It was the Labor Day weekend rush when my car got rear-ended just before the toll plaza. When I went to the police precinct on Monday to sort out the paperwork, the entitled jerk who hit me didn’t even bother to apologize. Instead, he whistled at the Porsche crest on my steering wheel. “Hey, gorgeous. Sugar daddy buy this for you? Give me your number. I’ll cover the repairs, and maybe we can grab dinner tonight. My treat.” He reached out, his fingers brushing toward my cheek, but before he could touch me, a large, calloused hand clamped around his wrist like a vice. With a sharp click, a pair of silver handcuffs slammed onto the metal desk. Lieutenant Willie, sharp in his tailored dress blues, stared him down with a gaze that could freeze water. “Hit-and-run coupled with sexual harassment. You can have your dinner in a holding cell.” The guy’s knees practically buckled. Willie turned to me. When he spoke, his voice softened, carrying an almost pleading tone. “Are you okay? Did he scare you? Wait until my shift ends—I’ll drive you home.” The nearby officers stared, their jaws practically dropping. After all, Lieutenant Willie was famously cold, a man who kept everyone at arm’s length. I pulled a wet wipe from my bag, meticulously cleaning the sleeve where the man’s fingers had brushed against my coat. I didn’t even look up. “Thank you, Lieutenant, but my husband is already on his way to pick me up.” Willie’s face went entirely bloodless. I suppose he’d forgotten. Three years ago, he was the one who pushed me down a flight of stairs, causing the miscarriage that ended our baby’s life, before telling me to get the hell out of his. 1 The air in the precinct lobby seemed to freeze solid. Willie’s towering frame went rigid. He stared at my hands as I wiped my sleeve, his chest rising and falling in shallow, erratic breaths. “Paula. What did you just say?” I tossed the used wipe into the nearby trash can. “You’re too young to be losing your hearing, Lieutenant.” I finally met his eyes, my gaze perfectly flat. “I said, my husband is on his way.” His hands clenched into fists at his sides, the veins tracing hard, angry lines over his knuckles. He took a step toward me, reaching out. “Paula, stop this. Please.” His voice was a tight whisper. “I know you’re still angry about what happened three years ago. But making up a marriage just to hurt me? It’s childish.” I took a step back, effortlessly slipping out of his reach. The sheer arrogance of him—believing with absolute certainty that I was still desperately in love with him—turned my stomach. Three years apart, and his ego hadn’t shrunk an inch. Before I could tell him exactly where to go, a soft, delicate voice drifted from around the corner. “Willie, honey, I warmed up your tea for your stomach.” Una stepped into the lobby, holding a stainless steel thermos. She was wearing an oversized police patrol jacket over her shoulders—Willie’s jacket, obviously—which made her look impossibly small and fragile. When she saw me, her steps faltered. A flicker of genuine panic crossed her eyes, but it was quickly replaced by a thin, triumphant smile. “Paula? Oh my gosh, what are you doing here?” She hurried over to Willie, her hand wrapping naturally, possessively around his forearm. “It’s been three years. How have you been?” I stared coldly at her hand on his sleeve. Three years ago, those same hands had clutched at Willie’s collar, painting her as the ultimate victim. And because she looked so helpless, Willie had lost his mind. With bloodshot eyes, he had shoved me backward. We were in our second year of marriage. I was three months pregnant. As the warm, terrifying rush of blood ran down my legs, he was already lifting a “fainting” Una into his arms, racing toward the ambulance without looking back. The woman named Paula died on that cold hardwood floor that night. “I’m here to file an accident report,” I said, my voice empty of any feeling. “It has nothing to do with either of you.” Una glanced out the window at the gleaming black Porsche parked in the precinct lot. She gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. “Oh, wow. A Porsche. Paula, you used to save up for months just to buy a nice handbag. What kind of job did you get after you and Willie split? How can you afford something like that now?” She blinked her wide, innocent eyes, but her voice was pitched perfectly to carry across the quiet lobby. The desk officers began whispering among themselves, their glances shifting from me to each other. Even Brad—the guy who had rear-ended me—smirked, sensing a vulnerability he could exploit. “Told you so,” Brad sneered. “A girl that young driving a hundred-thousand-dollar car? Definitely riding some old guy’s wallet.” Willie snapped his head toward him, his eyes murderous. “Say one more word, and I’ll make sure you spend the next five years in county jail.” Brad shrunk back, instantly silencing himself. Willie turned back to me, his brow heavily furrowed. He took in my tailored silk dress, then looked out at the luxury car. “Paula, what have you been doing with your life these past three years?” His voice was thick with a self-righteous sort of grief. “You used to have so much pride. Why are you throwing your dignity away just to spite me?” A bitter laugh escaped my throat. I pulled the police report from my clutch. “My money is clean, Willie. If your mind is too filthy to imagine a woman earning her own living, I suggest you get professional help.” I turned to take the paperwork to the claims desk, but Una suddenly let go of Willie’s arm and blocked my path. Her eyes were already rimmed with red, tears spilling down her cheeks on cue. “Paula, please don’t be mad at Willie. He’s just worried about you. What happened back then… it was my fault. I shouldn’t have let my heart condition get in the way. If you still hate me, you can hit me, you can scream at me. But please, don’t ruin your life with some old married man just to get back at him.” She sobbed softly, putting on a masterful performance of a concerned sister trying to save a fallen woman. The murmurs in the lobby grew louder. The stares felt like a hundred tiny, poison-tipped needles pricking at my back. 2 I watched her performance with an empty expression. She had perfected this routine years ago. Back then, all it took was a single tear for Willie to abandon all logic and take her side. I raised my hand, intending to push past her shoulder. But Willie was already moving. He lunged forward, throwing his arm in front of Una, shielding her from me. “Paula, what are you doing?” he barked, his eyes filled with defensive hostility. “Una has a congenital heart defect. She can’t handle stress. You already hurt her once—are you trying to repeat what happened three years ago?” Looking at his fierce, protective stance, a cold wave of absurdity washed over me. Three years ago. Una had come to our apartment while Willie was on shift, smirking, telling me how he had spent the previous night holding her hand at the hospital. I did nothing but tell her to get out. She had immediately collapsed onto the hardwood floor, clutching her chest, pretending to gasp for air. When Willie burst through the door, he didn’t even look at me. He just shoved me out of his way to get to her. I went flying backward, tumbling down the steep wooden steps. He never gave me a chance to explain. He had already pronounced me guilty. “Willie, if you aren’t using your eyes, you should donate them,” I said, staring at his protective huddle. “I didn’t even touch her. What are you screaming for?” Una shrank behind his back, her fingers clutching the hem of his uniform. “Willie, don’t blame Paula. She was just moving her hand. My heart is fine… please don’t fight with her because of me.” Her soft-spoken act made me look like an unhinged harpy. Willie’s expression softened as he spoke to her, but when he turned back to me, his face hardened with deep disappointment. “You’ve changed, Paula. You used to be stubborn, but you were never this cruel. Look at you now—dripping in designer clothes, bitter, cold. Where is the girl I fell in love with?” He was trying to use his moral high ground to crush me. I didn’t even want to argue. I moved to walk around them. At that moment, the glass doors of the precinct burst open. A heavy-set woman in her mid-fifties stormed in like a heat-seeking missile. It was Brad’s mother. The moment she saw Brad standing by the desk, she rushed over, wailing and clutching his face. Brad, seeing his backup arrive, immediately pointed a finger at me. “Ma, that’s her. The bitch in the Porsche. She’s demanding I pay for everything, and she’s got this cop trying to lock me up.” The woman spun around, her eyes locking onto me with pure venom. She marched over, thrusting a manicured finger directly in my face. “You’re the little home-wrecker bullying my son? You think because you drive a Porsche you’re special? God knows how many men you had to sleep with to buy that car! Drop the charges right now, or I’ll tear that fake face of yours off!” She lunged at me, clawing. I stepped back quickly, her nails narrowly missing my cheek. Two desk officers rushed forward to pull her back. The lobby dissolved into chaos. I was backed into the corner near a filing cabinet, my jaw clenched. Willie stepped between me and the shouting woman. “Ma’am, watch your language. This is a police station, not a circus.” His voice was firm, finally displaying a sliver of his authority. But the woman didn’t care. Seeing his uniform, she threw herself onto the floor and began to wail. “Police brutality! The cops are taking the side of a high-class whore over tax-paying citizens!” Her shrieks echoed off the tiled walls. Una, seeing her cue, suddenly clutched her chest, leaning heavily against the drywall. “Willie… my chest. It hurts… I can’t breathe…” Instantly, Willie’s attention snapped away from the screaming woman. He grabbed Una by the shoulders, panic written all over his face. “Una? Do you have your inhaler? Your pills?” Una shook her head weakly, looking at the crying mother and son with watery eyes. “Willie, they look so desperate. Paula has so much money… the repair bill is nothing to her. Why is she doing this to them? Why is she ruining their lives?” Though her voice was weak, it carried clearly across the room. The mother on the floor picked up on it instantly. “See? Even the officer’s family knows what’s right!” Willie looked from a distressed Una to me, trapped in the corner. He let out a long, heavy sigh and walked over to me. “Paula, please. Just apologize to them and drop the claim. Una needs a quiet environment. If this keeps up, she’s going to have an attack.” 3 I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Willie wanted me to apologize to a man who had hit my car and sexually harassed me? All so his darling, fragile “little sister” could have a quiet room to recover in? I stared at him, feeling a wave of physical nausea. “Willie, are you out of your mind?” My voice shook, but I kept it sharp. “I’m the one who got hit. I’m the one who was harassed. I’m the one being screamed at by his mother. And you, a police officer, are telling me to apologize to the people who did this?” My knuckles turned white as I gripped my bag. Willie’s frown deepened. He stepped closer, dropping his voice so only I could hear. “Paula, I know you’ve been wronged here. But these people are trash. If you keep fighting them, you’re the one who’ll end up looking bad. I’ll write you a personal check for the repairs. Just let it go, okay? Stop making a scene.” That condescending tone—like he was doing me a favor—was the final match thrown onto a lifetime of dry tinder. He had always been like this. Every time Una targeted me, he would tell me to take the high road, to be the bigger person. Because I was his wife, I was expected to swallow every insult to feed his savior complex. “Keep your charity to yourself,” I said, shoving his reaching hand away. “They are paying for every cent of damage. And I’m not apologizing to anyone.” I turned to leave. The air in this room felt toxic. But as I went to pass Una, her knees buckled again. She went limp, falling directly toward me. I tried to dodge, but her hands clamped onto my purse strap with surprising, desperate strength. With a loud rip, my bag was torn from my grip and crashed to the floor. Lipsticks, keys, and a deep blue velvet box spilled across the linoleum. The brass latch on the box popped open. A flawless pink diamond ring rolled out, catching the harsh fluorescent lights of the precinct. Gideon had bought it at a private auction in London. It was one of a kind. Una hit the floor hard, landing directly on top of my things. “Ow!” she squealed, scrambling to sit up. As she scrambled, the sharp metal heel of her boot ground directly into the face of the pink diamond. The sound of metal scratching stone made my heart stop. I pushed her aside with a force I didn’t know I possessed, dropping to my knees. I scooped up the ring. The once-perfect, brilliant surface of the diamond now had a jagged, deep scratch running across the face, and the platinum band was slightly warped. Gideon had placed this on my finger. I rarely wore it, terrified of losing it. I had only tucked it safely into my bag today because of the accident. My hands shook as I squeezed it in my palm. I stood up, staring down at Una. Sensing the sheer rage in my eyes, Una shrank back, tears streaming down her face. “Paula, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to, I just got dizzy… please don’t look at me like you want to kill me. You’re scaring me.” Willie immediately stepped in front of her, pulling her into his arms. He looked at the warped ring in my hand, a flicker of shock crossing his eyes. Even a novice could tell that stone was worth a fortune. But he quickly masked it, pulling his wallet out and slamming a black credit card onto the desk. “It’s just a ring, Paula. Una apologized. Are you going to keep badgering her until she collapses? There’s fifty grand on this card. Go buy yourself a better one.” The absolute arrogance of his gesture felt like a blunt knife sawing at my chest. I looked at the card on the table and let out a cold laugh. “You think your petty cash can fix this, Willie? You couldn’t afford this ring in ten lifetimes.” I pulled out my phone and dialed Gideon’s private number. It rang twice before he picked up. His deep, velvet voice filled my ear, instantly soothing. “Hey, sweetheart. Are you finished?” “Gideon,” I said, my voice cracking despite my best efforts. “Someone broke my wedding ring. And they’re telling me it doesn’t matter.” The line went dead silent for a beat. Then, I heard a cold, quiet chuckle that made my spine tingle. “Stay right where you are,” Gideon said. “I’d like to see who in Chicago thinks they can touch my wife’s things and get away with it.” 4 I hung up the phone. Carefully placing the damaged pink diamond back into the velvet box, I slipped it into my coat pocket. Willie watched the soft, familiar tone I had used with Gideon, his face turning an ugly shade of gray. A bitter, mocking laugh escaped his lips as he took a step toward me. “Paula. Are you seriously playing make-believe now? You hired some actor to pretend to be your husband just to get a rise out of me?” He reached out, trying to grab the box from my pocket. I was ready. I slapped his hand away, stepping back. “Don’t touch me with your filthy hands.” Una watched this from the floor, a tiny spark of excitement dancing in her eyes. She scrambled up and grabbed Willie’s sleeve, her voice dripping with artificial sympathy. “Willie, please don’t be mad at Paula. Maybe she… maybe she really hit hard times after the divorce. That’s why she’s doing this… selling herself to some old businessman. Don’t you have friends in the Vice division? Maybe they can help her get out of that life.” Every word was designed to paint me as a high-class call girl. Brad’s mother joined in instantly, barking a laugh. “I knew it! A cheap streetwalker. Officer, you should lock her up for soliciting! She’s a public nuisance!” Willie’s face was dark. He stared at me, a dangerous mix of possessiveness and jealousy burning in his eyes. “Paula, you’re coming with me.” He grabbed my wrist. His grip was so tight my bones practically clicked under the pressure. “We are going somewhere quiet, and you are going to tell me exactly what you’ve been doing these past three years. If you need money, I’ll give it to you. Just stop humiliating yourself in public.” He began dragging me toward the exit. The sheer, arrogant force of it was exactly like three years ago, when he had tried to force me onto my knees to apologize to Una. I struggled, my heels screeching against the polished tile floor. “Let go of me, Willie! My husband is coming! This is kidnapping!” I grabbed the doorframe with my free hand, the wood scraping under my nails. But Willie didn’t care. He was entirely trapped in his own delusions, convinced I had ruined my life just to hurt him. “You’re getting in the car, Paula.” He dragged me out into the gravel parking lot. But just as he opened the door of his unmarked Ford patrol sedan, a deafening engine roar shattered the afternoon quiet. A sleek, custom black Rolls-Royce Phantom tore into the precinct lot. The driver swung the massive car around, the tires screaming and kicking up a cloud of grey dust and white smoke. The Rolls-Royce came to a halt inches from Willie’s patrol car, completely blocking him in. The desk officers and half the people in the lobby ran outside to see what was happening. The heavy rear door of the Rolls-Royce clicked open. A pair of immaculate, hand-crafted leather shoes stepped onto the gravel. Gideon stepped out of the car. He was wearing a charcoal, bespoke three-piece suit that clung perfectly to his broad shoulders. He was tall, striking, with sharp features and a quiet, terrifying gravity that only came from holding immense power. The midday sun caught the hard lines of his jaw. Gideon Blackstone. The undisputed king of Chicago’s financial elite. His dark, piercing eyes swept over the crowd and locked onto Willie’s hand, which was still gripping my bruised wrist. The temperature in the parking lot seemed to drop thirty degrees. Gideon walked toward us, his strides slow, deliberate, and heavy. With every step he took, the air grew tighter. Willie froze, seemingly paralyzed by the raw, dangerous aura radiating from the man. His grip on my wrist loosened slightly. Gideon stopped directly in front of us, looking down at Willie like he was looking at dust on his shoe. He parted his lips, his voice a low, lethal rumble that echoed across the concrete lot: “Let go of my wife.”

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I was born frail, a delicate glass doll, yet I lived a life of unimaginable indulgence. My bedroom was a climate-controlled sanctuary, always kept at a precise seventy-two degrees with perfect humidity. Organic ingredients were flown in daily from organic farms across Europe and South America. I had a rotating team of dozens of world-class private physicians, all dedicated to monitoring my breath, my pulse, my sleep. They coddled me so thoroughly that I hadn’t so much as caught a cold in over a decade. But it wasn’t out of pure paternal love. It was because I was the Davenport family’s living talisman. I held their luck in my hands. When I was happy, Davenport Enterprises flourished, securing record-breaking mergers and soaring profits. When I was distressed, the family’s fortunes plummeted like a stone. For fifteen years, my joy kept us at the absolute pinnacle of Wall Street, our stock price untouchable. Until my father brought Hailey home and announced she was his biological daughter—the real heiress. The moment my father left for an international summit, Hailey made her move. She threw my belongings out into the corridor, her eyes wild with a strange, vindictive triumph. “The real daughter is back,” she sneered, tossing my silk pillows at my feet. “Why is an imposter like you still breathing my air? Get the hell out.” An icy draft rushed into my warm sanctuary, and I sneezed. Before I could even gasp, Hailey shoved me. Hard. The heavy oak doors slammed shut behind me. I stood bare-footed on the snow-covered terrace, wearing nothing but a thin silk nightgown. Across the country, on the trading floors of New York, the Davenport stock—stable for over a decade—shuddered. …… 1 Within seconds, a dozen maids rushed out, panic painting their faces as they draped me in cashmere coats and slipped lined boots onto my freezing feet. “Miss Beatrice, please, put this on! You can’t catch a chill!” They bundled me up as quickly as they could, but a dull, throbbing ache was already blooming behind my temples. In Manhattan, the Davenport market value began a steep, sickening nosedive, threatening to strip us of our top spot on the S&P 500. The head housekeeper tried to guide me back inside, but Hailey blocked the doorway, her arms crossed defiantly. “I am the lady of this house now!” Hailey barked, her voice shrill. “I order all of you to get back inside and leave Beatrice alone!” Mrs. Higgins, the lead housekeeper, practically begged her. “Miss Hailey, please, stop this. Mr. Davenport gave strict orders that Miss Beatrice must be cared for at all costs. If she loses even a single hair, your father will ruin us. We’ll never work in this city again!” Hailey didn’t budge. “Why are you so terrified? My father only pampered her because he thought she was his blood. But she’s not. She’s a nobody. I’m throwing out a parasite, and my father won’t say a word. If any of you dare to help her, you’re fired!” She stepped aside, wearing a smug, expectant grin, waiting for the staff to abandon me. She had no idea. She didn’t understand that my pampering wasn’t born of sentimentality, but of survival. My body and the Davenport fortune were bound by a thread of pure gold—one thrived only when the other did. To keep the empire safe, my father would have willingly worshiped me on bended knee. To prevent corporate sabotage or kidnapping, my father had kept this secret entirely to himself and his most trusted advisor. Looking at the terrified, torn expressions of the housekeepers caught in the middle, I tried to warn her, keeping my voice soft but steady. “Hailey, don’t take your anger out on them. Let me back inside. I have a weak constitution. If I fall ill, the consequences for the family will be catastrophic.” But Hailey merely sneered, her eyes glittering with spite. “Look at you, playing the fragile victim the moment Dad’s back is turned. Who are you trying to fool? I’m not letting you back in, and you’re not going to freeze to death from a little fresh air. And ‘catastrophic for the family’? This empire was built on my father’s sweat, not yours. Have you no shame, leech?” The biting wind cut through my coat, and my face went pale. The staff knew all too well what happened when my comfort was compromised. Seeing my deteriorating state and terrified of my father’s wrath, they ignored Hailey’s threats. Pushing past her, they swarmed around me, ushering me back into my climate-controlled bedroom. The medical team on standby immediately rushed in, checking my vitals, while the chef hurried up with a steaming mug of spiced ginger tea to warm me from the inside out. Seeing me treated like royalty once again, Hailey snapped. She marched over, slapped the mug out of the chef’s hands, and shoved the doctors away. “Have you all lost your minds? I am the real heiress! I told you to leave her, and you ignore me? Do you all want to end up on the streets?” She lunged forward, grabbing a fistful of my hair, and began dragging me toward the door. “I am throwing this parasite out today, and I dare any of you to stop me!” No one dared lay a hand on Hailey in her blind, violent rage. My scalp stung with sharp, blinding pain as she yanked me. I could feel warm beads of blood beginning to well up. Desperate to save the Davenport legacy from crumbling, I struggled against her grip. “Hailey, let go of me! I don’t want to fight you for Father’s affection. I don’t even care about the heiress title. But I am hurt. If you don’t let them treat me, you will regret this!” Hailey didn’t even pause. “Who are you trying to scare? You never stood a chance against me anyway. Why would I regret throwing out a useless piece of trash?” I stopped fighting. It was her own choice to burn the Davenport empire to the ground. I had warned her. I only wondered if she would still hold that arrogant, remorseless look on her face when the family was drowning in billions of dollars of debt. Just as Hailey dragged me to the grand foyer, the massive front doors swung open. My father’s chief of staff, Fletcher, had returned. 2 Hailey’s face lit up with a brilliant, eager smile. “Fletcher! You’re back! Where is Dad? Did he miss me so much he cut his conference short?” She had no idea that in less than an hour, Davenport stock had plummeted straight out of the top ten. My father, trapped in high-stakes negotiations, had frantically ordered his chief of staff to board the private jet and fly back immediately. Fletcher took one look at me—bleeding, disheveled, and being dragged by my hair—and his face went deathly pale. “Miss Hailey! What on earth are you doing? Let go of Miss Beatrice this instant!” Hailey gave my hair another vicious yank, tearing a clump from my scalp. “What ‘Miss Beatrice’? She’s nothing but a lazy, spoiled fraud! This house doesn’t need dead weight. I’m kicking her out so Dad doesn’t have to look at her ugly face!” Cold sweat poured down my forehead as I fought back the trembling in my voice. “Did Father return? Fletcher, pull Hailey off me… let the doctors treat me. Please, hurry!” Fletcher lunged forward, physically wrenching me away from Hailey’s grasp. I was burning up with a sudden, feverish heat, my scalp slick with blood. Fletcher completely panicked. He turned to the paralyzed medical team and screamed, “Are you all useless? Can’t you see Miss Beatrice is bleeding? Treat her! Now! Use whatever it takes to heal her immediately!” Fletcher’s voice carried the absolute weight of my father’s authority. The doctors didn’t dare waste another second. They moved with practiced, frantic precision, starting an IV and tending to my head. Fletcher knelt beside me, his voice shaking as he tried to soothe me. “Please hang in there, Miss Beatrice. Mr. Davenport is on his way. He’ll be back soon. Don’t be sad, please. He will make this right. I promise you.” I closed my eyes, forcing my breathing to slow, doing everything in my power to stabilize my emotions to halt the financial hemorrhage of our family empire. But Hailey suddenly shrieked like a wild animal. “Make what right? Why are you coddling her? She’s a fake! I’m the real Davenport heiress! I am!” When the doctors ignored her, continuing their treatment, Hailey grabbed a silver paring knife from the fruit platter on the sideboard, brandishing it wildly. “Get away from her! If any of you touch Beatrice, I’ll gut you!” She drove the medical team back, her eyes wild as she advanced on me, the knife pointed directly at my chest. “You aren’t his daughter. You have no right to steal his love from me. Get out of my house!” As the blade drew closer, Fletcher threw himself in front of me, shielding my body with his own. “Miss Hailey, stop this madness! Don’t you understand? Miss Beatrice is the very lifeblood of this family!” Hailey took his desperate plea as a challenge. Without hesitation, she plunged the blade directly into Fletcher’s shoulder. “You think I won’t do it? I’ll show you exactly who my father’s true golden child is!” Blood immediately blossomed across Fletcher’s tailored suit. Hailey let out a cruel, triumphant laugh. “You’re just a glorified servant. How dare a servant talk back to his master? This is what you get!” The maids and doctors shrank back, utterly terrified by her psychotic behavior. No one dared to move. Unsatisfied, Hailey raised the bloodied knife once more. “Still want to protect her? Let me teach you a lesson about who you actually answer to in this house!” At that exact second, the phone in my hand finally connected. My father’s face appeared on the screen, his expression dark, his voice trembling with a terrifying, suppressed rage. “Hailey Davenport! I told you to take care of your sister. Is this how you do it?” “Go to your room and wait for me. When I get back, you and I are going to have a very long conversation.” Before Hailey could even stammer an excuse, my father disconnected the call. Fletcher let out a weak, ragged sigh of relief. “Miss Hailey… Mr. Davenport is furious. I suggest you start preparing your explanation.” Hailey’s face twisted in rage, her teeth grinding so hard I could hear them click. “Fine. I’ll make sure to give her the absolute best care. I’m sure Dad will be thrilled.” 3 Hailey slammed me down onto the leather sofa. “You’re so fragile, dear sister. You must be freezing after your little trip outside. How about some hot ginger broth? I’ll brew it for you myself.” Fletcher, pale and bleeding, stumbled toward me. “Miss Hailey, please. Stop tormenting her. She can barely sit upright!” I mustered every ounce of my remaining strength, my voice cold as ice. “Father told you to go to your room. Are you going to defy him too?” Hailey let out a sharp scoff. “He’s my father, not yours. Of course I listen to him. And I’m going to take excellent care of you.” She swept up the spilled ginger broth from the floor, scooping the liquid alongside the jagged shards of the broken porcelain bowl directly into a fresh metal basin. She thrust the dark, menacing mixture right into my face. “Weren’t you cold? Here’s your warm drink. Drink up!” Fletcher tried to knock the basin away. “That’s not fit for a human! Miss Hailey, if you keep this up, Mr. Davenport will throw you out of this house the second he returns!” Hailey kicked Fletcher squarely in his freshly bleeding shoulder wound. “The maids don’t know their place, and neither do you. I am the mistress of this estate. Who gave you the right to stand in my way? Have you not had enough of a lesson?” Fletcher groaned in agony, his eyes rolling back as he collapsed onto the floor, unconscious. My heart burned with a white-hot fury. “Hailey! Fletcher has been Father’s right hand for a decade. He is a respected member of this household. How dare you mutilate him?” Hailey tilted her head, her lips curling into a mocking smile. “Oh, Beatrice, I really underestimated you. Not only are you good at playing the victim, but you’re a consummate actress.” She pinched my jaw, forcing my mouth open. “Too bad your little performance won’t save you from me. Since you love drama so much, let’s see how you perform after drinking this!” She poured the mixture down my throat. The liquid, laced with microscopic shards of broken porcelain, scraped down my esophagus. It felt like fire and razor blades tearing me apart from the inside. My body convulsed, and I violently gagged, vomiting the fluid back up. The dark broth, heavily stained with bright crimson blood, splattered across the polished marble floor. Hailey stepped back with a look of pure disgust. “Repulsive.” She turned her gaze toward the trembling maids who stood paralyzed in the corner. “The broth was clearly too rich for my fragile sister. She’s burning up.” “Go fetch a bucket of ice water. Let’s help her cool down.” I was in too much pain to speak. I could only glare at the maids, pleading with my eyes. The staff hesitated, caught in agonizing indecision. Hailey let out a cold laugh. “What, feeling sorry for her? Have you forgotten the ridiculous rules you had to endure just to keep her comfortable?” “I recall that just last month, because the thermostat was set a single degree too high, my father docked half your monthly wages!” My body was indeed so weak that a single degree could trigger a fever. But my father also knew how demanding my care was. To compensate, their salaries were ten times the industry standard, and they worked in shifts of twenty, making the labor incredibly light. They had practically clawed each other’s eyes out to secure a position in this house. Yet, one of the maids turned her back on me, her expression hardening as she went to fetch a bucket of ice water. I could no longer hold back my rage, tearing away whatever polite facade remained. “Hailey, without me, Davenport Enterprises wouldn’t exist. If you do this to me, even if you are his biological daughter, Father will destroy you!” To my father, the legacy of Davenport was worth more than his own soul. He would never tolerate anyone who threatened to dismantle it. My response was a torrential downpour of freezing, ice-choked water over my head. Hailey burst into wild, arrogant laughter. “Have you lost your mind from the fever? What does this company have to do with you? I am my father’s only flesh and blood. What could he possibly do to me?” She scanned the room, looking at the other maids and the silent doctors. “How much resentment have you all built up because of her? Don’t you want a little payback?” “Beatrice clearly isn’t thinking straight. Why don’t we throw a few more buckets of ice water on her to wake her up? If anything happens, I’ll take full responsibility!” 4 The first maid to douse me with water stepped forward, a vicious gleam of excitement in her eyes. “Beatrice, I have tolerated your demanding attitude for far too long. I have never seen anyone so ridiculously fragile in my entire life!” “You brought this on yourself. You deserve every bit of this!” Hailey clapped her hands in delight. “Perfect! Remember, everyone—I am the only true mistress of this house. Only those who obey me get to keep their jobs!” She casually pulled out her phone and wired a hundred thousand dollars to the maid’s account. Seeing the immediate windfall, the other maids lost all hesitation. They rushed to the kitchens, hauling out bucket after bucket of ice water. They shouted insults, dumping the freezing water over me. “You fake! Even an endangered panda isn’t as high-maintenance as you. Now that you’re no longer the heiress, we don’t have to put up with your nonsense!” Not wanting to be left out, one of the private physicians stepped forward, brandishing a syringe. “Because of your low pain tolerance, I had to pull all-nighters for two months straight practicing my injection technique. No one else complains about pain, so why do you? You dramatic little princess—let’s see how much you like this!” He jabbed the needle into my skin over and over. Hailey laughed so hard she had to hold her stomach. “Aren’t you the ‘lifeblood’ of this family? Why hasn’t Dad rushed to save you yet?” “Wake up! He wanted rid of you a long time ago. Either get out of this house, or learn to bow your head to me!” My eyelids grew heavy. I could no longer feel the biting cold; I could only feel my life force slowly, steadily slipping away. The voices around me began to fade into static. Slap! A stinging blow to my cheek snapped me back to consciousness. Hailey’s venomous face hovered inches from mine. “I’m talking to you! Are you deaf?” “Still stubborn, are we? I’ll make sure you understand exactly who rules this house!” I forced the words through my swollen, trembling lips. “Hailey… this house has room for only one of us. It’s either you, or me.” Hailey grabbed my hair and slammed my forehead against the marble floor. “What are you muttering under your breath? How dare you threaten me!” Blood trickled down my forehead, blurring my vision. My skin turned a dull, lifeless grey. The doctor suddenly looked panicked. “Miss Hailey… stop. She isn’t looking good. I think she might actually be dying.” Hailey stomped her heel onto my face, grinding it down. “She was just cursing at me a second ago! She’s an actress. She knows exactly how to fake it!” I stared unblinkingly at the grand foyer doors. Father… if you don’t get here soon, the Davenport luck is going to run out forever. Across the state, Davenport factories suddenly shuddered to a halt due to unexplained power grid failures. Multi-million dollar contracts were abruptly terminated by long-term partners citing sudden corporate restructuring. An anonymous whistleblower filed a devastating lawsuit, threatening to bring the entire empire to its knees. Seeing my silence, Hailey raised the silver paring knife once more. “Playing dead? Get up!” I couldn’t move an inch. I could only watch as the cold blade descended toward my chest. The tip of the knife was inches from my skin. Finally, the heavy double doors flew open. My father burst into the room, his coat unbuttoned, his face pale and drenched in sweat. I mustered every drop of strength left in my fading consciousness. My eyes locked onto his, filled with a cold, unforgiving lethalness. “Father… Hailey cannot coexist with me.” “Do you want Hailey? Or do you want your empire?”

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Wright brought the third heavily pregnant woman into my firm, expecting me to draft a deed of gift for her. His friends stood in the corner, placing bets on exactly how many seconds it would take for me to lose my mind and trash the office. But I didn’t say a word, even as the thick stack of papers slid out of the printer, warm and final. “Wright, man, this is the third one,” Tyler muttered, casting a wary look in my direction. “Are you sure she isn’t quietly plotting to ruin you?” Wright pinched the bridge of his nose, his voice dropping into that deep, authoritative register he used when he wanted to sound magnanimous. “Maeve’s health is too fragile. She can’t handle the physical toll of pregnancy. This baby will be legally registered under her name the moment it’s born. Her position as my wife is never going to change.” I didn’t let my expression waver. I simply slid the stamped, legally binding documents across the mahogany desk, offering the standard professional disclaimer. “Everything is signed and sealed. The agreement is active and fully enforceable by law.” Wright took the paperwork, a brief, almost imperceptible frown crossing his handsome face. He hesitated, then slid a second document toward me—a voluntary divorce agreement. His tone softened. “Sign this. It’s just a formality, Maeve,” he murmured. “Hailey is strong. Once she gives birth and we legally adopt the baby, the family won’t be able to hold your infertility against you anymore. Your place at my side is secure. I’m only doing this to protect you.” I had played my part in this twisted theater twice before. But this time, I didn’t hesitate. I picked up the pen and signed my name on the dotted line. Then, with deliberate slowness, I slipped on the massive pink diamond engagement ring Drew, the golden heir of the city’s most powerful empire, had given me just nights before. Wright had seemingly forgotten a tiny, inconvenient medical truth: he was completely sterile. If I wanted to be a mother, all I needed was a man with working anatomy. Why did he think I would cling to the hollow title of his wife, just to raise a bastard child spawned from another man’s affair? … Hailey stroked her round, heavily swollen belly, letting out a soft, theatrical sigh. “Wright… is Maeve mad? Look, she even bought her own ring just to make a point.” Wright’s eyes locked onto my left hand. His brows drew together, a flash of genuine irritation crossing his features. “Maeve, enough,” he snapped. “Do you really think buying some cheap piece of glass is going to make me change my mind?” I didn’t argue. I simply pushed the signed divorce agreement back to him. “It’s done. I’ll see you at the courthouse tomorrow morning at nine.” The room fell dead silent for a fraction of a second, before Tyler and the rest of Wright’s entourage burst into mocking laughter. “Come on, Maeve, you’ve been playing this hard-to-get game for three years now. Aren’t you tired of it?” “Seriously. Wright just wants an heir. You can’t give him one, and now you’re trying to stop anyone else from doing it? Don’t be so bitter.” Wright rubbed his temples, his patience clearly wearing thin. “Maeve, stop throwing a tantrum. Hailey is carrying twins. The doctor said the pregnancy is high-risk. She needs peace and quiet.” Hailey leaned back into Wright’s chest, her eyes welling with crocodile tears. “Wright, I just don’t want our babies to be born hidden away in some dark corner of the city.” She peeked up at me, acting timid. “Maeve… would you mind letting us use your penthouse downtown? The security is incredible, and it’s so close to the medical center.” That penthouse was the only thing my parents had left me before they died in a sudden car crash. It was my sanctuary. “That is my personal property. It wasn’t part of our marriage.” Hailey flinched, pulling back as if I had struck her. Giant tears rolled down her cheeks. “Maeve, please don’t be angry. I was only thinking of the babies. If you don’t want us there, that’s fine. I’ll just pack my bags and raise them in some cheap motel out in the country.” Wright wrapped his arms tightly around her, turning on me with cold, uncompromising authority. “Maeve, don’t be petty. The place is sitting empty anyway. Pack your things tonight. Hailey moves in tomorrow.” I stared at the man I had loved for nearly a decade. For the first time, I realized how utterly pathetic I had been. “Wright, are you illiterate or just stupid? It’s my house.” Wright’s face darkened, a muscle twitching in his jaw. “Maeve, it’s just a house. Once the babies are born, you can have it back. Right now, Hailey is pregnant. You need to think about the bigger picture.” Tyler chimed in from the couch. “Yeah, Maeve. Hailey’s carrying the next generation of the family line. You can’t even spare a roof over her head?” I kept my eyes on Wright. “And if I refuse?” Wright let out a dry, humorless chuckle and pulled out his phone. “Let’s not forget who your firm’s largest retainer is, Maeve. You’re a smart woman. Don’t make me pull the corporate contracts.” For his mistress, he was willing to destroy the career I had poured my soul into. I stared at the absolute confidence in his eyes and felt a sudden, liberating laugh bubble up in my chest. “Fine. I’ll pack.” Wright blinked, taken aback by how easily I’d folded. A smug smirk touched his lips, and his tone softened with patronizing approval. “Good. See? When you’re reasonable, everything works out. Spend tonight at the family estate. I’ll have my assistant help Hailey move into the penthouse tomorrow.” I stood up, grabbing my coat. My gaze swept over the miserable crowd. “I’ll be out tonight. But Wright? I hope you remember this moment when the bill comes due.” Wright just laughed. “Don’t throw a fit, Maeve. It’s temporary. The house is still yours.” Hailey tilted her chin up, flashing me a quiet, venomous smile of victory. I didn’t look back as I walked out, letting the door click shut behind me. Through the heavy wood, I could hear Tyler’s muffled voice laughing. “Wright always knows how to pull her leash! Man, once these twins are born, you’ll be a father of three!” A father of three. I truly hoped he’d keep that same joyful energy when he found out whose name was actually on the birth certificates. The storm hit the city late that night, rain lashing violently against the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse. I packed light. In truth, there wasn’t much to take. I didn’t touch a single thing Wright had bought me. I only packed my parents’ framed portrait and my five-year-old Ragdoll cat, Casper. Casper seemed to sense my quiet anger, nudging his soft head against my hand and licking my knuckles. The electronic lock chimed, and Wright stepped inside, shaking the rain from his coat. When his eyes fell on the suitcases lined up by the door, his brow furrowed. “Are you really doing this? Maeve, I told you to go to the estate. Why are you packing up everything you own?” I smoothed down my final coat, zipped the suitcase, and stood up. “We signed the divorce papers, Wright. Why would I sleep under your family’s roof? Save your energy. You have twins to worry about.” He marched over, slamming his hand down on the top of my suitcase. “Stop being so dramatic! I told you the divorce is just a show for the board. Why are you pushing this? You’re a woman on your own. If you walk away from me, from the family, where do you think you’re going to go?” There was a sickening certainty in his eyes. He truly believed I was helpless without him. I reached down, firmly removing his hand from my bag. “Where I go is none of your business anymore.” His jaw clenched, but before he could snap, his phone buzzed. Hailey’s name flashed across the screen. He answered immediately, and her trembling, soft voice filled the quiet room. “Wright, where are you? I’m scared… the thunder is so loud, and my stomach hurts. What if something is wrong with the babies?” His face softened instantly into frantic concern. “Don’t panic, Hailey. I’m on my way.” He hung up and glared at me, his tenderness vanishing. “You better pray those babies are fine, Maeve. If anything happens to them because of your stubbornness, I’ll destroy you.” Without another word, he turned on his heel and rushed back out into the pouring rain. I watched the door swing shut, a bitter smile tugging at my lips. I remembered the night I lay bleeding out on an operating table from an ectopic pregnancy. Where had Wright been then? He’d been across town, helping his very first mistress pick out decor for her baby shower. I closed my eyes, forcing the toxic memory back into the dark corner of my mind. I grabbed Casper’s carrier, pulled my suitcase behind me, and walked out of the apartment forever. The next morning, I stood outside the courthouse at exactly nine. I waited. Hour after hour slipped by, but Wright never showed. I tried calling, but my calls went straight to voicemail. It was only when the office doors closed for the evening that my phone finally rang. It wasn’t Wright; it was Tyler. “Do you have a single shred of humanity left, Maeve?” Tyler hissed. “Hailey almost miscarried last night. Wright spent the entire night by her hospital bed, and you’re standing at the courthouse trying to force a divorce? Are you trying to kill his kids?” My voice was flat, empty of any anger. “If he’s busy, we’ll reschedule. Tell him to have his lawyer prepare the breach-of-contract penalty.” I hung up before he could reply and headed straight to my office. The moment I walked through the doors of my firm, the heavy silence hit me. Becca, my junior associate, ran up to me, her eyes red and tearful. “Maeve, we have a major problem. Wright’s legal department just sent over an official termination letter. They’re pulling out of every single retainer agreement. Worse, they’re blacklisting us. They let every major developer in the city know that doing business with us means war with Wright’s family.” My boots clicked to a halt on the hardwood floor. My expression hardened. This was Wright’s classic play: crush me financially until I crawled back on my knees. I sat at my desk and opened my laptop. My inbox was flooded with cancellations from clients I had spent years networking to win over. Right on cue, my phone vibrated. A text from Wright: Apologize to Hailey, promise to fall back into line, and I’ll restore the firm’s contracts. Don’t push my patience, Maeve. A soft laugh escaped my lips. He truly believed he held all the cards. I didn’t bother typing a reply. I blocked his number, then pulled up a contact I hadn’t touched in months. The call connected on the second ring. A deep, smooth voice drifted through the line. “Let me guess. Wright finally made his final mistake?” I stared out at the city skyline. “Drew. You were right. I’m dropping Wright’s accounts. But I need a favor.” Drew let out a low, amused chuckle. “Maeve, for you, I’d burn down the entire city block by block. Tell me what you need.” My grip tightened on the phone. “I want Wright’s family holdings squeezed. I want their credit dry and their capital frozen within thirty days.” For the next week, Wright went completely silent. He was undoubtedly waiting for me to hit rock bottom, expecting me to beg for his mercy once the bills started piling up. What he didn’t realize was that I had already quietly liquidated my shares in the firm for a massive payout. By the time he thought I was starving, I had already stepped into my new role as the chief legal counsel for Drew’s multinational corporate division. Late one Tuesday afternoon, right after wrapping up a board meeting at Drew’s headquarters, my phone rang. It was the emergency vet clinic. “Maeve, it’s about Casper. You need to get here immediately.” Panic seized my chest. I sped across the city, my heart hammering against my ribs. When I burst through the clinic doors, I was escorted into the back. Casper was lying on the sterile table, his pure white fur soaked in deep crimson. He was barely drawing breath. The vet, his hands covered in blood, looked up with a grim expression. “I’m so sorry, Maeve. He suffered severe blunt force trauma. His internal organs are ruptured. We’re doing everything we can, but…” My mind went completely blank. Casper had been a birthday gift from my parents before they died. He was the last piece of home I had left. With trembling fingers, I touched his bloodied, soft fur. Casper forced his eyes open, looking up at me with a faint, tired meow, and then he stopped breathing. “Who did this?” My voice was barely a whisper, cold and hollow. The vet sighed, turning a laptop screen toward me. “A woman dropped him off in an alley nearby. Our security cameras caught her.” On the footage, Hailey stood in the alleyway wearing dark sunglasses, an iron golf club slung over her shoulder. Her driver dragged Casper’s carrier out of her trunk and dumped him onto the pavement. Without a second of hesitation, Hailey swung the club, striking my cat again and again. She kept swinging until Casper stopped moving. Then, she nudged his small body with the toe of her designer heel. “Stupid animal thought it could scratch me,” her voice drifted clearly through the audio feed. “Throw it in the trash. Don’t let Wright see it.” I stared at the screen, my fingernails digging so deeply into my palms that they drew blood. I pulled out my phone and dialed the police. Thirty minutes later, two police officers accompanied me back to the penthouse I had built. When the door opened, I saw Hailey curled up on my custom-designed sofa, nestled in Wright’s lap. At the sight of the uniforms, she let out a theatrical shriek and scrambled behind Wright. “Wright! What’s happening? I’m scared…” Wright stood up, shielding her, his glare icy as he locked eyes with me. “Maeve, what kind of sick stunt is this? Bringing cops to my home? Have you completely lost your mind?” I stood perfectly still. “Hailey is under investigation for animal cruelty and felony property damage. I’m pressing charges.” Wright blinked, then let out a sharp, mocking laugh. “Are you seriously doing all this over that stupid cat? Maeve, you are genuinely pathetic. It’s an animal. It died. I’ll buy you ten more! Hailey is pregnant; she cannot handle this kind of stress. Take your cops and get the hell out of my house.” I looked at the man I had spent years of my life with, and felt absolutely nothing but disgust. “Casper was the last thing my parents left me. He didn’t do anything to her. Why did she have to beat him to death?” Hailey peeked out from behind him, sobbing softly. “Maeve, please don’t lie. That beast went wild. It tried to claw my belly. I was only protecting Wright’s children. Is a filthy animal really worth more to you than our babies?” Wright’s expression hardened into pure malice. Before the officers could react, he stepped forward and swung his arm. Slap. The force of his palm across my face echoed through the foyer. My head snapped back, a sharp ringing filling my ears as warm blood trickled down my chin. Wright pointed a shaking finger at my face, shouting, “You malicious, bitter bitch! Just because you’re sterile, you try to use a wild animal to kill my heirs? Let me make this clear, Maeve: if anything happens to Hailey’s babies, I will personally ruin you.” The officers immediately tackled him, pinning his arms behind his back. “Sir! Step back! Assaulting someone in front of law enforcement is a felony. Calm down!” Wright didn’t even flinch. He sneered, casually adjusting his expensive cuffs. “Arrest me? Your captain dines at my private club. I was putting my hysterical wife in her place.” He turned his murderous gaze back to me. “Maeve, this is your last chance. Drop the charges and get on your knees and apologize to Hailey. Or I swear to God, I will run you out of this city by morning.” I slowly reached up, wiping the blood from my lip, staring at the two of them. Strangely, the anger washed away, leaving only a cold, crystalline silence. “Wright, that slap officially paid off whatever debt I owed you. You want heirs so badly? Then I wish you all the joy in the world with your beautiful, perfect family.” I turned back to the officers. “I’ve forwarded the security footage to the precinct. Let’s let the legal system handle this.” Without another glance, I walked out of the penthouse. Behind me, Wright’s voice cracked with rage. “Maeve! Get back here! You walk out that door, and you are dead to this family!” Three days later, the ballroom at the Waldorf Astoria was packed. Wright had spared no expense, throwing a multi-million dollar baby shower that was, in reality, a high-society coming-out party for Hailey to cement her status as the future matriarch of his empire. The room was drowning in thousands of imported red roses. When I stepped inside, a quiet murmur rippled through the crowd. “Is that Maeve? What is she doing here?” “I heard Wright’s filing for divorce because of the mistress.” “So sad. If you can’t produce an heir, you’re easily replaced.” I ignored the whispers, walking straight into the heart of the ballroom. Wright spotted me immediately, his face darkening. He marched over and caught my elbow, his voice a low hiss. “Who invited you? I told you to stay put and reflect on your behavior. This is a massive night for my family. Don’t ruin it.” I smiled, a cool, polite expression. “You sent an invitation, Wright. As your soon-to-be ex-wife, how could I miss such a celebration?” He pulled away with a grunt. “Just keep your head down and watch. And stay away from Hailey.” Before I could reply, the main doors opened. Hailey stepped in, draped in a custom white silk gown that clung to her belly. Dazzling around her neck was the Heart of the Ocean sapphire necklace—a piece Wright had won at an auction, promising it to me for our upcoming anniversary. Hailey glided over, deliberately shifting to highlight her stomach. “Maeve, you made it,” she purred. “I’m so sorry, this gown is just so tight. The twins are practically kicking up a storm tonight.” She let out a dainty laugh, her eyes shining with malice. “Oh, and Wright insisted I wear this necklace. He said it suited my skin tone much better. You don’t mind, do you?” I looked at the glittering blue stone on her chest, then back to her face. “Why would I mind?” I murmured. “After all, trash belongs with garbage.” Hailey’s face drained of color. “Who are you calling trash?!” She raised her hand, aiming a slap at my face. I caught her wrist mid-air, squeezing hard before shoving her back. She gasped, losing her balance on her heels and stumbling backward straight into Wright, who had rushed over. “Wright! She attacked me! She’s trying to kill the babies!” Hailey sobbed, burying her face in his chest. Wright went white with fury. “Maeve, you’ve gone too far!” He turned to the crowd of onlookers, raising his voice so it carried across the entire room. “Everyone, since we’re all here, I’d like to make an official announcement. My marriage to Maeve is over. As of today, Hailey is my future wife. And the children she is carrying are the sole, rightful heirs to the empire!” A collective gasp echoed through the ballroom. All eyes turned to me, heavy with judgment and pity. I stood my ground, a slow, brilliant smile spreading across my face. I reached into my clutch, pulled out a thick envelope, and threw the documents straight at Wright’s face. “Take a good look, Wright. Read every single page.” The papers scattered across the floor. On the very top sheet, printed in bold ink with the official seal of the city’s premier medical board, was a diagnostic report. Name: Wright. Diagnosis: Congenital Azoospermia. Incurable Sterility.

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I held my daughter close, her breathing gone ragged, and knelt in the snow, pounding on the door like a man possessed. On the video doorbell screen, my wife Susan was raising a glass with her high school sweetheart. “Susan! Nora can’t breathe! Open the door and give me her medication!” Susan let out a cold laugh, her voice cutting like frostbitten air. “Ethan, are you seriously pulling this act just for that little bastard of yours?” “She’s your own daughter! She’s only five years old!” Susan’s first love chuckled from beside her. “Babe, I heard that little side-piece of his has asthma too. Runs in the family, I guess.” Susan’s eyes went cold in an instant. “Ethan, if you love playing the victim so much, then take your little bastard and freeze to death out there!” The next second, the second-floor window swung open. A basin of ice water came crashing down, and the moment it hit my daughter, it turned to frost on her skin. Nora convulsed in my arms. She looked up at the window one last time, and in a voice barely above a breath, she called out, “Mommy…”

The ice water soaked through my collar and down my spine, freezing solid almost instantly. Nora shuddered violently in my arms. The sharp, desperate wheeze that had been her breathing was suddenly cut off, like something invisible had reached down and squeezed her throat shut. Her whole body went rigid. Her tiny hands locked onto my collar, knuckles white. “Nora! Nora, don’t be scared, Daddy’s here!” I threw my body around her like a shield, trying to melt the shell of ice forming over her with whatever warmth I had left. From the second-floor window came the sound of Susan laughing, free and unbothered. “Wow, Oscar-worthy performance. What a waste of talent.” She swirled a glass of red wine, looking down at me from above like I was a dog sprawled in the snow. Jason stood beside her, one arm around her waist, watching the whole thing with a grin. “Babe, look at him shaking. Someone who didn’t know better might actually think he was freezing.” “That water had ice cubes in it. Figured these two needed cooling down before they started embarrassing themselves.” I looked up, the corners of my eyes burning, every blood vessel ready to burst. “Susan! Are you even human? That is your biological daughter!” “Nora’s asthma is real. Her inhaler is on the living room table. Please, just throw it down to me!” “Whatever you want from me, I’ll do it. Just give me the medication!” In that moment, dignity, pride, every last shred of my self-respect — I threw it all away without a second thought. All I needed was for my daughter to live. Susan took a slow sip of wine, her expression dripping with contempt. “Biological daughter? Ethan, you have a lot of nerve.” “If your people hadn’t forced my father’s hand back then, do you think I would’ve ever married a deadbeat like you?” “That child has your worthless blood in her. She makes me sick just looking at her.” Jason leaned in close to Susan’s ear, his voice deliberately loud enough to carry. “Babe, forget about him, today’s my birthday. Don’t let this trash ruin the mood.” “Although, with the snow coming down this hard, if something actually happened…” Susan let out a short, cold huff and turned back into the room, returning with something in her hand. It was Nora’s asthma inhaler. Hope ignited in my chest. I shuffled forward on my knees, reaching out. “Give it to me! Susan, please, give it to me!” Susan dangled the inhaler between her fingers, a slow, cruel smile spreading across her face. “Want it?” “Then beg.” “Bark like a dog. Give me two good ones, and I’ll think about it.” In my arms, Nora’s breathing was fading. Her lips had gone from blue to nearly black. Her eyes were half open, pupils losing focus — but she was still instinctively curling into my chest. The will to survive. My heart felt like it was being sliced apart, piece by piece. I ground my teeth until my jaw ached. A low, broken sound tore out of my throat. “Woof. Woof.” For my daughter, I would give up everything. Susan and Jason exploded into laughter. Jason doubled over, pointing at me. “Babe, look at him, he literally sounds like a dog!” “Well, if he’s a dog, he should go fetch.” Susan flicked her wrist. The inhaler traced an arc through the air. It didn’t come to me. She hurled it straight into the garbage can in the corner of the yard — the one overflowing with filth. “Go get it. If you find it, it’s yours.” “Though with snow this deep, by the time you dig it out, I’d say that little bastard of yours will be stone cold.” “Ha!” The window slammed shut. Cutting off the warm light and laughter inside. Leaving only the howling wind, the endless snow, and me. “Nora, hang on. Daddy’s getting the medicine, Daddy’s going right now!” I set her down in the corner of the wall where it was slightly less exposed, pulled off my soaked, half-frozen jacket, and draped it over her. Then I crawled toward the garbage can on all fours. The snow was thick. Every inch forward felt like dragging myself over broken glass. But I couldn’t feel the pain. My mind had only one word in it: Medicine. Medicine. Finally, I toppled the garbage can. Reeking kitchen waste spilled across the snow in a wet, filthy mess. I tore through it with my bare hands, glass slicing open my fingers, blood running hot into the cold. There. The blue inhaler. I snatched it up and scrambled back to Nora, half-crawling, half-falling. “Nora, I’ve got the medicine! Open your mouth!” With shaking hands, I pressed the inhaler between her lips and pushed down. Once. Twice. Three times. Nothing came out. Just a hollow hiss. I went still. In the dim glow of the streetlight, I read the label. It was last month’s empty canister. Susan had lied to me. She’d done it on purpose. From the very beginning, she never intended to let Nora live.

Despair swallowed me whole, like a black hole opening beneath my feet. I gripped the empty inhaler, my fingernails digging into the plastic hard enough to crack it. “Susan!!!” I screamed into the sky, a sound so raw and broken it didn’t even sound human. In my arms, Nora had stopped convulsing. She’d gone soft and still. That terrible silence was more terrifying than the desperate gasping had been. “Nora? Nora, don’t scare Daddy!” My hands shook as I checked her breathing. Almost nothing. Her warmth was draining away fast, like a piece of metal cooling after the heat is cut. I couldn’t just stay here. This was a private hillside neighborhood. The snowstorm had cut off the road. An ambulance couldn’t get up here. The only way out was inside. Heat. An oxygen bag. The real medication. I scooped Nora up and threw myself at the front door. “Bang. Bang. Bang.” I used my body. My head. My fists. I slammed against that heavy wooden door with everything I had. “Susan! Open up! That was an empty canister!” “Nora’s not going to make it! Please, just let me in!” “You don’t even have to let me in — just let Nora in! I’ll stay out here! I won’t set foot in your house!” Blood ran down from my forehead and into my eyes. I couldn’t feel it. The video doorbell flickered on again. On the screen, Susan was cutting a steak, her movements calm and composed. Jason sat across from her, casually twirling a fresh blue inhaler between his fingers. Nora’s real medication. “So annoying.” Susan furrowed her brow, looking thoroughly inconvenienced. “Ethan, are you done? It’s the middle of the night and you’re out there wailing like a ghost. We’re trying to eat.” I pressed my face against the camera lens. My blood smeared across the glass. “Susan, that was an empty one! If you want to hurt someone, come after me. Leave Nora out of it!” “Give me the medication! Unlock the door!” Jason held up the inhaler and gave it a little wave at the camera. “Oh wow, looks like we grabbed the wrong one earlier.” “Babe, he seems pretty desperate. Maybe we should… give it to him?” He wore a saint’s smile, but his eyes were full of amusement. Susan sliced off a piece of rare steak and chewed it slowly. “Give it to him? Why?” “He barked like garbage before. No sincerity whatsoever.” “Want to come inside? Fine.” She set down her knife and fork and dabbed the corner of her mouth with a napkin. “Get in the dog cage.” “Stay in there for one full hour without coming out, and I’ll have someone bring the medication to you.” In the corner of the yard sat a large iron cage. It was the kennel for Susan’s two Tibetan Mastiffs. Those dogs only ever listened to Susan. They had never treated me as their owner — just shown me teeth. Right now, both of them were in the cage, barking furiously at me and Nora. Saliva dripped from their fangs and hit the snow, steaming in the cold. “Not going to do it?” Susan’s voice dropped. “Then freeze to death out there.” “Honestly, that little bastard dying would be a gift. One less person to split the inheritance with later.” “You have three seconds.” “Three.” “Two.” I looked down at my daughter. Her face was white as paper. Frost had gathered on her eyelashes. She looked like a shattered porcelain doll. I had no choice. “I’ll do it!” “I’ll do it — don’t cut the feed! Don’t cut it!” I carried Nora and stumbled toward the kennel. The two Mastiffs saw me coming and lunged at the iron bars, unleashing a roar that rattled the whole cage. I set Nora down in the most sheltered corner outside the cage and peeled off my last layer — my sweater — and wrapped it around her. I had nothing left but a thin dress shirt. “Be good, baby. Daddy’s just going to put on a little show for Mommy, and then she’ll give you your medicine.” I pressed my lips to my daughter’s ice-cold forehead. Then I pulled open the iron door and climbed inside. Both Mastiffs launched themselves at me instantly. Their teeth sank through my arm, tearing at my flesh. The pain was blinding. I bit down on my lip and made no sound. I couldn’t scream. If I screamed, Susan would be displeased. If she was displeased, she wouldn’t give me the medication. I curled into a corner thick with filth and let the dogs tear at me. My blood soaked red into the snow. On the video doorbell screen, Susan and Jason were laughing so hard they could barely breathe. “Incredible! This is incredible!” Jason clapped like he was watching a gladiator fight. “Babe, look at this pathetic creature. Even the dogs don’t respect him.” Susan sipped her wine, her eyes bright with satisfaction. “This is what happens when you cross me.” “Ethan, you used to be so proud, didn’t you? Tell me — how exactly did you force me into this marriage?” “Now I’m going to grind you into the dirt. You will never, ever get back up.” The seconds crawled by. Every one of them felt like a year. My vision was going dark. Blood loss and cold were pulling me under. But I kept my eyes locked on Nora through the bars. As long as she was still alive, I could hold on. Finally, the hour was up. “Susan… time’s… up…” I turned toward the camera and pushed the last of my strength into my voice. “The medicine…” Susan yawned, like she’d nearly dozed off. “Oh, I got so caught up watching I lost track of time.” “Fine. Since you’ve been such a good boy.” “Jason, go. Take him the medicine.” Jason stood, grabbed the inhaler, and walked out onto the second-floor balcony. I dragged myself out of the cage, crawling on ruined legs, and pulled myself to the spot beneath the balcony. “Ready to catch?” Jason smiled and let go. The inhaler dropped straight down. I reached up with both hands. And then, in the split second before it landed — a basin of foot-washing water came pouring off the balcony. The force of it knocked the inhaler sideways, sending it crashing into the stone several feet away. The blue plastic shattered. The medication inside spilled across the snow and was swallowed up in seconds. Jason covered his mouth in mock surprise. “Oh no. Butterfingers.” “What do we do now? The medicine’s gone.” “Ethan, looks like even God doesn’t want to save that little bastard of yours.”

That sound — plastic shattering on stone — went off like a thunderclap inside my skull. I stared at the dark stain spreading through the snow where the medication had been. That was Nora’s last chance. Gone. All of it, gone. “No — !” A sound ripped out of me that I didn’t recognize, raw and animal and broken. I clawed at the ground with both hands, trying to scrape up the snow that had swallowed the liquid. Even a little. Even one drop. I cupped a handful of dirty, contaminated snow and crawled back to Nora on my knees. “Take it, baby, come on, the medicine…” I tried to press the snow to her lips. But her teeth were clenched shut. Nothing was getting through. Her body had gone completely cold. No movement at all. That silence hit me like a blade driven through my chest and twisted. “No… no…” My hands shook as I reached for her pulse. Nothing. I checked her breathing. Nothing. I pressed my ear to her chest. Nothing. My entire world collapsed in that moment. On the second-floor balcony, Susan and Jason were still laughing. “Look at him trying to feed her snow. Ha!” “Father-daughter bond, truly moving stuff.” Susan leaned lazily against the railing, a slim cigarette held between her fingers. “Ethan, drop the act.” “You’ve had your fun. Now take your little bastard and get off my property.” “You’re ruining the vibe.” I raised my head slowly. No tears on my face. Just blood, and melted snow. My eyes were empty, hollow as a dried-out well, fixed on Susan without blinking. Something in that look made her pause mid-laugh. She frowned, almost involuntarily. “What is that look?” “What, you want to kill me?” “Think you’ve got what it takes? You worthless piece of nothing.” I didn’t answer. I just reached down, gently, carefully, and lifted Nora into my arms. She was so light. Light as a feather. Five years old, and she barely weighed forty-five pounds. Because Susan always said girls needed to watch their figures. Don’t eat too much. Because Susan always said asthma was a rich girl’s condition. Skip a few meals, it’ll clear up. I pressed my face against Nora’s cold, still cheek. “Rest now, baby.” “Daddy’s taking you home.” “It’s too cold here. And the people are too ugly inside.” I held my daughter and turned and walked into the storm. Behind me, I heard Jason’s voice. “Babe, he’s actually leaving.” “That kid… you don’t think she actually…?” Susan made a dismissive sound. “Die? It’s not that easy to die.” “It’s all a performance. He’s trying to make me feel guilty.” “Tomorrow morning he’ll be right back on his knees at the front door begging for forgiveness.” “Forget him. Let’s keep drinking.” “Oh, and post that video from earlier to your Instagram. Caption it something like: ‘Abusive ex stages breakdown to steal custody money.’ Let everyone see exactly what kind of man he is.” I kept walking through the storm, listening to every word. Each one landed like a nail driven into bone. I wasn’t angry anymore. I mean it. Anger is cheap. It’s a feeling for the living. For the dead, there’s no need for anger. I carried Nora. One step at a time. Out of the neighborhood. Out of the place I used to think was home. My phone buzzed in my pocket. My assistant calling. I picked up. My voice came out quieter than I expected. Steadier than it had any right to be. “Yeah.” “Boss! You finally picked up! About the company—” “Never mind that.” I cut him off. “Initiate the Judgment protocol.” Silence on the other end. A full five seconds. “Boss, are you sure? Once it starts, the Sullivan family is finished. Everything you’ve built over the past five years—” “I said initiate it.” I looked down at my daughter’s face, still and pale in my arms, and a slow, cold smile formed at the corner of my mouth. “And get me a coffin.” “Best quality wood you can find.” “Also, contact every media outlet in the city.” “Three days from now, I’m going to deliver Susan a gift she’ll never forget.”

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Just because I carried a limited-edition bag on my first day of the internship, my department manager had the nerve to pressure me into personally funding a company-wide trip to the Maldives — chartered flight included, two million dollars out of my own pocket. “Stella, you’re so loaded — what’s the big deal about treating your colleagues? Consider it an honor to buy your way into the inner circle.” I turned her down flat. She never forgave me for it. On the day of our global launch event, she didn’t just steal my core strategy proposal — she locked me inside a server room held at fourteen degrees below zero, planning to ride my work straight to the top in front of the billion-dollar conglomerate’s chairman and a top-tier investor. She thought I’d quietly freeze to death in the dark. What she didn’t know was that the billion-dollar chairman she was killing herself to impress was my father. And that untouchable top investor? My fiancé. Ding — In the quiet of the open office, my phone screen lit up. It was a direct message from my department manager, Sandra Zhou. I had just finished sorting through a stack of market analysis data. I rolled my stiff neck and tapped the notification open. It was a quote for a seven-day luxury trip to the Maldives. Total cost: $2,150,000. I hadn’t even processed that number when Sandra’s second message popped up right behind it. 【Stella, that Hermès Himalayan you had today — that’s the real thing, right? I looked it up. Those go for six figures easy.】 【Since your family is clearly doing so well, how about you cover the company’s annual team retreat this year? Full sponsorship?】 【Nothing crazy — just charter a private jet and book the overwater villas at a five-star resort. Think of it as your initiation gift to all the senior staff. Do this right and everyone will have your back on the job.】 I stared at those words on my screen and almost laughed. I was interning at this subsidiary under a fake identity to learn how operations ran at the ground level. It was my own money I spent on my own bag. What gave her the right to expect me to drop over two million dollars on a hundred-plus employees I barely knew? I typed back without hesitating. 【Sorry, Sandra. That’s not my responsibility, and I don’t have that kind of money lying around.】 The message had barely sent when the company group chat exploded. Sandra had posted a company-wide announcement to the group — all hundred-something members. 【HUGE NEWS!! A massive thank-you to our very generous intern, Stella Lin!! She’s offered to personally sponsor this year’s annual company retreat!! Seven days in the Maldives, first-class flights, five-star overwater villas the whole way!! Drop a comment to thank our girl Stella!!】 The chat went absolutely insane. Notifications rained down like a thunderstorm. “No way!! Stella’s a secret heiress?? Legend!!” “Thank you so much, Stella!! I’ve been dreaming about the Maldives forever, and now it’s actually happening!!” “She’s always so quiet at work — didn’t see this coming at all. This is the kind of energy that makes people rich, honestly.” “Stella, I already checked out the itinerary — can we lock in the charter for Friday night? That way it doesn’t eat into the weekend.” I looked at every single one of those messages — every grasping, entitled face behind them — and something cold settled over me. She was going to spend my money to buy herself goodwill. Didn’t even ask me. Just announced it publicly and let the social pressure do the rest. I exhaled slowly and started typing. “@SandraZhou Sandra, when exactly did I agree to sponsor anything?” “Using someone else’s wallet to play generous — don’t you think you’re laying it on a little thick?” The moment those two messages went out, the group chat went dead silent. For a full two minutes, not a single person dared to respond. Then Sandra called me on FaceTime. I looked at her name on the screen and hit decline without blinking. She panicked and started leaving voice messages — one after another, rapid-fire. I used the transcription feature to read them. “Stella, don’t push your luck. I’m giving you an opportunity here. Do you have any idea how the real world works? You just graduated.” “Showing up with a six-figure bag like that — what was that supposed to be if not showing off? So what if you put in a little money?” “I’m telling you, the list has already been submitted. If you ruin this for everyone right now, your career at this company is finished. I will make sure of it.” I read every word, and my expression went completely flat.

“My money is mine. Team retreat expenses go through the company’s finance department on the official account. If you want to be generous with someone else’s wallet, you need their consent first.” I typed back, voice cold. “You have three minutes to post a correction in the group chat. If you don’t, I’m filing a report with corporate HR for workplace coercion.” The message had barely sent when the sharp click of heels cut across the office floor. Sandra came storming over to my desk, face set hard under a full face of makeup. Slap. She threw a thick stack of papers — the retreat sign-up list — directly onto my keyboard. The sound made heads turn all around the office. “Stella Lin, who do you think you are?” Sandra crossed her arms and looked down at me, her voice slicing through the air. “Threatening me with corporate HR? You think that actually scares me? There are a hundred and twenty people on that list. They’ve all made plans.” “I’ll say it once. If you don’t put up that money, you fail your performance review tomorrow. Pack your things and get out.” A few of her usual sycophants — the ones who always trailed behind her in the hallways — piped up from the sidelines. “Seriously, if you weren’t going to pay, you shouldn’t have let people get excited.” “She strung everyone along and now she’s backing out? That’s just bad character.” “No team spirit whatsoever. People like that are just a liability.” I sat there and didn’t even look up. I reached over and picked up the stack of papers she’d thrown on my keyboard. I turned it over in my hands once. “Sandra, with sales instincts like yours, you really missed your calling at a flea market.” “You—!” Sandra’s face went white-hot with rage. She jabbed a finger with bright red nails directly at my face. “I’ll say this one more time.” I stood up. I grabbed the stack of papers and tore it in half, then dropped the pieces into the trash can at my feet. “I’m not paying. And I’m genuinely curious — exactly how much authority does a department manager have to fire someone without going through HR?” Sandra was shaking. She stared at me with something close to hatred. “Fine. Stella Lin. You want to play it that way?” “You’ll regret this.” She spun on her heel and clicked furiously back to her office. The rest of the team watched her go, then turned and gave me the kind of look people reserve for someone walking toward a cliff. “Young people these days. So impulsive.” “She just made an enemy of Sandra. Her life here is going to be miserable.” I ignored all of it and went back to work. I thought that was the end of it. I underestimated how far Sandra was willing to go. At three o’clock that afternoon, the company was in full preparation mode for the next day’s global product launch. Sandra walked to the center of the office and announced loudly, “The event materials just arrived. They’re down in the basement storage on level three.” She turned and looked directly at me. Her eyes were cold. “Stella. Go bring all hundred boxes of promotional packets and gift sets up to the rooftop conference center.” I stopped typing and looked at her. “I’m a strategy intern. Moving materials is logistics department work.” Sandra let out a short, contemptuous laugh. Her voice went up several notches. “Cross-department support is standard when we’re short-staffed. What, you can’t handle a little hard work and still expect to get paid?” “The elevator is restricted today. Use the fire stairs. If it’s not done before you clock out, I’m marking you absent for the day.” The office went quiet. Not a single person spoke up. I looked at the satisfied expression on Sandra’s face and let the corner of my mouth curl. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

The basement storage on level three was dim and damp. A hundred cardboard boxes. Each one close to thirty pounds. I didn’t touch a single one of them. I pulled out my phone, photographed the towering stacks of materials, and sent the pictures straight to my personal assistant. “Send a few people over to move these upstairs. And while you’re at it — I want everything you can find on Sandra Zhou.” I had barely sent the message when I heard quiet footsteps approaching from behind. Before I could turn around, something slammed hard into my back. I lost my balance completely and pitched forward. Thud. My knees hit the concrete floor. The pain shot through my entire body like electricity. I threw out my right hand to protect my head. My palm scraped across the rough ground and came away bleeding. I sucked in a sharp breath and forced myself to turn around. Sandra was standing less than six feet away, a cup of iced coffee in her hand. “Oh my goodness, I am so sorry.” She pressed a hand to her mouth in exaggerated shock, but her eyes were glittering with something ugly. “It’s so dark down here — I didn’t see you. Are you okay?” She walked over at a leisurely pace and looked down at my bleeding hand with an expression of mocking concern. “Tsk. I guess a girl like you really is delicate. Can’t even keep your footing. How are you ever going to make it in the real world?” I clenched my jaw and pushed myself back to my feet. The pain in my knee nearly buckled me again, but I grabbed the metal shelving beside me and held on. I pulled out my phone and photographed my injured knee, my bleeding palm, and Sandra standing across from me — one shot after another. “What are you doing?!” Sandra’s expression shifted. She reached out to grab my phone. I stepped to the side. My eyes were flat. “Evidence.” “Whether you pushed me on purpose is something the security footage will answer.” The word footage made Sandra flinch for just a second — and then she smiled again. “Security footage? Stella, did you hit your head?” She stepped closer, dropping her voice to something low and mocking. “The system on this level went down for repairs yesterday. Every camera down here is blind. What exactly are you planning to prove?” She poked me in the shoulder. “You’re playing in my house. You’ve got a lot to learn.” “I’ll tell you right now — this is just the beginning. You’re finishing those boxes today, and tomorrow’s launch? Don’t think for a second that’s going to go smoothly for you.” She gave a short, dismissive laugh, turned around, and walked away. I watched her go and said nothing. I pressed a tissue against my palm to slow the bleeding, then limped out of the basement. The cameras went down? The security system in this building had just been upgraded last month by corporate — a full overhaul using enterprise-grade cloud redundancy. There was no way it had simply gone down. I didn’t go back to the strategy department. I took the elevator straight to the eighteenth floor and knocked on the division director’s door. Sandra was out of line. So I was going above her head. I wanted to see exactly how deep the rot went in this branch. Bang. I didn’t knock. I pushed the door open. Division Director Gary Wu was in the middle of practicing his golf swing in his office. He turned at the sound, and his expression curdled. “Stella? Were you raised in a barn? You knock before you come in.” I walked straight to his desk, limping, and held up my injured palm and my swollen, bandaged knee. “Gary, Sandra Zhou deliberately pushed me in the basement storage room. I’m injured. I’m requesting immediate security footage review and formal disciplinary action against her.”

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“Sis, if your husband won’t come home, that still doesn’t make it okay to video chat naked with some random guy!” It was Christmas Eve in the countryside, and my aunt’s gloating voice cut through the air like a knife. That was when I saw it — a video of a woman in a naked video call, spreading like wildfire through the family group chat. The lower half of her face, unblurred, looked exactly like my mom’s. And then there were the three moles on the woman’s left shoulder, lined up in a row. That had always been my mom’s signature mark. Except — my mom had those moles removed two years ago. My phone went crazy with vibrations. Every call was from my dad. The neighbors were loving every second of it. I let out a quiet sigh. It had been a long time since anyone dared to mess with my dad’s family. “That woman doing naked video calls is obviously her — even the gold necklace is the same style!” At the holiday dinner table, several women glared daggers at my mom. My aunt stood up, phone in hand, staring at the solid gold necklace around my mom’s neck with barely concealed envy. “Sis, Renee’s already grown up — how could you do something this shameless?” “Even if your husband’s been living apart from you, that’s no excuse to do naked video calls with some guy!” I looked at the video circulating through the family group chat. The upper half of the woman’s face was blurred out, but the lower half was identical to my mom’s. Every piece of jewelry she wore was something my mom had owned for years. The most obvious detail was the three moles on the woman’s left shoulder, lined up in a row. That had been my mom’s birthmark since childhood. But two years ago, my mom had decided she didn’t like them and had them removed. I frowned, studying my aunt’s face. She shared about seventy percent of my mom’s features. In the video, the woman’s breathy moans made my mom’s eyes go red with humiliation. “Does that woman have my name written on her face? Don’t go throwing wild accusations!” My aunt covered her mouth in exaggerated shock. “Whether it’s you or not, only you know the truth — yelling at me won’t change anything.” My gut told me something was off. I stepped in front of my mom and held her back. “Do you have any actual proof this is my mother?” Mrs. Li cracked open a sunflower seed, clearly enjoying the drama. “Honey, the bottom half of that face is your mom’s spitting image, and the necklace is the exact same one.” Mr. Yang’s face was full of contempt. “Chloe, I’m not trying to be harsh, but when a man doesn’t come home, it’s on the wife. How could you just go looking for your own fun?” “Exactly — everyone knows your mom has three moles on her shoulder. Same as that woman in the video.” My mom stared at the aunts and uncles she’d grown up around, disbelief written all over her face. Her eyes turned cold. My dad’s business kept him busy, and he’d tried countless times to get my mom to move abroad with him. But my mom never liked the noise and flashiness of city life. She couldn’t bring herself to leave the village she’d grown up in. Dad had no choice but to send a housekeeper to look after her back home. He and I didn’t make it back very often. Occasionally, people in the village would gossip about how he was never around. My mom would just smile and explain that he was busy with work. But now, out of nowhere, rumors had spread that my parents’ marriage was falling apart and that my mom had been doing naked video calls with some man. My mom was being dragged through the mud for something she didn’t do. Looking at the crowd of self-righteous faces around us, my mom and I exchanged a glance. The necklace. The matching moles. The face. It was obvious. Someone had been planning this for a long time, and they wanted to destroy my mom. In a small town like this, a woman’s reputation was everything. Without flinching, my mom grabbed her neckline and pulled it open in front of everyone. “That woman cannot be me. My moles were removed a long time ago!” My aunt froze, her eyes going wide. The people around us leaned in, craning their necks to see. My aunt rushed forward and yanked my mom’s collar back up. “Have you no shame? Pulling your clothes open in public! You probably just had them removed recently because you were scared of getting caught!” “How did someone like you end up with a man like Nathan? You couldn’t even keep him home!” “If it weren’t for you getting in the way back then, Nathan would have married—!” That hit me like a slap. I suddenly remembered. The person who had been engaged to my dad back then was my aunt. She’d looked down on him — thought he was all looks and no money. She’d broken off the engagement on her own and married a government worker instead. My grandfather, not wanting the family to look bad, had given my mom away in her sister’s place. Then, not long after the wedding, my aunt’s husband dropped dead unexpectedly. Meanwhile, my dad had grinded his way up from nothing. His business grew bigger every year, and within a few years, he was the kind of man everyone envied.

My mom was shaking with fury. “Talk is cheap. If you have real evidence, go ahead and call the police. Let them investigate.” I backed her up immediately. “That’s right. If the woman in that video isn’t my mother, then everyone who made up these lies and spread that video is looking at criminal charges.” “No! Don’t call the police!” The moment those words landed, my aunt lunged forward and snatched my mom’s phone, then hurled it against the ground. She spun around and put on the face of a concerned elder. “If the police get involved, your mother’s life is ruined. How is she supposed to show her face after that?” “She may have done something wrong, but we’re still family.” At the mention of calling the police and spreading defamatory content, it wasn’t just my aunt who reacted. The neighbors who’d been watching all had the same shift in expression. They’d probably been forwarding that video and those messages all over town just to have something to gossip about. Everyone started talking over each other at once. “Renee, listen to your uncle — don’t make this worse for your mom. Let it go.” “That’s right, Chloe made a mistake, but if she’s willing to own up to it, that’s enough. No need to blow this up.” I looked every one of them in the eye. “If someone was spreading lies like this about you, would you just let it go?” A few of them went awkward and quiet, no one willing to be the first to answer. Then Mr. Yang’s son suddenly lit up and aimed his phone camera straight at us. “Ha! Threatening to call the cops? You’ve got no shame — just like your trashy mom.” “Don’t go anywhere, everyone — I’m about to do some real justice here. I’m going live to expose a mother-daughter pair from our own neighborhood.” Jason Yang was a small-time streamer. I’d known that. And now he saw this as his ticket to a bigger audience. He wouldn’t shut up, shoving his camera almost into my mom’s face. “This woman couldn’t hold onto her man. He’s gone all year, so she’s been messing around behind his back — doing naked video calls with God knows who!” The more he talked, the more worked up he got. He grabbed his dad’s phone and started playing the video directly into his livestream. The comments flooded in. “Oh my God, I finally caught up — this woman is disgusting!” “Women never can handle being alone. Should’ve kept her on a leash.” “Lol I’ve got the original — her body’s insane, lmk if you want it 😏” I was furious. I stepped forward and grabbed his arm. If that video spread online under my mom’s name, we’d both be destroyed — turned into content for Jason Yang’s next viral moment. But before I could even start, I was blindsided by a heavy slap across my face. “Grandpa?!” I pressed my hand to my stinging cheek and stared in disbelief at my grandfather, who had just arrived in a hurry. He was breathing hard. He grabbed me by the hair and slammed my head toward the wall. “Look what your mother raised — a shameless little brat! She sleeps around and you cover for her!” “Dad!” My mom threw herself in front of me and pried his hand loose. “You dare call me Dad! I don’t have a daughter like you!” He shoved my mom aside and drove his foot hard into her back. My mom begged him. “Dad, the woman in that video is not me. You’re my own father — don’t you believe me?” “Would your sister lie? She’s protecting what’s left of your dignity by not calling the cops!” “From today on, get out of this town. You are no daughter of mine.”

The neighbors murmured among themselves. “Even her own father wants nothing to do with her. Women like that should be run out — she’ll drag everyone else’s reputation down.” “Who knows who she’ll go after next. Get rid of her. Get rid of both of them!” Hands grabbed at our hair with no good intentions, dragging my mom and me across the ground like we weighed nothing. Some of the women decided that wasn’t enough. They picked up scalding bowls of food from the table and threw them at us. I dug my fingers into the ground, nails torn back, bleeding, using my body to shield my mom from the rotten eggs being thrown at her. My aunt covered her nose in disgust, bent down, and spat on me. She reached out, tore the gold necklace from my mom’s neck, and fastened it around her own throat with a look of pure satisfaction. “Finally, I don’t have to sneak around to wear it.” Barely conscious, I heard my aunt muttering to herself. “Sweetie, some people are just born to lose. Married well and still couldn’t hold on to it.” The raw red marks across my mom’s neck made my eyes burn. I don’t know where I found the strength, but I screamed and launched myself at my aunt, fighting her with everything I had. In the chaos, her jacket was torn open. And there on her shoulder — three moles, identical to my mom’s. My aunt panicked. She cursed and aimed her sharp nails straight at my eyes. A burst of searing pain, and everything in front of me turned red. My phone was still going crazy — all calls from my dad. I ignored the pain, grabbed the phone, and fired off a quick message to my dad, then dialed emergency services. I could barely get the words out, but I’d just finished giving the address when my aunt’s heel came down and crushed my phone screen. “She’s trying to call the cops!” Her voice was shrill and vicious. “Renee, you want to ruin all of us? How could you be so heartless?” “Your mom messed around with some guy, and we didn’t even push her to name names. The adults in this family are trying to protect what little dignity you two have left — can’t you see that?” The women who had been watching from the sidelines went pale when they heard that. One by one, shoes came down on my hand. A crack. My fingers broke. I clutched my hand to my chest, rolling on the ground in agony, tears and blood mixing on my face. When my mom heard my screaming, she wrenched herself free from the men holding her and threw herself over me. My grandfather’s cane came down hard across her back. “That’s what you get for running around behind your husband’s back!” My mom’s choked denials were swallowed up by the fists and kicks raining down on her, but she only held me tighter. Dust and tears caked my face. I kept begging them to stop, which only made the blows harder. Jason’s excitement peaked as he locked the camera on my mom’s face. “Yeah, yeah — her name’s Chloe Hartley, lives at — her ID number is — someone in the comments just dug up her phone number too, nice work!” “Heh, I’ve got a whole collection of her private photos. I’ll drop them in the fan group later. Enjoy, fellas.” The blood in my veins went cold. Jason’s followers had found my mom’s personal information and put it online. His fat lips kept moving. “Trending — we’re trending — hahaha, my livestream is trending!” A few of the younger guys shoved their way up next to Jason. “Bro, you’re about to blow up! Don’t forget about us when you make it big!” Jason laughed and waved them off, then reached toward my mom’s clothes, shoving his camera down toward her neckline. “Please — Jason, please stop filming, please—” My mom’s voice was so weak I could barely hear her. I growled through my teeth, pushed past the agony of my broken fingers, and smashed Jason’s phone out of his hand. The screen crackled, flickered twice, and went dead. “My stream!” A kick slammed into my chest. Jason’s thick hands closed around my throat. “You little brat — I’ll kill you for that!” My aunt laughed with satisfaction. “Strip them and throw them out on the street. Let’s see if they ever show their faces around here again.” The crowd tore at our clothes. Scraps of fabric littered the ground, and Jason’s hand was already reaching toward my mom. I clawed at him desperately, but I was thrown back. Then, in the next second, Jason was yanked off the ground by two hands. AA fist connected with his face — savage, deliberate — and a voice came through clenched teeth. “You’re the one spreading lies about my wife?”

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My daughter was dead set on marrying a broke man twelve years older than her. Not only was he drowning in debt from online loans, he also came with a deadweight son suffering from kidney failure. I froze her accounts to force the breakup. She went on a hunger strike in protest, then ran away from home. Half a month later, the man showed up at my door with my frail daughter in tow, demanding compensation like he was owed it: “Ma’am, Vivi has already donated one of her kidneys to little Benny behind your back — her way of proving she’d treat him like her own son.” “All I’m asking is that you transfer your downtown penthouse to Benny for his recovery, and give me ten million to start a business. Do that, and I’ll consider letting Vivi officially join the Lancaster family.” I looked at my daughter standing beside him — hand pressed to her surgical wound, wearing a dreamy, lovesick smile as she nodded along. That was the moment I gave up completely. “Fine,” I said. “As long as you’re both happy.”

The VIP suite of a high-end private hospital reeked of antiseptic. Derek Lancaster was sprawled across a leather armchair, one leg crossed over the other, cradling a cup of premium tea that my well-paid private nurse had just brewed for him. My daughter, Vivian — Vivi — lay in the hospital bed, barely able to move. She’d just undergone surgery to have a kidney removed. Her face was as white as the sheets beneath her. Yet the way she looked at Derek — soft, syrupy, completely devoted — you’d think she’d just saved the entire human race. Beside the bed, Derek’s eight-year-old son Benny was using Vivi’s limited-edition Chanel handbag as a soccer ball, kicking it across the marble floor. The metal hardware cracked against the stone with a sound that set my teeth on edge. A bag worth tens of thousands of dollars, destroyed in minutes. I stood at the foot of the bed, staring at this absurd little family of three. I reached into my Hermès bag and pulled out a bank card I’d prepared in advance. I set it on the nightstand. Cold. Deliberate. “That’s one million dollars.” “Take the money, take your son, and disappear from my daughter’s life forever.” Derek paused mid-sip. Before he could say a word, Benny dropped the bag, charged across the room like a tiny bull, snatched the glass of water off the nightstand, and hurled it to the floor. Shards of glass skittered across the tile and landed on my heels. “You mean old witch! You can’t make my dad leave!” “New Mommy said she gave me her kidney! That means she’s my real mom now, and all her money is mine! Get out!” Derek didn’t scold his son. He set down his teacup with quiet, practiced ease, stepped in front of the boy, and arranged his face into an expression of wounded dignity. “Ms. Sullivan, I know you’re the CEO of a publicly traded company. I know you look down on someone like me — a man who’s had to fight for everything from the bottom up.” “But Vivi and I love each other. Genuinely. Throwing a million dollars at us to ‘buy us off’ — that’s not just insulting. That’s cruel.” “Mom! What is wrong with you!” Vivi’s eyes flooded with tears. She pressed a hand to her surgical site and struggled to push herself upright, her face twisted with accusation. “Derek quit his sales job to be here with me every single day. He hasn’t left my side once. How dare you humiliate him like this!” I looked at this girl. My daughter. The one I’d carried for nine months, raised in luxury, given everything she ever wanted. The blood drained from my face, and a cold, hollow grief spread through my chest. “I’m humiliating him?” “He’s a thirty-five-year-old unemployed man with hundreds of thousands in debt. He’s been draining your bank account from the moment you met. And I can’t pay him to go away?” “Ms. Sullivan, I’m going to stop you right there.” Derek straightened up. A flash of pure, unmasked arrogance crossed his eyes. The corner of his mouth curled. “I may be going through some financial difficulties. But I give Vivi something money can’t buy — emotional connection. I understand her. I cherish her.” “And Vivi has already proven that her love for me is worth a thousand times more than whatever’s sitting in your accounts.” He paused for effect, then looked directly at me. “To prove she would treat Benny as her own — no favoritism, no hesitation — Vivi signed the consent forms last week without telling you.” “She donated one of her kidneys to Benny.” The room tilted. A living donor surgery. The kind that causes permanent, irreversible damage to a healthy body. I lunged forward and grabbed the front of Vivi’s hospital gown, my hands shaking. “Vivian! Is that true? Have you completely lost your mind?!” She flinched. But then she turned and caught Derek’s warm, approving gaze — and just like that, she squared her shoulders like she was ready for a fight.

“Mom, stop being so dramatic.” Vivi shoved my hand away and lifted her chin. “Benny grew up without a mother. He has kidney disease. Do you have any idea how much that little boy has been through? He needs to feel safe.” “If I didn’t show him — really show him — that I’m serious about being his mom, why would he ever believe me?” “Besides, people have two kidneys for a reason. Losing one doesn’t kill you. I traded one organ I didn’t need for the future happiness of our family. That’s not crazy. That’s a great deal.” Those words hit me like a blade between the ribs. Derek smiled — the smile of a man handing out favors. “Ms. Sullivan, what Vivi did was impulsive, I’ll give you that. But it also proves she’s an extraordinary stepmother. Rare, honestly.” “Here’s what I’m proposing. Sign over your downtown penthouse to Benny — he’ll need a comfortable place to recover. And transfer controlling shares in one of your subsidiaries to me as startup capital.” “I promise you, once I get back on my feet — and I will — I’ll give Vivi a real wedding. She’ll become Mrs. Lancaster. Properly. With everything she deserves.” He wanted my apartment. He wanted a piece of my company. And in exchange, he’d graciously allow my daughter the privilege of taking his last name. My insides were burning. My hands were shaking. Before I could say a word, Vivi grabbed Derek’s arm with both hands, her eyes shining like she’d just heard a marriage proposal in a movie. “Derek, don’t beg her.” “As long as I have you and Benny, that’s everything. I’d give up anything for you both. I have no regrets. None.” No regrets. Those two words dropped into me like ice water, spreading through every vein until I was numb from the inside out. And in that moment, the last thread of maternal love I’d been holding onto — the thing that had kept me from walking away — simply snapped. I took a slow breath. Swallowed everything I wanted to say. “Alright.” I stood straight. I looked at both of them. My face gave nothing away. “If this is what makes you happy, then I have nothing more to say.” I turned and walked out of the room without looking back.

The hallway was empty. Nothing but the clean click of my heels on polished tile. I leaned against the wall beside the elevator and felt every ounce of strength leave my body at once. I slid down until I was sitting on the floor. I’m forty-six years old. Twenty-two years ago, my husband died in a car accident. I buried my grief and rebuilt everything by myself — fought through boardrooms and hostile takeovers and years of being underestimated — until I had a company worth billions. All that time, I never once raised my hand or my voice at Vivi. I spoiled her. I admit it. Whatever designer bag she wanted, I bought it. Whatever country she wanted to visit, I chartered the flight. When she decided she wanted to try acting, I funded the production and got her on set. And this is what I raised. A girl so thoroughly fooled by a man that she carved out her own organ to prove her love. I thought back to the night Vivi first brought Derek home — six months ago. He showed up in a cheap suit and spent the entire dinner holding court. “Vivi is pure. Untouched by the corruption of money. I don’t want that world to get its hands on her.” “Real love means stripping away all the materialism. Even if you’re sharing instant noodles in a studio apartment, if you’re together, it’s enough.” “A woman’s greatest achievement isn’t her career or her net worth. It’s standing beside a man who loves her and building a home.” Toxic nonsense. Every word of it. Vivi had listened with tears running down her face. She told me afterward that I was the problem — too obsessed with work, too consumed by money, too cold to understand what love actually felt like. When I dug into Derek’s background and found the debt and the manipulation and the pattern, I cut off Vivi’s accounts and told her it was over. She stopped eating. She disappeared. She used her own suffering to force my hand. A mother can never win against a daughter who’s willing to destroy herself. So today, I had come here ready to give in. Pay off his debts, swallow my pride, and accept him into the family. Then I found out about the kidney. I’ve spent decades in cutthroat business. I know a calculated move when I see one. This wasn’t impulsive. This was deliberate. Derek knew I only had one child. One heir. If he could permanently damage Vivi — make her physically dependent, emotionally broken, impossible to separate from him — then my entire fortune would eventually flow through her, and straight into his hands. This wasn’t a love story. This was a predator executing a very specific plan. The most heartbreaking part was Vivi. She was the lamb on the chopping block, convinced she’d found the love of her life. She’d decided that no matter how angry I got, my money would come to her eventually. She thought that gave her all the leverage she needed. Ding. The elevator opened. My personal assistant and bodyguard, Cole, stepped out. He was holding a freshly settled hospital bill. “Ms. Sullivan. All charges have been cleared.” Cole is thirty-two. Six foot two. Former Special Forces. Sharp features, composed face, not a word wasted. He’s been with me for six years, and there is no one in the world I trust more. I looked at his broad, steady shoulders, and a thought detonated in my mind. Wild. Logical. Completely irreversible. I’m forty-six, but I’ve invested heavily in my health for years — top-tier doctors, annual comprehensive screenings, tailored nutrition and training programs. Last month’s full physical confirmed it: every metric, optimal. Fully capable of carrying a child. Vivi had made her choice. She’d handed her body to a man who saw it as a transaction. Why should I leave my life’s work to someone who would hand it straight to him? Starting over — was that really so far-fetched? “Cole.” I stood up. I looked directly into his eyes. “Come with me to the car.”

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He’d been my mate for three years and spoiled me rotten. Everyone called him the perfect mate. The pack’s full moon banquet had just ended when he stopped me at the door, begging: “Iris, I was drugged. Lily’s pregnant with my child.” I smiled and forgave him. Then I turned around, rushed to get my passport sorted, and rejected him. Before leaving, I took one last look at our home. He had no idea I’d already overheard him whispering to Lily: “Iris is so boring in bed. You’re way sexier.” He also had no idea that at this very moment, in a London airport, a man who’d been waiting five years for me was opening his arms wide. Charles, congratulations. Your dream of losing the love of your life is finally coming true. Iris POV Everyone said Charles loved me more than life itself. When I was eighteen, he saw me for the first time in London. He said one look was all it took for him to know I was his. Not just because I was his fated mate. But because he’d fallen in love with me. After that, he made me the most respected Luna in Shadowmoon Pack. He wouldn’t let anyone criticize me or talk back to me. He even pushed past everyone’s objections to give me command authority over every guard unit in the pack. In our three years as mates, we never once fought. The way he looked at me was always burning hot. But this same Charles betrayed me on the most important night for werewolves—the full moon banquet. The first time Charles begged me, it was because he’d been drugged at the pack’s full moon banquet and ended up sleeping with Lily. The next day, he canceled everything and came home, asking for my forgiveness. “Iris, I was wrong. Someone drugged me. I don’t even know how it happened with Lily… You can hit me, scream at me, anything. Just please don’t leave me.” He handed me a whip and told me to go ahead. I struck him a hundred times. His back was streaming with blood, but he never once cried out for mercy. He just looked at me with eyes pleading for forgiveness. In the end, I forgave him. I told myself it was just an accident. Charles wouldn’t really betray me. The next day, I caught Lily forcing a kiss on Charles in the garden. A second later, Charles shoved her off and slapped her across the face: “Lily, that night is settled between us. If you keep pulling this nonsense, I’ll have your father send you away!” He turned and walked off without looking back. I stood behind a tree, saying nothing. That night he was extra passionate. His blazing embraces and lingering kisses made it feel like he wanted to fuse me into his blood. I thought, Thank God. He only loves me. But that illusion shattered fast. Lily showed up at our door, clutching a pregnancy test. “Charles, I’m pregnant.” Charles froze, like every ounce of strength had been drained from him. He carefully scented Lily, confirming there really was a pup of his growing inside her. Then he stepped forward and pulled Lily tight against his chest. “I’m sorry.” His voice cracked. “I’m sorry…” His apologies were so cheap. I thought to myself. After comforting Lily, Charles dropped to his knees in front of me. “Iris, I’m asking one thing of you.” His eyes were rimmed red. “Let Lily keep the pup. You’ll always be my only mate. There’s no future for me with her. After the pup is born, my grandmother will raise it, and Lily will be sent back to her own pack. She’ll have nothing to do with us. Please—just let this innocent pup live.” I looked down at him. He was kneeling at my feet, abject as a dog. But every word out of his mouth was begging me to accept the child another woman was carrying for him. I bit back the bitterness rising in my chest, ignored the panic in his eyes, pulled my hand away, and went back to the bedroom. I opened my laptop and clicked on an email I’d received three days earlier. It was from the European Werewolf Academy. They’d been inviting me for a month now to come on as a junior combat instructor. Because I’d graduated with top marks in every combat course, they thought I’d be perfect for the position. Back then I still had hopes for Charles, so I kept turning them down. Now… I typed out a few words and hit send. [I accept.] That afternoon, while Charles was at a meeting in the pack council chambers, I went to Linda’s place. Linda is my human friend—a medium. I needed her help to prepare a few things. I knew Charles would never accept a rejection. I needed a way to bypass him and complete the rejection ritual. Linda put together a contract document quickly. She said as long as Charles signed it, it would count as his consent to the rejection. I tucked it into my bag and went to find Lily. Lily was sunbathing in the courtyard. The moment she saw me, she switched on her fragile, wounded look: “Luna Iris, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to, I—” I cut her off and set the document on the coffee table. “Get Charles to sign this. I’m sure you can manage.” Lily paused, then dropped the innocent act and curled her lip into a scheming smile. She picked up the document, flipped through it, and the helpless softness vanished from her eyes: “Iris, you should’ve cleared out a long time ago. Charles and I grew up together. We were supposed to be married. But the Moon Goddess assigned his fated mate to be you instead of me!” I wasn’t angry: “Then you’d better hurry. Seven days. I’m giving you seven days. Handle it, and you’ll be Luna of Shadowmoon Pack.” Without bothering to look at Lily’s twisted expression, I turned and went home. Back home, I started packing. We’d only been married three years, so I didn’t have much. Important documents and certificates went in one box. Everyday items in another. I called a courier and shipped both boxes to the small apartment my parents had bought for me on this side of the country. Once that was done, I took a look around at all the luxury items in the house. Charles had been generous these past three years, I’ll give him that. Dozens of designer bags, a closet full of haute couture, three full glass cases of jewelry. Throwing it all away would be a waste, so I texted a secondhand dealer. Within two hours, they’d cataloged everything and said they’d come pick it up the next day. “Good,” I replied. “Once it sells, donate all the money to the children’s shelter.” The dealer paused, then quickly agreed. Just as I was about to rest, there was a commotion downstairs. I went out and saw Charles walking in with Lily, with Elder Luna Elizabeth right behind them. Elizabeth had Lily by the arm. When she spotted me, she rolled her eyes hard: “Charles, you’ve been married to Iris for three years and her belly’s still flat.” “Good thing Lily’s pregnant. Otherwise I’d start wondering if something was wrong with you.” Charles’s face darkened: “Grandma, don’t say things like that!” Lily’s cheeks flushed: “Don’t talk like that, please…” Charles pressed his lips together and said nothing. Listening to them call me barren, I stayed silent. After watching for a moment, I turned and went back to my room. I pulled out my phone and texted Lily: [Seven days.] After sending it, I tossed my phone on the bed and walked to the window. Outside was his garden. When we were eighteen, we’d planted roses there together. He told me our love would bloom like those roses. I stood there for a long time, until the sun finally sank. Seven days. They’d pass quickly.

Iris POV Everyone said Charles loved me more than life itself. But right now, the racket downstairs left me with zero desire to even step out of my room. I just had the housekeeper bring dinner up. When the knock came, I assumed it was the housekeeper. I opened the door to find Charles standing there with a tray in his hands. The apology in his eyes was practically overflowing: “Iris, Lily said being pregnant makes her emotional, that she didn’t want to be alone. That’s why she came over today… Just one day. I swear I won’t let her come back tomorrow.” I took the tray. “Why don’t you just have her move in?” Charles froze. A flicker of panic crossed his face: “Iris, are you upset? I didn’t mean for any of this. The baby is innocent, that’s all. She’s carrying my child, and you haven’t been able to get pregnant. I need an heir…” “I’m not upset,” I cut him off. “Go on.” I turned with the tray and started walking back inside, but Charles wrapped his arms around me from behind. His eyes were red. “Iris, I’m so sorry. I had no idea someone would drug her at the full moon banquet. I had no idea I’d grab her cup by mistake. It was all an accident. You’re the only person I’ve ever loved.” I looked at him and was about to speak. “Charles!” Lily’s voice came up the stairs. “My stomach feels weird. Can you come down for a sec?” Charles immediately turned and bolted for the door. He ran fast. Not a moment of hesitation. I stood there staring at the door he’d shut behind him. My chest felt like someone had drawn a thin blade across it. It didn’t hurt. It just went cold. After dinner, Charles sent the housekeeper up to tell me he had a last-minute patrol. I hadn’t planned on waiting up for him anyway. I just went to take a shower. The bathroom shared a wall with the guest room next door, and Lily was staying there tonight. I’d just turned on the faucet when all the strength suddenly drained from my body. Then I heard strange sounds coming through the wall. The sounds of two people kissing—wet, suggestive, mixed with stifled gasps. “I’m better than Iris, right?” Lily’s voice was thick and breathless. “Yeah, you’re way better.” Charles laughed—a flippant tone I’d never heard from him before. “Her? She’s a dead fish in bed.” In the steam-filled bathroom, I gripped the windowsill while pain spread from my stomach into my limbs. “If she weren’t so boring,” Charles continued, fabric rustling in the background, “I wouldn’t have had to come up with this whole plan to be with you…” Lily laughed, her voice silkier: “Oh? You just wanted to sleep with me? I’m pregnant, you know.” Charles laughed too: “You’re pregnant, then have it.” His laugh was light, but it sawed through my heart like a dull knife. Then more intimate sounds. Sounds I should never have heard. I closed the window and sank into the bathtub. The hot water rose past my shoulders, past my chest, past my chin. I closed my eyes and slid completely under. The world went silent in an instant. Only the pain in my body reminded me I was still alive. After a long time, I broke the surface, gasping for air. Suddenly I remembered the Charles I first met. He was so innocent back then. Every time he stole a kiss, his ears would turn red—red all the way down to his neck. Every time I teased him, he’d just stand there flustered, looking at me with eyes bright as a galaxy. “Iris, I’ll be good to you for the rest of my life.” That’s what he said back then. I believed him. But thinking about it now, that promise rotted fast. Three years. That’s all. My innocence became some other guy’s “dead fish.” His eyes learned to lie. His arms could hold two women at once. I’d thought he was just being manipulated, that he was at least still a decent person. But tonight I finally understood. Charles was more disgusting than Lily. At least Lily put her ambition out in the open. Charles was treating me like an idiot! I climbed out of the tub and walked back to the bedroom, bracing myself against the wall. The sounds next door still hadn’t stopped. The moonlight outside was cold. I lay down and closed my eyes. I hoped Lily wouldn’t disappoint me.

Iris POV The next morning, I got up early. I was just stepping out of the bedroom when I ran straight into Lily coming out of the room next door. She was wearing a silk robe with the neckline cut low, the hickeys on her neck clear and ugly. “Morning, Iris.” Lily ran a hand along her neck, smirking at me. “Charles told me you’re the one who let me stay over?” I looked at her without speaking. “You really are generous.” Lily took a step closer. “But I guess that makes sense. Your status, your power—it all came from Charles. He loved you, so your words carried weight. Now that he doesn’t love you anymore, you don’t even have the right to speak in this house.” I looked at her: “Six more days.” Then I turned to head downstairs. Lily’s face went ugly the second I shut her down. The next moment, she lunged at me and shoved me hard. I stumbled, my world spinning. My hands flailed for something to grab, but there was nothing. My body slammed down step after step until I crashed onto the floor. Everything went black. When I woke up, I was lying in the master bedroom. I opened my eyes to find Charles sitting on the edge of the bed, holding my hand, his face full of concern. “Iris, you’re finally awake.” He leaned in, his voice thick with relief. “How could you be so careless? If Lily hadn’t found you at the bottom of the stairs, who knows what would’ve happened!” I looked at him, my voice quiet: “That’s what Lily said?” Charles frowned: “Why? Was there something else?” I looked away: “It’s nothing.” He kissed my fingers: “It’s just—how did you fall down the stairs and pass out?” Of course it was because I’d been tortured all night and my wolf was weak as hell. But I just looked at him and closed my eyes without answering. That afternoon, Charles suggested we go out to eat. He picked a high-end restaurant downtown. The moment we sat down, I heard Lily’s voice. I turned and sure enough, she was walking in with a heavyset man at her side. I knew him. Frank. A wealthy businessman and a notorious creep. The second he saw me, his eyes locked onto me. Lily came over smiling to greet us, while Frank stared at me the entire time. I frowned: “Let’s leave.” “What’s wrong?” Charles poured a glass of water. “These are all your favorites.” “Charles!” Lily suddenly walked up and rested her hand on his shoulder. “My stomach’s hurting all of a sudden.” Charles immediately stood, one arm wrapping around her, the other moving to her belly: “What’s wrong?” “It’s nothing, just discomfort,” Lily bit her lip, looking troubled. “I’d love for you to come with me to see the healer, but…” Her eyes flicked to me, then to Frank at the next table. Charles paused, then turned to me: “Iris, I’m taking her to the healer.” I stood up, ready to leave too, but he grabbed my wrist. His eyes were heavy: “Iris, help Lily entertain Mr. Frank.” My eyes went wide: “What?!” Charles looked away but kept his voice firm: “This deal Lily’s working on is huge. It involves a major investment from Bloodclaw Pack. If we both leave, she won’t be able to explain it to her side.” “Charles!” I was shaking with anger. “Do you even hear yourself!” There’s no way he didn’t see the disgusting look in Frank’s eyes! If I stayed tonight, who knew what would happen? Charles’s grip on my wrist tightened: “But—” “Charles,” Lily had gone paler, her voice weak as cotton. “I really don’t feel well.” Just then, Frank walked over, his eyes crawling all over me: “Well if it isn’t Alpha Charles. What’s going on here?” Charles dug his fingers into my hand and looked at Frank: “Mr. Jones, Lily isn’t feeling well. I need to take her to the healer. But Bloodclaw Pack is fully committed to this deal. Even though Lily has to leave, my Luna will take care of you.” He turned to me, his gaze heavy: “Iris, you’re the Luna of Shadowmoon Pack. You need to think of the bigger picture.” A chill ran through me. I looked at him as if I were truly seeing this man for the first time. Charles wrapped his arm around Lily and started walking out. After a few steps he stopped and turned back: “Just sign and come home. It’ll be quick.” Then he was gone. Frank let out a loud laugh: “Luna Iris, come on, let’s talk business.” He pulled a chair right next to mine and dropped his hand on my thigh: “Charles left you here. What’s there to be shy about?” I stood up to leave, and Frank yanked me down into his lap. The stink of alcohol mixed with bad breath hit me in the face. My stomach lurched. His hand was already at my waist, sliding under my shirt. I panicked, grabbed the wine bottle off the table, and smashed it down on his head. The bottle shattered. Wine and blood streamed down his face. He clutched his head and screamed, stumbling backward. I dropped what was left of the bottle, pushed open the door, and walked out. Outside the restaurant, the night air hit my face. I stood at the curb, my hands still shaking. I pulled out my phone and made a call. Two rings, then it picked up. “Mom,” I said, my voice surprisingly calm. “Where’s Dad? Tell him—next week, I’m coming back to Silverstream Pack.” There was a pause on the other end before my mother’s voice cracked and she answered immediately: “Yes, yes. We’ll be waiting.” Just six days left.

Iris POV It was nearly midnight by the time I got home. The living room was lit only by a dim floor lamp. Charles had just come out of the guest room and was carefully closing the door behind him. When he saw me, his first words were: “Did you sign the contract?” I stood at the door, looking at him. He didn’t ask if I was hurt. Didn’t ask if Frank had done anything to me. Just the contract. “Iris?” He came over. “What did Mr. Jones say?” I raised my hand and slapped him hard across the face. Charles’s head snapped to the side. It took him two seconds to register what had happened. “I—” He opened his mouth, seeming to realize he’d said the wrong thing. “I’m sorry, Iris, I didn’t mean it like that. I was just worried about pack assets…” I ignored him and walked straight upstairs to the master bedroom. Charles came to the door and knocked. I didn’t answer. He was quiet for a moment, then said softly, “I’m sorry.” I stood at the window, letting the tears run down my face. Iris, you’re so stupid. Three years of marriage. And I couldn’t even see what he really was. The next morning, I’d just come downstairs when Charles grabbed my wrist. His grip was iron. He dragged me to the living room. Lily was on the couch sobbing into a tissue, her eyes red and swollen. “Apologize.” Charles pressed down on my shoulders, forcing me down in front of Lily. I looked up at him. “Look what you did last night!” His face was livid. “Frank called this morning and canceled the deal. Do you have any idea how long Lily worked on this project? You ruined everything!” I tried to stand up. He slapped me across the face. I turned my head, blood seeping from the corner of my mouth. “Charles!” Lily gasped and stood up. “Don’t blame Iris. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have left something so important to her…” She started to walk out, but Charles stopped her. “You’re not going anywhere.” He pushed her back onto the couch and turned to me. His eyes were complicated—guilt, reluctance, but mostly resolve. “Your parents bought you three villas back then.” His voice was flat. “Transfer them to Lily. Consider it making up for her loss.” I was stunned. “What did you just say?” Charles’s throat moved. He looked away. “The damage you caused last night was massive. Even selling those three villas would only bring in two hundred million. It’s not even enough.” “Fine,” I cut him off. Charles froze and looked back at me. I stood up, wiped the blood from my mouth, and turned to go upstairs. I walked steadily, one step at a time, my back perfectly straight. Back in my room, I shut the door and pulled out my phone to make a call. It picked up almost immediately. A low voice: “What is it?” “Hey,” I said, leaning against the door. “I can’t keep those three villas. Initiate the asset protection protocol.” The other end was silent for a couple of seconds. “Did he hit you?” I didn’t answer. “Got it.” His voice went cold. “All paperwork will be done within three days. Iris, how many more days until you come back?” “Five.” “Okay.” A pause. “I’ll be waiting.” Lily’s crying and Charles’s low murmurs of comfort drifted up from below, fragmented and muffled through the door. I looked out at the sycamore tree outside. It had been there when I first came to Shadowmoon Pack at eighteen. Over these three years of marriage, it wasn’t that I hadn’t noticed him changing. I just never imagined a person could go bad this cleanly, this quickly, this completely. I dug out the three property transfer contracts and left them on the cabinet by the door. Then I went back to the bedroom. Soon there were footsteps coming up. They paused at the door for a few seconds, like he was checking the contracts. Then footsteps going back downstairs. Five more days. And then I could leave him.

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On our third wedding anniversary, he went on another “business trip.” Two days later, his foster sister Shea sent me a friend request. The moment I clicked on her profile, I saw the post. Him with his arm around her, watching the sunset on the beach. The caption read: “One phone call and he came running. Let that woman rot at home alone.” My hand trembled as I scrolled. Further down, Shea had posted a photo of a limited-edition handbag. “He bought this for me. The ugly bag that came with it as part of the bundle purchase? He just tossed that to the woman beneath us.” That bag was sitting on my vanity right now. My phone buzzed. A message from Xander: “Did you get my anniversary gift? Do you like it?” I stared at the message and felt something close to laughter rising in my chest. “Got it,” I typed back. “There’s a gift waiting for you too. You’ll receive it in a month.” Then I called a divorce attorney. Lora’s POV “Ms. Lora, I have sent the divorce agreement you asked me to draft to your email. Did you receive it?” I looked down at the freshly printed divorce papers in my hand and made a sound of acknowledgment. “Once he signs it, I will be in touch.” I hung up. The front door opened. Xander stepped into the entryway, tall, lean, composed, his face carrying the weariness of a long-haul flight. “What are you reading?” He pulled me into his arms without hesitation, his low voice settling near my ear, warm breath grazing my neck. “Who were you just on the phone with?” An unfamiliar perfume drifted off him. “All done with business overseas?” I didn’t answer his question. “Yeah, it was messy. I barely slept these past few days trying to get back to you sooner.” He buried his face against the curve of my neck and shoulder. “Sorry I missed our anniversary again.” He held out a luxury gift box like he was presenting treasure. “Take this for now. Whatever you want as compensation, just say the word. We’ll do a proper anniversary celebration another time.” I didn’t take it. I glanced at it once, then looked away. “I’ve had my eye on a lakeside villa. That’ll do. I just need your signature.” I handed him the last page of the divorce papers along with a pen, gesturing for him to sign. Xander paused, visibly caught off guard. In the past, whenever he had missed something important, he would offer to make it up to me, and I never asked for anything. He instinctively reached to flip through the document. “What? You don’t trust me? Think I’m trying to steal your money?” “Of course not.” Xander smiled, dropped the pages, and signed his name in one fluid stroke. “Everything I have is yours anyway.” Once, those words would have made me feel warm all the way through. Now they only made the cold in my chest sink deeper. “What did you get me for our anniversary?” Every year, I put careful thought into Xander’s anniversary gift. This year, I’d planned to give him my pregnancy test results. But that no longer felt right. A divorce filing would have to do. “To punish you for missing it again, you’ll have to wait a month.” I said it with a playful air of mystery. Xander let out a low laugh. “Fair enough. I’ll take my punishment.” Then his hands wandered under my shirt. My whole body went rigid. A wave of goosebumps swept over my skin. I was forcing down the urge to push him away, scrambling for an excuse, when his phone buzzed. Xander immediately let go of me and walked toward the balcony, already answering the call. Through the gap in the balcony door, fragments of the conversation drifted in: “Okay. I won’t touch her.” “Just you.” I pulled one corner of my mouth into a thin smile. No excuse needed after all. Because Xander would put himself in the guest room tonight all on his own. This had happened more times than I could count. The call was from Shea, his foster sister, and the point was to make sure he didn’t come near me. Sure enough, a few minutes later, Xander came back into the living room. “Sorry, something urgent came up at the office. I’ll be in the study tonight. Don’t wait up.” That evening, I sat alone by the bedroom window, and the past came rolling in like a tide. I grew up in a small, poor town in the middle of nowhere. When I was five, my parents left to find work in the city. On the winding mountain road leading away from home, their bus went off the road. They both died. I was left with my grandmother, who was already old and fragile. When I was thirteen, she got sick. I was ready to drop out of school. It was Xander’s financial support that gave me the chance to keep studying and eventually leave that town behind. From that day on, I made myself a promise: I would get into his university. I would not waste what he’d given me. I did. I got in with strong grades, enrolled in the same program he’d studied. My freshman year, Xander, who had by then taken over the family business, was invited back to campus as a distinguished alumnus to give a speech. Watching him on that stage, easy and assured in every movement, I understood for the first time what it felt like to fall for someone. Backstage, I went to give him flowers and thank him for his support. He accepted them and looked at me. “Lora. I remember you.” But I knew what separated us. I never let myself hope for anything more. Then one night, I ran into him at the bar where I worked part-time. He was alone in a corner, drinking in silence, a shadow across his face. I couldn’t help walking over. He looked up just as I reached him. “Lora. You have feelings for me.” He said it like a fact. I froze. My face went hot. “Then marry me.” He was looking at me like he could see straight through to whatever I was hiding. Three months later, Xander married me over his family’s objections. It was a grand wedding, the kind people talked about for years. In the circles he moved in, Xander was known as a rare and model husband. He didn’t smoke, didn’t drink, came home every night. He made me feel safe. No scandals, no rumors. Reporters couldn’t find a crack in him. He was generous too. Jewelry, bags, clothes. I lost count of the things he gave me. Everyone envied me. They said I must have saved the world in a past life. I believed it. Aside from working too much and being away constantly on business trips, I couldn’t find a single flaw in Xander. Yes, aside from the business trips. My birthday: emergency abroad, business trip. Valentine’s Day: important meetings overseas, business trip. Our anniversary: business trip again. Three years of marriage, and almost every significant day had been spent apart. Once, we planned a trip together. We made it all the way to the airport. Right before boarding, Xander took a call, apologized, bought a ticket to Paris, and left me standing there alone. I never complained. I only felt sorry for how hard he was working. Every time he came home from a trip, I cooked a full meal to welcome him back. Then came our third anniversary, and, no surprise, another business trip. Two days later, a profile under the name Shea sent me a friend request. I remembered Xander had a foster sister named Shea. She’d gone abroad a few years back and never returned. I accepted. What I found on her social media was three years of truth. Every so-called business trip had been spent with Shea. He’d had no time to take me to see the winter snowfall in Hokkaido, but in three years he’d taken her everywhere in the world. When Shea mentioned craving pastries from a shop she’d loved as a kid, he boarded a private jet that night and delivered them himself. They were still warm when they reached her. When Shea texted that she was upset and didn’t want him sleeping beside that woman, he moved to the guest room and worked through the night. Shea had also posted a screenshot of their messages. In it, Xander had written that he married me as a cover. That he had never loved me. The wife everyone envied, I was nothing but his shield. The happiness I thought I had was a lie, start to finish. I looked at the bag on my vanity, the one Xander had just given me. I had already seen it on Shea’s profile two days ago. It was a bundle item. Xander bought it to get the limited-edition bag Shea wanted, and this was the piece that came along with it, the one Shea called old and ugly and told him to get rid of. So he brought it home and gave it to me. I didn’t know how many of his other seemingly expensive gifts had come to me the same way. I picked up my phone and called the attorney again. “Mr. Brooks, the agreement’s been signed. How soon can we finalize the divorce?” The attorney on the other end seemed genuinely surprised the papers had gone through so quickly. A brief pause. “One month from now.” One more month. One month, and I’d be done with this three-way mess. Done with Xander’s world entirely.

Lora’s POV The next morning, I opened my eyes to find them swollen and red. I held a cold cloth to my face at the bathroom mirror before finally opening the door and stepping out. The smell of food was coming from the kitchen. I stopped. I was always the one who made breakfast. I walked over and found Xander at the stove. In three years of marriage, he had never cooked. Something flickered in my chest. Was this an apology for last night? He heard me come in and glanced back. “You’re up. Sit down, it’s almost ready.” He carried the plates to the dining table. French toast with smoked salmon, and a small dish of poached eggs drizzled with sauce. I found it odd. We always had milk and toast in the mornings. Xander knew that. So why the elaborate breakfast today? I was about to ask when he turned and went back into the kitchen, like there was still something to finish. I looked at the food in front of me. It wasn’t really to my taste, but I didn’t want to waste the gesture. I picked up my fork and knife and made myself eat. A few minutes later, Xander came out of the kitchen carrying a thermal container. He went straight to the entryway and put on his coat. I finally spoke up. “You’re not eating? What’s the thermal container for?” “Shea’s flying back today. I’m going to pick her up.” He grabbed his keys, voice casual. “The food on the plane isn’t great. I’m bringing her something.” The front door closed without hesitation. I sat there with my fork and knife suspended in the air for a long moment. He hadn’t been apologizing. The breakfast wasn’t made for me at all. It was made for Shea. And once again, I had been the accidental recipient. I dumped the rest of the food in the trash. Maybe it was that I wasn’t used to that kind of meal. A little while later, my stomach turned. My throat felt tight and itchy. I was worried about the baby. I didn’t want to wait. I called a car and headed to the hospital. In the ER, the doctor looked at my results and said, with an edge of reproach: “You’re pregnant and you’re still not watching what you eat? Where’s your family? You have a peanut allergy, a severe one. This could have killed you.” That’s when I realized. Xander had put peanut butter in the French toast. I had a serious peanut allergy. Xander knew. When we went out to eat, he always remembered to tell the server. But Shea was back, and his whole mind was on her. Everything he knew about me had slipped away. Lucky I’d barely eaten any of it. The reaction wasn’t severe enough to require admission. A few hours on a drip and I’d be free to go. By the time I walked out of the hospital, it was dark. I was making my way home alone when I heard footsteps behind me. I turned. Several figures were following at a steady, unhurried pace. The blood drained from my body. Cold sweat broke out across my back. I quickened my pace and pulled out my phone to call Xander. It rang three times before he answered. “Xander, someone is-” “following me” never made it out. He cut me off. “Hold on, my phone’s about to die. I’ll call you back later.” A beeping sound. He’d hung up. I called again. Straight to voicemail. The footsteps behind me were getting closer. The street was empty and quiet, and the lampposts stretched the shadows of the figures into something monstrous. I didn’t dare take the road home. That route was darker and more isolated. I kept to the main road, walking faster, almost running. A black Mercedes pulled up alongside me. The window rolled down. The man in the driver’s seat had a kind, middle-aged face. He leaned over and looked at me. “Hey, you need a lift? Where are you headed? We can drop you.” I glanced back at the figures closing in behind me, bit my lip, and pulled open the rear door. I got in and nearly jumped out of my skin. There was already a man in the back seat. The interior was dim. I couldn’t make out his face, but I could feel the sharp edge of his presence, as if the temperature in the car had dropped a few degrees just from being near him. “Relax,” he said. His voice was cool and even. “I’m not going to hurt you.” The force of his composure silenced me completely. Even the thank you I’d meant to say got swallowed. A brief quiet settled over the car. “Where do you live?” he asked. I gave my address quickly.

Lora’s POV Once I was home, I locked the door behind me, wrapped myself in a blanket, and curled up on the bed, still trembling. My phone lit up with a social media notification. I opened it. Shea had just posted a grid of photos. She looked polished and done up, wearing several different outfits, posing in various ways against the backdrop of a rooftop city skyline at night. Her caption read: “Someone spent the whole evening taking photos of me. Ran his phone battery down to zero. You’ve worked hard.” I stared at that line for a long moment, and felt something crack quietly in my chest. So that was it. His phone had died because he’d been out there photographing Shea all night. While I was being followed, not knowing if I was going to make it home safe, he was worrying about running out of battery for her. I reached up to wipe my face. My fingers came away damp. I let out a quiet, humorless laugh, then screenshotted the post and saved it. A while later, once Xander had apparently found a charger, he called. “What did you need earlier?” My voice was still slightly unsteady. “Nothing. Never mind.” He didn’t notice anything off. Because it wasn’t what he was paying attention to. He moved on immediately. “I’ve got to pull an all-nighter for work tonight. I won’t be coming home.” I looked down, voice quiet. “Okay.” After we hung up, I went through every door and window in the apartment and made sure each one was locked before I got back into bed. I didn’t sleep well. I dreamed the figures following me dragged me into an alley and I struggled and struggled but couldn’t make a sound. I dreamed Xander walked past me hand in hand with Shea, not turning back, telling me to stay away. I dreamed I was small again, and my parents were lying in a pool of blood on that mountain road, and I ran to them screaming but couldn’t wake them up. Before dawn, I gave up sleeping. I got out of bed with dark circles under my eyes, washed up, got dressed, and left. Less than a month now. Then I’d be free of this. I wanted to go somewhere far away, far outside the world Xander and Shea occupied. Before I left, I wanted to go back to my hometown one last time. To see the house I grew up in. It was a remote place, a small, poor town, but beautiful. Hills and water everywhere, a stream running right through the middle of it. My grandmother used to say the town was very, very old. The tragedy was that over the years the young people had all left, and the town had quietly fallen apart. The buildings had crumbled along with everything else. I’d always had one wish: to one day restore those old buildings, preserve the town, and let the world know it existed. Xander had once promised he would help me make that happen. But we were getting divorced now. That promise had nothing to do with him anymore. After a long journey, I finally stood at the edge of my hometown. What I saw stopped me cold. The town was rubble. Every building had been leveled. Bulldozers rumbled across the ground, churning up dust that hung in the air like a gray curtain. “What are you doing? Who authorized this?” I couldn’t keep the tears out of my voice. A man who looked like the site foreman came over and waved me off. “Move along, move along! This is a construction site! You want to get hurt?” I grabbed his sleeve. “What company are you with? Why are you destroying this place?” He yanked his arm and failed to shake me loose, then jabbed a finger irritably at the logo on the side of a bulldozer. “You blind? We’re with Hargrove Group. This whole area’s being turned into an amusement park. Now get out of here.” Hargrove Group. Xander’s company. My hand slowly fell away. Every bit of strength left my body. I remembered now. I had seen it on Shea’s social media, Shea saying she wanted her own private amusement park. But the world was enormous. Why here? He knew this was my home. He knew what this place held for me. He had stood in front of me and promised, out loud, that he would protect it. And he had torn it down to build Shea a playground. Tears ran silently down my face, mixing with the dust. I walked away from the ruins in a daze. Beyond the edge of town, on a small slope, stood three modest graves. My parents. My grandmother. I couldn’t hold it together anymore. I sank down in front of them and wept. “I couldn’t protect our home. The pear tree is gone. The house is gone. I don’t have a home left.” I was born in March, the year the pear tree in the yard bloomed full and white on every branch. My parents weren’t educated people. They named me Lora after the pear blossoms, hoping I would bloom just as freely. That tree was older than I was. My grandmother had planted it the year she got married. When I was little, my dad hung a rope swing from its branches. I would go higher and higher, and my mom would stand beside it laughing and telling me to slow down. On summer evenings, my grandmother would pull a wooden chair under the tree and sew by the last light of day, stitching me a canvas backpack, murmuring that someday I would carry it to college. When the pear blossoms fell, I would crouch in the grass and collect them one petal at a time, pressing them inside my textbooks as bookmarks. That tree was my childhood. It held everything I meant when I said home. Now my roots were gone. I knelt by their graves and cried until my voice gave out and I had no tears left. Finally, I wiped my face and pushed myself to my feet. The wind came through. I drew in a long, slow breath. I would not let this break me. My parents and grandmother were gone. I would carry their share of living, and I would carry it well.

Lora’s POV I caught a bus back to the city from the stop just outside town. The road out required a stretch on foot first. At a sharp bend in the road, a truck came careening around the corner from the opposite direction, out of control, and slammed head-on into the bus. My right leg was wedged into the gap between the seats. Blood ran freely. I couldn’t move. All around me there was impact, screaming, blood. The air reeked of iron and gasoline. People were strewn across the seats and the road, some moving, some not. Pieces of wreckage were scattered everywhere. I felt like I had been dropped back into the day I turned five. That year, my parents were heading back to the city after the holidays. Their bus took the same winding road. I hadn’t wanted to let them go. Before it was even light outside, I had slipped out of the house and run down the road to catch one last glimpse of them. I watched the accident happen. The tumbling wreck, the flying debris, my mother thrown from the window, those images had never left me. The same road. The same devastation. The nightmare I could never fully outrun. I’d woken from it dozens of times over the years, shaking and drenched in sweat. Xander had known. Whenever a nightmare woke me, he would wrap his arms around me and pat my back, slowly, over and over, and say quietly, “It’s okay. I’m here.” Slowly, I had gotten better. Now, surrounded by blood and broken metal, every memory I’d managed to bury came flooding back at once. The world began to tilt. My heart hammered like it was trying to break through my ribs. “No.” I couldn’t catch my breath. A cramping pain spread across my lower abdomen. Xander had once told me: the next time these memories came for me, I should call him right away. I shouldn’t try to get through it alone. I found my phone. Still intact. Still working. My hands shook as I pulled up the call screen and entered the number. It took me several tries to get it right. It rang for a long time before someone answered. “Xander.” But it wasn’t Xander’s voice. A light, cheerful voice came through instead. “You must be Lora? You’re looking for him? He’s in line getting me a drink right now. He’s busy. Bye.” The line went dead. My hand holding the phone slowly dropped. Then darkness. When I came back to myself, I was in a hospital bed. The doctor looked at me with an expression of quiet sorrow. “I’m sorry. You lost the baby.” I held the paper confirming the miscarriage, and what I felt, strangely, was something like relief. Maybe this was how it was supposed to be. Maybe the universe had decided this child didn’t deserve to be born into a home with no love in it. I looked at the cold words on the page and murmured to myself, “Well. He’ll have one more gift waiting for him when the time comes.” I carefully tucked the report into the bedside drawer, then asked the hospital to preserve what had been lost, in case it was ever needed. I checked the time. Two full days had passed since I lost consciousness. Not a single message from Xander. I stayed in the hospital three more days. Five days total, and Xander had forgotten I existed. No calls. No texts. Shea’s social media, on the other hand, was thriving. Day one: Xander taking her to the movies, then shopping. Day two: cooking her an elaborate dinner himself. Day three: riding the Ferris wheel with her. They were doing everything couples do, and I mean everything. Shea posted a photo of a bed. Rumpled sheets. A man’s dress shirt thrown across the pillow. She was bare-shouldered, leaning against the headboard, a faint red mark at her collarbone. I knew she was posting it to get to me. I let out a short, humorless laugh, screenshotted it, and saved it. Then I tracked down her other profiles and went through them carefully, looking for anything useful. On the sixth day, Xander finally remembered he had a wife named Lora and called. “Why aren’t you home? Where are you?” My voice was steady. “The hospital.” His tone shifted immediately. “The hospital? Why? What happened?” Still calm. “Did you see the news? The highway pileup on the 26th? I was on that bus.”

Lora’s POV Twenty minutes later, Xander came rushing into the room, forehead damp with sweat. He pulled me into his arms hard, his voice carrying both blame and relief. “Something this serious, and you didn’t call me? Are you hurt? Where? Where’s the doctor?” His panic was real. I could feel it. But I couldn’t feel anything in return anymore. “I did call. You were in line getting Shea a drink.” Xander went still. His eyes reddened. His voice came out rough. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Lora. I didn’t know.” I didn’t say anything else. I leaned back against the pillow and closed my eyes. For the next several days, Xander didn’t leave the room. The other patients and the nurses kept saying what a wonderful man he was. How lucky I was. I smiled and said nothing. A tabloid photographer caught it. It made the headlines. “Hargrove CEO Stays by Wife’s Bedside After Crash, The Love Story That’s Breaking the Internet.” Two weeks later, I was discharged. Xander came to take me home. In the car, the unfamiliar perfume hit me the moment I got in. Shea’s things were everywhere, a blanket, a throw pillow, some stickers, her perfume. I found a corner to settle into and didn’t say a word. When we walked through the front door, I almost thought I had the wrong house. The place was a mess. Shea’s things were all over it. Shea herself was on the couch in Xander’s shirt, legs crossed, eating fruit. The juice dripped onto my hand-woven rug, the one I loved most. When she saw us come in, she rolled her eyes without bothering to hide it. Xander acted like he hadn’t noticed. He smiled. “This is Shea. She’s young, always getting into trouble. Easier to keep her close.” I didn’t bother to respond. It didn’t matter. I was leaving soon. After that, whoever lived here was none of my concern. I said nothing and went upstairs. Xander had been juggling Shea and the hospital visits on top of a neglected workload, so he gave a quick word of apology and headed out. I pushed open my bedroom door and stopped. The room had been torn apart. The wardrobe was completely emptied, every drawer pulled open, like the place had been ransacked. I didn’t need to guess. My heart seized. I pushed everything else aside and started searching. My grandmother’s necklace. I needed to find it. It had been passed down through generations, her grandmother’s before it was hers. The only thing she had left me. The jewelry box was still in the drawer. It was empty. The necklace was gone. “Looking for this?” Shea’s voice came from behind me. I turned. She was leaning in the doorway, holding the necklace between two fingers, letting it swing lazily back and forth. “Give it back.” I went for it. She sidestepped me easily. Shea smiled, something mean in it. “I figured, something this cheap, and you’ve been keeping it in a box like it’s precious. It must really matter to you.” My voice shook. “Shea, I’ve never done anything to you. Please give it back.” The smile dropped. What replaced it was cold. “You took him from me. And you have the nerve to say you never did anything? Don’t play dumb. I can see it. You’re in love with him.” I was barely holding together, my eyes fixed on the necklace. “I don’t love him anymore. Give that back to me, and I’ll leave Xander. I swear.” Shea didn’t believe a word of it. “You think I’m stupid? A girl like you, you climbed your way up to him, and you expect me to think you’d just walk away?” “You want it? Fine. Keep me happy today, and I’ll think about giving it back.”

Lora’s POV I closed my eyes. I had no other options. I had no home left, no family left. That necklace was the only thing I still had. “Fine. I’ll do it.” For the rest of that day, Shea made herself comfortable giving me orders.She deliberately spilled oil and sauce all over the floor, then made me get on my knees and wipe it up piece by piece. The moment I finished one spot, she’d stomp through it again and leave a fresh trail of prints. “You missed a spot. Right there. Can’t you see it?” She made me kneel beside her and hold out my hands to catch the grape seeds she spat from her mouth. Sometimes she’d do it fast on purpose, and the seeds would fly out with the juice and hit me in the face. She made me brew her coffee, but every single time I brought it out, something was wrong with it. Too hot, make it again. Too weak, make it again. Not enough foam, make it again. At one point she just poured hot coffee directly onto my arm. “You’re useless. You can’t even make a decent cup of coffee.” The slightest thing she didn’t like, she’d slap me. Before long, my knees had swollen from kneeling, and my face had swollen from the hits. Several times, I almost fought back. But Shea would dangle the necklace in front of my face. I’d look at it and think of my grandmother’s kind face, and I’d swallow it down. I could give up my dignity. But I would not give up the one piece of family I had left. I had been starved of love for so long. I wanted it so desperately. At one point, one of the housekeepers couldn’t take it anymore and carefully spoke up. “Miss Shea, she is the lady of the house. Maybe you shouldn’t-” Shea turned and slapped her across the face without a second thought. “She’s no lady of anything! Say one more word and I’ll have my brother fire you on the spot.” After that, nobody said anything. Shea only got bolder. She smiled with something vicious in it. “I’m sure you saw your precious little hometown. Every last bit of it, bulldozed flat.” “I told him I wanted that land for an amusement park, and he agreed on the spot. He didn’t even remember it was your home.” “Do you see that? You are nothing to him. Absolutely nothing. I can do whatever I want with you. People like you, you exist to entertain people like me.” It went on until evening, until Shea finally tired herself out and went quiet. I pushed down every last bit of humiliation and rage. “Had enough fun? Give me back the necklace.” Shea opened her eyes slowly, and the malice in them was at its peak. “Sure. I’ll give it right back.” She stood up and hurled the necklace as hard as she could into the decorative pond in the courtyard. I ran to the edge and watched my grandmother’s necklace hit the water and disappear beneath the surface. “Grandma.” The sound tore out of me. I had endured the entire day. I had told Shea outright I wasn’t going to compete with her over Xander. But Shea had never had any intention of giving the necklace back. She only ever wanted to break me. Even the most patient person has a limit. I was done being patient. I walked calmly over to Shea, looked at her satisfied face, and slapped her as hard as I could. I put everything I had into it. Half her face swelled up instantly. Blood appeared at the corner of her mouth. “You hit me?!” Shea shrieked and swung back. But she was a sheltered girl who’d never had to fight for anything, and I’d grown up rough. She had no chance. I caught her wrist. “Yes. I did.” I raised my other hand, ready to go again, when someone grabbed me from behind with iron force. Xander. He gripped my wrist so hard I thought the bones might give. His eyes were burning. “Lora. What the hell are you doing?” Shea burst into tears the moment she saw him and threw herself against his chest. “This is the wife you picked! She attacked me! She was going to kill me! Do something, hit her back!” Xander looked at Shea’s swollen face and her tearful eyes, and his fury ignited. “Lora. You want to die?” He raised his hand to strike back. I turned to face him squarely, and I didn’t step back. He saw my face. The bruises. The wreck I looked like. He went still. His hand hung in the air. “What happened to you?” Shea screamed, “What are you waiting for? Hit her!”

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The moment the auction hammer fell, I thought that three-hundred-million-dollar necklace would end up around my neck. “Mr. Channing really does spoil Evelyn to the bone.” The whispers around us hadn’t even faded when Ethan Channing stepped right past me and walked straight toward the woman sitting at the far edge of the second row. He opened the velvet box himself, lifted out the Dream Tide necklace, and clasped it around her neck. “Ethan, you still remember I love stars.” The woman slipped off her sunglasses. Her eyes were faintly red. “Of course.” Dead silence fell over the room. Every gaze that had been full of envy when it landed on me shifted all at once into something unmistakably like pity. I sat in the VIP section, my fingertips digging into the ultrasound printout buried inside my purse. Six weeks. A tiny gestational sac. That piece of paper suddenly felt like a brand pressed against my skin. So it turned out he could toss me fifty million dollars for some painting without a second thought, and in the same breath, lift another woman onto a pedestal in front of everyone.

Evelyn’s POV New York’s most prestigious charity auction. Dazzling lights. The quiet rustle of silk and perfume. I sat in the front-row VIP section, my hand drifting almost unconsciously to the hidden pocket of my clutch. Inside was an ultrasound printout I had gotten that morning. Six weeks. You could already make out the tiny gestational sac. “Our next lot is Resting Light, a posthumous work by the celebrated autistic savant painter. Opening bid: ten million dollars.” The auctioneer’s voice echoed through the hall. I’d always loved that painting. I wanted to bid on it and hang it in the art therapy room at the special needs school. The man beside me, Ethan Channing, was leaning back in his chair with that lazy ease he always carried. He didn’t even glance at the stage. He just raised his paddle. “Fifty million.” The room erupted. Then came the whispers, thick with envy. “Mr. Channing really does spoil Evelyn rotten, dropping fifty million on a painting without so much as blinking.” “Who doesn’t know Evelyn is everything to Ethan? Seven years, and the man built her the best special needs school in all of New York from the ground up.” I turned to look at him as the murmurs swirled around us. His profile was sharp and composed. He noticed my gaze and turned toward me, brushing a loose strand of hair behind my ear with an ease that felt entirely natural. “Do you like it?” His voice was gentle. “Think of it as a warm-up for your seven-year anniversary gift.” Something warm stirred in my chest. I reached for his hand. I was finally about to tell him about the pregnancy. “Ethan, I actually have something for you too.” “Shh.” He closed his fingers around mine, but his eyes had already moved past me, toward the stage. “The closing lot is up.” It was the evening’s headline piece. The Dream Tide sapphire necklace. Opening bid: one hundred million dollars. Ethan let go of my hand and sat up straight. “Three hundred million.” His voice dropped into the silence of the room like a stone. Final. Unarguable. I froze. Three hundred million for a necklace? I never wore jewelry like that. Ethan knew that about me. The hammer came down. Ethan rose from his seat. Under the eyes of every person in that room, he accepted the velvet box from the attendant. I thought he was going to hand it to me. I’d already begun to smile. But Ethan simply stepped past me. He walked, long and unhurried, straight to a corner at the far end of the second row. A woman was sitting there. Slender. Dark glasses covering her face. Ethan stopped in front of her. The cool edge in his expression softened in an instant. He opened the box himself, lifted out the necklace, leaned down, and fastened it around her neck with his own hands. The woman slipped her sunglasses off to reveal a face that was delicate and pale. She looked up at Ethan, her eyes going pink at the corners. “Ethan, you still remember I love stars.” “Of course.” His voice was quiet, but it reached me clearly. That was Serena. Ethan’s first love, the one who had left for Paris seven years ago. The room went graveyard still. Every look that turned my way shifted in an instant from envy into pity, sharp and unconcealed. I sat where I was, the ultrasound printout in my bag pressing against me like a hot iron. So this was how it worked. He could casually throw fifty million at a painting and keep me gilded and displayed like something precious. And then, in the very same evening, he could grind what was left of my dignity into the floor for someone else, with the whole room watching. He gave me every material thing I could want. And then, in front of everyone, he delivered the cruelest blow imaginable.

Evelyn’s POV After the auction ended, Ethan drove home with me. He even held the car door open like always, leaned in, and buckled my seatbelt, as if everything that had happened in that hall was nothing more than a dream. When we got back to the apartment, I stood at the entrance and didn’t take my shoes off. “What’s wrong? Are you tired?” Ethan shrugged off his jacket and tugged loose his tie. He walked over and reached for me out of habit, the way he always did. “The painting, I already had it sent directly to the school.” I turned my head and stepped out of his reach. “Serena’s back, isn’t she.” His arm fell to his side. A slight crease formed between his brows. “Yes. She got back yesterday.” He moved to the kitchen counter and poured himself a glass of ice water. “Evelyn.” His voice was measured. “You’re smart. Don’t make a scene over something like this.” “Something like this?” I almost laughed. “You put a three-hundred-million-dollar necklace around her neck in front of everyone and made me look like a joke. Ethan, you think that’s just something like this?” He turned to face me, his expression calm. “That necklace is something she wanted seven years ago. She’s very sick right now. Severe depression, serious PTSD. Her doctor says she’s at risk of self-harm at any time. I bought it to stabilize her emotionally.” He crossed the room and placed both hands on my shoulders. There wasn’t a trace of apology in his eyes. “Evelyn, you’ve always been the kindest, most understanding person I know. You open your arms to children with severe disabilities every single day. Why can’t you extend just a little of that to Serena? Right now, I’m all she has.” The blood drained from my body. He was actually using my work, using my compassion, as leverage to make me accept his first love. “Ethan, I’m your girlfriend. Not your ex’s therapist.” I held his gaze. “If you feel that strongly about her, why don’t you just break up with me?” “Don’t be ridiculous.” His expression hardened. His voice took on a warning edge. “When did I say anything about breaking up? I’ve given you everything you wanted, the school, the funding, a life most people dream about. Serena just needs my support right now. She’s not a threat to your position. Don’t push your luck.” Not a threat to your position. So that was how he saw it. Love was something he could divide up and allocate. The title and the money went to me. But every ounce of his tenderness, every quiet act of care, every instinct to protect, all of that belonged to Serena. My hand was in my pocket. My fingers were pressing into that ultrasound printout so hard I felt it crumple, then fold, then collapse into a ball of nothing. “Okay.” I lowered my eyes. “I understand.” Ethan took that for surrender. He reached out and ruffled my hair, satisfied. “Good. I need to take Serena to her follow-up appointment tomorrow. If the school runs into a budget shortfall, just go through finance directly.” He disappeared into the bathroom. I stood there listening to the sound of the shower running. Slowly, I reached into my pocket and pulled out the crumpled printout. I dropped it in the trash. This baby had chosen the worst possible moment to exist. The next morning, I was running a sensory integration session at the special needs school. Sammy was a six-year-old boy who was deaf. He’d just had his cochlear implant surgery and was still struggling to make sense of all the sounds suddenly flooding his world. I knelt on the floor beside him, patiently using sign language alongside spoken words to teach him the word sunshine. From out in the hallway came the crisp click of heels against tile.

Evelyn’s POV Serena walked in, flanked by a pair of security guards. She had on a floor-length white dress. She looked fragile, like something that might shatter in a breeze. “Ms. Hartley.” She lifted her sunglasses and gave me a soft, guileless smile. “Ethan says the environment here is wonderful. He thought it might do me good to visit. You don’t mind, do you?” I stood up, stepping in front of Sammy. “Ms. Blake,” I said, keeping my voice level. “This is a school for children with special needs. The kids here are very sensitive around strangers. Please don’t disturb them.” “I only want to help.” She pressed her lips together in a pout and moved toward Sammy before I could stop her, reaching out to touch his head. “Hey there, sweetheart. What’s your name?” Sammy startled at the sudden movement. He hadn’t heard her coming. He flinched backward on instinct and bumped into her leg. Serena let out a sharp cry and toppled, landing hard on the floor. “Serena!” A voice erupted from the hallway, rough with fury. Ethan came charging in. He shoved me aside and dropped to one knee beside Serena, gathering her carefully into his arms. “Ethan, I’m scared… he pushed me…” She curled against him, trembling, tears streaming down her face. Ethan turned and looked at me. His eyes were cold and vicious. “Evelyn. Is this how you run your school?” His shove had sent my lower back into the corner of a table. The pain was sharp enough to make me break into a cold sweat. I kept one hand on Sammy’s shoulder and met Ethan’s stare. “Ethan. She stumbled on her own. Sammy barely touched her.” “Enough.” His voice cracked through the room like a whip. “Serena has clinical depression. She cannot be startled or frightened. You stood there and let a disabled child knock her down. What happened to all that compassion you’re so proud of?” Disabled child. The words came out of his mouth with a contempt he didn’t bother to hide. I stared at him, unable to fully process what I was hearing. This was the man who had spent three months learning sign language to impress me. The man who used to say these kids were like his own. Now, for Serena, he was dismantling everything he had ever pretended to stand for, and he was using my students to do it. “Ethan. That was out of line.” My voice shook. “I’m out of line?” He let out a short, cold laugh and got to his feet with Serena still in his arms. “Evelyn, I think I’ve been too easy on you. You seem to have forgotten where the funding for this school comes from. Effective today, the new building expansion is suspended indefinitely. When you’ve learned to keep your students in check, we’ll talk about resuming it.” He looked down at me the way you look at a pet that’s disappointed you. “I built this school for you to enjoy. Not so your kids could bite people.” He turned and left without another word, Serena in his arms, neither of them looking back. I stood there and watched them go. I felt like something had been torn open in the center of my chest. The thing I had built my entire life around, my work, my purpose, the school, it was, to him, a toy. Something he had handed me on a whim. Something he could take back the moment it stopped being convenient. He could spend without limit when he loved me. But now that someone else had his heart, a single sentence was all it took to crack me in half. A week later, it was my birthday. Ethan had reserved the top floor of New York’s most exclusive rooftop restaurant for the evening. He seemed to know he had gone too far at the school. He was making an effort tonight, more attentive than he had been in months. He cut my steak himself and slid a signed document across the table toward me.

Evelyn’s POV “I’ve already had finance reinstate the funding for the building expansion.” He looked at me, his expression gentle. “Evelyn, I was too reactive that day. Serena’s condition is unpredictable, and I panicked. Forgive me this once. Please.” That was Ethan, exactly as he’d always been. One hand hits you, the other holds out something sweet. He was sure I couldn’t leave. Sure that a little humility from him and I’d fold back into his arms the way I always had. I looked at the document. I didn’t pick it up. A dull, dragging ache had started deep in my abdomen. These past few days, the emotional strain and exhaustion had been catching up with me. Something had felt wrong in my body for a while now. “Ethan, if-” I raised my eyes, choosing my words carefully. “If I were pregnant, would you want that?” His knife paused over the steak. He glanced up. His brow creased, almost imperceptibly. “Evelyn, we’re not married yet. I don’t want any surprises right now. And honestly, if Serena found out we were expecting, it would be a serious setback for her. Let’s hold off on that for a few more years.” My heart sank all the way to the floor. He didn’t want a baby. Not because he wasn’t ready. Because of how it might affect Serena. Then his phone lit up on the table, buzzing repeatedly. The screen read: Serena. He answered on the first vibration. His face went taut immediately. “Serena? What’s wrong? Where are you? San Diego? Why did you go to San Diego?” Through the phone came the sound of sobbing, raw, frantic, breathless. “Ethan, I’m so scared… it’s so dark here, and the thunder… I want to die, I actually want to die…” “Don’t do anything. I’m on my way right now.” He was already on his feet, jacket in hand, moving toward the exit. “Ethan.” I said his name. Quietly. Evenly. “Today is my birthday.” He stopped. He turned back and looked at me, and there was something in his expression, something impatient, something already half gone. “Evelyn. This is a life or death situation. Serena’s in crisis in San Diego, I have to go. Take this card and treat yourself to something. Be good. Don’t make this harder.” He dropped a black card on the table and walked out of the restaurant without looking back. I sat alone in the rooftop restaurant, watching the lights of New York shimmer beyond the glass. The ache in my abdomen was deepening. It had become something insistent, something that felt like it was slowly pulling away from me. I pressed my hand over my stomach. Cold sweat gathered at my temples. I didn’t touch the black card. I just sat there, looking at the perfectly cut steak Ethan had prepared for me before he left. Nausea rose in my throat. I pushed back my chair and made my way unsteadily to the restroom. In the bathroom stall, I looked down. There was a dark stain of red on my underwear. The first sign of a threatened miscarriage. I leaned back against the cold tile wall and closed my eyes. I didn’t go to the hospital. I went to a pharmacy instead, bought medication to help maintain the pregnancy and something for the pain, and got through it on my own. I didn’t tell Ethan. What would have been the point? The most likely response would have been just take care of it. I can’t have Serena upset right now. Ethan stayed in San Diego with Serena for three full days. On the fourth day, he brought her back to New York. Serena seemed more like herself again. She even offered to go to the school and apologize to the children. I didn’t try to stop her. I knew it wouldn’t have mattered. Serena spent ten minutes in the art therapy room. When she came back out, her face had gone white. “Ethan…”

Evelyn’s POV She grabbed his sleeve with both hands. Her voice was trembling. “My necklace is gone. The one you gave me at the auction. The Starfall.” Ethan’s expression darkened immediately. “You’re sure you were wearing it?” “I’m sure. I was only in the therapy room for a few minutes. I held that little boy, Sammy, for a moment, and then…” Serena bit her lip. Her eyes were glistening as they turned to me. “Ms. Hartley, I’m not accusing Sammy. But the necklace is worth three hundred million dollars. If it’s really gone…” Sammy again. I put my hand on his shoulder and looked at Serena with measured calm. “Ms. Blake. Are you suggesting that a six-year-old boy lifted a necklace off your neck while you were watching?” “I’m not saying that! But he was the only one who came close to me!” She burst into tears. Ethan stepped forward. His gaze settled on me, heavy and still. He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t reach for me. He just spoke, in that cool, logical tone of his that always managed to sound reasonable no matter what he was saying. “Evelyn. Call the police. Let them search.” My whole body went rigid. “Ethan, he’s six years old. He can’t hear, he can’t speak. Children with special needs are emotionally fragile. If you bring police in here to search him, you could break something in him that never heals. The shame alone could scar him for life.” “Is his self-esteem worth three hundred million dollars?” He looked at me. There was something in his eyes I hadn’t seen quite so nakedly before, a kind of ruthlessness that didn’t flinch. “Evelyn, don’t protect him at the cost of your own credibility. The more you cover for him, the more it looks like you put him up to it.” The words hit like something sharp and aimed precisely. He was actually accusing me. I pressed my teeth into my lower lip until I tasted blood. I stopped pleading. I turned around, in front of everyone who was watching, and upended my own canvas tote onto the table. Lesson plans. A red pen. A few individually wrapped pieces of candy, scattering across the floor. “I didn’t take it. Neither did Sammy.” I looked up and met Serena’s eyes directly. “If we’re searching, shouldn’t yours come out too?” Her face shifted. Her hands closed around her bag instinctively. “What are you implying? That I stole from myself?” “Open it.” I held her gaze and didn’t move. Serena looked to Ethan, her expression desperate. “Ethan, she’s…” Before he could respond, I reached over and took the bag from her hands. I turned it upside down over the table. A soft, clear sound. The sapphire necklace slid out and came to rest beside her compact powder case. It sparkled under the fluorescent lights like nothing had ever happened. The room went utterly still. I turned to Ethan. “Clear enough, Mr. Channing? Caught red-handed.” Something moved across his face, shifting, difficult to read. He looked at Serena, at the panic flickering through her expression, and then he let out a slow breath. He walked over to her. He put his arm around her. And then he looked at me. “Evelyn. The medication she’s on affects her memory. She wasn’t doing it deliberately. You don’t have to come at her like this.” Come at her like this. I almost smiled. I had fought with everything I had to protect my student’s dignity. And that was what it looked like to him, aggression. Unreasonableness. Of course. When someone stops loving you, even breathing becomes something you’re doing wrong. “Fine.” I nodded. Something inside me had gone very, very quiet. “I won’t push. You two should go.” That weekend, an unprecedented storm hit New York. The wind was savage. Rain came in sideways. It felt like the city might simply be ripped from the ground. The special needs school sat in a low-lying area. The old drainage system couldn’t handle it. Within two hours, the first floor had water over the ankles. And then the power went out.

Evelyn’s POV The darkness and the thunder sent the children into a panic. The sound of crying filled the building from end to end. I pushed through the cramping in my abdomen, grabbed a flashlight, and worked with the other teachers to get everyone up to the second floor. “Ms. Hartley, we have a problem.” The school director was sweating through his shirt. “The backup generator is in the basement. But the security door down there has an electronic keypad lock. With no power, it can only be opened by the mechanical override key or a master code. Mr. Channing has both.” My stomach dropped. I pulled out my phone and dialed the number I hadn’t called in a very long time. It rang for a while before someone picked up. “Hello?” It wasn’t Ethan’s voice. It was Serena’s, light and sweet, with just a hint of a smile in it. “Ms. Hartley. Ethan’s in the shower right now. We’re in Hawaii. The rain here is something else too, actually. He wanted to make sure I wasn’t scared, so he’s been staying close. You know how he is.” My knuckles went white around the phone. “Put Ethan on. The school is flooded. I need the generator code right now.” There was a rustling sound. Then Ethan’s voice came on, taut with irritation. “Evelyn. What are you doing at the school in the middle of a typhoon? Why aren’t you at home?” “Ethan, the first floor is flooding. The power’s out. The kids are terrified.” My voice was shaking from the effort of holding it together. “Give me the master code for the generator. Please.” A short, humorless sound from his end. “Evelyn. If you’re making this up to get me to come back, it won’t work. I checked the New York news. There’s rain, yes, but nothing that would flood a school. Can you please stop using those kids as a prop every time you want to compete with Serena for my attention?” “I’m not making it up! The water is already inside!” I was nearly shouting. The cramp in my abdomen spiked so hard I almost couldn’t stand. “That’s enough.” His voice went flat. Absolute. “Serena needs me right now. If you actually want to help, figure it out yourself. Don’t call again.” The line went dead. I stood ankle-deep in cold, filthy water, listening to silence. Competing for attention. Dozens of children with disabilities. A baby barely holding on inside me. And to him, this was me acting out, trying to win a fight with Serena. I lowered my phone. I turned to look at the children huddled in the dark, shaking and crying. I breathed in slowly. “Keep everyone calm up there.” I handed him the flashlight and turned toward the staircase that led to the basement. The water in the basement was up to my knees. The cold cut straight through to the bone. Every step sent a jolt through my lower abdomen. The cramping had turned into something grinding and relentless, like something was being slowly dragged apart inside me. I swept the flashlight across the walls until I found the heavy security door. I searched the room by feel until my hand hit the fire cabinet in the corner. Inside: a rusted fire axe. Ethan. You wouldn’t give me a way through. So I’ll make one myself. The water in the basement was dark and freezing. I gripped the axe with both hands, filled my lungs, and brought it down hard on the keypad housing. The force of the impact traveled all the way up my arms. The axe nearly flew out of my hands. I locked my jaw and swung again. One. Two. Three. In the dark, there was only the scream of metal and the sound of my own ragged breathing. The cramping had gone past the point of endurance. Cold sweat poured down my face and mixed with the rain still dripping from my hair. I felt warmth spreading down my legs, disappearing into the freezing water around my feet.

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