He walked perfectly in my footprints just to avoid stepping in the deep snow, and then, inevitably, he slipped. He blamed me. He claimed I had packed the snow down too hard, making it slick. He demanded fifty thousand dollars in damages. It didn’t stop there. He bled me dry. Through a relentless campaign of harassment, he cost me my job, drained my savings, and finally, in a fit of manufactured rage, shoved me into an open excavation trench at a construction site. I was knocked unconscious. I froze to death in the dark. And then, I woke up. I respawned at the exact moment before we walked out of the apartment building’s lobby into the winter storm. Without a second thought, I pivoted on my heel, marched back upstairs to my apartment, and slammed the door shut. The old man was stunned. A few seconds later, he followed me up and started hammering his fists against the wood. 1 Bang! Bang! Bang! My front door rattled violently in its frame, but I couldn’t focus on the noise. I was hyperventilating, my back pressed against the cold wood. My heart thrashed against my ribs like a trapped bird. The phantom agony of freezing to death—the slow, creeping numbness, the feeling of my blood turning to slush, the final, terrifying lethargy—still clung to my bones. “Michael! Why did you turn back around?” Old Man Pendleton’s voice was muffled through the door, grating and utterly entitled. “The snow is too deep out here. I’m not risking it. Come back out and blaze a trail for me.” I closed my eyes, wrapping my arms around myself. “My grandson wants bacon for breakfast, so I need to get to the grocery store,” he whined, the banging resuming. “You’re young. You’ve got good knees. You really going to refuse to do a simple favor for an old man? Whatever happened to respecting your elders, huh?” Arthur Pendleton. The neighborhood nightmare. He just kept rattling off excuses, trying to guilt me into stepping back out into the freezing cold. Like hell I am. In my previous life, I had obliged. He had stepped exactly where I stepped, slipped on the compacted ice, and then launched a lawsuit from hell, demanding fifty grand. When I refused to pay, he showed up at my corporate office every single day, screaming until HR finally let me go just to avoid the PR nightmare. But losing my job hadn’t been enough for him. He tracked down my parents in our quiet rural hometown upstate. He made them the laughingstock of the county, filing bogus police reports against my dad, who had been the town’s bookkeeper for thirty years. My dad was brought in for questioning. Even though he was completely cleared, the whispering and the stares from people they’d known their whole lives broke my parents. They sold their house at a loss and moved across the state, shadows of their former selves. Bang! Bang! Bang! The pounding grew more aggressive. I pushed away from the door, my mind snapping into sharp, crystalline focus. I cleared my throat. “Arthur!” I shouted, making my voice crack. “I have Covid! The really bad strain! Cough, cough, cough!” I ran to the kitchen. “Hold on, just give me a second to cough up this blood, and I’ll open the door! Cough, cough!” I grabbed a paper towel, squirted a generous dollop of ketchup onto it, and smeared a little at the corner of my mouth for good measure. Arthur must not have heard me clearly because the relentless banging didn’t stop. I took a deep breath, yanked the deadbolt back, and threw the door open, launching into a violent, chest-heaving fit of coughing that sounded like I was hacking up pieces of my lungs. “Cough, cough, cough! Arthur, I told you, I’m severely infected. I’m burning up. What do you need?” As I spoke, I pulled the paper towel away from my mouth. It was a mess of crimson red. “Look, it’s not that I don’t want to help,” I wheezed, leaning heavily against the doorframe. “I genuinely have a terrible respiratory infection…” I shoved the ketchup-stained paper towel toward his face. “Smell it! That’s the smell of fresh, highly contagious lung tissue!” Arthur shrieked, executing a backward jump that was shockingly athletic for a man of his age. “Get away from me! If you give me pneumonia, I’m suing you for medical bills!” He pressed his back against the hallway wall, but then, I saw his cloudy, calculating eyes dart back to me. His greed was a living, breathing thing. “Listen, Michael,” he wheedled, pulling his coat tighter around his neck. “Can’t you just push through it? Just walk me to the end of the block. I’m terrified of falling.” I stared at him. The sheer audacity was staggering. “My grandson looks up to you,” he continued, laying the guilt on thick. “You can’t just abandon us over a little cold. Put on a double layer of N95 masks. I won’t hold it against you!” Then, the kicker. “You’re doing so well for yourself. I heard you talking on the phone—you just got a fifty-thousand-dollar year-end bonus! Surely a successful young man like you can afford to do one tiny favor?” 2 This stubborn old vulture. I was standing here supposedly coughing up a lung, and he still wanted me to be his human snowplow. In my past life, I had always wondered how long it took him to select me as his perfect victim. Now, the pieces clicked together. My bonus. Just before we had walked out of the building earlier, I had taken a call from my manager confirming my year-end bonus. Arthur had been lurking in the lobby. He heard the whole thing. He hadn’t just accidentally slipped; he had targeted me because he knew I was holding a fresh, fat check. No wonder he was so desperate to get me out there. Seeing that I wasn’t moving, Arthur’s faux-polite mask slipped. He let out an exaggerated huff and dramatically lowered himself to sit right on the freezing tile floor of the hallway. “Fine! If you won’t help me, I can’t leave. So I’ll just sit right here!” I narrowed my eyes, studying his pathetic, petulant display for a long moment. Then, the corners of my mouth curled into a bright, terrifying smile. “No problem, Arthur. I’ll lead the way. Just stay close!” I stepped back inside, pulled on my heaviest down parka and a pair of thick, treaded snow boots. Arthur scrambled to his feet, shadowing me closely as we headed out. In my previous life, I had walked slowly, out of an abundance of caution, and he had matched my agonizing pace. The apartment’s security camera had captured the whole thing. Later, he strong-armed the property manager into giving him the footage, using it to blackmail me at my office. The angle of the camera had been terrible—it looked exactly like I had kicked a patch of ice backward, causing him to fall. I wasn’t about to let history repeat itself. The moment the heavy glass door clicked shut behind us, and I saw the red light of the security camera in my peripheral vision, I threw my arms up in the air and screamed. “God, I love the snow! Hahahaha!” I glanced over my shoulder. “Keep up, Arthur!” And then, I bolted. I sprinted down the sidewalk like an Olympic sprinter, kicking up a massive wake of white powder. Arthur froze, completely blindsided. By the time his brain processed what was happening, I had already rounded the corner of the building and vanished from sight. “You little bastard, what are you running for?!” I heard him screech from a distance. “Whoa—I’m slipping! Get back here! If I fall, you have to pay—!” A dull thud echoed through the frigid air. He had gone down. I stood hidden behind the brick wall of the next building. One minute passed. Two minutes. Three. No one came to help him. Eventually, the biting cold became too much for him. I peeked around the corner just in time to see him scramble to his feet, dusting snow off his coat. He glared up at the security camera, spitting into the snow. “Dammit! Didn’t catch a thing,” he muttered viciously. I turned and jogged away from the complex, my breath pluming in the freezing air. The camera definitely wouldn’t have us in the same frame this time. But would Old Man Pendleton let it go that easily? I highly doubted it. In my past life, even after I had drained my bank accounts to pay his extortion demands, he hadn’t stopped. He had demanded I sign over the deed to my condo so his deadbeat son could use it as a marital home for his second wedding. The man’s greed was a bottomless abyss. If he thought he could use his old playbook to control me in this life, he was out of his mind. My first stop wasn’t the office. It was a coffee shop. I pulled out my phone, scrolled through Zillow, and found a fully furnished, short-term luxury apartment just a few miles away. I wired the deposit immediately and got the digital door code. This was step one of my revenge. If he couldn’t find me at home, he would inevitably show up at my office to cause a scene. I needed to be ready for him. After securing the apartment, I circled back to my old place to grab my laptop and a few essentials. The moment I stepped through the front gates of the complex, I noticed the security guard at the booth looking at me with wide, panicked eyes. He was violently mouthing the words, Run. Before my brain could register the warning, a shadow lunged from behind the brick pillar. A heavy weight slammed into my side, tackling me straight into a snowbank. 3 “You little punk! Thought you were fast, huh? Let’s see you run now!” I blinked snow out of my eyelashes. Hovering over me, face twisted in rage, was Arthur Pendleton. “Listen to me,” he snarled, digging his fingers into my jacket. “When you ran off this morning, you tripped me! I nearly broke my neck!” He leaned in closer, his breath smelling of stale coffee and decay. “So, you tell me how we’re going to handle this. I’ll give you a hint: if you don’t fork over fifty thousand dollars right now, this doesn’t go away!” I laughed inwardly. The old bastard was just throwing darts in the dark, hoping to hit a jackpot. I had watched that security footage hundreds of times in my past life. I knew with absolute certainty that the camera had captured nothing of use today. He was bluffing. I wasn’t about to play by his rules. Instead of arguing, I threw my head back and let out an ear-piercing, blood-curdling scream. “My ribs! Oh my god, my ribs are shattered!” I writhed in the snow, clutching my side. “My head! I’m going to throw up, it’s a severe concussion!” I kicked my leg out at an awkward angle. “My femur is snapped! Call an ambulance! Call 911!” I grabbed my lower back, screaming louder. “My kidney! You ruptured my kidney! I’m passing stones!” Arthur leaped off me as if he’d been electrocuted, stumbling backward. “I’m warning you, don’t try to pull an insurance scam on me!” he yelled, panic edging into his voice. “I’ll call the cops and have you arrested!” Before he could even reach for his pockets, I already had my phone pressed to my ear. I had dialed 911 the second he tackled me. Arthur’s face went pale. He lunged forward to snatch the phone, but it was too late. “Are you insane? You actually called them?” I looked up at him from the snow, my eyes wide, and gasped theatrically. “Oh, no… my heart. I have a heart condition! This old man triggered an attack! Everyone, look! Don’t let him get away!” In my past life, the psychological warfare he had waged against me was etched into my soul. It had become a waking nightmare. Now, I was simply returning the favor, page by page from his own playbook. When the police arrived, Arthur immediately tried to play the sweet, confused grandfather. “Officers, it was just a misunderstanding! We were just messing around, right Michael?” I didn’t answer him. I insisted on being loaded onto the stretcher and taken in the ambulance. Arthur tried to push his way through the paramedics to grab my arm, desperate to avoid paying a dime for my hospital transport. I pointed a shaking finger at the security booth. “Officers, please secure the gate footage immediately! Before the cameras conveniently ‘malfunction’.” The footage was undeniable. It clearly showed Arthur ambushing me, shoving me violently to the ground, and my head snapping back against the ice. He was forced to pay my three-thousand-dollar emergency room bill out of pocket. When he handed the money over at the precinct, the hatred in his eyes was so intense it practically burned. I ignored it, pocketed the cash, and walked out. Later that evening, I took the complex’s security guard out for steaks. Over dinner, the guard shook his head, looking at me like I was a dead man walking. “Man, out of everyone in the city, you had to cross that old psycho,” the guard sighed. He told me things about Arthur I hadn’t known. Years ago, Arthur had stolen the heavy iron storm drain covers from the complex’s streets and sold them to a scrapyard to buy toys for his grandson. A resident had fallen into an open drain and shattered their leg. When the HOA reviewed the cameras and confronted Arthur, he didn’t even deny it. He claimed that because he paid his HOA fees, the neighborhood property belonged to him. When the HOA pointed out he hadn’t paid his fees in three years, he argued that since he paid them once, it counted forever. “It gets worse,” the guard said, taking a sip of his beer. “He used to steal women’s underwear from the laundry room and have his son sell them online. When one of the female residents caught him, he threw himself on the floor, claimed she assaulted him, and tried to sue her.” “Eventually, he figured out that college girls were easier targets,” the guard lowered his voice. “So he started lurking around the basement apartments where the university students rent.” 4 The guard’s voice was heavy with disgust. “He would press his face against the half-windows of the basement units in the middle of the night. Scared one girl so bad she called the cops. When they showed up, he suddenly ‘forgot’ where he was and played the dementia card.” “And his son is just as bad. When he showed up at the precinct, he had the nerve to say the girl was trying to seduce his rich father through the window, and threatened to sue her for emotional distress.” “The cops couldn’t do anything but tell the son to keep an eye on him. But Arthur didn’t stop. He basically stalked her, pacing outside her window every night. She was too terrified to leave her apartment. She missed her finals, dropped out of college, and moved down South to work in a factory. I heard a rumor she got her hand crushed in some industrial machine down there.” The guard shook his head. “Everyone knows Old Man Pendleton ruined her life. And he just struts around the neighborhood, untouchable.” Listening to this, a cold, hard knot of resolve tightened in my chest. If I harbored even a shred of guilt about my revenge plan, it evaporated instantly. This man wasn’t just an annoyance; he was a predator. “Don’t worry,” I told the guard, raising my glass. “His luck is about to run out. Karma is coming to collect.” The very next morning, my prediction came true. Arthur showed up at my corporate office. He stood right outside the glass walls of my boss’s corner office, clutching two cheap bottles of wine. My boss looked bewildered. He stepped out and asked Arthur who he was looking for. “I’m Michael’s great-uncle,” Arthur announced loudly, ensuring the entire open-plan office could hear. “I know my boy can be a burden, so I brought you a little something to thank you for putting up with him.” Then, leaning in conspiratorially, but still speaking at top volume, he dropped the bomb. “You see, he’s had a severe, highly contagious case of Hepatitis B for years. I’m sure it’s been a nightmare for his coworkers.” My boss’s face drained of color. He immediately summoned me to his office, shutting the door behind us, and asked if it was true. Through the glass, I could see Arthur looking at me with feigned, grandfatherly concern, though his cloudy eyes danced with pure, venomous triumph. I had fully anticipated he would pull a stunt like this, though the specific tactic was impressively unhinged. I watched as Arthur pointed at the ‘Team Lead’ badge on my lanyard and smiled greasily at my boss. “You truly are a saint, sir,” Arthur proclaimed. “Letting a boy with such failing, infectious health be in charge of people.” My boss looked like he wanted to vomit. Outside the glass, I could see my team members slowly rolling their desk chairs away from my cubicle. I didn’t panic. Instead, I threw the door open, rushed out, and threw my arms around Arthur in a massive, crushing bear hug. “Uncle Arthur!” I bellowed, my voice thick with emotion. “Why didn’t you tell me you were visiting?” “I missed you so much!” I deliberately let a generous spray of saliva hit his face as I shouted. Arthur froze, completely short-circuiting. He had not expected this reaction. In my past life, he had used a similar rumor to ostracize me, driving a wedge between me and my coworkers until the isolation forced me to quit. Given a second chance, there was no way I was letting him control the narrative. Right now, I was clinging to him like a desperate, long-lost child. He had just publicly claimed to be my blood relative; all he could do was stand there, his face contorting into a gruesome, strained smile. I stared right into his weathered face and laughed—a manic, joyful laugh that lasted for a full, uncomfortable minute, thoroughly playing the part of a man overjoyed by a family reunion. Just as Arthur looked like he was about to physically shove me off, I stepped back, gripping his shoulders. “Uncle Arthur,” I said, my voice dropping to a dramatic whisper that carried across the silent office. “You found out about the Hepatitis B?” Arthur instantly perked up, sensing an opening. He puffed out his chest and spoke loudly. “That’s right! I couldn’t just stand by and let you hide your condition! It’s not right to keep secrets that could hurt other people, is it?” He sounded like a martyr making a difficult moral choice. My boss’s expression grew even darker. He stepped out of his office, his arms crossed tightly. “Michael,” he said, his tone heavy with disappointment. “Why wouldn’t you disclose something like this to HR? We could have made accommodations. We could have set up a separate break area for you.” 5 My boss was a decent guy. In my previous life, when Arthur had come to the office to throw his tantrums, my boss had actually tried to protect me. But Arthur had escalated it, eventually threatening to hang himself from the corporate logo in the lobby. By that point, I had been financially ruined and entirely broken. I resigned just to spare the company the liability. Hearing my boss try to accommodate me, Arthur’s eyes bugged out. “Sir, we can’t let him be a burden to your fine company just for a paycheck!” Arthur interjected, looking genuinely alarmed that his plan was failing. I laughed inwardly. “Uncle Arthur,” I said softly, looking at him with wide, tragic eyes. “Who told you I only have Hepatitis B?” Arthur blinked. “Since the secret is out, I guess I have to come clean,” I said, my voice trembling with fake sorrow. “It’s not just the Hep B. It’s the Tuberculosis. And the chronic blood flukes. Oh, and the Syphilis. And the untreated Gonorrhea. And the highly aggressive HPV…” With every disease I listed, Arthur’s face grew a shade paler. His jaw dropped. He pointed a trembling, arthritic finger at my chest. “Y-you… are you telling the truth?” I inhaled sharply, threw my head forward, and sneezed violently—twice. Both times, right into Arthur’s face. “Ahhhh!” Arthur shrieked in genuine terror, scrubbing frantically at his cheeks with the sleeves of his coat. “You infected me! I came here out of the goodness of my heart, and you infected me!” he wailed, backing away toward the elevators. “You monster!” My boss, however, wasn’t an idiot. He was watching the exchange with narrowed eyes. Who on earth contracts half a dozen Victorian-era plagues at the same time? Was I moonlight as a lab rat for the CDC? He realized immediately that the old man was entirely full of shit. Arthur’s face twisted into an ugly snarl. He wanted to lunge at me, but the sheer terror of my imaginary pathogens kept him glued to the spot. “You can kiss this job goodbye!” Arthur spat. “I won’t let you infect these good people!” Then, he took a hesitant half-step forward and hissed under his breath, just loud enough for me to hear. “Unless you wire me that fifty grand right now. If you do, I’ll tell your boss I have dementia and I made the whole thing up. I’m not even your uncle. You keep your job, I get my money.” I stared at him, my heart turning to ice. It was the exact same script. Word for word. In my past life, terrified of losing my career and the stability it provided, I had caved. I had transferred two thousand dollars to his account right then and there just to make him leave. That was the mistake that sealed my fate. Once you pay the Danegeld, you never get rid of the Dane. Two thousand turned into five, then ten, until I was bled dry. Now, looking at his greedy, venomous eyes, I just smiled brightly. I reached into my blazer, pulled out a folded piece of paper, and handed it to my boss. “Sir, this is my formal resignation.” Arthur froze. My boss looked equally stunned. “Michael, have you lost your mind?” my boss asked, refusing to take the paper. “I haven’t said a word about firing you. We don’t terminate people over health rumors. Let’s just have you work from home for a few weeks until this blows over—” I held up a hand, feeling a genuine rush of gratitude for the man. “Thank you, sir. Truly. But I refuse to be a liability to this company.” I placed the resignation letter on his desk. I had already packed my personal belongings into a small box that morning. I picked it up from my cubicle and walked straight past Arthur toward the glass doors. Arthur finally snapped out of his shock and scrambled after me, blocking the elevator bank. “Boy, what kind of game are you playing?” he growled, dropping the sweet-old-man act entirely. “I’m not falling for this!” I ignored him, my eyes fixed on the elevator floor indicator. “Hold it right there!” he barked, stepping into my personal space. “You’re not going anywhere until you pay me what you owe me! Where do you think you’re going?” I let out a soft, mocking laugh. “I’m going to buy a lottery ticket.” Arthur sneered, his face wrinkling in disgust. “Don’t bullshit me! A lottery ticket? What, you think you’re going to magically strike it rich?” “Actually, Arthur,” I said as the elevator doors chimed open. “For a guy who supposedly has dementia, you’re pretty sharp. That’s exactly what I’m going to do.” In my past life, on the exact day Arthur had ruined my career, I had hit absolute rock bottom. Desperate, I had bought a Mega Millions ticket on my walk home. When the numbers were drawn, I had missed the jackpot by exactly two numbers. The jackpot had been five million dollars. With five million dollars, why the hell did I need this corporate grind anyway? I stepped onto the elevator. Arthur squeezed in right behind me, his chest heaving. “You think you can outsmart me?” he sneered as the doors closed. “I’m going to watch you buy that ticket. Let’s see how lucky you really are.”

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The penalty for losing the game was supposed to be a simple, if slightly humiliating, dare: post “I’m in love with you. Just you.” to my Instagram Story. But there was a catch. It couldn’t be restricted to my Close Friends list. It had to be public. For all seventy million of my haters to see. And the real kicker? I had to screen-mirror my phone to the live broadcast and instantly open the direct messages of the men who replied. The entire internet was holding its collective breath, waiting to watch Hollywood’s most notorious serial dater—me—crash and burn on live television. They didn’t expect what actually happened. The brooding, Oscar-winning A-lister: [Are you actively trying to destroy our family?] [Delete this right now. I’m going to pretend I never saw it, sis.] [DELETE IT NOW!] The chart-topping pop idol: [Whatever you want, just name it. I’m sending my black card over now.] [Actually, Harps, please delete that post! My brother just saw it and I think my soul just left my body!] The notoriously ruthless billionaire venture capitalist: [No.] [But if you’re absolutely desperate, I suppose I could make an exception.] [Ground rules: if we do this, you cut off every other guy. Clean break.] [Wait? Didn’t I reply in less than a second?] [Why aren’t you answering?] [Fine. You don’t have to cut them off. I’m a traditional man—I just demand to be the primary husband. Make sure your little harem brings me my morning coffee.] 1 My name is Heather. In the eyes of the internet, I am Hollywood’s most manipulative, clout-chasing villain. The moment my name trends, a bloodbath ensues. If you venture into the comment sections of any pop-culture account, you’ll find variations of the same venom: [How desperate is she for relevance?] [Did her sugar daddy cut off her allowance? Why is she preying on my man? He literally has PTSD from trying to avoid her!] [Honestly, seeing her act like this makes me feel better about my own life.] And those are just the ones that don’t get flagged for community guidelines. I don’t have fans. I have a dedicated mob of anti-fans. I mute them all. The origin of this mass hatred? I happen to be a little too close to some of the industry’s most untouchable leading men. What the public doesn’t know is that most of these men are my older brother’s best friends. He’s a fiercely private, method-acting hermit who spends half the year off the grid in a Montana cabin. Before he disappears, he casually asks his high-profile buddies to “keep an eye on the kid.” Naturally, the paparazzi only catch the moments that look incriminating. Add that to the time I was photographed sneaking onto my brother’s closed set. In the eyes of the public, I was defiling their untouchable, fiercely single cinematic king. The tabloids ran with it, and the internet swallowed it whole. Just like that, I became Heather: the calculating, coattail-riding siren. To salvage what was left of my non-existent reputation, my manager, Valerie, threw me into Girls’ Getaway: Unplugged. It was an all-female, slow-paced travel reality show known for its wholesome vibes and positive PR. Please, I prayed to whatever PR gods were listening, let this save my career. 2 The premise was a four-person girls’ trip, live-streamed 24/7. The cast included Bonnie and Kendall, a comedy duo who were actual best friends in real life. Ironically, Bonnie had a very public, unrequited crush on my emotionally unavailable brother, Henry. Kendall, on the other hand, was aggressively pursuing Mason, the pop star who currently acted as my personal lackey. The final cast member was Sophia. Sophia was the golden girl. Effortlessly chic, universally beloved, and possessing a rare superpower: no matter who she was paired with, she had insane, palpable chemistry with them. It was a foolproof setup. Without a doubt, this show was tailor-made to wash my sins away. 3 Brimming with a dangerously high level of optimism, I arrived at the set. The production team had rented a sprawling, Tuscan-style villa in the hills. The interior was draped in warm linens and fresh eucalyptus—exactly the kind of healing, aesthetic sanctuary you’d expect from an all-female retreat. I was still taking in the sweeping vineyard views when I saw them: Bonnie and Kendall, practically sprinting toward me with beaming, enthusiastic smiles. I dropped my posture, throwing my arms open to embrace them. Only, they didn’t stop. They blew right past me, their momentum carrying them toward the driveway behind me. Toward the radiant, glowing Sophia. Sophia was dressed in understated vintage denim and a crisp white button-down, her makeup impossibly fresh. She flashed a smile that could disarm a bomb. Men loved her; women worshipped her. The internet had declared her the ultimate “chemistry queen,” and it was easy to see why. The live chat, projected on a monitor behind the cameras, was already having a field day at my expense: [LMAOOOO look at the clout-chaser! She really thought they were running to hug her!] [I’m screaming. You love to see a pick-me girl get completely ignored by real women.] [Thank god there are no men on this cast, otherwise she’d be playing the victim right now.] [Why did production even cast her? She ruins the whole vibe.] [Okay but honestly… I don’t mind the producers throwing her in if we get to watch her squirm like this all season.] Catching sight of the vicious comments, I immediately stepped up to defend Bonnie and Kendall. “Sophia is literally glowing,” I said to the cameras, forcing a bright, self-deprecating laugh. “I was staring at her myself! I don’t blame them for not noticing me.” Bonnie and Kendall turned around, freezing in their tracks. They stared at me, their expressions twisting into something guarded and strange. I shot them a reassuring look. Don’t worry. I’m cool with it. Sophia’s lips curved upward. It was a knowing, somewhat inscrutable smile. She gave me a polite nod of acknowledgment. I wiped my palms on my jeans and stepped forward, cautiously extending a hand. “Hi, Sophia. I’m Heather. Huge fan.” Sophia chuckled softly, her grip firm and warm. “Hi, Heather.” The chat wasted no time ripping me apart: [Ha! The second she realizes there are no men to manipulate, she starts kissing up to the most popular girl.] [Sophia is a class act. Even knowing this girl is obsessed with her brother, she’s still so polite.] [Classic social climber. Notice how she hasn’t even acknowledged Bonnie and Kendall because they aren’t A-listers?] Wait. Sophia’s brother? Who the hell was that? I racked my brain. I didn’t know any men who shared Sophia’s last name. If I did, there was no way I would only be meeting the goddess herself today. I let out a quiet, internal sigh. A disastrous opening move. Fixing this image was going to be an uphill battle through mud. Keeping my head down, I grabbed the handle of my oversized suitcase and trailed behind the trio, chanting my manager’s golden rules in my head: Speak less. Work more. Stop staring at beautiful people. Watch the live chat. 4 We reached the sweeping stone steps leading up to the villa’s main entrance. As we prepared to haul our luggage, Bonnie paused, turning back to me with an exaggerated look of distress. “Heather, your bag looks so heavy,” she cooed, her tone carrying a brittle, overly-sweet edge. “We really can’t lift it. You don’t mind carrying it up yourself, do you?” As a chronic people-pleaser who melted whenever a pretty girl looked distressed, I shook my head vigorously. “No, of course not! I’ve got it. Don’t worry about me.” Bonnie and Kendall exchanged a sharp, loaded glance. I felt a beat of confusion. The chat, naturally, erupted in glee: [HAHAHA! YES Bonnie! Give it to her! When she was trying to get Henry’s attention last month, she claimed her bag was too heavy to move!] [No men around to do her heavy lifting, so the mask slips. Love to see it.] [This is the exact kind of reality TV justice I signed up for!] I gripped the handle of my suitcase, hesitating on the bottom step. Huh? They seemed like such nice girls. Why did that feel like a targeted hit? Surely the internet was just reading too much into it. The irony was, the last time I visited Henry’s set, my suitcase was impossibly heavy. It was packed full of homemade preserves and heavy winter coats our mother had forced me to mule across the country for him. I had to play the damsel in distress just to guilt Henry into giving me my monthly shopping allowance. Before I could open my mouth to explain, the camera operators and the rest of the cast had already migrated inside the cool, marble foyer. I stood alone in the heat for a second, then let out a breath. Whatever. We had weeks of filming left. There would be time to clear the air. 5 The ice-breaker for the first night was Truth or Dare. Simple, unpretentious, and dangerously effective for reality television. A steaming hot pot bubbled in the center of the dining table. The cameras were rolling. The empty wine bottle spun, slowing down until the neck pointed directly at my chest. “Truth or Dare?” Bonnie asked, a spark of anticipation in her eyes. I rolled up my silk sleeves. “A real woman never chooses truth.” Bonnie and Kendall shared another one of those loaded looks. A tiny knot of panic tightened in my stomach. I maintained a facade of absolute calm. What was the worst that could happen? They were gorgeous, sweet women. It wasn’t like they were going to feed me to the wolves. I leaned forward, trying to look eager. Kendall’s face grew deadpan. “Do you have a boyfriend? Or anyone you’re… casually seeing?” I blinked, thrown off. “Wait, is this a Truth? I thought I picked Dare.” “We’re just asking because we don’t want your boyfriend to break up with you after you do this dare,” Bonnie explained smoothly. I let out a dry, theatrical scoff. “Please. Men are merely stepping stones on my path to greatness.” A flicker of genuine amusement flashed in Sophia’s eyes, though it was quickly masked by something more complicated. Bonnie offered a tight smile. “So, that’s a no?” I nodded with total conviction. Bonnie’s smile widened as she read the dare from a card. “Post the following to your main Instagram feed, no filters, no privacy settings: ‘I’m in love with you. Just you.’ Then, you have to screen-mirror your phone and open the DMs of the men who reply instantly.” A heavy silence fell over my end of the table. I raised a hand, feeling very much like a reprimanded schoolgirl. “What if… no one replies instantly?” “Then you just open the chat of whoever replies first,” Kendall said, entirely unsympathetic. I nodded slowly, the gears turning in my head. I pulled out my phone, typed the caption over a black background, and hovered my thumb over the ‘Share’ button. Kendall raised an eyebrow. “You’re not restricting certain people from seeing it, are you?” I hesitated, then slid my phone across the table toward them. “Do you want to press post?” I closed my eyes tightly as I heard the soft tap of the screen. Dread washed over me. What if no one texted? My reputation was already in the gutter. If I went viral as the girl who couldn’t even get a pity text from a fake love confession, the humiliation would be permanent. It’s fine, I reasoned with myself. Valerie is watching the live stream. She’ll text me to save face. The live chat was moving so fast it was a blur: [Oh my god, Bonnie is a reality TV genius! Right for the jugular!] [Look at how terrified she is! I’m living for this!] [This post is about to expose her entire roster. I cannot WAIT.] [They really put the clown makeup right on her face. I get why she’s on this show now—she’s the sacrificial lamb.] The comments were brutal, some crossing into territory too vile to read. My heart hammered against my ribs. Please. Someone. Anyone. Just text me. Perhaps the universe took pity on my pathetic internal pleading. Ping. Ping. Ping. Ping. A rapid-fire barrage of notification chimes echoed through the silent dining room. I let out a long, shaky exhale. Thank God. Across the table, Kendall and Bonnie’s eyes lit up the moment they heard the chimes. Within seconds, a producer had mirrored my phone screen onto the large monitor mounted on the dining room wall. I looked up at the fresh stack of direct messages. There were… a lot of them. As Kendall and Bonnie read the names on the lock screen, the smug anticipation completely drained from their faces. They went rigid. Forcing a stiff smile, Bonnie swallowed hard. “So, Heather… whose message do you want to open first?” I stared at the list of chaotic notifications, a unique brand of despair settling over me. I decided to go with the safest bet. The softest target. My brother—Henry. His contact name was saved simply as “The Spark.” I used to have him saved as “Pretentious Drama Queen” because I blocked him so often, but eventually, I got too lazy to type it out. Bonnie stared at the avatar next to the name, her voice trembling slightly. “Is… is that Henry’s private account?” I nodded, utterly relaxed. “Yeah.” The phone in Bonnie’s hand visibly shook. “Aren’t you terrified he’s going to rip you apart?” I lunged forward, snatching my phone before she could drop it into the boiling hot pot broth. “Why would he yell at me?” I asked, genuinely baffled. Bonnie’s eyes practically bugged out of her head. “Because you’re… you’re using him for clout?” I had no idea if Henry was currently yelling at me in those messages, but the internet certainly was. [Are you kidding me? Is she seriously doing this?] [She is shameless. Absolutely shameless. Hooking her claws into him on live TV?] [I mean, bad press is still press. She knows exactly what she’s doing.] [Does Heather have zero shame? What is wrong with her?] [Henry HATES people who use him for PR. Watch him absolutely end her career right now.] I turned my back to the monitor. Out of sight, out of mind. I tapped Henry’s message thread. The chat expanded on the massive screen behind me, the camera zooming in perfectly. The Spark: [Are you actively trying to destroy our family?!] [Delete this right now. I’m going to pretend I never saw it, sis.] [DELETE IT NOW!] A deafening silence dropped over the room. The only sound was a soft plop as Sophia dropped her sushi roll into her soy sauce dish, staring blankly at the screen. Everyone was paralyzed. Bonnie looked physically ill, completely forgetting she was on camera. The producers behind the lenses looked like they needed medical attention. I was the only one moving, calmly typing my reply. [Relax, Drama Queen. If I ever fall in love, it definitely wouldn’t be with you.] [It’s a Truth or Dare penalty.] The response was instantaneous. [Oh thank god. My life is spared.] The chat box on the live stream broke. It was moving so fast the text blurred into a solid white block. [AHHHHHHHHH! IS THAT ACTUALLY HENRY?!] [Wait. Holy shit. Is she faking this? Did she hire an actor to run a fake account?] [Why would she fake something that could be disproven by his PR team in three seconds?]

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My husband’s untouchable first love and I went into labor on the exact same day, but I was the one barred from the delivery room. Even after she had safely delivered her baby, the doors remained locked to me. Henry stared down at me, his face a mask of terrifying indifference. He looked at me not as a husband looks at his wife, but as a stranger evaluating a piece of property. “The spiritual advisor was very clear, Madeline,” he said, his voice maddeningly calm. “A child born exactly at the stroke of dawn possesses the grounded, stoic energy required to serve. You just need to wait three more hours. It will go by fast.” As he spoke, his fingers dug into my upper arms, pinning me against his chest like a vice. My water had already broken. The sterile hospital floor was slick with it. Yet, he didn’t even flinch. My eyes burned with unshed tears; my hands shook violently from the sheer agony radiating through my pelvis. “Henry! Have you lost your damn mind?!” I screamed, my voice tearing at the edges. “The baby is coming now! It can’t wait! We are going to die!” The pressure was unbearable. The doctor had already seen crowning—the top of my baby’s fragile head pressing against the threshold of the world. But Henry simply signaled his private security. They hoisted me onto a gurney. At his nod, the concierge physician he had on payroll took a pair of cold, heavy surgical forceps and brutally, unthinkingly, forced the progression to a halt. It was the act of a savage. “The advisor said Vanessa’s baby was born with a fragile constitution. He will need a lifelong companion, someone bound to him to carry his burdens,” Henry explained, his tone conversational, as if discussing private school tuitions. “Since we can’t trust outsiders, our child will just have to take on that role. But he won’t have the inherent loyalty unless he’s born exactly at dawn.” A chilling realization washed over the white-hot pain. From the very moment I told him I was pregnant, he had been calculating this. He had been calculating how to turn my child into a lifelong servant for the woman he never truly got over. As the first tear finally broke free and tracked through the sweat on my cheek, the remaining love I held for this man shattered into a million irreparable pieces. … 1 My spine was pressed flat against the freezing metallic surface of the hospital bed. My wrists were bound to the bedrails with thick, coarse restraints, digging deep into my skin. The room was stripped of all dignity, echoing only with my guttural, animalistic wails. “Henry! Please, God, I am begging you!” I thrashed wildly against the straps. “The baby didn’t do anything wrong! Please let it come!” The rough material of the restraints had already chewed through my skin, leaving raw, bloody rings around my wrists. Dr. Gallagher, the highly-paid private obstetrician standing by the monitor, finally cracked. He swallowed hard, his brow furrowed in ethical agony. “Mr. Scott… Henry,” the doctor stammered. “A child’s temperament is dictated by genetics and environment, not the hour of their birth. Mrs. Scott is hemorrhaging. If we delay this any longer, she is going to die…” A sharp, echoing crack cut him off. Henry had backhanded the doctor across the face. Henry smiled, but it was a dark, venomous thing. “Since when do I pay you to give me unsolicited opinions?” The silence that followed was deafening. The nurses, who moments before had been whispering in horrified sympathy, snapped their mouths shut. They lowered their eyes to the floor. They didn’t even dare to administer an epidural or a drop of morphine, terrified that a single misstep would cost them their careers—or worse. My cervix was dilating to its absolute limit. My hands curled into tight, trembling fists as the pain ripped through my core. The baby was fighting, pushing desperately against the artificial barrier, tearing my insides in its fight for life. “Henry… please,” I gasped, the world spinning in and out of focus. “Eight years. We’ve been together for eight years. For the love of God, spare me and the baby. Please.” He hadn’t always been this monster. When I first showed him the positive pregnancy test, he had wept. He spent entire nights wide awake, devouring medical journals and parenting books so he could anticipate my every need. He, a man who had never turned on a stove in his life, learned to cook exquisite, nutrient-dense meals from scratch. He memorized my dietary restrictions. Before the sun even rose, he would be in the kitchen, prepping my meals for the day. But then Vanessa got her divorce. She moved back from Paris, and everything changed. His eyes, which used to trace the contours of my face with absolute devotion, began to drift. He stopped sitting by my side, instead splitting his time, rushing across the city at all hours. “Vanessa is pregnant and alone. She’s delicate right now. I can’t just leave her,” he had reasoned, his voice laced with a manipulative gentleness. “You’re a mother-to-be too, Maddie. You of all people should understand.” And with that sickeningly perfect justification, he left me alone. I went to my ultrasounds alone. I lay on the bathroom floor, crippled by morning sickness, alone. When I called him, sobbing from the isolation, his response was a tired sigh. “Just push through it, Madeline. Every pregnant woman deals with this. You’re not the first.” As the memory faded, the sheer stupidity of my own hope choked me. I had genuinely believed that once our baby was born, things would magically reset. I thought he would look at our child, let go of the ghost of Vanessa, and finally come home to us. “Ahhh!” The cold metal instruments dug deeper into me, an unnatural violation that made my heart stutter and practically stop. “See? The advisor was right. The child is unruly, undisciplined. It keeps trying to push its way out early,” Henry murmured. He reached out, his cool fingers brushing the sweat-soaked hair from my forehead in a grotesque pantomime of affection. “Just one more hour, sweetheart. Be a good girl.” My vision blurred. I managed to tilt my chin down, looking at the soaking sheets between my legs. It was crimson. “Henry! I’m bleeding!” Panic, primal and consuming, overtook the pain. “If you don’t let me push, the baby is going to suffocate!” Adrenaline flooded my veins. Ignoring the agonizing burn, I wrenched my arms violently against the restraints. I pulled and twisted until the skin tore away, exposing the white gleam of bone beneath my mangled wrists. With a sickening pop, the strap gave way. I lunged, my bloody fingers latching onto the collar of his tailored shirt. “Please!” My voice was nothing but a broken sob. “This is our baby! How can you stand there and torture it like this?!” A flicker of something—doubt, perhaps, or a delayed spark of humanity—crossed Henry’s face. He frowned. Dr. Gallagher seized the momentary hesitation. “Henry, we can still save them. If we do an emergency C-section right this second, we can save both your wife and the child!” I stared into Henry’s eyes, my tears dripping onto his expensive cuffs. “Please…” He let out a heavy breath. He opened his mouth to speak. Then, the heavy oak door of the VIP suite swung open. It was Vanessa. The moment Henry saw her, he peeled my bloody fingers off his shirt and rushed to her side. “What are you doing out of bed?” he chided softly. “You just delivered. You need to be resting.” Vanessa’s gaze drifted over his shoulder, landing on my pathetic, bleeding form. The corner of her mouth twitched upward into a faint, unmistakably triumphant smile. “I heard Madeline was being difficult. I thought I’d come talk some sense into her,” she said, her voice dripping with practiced sweetness. She leaned against him. “It’s fine, Harry. My husband abandoned me. What does it matter if my child doesn’t have a perfectly matched companion?” Henry wrapped his arms protectively around her waist, his eyes fierce with misplaced devotion. “As long as I’m breathing, you and your baby will have everything you need.” He slowly turned his head. The softness vanished, replaced by the eyes of an executioner looking down at a corpse. “No one touches her,” he ordered the room. “No surgery without my explicit command.” 2 In that singular moment, the blood in my veins turned to ice. I wanted to launch myself across the room. I wanted to grab him by the throat and scream until my lungs gave out. But my body had nothing left. I tried to stand, but the catastrophic blood loss caught up to me. My legs buckled, and I crashed to the floor, taking a heavy glass vase down with me. It shattered beneath my weight. Thick shards of glass sliced deeply into my arms and legs, painting the pristine floor with fresh, terrifying streaks of red. For a fraction of a second, Henry panicked. Instinct drove him forward; he reached out to catch me. “Madeline, what the hell are you doing?!” he yelled, turning his face away from the gruesome sight of my bleeding limbs. I didn’t care about the glass. I didn’t care about the pain. I crawled toward him, leaving a smear of blood in my wake. “I won’t cause trouble!” I begged, my dignity entirely discarded, traded for the microscopic hope of my baby’s survival. “Just let me have the baby! I’ll do whatever you want! I’ll be Vanessa’s nanny! I’ll be her maid! Just let my baby live!” In my peripheral vision, I saw Vanessa’s smile widen. She had won. She was the absolute victor, looking down from her pedestal. She took a slow, deliberate step toward me, playing the role of the benevolent queen. “Harry, look at her. She’s so pathetic. Maybe we should just let it go. I mean, she was already so jealous when you took care of me during my pregnancy. I don’t have the right to ask this of you.” As she spoke, she knelt down and placed her perfectly manicured hand over mine. And then, hidden from Henry’s view, she dug her nails directly into my open, glass-filled wound. “Get off me!” I gasped, yanking my hand away. I was so weak I could barely lift my own arm. But Vanessa threw her upper body backward with theatrical force, letting the back of her head knock against the edge of the mahogany side table. “Vanessa!” A thin line of blood trickled down her forehead. Her lips trembled perfectly. Henry whipped his head toward me, the rage in his eyes so intense it felt like a physical blow. “Madeline! Are you insane?!” he roared. “Security! Get in here! Bind her hands again!” His chest heaved. “And if she breaks out again, drag her outside and leave her for the coyotes!” Before the echo of his voice faded, his private security detail swarmed the room. They pinned me down, their heavy boots and knees carelessly grinding into my lacerated flesh. This time, they didn’t use nylon restraints. They used heavy, metallic zip-ties. And just to ensure I couldn’t move an inch, they secured a thick strap across my collarbone, pinning my throat to the mattress. If I struggled, I would suffocate myself. One of the younger nurses covered her mouth, tears spilling over her cheeks. “Is this really necessary? She’s pregnant…” Dr. Gallagher clamped a hand over her mouth, his eyes wide with warning. “Shut up!” he hissed under his breath. “Do you not see Vanessa standing right there? Madeline might wear his ring, but Vanessa is the one who holds the power.” The nurse shook her head, her eyes fixed on me with a devastating, helpless pity. She was right. It took me eight years of unwavering loyalty to get a ring on my finger. But Vanessa had been back for barely eight months, and she had effortlessly claimed the throne. She didn’t have to beg. She didn’t have to compromise. Everything she wanted, Henry laid at her feet like an offering. I stopped fighting. The fight had drained out of me, pooling with my blood on the floor. I stared blankly at the sterile acoustic tiles on the ceiling. My hospital gown was soaked through, the blood beginning to oxidize into a stiff, rusty brown. From across the room, the hushed, intimate sounds of Henry and Vanessa murmuring to each other floated over to me. They were discussing baby names. They were discussing the future. I lay there, an empty, bleeding husk. My eyelids grew incredibly heavy. A quiet, dark gravity pulled at them until they fluttered shut, locking away the horrors of the room. “Doctor!” a voice suddenly shrieked. “She’s losing consciousness!” Dr. Gallagher sprinted to the bedside, prying my eyelids open with his thumbs. “Get the crash cart! Intubate her! She’s going into hypovolemic shock!” The three hours were finally up. My body had simply surrendered. I slipped into the dark. … When I opened my eyes again, the room was blindingly white and utterly silent. I was alone. Ignoring the searing, tearing agony in my lower abdomen, I ripped the IV from my hand and stumbled blindly out into the corridor. “Where is it?!” I grabbed the first set of scrubs I saw. “Where is my baby?!” A seasoned floor nurse looked at me, her eyes immediately welling up. She gently pried my hands off her shoulders. “Oh, honey. You need to go back to bed.” My eyes were bloodshot, feral. “What do you mean? Tell me where my baby is!” She looked around the empty hallway, her voice dropping to a devastated whisper. “To harvest the stem cells from the placenta without contamination… the procedure they forced… the baby, sweetheart… the baby didn’t make it.” 3 A crushing, monolithic despair slammed into my chest. It was as if someone had severed my spine. My knees gave out, and I collapsed onto the linoleum. The freshly placed sutures between my legs tore open instantly, a hot, wet rush of blood soaking through my clean gown. “No… No, that’s impossible.” “Where is he?! Where is Henry?!” I screamed, my voice cracking into a hoarse, guttural sound. I slammed my fists into the floor, not feeling the bruised bones, feeling nothing but a void where my soul used to be. “Enough!” Henry’s sharp voice cut through the corridor. He strode toward me, his face tight with annoyance, and hauled me up off the ground by my arm. I grabbed the lapels of his jacket, shaking him with whatever phantom strength I had left. “Where is my baby?! What did you do?!” For a fraction of a second, he looked away. A heavy silence hung between us. “Madeline, calm down,” a sickeningly sweet voice chimed in. Vanessa stepped out from behind him, holding a steaming porcelain thermos. “You just went through a traumatic labor. Have some of this broth. It will help with the recovery.” I stared at her, the smug satisfaction radiating from her pores. The white-hot fury that had been suppressed for months finally detonated. I swiped my arm out, violently knocking the thermos from her hands. It shattered, splattering the dark, rich broth across the floor. “Drop the act, Vanessa!” I shrieked. “If it weren’t for you, my child wouldn’t have been tortured to death!” Vanessa didn’t flinch. She simply looked down at the spilled liquid, a cruel, lazy smile stretching across her lips. “What a shame,” she murmured, her voice barely a whisper. “That broth was made from the stem cells extracted from your baby’s placenta. I guess the little thing died for absolutely nothing.” I froze. The world stopped spinning. The ambient hum of the hospital machinery faded into a high-pitched ringing in my ears. Down the hall, two residents walked by, speaking in hushed, disgusted tones. “It’s horrific. If the husband hadn’t demanded the immediate extraction of the placenta while the child was stuck in the birth canal, the baby would have survived.” “Money talks. He’d burn this hospital down if it gave Vanessa an extra year of youth.” He killed our baby. My husband murdered our child. The tears fell freely now, hitting the floor in heavy drops. Something inside my brain snapped. The tether to reality, to sanity, completely broke. I lunged forward, tackling Vanessa to the wall, raising my hand to claw her perfectly symmetrical face. “You bitch!” I screamed, entirely unhinged. “Give me back my child!” Before my nails could make contact, Henry’s hand locked around my wrist like a steel trap. Before I could even blink, his other hand swung through the air, striking my cheek with enough force to snap my head back. “Are you asking for a death wish?!” he snarled, looking at me as if I were a rabid animal that needed to be put down. As if I was the one who had committed the atrocity. All I wanted was to protect the tiny life inside me. Was that a crime? This was the same man who had dragged me to high-end boutiques, agonizing over the softness of organic cotton onesies. The man who spent his Sunday afternoons painting the nursery a soft, calming sage green. The man who used to press his mouth against my swollen belly every night. “Your mom is working so hard to grow you,” he used to whisper to my skin. “You have to love her the most when you come out. You don’t have to love me as much, because Mommy already loves me enough for both of us.” The memory of that beauty made the present reality so unimaginably grotesque. Henry pulled Vanessa into his chest, carefully inspecting her face to make sure I hadn’t scratched her. Meanwhile, I stood there, blood pooling around my feet from my torn sutures, the metallic taste of blood filling my mouth from where his ring had cut my lip. He didn’t notice my blood. He only saw her. “Apologize to Vanessa, Madeline.” His voice was lethal. “You tried to strike her. Now, you’re going to hit yourself for every time you tried to hit her.” A dry, hollow sound scraped its way out of my throat. I was laughing. This was the man who once panicked if I got a papercut. Now, he was commanding me to mutilate myself. “Henry!” I spat blood onto the floor. “You two murdered my baby! You are the ones who are going to burn in hell!” He didn’t even blink. He adjusted his cuffs, perfectly composed. “The infant’s remains are in the sub-level morgue,” he said casually. “Keep pushing me, Madeline, and I will personally walk down there and throw it in the incinerator while you watch.” 4 I stared at him, my mind unable to process the sheer depravity of the man standing before me. The man who once swore on his life to protect me was now holding our dead baby hostage. “Maddie, don’t make this difficult.” Henry took a step forward, his hand reaching out to stroke my cheek. I shuddered at his touch. “I don’t want to be cruel. We can always have another baby. There’s no need to make a scene.” “If you just apologize, properly, I’ll give you whatever you want.” The absolute clarity of my worthlessness to him was blinding. I would never eclipse Vanessa. In every single choice he made, I was the acceptable casualty. “If I hit myself, you’ll give my baby’s body back to me?” I whispered, pulling away from his touch. The love in my eyes had burned out completely, leaving only ash and venom. “Yes.” He paused, his eyes shifting slightly. “And…” “And what?” My voice was entirely dead. “The advisor mentioned that since the child passed away, the remaining cord tissue is highly potent for Vanessa’s baby. But…” He cleared his throat. “The infant died in distress. It was clutching the umbilical cord. Rigor mortis has set in. They’ll have to amputate its fingers to retrieve the cord intact.” A primal scream tore from my lungs. I threw myself at him, my fists hammering violently against his chest. “Are you even human?!” I shrieked. “That is your flesh and blood! It’s dead, and you want to butcher it?!” I had read the books. When a fetus senses the mother is in extreme peril, it instinctively grips its umbilical cord. It was terrified. My baby died terrified in the dark. And it died without ever knowing that the monster terrorizing its mother was its own father. Henry grabbed my wrists, shoving me back. “I was going to give it back to you in one piece. But since you want to act like a lunatic, I’ll go have it incinerated right now.” He turned on his heel. Panic overrode everything. I collapsed to my knees, wrapping my arms desperately around his legs. “I’ll do it! I’ll do it!” Tears streamed down my face as I raised my trembling hands and began slapping my own face. Hard. I didn’t hold back. I struck myself over and over, the sharp smacks echoing through the hallway. My cheeks swelled instantly, blooming with dark purple bruises. Vanessa watched, leaning against the wall, shaking her head. “Look at her,” she sighed. “She’s so thick-skinned she can’t even force out the words ‘I’m sorry.’ Slapping isn’t going to get through that thick skin.” She snapped her fingers at a bodyguard. Minutes later, he returned from a hospital supply closet with a high-grade medical adhesive sheet—the kind used for intense surgical bindings, smeared with industrial-strength epoxy. “Since your skin is so thick, let me help you peel a layer off,” Vanessa cooed. She looked at Henry. “Hold her head still.” “No… Please, no!” I clawed at Henry’s suit jacket, searching his eyes for even a shred of the man I married. But Vanessa knew exactly which string to pull. “If she hadn’t been so hysterical, the baby wouldn’t have died, and my little Leo would have had his companion.” That twisted, psychopathic logic. They genuinely believed my child was born owing them a debt. “It’ll be over in a second, sweetie,” Henry murmured, his voice gentle, as if he were comforting a child before a vaccine. “Then you can see the baby.” He clamped his large hands onto the sides of my head, locking my skull in place. I couldn’t move. Vanessa stepped forward. She slammed the adhesive sheet directly onto my face, pressing it hard into my bruised flesh. And without a second’s hesitation, she ripped it backward. “Oh! How does that feel?” she chirped. The agony was indescribable. It felt as though my face had been dipped in acid. The air hit the exposed nerves. The violence of the rip had taken the top layers of my skin, leaving raw, bleeding meat in its wake. Even Henry flinched, his hands dropping from my head. I forced my eyes open, though my eyelashes had been torn away. Blood dripped down my chin. “Where is it?!” I gasped, my voice unrecognizable. Trembling, Henry pointed down the hall toward the elevator bank. As I stumbled past the reflective glass of the nurses’ station, I caught a glimpse of myself. I looked like a flayed corpse. My face was a horrific canvas of mangled tissue. But there was no time to mourn my face. I dragged myself down to the morgue. The attendant was away. I found the tiny, stainless-steel drawer. I pulled it open and gathered that freezing, impossibly small body into my arms. As I turned to the exit, Vanessa blocked the doorway. She held a surgical scalpel in her hand, her eyes gleaming with dark intent. “Did you forget something?” she sneered. “I still need to cut its little fingers off to get my cord tissue.” A low, guttural growl vibrated in my chest. When I bared my teeth to scream, the torn muscles in my face ripped further, fresh blood pouring down my neck. “Get out!” I roared. “This is my baby! If you want to touch it, you’ll have to kill me first!” I curled my body entirely around the tiny corpse, ready to die right there on the frozen tiles. Henry rushed into the room behind her. He stared at me, genuinely bewildered by my reaction. “Maddie, for god’s sake, it’s a dead fetus! Why are you acting like this?!” he yelled. “If you want a baby that badly, I’ll get you pregnant again! We can have three more!” A dead fetus. This was the child I had carried for nine months. The child whose kicks I had mapped. Henry reached for the scalpel in Vanessa’s hand, stepping toward me. “Be reasonable, Maddie. I don’t want to accidentally cut you.” I backed away until my spine hit the large, frosted glass window at the end of the morgue corridor. I looked out at the city skyline. Eight years. Eight years of my life, sacrificed at the altar of this man’s ego. “Henry,” I said, my voice eerily calm through the bleeding tissue of my mouth. “I wish to God I had never met you.” Without another word, I turned, tucked my baby tightly against my chest, and threw myself backward through the glass. As I fell into the open air, Henry’s agonizing scream tore through the night. “Madeline—!”

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I was in the middle of a high-stakes board meeting when my phone buzzed with a FaceTime request from the nanny. I ignored it, but she called again immediately. Then a third time. I stepped out, a knot tightening in my chest. “Mrs. Benson? I’m in a meeting, what—” “Ma’am, you have to come home! Now!” The camera was shaking, her face a mask of pure terror. “It’s Sophie! Someone… someone broke her leg!” The world tilted. “What do you mean? You’re at the house, aren’t you? How could this happen?” She opened her mouth to speak, but the screen abruptly went black. The call was cut. A second later, a notification pinged from the neighborhood WhatsApp group. Someone had posted a photo. “I didn’t realize trash moved into ‘The Heights’ until today. Luckily, my son gave this little brat exactly what she deserved for her mother’s sins!” I tapped the photo. My breath hitched. It was Sophie’s smart-watch, the screen cracked and smeared with fresh, bright red blood. The wallpaper on the watch was still visible: a happy photo of the three of us—me, my husband, and our daughter. … But it was the sender’s profile picture that stopped my heart. It was a wedding photo—a young, blonde woman in white, beaming next to my husband. Before I could process the image, she tagged me in the group. “You’re the mistress, aren’t you? Sorry about your daughter’s leg, but I guess that’s what happens when you try to steal another woman’s husband. Consider it a debt paid by the next generation.” The group chat exploded. Hundreds of messages poured in, a localized lynch mob of neighbors calling me a home-wrecker and my daughter a mistake. I didn’t wait. I sprinted toward the parking garage, dialing my executive assistant as I ran. “My daughter’s been assaulted,” I barked, my voice cold and vibrating with rage. “Get the legal team and the best pediatric trauma surgeons on standby. I want whoever touched her destroyed.” “Also,” I added, getting into my car, “freeze every single accounts under Richard Whitaker’s name. Draft the divorce papers. Total asset reclamation. I want him on the street.” “A kept man playing ‘CEO’ while he maintains a second family on my dime? He’s finished.” I tore into the community square ten minutes later. A crowd had already gathered near the fountain. At the center stood a woman I’d never seen before—Tiffany. She was dressed in head-to-toe designer gear that I recognized as last season’s boutique leftovers, surrounded by neighbors who were practically bowing to her. “Mrs. Whitaker, you’re far too humble,” one neighbor cooed. “If it wasn’t for this drama, we never would have known you were the actual First Lady of Whitaker Industries.” “Exactly! I knew the moment I saw you that you had that ‘old money’ grace. A real billionaire’s wife!” “Don’t worry, we’ll help you deal with that slut. Your son, Mason, is such a little protector! Taking down a mistress’s kid at his age? He’s a chip off the old block!” Mrs. Benson, the nanny who had been so desperate to warn me minutes ago, was now standing near Tiffany, her face twisted into a sycophantic grin. “Mrs. Whitaker, I am so sorry,” she said to Tiffany. “I had no idea you were the real wife. I almost protected that little brat over the young Master.” “Rest assured, even though I’m just the help, I have morals. I won’t spend another second in that mistress’s house.” Tiffany stood there like a prize-winning peacock, soaking in the adoration. The “CEO of Whitaker Industries” they were praising was my husband, Richard. When I married him, his family’s firm was a sinking ship, worth less than one of my father’s regional branches. Out of love—or what I thought was love—I’d funded his lifestyle and propped up his failing company with my family’s capital. I had let him play the part of the powerful executive to save his ego. I never imagined he’d use that fake persona to start a second life. I scanned the crowd, my eyes stinging. Sophie wasn’t there. “Where is my daughter?” I screamed, stepping into the circle. The crowd turned. The adoring smiles vanished, replaced by looks of pure, unadulterated disgust. No one spoke. I lunged forward, grabbing Mrs. Benson by the arm. “Where is Sophie? You said she was hurt!” Then, I saw it. On the pavement, near the edge of the fountain, lay the shattered, bloody watch from the photo. My lungs felt like they were collapsing. Mrs. Benson sneered, ripping her arm away as if I were contagious. “Mrs. Lang—oh, wait, Miss Whitaker. Consider this my formal resignation. I’m done.” “I thought you and Mr. Whitaker were a legal couple. I had no idea I was working for a ‘side-piece.’ If I’d known, I wouldn’t have taken the job for ten times the salary!” I grabbed her collar, my vision tunneling. “I treated you like family! You let my daughter get beaten while she was under your care and now you’re lecturing me on morality? Where. Is. She?” The nanny rolled her eyes. “Look, a mistress’s kid getting a little rough-and-tumble? That’s just karma. You can’t blame anyone but yourself.” “It’s a curse. If I don’t quit now, my own kids will be ashamed to have a mother who served a woman like you.” I forced the rage down, my voice dropping to a lethal whisper. “Defamation carries a heavy price, Mrs. Benson. I suggest you look very closely at who the ‘mistress’ really is before you open your mouth again.” Suddenly, a hand swung out. Slap. My head snapped to the side, the sting burning across my cheek. Tiffany was standing there, her eyes narrowed. “Just a cheap little whore,” she spat, “and you still think you can bark orders here? You’re lucky I don’t have you dragged out of this neighborhood by your hair.” “Don’t think that because you popped out a bastard, you can just walk into my life and take my title. You’re dreaming.” The world spun for a moment. Around me, the whispers of the neighbors became a dull roar. “She looks so polished, too. Goes to show, you can’t trust the quiet ones. Probably just a gold-digger after Mr. Whitaker’s billions.” “Disgusting. People like her are a cancer. And that little brat of hers? Probably better off with a broken leg if it teaches her not to follow in her mother’s footsteps.” Someone from a second-story balcony threw a bag of kitchen scraps. It burst near my feet, splattering my heels with rotted greens and coffee grounds. I didn’t care about the filth. I wiped a smudge of grease off my blazer and stared Tiffany down. “Where is my daughter? If you don’t give her to me right now, I’m calling the police. Kidnapping, assault of a minor, and aggravated battery. You’ll be lucky if you ever see the sun again.” Tiffany crossed her arms, laughing. “Call them. Go ahead. When they get here, they’ll see a wife defending her home against a home-wrecker. Besides,” she leaned in, her voice dropping, “my husband is the CEO of Whitaker Industries. He owns people like you. Even if we killed that little brat, he’d just write a check and make it go away.” The neighbors cheered. “She’s trying to play the victim! How pathetic!” Seeing the crowd was on her side, Tiffany’s eyes landed on my Hermès Birkin. Her face contorted with jealousy. “You bitch! You manipulated my husband into buying you this?” she shrieked. She snatched the bag from my shoulder. I didn’t fight her. I watched as she threw it onto the pavement, stomping on the leather with her heels, trying to rip the stitching apart. “Die, you slut! My husband works his ass off for this money! Why should it go to you and your little mistake?” As the bag spilled open, my car keys tumbled out. Tiffany froze. She picked them up, her brow furrowing. She pressed the unlock button. A few yards away, the lights of my custom Maybach flashed. Tiffany looked like she’d been struck by lightning. “A Maybach? I’m the legal wife and I’m driving a mid-tier BMW, and you—the mistress—are driving a three-hundred-thousand-dollar car?” She went into a frenzy. She pulled a lipstick from her pocket and ran to the car, scrawling “WHORE” in jagged, red letters across the hood. I watched her, my expression frozen in a mask of cold irony. “You’re going to regret those words very soon. They describe the wrong woman.” “Shut up!” Tiffany screamed. “You think you’re special? You think you’re ‘the one he really loves’? Newsflash: you’re a hobby. And today, the hobby ends.” She picked up a heavy decorative brick from a nearby flowerbed and hurled it at the windshield. The glass spiderwebbed with a sickening crack. Seeing her, the other neighbors joined in, picking up rocks and trash, smashing the lights and kicking the doors until the car was a mangled wreck. I looked up at the security camera mounted on the gatehouse and smiled. “I hope your bank accounts are as full as your mouths. You’re going to need every penny for the damages.” But they were far gone, fueled by a collective, suburban madness. Someone opened the trunk and gasped. “Hey! There’s a crate of vintage liquor back here!” Tiffany peered in, sneering. “Wine? Probably some cheap rot-gut she bought to feel sophisticated. Move aside.” She grabbed a tire iron someone had pulled out. “Wait,” I said, my voice eerily calm. “That crate is worth more than the car. I’d think twice if I were you.” It was a pristine, original case of 1967 Petrus. I’d won it at a Sotheby’s auction in London as a birthday gift for my father, who was born that year. I’d just picked it up from the bonded warehouse that morning and hadn’t had time to move it to the cellar before the nanny called. Tiffany laughed. “You think you can scare me? You’re a charity case. A Maybach was probably his last gift to you before he realized what a mistake you were.” “And even if this stuff is expensive, it’s a waste on a woman like you. It’s an insult to the wine.” She hauled the crate out and slammed it onto the concrete. The sound of shattering glass and the heavy, oaky scent of vintage Bordeaux filled the air. One of the neighbors, a man who looked like he knew his labels, leaned over and picked up the auction certificate that had fluttered out. His face went ghostly white. “Wait… this says 1967 Petrus. The auction price was… four million dollars?” Tiffany hesitated for a fraction of a second, then snatched the paper and tore it up. “Four million? So what? It’s my husband’s money! It belongs to me! If I want to break my own things, I will!” I almost laughed out loud. Richard’s company had been bleeding cash for three years. Every “success” he had was a facade funded by my personal trust. If Richard sold his entire soul, he wouldn’t be able to afford a single bottle of that wine, let alone a case. But Tiffany was convinced her “CEO husband” was a god. And the neighbors, desperate to stay in her good graces, followed her lead. They smashed the rest of the wine, then moved on to the other auction items in the trunk—a set of rare Ming-style ceramics and a first-edition manuscript. Fine. Let them destroy it. Every shard was another year in a cell. My only priority was Sophie. I looked toward the security office. I needed the footage to see where they took her. But when I tried to enter the gatehouse, the security guard—a man who had tipped his hat to me every morning for a year—blocked the door. “Security area is for residents only,” he said, his lip curling. “Not for home-wrecking trash.” “My daughter is injured,” I said, my voice cracking despite my efforts. “She needs a hospital. Just let me see the footage so I can find her!” The guard didn’t budge. “She’s missing? Good. Maybe she’ll learn what happens when you have a mother who sells her soul for a handbag. Don’t make my job harder, lady. I don’t get paid to talk to your kind.” Then, I heard it. A faint, muffled whimper coming from inside the guard shack. “Mommy… Mommy, help…” It was Sophie. I lunged for the door, but the guard shoved me back hard enough that I hit the pavement. “I heard her! She’s in there!” I screamed. “I’m a homeowner here! Let me in!” The guard laughed. “A homeowner? You’re a kept woman. Mr. Whitaker is the resident. He’s the one who pays the HOA fees. You’re just an occupant. And I’m just doing my job—protecting the real Mrs. Whitaker from the help.” The neighbors cheered. “Give this man a raise! That’s what I call integrity!” “Exactly! Clean up the neighborhood! Get the trash and her bastard out of here!” Tiffany walked over, looking down at me with a smirk. “Hear that? Even the staff knows who the real queen is. You’re nothing but a shadow, honey. It’s time you faded away.” The insults were a roar now. Someone grabbed my arms, pinning me. The guard turned to Tiffany, his voice dripping with sycophancy. “Mrs. Whitaker, I hope you’re pleased with how I’ve handled this. I’ve always admired your husband’s work. If you could perhaps… mention me to him?” Tiffany waved a hand dismissively. “You did well. We’re looking for a new head of security at the firm. I’ll tell Richard to give you the job.” The guard’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. “Thank you, ma’am! Anything you need, I’m your man!” The neighbors swarmed her then, offering business cards, beauty spa vouchers, and golf club memberships, all hoping for a piece of the Whitaker empire. Tiffany stepped toward me, her heels clicking on the stone. She delivered a sharp kick to my stomach. I gasped, doubling over. “That,” she whispered, “is for the car. Now take your brat and disappear. If I see you in this zip code again, I won’t be this ‘merciful.’” The guard shack door creaked open. Sophie crawled out, her face pale and streaked with dirt and blood. She was dragging her left leg behind her at an unnatural angle. “Mommy…” she sobbed. “Make them stop… please…” The sight broke something inside me. I looked at the bruises on her small arms, the terror in her eyes. “Did your son do this?” I hissed at Tiffany. Tiffany shrugged. “He’s a boy. He was defending his family’s honor. It’s just a broken leg. Stop being so dramatic.” “She shouldn’t even exist,” a neighbor added. “Mason was just doing what we all wish we could do to people like you.” The guard patted the little boy—Mason—on the head. “Good job, kid. You’re a real man.” Mason, chewing on a piece of candy, smirked. “She tried to say my Daddy was her Daddy. So I kicked her down the stairs. She’s a liar.” I trembled, a cold, quiet fury taking over. “I am going to make every single one of you pay for this. I will take your homes, your jobs, and your futures.” They laughed. A loud, ugly sound. “The mistress thinks she has power! How cute!” “Go back to the gutter, honey. The adults are talking.” Someone picked up a curb-side trash bin and dumped it over my head. The stench of rot and waste filled my senses. Tiffany clapped her hands, howling with laughter. And then, a black SUV screeched to a halt at the gates. A man stepped out. Crisp suit, perfectly coiffed hair, the image of a man who owned the world.

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The day the Whitakers officially brought me home—the “biological daughter” finally reclaimed from the fringes of poverty—the air in the foyer was thick enough to choke on. I looked at the four of them standing there, a united front in designer silk and cashmere. My stomach did a slow, painful roll. I knew this script. I’d read the tabloids and the trashy paperbacks. This was the part where the “true” daughter is treated like a virus invading a healthy cell, while the “fake” one—the girl who had lived my life for eighteen years—played the martyr. A sudden, sharp wave of vertigo hit me. My ears began to ring with a high-pitched, mechanical hum, followed by a cold, synthesized voice that echoed only inside my skull: [Ping—Truth System Activated. Forced Honesty Triggered within a 15-foot radius.] Across from me, Courtney—the girl who had spent the last ten minutes sobbing about how she “didn’t want to be a burden” and “would just move out tonight”—suddenly stiffened. Her face contorted, her teary-eyed innocence replaced by a sneer so sharp it could draw blood. “Please,” she spat, the word dripping with venom. “Why the hell should I be the one to leave? If anyone’s going, it’s this trailer-park charity case. I’m the only Whitaker that matters. Mom, Dad, and Derek… they’re mine.” The room went deathly silent. … My father’s face darkened instantly. “Courtney! What on earth has gotten into you? Apologize to your sister right now.” Courtney looked as if she’d been slapped. She clapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide with genuine terror. She looked at her parents, her voice trembling. “I—I’m sorry. I’m just scared. I didn’t mean that, I swear…” But then, her features began to twitch again, as if her muscles were being pulled by invisible wires. Her mouth opened against her will, the words tumbling out like a landslide. “…Except I totally did. Let’s be real, Mom and Dad think she’s a downgrade too. I get the master suite with the balcony; she belongs in the windowless maid’s quarters in the basement. She’s a stain on the family portrait.” My mother looked like she was about to faint. She grabbed my hand, her grip frantic and cold. “Isabel, honey, that’s not true. You have to believe me.” “We aren’t going to play favorites,” Mom continued, her voice gaining a desperate, melodic quality. “You and Courtney are both our daughters. We’ll treat you exactly the same…” She paused, her eyes glazing over as the system took hold. “Even though we’ve loved Courtney for eighteen years and the bond is deeper, and honestly, having you here is just… awkward. But we’ll do our duty. We won’t let the help think we’re cruel.” Mom’s eyes went wide. she practically choked on her own breath, pressing her palms against her lips so hard her knuckles turned white. My “brother,” Derek, didn’t even try to hide his disdain. He stepped forward, his lip curled. “In my heart, Courtney is my only sister. A girl who grew up in the dirt doesn’t deserve to be treated like an equal. If I catch you making Courtney cry, I’ll make sure you regret ever finding your way to this zip code.” I felt a strange sense of calm wash over me. Good, I thought. No more shadows. No more guessing. I’d spent weeks preparing myself for the cold shoulder, but having their raw, unfiltered ugliness laid out on the Persian rug was almost refreshing. There was no room for disappointment when you knew exactly where the knives were hidden. My father rubbed the bridge of his nose, looking at his family as if they’d all developed sudden, inexplicable Tourette’s. “Arthur,” he called out to the butler, his voice weary. “Take Courtney to the guest cottage at the shore. She stays there for a month to reflect. She doesn’t step foot back in this house until she remembers her place.” He turned to Derek. “And you. Threatening your sister? Your trust fund is frozen for three months. Grow up.” The butler, a man usually as stoic as a statue, nodded, but then his mouth started working. “The ‘true’ daughter certainly has some pull. One day back and the golden children are banished. I’ll have to make sure I suck up to Miss Isabel if I want to keep my Christmas bonus…” Everyone stared at him. He turned pale as a ghost, his hands shaking. “I… I’m so sorry. I didn’t say that. I didn’t!” He practically scrambled out of the room to execute his orders. The living room felt cavernous now. I looked at my parents, letting a flicker of hurt show in my eyes. “So, the windowless basement room? Is that where I’m headed?” Mom’s mouth twitched. “Of course not… Maria! Take Isabel to Courtney’s old suite. Make sure she has everything she needs. Replace it all—new linens, new furniture. Only the best for my daughter.” Maria, the head housekeeper, hurried up the stairs, but we could still hear her muttering as she retreated: “Is that girl a walking lie detector? How is… everyone… just… saying it out loud?” That night was the first time I slept in a silk-sheeted bed, and I slept like the dead. By morning, a rumor had taken root among the staff: The new Whitaker girl had a “Truth Mirror” soul. If you stood within five feet of her, your secrets became public property. The maids who used to gossip behind their hands now scurried away when they saw me coming. The ones who couldn’t avoid me were unnervingly polite, their heads bowed. One young girl passed me in the hall, whispering a frantic mantra: “I’m not thinking anything, I’m not saying anything, I’m not thinking anything…” Being feared was a different kind of power. I didn’t mind it. But I knew the real battle wouldn’t be in this mansion. According to every story I’d ever read, the next stop on this collision course was St. Jude’s Prep. Sure enough, the moment I stepped onto the manicured campus, I saw a pack of students huddled around Courtney. They looked at me as if I were a pile of trash left out in the sun. “Is that the ‘country cousin’?” one girl sneered. “Ugh, do you smell that?” another laughed. “Smells like… debt and cheap laundry detergent.” Courtney didn’t bother playing the “sweet sister” today. She stood there, chin tilted up, looking down her nose at me. “You think winning over the staff at home means you’ve won the war, Isabel? I’m living in the beach house now. It was my early graduation gift from Mom and Dad. They come over every night to tuck me in. You’re just a ghost in a big, empty house.” Her friends snickered. “A crow in peacock feathers,” Courtney added. “Just wait until the midterms. When you bottom out the curve, you can go back to whatever gutter you crawled out of.” I almost laughed. Is that all you’ve got? The final day of midterms arrived. I was just finishing my calculus exam when a hand shot up in the back of the room. “Proctor? I think Isabel Whitaker is cheating.” The teacher, a stern woman in a grey suit, walked over. “What’s the problem?” “I saw someone toss her a note,” one of Courtney’s cronies said, pointing at me. “She looked at it and hid it under her desk.” Courtney was sitting two rows over, looking devastated. “Izzy, if you were struggling, you should have just asked for help. Why would you do this? Mom and Dad are going to be so heartbroken.” Half an hour later, my mother arrived at the principal’s office, looking like a block of ice. Before I could even open my mouth, her hand connected with my cheek. Slap. “Isabel! How could you be so embarrassing? Apologize to the school right now.” I touched my stinging cheek, looking her dead in the eye. “Did you even check my records before you flew into a rage, Mom? I was the top-ranked student in my district. I don’t need to cheat on a mid-term. Is there anyone in this entire school with a higher GPA than mine?” One of the administrators, who had been scrolling through a tablet, cleared his throat. “Actually… her transfer credits are perfect. She was a state-level scholar.” Mom shifted uncomfortably, tucking a stray hair behind her ear. “Well… you never mentioned that.” I turned to the teacher. “Since I’m being accused, let’s bring in the witnesses. Face to face.” [System Warning: Strong emotional spike detected. Truth Radius activated.] The students who had gathered to watch the drama suddenly froze. It was as if a spell had been cast. Then, the girl who had pointed me out started to babble. “Courtney told me to throw the paper. She said if I didn’t help her get the ‘trash’ out of her house, she’d kick me out of the inner circle.” “Isabel didn’t even see the note,” another added. “It’s still sitting under the leg of her chair. She never touched it.” Courtney’s face went pale, but her mouth was already moving. “I had to! She was doing too well. If she aced these exams, I’d look like a fool. I had to make her disappear.” I turned back to my mother. “So, Mom. Who exactly needs to apologize?” Mom took a step back, her face a mask of awkwardness. “Well… even if it was a mistake, Courtney was just worried about the family reputation. We should all just move past this.” “So this is what you meant by ‘treating us the same’?” I looked at the principal. “Sir, Courtney and her friends just confessed to defamation and academic fraud. I want a formal apology in front of the entire student body. And I want a transfer to the honors track. Today.” Two days later, my father received my report card—Number One in the grade—along with the report of Courtney’s “malicious slander.” My parents quietly moved Courtney out of the beach house and back into a secluded boarding school dorm. A wave of gifts started arriving at my room—jewelry, tech, designer bags—as if they could buy their way out of the guilt. But I knew the truth. Once the glass is cracked, you can’t polish the fracture away. Derek, however, was like a cornered animal. He spent his days pacing the halls, begging my parents to let Courtney come home. “If you hadn’t brought her back, Courtney wouldn’t be so insecure,” he shouted one afternoon. “She’s hurting! She’s lived her whole life with us, and you’re throwing her away for a stranger?” My parents looked torn, but they stayed silent. Derek turned his rage on me. “You’re a parasite. If it weren’t for you, we’d still be a family. You just wait.” I found out what “waiting” meant after school that Friday. I was cornered on the roof of the science building. The wind was howling, and Derek stood there with two of his football teammates. “Search her,” Derek said, his voice cold. “I want to know what kind of freakish tech she’s hiding on her person.” Someone grabbed my shoulders. Large, rough hands started patting down my blazer. I panicked. “Derek, stop this! I’m your sister! You’re going to hurt me for a girl who isn’t even related to you?” “Courtney is my sister. You’re just a mistake,” he spat. He stepped forward and began to roughly search me himself. “Tell me! What are you using? Why does everyone lose their minds and start blabbing when you’re around? Is it a wire? A drug?” I struggled, but I couldn’t break free. In a moment of pure adrenaline, I leaned down and bit his hand hard. Derek roared in pain and squeezed my jaw so hard I thought it would snap. When I didn’t let go, he threw a punch that caught me right across the bridge of my nose. Hot blood bloomed across my face, mixing with my tears. In my head, I started a silent countdown. 5… 4… 3… 2… 1… CRACK. The roof door was kicked open. “Get away from her!” My father stormed over, shoving the other boys aside and landing a heavy blow across Derek’s face. My mother rushed to me, her hands shaking as she tried to wipe the blood from my face. She looked at Derek with pure horror. Derek stood his ground, his chest heaving. “Don’t you see? She’s a witch! We loved Courtney, and then she shows up and you both turn on us! She’s doing something to your heads!” He pointed a finger at me, his teeth bared. “You’re a weed that should have been pulled years ago. I don’t regret a single thing. I didn’t regret it back at the hospital, and I don’t regret it now—” “Enough, Derek! Shut up!” Mom screamed, clutching her head. “Don’t talk about the past. Why can’t we just be a family? Why does it have to be a war?” My ears started ringing—not from the system, but from the shock. What did he mean, ‘back at the hospital’? I looked down at my watch. The silent alarm I’d had installed after the cheating incident was still pulsing. My parents had arrived just in time, but the “rescue” didn’t feel like a victory. This family was a graveyard of secrets, and I was the only one without a map. To “make it up to me,” my parents decided to throw a massive debutante gala to officially introduce me to high society. The ballroom of the Whitaker estate was filled with the elite of the coast. I could hear the whispers echoing off the marble floors. “Is that the ‘real’ one? She looks… surprisingly polished.” “I heard she’s a genius.” Then, the sharper voices from Courtney’s fan club. “She’s a social climber. She forced Courtney out.” “Look at her. You can put a crown on a goat, but it’s still a goat.” I looked up. Courtney wasn’t there—she was still grounded—but her “loyalists” were out in force. They had a mission. [Ping—System Active.] I walked straight toward them, a glass of sparkling cider in my hand. I smiled. “If you’re going to talk about me, at least have the courage to say it to my face. Or better yet, tell me what your ‘leader’ promised you for this little performance.” The air shifted. The boy who had been sneering at me suddenly looked like he was in a trance. “Courtney said if I made you look like a fool tonight, her dad would sign the merger with my family’s firm.” “She said if I ruined your dress, she’d finally go out with me. I’ve been her lapdog for two years; I’m just desperate for a chance.” “Courtney said the Whitakers don’t even like Isabel. They’re just doing this for the PR. They actually sent Courtney on a secret vacation to France while Isabel has to play ‘daughter’ for the cameras.” The room went silent. I had mirrored my phone to the giant projection screens meant for my childhood slideshow. The entire room saw the “truth session” in high definition. The parents of these “loyalists” rushed over, faces red with shame, dragging their kids away. My parents stood frozen, caught in the crosshairs of their own lies. In the corner of the room, an old friend of my grandfather’s—a retired Police Commissioner named Miller—was watching me with intense interest. He nodded slowly, a small smile on his face. He pulled out his phone and made a call. “Get Detective Beckett over here. Now.” “Sir, we’re in the middle of a homicide investigation—” “I’m not asking. I’ve found a miracle. If you want to close every cold case on your desk, you get down to the Whitaker gala in ten minutes.” Ten minutes later, I was introduced to Detective Miller. He was young, sharp-eyed, and looked like he hadn’t slept in three days. “So this is the ‘miracle’?” Miller asked, looking me over. “She looks like a kid. You brought me here for a debutante?” The Commissioner grinned. “Just watch.” He turned to me. “Isabel, would you mind helping the Detective with a quick question?” I looked at Miller. I could feel a strange, dark energy coming from him—a weight of unsolved puzzles. But before I could speak, I caught sight of Derek in the shadows. He was staring at me with a look of pure, unadulterated hatred. I caught the tail end of a thought he didn’t realize he was whispering: “Once the party is over… it’s done.” My heart hammered against my ribs. My own brother was planning something, and for the first time, the “Truth” felt like a death sentence.

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I was born with a scorched-earth policy. When I was six, a neighbor’s kid stole my favorite toy; by midnight, I’d started a fire in their backyard shed. At fourteen, my father’s mistress showed up at our front door, announcing she was my new “mom.” I didn’t cry. I picked up a heavy mahogany chair and hurled it at her, sending her straight to the ER. My father nearly had a heart attack. He thrashed me and locked me in a windowless basement, vowing to starve me for three days until I “learned my place.” I didn’t wait. I smashed the cellar window with my bare hands and, dragging a fractured leg, crawled my way to his corporate headquarters. I crashed a hundred-million-dollar board meeting looking like a ghost from a horror movie. In Chicago’s elite circles, people were terrified of me. They whispered that I was “unstable,” but no one dared say a word to my face. On my eighteenth birthday, the gala was supposed to be my debut. Instead, my father walked in with a girl in a white designer silk dress—delicate, porcelain-skinned, and radiating innocence. He announced it to the room with a beaming smile: “This is Nina. She’s my daughter, too. From today on, she’ll be Jade’s little sister.” I suppose the last few years had been too quiet. He’d forgotten who I was. I tilted my head, looking at the human doll standing beside him. “My sister? Arthur, you really think she’s in my league?” … The ballroom went silent. Every eye in the room pivoted toward us. Nina’s rehearsed smile curdled. “That’s enough!” my father hissed, grabbing my wrist and trying to pull me aside. “How can you speak like that? She is your blood!” I didn’t budge. I cleared my throat, pitched my voice for the back of the room, and smiled. “So, let me get this straight. My mother, who died in the ICU giving birth to me, somehow managed to pop out a sister for me years later from the grave?” My father’s face went a bruised shade of purple. Nina bit her lip, her eyes brimming with calculated tears. “Jade, I know today is hard… it’s the anniversary of your mother’s sacrifice. But how can you be so cruel to Dad?” she whispered, loud enough for the nearby guests to hear. “Please, don’t make a scene in front of everyone.” I saw the look in her eyes—a flicker of triumph. This was her opening move. She wanted the world to see the “wild, broken heiress” vs. the “sweet, long-lost angel.” But Nina had no idea how I played the game. That night, I made one phone call to my Uncle Jude. Within the hour, my personal security team had a sleeping Nina bundled into the back of a black SUV. To ensure she didn’t wake up and ruin the surprise, I’d personally seen to it that she’d had a little help staying under. The wind was biting as I stood before my mother’s headstone. I lit a single, expensive candle and watched the flame flicker against the cold marble. When Nina finally came to, shivering in the frost, she found me kneeling by the grave, whispering to the headstone. “Mom,” I said, my voice airy and haunting. “I brought the ‘sister’ to meet you.” “AHHH!” Her scream tore through the silence of the cemetery, jagged and raw. By the time my father reached the hospital where the paramedics had taken her, Nina was catatonic from shock. Outside the trauma room, Arthur was a caged animal. “You’re insane, Jade! Truly, clinically insane!” he roared. “It’s the middle of the night! It’s freezing! Why the hell would you take her to a graveyard?” I sat on the plastic hospital bench, swinging my legs, looking like the picture of innocence. “But Dad, you said she was family. I just wanted her to meet Mom. I thought Mom would want to see what you’d been up to while she was rotting in the dirt. Did I do something wrong?” He pointed a shaking finger at me, his chest heaving. “You… you monster!” Just then, a woman draped in Fendi rushed down the hall. “Nina! Where is my daughter?” It was Tiffany, the woman I’d once sent to the hospital with a chair. She’d clearly spent the intervening years getting enough Botox to freeze her expressions in a permanent state of faux-concern. She threw herself into my father’s arms, sobbing about “their poor baby.” I leaned back, watching the performance. She’d played her cards well, getting Arthur to marry her in secret while I wasn’t looking. My father held her, shushing her, before finally remembering I existed. He cleared his throat. “Look, it was just a… a sibling prank that went too far. Jade will apologize, and we’ll move on.” Tiffany’s head snapped up. “Apologize? Arthur! Our daughter is in a hospital bed! That girl drugged her and dragged her to a cemetery! An apology isn’t enough!” Arthur’s gaze turned cold, and for the first time, he looked at me with a strange, guarded intensity. “Jade is headstrong, but she’s not malicious. A sincere apology will settle it. Siblings fight. That’s final.” I felt a chill that had nothing to do with the hospital air conditioning. My father hated me—everyone knew that. If it wasn’t for my Uncle Jude’s protection, Arthur would have disposed of me years ago. His sudden “protection” was a red flag the size of a billboard. I narrowed my eyes and stood up. “Fine. When she wakes up, I’ll give my ‘dear sister’ exactly what she deserves. An apology she’ll never forget.” The next morning, I arrived with a massive bouquet of lilies—the kind people usually send to funerals. Tiffany looked at me like I was a ticking bomb, but she let me in. I was curious to see what kind of “incentive” Arthur had given her to play nice. But she was called away by a doctor almost immediately. The moment the door clicked shut, Nina’s “poor me” mask disintegrated. She leaned back against the pillows, a smirk playing on her pale lips. “You probably didn’t know, did you? I’m actually two months older than you,” she whispered. “My mom and Dad were the real love story. Your mother was just the socialite bitch who forced her way in between them. Everything you have—this name, this money—it was stolen from us by a woman who’s finally, thankfully, dead.” She didn’t get to finish the sentence. I lunged across the bed, grabbed her by the hair, and delivered two sharp, stinging slaps that echoed in the small room. I hauled her out of bed like a sack of laundry and dragged her toward the ensuite bathroom. “Nina, your mouth is filthy,” I growled. “Let’s wash it out with some toilet water.” “No! Stop! Help! Someone help me!” I was inches from shoving her face into the bowl when the door burst open. I was ripped away by a pair of strong arms and slammed against the tiled wall. “Jade, what the hell is wrong with you?” It was Tristan Miller. My “fiancé” by arrangement, and the boy I’d grown up thinking might actually be my friend. He was breathing hard, his eyes full of a disgusted fury I hadn’t seen before. “She’s a patient! She’s here because of your mental breakdown! Are you trying to kill her?” Tristan, usually so polished, looked disheveled. He ignored me and knelt to gather a trembling Nina into his arms. I leaned against the wall, clutching my bruised arm, watching the two of them play the hero and the damsel. “Tristan,” Nina sobbed into his chest. “I just told her I wanted us to be friends… and she just snapped…” Tristan looked at me with pure vitriol. He grabbed my wrist and tried to force me to my knees in front of her. “Apologize. Now.” He squeezed right over the spot where I’d hit the wall. The pain was blinding. “Get your hands off me,” I spat, wrenching myself free. “I can’t believe I ever felt sorry for you,” Tristan said, his voice dripping with contempt. “You’re not a girl, Jade. You’re a predator.” I didn’t argue. I simply walked over to the bedside table and pointed to the high-end nanny cam I’d hidden in the lilies I’d brought. I pulled up the feed on my phone and turned the screen toward him. The video played clearly: Nina’s face twisting in malice, her insults about my mother, the admission that she was the product of an affair. Nina’s face went white. Tristan’s expression shifted through a dozen colors. He remained silent for a heartbeat, then scoffed. “So what? She’s bitter. She’s had a hard life. She said some things in anger—can’t you show a little grace, Jade? You have everything, and she has nothing.” I felt a cold laugh bubble up in my chest. He was asking me to “show grace” to the girl who just spat on my mother’s memory? I grabbed my bag and walked out without a word. But within twenty-four hours, the narrative had shifted. A rumor was tearing through our private academy: Jade Callahan, jealous of her new sister, had tracked her to the hospital to finish the job. At lunch, a group of guys surrounded Tristan. “Hey, Miller, is it true? Did your psycho fiancée actually try to drown her sister in a hospital toilet?” Tristan glanced at me, then looked away with a performative sigh. “I want to believe Jade isn’t that far gone… but it’s been a lot of change for her. She isn’t handling Nina’s arrival well.” Suddenly, I was the pariah. Even in the cafeteria, people moved their trays when I sat down. I saw Nina sitting at a central table, surrounded by a “court” of sympathetic girls. She was the new queen of the school, the tragic figure everyone wanted to protect. I was eating my salad in peace when one of Tristan’s friends walked over and sneered at my plate. “How can you even eat? Nina’s over there crying, and you’re acting like nothing happened. You’re cold-blooded, Jade.” Nina looked over, her eyes wide and watery. “It’s okay, let her be. Jade has always been… different. I’m used to it.” I swallowed my food and looked at her. I truly didn’t understand. If she was this afraid of me, why did she keep poking the bear? I stood up abruptly. Nina flinched, and the boy standing over me puffed out his chest. “You going to hit me too, Callahan?” I smiled. “You want to be the hero of the day?” He faltered, swallowing hard. Nina suddenly stood up and grabbed my arm. Her grip was surprisingly tight. “Jade, please. Dad told me you had… mental struggles. I didn’t believe him until now, but I think you need help.” I tried to shake her off, but Tristan appeared out of nowhere. His hand clamped onto my other shoulder like a vice. “It’s okay, Jade,” he said, his voice terrifyingly gentle. “We’re going to get you some help. We’ve already called the school to excuse you.” They dragged me out of the cafeteria and forced me into the back of a car. We didn’t go to a doctor. We drove an hour outside the city to a derelict industrial park—an old chemical plant that had been abandoned for decades. The moment we stepped out of the car, Nina’s “sweet sister” persona evaporated. She looked at the rusting structures with a smirk of pure malice. I smoothed my uniform skirt and looked around. “This is it, Nina? This is your grand plan?” She laughed, crossing her arms. “You think you’re so tough, Jade. But your mouth is the only thing about you that’s hard.” She clapped her hands. Four hulking men in tactical gear stepped out from the shadows of a warehouse. “Aren’t you worried Dad will find out?” I asked. Nina looked at me like I was an idiot. “You really think I came up with this location? Jade, this was Dad’s idea. He needs you gone. You’re the last piece of your mother’s legacy he hasn’t been able to burn. Once you’re out of the way, I’m the only Callahan heir left.” I felt a pang in my chest—not of sadness, but of cold realization. My father didn’t just hate me. He wanted me erased. “You’re insane, Nina,” I said quietly. “I’m insane?” she screamed, lunging forward and slapping me across the face twice. “I spent my whole life being the ‘secret’! I watched you on the news, in the papers, living my life! Your mother is dead, and now it’s your turn.” Tristan stepped in, holding her back. “Easy, Nina. We need her functional for now.” He signaled the guards to drag me inside. The air in the warehouse was thick with the smell of rot and old chemicals. In the center of the room stood a terrifying sight: a heavy wooden chair with leather straps and copper wiring. An old-school shock therapy chair. The kind they used in the fifties to “fix” the rebellious. My pulse spiked. I couldn’t let them put me in that chair. As they dragged me past a row of old laboratory cabinets, I saw my opening. Some of the glass was broken, exposing old bottles of reagents. I waited for the precise second their grip loosened. I threw my weight sideways, slamming my shoulder into the cabinet. Glass shattered. Bottles crashed to the floor. A puddle of clear liquid spread rapidly—it smelled like high-grade industrial alcohol. I scrambled back, my hands sliced and bleeding, but I managed to snatch a small, unlabelled jar from the debris. The guards stepped back, startled. I wiped the blood from my forehead, a jagged smile on my lips. Click. I pulled a lighter from my pocket. The flame was tiny, but in that dark, chemical-choked room, it looked like a star. “Nina,” I rasped, my voice sounding like it came from the bottom of a well. “If I’m going to hell today, I’m taking my sister with me.”

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“I just signed a marriage license with your girlfriend at City Hall. Borrowing the title of ‘husband’ for a bit, hope you don’t mind! Lol.” I stared at the text from my girlfriend’s childhood best friend, the screen blurring as the words hit me like a physical blow. A picture of the signed legal document was attached. My chest hollowed out. We had an appointment at City Hall to get our own marriage license today. Just half an hour ago, she had texted me, asking me to pick her up later. Now, in the blink of an eye, she was someone else’s wife. Thirty minutes later, she walked through my front door with Miles trailing behind her. “Babe, please don’t misunderstand,” Selena pleaded, her tone perfectly calm, almost patronizing. “You know Miles is basically my brother.” “He got this incredible offer for an elite corporate fellowship overseas,” she continued, speaking as if she were explaining a simple math problem. “But they have an archaic, ultra-conservative policy. He needed to prove he has a stable, married life to even be considered. It’s his dream job, Bennett. I couldn’t just let my best friend lose it over a technicality.” “And I promise,” she added, stepping closer, “the second his job is secured and the probationary period ends, we’ll get a quiet annulment. Then we can get married, exactly like we planned.” Miles peeked out from behind her, his face a mask of faux-innocence. “Bennett, man… you’re not mad, are you?” Before I could even open my mouth, Selena answered for me with absolute confidence. “Of course he isn’t. Bennett has never been the jealous, petty type.” She was right. I wasn’t petty. But I also wasn’t going to be the backup plan for a woman who treated marriage like a favor to another man. …….. 1 “Man, I’m so relieved you’re not mad,” Miles said, flashing a boyish, harmless smile. He strolled right up to me, clapping a familiar hand onto my shoulder. “Today’s a day worth celebrating, really. Selena’s always bragging about your cooking. Said you make a killer steak. It’d be awesome if I could finally try it.” He looked around my kitchen like he owned it. “She wanted to take me out to a fancy dinner, but honestly, nothing beats a home-cooked meal, right? How about I play sous-chef, and we whip up a feast right here to celebrate?” The audacity hung in the air, thick and suffocating. Before I could process it, Selena chimed in. “Oh, please. You don’t know the difference between a spatula and a whisk. Just sit back and wait for the food.” Her words were technically a scolding, but the cadence of her voice was dripping with an unmistakable, sickening fondness. The temperature in the room seemed to plummet. I stared at Miles’s perfectly manufactured, innocent expression. “Celebrate what, exactly?” I asked, my voice dangerously quiet. “Celebrate you sliding into another man’s relationship without breaking a sweat?” Miles’s smile completely vanished. I shifted my gaze to Selena. The color had drained from her face, her features hardening into an ugly realization. “Wishing you both a lifetime of happiness,” I said, my tone ice-cold. “Goodbye, Selena.” Inside, a hurricane was tearing through my ribs, tearing apart five years of memories. But on the outside, I refused to give them the satisfaction of a screaming match. I just shut the door on my heart. “What are you doing?” Selena snapped, her eyes flashing with sudden irritation, as if I were the one being unreasonable. She reached out to grab my arm, to pacify me the way you would a child. Right on cue, my phone rang. I turned on my heel, answering the work call and striding toward the front door, smoothly dodging her outstretched hand. As I walked away, I heard Miles’s sickeningly sweet, fake-worried voice drift from the kitchen. “Selena, he’s really mad. What should we do?” “He’s just throwing a tantrum,” Selena dismissed casually. “He’ll get over it. Just sit tight, I’ll go talk him down.” I heard her footsteps coming after me. But then, Miles suddenly let out a sharp gasp, dramatically clutching his stomach. “Ah—Selena, my stomach…” It worked. The footsteps stopped, and she rushed back to him. Not that it mattered. Even if she had chased me out into the driveway, it wouldn’t have changed a thing. I just never imagined that five years of a life built together could be shattered so effortlessly. Her childhood best friend had been back in the States for barely two weeks, and she was already his wife. It made me look like the biggest joke in the world—the idiot who had severed ties with his own family and broken a long-standing, arranged engagement just to be with her. I hung up the work call and stared at the screen. A text from my mother had just come through. “You are going to be the death of me! But fine. If you two are going to City Hall today, we are still throwing a proper reception later! I’m planning it. I’m your mother, I owe you that much, and you owe me.” Reading those words, the tight, agonizing coil in my chest suddenly snapped. A hot, stinging sensation flooded my eyes. My mother had hated Selena from day one. She had sworn up and down that neither she nor my father would ever attend my wedding. I had told her, “Fine. Selena and I are going to City Hall on May 20th. We’re eloping. No reception.” My mother had been so furious she hadn’t spoken to me in weeks. Today was May 20th. She had caved. That surrender—that fierce, stubborn maternal love—made my heart ache in the most profound way. In the end, she was the only one who loved me unconditionally. Purely. My thumbs hovered over the keyboard. I typed out a quick, definitive reply. “Selena and I broke up. It’s permanent.” 2 Thirty minutes after I sent that text, my mother practically dragged me through the front doors of my childhood home. She didn’t ask questions. Instead, she tied on an apron and cooked an absolute feast, declaring it a celebration of my newfound freedom. The raw, bleeding agony of betrayal was slowly being cauterized by the warmth of my family’s dining room. Later that night, my phone lit up with a call from Selena. I let it ring out. A text followed. “Miles is having horrible stomach cramps. I can’t leave him alone tonight, I have to stay at his place and keep an eye on him.” Then another: “We’ve literally taken baths together when we were toddlers, Bennett. He’s more than a friend, he’s family.” And another: “Please don’t be paranoid. If I had feelings for him, we would’ve been married with kids years ago, and you wouldn’t even be in the picture. We have to have trust. I only love you. Please, just trust me.” I stared at the screen. A bitter, hollow laugh escaped my lips. It was suffocating. Five minutes later, she tried a new tactic. “If you’re really that worried, why don’t you come over and help me take care of him?” I didn’t reply. Instead, I opened Instagram. The first thing on my feed was a post from Miles. It was a selfie of him lying in bed, looking pitiful, while Selena’s hands were gently rubbing his stomach. The caption read: “Nothing beats having a wife. Even a minor stomach ache has her stressing out. Childhood bonds just hit different—knowing you’ll always be her number one priority, no matter what.” Suddenly, the anger evaporated, leaving behind a cold, absolute exhaustion. It was so profoundly pathetic. In that instant, the fog lifted. There were millions of women in the world. She wasn’t some rare, irreplaceable treasure. She wasn’t worth my grief. She wasn’t worth my ruin. The next afternoon, I went to an upscale jewelry boutique downtown to pick up the custom birthday gift I had commissioned for my mother. And of course, fate had a twisted sense of humor. I walked right into Miles. He was leaning against the glass counter, chatting up the saleswoman. “I’ll wait for my wife to make the final call. She has a much better eye for these things.” When he spotted me, a slow, venomous smirk spread across his face. The provocation in his eyes was unmistakable. “Bennett! Small world,” he drawled. I had zero interest in entertaining him. I side-stepped to walk past, but he shifted, intentionally blocking my path. His smile widened, dripping with arrogance. “Following us all the way here? Come on, man, that’s a little sad, don’t you think?” He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “You can follow us during the day to see what we’re up to… but what about at night? Selena and I are legally married now. What do you think a legally married couple does when the lights go out?” He chuckled softly. “Especially last night. Technically, that was our wedding night.” I didn’t flinch. I didn’t yell. The only shift in my demeanor was the ice thickening in my stare. My voice was deadpan, completely detached. “You’re overthinking it,” I said flatly. “Since she married you, she belongs in your world now. I’m not like you. I don’t make a habit of coveting other people’s trash.” Miles’s smirk faltered into an ugly sneer. That was when I noticed the collar of his shirt was slightly unbuttoned. Peeking out from his neckline were several faint, reddish bruises. “As long as you understand she’s mine now,” Miles shot back, his tone defensive. “Have some self-respect, Bennett. Stop harassing her. Stop getting in the way of our marriage.” He practically spat the word marriage. As he spoke, he dramatically reached up to push his hair back, ensuring his wrist was right in my line of sight. Dangling from his wrist was a heavy, vintage gold medallion. A jagged, invisible needle shoved itself directly into my heart. That medallion. I had bought it five years ago. That winter, Selena had contracted a brutal strain of influenza that rapidly deteriorated into severe pneumonia. She was in the ICU, placed on a ventilator. The doctors told me that even if she pulled through, her lungs would be scarred. Her immune system would be compromised for the rest of her life. I was a man of science, a man of logic. But sitting in that sterile waiting room, listening to the rhythmic beep of a machine breathing for the woman I loved, I cracked. For the first time in my life, I begged a higher power. I flew down to a remote, historic shrine in the mountains of Central America—a place rumored to grant miracles to those who suffered for them. I crawled up one thousand and eighty jagged stone steps on my knees. My jeans were shredded. My flesh was torn open. I bled onto the stones, praying with every agonizing inch. My knees were so damaged it took three months of physical therapy to walk properly again. But at the top, I bought that gold medallion. When I placed it around Selena’s neck in the hospital ward, she had sobbed uncontrollably, burying her face in my chest. “This is the most precious thing anyone has ever given me,” she had sworn through her tears. “I will never take it off, Bennett. Not even when I die. I swear I will never betray a love like this.” And now, that medallion was dangling from Miles’s wrist like a cheap trinket. He caught me staring at it. His smirk returned in full force. “Oh, this?” he said, flicking the gold with his finger. “Selena gave it to me. I told her it looked unique, but she just waved it off. Said it was just some meaningless junk, so she let me keep it.” 3 A faint, hollow smile touched the corners of my mouth. “She’s right,” I said quietly. “It is meaningless junk. Because she’s not worth it.” Right at that moment, Selena walked into the boutique from the back room. Miles possessed the reflexes of a seasoned con artist. The transition was flawless. His sneer evaporated, replaced instantly by his sunny, harmless golden-boy persona. He stepped right up into my personal space and threw an arm around my shoulder like we were old fraternity brothers. “Bennett! Hey, our old nanny just flew back from Europe to help me settle in, and Selena wanted to buy her a little jewelry to say thank you. You have great taste—help us pick something out?” A wave of pure nausea rolled through my stomach. It tasted like spoiled milk. “Bennett? You’re here?” Selena blinked at me, her expression perfectly serene, as if the foundation of our entire lives hadn’t imploded yesterday. She looked genuinely surprised to see me, as if we were just two friendly acquaintances running into each other at the mall. She had completely forgotten. Two weeks ago, I had sat her down on the couch. “We’re signing the papers on May 20th. My mom’s birthday is the 21st. You’ve been trying to win her over for years—this is your chance. Find her the perfect gift.” She had promised me. She had sworn she would find something breathtaking for my mother. Yet here she was, agonizing over a necklace for Miles’s nanny. It didn’t matter anymore. She had been dead to me since yesterday. My face remained a mask of stone as I shoved Miles’s arm off my shoulder. “I couldn’t care less what you two do.” I didn’t spare Selena a single glance. I walked straight past her to the counter. “I’m here for a pickup. Under the name Cole. Order 21.” The saleswoman handed me the velvet box. I turned to leave. As I passed Selena, her hand shot out, wrapping around my wrist. Her voice dropped into that soft, placating register she used when she thought I was being difficult. “Come on, Bennett. Stop being so angry.” I pulled my arm away. The motion was smooth, totally devoid of violence or passion. You can only be angry when you still care. I had hit absolute rock bottom; there was no anger left, just a barren wasteland. “I’m not angry.” She studied my face. Seeing my calm, level expression, the tension visibly drained from her shoulders. She let out a long breath. “Good,” she smiled faintly. “Thank you for understanding.” A bitter smirk ghosted across my lips. I didn’t say another word. I just walked toward the glass doors. Behind me, Miles couldn’t resist one last stab. “Hey Bennett,” he called out, his voice laced with mock-curiosity. “That box looks like jewelry for a woman. Since you didn’t give it to Selena… who’s the lucky lady?” He turned to Selena, using a loud, theatrical whisper. “Aren’t you worried he’s cheating on you?” “Please,” Selena scoffed, her voice carrying across the quiet store. “Who else would put up with his temper? I’m the only one who’d ever want him.” I stopped at the threshold. It felt like a knife had been slipped between my ribs—not drawing blood, just leaving a deep, suffocating humiliation. “Besides,” she added, her tone dripping with unearned confidence, “he loves me to death. He said he’d only ever marry me. He doesn’t even look at other women, let alone care about them.” The sheer arrogance of it sent a spike of pure adrenaline straight to my brain. Suddenly, the conversation I had with my mother last night echoed in my ears. “The Sterling family matriarch adores you, Bennett,” my mother had pleaded, sitting at the edge of my bed. “Word got around that you called it off with Selena. She practically begged me to convince you to meet her granddaughter, Caroline.” “Caroline isn’t just some trust-fund kid. She’s brilliant. Ivy League, runs her own division, gorgeous, grounded. If your grandfather and her grandfather hadn’t served in the military together and stayed lifelong friends, a girl out of a fairy tale like that wouldn’t even be an option for us.” “And Caroline agreed to it! She’s a good, loyal girl who respects her family. If you marry her, you will be so taken care of. You’ll be happy. Our families are perfectly matched.” “Just give me the word, Bennett. Please. I’m begging you.” Last night, I had told her no. Standing in the doorway of the jewelry store, I pulled out my phone and sent my mother a text. “Tell the Sterlings yes. I’ll marry Caroline.” 4 By three o’clock that afternoon, my mother, terrified I might change my mind, had me standing in front of the county clerk’s office with Caroline Sterling. Caroline was flying to Europe for a week-long business trip the next morning. Her family—and mine—wanted the legalities locked down before she left. So, on May 21st, I signed a marriage license. The actual wedding, the society gala our families wanted, would be planned for the winter, waiting for Caroline’s grandfather to return from a medical retreat in Switzerland. After leaving the courthouse, I drove back to the house I used to share with Selena to pack my remaining office files. The moment I stepped into the foyer, the front door opened behind me. Selena and Miles walked in. “Bennett, grab my suitcase from the top shelf, would you?” Selena ordered, her tone identical to the one she used with the valet. “Miles’s company is sending him to a project site out of state for a two-week intensive. I have to go with him.” Seeing the blank, icy expression on my face, she rolled her eyes and offered an exasperated explanation. “Don’t overthink it. Miles has never really had a demanding corporate job before. It’s his first time traveling for work, and I’m worried about him. Plus, some people at his firm are whispering that his marriage might be a fake setup for the benefits. If I go with him, it shuts everyone up.” Miles leaned against the doorframe, a smug grin on his face. “Yeah, Bennett, just relax. Selena and I grew up in the same sandbox. We used to have sleepovers all the time when we were kids.” I felt nothing. The only shift was the absolute zero in my voice. “I’m not overthinking it. And I don’t care.” She let out a heavy sigh of relief. “I have my own business to handle,” I said, grabbing my briefcase and walking right past them. Miles, playing the role of the considerate peacemaker, spoke up loudly. “It’s fine, Selena. Bennett’s busy with work. I’ll help you pack your things.” He paused, making sure I was still in earshot, then injected a mocking, playful lilt into his voice. “After all, we did sign that marriage license. I’m not just your best friend anymore. Legally, I’m your husband.” Once upon a time, those carefully calculated barbs would have destroyed me. Now, they barely registered. The moment the ink dried on my marriage license with Caroline, my old life was dead. My new life had begun. Selena and Miles actually left on their trip. For two weeks, Selena lived in a state of supreme delusion. Every single day, she emailed me. Every email contained a photo of her in a single hotel room, trying to prove she was sleeping alone. The text was always the same cloying, manipulative script: “Stop being mad, baby. Please unblock my number.” “It really scares me when I can’t reach you.” “I miss you so much every single day.” “I love you so, so much.” “I promise Miles and I have separate rooms.” She was blocked on everything else, so email was her last resort. I opened the first one just to see what it was. I deleted the rest without reading them. Two weeks later, the annual Metropolitan Charity Gala rolled around. In previous years, Selena had always been my plus-one. Tonight, she walked the red carpet in a stunning designer gown, with Miles—dressed in a sharp tuxedo—on her arm. When she spotted me near the champagne tower, a flash of panic crossed her face. She hurried over, her voice dropping into an urgent, placating whisper. “Bennett, please tell me you’re not still mad?” “Miles has never been to a gala like this. He really wanted to network and see the scene, so I brought him. I’m so sorry I forgot to run it by you.” When I just stared through her, refusing to engage, she leaned closer, her eyes pleading. “I already talked to him. Two months. Two months, and we file for the annulment. The second the papers are stamped, you and I are going straight to City Hall.” “Just wait for me for two more months, okay? Please don’t be mad.” I offered her a polite, devastatingly formal smile. “Selena, you don’t need to explain anything to me. I’m genuinely not angry. Actually, I’m marr—” Before the word married could leave my lips, the booming voice of the emcee echoed over the ballroom speakers, calling my name and asking me to approach the stage for the benefactor’s address. I gave my standard speech, thanking the donors and highlighting the foundation’s work. As I wrapped up, the emcee, an old family friend, smiled warmly. “Now, Bennett, I hear your lovely wife is in attendance tonight. Why don’t we invite her up here to say a few words?” I smiled back. “I’d love that. Darling, would you come up?” The crowd politely clapped. And then, a ripple of intense confusion swept through the room. From the left side of the room, Caroline began walking toward the stage. From the right side of the room, Selena did the exact same thing.

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It was supposed to be a new start. I was moving into an apartment closer to the office, sweating through my silk blouse as I hauled heavy moving boxes alone. When I called my boyfriend, he told me he was “stuck in a high-stakes meeting with a legacy client.” My cousin, Tiffany, leaned against her pristine SUV, watching me struggle with a look of pure, unadulterated schadenfreude. She had spent the better part of a decade waiting for me to fail. “Look at you, Jo. Lugging your own life around like a pack mule,” she drawled, her voice dripping with artificial sympathy. “Where’s that charming boyfriend of yours? Seven years you’ve given that man, and still no ring. If I were you, I’d be too embarrassed to show my face in this zip code.” I was too exhausted to give her the satisfaction of a retort. I just adjusted my grip on a stack of files and turned toward the dumpster to toss some packing debris. That’s when I saw it. A matte-black Porsche Cayenne was parked in the driveway of the neighboring villa. It was a car I knew intimately—right down to the custom rims I’d paid for last Christmas. For a fleeting second, a stupid, hopeful thought crossed my mind. Is Derek here to surprise me? My lips started to curve into a smile, but Tiffany pointed at the luxury vehicle and let out a sharp, mocking laugh. “Look at that. That’s Melanie’s place. Her ‘benefactor’ is clearly more attentive than your Derek. Some women are just born to be at the top, Jo, and some are born to be doormats.” I stared at the car. My heart didn’t break; it turned into a cold, hard stone. I pulled my phone from my pocket and dialed a secure, three-digit extension I hadn’t used in years. “Bring the crew,” I said, my voice steady and lethal. “And strip that Porsche to the frame.” … I didn’t lose my cool. I didn’t scream. As Tiffany continued her monologue about my status as a “discarded woman,” I moved silently around the manicured hedges, stepping toward the floor-to-ceiling French doors of Melanie’s villa. The heavy velvet curtains weren’t fully drawn. There was a gap—just a sliver—but it was enough to see exactly who the “legacy client” was. The room inside was bathed in the amber glow of expensive scented candles. The atmosphere was thick with staged romance. Derek was on his knees, but he wasn’t praying. He was cradling Melanie’s foot with a tenderness he hadn’t shown me in years, carefully sliding a designer stiletto onto her heel. This was the man who, twenty minutes ago, claimed he was drinking himself into a stomach ulcer to close a deal. Now, he was smiling like a loyal golden retriever. “Melanie, these were made for you. Absolute perfection.” Melanie gave him a playful, coy kick. “You’re too good to me, Derek. Won’t Joanna be upset if she finds out you’re here?” Derek gripped her ankle, his eyes filled with a soft, doting look I hadn’t seen since our first year together. “Why bring up that anchor? She’s a dead weight. No passion, no fire. Being with her is like working a second shift. You’re the only thing that keeps me sane.” I stood in the shadows of the garden, watching the man I’d built a life with diminish me to a chore. Then, Derek reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, velvet-lined box. He took out an heirloom locket—a heavy, vintage gold piece set with a rare, deep-green emerald. He fastened it around Melanie’s neck. Cold sweat broke out across my skin. That was my mother’s locket. She had worn it every day until her hands became too arthritic to manage the clasp. She’d made a pilgrimage to a cathedral in the mountains when she was sick, praying for three days straight while fasting, believing that the stone would act as a vessel for her protection over me. It was the only thing I had left of her spirit. I’d kept it in a high-security safe. A few weeks ago, Derek told me his firm’s opening gala needed some “old-money prestige” for a display, and he asked to borrow a piece to bring the company luck. I had trusted him. And now, he was using my mother’s soul to buy the affection of a social climber. I pulled out my phone and hit Derek’s speed dial. Through the glass, I watched him frown, look at the screen with visible disgust, and hit ‘decline.’ A second later, my phone buzzed with a text. [I’m mid-toast with the board. This client is incredibly difficult. Stop suffocating me!] [If you’re bored, go to sleep. Your constant paranoia is exhausting, Jo. Give it a rest.] I looked at the screen, but I didn’t cry. The nausea was too strong for tears. I leaned down and picked up a jagged, heavy paving stone from the edge of the flower bed. Tiffany, seeing my sudden movement, stepped closer to sneer. “What are you doing, Joanna? Scavenging for rocks now? How fitting for—” CRASH. The sound was a violent explosion in the quiet night. I had swung my arm with every ounce of fury I possessed. The stone sailed through the air and shattered the expensive tempered glass of the French doors. The silence was replaced by a jagged cacophony. Inside the villa, a woman’s scream pierced the air. “Oh my god! Someone’s trying to kill us!” Melanie went pale, diving into Derek’s arms. Derek shielded her, staring in terror at the ruined window. When his eyes met mine—standing amidst the glass shards, calmly brushing the dust from my palms—his face went from tan to a ghostly, sickly white. “Jo… Joanna?” I stepped through the jagged frame, my boots crunching on the remains of the glass. For seven years, I had been the “perfect” girlfriend. Docile. Understanding. I’d smiled through forgotten anniversaries and made excuses for his late nights. The shock in Derek’s eyes was quickly being overtaken by indignation. I looked at the emerald locket resting against Melanie’s chest. My voice was a low, terrifying calm. “Legacy client? Board meeting? Stomach ulcer?” I tilted my head. “Is this how you close a deal, Derek? On your knees?” The noise had already drawn a crowd of neighbors. Tiffany came sprinting in behind me, her eyes widening as she realized what was happening. She didn’t look horrified; she looked ecstatic. She whipped out her phone and started recording. “Oh, wow! Caught in the act! Looks like the doormat finally grew a spine—too bad it’s about to get snapped.” Seeing an audience, Derek’s panic shifted into a calculated performance. He stood up, placing himself firmly in front of Melanie, looking at me with a mask of weary disappointment. “Joanna, have you finally lost your mind?” he barked. “Stalking me? Breaking and entering? This is a felony!” Melanie huddled behind him, tears leaking on cue. “Joanna, please don’t be mad at Derek… I was having a severe depressive episode tonight. I felt so alone… I was scared of what I might do to myself. Derek only came over to talk me off the ledge. We’re innocent. Please, don’t make this something it isn’t.” It was a masterclass in manipulation. The neighbors, who loved a good scandal, started whispering. The tide was turning. “She’s a suicide risk? And this woman just threw a brick through her window?” “God, she looks unhinged. No wonder he’s looking elsewhere.” Derek heard the whispers and leaned into it. “Do you hear them, Joanna? Everyone can see you’re the problem! Melanie is a fragile soul. I was being a friend! But you… you’ve spent seven years suffocating me with your insecurities. You’re obsessed. If you had an ounce of empathy, you wouldn’t be attacking a sick girl!” I watched his mouth move and felt a sense of profound absurdity. What kind of “friend” kneels to put on a woman’s shoes? What kind of “brotherly figure” gifts a family heirloom as a necklace? Tiffany jumped in, shoving her camera in my face. “Apologize, Joanna! Look at poor Melanie. You’re just jealous because she’s younger, prettier, and actually has a life. You’re pathetic.” Derek, bolstered by the support, delivered his final ultimatum. “I’m giving you one chance, Joanna. Right now, get on your knees and apologize to Melanie. You will pay for the window and her emotional distress. If you don’t… we’re done. I will not be tethered to a violent, unstable woman.” Melanie smirked from behind his shoulder, a tiny, triumphant glint in her eyes. “Derek, it’s okay… she didn’t mean it. If she just admits she’s wrong, I’ll forgive her.” I looked at the two of them—two parasites who had fed off my labor and my love for years. I started to laugh. It was a cold, sharp sound. Seven years. I could have raised a child in that time. Instead, I’d raised a monster, and he was trying to bury me in the mud I’d pulled him out of. I took a breath and looked him dead in the eye. “Apologize? To you?” I ignored the murmurs of the crowd and walked straight up to Melanie. I held out my hand. “Give me the locket. It belongs to my mother. You aren’t fit to touch it, let alone wear it.” Melanie clutched her chest, shrinking into Derek. “Derek, I’m scared…” Derek felt his fragile ego being bruised. To prove the piece was “worthless” and to show Melanie he was the one in control, he reached out and violently ripped the gold chain from her neck. “Fine! You want your junk back?” He held the locket up. Before I could reach for it, he hurled it against the hardwood floor with everything he had. SNAP. The sound of the gold denting and the emerald shattering was like a physical blow to my chest. It was an old-mine emerald—brittle and precious. Derek wasn’t done. He stepped forward and ground his heel into the shards of the stone and the twisted gold casing. “Are you happy now, Joanna? You’re obsessed with this ten-dollar piece of street-fair trash? If you’re that desperate, I’ll buy you a bucket of them tomorrow. Get out of here!” My hands were shaking. My mother had fasted for that. She had knelt until her knees were swollen and purple just to give me a piece of her protection. I stared at the green dust on the floor. The love I’d felt for him didn’t just die; it was replaced by a cold, predatory focus. “You are going to regret that, Derek,” I whispered. I reached for my phone. I was going to pull up the receipts. The seven years of bank transfers, the evidence that I had funded his “start-up,” the digital contracts showing I was the silent owner of his firm. I was going to strip him naked in front of the world. But when I opened my cloud backup… it was empty. Every transfer record, every screenshot, every legal scan—wiped. I looked up at Derek. He was wearing a smug, knowing grin. He pulled a black burner phone from his pocket—my old backup phone. He’d “borrowed” it last week, claiming his was broken. “Looking for something?” he asked, spreading his hands innocently. “You keep talking about ‘your money,’ Joanna. But look at you. You’re wearing a five-hundred-dollar outfit on a good day. I drive a Porsche. I live in the Heights. Who’s taking care of who?” Melanie delivered the killing blow. she pulled out her own phone and showed a photo to the neighbors. It was a shot from last night—Derek asleep in a plush hotel bed, looking peaceful. “The truth is…” Melanie sobbed. “Derek and I have been in love for years. But Joanna threatened to kill herself if he ever left. She told him she’d destroy his family. We’ve been living in a nightmare because of her obsession. Joanna, you are the one who destroyed this relationship.” The crowd erupted. The judgment was instantaneous. “So she’s a stalker and a liar?” “Disgusting. She needs to be committed.” Tiffany shoved me toward the door. “Get out! Stop embarrassing our family! Go back to whatever hole you crawled out of!” She grabbed my suitcase from the porch and threw it into the muddy gutter. I stood there, surrounded by a wall of hate, unable to speak, unable to breathe. And then, a frantic scream broke through the noise. “Joanna!” I froze. My mother was pushing through the crowd, clutching a thermal bag. She had a severe heart condition; she wasn’t supposed to be under stress. When she saw me standing in the mud, when she saw the emerald dust on the floor, she dropped the bag. Homemade dumplings—the ones she’d spent all afternoon making because they were my favorite—spilled across the pavement. “You… you monsters! You’re hurting my daughter!” She lunged toward Derek, her face twisted in grief. “You animal! Do you have any idea what she sacrificed for you?” Derek sneered and stepped back. Melanie, seeing an opportunity, rushed forward as if to “help” my mother. As she reached out, she used her body to block the crowd’s view and viciously pinched my mother’s side. My mother shrieked in pain and instinctively pushed Melanie away. Melanie collapsed backward with theatrical force. “My stomach! Oh god, it hurts!” “You old hag! You dared to touch her?” Derek didn’t see the pinch. He only saw his “fragile” mistress on the floor. He lunged forward and shoved my mother squarely in the chest. She lost her balance. Her head hit the sharp edge of the stone stairs with a sickening thud. Blood began to pool instantly. She clutched her chest, her body convulsing, her face turning a terrifying shade of gray. “MOM!” I screamed, a sound that tore from the depths of my soul. I gathered her in my arms. Her skin was turning cold; her breathing was nothing more than a ragged flutter. “The pills… where are the pills…” I fumbled through her pockets for her nitro, but the bottle was empty. “Call an ambulance! Someone call 911!” I screamed at the crowd. But the neighbors just kept filming. Some backed away, not wanting to be involved in a “domestic dispute.” Tiffany just crossed her arms. “Nice try with the theatrics. She was fine a second ago. Tell her to stop faking it; no one’s buying the ‘injured victim’ act.” I looked at Derek. He was my only hope. His car was right there. The hospital was ten minutes away. “Derek! Please! Help her! Take her to the ER!” I was on my knees, sobbing, begging. “I’ll give you anything. I’ll sign whatever you want. Just save her!” Derek stood in front of his Porsche, his eyes devoid of anything but cold, vengeful satisfaction. “You want my help?” He glanced at Melanie, who was still moaning on the floor. “Sure.” He checked his watch. “Your mother just assaulted a sick woman and tried to scam us with a fake injury. If you want a ride to the hospital, you’re going to get on your knees, crawl over to Melanie, and kowtow three times. Then, you’re going to record a video admitting you’re a psychotic stalker and a gold-digger with no soul. Do that, and maybe I’ll call a cab for you.” “Otherwise…” he smirked, “you can watch her die right here in the dirt.” I looked at my mother’s pale face. I felt my pride, my history, my very spine breaking. I closed my eyes, swallowing the metallic taste of my own despair. I began to lower my forehead toward the cold, hard ground. But just as my knees were about to hit the pavement, a deafening roar shook the air. Three heavy-duty, black-and-gold transport helicopters plummeted from the sky, hovering directly over the villa’s courtyard. Seconds later, the main gates of the community were smashed open by a line of armored black SUVs. The crowd fell into a terrified silence as a man in tactical gear stepped out of the lead vehicle. He ignored everyone, walking straight to me. He caught me before I could kneel, his strong hands steadying my broken body. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice like velvet over steel. “I should have been faster.” He turned, his gaze locking onto Derek with the lethality of a sniper. “Is this the one who wanted his car stripped?”

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On the day of my mother’s heart transplant surgery, my husband Ethan snatched away the heart meant to save her. He gave it to his childhood sweetheart, Autumn. She wasn’t even sick. My mother died on the operating table, while he held Autumn in his arms, watching the sunset by the sea. Autumn framed me for hurting her child, so Ethan threw me to the wolves. I was torn apart, and I lost the baby because of it. Later I learned he’d been hypnotized, with all his memories of loving me sealed away. But so what? Who will pay for my child’s life? For my mother’s life? Until he knelt before me, begging pathetically for mercy. I only smiled faintly. “Ethan, I’m already married to someone else.” Maya’s POV I waited anxiously outside the operating room. My mother was inside receiving a heart transplant. An hour ago, the doctor had already sent someone to retrieve the transplant organ. But that precious heart still hadn’t arrived. Suddenly, Ethan walked toward me, his presence ice cold. “That heart was a successful match for Autumn. Her body is weak and can’t wait any longer. Your mother’s surgery will have to be postponed.” I froze instantly. My mother’s chest cavity was already open, all the medical staff were waiting for the heart to arrive. How could Ethan suddenly change his mind and give the only heart to his childhood sweetheart?! My face turned deathly pale as I gripped Ethan’s sleeve tightly. “My mom is lying on the operating table right now. If you take that heart away, you’re condemning her to death! Ethan, that’s my mother. You can’t do this!” Ethan’s face showed no emotion, his tone indifferent. “Autumn is from a wealthy family, a rising star in academia. She’s made many contributions to society. The heart will create more value in her body.” I stood there stunned, as if I hadn’t understood, then let out bitter laughter as tears streamed down my face. “You think Autumn’s life is worth more than my mother’s? Does that mean my mother deserves to die? You promised that as long as I didn’t press charges against Autumn, you’d help me find a heart donor. How can you go back on your word!” Half a month ago, Autumn had injured me. I wanted to report it to the police, but Ethan stopped me. I knew he was biased toward Autumn, but to save my mother, I had no choice but to agree to Ethan’s conditions. Now, with my mother on the brink of life and death inside the operating room, Ethan was going back on his word. My whole body trembled with anxiety. I dropped to my knees at Ethan’s feet. “Ethan, I’m begging you. My dad died early, and my mom worked four jobs to raise me alone. I haven’t even given her a good life yet. She can’t die… Please…” Ethan looked down at me kneeling and begging, frowning slightly. “I did promise you, but now Autumn needs that heart too. I had to make a choice.” “Autumn and I have known each other for over twenty years. She’s more important to me. I hope you’ll be reasonable about this.” Those two short sentences left me both confused and heartbroken. The Ethan of the past loved me more than anything, wanting to give me the whole world. We first met by the roadside when some thugs were harassing me and Ethan came to my rescue. After that, Ethan would occasionally appear at my food cart, patronizing my business. Later, Ethan confessed his feelings for me, saying he didn’t mind my poor background and would take care of me forever. But all of that changed after Ethan returned from his business trip abroad. He seemed like a completely different person, extremely cold toward me. I glared at Ethan with grief and anger. “When we got married, you clearly said you would cherish me and love me. Now you want to sacrifice my mother for someone else. Have you lost your memory and forgotten what you said?!” Ethan frowned. “That’s nonsense. How could I have lost my memory?” With that, he stopped looking at me, turned coldly, and walked toward the exit. I froze for a moment, then chased after him. Outside the hospital, medical personnel were placing the cooler containing the heart into a vehicle. “Mr. Foster, the heart has been arranged. We’ll head to Sacred Heart Hospital immediately,” the driver said respectfully. Ethan nodded slightly. Seeing this, I frantically rushed over to try to grab it. I no longer cared about any dignity. I only knew that without this heart, my mother would die! But how could I possibly overcome the group of medical staff and drivers around? Before I could even touch the cooler, I was forcefully pushed to the ground, my arms and thighs badly scraped and bleeding. Ethan glanced at me and stepped into the vehicle. The car started and slowly drove onto the road. My eyes turned bloodshot as I struggled up from the ground and chased the car. I grabbed onto the rear of the vehicle with both arms and was dragged for a distance before falling hard to the ground. On the asphalt, a gruesome trail of blood was left behind. But the pain in my body couldn’t compare to even half the despair in my heart. I cried out helplessly, painful tears soaking my collar. My mother was still on the operating table, and I had no idea what to do. Just then, a nurse came running over anxiously. “Ms. Carter, we sutured your mother’s chest cavity as Mr. Foster requested, but something went wrong… You should go see her one last time.” I felt my entire world come crashing down.

Maya’s POV My background was rough. My father died in an accident when I was one year old. For the next dozen years, my mother worked four jobs day and night to support me. I matured early and always felt sorry for my mother’s exhaustion, saying that when I grew up I would definitely give her a good life. But my mother just smiled and hugged me, saying that as long as I was healthy and safe, that was enough. And now, standing in the morgue, the pale lights made me sway unsteadily. My mother, who just yesterday was talking about going on a trip together after the surgery, now lay silently on the mortuary bed, covered with a white sheet. I could no longer hold myself up and fell to my knees beside the bed. “Mom… please open your eyes and look at me…” I pressed myself tightly against the cold body, tears bursting forth. “You promised we’d go on a trip together. How can you leave me…” I cried my heart out, as if trying to expel my entire heart. Suddenly, my phone vibrated. It was a text from Ethan. “Autumn’s surgery was very successful. I’ll find another suitable heart for your mother. Just stay out of trouble.” As I read it, my vision suddenly blurred. I knew Ethan was afraid I would hold a grudge and cause trouble for Autumn, so he was trying to placate me. But Ethan didn’t know yet that my mother was no longer in this world… I looked at my mother’s body, then at the message on my phone. The grief and fury in my chest suddenly blazed up. If it weren’t for Ethan and Autumn, my mother would never have died on that operating table! I had to get an explanation! I shakily stood up and, in complete disarray, took a cab to Sacred Heart Hospital. I didn’t even need to ask to know which private room Autumn was in. Whatever Ethan had prepared for her would certainly be the best room on the top floor. When I rushed to the top floor, Autumn had just finished surgery and was still unconscious in the ICU. Ethan stood outside the ward, his gaze toward the room focused and affectionate. That kind of look once belonged only to me, but now it completely belonged to another woman. I felt a sharp pain in my chest. My mother’s death and my husband’s betrayal made me feel torn in half. Ethan heard footsteps and looked at me. Seeing me like a madwoman with disheveled hair and messy clothes, disgust flashed in his eyes. He said coldly, “Why aren’t you at the hospital with your mother? What are you doing here?” I didn’t answer. I tried to rush forward and force my way into the ward, but Ethan violently pushed me to the ground. His strength was too great. I had no chance to react before I crashed heavily to the floor, the intense pain making my vision go black. But no physical pain could compare to my torn and shredded heart at this moment. Ethan looked down at me from above, without a trace of pity in his eyes. “I warned you, as long as you behave, I’ll help you find another heart. If you insist on making trouble, don’t blame me for being heartless.” That cold look in his eyes was like looking at trash. I suddenly laughed, tears seeping from the corners of my eyes. “Ethan, you’re treating me like this for a woman who’s a homewrecker… You’re breaking your word. You’ll definitely get what’s coming to you!” Ethan’s expression darkened. He said coldly, “The worst thing that ever happened to me was marrying you.” That single sentence made my already agonizing heart spasm with pain again. After speaking, he called security to drag me to the stairwell like garbage, then stationed people outside the ward as if afraid I’d come back to cause trouble. In the dim stairwell, my suppressed sobs echoed. Suddenly, someone came down the stairs. It was Autumn’s female assistant, just as unreasonable and arrogant as Autumn herself. The assistant twirled her hair and mocked coldly, “You’re really shameless, actually following them here. Ethan doesn’t even care if you live or die to save Autumn. Can’t you see who he really loves?” I clenched my teeth and snapped back, “Autumn wrecked someone else’s marriage, and you as her assistant not only enable her, you help her cover it up. If I post what she’s done online, let’s see how you survive in academia.” The assistant’s expression changed, but she quickly shifted the topic. She pulled out her phone and shoved a photo in my face. Under romantic, dim lighting, the floor was covered with rose petals. Ethan knelt on one knee before Autumn, reverently holding her hand. “A month ago when Ethan went abroad on business, he actually took Autumn with him. He even proposed to her there.” “He said he’d get rid of you soon and be with Autumn.” “Autumn has better education and background than you. A woman like you who wants to climb the social ladder through marriage should stop dreaming.” I laughed. So Ethan had already planned to divorce me. No wonder he was so heartless. I had foolishly thought Ethan would help me, but in the end I’d sacrificed my mother’s life. I finally understood everything. I knew I wouldn’t get any justice, and no one would care about my deceased mother. I’d seen enough of the world’s cruelty since childhood. I should have known that’s just how things are. But I wasn’t willing to let my mother die in vain. I decided to do two things. The first was divorce.

Maya’s POV I hired a lawyer to handle the divorce proceedings. Then I went home and started packing. My bedroom was full of gifts Ethan had given me, each one expensive and rare. Once I jokingly asked Ethan to give me the stars from the sky. The next day, Ethan bought me a diamond necklace worth tens of millions of dollars. He said that although he couldn’t pluck stars from the sky, he could give me the world’s most expensive jewelry. Now looking at that diamond necklace, my eyes stung. I opened my phone and pulled up a photo. It was a picture I’d taken with Ethan at our front door when he left for his trip abroad a month ago. In that photo, Ethan still looked at me with tender eyes. I couldn’t understand why going abroad once had turned him into a completely different person. But at this point, I didn’t care anymore. The harm Ethan had caused me was real. No reason could whitewash it. I stayed home alone for three days. During those three days, Ethan never came home once. I knew he’d been at the hospital watching over Autumn the whole time. After Autumn woke up, she’d been active on social media. From her account, I could clearly see how carefully Ethan had been caring for Autumn these past days. Every day he personally made nutritious meals for Autumn, told her bedtime stories, even childishly wrote prayer cards for her. I saw all of this, but my riddled heart no longer felt pain. Besides divorce, I had a second thing to do: revenge. I saved all the photos Autumn had posted as evidence for future retaliation. On the day of my mother’s burial, I wore all black. I had no family or friends left, so I handled her funeral arrangements alone. After returning from the cemetery, I found the handmade doll my mother had sewn for me. When I was little, our family was poor. I always envied other children who had toys. My mother felt bad for me but couldn’t spare the money, so she made me a little doll herself. Over a dozen years had passed, and this doll had always been with me. “Mom, treat this as me, keeping you company down there.” With tears streaming down, I walked to the fireplace, lit the flames, and gently placed the handmade doll into the roaring fire. But I didn’t expect Ethan to suddenly come home. As soon as Ethan entered, he saw me dressed in black with the doll burning in the fireplace. Ethan’s expression changed immediately. “What the hell are you doing? Autumn’s health suddenly worsened. Are you making evil dolls to curse her?!” I hadn’t expected Ethan to think this way. Before I could explain, Ethan had already strode over and knocked the doll out of the fire, stomping hard on it. “No!” Seeing my mother’s keepsake being trampled, I frantically threw myself forward, using my hands to shield it. But my desperation only seemed to confirm Ethan’s suspicion in his eyes. Ethan’s face darkened, apparently convinced I was doing something malicious. He pressed his shoe down on my fingers and ground them hard. I cried out in pain but didn’t dare move my hand, afraid my mother’s memento would be destroyed. Seeing me trembling all over from pain, Ethan finally slowly withdrew his foot. He went upstairs, grabbed a few changes of clothes, and was about to leave again. But just as he reached the door, I called out to him. “Ethan, I’m not like you people. I never do such despicable things. Don’t throw dirty water on me.” My eyes were empty but revealed a stubborn strength. Ethan stared at me for a few seconds without speaking, then turned and left. I laughed self-deprecatingly. No matter how much I explained, it was useless because Ethan simply didn’t believe me. I clutched the burned and trampled doll tightly to my chest, tears slowly falling. Suddenly, a wave of nausea hit me. I covered my mouth tightly, forcing down the urge to retch. I suddenly remembered that my period hadn’t come this month.

Maya’s POV I stood outside the gynecology office with the test results, completely stunned. I was pregnant. One month along. Counting back, it must have been the night before Ethan left for abroad. Ethan used to be very clingy with me, especially when it came to sex. That night he said he’d be away on business for at least half a month, so he kept taking me again and again. Several condoms broke and I didn’t even notice. I leaned against the wall to steady myself. I didn’t know why fate kept playing such cruel jokes on me. I had already decided to divorce Ethan. What was I supposed to do about this child? I walked out of the hospital in a daze. Later I learned that Autumn’s assistant had come to visit Autumn and happened to overhear the doctor talking to me. That assistant rushed to tip off Autumn. The next day, Ethan brought Autumn home to move in. Ethan supported Autumn with one hand and carried her luggage with the other. As soon as they entered, he spoke coldly to me. “The master bedroom is bigger. Move out and give it to Autumn.” I felt nothing inside hearing this. I didn’t respond, just went upstairs, simply packed my things, and moved into the guest room. I’d already given up on Ethan. I wanted to stay as far from him as possible, so moving to the guest room suited me fine. Seeing me so cooperative, not making a fuss, he seemed to expect me to cry and argue like before. Watching my silence, a flash of surprise crossed his eyes. I didn’t come down for dinner that night either. Being pregnant had actually made my appetite smaller, so I only came down late at night planning to grab something light. But as soon as I reached the stairs, I ran into Autumn who was just heading up. Autumn glanced at my stomach, jealousy and hatred flashing in her eyes. She slowly approached me, saying in a low voice, “Ethan letting you stay in the house is his mercy, but you’d better know your place and get lost. Otherwise I’ll make sure Ethan doesn’t help you find a heart, and let her die in the hospital!” The mention of my mother made me grit my teeth, nausea rising in my stomach. Looking at that arrogant face before me reminded me of my mother lying helpless on the operating table. I couldn’t take it anymore and slapped Autumn across the face. The crisp slap stunned Autumn. “You dare hit me!” “I hit you alright. If you dare disrespect my mother again, next time it won’t just be a slap.” I threw out those words and stepped down the stairs. Autumn couldn’t take it and suddenly rushed forward to push me. Fortunately I grabbed the railing and didn’t fall. Autumn tried to attack again but lost her balance and tumbled down the stairs herself. Her wails echoed through the living room. I frowned. Just then Ethan came out of his room and immediately changed expression at the scene. He rushed downstairs to help Autumn up. Her ankle was twisted, and she curled up against him crying pitifully. ” Maya pushed me… It hurts so much!” Ethan’s face darkened. He strode upstairs and gripped my arm tightly, demanding, “How can you be so vicious? First you curse Autumn with a doll, now you dare push her!” “I’ve lived my life with integrity. I don’t do such things. But what goes around comes around.” The hatred in my words flowed out without reservation. Ethan narrowed his eyes and looked at me coldly, seeming very displeased with my hateful attitude. Ethan gripped my arm forcefully and said coldly, “Autumn has no quarrel with you. She wouldn’t falsely accuse you. Since you hurt her, you should experience the same.” With that, Ethan pushed me down the stairs. The world spun as excruciating pain crushed every inch of my body. Finally my head slammed hard into the floor, blood streaming down my face. Ethan looked down at me collapsed like garbage on the ground, without a trace of pity in his eyes. He went downstairs, picked up Autumn, and returned to the room, completely ignoring me. After a while, I managed to drag myself up through sheer willpower. But as soon as I stood up, I discovered with horror that blood was flowing down the inside of my leg.

Maya’s POV I froze, panic rising inside me. I had just lost my mother. I couldn’t bear to lose my child too. I staggered toward the door, wanting to hail a cab to the hospital, but it had started raining outside without me noticing. Torrential rain. Taxis were few and far between. I endured the severe pain in my lower abdomen and walked forward in the rain, hoping to find a taxi on the road. The rain was heavy, the wind was cold. I could feel blood continuously flowing between my legs, but I didn’t dare stop. I don’t know how long I walked before my vision kept going black and I collapsed on the ground, losing consciousness. … I dreamed of my wedding day with Ethan. Ethan wore a suit and tie, carefully placing the wedding ring on my finger. At that moment his eyes held tears as he said deeply that I was the love of his life. The next second, the scene changed to Ethan returning from his business trip abroad. That was the first time I’d seen Ethan so cold, looking at me as if I were a complete stranger. I jolted awake to find myself in a hospital room. “You’re awake? I’ll go get the doctor for you.” The nurse was about to leave when I quickly stopped her. “Why am I in the hospital? My… my child…” I instinctively touched my abdomen. The nurse sighed and said, “You collapsed on the roadside last night. Someone brought you to the hospital. The doctor performed emergency treatment, but the child couldn’t be saved.” A part of my heart collapsed completely. I sat there dazed, unable to react. Only after several seconds did I break down into hysterical crying. Why did all my loved ones leave me one by one? Why was fate treating me this way?! My heart-wrenching wails filled the hospital room. Even passersby who didn’t know what was happening inside couldn’t help but feel heartbroken. I stayed in the hospital for three days. During those three days, no one came looking for me. Following Autumn’s social media account, I discovered Ethan had taken Autumn to a private island resort. I looked at the photos Autumn posted, each one showing their extravagant, loving state. Ethan feeding Autumn fruit, kneeling by the bed to apply body lotion for her, climbing trees to pick flowers for her… Every single image declared how much Ethan cherished Autumn. My eyes burned red with hatred. Thinking that my mother and child had both died because of these two, yet they were living so happily, the fury in my heart blazed even hotter. I had originally planned to carefully plot my revenge, but now, I really couldn’t hold back anymore. All the anger I’d been holding in finally exploded. I was discharged from the hospital and went home, standing before the mansion. Cold wind blew across my face, stinging sharply, but my expression remained blank. My eyes were ice cold. “Ethan, this is what you owe me.” I took out the gasoline I’d prepared and poured bucket after bucket into the house. Then I struck a lighter and threw it in without a moment’s hesitation. BOOM. Roaring flames instantly surged up, consuming the mansion. Expressionless, I dragged my luggage and turned to leave.

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After marrying Ethan Pierce, I got pregnant nine times. But I miscarried all nine times. I thought there was something wrong with my body, until I heard him talking in his study. “She betrayed me. Her dirty womb doesn’t deserve to carry my child.” “Only the pure and innocent Lily deserves to bear my child.” It turned out every miscarriage was his doing. He pampered his pregnant mistress, caused my grandmother’s death, and pushed me to the edge. But when I left him to study abroad and became a renowned doctor, he showed up in a wheelchair, begging for my forgiveness. I just smiled faintly and introduced the man beside me. “This is my husband. What are you to me?” Sophia’s POV After my ninth miscarriage, I dragged myself home exhausted, clutching the medical certificate. The moment I walked in, I heard voices from the study on the second floor. My footsteps froze. A bad feeling stirred in my gut. The next second, I heard that familiar voice, cold and detached. “Clean up the mess. Don’t let Sophia find out.” “The oil stain on the floor has been wiped clean.” Through the speakerphone, I heard his secretary Robert’s hesitant voice. “Mrs. Pierce has been hoping to have a child with you. This is her ninth miscarriage. Shouldn’t we tell her the truth?” I forced my stiff legs to carry me up the stairs. Through the crack in the study door, I saw Ethan lean back in his chair and let out a cold laugh. “She should have known the future heir of the corporation could never come from someone like her.” “This is just a taste of what she deserves.” My face went pale. My weak body trembled violently. I clutched the miscarriage notice in my hand, but tears still fell beyond my control. The man who had dined with me so gently just yesterday, who promised to go with me to my checkup, now seemed terrifyingly unfamiliar. Thinking back to every pregnancy after our marriage: being bumped into while walking, mysteriously falling down stairs, midnight fevers, food poisoning… I thought it was my body’s tendency to miscarry. I never suspected anything. Every time, I blamed myself for not being more careful. Now, looking back, every seemingly coincidental incident had something sinister behind it. But Ethan loved me so much! I forced my eyes wide open. Even though breathing was difficult, I struggled to see the person clearly. After each miscarriage, Ethan would pray in the church for a month for our unborn child. To fulfill the child’s wish, he endured rumors throughout our social circle that he was impotent, and took medication for a whole year without batting an eye. To let me rest at home and prepare for pregnancy, he hired ten nannies to take care of my every need, arranging everything down to the smallest detail. Everyone in our circle praised how madly Ethan loved me. But now the truth hit me like a slap in the face. Love and not love, which was real? I trembled as I touched my abdomen, fresh from surgery. Dull pain radiated from below, making it almost impossible to stand. “If Mrs. Pierce ever finds out, will she leave?” Robert sounded worried. Ethan looked at the photo on his desk of the two of us smiling brightly in college, his tone firm. “We swore to be together forever. Even if she betrayed me, I won’t let go. This is just a small lesson.” “It’s only a child. It won’t affect our relationship.” He paused, then continued. “That college girl Lily got pregnant with my child after that accident at the gala. Let her have it. But I promised Sophia that the position of Mrs. Pierce will always be hers.” Every word cut into me like a blade. I stood frozen, my blood running cold. I covered my mouth tightly, trying to suppress the sob rising in my throat. I suddenly didn’t know whether I should confront him about cheating with a college student, or continue explaining that the child was a misunderstanding. The first time I got pregnant, Ethan and I had been broken up for three months. Because of my special constitution, I was hit by someone on an electric bike. It wasn’t until sharp pain shot through my lower abdomen that I realized I was three months pregnant. My parents died when I was young, my grandmother was in poor health, I called him twenty times, but Ethan eventually blocked me. With no choice, I contacted a classmate who worked at the hospital. After the surgery, when my classmate helped my weak body out of the hospital, we ran into Ethan, who had just finished a meeting and rushed over. His eyes fell on my classmate’s hand supporting my arm. His face darkened like a storm. “Sophia, are you that desperate for a man? We broke up less than three months ago and you’re already pregnant with someone else’s child?” Without waiting for my pale face to respond, he turned and strode away. I wanted to explain, but he simply didn’t believe it was his child. Not until my classmate went abroad did Ethan come to marry me. “If you want me to forgive you, marry me.” I agreed. I thought I could spend the rest of my life explaining. I thought Ethan had let go of this matter. Out of carelessness for losing our first child, I gave up my career to stay home and prepare for pregnancy, just wanting to make up for that regret. Even at the cost of my own body, I never regretted it. But Ethan never believed me! My vision blurred the scene before me. I opened my mouth but couldn’t make a sound. The doorbell suddenly rang downstairs. The sharp sound made the person in the room look up toward the door. My emotions were complicated. I didn’t know how to face him. Instinctively, I turned and ran downstairs in a panic.

Sophia’s POV I opened the door to a delicate, innocent face. Her features were refined and pretty, her skin smooth and fair. Youth practically radiated from her. I looked at the woman before me in disbelief. Tears filled my eyes. I even forgot to run away. Footsteps approached from behind. A pair of large hands gripped my shoulders. Ethan’s voice came from above my head. “Why are you crying?” He frowned slightly, looking down at me in his arms, his fingers tightening. “Did someone bully you?” I didn’t answer. The paper in my hand was crumpled. I stared hard at the woman in front of me. Ethan followed my gaze. As if only now noticing the person at the door, displeasure flashed in his eyes. “Why are you here?” Lily nervously twisted the corner of her clothes, then pulled out a certificate from her bag. “The doctor said the fetus is unstable and I should drop out to rest. I’ve already processed my leave of absence.” She glanced at the man’s dark expression, then at me, stammering. “You… you said… if I ever had any trouble, I could come to you…” “You’re the baby’s father. You can’t abandon your responsibility.” Lily seemed to gather courage, looking at the man before her. Ethan irritably rubbed his temples and let go of me. “Come in first. I’ll go upstairs and call someone to take care of you.” Then he squeezed my hand reassuringly. “Don’t worry. She’ll leave soon.” Ethan didn’t explain Lily’s identity or the pregnancy. He turned and went upstairs to the study to get his phone. After he left, Lily’s previously timid expression vanished. She walked straight to the sofa and sat down, looking at me from across the room as if she were the mistress of this house. “So you’re that promiscuous wife Mr. Pierce talks about?” Promiscuous wife? Is that how Ethan referred to me behind my back? I struggled to breathe. Having just had surgery and lost a lot of blood, combined with my emotional turmoil, I staggered, bracing my hands against the doorframe, nearly collapsing to the ground. Seeing me like this, contempt flashed in Lily’s eyes. She crossed her arms and walked up to me step by step, warning in a low voice. “You’re a slut who slept with other men. How are you worthy of bearing Mr. Pierce’s child?” She proudly touched her still-flat belly. “Mr. Pierce said I’m the purest one. Only I’m qualified to bear his child.” “Everyone says Mr. Pierce loves you, but…” Lily looked at my dazed expression. “If it came down to the child or you, who do you think he’d choose?” What does that mean? A bad feeling suddenly hit me. I jerked my head up to look at her. The sound of a door closing came from upstairs. Before I could react, Lily suddenly grabbed my hand and violently pushed herself to the ground. Tears instantly streamed down her face. Lying on the floor, Lily clutched her belly, breaking out in cold sweat from the pain. “The baby, my baby…” Hearing the commotion, Ethan rushed downstairs and scooped Lily into his arms. “How did you fall? I’ll take you to the hospital right now.” But Lily grabbed his arm tightly, her eyes on me, her voice weak. “Mrs. Pierce, I never wanted to compete with you, but why can’t you tolerate even a child? Why did you push me?” “I didn’t!” Meeting Ethan’s gaze, I shook my head in denial. “I didn’t push her! You know I just had a miscarriage. How could I harm someone else’s child?” I kept shaking my head. I’d had nine miscarriages. No one knew better than me the pain of losing a child. How could I possibly want to harm anyone? Ethan clearly didn’t believe me. His eyes were frighteningly cold as he spoke word by word. “I saw it with my own eyes! Sophia, are you trying to deceive me again like last time?” “She fell on her own! She’s trying to frame me!” I didn’t understand why Ethan would never truly believe me. “There’s a camera at the door. Why won’t you just check it?!” I explained desperately, a sense of helplessness welling up inside. Ethan’s expression shifted, but Lily in his arms went stiff, then clutched her stomach in painful cries. “Mr. Pierce, my stomach hurts so much. Did we lose our baby?” Ethan’s thoughts were interrupted. He immediately lifted Lily in his arms. “Lily has always been pure and kind. This is your first time meeting today. She has no reason to frame you. I saw you push her with my own eyes. There’s no need to check the footage.” “Sophia, you’ve disappointed me again.” Ethan held the pale-faced Lily tightly in his arms, pushed past me standing in the doorway, and hurried out. Unprepared, my already unsteady body was knocked aside. I fell heavily to the ground with a thud and cried out in pain. Ethan’s steps paused. He didn’t look back. I finally understood. Ethan had never believed me. Those lost children were his punishment for me.

Sophia’s POV I sat slumped on the floor, looking at the miscarriage notice soaked with tears. They were both Ethan’s children. Why could he be so cruel as to personally send away nine of my babies? Before I could figure it out, my phone rang urgently. “Sophia, your grandmother’s condition has suddenly deteriorated. She urgently needs surgery…” My head exploded with a roar. I couldn’t hear the rest. By the time I reached the hospital, Grandma had lost consciousness. Seeing her lying on the bed with a breathing tube, my heart ached terribly. “The patient is very weak. The surgery can’t be delayed. We’re still short ten thousand dollars.” The doctor dutifully informed me. “We can’t reach Mr. Pierce. Your grandmother’s condition is critical. We recommend immediate surgery.” I desperately gripped the doctor’s hand, begging. “Please do the surgery first. I’ll pay the fee right now.” “I’m sorry, Sophia. The hospital has procedures.” I frantically dialed Ethan’s number. Once, twice, three times… Time passed. On the tenth call, the phone finally connected. A cold male voice came through. “What is it?” “Ethan, grandma -” I started to speak, but before I could get the words out, a young female voice cut in. “Mr. Pierce, I feel so terrible. My stomach hurts so much.” Ethan’s voice carried a hint of helplessness. “Don’t move around. The doctor will come check on you soon.” Then he hastily threw out a sentence and hung up directly. “Whatever it is, we’ll talk about it when I get back.” All the blood in my body rushed backward. My fingertips trembled slightly. When I called again, his phone was off. I had no choice but to steel myself and call Robert. “I’m sorry, I can’t give you that money. Mr. Pierce has instructed that because you did something wrong, you need to be punished.” I trembled with rage. Under my insistent questioning, Robert told me Mr. Pierce was with Lily in the VIP ward on the top floor of this very hospital. The elevator to the top floor was private access. I didn’t have a card, so I could only climb eighteen flights of stairs step by step. Along the way, my legs went weak and I fell to the ground. My knee hit the sharp edge of a step, and blood instantly flowed from the wound. Thinking of grandma hanging on by a thread, I had no other choice. I gritted my teeth and limped upward. By the time I stood at the VIP ward door, my body was soaked with sweat. My legs were sore and trembling. Blood had stained my white dress red. I raised my hand. Through the glass window, I saw Lily nestled in Ethan’s arms, acting cute. “Our baby was frightened today. The doctor said parents should spend more time with him. I heard babies can sense their mom and dad. Can you feel him?” Amused by her innocent words, Ethan rarely smiled. “It’s only been two months. It’s still just an embryo.” “But he wants his daddy to feel him.” Lily hugged Ethan’s arm coquettishly, completely different from her timid daytime performance. Ethan ultimately couldn’t resist. He obediently placed his large hand on Lily’s belly, his movements gentle. My nose stung. This was a scene I had imagined too. Once upon a time, I also dreamed of having a cute, well-behaved child with Ethan. But Ethan personally strangled my last hope. Thinking of Grandma in the hospital bed urgently needing medical fees, I finally raised my hand and pushed open the door. Hearing the sound, Ethan turned around. Seeing me, he froze, his gaze fixed on the wound on my leg. He frowned slightly and immediately wanted to get up to check on me. Lily timely gripped his hand, gently reminding him. “Mr. Pierce.” His advancing steps stopped. He suppressed his emotions. “Sophia, Lily has already forgiven you. As long as you come apologize, we can let this matter go.”

Sophia’s POV I clenched my fists, my heart filled only with bitterness. Their intertwined hands stung my eyes. I looked away, my gaze falling on Ethan’s face. “Ethan, Grandma is critically ill and needs surgery. We’re still short ten thousand dollars…” Before I could finish, Lily frowned in displeasure. “Sophia, even if you don’t want to apologize, you don’t need to use such an excuse, do you?” “I’m not.” I cut her off sharply. Lily’s eyes immediately reddened. She hugged Ethan’s arm, trembling. “Mr. Pierce, did I say something wrong? I’m so scared. Will Sophia try to harm our child again?” At this, Ethan’s expression darkened. “Sophia, it’s just an apology. If you did something wrong, you should be punished. No excuse will work.” Punishment? I tugged at my stiff lips. He’d already punished me with nine miscarriages. What more did he want? I suddenly remembered that before, when I fell and scraped my skin, Ethan’s eyes were full of heartache. He would cancel all his meetings and carefully stay by my side, summoning his private doctor to gently apply medicine to my wounds himself. But now I was a complete mess, soaked in sweat, blood still flowing from my wounds, yet he could still turn a blind eye. It was Ethan who comforted me after my miscarriages, who accompanied me through those days of lost hope. But he was also the father of those children, and their executioner. I was exhausted in body and spirit. My head felt dizzy. I dug my nails into my palms. The pain was the only thing keeping me conscious. Grandma was still waiting for the medical fees. I couldn’t be willful at a time like this. “Sophia.” Ethan’s cold tone carried veiled coercion and threat. I gave in. I bent down. “I’m sorry.” Ethan turned his head away, no longer paying attention. “Fine. This matter ends here.” He carefully helped Lily down from the bed and walked out. “Lily still needs to be examined. You should go back and treat your wound.” “Grandma needs surgery immediately!” I tried to reach out and stop Ethan. “We’re still short ten thousand.” Lily displeasedly blocked my arm. “Sophia, I heard from Mr. Pierce that your grandmother raised you since childhood. Even if you really don’t want this child, you don’t need to curse your grandmother who has cancer to death, do you?” “I didn’t!” Seeing the dissatisfaction in Ethan’s eyes, I desperately tried to explain. “Grandma’s condition has really deteriorated. She needs surgery now!” “Enough!” Ethan roughly shook off my hand. “I’ve already instructed the attending physician. If there’s any problem, they’ll contact me directly! Sophia, the position of Mrs. Pierce will always be yours. You don’t need to lie about this kind of thing.” The disappointment in his eyes was like a tangible force, transforming into countless swords that stabbed deep into my heart. In his eyes, was I really the kind of person who would use such things to compete for favor? I stood there, watching the two of them leave intimately, my vision blurring. Nurses nearby were gossiping. “Look at her. Can’t even have kids. How does someone like that get to be Mrs. Pierce?” “I heard she was jealous of that young girl’s pregnancy and tried to hurt the baby herself!” “Can you believe it?! She graduated from a top university, used to do pharmaceutical research. Who would’ve thought she could be so cruel? And she even lied about her grandmother being sick.” A sense of helplessness rose from the depths of my heart. I took out my phone and begged the doctor to operate immediately. I promised I would raise the money. “I’m sorry, Sophia.” The doctor’s words cruelly revealed the truth. “Your grandmother just passed away.” I hadn’t even seen her one last time. I turned and ran downstairs. When I gasped my way to the ward, I just saw Grandma being wheeled toward the morgue. That tightly wound string in my head finally snapped. I forgot even how to cry and collapsed straight down.

Sophia’s POV When I woke up, I stared at the white ceiling of the hospital room, feeling somewhat dazed. As if I’d had a dream. I forced myself up. Pain from my lower abdomen and wounds all over my body cruelly reminded me. The person closest to me in this world was also gone. My eyes were dry. I’d cried all my tears. “You’re awake. Drink some water first.” Ethan pushed open the door holding a glass of water. There were faint dark circles under his eyes. “You’ve been asleep for three days. Drink some water first.” I ignored his outstretched hand. “Where’s grandma?” Ethan frowned and set the glass aside. “It’s too hot. Grandma has already been cremated. Her ashes are at home, waiting for you to go back and bury them.” My nose stung. I remembered before I got married, Grandma held my hand. “You must be happy for a lifetime.” When I was born, my parents despised me and abandoned me on the street. It was grandma passing by who couldn’t bear it. She brought me home, raised me personally, and found every way possible to let me attend school. Some people didn’t understand. They mocked her, saying what good was it for a girl to study well? Better to marry someone rich. But Grandma always told me from childhood. “People can’t rely on others for a lifetime. Knowledge belongs to you. No one can take it away.” I failed Grandma’s expectations. I lost myself in this relationship. I didn’t even see the old woman one last time. Ethan stepped forward and pulled me into his arms. “Sophia, you still have me. I told you, I’ll give you a family.” Give me a family? It was my poor judgment that made me trust the wrong person, letting Ethan destroy my family! Ethan moved his lips to say something, but was interrupted by his phone ringing in his pocket. “Get someone over… yes, it’s been too long… not good for the baby…” The voice came in fragments, but I could still tell it was Lily acting cute with him. Before, I would have been mad with jealousy, would have questioned him, gotten angry. But now my heart felt no ripple. Ethan glanced at me beside him, then finally nodded in agreement. “I know. Do it your way for now. I’ll come back now.” After hanging up, Ethan stood, gently adjusting the blanket corner. “Rest well. I’ll come check on you later.” I closed my eyes, ignoring him. Ethan stood in silence for a while, then finally turned and left. My fingers curled. My hand gripping the clothes trembled slightly. Ethan, I have nothing left. I gritted my teeth and forced my body up. I took a cab home. I had to let grandma rest in peace. Then I would find Ethan and divorce him. When I reached the villa entrance, strange sounds came from inside. The air was filled with an odd smell. My heart sank. A bad feeling washed over me. When I opened the door, the scene before my eyes broke my heart! The living room had been temporarily converted into a cold white memorial space. White lilies surrounded the space. In the center stood a dark urn, with an enlarged photo beside it It was grandma. Then, a strange man grabbed the photo and tossed it into a metal tray. Flames shot up, swallowing the familiar face in an instant. “No!” I screamed and ran over, trying to reach into the fire to grab the photo. “Stop Mrs. Pierce.” Ethan’s calm voice came from nearby. Bodyguards immediately stepped forward, holding me firmly outside, not letting me near the fire. “Ethan!” I lost it. “Grandma is already dead! What more do you want?!” Lily shrank back and clung to Ethan’s arm. Her lips, painted with bright gloss, pouted slightly. “Sophia, I just got pregnant with Mr. Pierce’s child and now this happens. People say your grandmother’s ghost will haunt me. We need to get rid of the bad energy.” “Absurd!” I was so angry my lips trembled. I looked at Ethan. In my memory, Ethan hated this kind of thing most. The only exception was praying for their child. I still remembered that day. Ethan was soaked through with rain, but the cross he took out from his coat was perfectly clean and dry. “Sophia, the only exception is you.” But now, looking at Ethan less than five meters away, I blinked my dry eyes. I was no longer that only exception. Ethan stared at me steadily, his tone calm and cruel. “Lily has been having nightmares and can’t sleep. She just needs a ceremony.” He paused, then continued. “Don’t worry. Grandma’s ashes have already been burned once. They won’t burn away completely.” What does “won’t burn away completely” mean? I suddenly felt the man before me was terrifyingly unfamiliar. That was my only relative, and the grandmother he promised to take care of for a lifetime. “Mr. Pierce, time is almost up.” A man in ritual robes stepped forward from behind. “The lingering anger won’t go away. An evil spirit is clinging to her. Miss Lily is pregnant and weak. She’s already been possessed.” Hearing this, Ethan withdrew his gaze and turned to look at them. “Continue.” The man was heavily equipped. He took out a bag of white phosphorus from his pack and threw it expressionlessly into the urn. “No! No! Grandma!” My eyes turned completely red. I pushed through the crowd blocking me and rushed forward. “Watch out!” Before I could get close, the white phosphorus contacted the high temperature and suddenly ignited in the air. The urn exploded. A small piece of porcelain flew past my cheek. White ashes were blown everywhere by the intense heat. Through the hazy white dust, I saw Ethan holding Lily tightly in his arms. He used his back to shield her. I suddenly remembered when the lab had a chemical explosion before, he also held me in his arms like this. Even if his back was burned, his first concern would be whether I was hurt. Blood rushed to my head. Something sweet and metallic surged in my throat. I spat a mouthful of blood onto the ground. Ethan, the price of loving you is too high. I don’t want to love you anymore. I’ll give you a gift you’ll never forget.

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