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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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My parents wanted me to keep a low profile, so they swapped out my Maybach for a used station wagon. I didn’t think much of it — until the first day I drove it to work, and my boss snatched the keys right out of my hand. “Thomas, I need to take my girlfriend camping this weekend. Lend me the car. You’re single anyway — it’s not like you’re doing anything but sitting at home.” Before I could say a word, he added impatiently: “Fill up the tank first, and make sure it’s clean. Think of it as a chance to make a good impression.” The people around us craned their necks to watch. Even my girlfriend — who didn’t know we were together, as far as anyone at work was concerned — lowered her voice and nudged me: “Thomas, don’t make things difficult. He’s your boss. Just lend him the car and stay on his good side. It’ll help you at the end-of-year review.” I almost laughed out loud. It was my family’s company. What review did I need his help with? I looked at Mark — the department director who had been parachuted in from outside. I kept my patience. “Mark, this car is a limited edition. If it gets scratched, the parts are almost impossible to source.” “Maybe you could ask one of the other guys?” Mark rolled his eyes and scoffed. “It’s a beat-up used station wagon. What parts could possibly be hard to find?” “My new girlfriend has this thing about camping and needs a big car that can haul stuff. Otherwise, who’d bother with your junk.” A few coworkers exchanged glances and tried to smooth things over. “Come on, Thomas. Director Mark already asked — just let him borrow it for a bit.” “Getting face time with the boss is never a bad thing. It’s just a car. No need to be so stingy about it.” When I still didn’t answer, my girlfriend Aurora gave me a shove. “Thomas, stop acting up. Director Mark is talking to you. Get moving.” Mark glanced at Aurora, then turned back to me. “Alright, alright. You look like you can’t make up your mind, so clearly being generous isn’t in your nature.” “How about this — I’m not borrowing your used piece of junk for free. I’ll add two points to your performance review at year-end. Consider it me doing something nice for my subordinate.” Used piece of junk. That was rich. Sure, my dad had phased this car out of his rotation — but it cost enough to buy an apartment. Even a single scratch would run more than Mark’s entire annual salary. I was about to refuse when Aurora grabbed Mark’s arm and held on. “Thank you so much, Mark! Thomas just started and he’s still learning the ropes.” “Don’t worry — I’ll personally make sure the car is clean and the tank is full before you pick it up.” Mark looked pleased with himself, gave Aurora a pat on the hand, and headed back to his office. The coworkers around us started laying it on thick. “Thomas, aren’t you going to thank Director Mark?” “Seriously — two performance points for a used car? You’re coming out ahead.” Aurora exhaled with relief and came over to link her arm through mine. “There you go. You’ve got to be a little smoother about these things — especially as a man. Know when to play the game.” “If Mark’s happy, things will be a lot easier for both of us around here.” I stepped aside without a word, letting her hand fall. I glanced at her wrist. She was wearing a couples watch — the exact same one as Mark’s. “Aurora,” I said. “Are you working late again this weekend?” Her eyes shifted. She let out a dry laugh. “Yeah… the company suddenly has this urgent thing. I really do have to go in.” “You know how it is — I’m in a good stretch right now and I need to push.” I watched Mark’s back as he walked away, and smiled to myself. I wanted to see how far her “good stretch” would take her without my help. Monday morning, I was jolted awake by Mark calling my phone. “Thomas! Get your ass down to the lobby right now!” “Come see what your piece of crap car has done to me!” I took my time. Got up, washed my face, got dressed. By the time I got downstairs, Mark was standing next to the car with his hands on his hips, a crowd of coworkers gathered around him. I walked a full circle around the vehicle. The front bumper was caved in. One headlight was in pieces on the ground. The whole body was splattered with mud. The window had been left open, and inside there was a smell I couldn’t quite name — and a few used condoms sitting right there on the floor mat, out in the open. Mark saw me coming and immediately jabbed his finger at my face. “Thomas, what is wrong with this car?” “I was driving just fine and the brakes suddenly gave out! I went straight into a tree!” “You scared me half to death — and I want compensation for the emotional distress!” He caught himself mid-sentence. Aurora, standing off to the side, chimed in to pile on. “Thomas, how could you lend the boss a car with a safety defect?” “What if something had seriously happened to Director Mark? Could you even take responsibility for that?” This car had carbon-ceramic brakes — a limited-edition spec. And he was telling me they failed?

I fired back directly. “Director Mark, I never agreed to lend you this car. I’m guessing Aurora took the keys without telling me, didn’t she?” “But since the car’s already damaged, shouldn’t we talk about repair costs?” Mark’s voice went up an octave. “You’re asking ME for repair costs?” “Have you lost your mind?” The coworkers around us started whispering. “Thomas, you’re way out of line. The director drove your car — that’s him giving you the time of day.” “Exactly. It’s a secondhand car, it’s not worth anything. If it breaks, it breaks. Move on.” I almost laughed. This car was a limited-edition custom order my dad placed overseas. It cost five million dollars. My dad only changed the exterior so I could blend in at work. And these people were calling it a no-name secondhand car. Then Mark reached into his pocket and pulled out two bills. He flicked them at me like he was tipping a busboy. “Two hundred bucks. That’s more than enough to fix that heap of junk.” “Keep the change. Call it a bonus.” The bills drifted to the ground. Aurora scrambled to pick them up and pressed them into my hand. “Thomas, let it go. The director already paid you. What more do you want?” “We all work together — don’t make a big deal out of nothing. It makes you look petty.” I turned around and threw the money back at her. “Director Mark,” I said, “one headlight on this car costs a hundred and eighty thousand dollars.” “The front bumper replacement is another two hundred thousand. Add depreciation — this accident runs at least six hundred thousand total.” “How would you like to pay?” Silence. Then the whole crowd burst out laughing. Mark stared at me like I’d lost my mind. “Thomas, are you seriously trying to scam me?” “This random used station wagon — and you want six hundred grand? What are you smoking?” “Fine. If you can prove this car costs six hundred thousand to fix, I’ll not only pay you — I’ll get down on my knees and call you Grandpa, right here in front of everyone.” I let the corner of my mouth lift, pulled out my phone, and sent the damage photos to the overseas dealership. “Good. You said it.” “Director Mark, don’t come crying to me later.” Back in the office, Mark called an immediate department meeting. One agenda item only: workplace conduct. “Certain employees,” he announced, “have their minds on everything except their work. All they think about is how to cheat and extort their superiors.” “This department has zero tolerance for that kind of behavior.” “As a consequence, I’m moving Thomas’s project over to Aurora effective immediately.” “Aurora has been performing exceptionally well — putting in extra hours, showing real initiative. She’s got potential.” The room stirred. That project was a major account I’d been working for three months. We were weeks away from signing. Handing it over now was the same as giving away everything I’d built. Aurora stood up without a hint of humility. “Thank you for the trust, Director Mark. I won’t let you down.” She turned to me. “Thomas, don’t be discouraged. Even though the project is mine now, you’re still welcome to help with some of the smaller tasks.” “After all, we’re… colleagues.” She paused just long enough to imply something more. As if I’d ever want to go public with her. Did she actually think I was proud of this? Looking back, keeping things quiet was the right call. A woman like that — my family, the Edwards family — was better off not knowing she existed. Mark saw I wasn’t fighting back and pushed harder. “Also, given Thomas’s attitude and conduct issues, his year-end bonus is canceled entirely.” “In addition, a formal written warning will be issued company-wide. This goes on record.” “If anyone disagrees, you’re welcome to hand in your resignation right now.” The coworkers who’d been jealous of me for months looked over with barely concealed satisfaction. No one spoke up. They were all waiting to watch me slink out. I didn’t flinch. I pulled out a vehicle accident liability form. “Fine. I’ll drop the project.” “All I need is a signed acknowledgment that the car damage was caused by you. Once I have that, I won’t even involve the police.” Mark picked up the form and skimmed it. “Thomas, who do you think you’re threatening?” “Call the cops? Go ahead. You think they’ll actually arrest me?” But Aurora grabbed the pen before he could even finish. Her head was full of the commission she was about to earn, the promotion she could already taste. “I’ll sign!” “Thomas is just throwing one last fit. Like this project can’t run without him.” She scrawled her name across the form in quick, decisive strokes. Then, helpfully, she passed the pen to Mark. “Sign it too. Let him give up for good.” “This project is going to be the centerpiece of this department — and it’ll have nothing to do with Thomas.” Mark loved being fawned over. He took the pen without hesitation. “Fine. You want the formalities? I’ll give you the formalities.” “It’s just a used car. The damage is a thousand dollars at most. But once this deal closes, I won’t just be a director anymore.”

I watched these two practically trip over themselves to hand me the project transfer form. I signed it with a smile. These two confident idiots. I couldn’t wait for the day my dad — the company’s CEO — came in for his inspection. I wanted to see how they planned to present a project they couldn’t even open. Over the next few days, the two of them ran themselves ragged trying to prepare. They were too busy to bother harassing me. And on the morning of the CEO’s visit, the vehicle damage assessment landed in my inbox. Mark summoned me with his usual arrogance. “Thomas, go get everyone coffee. I want an iced Americano. Figure out the rest yourself.” “And stay outside once you’re done. A meeting at this level isn’t for someone like you.” Aurora, smoothing out the blazer she’d bought new for the occasion, added sweetly: “Thomas, be good. Stop sulking.” “Once I close this deal, I’ll throw you two hundred bucks as a reward.” I looked at these two clowns and gave a slow nod. “Sure. Though I’d skip the coffee — I have a feeling you won’t be in the mood to drink it.” Mark frowned and started to say something. Then the receptionist burst in, flustered. “Mark! The CEO is here! He’s already in the elevator!” Mark’s expression flipped instantly. A wide, eager smile spread across his face. “Move! Aurora, get the presentation ready. We need to make a strong impression.” “Thomas — get to the storage room and stay there. Don’t let the CEO see you looking like that. You’ll embarrass the whole department.” Aurora gave me a shove toward the corner. I laughed quietly and walked straight into the control room beside the conference room. The meeting began. Aurora opened her laptop with full confidence and connected to the projector. “Mr. Phillips, and distinguished leadership — I’ll now walk you through the core project strategy.” The screen lit up. A giant exclamation mark appeared. File encrypted. Please enter password. Aurora froze. She clicked frantically, sweat breaking out across her forehead. “What… what’s going on? It was fine yesterday…” Under the table, Mark kicked her hard. “The password! Type the password!” Aurora’s hands were shaking. “I don’t know the password! Thomas built this file!” “But I could open it yesterday when I was reviewing the presentation — why won’t it open now?” The air in the conference room turned heavy. My dad’s expression went cold. “This is what you call being prepared?” “You can’t even open your own presentation. Do you think this company is a playground?” “If this deal falls through, whoever is responsible will be personally liable for tens of millions in penalties.” Mark went white. He jumped to his feet and immediately pointed the blame. “Mr. Phillips! This is all that employee Thomas’s doing!” “He’s jealous of Aurora’s abilities. He deliberately locked the file to sabotage us!” “I’ll fire him immediately!” My dad raised an eyebrow slightly. “Oh? Is that so?” “In that case, bring this Thomas in.” “I’d like to see for myself who gave him the nerve.” Mark thought the CEO was going to back him up. He lit up. He shouted toward the door. “Thomas! Get in here!” “Come in here and explain what the hell you’ve done!” The conference room door opened slowly. Every eye in the room turned. I walked in holding the vehicle damage report, set a cup of tea in front of my dad, and said: “Dad. Have some tea. Take a breath.”

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The night before the wedding, I was trying on my wedding dress when my fiancé spoke up, his tone completely casual: “I helped make your mom’s dying wish come true, so I need you to do something for me — just deal with this clingy girl for a bit.” When he saw me freeze, he added, “I’m marrying her tomorrow. I want you there as the wedding artist.” “She knows we’ve been together five years and she’s not taking it well. She wants her moment, and I can’t talk her out of it.” I stared at him blankly, forcing a stiff smile onto my face: “What are you talking about… didn’t we already get our marriage license?” “The license was fake,” Mason André said without a trace of shame. “My identity was fake too.” “I’m actually the heir to the André family. The André family and the Carter family have arranged a union — my wife can only be Chris Carter.” “But Fiona, I do still like you. All that glamour gets boring after a while. Being with you is the best escape I have.” “As long as you behave, I can give you everything except the title of wife. We can keep things exactly the way they’ve been.” He gently wiped the tears from the corner of my eye, smiling with a cruelty that chilled me to the bone. “Fiona, choose wisely.” “I’ve got a wedding tomorrow, so I’m heading out now. She’ll throw a fit if I’m late.” So five years of love had been nothing more than a pastime to cure his boredom. Mason was right. I should choose wisely. Him and his child — I wanted no part of either. ……

I stood frozen before the full-length mirror. The dress on my body was supposed to symbolize happiness. In this moment, it felt like a sharp slap across the face — silently mocking my foolish heart. Before all of this, I had always believed Mason was someone who never wanted to get married. So for five years, I had been the understanding girlfriend who never once pressured him. Then, a month ago, my mother — the only family I had — fell gravely ill. Her one dying wish was to see me marry Mason before she passed. When Mason found out, he took me to get a marriage license without hesitation. He even got down on one knee and proposed to me in front of my mother. I thought he loved me. But it turned out this was just the leverage he needed to keep me in line — all for the sake of appeasing another girl. Lost in my thoughts, the shop attendant walked in with a warm smile: “Miss Fiona, your fiancé said these two dresses would look lovely on you. He asked me to bring them for you to try.” I slowly lifted my eyes and smiled, though it came out hollow. “That won’t be necessary.” “The wedding — it’s been called off.” I don’t know how I made it home. I thought I could handle this calmly. But the moment I stepped through the door — I saw Mason’s jacket still hanging on the balcony, and the half-finished puzzle we’d been working on together the night before, still spread out on the table. The ache hit me slowly, then all at once — a dull, suffocating pain I couldn’t hold back. I sank to the floor, and finally broke down completely. I cried until I had nothing left. Then my mother called. I wiped my face with the back of my hand and pulled myself together before picking up. Her voice was fragile on the other end, but full of warmth and anticipation. “Fiona, how did the dress fitting go? Show me — I just know my daughter is going to be the most beautiful bride.” “I’m fine, I’m just so happy. Getting to see you two get married before I go… it makes everything worth it.” I swallowed the sob rising in my throat and kept my voice steady: “Don’t worry, Mom. The dress fitting went great. Everything’s almost ready for the wedding.” After I hung up, every last bit of strength left me. I collapsed onto the cold floor. Mason had calculated this perfectly. For my mother’s sake, I surrendered.

The next day, I packed up my art supplies and showed up at Mason’s wedding. Mason looked at me with a satisfied smile on his face. “Fiona, you’ve always been such an understanding girlfriend.” My heart clenched sharply. Those words — understanding girlfriend — cut into me like a blade, leaving a wound I couldn’t close. Five years together, but we were apart far more than we were close. The time we’d actually spent in the same place barely added up to a year. Mason always said he was swamped with work — ten months out of the year, he was supposedly away on business trips. I never once complained. When he vented about his boss docking his pay and bonuses, I quietly transferred half my own income into his account. Once, I was hospitalized and needed surgery. I kept it from him the whole time so he wouldn’t worry. When he found out afterward, it was the first time I ever saw his eyes go red. “Fiona, you don’t have to be so strong all the time. You still have me.” I never forgot those words. But the person who said them seemed to have forgotten them completely. Mason reached out of habit and ruffled my hair. I kept my head down and stepped back without making a sound. He noticed the distance. I saw his chest rise and fall sharply. I didn’t have the energy to care. I quietly followed his assistant toward the wedding venue. The ceremony was held at Mason’s private estate. Under crystal chandeliers that blazed like daylight, a sea of flowers stretched in every direction. The reception hall was filled with nearly five hundred tables. The scale of it was breathtaking. And I suddenly felt like a joke. When we were planning our own wedding, Mason had said: “It’s just a formality. Let’s keep it simple.” “You know how I feel about marriage.” I understood. I gave in, over and over again. No flowers. Scaled-back everything. A small venue on the outskirts of the city. Five tables. But now I could see — his “anti-marriage” stance had been nothing but an excuse. The truth was simple: he never wanted to marry me. The deeper I walked into the venue, the larger the crowd grew, and the louder the whispers became. “Isn’t that the woman Mason keeps on the side? And she actually had the nerve to show up here?” “Shameless. She looked decent enough from the outside — never would’ve guessed.” “She’s the wedding artist? Some broke little painter. Like she’d ever step foot in a place like this if she hadn’t latched onto Mason.” My feet stopped moving. The air felt like it had been sucked out of the room. The murmurs slithered through the crowd and gnawed at my already shredded heart. I wanted to say something — to tell them I wasn’t the other woman, that Mason and I had been together for five years. But I opened my mouth, then pressed it shut again. Who would believe me? The bride today wasn’t me. That said everything. I endured the stares and the pointed fingers, quietly set up my easel and art supplies, and gripped my paintbrush tight, pretending I couldn’t hear a single word. Then the wedding march drowned out everything else. Every pair of eyes turned to the radiant couple at the altar. In front of everyone, Chris looked at Mason and said the words: “I do.” I steadied my trembling hand and painted the moment they kissed. Even though I had braced myself for this, a deep, helpless ache still bloomed in my chest, spreading through me like cracks in glass. Then came the toast. As I expected, Chris walked over on Mason’s arm. She raised her glass with a practiced smile. “You must be the artist. Thank you so much for capturing our happiness today.” I pulled together a faint smile. “I can’t drink.” Chris bit her lip, and tears welled in her eyes almost instantly: “Mason, I guess I’m just not important enough to her.” Mason pulled her close. “It’s your day, baby. Whatever you say goes.” He turned to look at me, his gaze heavy with pressure. I held his stare without flinching. The pregnancy test tucked in my pocket felt like a brand pressed against my skin. “Mason, do you really need to make me drink this?” His brow creased with impatience. “It’s just one drink.” I let out a quiet, bitter laugh and said nothing more. I took the glass and drained it. The liquor burned a trail from my throat straight down to my stomach, and a sharp cramp twisted through my lower abdomen. By the time I swallowed the last drop, the final ember inside me went cold.

The rest of the time, I got through it one agonizing second at a time. By the time the reception ended, I was drenched in cold sweat. I was about to leave when Mason’s assistant appeared and steered me into a dressing room without giving me a choice. Chris had already changed out of her wedding dress. She sat there with her legs crossed, watching me. I pressed through the cramping pain in my stomach and held out the painting. “This is yours.” She curved her lips into a slow smile, reached out, and tore it clean in half. “Fiona, right? I know who you are. My husband’s mistress.” “I’m not a mistress,” I said, forcing down the surge rising in my chest. “And you know that.” Chris’s expression shifted instantly, her face twisting with vicious jealousy. “Mason married me. You’re still clinging to him — what would you call that if not being a mistress?” “You saw it yourself today. Mason loves me. He married me. What does five years with you even matter now?” “I have no interest in fighting over anything,” I said, looking at her with complete calm. “Once I’ve handled the last thing he promised me, I’ll be gone.” I was exhausted. I had no fight left in me. I turned to leave. Chris lunged after me and dug her nails into my arm. I cried out in pain and pushed her away without thinking. But before I even used any real force, she went sprawling to the floor. At that exact moment, Mason shoved the door open, his face a picture of panic. I stood there, frozen. “I didn’t —” The rest of my sentence was obliterated by what came next. “Chris, are you okay?” Mason rushed in and pulled her up from the floor. “Mason, you’re finally here!” She flung herself into his arms. Then she tilted her tearful eyes toward me. “Fiona came to drop off the painting — and then she just ripped it apart herself.” “She said I’m a homewrecker. That I don’t deserve to marry you, and I don’t deserve to have our painting.” “That’s a lie!” The fury hit my chest so hard I could barely breathe. Mason snapped his head up, his gaze dark and heavy as it locked onto me. “Why would Chris make something like that up when she’s carrying my child?” “Fiona, if anything happens to her or the baby, don’t think for a second you’ll walk away from this.” They had a baby on the way too… The world went silent. A long, hollow ringing filled my ears. Chris leaned into Mason’s arms, the corner of her mouth curling into a quiet, triumphant smile. “Mason, my stomach hurts.” “I noticed the gemstone pendant Fiona’s wearing. It matches yours — they’re a pair.” “As an apology, why not let her give it to us? For the baby’s blessing.” My chest seized. That gemstone pendant set was my mother’s wedding jewelry — the gift she’d given me and Mason for our engagement. I reached up and clutched the pendant at my throat, then looked at Mason, silently pleading. But he only glanced at me, his tone carrying a quiet edge of warning. “It’s just a pendant. We’ll give it back when we’re done with it.” “Fiona, learn to pick your battles.” I swayed on my feet. The nausea twisting my stomach didn’t come close to the pain tearing through me right now. Mason stared at my pale face, momentarily distracted. Chris caught it. A flash of spite crossed her eyes. She shook his hand. “Come on, Mason, we still have our after-party tonight. We need to go.” As she brushed past me, she dropped her voice to just barely above a whisper: “Thanks for the pendant. And don’t worry — I left you a little gift too.” The next second, my phone rang. I nearly dropped it. “Miss Fiona, your mother’s condition has taken a turn. Please come to the hospital immediately.”

My mind went completely blank. The blood drained from my entire body. There was only one thought left in my head: I had to get to my mother. I bolted out of the room like a person possessed and threw myself in front of Mason’s car just as it was pulling away. “Mason, my mom’s condition suddenly got worse. Please — please take me to the hospital.” Mason hesitated. In all the time he’d known me, I had always been the strong one. The one who kept everything together and never let anyone see her fall apart. Seeing me now — sobbing outside his window, begging — something tightened in his chest in a way he couldn’t quite explain. He was about to tell the driver to unlock the door. Then Chris’s voice cracked through the moment like a whip: “Fiona, are you seriously doing this to me on purpose?!” “Mason has spent five years with you. The least you can do is let him be completely mine today. Why do you have to take him from me right now?” “If you want to ruin our plans, just say so. You don’t have to make up some excuse.” With each word from Chris, the warmth drained from Mason’s eyes. What was left was cold and flat. “I already checked with her doctors. Your mom has been stable lately.” “Fiona, using something like this to try to keep me here just makes me tired of you.” He ignored my cries. The car pulled away and disappeared into the dark. In complete desperation, I bit through the pain and walked. Three hours. It took me three full hours to reach the hospital on foot. When I finally got there, I understood what Chris had meant by her “gift.” She had posted about me online — spreading the story that I was Mason’s mistress. A headline was already trending: [André Family and Carter Family Unite in Matrimony — Mistress Fiona Causes Scene at Wedding!] My mother had seen it. The shock and distress sent her into a collapse. By some miracle, the doctors had been able to stabilize her. In the hospital room, my mother stroked my hair gently, her voice thin and tired: “Fiona, I believe you. I’m not falling for those rumors.” “But… did you and Mason actually break up? Did he do something to hurt you?” I blinked back the tide rising behind my eyes and smiled for her. “Those articles are all lies. The wedding is still happening.” “Everything’s fine between us, Mom. I promise. So you need to focus on getting better.” She nodded with relief and, as though the effort had used up everything she had left, drifted back into sleep. I walked out of her room and slid down the cold wall until I was sitting on the floor. In the quiet of the hallway, the only sounds were my tears hitting the tile and the muffled sobs I pressed behind my hands. The next morning, I sent Mason a message. I asked him, for the sake of everything we had shared, to help me one last time. I never got a reply from him. Instead, Chris showed up — furious and spoiling for a fight. She stood outside my mother’s hospital room, arms crossed, staring down at me with contempt. “You pathetic little thing. I knew you’d go crawling back to Mason behind my back.” “Let me ask your mother how she managed to raise a daughter like you.” I threw myself in front of the door, but her bodyguards seized me before I could stop her. My mother heard the commotion and forced herself up to open the door. “Let go of her! You have no right to treat my daughter like this!” Seeing me being held back, she rushed toward us with everything she had left. But a single sentence from Chris stopped her cold. “Your daughter broke up my marriage. Are you saying she doesn’t deserve what she gets?” My mother stumbled backward. Her lips moved, but no sound came out. Then she fell. “No!” The scream tore out of me. I wrenched free and threw myself to her side. The medical team came running. After everything they tried, the doctor turned to me and shook his head. The strength went out of my legs. I crumpled to the ground. Then the doctor’s face went pale and he rushed toward me. That was when I felt it — a crushing weight low in my abdomen, and the warmth of blood spreading beneath me. That day, I lost the two most important people in my life at the same time. My mother, who had loved me more than anyone. And my baby — two months along. I was lying in the recovery bed after surgery when Mason’s message finally came through: “Fiona, what is wrong with you? Chris told me she went out of her way to bring a specialist to see your mother today, and you wouldn’t let her in — and then you hit her? You actually broke the skin on her hand.” “Look, she’s pregnant and she doesn’t need this kind of stress. I’m going to take her somewhere to decompress. I’ll be at the wedding on Saturday as agreed.” I didn’t reply. I blocked him on everything. Before I left, I arranged a simple funeral for my mother. Then I went home and packed. I picked up my phone and dialed a number I hadn’t touched in over a year. The next day, I boarded a flight to England. Toward the future I had once given up for him. Mason — this is my choice. We will not meet again.

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While we were out shopping, I stopped to tie my shoelace. When I looked up again, my boyfriend Robert and my best friend Nia were already ten feet ahead. I was about to step forward to catch up, but the space between them — the space that had always been mine — was slowly closing. They fell into step side by side, picking up a conversation I had no way of joining. As if there had never been a third person there at all. Back in school, Robert and Nia were the ones everyone called gifted. After graduation, Robert and Nia became the youngest attending physicians at the hospital. No matter how hard I pushed myself, I could only trail behind them — just another ordinary nurse. Robert would always ruffle my hair and say, “You’re adorable, even when you’re clueless.” Then he’d turn around and seamlessly perform one complex surgery after another with Nia. Watching their backs, I suddenly felt exhausted. This road I had been walking — always chasing after Robert — I didn’t want to walk it anymore.

We turned the corner, and Robert and Nia disappeared from view entirely. Not once, from start to finish, had either of them turned around to check if I was keeping up. I stood there quietly for a moment, then turned and walked away. Back at the hospital, a coworker raised an eyebrow and leaned over. “Didn’t you switch shifts to go on a date? That was fast.” “Yeah. It’s done.” I changed into my scrubs and sat back down at my station. The hospital kept us all busy. Over the course of a year, Robert and I had been on proper dates fewer than ten times. Today he had a rare day off, and I’d called in a favor with a coworker to swap shifts in advance. I thought that even just holding hands and walking around the neighborhood together would be enough. Then Nia showed up out of nowhere and threw everything off. Before we left, I’d made a point of telling them — with a straight face — not to talk about work. Not one word. Both of them had pinched my cheeks and nodded eagerly. “Okay, okay. We get it.” But halfway through dinner, someone brought it up, and before long the two of them were going back and forth about patient cases. I sat there beside them, pushing rice around my plate. I don’t even remember when the check was paid. Then the landline at the nurses’ station rang, snapping me back. My coworker had already picked up. A car accident up north — several people were being rushed into the ER. I was about to text Robert when a message from him came through first. “Patient came in. Nia and I are heading back to the hospital.” I turned the screen off and sat there, blank. He still hadn’t asked, not even once, where I had gone. After my last procedure of the day, I ran into Robert in the hallway. He looked worn out. I kept my eyes straight ahead and didn’t fall into my usual habit of fussing over him. But the moment we crossed paths, he caught my wrist. He buried his face in the curve of my neck — a habit of his. “What’s wrong? Don’t recognize your own boyfriend?” Every time he came home after a long shift, he’d do this. Said it was how he “recharged.” My mind told me to pull away. But there was a dull ache spreading through my chest that I couldn’t explain. It had taken me three years to go from quietly loving Robert to actually standing by his side. The day we got together, someone in our cohort immediately started a side bet on how long we’d last. Because honestly, the gap between us was hard to ignore. Robert had been at the top of his class every single year. Me? Since elementary school, I’d had teachers point fingers in my face and call me stupid. The one who’d stepped in front of me with open arms back then was Nia. I knew I wasn’t the smart one. I always needed Robert’s patience and Nia’s encouragement just to keep going. So even though I had made up my mind — the moment he leaned in close, all that resentment I had been holding onto began quietly dissolving. We sat together in an empty stairwell. It was a rare moment alone. In the silence, Robert finally spoke. “Maya.” “Yeah?” “Can you try to act a little more mature from now on?” I blinked, caught off guard. After a long pause, I slowly turned to look at him. “What?” His eyes were closed. His voice was flat — the way you’d talk about the weather. “This afternoon you disappeared without saying a word. You had Nia and me worried sick.” “We both finally had a day off. Even if you don’t care about me, you could at least consider Nia. She’s not your babysitter.” I didn’t move. But I felt like something inside me had cracked open, and cold air was rushing in. Worried about me? Then why wasn’t there a single call or text on my phone? Was it worry — or was I just ruining their day? “Look at you. I say two things and you’re already crying.” Robert’s expression was full of resignation. The way he looked at me was the way you look at a child who refuses to grow up. I dropped my head. Tears hit the front of my shirt, leaving a damp patch. “Okay. It won’t happen again.” He sighed and patted the top of my head. “Go home and get some rest. Nia and I still need to go over a treatment plan.” After Robert left, my phone rang. It was my dad. “Hey sweetheart, didn’t you say you were bringing your boyfriend over for dinner? Still at work?” I pressed my hand hard over my mouth so he wouldn’t hear me break. “Honey? Maya?” It took a while before I could speak normally. “Dad. He’s not coming.”

At dinner, my parents could tell something was wrong. They kept piling food onto my plate. When I set down my fork, I took a slow breath. “I don’t want to be a nurse anymore.” They both stared at me. “Didn’t you say you’d repeat a whole year of high school just to get into nursing school?” “Are you having a rough time at work? Don’t give up on your dream over a bad stretch.” I shook my head without saying anything. Medicine was Robert’s dream. It had never been mine. It started during a late study session in our senior year. He reached out his hand to me. “Maya, work a little harder. Let’s be together — always.” For that one sentence, I threw myself headfirst onto the road chasing after him. What followed were years of dense medical terminology, precise and unforgiving procedures, and nights that never seemed to end. Things that came easily to everyone else took me ten times the effort — sometimes a hundred. Once I started working, I had to stay alert every single hour, terrified of betraying a patient’s trust. And even then, all Robert would do was cup my face and say, “Watch how Nia does it. Stop being so scattered on the floor.” I was his girlfriend. But it had been a long time since he had looked at me like an equal. The next day at lunch, I submitted my resignation and went to the cafeteria to eat. Nia carried her tray over and sat down across from me. She slid half of her tomato scramble into my bowl and studied my face. “You were crying last night, weren’t you?” I looked up, not sure what she meant. Nia looked mildly surprised. “Nia and I worked so late we just got a room at the hotel for the night,” she said. “Robert just told me he forgot to let you know. He figured you’d be upset.” I had slept at my own place last night and had no idea whether Robert had come home. And honestly, it didn’t matter anymore. I kept eating. “Is that so.” Nia tilted her head, studying me with wide eyes. “Wait, you’re really not upset? Then — someone owes me a yogurt!” She spun around. Robert appeared from behind me, placed a yogurt in Nia’s palm, then sat down next to me. He frowned slightly. “Our Maya’s finally growing up. Normally this would’ve set you off for three days straight.” “Hey, Maya is not like that.” And just like that, the two of them launched into a debate about who knew me better. I sat between them, and everything became noise. My hands were shaking around my utensils. A wave of nausea rolled through me. The two people closest to me in the world were placing bets on my emotions. I turned to Robert slowly. My voice came out steady. “I want to break up.” The table went quiet. Robert stared at me. “You—” Before he could finish, Nia leaned over carefully. “Maya, are you mad at me? Last night was really just work. I didn’t ask him to stay.” Robert’s brow tightened. When he looked back at me, the surprise in his eyes had curdled into irritation. He took my words as a tantrum and spoke coolly. “It’s fine, Nia. You don’t need to explain yourself. She’s always like this — dramatic. It exhausts everyone around her.” Nia opened her mouth to say something, but Robert pulled her away. I was left alone at the table. I threw out most of my food and went to submit my resignation to the head nurse. She didn’t try very hard to talk me out of it. She just said the process would take at least a month.

Back at my station, a coworker hesitated before sliding up next to me. “Maya — did you and Dr. Robert break up?” He hadn’t agreed to it, but as far as I was concerned, we were over. I nodded. She exhaled slowly. “That explains it. A patient got aggressive earlier and shoved Dr. Nia. Dr. Robert picked her up right away and rushed her to the ER himself. I was watching — she barely even fell, but he completely panicked.” My brow pulled together. “Did she hurt her hand?” The resentment hadn’t gone anywhere, but my legs were already moving toward the ER before I’d made the decision. Back in school, Nia used to throw an arm around my shoulder and announce to no one in particular: “I’m going to be the best cardiothoracic surgeon in the country.” “Maya, I’ve got your back once we’re both at the hospital.” If her hand was injured, how would she ever operate again? Every bad possibility tangled together in my head as I walked. By the time I got there, Nia was lying on the exam table, eyes red. “Nia, are you okay?” I crossed the room quickly. She spotted me and managed a small smile. “I’m fine. Just twisted my ankle.” I had barely breathed in relief when Robert’s voice cut through, flat and cold. “Satisfied, Maya?” I had no idea what he meant. “If you hadn’t thrown a fit, Nia wouldn’t have come after you to smooth things over. She wouldn’t have been in the way of that patient.” His words pinned me to the floor. I couldn’t think straight. Nia was already pushing at his arm. “Why are you blaming Maya? That’s not fair.” But Robert kept his eyes on me. “Why haven’t you grown up after all these years? You always make everyone adjust around you. Who do you think you are?” Silence. Something hot was slipping out of the corners of my eyes again. As if he’d finally noticed how sharp his words had been, he softened — slightly. “Just try to be calmer going forward. Okay?” He reached out to wipe my tears. I turned my head and stepped back. “Dr. Robert, we’ve already broken up. Please don’t speak to me like that.” Robert let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “Maya. Enough.” Even Nia looked at me with disapproval. “Stop being stubborn.” Honestly — they were more alike than either of them knew. Neither of them could ever really see what I said, what I felt, or who I was. I pulled up a bitter smile and walked out. The days that followed, Robert gave me the silent treatment. Between that and my own efforts to avoid him, we somehow went half a month without exchanging a single word. But he was the hospital’s golden boy, and gossip about him never stopped. Word was that he brought Nia a fresh-cut steak every single day while she recovered. Word was that they co-authored a paper published in a major journal and got recognized by the chief of staff. When coworkers asked me for updates, I just shook my head. I didn’t know anything. One afternoon, Nia stopped me in the hallway. She caught my sleeve like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Maya, did you really stop talking to me just because you and Robert fought? Come on.” “You two are both impossible. Let me be the bridge here — just meet him halfway. Please?” I looked at my best friend of so many years. And felt something cold and unfamiliar wash over me. We had known each other longer. I hadn’t done anything wrong. So why did she always take his side?

“Dr. Nia, I have work to get back to. If there’s nothing else, please excuse me.” The color drained from Nia’s face in an instant. “Nia. Come here.” Robert was standing a short distance away. The glance he gave me was the kind you’d give a stranger. That was fine. I pulled my sleeve free and walked away. Not long after, the three of us ended up in the same OR. A colleague had called in sick, and I was filling in. The patient’s case was complicated. The hospital was taking it seriously. Robert was the lead surgeon. Nia was assisting. I took a slow breath, geared up, and triple-checked every sterile instrument before we started. Halfway through the procedure, I was still tightly wound, checking every move twice. Both of them were focused, expressions serious. “Hemostat.” I passed the hemostat to Nia. Then her hand slipped. It hit the floor with a sharp clatter. Before I could bend down, Robert’s voice came through, clipped and cold. “Get her out. Jessica, step in.” Coming out of the OR, I noticed cold sweat soaking through my scrubs. It had only been a small hiccup. The surgery went fine overall. After the shift, Nia left looking shaken and distant. Then Robert’s shadow fell over me. His eyes were tired, his voice heavy with disappointment. “A mistake like that — what kind of nurse are you?” I looked up at him in disbelief. “You saw what happened. That wasn’t my fault.” “So you’re saying it was Nia’s?” Robert’s expression went cold immediately. “Maya. Since when do you pass the blame?” I understood then. He had decided, in that moment, to make me take the fall — for Nia’s sake. My fingers drifted to my chest without thinking. No wound there. But it hurt so much I thought it might kill me. I don’t know what Robert said to the head nurse. The next day, I was reprimanded in front of everyone — and a patient’s family member happened to overhear. It spread fast. “That nurse Maya can’t even hold a scalpel steady. She has no business in an operating room. One of these days she’s going to get someone killed.” To contain the fallout, the hospital suspended me for a week. The head nurse sighed. “Administration is pushing hard on this. I put a rush on your resignation paperwork. Let’s get your things today.” At three in the afternoon, I changed into my street clothes and packed everything into a cardboard box. Robert spotted me in the hallway and frowned. “They’re letting you go over something this minor?” “Suspended,” I said. He visibly relaxed and reached over to ruffle my hair. “Then take it as a vacation. Rest up. I’ll take you somewhere fun next week.” I said okay and walked out of the hospital. He didn’t know I was never coming back.

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On my thirtieth birthday, I walked out of prison. Waiting for me were three letters — written by three men a decade ago. The first was from Ethan: Ten years from now, I’ll have married the only woman I’ll ever love. That woman will be you. The second was from Sebastian: If you choose him, I’ll throw everything away to stop that wedding. I can’t stand the thought of you belonging to someone else. The third was from Caleb: Even if you don’t love me, I’ll spend my whole life protecting you. That’s the one thing I’ll never give up on. I’d barely finished reading the opening lines when I looked up. All three of them were standing right there. They stared at me with cold, hard eyes, surrounding me like I was some kind of dangerous criminal. “Two years ago you fabricated lies to hurt Yvonne, left her disabled, and got yourself thrown in prison. Have you learned your lesson?” I looked up at the three men who had once sworn they would love me forever. Slowly, I rolled up my pant leg and revealed my prosthetic. “Yes. I’ve learned my lesson.” What they didn’t know was that Yvonne’s legs were perfectly fine. The one who was truly disabled now was me. Whatever love they once had for me had died the moment Yvonne appeared. And now, I didn’t need any of them anymore. A voice rang out inside my head — the system’s voice. Task complete. Do you wish to leave this world?

Before I went to prison, I had shown them the prosthetic, just like I did today. They hadn’t believed me then either. “You’re a dancer. If you were really an amputee, you’d have nothing to live for — you’d be better off dead. You don’t have the guts for that. It’s fake.” To get back at Yvonne, Ethan pulled strings and deliberately arranged for me to share a cell with a convicted killer. The woman didn’t dare take my life inside those walls, but she found every other way to make me suffer. A dislocated jaw. A broken nose. Patches of scalp torn away. That was just a normal week for me. Doctors would treat my wounds and keep me alive. Then they’d send me right back. The cycle never stopped. But the official report always read the same: Inmate #44 — status: satisfactory. The fact that I made it out of there breathing was nothing short of a miracle. Sebastian grabbed me by the hair — right at the spot where my scalp had never fully healed. The pain was blinding. Tears burst from my eyes before I could stop them. He startled and quickly let go, but a second later his brow furrowed again. “What, do you think you’re royalty? I barely touched your hair. Don’t be so dramatic.” I could feel the scalp slowly seeping blood, the pain settling into a deep, numbing ache. I didn’t want to waste another second on them. I just wanted to find a clinic, get the wound treated, and then do what the system had set out for me — leave this world behind. I’m a traveler. I move between parallel worlds, completing missions. And these three — Ethan, Sebastian, and Caleb — were the strangest targets I’d ever been assigned. I didn’t have to chase them down or strategize. The moment they met me, they flipped the script and came after me instead. Thinking back on those absurd, almost comical memories, I let out a dry, self-mocking laugh. I’d traveled through so many worlds. I’d met men far better than these three. So how on earth did I end up getting burned by them? But clearly, the three of them had no intention of letting me walk away. Caleb grabbed my wrist, his eyes flat and cold. “Yvonne knows you’re out today and she’s not doing well. Come with us to apologize to her. Get down on your knees and make it right.” A sharp crack cut through the air. My wrist had just fractured. Ethan looked mildly confused. “Why didn’t you hold back?” Caleb pulled his hand away in a panic, his expression equally baffled as he stared at me. “I barely used any force.” He really hadn’t. The problem was that the killer in my cell had already snapped that wrist once before. Even after it healed, it never fully recovered. One wrong move and it broke all over again. “It’s just a fracture. It’ll heal.” Ethan waved it off like it was nothing. “Let’s take her to Yvonne first.” At that point, Sebastian reached over and snatched up the three letters. He skimmed them quickly, exchanged a glance with the other two, then dropped all three into the trash. The love letters they had written to me with their own hands — apparently the sight of them made these men sick. “If I could do it over, I wouldn’t waste a single second on you. Only Yvonne deserves that.” My scalp was still bleeding. My thoughts were starting to blur at the edges, and my vision wasn’t far behind. Caleb was the first to notice something was wrong. “Why is there blood on her forehead?” Blood from my scalp was trickling down my face in a slow, steady stream, dripping onto the floor — each drop hitting the concrete and blooming into a small, dark flower. My body swayed. I was relieved they’d finally noticed. Maybe now they’d take me to a clinic first. But instead, Ethan let out a cold laugh. His voice dripped with contempt. “That trick’s already been used once. We’re not falling for it again.” “Kayla, you’re not the same person you were at twenty.” “All these years, under our protection — and instead of staying the person we knew, you just got crueler with every passing year.”

Ethan’s mention of my twenty-year-old self pulled me straight back into the past. At twenty, I was the kind of girl other women envied. My family had money, and I’d been told more than once that I was beautiful. On top of that, I had three remarkably good-looking men who never left my side. Ethan, Sebastian, and Caleb — lifelong best friends who had grown up practically joined at the hip. Maybe because their lives had always run on the same track, their taste in women ended up nearly identical. All three of them fell for me at the same time. Strangely enough, they didn’t fight over it. Instead, they made a pact — fair competition, no dirty moves. They each had their own way of pursuing a girl. At twenty, I was obsessed with those over-the-top romance novels about powerful, possessive men who swept women off their feet. I couldn’t resist Ethan’s bold, unapologetic approach. So I chose him. The whole campus assumed that once I was taken, Sebastian and Caleb would finally shift their attention to other girls. They didn’t. They stayed by my side as they always had. If Ethan ever slipped up even slightly, neither of them needed me to say a word — they’d handle him themselves. The four of us existed in a dynamic that was complicated, but somehow it worked. That life lasted until I was twenty-six. That year, my family’s business collapsed. My parents moved back to their small hometown. The pampered girl I used to be was gone. I turned down all three of their offers to help and found work on my own — performing as a dancer at a local theater. At a dinner one evening, I crossed paths with a young woman named Yvonne, who was being harassed by her boss. She was four years younger than me, fresh out of college, and she looked completely lost. I had never been able to stomach watching someone get pushed around. And having been sheltered and spoiled my whole life, I had a tendency to act first and think later. I grabbed a bottle off the table and smashed it over the man’s head. He let go of Yvonne — but then turned his attention to me. The situation dissolved into chaos. I fought back, and by the end of it my face was bruised and swollen. Fortunately, Ethan and the others showed up in time. Dealing with a paunchy middle-aged man was effortless for the three of them — like handling a child. Once the man was gone, Yvonne dropped to her knees in front of me. She pressed her forehead to the floor, her eyes full of tears. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry you got hurt because of me.” I couldn’t bring myself to be angry with her. I thought that would be the end of it — a brief encounter, nothing more. But while I was recovering at the hospital, Yvonne showed up with fruit she’d bought on sale. I was in the VIP suite Ethan had arranged. Yvonne looked visibly out of place, fidgeting with her hands. “Kayla… that night, if you hadn’t stepped in, I don’t know what would have happened. I asked Ethan what you liked, and he said durian, so I bought some. I really hope you feel better soon.” The durian she brought had gone partially bad. I didn’t want to make her feel worse, so I ate it anyway. The spoiled fruit wrecked my stomach. I was sick for days. Ethan and the others scolded me first for being too soft-hearted, then went and yelled at Yvonne. The poor girl had never been on the receiving end of anything like that. She sobbed so hard she could barely breathe. Between tearful apologies to me, she vented about being let go from her internship. Back then, I just thought she was sweet and a little naive. I liked her. I wanted to help her. So I got her a position at the theater and took her on as my personal assistant. It was the decision I would regret most in my entire life.

“Hey. Stop spacing out.” Ethan snapped me back to the present and pushed me into the car. All four of us in one vehicle — it felt strangely like those old days when there was no tension between us, when everything was easy. I felt exhausted. I leaned against the window, closed my eyes, and tried to rest through the pain. The car was sealed. The thick, metallic smell of blood spread quickly through the enclosed space. Caleb’s brow furrowed slightly. He spoke carefully, like he wasn’t sure he wanted the answer. “Is that… blood I’m smelling?” Ethan, behind the wheel, frowned hard. “Ask her,” he said. Caleb nudged me. I nearly blacked out. But I forced my eyes open and looked at him, not quite focused. Caleb lightly pressed his fingertip to the blood on my forehead, then studied it. “Since when do they make stage blood this realistic?” Looking at his expression, I couldn’t help but let out a small, humorless smile. “What’s funny?” he asked. I shook my head and said nothing. I was laughing at how stupid they were. No — that wasn’t right. All three of these men were intelligent. Highly intelligent. They had simply decided, before they ever looked at the facts, that I was the villain. I stayed quiet, and they didn’t push. They figured the blood was fake and left it at that. The car pulled up in front of a sleek high-rise apartment building not long after. The moment I saw the building, it hit me like a physical blow. I had grown up here. My family lived here — before everything fell apart, before my parents were forced to sell the unit to pay off the debt, before we had to leave. From the passenger seat, Sebastian offered a flat explanation. “Don’t look so surprised. Yvonne said she loved this place, so we bought it for her. A gift.” A bad feeling settled over me. Standing at the door of the home I had grown up in, I finally couldn’t hold it back. I looked at the three men who had once promised to protect me always. “You knew I was saving up to buy this place back. That was the whole point — I wanted to give it to my parents. And you gave it to Yvonne as a birthday present?” My parents had never really let go of that apartment. Too many memories lived inside those walls — the three of us, back when life was whole. That was why I had refused to take their money at twenty-six. I wanted to earn it back on my own terms. The place wasn’t cheap. I didn’t want it handed to me by a man. I had almost saved enough when they put me in prison. And sometime during those two years, the apartment went to Yvonne. Something small and aching stirred in my chest. The three of them exchanged a glance. Something shifted in their eyes — not quite guilt, just a kind of settled certainty. Then they answered me, as if the matter were perfectly obvious. “It was Yvonne’s birthday wish. Of course we made it happen.” “There are other units available in this building. If you want one that badly, just buy a different one.” “Besides, you’re the one who put Yvonne in a wheelchair two years ago. Giving up a little for her is the least you can do. Think of it as making amends — we were actually doing you a favor.” And what — I was supposed to thank them for that? It was almost funny. Just then, the front door opened. A girl appeared in the doorway, her face pale and delicate as porcelain. She was wearing a long white dress and sitting in a wheelchair. When she saw me, Yvonne let out a soft, startled sound and turned her face away. “She’s… why did you bring her here…” The tears came right on cue, sliding silently down her cheeks. Two years, and nothing had changed. Yvonne could still cry on command. If I had known how this would all unfold, I never would have made her my assistant. I should’ve pointed her toward acting — she clearly had the talent for it. Maybe none of this would have happened. Yvonne’s distress flipped a switch in all three of them. They turned to look at me with hard, watchful eyes, as if they expected me to lunge at her any second. The crying made my head throb even worse. I looked at Yvonne’s legs — completely hidden beneath the long hem of that white dress. Those supposedly ruined legs. I spoke first. “Why don’t you lift your skirt and show them the prosthetics?”

The words had barely left my mouth before Ethan’s hand came across my face. My ears rang. His expression was full of disgust. “Do you have to keep pushing her? What happened to you?” It would’ve been almost funny, if my ears hadn’t been ringing so badly I could barely make out what he was saying. Yvonne didn’t have to do anything. All she had to do was sit in that wheelchair and cry, and these three men would march into battle for her without a second thought. When she first came to work for me, Yvonne was practically glued to my side — twenty-four hours a day, diligent and eager. Whenever I spent time with Ethan and the others, Yvonne was always there too. The balance the four of us had built over the years began to crack. My dance career was going well. Within a year, I was headlining solo tours. That meant I spent more and more time away from the city. Yvonne always found a reason to stay behind. She never came on tour with me. I wasn’t happy about her work ethic, but I let it go. Then, little by little, I noticed the group chat the four of us had shared for years going quiet. It didn’t take long to figure out why. Yvonne had started a separate group chat with all three of them. They were more active in that one than they’d ever been in ours. I could accept Yvonne becoming part of our circle. What I couldn’t accept was being the one pushed out of it. Especially when one of those three people was my boyfriend. I picked a fight with Ethan. Desperate and furious, I pulled a stupid stunt — fake blood, trying to scare him into paying attention. When he saw through it, the look in his eyes was like looking at a stranger. “Funny. I never noticed how unhinged you were until now.” After that, Ethan and I fell into a cold war. I stopped talking to Sebastian and Caleb too. Then came another tour. Yvonne refused to come, as always — but this time I didn’t give her a choice. I made her come with me. That rehearsal was when everything went wrong. My opening number required me to descend on a wire harness from nearly fifty feet up. When Yvonne helped me check the rigging, something felt off. I told her multiple times to tighten it. She kept insisting it was fine. The rest of the crew had left for their dinner break. It was just the two of us in the theater. “Kayla, if you’re scared, I’ll go up with you,” she offered, her voice sweet. She strapped into a harness, but she never actually rose with me. I went up alone. At the top, the rigging gave way — exactly as I had feared. The safety lock had come undone. I fell from that height — five stories up — and hit the stage. I didn’t die. But it felt like every bone in my body had come apart. My screams echoed through the entire theater. Yvonne called a cab and dragged me into it, taking me to a hospital on the far end of the city. The fall was severe. The delay made it worse. My legs couldn’t be saved. The amputation happened on my twenty-eighth birthday. The only person with me that day was Yvonne. She told me Ethan and the others were busy. That they couldn’t make it. I was devastated, but I was too far gone in grief to dwell on it. Two days before I was discharged, Yvonne disappeared. I came home on prosthetics, and the police were waiting for me. Ethan, Sebastian, and Caleb had turned me in — together. Their story: driven by jealousy, I had attempted to kill Yvonne. The attempt failed, but left her permanently disabled. I was drowning in grief and had no way to prove anything. Before they took me away, I showed them the prosthetics one last time. They weren’t moved. They mocked me instead. My head was spinning now. My vision was going white at the edges. Blood loss. A body that had never really recovered. I passed out on the spot. As the darkness closed in, I heard Ethan’s voice — lazy, contemptuous.

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