My lawyer husband sent his mistress of two years to prison for me. But when the judge asked for his final testimony, he looked me in the eye and changed everything. “I’m testifying on behalf of Chloe Martinez.” His voice carried across the courtroom. “The person who killed my in-laws wasn’t Chloe. It was my wife, Aria Bennett.” Six years. That’s what the judge gave me for manslaughter I didn’t commit. I screamed my innocence until the bailiffs dragged me out. Julian wouldn’t even look at me. He kept his eyes on Chloe, who dabbed at fake tears with a designer handkerchief. Prison changed me in ways that can’t be undone. They took my left eye with a rusted spoon in the shower block. My leg snapped in three places when they threw me down the stairs, the bone jutting through skin. The knife that carved up my face was dull, and they made sure I stayed conscious for every stroke. I tried to appeal. Filed motion after motion until Julian’s people made it clear that wouldn’t be tolerated. “Boss says to tell you—shut up or the six years becomes your whole life,” the guard said before she held my head in the toilet and flushed. I lived like something less than human. When Julian picked me up from the gates two months early, he draped his arm around my shoulders like we were still in love. Like I wasn’t half-blind and limping, my face a roadmap of scars. “Chloe’s young,” he said, casual as weekend plans. “Her youth shouldn’t be wasted behind bars. You’re different. You can handle it.” “Six years flew by, didn’t they?” He smiled. It didn’t reach his eyes. “As long as you don’t cause trouble for Chloe anymore, I’ll treat you right. We can move past this.” I pulled out my phone with shaking hands and typed a message to the number I’d memorized in my cell. *I**’**ll marry you. But first, you help me kill two people.* The response came within seconds. *Names.* *Julian Hart. Chloe Martinez.* *Done. I**’**ll collect you in one week. Their heads will be your wedding gift.* I shut off the phone and shoved Julian away. His expression darkened. “Aria, I know you’re upset about the testimony, but Chloe couldn’t survive prison. She’s too fragile.” “You’ve risked your life for me before. I didn’t even ask you to take a bullet this time—just six years. Why are you being difficult?” My fingernails cut crescents into my palms. He knew exactly who Chloe had killed. Not strangers. Not random victims. The couple who raised me from nothing, who gave me a name and a home when I was three years old and alone in the world. On our wedding day, I told him the truth—I was an orphan. If my foster parents hadn’t taken me in, I wouldn’t have survived, let alone married someone like him. He cried. Actually cried. Held me and swore on everything holy: “I’ll take care of you the way they did. They are my family now. I’ll make you happy for the rest of your life.” Then my parents drove to pick me up after one of our fights. Chloe’s car hit them doing ninety in a forty zone, drunk off her ass. She dragged their bodies two hundred yards before she noticed. Julian promised justice. Promised the person responsible would face consequences. Then he found out it was Chloe and threw me under the bus instead. “Julian.” My voice came out raw. “Chloe killed my parents.” “You were my defense lawyer. You turned on me in open court, twisted the narrative until everyone believed I was a murderer, and shielded the real killer. Six years. Don’t you feel even a shred of guilt?” Hearing the accusation in my voice, Chloe quickly tucked herself into his embrace, tears already streaming. “Aria, I know you hate me for the accident, but I never meant to hurt anyone. Your parents walked right in front of my car. What was I supposed to do?” She pulled a knife from her purse. Pressed the blade to her wrist. “If you still blame me, I’ll just end it right here.” Julian tore the knife away and crushed her against him. When he looked at me, his eyes could’ve frozen blood. “Chloe’s suffered just as much as you these past six years. She became a vegetarian to atone for your parents’ deaths. She’s prayed for their souls every single night. Do you have to be so unreasonable?”

His words scraped against the raw wound where my heart used to be. I was the one who lost my parents. I was the one who rotted in a cell for six years. But somehow I was unreasonable. Did he forget what his people did to me inside? Every time I tried to appeal, the punishment got worse. They used that rusted spoon on my eye because it hurt more than a clean blade. The steel plate they broke my leg with had nails embedded in it. The knife that carved my face was dull as a butter knife. They held me down and made me drink from the toilet while the ringleader spit on me. “Boss says you need to learn when to shut up. Keep filing appeals and he’ll make sure your six years turns into forever.” I’d curl into corners where the guards couldn’t see me, shaking. Not just from the pain in my body, but from the agony in my chest. Four years I stood by Julian’s side. Chloe showed up for two months and erased everything. One word from her about being scared, and he fabricated evidence to bury me. One word about not wanting him to visit, and he abandoned me for six years straight. I wanted to die so many times. But the hatred growing in my chest wouldn’t let me. If I died, I couldn’t avenge my parents. Couldn’t clear my name. I walked up to Chloe and slapped her hard enough to leave a handprint. She shrieked and grabbed her face. Julian seized my wrist, his grip brutal. “Aria, have you lost your goddamn mind?” “An apology means nothing unless she’s dead.” My voice came out flat and terrible. He backhanded me across the face. I hit the ground, tasting copper. My vision swam, but I forced myself to look up at him. “Six years wasn’t enough punishment,” he snarled. “You think you can put your hands on Chloe now?” “Remember—I got you out two months early. I can send you right back.” He scooped Chloe into his arms and walked out without a backward glance. I stayed on the ground. My right eye started going dark too. The vision in it had been getting worse for weeks. That night, I drafted divorce papers. I found Julian’s estate from memory and pushed through the front door. A birthday party was in full swing. Everyone turned to stare when I stumbled in with my cane. “Oh my god, isn’t that Julian Hart’s wife? The one who killed her own parents?” “She looks like hell. One eye gone, limping around. What happened to her?” “Karma. She murdered her parents and framed that poor Chloe girl. Didn’t expect Julian to expose her in court, did she?” “People like her get what they deserve in prison. Bet the other inmates taught her a lesson.” Chloe covered her mouth, eyes sparkling with glee as she approached. “Aria! You should’ve called ahead. Julian just threw me a little birthday party. You’re not upset, are you?” Her smugness was obvious. But I couldn’t stop staring at what she wore. The custom gown cost more than most people’s cars. While Chloe draped herself in haute couture, I’d been trading manual labor for thin blankets in the prison laundry. Six years passed. Chloe looked radiant. I’d lost a leg, an eye, both parents, and any semblance of the person I used to be. All courtesy of Julian Hart. I dropped the divorce agreement on the table. “Julian, sign this. We’re done.” He laughed. Actually laughed. “Aria, are you stuck in the past? Look at yourself.” “You’re half-blind, you limp, and you murdered your own parents. Who else would accept you besides me?”

I’d heard worse. Much worse. Years ago, when a defendant’s family took Julian hostage, I went alone to get him back. They stabbed me through the uterus with a hunting knife. The doctors said I’d never have children. Julian asked me why I risked my life. I told him he was family—the only family I had besides my parents. Family knows exactly where to stick the knife for maximum pain. My scars weren’t armor. They were ammunition he used against me. “I didn’t kill anyone, Julian. You know that better than anyone.” My voice cut through the murmurs. His expression darkened. He rushed to correct me before the gossip could spread. “The judge convicted you. You did it. Or are you planning to lie about that too?” Hearing my accusation, Chloe grabbed my hand, tears already forming. “Aria, I know framing me for the accident didn’t work out the way you wanted, but Julian only threw this party because he felt sorry for me. I’m alone in this city, working so hard. If it bothers you, I’ll leave. Please don’t fight with Julian because of me.” Her words hit the crowd like a grenade. “That bitch is even worse than we thought. She’s bullying Chloe right in front of us!” I ignored their judgment. I was staring at Chloe’s wrist. At the bracelet catching the light. My father worked three jobs for four months to buy me that bracelet for my eighteenth birthday. He had my initials engraved on the inside. I wore it every day until it vanished right before my arrest. Now it gleamed on Chloe’s wrist. I grabbed her arm. “Where did you get that? It’s mine. Give it back.” She dropped to her knees, sobbing. “Please stop tormenting me! You can have anything else, but this bracelet is special. Julian gave it to me for my birthday.” I whirled on Julian, voice shaking. “That was the last thing my father gave me before he died. You had no right to give it to her!” Julian looked uncomfortable. For half a second, guilt flickered across his face. Then Chloe screamed and threw herself backward. Her head cracked against the edge of the coffee table. Blood poured from her scalp. Julian lost it completely. He lunged forward to help her, then kicked my broken leg. “It’s a bracelet. Does that justify attacking Chloe?” He snatched up the divorce papers and scrawled his signature. “You want a divorce? Done.” “But don’t come crawling back like a dog when you realize your mistake.” I collapsed, vision blurring red. Julian threw the signed papers at my face. The irony cut deeper than any of the prison beatings. I’d tried to divorce him dozens of times during those six years. He refused to sign every single petition. But one injury to Chloe, and suddenly he couldn’t get rid of me fast enough.

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I’ve always been a petty man. In my world, if you throw mud at me, I don’t just throw it back-I burn your entire house down with you inside it. When I was ten, our neighbor Mrs. Henderson accused me of stealing a package from her doorstep. I didn’t do it, but she told the whole street I was a thief. That night, I snuck into her backyard and blasted death metal through her garden speakers at three in the morning. She never said a bad word about me again. After I started my career, a colleague whispered that I only got promoted because I was sleeping with the female lead. At the annual gala, I played the hidden camera footage of him and that same boss moaning in the supply closet on a 50-foot loop. After that, people learned to keep my name out of their mouths. They called me crazy. Unhinged. A psycho. I didn’t give a damn. Then my family found me a fianc閑. Charlotte Ashford. Old money. Manhattan elite. The night before our wedding, she threw a pre-wedding party at some overpriced rooftop bar in Tribeca. I showed up because my father insisted. “The Ashfords are critical business partners, Vincent. Play nice.” Play nice. Right. I was nursing a whiskey when her “best friend” Ethan Lawrence-some trust fund brat who’d been orbiting Charlotte since prep school-decided to run his mouth. He leaned against Charlotte’s shoulder, smirking at me like we were sharing some inside joke. “Vincent, I heard your dad married into money. A real boy-toy situation, you know? And word is you’re just like him-living off women. Got dumped by some rich cougar before you latched onto our Charlie, right?” Charlotte’s friends erupted into laughter. Champagne glasses clinked. Eyes gleamed with malicious amusement, waiting to see if I’d crumble. I set down my glass. Picked up the empty bottle next to it. Then I smashed it against the edge of the bar. The sound cut through the music like a gunshot. Glass shards scattered across the marble floor. I pressed the jagged edge against Ethan’s cheek, close enough that he went pale. “Charlotte,” I said, not breaking eye contact with him. “You’ve got so many friends here. You won’t miss this one, right?” …… Charlotte’s face went ice-cold. She slapped my hand away hard enough that the bottle neck clattered to the floor. “Vincent, what the hell is wrong with you?” “It was a joke! Ethan was joking. Are you seriously this fragile?” Her friends piled on immediately. “Vincent, Charlotte’s doing you a favor by marrying you. Your family legacy would be nothing without the Ashfords. You should be grateful, not throwing tantrums.” “Ethan’s known Charlie since they were kids. They’re like family. You threatening him? That’s insane.” “You should learn how to tolerate your future wife-and her friends, Vincent. ” I laughed. Genuinely laughed. I bent down, picked up a shard of glass, and twirled it between my fingers. “Here’s the thing,” I said, my voice calm. “I’ve never had a sense of humor. Never learned to take a joke. So when people joke about me, I take them as the joke.” I locked eyes with Ethan, whose face had gone from smug to terrified. “For example, if someone says my father’s a gold digger, I’d be justified in assuming theirs was too. That they’re just a bastard child from an affair, swept under the rug to avoid scandal. Isn’t that right , Ethan?” Ethan’s body went rigid. Tears welled in his eyes instantly. Charlotte grabbed my wrist, her nails digging into my skin. “Vincent, you apologize to Ethan. Right now.” “Where do you get off saying something like that? Ethan’s father died saving my dad in a construction accident. My family took him in out of gratitude!” “Say one more word, and I’ll throw you out of here myself.” Ethan cowered behind her, playing the victim perfectly. “Charlie, don’t be mad at Vincent. Maybe I said the wrong thing… I’m sorry, Vincent. I shouldn’t have joked like that.” Her friends immediately turned on me. “Ethan apologized. What more do you want, Vincent? Besides, Ethan’s not wrong-we’ve all seen you getting out of different women’s cars. Who knows what you were doing in there?” “You’re marrying Charlotte tomorrow. Maybe tone down the psycho act? If you can’t handle some friendly banter, maybe don’t show up.” I was genuinely amused by these idiots. Before I came tonight, my father had given me his usual lecture: “The Ashfords are crucial partners, Vincent. This alliance benefits both families.” I tried to follow his advice, but honestly, they don’t treat me like a partner. This is truly regrettable,for them. I learned early on that backing down only makes you a target. The only way to survive is to be crazier, meaner, and more vicious than anyone else. If someone bites you, you don’t just bite back. You shatter their teeth and make them choke on the fragments. I slowly released the glass shard from my palm, letting it fall. “You’re right. Getting upset over something so trivial-that’s immature of me.” Their faces lit up with smug satisfaction. Charlotte’s expression softened slightly. She opened her mouth to say something conciliatory. I cut her off. “But if we’re talking about playing games…” I smiled. “I’m the best there is.” “You want to play? Let’s play. Come on. Let’s continue.”

I scanned the crowd of vultures circling for entertainment. Grabbed a glass and started pouring every liquor I could find into it. Whiskey, vodka, tequila, gin, rum-seven or eight different kinds, creating a toxic cocktail that looked like it could strip paint. “Here’s the game. Loser drinks this. Then answers one question from the winner-total honesty required.” “If you lie or refuse to answer, you drink three more.” One of Charlotte’s friends sneered. “Games need stakes, Vincent. What are you putting up? Or are you broke as well as boring?” I swirled the toxic mixture, my smile widening. Then I pulled out my black AmEx card and slammed it on the table. “Anyone who gets me to drink, even just one sip, will get my card with unlimited credit.” The room went dead silent. Charlotte’s face flushed with anger. “Vincent, enough. You think you can humiliate people just because you have money?” I ignored her. Kept my eyes locked on Ethan. “What’s wrong? Scared to play? You were so chatty a minute ago.” “Ethan. You’re up first.” Ethan’s eyes were glued to that black card like a starving man staring at a steak. He rolled the dice. I didn’t even look before I opened the cup. Six sixes. Ethan’s face went ghost-white. “Truth or dare,” I said. “Did your mother marry your father before or after you were born?” His body started trembling. “I… I choose dare!” I nodded slowly, sliding the toxic cocktail toward him. “Fair enough. Drink this. Then call your dad and tell him, on speaker, that Ethan’s father was the real gold digger.” Ethan broke instantly. “Charlie! I don’t want to! I don’t want to play anymore!” Pathetic. Two moves and I’d already peeled back his skin. Charlotte exploded. She shoved me hard. “Vincent, enough! Ethan’s young, he doesn’t know better. How can you be so cruel?” I actually laughed. Charlotte was too stupid to see manipulation even when it slapped her in the face. “When he was slandering my father and calling me a parasite, you didn’t say he was ‘young.’ Interesting double standard.” I stepped closer, voice dropping. “Charlotte, you’re protecting him so hard, people might think he’s your fianc?instead of me.” “Your ‘best friend’-is that code for fuck buddy?” Charlotte’s hand flew up to slap me. I didn’t dodge. Just stared at her. “Go ahead. Hit me.” “Let everyone see how the great Charlotte Ashford assaults her fianc?to defend some other man’s illegitimate son.” “Should I call your father? Let him know tomorrow’s wedding is off?” I pulled out my phone, thumb hovering over the contact. Charlotte panicked. She grabbed my phone and hurled it to the ground, shattering the screen. “Vincent, you’re being unreasonable!” “The wedding’s tomorrow. Go home and think about what you did. Don’t embarrass yourself-and me-at the ceremony.” She wrapped a protective arm around the still-whimpering Ethan and marched out. Her friends followed, throwing sneers and insults my way. I stood there, surrounded by broken glass and spilled liquor, and smiled. Perfect. Tomorrow, we’d see who the real joke was.

I got home and immediately grabbed my burner phone. Dialed a number I’d kept for emergencies. “I need everything on Ethan Lawrence. And I mean everything. His father’s death, his mother’s history, the Ashford connection-all of it.” “The dirtier, the better.” The voice on the other end chuckled. “Mr. Sterling, it’s your wedding eve. You sure you want to go nuclear?” “Less talking. Have it in my email by morning.” I hung up and stared at my reflection in the window. Charlotte. Ethan. You think this is over? You threw mud at me. Now I’m going to make you eat it-mixed with broken glass and blood. The next day was the so-called “wedding of the century.” Sterling and Ashford families united. Manhattan’s elite packed into the Plaza ballroom. My father cornered me in the groom’s suite. “Vincent, keep your temper in check today. This is your wedding.” “If you don’t want Charlotte, fine. You can live separately after. She’ll have the Sterling name, Just a nominal Mrs.Sterling.but you’ll have the real power. That’s what matters.” I gave him a tight smile. Said nothing. My temper wasn’t something I could turn on and off. It was a wildfire, and once lit, it consumed everything. As I stepped into the ballroom, my phone buzzed. It was a number I didn’t recognize I answered, and immediately, I knew something was wrong. And then I realized-maybe this is a good opportunity. Without hesitation, I synced my phone to the ballroom’s wireless speakers. Every guest in the room went silent as Ethan’s voice flooded the space. “Charlie… this is all my fault. If I hadn’t been so upset because you’re getting married tomorrow, we wouldn’t have… God, we shouldn’t have slept together.” “You’re getting married today. I gave you my virginity. What if Vincent finds out? What if he makes a scene?” Charlotte’s voice came through, soft and reassuring. “This isn’t your fault, Ethan. Vincent pushed you. It just… happened. We got carried away.” “If there’s a baby, I’ll keep it. I’ll raise it. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.” I walked calmly to the stage, picked up the microphone. “Sorry to interrupt, everyone.” “Looks like my bride has some unfinished business with her best friend.” Charlotte’s parents looked like they’d been struck by lightning. Her father roared toward the back rooms. “Charlotte! Get out here right now!” She emerged seconds later, still in her wedding gown, face pale with shock. When she realized what had happened, her eyes found mine across the room. Pure, venomous hatred. But with hundreds of witnesses staring at her, she had no choice. Her father slapped her. Hard. “Apologize to Vincent. Now. Or you’re no daughter of mine.” Charlotte’s voice was barely a whisper, choked with rage. “I’m sorry, Vincent. Ethan and I… it was a mistake. I swear I’ll never see him again.” She glared at me with such intensity I could feel it burning. I gave her my most charming smile. This alliance was dead anyway. I wasn’t marrying damaged goods. I opened my mouth to officially end this charade- When my phone buzzed. A photo. My mother. Bound with rope. Dangling from the edge of a rooftop. Every drop of blood drained from my face.

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Everyone in the elite circles knew—Julian loved playing twisted games. Every time he collected ten women, there had to be an elimination round. The ones who survived moved to the next level. Whoever won all one hundred rounds would become his wife. I had made it to round ninety-nine. I was ruthless enough. I’d played every single one of his games without making a sound. Julian’s gaze grew more appreciative each time. He even brought me into his world, making everyone call me “ma’am.” Just when I was about to become the victor, I saw something. Julian had Bella cornered outside the private room door. He was kissing her like his life depended on it. “The fifth bullet,” he whispered against her lips. “That’s the real one.” “Got it,” Bella breathed. — My heart clenched so hard I couldn’t breathe. But before I could process it, the game started. I watched Bella get the rigged turn order—second to shoot. If I kept playing, I would lose. I took a deep breath. Met Julian’s calm, empty eyes. “Hazel.” He swirled his wine glass. “Still want to play? You know I always make sure you win.” The room erupted in knowing laughter. His friends whistled. Their eyes darted between him and me. “Julian’s still got a soft spot for his girl. This round’s a done deal.” “New girl’s got guts challenging her. Doesn’t she know who Julian loves?” “Just quit now. Save yourself the embarrassment.” Bella sat across from us. Her body trembled. But she spoke up, stubborn. “I won’t quit. I want to play.” Julian’s eyes flashed with intrigue. “Interesting.” He smiled lazily at me. “Let’s make this quick, then. I’m looking forward to using the new sex toys with you tonight.” Pathetic. He’d already rigged it for Bella. And he still put on this act like he cared about me. My heart felt submerged in ice water. Numb. I looked up. Met his gaze. “Let’s begin.” I wanted to see if this man—who kept saying he’d let me win—would really watch me take the fall. — The game started. I drew first. Picked up the revolver. Pressed it to my chest. Pulled the trigger. Click. Empty. The room exhaled in relief. Some people even laughed. Bets were placed. Julian’s eyes gleamed. He chuckled softly. “Hazel, don’t worry. I’m always betting on you.” Bella went next. Her hands shook with fear, but she pulled the trigger without hesitation. Click. Empty. Third turn. Me again. Empty. But my heart raced faster. Because Julian said the fifth bullet was real. My whole body trembled. My eyes stung. My vision blurred. The first-turn card—Julian had arranged that too. He *wanted* me to lose. Bella fired the fourth shot. She knew it was safe, but she still whimpered like she was scared. The crowd laughed. “Just quit already. Kneel and apologize. Julian and his girl will let you go.” “Kid, this gun might not be real, but it still hurts like hell.” Bella didn’t back down. She pushed the gun toward me. My heart climbed into my throat. I stared at Julian. Waiting for him to stop this. But he just watched. A faint smile on his lips. No intention of stopping the rigged game. Time dragged on. Julian frowned. “Hazel, don’t be scared. You’ll be the winner. You always are.” My mouth twisted into a bitter smile. My hand shook as I raised the gun to my chest. Bang! The bullet slammed into me. It was rubber—non-lethal. But it still hurt so much I couldn’t breathe. Bella screamed. “I’m sorry! I didn’t know it would be like this!” Everyone stared at Julian. Faces pale. By the rules, whoever got shot lost. The winner would become Julian’s bride. “Julian, this is—” Julian stood slowly. Looked down at Bella. His voice was ice-cold. “No problem. A deal’s a deal.” He bent down. Scooped Bella into his arms. His movements were steady. Possessive. He scanned the room. His voice cut through the silence. “Hazel, you lost. I’m disappointed. But you’re still the only queen in my heart.” Bella flinched in his arms. But when she looked at me, her eyes flashed with triumph. My chest throbbed. Julian carried Bella toward the door. He didn’t look back at me. Not even once.

The moment his figure disappeared, my tears finally broke free. The game was never fair. Whoever he loved would win. Now I was not the one he loved anymore. I wiped my eyes. Grabbed the wine glass on the table. Drank it all in one go. Outside, I clutched my aching chest. My hands shook as I dialed a number. “You want to get married? Fine. I agree. See you at the wedding in seven days.” — When I got home, I took several painkillers. I’d survived ninety-nine rounds. My body could handle pain. But today, for some reason, it hurt more than usual. I stared at the wedding photo on the wall. By round ninety-nine, Julian had already taken me to get wedding photos done. I’d laughed and asked if that broke the rules. He’d smirked. “My game. My rules. And you’re always the reason I break them.” But now, for someone else, he’d not only broken the rules—he’d watched me get shot like some kind of clown. That night, Julian didn’t come home. I saw the video Bella sent me. Julian with Bella. In every corner of his most luxurious mansion. Evidence of their passion everywhere. The rare black pearl he’d bought me last month at auction? He had it in his mouth now. Rolling it over Bella’s skin. Making her scream. Julian looked feral with lust. I had never seen him like that. “Hazel, you see how addicted he is to me. If you know what’s good for you, leave.” I stared at the message. My fingers went white gripping my phone. I forced the tears back. — When I’d first met Julian, my Nana had just been diagnosed with severe heart disease. We couldn’t afford the hospital bills. Julian appeared like a god. Paid Nana’s fees. Handed me a ticket to the elimination games. He looked at me like prey. A smile on his lips. “It’s just a game. Play it right, and you’ll only benefit.” Even though I wasn’t part of the elite world, I’d heard the rumors. Julian was twisted. He held these games because the woman he loved had betrayed him years ago. After that, he stopped believing in love. He played with emotions for fun. Wanted to see how far women would go to marry him. But I took the ticket anyway. I needed money. I needed to save Nana’s life. — In the game, Julian called himself the King. Sat on his throne. Watched countless women fight for the role of Queen. I gritted my teeth through ninety-nine rounds. Extreme bungee jumping. Locked in a box with snakes. Holding my breath underwater for seven minutes. Eating live spiders. Things that made others scream and break down—I endured them all in silence. One game involved skydiving. A competitor grabbed the only parachute. Slashed my arm with a knife. Left me stranded. The plane hovered over the ocean. In my despair, a crackling voice came through my earpiece. Julian’s voice. Amused. “You’ve won over forty rounds. Didn’t think you’d die here. Any last words?” I closed my eyes. “Transfer the medical fees to my Nana’s account.” I heard his low laugh through the static. Then I jumped. — When they pulled me out, I was in the ICU. Julian came to see me later. His eyes dark. “I’m counting this as a win for you. I changed my mind. The rule was whoever’s boldest wins.” “Still want to play? If you quit now, you get a hundred million.” When he said it, his smile was self-mocking. His eyes, lonely. Something in my heart stirred. I didn’t answer. Just pulled him into a hug. Julian froze. Then, suddenly, he looked overjoyed. He grabbed the back of my head and kissed me deeply. “Hazel, from now on, you’re mine. I’ll give you everything.” He threw money at me. Bought me mansions. Gave me ten percent of his company’s shares. Brought me into his world. Made people call me “ma’am.” Even when his old flame came back—tried to humiliate me publicly, begged him to come back—he didn’t hesitate. He smashed a bottle over the woman’s head. Then he said, “Anyone else want to insult my queen? Step forward.” Julian’s favoritism made everyone think I was special. Made *me* think I was special. That I could make him believe in love again. But tonight, I finally understood. It was all in my head.

I turned off my phone. Sat alone in the empty mansion all night. By morning, I heard the lock turn. Julian came home. His expensive suit reeked of someone else’s perfume. The hickeys on his neck were impossible to miss. He saw me sitting stiffly on the couch. He paused. Rubbed his head, annoyed. “Hazel, don’t tell me you stayed up all night waiting for me.” My voice came out hoarse. “Are you going to shower?” Julian froze. Looked at my pale face. My bloodshot eyes. He frowned. Tossed his jacket aside. But there was a flicker of satisfaction in his eyes. He walked over. Tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “I know. You’re upset because you lost the game.” “Winners and losers—that’s the rule. According to the rules, this was round one hundred. Bella won. I should marry her.” He paused. Pulled a million-dollar pink diamond ring from his pocket. Kissed my neck. “But you’re mine. I’m letting you play one more round. You can take back the crown. This is my gift to you.” “So next time, make sure you win.” Win? I wanted to laugh. I’d had a fifty-fifty chance. He was the one who handed my crown to Bella. The rules were clear. Whoever won the final round would become his wife. Bella won. This ring was just a consolation prize. Julian seemed to remember something. His eyes glinted with challenge. He smirked. “What, Hazel? Not happy? You used to fight tooth and nail to win me over.” He expected me to cry. To yell. Like all the women he’d eliminated before. But I just looked up. My voice calm. Like I was talking about someone else. “No. I don’t care.” “Julian, starting now, I’m quitting the game.” Julian’s expression froze. “Not playing? Say that again.” I lifted my head. Met his gaze without flinching. “Julian, I’m done with your game.” “I’ll leave you. I won’t cling to you. You can be with Bella in peace.” Julian’s breath hitched. He grabbed my arms. But then his phone buzzed in his pocket. He answered. Whatever the person said made him explode. “Touch her and I’ll kill you all!” He hung up. His eyes went dark. He grabbed my wrist so hard. “Ow! Julian, what are you—” He dragged me to the car without a word. His voice was ice. “Get in. Now. Look what you’ve done.” — I stumbled. He shoved me into the car. Julian drove like a maniac. Didn’t say a word the whole way. We reached an abandoned warehouse. I froze. Bella was tied up. Blood at the corner of her mouth. Julian rushed over. Untied her. Pulled her into his arms. His eyes were red. “Bella, don’t be scared. I won’t let anything happen to you.” Bella clung to him. Sobbing. Then she looked at me. “Miss Hazel, if you don’t want me near Julian, I can leave. But why did you have to send people to hurt me?” I took a deep breath. Looked only at Julian. “Julian, I didn’t send anyone. Do you believe me?” Julian held Bella protectively. But when he looked at me, his eyes were full of disappointment. Disgust. “She’s an orphan. She doesn’t cause trouble. Who else would hurt her except you—jealous because she won?” “If you can’t handle losing, Hazel, you’re the one who can’t play the game.” My fists clenched. My nails dug into my palms. “Julian, I said I didn’t do it!” “Julian…” Bella’s voice was barely a whisper. “I’m okay. I don’t blame Hazel. She just loves you too much.” Julian sneered. Turned to leave with Bella in his arms. But he called over security guards. “The new queen was bullied by the old one. The old queen needs to be punished.”

The guards were professionals. They immediately twisted my arms behind my back. “Mr. Voss, how should we punish her?” Julian glanced at me. Then softly asked Bella, “You decide. You’re my new queen.” My heart shattered again. After every elimination round, Julian used to give *me* the power to punish the losers. I was soft-hearted. I always just told them to leave Julian alone. No punishment. But now, Bella put on an innocent face. Her lips curled into a cruel smile. “Julian, I don’t really know the rules. Whatever punishment was used before—let’s use that now.” Julian understood immediately. He looked at me. Tried to read my expression. But all he saw was dead silence. His anger flared. He held Bella tighter. Spoke through gritted teeth. “Didn’t you hear the queen’s order?” — I was dragged into the mansion. Pinned to the floor. They whipped me with salt-water-soaked leather. In the next room, Julian and Bella were tangled together. Their moans mixed with my screams. The sounds filled the entire house. My skin split open. But my heart hurt more. I remembered the day in the hospital. When we’d kissed deeply. Confirmed our feelings. Julian had wanted to stop the game then. Didn’t want me to get hurt anymore. But the elite players had bet hundreds of millions on the game. It wasn’t just Julian’s anymore. They wouldn’t let it stop until the final round. Julian had held me. Eyes red. “Hazel, I promise. From now on, I’ll never let you lose.” And I’d lived up to that. Fought with everything I had in every round. Of course, some competitors hated me. Teamed up to cheat. Tried to kill me. But I, fueled by my love for Julian, always found a way to survive. Always ended up in his arms, victorious. Those women who’d schemed against me? They were tied up just like this. Forced to listen to Julian and me all night. But now, it was my turn. Julian had finally let me get hurt. They went at it all night. At dawn, Julian came out in a bathrobe. I heard him say, “Call my doctor. Treat her properly. Don’t let her die.” I lost consciousness. — When I woke up, I was on the couch. Julian’s jacket draped over me. “You’re awake? Mr. Voss took Miss Bella to the victory gala. He said to get dressed and meet them there.” The butler’s face was neutral as he relayed the orders. My voice was raspy. I grabbed my bag. “Sorry, I need to go to the hospital. My Nana’s having surgery today. Julian knows this.” Julian had been the one to find Nana’s heart donor. It was my reward for passing round ninety-nine. But the butler had security grab me before I could leave. “What are you doing? I said I’m not going! Julian knows—today is Nana’s heart transplant!” I fought back. But my bones screamed in pain. The guards forced me into a dress. Didn’t even let me take my phone. Shoved me into the car. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. Julian used to go with me to visit Nana every month. But today, he broke his promise. For another woman. To celebrate a stolen victory. — At the gala, Julian and Bella were already there. So were all the elite players. I wore a backless dress. My wounds were on full display. People whispered. Julian’s eyes darkened. He walked over with his arm around Bella’s waist. “Hazel, today’s about celebrating Bella’s win. As a former competitor, you should congratulate her. But you came empty-handed. Are you trying to embarrass her?” Bella bit her lip. “Maybe she thinks I didn’t deserve to win. After all, she won the first ninety-nine rounds.” I cut through the act. Stared straight at Julian. “I already quit. I don’t have to congratulate her. Julian, today is Nana’s surgery. Let me go.” Julian’s face flashed with surprise. Then it darkened. “On such a good day, you want to bring up something depressing?” My chest ached. “What do I have to do for you to let me leave?” “What do you have to do?” Julian’s eyes glinted. He kissed Bella in front of me. “Let my new queen decide.” Bella pretended to think. Then she grinned. “How about Hazel strips naked, kneels in front of me, and barks like a dog three times?” My breath stopped. I couldn’t believe what I’d heard. And then Julian laughed softly. “Fine.”

I stared at him. “Julian, what if I refuse?” Julian’s smile was cold. Mocking. “When have you ever had the right to say no to me?” He signaled his friends. They all started shouting. “Didn’t you hear the lady? Get on your knees! Bark!” “You lost everything. And you still think you can negotiate with Julian?” These were the same people who used to call me “ma’am.” Now they’d all turned on me. Became Bella’s cheerleaders. My heart clenched. Went numb. Security guards stood behind me like a wall. I couldn’t escape. Julian was unpredictable. If I resisted, it would take even longer. And I needed to see Nana. Right now, dignity didn’t matter. “I hope you keep your word. After I do this, let me go.” My voice broke. Slowly, I undressed. Got on the floor. The room gasped. Woof! The first bark. Laughter exploded around me. I swallowed my tears. Barked again. Someone kicked me. The third bark came out. Julian’s voice cut through the noise. “Enough.” “Get her out of here.” — I sobbed as I grabbed my clothes. Threw them on. Stumbled out of the room. It was pouring rain outside. I finally flagged down a car. Rushed to the hospital. I burst into Nana’s room. Empty. I searched frantically. Then I saw the operating room doors open. A doctor wheeled out a body covered in a white sheet. A hand hung from under it, wearing the silver bracelet I’d given Nana. My blood turned to ice. “Nana!” I screamed. Threw myself at the body. The doctor sighed deeply. “I’m sorry. We did everything we could. She wanted to see you one last time. We tried calling, but your phone was off. We had no choice but to proceed with the surgery…” I couldn’t hear the rest. The world spun. I collapsed. — When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed. A nurse came in to adjust my IV. She looked worried. “Miss, I know you just lost someone you love. But you need to take care of yourself. Especially now that you’re pregnant.” The words hit like a hammer. “What did you say?” My voice shook. “I’m pregnant?” “Yes. You’re three months along. Haven’t you noticed anything?” My hand trembled as I touched my stomach. I’d once imagined marrying Julian. Having his child. But it had to happen now. When he didn’t love me anymore. The door opened. Julian walked in. Holding half a piece of cake. “Hazel, you embarrassed me today.” His voice was cold. Accusing. “Bella felt bad that you didn’t eat. She saved you some cake.” My hatred surged. The mangled cake looked like a slap to my face. “You didn’t stay with Nana. You came here to fake being sick just to get my attention?” “GET OUT!” I grabbed the cup on the table. Threw it at his face. Julian dodged. His eyes flashed dark. “Ungrateful. You’re nothing compared to Bella.” He turned. Slammed the door. My pain and grief finally broke free. I sobbed uncontrollably.

For days, Julian paraded Bella around. Showered her with affection. I handled Nana’s funeral alone. The day of the burial, the sky was thick with clouds. Rain poured down. Meanwhile, Julian was at an auction. Bidding on a rare diamond for Bella. I returned to Julian’s mansion. Packed all my things. Took my suitcase to a small rental apartment. When Julian realized I wasn’t at the mansion, he called. Demanded to know where I was. I didn’t answer his question. Just said, “Julian, the game’s over. We have nothing to do with each other anymore.” — One day later, Julian found me. He looked at my tiny apartment. Wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Hazel, you’re living in this dump? You want to leave me this badly? This is just playing hard to get.” My face was cold. “None of your business. Get out.” But Julian’s eyes narrowed. He had security restrain me. “Let’s go. Bella wants to take you to an auction.” — I fought, but I was no match for the guards. They brought me to a massive private estate. Underground, there was an auction hall. The owner kept a giant python. He held events where the wealthy watched it feed. Bella was already there in an elegant gown. “Hazel, they’re doing a python feeding show. But I think it’s boring.” On stage, a cage held a thirteen-foot golden python. It was tearing into a chunk of bloody meat. “You won ninety-nine rounds. Handling a snake should be easy for you, right? Julian, I want to see Hazel tame the python.” My blood ran cold. The tiny life in my stomach seemed to sense danger. It trembled. “Are you insane? This could kill someone!” Julian looked at my pale face. For a moment, his eyes softened. He leaned close to my ear. His voice coaxing. “Hazel, you know what I hate most about you? You’re too stubborn. If you’d just acted weak, I would’ve let you win.” “I’m giving you one more chance. Beg me. And I’ll make sure you win the final round.” But I just stared at him. My eyes dead. I let out a hollow laugh. “Julian, my biggest regret is joining your game in the first place.” Julian’s face twisted. Bella chimed in, her voice sickly sweet. “How can you be so ungrateful? Julian’s giving you a chance. If I were you, I’d be so thankful. If you don’t play, it just means you don’t really love him.” Julian’s eyes flashed with rage. He shoved me hard. Spoke through clenched teeth. “Put her in.”

Security threw me into the cage. The python saw me. Treated me like prey. Its body tensed. It slithered toward me, tongue flicking. “Ahh!” I tried to dodge. But the snake wrapped around my leg. “Julian, please! Let me out!” My scream was piercing. “I’m pregnant!” But the crowd was too loud. No one could hear me. Julian frowned slightly. Tried to make out what I was saying. But Bella hooked her arms around his neck. Whispered in his ear. “Julian, she looks like she’s having so much fun. I want to play too. Let’s go backstage…” Julian’s throat bobbed. Without hesitation, he scooped Bella up. Carried her toward the back. — I had been bitten multiple times. The python coiled tighter around my body. Started to squeeze. I couldn’t break free. I was suffocating. My face turned purple. “Ahhh!” Finally, I let out a blood-curdling scream. The audience realized something was wrong. “Oh my God, the snake’s gone feral!” “That woman’s bleeding—call an ambulance!” — When I regained consciousness, I was in a hospital bed. My lower abdomen burned with tearing pain. I threw off the blanket. My stomach was flat. The baby was gone. My blood felt frozen. A wave of unbearable grief crashed over me. I screamed. Nana was already gone. This baby had been my only family left in the world. Why? Why did Julian have to kill my child? Why did he take away my last shred of hope? “No!” — The door opened. Julian walked in. His face was flushed from sex. Fresh hickeys covered his neck. He glanced at me dismissively. A hint of mockery in his voice. “I heard you got your period. That’s why you were sent to the hospital?” “Hazel, this isn’t like you. You survived ninety-nine rounds. You’ve never been this dramatic before.” I took a deep breath. Ignored the pain. Stood up. Then I used every ounce of strength I had and slapped him across the face. “Julian, I hope you rot in hell.”

The madness in my eyes made Julian freeze. He ran his tongue over his cheek. His eyes darkened. He grabbed my wrist. “Have I been too lenient with you lately?” But then his phone rang. His expression changed. “Bella, I’m on my way. Don’t be scared.” “Bella’s stomach hurts. I need to go. And I canceled the lease on your new apartment. Stay here and behave.” He left without looking back. I stared after him. Frozen. Then I made a call. My voice shaking. “Before you come get me, I need you to help me stage something.” “Make it believable. I need him to think I’m dead.” — I hung up. A message popped up on my phone. Bella, curled up in Julian’s arms, her fingers tracing circles on his chest. “Hazel, see? Even when you’re hurt by a snake, one word from me and Julian leaves you behind.” “He doesn’t love you. Even after you almost died for him, he only loves me. You’re pathetic.” I gripped my phone so hard it hurt. Tears blurred the screen. — Hospital security guards blocked the exits. I had nowhere to go. I stayed in the bed. Every time I closed my eyes, I had nightmares. I dreamed of the ninety-nine brutal games. Julian’s cold gaze. Nana dying in a hospital bed. The baby I never got to meet. — A day later, Julian came back with Bella. “Hazel, are you okay?” Bella’s voice was fake-sweet. “Julian really cares about you. Even though you’re like this, he still wants me to compete with you fairly one more time.” “If you don’t play, it means you don’t really love Julian. That you don’t want him at all…” This time, I turned. Looked straight at them. “Fine. I’ll play.” Julian’s eyes lit up for a split second. Bella froze. Hadn’t expected me to agree so easily. Hatred flickered in her gaze, but her voice stayed soft. “I’m happy to compete fairly. But this time, I get to decide the rules.” Julian stroked her head affectionately. “Of course. You won last time.” Bella’s smile turned vicious when Julian wasn’t looking. “Last time we played Russian roulette, you lost. You must’ve been so frustrated.” “So this time, let’s play with a gun again. How about it?” My expression stayed eerily calm. I nodded. “Fine.” “Then it’s settled.” Bella’s eyes gleamed with calculation. “Julian, let’s go prepare. We shouldn’t disturb Hazel while she rests.” Julian felt a flicker of unease he couldn’t explain. But Bella pulled him away before he could think about it. — The next night, we were brought to a cliffside. A table. Two chairs. A black handgun sat in the center. The barrel gleamed cold in the moonlight. Bella and I took our seats on opposite sides. Julian’s Bentley pulled up. He stepped out slowly. Sat in a luxurious throne-like chair. A bodyguard held champagne beside him. “When the game ends,” he said softly, his gaze drifting between Bella and me, “I’ll announce on the spot that I’m marrying the winner.” “Now. Begin.”

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The engagement party was in full swing when my fiance’s childhood friend Zoe arrived carrying a velvet box. “I brought you something special, Harper,” she purred, her voice sticky-sweet. Out of politeness, I opened the box. Inside were chocolate-covered cannoli. I took one bite. Then another. Something was wrong. The texture. The taste. Zoe and her friends burst into hysterical laughter. “This stupid bitch can’t even taste fingernails,” one of them shrieked. My stomach turned inside out. Shock. Rage. I didn’t think. I reached into my clutch and pulled out the small silver pistol I always carried. A Beretta .22. In our Mafia world, only women of high status are allowed to carry handguns. How dare she play with me? I pressed the cold barrel against Zoe’s temple. The room gasped. Zoe froze, her smile dying. “Harper—” she whispered. Before I could pull the trigger, my fiance Liam’s hand shot out. He grabbed my wrist and twisted it viciously. The gun clattered across the marble floor. Then his hand cracked across my face. The slap echoed through the ballroom. I stumbled backward, my cheek burning. Zoe sobbed dramatically. “Liam, she tried to kill me! She’s insane!” Liam looked at me with pure disgust. “Harper. Are you out of your fucking mind?” “It’s just a joke!” I spat blood onto the white marble. “A joke? She put fingernails in my food and made me eat them in front of everyone!” Liam’s eyes went cold. “So what? You’re not dead, are you?” “Stop being dramatic.” Something inside me shattered. My heart. My hope. My love. All of it turned to ice. I pulled out my phone and texted a number I’d saved months ago: “The wedding is ready. I need a new bridegroom. Not Liam. Just come. I’ll marry you.” It was just an arranged marriage between Liam and me; I didn’t necessarily have to choose that bastard Liam as my fiance! — The room had gone silent. Everyone stared. Liam helped Zoe to her feet. She was still crying, milking every second. “Harper hurt me!” she wailed, though there wasn’t a mark on her face. Liam didn’t even check if she was hurt. He just believed her. Without warning, he slapped me right on my left face. Liam was ex-military. Former Special Forces turned boss of a small mob. Was he serious now? I was a Mafia princess, and my dad would let him pay for this! The blow knocked the air from my lungs. I flew backward into the champagne tower. Glass exploded. Champagne soaked my dress. Shards cut into my arms, my back, my legs. Blood mixed with wine on the white marble floor. “Have you lost your mind?” Liam stood over me, towering. His face was twisted with rage. “Zoe put some fingernails in a cannoli. It was a prank. A fucking prank.” “You pull a gun on her? She’s not a woman from the Mafia world! Not as cruel and disgusting as you!” I stared up at him from the broken glass. He knew this beforehand?

Of course he knew. And he said I was disgusting? The nausea was replaced by something worse. Heartbreak. I started gagging. Retching. Tears streamed down my face. I couldn’t control it. Zoe watched me with satisfaction. Liam looked disgusted. “Look at you. Acting like Zoe murdered your mother. When will you stop playing the victim?” Zoe suddenly clutched her chest. “Liam, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to upset Harper so badly. I’ll slap myself. I deserve it.” She raised her hand to her own face. Liam caught her wrist. “Don’t. You did nothing wrong. She’s just oversensitive.” I laughed. A bitter, broken sound. I spat more blood and struggled to my feet. Glass fell from my dress. “You call putting fingernails in food and making me eat them in public a ‘small prank’? She humiliated me! Liam, don’t forget who I am! You begged my father to marry me to you! Don’t you need my father’s connections to help your gang’s business?” For a second, Liam’s expression flickered. Maybe he understood. But then Zoe clutched her head and whimpered. “My head… Liam, it hurts so much… I think she gave me a concussion…” Liam’s face darkened. He jabbed his finger at me. “Harper. You tried to murder Zoe in front of the entire family. Are you trying to embarrass me? Everyone’s watching.” He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper. “If you care about my reputation at all, you’ll kneel down right now and beg Zoe for forgiveness.” “Kneel for her!” “Then maybe I’ll forget this happened.” My heart turned to stone. Zoe spoke up again, her voice saccharine. “Liam, even if Harper bows, everyone will know you forced her.” “How about this—make her eat all the cannoli.” “Then everyone will see how forgiving she is.” Liam’s eyes lit up. “Perfect.” He snapped his fingers. “Hold her down.” Four of his men grabbed me. They forced me to my knees on the blood-soaked floor. Liam pried open my jaw. He shoved cannoli after cannoli into my mouth. I choked. I gagged. I couldn’t breathe. But he didn’t stop. Not until the box was empty. Finally, he released me. I collapsed on the floor, vomiting. Liam stood over me, his voice cold and emotionless. “You embarrassed Zoe. You ruined my night.” “I don’t feel like marrying you today.” “Starting tomorrow, you’ll kneel in our room. Every day.” “When I’ve forgiven you, we’ll talk about the wedding.” He turned to leave with Zoe on his arm. I forced myself to speak. “Liam.” He stopped. “If you’re going to protect that woman over me, then this marriage is off.” “Forever.”

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New Year’s Eve. My husband’s junior resident called me at midnight. “Thank you for being so understanding, Mrs. Hayes. If Marcus hadn’t rushed to be with me tonight—if he hadn’t bent the rules to get my mother that kidney—I don’t know how I would’ve survived this.” I froze. The phone felt cold against my ear. “You must be confused. Marcus had an emergency surgery in Boston tonight. He left before we could celebrate New Year’s together.” My voice came out steadier than I felt. “Besides, he’s always been ethical. He would never break protocol. Not even for you.” Zoey’s voice was confident. Almost smug. “No, Mrs. Hayes. I’m not confused.” “Marcus saw my Instagram story—the one where I was begging for a kidney donor for my mom. He was at the airport. He turned around and came straight to the hospital. Took him less than five minutes to make the call.” The line went dead. I stood there, staring at my phone. That’s when I heard it. Keys turning in the lock. I looked up as my husband walked through the door, still in his coat, his hospital badge clipped to his chest. My voice came out barely above a whisper. “You said… you had a surgery tonight. In Boston.” Marcus froze for two seconds. Just two. Then his shoulders dropped. “I did have plans. But when I saw Zoey’s post about her mother—I couldn’t just leave her.” He paused. His voice got quieter. “The kidney that was supposed to be yours—I redirected it. To Zoey’s mom.” Another pause. “You’re younger. You can wait a little longer.” Tears filled my eyes so fast I couldn’t blink them away. I have Stage 4 kidney cancer. He kowns how rare it is to find a match. He knows I’ve been on the transplant list for three years. When my parents begged him to use his connections as Chief of Nephrology—just once—he’d lectured them about ethics. “Life is equal,” he’d said. “I won’t play favorites. That’s not who I am.” But now? Now he’d stolen MY kidney—the one with MY name on it—and given it to his twenty-four-year-old protégé? It took me a full minute to find my voice. “Marcus. I want a divorce.” My hands were shaking. “And I’m reporting you to the medical board. Tonight.” — I turned toward the door. Marcus grabbed my wrist. His grip was tight. His expression hard. “Sienna. Stop being dramatic.” His voice was cold. Clinical. “I know you’re in pain. I know you’re frustrated. As your husband, I’m more frustrated than you are.” “But Zoey’s mother is seventy-two years old. She’s out of time. Can’t you have a little compassion?” I stared at him like I’d never seen him before. Then I screamed. “She’s out of TIME?! What about me, Marcus?!” My voice cracked, raw and desperate. “I’m on dialysis three times a week! I’m DYING! I have one foot in the grave already!” “Who’s showing me compassion?!” Tears streamed down my face. “You know if I don’t get this surgery soon, I’m going to die!” Marcus frowned, irritation flickering across his face. “Don’t rediculious,You Know I won’t let you die.” His tone was so calm. So controlled. Like I was a hysterical patient he needed to placate. “We’ll get you the next kidney. You just need to be patient.” I felt something inside me die. “Marcus. I’ve been waiting for THREE YEARS.” My voice dropped to something flat. Empty. “When my parents came to you crying—begging you to do something—what did you tell them?” I could still see it. My mother on her knees. My father, a man who’d never asked anyone for anything, breaking down in your office. “You let them kneel on the floor and beg. You didn’t even look at them.” Tears blurred my vision. “You told them they were asking you to compromise your integrity. That ‘all lives are equal.’ That you couldn’t—WOULDN’T—bend the rules.” “You said they were trying to make you into a bad doctor.” My voice shook with rage. “I believed you. I told myself you weren’t heartless—you were just principled. You were a good doctor. I was proud of you.” I stepped closer, my voice rising again. “But Zoey posts one Instagram story and suddenly you can steal a kidney off the transplant list?!” “Where’s your ‘all lives are equal’ speech NOW?!” Marcus looked away. Guilt flickered across his face for half a second. “Zoey and her mother—they only have each other. If her mother dies, Zoey will be completely alone.” He swallowed. “I’m a doctor. I had a moment of… weakness. I couldn’t let that happen.” I felt like I’d been slapped. “So you used my life to save hers?” My whole body was shaking now. “Your ‘moment of weakness’ is going to KILL me, Marcus!” “I’m going to the hospital. Right now. I’m getting my kidney back.” “DON’T.” He slapped me across the face. The force of it whipped my head to the side. Pain exploded across my cheek. I looked at him, my vision blurring. Marcus stared at his own hand, his face pale with shock. “Sienna—I didn’t mean—” He reached for my face. I jerked away from him. I tried to slap him back. But my body gave out. I collapsed. Marcus caught me before I hit the floor, panic flooding his face. “Sienna—Sienna, I’m sorry—” He laid me on the couch, his hands shaking as he fumbled for my medication. That’s when his phone rang. He glanced at the screen. And answered immediately. After a few quiet words, his face went grim. “Sienna. Zoey’s mother is having a rejection episode. I need to go. Now.” He grabbed his keys, already halfway to the door. “Stay here. Don’t do anything.” He didn’t even find my pills. The door slammed shut. I was alone. I dragged myself off the couch and crawled to the medicine cabinet. My hands shook so badly I dropped the pill bottle twice. Tears dripped onto the floor. This time, I finally understood. Marcus was never coming back.

Marcus didn’t come home for three days. He didn’t call. Didn’t text. Nothing. But I knew exactly where he was. Because Zoey’s Instagram kept me updated. While I lay in bed, barely able to move, Marcus was spending every night at the hospital with Zoey and her mother. She posted a photo of their hands intertwined. She says,”Because of you, I have the courage to fight fate.” When I forced myself to the kitchen to choke down stale bread, Marcus was taking Zoey to a high-class restaurant. Nine photos. All gourmet dishes. She says,”I mentioned I never went to restaurants as a kid. He said he’d take me to taste the whole world.” When the pain got so bad I was rolling on the floor, biting down screams, Zoey posted pictures from a temple. She say,”He came with me to pray for my mother’s recovery. But I’m more grateful to God for sending me this guardian angel.” That’s when I realized—I’d missed my dialysis appointment. Marcus was too busy with his protégé to remember. I thought about the day he found out about my cancer. His eyes had filled with tears. He’d buried his face in my chest and said, “If you gone,I cannot live alone.” He’d never bent the rules for me. But he’d cared. Or so I thought. He used to remind me to take my pills. Check my vitals. Hold my hand during dialysis. When did it all change? When Zoey showed up. At first, Marcus used to complain about her. “She’s useless. Cries at the drop of a hat. Can’t do anything right.” Then his complaints turned softer. “She only has her mom. She worked her way up from nothing. It’s tough.” Then he started smiling when he talked about her. “My junior resident is kind of clumsy, but she’s got grit.” One night, he looked at me with this distant expression. “You know what I admire most about Zoey? Her vitality. I spend all day around dying patients, and she’s just… alive.” He caught my expression and backtracked. “I’m not talking about you, Sienna. Don’t take it personally.” “Once you get better, you’ll be just like her. Full of life.” But he started coming home later. And later. And then not at all. Always “too busy.” Too busy to celebrate New Year’s with me. But not too busy to steal my kidney for Zoey’s mother. I drifted in and out of consciousness. At some point, I thought I heard Marcus’s voice. Asking if I was okay. But when I opened my eyes, there was a woman standing behind him. This wasn’t a dream. Marcus had come home. And he’d brought Zoey with him.

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The syringe hits my neck before I can shift. Wolfsbane. Pure liquid silver. My knees buckle as Alpha Killian’s pack warriors pin me to the stone floor. “Hold her,” Killian orders. My body convulses. The shift rips through me—bones snapping, wings tearing from my shoulder blades. I scream as scales erupt across my skin in a wave of agony. This isn’t natural. I’m being forced into my dragon form against every instinct. “Killian—” I gasp. “Please—” He doesn’t look at me. He’s staring at Elena, his mistress, who’s coughing delicately into a handkerchief. “The Vital Scale,” Elena whispers. “It’s the only thing that can cure me.” Lies. All lies. But Killian nods. I’m paralyzed now, my dragon form sprawled across the Pack Stone. My wings twitch uselessly. My heart pounds against my chest—right where the Vital Scale sits, the scale closest to a dragon’s heart, rumored to heal anything. Killian kneels beside me. His knife gleams. “You know what this will do to me!” I scream through the haze. “We’re bonded! If you carve out that scale, I’ll—” “You’ll what?” He presses the blade to my chest. “Die? Good. I’m tired of your lies.” The knife sinks in. White-hot pain explodes through my chest. I feel the scale rip away, hear the sickening crack as he tears it free. My vision goes red. One hundred years of protection. Gone. I collapse, my human form returning in jagged bursts. Blood pools beneath me. Killian stands, holding the iridescent scale up to the light. “Only Grandfather believes your dragon guardian bullshit,” he says coldly. “You’re just a shifter who conned her way into this pack. Elena told me the truth—she’s the one who saved my life, not you.” He tosses the scale to Elena like it’s trash. I try to crawl toward him. My legs won’t work. Something’s broken inside me, something vital. “Grandfather Silas,” I wheeze. “Please… I need…” Silas appears in the doorway, his face gray with horror. “What have you done?” The old Alpha drops to his knees beside me. “Seraphina—the Dragon Pact—” “Is a fairy tale,” Killian snaps. “She’s been using you for years, Grandfather. Time to end the con.” My hair turns white in an instant, draining of color like ash. Silas grabs my hand, his weathered fingers trembling. “The protection,” he whispers. “The pack will fall without it.” I look up at him, tears streaming down my face. “Your father saved my life when I was a hatchling,” I rasp. “I swore a blood debt to protect the Thorne Pack for one hundred years. I diverted every disaster. I gave Killian my blood to pull him from his coma. I broke every sacred law for this pack.” My body starts to fade, wisps of smoke curling from my skin. “The debt is paid,” I whisper. “My physical form is destroyed. I can no longer protect you. Let me go.”

I wake up in the pack infirmary, but not for long. The wound in my chest hasn’t closed. Every breath is fire. The beta healer shakes her head. “Without the Vital Scale, your body can’t regenerate. You’re human now, Seraphina.” Human. The word echoes in my skull. Before I can process it, the door slams open. Killian’s servant storms in, dragging me out of bed by my wrist. “You’re not staying here,” he snarls. “Elena needs you.” He hauls me through the pack house, my bare feet scraping against the floor. Warriors watch with cold eyes. No one helps. When we reach his quarters, I hear them before I see them. Moaning. Gasping. Elena’s voice purrs through the door: “Now that I’ve swallowed that dragon’s Vital Scale, don’t you think my body moves like liquid? Did she seduce you like this too?” Killian laughs. “Liquid? Seraphina was never this desperate.” He shoves the door open. They’re on the bed, tangled together. Elena sees me first—sees my stark white hair, my hollow eyes—and shrieks. “Monster!” She clutches her chest, coughing violently. “She cursed me! Killian, she’s trying to kill me!” Killian’s hand cracks across my face. I hit the floor. “What did you do to your hair?” he roars. “Some kind of witch trick to make Elena sick again?” I press my hand to my bleeding lip. “It’s not a trick,” I whisper. “It’s what happens when a dragon loses her essence.” Elena sits up, wrapping the sheet around herself. Her eyes gleam with calculated malice. “Killian, I’m sure Seraphina didn’t mean it.” She coughs delicately. “But since the Vital Scale worked so well… wouldn’t Dragon Blood Soup work even better?” My blood turns to ice. “No—” Killian grabs my arm, dragging me toward the door. “Perfect idea, sweetheart.” He tosses me to the pack’s butler. “Take her to the kitchens. Bleed her. Make soup.” The butler’s grip is iron. I try to shift—to call my wings, my fire—but nothing happens. The power is gone. In the kitchen, they chain me to a chair. A blade opens my wrist. The pain is instant, searing. But worse is the heat that follows—my blood boiling in a pot on the stove, the scent of herbs and flesh filling the air. I feel every degree. Every simmer. I scream until my voice gives out. When they finally drag me back upstairs, Killian and Elena are at the dining table. The soup sits between them, steam rising. Killian looks at me with disgust. “Your acting is pathetic,” he says. “You stole Elena’s place as Luna. You stole her hundred-year lifespan blessing from the Dragon Pact. I took one scale and some blood. Do you really need to be this dramatic?” Elena spoons the broth to her lips, her eyes never leaving mine. She smiles. And drinks.

I collapse in the corridor outside Killian’s quarters. The burning sensation from the soup spreads through my veins like wildfire. I dig my nails into my thighs, biting down on my tongue to keep from screaming. Inside, they laugh. Killian’s voice drifts through the door: “You know, the Dragon Pact was supposed to grant the Luna a century of life. When I divorce Seraphina, that blessing transfers to you.” Elena giggles. “A hundred years with you? I can’t wait.” I laugh—a broken, bitter sound. They don’t understand. The Thornes were always cursed. Blood-soaked from generations of violence. Only my power held back the tide of disaster. And now that I’m broken, now that my last trace of dragon essence is being digested in Elena’s stomach— The curse will come for them all. I drag myself to my feet and stumble down the hall. Fifteen years ago, Grandfather Silas knelt at my shrine and begged me to save Killian from a coma. The boy was dying—a childhood death written in his fate. I gave him my blood. Breath by breath. Year by year. To save him, I broke sacred dragon law. I endured three days of divine lightning, nearly died, just to channel my essence into his failing body. When Killian woke, he found me collapsed at his bedside, barely breathing. He wasn’t afraid. He’d stroked my hair and whispered, “Seraphina. I’m going to marry you. I promise.” He said he didn’t care that I was a dragon. He begged Grandfather for permission. The pack whipped him with their ancestral cane until he couldn’t stand, but he kept his back straight, demanding to make me his mate. It was the first time in ten thousand years I’d felt my own heartbeat. After we mated, he treasured me. Brought me rare meats. Traced my scales when I shifted. But everything changed when Elena appeared. She’d planted a pill bottle under his bed—neurological medication—and convinced him she’d saved his life, not me. Killian threw the bottle at me. “I believed your superstitious bullshit! You’re just a gold-digger!” I reach the pack shrine now—the Treaty Site where my oath was sealed. And I smash the stone tablet with my bare hands. If I can no longer protect the Thornes, I will not accept their offerings. The stone cracks. Black smoke rises. Killian’s voice echoes behind me: “What the hell did you just do?” I turn. He’s staring at the shattered tablet, his face twisted with rage. “You destroyed the Treaty Site!” he roars. “You’re trying to curse Elena! Keep her from her hundred years!” I meet his eyes. “There is no blessing left,” I say quietly. “You destroyed it yourself when you tore out my Vital Scale.” He lunges for me.

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On our wedding anniversary, my wife finally put work aside. She agreed to go on a trip with me. Right before we boarded, she got a text. Her father was sick. “Honey, I’m so sorry. Dad’s not feeling well. I need to check on him. I can’t go with you this time.” I was disappointed. But her father’s health came first. I agreed. After she left, I tore up the ticket. I decided to go home. I wanted to see what was wrong with my father-in-law. The one who died three months ago. — I followed her all the way to our house. I didn’t rush to get out. I opened my phone instead. The housekeeper’s son was showing off on Instagram. “Your generous love is the best 21st birthday gift I could ask for!” The photo showed him in a white suit. His arms were around a woman. That woman was my devoted wife. I cracked my knuckles and got out. At the entrance, I saw a dozen people in the huge living room. Balloons hung on the walls. A group was chanting: “Kiss! Kiss!” “Come on—kiss her!” … My wife Evelyn hooked her arms around Zack Williams’ neck. She gave him a deep French kiss. The crowd erupted. When the kiss ended, Evelyn ran her fingers across Zack’s lips. She looked up. She saw me at the front of the crowd. Her eyes went wide. She tried to push away the person in her arms. I was faster. I raised my hand. I slapped her twice across the face. Everyone went silent. Zack turned around. He saw me. His face went white. He grabbed Evelyn’s arm. He hid behind her. I looked at her with a mocking smile. “I didn’t know you got yourself a new daddy.” Evelyn’s eyes darted around. She tried to explain. Then a guy with bleached hair shoved me. “Who the hell are you? Breaking into someone’s house and hitting people? Are you insane? Apologize to Zack and his girlfriend right now, or this isn’t over!” The others chimed in: “Just assaulting people like that. Is there no law anymore? An apology isn’t enough. We should call the cops.” “I agree. The police should check if he has a record. If he can hit people now, who knows what he’ll do next?” “This birthday party was going great. Then this psycho shows up and starts attacking people. Do you even know who you just hit?” I smiled at them. I turned to look at Evelyn. “You think I shouldn’t have hit you either?” Evelyn licked her lips. She was about to speak. Zack tugged her sleeve. He shook his head. I saw their little exchange. I wanted to see what they’d pull. Evelyn glared at me. “Ethan Carter, what the hell is your problem? Today is Zack’s birthday. If you have something to say, say it later. Don’t make a scene here. Don’t ruin Zack’s day. Get out!” She was afraid her boy toy would lose face in front of his friends. I laughed coldly. I stared at her. “Evelyn, where exactly do you want me to go? Or is there something you two are hiding? Something you don’t want people to know?” Zack grabbed Evelyn’s hand. He made his claim: “Ethan, I know you’ve had a crush on Evelyn for a while. Seeing us together probably hurts. But love is mutual. Evelyn loves me. We’ve been together for two years. She said once I graduate, we’ll get married. Please stop bothering her.” Evelyn didn’t expect him to say that. Her expression changed. She snuck a glance at me. Zack’s words stunned me. Today was our two-year wedding anniversary. They’d been together for two years. She’d been cheating even before we got married. She’d brought Zack and his father into our house. Under the guise of hiring a housekeeper. They’d been lying to me for two whole years. The bleached-hair guy spoke up again. “I get it now. You’re the male housekeeper at Zack’s place. The one with a crush on his girlfriend. I can’t believe you’re so shameless. Trying to steal someone’s girl in public.” I’d somehow been labeled as the male housekeeper. I actually laughed. “Zack, are you still dreaming? What makes you think I’d work as your housekeeper?”

Before I finished, someone threw a drink in my face. The bleached-hair guy held his cup smugly. “I think you’re the one who needs to wake up. We all know who Zack is. His dad runs a big business. His girlfriend owns a company. This whole mansion is his. As for you? Look at what you’re wearing. Cheap knockoffs. No brand name. You’re only good enough to sweep floors and serve people.” Cheap knockoffs? My clothes had no brand. They were custom-made by master tailors. Other girls spoke up for Zack. “Exactly. You should apologize to Zack right now. Or you’ll lose even this job.” One girl spoke up in a flirty tone: “Dude, look at how old you are. Fighting with Zack over a woman. If you’re that desperate, I can help you out. I’ve never tried a guy in his thirties. Is two hundred bucks for the night enough?” He changed his tone. He looked at Evelyn gently. “Evelyn, I may be young. But I know how to protect my woman. I’ll give you respect in public. Unlike Ethan…” His double meaning appealed to her vanity. I laughed coldly. “Good thing you reminded me. I only slapped her. I forgot to beat you up!” I grabbed his collar. I punched him twice. Hard. In his pale face. Zack covered his bleeding face. He screamed. “Ethan Carter, you dare hit me? I won’t let you get away with this!” “Keep barking.” I raised my hand to hit him again. Evelyn grabbed my waist. She shoved me hard. I lost my balance. I knocked over a champagne tower. I fell to the ground. Glass cut my hands. Evelyn didn’t even look at me. She pulled Zack behind her. She scolded me: “Ethan Carter, apologize to Zack!” I looked at my bleeding palm. I gritted my teeth against the pain. I pulled out the glass shards. One by one. Two years of marriage. Like the glass in my hand, it stabbed me. Zack looked out from behind her. He smirked at me. The pain in my palm made my voice colder: “Evelyn, you’re in my house. Throwing a birthday party for your side piece. Cheating on me right in front of me. And now you want me to apologize to him? Are you crazy? Or do you think I’m a pushover? Don’t forget. I can dress you a Billionaire. And I can make you a homeless!”

My words made Evelyn’s eyes flicker. But Zack spoke first. “Ethan, Evelyn built her company through her own hard work. Through her brilliance. She achieved financial freedom through her abilities. Don’t act like you did her some huge favor.” I froze. Brilliance? Abilities? She couldn’t even understand the simplest business plan. How was that brilliance? Financial freedom? All the money she needed to run the company came from my account. I didn’t bother explaining to him. I looked at Evelyn mockingly. “Zack is still so young. You’re taking advantage of a kid. Aren’t you ashamed?” Evelyn raised her chin. “Ethan Carter, Zack is an adult. I didn’t force him. You’re the one who’s shameless. All you know how to do is leech off your wife!” Her words made Zack’s friends look at me with even more disdain. Zack put his arm around Evelyn. He looked at me arrogantly. “Ethan, I know you’re not convinced. If you want this house, let’s do it your way. Evelyn is a successful career woman. She won’t stoop to fighting with you. But I’m a man. I can’t let you bully my woman. Let’s make a bet. Whoever has more assets loses. Dare to take it?” “What are we betting?” “If you lose, you have to kneel. Apologize to Evelyn. If I lose, you can name your terms.” The crowd roared with laughter. “Zack, you’re the best. We’ll be your witnesses. Don’t let this guy weasel out!” “Yeah, a housekeeper competing with Zack? The outcome is already decided!” I nodded. “Fine. Let’s see what you’ve got.” Zack pulled out several property deeds. “These are houses in Manhattan. Worth over fifty million dollars. Plus various cars. About ten million. Let’s see what you have.” The crowd exploded with admiration. “Oh my God, Zack, you’re amazing!” “I heard your dad ran a company. I didn’t expect him to be this rich!” I smiled. “Think I don’t have that much?” I took out my phone. I made a call. “Come to 105 Willow Drive. Bring the property deeds and car titles.” While we waited, Zack held Evelyn. They got cozy on the sofa. Evelyn kept glancing at me nervously. She knew better than anyone what I had. I looked at her coldly. I sneered. A few minutes later, someone knocked. When my assistant walked in with several file bags, everyone held their breath. I showed the contents to Evelyn. Looking at the endless property deeds, her lips turned pale. Her voice trembled. “Ethan Carter, don’t forget. These are all marital property. Half of this is mine.” “Half is yours? Evelyn, you think too highly of yourself. Every penny of mine was earned by myself. Not a single cent came from you. Besides, I’ve never thought about using your money. But what about you? You didn’t even hesitate to use mine.” Evelyn said nothing. She sat on the sofa. Her face pale. I threw the materials at Zack’s feet. “Look at it yourself.” Zack opened it. He saw my total assets. Three billion dollars. His eyes went wide. His friends’ jaws dropped. Then Zack went crazy. “This is impossible! Evelyn, tell me this is fake!” Evelyn lowered her eyes. “It’s real. I’ve seen these things before.” Zack turned to look at me. Shocked. “You have so much money. Why did you let me humiliate you before?” I sneered. “I wanted to see if my wife still had any conscience left. Turns out I was overthinking it.” Zack dropped to his knees. “Mr. Carter, I was wrong. Please forgive me this once. I’ll never do it again.” I was about to respond. Evelyn suddenly spoke up: “Ethan Carter, Zack was forced into this. By you. He didn’t know you were so rich. He thought you were just a housekeeper. You can’t blame him for this.” She was still protecting him? I got angry. “Evelyn, I’m your husband!” “I know.” “You know and you’re still protecting him?” Evelyn sneered. “Ethan Carter, we’ve been married two years. You’ve never had time for me. Don’t you think you bear some responsibility?” I was speechless. It was true. I didn’t have time for her. But I was busy making money. For her. I wanted to give her the best. I didn’t want her to struggle. Like she did when we were poor. But in her eyes, this became a reason to cheat. I didn’t want to listen anymore. I turned and left. Behind me came Evelyn’s cold voice. “Ethan Carter, I want a divorce!”

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*Content Warning*: This story contains themes of sexual assault, drugging, emotional abuse, gaslighting, pregnancy complications, and psychological trauma. Reader discretion is advised. — The champagne tasted wrong. I should have noticed it immediately— The slight bitterness beneath the effervescence. The way my fiance Pierce’s smile. For ten years, I had loved Pierce Ashford. Ten years of waiting, watching, wanting. And tonight, finally, he was mine. The merger marriage that our families had arranged—his tech empire, my family’s investment firm—was supposed to be purely transactional. But I had transformed it into something more in my mind. I had convinced myself that he would learn to love me back. “To us,” Pierce said, his voice smooth as aged whiskey. His gray eyes held mine for a moment too long, and I felt heat flood my cheeks. “To us,” I echoed, bringing the glass to my lips. The world tilted almost immediately. My vision blurred at the edges, and Pierce’s face swam before me. He was saying something, but his words came from underwater, distorted and slow. “Zara?” His hand was on my elbow, steadying me. Or was he steering me? “You look tired, darling. Let’s get you upstairs.” I tried to speak, but my tongue felt thick, useless. The Ashford estate’s ballroom spun around me—a kaleidoscope of silk gowns and tuxedos, crystal chandeliers and white roses. Our wedding guests blurred into shadows. The last thing I remembered with any clarity was Pierce’s cologne—sandalwood and something darker, almost medicinal—as he lifted me into his arms. Then: nothing. — I woke to pain. My body felt like it had been taken apart and reassembled incorrectly. Everything ached—muscles I didn’t know I had screamed in protest as I tried to move. The silk sheets beneath me were cool against my bare skin, and morning light streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Pierce’s bedroom. Our bedroom, I corrected myself. Though it would never feel like mine. I turned my head slowly, wincing. Pierce’s side of the bed was empty, the sheets barely disturbed. Had he even slept here? Fragments of the night flickered through my mind like a corrupted film reel—shadows, voices, hands that didn’t belong to my husband. No. That couldn’t be right. I’d had too much to drink, that was all. The stress of the wedding, the champagne… But I knew alcohol. I had been drunk before. This felt different. This felt wrong. I forced myself upright, ignoring the protest from every nerve ending. My wedding dress lay in a pool of white silk on the floor, stained with wine—or something darker. I grabbed Pierce’s shirt from a nearby chair and pulled it on with shaking hands. The house was too quiet. Pierce’s Manhattan penthouse was always too quiet, too sterile, too much like a showroom and too little like a home. I made my way downstairs, each step sending fresh waves of pain through my body. That’s when I heard them. Laughter. Male voices. Coming from Pierce’s study. I moved toward the sound like a moth to flame, drawn by something I couldn’t name. Dread, perhaps. Or the terrible certainty that whatever I found behind that door would destroy me. The heavy oak door was ajar, just enough to let the cigar smoke—and the laughter—drift into the hallway. My hand froze on the brass handle. “You actually went through with it?” a voice jeered. It was Marcus, Pierce’s college roommate and current CFO. “Five of us? In one night? And she had no clue?” The world tilted on its axis. “Rohypnol is a beautiful thing,” another voice said. Daniel something—I’d met him at the rehearsal dinner. “She was so eager to please. Kept calling out Pierce’s name even when he wasn’t in the room.” The laughter that followed was obscene. My breath hitched, trapped in a chest that suddenly felt too tight. I didn’t just hear the words; I felt them like a physical blow. My legs threatened to give out, but I gripped the doorframe, forcing myself to stay upright. To listen. “Come on, man.” That was Pierce. My husband. The man I had loved for a decade. “Mia was just joking when she said whoever got Zara pregnant would win a million dollars. I didn’t think you’d all actually—” “A million dollars is a million dollars,” Marcus interrupted. “Besides, virgins conceive easy. It’s probably mine already.” “Bullshit. I went first. The kid’s definitely mine.” “You were too drunk. I’m the one who made sure to—” I stumbled backward, my hand flying to my mouth to stifle the sob threatening to escape. This couldn’t be real. This was a nightmare. I would wake up, and Pierce would be there, and he would tell me it was all a terrible dream. But the pain in my body was too real. The voices were too clear. And then I heard her. Mia Winters. Pierce’s executive assistant. The woman he’d hired six months ago, who looked at me with those wide, innocent eyes and called me “Mrs. Ashford” with just a hint of mockery. “Oh, stop fighting over it.” Her voice was light, playful. “You’ll know in a few months whose bastard she’s carrying. Though I have to say, watching the security footage was absolutely delicious. Who knew little Miss Perfect could be so… enthusiastic?” They had recorded it. They had drugged me, violated me, and recorded it. And Pierce—Pierce had let it happen. I must have made a sound—a gasp, a whimper, something—because suddenly the conversation inside stopped. The door swung open fully, and there she was: Mia, perfectly coiffed in a silk blouse that probably cost more than most people’s monthly rent, her lips curved in a smile that didn’t reach her calculating eyes. “Zara!” She pressed a hand to her chest in mock surprise. “You’re awake! We were just talking about you. Come join us.” I looked past her into the study. Five men lounged in leather chairs, drinks in hand. They all looked at me with varying degrees of amusement and something darker. Pierce sat in the center, his face carefully neutral.

“That was just locker room talk, Zara.” His voice was smooth, practiced. “We were reminiscing about the bachelor party. You know how guys get when they’ve had a few drinks.” Locker room talk. As if I hadn’t just heard them discussing raping me in graphic detail. As if my body wasn’t screaming evidence of what they’d done. I scanned the room, cataloging faces. Marcus. Daniel Wright. Two others whose names I couldn’t remember—Stanford buddies, investment bankers, men who wore thousand-dollar suits and treated women like commodities. And Pierce. Always Pierce, at the center of everything. “This is the kind of joke you find funny?” My voice came out steadier than I felt. “Talking about your wife like she’s a… a breeding mare?” Marcus stood, approaching me with the confidence of a man who’d never faced consequences in his life. “Come on, Zara. Don’t be so sensitive. We’re all friends here.” He reached out to touch my shoulder, and I jerked away like he’d burned me. His hand—had that hand been on me last night? Which one of them had been first? Who had been last? “Don’t touch me.” Pierce stood then, his expression hardening. “Zara, you’re making a scene. We have guests.” “I’m making a scene?” I laughed, and it sounded like breaking glass. “I’m making a scene?” I turned and ran. I heard Pierce call after me, his voice sharp with warning, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. If I stayed in that room one more second, I would shatter completely. — Two weeks later, I stood in my private bathroom, staring at two pink lines that would change everything. The test trembled in my hand. I’d taken three more, just to be sure. All positive. All screaming the same truth: there was something growing inside me, planted during a night I couldn’t fully remember. I should have gone to the police immediately after that morning. Should have demanded a rape kit, filed charges, burned Pierce’s life to the ground. But I hadn’t. Because despite everything—despite the evidence of my own brutalized body, despite the conversation I’d overheard—part of me still couldn’t believe it. Ten years of love don’t die in an instant. They wither slowly, painfully, like a plant denied water. And now this. I made an appointment with my ob-gyn for that afternoon. Dr. Sarah—no relation to Marcus, thank God—was a woman I’d seen for years, someone I trusted. “Congratulations, Mrs. Ashford.” Dr. Sarah’s smile was warm as she pointed to the ultrasound screen. “Looks like you’re having twins.” Twins. Of course it was twins. The universe had a sick sense of humor. My husband would probably be very happy if it were quintuplets. “Is everything all right?” Dr. Sarah’s voice cut through my spiraling thoughts. “You look pale.” “I’m fine,” I lied. “Just surprised. We weren’t really trying yet.” Another lie. We hadn’t been trying at all. Pierce hadn’t touched me since the wedding night. He barely looked at me, actually—just went to work earlier and came home later, always with some excuse about the quarterly earnings or a merger negotiation. And Mia. Always Mia at his side, with her tablet and her tight skirts and her knowing smiles. I should have called my brother first. Zander would know what to do. But instead, I found myself driving to Pierce’s office in Midtown, the ultrasound photos clutched in my hand like evidence. Evidence of what? I didn’t know anymore. Maybe I thought the babies would make him love me. Maybe I thought they would prove that night had been real, that he was their father. Maybe I was just a fool. The receptionist directed me to the executive floor. Pierce’s corner office took up half of it, all glass walls and minimalist furniture. Through the transparent walls, I could see him at his desk. He wasn’t alone. Mia perched on the edge of his desk, her hand resting on his shoulder. They were laughing about something, heads close together. As I approached, I heard fragments of their conversation. “…Can’t believe she still hasn’t figured it out,” Mia was saying. “God, she’s so pathetically naive.” “That’s what happens when you’re raised in a bubble.” Pierce’s voice was dismissive. “The Montgomery family princess, always protected, always adored. She has no idea how the real world works.” “Do you think she’ll go to the police?” Mia’s voice dropped lower. “About the wedding night?” Pierce laughed. Actually laughed. “And admit what? That she got drunk and slept around on her wedding night? That would destroy her family’s reputation. The Montgomerys guard their image like it’s gold. She’d never risk the scandal.” “Besides,” he continued, “who would believe her? Five respected businessmen versus one hysterical bride? Please.” I pushed open the door. They both turned, and for just a second, I saw something flicker across Pierce’s face. Not quite guilt. More like irritation at being interrupted. “Zara.” He stood, smoothing his tie. “What are you doing here?”

“I need to talk to you.” I glanced at Mia, who hadn’t moved from her perch on his desk. “Alone.” Mia’s smile was saccharine. “Of course. I’ll just finish up these reports.” She gathered a stack of papers with deliberate slowness, letting her hand brush Pierce’s arm as she passed. The door closed behind her with a soft click. “Well?” Pierce leaned against his desk, arms crossed. The stance was casual, but his eyes were sharp. Calculating. “What’s so important that you had to come all the way downtown?” I placed the ultrasound photos on his desk. “I’m pregnant. With twins.” He picked up the images, studying them with the same expression he used to analyze quarterly reports. Detached. Clinical. “Congratulations,” he said finally. “Though two at once is rather… inconvenient.” Inconvenient. That was his response. Not joy, not even feigned enthusiasm. Just mild annoyance. “We need to do a paternity test,” he continued, pressing the intercom button on his desk. “Mia, clear my afternoon. And book appointments at GeneDx for tomorrow. All six of us.” The room spun. “What?” Pierce looked at me like I was simple. “A paternity test, Zara. Surely you understand why that’s necessary. Given the circumstances.” Something inside me snapped. All the hurt, all the betrayal, all the desperate hope I’d been clinging to—it shattered like glass. “No,” I said quietly. “I don’t think I do understand. Why don’t you explain it to me, Pierce? Explain why you think it’s necessary to test my babies’ paternity against five of your friends.” He had the decency to look uncomfortable. “Zara, let’s not do this here—” “Because that would require admitting what you did. What you all did. On our wedding night.” My voice rose despite my best efforts. “You drugged me. You let your friends rape me. And now you want to see which one of them gets to claim paternity?” “Keep your voice down,” Pierce hissed, glancing toward the glass walls. “People will hear.” “Good. Maybe they should hear. Maybe everyone should know what kind of man Pierce Ashford really is.” He moved so fast I didn’t have time to react. His hand clamped around my wrist, hard enough to bruise. “Listen to me very carefully. You’re going to stop this hysterical nonsense right now. We’re going to GeneDx tomorrow, we’re going to do the test, and you’re going to smile and act like a grateful wife. Understood?” I stared at him—really looked at him for the first time since I’d fallen in love at sixteen. The sharp jaw I’d traced with my fingers. The gray eyes I’d gotten lost in. The mouth I’d kissed a thousand times in my dreams. He was a stranger. No—worse. He was a monster wearing the face of the boy I’d loved. “Let go of me,” I said softly. “Not until you—” “I said,” I repeated, my voice dropping to ice, “let go of me. Or I start screaming rape right here, right now, in front of your entire fucking company.” He released me like I’d burned him. I stepped back, cradling my wrist. “I’ll go to GeneDx,” I said. “But not for you. For me. Because I want to know which monster fathered these children. And then I’m going to make sure every single one of you pays for what you did.” I turned and walked out, my head high despite the tears threatening to fall. Behind me, I heard Pierce swear viciously. As I passed Mia’s desk, she looked up with false concern. “Everything okay, Mrs. Ashford?” I stopped. Looked at her. Really looked at her—at the woman who had orchestrated my violation like it was a game. “You know what?” I said softly. “It will be. Soon.” Her smile faltered, just for a second. Good. Let her wonder. Let them all wonder. Because I was done being victim. Done being the naive princess who couldn’t see the snakes in her garden. It was time to sharpen my teeth.

GeneDx occupied the top floor of a gleaming medical building on the Upper East Side. The kind of place where Manhattan’s elite came to have their secrets analyzed, their genetic flaws cataloged, their inconvenient truths buried under NDAs and six-figure invoices. They were all waiting when I arrived. Pierce, Marcus, Daniel, and the other two—Ethan and James, I’d learned their names were. Five predators in Brioni suits, checking their Rolexes and pretending this was just another business meeting. And Mia, of course. Always Mia, her presence a constant reminder of how thoroughly I’d been played. “Mrs. Ashford.” The receptionist’s smile was professionally bland. “Dr. Rivera will see you shortly. If you and… your party… would like to have a seat?” My party. As if this were a social call. I sat as far from them as possible, but the waiting room wasn’t large enough to escape their presence. Marcus kept glancing at me with a smirk that made my skin crawl. Daniel was on his phone, probably texting his wife about the “emergency board meeting” that was keeping him from dinner. Mia sat beside Pierce, her hand resting on his thigh with casual intimacy. She caught me looking and smiled. “Must be so exciting,” she chirped. “Twins! Though I suppose it makes sense. You were very… receptive that night.” The magazine in my hands crumpled. “Shut up.” “Now, now.” Pierce’s voice held a warning. “Let’s keep this civil. We’re all adults here.” “Adults,” I repeated flatly. “Is that what we’re calling it?” Before he could respond, the inner door opened. Dr. Rivera appeared—a middle-aged woman with kind eyes and an expression that had seen too much of humanity’s darkness to be shocked by anything. “Mrs. Ashford? Please come in. And I assume…” She looked at the six other people in the waiting room, her eyebrows rising slightly. “These are the potential fathers?” The clinical term made it sound almost reasonable. Almost acceptable. But the doctor’s eyes—they knew. She’d done this before, I realized. How many other women had sat in her office with an entourage of men, trying to sort out which violation had taken root? “Yes,” Pierce said smoothly, standing. “We’re all quite eager to establish paternity.” Dr. Rivera’s expression didn’t change, but something in her eyes hardened. “I see. Well, Mrs. Ashford, let’s start with you. Gentlemen, if you’ll wait here, we’ll collect your samples shortly.” I followed her into the exam room, grateful for even a few minutes of escape. She closed the door and turned to me, dropping the professional facade. “Mrs. Ashford, I need to ask you something, and I need you to be honest with me. Are you safe? Do you need help?” The kindness in her voice nearly broke me. I blinked rapidly, forcing back tears. “I’m fine.” “The situation out there—six potential fathers for twin pregnancies—that’s highly unusual. If this wasn’t consensual—” “It wasn’t,” I said quietly. “But it’s my word against theirs. And they’re very powerful men.” Dr. Rivera’s jaw tightened. “I can’t perform this test. You’re only about four weeks along. Non-invasive prenatal paternity testing requires at least ten weeks of gestation. Anything earlier risks harming the fetuses.” “My husband doesn’t care about that.” “Well, I do.” She pulled out a business card, pressing it into my hand. “This is my personal number. And this—” She pulled out another card. “—is the number for a lawyer friend of mine. She specializes in cases like yours. If you want to press charges, she can help.” I stared at the cards in my hand. Evidence. Allies. A way forward that didn’t involve being at Pierce’s mercy. “Thank you,” I whispered. “I’ll tell them the test can’t be done for at least six more weeks. That should give you some time to figure out your next steps.” She squeezed my shoulder gently. “You don’t have to go back out there alone. I can have security escort you out through the staff exit.” For a moment, I was tempted. But running wouldn’t solve anything. Pierce would just find me, drag me back, make me perform my role as the dutiful wife. Unless I stopped running. Unless I became someone he couldn’t control. “No,” I said, straightening my spine. “I’ll face them. But thank you. For everything.” Dr. Rivera nodded, respect flickering in her eyes. “You’re stronger than you know, Mrs. Ashford. Don’t forget that.” We returned to the waiting room together. Seven pairs of eyes fixed on us immediately.

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On my wedding day, Stella’s childhood friend Marcus crashed the ceremony and announced that the baby in her belly was his. She took his hand. Didn’t deny it. Canceled the wedding right there in front of everyone. “Julian needs this child for his green card application,” she said, calm as ice. “Once he gets citizenship, then I’ll marry you.” Everyone assumed I’d wait for her like a pathetic fool. They had no idea that same night, I accepted my family’s arranged marriage and left New York. Vanished from her world completely. …… Five years later, I’m back in the city to finalize a major acquisition. My wife—renowned cardiac surgeon Dr. Charlotte Reed—is here to perform a groundbreaking surgery. She’s three months pregnant. Exhausted from the flight. So I personally prepare her a gourmet lunch and bring it to the hospital. That’s when I run into Stella for the first time in five years. Her expression shifts from disbelief to arrogance in seconds flat. “You actually came back?” Her voice drips with superiority. “It’s been five years. Marcus’s kid is in kindergarten now. If you behave and take care of him properly, I might let you back into my life.” Her gaze holds absolute certainty. Smug satisfaction. She thinks one snap of her fingers and I’ll come crawling back. Five years ago, she would’ve been right. Not anymore. “Stella, isn’t that Julian Smith? The guy who used to worship you?” “Told you. No matter how long it’s been, he’d come crawling back eventually.” Stella looks at me with triumph and confidence. Like she predicted this exact moment. Three of her friends surround her. Their eyes scan me up and down without shame. Judging. Mocking. “I remember Julian threw a tantrum and stormed off back then, right? Now he sees Stella made Chief of Surgery and comes back with his tail between his legs?” “Look at this elaborate ‘coincidence.’ What’s he even wearing? Ratty clothes to meet our Stella?” “Just look how pathetic his life is now. Without Stella, who’d treat him this well?” Their mockery washes over me. I don’t care. I’m wearing a loose T-shirt and comfortable jeans. My hair’s a bit messy—I didn’t bother styling it. Nothing like the old me who’d dress up meticulously just to see Stella. Can’t help it. My wife’s pregnant. As her husband, I handle everything personally to make her comfortable. “Stella, weren’t we supposed to meet Dr. Reed? Let’s not waste time on him.” The reminder makes Stella snap to attention. She gives me a dismissive look. “Stay close. You’ll be taking care of me and Marcus’s son from now on.” She assumes I’ll follow her around like a trained dog. But five years changed me. I’m not the fool who loved her enough to tolerate anything. Now? Every extra second near her feels suffocating. Like talking to an idiot. I tighten my grip on the insulated lunch box. This is for my wife. Ever since she got pregnant, she’s been obsessed with my cooking. If I wait any longer, it’ll get cold. I turn to leave— Marcus bursts out of the hospital entrance. Sees Stella at the door. His face lights up. Then he sees me. The smile vanishes. “Well, well. Julian Smith. After all these years, you finally came back?”

There’s surprise in his voice. But I catch the flash of disgust in his eyes. Before I can speak, he continues: “You heard our son was sick, so you came to bring food? How thoughtful.” His gaze lands on the thermal container in my hands. Pride and smugness flash across his face. Like he’s reading my mind. “Hand over the food. Then go wash the kid’s clothes.” He doesn’t just order me around—he reaches out to grab the container from my hands. I step back instinctively. “What are you doing?” Stella frowns at this. Then her expression smooths. “Fine. Since you brought food anyway, take it inside.” “Take good care of our son.” “Five hundred dollars a month salary. More than enough for a single guy like you.” Her words make her friends burst out laughing. Their eyes fill with mockery. Like they’ve found a fun new toy. “See? Five hundred! Better than whatever you’re making now—can’t even afford decent clothes!” “Right! At least you’ll get some meals! If you’re willing, maybe Stella will let you earn extra on the side.” Their gazes crawl over me without restraint. The discomfort makes my skin crawl. Marcus flashes the Rolex on his wrist. “Julian, see how good Stella is to you? Five years later, she still wants to help you out.” His voice turns cruel. “Just take care of our kid. Don’t worry about anything else. You’re not going to bully a little boy, are you?” Stella laughs coldly. “Grown some backbone, haven’t you? ” “Got your feelings hurt over nothing and ran away like a baby.” “Now you can’t make it on your own and want me to bail you out. Of course there’s a price.” Her words hit like a punch to the chest. Nothing? At our wedding, my bride announced she was pregnant with another man’s child. Humiliated me in front of everyone. Canceled the ceremony. Made me wait. That’s nothing? The Stella who once loved me is dead. She’s not the girl who’d rush over in a thunderstorm to take care of me when I had a cold. Not the one who confessed her love to me on stage at the school festival, telling the whole world I was the only one she’d ever love. Not the one who’d learn nutrition and plan my meals because she cared about my health. But that was five years ago. Time to let it go. Especially since my wife and I are about to have our first child. I step back to walk around them— But they block my path. “Where do you think you’re going? Aren’t you here to bring food to my son?” Marcus grabs my arm. The sudden movement nearly makes me stumble. I jerk away from his touch, disgusted. That’s when he spots the label on the container—For my darling Dr. Reed. “Dr. Reed? You’ve got some nerve! Everyone knows Dr. Reed just got back to the States. Already trying to suck up to her?” Marcus puts two and two together. There’s only one Dr. Reed at this hospital. Charlotte Reed. “Everyone knows Dr. Reed is married. And you’re still trying to get close to her?” Stella’s face darkens. Anger flickers in her eyes. “Have you no shame?”

I shake off Stella’s hand. Marcus spots the watch on my wrist. Grabs it. “Patek Philippe?” He freezes for a second. Then immediately denies it. “Impossible! This particular Patek Philippe is called the King of Watches. The Reed family won it at a Christie’s auction.” “When the Reeds bid on it, they made global headlines. They said it was a wedding gift for their son-in-law.” “Worth three hundred million! A symbol of their marriage!” His voice gets shrill. Jealousy burns in his eyes. But he shakes his head. “Your replica is pretty good, I’ll give you that. But wearing it around like this? Aren’t you embarrassed?” “Feels real too. Almost perfect.” “But Julian, do you really think wearing a fake Patek Philippe will make you Dr. Reed’s husband?” Laughter erupts around us. They don’t believe for a second that I could be the legendary Mr. Reed. Charlotte Reed is a world-renowned cardiac surgeon. Five years ago, I was chasing after Stella like a lovesick puppy. Willing to do anything for her. I got humiliated at my own wedding. Became a joke. There’s no way someone like me could be connected to Charlotte Reed. “Nice work. I’ll buy it from you. Full price.” I don’t have time for this. I try to grab the watch back. “Impossible! Charlotte gave this to me!” Marcus deliberately yelps in fake pain. Then Stella’s hand cracks across my face. My ears ring. Burning pain spreads across my cheek. I clench my fists. My upbringing won’t let me hit a woman. “Are you insane? Dr. Reed isn’t someone you can just claim to know!” “You’ve got some nerve trying to associate yourself with her!” Stella’s voice shakes with fury. Her friends glare at me. Their contempt is palpable. “Julian, I’m asking Dr. Reed to help my son! You hear me?” “If you piss her off and she refuses to treat him, I swear I’ll make you pay!” “If something happens to my son because of you, I’ll kill you myself!” I narrow my eyes at them. Stella’s never seen this look from me before. She finishes her tirade, then suddenly looks uncertain. Scared. Marcus rushes forward. “Julian, you lunatic! You hurt me, fine. But now you’re trying to drag Dr. Reed into this to hurt us?” “I know you’re mad about Stella leaving you at the altar. But you can’t frame her like this!” “Our son is innocent! He never did anything to you! Why are you trying to destroy us?” Tears stream down his face. He looks pitiful.

Seeing Marcus like this takes me back five years. Back then, whenever he cried and played victim, everything became my fault. Even when he was always the one who started it. At first, Stella would take my side. But as time went on and her feelings for me faded, she’d turn on me too. Just like now. Stella’s face hardens. “You’ve really disappointed me. How did you become this person?” She doesn’t continue her verbal assault though. She glances at me. “Apologize to us now. We’ll forgive you. You can still be our son’s nanny.” “Otherwise, I have plenty of ways to make sure you can’t survive in this city.” She stares down at me like I’m an insect beneath her feet. I frown. “I haven’t done anything wrong. And as for the nanny job? Find someone else. I’m not interested.” It’s not that I don’t want to fight back. But this is in front of Charlotte’s hospital. I don’t want to cause trouble for my wife. But I won’t let this slide. My phone buzzes. Charlotte’s message pops up—she’s got an emergency trip, won’t be at the hospital for two days. Don’t bother bringing lunch, save myself the trouble. Her words are so warm. My heart softens. I turn to leave. Marcus won’t let it go. “What? Not bringing food to Dr. Reed anymore?” His mocking tone makes me frown. “Don’t you know Dr. Reed’s out of town?” I throw it back at him. Stella’s eyes bore into me. “I don’t know where you got that information. But two days from now, the Reed family is holding a gala. They’re introducing Dr. Reed’s husband to everyone.” “Take this money. Buy yourself some decent clothes. Come with me to the event. See for yourself who Dr. Reed’s real husband is. Maybe then you’ll give up.” I shake my head. “No thanks.” She looks stunned that I’d refuse her. Offended that I’d embarrass her like this. She grabs Marcus. “Since you don’t know what’s good for you, I’ll take Marcus instead.” “Don’t worry, I’ll behave perfectly. I won’t embarrass you!” I’m done listening to this. I turn and walk away. Stella’s voice calls after me: “Two days from now, let’s see if you’re still so arrogant!” I ignore her. Get in a taxi. Five years ago, my family arranged a marriage for me. I begged them. They finally agreed to let me marry for love. They gave me three months. I convinced Stella to marry me. We rushed to plan the wedding. Then Marcus destroyed everything at the last minute. She wanted me to wait until Marcus’s child was born and registered for citizenship before marrying me. Left me alone at the altar. That night, my parents sent me overseas. Into an arranged marriage with Charlotte Reed. I threw myself into the family business. That’s why we waited five years to have a child. Five whole years before the baby in her belly now. If it weren’t for her mentor’s invitation, I never would’ve agreed to come back for this surgery. And I never would’ve run into Stella.

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The year I graduated summa cum laude, the government launched the Federal Frontier Placement program. My fiancé sent me to a godforsaken outpost in Alaska for seven years—so his best friend’s sister could keep her cushy position in DC. When I returned, he proposed to me in front of everyone at our university reunion. The crowd erupted in applause. They expected me to say yes with tears streaming down my face. After all, I’d been the one chasing Julian Vance. The general’s daughter who’d boldly confessed her love. The one who’d pursued the untouchable professor until he finally gave in. But they’d forgotten something. Seven years ago, Julian replaced my placement assignment with another woman’s. Made me take her spot in exile. He even threatened to fabricate evidence against my parents—destroy their decorated military careers—if I didn’t go quietly. He forced me onto that plane. Seven years in frozen hell. Now his best friend was telling me: “After you left, Professor Vance used every connection he had to make your placement more comfortable.” “He never married. He waited for you.” — I stared at Marcus, Julian’s friend, as he rambled about sacrifices I never asked for. My expression stayed flat. Detached. Marcus’s voice climbed higher. Desperate. “Aren’t you moved? He did all of this for you!” His volume drew stares from our former classmates at the Waldorf ballroom. Curious. Judgmental. I hadn’t heard Julian’s name in seven years. It felt foreign now. Like someone else’s past. Even the burning love I’d once felt for him had crystallized into indifference. Seven years ago, I’d boarded that military transport alone. Designer luggage in hand. Heart shattered into glass. Almost no one knew I’d gotten married while I was gone. So I didn’t know if Marcus was freelancing—or if Julian had sent him to remind me of all his supposed devotion. I waved dismissively. “Julian and I were young and stupid. Ancient history.” No nostalgia. No warmth. The ballroom went dead silent. You could hear champagne bubbles pop. Julian and I had grown up together in the same military compound. Childhood friends who’d become something more. I’d been an only child. Spoiled by two decorated generals. Confident. Fearless. I’d believed that if I wanted something badly enough, I could have it. So I’d chased him relentlessly. Packed gourmet lunches. Dragged him to gallery openings. When his mother got breast cancer, I’d begged my parents to pull strings—got her into Johns Hopkins with the country’s best oncologist. I’d cooked for him every night while he stayed at the hospital. Organic, from-scratch meals he barely touched. When debutantes showed interest, I’d shut them down fast. Territorial. Possessive. He’s mine. When he wanted to teach, I’d asked my father to smooth his path at Georgetown. Finally, he’d softened. The cold, distant Professor Vance started reminding me to wear warmer coats. Took care of me when I had the flu. Tolerated my mood swings. Accepted my aggressive affection. When people called me “shameless” or “desperate,” he’d defend me publicly. He’d take me to the Kennedy Center on his days off. Introduce me to his colleagues as his girlfriend. I’d thought we’d walk hand-in-hand into forever. Then three months before the Frontier Placement lottery, Ivy appeared. She’d been Julian’s middle school classmate. His “one that got away.” I’d trusted him too much to see the danger coming. I’d even tried to befriend her. Naive idiot. But then he stopped making time for me. Dodged my calls. On our two-year anniversary, he canceled our reservation at Le Bernardin. Said he had departmental obligations. Something felt wrong. He’d told me days earlier that he was free that night. That the dean wouldn’t schedule anything important—not with my father’s influence protecting his career trajectory. Suspicious, I drove to Georgetown to find him. His colleagues said he’d taken personal time. Gone to Georgetown Park. I ran there in heels. Found Julian and Ivy walking side by side through luxury boutiques. Shopping bags with designer logos. Laughing like lovers. His sister was with them, grinning at Ivy. “You and my brother are totally perfect together! Are you gonna be my sister-in-law now?”

Ivy covered her mouth, giggling behind French-manicured nails. Julian glanced at his sister. “Don’t tease.” But his tone wasn’t scolding. It was indulgent. Almost proud. He didn’t shut it down. My chest tightened. Each breath felt like swallowing shattered glass. He must’ve felt my stare burning into his back. Turned around. Saw me standing there with mascara-streaked cheeks. No guilt on his face. No apology. Just irritation. “What are you doing here, Keira?” That tone shattered the last piece of my heart. I was the beloved daughter of General Raymond Ashford. West Point legacy. Old money. I didn’t take disrespect lying down. I walked up to him. Voice dripping acid. “Is this your ‘departmental obligation’?” He frowned. “Ivy’s the new archival manager. The dean asked me to help her acclimate. This is work.” “Can you stop being unreasonable?” I stared at him like he’d grown a second head. He’d never spoken to me like this before. Never humiliated me publicly. Seeing my shock, he softened slightly. Grabbed my hand. “Keira, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.” I yanked my hand back. “Then what did you mean?” “If you were busy, you should’ve told me the truth. Not lied to my face.” He held my hand tighter. “I’m not lying. The dean asked me to help her settle in today. And I wanted to pick out your anniversary gift—I know I’ve been neglecting you lately.” His words were honey. Sweet enough to drown in. But I kept thinking about his sister calling Ivy “sister-in-law.” “What about that?” I demanded, voice cold steel. “Why was she calling Ivy that?” His sister shot me a dirty look. Like I’d stolen her favorite Birkin. Julian sighed. “She’s just joking around. You know you’re the only one for me.” He squeezed my hand. “Let me finish helping Ivy, then I’ll come cook dinner for you tonight. Deal?” He rarely cooked. He was always too consumed by research. My anger melted like snow. I was about to agree when Ivy rushed forward, eyes glistening with crocodile tears. “Keira, I’m so sorry! The dean was worried I wouldn’t adjust to DC, so he asked Julian to mentor me. If it bothers you, I’ll request someone else.” She ducked her head. Wiped manufactured tears with a Hermès scarf. Julian’s sister exploded. “Why are you bullying her? You bully my brother, and now you’re attacking Ivy too? What’s wrong with you?”

I froze. I’d always been generous to his sister. Bought her whatever she wanted from Saks. And this was how she saw me? Julian let go of my hand. Walked over to Ivy. Comforted her with soft murmurs. Patted her head like she was made of porcelain. Within minutes, she was smiling again. I felt nauseated watching them. That night, Julian did cook for me at my penthouse. But I couldn’t eat a bite. He kept bringing up Ivy. “She helped me tremendously during my awkward middle school years. I’m just returning the favor.” “You’re the only one I love. You know that, right?” He held my hand across the marble countertop. Looked into my eyes with perfect, practiced sincerity. I caved. Nodded like a fool. Then he pulled out a small velvet box. Inside was his Alpha Phi academic signet ring—his first major scholarly achievement. “I want to use this to propose,” he said, voice soft. “Today’s our two-year anniversary. I want fifty more years with you. I’ll give you everything you deserve.” He pushed the ring toward me. My heart warmed despite everything. I accepted it. “Okay.” He pulled me into his arms. All my doubts dissolved into smoke. I thought that warmth would last forever. It didn’t. After that day, he and Ivy were inseparable at Georgetown. Commuting together in his BMW. Spending weekends antiquing in Alexandria. Intimate gestures. Familiar touches that should’ve been mine. They looked like the real couple. Rumors spread through the military compound: Julian and I had broken up. He’d dumped the general’s daughter. Before I could trace the source, Ivy showed up at my apartment. She was holding a ceramic dish. Smiling sweetly like butter wouldn’t melt. “I made pot roast for Julian. Thought I’d bring some for you too.” I took the dish, tried to close the door. She pushed her way inside on designer heels. The smile dropped like a mask. “You’re the one chasing him, you realize. He only agreed to date you because you wouldn’t leave him alone.” “You’re bold, I’ll give you that. But you’re also pathetic.” “Anyone with eyes can see Julian loves me, not you. If you were smart, you’d bow out gracefully.” I wanted to throw her pot roast in her smug face. But I held back. Physical violence would be beneath my breeding. She stepped closer, Chanel perfume suffocating. “Fine. I’ll prove it to you. Let’s see whose name is carved in his heart.” I told Julian everything that night. He didn’t believe me. Accused me of lying out of jealousy. “I know you don’t like Ivy, but you can’t slander her character. She’s always been kind and gentle.” His voice was angry. Disgusted. “I thought you were better than petty jealousy, Keira. You’re disappointing me.” His words were knives twisting. “You think I’m… disappointing?” I whispered, voice breaking.

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