disappearing around the corner without looking back once. He didn’t even glance back at me. Didn’t see my right hand covered in blood. I sat collapsed in a pool of blood, looking at my right hand pierced through by glass, and suddenly started laughing softly. I laughed and laughed, and then tears fell. This hand had once drawn countless designs that amazed the world. This hand had once gripped Lucas tightly in the flames, refusing to let go. This hand had once prepared countless meals for him with such hope. Now it was ruined. Good. I didn’t need it anymore anyway. Hospital emergency room. The doctor looked at my mangled right hand, his brow furrowed deeply. “Miss Winters, the glass shard severed the main nerves and tendons in your right hand. Although surgery can stitch it up, your right hand will no longer be able to perform fine motor movements. Which means… you may never be able to hold a brush again.” I leaned against the hospital bed and nodded. “It’s fine. Just stitch it up.” I didn’t need a brush anymore. Four days until the “Deep Sea” agreement took effect. The suturing surgery was done without anesthesia because I’m allergic to standard anesthetics. I just watched as needle and thread passed through my flesh, enduring all the agony. Did it hurt? Compared to the pain in my heart, this was nothing. After bandaging the wound, I refused hospitalization and walked out of the hospital alone. The late-night streets were bitterly cold. I dragged my exhausted, broken body back to that villa called “home.” I pushed open the door. The living room was pitch black. Lucas hadn’t come home. I didn’t turn on the lights. Using the moonlight, I went upstairs to the bedroom. I pulled out a black suitcase and started packing. Actually, I didn’t have much to take. Everything in this villa was stained with Lucas’s presence, suffocating me. I opened a drawer. At the very back sat an old wooden box. I opened it. Inside lay a crudely carved wooden ring. That was from when I was fifteen, when Lucas carved it bit by bit with a pocketknife and placed it on my finger. “Stella, when I grow up, I’ll marry you and make you my one and only Mrs. Thornfield.” The young man’s vow still echoed in my ears, but now it had become the most vicious curse. I picked up the wooden ring with my undamaged left hand, walked to the balcony, and threw it into the trash bin below without hesitation. Along with my ten years of love, humble as dust, I threw it all away.

Stella POV The next morning, Lucas pushed open the villa door carrying a bone-chilling coldness. Serena had only suffered a minor superficial injury, but he’d still watched over her at the hospital all night. As he walked into the living room, he saw a maid carrying a black trash bag toward the exit. “Stop. What are you holding?” Lucas asked coldly. The maid jumped in fright and quickly answered. “Sir, these are things the madam asked me to throw away this morning. They’re all old things…” Lucas’s gaze sharpened, falling on the half-open trash bag. Inside was a pile of cut-up clothes. All the cheap items he’d casually bought me over the years, which I’d treasured and worn for three years. And in the middle of those fabric scraps, a familiar wooden ring appeared in Lucas’s line of sight. Lucas snatched the trash bag, pulling out the wooden ring. The ring had some age to it now. The edges had been worn smooth, and the inside still faintly bore the initials of our surnames. “Where is Stella?!” Lucas looked up sharply, his eyes bloodshot as he roared at the maid. “M-Madam is in the glass greenhouse in the back garden…” The maid trembled all over in fear. Lucas clenched the wooden ring and strode toward the back garden with long, determined steps. On this early autumn morning, a cold drizzle began to fall. The glass greenhouse had no heating. It was as cold as an icebox. I wore thin pajamas, using my left hand to awkwardly pull up withered rose bushes by their roots one by one, throwing them into a nearby trash can. These roses. I’d planted them by hand when I first married Lucas. I’d naively believed that if I tended them with care, they’d bloom brilliantly someday, just as I’d believed that if I loved him enough, he’d look at me eventually. Now the flowers were dead. So was my heart. “What are you doing?!” An angry roar suddenly came from behind me. My movements paused. I didn’t turn around, just said flatly, “Clearing out trash.” “Clearing out trash?” Lucas rushed forward in a few strides, grabbed my shoulder, and forcibly turned me around. “Stella, what kind of madness are you having? What’s the deal with this ring? Where did you steal it from?!” He shoved the wooden ring right in my face, his expression fierce as if he wanted to devour me. I looked at the wooden ring, then at Lucas’s enraged face, and suddenly felt it was unbearably ironic. He’d forgotten me, forgotten everything, yet only this ring triggered a reaction in him. Too bad. Too late. “Stole it?” I laughed softly. “If Mr. Thornfield says I stole it, then I stole it. It’s just a worthless piece of junk anyway. Throwing it away is no big deal.” “You!” Lucas grabbed my throat and pinned me against the cold glass wall. “Stella, do you think playing these tricks will get my attention? I haven’t settled the score with you for pushing Serena last night! Now, go to the hospital immediately and get on your knees to apologize to Serena! Otherwise, I’ll make you wish you were dead!” I was forced to tilt my head back, breathing becoming difficult. My right hand hung limply at my side, the thick bandage already soiled with rainwater and mud, faintly seeping bright red blood. But Lucas didn’t notice at all. “I… won’t… go…” I forced these words through gritted teeth. “Good! Very good!” Lucas was so angry he laughed, suddenly releasing his grip. I lost support and fell sitting in the cold mud, coughing violently. “Since you love staying here so much, then stay here! Without my permission, no one is allowed to let her out! And no one is allowed to bring her food!” Lucas turned and strode away. With a loud “bang,” the greenhouse door was locked tight from the outside. The cold autumn rain pounded against the glass, making suffocating sounds. I curled up in a corner, hugging my shivering body tight. Three days until the “Deep Sea” agreement took effect. Night fell. The autumn rain turned to freezing sleet mixed with ice. The temperature in the glass greenhouse dropped to freezing. I curled up on the muddy ground in the corner, my whole body burning, my consciousness beginning to blur. Excruciating pain came from my right hand wound, accompanied by the bone-deep aching brought on by high fever, as if countless ants were gnawing at my flesh and blood. “Lucas…” I mumbled that name carved into my bones in my feverish delirium. In my haze, I seemed to return to the fire scene when I was eighteen. Scorching flames devoured everything. The moment the beam fell, the young man held me tightly beneath him. “Stella, don’t be afraid… I’ll protect you…” The young man’s voice was gentle and firm, but in the next second, it transformed into Lucas’s ice-cold mockery. “What do you think you are? How dare you compare yourself to Serena?” “Draining you of your blood is what you owe her!” In the interweaving of ice and fire, I fell completely into darkness.

Lucas POV The next morning, I sat in the dining room, looking at the lavish breakfast spread before me without any appetite. I irritably tugged at my tie, unable to stop myself from glancing toward the back garden. A full day and night, and that woman hadn’t uttered a single word begging for mercy. “Sir, she’s been in the greenhouse all night. This morning the temperature dropped below freezing. She might…” The maid approached with coffee, speaking fearfully. “She won’t die!” I cut her off coldly and stood up. “A woman like her who’ll do anything to achieve her goals. Her life force is tough as nails!” Despite my words, my feet moved uncontrollably toward the back garden. The moment the greenhouse door opened, a bone-chilling cold hit me in the face. I immediately saw Stella collapsed on the muddy ground. She wore thin pajamas, covered in mud, lifeless as a discarded rag doll. Most striking was her right hand hanging at her side. The thick bandage had been completely soaked through with blood, turning a shocking dark red. “Stella!” My heart seized violently. An unprecedented panic grabbed hold of me instantly. I rushed over and gathered her into my arms. Where I touched, everything was scalding hot. “Stella! Wake up! Stop playing dead!” My voice trembled. I scooped her up horizontally and ran toward the garage like a madman. Grace Memorial Hospital, outside the emergency room. I slumped against the wall, my hands covered in Stella’s blood. The doctor came out, his expression grave. “Mr. Thornfield, Miss Winters’s high fever has triggered severe pulmonary infection. Additionally, her severed hand nerves weren’t treated promptly. The wound is seriously inflamed. Worse still, she’s chronically depleted from extensive blood loss. Her body is extremely weak. Her life is in danger at any moment.” “What did you say? Severed hand nerves?” I grabbed the doctor’s collar violently. “How could her hand be severed?!” “Miss Winters was brought to emergency the night before last with her right hand severely cut by glass. All the nerves and tendons were completely severed. In the future, she… she’ll never be able to hold a brush again.” I stood thunderstruck, frozen in place. The night before last… glass injury… When the champagne tower collapsed! I’d only cared about picking up the lightly injured Serena, but I’d shoved Stella hard toward that pile of broken glass! She’s a genius designer! Her hands are her life! Yet she hadn’t made a sound, letting me lock her in that freezing greenhouse to die! I released the doctor and staggered back two steps. My heart felt like an invisible hand was violently tearing it apart. The pain made it impossible to breathe. Just then, my phone rang urgently. It was Serena’s attending physician. “Mr. Thornfield, this is bad! Miss Marlowe’s condition has suddenly deteriorated, triggering acute bone marrow failure! We must perform a bone marrow transplant immediately, or she won’t make it through tonight!” My grip on the phone tightened suddenly. “Are there matches in the bone marrow bank?” “No! Currently, the only person who’s a complete match for Miss Marlowe is… is your wife, Stella.” Silence filled the corridor. I turned my head and looked at the tightly shut emergency room doors. Inside lay the wife whose right hand I’d just learned I’d personally destroyed, hovering between life and death. On the other end of the phone was the “lifesaver” I’d sworn to protect with my entire life. What should I do? What on earth should I do?

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In the third year of hiding my identity and marrying Alpha Lucas, he still hadn’t made our relationship public. His excuse was that he worried I’d be hunted down by his enemies. But I overheard him chatting casually with friends: “Sophie is just a useless Omega. She’s not even as pretty as Isabella.” “But if I divorce her now, she’ll take half my assets. The loss would be too great.” “I’m starting to regret making her my mate. With her status, she’s only good enough to be my mistress at best.” So I handed him divorce papers. When he saw I was walking away with nothing, he breathed a sigh of relief. Then, pretending to be generous, he said: “I’ll give you twenty million as compensation.” I smiled and declined: “I’m still young. I can afford to take risks.” He didn’t know I wasn’t the ordinary Omega he thought I was. I’m the beloved stepsister of the Alpha of North America’s most powerful pack, the Shadow Fang Pack. Lucas’s current status and wealth all came from my stepbrother’s support. Now, I’m going to take it all back. 0

My third year married to Lucas. To get closer to him, I hid my identity and took a job as an administrative assistant at Lucas’s company. I just wanted to see him a little more each day. But on my third day at work, my colleague Chloe sent me a video. The camera focused on a private room where Lucas and his beta Isabella sat side by side. Isabella turned toward him, hooking her finger around Lucas’s tie and pulling him close. “Lucas,” her voice carried a hint of intoxication, “do you have feelings for me or not?” Lucas pressed her hand down, saying in a low voice: “Now’s not the time to talk about this.” “Give me an answer, Lucas.” Her voice rose slightly. She glanced at the others nearby, then looked back at him. “Right now. Tell me, do you love me or not?” Lucas was silent for a few seconds, then raised his hand to rub his temples, his tone weary: “Do you have to do this?” Isabella laughed, released his tie, casually picked up his drink and took a sip, then set down the glass, grabbed her bag, and got up to leave. Lucas immediately stood up and briefly told the group: “Excuse me for a moment,” then hurried after her. The video ended. Chloe’s message came right after: [They left together! Haven’t come back all afternoon! Think something’s going to happen tonight?] I stared at the darkened screen, my fingertips numb. Before I could catch my breath, my phone vibrated again. Lucas’s message popped up: [Working all night tonight, not coming home, don’t wait up.] My heart sank. I called him right away. At first, no one answered. I called several times in a row. The call connected. “Honey, my phone was on silent, didn’t hear it. What’s wrong?” “Honey, are you really not coming home tonight?” I asked through clenched teeth, my nails digging into my palm. “Yeah, it’s a get-together. Everyone’s here. Can’t leave. Hope you understand, honey.” “Are there women at your party?” He paused, then laughed: “No, since when do you check up on me? Want to video chat so I can prove my innocence?” Just then, I heard it. The clear rustling sound of an expensive shirt rubbing against hotel sheets. Then a suppressed, brief groan escaped from deep in his throat. “Mm…” All the blood in my body seemed to freeze instantly. After three years with Lucas, I knew exactly what that sound meant. “No need for video…” I was afraid I might throw up. “You have fun. I’m going to bed.” “Honey,” his voice was terribly hoarse, “we closed a big deal tonight. Starting tomorrow, everyone’s going to be working overtime. I’ll probably be working late, so don’t wait for me for dinner these days.” The call ended. I didn’t sleep all night, already planning to confront Lucas directly tomorrow and hopefully leave him with nothing. But at four in the morning, Lucas came home. “Honey?” He obviously didn’t expect me to still be awake. He froze for a moment, then showed his usual gentle smile. “Why aren’t you asleep? Didn’t I tell you not to wait up?” “Where did you go?” I stared at him, my voice soft. “Didn’t I tell you? At a party?” “Was it a party, or a date with another woman?” “Sophie,” he sighed, his voice full of exhaustion and helplessness, “did someone send you something? I admit, Isabella confessed to me at the party. But I turned her down. We’ve known each other so long—if I liked her, why would I have married you?” “Besides…” He hugged me, his palm rubbing my neck, “wouldn’t you know if I’d cheated on you?” Calming down, I realized he was right. When I was 18, he had already marked me. If one mate cheats, the other suffers unbearably. If Lucas had really cheated, how could I not feel the pain? Maybe I really was overthinking it. 0

“I’m sorry,” I leaned against his shoulder, tears soaking his shirt, “I’m just… so afraid of losing you.” That night he was especially gentle. He heated milk for me, coaxed me to sleep, just like every night for the past three years. I curled up in his arms, telling myself: Trust him. Trust this man I’ve loved for three years. I almost really believed it. The next morning, Lucas specially got up early to make me breakfast. “Come home early today, okay?” I saw him to the door, helping him straighten his tie. “Okay, no overtime today. I’ll come home and keep you company.” He kissed my forehead. “What do you want for dinner? I’ll make it for you.” “I like everything you make.” Watching his retreating figure, I even started to feel guilty: How could I suspect him? He’s so good to me. But there was still some unease in my heart. So I didn’t tell him I was working at his company. After seeing Lucas off, I drove to the company alone. I’d just sat down at my desk when Isabella showed up at the office. She was carrying a lunch box and walked straight through Lucas’s office door. The door wasn’t fully closed. A few minutes later, I picked up an irrelevant document, pretending I needed to deliver something, and walked toward that door. Through the crack, I saw her straddle Lucas’s lap, cup his face in her hands, and give him a long, suffocating kiss. Lucas’s hands immediately gripped her waist tightly, while his other hand expertly explored beneath her skirt. “Did you miss me?” Isabella gasped as they separated, her lips glistening. “What do you think?” Lucas’s voice was low and husky, his hand still moving under her skirt. Lucas chuckled softly, leaned close to her ear and said something. Isabella giggled and playfully hit his chest. In that moment, the vague fear from last night’s phone call transformed into a soul-piercing, undeniable agony. Intense burning pain and nauseating betrayal surged through that invisible bond, crashing violently into my heart and brain. My legs went weak. I had to grab the wall to keep from collapsing, my stomach churning. I could barely stand, yet I still raised my phone and recorded everything. I didn’t actually need to witness it myself. But if I didn’t see it with my own eyes, I was afraid I wouldn’t give up. All afternoon, I watched Lucas and Isabella going in and out of the office like an outsider. They occasionally made eye contact, their gazes lingering. When Isabella handed him documents, her fingers “accidentally” brushed his hand. And I shattered a cup from the pain of their contact. During lunch, Isabella entered his office. She didn’t come out until half an hour later, her lipstick reapplied, her hair slightly mussed. The suffocating pain and absurd awareness coming from behind that closed door made me almost vomit. I didn’t even need to look to know what they were doing. Six o’clock in the evening. Closing time. I watched them head to the underground parking garage. Then I got in my car and followed them. I didn’t know what I wanted to see. Perhaps I just wanted an answer. If he’d fallen in love with someone else, why was he still pretending nothing was wrong? Why wouldn’t he divorce me? After Lucas dropped Isabella off at home, he went to a discreet members-only bar. I used the card Nathan gave me to get in and sat in the shadows near their private room. The door was ajar. I could see seven or eight people sitting inside. At first, the group discussed work projects. Later, they started talking about their personal lives. About kids, about wives… and of course, about mistresses. “I saw Isabella post on social media something about lovers finally getting together. What’s up? Did you finally come around and get Isabella into bed?” Someone asked. I couldn’t help but prick up my ears. Lucas said calmly: “You don’t understand the situation that day. I had no choice. Isabella was pressuring me. If I didn’t take her, she’d resign. You know, Isabella’s been with the company so many years, the company can’t do without her. Or rather… I can’t do without her.” “So Isabella’s okay with being a mistress? Lucas, don’t screw yourself over later.” “Right. And can your mate accept Isabella’s existence? Didn’t she notice anything yesterday?” “It’s simple. As long as you keep your distance, even a mate won’t detect these things.” So that was it. Apparently they all had experience with this, and had even figured out the effective range of the mate bond. Lucas set down his glass and spoke: “Sophie is just a useless Omega. She’s not even as pretty as Isabella.” “I’m starting to regret making her my mate. With her status, she’s only good enough to be my mistress at best.” “But divorcing now would mean too great a loss.” So he was worried about the loss. Made sense. Lucas and I were legally married. Divorce would mean splitting his marital assets. Lucas’s Silver Crest Pack was originally just a small pack, and the businesses under it barely made money. It was only after marrying me that he suddenly gained many opportunities to partner with Shadow Fang Pack’s enterprises. And Lucas finally had the standing to build connections with the Alphas of more powerful packs. Because although I’m an Omega, my stepfather and stepbrother are both powerful Alphas, and they dote on me. I got up and left the bar, walked to the curb, and called my stepbrother Nathan. “Sophia, what’s up? How come you’re calling me so late?” Nathan’s voice came through the receiver. I couldn’t hold back. Tears streamed down my face. “Soph, what’s wrong? Are you crying?” I was sobbing too hard to speak. Nathan immediately asked where I was. I gave him an address through my tears. Half an hour later, he appeared in front of me. “Where’s Lucas?” “He cheated.” 0

Nathan froze, his jaw clenched tight. “Where is he? I’m going to kill him.” I grabbed Nathan’s hand and shook my head: “No need. That would only dirty your hands.” Nathan stomped his foot hard on the ground in anger. But it still wasn’t enough to calm him down. He asked me: “Divorce?” I nodded without hesitation. “Could it be a misunderstanding?” I showed Nathan all the videos and photos saved on my phone. Even though I said nothing. Nathan had already made his decision. He immediately took out his phone and made several calls. He contacted suppliers connected to Lucas, telling them not to sign contracts that had just been negotiated but not yet signed, not to renew contracts that were expiring, and for contracts not yet expired, to withdraw discounts and charge full market price. After those few calls. Nathan took my hand: “Come on, let’s go home.” I shook my head, tears still hanging at the corners of my eyes: “Before going home, I want to move out first.” Without hesitation, Nathan drove to the place Lucas and I shared. Lucas had arranged the residence. I had nothing worth being attached to. I’d just lived here for three years, never imagining I’d leave this way. “If you want this place, I’ll get you the best lawyer to help you win it.” “No need. Anything touched by Lucas feels pretty dirty to me now.” Moving out of that villa. I wanted to wait for Lucas to contact me first, then confront him. But unfortunately. A week passed. He didn’t even notice I’d moved out. He just sent me his usual daily message: [Working late tonight, don’t wait up.] But in reality? I saw him and Isabella together every day. Each time brought me such clear pain. I’d planned to finish my current work before resigning, but one day I was suddenly notified by HR: immediate termination, leave the company at once. I protested and asked my department supervisor for a reason. The supervisor only said it was Ms. Rodriguez’s decision, that I was “not a good fit for the company culture.” I thought Isabella knew my identity and was deliberately targeting me. But unexpectedly, Chloe came to me and confessed. “Someone overheard me calling Ms. Rodriguez a ‘homewrecker’ that day, and word got out. We’ve been working overtime constantly these days. It wasn’t Mr. Lawson’s arrangement—it was Ms. Rodriguez deliberately targeting us. I was done for, but because you kept working overtime with me, I…” Chloe was crying uncontrollably. “I really need this job. I’m not as pretty as you, not as smart as you, so I went to Ms. Rodriguez and blamed you for calling her a ‘homewrecker.’” “I thought, I thought Ms. Rodriguez would just not let you stay to work here. I didn’t expect her to have security throw you out… I hurt you… I’m sorry…” I laughed. Completely out of anger. Partly angry at my friend’s betrayal. But more angry at Isabella for abusing her power and humiliating people like this. “It’s fine, I forgive you. Stop crying. Thank you for being a good friend to me this time. From now on, I wish you all the best.” With that, I picked up the documents I’d prepared long ago from the desk and started to leave. Chloe grabbed me, her face hopeful: “What about Ms. Rodriguez…” I said calmly: “Don’t worry, I’ll take the blame for this.” Then I raised my head. And shouted loudly across the entire office: “Isabella is a homewrecker. What, can’t even say it out loud!” 0

Instantly. Everyone in the office stopped what they were doing and looked at me in unison. Shock filled everyone’s eyes. And I, holding that “immediate termination notice,” charged straight into the conference room. At that very moment. All the company’s executives and supervisors were in an early meeting. My arrival was clearly very inappropriate. The executives in the conference room frowned one after another, somewhat disgusted with this clueless young woman. That’s right. Three years as Lucas’s mate. Not a single person in his company knew what his wife looked like. Including Isabella. Among those present, only Lucas showed some surprise in his eyes when he saw me. But he didn’t speak. The first to speak was still the meeting host, Isabella. Isabella lifted her chin, her sophisticated, mature face expressing utter disdain and impatience: “What’s so important it couldn’t wait?” I wasn’t polite: “Ms. Rodriguez, did you deliberately fire me because I said you were Mr. Lawson’s homewrecker?” The others present looked at Isabella with slightly surprised expressions. Isabella’s face stiffened, apparently not expecting a small administrative assistant to be so bold. She narrowed her eyes and said: “Since you already know, why bother asking?” There was no point in her denying it. There was plenty of gossip in the company. To silence the masses, you had to make an example. And in her view, I was that chicken to be killed to scare the monkeys. I met Isabella’s eyes and raised my voice: “I’m sorry, Ms. Rodriguez. I shouldn’t have said you were Mr. Lawson’s homewrecker!” Isabella’s expression was somewhat awkward, but she still held firm, crossing her arms and looking down: “Apologizing now is too late!” I looked at Lucas. His face was dark, clearly displeased. But what right did he have to be displeased? He was the one who lost face first. I sneered coldly: “It’s not too late at all. I’ll clear Ms. Rodriguez’s name right now!” I pulled open the door behind me, raising my voice even higher: “Although Ms. Rodriguez knew Lucas had a mate and still slept with him, she’s of course not Mr. Lawson’s homewrecker! After all, she’s about to be promoted to the main position! I, Alpha Lucas’s actual mate, am signing divorce papers right now to fulfill your love!” My announcement made Isabella’s face turn from green to white. The people present also realized my identity. Isabella too. Everyone looked at Lucas. Lucas was already furious. One year of dating, three years as mates… this was the first time I’d seen Lucas angry. “Have you caused enough trouble!” How could it be enough? I wanted to be dignified too. But you wouldn’t let me! “I have no other demands,” I pushed the document in front of Lucas. “Sign it.” Lucas glanced at the document title. “Divorce Agreement.” He froze. Isabella’s composure had already faltered, but seeing the document, she gained some confidence. “You—what do you mean?” I looked at her, then at Lucas: “I mean, I’m done playing games with you two.” Lucas stared at the agreement, then looked up at me: “Sophia, are you serious?” “What else?” I smiled. “I’m not a recycling center. I don’t handle garbage.” Isabella’s eyes flashed with wild joy, but she suppressed it, leaning close to Lucas and whispering: “She’s walking away with nothing. I’ve read the agreement. You can sign it.” Lucas ignored her, only looking at me: “Think carefully. Rejection—” “I’ve thought very carefully,” I interrupted him. “Compared to continuing as your mate, I’d rather walk away with nothing. But today, I’m only signing the divorce agreement. As for rejection… that’s between us, not something to resolve here today. I need time.” I looked at everyone present and raised my voice: “Everyone here is a witness. Today, I, Sophie, want the divorce. I’m the one who doesn’t want him anymore. As for the reason—” The conference room was deathly silent. I put away my phone and looked at Lucas: “Now, can you sign?”

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While I was with my best friend, Avril, trying on wedding dresses, she suddenly said, “You know, your husband Blake is pretty great in bed.” I froze for a moment, not really processing it yet. She pointed to a hickey on her chest: “He bit me there last night, in the car. Tell him to be a little gentler next time.” My throat tightened, my fingertips trembling. “Have you no shame?” Her smile didn’t falter. She took my hand and placed it on her lower abdomen. “I can’t help it, I’m pregnant with Blake’s baby.” My body went rigid, my mind exploding. “He really loves you, but he honestly thinks you’re dirty.” “I gave him my first time, and I’ve never had an abortion for anyone else, so he promised me a wedding.” I stumbled backward, a pair of warm hands reached out to steady me. Without thinking, I slapped him. Blake stopped, his voice casual. “You know everything?” My body trembled, a terrible cold washing over me. Blake looked at me, pushing his tongue against his cheek. “You and Avril have been best friends for ages. Why can’t you be even half as sweet as her?” His tone was no different from before, every word a sharp knife piercing my heart. “Aren’t you disgusted?” I choked out. He paused, then smiled, uncaring. “Who told you to be so dirty?” “Every time I see your body, I can’t help but imagine you beneath other men.” He said, a flicker of disgust in his eyes. “There’s no way I’d let my child be born from such a dirty body.” I froze, my ears ringing. I stared at him, unable to believe it. Just yesterday, he’d held me close, whispering “I love you” over and over into my ear. He’d sworn he wouldn’t care about my past, no matter what it was. “Do you know what you’re saying?” My voice trembled violently, tears spilling out uncontrollably. He lifted a hand, gently wiping away my tears, and sighed. “I know.” “It’s not that I don’t love you, but I really wanted to know what it felt like to be with a virgin. Why did you lie to me first?” He took Avril’s hand. “Avril is your best friend, she won’t fight you for me. She even promised that our child can call you Mom.” “You should thank her.” I watched their fingers intertwine, my vision blurring. Yesterday, I found out I was pregnant. I’d invited them to dinner, wanting to share the good news with the two most important people in my life. But as soon as they met, they ignored me and started bickering with each other. Avril accused Blake of not spending enough time with me. Blake thought she was meddling. I was already used to their dynamic, and I pushed my own pregnancy news to the back of my mind. When dinner ended, they were still arguing about who he’d spend the weekend with. But now, they stood together, telling me they were having a baby. Seeing me gasp for breath in pain, Blake stepped forward anxiously, trying to take my hand. “As long as you don’t make a fuss, we can go back to how things were.” “Yesterday, after Avril and I argued, I told you I had an emergency at work. Actually, we were having sex in the car.” “She was wearing a red lingerie set, I just couldn’t resist.” My heart felt like a huge hole had been torn through it, through which freezing winds howled. My teeth chattered. “Avril is my best friend!” Then, I looked at Avril. “Why?” Avril took a step closer, grasping my hand. “Precisely because we’re friends, I won’t threaten your position.” “Blake and I were just enjoying some excitement for a bit.” “In our hearts, you’ll always be the most important one.” My fingertips trembled, my chest heavy with a bitter ache. Blake casually kissed my cheek. “Cheer up. Weren’t you most excited to see Avril in her wedding dress?” “Pick out a bridesmaid dress for yourself while you’re at it.” The diamonds on the wedding dress reflected a blinding light, stinging my eyes. Tears blurred my vision. I raised my hand again, slapping him across the face. “You’re both so dirty, so disgusting!” The words had barely left my mouth when I was violently shoved, crashing into the corner of a table. A sharp pain shot through me. Avril’s crying voice reached my ears. “We’re dirty?” “Lester, you went out of your way to seduce Johnny and slept with him. What right do you have to call me dirty?” Blake looked at me coldly. “Calm down, Lester.”

Blake left with Avril. But I sank powerlessly into the abyss of my memories. Avril and I had been best friends since childhood. When she was seventeen, her family went through a tragedy. Her father passed away, and her mother remarried, taking her with her. But Avril grew increasingly unhappy, crying to me that her stepfather’s son, Johnny, treated her terribly. I felt sorry for her plight, living under someone else’s roof, and often went to keep her company. Until her birthday. I used the money I’d saved for a long time to buy her a dress she’d wanted. But when I arrived at her house, after drinking a glass of juice, I lost consciousness. When I opened my eyes again, all I felt was an unbearable pain. Johnny had violated me. And Avril was crying, holding me, her harsh words fiercely scolding Johnny, ringing in my ears. Fate wouldn’t let me go. Just as I thought about giving up and dying, I found out I was pregnant. My parents took me to get an abortion and moved to another city, but the pain didn’t fade with time. When I met Blake, my depression hadn’t healed, and I was consumed by insecurity. He always looked at me with tender eyes, then smiled and pinched my cheek. “Why are you always so sad?” I looked at his bright eyes, afraid to easily accept him. But he would stay by my side, holding my hand and saying, “It’s okay, it wasn’t your fault.” He was like a light, healing me, helping me let down my guard. The day we made our relationship official, he reassured me, promising to protect me forever. From dating to marriage, Blake was consistently good, bringing everything wonderful for me to choose from. But now… Tears streamed down my face. I thought my life had started anew. Yet the two people I loved most had conspired to tear open my old, deep wounds, and then rubbed salt in them. The heartbreaking pain jolted me awake. I cried until I choked, feeling numb. When my eyes were so swollen I could only open them a slit, my phone rang. It was messages from Blake and Avril. [Lester, go to the hospital and get some miscarriage prevention medication.] [We played a bit too rough, and it scared Avril’s baby.] Avril, meanwhile, only sent a intimate photo of her and Blake. I stared at the photo, my breathing shaky. My phone rang loudly in the silent room. Blake’s satisfied voice pierced my eardrums. “Lester, did you see the message?” I squeezed out a sound from my throat, every word ending with a trembling tremor. “Blake, how can you be so disgusting?” “Aren’t you afraid I’ll go crazy and kill both of you?” There was a moment of silence on the other end. Then Avril’s light laugh came through. “Lester, you’re so weak. Even a loud voice makes you burst into tears. How could you ever have the guts to kill anyone?” “It’s not like you haven’t killed before; you killed Johnny’s baby.” “But you’d never hurt your husband’s baby, would you?” She urged me to hurry with the medication, then hung up. Listening to her confident tone, I suddenly laughed. The reason I was afraid of loud noises was because of Johnny’s wild laughter on the day he assaulted me. It was a traumatic stress response. But I wasn’t even afraid of death anymore. I wouldn’t let them off easy. I went to them. Pushing open the door, I saw clothes scattered all over the floor. The two of them sat on the sofa, kissing passionately. The wet, smacking sounds of their kissing constantly pricked my eardrums. I gripped my phone tightly, slowly walking closer. Avril saw me and provocatively increased her panting. Perhaps seeking more thrills, she brought up what happened years ago. “Blake, when I found out Lester seduced Johnny…” “They were lying in my bed, kissing just like this.” Listening to her shameless slander, my hand trembled. Hatred surged, and rage burned away the last remnants of my sanity. I held up my phone, pointing the camera at their flushed, dazed faces. I held back my tears, pulled my lips into a smile, and spoke coldly into the camera. “This is a live stream of catching my husband and my best friend cheating.” “You two, feel free to perform.”

Blake’s body stiffened. He instinctively pushed Avril’s head into his embrace. The next second, he reached out and violently knocked my phone away. “Lester, what the hell are you doing?” I didn’t move, my gaze fixed on his wrist. Where his veins bulged, there was a newly tattooed, obscure string of letters. I instantly felt dizzy, and the image of that grinning man flashed before my eyes again. He had an identical tattoo. That wrist had once choked my neck, tracing every inch of my skin over and over. I bit down on my teeth, my voice trembling violently. “Blake, what is that?” Blake glanced at his wrist and curled his lips into a smirk. “Avril said you like men with tattoos on their wrists.” I snapped my head up, meeting Avril’s challenging gaze. The tightly strung wire in my mind suddenly snapped. I grabbed the knife from the table and held it against Avril’s throat. My hand was shaking, and I couldn’t stop sobbing. “You did this on purpose, didn’t you?” You deliberately made Blake get a tattoo identical to Johnny’s, just to sicken me. Avril’s face changed, but she still looked up and met my eyes. “It’s just a tattoo, what’s the big deal?” I was on the verge of collapsing, and my hands involuntarily tightened. Blood welled up, but Avril smiled. A sudden, powerful force shoved me away, and the slap across my face made my cheek burn. “Lester, are you crazy?” My eyes were blurry with tears, meeting Blake’s furious gaze. “Yes, I’m crazy!” Saying that, I struggled to my feet, laughing through my tears, bending at the waist. “Do you know why Avril made you get this tattoo?” Just as I was about to speak, Avril suddenly cried out in pain, and blood flowed from beneath her. Blake’s face drastically changed. He no longer cared about my words. He quickly scooped Avril into his arms, using his elbow to forcefully hit my chest, pushing me out of the way. Blake stared at me coldly. “If anything happens to the baby, I won’t let you off.” He strode away, not sparing me another glance. I fell to the ground, drained of strength, my heart feeling as if it had been ripped in half. But my tears had long since dried up. I stumbled out of there, feeling dazed. As soon as I stepped outside, my vision went black, and I completely lost consciousness. When I woke up again, I was in a hospital room. The nurse taking care of me said I’d had a miscarriage. She called my family, but no one answered. “No one’s here to look after you. What will you do?” I lay in bed, tears soaking the pillow. My parents were hundreds of miles away. In this city, Blake and Avril were the only people close enough to be considered family. But neither of them showed up. I only received photos from Avril. They were embracing and kissing intimately, carelessly. I tormented myself, looking at the photos over and over. Jealousy and hatred burned inside me relentlessly. How could those two be happy while trampling on my pain? I wouldn’t accept it. I sent the old pregnancy test results, which I’d kept for a long time, to Blake. He didn’t reply. It wasn’t until late afternoon that he pushed open my hospital room door. His gaze was heavy, falling on my lower abdomen. “When did you find out?” I curled my lips into a sarcastic smile. “The day Avril was trying on wedding dresses. I wanted to tell you then.” He didn’t speak, just lit one cigarette after another. Smoke shrouded his eyes, hiding his conflicted expression. After a long time, I heard his almost indifferent voice. “Just get rid of it.” “My child can only be born from a clean body.” “Avril and I have discussed it. Our child will only call you Mom.” All the blood in my body turned to ice. I mechanically looked up and met his gaze. He walked to the bedside, taking my hand and squeezing it in his palm. “Isn’t this good? We still both love you.” My stomach churned instantly. I violently pushed him away and leaned over the bed, vomiting. He frowned, his voice turning cold. “I’ve already scheduled your abortion procedure.” As his words fell, a doctor pushed open the door. They forcibly grabbed my arms. I couldn’t fight back, tears streamed down my cheeks and splattered on the floor. “Blake, I’m asking you one last time. Do you really not want this baby?” His eyes seemed to hold a flicker of reluctance, but his voice was a resolute, definite refusal. “Lester, don’t make a scene.” I suddenly laughed, shaking off their grip like a madwoman. Under everyone’s stunned gaze, I resolutely climbed out the window.

In the moment of freefall, I saw Blake’s horrified expression. I smiled, fantasizing almost hysterically. If I fell and was smashed to pieces, would he regret it? Would he and Avril be wracked with guilt, unable to sleep for the rest of their lives? But falling from the third floor wouldn’t kill me. Several of my ribs broke, piercing my lungs. The excruciating physical pain meant I couldn’t die, but I couldn’t truly live either. After the emergency treatment, Blake sat beside me. “Was it worth it?” “Lester, the baby was gone already. What’s the point of scaring people by jumping out a window?” His voice was laced with impatience and annoyance. As if I was a burden he could never shake off. I managed a bitter smile, my voice raw. “What good would scaring you do?” “Blake, you’re an asshole.” “An asshole who couldn’t even accept his own child.” The patience vanished from his face, replaced by endless coldness. “Blame yourself for not being more careful.” “No matter how much someone forced you, you still opened your legs.” A single dismissive sentence denied everything from the past, each word a sharp knife torturing my heart. I suddenly felt exhausted. “Let’s break up.” “I’ll let you and Avril be together.” He froze, staring at me blankly for a long time without making a sound. I didn’t look at him, pulling out my phone and calling Avril. She arrived quickly. “Blake, go outside for a bit. Lester and I need to talk.” He looked at me, and in the end, said nothing. Only the two of us remained in the room. I looked at her, my voice ethereal. “Are you satisfied? Then and now, you’ve destroyed me.” She smiled, a hint of tears in her eyes. “I didn’t want to do it.” “But only by giving you to Johnny could I escape.” I closed my eyes. My heart, which should have been aching, felt numb. She continued. “Lester, I’ve always felt guilty towards you.” “That’s why I won’t completely steal Blake away.” “It’s just a game. Once I’m done, I’ll give him back to you.” Years of accumulated hatred erupted instantly. I suddenly laughed, this time without hesitation. Dragging my weakened body, I lunged at Avril. With a powerful thrust, I plunged the cold, gleaming knife into her stomach. She screamed for help in pain. When Blake pushed open the door, Avril had already fainted. All the color drained from his face. He violently kicked me away. “Lester, you’re trying to kill her! Are you crazy?” I wiped the blood from my face, my voice eerily calm. “She owed me this.” Blake’s grim gaze fell upon my face. He picked up Avril, who was covered in blood, and gritted his teeth. “This isn’t over.” But I slapped the signed divorce papers onto his chest. “Between you and me, our scores are settled.” He stared at the signature page, his eyes trembling. “Lester, are you serious?” He was about to say more, but Avril in his arms groaned in pain. “The baby… will the baby be okay…” The panic in his eyes vanished. He took a deep breath. “We’ll talk when I get back.” This time, he didn’t hesitate. I suppressed the heartache, letting out a bleak laugh. That day would never come. I wiped away my tears, ready to head straight to the airport. But as I stepped out, I bumped into someone, and my body uncontrollably trembled, my steps faltering. Avril’s baby was gone. But Blake was absent-minded, frequently thinking about the divorce papers. After staying until Avril woke up, he felt increasingly uneasy. He turned and rushed to find me. But as he pushed open the door. The scene that met his eyes made him utterly collapse.

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After catching my husband, Ethan Hayes, cheating, he knelt before me and swore he’d cut all ties with that yoga instructor. But a month later, I saw a strange text on his phone: [I’m sick and so scared alone in the hospital. Can you come see me?] Watching Ethan rush out the door, I called after him mockingly: “In such a hurry? Want me to grab you a box of condoms on your way out?” Ethan froze, then whirled around, glaring at me furiously: “Charlotte, I’ve already come back to this family. Do you have to be so nasty? She’s sick—can’t I just go check on her?” I didn’t try to stop him anymore. After he left, I made a phone call. What Ethan didn’t know was that the yoga instructor’s fiancé was a mob boss who killed without leaving a trace. “Charlotte, when are you going to stop this?” “I already told you—Vivian doesn’t know anyone in this city. She’s got acute gastroenteritis and is getting an IV at the hospital. What’s wrong with me, as a former colleague, bringing her some medicine?” “Former colleague?” I let out a cold laugh. “Need me to refresh your memory about how many sex positions you two unlocked on that yoga mat last month?” Ethan’s face instantly flushed crimson. He jabbed his finger toward my face, his voice dropping to a furious hiss. “I already admitted I was wrong! I even slapped myself in front of your parents!” “This entire month, I’ve come straight home after work every day. I’ve handed over all my bank cards. What more do you want from me?” “Do you have to act like some bitter housewife and turn this home into a hellhole before you’re satisfied?” Looking at his self-righteous expression, I felt nothing but nausea churning in my stomach. A month ago, I’d thrown photos in his face—pictures taken by a private investigator. In those photos, he and that yoga instructor named Vivian were tangled together on a hotel bed. Back then, he’d knelt on the floor, crying and begging, swearing he’d just had a momentary lapse in judgment, pleading for one more chance. In front of both sets of parents, he’d slapped himself three sharp, ringing times across the face. He changed all his bank card passwords to my birthday. He even voluntarily canceled his membership at the gym where Vivian worked. I thought he’d truly realized his mistake. I was naive enough to think that if I just swallowed this bitter pill, our marriage could be patched up and continue. But I was wrong. A dog returns to its vomit, and a cheating man never learns loyalty. I watched him rage coldly, then turned and walked to the sofa, pulling a tablet from beneath a throw pillow. “Ethan, you put on quite the performance.” “Coming home on time every day, even letting me check your phone whenever I want—what a reformed man you are.” I lit up the screen and hurled the tablet into his arms. “So explain this to me.” Ethan fumbled to catch the tablet, glancing down at the screen. Just one look, and all the color drained from his face.

The screen displayed the synced backend data from that latest-model smartwatch on his wrist. He’d bought that watch last month, claiming it was to monitor his sleep quality. But this afternoon, I’d discovered that the watch’s health app was secretly linked to another person’s account. The account’s profile picture was a selfie of Vivian in tight yoga clothes. “Every night at eleven o’clock, your heart rate spikes to 120 beats per minute.” I stared into his evasive eyes, tearing away his mask. “Ethan, you’ve been carrying on with her this whole time!” Ethan’s lips trembled. He instinctively hid his hand behind his back, trying to conceal the watch. “You’re making things up! I go running at eleven at night!” I cut him off: “Stop lying! You even logged her menstrual cycle!” I held his tablet in front of him. After a brief silence, the panic in his eyes rapidly transformed into humiliated rage. “You’ve been spying on me?” He violently threw the tablet onto the sofa, glaring at me through clenched teeth. “Charlotte, you’re a psycho! Checking my phone every day, checking my watch—are you sick!? You’re disgusting!” I took a deep breath, suppressing the tearing pain in my chest. “If being with me disgusts you so much, then get out right now and go to the hospital to see Vivian.” Ethan grabbed the car keys from the living room and yanked open the door without looking back. “Fine, Charlotte. Don’t regret this!” I replied: “My only regret is being blind enough not to see what garbage you are.” “You think I want to come back to this cold, dead home?” Ethan stood in the doorway, one foot across the threshold, then turned back and looked me up and down with utterly contemptuous eyes. “Charlotte, look at yourself—this hysterical mess you’ve become. Your hair’s a wreck, you don’t even wear makeup, all you do is obsess over every little thing I do.” “Now look at Vivian—even when she’s sick, she’s gentler and more beautiful than you!” So he finally said what he really thought. I stood quietly in the center of the living room, watching this man I’d loved for seven years, feeling the blood in my veins turn to ice. So in his eyes, the exhaustion I’d suffered staying up late caring for this household had become his reason to despise me. I didn’t speak. Instead, I turned and walked to the TV cabinet, pulling open the bottom drawer. I took out a crumpled hospital payment receipt and a printout of an insurance policy. I walked to the door and threw both documents directly in his face. “Ethan, if you think she’s so wonderful, why did you marry me in the first place?” “You keep saying how pitiful she is—then what about this critical illness insurance policy worth three hundred thousand dollars?” Ethan looked down at the papers scattered on the floor, his pupils contracting sharply. That was an insurance policy he’d secretly bought for Vivian three months ago, with her mother listed as the beneficiary. And the premium had been transferred from our joint savings account—money we’d been setting aside for a new house. “You… you went through my study?” he shouted, livid. I looked at him coldly: “Ethan, have you forgotten how I nearly died on the operating table just one year ago?”

This time last year, I’d suffered an ectopic pregnancy and hemorrhaged, rushed to the hospital by ambulance. The doctor needed a family member to sign consent forms. I dialed Ethan’s number over and over again. But the voice on the other end was always: [Sorry, the number you are calling is currently unavailable.] I almost died on that operating table. How did he explain it afterward? He said he’d been playing golf with a very important client, and his phone was in a locker in the changing room where he couldn’t hear it. He held my hand at my hospital bedside, crying harder than I was, swearing he’d make it up to me twice over. I believed him. I dragged my weakened body through those most difficult days. But it wasn’t until last month, when I checked his phone, that I discovered the truth. That day, he hadn’t been with any important client at all. He’d been at a hot spring resort in the next city over, celebrating Vivian’s twenty-fourth birthday. He’d posted something on his social media, visible only to Vivian: [May my girl always smile like a flower.] Meanwhile, his wife had been lying in a pool of her own blood, signing her own critical condition notice. “And now you’re telling me she’s pitiful?” I stepped closer, staring into his eyes. “She bought insurance with my money, booked hotel rooms with my money—where exactly is she pitiful?” “The truly pitiful one was my child who never even formed before dying!” “The truly pitiful one is me—the fool you’ve been playing for a fool!” Ethan backed up a step under my advance. But there wasn’t a trace of guilt on his face—only extreme irritation at being exposed. “Charlotte, can you stop bringing up old history!” He yanked at his tie in frustration, his tone dripping with cold rationality. “The doctor said the ectopic pregnancy was because of your poor health—it was a matter of probability!” “You insist on blaming Vivian for this. Do you think that’s fair?” “Besides, I didn’t know you were in trouble. If I’d known, wouldn’t I have come back?” My breath caught. Poor health. A matter of probability. With one casual sentence, he’d erased all his cold-bloodedness and betrayal. He’d even shifted the blame onto me. I looked at his face, twisted with anger, and suddenly felt he was a complete stranger. Was this the same boy who, back in college, would run two kilometers through the snow just to buy me a cup of hot milk tea? No. He wasn’t. The moment he climbed into Vivian’s bed, that Ethan had died. The thing standing before me now was just a selfish monster who’d lost every last shred of humanity. “Ethan, you make me sick.” I spat out each word, looking at him like he was trash. My gaze stung him. He raised his hand as if to strike me, but ultimately stopped mid-air. “Fine, Charlotte. You’re so noble, so great.” He ground his teeth, pointing at me viciously. “Since you can’t tolerate her, I’m going to the hospital right now to bring her back here.” “Let’s see what you’re actually going to do to me!” Just then, his phone in his pocket suddenly buzzed frantically. The custom ringtone sounded particularly grating in the dead silence of the hallway. Ethan pulled out his phone, glanced at the screen, and his previously violent expression instantly softened. He answered the call, deliberately gentling his voice. “Hey, Vivian, don’t be scared. I’ll be right there…” From the other end came a saccharine, obviously tearful female voice. “Ethan, don’t worry about me. I don’t care if I die of pain in this hospital.” “Go back and make things right with Charlotte. Please don’t let me damage your marriage…” I let out a cold laugh. “Playing innocent? I’ve seen how wild you get on top of my husband!” “Charlotte! Watch your mouth!” Ethan reacted like a dog whose tail had been stepped on, covering the phone’s microphone and roaring at me. I completely ignored his impotent rage, stepped forward, and before he could react, snatched his phone away. Too fast for him to stop. I hit the speakerphone button and turned the volume to maximum. Vivian’s sobbing echoed clearly through the living room. “Charlotte… is that really you?” Her voice was so fragile it seemed a breeze could knock her over, with just the right amount of grievance and panic. “Please don’t be angry at Ethan. This is all my fault. I shouldn’t have bothered him after work hours.” “But I’m alone at the hospital getting an IV, and the needle infiltrated—my hand is so swollen. I’m really scared…” “I just wanted someone to talk to. I really didn’t mean anything else. Please believe me, okay?” Listen to that! How clever! Every sentence an apology, every sentence a declaration of war against me. She was telling me: See? Your husband’s heart is with me. I just crook my finger and he abandons you to come running. Ethan hopped around anxiously beside me, reaching to grab the phone back. “Charlotte, give me back my phone! Didn’t you hear her hand is swollen!” I dodged his hand and spoke coldly into the microphone. “If your hand’s swollen, call a nurse. Why are you looking for my husband? Can he remove your IV or suck out the swelling?” “Didn’t you keep saying you don’t want to wreck my family?” “So why are you sending ambiguous texts in the middle of the night? Are your fingers not controlled by your brain, or do you just naturally enjoy digging through other people’s garbage for your meals?” The crying on the other end suddenly stopped. Vivian clearly hadn’t expected me to tear off the facade so directly. In the past, to preserve Ethan’s dignity, I’d always tried to maintain appearances. But now? I didn’t want this man anymore. Why should I save face for her? “Charlotte, how can you say that about me…” Vivian’s voice carried obvious embarrassment and anger. “Ethan and I just have a spiritual connection. We never meant to hurt you.” “Love doesn’t follow a first-come-first-served rule. The one who isn’t loved is the real third party. Why can’t you understand that?” I almost laughed at her twisted logic. “Spiritual connection? Was that on the hotel bed or on the yoga mat?” “Vivian, do you think being a homewrecker is something to be proud of?” “Believe me or not, tomorrow I’ll post videos of all your ‘connections’ to your yoga studio’s client group and let everyone see how pure you really are.”

“Don’t you dare!” Ethan finally exploded completely. He lunged forward and grabbed my wrist in a crushing grip. The force was enough to nearly break my bones. “Charlotte, have you lost your mind! Do you have to destroy everything before you’re happy!” His eyes were bloodshot, glaring at me while his other hand pried at my fingers, trying to wrestle the phone away. Pain shot through my wrist, but I refused to let go of the phone. “I’m destroying everything?” I gritted my teeth, meeting his murderous gaze, fighting back word by word. “Ethan, you two are the ones who’ve gone too far!” “If you dare walk out that door to see her today, I’ll make sure you both end up destroyed and disgraced!” Vivian’s terrified scream came through the phone. “Ethan! Don’t hit her! Come back, I’m scared…” She was still pouring fuel on the fire. Hearing Vivian’s crying, Ethan’s last thread of rationality snapped. With a violent yank, he ripped the phone from my hand. The momentum threw me backward. I stumbled and my lower back slammed hard into the edge of the marble table. A dull thud. Searing pain exploded from my back and spread through my entire body. My vision went black and cold sweat instantly soaked my clothes. I slid down along the coffee table onto the floor, the pain so intense I couldn’t speak. Ethan clutched the phone, looking down at me from above. There wasn’t a trace of concern in his eyes—only extreme coldness and disgust. “Charlotte, you’re an unreasonable lunatic.” He straightened his disheveled collar, his tone as cold as if he were looking at a corpse. “If you want to throw a fit, do it by yourself. I don’t have time to waste on you.” With that, he murmured soothingly into the phone, “Vivian, don’t be scared, I’ll be right there,” then turned and walked out without hesitation. “Bang!” The security door slammed shut with such force that the calendar on the wall fell to the floor. The living room fell completely silent. Only the clock on the wall continued its relentless ticking. I curled up on the cold floor, clutching my aching back, tears finally streaming down uncontrollably. This was the man I’d loved with everything I had for seven years. For a lying mistress, he’d actually laid hands on me. I closed my eyes, countless images flashing through my mind. There was his silhouette cooking noodles for me in our rental apartment when we first married. There was his laughing face as he spun me around when I got promoted. But in the end, all those images froze on his cold, disgusted eyes from just moments ago. I wiped the tears from my eyes and slowly stood up, using the coffee table for support. The pain in my back kept reminding me of what had just happened. But the fire in my heart had completely extinguished. In its place was endless ice and resolve. I walked to the floor-to-ceiling window and watched that familiar black sedan speed away below, disappearing into the night. Ethan, did you think you won? Did you think you could enjoy my devotion while playing around on the side? I picked up my phone from the sofa and dialed a number hidden at the very bottom of my contacts. “Hello, is this Drake?” A rough, irritable male voice came through. “Who the hell is this? Calling in the middle of the night—you got a death wish?” I looked out at the pitch-black night sky, a cold smile curving my lips. “I’m Ethan Hayes’s wife. Drake, your fiancée Vivian is sick and needs someone to take care of her.” “If you don’t get there soon, she’s going to die in my husband’s bed.”

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I had just picked up medicine for my feverish son from the hospital. The moment I pushed open the front door, I heard sharp, mocking laughter coming from the living room. “Eat this! This is imported dog food, hundreds of dollars per pound—more expensive than the meat you country bumpkins eat for Christmas! Don’t be ungrateful!” My heart sank. Without even changing my shoes, I rushed into the living room. The scene before me made my blood boil. My mind exploded with a deafening buzz. Eleanor—Ethan Sterling’s mother—was curled up on the cold marble floor. She had just undergone heart bypass surgery, and her face was as pale as paper, her entire body trembling. And Melissa Snow, the so-called “premium nanny” Ethan Sterling had hired at great expense, was wearing my silk nightgown, one foot planted on Eleanor’s shoulder, forcing a dog bowl toward her mouth. The bowl was filled with soggy, foul-smelling leftover dog food. “Melissa! What the hell are you doing!” I lunged forward like a madwoman and knocked the dog bowl from her hands. The rancid dog food splattered all over Melissa. She shrieked and jumped up like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, jabbing her finger at my nose and cursing. “Are you insane, Grace? How dare you splash me!” Melissa disgustedly brushed at her clothes, then shot a contemptuous glance at Eleanor on the floor. “What am I doing? I’m teaching your broke-ass mom some manners! Ethan said I’m in charge of this house. You country people are covered in germs. I was doing her a favor by making her lick the bowl clean!” I trembled with rage, my nails digging into my palms. She thought Eleanor was my mother.

But this was actually Ethan Sterling’s mother—the billionaire matriarch of the Sterling family! Normally, Ethan wouldn’t dare breathe too loudly around her, and now she was being stepped on and force-fed dog food by a nanny. I was about to explain who she really was when Melissa sneered and kicked Eleanor hard in the chest. “Stop playing dead! You haven’t finished mopping the floor yet!” The kick was vicious. Eleanor let out a muffled groan, clutching her chest. Her face instantly turned from white to purple. Her throat produced wheezing sounds like a broken bellows as she curled into a ball, unable to form a complete sentence. “Eleanor!” I threw myself over and grabbed her tightly. Her heart couldn’t handle this kind of shock—her whole body was convulsing violently. I frantically searched her pockets for her emergency heart medication. Melissa grabbed my hair and yanked me backward. “Stop putting on a sob story for me! You country people are so dramatic. Trying to scam me, aren’t you?” She pulled out her phone and started recording me and Eleanor. “Who can relate? I just encountered the worst today. These are the broke relatives leeching off Mr. Sterling. Not only are they covered in bacteria, but now they’re faking illness to extort money.” Ignoring the searing pain in my scalp, I swung my hand back and slapped Melissa hard across the face. *Slap!* The crisp sound echoed through the living room. “Shut up! If anything happens to her, even Ethan can’t save you!” Melissa clutched her rapidly swelling cheek, her eyes filled with venom. “Oh, so the barren hen dares to hit me! Guards! Throw these two beggars out!” Two burly bodyguards immediately rushed in from outside. Ethan had specifically assigned them to Melissa, claiming it was to protect his “lifesaver.” “Let go of me! Are you blind? Look closely at who she really is!” I struggled desperately, but the bodyguards pinned me to the floor, one on each side. The head guard sneered without even glancing at Eleanor. “Ma’am, Mr. Sterling instructed us that Miss Snow is in charge of all household rules.” They roughly grabbed Eleanor, who was in the midst of a cardiac episode. Her head lolled helplessly, her lips already turning blue-black. “You’ll regret this! When Ethan comes home and sees what you’ve done to her, he’ll make you wish you were dead!” I screamed in despair, tears streaming down my face. Melissa walked over and stepped on the back of my hand with her sharp high heel, grinding down hard. The excruciating pain made me gasp. “Grace, do you really think you’re some kind of high-society wife? Ethan told me you’re just a useless decoration taking up space. Once I’m pregnant with his child, you and your poor excuse for a mother will both get sent back to the countryside to shovel manure.” She kicked my hand away dismissively and waved at the bodyguards. “Drag this old hag to the outdoor pool! Today I’ll teach you people a lesson on Mr. Sterling’s behalf!”

“You lay one finger on her and I’ll fight you to the death!” Like a crazed lioness, I broke free from the bodyguards’ grip and bit down hard on the head guard’s wrist. The metallic taste of blood instantly filled my mouth. The guard cried out in pain and backhanded me across the face, sending me crashing into the coffee table. My lip split against the edge, blood trickling out. “What are you waiting for? Lock them both in the backyard, and don’t let anyone open that door without my permission!” Melissa shrieked, clutching her face in fury. The two bodyguards stopped being gentle. They dragged Eleanor and me out and threw us by the outdoor pool in the backyard. *BANG.* The heavy double glass doors slammed shut and locked. It was December in the New York. Heavy snow was falling outside, and the temperature was approaching negative ten degrees Celsius. The backyard had no shelter from the wind. Eleanor was already dressed in thin clothes, and now she was curled up in a ball, shaking like a leaf in autumn wind. “Grace… Grace… my chest… it hurts so much…” Eleanor’s withered hand reached out weakly, clutching at my clothes. Her voice was barely audible, her breathing growing more rapid. I quickly stripped off my coat and wrapped it tightly around her. “Eleanor, hang on. I’ll call an ambulance right now!” With trembling hands, I reached for my phone in my pocket. Empty. I jerked my head up. Through the transparent glass door, Melissa was smugly waving my phone at me. The house was heated to a comfortable 26 degrees Celsius. Wearing just a thin silk nightgown, she lounged comfortably on the sofa. “Want your phone? Beg me.” She pressed the intercom button, her mocking voice broadcasting into the backyard. “Grace, where’s that backbone you had when you slapped me? Didn’t you say Ethan would kill me when he got home? I’d like to see who freezes to death tonight.” I rushed to the glass door and pounded on it frantically. “Melissa! I’m begging you, give me my phone! Eleanor really does have a heart condition—she’ll die!” I pounded until my hands were bright red, tears mixing with snow and streaming down my face. Melissa leisurely peeled an imported cherry and popped it into her mouth. “Heart condition? You’re quite the actress. You old country hags are tougher than cockroaches. One night in the cold won’t kill you.” Eleanor’s face had turned from blue-black to deathly pale. Her eyes were rolling back. The hand clutching her chest slowly loosened, and her body slid limply downward. “Eleanor! Eleanor, wake up!” I completely broke down and turned to scream into the intercom. “Melissa! The medicine is in the black bag on the living room sofa! Give me the medicine! I’ll agree to anything you want if you just give me the medicine!” Melissa paused. She walked to the sofa, found the black bag, and pulled out a white medicine bottle. “Oh my, there really is medicine.” She shook the bottle at me through the glass, a malicious smile playing on her lips. “I can give you the medicine. But first, you need to kneel down, slap yourself three times, and shout ‘I’m a country dog’ three times. Then I’ll slide the medicine under the door.” Looking at Eleanor barely clinging to life, I didn’t hesitate. I dropped to my knees on the frozen tiles with a thud. My knees struck the hard ice with piercing pain. But I couldn’t care about that now. I slapped myself three times hard. My face turned red from the blows. “I’m a country dog! I’m a country dog! I’m a country dog!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, my voice especially shrill against the wind and snow. “Now can you give me the medicine?” I stared at the medicine bottle in Melissa’s hand with desperate hope. But Melissa suddenly burst into laughter, clutching her stomach. She laughed so hard she was practically doubled over, tears welling in her eyes. “Grace, you really are an obedient little dog. Too bad—I just changed my mind.” Right in front of me, she unscrewed the cap of the medicine bottle. As I watched in confusion and horror, she dumped the entire bottle of life-saving emergency heart medication into the nearby trash can. “Oops, my hand slipped.” Melissa covered her mouth in mock surprise. “You country people are tough, right? You can survive one night in the cold, can’t you?”

“Ethan, you’re finally home! Grace’s mom brought in some infectious disease, and then she hit me!” The front door suddenly swung open, and Ethan Sterling walked in, bringing a wave of cold air with him. Melissa immediately put on a pitiful expression and threw herself into Ethan’s arms like a frightened rabbit. The despair I’d been drowning in suddenly flickered with a spark of hope when I saw Ethan. I pounded frantically on the glass door, producing dull thuds. “Ethan! Open the door! Save your mother! She’s having a heart attack!” I dragged Eleanor’s unconscious body to the door, trying to make Ethan see her face clearly. But the glass was covered in thick frost. Ethan couldn’t make out who was outside. He didn’t even turn his head. His eyes were full of concern as he cradled Melissa’s hands. “What happened? Who hit you?” Melissa squeezed out a few crocodile tears and pointed with her delicate finger. “It was Grace’s country mom. Her body is so dirty. I kindly told her to take a shower, and she went crazy and scratched me. Look, she broke the skin. It hurts so much.” I stared in disbelief at the barely visible red mark on Melissa’s finger. She’d clearly scratched herself earlier while peeling cherries. Ethan’s expression darkened instantly, his eyes as cold as poisoned blades. He turned toward the backyard, his gaze cutting like ice. “Grace, I usually let you get away with things, but you actually brought your broke-ass mother here to cause trouble? And you dared to hurt Melissa?” I shook my head desperately, my voice already hoarse from screaming. “Ethan, are you blind! That’s not my mother—that’s your mother, Eleanor Sterling! She just had heart surgery, she’s dying, please open the door!” Ethan scoffed as if he’d heard the most ridiculous joke. He pressed the intercom button, his voice dripping with disdain. “Grace, if you’re going to lie, at least make it believable. My mother is recuperating in Switzerland. How could she possibly show up here looking like a beggar? You’re willing to tell such lies to cover for your poor mother. You disgust me.” He turned to the bodyguards behind him, his tone ice-cold. “Open the door.” I thought he was finally going to let us in. I was about to sigh with relief. But Ethan’s next words plunged me straight into hell. “Throw these two crazy women out into the snow. Don’t let their poverty contaminate my carpet.” The bodyguards immediately opened the door. A blast of bone-chilling wind mixed with snowflakes poured into the living room. They roughly grabbed my arms and dragged Eleanor and me toward the front gate. “No! Ethan, you can’t do this!” I clung desperately to the doorframe, my nails leaving bloody scratches on the wood. “If you throw her out today, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life!” Ethan stood there holding Melissa, looking down at me with eyes devoid of warmth. “The biggest regret of my life was marrying a vulgar woman like you who can’t even show her face in society. Melissa is my lifesaver. Anyone who dares touch a hair on her head will answer to me.” The bodyguard gave a hard shove and sent me tumbling into the snow. Eleanor was thrown down beside me like a broken rag doll. The iron gate slammed shut in front of us. I crawled over and held Eleanor. Her body was already rigid, her breathing barely perceptible. The snow fell harder and harder, quickly piling thick layers on our bodies. Through the villa’s enormous floor-to-ceiling windows, I could see Ethan carefully putting a bandage on Melissa’s finger. Melissa nestled in his arms and gave me the middle finger. I held Eleanor tightly, my heart feeling like it was being crushed by an invisible hand. “Ethan Sterling, you’re throwing her in the snow today. Tomorrow you’ll be on your knees begging for her to live.”

“Still wailing out there? Throw cold water on them to wake them up!” Ethan’s cold voice came through the yard’s speaker system. Moments later, two bodyguards appeared on the second-floor balcony. A bucket of filthy ice water came crashing down from above, landing precisely on Eleanor and me. *SPLASH.* The ice water instantly washed away what little body heat we had left. Eleanor’s body convulsed violently once, then her head lolled to the side. She went completely still. “Eleanor! Eleanor!” I shook Eleanor frantically, but she kept her eyes closed. Even her faint breathing had disappeared. Her heartbeat had stopped. In that moment, something inside my brain snapped completely. I suddenly stood up, grabbed a decorative brick from the snow, and smashed it against the smart lock beside the gate like a madwoman. Sparks flew. The alarm blared through the night. The bodyguards inside were startled and instinctively opened the door to stop me. I seized the opportunity and rammed headfirst into the guard’s chest, snatching his walkie-talkie and backup phone from his belt. With trembling fingers, I dialed emergency services and screamed out the address. “Someone come quick! The patient has no heartbeat! Hurry!” Ten minutes later, an ambulance screeched to a stop in front of the villa. The paramedic jumped out carrying a defibrillator. “Where’s the patient?” I scrambled toward them and pointed at Eleanor in the snow. “There! Please save her!” The doctor was about to kneel down and check when the villa’s front door opened again. Ethan emerged with Melissa in his arms, his face dark with anger. “Who gave you permission to come in here?” Ethan strode forward and blocked the paramedic. “Doctor, check Melissa’s hand first. She just had a terrible shock, and her finger is bleeding. It needs immediate attention.” The doctor glanced at Melissa’s finger with its cartoon bandage and looked utterly speechless. “Sir, that elderly woman has gone into cardiac arrest. This is a life-or-death situation!” Ethan snorted coldly and glanced dismissively at Eleanor. “She’s just a country old woman. If she dies, she dies. How precious can she be? I’m the CEO of Sterling Corporation. I’m ordering you to examine Melissa immediately!” Just as the doctor stood torn and I prepared to fight Ethan with everything I had— A deafening roar suddenly filled the night sky. Three black helicopters bearing the Sterling family crest tore through the wind and snow, circling above the villa. The powerful downdraft made the surrounding trees sway wildly. Ethan froze, then his face lit up with delight. He assumed this was the premium private medical service he’d booked earlier to impress Melissa. “Melissa, look—the helicopter I called for you is here.” Ethan took Melissa’s hand and walked smugly toward where the helicopters were landing. Melissa was even more excited, her face flushed red. She shot me a haughty glance. “Grace, see that? This is how the elite live. A nobody like you will never experience this in your lifetime.” The helicopter landed smoothly. The door opened. A team of fully armed black-suited bodyguards and top medical experts in white coats filed out. Ethan walked up obsequiously, pointing at Melissa. “Thank you all for coming. The patient is—” He didn’t finish his sentence. From Eleanor’s inner clothing pocket, I pulled out the family signet ring that represented the absolute authority of the Sterling family matriarch. I stood up and faced the helicopter’s blinding searchlight, holding the ring up in front of Ethan’s eyes. “Ethan Sterling, open your damn eyes and look clearly at who you just kicked!”

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