In the casino, my boyfriend Nathan Pierce’s cousin Amanda Clark gambled away 30 million dollars. When she couldn’t pay, the so-called ‘Prince of Winterhaven,’ Lucas Hartley held her captive and threatened to cut off her hand. Amanda is practically shaking with fear, but Nathan doesn’t hesitate for a second. He grabs me and shoves me forward instead. “Don’t take Amanda’s hand. Take hers.” He pins my wrist to the table, and his voice goes all soft and sweet. “Amanda’s gonna be a world-class pianist someday. Her hands are priceless, you know? But you? You just cut fish at the market. You’ll be fine with one hand. And if it really comes down to it, I’ll take care of you.” Amanda hides behind him, putting on a fake, concerned tone. “Yeah, Emma. This is Mr. Hartley’s place. Maybe you could just help us out here? I mean, he’s got a reputation for being brutal. If we don’t make him happy today, we’re all gonna die.” I almost laugh. Sure, I work at the fish market, but that’s only because my therapist suggested repetitive manual work might help me manage my bipolar condition. It’s supposed to be stress relief or whatever. These two are scared of Winterhaven’s prince, but they don’t seem too worried about his older sister. Which happens to be me—the Hartley family’s eldest daughter. *** The prince of Winterhaven, my little brother, Lucas Hartley, looks at me, and I can see the confusion on his face. “Wait, you look so familiar… Do I know you?” I pull my hat down lower and adjust my mask. Dad’s hunting for a traitor in the family right now, and Lucas is basically suspect number one. I can’t blow my cover here. But before I can do anything, Nathan steps forward and slams my hand down on the table. “She’s nobody. Just some girl who works at a fish market. There’s no way she’d know someone like you, sir.” Amanda immediately clings to his arm. “Nate, stop… Emma’s gonna get hurt.” She’s saying “stop,” but her body language tells a completely different story. She keeps backing away from me, and every few seconds, she glances over with a smirk like she’s enjoying this whole thing. “Come on, Emma. Just help Nate out, okay?” Amanda pouted. “It’s 30 million dollars. His company just started up, and he doesn’t have that kind of money. You don’t have any family anyway. Even if you end up disabled, Nate’s not gonna leave you.” I don’t say anything. I just look up at Lucas instead. This kid’s gotten bold in the three years since I’ve seen him. What’s he doing waving a knife around like some kind of gangster? Lucas seems to notice me staring. He frowns and looks at me more carefully, but I’m covered in dried fish blood from head to toe and I reek. It’s pretty hard to connect that to Emma Hartley, Winterhaven’s princess. “Hey, fish girl.” Lucas points the knife at me. “Your boyfriend wants to chop off your hand, and you’re fine with that?” I’m about to say something when Nathan panics. He slaps his hand over my mouth and turns to Lucas with a big fake smile plastered on his face. “Mr. Hartley, she’s fine with it! I promise!” Amanda jumps right in. “Emma’s completely obsessed with Nate. She’d die for him without even blinking, so losing a hand is nothing. Besides, she used to work at a nightclub. She’s danced for tips in clubs before. Losing a hand won’t stop her from selling herself, right, Emma?” A nightclub? I was inspecting one of my own venues when she saw me there, and now she’s spreading these disgusting lies? Nathan yanks me over to him and his face goes cold. “Emma, don’t be stupid right now. Amanda’s got a real future ahead of her as a pianist. If you take this hit for us today, I’ll marry you immediately. But if you don’t do this, we’re done. Over.” I feel pretty helpless, so I quickly fire off a few messages to my dad. But the second I look at his reply, Nathan grabs me and raises the knife. “Emma! You think this is your fish market or something? Put that damn phone away! Don’t worry though. I’ll make it quick and painless. I’ll get you the best doctors and the best prosthetic money can buy.” I stare at that knife and at the twisted look on his face, and I feel myself starting to lose control. I’ve been off my medication for two weeks now, and my doctor warned me it could mess with my impulse control. Turns out he was right about that, because right now, I don’t feel like killing fish today. Today, I feel like tearing everything apart. But thinking about the family situation, I rub my temples and force myself to stay calm. “Fine. You can cut off my hand. Just give me a minute first, okay?”

I’m so frustrated right now. Dad’s plan is almost complete, and I just need to stall as long as I possibly can. Nathan sees that I’m not fighting back anymore, and he looks so pleased with himself. “I knew you couldn’t give me up. It’s just one hand anyway. I’ll take care of you after this is over. Amanda’s my cousin, you know. I promised my aunt I’d look after her, and I can’t break that promise.” I almost laugh out loud at that. Cousin? Yeah right. More like his side piece. I caught them wrapped around each other before, and he told me Amanda was just losing her balance and he was helping her stay upright. Back then, I only saw Nathan as a way to kill time when I was bored, so I didn’t bother calling him out on it. But now these two are showing off right in front of me like they’ve got nothing to be ashamed of. Where did they get the nerve? Amanda pipes up again. “Emma, you can’t be selfish here. Mr. Hartley’s time is so valuable. Why should he waste it waiting around for you?” Lucas watches all of this with an amused expression on his face. “This is getting interesting.” “So if someone doesn’t want to lose their hand, then maybe…” He looks at Amanda for a second, and I can see her tense up. Amanda starts shaking and grabs onto Nathan’s arm. “Nate, save me…” Nathan immediately pulls Amanda behind him and gives Lucas this disgusting bootlicking smile. “Mr. Hartley, don’t listen to her. She’s just scared out of her mind right now. I’ll do it right now. I’ll cut off her hand immediately!” Nathan raises the knife and brings it down. My wrist tightens up, and I’m about to lose it, but Lucas speaks up again. “Hold on.” Nathan freezes mid-swing. “Mr. Hartley, is there something else you need?” Lucas taps Amanda with the tip of his knife. “Don’t cut her hand yet. Make her drink for what she owes first, round by round. We can chop it off after she’s done.” Before anyone can react, servers start bringing out rows and rows of shot glasses. They cover the entire table. The crowd around us starts whispering. “Mr. Hartley’s pissed. I heard the last person who made him angry got carried out foaming at the mouth, and he’s still in the hospital.” “This girl’s screwed. Not only is she gonna lose her hand, but now she’s gonna get played to death first.” Amanda’s face goes completely pale, and Nathan has to hold her up. Then he turns around and shoves me forward instead. “Mr. Hartley, my girlfriend can really hold her liquor. She’ll drink for Amanda!” I look at the table full of shots, and I actually smile. Drinking happens to be one of my specialties, and my baby brother here clearly learned all his dirty tricks from me. “You want me to drink? Fine, let’s do this.” I start going through the rows one by one, and I don’t even blink. But Amanda’s standing off to the side running her mouth. “Emma used to work at nightclubs, so of course she’s different from the rest of us. Besides alcohol, she’s probably swallowed plenty of other filthy things too, right?” I’m almost done with the last row when I pause for just a second. Nathan immediately starts pushing me. “Hurry up! Stop dragging your feet. Mr. Hartley’s waiting.” Amanda’s feeling brave now, and she starts taunting me. “Emma, if you really can’t handle it, just give up. It’s only losing a hand. You can tough it out.” I give her one cold look and reach for the last row of shots. But right then, someone’s hand suddenly presses down on my glass.

I don’t dare look up because I know it’s Lucas. He grabs the glass out of my hand and casually throws it on the ground. Nathan’s completely stunned. He asks carefully, “Mr. Hartley, what… what does this mean? She hasn’t finished yet.” Lucas ignores him and claps his hands instead. “I just realized something. Making her drink is boring. We should play something else. It’s not every day I meet a woman who interests me this much.” Watching Nathan act like a total lapdog makes me sick to my stomach. Next time I pick a boy toy, I need to have better standards. Lucas leans back in his chair and lights a cigarette. Through the smoke, he points at the dice cup on the table. “Since you’re in my casino, we’re playing dice. High or low. Simple as that. You win, the 30 million dollars gets wiped clean. You lose…” He pauses and looks between me and Amanda. “Lose a round, and you take off one piece of clothing.” Amanda bursts into tears the second she hears that. She’s wearing a strapless mini dress today, so there are barely two pieces to begin with. If she loses, she’ll basically be stripping in front of everyone. “Nate, I can’t do this. There are so many people here, and if I… how am I supposed to get married after this?” she sobs. Nathan looks like his heart’s breaking. He turns to Lucas, practically begging. “Mr. Hartley, Amanda’s a lady. She’s young and all that. Making her take her clothes off doesn’t seem right. Can we pick something else?” Lucas actually laughs at that, and then he kicks Nathan straight in the chest. “Who the hell do you think you are, telling me what to do?” Nathan struggles to his feet, and then he looks at me. “Emma! You know how to roll dice, right?” Before I can even answer, he just decides for me. “You’re playing for Amanda.” I have bipolar disorder, not some kind of masochism problem. I glance at the message on my phone and speak up. “I’m not playing.” Nathan freezes for a second, and then he grabs me, absolutely furious. “Don’t be ungrateful! Amanda comes from a respectable family, and you’re basically nobody. What’s the big deal if you take off some clothes? As long as it saves Amanda, you’ll do whatever I tell you to do!” I can feel my temper flaring up, and I can’t control it anymore. I smile at him instead. “Nathan, you really think I’m some pushover?”

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It wasn’t until they saw the butchered remains of every woman and child in the village that the men finally believed me. The pirates were real. The sight of the scattered corpses sent them into a violent frenzy. “Captain! You said your wife was just jealous! You told us she was lying so we’d stay and protect you and Sarah Cole while you celebrated her birthday! Now look… my son is dead! My wife is gone!” Julian Reed turned deathly pale, his voice failing him. I looked at the blood-soaked ground, tears finally breaking through. In my past life, when the pirates launched their surprise attack, Julian—the Captain of the Guard—had taken every able-bodied man out to sea to celebrate his “platonic” soulmate’s birthday. I was pregnant back then. I crawled through the filth of the sewers to find them, dragging the men back just in time to save the islanders. But in the chaos, a straggler caught his precious Sarah. She was brutalized and killed. Julian didn’t say a word after he finished off the pirates. He waited. On the day I gave birth, he broke my legs, sliced open my abdomen, and tossed me into the deep ocean. He watched as scavengers ripped me apart while I was still alive. “You were so jealous of her that you lured the pirates here just to ruin her day,” he had hissed, his eyes cold. “If you love competing with her so much, you can die just like she did.” I opened my eyes and found myself back on the day of the raid. This time, if he wants to play hero for his little sweetheart, he’s more than welcome to. Back in the present, I watched the pirate speedboats cutting through the waves toward the shore. A cold shiver ran down my spine. Without a second thought, I slammed my hand onto the emergency lever. The siren’s wail pierced the air, echoing across the entire island. But when I looked toward the harbor, the evacuation vessel—the only vessel large enough to carry the women and children to safety—was gone. My best friend stumbled toward me, her voice breaking. “Lily, the pirates are hitting the beach! Where are the men? Where did everyone go?” “The ship is gone,” she sobbed. “What are we going to do?” Before I could answer, a crowd of panicked women and children swarmed around me. Their eyes were wide, desperate for an answer I dreaded giving. “Julian took the men and the weapons,” I said, my voice hollow. “He took the vessel to international waters to celebrate Sarah’s birthday.” My mother-in-law let out a sharp, jagged curse. “Is he insane? He knows the raids happen this time of year! He took every able-bodied man on the island!” “That little tramp, Sarah!” she spat. “I knew she was trouble the moment he brought her home. Always playing the victim to lure men in. Now she’s going to get us all killed!” Her outburst snapped a string. The crowd erupted into a chorus of frantic curses, all aimed at the woman who had charmed their husbands away. In the distance, the roar of speedboat engines grew louder. They were hitting the sand. “Listen to me!” I shouted, fighting to keep my voice steady. “Everyone into the tunnels! Now!” Because our island was so isolated, we had built a network of underground tunnels for exactly this reason. We scrambled inside, packing into the damp, narrow space. Above us, we could already hear the heavy boots hitting the pavement and the chilling, rhythmic laughter of men hunting for prey. Panic began to rot the air inside the tunnel. There was only one way to save everyone: someone had to crawl through the drainage pipes to the hidden cove, take a jet ski, and bring the men back. My mother-in-law grabbed my hand, her grip bruising. “Lily, you know how to pilot a boat. You have to go. Find Julian. Tell him to bring the men back to save us!” I let out a bitter, dry laugh. “Even if I find him, he won’t come back for me.” The tunnel went silent. Everyone knew it was true. Ever since Julian rescued Sarah three months ago, he had been glued to her side. He claimed he was just “rehabilitating” her, but they were inseparable—fishing together, training together, whispering in corners. The whole island joked that they looked more like a couple than we did. Faced with the crowd’s teasing, he didn’t bother to keep his distance—if anything, he became even more intimate with her. I confronted him again and again, shouting, asking who his wife was supposed to be. He didn’t even flinch—he only blamed me for being small-minded and consumed by jealousy. Our marriage had died the day she arrived. Just as the silence became unbearable, my sister-in-law, Chloe, stepped forward. “I’ll go,” she said firmly. “I know the guys in the Guard, and Lily is pregnant. If something happens to the baby, Julian will never forgive me.” Without waiting for an objection, she dropped into the filth of the drainage pipe and began crawling through the muck toward the outside world.

We huddled deep in the tunnel, barely daring to breathe, praying we wouldn’t be found. But our luck ran out. A sharp-eyed pirate spotted the concealed entrance. “Found a hatch! I bet all the pretty things are hiding right under our feet!” “I knew it! No way an island this big is a ghost town.” “I’ve been at sea for six months,” another growled, his voice thick with lust. “I’m going to enjoy this.” The heavy thud-thud-thud of sledgehammers hitting the iron door echoed through the cramped space. The women turned ghost-white, their eyes fixed on the vibrating metal. Every strike felt like a heartbeat skipping. Our only hope was that the men were on their way. About thirty minutes later, the sewer grate rattled. Chloe Reed crawled back in, covered in filth and smelling of waste. A small cheer went up—everyone thought she had brought the cavalry. But then we saw her face. She was trembling, tears streaking through the grime on her cheeks. “I’m so sorry…” she sobbed. “They wouldn’t come back.” My mother-in-law grabbed her shoulders, shaking her. “What do you mean they won’t come? Their wives and children are in here!” Chloe broke down completely, biting her lip until it bled. “Julian… he said I was a liar. He said there’s no way the pirates would attack today. He told me I was just helping Lily pull a prank to ruin Sarah’s party. Then… then he slapped me.” She turned her head, revealing a bright red handprint on her cheek. The tunnel erupted. The women cursed Sarah, calling her every name in the book. They cursed Julian for abandoning his post and leaving his people to die for the sake of a mistress. Suddenly, a massive BOOM rocked the ground. Dust rained from the ceiling. They were using explosives on the door. That iron hatch had an hour left, at best. “Listen to me!” I shouted over the crying. “Peel Island is only twenty minutes away by water. They have their own militia. I can get help from them.” My mother-in-law gripped my arm, her calloused hands slick with cold sweat. “Lily, we’re counting on you. Please… bring them back.” I nodded, ignored the ache in my pregnant belly, and forced myself back into the narrow, stinking drainage pipe. I crawled until my knees bled, finally reaching the hidden cove. I jumped onto the backup jet ski and tore across the waves toward Peel Island. As I skidded onto the sand of the neighboring beach, I saw several armed men waiting for me. My heart leaped with relief when I recognized the man in the lead. It was Marcus Johnson, Julian’s second-in-command. Why is he here? I wondered. He was supposed to be on the cruise ship with Julian. I didn’t have time to think. I stumbled toward him, gasping for air. “Marcus! Thank God! The pirates—they’ve taken the island—” Before I could finish, he lunged forward, grabbing my arm with bone-crushing force and yanking me off the jet ski. He looked at me with pure, unadulterated loathing. “Lily Wilson,” he spat, his voice dripping with disgust. “I didn’t think a human being could be as pathetic and disgusting as you.”

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The Imperial Councilor once prophesied that the Chancellor would have a daughter capable of foreseeing the future. I was born with a lotus flower on my forehead, while my younger sister liked to draw flowers there. An imperial decree betrothed my sister as the Crown Prince’s bride, while I, according to my own wish, married Prince Peter. For the next five years, I used my power of foresight to help Peter Carter ascend to the throne. On the night of his coronation, I wiped away my makeup and told Peter about the lotus flower on my forehead. Yet he flew into a rage, carved the flesh from my forehead, and had me torn apart. “Bella Jones, how dare you imitate Karen?” “If you hadn’t chosen me first, how would she have been bestowed in marriage to Lucas? I want her to be my true empress!” “For every moment of intimacy with you over these five years, I felt nothing but disgust. You will pay for this with your life.” When I opened my eyes again, Peter burst in and interrupted Councilor Jack. “How can a mere flower decide that Karen is the god-favored woman?” “I’d like to use the blank imperial decree Your Majesty bestowed years ago, to marry the Chancellor’s second daughter, Karen Jones!” Everyone went silent for a moment. They looked at each other and didn’t know what to say. The Imperial Councilor still wished to speak, but I stopped him with a glance. That imperial decree was a reward from many years ago, granted after Peter Carter’s mother died saving the Emperor. I never expected he would use it here. In my previous life, even with my help, he relied on that decree to ascend the throne legitimately. I never imagined he would go this far for Karen. The Empress was delighted he used it early, sparing future trouble. “Bella Jones, what do you think?” “That His Highness favors my sister is an absolute honor to our family.” I bowed respectfully. Peter looked at me, and his gaze seemed really complicated. And it was resolute too. “This has nothing to do with coveting Lucas’s position as Crown Prince. It is simply that Karen and I are deeply in love. She is only a second daughter and cannot bear such an exalted fate. Mother Empress, please grant us your blessing.” The Empress pondered for a long while before speaking. “But the entire capital knows the one you grew up with was Bella. And now you…” Peter hurriedly explained. “I only regarded her as a younger sister. Didn’t know people would misunderstand us.” I sneered to myself. Younger sister, huh? Crown Prince Lucas was surrounded by a powerful royal aura, the so-called “King Aura”. Without my support, Peter would never be able to beat Lucas. Since he had staked everything on my concubine-born sister, I’d just grant his wish. Just as I exited the great hall, Peter’s attendant stopped me. “Lady Bella, please wait. Prince Peter requests your presence.” I was led to a corner tower where there was nothing else but tea. I didn’t know what I could do so I drank the tea, one cup after another, before Peter showed up. By the time my bladder was about to burst, Peter finally arrived, his face icy. “When Karen begged you for help back then, this was how you treated her. Does it feel good?” In the previous life, the army could not be delayed, so I stopped her. He won a great victory, and harbored resentment against me for it. “I know you’ve reincarnated too, Bella.” “Though you’re vicious and jealous, we were husband and wife after all. I can totally give you a way out. If you still love me, after I marry Karen, I can take you in as a concubine.” I set the teacup down heavily on the table. “We should just take separate ways. Do you understand?” “If vengeance is to be sought, it should be me coming after you, not the other way around. Since you’re betrothed, the more distance we keep, the better.” “I will request to go to Mercy Temple to pray for a year, just to avoid you.” Peter Carter did not look pleased by my good sense. His expression darkened further. I stepped past him to leave, but he grabbed me. “My killing you was an overreaction. But if you hadn’t imitated Karen by painting a flower on your forehead, how would I have lost it?” “As long as you behave yourself this time, I can keep you alive. We once shared tender moments, remember? If you don’t fight for any higher position, just be an obedient consort…” I took a deep breath and cut him off. “I said separate ways! I will never be a concubine!” No sooner had I returned to the residence than the imperial decree arrived. My father, beaming with pride, pushed me forward. “Well? Hurry and receive the decree!” Before I could explain, the eunuch said, “Chancellor Ted, it’s not for her. It’s for your second daughter, the concubine-born one.”

The imperial decree, already eye-catching as it made its way from the palace gate, was further amplified by Peter’s influence. In one night, our family became the center of attention. For years, it had been me, the first daughter of Chancellor Ted, seen accompanying Peter, yet the one getting married to him was the second daughter, Karen. I became the target of ridicule among the common folk. “Could it be that Bella had been the one chasing Prince Peter all along?” “How could the virtuous Chancellor have such a daughter? His first daughter acts like a courtesan. No wonder she couldn’t win the favor of Prince Peter.” The next morning, Peter arrived early, bringing ten carriages of extravagant gifts to our residence. This further confirmed his affection for Karen. My father, his face full of worry, looked at me as I practiced calligraphy. “Bella, though I don’t know what’s happened between you and the prince, public opinion is now turning against you. Would you like to leave the capital to avoid the storm? To clear your mind?” I put down the brush in my hand and said, “I had thought about retreating to the Mercy Temple, but there’s no escaping this now.” My father sighed deeply. “It’s my fault. I should never have brought Karen back…” Before he could finish, Karen pushed the door open and entered. “When I was a child, you favored her and sent me to live with relatives at the border. And now Prince Peter is coming for me. Do you wanna take this away from me too?” Father was silent for a moment. Karen grew more excited. “I’ll show you that even though I’m not as noble as Bella, I’m the daughter you should be proud of!” She stormed off in a huff, and my father, afraid of something bad happening, sent people to follow her. Later they reported that she went to Prince Peter’s residence. I tried to calm Father down. “Father, there’s something more important that needs your attention. There’s gonna be a major earthquake in Pakitown. You should prepare early.” Father froze for a moment. “I’ll go to the palace now.” I stopped him. “Prince Peter will prepare for this. You should just focus on the follow-up work.” Father was uncertain but chose to trust me. If Peter wanted to seize the throne, he wouldn’t miss such a good opportunity to win the people over. But I didn’t expect that he would let Karen have the credit. Soon, rumors spread that Karen could predict the future and was the true god-favored woman. The Imperial Councilor’s prophecy was brought up again, and with the wedding date approaching, she truly had the spotlight. When mentioning me, all the common folk would just shake their heads. “Bella Jones? She really doesn’t deserve the title of the noblest girl in the capital.” “Totally. She’s indeed very beautiful, graceful, and talented. However, her incredible sister has now completely outshone her.” At that time, Karen cornered me in the study and stopped me from writing. “Bella, I’m gonna be the Empress this time. So what if you’re the true god-favored woman? Since I have the memories, I can predict things too.” “You had such a talent. Why did you keep it a secret? Since you don’t want fame and fortune, I’ll take them for you.” I smiled and looked at her. “You think Peter was the reason why I became the Empress? You’ve got things backward.” She raised her hand to slap me. “You’re really full of yourself!” I grabbed her hand and threw it off, but just then, Peter walked in and saw what had happened. He immediately shielded Karen in his arms. “Bella, I warn you! If you harm Karen again, you don’t even get to be my concubine!”

I watched as he gently comforted Karen, but turned around to lash out at me. “Bella, weren’t you called the noblest girl in the capital? Now you’re clearly a jealous and vicious woman!” But just last month, during our boat ride, he had whispered sweet words beside me. “Bella, you’re so graceful and peerless, I want to hide you away so only I can have you.” Seeing my eyes redden, Peter didn’t want Karen to be scared. So he immediately ordered for her to be taken away. “It was because you couldn’t accept Karen that caused our rift in the previous life. Why do you have to make the same mistake now?” I held back my tears and said, “Why should I accept her? You know full well her background. Her existence is a disgrace to our family. We’ve only kept her because my father couldn’t bring himself to throw her out!” Karen’s father had been nothing but a thug. He had raped my mother, resulting in Karen’s birth. My mother had passed away in sorrow because of that. But my father, recalling that she was still my mother’s blood, couldn’t bear to expel her, let alone kill her. Suddenly, Peter furiously grabbed my throat and whispered angrily, “She was just a child! Totally innocent! If you don’t keep this to yourself, I have a thousand ways to make you unable to speak!” My breathing became labored, and Peter finally released his grip. “Guards! Bella wishes to go to the Mercy Temple for a month to pray for her sister Karen. Take her there!” The common people along the streets weren’t fools. They began to speculate on what had really happened. I was kept under house arrest in the temple, unaware of the rumors spreading outside. Meanwhile, Karen spread the word that I was jealous of her and tried to harm her, only to be caught by Peter. The people started praising her for predicting the earthquake and saving many citizens. The day I left the temple and returned home, a crowd was waiting outside the gates. They threw rotten vegetables and eggs at me. Just then, someone appeared in front of me and pushed the crowd back. “Stop it! She’s here only because she wanted to pray for her sister, my wife! These rumors are truly unfounded!” I looked at the tall figure in front of me, and my nose tingled with emotion. In the previous life, when we fought together on the battlefield, he would always shield me like this, but things had changed. Yet, as he protected me while I got into the carriage and sent me back home, it seemed like nothing had changed. “Ahem, the reason I’m defending you today is not for any other reason. I just thought it was wrong to forcibly send you to the temple back then.” I lowered my head, sniffing. “I understand.” Father rushed back from the outskirts of the city. “I was only away dealing with the disaster. How did this…” Father hugged me tightly and looked back at Peter. “Our residence is too small to accommodate you and your future princess. After your wedding next month, please don’t come to us again.” Peter opened his mouth, but it was a long while before he finally spoke softly. “After the wedding, I will come to discuss with you about making Bella my concubine.” Father’s face turned red with anger, and he picked up a broom to hit him. But a man who had just arrived stopped him. “How can you behave this way? The Chancellor has served the king and people loyally for his whole life. You’ve broken your promise and are marrying someone else, but now you want his first daughter to be your concubine? You’re literally insulting them!” It was Lucas Carter, the crown prince. He ordered his men to escort Prince Peter back to his residence. He then returned with us to our house. When I was in my room getting dressed, I removed the leafy cover from my forehead, revealing the birthmark that had been hidden. Returning to the main hall, I heard Lucas’s words. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to offer the entire kingdom as my dowry and ask Lady Bella to be my princess.” Father hesitated for a moment, and I pushed the door open. “I am honored by Your Highness’s affection, and I am willing.” In the previous life, it was because I chose Peter, defying fate, that all the disasters followed. They thought that by reliving this life, they could manage fate through their memories. What a joke. I bowed slightly to Lucas. “Your Highness must have your own reasons for choosing me, but all I ask is for you to protect my father and me, and ensure our safety for a lifetime.” “As a sign of sincerity, if Prince Peter makes any bold moves, I will assist Your Highness in resisting him.”

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Isabella Grey, Harbor City’s richest heiress, has one rule in relationships: she only keeps boyfriends for a month, never letting feelings get in the way. Men are lining up all over town to date her, and honestly, who can blame them? If you’re lucky, she might throw a villa your way. If not, a million-dollar breakup check is still yours. Everyone in Harbor City loves laughing at me behind my back. They call me the most pathetic kept husband in history, and they aren’t wrong. Everyone thinks I’ll just take it forever. Then Isabella brought home this college kid named Trevor Mason. He was completely average looking, nothing special about him at all. But somehow, he broke her one-month rule. She actually kept him around. One day, Isabella gave me two choices. Option one was to accept an open marriage and let Trevor have equal standing with me as her partner. Option two was to divorce her, take half her assets, and we’d call it even. Her friends were all standing around watching this go down, and I could see it on their faces. They were absolutely sure I’d pick the money and keep playing the fool. I didn’t even hesitate and took the divorce. See, in my past life, I chose to put up with it. I thought I was being smart and playing the long game. But Trevor just got worse and worse. He told Isabella she couldn’t touch me anymore. He told her she couldn’t have my kids. By the time we got old, I watched Trevor surrounded by his grandkids while I had nobody. And when Isabella finally died, her will didn’t even mention my name. Every single thing she owned went straight to Trevor. I spent my whole life being known as Isabella’s husband, but I ended up completely alone. This time around, I finally get it. Take the money and leave. Cut all ties with her and never look back.

I grab the divorce papers and read through everything carefully. Then I sign my name without hesitating. Isabella actually speaks up, and there’s this tension in her voice that she probably doesn’t even realize. “Caspian, you better be sure about this. Once you sign, there’s no going back.” My hand doesn’t stop. The pen glides across the paper in one smooth stroke. Signed. Done. “I’ll pack my stuff and get out of here today.” Regret? Not a chance. In my past life, I thought bringing Trevor home was just another twisted way for her to get back at me. I was naive enough to believe that after all those years together, she had to feel something for me. What a joke. She and Trevor had two kids within three years and stayed madly in love until they were old. Meanwhile, I was just this awkward piece of furniture in the house, embarrassed for half my life and laughed at for the other half. It wasn’t until we were old that I finally overheard her talking with Trevor in the hospital room. She told him that whole scene where I got “caught” cheating with the maid, the one who was half-dressed and everything, she’d arranged all of it herself. “I was just bored with him and didn’t want things to get too messy,” she said. Her eyes were clouded, not a hint of guilt in them. “So I set that whole thing up. That way, whatever I did after that looked totally justified.” So that’s how it was. No wonder every time I tried to explain, all I got from her was cold disbelief. She knew the truth the whole time. She didn’t love me, but she used that fake accusation to trap me for 50 years. She could’ve just made a clean break, but instead, she chose to torture me slowly until the day I died. I look up at her face now, young but just as cold as ever, and I don’t feel any love left. Just this churning hatred deep in my chest. She stares at the signed agreement like she can’t believe what she’s seeing, completely shocked. Outside the door, the sounds of people eavesdropping suddenly stop. The next second, my “wonderful” in-laws burst through the door looking absolutely thrilled. Isabella’s mother grabs Trevor’s hand and examines him from every angle, gushing the whole time. “Oh my, young people are just so much better! Look at how energetic he is!” Isabella’s father, who’s always looked at me like I’m dirt on his shoe, suddenly has this warm smile on his face. He shoots me a loaded glance and says, “Finally got rid of that dead weight. How many years has it been? Not even one grandkid to show for it.” Trevor lowers his head like he’s being modest. “Mr. Grey, don’t say that. I’m not that much younger than Mr. Wilde…” He pauses and his face turns red. “Actually, Belly is already a month pregnant. We just haven’t said anything because it’s still early.” I raise an eyebrow. Of course. Same passive-aggressive bullshit, same disgusting tone as always. The difference is, this time I don’t care anymore. For years, I worked myself to the bone at Grey Group during the day just to be a good husband. Then I came home at night and had to wait on these two demanding assholes hand and foot. I’m barely past thirty, but I already have gray hair at my temples. Yeah, I look old. I turn around and head to the bedroom to pack my pathetic little collection of belongings. I’m already thinking about where I should go first once I get my money, somewhere I can actually relax. I don’t notice Isabella following me inside. “It’s late. You don’t need to leave right now. Just go tomorrow,” she speaks softly. “That villa on the west side is still empty, right? You can stay there for now, and I’ll come visit you when I have time. “Caspian, I know you love me. Stop being stubborn.” She gently rests her hand on her flat stomach. “But I can’t stay married to you anymore. I can’t let my child be born with the stigma of being illegitimate.” I don’t respond. I just grab my suitcase, walk past her, and head straight for the door. “I’ve got nothing to say to you. I’m happy we’re getting divorced. If you actually have any conscience left, just hurry up and send me the money you owe me.” The night, wind hits my face and carries tiny snowflakes with it. It’s freezing and sharp, but it can’t put out the fire that’s burning hotter and hotter inside me.

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It has been seven years since my daughter and I left the country, and thirteen-year-old Annie has blossomed into an internationally renowned piano prodigy. No matter how complex the piece is, it flows into beautiful music under Annie’s fingers. Yet there is one song she refuses to play, a simple lullaby, no matter how many times it is requested. She fears that if she plays it again, she might go soft and forgive that man. One day, Colt Jones, her birth father, brings a grand piano crafted by a master artisan and asks Annie to play the lullaby for him. She calmly shakes her head. “Sir, I don’t know how to play this piece,” she says. Colt’s eyes redden as he takes her hand and places it on the piano. “How could that be? Annie, you are a prodigy pianist, aren’t you? Didn’t you always want a piano? Dad has brought it for you. From now on, just tell me your wishes, and I’ll make them all come true.” Annie indifferently withdraws her right hand. “No need, Mr. Jones. I can earn money to buy a piano myself now. You can take it back to your daughter.” Colt feels as if he has plunged into icy depths as he pulls Annie into his arms. “Annie, why are you saying that? You are my only daughter.” Annie seems somewhat puzzled. “But didn’t you say that Ms. Brown’s daughter is the one who deserves to be your child? Didn’t you give the piano you promised me to her daughter?” Annie shrugs and smiles nonchalantly when she mentions it. “It’s okay, Mr. Jones. If you fancy Ms. Brown, go ahead and take care of her daughter. I have my mom, and that’s enough for me.” Colt feels a swirl of emotions inside him. No matter how much he anticipates Annie’s reaction, he never expects her to be so resolute. What he doesn’t know is that Annie and I have given him countless chances, yet he remains indifferent. During the five years of our marriage, he has had plenty of opportunities to be honest about his identity, to reveal that he is actually the heir of the Jones family. Yet he stays silent. Every time Annie expresses her desire to play the piano for him, he feigns poverty and brushes it off. “Sure, but Dad doesn’t have enough money now. I’m saving up, and I’ll get one for you soon.” For five years, I’ve taken Annie to the square every day to perform and earn a living. And for five years, he watches coldly, day in and day out. Every time we pack up and go home, Annie asks me hopefully. “Mom, do we have enough money to buy a piano now? I want to play a lullaby for Dad. It’s the first piano piece I learned!” Each time, I count the money in the bag and shake my head at her. “We’re still a little short. Save a bit more tomorrow, and we’ll have enough soon.” Finally, a month before Annie’s birthday, I count the coins in the bag and am delighted to find that we have enough to buy the cheapest piano. But as I hold Annie’s hand and walk into the music store, I see Colt on the second floor, holding his first love’s daughter while selecting a piano. I tremble as I point to the piano they are looking at and ask the salesperson. “How much does that piano cost?” The salesperson smiles professionally. “That Steinway piano was ordered by that gentleman a long time ago. It is entirely handcrafted by a German master, and it costs eight million.” Eight million dollars. My blood seems to run cold. People have told me before that Colt is no ordinary man, but our drafty house and the dilapidated furniture tell me exactly the opposite. I could never have believed that he was actually wealthy. Now, thinking back, it is impressive for him to have endured living in that shabby house for five years. Noticing my silence, Annie asks curiously. “Mom, is Dad a rich man? Is that piano ordered for me?” Annie is too young to see the relationship between the people on the second floor. Staring at her faded dress, I try to explain the situation but fail. Sensing my discomfort, Annie speaks up. “Mom, it seems Dad has something to say to that madam about. Let’s go home first. We can come here next time.” Her voice grows quieter, yet her disappointment is hard to hide. But I don’t notice that, and I leave in a daze, taking Annie with me. After we get home, I take out his ID card. I search for the address of his registered residence on the computer. Brightheart Villa, Halcrest. Even though it is far away in Rivertown, I’ve heard of this place. It is an enclave reserved exclusively for the nation’s wealthiest magnates. One single truth echoes in my mind. “Colt, you have kept this from us for so long.” I wonder if he feels heartbroken when he watches us go to the park to perform every day, rain or shine. Or is he mocking us for our futile efforts? Thinking of this, I give a self-mocking smile and dial the phone number of a divorce lawyer.

After what feels like an eternity, the sound of footsteps approaches from outside the door. It is Colt, returning home. As usual, Annie runs to the door, her enthusiasm undimmed as she greets him. But Colt is as stingy as ever, not even offering Annie a hug. Normally, Annie has long grown accustomed to her father’s indifference. But for some reason, she clings to the hem of Colt’s coat today, refusing to let him leave. “Dad, can you buy me a piano? My classmate’s teacher taught her to play a lullaby. I mastered it after hearing it just once, and I want to play it for you,” she pleads. “Sure, I’ll buy one when I make enough money.” Colt brushes her off as usual. “When will that be?” Annie presses, unusually persistent today, determined to get a straight answer. After a long hesitation, Colt finally agrees. Annie excitedly hugs my leg and cheers. “Mom, I’m going to have a piano! I’ll play lots and lots of pieces for you and Dad!” I am happy for Annie and look forward to hearing her performance. *** But one day turns into two, then a week, and still, there is no sign of the promised piano. One morning, I see Annie crying secretly under the covers. Colt sees the same, but he doesn’t even bother to comfort her. Instead, when he sees me, his eyes brighten. “You’re just in time. Help me boil some brown sugar water and put it in a thermos. I need to take it with me,” he says. Brown sugar water. It must be for Selena Brown. I suffer from severe menstrual cramps, and he sees it all, yet he never helps. It feels like a bomb as Colt’s words ignite the last fuse in my heart. Anger rushes to my head, and I throw my bag at him. By the time I realize what I have done, tears are already streaming down my face. Even though Colt is the one who gets hit, I end up crying harder. My sudden attack has obviously angered him. But my tears seem to have eased his mind. “If you don’t want to do it, fine. Do you have to make such a fuss?” “What about the piano you promised Annie?” His awkward expression tells me that he has forgotten about the whole thing, and he quickly masks with impatience. “I’ll buy it. Do you have to nag me like this?” I’ll buy it. Over the past five years, he has said this countless times. But while a stone thrown into water can at least make a splash, Colt’s words are nothing but an empty promise. I storm into Annie’s room and pull her out from under the covers. “I’m going to divorce your father, and then we’ll go abroad together. Will you join me?” The idea of going abroad seems too distant for Annie. But it is our best choice. The Jones family has too much influence in the country, and only by leaving can Annie’s talent truly flourish. All my savings are just enough to buy a one-way ticket. Seeing my red eyes, Annie hugs me and whispers. “Mom, can we give Dad one more chance?” “By my birthday, if he still doesn’t remember, we’ll leave.” “Okay.” Colt, this is the last chance you’ll ever get from us.

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I’m Tess Powell. When Nathaniel kicked open the cabin door, I was dancing passionately with a male model in a scarlet bikini. I swayed in the ambiguous music and lighting, like a fire burning recklessly, scorching the eyes of the onlookers. “My God… This is really something.” Daniel Robert, usually cheerful and talkative, suddenly stopped in his tracks, his cheeks burning red. He was too shy to look in my direction. Nathaniel stood beside him. He was still with that indifferent demeanor, as if he was above the mundane world, but his eyes darkened slightly as they swept over me. “Tess, are you done?” He strode forward in a few steps, turned off the noisy music, and threw a thick blanket over me. But I ignored it, instead laughing and pulling the male model in front of me, nuzzling close to him. “Don’t mind him… Let’s continue.” The male model smirked, pulling me closer in a deliberate embrace, his tousled hair brushing against my neck—too intimate for comfort. But that only lasted barely a second. Nathaniel had already reached out and yanked me away with such force that I nearly stumbled to the ground. “Tess!” He finally lost his temper. “Fooling around with male models, do you even remember what day it is today?” “Of course I do!” For a heartbeat, I froze. Then my hand flew across his cheek. The echo hung between us, drowned only by the silent rush of my own tears. “You don’t own me, Nathaniel. And you sure as hell don’t get to mention my mother!” My mother had treated Nathaniel as her own—pulling strings, pouring resources into him, all to secure his place as the Wilde heir. Yet what did he do to repay her? He had fallen in love with the cheater’s daughter! Among all those people, he had fallen in love with Harriet! Today was my mother’s funeral, and he was the last person in the world who had the right to lecture me! Daniel hesitated and stepped forward. “Actually, the funeral today was all arranged by Nat…” “Tess,” Nathaniel coldly interrupted him. His face—the one I’d loved for twenty years—betrayed nothing. Those glacial blue eyes fixed on me as he spoke, each word a calculated twist of the knife, “Or have you forgotten? Your theatrics at the Wilde estate got your mother killed. This is your doing.”

I stopped abruptly. My swollen eyes were fixed on his face, but something inside me shattered noisily, piercing through me, making it hard to breathe. Yes, it was because I couldn’t bear the thought of him marrying Harriet. It was my arrogance. I failed to see that the Wilde family’s power was far above mine now, and Nathaniel was no longer the illegitimate son who used to be bullied and needed my protection. I was foolish to go to the Wilde family and reveal that ridiculous photo, shouting that Harriet’s mother, Lilith Dorothy, was a shameless mistress. And in my madness, when Nathaniel scolded me, I revealed the fact that his mother had also risen from being a maid. So the royal Mr. Wilde was truly enraged. He suppressed the news and had me expelled from the Wilde family. To make me pay, he retaliated by cropping his face out of the original photo and releasing only my wanton appearance to the public. The entire city was free to scrutinize my demeanor in bed. Even my infatuation with Nathaniel over the past twenty years had become a joke. “Look, the lady of the Powell family is a promiscuous slut.” “Her mother couldn’t compete with Harriet’s mother, and neither could she with Harriet in Nathaniel’s eyes.” Everyone said so. That was why my mother, always proud and radiant, resolutely leaped from the villa in front of me, landing in a pool of blood. Before she died, my mother, tormented by depression, had a moment of clarity. She took my hand, her gaze clear yet sorrowful. “Tess, the way you chase after Nathaniel is just like how I pursued your father back then. We chase so hard that we lose sight of ourselves. It will cost our lives.” “Find more men. You’ll see that love is nothing special.” So on the day of my mother’s funeral, I skipped it and instead hired a boatload of male models on a cruise. It was finally my turn to say to Nathaniel, “So what?” I smiled brightly, but my nails dug into my palms. “We’re just childhood friends. You’re crossing the line here, buddy. Don’t you think?”

Nathaniel’s gaze locked onto me with terrifying focus. After a brief pause, he said indifferently, “Harriet is waiting for you.” At the sound of the name, something inside me fractured audibly, like glass giving way under pressure. I thought I had let go. After twenty years of entangled love and hate, he easily defeated me with one name. “Good for you, Nathaniel.” I muttered softly. No one knew how to hurt you more than a childhood friend. He ordered someone to drag me into the car. Before I left, I saw the male model’s light-colored eyes. Daniel whispered in my ear, “I know you’re upset. But today is your mom’s funeral. You should be there.” He glanced at Nathaniel, who was dozing off across from us, and hesitated to continue. “Don’t be angry. Nathaniel has been hosting the funeral. He still…” His words trailed off. I got it. Did he still care about me? Or was he still grateful for my mother’s protection in the past? Neither seemed to hold up. The moment my mother jumped, whatever had been between us twisted into a noose. With my back against the seat, I traced the slow, gentle arc of the small clay pendant in the rearview mirror, swaying to the car’s unhurried motion. *** Daniel, Nathaniel, and I had been friends since kindergarten. But Nathaniel had always kept only photos of him and me, and the passenger seat was always reserved for me. I had mistaken that tiny sense of “specialness” for favoritism and chased after him like a moth to a flame. But now, the photos of us together had been replaced by a pendant made by Harriet, and the passenger seat was piled with a pink blanket that didn’t fit there. Harriet’s traces were everywhere. Hosting the funeral? I sneered, feeling the bitterness spreading in my throat. It was probably just to impress Marcus Powell, my father, and Harriet’s stepfather, so he could marry Harriet sooner.

When the car arrived at Powell Manor, I got out without hesitation. My mother’s funeral had just ended, yet the living room had already been completely transformed. Even the family portrait of the three of us had been replaced with a wedding photo of Marcus and the maid. My mother hadn’t rested in peace yet, and he was already eager to bring a second wife into the house. “Tess, you brat, where have you been all day?” “Skipping your own mother’s funeral? Do you still have any regard for this family?” Marcus slammed his hand on the table in anger as soon as he saw me, his face flushed with rage. Beside him, the maid, now dressed as a wealthy lady, Lilith, soothingly spoke in a gentle tone, though a flicker of contempt flashed in her eyes. “Marcus, Tess is just too heartbroken to face the funeral.” “She’s still young. Don’t be so angry.” “Indeed, Mr. Powell. Ms. Powell must be very upset,” Harriet said, standing demurely beside them in a white dress. Marcus sat back under Lilith’s influence and snorted coldly, “If she were half as sensible as Harriet, her mother wouldn’t have died of anger!” I looked up sharply at this family of three, their clumsy act, and suddenly laughed. “Stop pretending! If you hadn’t sunk to sleeping together without shame, my mother wouldn’t have been overwhelmed by depression and ended her life!” “Tess Powell!” Marcus warned sternly. Lilith’s face turned pale. “It’s my fault. I failed the madam, but Marcus and I are truly…” Before she could finish, I lunged forward, grabbed her hair, and, in a scream, slammed her down in front of my mother’s portrait. “My mother only took you in because you had nowhere to go! But you repaid her by screwing with my dad?” “You know what? If you really feel so sorry, why don’t you just end your life as well?” Marcus roared at me to let go. Harriet also threw herself at me, crying while pulling at me. “Ms. Powell, let go. Mrs. Powell only died because you pissed her off. You can’t blame my mom for that.” Before she could finish, I picked up the riding crop beside me and lashed it directly across her mouth. She was so good at distorting the truth. “How dare you hit me! Nate will never let you go!” Harriet screamed, covering her mouth, her eyes venomous. I laughed unrestrainedly. “Not pretending now?” “You look better this way, you know?” “You witch, are you trying to give me a heart attack?” Marcus clutched his chest in fury as the servants rushed forward anxiously. “What good does your madness do? Your mom is gone, and it’s all your fault! No one in this family welcomes you!” Harriet shouted shrilly, her eyes red. I raised the whip again, but my arm was fiercely grabbed, the grip so tight it almost crushed my bones. “Tess! How dare you hurt her!” Nathaniel stood behind me, his eyes blazing with rage. I didn’t budge, but my hand, holding the whip, trembled for a moment. “Didn’t you hear what she said? Doesn’t she deserve it?” “I heard it.” Nathaniel let go of my hand, his voice calm. “So what?” My heart skipped a beat, and threads of pain slowly exploded. I stared at Nathaniel, dumbfounded. He knew! He had always known that Harriet was two-faced, that she coveted my place in the Powell family, and that I was struggling under this roof. Yet he still chose to stand by her. “Nate!” Harriet cried, throwing herself into his arms. “She hit my mom and whipped me like this!” Nathaniel held her, his voice as cold as ice, his gaze on me. “Is that so? Then I’ll whip her a hundred times to make her atone for you. How do you like that?” “Nathaniel, don’t you dare!” I glared at him, my eyes red. Nathaniel held my gaze with quiet calm, his stare fixed on me briefly before he motioned for his bodyguard to force me to the ground. In front of Marcus, Lilith, and Harriet, he mercilessly whipped me until I was covered in blood. As pain consumed me and blood poured from my mouth, I heard unmistakably the sound of my heart caving in within. Twenty years of affection and the last bit of care. All shattered into dust at that moment. I lost count of how many lashes I endured before I finally fainted in desperation. In a daze, I sank into a familiar embrace, the faint scent of iris from Nathaniel wrapping gently around me. “Tess! Call the doctor!” I had rarely heard him shout so frantically. Pity it only happened after he had me beaten till I coughed blood. Yet, it was after he ordered me to be beaten until I coughed up blood. Summoning my final strength, I wrenched myself from his arms, preferring the hard ground to his embrace. “Nathaniel, you’re fucking disgusting.”

Ignoring my words, Nathaniel still rushed me to the hospital overnight for proper treatment. But the next day, the company I had secretly established was reported, and every file was sent straight to Marcus. Overnight, the alliances I’d painstakingly forged collapsed and turned on me. Even the photos of the male models I had summoned on the day of the funeral were spread around indiscriminately. It was obvious these actions were intended to ruin me completely. Marcus even publicly declared that he wanted to cut ties with me. Out of choice, I had to humble myself and seek help through intermediaries. I, once the pampered Ms. Powell, still bearing whip wounds, now humbly begged for help from the second-gen followers who used to follow in my shadow. “Tess, it’s not that we don’t want to help.” Bart Nell, said with a troubled expression, but his gaze lingered on my pallor and the fresh wounds on my neck. “It’s just that you’ve offended Nathaniel… None of us can afford the price.” He handed me a glass of amber liquor, his eyes gleaming with a familiar predatory desire. “But if you’re willing to join us for a drink and a gathering tonight… we may give it a second thought.” I knew all too well what “join us for a drink and a gathering” meant. A quid pro quo of power and sex, the most popular and dirtiest trick in the circle. Once an indifferent bystander, I had become the one on the chopping block. I had no way to escape. “Bart, I didn’t ask you here to do this to her!” Daniel’s face twisted with anger as he tried to intervene, but he was overpowered by Bart, whose family background outranked his. “You can’t expect us to take risks and help without her showing any sincerity,” someone sneered, shooting me a menacing look that sent chills down my spine. “Besides, everyone knows Tess’s wild side. She’s got a whole crew of male models. A few more of us won’t hurt.” They closed in, step by step, like predators after a power shift, holding their wine glasses. Humiliation drained the color from my face, and a sour, salty bitterness climbed my throat, threatening to suffocate me. “Quite the party, isn’t it?” Nathaniel’s voice suddenly rang in my ear. “Shame I wasn’t invited.”

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I fly home early to surprise my parents, and there’s some random woman in our house. She’s wearing my pajamas and my mom’s jewelry, and she’s screaming in my face. “Did you even clean yourself before coming in? I’m pregnant with the Winchester heir, the richest family’s grandson, and trash like you doesn’t get to come near me!” “Butler! Get the disinfectant and spray down this girl and whatever cheap food she brought!” I stare at this complete stranger, and it takes me a solid minute to even get words out. “This is Alaric Winchester’s house, right? I’m in the right place?” Her eyes go huge, and she slaps me across the face. “Another gold digger who tracked down my husband to seduce him! Throw her out right now!” They literally throw me onto the street. I sit there for a second, then I pull out my phone and call my mom, Lily Winchester. “Mom, get home now. Dad’s cheating on you. He didn’t just have a kid, he’s about to have a grandkid too.” *** I hang up and walk straight back into the villa. I grab the woman by her hair and kick her out the front door while she’s screaming and trying to fight back. “You keep saying you’re pregnant with the Winchester heir? Let me tell you something right now. The richest man in this city doesn’t have a son. He has one kid. Me. Nicole Winchester. His daughter!” She doesn’t believe me at all and tries to slap me again while she’s screaming, “Everyone knows the Winchesters are the perfect couple! They announced they’re leaving everything to their kid, and Mr. Winchester even got a vasectomy to prove he’s a devoted father!” “No normal person would do all that for some worthless daughter! The Winchester heir is a son, and that’s my husband!” I roll my eyes and look at her. “Fine. Call your husband right now and we’ll see who’s right. I want to know who had the nerve to steal my position!” She pulls out her phone looking all smug and confident, but then she stops. Her eyes narrow, and she looks me up and down before she starts smirking. “Wow, home-wreckers are really getting creative these days.” That catches me off guard, and I freeze up. She sees my reaction and nods to herself, looking even more sure of herself now. “You’re just some slut Cyrus picked up, and now that you heard I’m pregnant, you’re deliberately causing a scene to drive us apart so you can steal my place!” She’s so ridiculous it almost makes me laugh. “I already told you. I’m Alaric’s daughter, Nicole. The Winchester family never had a son.” “If you don’t believe me, go upstairs to the sunroom on the second floor. That’s my room. There’s a hidden compartment in the walk-in closet, and the password is my birthday, 1011. Inside there are photo albums from when I was growing up.” “And if that’s still not enough proof, call all the staff out here and ask them whether they recognize me, the real heiress, or you, the idiot who got conned into a fake marriage!” The woman looks rattled for a second, but she recovers fast. “Cyrus and I had an engagement party with both our parents there as witnesses, and we’re getting married today!” “At the engagement, Cyrus’s father, Alaric, personally gave me a black card loaded with eight million dollars. How could any of this be wrong! Everyone, come out here! Does anyone recognize this girl?” My heart sinks when she says that, and it confirms what I suspected from the start. If these people aren’t the problem, then the problem has to be my dear father, Alaric. The household staff rush out when they hear the noise, and after looking at me closely, they all shake their heads. “Sorry, Mrs. Winchester. We’ve never seen her before.” I look at each of them one by one, and my blood runs cold. All the staff who raised me are gone. These people are complete strangers. Replacing an entire household—only one person had that kind of authority. When the staff confirm they don’t recognize me, the woman straightens, looking smug and triumphant. “Since no one here knows you, you’re guilty of breaking and entering—and slander on top of that! Get her! Teach this bitch a lesson!” People immediately rush at me, and punches and kicks start coming from every direction. I can’t fight them all off, and they beat me until blood’s streaming down my face. Right then, the front door swings open, and a panicked voice calls out. “The butler said some criminal showed up causing trouble. Emma, are you okay?”

I look hard at whoever just walked in, but no matter how much I rack my brain, I don’t recognize him at all. Cyrus Winchester sees me covered in blood, and his voice turns angry. “You’ve got some serious nerve!” “I’m Alaric Winchester’s only child, and you just attacked my wife and our unborn baby. You’re going to pay for this!” He ranted furiously, looking as if he wanted to tear me apart on the spot. I, on the other hand, stay composed and speak coldly. “You say you’re the Winchester heir. Where’s your proof? This is my home. You broke in and openly impersonated me. I want to know—Where do you get the nerve?” Cyrus stares at me like I just slapped him, then he starts laughing like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Are you insane? You’re saying you’re the Winchester daughter? Everyone knows Alaric Winchester made a vow the day his child was born to give all his love to that one kid. Who would leave billions to a daughter? That’s ridiculous.” “You’re not here to claim you’re family. You heard my wife is pregnant, and you’re trying to get my attention. Well, let me tell you something right now. My wife is having a boy, and nobody’s taking her place!” Emma looks so touched and cuddles up to Cyrus. “Baby, you’re so good to me.” Looking at this shameless couple, rage burns through me. “I already told you. I’m the only Winchester heir.” Cyrus loses it and pushes Emma aside, then he slaps me across the face. “My dad is a public figure, and he kept me out of the spotlight all these years to protect me, not to give some crazy person like you the chance to steal my identity!” “I’m calling my dad right now, and we’ll find out if he had a son or a daughter!” He pulls out his phone right in front of me and puts it on speaker. I see that familiar number, and my heart sinks. A second later, I hear Alaric’s voice coming through the phone. “Hey there, son. Dad’s at the venue setting up for your wedding. What’s going on? Is something wrong?” Cyrus gives me a smug look. “Dad, nothing serious. I just wanted to ask you something. Do I have any brothers or sisters?” On the other end, Alaric sounds amused. “What are you thinking about, kiddo? I got a vasectomy for you. How could I possibly have another child? When I’m gone, everything I built will be yours. Don’t worry about it.” The rage inside me hits its breaking point, and I blurt out Alaric’s name. But Cyrus already hung up, and he slaps me again. “I get it now. You’re not after me, you’re after my dad!” “My parents have been happily married for over 20 years, and some home-wrecker like you isn’t going to ruin that. Someone, grab her! This trash is spreading lies and slandering my family. Rip out her tongue!” I’m not stupid enough to stick around for that, so I turn and run, but Emma grabs my hair from behind. People rush at me from all sides. Someone slaps my face hard and grabs my throat, forcing my mouth open, and they’re actually going to cut out my tongue! I try to push them away but someone kicks me in the stomach over and over. “You bitch, you messed with Mr. Winchester’s only heir, and now you’re going to hell!” Tears sprang to my eyes as someone clamped down on my tongue, sending a sharp, searing pain through my mouth. Blood rushes down my throat and chokes me. Right when I’m about to suffocate, the doorbell rings. It has to be Mom coming to save me after I called her! I use every bit of strength I have left and shove the servants off me, then I run for the door. Cyrus’s face changes. “Everyone should be at the wedding venue waiting right now. Who would show up here?” My tongue is split open and bleeding but I glare at both of them. “The person who’s going to end you!” I yank the door open, but when I see who it is, my heart sinks. The man at the door looks shocked when he sees blood all over my face. He sounds uncertain when he speaks. “Miss Nicole, what happened to you?” My tongue hurts so badly I can barely talk, so I just grab his arm and look at the people inside. “You don’t know me, but you should know the Winchester family’s former butler!” I turn to him and try to get the words out. “Brian, tell them who I am!” By the time I finish that sentence, tears are streaming down my face from the pain. Cyrus rolls his eyes and walks over with his arms crossed, looking at the former butler, Brian Phillips. “So Brian, you know this person?” Brian looks at me, then at the wedding photo hanging in the middle of the living room, and suddenly, he laughs. “Nope. Who is she?”

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For thirty years, I lived as Felix’s widow. Felix Haywood was a renowned surgeon at Military General Hospital, a mentor to many students before his death. Everyone pitied me, saying I had lost a child to miscarriage, ruined my health, and lost my lover. I believed in these words… Until I sorted through his belongings and found a forged infant death certificate in his safe. His diary was filled with entries about how the Brooks family had once saved his entire family, how Irene Brooks could never have children because of him, and how he owed her he could only repay by stealing my son. I should have been a mother enjoying a happy family life, but I was trapped in my husband’s lie for thirty years! My heart felt crushed, and I fainted. When I opened my eyes, the young, grief-stricken face of Felix appeared before me. “Grace, don’t be sad. Our baby… is gone.” I, Grace Archer, was sent back in time. Back to the day he stole my son. I looked at Felix. He held my hand, his eyes red and teary. “Grace, the doctors did everything they could.” I remained silent. Then I heard a baby’s cries and a woman’s laughter coming from the next room. That woman was Irene Brooks. That baby was my son. My mother-in-law, Clara Reed, came in with a bowl of soup. “Grace, drink this. Your health is what matters most now.” She set the bowl on the bedside table. “We owe you so much.” I gave a bitter smile and said nothing. Tears slid down from the corners of my eyes. Felix reached over, wiping them away with his thumb. “Don’t cry. We’re still young. We’ll have another child later.” I closed my eyes. In my past life, I believed him. So I took mountains of medicine and endured countless treatments, all to conceive another child for him. Until his death, I never succeeded. Everyone said I was pitiful because I lost both my child and my husband. But no one knew my child had been alive all along. Right next door, less than ten meters away from me, he was there. Held by another woman, calling Irene Mom. The ward door was pushed open. Irene walked in with a swaddled baby in her arms, followed by her parents. “Felix, Clara.” Her voice was soft. She looked at me, and her eyes were filled with sympathy. “Grace, are you all right? I heard…” The baby in her arms moved, letting out a slight sound. My gaze fell on the baby. He was my son. Clara immediately walked over and took the baby. “Little one, already awake?” Holding him, she wore a smile I had never seen before. Felix also stood up and approached Irene. “Why did you come? You also need to rest.” “I just want to see Grace,” Irene said while touching her abdomen, “I can never have another child. Seeing Grace like this… it breaks my heart.” Tears fell as she spoke. Irene’s father, a high-ranking officer, patted Felix’s shoulder. “Felix, this child is now your responsibility.” “I will take good care of him,” Felix nodded. I watched them. They were all acting. And I was the fool kept in the dark.

On the day I was discharged from the hospital, Felix took me home. The house was very quiet. The prepared nursery was completely empty—no cradle, no crib, not even wall decals. Felix hugged me from behind. “I was afraid they’d make you sad, so I put everything away.” My whole body stiffened. “Grace, forget this. Let’s start over, okay?” I didn’t answer him. Walking into that empty room, I stood there for a long time. Three days later, Clara brought the baby home from Irene’s house. “Felix, Irene can’t handle it alone, and the baby is often sick. Let’s raise him here.” Felix didn’t object. The baby was placed in the guest room, far from our bedroom. Irene came over too, claiming she would help care for him. From then on, this house belonged to two women. One was me. The other was Irene. The baby was named Alistair Haywood, chosen by Irene. She said she hoped he would remember his late father and grow up safely. How absurd. They hoped my son would remember a father who never existed. Alistair often cried at night. The nanny couldn’t soothe him. Neither could Clara. His cries reached my room. Lying in bed, I pulled the quilt over my head. Waves of heartache washed over me. Felix got up. “I’ll go check on him.” He was gone for a long time. When he returned, he carried the scent of milk. “Asleep?” I asked. “Yes. Irene is soothing him.” I opened my eyes, staring at the ceiling. “Felix, I want to see him.” “Why would you want to see him? Don’t you know better?” Clara’s voice suddenly came from the door. She hadn’t knocked. “Mom?” Felix frowned. “I’m telling the truth! She just lost one, and now she wants to see Alistair? What’s she up to?” Clara walked in and stood by my bed. “Grace, let me be clear. Alistair is Irene’s child. He’s not yours, so don’t think you have any claim over him!” I looked at her. “I just want to see him.” “No way!” Her voice turned shrill. “You’ll bring misfortune to him! We can’t afford another tragedy!” I said nothing more. That night, I didn’t sleep at all. The next day, while they were all out, I slipped into the guest room. Alistair was sleeping in the cradle. I walked over and bent down. This was the first time I was so close to my son. He was tiny, and his face was still crumpled. I touched his cheek softly. He didn’t wake up, just smacked his lips slightly. On the back of his neck, I saw a small red birthmark. Exactly like mine. Tears welled up instantly. I gently picked him up. He moved in my arms, finding a comfortable position to continue sleeping. Holding him, I sat on the carpet, motionless. I didn’t know how much time passed before the door opened. Irene entered and saw the baby in my arms. Her expression changed. “Grace! What are you doing!” She rushed over and snatched the baby from me. “Don’t touch him!” The baby was startled awake and burst into tears. “You made him cry!” Irene held him close, anxious and angry. Felix and Clara hurried in upon hearing the noise. Seeing the scene, Clara shoved me hard. “I knew you were up to no good! What did you want to do to my grandson?” She blurted out. After saying that, she froze. Felix’s face darkened. “Mom!” “I… I misspoke!” She said hurriedly, “I meant… Alistair is the child of Felix’s comrade, so he’s like my grandson!” I stood up from the floor and then looked at Felix. “I wanted to hold him. Is that wrong?” “Grace, you’re not well,” Felix said, “Alistair is still young and gets sick easily.” “Yes, Grace.” Irene took a step back, holding the baby closer. “Alistair has a weak immune system. The doctor said we must be very careful.” I looked at the three of them. They were like three walls, separating me from my son. “I am the rightful woman of this house,” I said. Irene’s face turned pale. Clara pointed a finger at me. “You? You are just a woman who can’t keep a child!” “Mom!” Felix’s voice turned sharp. He walked over and gripped my wrist. “Grace, go rest in our room.” His grip was strong. I couldn’t break free. Dragged back to the bedroom, I saw him close the door. Then I heard him say to his mother and Irene, “Don’t let her go into that room again.”

From that day on, I was never allowed to be near Alistair again. Irene and Clara kept a close watch on me. When there were guests at home, Irene would carry Alistair out, introducing him to everyone. “This is my son, Alistair Haywood.” Everyone praised her for her kindness and greatness. Felix stood beside her, looking at her with an emotion I couldn’t understand. It was guilt, and it was also compensation. I began to suffer from insomnia, lying awake night after night. My body wasted away rapidly. Felix took me to see a psychiatrist. The psychiatrist asked me a few questions, then told Felix, “It’s postpartum depression, with mild delusions. She believes the baby is hers?” “Yes,” Felix nodded. “Classic symptoms. She needs medication and psychological counseling.” I looked at Felix. There was no trace of emotion on his face. He took the prescribed medication home and supervised me to take the pills every day. I hid the pills under my tongue, and then spat them out after he left. Because I knew I didn’t have delusions. I was simply a mother wanting to reclaim her baby. Therefore, I began looking for an opportunity to get Alistair’s hair for a paternity test. That was the only evidence. An opportunity came a month later. At Alistair’s hundred-day celebration, the house was full of guests. Everyone surrounded Irene, Alistair, and Felix. They looked like a happy family. I moved silently through the crowd. When Irene went to change clothes, I picked up Alistair. He had grown a bit, and his features looked like mine. In my arms, he was calm, not crying or fussing. I carried him to a corner and carefully plucked a hair from his head. Then I wrapped the hair in a tissue and put it in my pocket. After doing it, I felt all my strength drained away. As I put Alistair back in the cradle and turned to leave, I met Felix’s eyes. He had stood behind me without my noticing. His gaze was icy. “What were you doing?” “I…” Without waiting for my explanation, he reached into my pocket. He took out the tissue and then unfolded it. When he saw the hair, his face darkened instantly. With no words, he dragged me upstairs to the study. After shoving me inside, he locked the door. “Grace, what do you want to do?” “I want to do a paternity test,” I said, staring at him, “He is my son.” “You’re insane!” He growled, “Have you forgotten what the doctor said? You have delusions!” “I am not insane!” I shouted back, “Felix, look me in my eyes! Do you dare say he is not my son?” He avoided my gaze. “Stop being unreasonable.” “Being unreasonable?” I laughed, and tears streamed down my face. “You stole my son, and now you say I’m insane! Felix, how could you do this to me?” He fell silent. After a long silence, he spoke with a hoarse voice. “Grace, the Brooks family did me a great favor.” “What favor?” “Saving my life,” he said, “Years ago, if it weren’t for Mr. Brooks, my whole family would have been ruined. Irene can’t have children because of me. I owe her.” “So you repaid her with my son?” He didn’t say a word—his silence said it all. Looking at him, I felt a deep chill. “I will apply for a paternity test tomorrow.” “You dare!” He stepped forward and snatched the tissue from my hand. Right before my eyes, he tore the hair and the tissue into pieces. The pieces fell through his fingers. Like my shattered heart. “Grace,” he stared at me, enunciating each word, “Behave yourself. My patience is limited.” I looked at him, the man I had loved for ten years. For him, I had given up my studies and become a dutiful wife. In that moment, I finally understood. He didn’t love me. He only needed an obedient wife. A tool for his mission of repayment. At that moment, the last bit of hope I had for him vanished.

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I didn’t expect to get the call from my son’s teacher while I was picking a tenth-anniversary gift for my husband. It seemed like Rob had gotten into a fight with a classmate over an essay. I rushed to the school and picked him up. It broke my heart to see his little face puffed up with frustration. Once we were home, I soothed him on the couch, and he showed me what he wrote. The title read, “My Real and Fake Mom.” His handwriting was crooked and uneven. “The fake mom takes care of me and Dad. She’s like a free housekeeper.” “The real mom works far away, but she’s the one who truly loves me and Dad.” I couldn’t continue the reading, as my fingers failed to turn the page. William Jones, my dear husband, had just stepped out of the bathroom. He was wrapped in a towel like usual and hugged me from behind. “What did he write?” He asked. And the next second, his smile froze awkwardly when he saw the words. His voice also tightened as he reached for the notebook. “You won’t take a kid’s words seriously, will you? The teacher’s just overreacting.” I didn’t let go. I turned my head and looked at the man I had loved for ten years. Suddenly, he seemed completely unfamiliar to me. I could hear Rob watching his cartoons in the living room. If I was the “fake mom” in his essay… Then who was the real one? And if Rob was not the one I gave birth to… Then where had my real child been for all these years? *** “Jennifer, what are you staring at?” William waved his hand in front of my face, his tone went casual again. “It’s our tenth wedding anniversary today. So, what’s for this year?” His look was soft and easy, and I’d rather not have noticed how skillfully he steered the conversation. I stayed silent for a long moment before taking the small box out from my bag and giving it to him. He opened it with delight—a limited-edition watch he had been eyeing for months. “This is beautiful! You’ve got great taste, honey!” He pulled me close and kissed my cheek. “Will you help me?” He stretched out his arm. I reached out and fastened the watch onto his wrist. Ten years of marriage. I had never forgotten preparing gifts for him on special days. And yet, he rarely did the same for me. I found excuses for him that he wasn’t expressive in nature. But then there was Rob’s essay. “Dad loves giving gifts to the real mom the most because, he says, the process of preparing a gift is more meaningful than the gift itself.” The innocent words stabbed straight into my heart like a knife, cutting my flesh into pieces. So it wasn’t that he couldn’t express himself… It was that all his care had never been for me. “William…” I struggled to speak, choosing my words carefully. “Is there anything you want to tell me?” He paused and turned away, retorting with irritation. “Jennifer, what are you suggesting? Rob is only six, he doesn’t even know what he’s saying himself.” I wanted to say more, but he had already turned back toward the bedroom. For the first time in ten years, his indifferent look finally made me realize we had never truly been close to each other. Late at night, he slept soundly beside me. But the words in that essay, William’s awkward smile… All those images just kept replaying in my mind and taking away my sleep. I rose quietly and stepped out of the bedroom. I saw light at the end of the hallway, turned out the door to William’s study was slightly ajar. He hated it when I went in uninvited, and I respected that for all the time. But tonight… something compelled me to open the door. I searched every corner, hoping for a clue, but found nothing. And my eyes eventually landed on the photo that was placed in the center of his desk. It was three of us, a happy family that everyone envies. William held Rob on his shoulders, and I leaned on his side, smiling as if I got everything I wanted for life. Love seemed to have truly existed, and no one would doubt it. I ran my fingers over the faces of my husband and kid. Maybe I was overthinking… Maybe I should not let a six-year-old’s words shake my trust in the man that I had shared ten years with. Guilt and self-reproach flooded me. I sighed and was about to set the frame back in place… Somehow I noticed that the frame’s base was slightly loose, so I reached out but the whole frame just slipped away from my fingers. Crash! The frame fell to the floor. I wanted to pick it up, but I just froze mid-motion. As I found out the back of the frame was not some sort of blank board, but a photo. In the picture, William was standing in the sunlight, his face young and enchanting. In his arms, it was a girl in a white dress. I held my breath but my body was still trembling. I couldn’t remember how I managed to turn the photo over. And it took me no effort to recognize Williams’s handwriting at a glance: “Dear Sarah. My dearest Sarah Anderson. No matter who I marry, my heart will always belong to you.” How pathetic, what stung my eyes the most was actually the date he left in the corner. This was written on the very day before our wedding.

The next morning, after dropping Rob off at school, I didn’t head to the office like I usually did. Instead, I drove to the nearest mobile service hall. I tried so hard to keep my voice as steady as possible when talking to the clerk. “Hi, could you help me check my family phone bills over the past few months? The charges seem a bit odd.” He worked quickly and soon pulled up the call records from the last six months. One number immediately stood out. It appeared far too often and was always coming in from a neighboring town. Most of the calls were made late at night, lasting anywhere from ten minutes to over an hour. I wrote down the number quietly and left. That evening, William left his phone charging on the nightstand and went to shower. The screen was locked, so I entered the password we used to share. Incorrect. Then I tried his birthday. Our anniversary. A series of numbers tied to memories only we were supposed to know. Every attempt failed. And I couldn’t tell how ironic it was when I laid my last hope on the eye-watering date written on the back of that photo. Access granted. My heart sank. I searched through his call history. The number wasn’t saved in his contacts. Instead, I found it on his blocked list. A blocked number… with such frequent call records? There was only one explanation. He would block the number from time to time after they contacted each other. A chill crept up my spine. I went through his social media, looking for more traces. When I entered the number into the search bar, an account popped up. I finally got it. In the picture over the top, I saw three figures at sunset. A couple with a kid, holding each other’s hands so tightly. And the man’s silhouette looked hauntingly familiar. Too familiar that I could straightforwardly call his name. I put the phone back and called my assistant, Susan. “Susan,” I said softly, “help me investigate a number. As fast as you can.” *** After hanging up, I walked silently into Rob’s room. He was sleeping soundly. William used to say our son looked just like me. But now, as I studied him carefully—his eyes, his nose—I couldn’t find a single feature that resembled mine. The pain dug deeper and deeper, never giving me a moment’s relief. A few days later, the school scheduled a full physical checkup for the students. I went to the hospital with Rob myself. After all the examinations were done, I plucked a few strands of his hair and sealed them carefully in a plastic bag. That afternoon, I sent the sample, along with my own, to a testing agency. The results would not be back until a week later, and all I could do was anxiously wait while enduring William’s more and more frequent late returns, which he claimed were made to see friends. Before leaving, he’d linger in front of the mirror, fixing his hair with excessive care. One night, after he left, I followed him. My car trailed his across half the city until he finally stopped at a hot spring resort on the outskirts. As William stepped out of the car, a woman in a long dress was already waiting for him. I recognized her instantly. She was the woman from the photo. William took her handbag as if he had done it a thousand times before, and his arm wrapped around her waist with practiced ease. He leaned down and whispered something into her ear. Her face flushed instantly, red all the way to her ears. After a few more murmured words, the two pressed close to each other and walked into the resort together. I stayed in my car. The heater was on full blast, yet I felt cold to the bone. Just then, my phone buzzed. An email—from the testing agency. My hands shook so badly that I could barely hold the phone. I opened the attachment and flipped straight to the last page. “Based on DNA testing, Jennifer Jones is excluded as the biological mother of Rob Jones.” Before this, I had never imagined a short sentence to be a blade dipped in poison. And at that moment, I could clearly feel how it sliced and tortured me again and again as my eyes fixed on the page. The child I had raised for six years, loved with every fiber of my being… had no blood relation to me at all. And then I could see the woman’s face overlapped with Rob’s features. The resemblance was terrifying, so strong it made my stomach churn. But I remembered clearly—six years ago, I had specifically arranged a DNA test after Rob’s birth because the maternity hospital had gone through some chaotic situations, and he was protected by tight security. The results had been clear. The baby was ours. So why… Six years later, my son had become someone else’s child? And the baby I carried for ten months, the one I gave birth to… Where was he then?

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The day I go to have my wedding dress altered, a woman I’ve never seen before bursts into the private fitting room and stabs me in the stomach. “You think you deserve to wear a dress like this? A homewrecker like you?” She tears at my skirt with one hand, and her smile turns vicious as she throws acid at me with the other. The blade’s already buried deep in my abdomen. The pain drops me straight to my knees, but she grabs my hair and yanks my head up, forcing me to look at her. “Kieran Fairfax is my husband. Who the hell do you think you are? Just some mistress who can’t even show her face in public!” Blood drips down my fingers. That’s when it finally hits me. The man I’ve loved for seven years has been keeping another woman on the side. “What’re you staring at? Even if I kill you right here, my husband’s powerful enough that nobody’s gonna do a damn thing to me.” She’s still sneering at me, so confident and smug, but I pull out my phone with blood-slicked fingers and call my brother, Lucian Hartwell. “Luke.” My voice comes out eerily calm. “Come pick me up, and tell the Fairfax family this marriage is over.” *** The moment I hang up, the $10,000 wedding dress starts dissolving where the acid hit it. My exposed skin burns like fire where the sulfuric acid splashed, and the acrid stench of chemical burns mixes with blood as fluid seeps from the corroding wounds. I glare at the woman in front of me with so much rage I could tear her apart right then and there, but the crowd that’s gathered after my phone call just bursts into laughter instead. “Oh my God, she said she was Mrs. Fairfax. That woman’s so screwed!” Sophia points right in my face, her voice dripping with contempt. “You bitch! Still trying to act tough? You think one phone call’s gonna save you?” “The Hartwells? Who? Never heard of them! I’m calling the cops right now. They’ll throw your ass in jail for stealing that dress!” I press my hand against the festering wounds, and hot blood just keeps pouring between my fingers and pooling on the floor beneath me. The rapid blood loss makes my vision blur and fade, then blur again. I glance at Sophia’s bodyguards standing behind her and realize I should’ve brought my own security today. I look around desperately for help, but everyone just stands there watching and whispering to each other with mockery written all over their faces. No one steps forward. I force myself through the agony and lift my eyes to meet Sophia’s. My eyes burn with murderous intent. “I don’t know who you think you are, but listen up. I’m a Hartwell. The Hartwells of Southcrest City. Get out now, while I’m still letting you walk away alive.” My stare must piss her off because Sophia kicks me hard right in the stomach. “The Hartwells? Who gives a shit! You think I’m scared of you? Let me tell you something.” “I’m Sophia Martinez, Kieran Fairfax’s wife, the CEO of Fairfax Group! Who the hell are you to talk to me like that?” The kick tears the stab wound wide open, and blood mixed with pus keeps pouring out. But right now, I barely even feel the pain. Her words just keep playing in my head over and over. She’s Kieran’s wife? Then what the hell am I? I watch her smug face and let out a bitter laugh. Now I finally get it. Kieran cheated on me. The man our families chose for me when we were kids, the man I’ve been with for seven years, has been keeping another woman this whole time. I know this isn’t the time to deal with it, so I push down the rage and say coldly, “Sophia, right? Get me to a hospital now and tell Kieran to get his ass over there.” I see the shock on Sophia’s face and glare right at her. “If something happens to me today, you’re the first person he’s gonna kill. And Kieran’s going down right after you.” The second I finish talking, Sophia bursts out laughing and yanks me up by my hair. “Who the hell do you think you are? Got some nerve ordering my husband around!” She keeps slamming my head against the floor. “Even if I kill you right here, the Fairfax family’s loaded! We can pay for whatever!” My head’s ringing so bad I can barely think straight, and everything’s going red and blurry. She digs her sharp heel into the wound in my stomach and twists it. The pain and hopelessness just keep washing over me. Then I hear tires screeching outside. I see that familiar black Maybach pull up in front of the bridal shop, and something in my chest finally loosens. I look straight at Sophia and laugh. “I already told you. I’m a Hartwell. From Southcrest. My brother’s here. Now, you ready to die?”

“Izzy!” When Lucian sees the shape I’m in, rage floods his eyes. He rushes over and pulls off his jacket without thinking, wrapping it around my exposed skin. He holds me close, and I can see how worried he is just from the look on his face. “You okay, Izzy? It’s alright. I’m here now.” My throat tightens and tears start streaming down my face before I can stop them. Lucian gently wipes them away, then looks up at Sophia with pure hatred. “You laid a hand on my sister. You’re fucking dead.” Sophia laughs like she just heard the funniest joke in the world. When she finally stops, she gives Lucian a dismissive look. “Big talk! Let’s see if you’re even alive in five minutes to keep running your mouth. Get them! Show this asshole that I’m not someone he wants to mess with!” Her bodyguards rush forward the second she finishes talking. Lucian’s men form a protective circle around us and take down the first few attackers, but more bodyguards keep coming. Our people are starting to get overwhelmed, and I grab Lucian’s arm. “Luke, is this everyone you brought?” His expression darkens, but he squeezes my hand. “Relax. Dad’s on his way with backup. I want to see who the hell’s stupid enough to touch my sister.” Sophia watches her guys go down one after another, and she’s clearly getting pissed. She glares at us while pulling out her phone. “You two just wait. I’m calling my husband right now, and he’s gonna kill you both.” The call connects and she immediately starts crying into it. “Honey! Some guy named Lucian is attacking me! He says I hurt his sister and he’s threatening to kill me! Get over here!” She puts it on speaker deliberately. But the second she finishes talking, the voice on the other end changes completely. He sounds panicked. “Lucian? Which Lucian? Where the fuck are you? Don’t move, just stay there!” After seven years together, there’s no way I wouldn’t recognize Kieran’s voice. Even through the phone, I can hear how badly he’s shaking. Perfect. I’ll just wait for him to show up. Sophia hangs up looking smug. “Ha! My husband’s coming to kill you both! He said he doesn’t know any Lucian, so killing you and paying some compensation is no big deal!” She turns to her bodyguards. “Whoever takes them down first gets a million dollars!” The bodyguards’ eyes light up with greed. One of them grabs a knife off the table and charges straight at us. Lucian spins around and pulls me against his chest. “Close your eyes, Izzy!” Before I can see what’s happening, a warm hand covers my eyes. I hear Lucian grunt, and the smell of blood fills the air. Panic hits me hard. I try to pry his hand away from my face. “Luke! What happened!” When I finally see, there’s a nasty gash across his arm, blood dripping everywhere. Then someone kicks him hard, and he crashes to the ground with me still in his arms. Blood sprays from his mouth. “Luke!” I’m screaming now, and my chest feels like it’s splitting open. I’m fine, but Lucian’s shirt is completely soaked with blood. The hatred inside me just keeps growing and growing. The next second, I lift my face, blurred by blood and tears. I grab the scissors from the work table and charge straight at Sophia’s smug face. The blade sinks deep into her stomach…

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