The day before my mate ceremony with James, I caught him in bed with Isabella. He looked at me and said, “I’m sorry, Emily, but Isabella is my fated mate.” I wasn’t even surprised. I just thought to myself: *Like mother, like daughter. A home-wrecker’s child will always be a home-wrecker.* Without a second thought, I took the silver dagger James had gifted me and slashed Isabella’s face. James threw me into the Pack’s dungeon immediately. And my Alpha father, Arthur, didn’t raise a single objection. While I rotted in prison, James married Isabella and became the heir to the Moon Shadow Pack. Three years later, I was released. James assigned twenty werewolf warriors to guard Isabella, terrified I would hurt her again. But he was flattering himself. Like a drop of water vanishing into the ocean, I completely disappeared from his life. Our paths crossed again at my friend’s tattoo parlor. She was away on vacation, and with nothing better to do, I agreed to watch the shop for a few days. His aura hadn’t grown stronger at all. It didn’t look like marking his fated mate had given him the power boost he expected. My wolf, on the other hand, had long since recovered. She was even stronger than she was three years ago. Not that I felt the need to let anyone know. But none of that mattered to me anymore. I spat out my toothpick, tore open a sterile tattoo needle package with my paint-stained fingers, and asked calmly, “Want to get this tattoo removed?” He stepped closer. Sensing my scent, he clenched his jaw and squeezed out, “Emily, this is the matching tattoo we got together.” My hand froze mid-air. “Oh. It’s been a few years. It definitely needs to go.” My tone was so indifferent that James winced. He opened his mouth to speak but couldn’t find the words. After a long silence, he finally nodded. I didn’t say another word. My movements were swift and precise. James’s expression shifted before he finally forced a mocking smirk. “Emily, if you’re strapped for cash, you could have just called me.” “There was no need to post those ads on Snapchat just to lure me to this sketchy place and put on a show.” I smiled, keeping my tone as light as if I were chatting with a random customer. “If I could act, I’d be in Hollywood.” “Besides, you saw that on Snapchat? A regular customer of mine posted that to help bring in some business.” With that, I grabbed a nearby towel to wipe the ink from my hands. James stared at the towel. It was once gray, but now it was faded and frayed at the edges. He couldn’t take it anymore and raised his voice. “Emily, you used to be as proud as a princess!” “Claustrophobia, OCD, germaphobia—you had every single symptom of a spoiled Alpha’s daughter. If there was even a weird smell in your room, you’d kick the maids out instantly…” “And now look at you…” “Hey, Emily! Look at this tattoo, the color’s fading already!” The glass door swung open, and Maggie, wearing a floral shirt, walked in. She threw some design sketches onto the counter. “Sure, Maggie. Leave it here, and I’ll take a look in a bit,” I said, taking the sketches. “It might be an issue with the pigment. Easy fix.” “Alright, I’ll leave you to it.” Maggie patted my shoulder, glanced at James, and whispered, “Got a client? I’ll head out then. Talk later.” After Maggie left, I smiled politely at James. “Well, Mr. Harrington, we’re all done here. That will be twenty dollars, please.” “You…” James stared at me, looking paralyzed. Finally, he pulled out his wallet, grabbed a few hundred-dollar bills, and slammed them on the counter. I looked at the cash and shook my head. “Mr. Harrington, this is too much.” “Keep the change,” James said, his eyes filled with complex emotions. “Redo another tattoo for me. Is this enough?” I was thrilled. “More than enough. What design do you want? I can sketch it up for you.” I dragged a stool over and pushed it toward him. Looking at his expensive, tailored suit, I found a clean cloth and laid it over the stool first. James fell silent. He sat down stiffly, elegant but tense, resting his hands on his knees.

The next second, the squeak of the glass door startled him. “Emily, taking clients during lunch? Business must be good. No wonder you ordered two burgers today. Got a big spender, huh?” It was Leo, the DoorDash guy who delivered my lunch every day. I joked around with him for a bit and took the food. James looked uncomfortable being referred to as a “big spender.” He turned his face away and let out a soft sigh. But this was just how the neighborhood was. Wendy from the nail salon next door popped in to ask if I wanted to go to a bar tonight. Sarah, a white-collar worker living upstairs, dropped off a heavy suitcase, asking if she could leave it here until evening. Amy, a high school student, rushed in to borrow a power bank. They all looked at James with curiosity, their eyes lingering on his expensive clothes. Finally, he shifted uncomfortably and crossed his legs. “Emily, how can you let yourself sink this low? Hanging around with these… humans?” His eyes looked slightly red, though I might have been mistaken. My wolf, curled deep in my mind, let out a lazy yawn, utterly dismissing his dramatic attitude. I just didn’t bother to tell him. “The pattern you want is a bit difficult,” I said, stretching my back and wiping the sweat from my forehead with my elbow. “My friend’s shop doesn’t have the specialty pigments for it. You should go to a larger studio.” I gave him the address of another shop and eagerly opened my food. But James didn’t leave. I felt a bit awkward, so I pushed the fries toward him. “Are you hungry? If you don’t mind, have some.” James’s gaze flickered over my fingers. My nails were permanently stained with ink that wouldn’t wash off. Then his eyes drifted to my burgers and fries. When he spoke, his voice was raspy. “This is junk food. It’s unhealthy… You never used to eat this.” In his memory, I was a picky eater who only ate the freshest meat. If the food was even slightly off, I would throw up for hours. I smiled. “Well, I couldn’t exactly order takeout in the dungeon, could I? Besides, working manual labor all day cured all my picky habits.” “Try some fries, Mr. Harrington. Oh, look, they gave me an extra packet of ketchup today. Score!” I happily took the extra ketchup and threw it into the storage box behind me. The box was already filled with leftover condiments. Sometimes, buying a loaf of bread and using these was enough for a meal. “Enough!” James roared. I startled. The next second, he threw a black card onto the counter. “This is my supplementary card. Take it.” His movement was so violent that he knocked over the stool and almost flipped my lunch. Luckily, my reflexes were quick. I blocked the tray, barely saving my burger. “Mr. Harrington,” I sighed. “If you’re not going to eat, I will…” “Emily!” James growled, his voice trembling. “I’m serious!” “This card is linked to my platinum account. There’s a five million limit. Spend whatever you want.” “Buy a decent shop, start a real business, be your own boss! Stop rotting in this filthy place as a manual laborer!” “Have you forgotten who you are? You are the daughter of an Alpha! The heir to the Moon Shadow Pack!” 2 His roar was deafening, dragging me straight back into my memories. The pack I was born into was powerful. The Moon Shadow Pack was one of the largest rulers of this territory. I was the Alpha’s only daughter until I was seven, when my mother got pregnant with twin girls. But just as we were joyfully anticipating their arrival, my father’s betrayal came right on schedule. He fell for a human woman named Victoria. Their love was loud, chaotic, and destructive. It was so bad that Victoria paraded herself right in front of my mother, demanding she step down as Luna. My mother refused. So, Victoria secretly poisoned my mother with wolfsbane. It took all three of their lives. My mother died with her eyes wide open, never finding peace. Afterward, my father locked me up and starved me for a day and a night, forcing me to forget what happened and forbidding me from telling anyone the truth. Victoria became the new Luna. She brought along my stepsister, Isabella—who was actually her daughter with my father. That was when I realized my father had been cheating on my mother for a very long time. My nightmare began. Beatings, verbal abuse, lies, and constant bullying became my daily life. To survive, I trained relentlessly. I became the fiercest young warrior in the pack. Back then, James was the son of the Silver Moon Pack’s Beta. We met on the training grounds. We trained together and grew up together. But I never expected that during a routine patrol in the woods, two rogue wolves would ambush us. They tried to attack. To protect me, James threw himself into the fight. I was injured while trying to save him, leaving a permanent scar on my chest. That scar was once our sacred vow. He swore he would never betray me. But then, Isabella noticed him. She saw James standing by my side and smiled that bright, innocent smile. It reminded me of Victoria. When she stood next to my father, her smile had the exact same calculating curve. And my dark premonitions quickly became reality. Before I knew it, James was constantly bringing up Isabella. At first, he said she was sweet and innocent. Then, he said she was pitiful, living under our roof. Eventually, it turned into, “Emily, stop bullying Isabella all all the time.” I wanted to have a serious talk with James, but it was the anniversary of my mother and sisters’ deaths. I had to visit their graves first. But when I returned from the cemetery, I walked into a scene I will never forget. Isabella and James were wrapped in each other’s arms in bed. “James, why didn’t you go pay respects to your future mother-in-law today?” Isabella purred. “Her mother doesn’t deserve to be my mother-in-law… If I had to choose, I’d choose yours,” James replied. My mind went completely blank. Blinded by rage, I lunged into the room. I used a silver dagger to slash Isabella’s face. Right after, James locked me in the pack’s dungeon. And my Alpha father didn’t raise a single finger to stop him.

I let out a slow breath, quietly studying the man standing before me. Wealth must be nice. Time hadn’t left a single mark on this handsome man’s face. But it had left me with cracked hands, chin-length hair cut purely for convenience, and ink permanently stained under my fingernails. I gently slid the black card back to him. “There’s no need, Mr. Harrington. My life is fine as it is.” “I have food, shelter, and my freedom. I don’t steal, and I don’t beg. I earn my own living.” But James stubbornly kept his hand extended. “Just take it as… my compensation. Take the money, let go of the grudge, and we can call it even.” I looked at him, slightly amused. The proud James had actually learned how to compensate someone. He used to never bow his head to anyone. “Then it’s even less necessary. I saved your life because you were my fiancé. I went to prison because I assaulted a pack member. We don’t owe each other a thing.” James clenched his fists, his eyes locked onto mine. It was as if he was trying to verify over and over that the woman standing in front of him was truly Emily. Finally, he slowly lowered his gaze, a glint of moisture shining in his eyes. “Emily… you feel like a complete stranger to me.” I glanced at the clock on the wall. “It’s been years. Of course I am.” “Back then… I lost control of my emotions,” he rasped, his voice cracking slightly. “For all these years, I kept thinking… if you hadn’t committed that crime, I would have married you out of guilt. I would have treated you twice as well…” I stayed silent, letting the ticking of the clock stretch the quietness into infinity. “Everyone has their own path,” I said, pulling a lollipop from my pocket and popping it into my mouth. “Don’t look back on things you chose to do.” “You—” My blunt response left him speechless. After a long pause, he snapped in frustration: “You haven’t changed a bit. Still as stubborn and hard-headed as ever!” I nodded cheerfully. “My neighbors say the same thing.” “Emmy!” James clenched his fists, struggling for a long moment before suddenly uttering my old nickname. I froze for a split second. The way he said those two syllables was exactly how he used to. Seeing my distraction, his tone softened. “If you won’t accept my money, I can talk to your father for you. You probably don’t know, but he was diagnosed with chronic wolfsbane poisoning. He doesn’t have much time left.” “If you beg for his forgiveness now, you can still get a share of his estate. You’ll never have to work a day in your life…” “Really?” I smiled, genuinely pleased. “Karma finally caught up to him.” Losing his patience after being deflected again and again, James grabbed my arm, trying to drag me toward his car. “Emily, stop being so stubborn!” “Look at yourself! Look at what you’ve become!” “Renting a tiny, dark apartment, doing dirty, exhausting tattoo work!” “Eating junk food! Do you think living like this makes you look cool or independent? Do you think this is going to impress anyone?” “You’re just a bottom-tier tattoo artist! The absolute lowest of the low!” I looked down at myself. My overalls were covered in ink, my hair was in a messy ponytail, and I probably had dirt on my face. I replied honestly: “It’s not that bad. At least my face is clean. Unlike some people…” James flinched as if I’d struck a nerve, his face turning bright red. “Isabella’s face is completely healed! Even with the scars, makeup covers them perfectly!” “But you? You smell like cheap ink, and your hands are rough as sandpaper! Who would ever want you like this!” Right then, the glass door creaked open again. Two kids—a boy and a girl—dashed inside like little rockets…

“Mommy!” The kids scrambled into my arms, giggling uncontrollably. Amidst their sweet laughter, the anger on James’s face froze. “Emily… whose kids are these?” His eyes widened as he scanned their faces, searching for any detail that didn’t look like me. “Did you adopt them?” The kids didn’t like that. My son, Mason, puffed out his chest. “You’re the one who’s adopted! Your whole family is adopted!” My daughter, Mia, pouted and wrapped her arms tighter around my neck. “Mommy, who is this weird mister?” Kids speak the brutal truth. The color drained from James’s face. Even his lips began to tremble. “You… got married? You have kids?” I smiled and tucked a stray strand of hair behind Mia’s ear. “Yes. Twins. I inherited my mother’s twin genes.” “And their father is…” “None of your business.” I kept it short. Then, I gently nudged the two clingy kids forward. “This is… someone Mommy used to know.” “Hello, mister!” Though a bit reluctant, the kids greeted James politely. James instinctively reached into his pockets, probably looking for some cash or gifts to give them. But he realized his tailored suit didn’t have any suitable pockets. Awkward and out of his depth around children, he could only watch dumbfoundedly as they vied for my attention. “Mommy, I learned how to make my bed today! My teacher praised me!” “I helped the teacher wipe the blackboard! I’m better than Mia!” “Mommy, what are we having for dinner?” “Roast chicken! Daddy promised we’d get roast chicken!” I patiently answered each of them, the faint lines around my eyes softening with their laughter. James looked down, his long eyelashes casting shadows over his eyes. This domestic warmth seemed to cut him like a knife. “Emily,” he breathed, “you used to hate noise. You had such sensitive ears.” “Remember? I promised you we’d never have kids because I didn’t want you to be stressed.” The kids were currently fighting to stuff their leftover candies into my mouth. With my cheeks stuffed, I looked up blankly, trying to recall. “Did you? I don’t really remember.” “My husband and I love kids. Honestly, if pregnancy wasn’t so exhausting, he’d probably want a third.” With that, I happily kissed both of my children on the cheeks. James swayed slightly. Before he could speak, his phone buzzed. It was a large folding phone. I caught a glimpse of the caller ID on the screen. [Wifey ❤️] Isabella’s shrill voice came through the speaker, complaining about something. James frowned, his tone laced with annoyance. “I know, I know. I’m coming home. You’re an adult, how can you not handle this…” He said he was leaving, but his feet remained glued to the floor. I gave him a polite smile. “Mr. Harrington, it looks like it’s going to rain. You should head home.” “And if you want to get that tattoo removed, make sure you find a professional studio.” James muttered a quick response, took one last lingering look at me, and hurried out to his car. I let out a sigh of relief and sent the kids to the back room to play with blocks. Then I noticed he had slipped the black card onto the counter anyway. I scratched my head in annoyance. With no other choice, I locked up the shop after closing and walked over to the Werewolf Council office. “A client named James Harrington left his card at my shop. Could you return it to him? I don’t have his contact info.”

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On the day of my Mate Ceremony, six Alphas from different packs showed up at my door. They all claimed I was their fated mate, pointing to the ancient mate bonds connecting us. They even produced keepsakes I had supposedly left with them years ago. Kaden, my fiancé who arrived late to the ceremony, didn’t hesitate for a second. Without asking for an explanation, he rejected me on the spot and beat me half to death. The six Alphas joined in, laughing as they kicked me while I was down. I died in that cold, hard dirt. I died not even knowing who they were, or how on earth I could be mated to six different men at the same time. But then, I opened my eyes again. I was back to April 30th. The day before my Mate Ceremony. *** #### “Go to sleep early, babe. Tomorrow, you’re going to be the most beautiful Luna in the world. Love you.” Kaden’s voice faded as the call disconnected. The dial tone echoing from my iPhone made me realize one thing—I was reborn. In my past life, Kaden and I were deeply in love. Before our wedding, he wouldn’t even touch me, treating me like the most fragile piece of glass. But on the day of the Mate Ceremony, when those six Alphas falsely accused me, he didn’t listen to a single word of my explanation. He lashed out, his boots raining down on me. The terror in my heart right now outweighed the disappointment. The most important thing was to cancel tomorrow’s ceremony. I walked down the hallway and knocked on my adoptive parents’ bedroom door. When they opened it, surprise flashed in their eyes. “Yara? Why are you still up so late?” Thomas, my adoptive father, asked. “Mom, Dad, I want to cancel the Mate Ceremony tomorrow.” “What?!” “Absolutely not! I don’t agree!” Martha, my adoptive mother, reacted with strange intensity. Since they took me in, they had never raised their voices at me. They had spoiled me, giving me everything I wanted. Maybe they just thought I was being throwing a childish tantrum. Thomas patted Martha’s shoulder soothingly, then turned to me. “Yara, canceling a Mate Ceremony isn’t a joke. We’ve already invited guests from all over. The feast in the Pack’s banquet hall is ready. We can’t just call it off.” “Did you and Kaden have a fight? You’re being too spoiled, sweetie.” I looked at them calmly. “Kaden is cheating on me.” In my past life, Kaden was not only late to our ceremony, but he also carried the distinct scent of another she-wolf. “That’s impossible. You must be overthinking things,” Martha said, her eyes suddenly turning cold. If this were the past, she would have dragged me to Kaden’s house to demand answers immediately. But now, she was shockingly defensive of him. “Either way, I’m not going to the altar tomorrow. Please cancel it.” My adoptive parents had arranged this ceremony because Kaden was an orphan with no family left to help him. “You cancel it now, and where does that leave our family’s reputation?!” Martha snapped. That line sounded so familiar. In my past life, when those six Alphas accused me, everyone whispered behind my back. Martha had said the exact same thing: *”How could you do this behind our backs? You’ve embarrassed us!”* Back then, I was too busy defending myself to notice how sketchy my adoptive parents were acting. “How about this,” Thomas chimed in, giving me a pointed look. “Since Kaden hasn’t marked you yet, let’s just go through with the ceremony first. If he really cheated, you can leave him later.” Martha quickly nodded in agreement. “I’ve already posted a message in the Pack’s Snapchat group,” I said, my voice steady. “The ceremony is off. If the Elders or the Luna of our pack ask, I will explain it myself.” Without waiting for their reply, I turned around and walked back to my bedroom. Having a second chance at life, nothing was more important than staying alive. This time, I was going to stay as far away from those six mysterious Alphas as possible. I spent the entire night tossed in nightmares. My dreams were filled with shattered images—fire, screaming, and blurred faces. Someone was calling my name, but it wasn’t Yara. I tried to see his face, but it was shrouded in mist. Just before dawn, a howling wolf woke me. The sound was distant, yet it echoed deep within my veins, like a call from the blood itself. I sat up, drenched in cold sweat. The moonlight was blinding outside my window. Suddenly, a chilling premonition washed over me. Those six Alphas… they were already on our pack’s territory. *** ####

Early the next morning, my bedroom door was pounded violently. “Yara! Get out here! You have the nerve to lock your door after doing something so shameful?!” It was Martha’s voice. A bad feeling settled in my stomach. I couldn’t open this door. I peered out the window. To my horror, a crowd had already gathered outside our house. Our apartment was on the first floor. If I jumped out of the window now, I’d be caught instantly. Before I could think of another escape, Thomas kicked the bedroom door open. His face was deadly serious, devoid of any fatherly warmth. “Come out. Now.” I braced myself and walked into the living room. There they were—the six Alphas from my past life. My heart skipped a beat, and my breath caught in my throat. I thought my adoptive parents were going to force me to the ceremony hall. I didn’t expect these six Alphas to hunt me down at my house. Six pairs of predatory eyes locked onto me, tracking me like prey. “Found you.” “I knew you were alive.” “The mate bond never lies.” They muttered, their voices thick with years of dark obsession. Standing in the center of the living room were several elders dressed in black robes. They were the esteemed judges of the Crescent Council, responsible for resolving disputes among Alphas. I recognized one of them—Elder Raymond, the High Elder of the Northern Wilds Pack. Their presence meant this was no longer a private matter. It was now a council trial. “I always thought Thomas’s daughter was a good girl. Who knew she was messing around with so many Alphas?” “Oh, please. Girls like her know exactly how to play innocent.” “None of those Alphas look like ordinary wolves. How did she even hook up with them?” “She probably threw herself at them.” The neighbors’ whispers made my blood run cold. My adoptive parents sat on the sofa, keeping their heads down, too terrified to speak. I shook my head violently. “You have the wrong person! I don’t even know you!” “We don’t have the wrong girl,” the first Alpha stepped forward, his eyes locking onto mine. His name was Greyson, the Alpha of the Grey Stone Pack. He was built like a tank, with spiky grey hair. “Five years ago, you disappeared in the Northern Wilds. Everyone said you died. But I knew you were alive because our mate bond, though faint, never broke. I never stopped searching for you.” The second Alpha stepped up. His name was Silva, the Alpha of the Savage Swamps Pack. His skin was dark, and his eyes were sharp like a hawk’s. He held up a silver chain. “This is the token you left me. You said if you ever disappeared, I should use this to find you. I’ve carried it next to my heart every day.” The third Alpha spoke, his voice deep as thunder. “You have a two-inch scar on your left shoulder. You got it protecting me. That scar carries my scent. The mate bond connects us through it.” He was Logan, the Alpha of the Eastern Ridge Pack, a man built like a mountain. My hand instinctively went to my left shoulder. There was indeed a scar there, but Thomas and Martha had always told me I had it when they found me. “I don’t know you! I’ve been in school every single day! I’ve never even been to your territories!” My friend could prove it! In my past life, my best friend Chloe had gone to look for Kaden and missed this confrontation. Last night, I had texted Chloe on Snapchat that the ceremony was off. She hadn’t asked why; she just supported me. I reached for my phone to call her, but one of the Alphas snatched it from my hand and slammed it onto the hardwood floor. “Who are you calling? Another lover?” he sneered. “Are we not enough for you, you little slut?” “I heard you were getting mated today. I’d love to see what kind of idiot would want a passed-around toy.” “Stop it! I am not the woman you are looking for!” I screamed, watching my iPhone shatter into pieces. Fury bubbled in my chest. “Still lying? You have a two-inch scar on your left shoulder, don’t you?” “And a faint scar on your waist from a silver blade.” “A small red birthmark right below your collarbone.” “And a bite mark on your right wrist—the mark I left on you years ago!” They knew every detail of my body. But I had absolutely no memory of them. Elder Raymond spoke, his voice ancient and commanding. “Little girl, these Alphas are leaders of their packs. They wouldn’t accuse you without reason. If you truly share mate bonds with them, by council law, you must return with them for investigation.” “I don’t!” I screamed. “I don’t even know who they are!” “Then this is indeed strange,” another elder murmured, stroke his long beard. “A mate bond is etched into the soul. It doesn’t just vanish. Unless… your memory was erased.” My heart dropped. *** ####

“If you want to prove us wrong, strip. Let us see the marks!” “Yeah! Take her clothes off!” “The Elders are here. Let them be the judge!” “Strip her!” “Look at her face, she’s terrified!” Before I could react, someone rushed forward and ripped the buttons off my shirt. My left shoulder was exposed to the cold air, revealing the jagged scar. The crowd gasped, convinced of my guilt. A wave of humiliation hit me. I crouched down, desperately clutching my torn shirt around myself. “This is all a coincidence! I don’t know them! Mom! Dad! Help me!” Tears streamed down my face as I looked toward the sofa. But Thomas and Martha were gone. They had slipped out of the room. Seeing that I had no one to protect me, more people rushed into the room, pinning me to the floor. Hands began pulling at my clothes. “Let’s see if she really has those marks~” Dirty hands touched my skin. Disgust and helplessness choked me. I thrashed wildly, but my wrists and ankles were pinned down by powerful wolves. “Sleeping with so many Alphas… what a dirty bitch.” “Who knows how many guys have had a turn.” “Get off me! Get off!” *Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap!* Greyson stormed over and slapped me across the face four times. The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. “You worthless whore! You ran away without a word back then. Do you have any idea how long I searched for you?!” “Enough!” Elder Raymond roared, slamming his staff onto the floor. The ground cracked, and the shockwave threw everyone back. “No physical abuse is allowed in front of the Crescent Council!” Greyson stepped back, but his eyes were still burning with hatred. Humiliation consumed me. I wanted to die. Was I really going to die the same way, even after being reborn? “Yara! You shameless bitch!” Kaden, dressed in his wedding suit, pushed through the crowd. His eyes were filled with disgust. But he was my only hope. “Kaden… please… save me…” “Save you?!” Kaden spat, stepping forward. “You betrayed me! You have the nerve to ask me to save you?!” He raised his boot and stomped on my face, grinding my cheek into the floor. “So you’re the groom,” Silva sneered. “Pity. Looks like your bride likes a crowded bed.” “They deserve each other.” Kaden was shoved out of the living room by the Alphas. “Quiet!” Elder Raymond barked. He turned his deep, piercing eyes to me. “Little girl, I am going to ask you a few questions. Answer them truthfully.” I nodded, tears mixing with the blood on my face. “What is your name?” “Yara.” “Who are your parents?” “I…” I froze. Who were my parents? Were Thomas and Martha really my parents? I opened my mouth, but no words came out. “You don’t know who your biological parents are, do you?” Elder Raymond said softly. “Your adoptive parents found you on the side of the road. And when you woke up, you had no memory of your past. Am I correct?” The three questions hit me like thunder. “How… how do you know…” The Elder sighed. “Because your condition looks like a very old, very dark curse. Someone went to great lengths to erase your past.” The six Alphas exchanged glances. “Who did it?” Silva demanded. “That is for her to find out,” the Elder said, looking at me. “Little girl, are you willing to accept the Crescent Council’s help? We can help you retrieve your lost memories.” “I… I am willing.” *** ####

The Memory Recall Ceremony was held in the Sacred Grove. It was an ancient temple hidden deep in the mountains, its stone walls carved with the totems of the first Werewolves. In the center was a stone altar holding a massive, glowing Moonstone. Four elders sat around the altar, chanting in an ancient tongue. I lay on the stone, bathed in the pale, burning light of the Moonstone. Then, the memories hit me like a tidal wave. When I was eighteen, I hadn’t shifted yet. While other wolves my age were experiencing their first shifts, I remained in my human form. And then, tragedy struck. My parents were killed in an ambush by a rival pack. I became an orphan. But wait—it wasn’t an ambush. A scene materialized in my mind: Late at night, dark figures crept into our house. My father was stabbed through the heart. My mother was dragged into the yard… I was hiding in the closet, my hands clamped over my mouth, crying silently. The fathers of those six Alphas were standing in the yard, laughing. “Is it done?” “Yes. The last of the Lycan bloodline is dead.” “What about his daughter? Don’t kill her yet. Let’s have some fun with her first.” I trembled on the altar, tears flowing freely. The memories continued to flash. I was taken by the first Alpha, forced to be his toy. Three months later, I was passed to the second Alpha like a piece of meat. Then the third, the fourth… Every mate mark they forced on me felt like a branding iron searing my soul. I couldn’t take it anymore. I set a fire, burning their manor to the ground, and ran. I ran through the wilderness for three days and three nights until I collapsed by the road. An old couple found me—Thomas and Martha. They healed me, fed me, and gave me a new identity. But they didn’t know that before I lost consciousness, I had used the last of my energy to cast an ancient lock-curse on myself, sealing away all my memories. Because those memories were too painful. If I didn’t forget, I would have gone mad. The ceremony ended. I opened my eyes, my face soaked with tears. “I remember,” I whispered, sitting up. “I remember everything.” The six Alphas stood below the altar, their expressions tense. “My parents were murdered by your fathers,” I said, my voice echoing in the temple. “Your ‘fated mate’ claims were nothing but you treating me like a trophy you shared. Every single one of you is the son of my parents’ murderers.” Silence fell over the hall. “What proof do you have?” Greyson growled. “Proof?” I laughed coldly. “I saw them. That night, your fathers stood in my yard, deciding my fate. Greyson, your father has a scar on his left cheek, right? My father gave him that scar. Silva, your father walks with a limp, doesn’t he? My mother bit through his ankle tendon before she died.” Every detail was painfully accurate. The Alphas’ faces turned pale. “Even so…” Logan muttered, “that was our fathers’ doing. We… we cared for you…” “You used me!” I screamed. “You all thought I was a willing partner. But ask yourselves—could an eighteen-year-old girl who just lost her family really have a choice?” No one answered. “Enough,” Elder Raymond stood up. “This involves a historical crime committed by six prominent families. This is no longer a simple mate dispute. I order this case to be handed over to the High Crescent Council. Until then, these six Alphas are forbidden from leaving the city.” “What about me?” I asked. “Come with me,” the Elder said. “We need to talk in private.”

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1 My best friend sent me a photo. It was taken at the beach. My husband was holding her in his arms, a sweet, blinding smile plastered across his face. Her caption read: “I’m sorry, Hailey. I couldn’t control myself.” I took a slow, deep breath, letting the cold air fill my lungs, and saved the image to my phone. No crop. No blur. No filter. I uploaded the raw image directly to my Facebook feed. “Congratulations to my dearest friend on her successful promotion. You two don’t have to hide in the shadows anymore. Side note to everyone else: this man is officially secondhand goods. No returns, no exchanges.” I tagged every mutual friend we had, shut down the phone, pulled out the SIM card, and went straight to bed. The next morning, the moment I powered the phone back on, it nearly melted in my hand. One hundred and eighty-three missed calls popped up in rapid succession, accompanied by a flood of text notifications. … My phone buzzed on the bed. I was in the middle of folding laundry. Dakin’s white dress shirt lay in my hands, a faint smudge of peach-toned lipstick gracing the collar. I rubbed my thumb over the fabric, but the stain had already set. The message was from Renee. I tapped the screen. It was a photo. A coastal sunset, the golden hour casting a warm, romantic glow over two figures. My husband, Dakin, had his arm wrapped tightly around Renee’s waist. She leaned her head against his shoulder, both of them laughing at some private joke. Underneath the photo was a single line of text: “I’m sorry, Hailey. I couldn’t control myself.” I stared at the image for a full ten seconds. My hands didn’t shake, though my heart rate spiked, a dull thudding against my ribs. Renee had been my roommate in college. Since graduation, we had lived in the same city, sharing holidays, dinners, and countless secrets. She called me her sister. I had helped her move three separate times, and when she was hospitalized with a severe case of pneumonia, I stayed by her bedside for three consecutive nights. Six years of friendship. I zoomed in on the photo. Dakin was wearing the light blue short-sleeved linen shirt he had packed for his business trip last week. He had told me he was flying to Chicago. The background of the photo was clearly a tropical beach. I saved the original file to my camera roll, opened Facebook, selected the photo, and typed my caption. “Congratulations to my dearest friend on her successful promotion. You two don’t have to hide in the shadows anymore. Side note to everyone else: this man is officially secondhand goods. No returns, no exchanges.” I hit share. Then I powered down the phone, slid the SIM card out with a paperclip, and set it on the nightstand. I pulled the duvet over my shoulders and closed my eyes. My mind refused to quiet down. All I could see was that photo. The hand Dakin had wrapped around her waist was his left hand. On our wedding day, that was the same hand he had used to guide me down the aisle. I rolled over, burying my face in the pillow. I didn’t cry. But there was a suffocating pressure in my chest, a sensation like swallowing a jagged block of ice that refused to melt. By the time the sun filtered through the blinds, my head felt heavy. I sat up, slid the SIM card back into the slot, and pressed the power button. The screen illuminated, and the notifications began to cascade. Ten, fifty, a hundred. Missed calls: 183. Unread texts: 99 plus. My social media apps took a full thirty seconds to load the sheer volume of messages. I leaned against the headboard, watching the red numbers multiply. Dakin had called sixty-seven times. Renee, forty-one times. My mother-in-law, twenty-three times. The rest of the calls were from colleagues, acquaintances, and a few people whose names I recognized but whose faces I couldn’t place. I opened Dakin’s message thread. The earliest text had arrived at 10:03 PM the previous night. “What the hell did you post? Delete it right now.” 10:07 PM: “Hailey, are you going to delete it or not?” 10:15 PM: “Answer your phone.” 10:40 PM: “What is wrong with you?” 11:20 PM: “I’m coming home. We’ll talk then.” 1:00 AM: “Hailey, you’ve gone way too far.” The final message had been sent at 6:12 AM. “I’m downstairs. Open the door.” I didn’t move. I swiped out of his thread and tapped on Renee’s voice messages. The first one was seven seconds long. She was sobbing, her voice frantic. “Are you insane? You’ve completely ruined my life!” A cold smile touched my lips. Ruined her life. When she hit send on that photo, she hadn’t given a single thought to mine. The second voicemail was twelve seconds. “Please, Hailey, delete the post. We can talk about this. I’ll agree to whatever you want, just take it down.” The third was five seconds. “Hailey, why aren’t you picking up?” The fourth, sent around 2:00 AM, had a hard, raspy edge to it. “Doing this isn’t going to help you either.” I listened to all nineteen voicemails. Her tone shifted from tears, to pleas, to panic, and finally to a cold, simmered resentment. The doorbell rang. Once, twice, and then a heavy fist began pounding against the wood. “Hailey, open the door.” Dakin’s voice drifted through the hallway. I checked the time. It was 6:40 AM. The pounding resumed, louder this time. “I know you’re in there. Open the door, or I’m calling a locksmith.” I slid out of bed, stepped into my slippers, and walked to the entryway. I didn’t unlock the deadbolt. I simply peered through the peephole. Dakin stood in the corridor, his hair disheveled, his shirt wrinkled, a heavy roller bag resting against his leg. He looked exhausted, his face pale and tense. He raised his hand to knock again. I unlocked the door and pulled it open. He froze, clearly taken aback by how calm I looked. He stepped inside, dropping his suitcase with a heavy thud, and slammed the door shut behind him. “That post on Facebook. Delete it. Now.” I walked back into the living room, sat on the sofa, and poured myself a glass of water. “I said, delete it!” he barked, following me into the room, his voice echoing off the walls. I took a slow sip of water and set the glass down. “You took the photo, Dakin. Why should I be the one to hide it?” 2 Dakin stood in the center of the room, his eyes bloodshot from anger and lack of sleep. “Do you have any idea what kind of damage you’ve caused by posting that?” I crossed my legs, leaning back against the cushions. “Did you think about the damage when you took Renee to the beach?” His jaw tightened, his lips pressing into a thin line. He looked away for a moment, trying to compose himself. When he looked back, his voice had dropped to a pleading whisper. “Hailey, it’s not what you think. It’s not that serious.” “Oh?” “Renee and I are just close friends. We got a little carried away, but nothing happened between us.” “Close friends who hold each other by the waist?” “She tripped on the sand. I was just catching her.” I picked up my phone, unlocked it, and held the sunset photo directly in front of his face. “You caught her so close that your cheeks are touching? You were supposed to be in Chicago, Dakin. Did Chicago suddenly relocate to the Florida keys?” The color drained from his face. He lunged forward, trying to snatch the phone from my hand. “Give me the phone. I’m deleting that.” I pulled the phone back, slipping it into my pocket. “Don’t touch my things.” “Hailey!” his voice cracked, rising in pitch. “Look at yourself! Do you have any pride left? You’ve broadcasted our private business to my colleagues, my boss, our families. How am I supposed to show my face at work tomorrow?” I looked at him, feeling a strange sense of detachment. His primary concern wasn’t my pain. It was his reputation. “You weren’t worried about showing your face when you were wrapped around another woman, Dakin. But now that the world knows, you’re suddenly terrified?” He let out a heavy breath, leaning his hands on the dining table, his head hanging low. “What do you want? Just tell me your terms.” “A divorce.” The word hung in the quiet apartment like a sudden drop in temperature. He snapped his head up, his expression turning to disbelief. “What did you just say?” “I want a divorce,” I repeated, my voice steady. “You want to end our marriage over a single photo?” “Over a photo, a mountain of lies, and a fake business trip. You told me you were working. Instead, you were with my best friend. How else am I supposed to interpret that?” “I told you, nothing happened!” “It doesn’t matter anymore. You lied. That’s enough for me.” He walked over and sat on the armchair opposite me, rubbing his temples. “Hailey, think about this logically. We’ve been married for three years. Are you really going to throw our entire life away over this? Renee is…” He trailed off. “Renee is what?” “She might have done this on purpose.” I let out a dry laugh. “On purpose? Did she force your hand around her waist? Did she force you to book a flight to the beach? Dakin, listen to yourself.” Before he could respond, the doorbell rang again. We both looked toward the entryway. Dakin stood up and opened the door. His mother stood on the threshold, her coat buttons misaligned, her hair hastily pinned up. She didn’t ask what was wrong. She marched straight past Dakin, her eyes locked on me. “Hailey, take that post down immediately.” I didn’t move. She tapped her knuckles sharply against the coffee table. “Do you know how many phone calls I’ve received this morning? Your aunts, your uncles, even your father-in-law’s business associates have seen it! How are we supposed to look people in the eye?” “Mom, your son is the one who went to the beach with another woman.” “He went to the beach! It’s a photo! Young people do foolish things, but you don’t broadcast it to the world! Have you lost your mind?” I stared at her, saying nothing. She continued, her voice rising. “Even if you have grievances, you resolve them behind closed doors. You don’t drag our family’s name through the mud like this.” Dakin stood near the door, offering no defense for me, completely silent under his mother’s tirade. I shifted my gaze to him. “Is that what you think too, Dakin?” He hesitated, looking down. “Just take the post down first, Hailey. We can discuss the rest later.” I stood up. “It’s too late. Screenshots have already been shared. Deleting it now won’t change anything.” My mother-in-law’s face flushed deep crimson. “You are doing this out of pure spite! You want to destroy this family!” I picked up my empty glass, walked into the kitchen, and set it in the sink. The sound of clinking glass was sharp in the quiet apartment. “I didn’t destroy this family,” I said, walking back out. I grabbed my keys and phone from the table and headed for the door. “Where are you going?” Dakin blocked my path. I looked him in the eye. “Move.” “We need to talk this through.” “I’ve already told you my decision. Divorce. Have your lawyer contact me.” I pushed past him, opened the door, and stepped into the hallway. Behind me, my mother-in-law’s voice echoed down the corridor. “Hailey! Get back here! Hailey!” The elevator doors slid shut, cutting off her voice. I pressed the button for the lobby. My phone vibrated in my hand. Renee. I answered it. “Hailey…” “Don’t call me that. What do you want?” A brief silence followed on the line. “Let’s meet. I need to explain things to you in person.” “Explain what? How you couldn’t control yourself?” “No… Hailey, it’s not what it looks like.” “Then what is it?” She didn’t answer. I ended the call. I stepped out of the lobby into the crisp morning air. The sunlight was painfully bright, making my head throb. Standing on the sidewalk, I realized I had nowhere to go. The phone rang again. A local number I didn’t recognize. I hesitated, then pressed accept. “Hailey? It’s Renee’s mother, Mrs. Campbell.” 3 Mrs. Campbell’s voice was polite, but it carried a thin layer of condescension. “Hailey, dear, I think you need to take a deep breath. Can you please delete that post? Renee has been crying in her room all night. Her eyes are swollen shut.” I stood by the curb, the wind blowing stray strands of hair across my face. “Mrs. Campbell, your daughter is the one who sent me the photo.” “I know, she told me. But publicizing it like this is simply cruel. Whatever issues you two have should be resolved privately. If you ruin her reputation like this, how is she ever going to find a decent husband?” I brushed my hair away from my face, shifting the phone to my other ear. “Your daughter is wrapped around my husband, Mrs. Campbell, and you’re worried about her marriage prospects?” The line went quiet for a moment. “She made a mistake. You’ve always been the older, more mature one. Can’t you show a little grace? Dragging this out in public benefits no one.” “It benefits me.” “You…” “I have nothing more to say to you, Mrs. Campbell. If your daughter wants to talk, tell her to call me herself.” I hung up. I walked across the street to a small diner, ordered a coffee and a bagel, and sat on a plastic stool near the window. My phone kept vibrating. I switched it to silent and placed it face down on the table. After finishing my coffee, I dialed my mother’s number. “Mom, I think I’m getting a divorce.” There was a long silence on the other end. “What happened?” “Dakin is sleeping with Renee.” “Renee? Your college roommate?” “Yes.” Another pause. “Come home, Hailey.” “Not yet. I need to settle a few things here first.” “Can you handle this on your own?” “Yes.” “Then remember one thing.” “What?” “Do not let them slide. Don’t go soft.” “I won’t,” I said, and hung up. I sat in the diner, turning my phone over. The screen was filled with alerts. Our college group chat was active, with several missed tags. I ignored them. I opened my camera roll and looked at the sunset photo again. I zoomed in on the details. Renee’s hand was resting flat against Dakin’s chest. Her nails were manicured in a fresh, pale pink shade. I remembered her showing them to me last week, bragging about the expensive salon she had visited. I had paid for her dinner that night. I closed the photo, opened my notes app, and began listing the facts. Dakin claimed he was going to Chicago; he went to the Florida keys instead. Dates: Wednesday to Sunday. Renee sent the photo at 9:47 PM last night. Marital assets: the house, the car, our joint savings account. Marriage certificate is in the second drawer of the nightstand. Renee has a spare key and our Wi-Fi password. I stopped writing. The spare key. Last month, when Renee was staying over, I had given her a spare key to the apartment so she could come and go as she pleased. She had hugged me, smiling. “Hailey, you’re the best sister I could ask for.” I stared at the screen. The locks had to be changed. I stood up, paid my bill, and walked to a nearby hardware store to purchase a new lock cylinder. When I returned to my apartment building, I saw a familiar figure waiting near the entrance. Renee. She was clutching a pack of tissues, her eyes red and puffy. When she saw me, she took a hurried step forward. “Hailey…” “Give me the key.” She blinked. “What?” “My spare key. Hand it over.” She stood frozen for a second, then reached into her designer bag, unclipped a brass key from her ring, and handed it to me. I dropped it into my pocket. Her eyes filled with fresh tears. “Hailey, I know you hate me. But please, it’s not what you think.” “Then tell me what it is.” “Dakin… he was the one who pursued me.” I stared at her. “He pursued you, so you complied?” “I tried to say no. Multiple times. But he kept showing up, and I…” She looked down, squeezing the tissue. “I never wanted to hurt you.” “You didn’t want to hurt me, but you took a romantic photo and sent it to my phone?” “I wanted to confess. I couldn’t bear the guilt anymore.” “Confess?” I let out a sharp laugh. “You weren’t confessing, Renee. You were marking your territory.” She remained silent. “You wanted to make sure I knew my place. Well, now I do.” I bypassed her, swiping my keycard at the glass door. As the heavy door clicked shut behind me, she yelled through the glass. “Hailey, you can’t do this! You can’t put all the blame on me!” I stepped into the elevator and pressed my floor. I squeezed the old key in my palm, the metal edges biting into my skin, leaving a deep, painful red mark. When I reached my door, it was slightly ajar. I pushed it open. My mother-in-law was sitting on the sofa. Dakin was nowhere to be seen. She looked up, her expression a mix of frustration and forced calm. “Hailey, sit down. Let’s talk like adults.” I stayed near the entryway. “Where is Dakin?” “He went to speak with his father.” To plan their next move. I set the new lock cylinder on the console table. My mother-in-law noticed it, her brow furrowing. “What is that?” “A new lock.” Her expression hardened. “Hailey, stop this childish behavior. I’m trying to help you both resolve this. If you delete that post, we can put this behind us.” I looked at her. “We can’t put this behind us, Mrs. Sinclair.” She stood up, walking toward me. “Are you really determined to tear this home apart?” I didn’t answer her. Instead, I said, “Why don’t you ask your son how many nights they spent at the beach, and whether they booked one room or two?” Her face turned pale, her mouth opening but finding no words. 4 Leaving my mother-in-law standing in the living room, I walked into the bedroom and shut the door behind me. Changing the locks could wait. I needed to secure my documents first. I opened the second drawer of the nightstand and pulled out our marriage certificates. Two red booklets. I flipped one open, staring at our smiling faces. I tucked both into my leather tote bag. Then I opened the closet, grabbed a week’s worth of clothes, and packed them into a duffel bag. My mother-in-law began knocking on the bedroom door. “Hailey, leave the certificates. Don’t do something you’ll regret.” I ignored her. I gathered my charger, passport, and bank cards, packing them systematically. When I opened the door, she was standing in the narrow hallway, blocking my path. “Give me the certificates.” “My name is on them, Mrs. Sinclair. Not yours.” “You…” “I’m staying at a hotel for a few days. I’ll have the locks changed later. In the meantime, please ensure no strangers enter my home.” She understood exactly who I meant by “strangers.” Her face flushed, but she stepped aside, letting me pass. I carried my bags down to the street, called a cab, and checked into a quiet chain hotel downtown. Once I was settled in the room, I began the next phase of my plan. I logged into our joint bank account app. The current balance was $114,000. Last month, it had been $150,000. Thirty-six thousand dollars was missing. I scrolled through the transaction history, looking for large withdrawals. I found three significant transactions. The first was from last Wednesday: an $8,000 charge labeled flight and hotel. The booking was under an agency, not Dakin’s personal account. The second was from last Friday: a $12,000 charge at a high-end jewelry boutique downtown. The third was from Sunday: an $18,000 wire transfer directly to Renee. I stared at her name on the screen. Eighteen thousand dollars. The memo line was left blank. I screenshotted the transactions, saved them to a secure folder, and exported the full statement to my personal email. Then I kept digging. Over the past three months, there were four other transfers to Renee’s account. Three thousand, five thousand, two thousand, and six thousand. An additional sixteen thousand dollars. In total, Dakin had transferred thirty-four thousand dollars of our joint marital funds to Renee over the last ninety days. I set my phone down, walking over to the window. The street below was bustling with afternoon traffic, people going about their lives, oblivious to my world collapsing. I texted my mother: “Staying at a hotel downtown. I’m safe.” She replied instantly: “Good. Let me know if you need financial help.” “I’m fine,” I replied. I returned to my notes app, listing the exact dates and amounts of each transfer. When I finished, a specific date caught my eye. The first transfer, for three thousand dollars, had been made on March 12th. Renee’s birthday. That evening, the three of us had gone out for dinner. Renee had spent the night bragging about the designer silk scarf Dakin had bought her, giggling and saying, “Dakin has such exquisite taste.” I had laughed, teasing Dakin for finally being generous. A three-thousand-dollar scarf. Paid for with my own money. I closed my notes and opened Facebook. Dakin had posted a status update, trying to mitigate the damage. “A simple misunderstanding. It has been resolved. Please refrain from spreading rumors.” A few of his colleagues had liked it. I screenshotted it. Then I checked Renee’s profile. She had posted at 3:00 AM. “Things are not always as they appear. The innocent will be vindicated.” Her comments were filled with curious acquaintances asking what happened. She had replied: “Just a misunderstanding. People are quick to judge.” I screenshotted that too. Vindicated. I was going to enjoy watching her try to vindicate herself. I compiled all the screenshots, transaction receipts, and notes into a secure cloud drive, backing it up to two different email addresses. As I finished, my phone rang. An unsaved number, but I recognized the area code. I answered. “Hailey? It’s Dakin’s father.”

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1 After coming back to life, I burned every single photo I had with Grayson. Then, I tore up the love letters Silas had written me over the past three years. In my previous life, I had let myself become an absolute joke caught between these two men. Grayson told me he loved me, yet the moment I gave up my study abroad spot for him, he packed his bags and took Cynthia overseas instead. He left me a single, crumpled note before his flight. It read, “She needs me more than you do.” I spiraled into a deep depression for three months. Silas showed up at my apartment every single day with fresh food. He looked at me with those painfully gentle eyes and said, “I’ve been waiting for you for eight years.” When I finally agreed to be with him, he was the picture of perfection. He came home on time every night and kept a strict distance from any other women. I honestly thought I had finally placed a winning bet. That was until the winter I got into a horrific car crash. I lay comatose in the ICU for seven agonizing days. He never visited. Not once. Instead, I listened to the nurses gossiping over my lifeless body. “The girl in Bed 12 is so pitiful. Her husband comes to the hospital every single day, but he never even steps foot in her room.” “I know, right? He walks straight past her door and goes to the next wing to take care of that patient named Cynthia.” It wasn’t until much later that I learned the ugly truth. Grayson took Cynthia abroad to help her dodge massive gambling debts. And every single cent of that escape was funded by Silas. I was never a priority. I was just an NPC in their twisted, toxic love triangle. But this time, things were going to be different. I was going to sell my house, pack my bags, and take my Nana across the ocean. The voices of the nurses echoed from the hallway, pulling me out of my memories. “Bed 12 is breaking my heart. The guy is here every day, but he never looks at her.” “Yeah, he just goes straight to the other ward to see that Cynthia girl.” My body was shattered from the crash, trapped in that ICU bed for seven days. My eyes were glued shut, but my mind was terrifyingly sharp. I heard the nurses call Silas over and over again. He never came. He was busy keeping someone much more important company. The salvation I thought I had found was nothing but a sickening lie. I poured every ounce of my fading willpower into opening my eyes, but my vision faded into the flat green line of a heart monitor. When I opened my eyes again, the morning sun blinded me. I was sitting at my familiar oak desk. The calendar on the wall stared back at me. It was exactly three months before I was supposed to reject my study abroad offer for Grayson. My hands trembled as I picked up my phone and dialed the university’s international exchange office. “Professor, I’m calling to confirm my acceptance for the exchange program in London. Thank you so much for this opportunity.” The relief in the professor’s voice was palpable. “I’m so glad you thought this through, Rachel. It would have been a tragedy to throw an opportunity like this away.” He was right. It would have been a tragedy. Throwing my entire future away for a man was the stupidest thing I had ever done. After hanging up, I immediately called a high-end real estate agent. I listed the sprawling house my parents had left me. I only had two conditions. All cash, and fast. The moment I finished that call, my phone buzzed. It was Grayson. His voice was cold, carrying that familiar undertone of entitlement. “Rachel, Cynthia is having some trouble with her senior design portfolio. You always get top grades. Go over there and help her out.” Cynthia again. Her drama was the constant static in our relationship. In my past life, those words had me pulling three all-nighters, editing her portfolio from rough sketches to a polished masterpiece. When the project won a national award, only her name was on the plaque. Grayson’s excuse back then? “Cynthia has a weak constitution. She needs this award on her resume more than you do.” And I actually bought that garbage. I gripped my phone tightly and let a soft, agreeable tone slip past my lips. “Sure. Have her send me the files.” “Good girl,” Grayson replied. Two words. That was all it took for him to think he had me completely leashed. I stared out the window, remembering the pathetic version of myself from my past life, and felt a wave of absolute disgust. Less than an hour later, a knock echoed through my apartment. Silas stood in the doorway, holding a brown paper bag from my favorite artisanal bakery. He unpacked the warm pastries onto my dining table, his voice dripping with honey. “Eat while it’s hot. I know you’ve been stressed out dealing with Grayson and Cynthia’s mess. Don’t push yourself too hard.” He always played this role perfectly. Whenever Grayson cut me open, Silas was right there with the bandages. Then, right on cue, he casually dropped the bait. “Cynthia’s project is a massive deal, and Grayson is just stuck in a hard place. You know how frail that poor girl is. She just can’t handle the pressure alone.” Look at them. They always had a million ready-made excuses. Cynthia was fragile, so the entire world had to bend to her will. I picked up a warm croissant and flashed him a bright, convincing smile. “I know, Silas. I promise I won’t make things difficult for Grayson.” Silas let out a breath of relief and smiled back. They both thought I was still that same pathetic Rachel, endlessly willing to set myself on fire to keep Grayson warm. The next morning, I packed my laptop and headed to the university library to finalize my visa applications. I was browsing the reference section when I looked up and saw them. Grayson and Cynthia. Cynthia was leaning heavily against Grayson’s chest. Her cheeks were rosy, and she looked about as fragile as a brick wall. She let out a breathy laugh, gazing up at him. “Grayson, I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you. Thank goodness you’re here.” Grayson looked down at her, his voice softer than I had ever heard it. “You’re such a fool sometimes.” He turned around to grab a bottle of water from his bag and froze. He saw me standing at the end of the aisle. His expression hardened instantly, his brows knitting together in sheer annoyance. My presence was ruining his little romantic moment. I didn’t storm over. I didn’t scream or demand answers like the old Rachel would have. I just stood there, offered him a polite, completely hollow smile, and turned back to the bookshelves. I could feel his intense glare burning into my spine. I didn’t care. This nightmare was going to be over very soon. 2 I didn’t type a single word of Cynthia’s senior portfolio. Two days later, Grayson tracked me down in the library. He snatched the textbook right out of my hands and slammed it onto the wooden desk. The loud crack echoed through the silent room. Heads turned from every direction. “Rachel, I told you to help Cynthia, and you’re sitting here reading useless garbage?” I looked up at him calmly. Then I looked at Cynthia, who was standing right behind him, wearing her signature mask of doe-eyed innocence. “I’m doing research for my own coursework,” I replied flatly. “What coursework could possibly be more important than Cynthia graduating?” Grayson demanded, pulling Cynthia forward by the wrist. “She hasn’t slept in days stressing over this design, and you haven’t even lifted a finger to help.” Cynthia gently tugged at his sleeve, her voice trembling just the right amount. “Grayson, please don’t yell at her. I’m sure Rachel is just really busy with her own life. I’ll just figure something else out.” Her little performance only threw gasoline on his fire. “Listen to her!” Grayson pointed an accusing finger at me. “She’s ten times more mature than you are! Rachel, I am telling you this one last time. I want a complete, polished portfolio in my inbox within a week.” I watched them put on their little theatrical duet, feeling nothing but boredom. I nodded slowly. “Understood.” Grayson thought I was backing down. His rigid posture relaxed slightly, and he grabbed Cynthia’s hand, dragging her out of the library. I absorbed all the weird, pitying looks from the students around me. It didn’t matter. This was the last time they would ever look at me like that. A few days later, Grayson’s patience snapped. He called me, his voice booming through the speaker. “Rachel, what the hell are you playing at? The deadline is in less than a week and the shared drive is empty.” I turned on the kitchen faucet, letting the rushing water serve as my background noise. “I’m so sorry. Nana’s health took a bad turn. I’ve been stuck at the hospital taking care of her all week. I just haven’t had the time.” I lied effortlessly. “Cynthia’s graduation is on the line here. Put your family drama on hold and get her work done first.” Listen to the absolute audacity of this man. In his eyes, my grandmother’s life meant less than Cynthia’s homework assignment. “But…” I feigned hesitation. “No buts.” Grayson cut me off sharply. “Rachel, stop throwing these childish tantrums. If Cynthia fails to graduate because of you, we are completely done.” He hung up with a harsh click. I turned off the faucet and stared at my reflection in the mirror. I honestly couldn’t fathom how I had spent my past life wanting to die over a man like him. Thank god I got a second chance. My phone rang again. It was my real estate agent. She had found a buyer willing to pay above asking price, entirely in cash. We could sign the closing papers today. I replied with a simple, “Perfect.” To make my cover story look authentic, I needed to clear out some of my parents’ antique furniture before handing over the keys. The pieces were heavy, solid oak. I couldn’t move them alone. The first person that came to mind was Silas. The reliable, ever-present senior who always had my back. I called him. “Hey Silas, are you free today? I need to get rid of some heavy old furniture at my place, and I could really use some muscle.” The line went dead silent for a few seconds. Then, his apologetic voice came through. “Rachel, the timing is really bad. I can’t leave right now.” In the background, I distinctly heard the sound of Cynthia coughing delicately. “Cynthia is running a fever, and I need to stay here and take care of her,” Silas explained smoothly. “Can you try to figure it out yourself? Or maybe just hire some movers? I’ll wire you the money for it later.” Cynthia again. I let out a soft, breathy laugh. “Don’t worry about it, Silas. Take good care of her. I’ll handle it.” I hung up the phone and immediately booked a premium moving service online. Why beg for favors when money can solve the problem instantly? A few hours later, I stood outside the local hospital. I clutched my stomach and dialed Silas again, forcing my voice to sound frail and breathless. “Silas, my stomach is killing me. The pain is unbearable. I’m at the downtown ER right now.” Silas didn’t hesitate. “Don’t move. I’m on my way.” I sat on a freezing plastic chair in the chaotic emergency room lobby, watching the crowd blur past me. Thirty minutes later, Silas rushed through the sliding glass doors. He was out of breath, his eyes darting frantically. But he didn’t even scan the waiting area where I was sitting. He sprinted right past me, heading straight for the orthopedic wing down the hall. I stood up slowly and followed him. Outside the orthopedic exam room, Cynthia was sitting in a wheelchair. Her ankle was wrapped in a thick bandage, and tears were streaming down her face. Silas was kneeling on the floor right in front of her, speaking in a sickeningly sweet, coaxing tone. “Shh, it’s okay. Don’t cry. The doctor said it’s just a minor sprain. A few days of rest and you’ll be perfectly fine.” “But it hurts so much,” Cynthia whined, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. Silas frowned in deep concern. He reached out to touch her wrapped ankle, his hands moving with extreme, terrifying gentleness, terrified of causing her even a fraction of pain. His performance right now was a hundred times more genuine than any fake concern he had ever shown me by my hospital bed in my past life. I stood silently in the hallway, watching the scene unfold. So the rumors I had heard in the ICU during my past life had been true all along. It had started years before I ever realized it. My presence finally shifted the air in the hallway. Silas turned his head, and his entire body went completely rigid. “Rachel… what are you doing over here?” Panic flooded his eyes. Cynthia noticed me too. The tears instantly vanished from her eyes, replaced by a subtle, mocking gleam of victory. “I told you, my stomach was killing me. I came to get a prescription.” I pointed casually at the pharmacy bag in my hand. “Are you… are you feeling better?” Silas scrambled to his feet, looking entirely out of his depth. “I’m fine. Just an old flare-up.” “I’ll let you get back to your nursing duties. I’m heading home.” I didn’t give him a single second to stumble through an excuse. I simply turned on my heel and walked away. I knew perfectly well that me walking away without a fight would just convince them that I was still the same jealous, helpless Rachel who would eventually come crawling back. 3 The weather was gorgeous the day I signed the final real estate contracts and secured the cash. I transferred the massive sum into an international bank account, finalized my leave of absence from the university, and secured my student visa. That weekend, a mutual friend hosted a massive party at a private club downtown and invited me. I knew Grayson, Silas, and Cynthia would all be there. To avoid drawing any suspicion before my flight, I agreed to go. Inside the neon-lit private room, the drinks were flowing, and someone brought out a deck of cards for a dare game. After a few rounds, Cynthia shook a deck of custom cards in her hand and giggled. “Let’s play the King’s Game! Whoever draws the King gets to command any two numbers to do whatever they want!” The room erupted in cheers. Grayson and Silas both nodded along, completely indulging her. Naturally, Cynthia pulled the King on the very first round. She stood up, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “I command number two and number five to recreate the classic Titanic pose right in the middle of the room!” Everyone immediately scrambled to check their cards. I flipped mine over. It was a two. Across the room, Grayson scowled and tossed his card onto the table. A five. The room instantly exploded into deafening whistles and cheers. “Rachel, this is your moment!” “Grayson, don’t just sit there! Get up and hold her!” The crowd physically pushed me until I was standing awkwardly next to the low glass coffee table in the center of the room. Grayson was shoved toward me, his face twisted in utter reluctance. Silas was sitting on the leather sofa, laughing along. “Come on, Grayson, just get it over with. Rachel, open your arms.” I stiffly raised my arms and closed my eyes, refusing to look at the disgust I knew was written all over Grayson’s face. But the embrace never came. Instead, a massive force slammed into my back. It was Cynthia. She had lunged forward, throwing her arms around my waist from behind, laughing hysterically at Grayson. “Grayson, look! Isn’t this exactly the same thing?” The moment her weight hit me, my heels slipped on the slick floor. I lost my balance completely and tipped backward. With a sickening crash, I slammed into the floor. The back of my head struck the sharp, heavy corner of the glass coffee table. Pain exploded behind my eyes, blinding me with a flash of pure white light. The heavy table tipped. Bottles of liquor, buckets of ice, and sticky mixers crashed down, soaking me in freezing, stinging alcohol. The entire room went dead silent for a fraction of a second. And then, I heard it. A sharp, undisguised scoff from Grayson. He didn’t even look down at me. He just crossed his arms and muttered to the guy next to him, “What a buzzkill.” Silas barely even frowned. “Rachel, why are you always so clumsy? It was just a game.” Not a single person reached out to help me up. Every eye in the room was fixed on Cynthia, who had also fallen to her knees. Her eyes were already brimming with fake, watery tears. Grayson instantly dropped to the floor, pulling her into his chest, his voice dripping with tender concern. “Are you hurt? It’s okay, it wasn’t your fault. She just couldn’t keep her balance.” The throbbing in the back of my skull was blinding. I lay on the freezing, sticky floor, completely drenched and looking like absolute trash. Without saying a single word, I pushed myself off the ground, bypassed the crowd, and walked straight out of that suffocating, noisy room. In that moment, I felt nothing but profound relief that the house was sold, the visa was stamped, and my bags were packed. Only three days left. The third day happened to be my birthday. Maybe Silas felt a tiny shred of guilt over the club incident, because he sent me a text that morning. “Happy birthday, Rachel. I booked the best window table at The Apex for seven tonight. Don’t be late.” A few hours later, Grayson’s text came through. “Happy birthday. Cynthia didn’t mean to push you the other night, so drop the attitude. We’re taking you out for dinner tonight to celebrate.” I stared at the two messages, feeling absolutely nothing. I decided to treat it as a final farewell tour. I replied with a simple “Okay” to both of them. As the sun set, I took a cab to the luxury rooftop restaurant. It was the exact same corner table by the floor-to-ceiling windows, overlooking the glittering skyline of the city. The scene played out exactly like my past life. Back then, I had worn the expensive dress Grayson bought me. We hadn’t even ordered appetizers before Cynthia called in a panic, and both of them sprinted out the door. I had sat at this exact table from seven in the evening until the kitchen closed. They never came back. My calls went to voicemail. My texts were left on read. I endured the pitying looks of the waitstaff and the awkward stares of the other diners, burning with humiliation. It wasn’t until midnight that I saw Cynthia’s social media post. She was wearing a stunning princess gown, holding a massive, custom cake, laughing brightly. Grayson and Silas were standing on either side of her, looking at her like she was the center of their universe. The caption read, “Dragged my two knights in shining armor out for late-night cake! Who says you need a birthday to celebrate?” My birthday meant absolutely nothing compared to her spontaneous cravings. 4 “Rachel? Where did your mind go?” Silas’s voice snapped me back to reality. Grayson and Silas were sitting across from me. The expensive appetizers arrived quickly, but no one spoke. The air was thick and awkward. Silas picked up his wine glass, breaking the silence. “Rachel, I’m sorry about the other night. I’ll take a penalty drink. Happy birthday.” Grayson didn’t scowl at me for once, though his eyes were heavy with complicated emotions. Just as I picked up my fork, Silas’s phone buzzed aggressively on the table. He glanced at the screen, and his entire demeanor shattered. He answered it instantly. “What? How did she just faint? Which hospital?” He hung up, his face pale, and looked at me with panicked guilt. “Rachel, I am so sorry. Cynthia… her blood sugar completely crashed. She fainted in the street and got taken to the ER. I have to go check on her.” Before I could even process the excuse, Grayson was already out of his chair, grabbing his tailored coat. He looked at Silas. “I’m coming with you. One person isn’t enough to handle the doctors and paperwork.” Just like the last lifetime, they threw me away the second Cynthia snapped her fingers. Silas gave me a desperate, pleading look. “Rachel, just eat. We’ll make sure she’s stable and come right back. I promise. We’ll be quick.” They practically ran out of the restaurant. The heavy oak doors of the private dining room clicked shut behind them, cutting off the background music. The world went beautifully silent. I looked at the table full of untouched, Michelin-star food. I didn’t wait a single second. I grabbed my coat, stood up, and waved a waiter over. “Check, please.” Walking out of the restaurant, the sharp night wind hit my face. It was freezing, but my mind had never felt clearer. I pulled out my phone, went to my contacts, and permanently blocked and deleted both Grayson and Silas. I wasn’t waiting around anymore. I flagged down a taxi and headed straight to my empty house. I pushed the front door open. The sprawling living room was completely stripped bare. Besides my suitcases and Nana’s bags sitting by the door, every trace of our existence had been scrubbed clean. I peeled off the expensive dress I was wearing, rolled it up, and shoved it directly into the trash can. Along with that fabric, the very last shred of my attachment to Grayson went straight into the garbage. I walked into Nana’s room. She was already fast asleep, her breathing soft and steady. I gently pulled the thick blanket over her shoulders and pressed a kiss to her forehead. Nana, this time, I’m taking you far away from this toxic wasteland. I didn’t sleep a wink that night. I checked our passports, visas, and flight tickets over and over again, ensuring everything was flawless. When the sky outside began to turn a soft, bruised purple, I gently woke Nana up. “Nana, we’re going on a trip. Somewhere really far away and really beautiful. Sound good?” Nana’s memory wasn’t what it used to be, but she loved me more than anything in the world. She looked at me, her eyes crinkling into a sweet smile, and nodded. “Whatever you say, sweetheart. Wherever my Rachel goes, Nana goes.” The morning sun flooded through the massive glass windows of the airport terminal, wrapping us in golden warmth. I held Nana’s hand tightly as we walked, step by step, toward the international departure gate. Goodbye, Grayson. Goodbye, Silas. And goodbye, Cynthia. I hope the three of you enjoy your miserable little eternity together.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “531873”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 My grandfather was Hong Kong’s reigning shipping tycoon, his empire stretching across Southeast Asia. He was the one person in the world who loved me beyond measure. After his death, I thought I still had Carter, my newly minted billionaire fiancé, who promised to hold me in the palm of his hand. But Grandfather had not been gone for a week when Carter chaired his first board meeting as the new head. Standing before everyone, he announced the end of our engagement. In the same breath, he declared he would marry Freya, a girl from the local fish market. Whispers exploded through the grand boardroom. Every eye snapped toward me. Deep down, I knew this day was coming. I just did not expect him to be so desperate to cast me aside. My voice remained steady. Fine. I accept. Across the crowded room, I caught the flicker of panic in Carter’s dark eyes. Seven years ago, I had dragged him from the gutter. I took a street thug and pushed him ruthlessly to the top. Back then, I told him I would stake my entire fortune and life on him, but only if he swore never to betray me. His answer had been a desperate, searing kiss. So when exactly did Carter change? Perhaps it began when Freya cried to him, claiming I wanted to ruin her life. I was too proud to explain away her pathetic lies. I failed to notice the cold distance growing in Carter’s eyes. If this was truly what he wanted, I would give it to him. I picked up the microphone, locked eyes with Carter, and enunciated every single word. “I voluntarily dissolve my engagement to Mr. Sterling.” Without waiting for a response, I turned on my heel and walked out. The heavy elevator doors slid shut, cutting off the chaotic roar of the boardroom. Inside the quiet elevator, my phone screen lit up. Sender: Carter. “Harper, no matter what happens, trust me.” Trust him? My grandfather’s bones weren’t even cold yet, and he had just publicly humiliated me, forcing me to agree to a breakup in front of the entire board. How the hell was I supposed to trust him? I stared at the text. My finger hovered over the screen for three agonizing seconds. Then, I pressed down and hit delete. The elevator doors chimed open. My driver, Mr. Chen, was already waiting by the Bentley. “Miss Harper, are we heading back to the main estate?” “Take me to Kowloon.” Mr. Chen looked like he wanted to argue, but he just let out a heavy sigh and opened the door for me. The sleek car eventually pulled up outside a crumbling, dilapidated tenement building deep in Kowloon. The stairwell didn’t even have working lights. I navigated the pitch-black stairs by memory. Third floor, door on the left. When I pushed it open, the suffocating smell of mildew and thick dust washed over me. It had been seven years, but the room was exactly the same. A hard wooden plank for a bed, a dining table with a broken leg, and windows sealed shut with cheap plastic tarps. In the corner sat a stack of cardboard boxes, overflowing with the heavy business textbooks Carter used to study until his eyes bled. My gaze drifted to the rusty tin box sitting on the edge of the bed. The metal was corroded, the corners bent and flaking. I didn’t even need to open it to know what was inside. A crude, ugly ring twisted out of a piece of scrap wire. It was so rough it scratched the skin. And a single, yellowed piece of paper torn from a cigarette box. Scrawled across it in messy handwriting were the words: Carter will love Harper forever. The date at the bottom was exactly seven years ago. It had been pouring rain that night. When I found Carter, he was curled up in an alley next to a overflowing dumpster. His cheap white t-shirt was soaked in a sickening mixture of mud, rain, and his own blood. I crouched down in the filth and tilted my umbrella over him. “Carter. Come with me.” He slowly lifted his head. The icy rain mixed with the blood dripping down his forehead, running straight into his eyes. But he stared at me, his gaze fiercely, violently stubborn. “Harper. I don’t want your damn pity.” “It’s not pity,” I said, tilting the umbrella further to shield him completely. I locked eyes with him. “I am betting my entire life on you. I will give you everything you need to win. But you have to swear to me.” “Swear you will never, ever betray me.” He stared at me for a long, agonizing minute. “I swear.” That night, Carter took me back to his “home”—a makeshift shack slapped together next to the water tower on the roof of this tenement building. It wasn’t a home. It was a few sheets of plastic tarp strung up to block the wind, and a rotting, abandoned sofa he used as a bed. In the summer, the heat was suffocating. In the winter, it was so freezing you could see your breath when you spoke. While I was carefully cleaning the deep cuts on his face, he suddenly asked, “Why are you helping me?” My hands paused over his bruised jaw. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ve completely lost my mind.” A dark, broken smile crossed his face. “Then let’s lose our minds together.” That night, we split a single, cheap cup of instant ramen. He dug into his pocket, pulled out that twisted loop of scrap wire, and clumsily, reverently slid it onto my ring finger. “This piece of trash doesn’t deserve you,” he whispered, his voice dangerously low, his grip on my hand tightening until it hurt. “But I swear to God, Harper. One day, I am going to use the entire Sterling Empire as your wedding gift.” He bit down on his own thumb, drawing blood, and smeared that promise across the cigarette paper. Under the flickering, dying lightbulb, he looked up at me. His eyes were burning. It looked like he had crammed every ounce of his savage ambition and his raw, bleeding heart into that single gaze. When he kissed me, I could taste the sharp copper of his blood and the cheap salt of the ramen. I didn’t pull away. The wind whipping off Victoria Harbour was brutal that night, rattling the plastic tarps violently. He buried his face in my neck, whispering my name over and over again. His voice was completely ruined. “Harper, I’m going to win.” “Harper, trust me.” “Harper…” My phone vibrated violently in my hand, ripping me out of the past. It was a breaking news alert. New Head of the Sterling Empire Chooses True Love Over Billions! Childhood Sweetheart Left in the Dust! The attached photo was a candid shot of Carter and Freya standing in front of a filthy fish stall. He was gently brushing a stray piece of hair out of her eyes. His expression was so soft, so tender, it looked completely foreign to me. The comment section was an absolute warzone. “This is what real love looks like! Those billionaire arranged marriages are just disgusting business deals anyway.” “I heard that Harper girl is an absolute nightmare. Carter has been putting up with her temper for years.” “Freya is such an inspiration! From a fishmonger to the future Mrs. Sterling! It’s literally a Cinderella story!” I looked out the filthy window. The skyline of Victoria Harbour was glittering with millions of lights. Buried in that glittering skyline was the Sterling Empire headquarters, the exclusive yacht clubs, the Michelin-star restaurants—the entire empire I had spent seven years helping Carter conquer, inch by bloody inch. And now, he was handing half of it to a girl who gutted fish for a living. I gently closed the rusted tin box and put it right back where I found it. I was locking those seven years away for good. Three days after the boardroom disaster, Carter finally showed up at my private estate. I hadn’t seen him in days. Deep, bruised bags hung under his eyes, and he looked incredibly exhausted, completely drained. I couldn’t help but mock myself in my own head. Even after everything he had done, my first instinct was still to feel sorry for him. “Why? And don’t give me any garbage. I want the absolute truth,” I demanded, forcing my voice to stay dead calm. “Freya… she’s had a really hard life,” he started, his voice a low, heavy rasp. “Her mother died when she was young. Her father is a deadbeat alcoholic. She’s been keeping that fish stall afloat entirely on her own just to pay for her little brother’s tuition…” “So,” I cut him off, my voice trembling violently despite my best efforts, “you decided to sacrifice me to play her savior?” The sprawling living room fell completely silent. “Carter, three years ago, when you closed your first billion-dollar acquisition. You were so happy. You drank so much that night.” “You rested your head on my shoulder and told me that when we got married, we were going to have two kids. One that looked exactly like you, and one that looked exactly like me.” I stared dead into his dark eyes, desperately trying to see whatever was left of his soul. “Who are your kids going to look like now? Freya?” Carter flinched. He looked away, staring out the massive floor-to-ceiling windows. After a long, suffocating silence, he finally spoke. “The engagement had to be dissolved. I had to do it. It was a promise I made to myself. But Harper, you aren’t going anywhere.” I froze, entirely caught off guard. “Excuse me?” Carter snapped his gaze back to me. His eyes were burning with a terrifying, absolute certainty. “The Sterling Group is expanding overseas. I’m making you the Director of International Operations. Or, honestly, whatever position you want. I will back you completely. It’s just…” He paused, clearly struggling to find the right words. “It’s just that, on paper, we can’t be husband and wife.” I stared at him for three seconds before I let out a sharp, incredulous laugh. “Carter. Are you seriously asking me to be your mistress?” “Not a mistress!” He stepped forward aggressively. “Family. Your grandfather wanted me to take care of you, and I am going to!” “Don’t you dare bring my grandfather into this!” I screamed, losing my composure entirely. “This is the best possible arrangement for everyone.” His face was pale, his jaw clenched tight, but he forced his tone to soften. “Harper, you grew up here. All your friends, your entire network, your career—it’s all in Hong Kong. And besides…” He stared at me, his expression twisting into something deeply obsessed and stubborn. “We’ve been together for seven years. We are completely inseparable. Even without a ring, you belong right here, by my side.” “Belong?” The sheer audacity of his words made me sick to my stomach. “Why the hell do I belong by your side?” “Because you are the one who pulled me out of the gutter in the freezing rain!” he roared, his eyes flashing with a wild, desperate red edge. “You bled with me through every single nightmare we faced! You are carved into my damn bones, Harper! I am never, ever letting you go!” The afternoon sun shifted across the imported hardwood floor, drawing a sharp, blinding line between where he stood and where I stood. It looked like an absolute, impassable chasm. “The night of the victory gala,” I said, my voice dropping back to a quiet, lethal calm. “A group of trust-fund kids were harassing Freya. They threw a drink on her. You saw it happen, and you rushed over to play the knight in shining armor.” Carter’s entire body went rigid. “When you came home that night, you reeked of her perfume,” I continued, staring blankly at his chest. “It was some cheap, synthetic floral scent. Completely different from what you usually tolerate. When I asked you about it, you lied to my face. You told me someone bumped into you at the bar.” I tried to force a careless, mocking smile, but the tears completely betrayed me, slipping down my cheeks without warning. “I should have realized it right then,” I whispered, reaching up to violently wipe the tears away. “The second a man starts lying to you, his heart is already gone.” He stood frozen in place. I watched his Adam’s apple bob aggressively as he swallowed hard. After a long time, he spoke, his voice completely wrecked. “Name your price for compensation. Corporate shares, offshore accounts, cash—whatever you want, I will sign it over today. But I am not letting you leave.” “Then we burn it all down.” I locked eyes with him, refusing to give an inch. “Carter, I am not some fragile little canary you can lock in a gold cage. I am the woman who risked my entire life to build your throne. You either give me every ounce of your loyalty and respect, or…” “We are permanently, completely done.” Carter’s phone suddenly rang, shattering the tension. He glanced at the screen, his expression tightening instantly. He quickly hit decline. But the phone immediately rang again, loud and insistent. He stared at me for five agonizing seconds before turning his back and walking to the far corner of the living room to answer it. He kept his voice incredibly low, but in the dead silence of the house, I heard every word. “…I know. I’m on my way. Stop crying… I said okay, I’ll be right there.” He hung up and walked back over. His face was a mask of complicated, frustrating emotions. “Freya’s father got drunk and started a brawl. He’s at the police station,” he said flatly. “I have to go handle it.” I didn’t say a single word. I just turned my head and looked out the window. The rare orchids my grandfather had meticulously planted in the garden were finally blooming. The pure white petals were trembling slightly in the afternoon breeze. After a long silence, he spoke again. “Harper, think very carefully about what I just offered you. Stay here. I promise I will take care of everything.” “I don’t need to think about it.” I didn’t even bother turning around to look at him. “Carter, the second you chose Freya, whatever we had was dead.” A heavy, suffocating silence filled the room behind me. I heard the heavy oak front door open, then click shut. His heavy footsteps faded down the driveway. I pulled my phone out of my pocket. It was a text from Mr. Davis, the family’s senior estate lawyer. “Miss Harper, the contingency clause in your grandfather’s final will has officially been triggered. You may execute it whenever you are ready.” I stared at the glowing screen for a long time. Finally, I typed back a single word. “Execute.” The night of my grandfather’s memorial, a brutal typhoon hit the island. The ancestral hall was empty, save for me and a few of the oldest, most loyal estate staff keeping vigil. The extended family and the corporate vultures had cleared out hours ago. Carter never showed up. Word on the street was he was at a luxury boutique, watching Freya try on custom wedding gowns. Honestly, I preferred the quiet. Mr. Davis was waiting for me in the main drawing room. He handed me a thick, sealed manila envelope. “Miss Harper, this is the very last thing the old master left for you.” I ripped it open. Inside was a single, handwritten letter and a faded photograph. The letter was written in my grandfather’s hand, the strokes shaky and erratic from his final illness. Harper, my sweet girl. If you are reading this, it means that street rat Carter has betrayed you. The girl in the photograph is named Chloe. She died protecting Carter years ago. This new girl, Freya, looks exactly like her. A man’s obsession with a ghost is the most dangerous thing in the world. You can never win a war against a dead girl. Take the money I left you. Leave. And never, ever look back. I pulled out the photograph. It showed two teenagers, maybe sixteen or seventeen, sitting close together on the concrete steps of a grim-looking orphanage. The boy was Carter. He was scrawny, underfed, and staring at the camera with eyes full of feral, violent suspicion. The girl sitting next to him was a head shorter, with her hair tied in two messy braids. She was smiling brightly, breaking a stale piece of bread in half to hand to him. She was a dead ringer. Freya looked exactly like her. Suddenly, heavy, urgent footsteps echoed down the main hallway. I spun around just as Carter burst into the drawing room. Freya was trailing nervously right behind him. “Harper.” Carter looked at me, his chest heaving, his eyes a mess of dark, unreadable emotions. “I came to pay my final respects to the old man.” I walked slowly toward him. “Carter. Who is Chloe?” Every drop of blood instantly drained from Carter’s face. He looked like a corpse. Behind him, Freya froze completely, her fingers gripping the sleeve of his expensive suit in a white-knuckle panic. Carter’s jaw tightened. He turned his head slightly. “Freya, go wait in the side parlor.” Freya bit her lip, looking incredibly wronged and pathetic, but she nodded meekly and scurried off toward the parlor. Once she was out of earshot, Carter slowly turned back to face me. “Who gave you that name?” “Does it even matter?” I challenged, my voice sharp. “What matters is, are you marrying Freya because she is a carbon copy of Chloe?” A heavy, suffocating silence fell between us. Finally, his voice cracked, coming out as a hoarse, jagged whisper. “Chloe… she died because of me.” “It was winter. I was sixteen. I was breaking my back hauling crates at the docks. I had just gotten paid for three days of brutal work, and a gang of local thugs cornered me. I refused to hand over the cash, so they pinned me to the concrete and started beating the life out of me. Chloe had come to the docks to find me…” Carter stared blankly into the flickering candlelight of the memorial altar, his eyes entirely hollow. “She was so damn small. But she threw herself over me, shielding my head. She screamed at them, ‘He’s my little brother! If you want to hit someone, hit me!’ Those sick bastards… they shoved her.” He squeezed his eyes shut. His broad shoulders began to shake uncontrollably. When he spoke again, he was completely choking on his words. “She had a severe heart condition… Her head slammed against the concrete steps. There was so much blood. I pressed my hands against it, I pushed as hard as I could, but the blood just wouldn’t stop. By the time the ambulance finally showed up, she was already gone.” I looked at the incredibly powerful, ruthless billionaire standing in front of me, now reduced to a shattered, traumatized child. A wave of bitter, agonizing sadness washed over me. “So when Freya showed up, it felt like the universe was giving Chloe back to you?” “I owe Chloe my life!” Carter suddenly roared, the raw agony in his voice echoing through the silent hall. “When I look at Freya… it’s like looking at Chloe begging me to save her! I can’t just turn my back on her! I can’t!” “So you’re marrying Freya to keep a ghost alive. You’re marrying her to pay off a blood debt.” I locked my eyes onto his, refusing to let him look away. “And I am nothing but the collateral damage in your twisted redemption arc.” “You are not collateral damage!” he shouted desperately. He reached out to grab my wrist. I took a sharp step back, completely out of his reach. “Harper! You are the woman I love! If you hadn’t pulled me out of that alley… I would have lost my damn mind years ago!” Suddenly, it all made a sick, twisted kind of sense. He needed to pay off a blood debt to a dead girl, so he found a living replacement. But the dark, psychotic path of his guilt terrified him, so he was desperately trying to drag me along to keep him sane. It was so incredibly cruel. And so unbelievably selfish. “You already lost your mind,” I said, my voice dead and cold. “The second you decided to use a living, breathing woman as a meat puppet for a corpse, you went completely insane.” We stared at each other across the flickering candlelight, looking like two brutally wounded animals locked in a cage. Suddenly, the sharp, violent crash of shattering porcelain echoed from the side parlor, immediately followed by Freya’s piercing scream. Carter spun around and sprinted toward the parlor. I followed close behind. Inside, the heavy mahogany tea table was overturned. Freya was collapsed on the floor, surrounded by jagged shards of broken porcelain. She was clutching her left arm, bright red blood welling up between her fingers. Old Mr. Ford, my grandfather’s most loyal butler, was standing a few feet away, his hands raised in absolute shock. “Mr. Ford, why would you push me…” Freya wailed, tears streaming down her perfectly pale face. Mr. Ford shook his head violently. “I didn’t! The young miss asked for a glass of water. I turned my back to pour the tea, and she suddenly threw herself against the table…” “You’re lying!” Freya screamed, huge, pathetic tears rolling down her cheeks. “You just hate me because I sell fish! You think I’m stealing Miss Harper’s place! But you didn’t have to attack me!!” She looked up at Carter, her eyes wide and devastatingly sorrowful. “Carter… maybe I really just don’t deserve to marry you?” Carter didn’t hesitate. He scooped Freya up off the floor into his arms. He turned his head and shot me a glare so intensely cold it felt like a physical blow. “If you’re pissed off, take it out on me. Do not touch Freya. If she has lasting nerve damage, I will never, ever forgive you.” Without waiting for a response, he carried her out, disappearing into the torrential rain. I slowly turned back to face the massive portrait of my grandfather resting on the altar. The candlelight flickered across his painted face. His eyes looked so kind, so warm. It felt like he was whispering to me, Harper. Don’t be afraid. I dropped to my knees on the cold stone floor and bowed perfectly, pressing my forehead to the ground. “Grandpa. I’m listening to you. I’m leaving.” At 3:00 AM, I was standing inside a massive, abandoned shipping warehouse down by the docks. I was waiting in absolute silence. In three hours, a private vessel was going to smuggle me out of Hong Kong forever. Mr. Davis had handled everything flawlessly—a brand-new identity, untraceable offshore accounts, and strict instructions to bring only a single, small suitcase. Suddenly, the emergency lights bolted to the ceiling flickered and died. Seconds later, thick, pitch-black smoke, carrying the overwhelming, nauseating stench of gasoline, began pouring in under the heavy metal doors. Fire. I dropped my bag and sprinted toward the main exit. The second my fingers grazed the metal handle, the searing heat burned my skin. I recoiled instantly. The hallway outside was already an absolute inferno. I backed away, coughing violently, and ran to the reinforced windows. I shoved one open, but a wall of blistering heat blasted me in the face. The ground floor was entirely engulfed. Massive plumes of toxic black smoke were rolling up the side of the building. The warehouse was essentially a sealed concrete box. The fire was spreading with terrifying, unnatural speed. The smoke began pouring down my throat. I dropped to my knees, hacking and gagging as the oxygen was sucked out of the room. In a blind panic, my hand brushed against my jacket pocket. My fingers wrapped around the rusted, wire ring. It felt exactly like a rotting, meaningless promise. A sudden, overwhelming wave of pure exhaustion crashed over me. Seven years. Over two thousand, five hundred days. I threw away my title as the untouchable heiress of the Sterling empire to become Carter’s shadow. I dragged him out of the gutters and bled for him until he reached the absolute pinnacle of power. And what did I get in return? Was any of it worth it? I closed my burning eyes and let myself slide down the concrete wall until I was sitting on the floor. Let it end here. Let this fire completely incinerate the pathetic, delusional Harper who had spent seven years playing the martyr. “Harper—!!!”

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1 On my birthday, my best friend Brody gifted me a tabby cat. In the middle of the night, the little thing actually looked at me, shook its head, and sighed. “He looks decent, but how can someone be this clueless? He has no idea his best friend and his girl are stabbing him in the back.” I froze, wondering if I was hallucinating. I was holding a resignation letter I had just pulled from my drawer, planning to quit my job alongside Brody so we could travel the world together. “While he is busy drafting his resignation, Brody is pulling strings behind the scenes to take over his promotion as General Manager of Marketing.” “I have to hand it to his girlfriend, Daisy. Her scheme is viciously brilliant.” “What a shame. The other cats around the block say this firm is about to lock in a massive ten-billion-dollar funding round. The future here is golden.” The voice in my head sounded again. It was coming from the cat. My hand stopped. The pen hovered over the paper, and then I slowly tore the resignation letter into pieces. I had barely tossed the scraps into the trash can when my phone buzzed. It was a text from Brody. Hey bro, let’s set our final day for next Monday! He even attached a photo of his own signed resignation letter. A second later, a message from Daisy popped up: Did you submit your resignation yet? I stared at the screen, my mind racing. I could not bring myself to accept the reality of their betrayal. The three of us had grown up together. Brody had followed me around since we were kids, and I had always protected him like a younger brother. When he struggled to find a decent job, I brought him into my company, mentored him, and even handed him some of my best clients. He used to praise me to everyone we met. And Daisy had been promising to marry me since we were teenagers. She confessed her feelings to me when she turned eighteen, and we had been together for almost seven years. “That luxury watch Daisy gave him for his birthday? It is just Brody’s discarded secondhand piece. There is a tiny scratch at the bottom. You would need a magnifying glass to see it.” “She has been lusting after Brody since they were kids.” The tabby cat’s voice echoed in my head again. I rushed to the closet, pulled out the watch box, and inspected the back of the case under a bright light. Sure enough, etched into the metal was a tiny, faint scratch forming two letters: B.T. Brody Taylor. At that moment, the final shred of hope in my heart shattered. The love and friendship I had cherished for years were nothing but a lie. “But that watch holds a secret three-million-dollar jackpot.” The cat’s inner voice chimed in once more. I whipped my head around to look at it. The tabby hopped onto the windowsill, casually licking its paw as it continued its silent monologue. “According to the fat white Persian cat at the pet store, the watch brand ran a limited-edition serial-number sweepstakes. The winning number matches the code on this exact watch.” “Daisy did not leave her contact details at the store when she got it.” “The deadline to claim the prize is in three days!” I forced myself to snap out of my shock. I quickly scrolled through my chat history with Daisy, found the address of the luxury boutique, and made a mental note to claim the prize after work tomorrow. A few days ago, Daisy had insisted that I put down a million dollars for a house and add her name to the title. Only an idiot would do that now. I was going to buy a penthouse in cash, entirely under my own name. Suddenly, my phone rang. It was Daisy. “Lucas, are you asleep? Why aren’t you replying to me and Brody?” “Did you finish writing your resignation letter? Brody says Hawaii is amazing this time of year. I already booked the flights for next week. You can’t back out.” Always Brody. She used to explain it away by saying, “We are a couple, Lucas. Brody is all alone, so we need to look out for him and make sure he feels included.” I had trusted her completely, never questioning her motives. “I just finished it. I was in the shower,” I replied smoothly. “Awesome! We are finally going to live our childhood dream of traveling the world!” Daisy laughed, her voice as sweet and gentle as ever. “Go to sleep, babe. I love you to the moon and back.” If this were yesterday, those sweet late-night words would have warmed my heart. Now, they made my stomach turn. From this moment on, I would not waste another second on a rotting relationship or a fake friendship. The next morning, I arrived at the office half an hour earlier than usual. As I parked my car, I spotted two familiar figures nearby. Daisy and Brody were locked in a passionate embrace, kissing for a solid three minutes before separating. Brody gave her a lazy, satisfied smile. “You were amazing last night.” “Oh, stop it. I am always exhausted because of you. You are like a wild animal in bed,” Daisy giggled, swatting his arm playfully. I gripped the steering wheel, my knuckles turning white. They had been sleeping together behind my back. “By the way, do you think tricking Lucas into quitting is a bit much?” Brody asked, though there was no real guilt in his voice. “Every man for himself, Brody. Besides, Lucas is resilient. He will find another job easily. He is too sentimental to ever suspect you anyway,” Daisy smiled, adjusting her lipstick in the mirror. “And once we get married, I will use his money to support you.” A cold shiver ran down my spine. This was the woman who had promised to love me forever. She was more toxic than a viper. Fortunately, the tabby cat had warned me. It was not too late. I did not storm out to confront them. Instead, I quietly recorded a video of them on my phone, waited in the car for another ten minutes, and then headed up to the office. “Hey, Lucas!” Brody was already waiting outside my office door, a bright smile on his face as he grabbed my shoulder. “Let’s go hand in our resignations to the boss.” “Sure,” I nodded, playing along with his little game. As we reached the executive suite, Brody suddenly slapped his forehead. “Oh, shoot! I think I left my resignation letter at my desk. You go in first, Lucas. I will run back and grab it.” “Alright.” I walked into the president’s office. I could practically hear the sigh of relief Brody let out behind me. He thought his trap had sprung. Mr. Kane looked up from his desk and gestured for me to sit. “I heard rumors going around that you are planning to leave us. Don’t tell me you are here to hand in a resignation?” It seemed Brody had already started spreading rumors to pave the way for his own promotion. “Of course not, Mr. Kane,” I said, shaking my head. I handed him a sleek folder. Inside was not a resignation letter, but a comprehensive, highly innovative marketing proposal for our upcoming product launch. Mr. Kane scanned the pages, nodding slowly. A broad smile spread across his face, and he gave me a thumbs-up. “This is brilliant, Lucas! Absolutely outstanding!” “To be honest, the General Manager position has been vacant for a while. The board has discussed it, and we want you to take over the department. The official announcement goes out next Monday.” “If this campaign succeeds, the executive vice president position is yours, along with a significant share of company stock.” I stood up and shook his hand. “Thank you, Mr. Kane. I won’t let you down.” As I stepped out of the office, my heart was pounding with a mix of excitement and lingering dread. If I had not heard the cat’s thoughts, I would have walked away from a stellar career. Brody and Daisy would have stepped on my back to climb to the top, laughing at my stupidity the whole way. I returned to my desk. Brody walked in a moment later under the pretense of handing me some files. “How did it go, Lucas? What did Mr. Kane say?” “Not much,” I said, keeping my tone neutral. “Wow, he didn’t even try to convince you to stay?” Brody scoffed, though a gleam of triumph flashed in his eyes. I chose not to expose him just yet. By the time the workday ended, Daisy was already waiting for me in the parking lot. She was sitting in the passenger seat of Brody’s car, her legs crossed high, showing off a lot of skin without a care in the world. Brody slid into the driver’s seat, his eyes lingering shamelessly on her legs with a smirk. I used to think their closeness was just the innocent bond of childhood friends. I had been incredibly naive. “Lucas!” Daisy leaned out the window, offering a sweet smile. “Brody found this incredible new steakhouse downtown. I sent you the address. Let’s go grab dinner.” “You two go ahead. I have some things to take care of,” I replied calmly. Daisy frowned. “Come on, whatever it is can wait. Dinner with Brody is way more important.” “Yeah, bro, don’t be a party pooper!” Brody added, trying to guilt-trip me. In the past, I would have yielded to keep the peace. Now, their manipulation just felt pathetic. “No, really. Something came up at home.” Without waiting for their reaction, I walked over to my car, started the engine, and drove straight to the luxury watch boutique. “Hello, sir,” I told the sales associate, handing over the watch. “Could you please verify if the serial number on this watch won the sweepstakes?” The associate took the watch, typed the code into the system, and gasped. “Yes, indeed! Congratulations, sir! You have won the three-million-dollar jackpot. Please follow me to process the claim.” The entire process took less than half an hour. Shortly after, a notification chimed on my phone. After tax, a cool two point seven million dollars had been deposited into my bank account. I knew Brody and Daisy would find out about this soon because the boutique was going to put up a huge promotional banner outside the store next week. I immediately contacted a real estate agent and bought a luxury riverfront condo I had been eyeing for months. I paid for it in full, cash upfront. After securing the deed, I went home and discussed the situation with my parents. When they learned about Daisy and Brody’s betrayal, they were shocked but stood by my decision completely. Just as we finished dinner, my phone buzzed. I had been added to a group chat with Daisy and Brody. Brody sent a voice note, chuckling: Lucas, since you ditched us for dinner tonight, you are paying the bill! Daisy immediately chimed in: It is only three thousand eight hundred dollars, babe. Just Venmo us. Normally, I wouldn’t have thought twice about sending the money. This time, I put my phone on silent, went to take a shower, and ignored them completely. By the time I got out, there were dozens of missed notifications. Brody: Bro, why aren’t you replying? Daisy: It has been twenty minutes, Lucas. The waiter is standing right here waiting for the card. Brody: Man, I guess our friendship doesn’t mean much to you anymore. Finally, Daisy wrote: Fine, Lucas. If you are going to be this petty, we will just pay for it ourselves! Only then did I reply: Just got out of the shower. Neither of them replied. In the past, I would have sent them each a grand to smooth things over. Looking back, I had been an absolute fool. I didn’t bother trying to appease them tonight. I gave the tabby cat a handful of freeze-dried treats and sat down at my computer to polish my marketing campaign for Monday. The cat jumped onto my desk, staring intently at the glowing screen. “The neighborhood cats say the CEO absolutely loves pets, but he keeps up a cold, professional front to protect his image. He has been complaining that none of his employees have pitched a pet-friendly marketing campaign.” Inspiration struck me like a bolt of lightning. I immediately began integrating pet-centric elements into the launch strategy. I worked through the night. Just as the sun began to rise, my phone rang. It was Daisy. “Lucas, you were way too selfish last night. Refusing to pay the bill really hurt Brody’s feelings.” “He was almost in tears. He saw a designer gold chain at the mall the other day. Why don’t you buy it for him to make up for it?” I almost laughed out loud. She really was dedicated to using my money to pamper her secret lover. “It is for the sake of our trio, Lucas. A little compromise won’t kill you,” Daisy continued. “If you cover the cost, Brody will forgive you, and I won’t be mad at you anymore.” If I were still in the dark, I would have done anything to save our relationship. Too bad for them, I knew the truth. “I stayed up all night working. I don’t have the energy to go to the mall. Why don’t you go pick it up?” I said, keeping my voice flat. “Perfect!” Daisy squealed, assuming I had agreed to pay, and hung up happily. A moment later, Brody sent a text: You are the best, bro! I am not mad at you anymore. Love ya! I ignored the message, tossed my phone onto the nightstand, and went to sleep. When I woke up in the evening, my phone was flooded with texts from Brody. I found a better one! It is eighteen thousand eight hundred dollars. Buy this one for me! Daisy: Since you didn’t reply, we assumed you agreed. Brody bought it on an installment plan. You can pay off the balance later. Brody: If we pay it off within a month, there is zero interest! Don’t forget, bro! He had already posted a picture of the bracelet on social media, conveniently leaving out who was supposed to pay for it. The comments were full of people envious of his luxury lifestyle. Someone asked if he had gotten a massive raise. He replied: Oh, it is nothing special! Daisy commented: Brody is just incredibly successful. Anyone reading would think Brody was a self-made millionaire, when in reality, he was just a parasite feeding on my hard work. My own watch had cost barely a thousand dollars, yet he had the nerve to demand an eighteen-thousand-dollar bracelet. They certainly loved spending money when it wasn’t theirs. I didn’t say a word. I wanted to see how Brody, who lived paycheck to paycheck, would handle the payments once I refused to pay a single dime. On Monday, Brody strutted into the office flaunting his new bracelet. He made a point of walking over to my desk and talking loudly. “Hey, Lucas! What do you think? Looks pretty slick, right?” “Very nice,” I smiled. Several coworkers gathered around, admiring the flashy jewelry. “Wow, Brody! How much did that set you back?” “Eighteen thousand eight hundred,” Brody bragged, while subtly nudging my arm, signaling me to keep quiet and play along to save his face. In the past, I would have kept his secret to protect his pride. Now, I let him have his moment. After all, I wasn’t the one paying for it. “Oh my gosh, eighteen grand?! Brody, I had no idea you were rolling in cash like this.” “I wish I were as successful as you.” “Lucas, look at your little protégé. He is doing way better than you are.” “Seriously, Lucas brought him into the company, but Brody is the one wearing an eighteen-thousand-dollar piece. Lucas has nothing.” The coworkers gossiped, praising Brody while putting me down. Brody didn’t say a single word to defend me. Instead, he bathed in their admiration, his chest puffed out with pride. I just stood there and smiled. “Alright, everyone! Quiet down!” Mr. Kane walked into the department, holding a folder. “I have an announcement regarding the promotion for the General Manager of Marketing.” Brody’s smile widened. His eyes practically sparked with anticipation as he prepared to step forward, fully expecting his name to be called. The rest of the office turned to look at him, assuming the promotion was his. After all, the rumors of my resignation had been circulating for days, and with my help, Brody’s sales figures were the second highest in the department. But in the next second, Mr. Kane turned his eyes toward me. “Starting today, Lucas is officially promoted to General Manager of Marketing.” The smile on Brody’s face instantly froze. He whipped his head toward me, his eyes wide with utter shock.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “531871”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 My ex-husband Henry talks to birds. On our divorce reality show, he spent ten hours venting to a sparrow about my suffocating possessiveness and the horror of me constantly wiring him money. Overnight, he became the pampered canary, cashing in on viral fame with streams and brand deals. Jealous, I tried to ride his coattails, only to be mocked by his co-host on air. Can the ex-wife stop clout-chasing? she smirked. Henry came home crying over her. His rabid fan base tore me apart online until I was afraid to check my phone. That night, drunk by my open window, I slurred my misery into the dark, unaware a bird was listening. It flew straight to Henry to report my breakdown. The next day, as his co-host started her stream, a passing flock bombed her perfectly styled hair with droppings. Henry appeared on camera, a smug finch perched on his shoulder. Rumors are trash, he declared, his voice ringing with righteous indignation. We are not a couple. I didn’t even go home last night, but apparently, my ex-wife spent the evening crying her heart out to my birds. … It all started on the show when Henry told the cameras, “My ex-wife is emotionally constipated. She is like a motorcycle; one twist of the throttle, and she zooms right out of your life.” I was so incredibly furious that I chased him out of the interview room, screaming. Our shouting match was captured live on camera as we dragged each other from the set to the backstage corridors. Naturally, the footage of our explosive toxic dynamic spread across the internet like wildfire. To the public, we were the couple most guaranteed to fail the show’s marriage counseling phase. Honestly, I agreed with them. That night, feeling defeated, I went to the director’s office to officially withdraw from the production. But the director looked at me with a strange, amused expression. “Your ex-husband predicted this. He knew you would try to quit tonight, and he asked me to deliver a message.” Before I could ask what it was, the director stood up, placed one foot on his office chair, raised his middle finger at me, and squeaked in a high-pitched, mocking voice: “Ex-wife, you are pathetic! If you want to admit defeat, do it to my face instead of sneaking away like a coward!” After finishing his theatrical performance, the director coughed into his hand, cleared his throat, and offered me a sheepish smile, returning to his usual polite self. My chest rose and fell with hot anger. I turned on my heel, ready to hunt Henry down and rip his hair out. But as my foot crossed the threshold, a sudden realization hit me. If I confronted him now, my pride would be completely ruined. Henry would think I was crawling back to admit defeat. To protect my sky-high dignity, I swallowed my anger, gritted my teeth, and went back to my room. The next morning, filming resumed as scheduled. The producers arranged for the couples to sit face-to-face in a quiet, neutral room to have an honest conversation. A highly perceptive relationship counselor sat between us, tasked with translating our passive-aggressive remarks and untangling our deep-seated emotional knots. Because of our violent history, Henry and I were securely strapped to our chairs with heavy ropes before the cameras started rolling. The crew was terrified we would tear each other apart if left unrestrained. I stared coldly at the faint red mark my palm had left on Henry’s cheek the day before, letting out a sharp, dismissive scoff. Henry ran his tongue over his inner cheek, his dark eyes radiating pure annoyance. We clearly detested the very sight of each other. Even the veteran counselor looked intimidated, struggling to find a way to break the icy silence. Following the script, we were asked to answer the opening question: “What made you choose your partner in the beginning?” I hesitated for a fraction of a second. Henry, however, didn’t hesitate at all. “Because she is filthy rich,” he blurted out. The veins on my forehead throbbed. He had literally treated me like a sugar mama. The counselor cleared his throat awkwardly, turning his gaze toward me. “And you, Kathryn?” I glared at Henry, my voice dripping with venom. “Because he was the cheapest option on the market!” Henry’s eyes flared with anger. He began thrashing against the ropes, practically dragging his heavy wooden chair across the floor. “What the hell is that supposed to mean, Kathryn?!” Seeing him lose his cool brought a sudden rush of satisfaction. I leaned back, let out a slow, appreciative whistle as my eyes scanned his tense, well-toned torso, and added, “Well, his body isn’t half bad. Excellent value for my money.” Henry froze. He slumped back into his chair, suddenly quiet, his cheeks flushing a faint pink. “If the love is gone, is it really necessary to humiliate him like this?” An indignant female voice broke the silence. We both looked over to see Hailey, the personal assistant Henry had hired for the show. Her fists were clenched, her eyes burning with fury as she glared at me. The smirk vanished from my face. Henry, seeing my mood drop, crossed his legs triumphantly, clearly thrilled that someone from his camp had come to defend his honor. A wave of discomfort washed over me, but I couldn’t put it into words. Revealing my jealousy would make me feel inferior, so I chose to shut down completely, staring blankly at the floor. As I retreated into my usual silence, Henry’s triumphant smirk faded. He leaned forward as much as the ropes allowed. “Hey, say something.” “Giving me the silent treatment again?” “If you are upset, just say it. Playing the silent martyr won’t make me feel sorry for you.” His gaze was intense, searching my face as he tried to coax a response out of me. “Why are you mad, Kathryn?” My lips parted slightly, my defenses starting to crumble under his persistent gaze. But before I could speak, Hailey stepped forward, cutting off the cameras. She placed her hands protectively on Henry’s shoulders. “Henry, you don’t need to grovel to her!” I closed my eyes, turning to the counselor. “Are we finished here?” Due to the interruption, the shoot had to be paused. The crew rushed over to untie us. I rubbed my sore wrists, stood up without a word, and walked back to my room. I skipped dinner entirely, lock keying myself inside as a heavy cloud of misery settled over me. Had agreeing to come on this show been a massive mistake? I didn’t expect the production team to edit that exact argument and post it online. A clip of me walking away from the table was turned into a viral GIF with the caption: The runaway motorcycle zooms out of your life! In an instant, relationship bloggers and meme accounts flooded the internet with commentary. The producers, realizing our toxic chemistry was a gold mine for ratings, poured more resources into capturing our drama. To protect my pride and avoid admitting defeat, I endured the daily torment of filming. Besides, Henry didn’t have the money to pay the contract termination fee. If I walked away, I would have to cover his fine as well, which was a financial loss I refused to accept. So, I spent the remaining days of filming with a scowl on my face, refusing to engage with anyone. I didn’t say a single word to Henry, mimicking the agonizing silence of our court-mandated divorce waiting period. We were like two strangers occupying the same space. Despite the crew’s best efforts to force a reconciliation, our icy wall remained unbroken. This silent war persisted until the very last day of the show, the final decision ceremony. Henry and I were placed in two separate cars, driving from opposite ends of a long, sun-drenched highway. If we wanted to give our marriage another chance, we had to step out of our cars and embrace in the middle of the road. If not, we would stay in our vehicles, driving past each other into separate lives. As the car began to move, my heart hammered against my ribs. We had been through this cycle so many times. We were like oil and water, constantly clashing, entering cold wars, separating, and then, driven by some inexplicable magnetic pull, passionately reconciling, only to remarry and start the cycle all over again. Our safe held a stack of marriage and divorce certificates, yet we could never seem to end this chaotic dance. This time, I wanted to end it for real. As the car approached the middle of the highway, the host beside me asked, “Kathryn, what is your choice going to be? The viewers are dying to know if this is truly the end.” I ordered the driver to stop. I stepped out of the vehicle, standing on the asphalt under the blazing sun. The heat radiated through the soles of my shoes, making my eyes water. The host beside me gasped in pure shock. “Unbelievable! We honestly thought you would be the last person to get out of the car.” Yes, even I thought I wouldn’t. I was the runaway motorcycle. If I could easily walk away, we would have ended years ago. If I didn’t care, I wouldn’t have agreed to do this show. I could scream, I could ignore him, but when faced with the absolute end, I simply couldn’t let him go. Just as I prepared myself to spend the rest of my life tangled up with this idiot, Henry’s car slowly rolled past me. The window was rolled down. Henry was resting his chin on his hand, staring blankly at the passing landscape. When his eyes met mine, flushed red from the heat and the sun, his eyes widened in sheer horror. The car didn’t stop. It carried him away, his shocked face vanishing as the vehicle sped down the highway. A dull, heavy ache bloomed in my chest. My pride and dignity lay shattered on the hot asphalt, baking under the merciless sun. I stared at the disappearing car, my throat tight with confusion. How could he not get out? Did he really want to let me go? My voice was dry as I turned to the crew. “Can I go home now?” The host remained dazed for several seconds before quickly calling for a production car to take me back to the hotel. I packed my bags immediately, called a private car, and fled back to my empty house. I shut off my phone, disconnected my computer, and hid from the world. When I finally stepped back into the public eye, it was for the show’s post-finale reunion interview. I showed up disguised in a large face mask and dark sunglasses, looking incredibly ridiculous on camera. Henry arrived a moment later, looking relaxed, with a long-tailed finch perched happily on his shoulder. The sight of him looking so carefree made my blood boil. How could he be in such a good mood while I was drowning in misery? “Look at her,” Henry whispered to the bird on his shoulder. “She is brooding again.” The bird let out a series of cheerful chirps as if agreeing with him. Our usual host cleared his throat, trying to suppress a chuckle as he pointed the microphone at me. “Kathryn, did you… pfft… did you not watch the final episode after you left?” Seeing them laugh at me made me want to rip my mic off and leave, but the crew quickly held me back. “Wait! Don’t go! We aren’t laughing at you. There is a piece of footage you missed after you drove away.” They played the clip on the monitor. The video showed that the moment I had gotten into the production car and driven away, Henry had leaped out of his moving vehicle, sprinting down the highway in a desperate attempt to catch me. When he couldn’t keep up, he stopped, panting heavily as he glared at the camera crew. “She is unbelievable! She is going to be furious with me now. I am officially on death row!” “Why does she have to be so stubborn? She had a resting bitch face for days, so I honestly thought she wouldn’t step out of the car. I figured it was too hot anyway, so I didn’t bother getting out to prove my devotion, but of course she actually got out!” Henry had paced back and forth, muttering a laundry list of nicknames for me: “her royal highness, the drama queen, the runaway motorcycle, the queen of emotional suppression, the unpleasable dictator.” Since the show was over and no one wanted to listen to his rants, he had sat under a tree and complained about me to a flock of sparrows for ten hours straight. His assistant, Hailey, had recorded the entire thing and posted it online, which was how Henry had become a viral sensation. Looking closely, I realized his clothes and watch were significantly more expensive than before. Along with his fame, the internet had started shipping Henry and Hailey, calling them a match made in heaven. Knowing that he was doing well, the heavy knot in my chest loosened. If leaving me allowed him to thrive, then our separation actually had a purpose. After a few brief questions, the crew let me go, keeping Henry and Hailey behind to film more promotional content. Soon, my company was preparing to launch a new product line. The marketing department asked if I could leverage my connection with Henry to secure a brand collaboration, hoping to ride his viral wave. Remembering how much money I had spent on him over the years, I agreed without any guilt, sending a team to pitch the proposal to his agency. Instead of a business response, I was met with a massive wave of online hate. Hailey had started a live stream, displaying our business proposal to the camera while mocking me. “The ex-wife needs to stop clout-chasing,” she sneered. “Henry came home last night and cried in my arms because of her constant harassment.” The internet tore me apart, and the brand’s reputation plummeted. Our public relations department told me that only a direct statement from Henry could save our launch. But since they were working together, I assumed Henry had authorized her stream. Unable to sleep, I sat by my open window, drinking wine and cursing Henry’s ancestors to the sky. I didn’t know his avian spy was listening. The next day, as soon as Hailey began her live stream, a flock of birds descended from the sky, pooping repeatedly on her head. Shortly after, Henry launched a stream of his own, holding up a termination contract. “Rumors are trash, and we are not a couple!” Henry announced. “My former assistant violated our contract by publicly humiliating a business partner for personal clout. She has been fired.” He then held up the familiar finch, offering a helpless smile. “I haven’t even been home yet, but apparently, my ex-wife was crying to my birds last night.” The tide turned instantly. Our product launch was a massive success, and the shipping community went wild over our toxic, chaotic dynamic. I love this messy, obsessive, dysfunctional couple! They are perfect for each other! Healthy relationships are great, but toxic drama is peak entertainment! The runaway motorcycle and her pampered canary, I am begging you to get back together! Eventually, Henry invited me to his studio. It was small, cluttered with samples, and barely had any space to walk. I frowned, looking around. “I have a much larger studio space in my building…” Henry cut me off with a lazy grin. “I am a pampered canary now, Kathryn. If you keep feeding me sugar-mama cash, how am I ever supposed to stand on my own two feet?” He handed me a beautifully crafted birdcage with a bird inside. “After failing a thousand times, I finally found the root of our problem,” he said, his voice softening. “It is not that I am bad, or that you are bad. We just suck at communicating. Communication is key, Kathryn.” I stared at him, startled, as his slender finger gently tapped my lips. “If you can’t bring yourself to say the truth to me, say it to the bird. Nobody else can understand bird language anyway. That way, only I will ever hear your secrets.” When an emotionally suppressed girl meets a man who can literally speak to birds, she really has no escape.

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1 Fairness was the golden rule in our house. My twin older siblings, Austin and Katherine, would throw absolute tantrums if they suspected Mom and Dad favored one over the other even a little bit. To keep the peace, everything in our home was divided into two equal shares. One for Austin, one for Katherine. Once, when I was little, I asked Mom a simple question. “What about mine?” Mom snapped at me. “Do you really think we don’t have enough drama with your brother and sister? Why can’t you just be quiet for once?” Then came the day we got a new car. It was a six-seater SUV. There were five of us in the family. On the morning of our big family road trip, I stood outside in the pouring rain, watching them load up. The two extra seats in the back were occupied. One held Katherine’s cat carrier. The other held Austin’s golden retriever. I stood by the open door, shivering and squeezed out. Austin protectively shielded his dog. Katherine rolled her eyes and shrugged. “We agreed on absolute fairness. No one touches my cat’s space.” Dad looked at me with deep irritation as the rain soaked through my jacket. “Don’t you have anything else to do?” Shivering from the biting cold, I forced a small smile. “Actually, I do. I am not going.” I turned around and walked away, immediately pulling up my phone to submit my study abroad application to my college advisor. If the fairness I had waited twenty years for was never going to come, there was no reason for me to keep standing in the rain. By the time I walked back to our empty house, I was soaked to the bone. As soon as I stepped inside, my phone buzzed. Mom had tagged me in the family group chat, asking how I planned to feed myself while they were away for the weekend. For a fleeting second, a warm ache bloomed in my chest, and my eyes welled with tears. I thought she cared. But before I could type a response, her next message flashed on the screen. “Do not touch anything in the fridge. It is fully stocked for Austin and Katherine, split perfectly down the middle. If you eat any of it, you will ruin the balance.” The tiny spark of warmth vanished instantly. I stared at the screen, desperately wanting to reply with a simple question: “What about me?” In the end, my fingers merely tapped out two words. “Got it.” I had asked that question a thousand times growing up. No one ever cared. It was as if everyone, including myself, had accepted that nothing in this house would ever belong to me. I pocketed my phone and searched the pantry, eventually finding a forgotten, stale loaf of bread at the very back. I ate a few dry bites, curled under my thin blanket, and finally drifted off to sleep, cold and exhausted. In the middle of the night, I was violently jolted awake by a heavy, wet bundle slammed onto my face. I gasped, pulling the cold fabric off my head. The hallway lights were blazing, and the living room was a chaotic mess of muddy boots and loud voices. Mom and Dad were grumbling about a sudden storm that had flooded the highway, forcing them to turn back. Katherine stood at my doorway, her arms crossed, glaring down at me. “What are you staring at? Are you deaf? Get up and wash my jacket.” Her designer coat was caked in thick, wet mud. The dirty water had soaked through my hair, leaving a sticky, disgusting residue on my forehead. Blinking away the heavy sleep, I whispered, “Katherine, please. I am exhausted. Can I do it first thing in the morning?” Katherine’s voice instantly spiked. “If you don’t want to help, just say so. Don’t make pathetic excuses!” Austin walked up behind her, tossing his mud-covered sneakers onto my floor with a dull thud. “If you are doing hers, you are doing mine too. Get moving.” Mom walked past the door carrying a basket of laundry, casting a brief, uncaring glance at my disheveled state. She frowned and immediately scolded me. “There are three kids in this house, and we believe in equal contribution. Your brother and sister have been traveling all day while you sat at home relaxing. The least you can do is help with some laundry.” Looking at their demanding faces, I wanted to laugh. It turned out their precious fairness was highly selective. When it came to dividing resources, only the twins got a share. But when it came to burdens, I was suddenly a full member of the family. Without another word, I quietly knelt on the floor, gathered the pile of muddy clothes and shoes, and walked to the laundry room. It took me nearly four hours to scrub the mud out of their clothes. By the time I finished, my vision was blurring, a warning sign of low blood sugar from hunger. I leaned against the wall and stumbled into the kitchen for a glass of water. Just as I poured it, Dad walked in through the front door, carrying a bag of hot takeout. The moment he saw me, he instinctively hid the bag behind his back. A fleeting, awkward smile crossed his face. “The portions were perfect for four, so I didn’t get you anything. If we tried to split it five ways, Austin and Katherine would have started fighting again. Oh, but the place gave us some complimentary roasted peanuts. The twins don’t like them.” I forced a polite smile and gently pushed his hand away. “Thanks, Dad, but I am severely allergic to peanuts.” Dad froze for a fraction of a second, but the realization barely registered. Before he could say anything, Katherine called out for him from the living room. He quickly turned his back on me and walked away. As he walked away, I clutched the kitchen counter, my fingers digging into the wood. A sharp, physical pain stabbed at my heart, but I didn’t even have the energy to cry. After choking down some water to settle my stomach, I walked back to the utility room to sleep. But when I pushed the door open, my heart sank. The small space was crowded with the suitcases they hadn’t bothered to unpack. 2 There was so much luggage that they had run out of floor space. To my horror, Katherine’s dirty plastic litter box had been tossed right onto my bed. My head throbbed with a sudden, sharp ache. I turned around and looked at the bright, laughter-filled living room. Mom happened to glance over. For a split second, our eyes met. I knew she saw my humiliation and distress, but she merely shifted her gaze back to the TV as if I were invisible. This was nothing new. I used to have my own bedroom. But when we were twelve, Katherine cried for weeks because her room was a tiny fraction smaller than Austin’s. To resolve the dispute, Mom and Dad sliced my bedroom in half, turning one side into Katherine’s walk-in closet. Austin had stormed out of the house in a rage when he heard the news. When he returned, the remaining half of my room was converted into his private gaming den. That was how I was relegated to the drafty, cramped utility room, freezing in the winter and sweltering in the summer. Outside, the rain continued to beat against the window, water pooling on the cracked sill. It occurred to me then that I was just like that puddle, something inconvenient, pushed aside, and left to dry up. They had taken my room first, and now they were taking the last square inch of my sanity. I quietly pulled the door shut, locking out the warmth and laughter that would never belong to me. I didn’t sleep at all that night. There was simply nowhere to lie down. Early the next morning, my academic advisor, Mrs. Gable, called me to her office. She had wonderful news. My study abroad application to Australia had been approved. But there was a catch. “Since you are going overseas, the university requires a signed parental consent form,” she said, looking at me gently. “Have you discussed this with your parents?” I squeezed the hem of my shirt, my knuckles turning white. Then, I managed a bright smile. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Gable. I will get it taken care of.” As I walked out of the administration building, I ran straight into Mom. Beside her was Katherine, whose eyes were red and swollen from crying. She was clinging to Mom’s arm, whining loudly. “Mom, it is not fair! Austin got the MVP trophy for his basketball tournament, and I have absolutely nothing. Everyone is going to laugh at me!” Seeing them like this used to make me ache with jealousy. Now, I merely glanced at them and tried to walk past. But Mom suddenly grabbed my wrist, her grip tight and demanding. “Gemma, didn’t you win that national design competition last month? Give the medal to Katherine.” She spoke as if it were the most natural request in the world. “You know how competitive she is with her brother. She will be miserable for weeks if she doesn’t get something to show off.” For a second, my mind went entirely blank. I could hardly believe what I was hearing. “Mom,” I whispered, my throat tight and dry. “I worked on that project for six months…” Mom cut me off with an impatient wave of her hand. “I know you studied hard, but what good is that medal doing you anyway? It means more to your sister. If you keep holding onto it, are you just trying to ruin the peace in this family?” My eyes widened. A torrent of suppressed anger and grief rushed up my throat. Why was the peace of this family always built on my sacrifice? What about me? What about my hard work? But then, my fingers brushed against the parental consent form in my bag. The anger instantly crystallized into cold resolve. “Fine,” I said, my voice flatter and colder than it had ever been. “I will hand over the medal. But only if you sign this document right now.” Mom didn’t even hesitate. She grabbed the paper from my hand, hastily scribbled her signature on the line, and turned back to Katherine with a triumphant smile. She didn’t even look at the words “Study Abroad Program” printed in bold letters at the top of the page. Katherine stopped crying and beamed, deliberately bumping her shoulder against mine as they walked away. She cast a smug look over her shoulder. “You should have just agreed in the first place instead of making me cry.” She spoke with absolute certainty, secure in the knowledge that half of everything in this world belonged to her by default. I didn’t say a word. I simply clutched the signed consent form close to my chest like a lifeline. 3 The moment Katherine got her hands on my design medal, she posted a picture of it on Instagram. Naturally, Austin couldn’t let her have the spotlight. He demanded a party to celebrate his MVP trophy, so Mom and Dad decided to throw a joint celebration for both of them. They scheduled the party for the exact day of my twentieth birthday. It was a milestone birthday, and I had been looking forward to it for months. I had confirmed weeks in advance that everyone would be free. But all my quiet hopes felt utterly pathetic now. In the private dining room of the upscale restaurant, Mom and Dad offered me a hurried, dismissive explanation. “We can always celebrate your birthday next week, Gemma. If we don’t do this joint party now, your brother and sister will start fighting again. They are just competitive. Try to be the bigger person.” I forced the corners of my mouth up in a stiff nod. The words “This is likely the last birthday I will ever spend with you” remained locked behind my teeth. The waiters wheeled in a massive, elaborate cake. Austin and Katherine stood side by side behind it, their faces glowing with pride. The room was filled with relatives cheering and laughing. A distant aunt spoke up. “Wait, isn’t today Gemma’s twentieth birthday too? One cake might not be enough for three of them.” Hearing this, Dad immediately stepped up and sliced the cake cleanly down the middle, dividing it into two giant portions. He gave me an apologetic, strained smile. “Splitting a cake into three equal parts is too complicated, Gemma. We will get you your own next time.” I had heard some variation of that excuse my entire life. I should have realized long ago that my parents’ love was a finite resource, strictly reserved for two. There was never going to be a share left over for me. Mom, still worried that I might throw a tantrum and ruin the atmosphere, pulled me aside and told me to help the staff with the dirty dishes and serving. For the rest of the evening, I ran around the room like an unpaid waitress, clearing glasses and wiping tables. During a brief moment of rest, I overheard Mom chatting with my Aunt Sarah near the buffet. “You know, you two really hit the jackpot with the twins,” Aunt Sarah said, sipping her wine. “They are gorgeous and full of life. But Gemma is such a sweet, quiet girl too. It isn’t right to always leave her out.” Despite telling myself I didn’t care, my body tensed. I held my breath, waiting for Mom’s response. A long pause followed before Mom sighed. “You don’t understand, Sarah. Of course she is my daughter, but the twins brought so much joy into our lives. Gemma is just different. She is always so gloomy, never smiling. It is hard to feel close to her.” My hand trembled, and the heavy metal pitcher of boiling water slipped from my grip. Searing hot water splashed across the back of my hand, but the burning pain on my skin was nothing compared to the sudden, suffocating ache in my chest. Before I could make a sound, a pair of warm, frail hands gently took mine. It was Nana. She smiled softly, slipping a delicate silver bracelet onto my wrist. “Gemma, happy twentieth birthday, my sweet girl. I didn’t forget. This is old and not worth much, but I have worn it for twenty years. I want you to have it.” The silver was slightly tarnished, worth perhaps fifty dollars at best, but I knew it was the most precious thing Nana owned. The dam inside me broke, and tears flooded my eyes. I tried to say thank you, but only a choked sob came out. Looking around, I saw several relatives staring, and I felt Mom’s sharp, disapproving gaze land on me. I couldn’t even cry in peace. I hugged Nana tightly, then hurried to the restroom to wash my face and compose myself. It took me a long time to stop shaking. When I finally walked back into the banquet hall, I reached into my purse to check on the bracelet. It was gone. Panic seized me. I rushed back to our table, my eyes frantically searching the floor. Then, my gaze drifted toward the stage, and my heart stopped. There was a familiar glint of silver resting against Katherine’s wrist.

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1 On our wedding night, Luke dragged my best friend Stella into the suite, scowling. “She’s a total Princess and the Pea—flew in from Europe, and you put her in a hotel with a lumpy bed? Let her sleep on our premium mattress. You take the guest room.” I frowned. “And you?” He pinched Stella’s cheek. “I’ll stay here with this troublemaker. One crumb on that bed, I’ll spot it—spares her bugging you.” We grew up as a trio. Luke always complained Stella was high-maintenance, yet wiped her chair with a microfiber cloth before she sat, inspected her clothes seam by seam, and tested every bed for stray hairs. When I protested, he’d brush it off: “Stella’s delicate. It’s our job to care for her.” Earlier, mid-ceremony, he’d abandoned me and the officiant to check Stella’s chair. Once, I asked why he married me, not her. He laughed: I was financially independent and domestic—better wife material. Now the truth hit: he craved our triangle; I was just the sensible, wealthy backdrop to their romance. He forgot I never keep what isn’t mine. I texted my assistant: list this penthouse, sell within two hours. Then called the man who’d waited ten years. “Wedding’s off. Pick me up.” The sound of Vincent’s breathing hitched instantly on the other end of the line. I could feel his overwhelming surge of emotion, though his voice remained wrapped in his usual icy restraint. “Wait right there.” I hung up. Through the heavy mahogany door of the master bedroom, muffled giggles and playful wrestling echoed in the hallway. A few minutes later, Luke opened the door. His shirt was half-unbuttoned, and fresh purple love bites dotted his neck. His eyes, however, held a cold, distant annoyance when he saw me standing there. “Haven’t you had a busy enough day? Why are you just standing there like a statue? Don’t you trust me to take care of your own best friend?” Before I could answer, Stella stepped out from behind him. The neckline of her dress was torn, exposing half of her chest. She playfully punched his shoulder. “I told you Val is the jealous type. Why did you have to provoke her?” She then reached out and tapped my nose affectionately, exactly like she used to do when we were kids. “Alright, don’t be such a grouch. It’s your big day, so I won’t ruin the mood. Don’t worry, I’ll just go back to the hotel. Worst case scenario, I just won’t sleep for the next few days until my flight back!” As she turned to grab her coat with practiced efficiency, Luke’s eyes flooded with absolute heartbreak. When he snapped his gaze back to me, he spat out his words through gritted teeth. “Are you leaving or not?” In that split second, I actually heard murderous intent in his voice. Growing up, Stella was the bubbly, adorable darling of the neighborhood. I was the quiet, violently stubborn girl who often became the target of petty bullies. Whenever I was cornered, Luke would step in front of me like a shield, while Stella ran away to fetch the adults. Once, while protecting me, a neighborhood bully smashed a brick over Luke’s head. It took five stitches to close the wound. Ever since then, every time I looked at that pale scar hiding in his hairline, I made a silent vow. As long as he and Stella didn’t end up together, I would marry him and make him the happiest man on earth. Stella had seen right through my teenage crush. She used to laugh at my terrible taste in boys. Maybe that was why she moved to Europe right after college, finally leaving Luke with no one to look at but me. I had been entirely grateful to her for that. That was until late last night, the eve of my wedding. I overheard Luke calling her, his voice trembling with sheer desperation. “Please. Just come back for the wedding. I really miss you so much.” I was known as a ruthless corporate shark. I had the nerve to reject the romantic pursuits of Vincent Cross, the notoriously cold-blooded billionaire. Yet last night, I was so utterly pathetic that I could only hide under my blankets and muffle my own sobs. I had fought too hard for this wedding, and I refused to watch it burn to the ground. I foolishly convinced myself that once she attended the ceremony and flew back, his eyes would belong to me again. I turned a blind eye when he placed her at the head table just so he could peel her shrimp. I forced a smile during the garden photoshoot when my gown was caught in a patch of thorns, tearing into my skin, while he was entirely focused on plucking a stray piece of lint off Stella’s bridesmaid dress. I was willing to play deaf and dumb. I thought I just needed to grit my teeth until she left. But his death glare right now shattered every last pathetic illusion I had been clinging to. The custom floral wedding wreath hanging on the bedroom door behind him suddenly looked like a sick joke. This time, I refused to swallow my pride like a scolded child. I walked into the hall closet, grabbed a handful of his designer clothes, threw them into a suitcase, and shoved it hard into his chest. “Stella is right. She is just a guest, and guests belong in hotels. Since you are so desperate to take care of her, you can go pack your bags and join her.” It was the very first time I had ever defied him. Luke froze, his brows knotting in confusion. He was about to lash out, but when he caught the faint glimmer of tears in my eyes, he let out a heavy sigh instead. “Throwing a tantrum again, Val? You know how she is. She can’t sleep if there’s even the slightest bump on a mattress. You used to help her make her bed all the time. I was just trying to spare you the exhaustion today, and now you’re being utterly unreasonable.” Thinking of that midnight phone call, a freezing smile crept onto my face. “Are you sparing me the exhaustion, or are you just fulfilling your own twisted fantasies? You know exactly what you’re doing.” His fragile patience completely snapped. He kicked the heavy door with brute force. “She is leaving the day after tomorrow! Can you stop wasting everyone’s time?” The impact sent the beautiful wedding wreath crashing to the hardwood floor. His shoe landed squarely on it, crushing the delicate white roses into an ugly, ruined mess. It was the perfect reflection of this rotting relationship. Sensing the suffocating tension, Stella immediately stepped between us, glaring at Luke defensively. “You promised me you would treat Val well. What kind of attitude is this? You know she’s always been stubborn. Why can’t you just let it go?” She turned and gently cupped my cheek. “Be a good girl, Val. Don’t stoop to his level. I told him I shouldn’t have come. I could have just sent a massive wedding gift and called it a day. He refused to listen and bought my flight anyway. I’m leaving right now. Enjoy your wedding night, you two!” She shot me a playful, innocent wink and turned to leave. But Luke grabbed her wrist, his knuckles turning stark white from the force. They locked eyes in a silent, agonizing tug-of-war for several seconds. Finally, Luke turned his chilling gaze back to me. “This is my house, and Stella is a guest I personally invited. You spent a fortune on the best mattress in the country, and she is the only one delicate enough to deserve the first night on it. You live rough anyway. What is a few nights in the guest room going to do to you? Since you are being so incredibly petty and vicious toward your own best friend, you are the one who needs to go to a hotel and reflect on your behavior. When you’ve figured it out by tomorrow, I’ll consider bringing you back.” His absolute arrogance made it sound like he was disciplining a disobedient puppy. I lived rough? I lived rough because I had an entire corporate empire to carry on my back. I busted my ass to make millions, only to fund his endless shipments of custom-made, hypoallergenic luxury goods to Europe for her. Even his shoelaces and dental floss had to be top-tier handcrafted garbage. I used to love him down to my marrow. I was willing to play the blind fool to his blatant boundary-crossing. But tonight, he had personally taken a scalpel and carved that love straight out of my chest. I wiped the stray tears from my cheeks and pulled out the legal documents I had prepared just minutes ago. “This penthouse is my premarital asset. It has absolutely nothing to do with you. If you don’t like my rules, sign this annulment, and you can take her wherever the hell you want.” Luke’s pupils dilated in pure shock. He stared at me like I had grown a second head. After all, the ruthless female CEO that the business world feared had only ever been a docile, obedient shadow in his presence. Seeing the standoff, Stella’s eyes flushed red. She lunged forward to snatch the documents, acting as if she were going to rip them to shreds. “What are you two doing? I came here to celebrate your love! If I’m really that unwelcome, I’ll just leave!” Luke panicked. He desperately pried her fingers open, slapped the annulment papers onto the floor, and pressed her soft, manicured hands against his chest in sheer terror. “You idiot! Your skin is too fragile. You used to get paper cuts just from turning the pages of a textbook. Why would you hurt yourself over this meaningless garbage?” When he looked back up at me, his eyes were dripping with absolute disgust. “You know how delicate her hands are, and you intentionally brought out this thick stack of paper to hurt her! You just want to drive her away so you can monopolize me, don’t you? We used to be so happy when the three of us hung out. Why did you have to turn into such a toxic, vicious snake?” I laughed out loud, pointing at the massive, framed wedding portrait hanging on the wall. The bright, blinding smile I wore in that photo now felt like a brutal slap to the face. “If you decided to marry me, why the hell should I share my husband with another woman?” Stella stared at me in stunned silence as a single, perfect tear rolled down her cheek. She immediately grabbed my hand and started slapping her own face with it. “It’s all my fault, Val! I shouldn’t have shamelessly followed him into your home. I really thought we were still those three carefree kids from back then. I guess I was just being delusional! You two need to stay together. If you’re really that angry, just hit me!” In the next fraction of a second, Luke shoved me violently. I crashed onto the hardwood floor. He cradled Stella’s face, his eyes welling up with frantic heartbreak. “Are you insane? Her hands are practically made of sandpaper! Look at this massive red mark on your cheek!” He spun around and delivered a stinging backhand right across my face. “She traveled thousands of miles for us, and I wouldn’t even let her carry her own purse! How dare you lay a finger on her? You keep throwing this wedding in my face, but let me remind you, we haven’t even signed the legal certificate yet! Apologize to her right now, or get the hell out of my house!” His house? A chilling smile spread across my lips. I remembered the day I handed him the keys to the most expensive real estate in the city. He had cried tears of pure joy. Growing up, he used to point at the brochures for this exact luxury development, his eyes shining with hope as he showed them to Stella and me. “When I get married, I’m going to buy a unit here for my wife!” I had pretended not to notice how his gaze lingered on Stella when he said it. Instead, I quietly memorized his dream. When I finally bought the penthouse, he pulled me into a tight embrace, overwhelmed with emotion. “You worked so hard for this, Val. I don’t deserve it. But I swear, I will treat you like an absolute queen after we’re married. I will never let you suffer.” For a brief, pathetic moment, I had actually fantasized that he would shower me with the same obsessive care he gave to Stella. I never imagined he would summon his goddess back on our wedding night just to use my property to fulfill his childhood promise to her. He had even planned an escape route, agreeing to the ceremony but conveniently delaying the legal paperwork. Just yesterday, when I heard he had booked an expedited appointment at the registry office for tonight, I thought it was a romantic surprise for me. Now I realized the truth. He was just waiting to see if his goddess would change her mind. If she did, he could instantly erase our ceremony and drag her to the courthouse instead. I couldn’t help but laugh at my own stupidity. He really was devoted. Just not to me. But the dream was over, and I was done being a pawn. I stood up, walked to the front entrance, and opened the door. My assistant and a wealthy female client were already waiting in the hallway. I ushered them in and shot Luke a deadpan look. “The property is officially sold, and that mattress now belongs to its new owner. You can both get the hell out now.” The two of them froze, completely blindsided by my ruthlessness. Luke’s voice cracked as he yelled. “Valerie Monroe, have you lost your damn mind? This is our home! We just had our ceremony today. How could you sell it off just like that?” I shook my head in utter disbelief. “If you knew it was our wedding night, why were you rolling around in our bed with another woman?” My assistant and the buyer exchanged looks of utter disgust. “No wonder Miss Monroe wanted this place gone so fast. It’s infested,” the client sneered, immediately pulling out her phone to record the drama for her massive social media following. “Miss Monroe bought this place with her own blood, sweat, and tears. You two are repulsive.” Seeing a camera pointed directly at her, Stella’s face drained of color. She covered her face and began to sob uncontrollably. “I treated you like my own sister, Val! How could you let a stranger record me and spread rumors about me? You just know I’m too soft to fight back, so you abuse me over and over again!” Seeing the love of his life weeping in terror, Luke flew into a blind rage. He lunged forward and grabbed me by the collar. “Apologize to her right now! You know damn well nothing happened between us. Why are you publicly humiliating her? Do you have any idea that her tears cause severe chemical burns to her sensitive skin? She is as fragile as glass, and you just keep shattering her!” Looking at his agonizing concern for her, a hollow, tragic laugh escaped my throat. I forcefully shoved him off and yanked up my sleeves, exposing the faint, scattered scars on my arms. “Since we were kids, she was too delicate, too allergic to everything. Every time there was a new food, you forced me to taste-test it like a royal poison taster. You wrecked my immune system so badly that I break out in hives from stress. Right after high school, she threw a tantrum about wanting to take pictures in a rose garden. When she tripped, you were so terrified the thorns would scratch her that you shoved me to the ground to act as her human cushion. I bled through my clothes. On her farewell trip before moving to Europe, you spent three hours inspecting her mattress. When you found a bug, you tricked me into switching rooms with her. I woke up the next morning covered in severe, swollen bites.” I took a step forward, my voice dropping to a lethal whisper. “You both convinced me that because you protected me from a bully once, I owed you my life. Well, consider the debt paid in full. From this second forward, we are nothing to each other. Get out.” A flicker of genuine guilt flashed through Luke’s eyes. But the moment he glanced back at Stella’s flushed, tear-stained face, his brows knitted together in that familiar, condescending glare. He looked at me like I was an unruly teenager throwing a fit in public. “Are you quite finished? Even a tantrum has limits. Since we have an audience, I’ll save your reputation as a CEO for now. Stella’s skin is inflamed because of you, and I need to get her an ice pack. Take your people and get out of my sight.” Without another word, he dragged Stella by the wrist straight back into the master bedroom. Moments later, hushed, intimate whispers drifted through the cracked door. My assistant and the client stood in stunned silence. No one could fathom that a groom would blatantly drag another woman into his marital bed right in front of an audience. On the client’s live stream, tens of thousands of viewers were already tearing me to shreds. “If she can’t even keep her own man on a leash, how the hell does she run a corporation? What a joke!” “Everyone knows Valerie Monroe is just a desperate sugar mommy. Pathetic.” “I heard those three grew up together. Seeing how hard the other girl is crying, I bet the CEO is just staging this drama to get free PR for her company!” In a matter of minutes, my reputation was dragged through the mud. The stock prices I had sacrificed countless sleepless nights to elevate began to plummet in after-hours trading. My assistant’s face went sheet white. “Miss Monroe, what do we do?” I simply bent down, picked up the torn pieces of the annulment, and smiled coldly. “I was going to leave him a fraction of the assets just to be done with it. Since he wants to play the victim, he can leave with the clothes on his back.” I walked straight out the door, took the elevator down to the private garage, and slipped into Vincent’s waiting luxury sedan. Ten minutes later, heavily armed police officers stormed the penthouse, kicking the master bedroom door wide open. They flashed their badges at the two naked figures scrambling for the blankets. “This property has legally changed hands. If you do not vacate the premises immediately, you will be arrested for criminal trespassing.” Luke nearly jumped out of his skin. Once the shock faded, he let out a smug, condescending sneer. “That psychotic woman. She is so desperate for my attention she actually called the cops to fake an eviction.” Stella clutched the blanket tightly to her chest, giving him a gentle nudge. “Don’t be so mean to Val. We did get a little carried away just now. It’s only natural she’s jealous. Give her a few hours to cool down, and we’ll buy her favorite takeout to apologize. Once I fly back to Paris, you two can block my number. I just don’t want her to be sad anymore.” They truly believed I was playing my usual role. They thought I would throw a fit, cry, and eventually crawl back to beg for his affection. It wasn’t until Luke realized his number had been blocked across every single platform that panic finally set in. He angrily threw on his clothes, stormed into the hallway, and grabbed my assistant by the collar. “Where the hell is Val? Tell her to get out here and face me! How dare she humiliate Stella like this?” My assistant simply scoffed. She pulled out her phone and held up a crystal-clear photo. It was a shot of me and Vincent Cross, holding our freshly stamped marriage certificate at the VIP registry office. “Who the hell do you think you are,” she whispered venomously, “to bark orders at the billionaire’s wife?”

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1 After I was discharged from the hospital, I gave my motorized wheelchair to my elderly parents. That very night, Jordan looked up the official retail price of that exact model. “Eight hundred dollars.” His tone was so flat it bordered on clinical. “If your folks like it so much, they can just give us six hundred. Consider it a second-hand discount.” My father was still in the kitchen fixing a leaky faucet. My mother, her posture hunched from years of hard work, immediately fumbled in her pockets for her phone. “Sure, sure thing.” I grabbed her wrist in absolute shock. “Jordan, these are my parents.” Jordan stared at me, genuinely bewildered. “Didn’t you say that since we’re prepping for IVF, every single dollar counts?” The words lodged in my throat, choking me. I could do nothing but watch helplessly as my mother transferred her entire social security check for the month into his account. She even dug into my father’s worn wallet to scrounge up another forty dollars in crumpled bills to make up the difference. After we dropped my parents off at their run-down apartment complex across town, I overheard Jordan making a phone call to Savannah, his childhood friend. “Savannah, your parents are getting older, and getting around isn’t as easy as it used to be. I ordered them an imported mobility scooter.” “Don’t worry about the cost. Five grand is a small price to pay for peace of mind, and the quality is guaranteed.” My hands shook violently as I pulled out my phone and sent a text to my lawyer. “Start drafting my divorce papers.” Jordan kept his voice incredibly soft and patient for another ten minutes. When he finally hung up, he turned around and noticed me standing in the hallway. He froze for a fraction of a second before asking in a completely casual tone, “You didn’t secretly wire that money back to your parents, did you?” I curled my hands into fists, my nails biting into my palms. It took a long time before I could find my voice. Jordan didn’t let it go. “Good fences make good neighbors, even with family. I’m doing this for your own good, Nat. You don’t want them getting greedy and taking advantage of us.” I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I screamed his name. “Jordan Hall! If you are so obsessed with saving money, why did you just drop five grand on a luxury imported scooter for Savannah’s parents?” He looked at me like I was being entirely unreasonable. “Savannah has a hard time taking care of two elderly folks all by herself.” I took a deep, shuddering breath. “And you think it’s easy for me to take care of mine?” Jordan didn’t even blink. “How can you possibly compare yourself to Savannah?” A gaping hole ripped open in my chest. I could almost feel the freezing wind howling through it, creeping into my veins and turning my blood to ice. “Fine. Since we are drawing boundaries with family, cancel that scooter order right now. If you don’t, I have every legal right to sue and recover it as a misuse of our marital assets.” Jordan frowned heavily. “Natalie, are you seriously throwing a tantrum over six hundred bucks?” I stared at his perfectly handsome, usually gentle face. The very last shred of hope I had for this marriage dissolved into the cold air. My phone buzzed. It was a FaceTime request from Savannah. I hit accept. Savannah appeared on the screen wearing a flimsy, silk slip dress. “Nat, thank you so much for the reminder! If it weren’t for you, Jordan and I wouldn’t have even thought about how much my parents needed a mobility scooter.” I stared at the screen, watching her blatant, sickly-sweet provocation. My throat felt like it was lined with sandpaper. “And?” Savannah covered her mouth, giggling softly. “My parents were so touched! They actually bought bus tickets to come all the way down here just to thank him in person.” Jordan instantly snatched the phone right out of my hand. “Savannah, they are traveling a long way. How can they sit on a cramped bus? Cancel those tickets right now. I’ll book them two first-class flights so they don’t have to suffer.” My mind flashed back to the day Jordan opened his own law firm. My parents had brought all their neighbors down to support his grand opening. I had asked him to send a car service to pick them up. Jordan had scoffed at the idea. He told me that hiring cars would just look like we were buying fake popularity. I had to sneak into the restroom to secretly order them Ubers on my own dime. It turned out he wasn’t completely clueless about how to treat elders. He just reserved all of his generosity and care for someone else’s parents. The two of them completely ignored me, chatting passionately on my phone. They planned the airport pickup. They planned a weekend getaway. Jordan even promised to book an appointment with a top-tier specialist for her father’s arthritis. I snatched my phone back and ended the call. “Jordan, I’ll be sending you a document shortly. Make sure you check your inbox.” He let out a condescending scoff. “What kind of game are you playing now, Natalie?” My phone chimed. My lawyer had just sent over the finalized divorce agreement. A hollow, tragic smile crept onto my lips. I turned around, walked into the master bedroom, and locked the door behind me. I forwarded the PDF to him. Message attached: Find some time this week. We are going to the courthouse to sign this. A few seconds later, Jordan started pounding on the bedroom door. “Natalie, open this door!” “I am a literal attorney! Do you really think a fake divorce agreement is going to scare me?” “You have three hours to unsend that file. I am giving you one last chance to stop this childish nonsense.” I flipped my phone to silent and tossed it onto the bed. Two hours later, he knocked again. “Which discount lawyer did you hire? You even got them to format it properly. You really are willing to waste money on this little performance, aren’t you? I’m counting to three.” The next morning, I washed my face, threw on a blazer, and opened the door to leave for work. Jordan was already gone. By noon, Savannah posted a new update on her social media. “My parents are in town! My amazing boss gave me three days of paid leave to spend time with them.” The photo background was the lobby of Jordan’s law firm. I immediately called his administrative assistant. “How long has Savannah been working at the firm?” The assistant stammered, awkwardly trying to change the subject. I completely understood. Savannah had indeed been hired at his firm right under my nose. “Do I need to take the afternoon off and come down there to check the employment records myself?” The assistant finally caved. “Over a year, Mrs. Hall. She’s already past her probationary period.” I hung up the phone. I opened Jordan’s chat and sent a single text. “If you don’t want this to get incredibly ugly, sign the papers as soon as possible.” He didn’t reply. That evening, he sent me a demanding checklist. “Savannah’s parents are coming over for dinner tonight. Get everything ready.” “Her dad has bad joints, so make sure the menu is high in calcium.” “Her mom is allergic to shellfish. Absolutely no seafood on the table.” “Buy organic blueberries and imported cherries for dessert.” “And don’t forget to set the thermostat to 72 degrees. Savannah gets cold easily.” I stared at the messages. This meticulously attentive man felt like a complete stranger. I remembered when I needed him to draft a simple commercial lease for my small business. He had brushed me off with total annoyance. “My firm only handles million-dollar cases, Nat. Can’t you just download a free template off the internet?” That night, I unlocked the front door of our house. I froze. My own parents were sitting in the living room. I whipped my head toward Jordan. “What is the meaning of this?” He smiled smoothly and wrapped an arm around my waist. “You said you were swamped with work and might have to work late. I couldn’t just leave our guests hungry, so I invited your parents over to help out.” I subtly stepped out of his grip. “I’ve never heard of an employer forcing his own family to cook and serve when an employee’s relatives come to visit. Did your firm go bankrupt, Jordan? You can’t even afford to take them to a restaurant?” Savannah’s face turned completely pale. “I’m so sorry, Nat. Jordan told me it would be too impersonal to leave my parents at a hotel. I thought… I thought you two had already agreed on this.” Jordan ignored me. He leaned over and lit a cigarette for Savannah’s father. “Why would they stay at a hotel? We are practically family.” Those words sucked the oxygen right out of the room. My mother stood awkwardly near the kitchen island, wiping her hands nervously on a floral apron. “Well, I should get back to the stove.” She turned to hurry back into the kitchen. I reached out and grabbed her arm. “Mom. Whoever invited the guests can cook the meal.” She shook her head gently and whispered. “Don’t make a scene, sweetie. They traveled a long way. We can’t just let them go hungry.” She pulled her arm from my grasp and went back to the cutting board. My father quietly rolled up his sleeves. “I’ll go help your mother.” The two of them stood side by side in my kitchen. One washing vegetables, the other chopping meat. The rhythmic clatter of pots and pans echoed through the house. Meanwhile, Savannah’s father sat spread-eagle on my expensive leather sofa, puffing away on his cigarette. Her mother sat next to him, popping organic cherries into her mouth one by one. Jordan sat across from them, patiently telling them stories about his firm’s success. He refilled her father’s teacup. He cracked open macadamia nuts and handed them to her mother. Looking at them, anyone would think they were the true masters of this house. I stood in the kitchen doorway. I watched my mother hunch over the sizzling wok. Her graying hair was plastered to her forehead by the greasy smoke. My father was carefully lifting a heavy, boiling cast-iron pot onto the counter. A fine sheen of sweat coated his forehead. Watching them, my heart felt like it was being shredded through a meat grinder. Just then, Savannah’s mother called out toward the kitchen with a sweet, patronizing smile. “Thank you so much for your hard work, Maggie! It smells absolutely delicious!” My mother quickly poked her head out and offered a nervous, accommodating smile. “Oh, it’s no trouble at all! I just hope it suits your taste.” My eyes instantly burned with tears. This was my home. Yet my own parents were tiptoeing around, breaking their backs to serve strangers like hired help. When the food was finally brought to the table, Jordan scanned the spread and nodded approvingly. “Maggie. Next time Savannah’s parents visit, just stick to this exact standard.” My mother paused for a second, but forced a smile anyway. “Of course.” I let out a bitter, furious laugh. I pulled out my phone and texted my lawyer. “Send the physical divorce papers to Jordan’s law firm first thing tomorrow morning. And file the motion for the emergency asset freeze immediately.” The next morning, I had barely sat down at my desk when my phone rang. It was my father. “Nat, it’s bad. Your mother collapsed. I just called an ambulance.” I dropped everything and sprinted to the hospital. The cardiologist’s expression was incredibly grim. “The patient already had an underlying heart condition. The severe physical exhaustion and lack of rest triggered an acute myocardial infarction. She needs to be admitted to the ICU immediately. We also need to schedule an emergency bypass surgery.” My legs gave out. My father leaned against the sterile white wall, his entire body violently trembling. “Doctor… how much will it cost?” The doctor kept his eyes on his clipboard, scribbling rapidly. “Between the pre-op prep, the bypass, and the ICU stay, you need to put down a deposit of at least thirty thousand dollars.” Thirty thousand. I immediately opened my mobile banking app. Available Balance: $45.60. I stood there, paralyzed. For the entirety of our marriage, my salary, my bonuses, and my savings were all transferred into a joint account managed exclusively by Jordan. He always told me that as an attorney, he had insider knowledge on the best investment portfolios to grow our money. And now, I didn’t even have the money to save my own mother’s life. My fingers shook as I dialed Jordan’s number. The phone rang for an agonizingly long time before he finally picked up. “What is it?” I gripped the phone tight enough to crack the screen. “Jordan, my mom had a massive heart attack. She needs emergency surgery right now. Transfer the funds to my checking account. That is our money.” Dead silence fell over the line. Two seconds later, Jordan’s voice came through, completely calm. “Natalie. The liquid capital in our joint account has already been allocated.” My stomach dropped into a bottomless pit. “What the hell does that mean?” “Savannah’s parents have ongoing medical treatments. I already prepaid their medical bills for the year. Plus the imported scooter and the out-of-network specialist consultations. Everything is already paid for. There really isn’t much cash left in the account right now.” A deafening ringing filled my ears. The money I had earned. The money meant to save my mother’s life. He had drained it to fund luxury medical care for Savannah’s parents. My eyes were bloodshot. I spoke through gritted teeth, emphasizing every single syllable. “Jordan Hall. You would rather drain our accounts to pamper someone else’s parents… than pay to save your own mother-in-law’s life. Is that it?” His reply was practically robotic in its coldness. “Calm down, Natalie. Savannah’s parents have life-threatening conditions too.” My nails dug so deeply into my palm that I drew blood. “Jordan, the woman lying outside the operating room is my mother! She is literally dying right now!” He stayed silent. Just as I thought he might finally relent, he let out an annoyed sigh. “Stop pushing me, Nat. The treatment plan for Savannah’s parents is already locked in. I cannot touch that money. You’ll just have to figure something else out.” Click. He hung up. I stood completely frozen in the middle of the hallway, the dial tone buzzing mockingly against my ear. My father was crouched in the corner. In a single night, he looked like he had aged ten years. “Nat…” Tears finally spilled over my lashes, hot and stinging. “Dad, Mom is going to be fine. I promise.” I turned and bolted toward the billing department. “Please, is there any way you can start the surgery now? I swear I will get the money today.” The billing clerk shook her head sympathetically. “I am so sorry, ma’am. Without the deposit, the surgical wing won’t clear the procedure.” Just then, the elevator doors down the hall slid open with a soft chime. I looked up on instinct. It was Jordan. For a split second, a desperate spark of hope ignited in my chest. But then I saw it. Jordan was pushing a brand-new, sleek motorized wheelchair. Savannah’s father was sitting in it, beaming. Savannah was linking arms with her mother. The four of them were laughing and chatting like a picture-perfect family. “Jordan, this scooter is incredibly comfortable.” “I’m glad you like it, sir.” Jordan crouched down onto one knee, patiently adjusting the footrest. “Let’s raise this up a bit so it doesn’t put pressure on your calves. It’ll make traveling much easier.” He was so sickeningly gentle. And less than sixty feet behind him, my mother was lying in a critical care bay, waiting for the money to afford a chance at life. I walked toward them, one heavy step at a time. My voice was a shredded whisper. “Jordan.” He finally turned his head. When he saw my bloodshot eyes and tear-stained face, a flicker of discomfort crossed his features. “What are you doing here?” I stared at the five-thousand-dollar scooter. I started to laugh. “Do you know something? Last night, my mother stood in our kitchen for four agonizing hours just to cook a feast for your guests. This morning, she woke up at five A.M. to make them breakfast. Now she is lying in that room, and the doctors say if she doesn’t get surgery immediately, she is going to die.” I raised a trembling finger and pointed straight at the resuscitation bay. “Jordan. Return the scooter. Give my mother her money back.” The air in the hallway went completely dead. Jordan’s brows locked together in deep annoyance. “I already gave it to them as a gift. How can I possibly return it? Besides, Savannah’s parents have a lot of follow-up appointments. How are they supposed to get around without it?” Those two sentences finally broke the last fragile thread holding me together. It wasn’t that he didn’t have the money. It wasn’t that he couldn’t find a solution. He simply believed that the comfort of Savannah’s parents was vastly more important than my mother’s heartbeat. I slowly nodded. I didn’t beg him anymore. I walked straight out of the hospital, hailed a cab, and went to the largest diamond exchange in the city. I pulled the platinum wedding band off my left hand. “I need an appraisal. Right now.” The jeweler took the ring, inspecting it closely before looking up at me with a soft, cautious expression. “Ma’am, are you absolutely certain you want to sell this?” I looked at the intricate engraving on the inside of the band. It felt like a sick, twisted joke. “Sell it. I have no use for it anymore.” After selling the ring, I rushed to my company’s headquarters and begged my CEO for an emergency advance on my salary. Finally, I managed to scrape together the thirty thousand dollars. Once my mother was wheeled into the operating room, I collapsed against the freezing tile wall. My entire body felt like it had been hollowed out. My father sat on a bench at the end of the hall, burying his face in his hands. I looked down at my phone. My lawyer had just sent an update. Message: Mrs. Hall, the court has officially approved your emergency motion for a pre-litigation asset freeze. The injunction will be served to his banks and his firm this afternoon. I stared at those words for a very long time. I typed back two words. “Thank you.”

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