The calls had become a maddening ritual, each one ending with the same hollow promise from the studio. After loaning them Sunshine for what was supposed to be a career-making role for Hollywood’s golden boy, Julian Croft, the line had gone cold. Filming had wrapped months ago. The movie was already in theaters. And my dog was still gone. “I’m sorry, Ms. Vance,” the production assistant would chirp, her voice dripping with insincere sympathy. “He’s just not available to be returned yet.” A knot of dread had been tightening in my stomach for weeks, a cold serpent coiling around my heart. But I’d trusted Julian Croft. I had to. His on-screen vulnerability, the raw emotion he could summon in his piercing blue eyes—it felt too real to be faked. So, I pushed the fear down and bought a ticket for opening night, my hands trembling as I found my seat in the dark. The film, titled A Dog Named Sunny, was designed to be an Oscar magnet. It told the story of a man, played by Julian, whose profound loneliness is thawed by the unconditional love of a Golden Retriever. My Sunshine. The first half was a balm to my anxious soul. There he was, my beautiful boy, his coat gleaming like spun gold under the studio lights. He looked healthy, happy, his tail a constant, joyful metronome. In scene after scene, he’d nudge his head into Julian’s hand, lick away his performative tears, and slowly, patiently, draw a smile onto the actor’s famously stoic face. He’s okay, I told myself, a wave of relief washing over me. They took good care of him. Then, the camera cut. Sunshine was sitting patiently at a crosswalk, the picture of a good boy waiting for the light to change. Green. He sprang forward, his tail wagging furiously, a happy gallop carrying him across the street toward a school. He was going to meet his master. The entire audience held its breath, ready for the heartwarming reunion. A semi-truck blared into the frame without warning. The massive grille, a chrome monster, swallowed the screen. For one horrifying, suspended moment, the joyful, golden blur of my dog was eclipsed by its shadow. The squeal of tires was deafening. Sunshine’s small body was thrown into the air, a terrible, graceful arc against the mundane backdrop of the street, before it crashed back to the pavement with a sickening finality. Dark, crimson blood began to seep from his beautiful fur, staining the asphalt. He let out a soft whimper, a sound so full of confusion and pain that it stole the air from my lungs. My mind went completely blank. CGI, I thought, a frantic prayer. It has to be CGI. But it was too real. The way the light faded from his eyes. The way the blood pooled, so dark and thick. I could see the bewilderment in his gentle face, the hurt, the unasked question. His tail, which had never stopped wagging in his entire life, gave one last, weak thump against the ground and then was still. He was gone. Beside me, a young woman whispered to her friend, her voice filled with awe. “Oh my god, Julian’s performance is just… shattering. That look on his face when he sees the dog? He’s winning the Oscar for this. Guaranteed.” “The raw anguish,” her friend agreed. “He’s a genius. I just want to hug him.” No one cried for the dog. They only saw the art in the man’s grief. My blood ran cold. My phone slipped from my trembling fingers, clattering to the sticky floor. To win an award… did Julian Croft kill my dog? For a golden statue? 2 “I want to see Sunshine. Right now. Now.” I stumbled out of the theater, the movie’s cheerful credits music a cruel joke. My hands shook so violently I could barely dial the number for Julian’s agent, a man whose smarmy voice I’d come to despise. A sliver of hope, fragile as glass, remained. It could be a trick of the camera. Hollywood magic. Please, let it be magic. Let my boy be waiting for me, safe and sound. The agent’s voice crackled through the phone, thick with annoyance. “Ms. Vance, I’ve told you repeatedly. The dog is with Mr. Croft, shooting some behind-the-scenes content for the Blu-ray release. We can’t return him yet.” He hadn’t even listened to the terror in my voice. “I just want to see him,” I said, my voice cold and sharp. “That’s not too much to ask, is it?” A derisive snort. “He’s at Julian’s private residence. You can’t just show up.” Seeing my silence as an opening, his tone softened into a patronizing coo. “Look, I can send you a video. He’s doing great. Tearing the place apart, the little monster. Okay, Ms. Vance?” My breath hitched. The lie was so blatant, so careless, it was like a slap in the face. “Sunshine,” I said, my voice trembling, “has never torn anything apart in his life. He’s the gentlest dog I’ve ever known.” Silence on his end. I pressed my advantage, the adrenaline turning my fear into steel. “I don’t want a pre-recorded video. I want a live video call. Now. You can find a blank wall somewhere in the house that doesn’t compromise Mr. Croft’s precious privacy.” I had cut off his every excuse before he could make it. The silence stretched, heavy and damning. “Ms. Vance,” he finally said, his voice dropping the facade and turning to ice, “don’t push your luck.” The line went dead. My heart plummeted into a black, empty space. The sheer arrogance of it—the idea that a video was a gift, a favor, and that asking for proof of life was ‘pushing my luck’—it made me physically sick. A wave of dizziness washed over me, and I caught my reflection in a store window. My face was a ghostly white mask. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw it. The truck. The blood. My boy. My Sunshine. They would not get away with this. If they refused to communicate, I would find another way. I would make them listen. That night, I went online. Leveraging the buzz from the movie’s premiere, I wrote a post that would rocket to the top of Twitter’s trending topics. 3 #JusticeForSunshine #JulianCroftDogAbuse #LetMeSeeMyDog As an ordinary person going up against a Hollywood machine, my only weapon was public opinion. I laid it all out in a long, detailed thread: the story of the loan, the endless excuses, the refusal to allow a single visit or even a live video call. I asked the questions they refused to answer. Why was I barred from visiting for over a year of filming? Why was a simple video call an impossible request? Why, after the movie was released, did my dog still need to be with the actor for “extra content”? And the final, terrible question: Was the death scene in A Dog Named Sunny an effect, or was it real? My only demand was simple and clear: let me see my dog, either in person or on a live call. If Sunshine was alive and well, I would issue a public apology and pay for any and all damages to the production. The post exploded. The velocity was unnatural; an army of bots and trolls descended almost immediately, their comments dripping with venom. It was clearly a counter-move by Julian’s team, but it was too aggressive. Their heavy-handedness sparked a backlash from genuine users. 【Give me a break. The moment Julian gets Oscar buzz, the haters crawl out of the woodwork.】 【This is ridiculous. Julian Croft rescues strays. He’d never hurt a dog for a movie!】 【Lady, have you heard of CGI? They can create entire worlds from scratch. You think they can’t fake a car accident? You have zero proof, just a conspiracy theory.】 My phone rang, shrill and demanding. It was the agent. “Eliza Vance, do you have any idea what you’ve just done?!” he screamed, his voice raw with fury. I spoke calmly, my voice a stark contrast to his rage. “Get Sunshine back to me, safe and sound. I’ll apologize to the entire world and pay for every penny of your ‘damages’.” He laughed, a harsh, ugly sound. “You? Pay for our damages? Do you have any idea how much that would be? You couldn’t afford it if you sold your organs.” He took a breath, his tone shifting to one of magnanimous command, as if offering a royal pardon. “Julian is willing to be generous. Delete the posts, admit this was all a misunderstanding, and he won’t press charges.” Press charges? Against me? The audacity was breathtaking. “You seem to have things backward,” I said slowly. “I’m the one making the accusation. The burden of proof is on you to refute it. I’m waiting for your statement to make me look like a fool.” He didn’t know that, in that moment, I wanted nothing more than to be proven wrong. I would have gladly accepted global humiliation to have Sunshine back, alive and wagging his tail. The agent’s voice turned into a low snarl. “You’re just some nobody. Who do you think you are, challenging Julian Croft?” he threatened. “Get ready to be sued into oblivion, Eliza.” Thirty minutes after he hung up, Julian Croft’s official studio account released a statement. And a cease and desist letter from his high-powered legal team landed in my inbox. 4 【First, for everyone concerned, here is a brand-new video of Sunny, happy and healthy!】 The statement opened with a video. In it, a golden retriever panted happily, tail wagging, wrestling with a large chew bone. But my blood ran cold. I recognized it. They had sent me this exact video a year ago. This was my proof. 【During production, while set access was restricted to protect creative integrity, we maintained regular contact with Ms. Vance, providing frequent video updates of Sunny’s well-being.】 They attached screenshots of our past conversations, carefully curated to make them look accommodating and me seem needy. Then came the condescending jab: they could afford the best special effects artists in the business. The implication was clear: I was just an ignorant woman who didn’t understand how movies were made. The final blow was the link to the legal notice. They were suing me for defamation. The comments section became a victory party for his fans. 【OWNED! This is what you get for messing with a class act like Julian.】 【Waiting for the apology tour, lady. Better start a GoFundMe for those legal fees.】 【Honestly, Julian’s team has been more than patient. This woman is a professional victim. Probably some psycho fan trying to get his attention.】 I scanned the legal document. Defamation, not libel. It was a subtle but important distinction. They weren’t accusing me of lying, which would require them to prove the truth. They were accusing me of damaging his reputation. Was it a strategic choice to avoid a court battle they knew they couldn’t win? Then, a line at the end of their public statement caught my eye, and my stomach twisted into a knot of confusion and hope. 【We will be arranging a formal reunion for Ms. Vance and Sunny in the coming days. The event will be live-streamed to ensure full transparency.】 My head spun. Was I wrong? Had this all been a terrible, paranoid delusion? They wouldn’t dare promise a live-streamed reunion if they didn’t have the dog. They couldn’t be that stupid. Could they? The tide of public opinion had turned completely against me. My social media was a toxic wasteland of insults and threats. 【LMAO, you tried to cancel Julian and got your ass handed to you. Pathetic.】 【When are you apologizing, you clout-chasing witch? We’re not going anywhere.】 【Hope you saved up enough to pay Julian. Maybe you can start an OnlyFans.】 The sheer volume of hate was suffocating. I pushed back from my laptop and looked around my silent apartment. On the rug lay a half-chewed wooden dowel, Sunshine’s favorite. He would always bring it to me, tail helicoptering, his eyes begging for a game of fetch. His little bed in the corner, with its worn-out fleece blanket, still held the faint, comforting scent of him. A few golden hairs clung to the fabric, the last physical proof that he was ever here. I picked them up, closing my fist around them. If they really returned him to me, I would take it all. The public humiliation, the apology, the crushing debt. I would endure anything. All that mattered was getting him back. 5 The “reunion ceremony” was a full-blown media circus, staged in the atrium of a glittering downtown shopping mall. The space was packed shoulder-to-shoulder with press, fans, and curious onlookers. The online live-stream viewership was already in the millions. 【Can’t wait to see this psycho get what she deserves.】 【Not gonna lie, she’s kind of pretty. Maybe this was all a stunt to get famous.】 【Dude, have some standards.】 Julian Croft himself, no longer hiding behind his agent, approached me. He was perfectly coiffed, his expression a masterclass in concerned sincerity. He leaned in, his voice a low, apologetic murmur for the cameras. “Ms. Vance, Eliza. I am so deeply sorry. Sunny is such a professional, a true artist on four legs. We just wanted to give him the spotlight he deserved with some extra features. I never imagined it would cause you this much distress.” The crowd swooned. 【OMG, he’s such a gentleman! How could anyone accuse him of something so horrible?】 【Apologize! You owe him an apology right now!】 I took a deep breath, the air thick with the scent of perfume and flashbulb ozone. “If this is all a misunderstanding,” I said, my voice steady, “then I will apologize to you and your entire crew.” Julian flashed a devastatingly handsome smile, the one that sold millions of tickets. He clapped his hands lightly. On cue, a golden retriever bounded onto the stage, barking joyfully. It ran straight to me, circling my legs, then jumping up to plant its paws on my chest. 【See? It’s her dog! She knows him! I knew Julian would never do something like that.】 【What a colossal waste of everyone’s time. Now she has to eat her words on live television. This is gonna be good.】 I wrapped my arms around the dog, burying my face in its fur, tears of overwhelming relief streaming down my cheeks. And then I froze. Every muscle in my body went rigid. The wave of joy receded as quickly as it had come, replaced by an icy, horrifying certainty. A cold so profound it felt like death itself. This was not my dog.

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Veronica Donovan had two loyal dogs. One was a purebred Alaskan Malamute. The other was me. But I was the one who had clawed his way into her bed. The day before our wedding, she crashed her car racing to the side of her old flame, Julian, and ended up in the hospital. I rushed over, my heart hammering against my ribs, but when I looked at her, lying pristine in the hospital gown, a cold dread washed over me. The scar—the thin, silvery line I expected to see tracing a path over her heart—wasn’t there. My face went pale. “Where is it? The scar from her heart surgery?” Her mother, a woman who wore her condescension like expensive perfume, recoiled. “Don’t you dare curse my daughter! What sort of sick thing is that to say? She’s never had such a ghastly operation!” In that instant, the world tilted on its axis. Three years. For three years, I had been worshiping at the wrong altar. The day she was discharged, Veronica, with Julian hovering protectively by her side, broke off our engagement. Everyone in her circle smirked, waiting for the explosion, waiting for me to unravel. Instead, I looked at her and said, calmly, “Alright.” They didn’t understand. They couldn’t possibly know that I had never loved her. The woman I loved died years ago. 1. The single word, “Alright,” wiped the smugness from Veronica’s face. Her expression darkened. “I know you’re desperate to marry me, Caleb,” she said, her voice dripping with condescending pity. “And it’s not entirely off the table. Just sign over the lead on the gallery project to Julian’s name, and I might still consider walking down the aisle.” I just stared at her, the woman I had spent three years convincing myself was a vessel for a ghost. “That won’t be necessary,” I said, my voice steady. “Just answer one question, and I’ll do it for you. No strings attached.” The storm clouds on Veronica’s face parted, replaced by a mocking smile. “What do you want to ask? If I ever loved you? Caleb, don’t be so childish.” Her love was irrelevant. It had always been irrelevant. I had only ever loved one person. Elara. She died saving me, thrown from the wreck of a car that should have taken us both. Her last act, a gift arranged by her parents, was to donate her heart. That selfless gift led me to Veronica. I went from Caleb Vance, heir to a fortune everyone envied, to Veronica Donovan’s personal doormat, a man pitied and despised in equal measure. But for me, to hear Elara’s heartbeat again… I would have walked through fire. I did. “That’s not the question.” This was the final confirmation, the closing of a painful chapter. I held her gaze. “Veronica, I need to know. Have you ever had a heart transplant?” She frowned. “A what?” “My heart is perfectly fine,” she scoffed. “Why would I ever have a morbid surgery like that?” Of course. It was my mistake all along. The hope that had been a flickering candle inside me for three years was finally extinguished. Disappointment washed over me, so profound it was almost a relief. I lowered my eyes. “I agree to end the engagement. I’ll also withdraw my bid for the gallery project. The contract is Julian’s.” I looked up, meeting her confused stare. “And I hope you’ll both be very happy.” A stunned silence fell over the room. Not just Veronica, but her sycophantic friends looked at me as if I’d grown a second head. Then, the dam of their disbelief broke, and a flood of ridicule washed over me. “Jesus, I can’t believe it,” one of them snickered. “The great Caleb Vance is so pathetic. He’ll give up anything just for a chance to win Veronica back!” “Honestly, the man has no backbone,” another added, laughing. “She tells him to call off the wedding, he obeys. She wants his biggest project, he hands it over on a platter. All that pathetic devotion, and for what? Her heart has always belonged to Julian.” “That’s enough,” Veronica said, cutting them off for the first time I could remember. She never interrupted when I was the butt of the joke. She stared at me, her brow furrowed. “Caleb, have you no pride? No self-respect at all?” she demanded. “I say jump, you ask how high. I call off our wedding, and you don’t even put up a fight?” I offered a small, bitter smile. “What’s the point of fighting for the wrong person?” My desolate tone seemed to prickle her. Her eyes widened, a strange emotion flickering in their depths. She reached out, grabbing my arm. “Caleb, you—” “Veronica,” Julian interjected smoothly, ever the calm observer. His voice was laced with false sympathy. “Perhaps we should step outside and give you and your… fiancé… a moment to talk.” “He is not my fiancé!” she snapped, and in her haste to prove her point, she shoved me away. I stumbled backward, losing my balance. The small of my back slammed into a side table. A glass of water tipped, teetering for a second before crashing to the floor, shattering into a thousand tiny daggers. A shard skittered across the tile and sliced Julian’s ankle. He hissed in pain. Before he could even speak, Veronica’s entire demeanor shifted. She dropped to her knees beside him, her voice frantic with concern. “Julian, are you okay? Let’s get a doctor.” She helped him up as if he were made of porcelain. Meanwhile, a sharp, throbbing pain radiated from my lower back, leaving me momentarily breathless. As Veronica fussed over Julian, one of her friends, eager to curry favor, picked up a basin of murky water used for cleaning paint brushes from a nearby stand. With a sneer, he flung its contents in my face. “Don’t think that just because you’re handing over a project, you can act high and mighty in front of Julian!” he spat. “In our eyes, in Veronica’s heart, you’re nothing but a dog!” “Look how she panics over a tiny scratch on Julian,” another jeered. “Have you ever gotten that treatment after all these years of licking her boots? Do yourself a favor and crawl away before you humiliate yourself any further.” The room erupted in laughter, a chorus of mockery aimed at me. I wiped the grimy water from my face, my voice utterly devoid of emotion. “I won’t be bothering them. Because, as it turns out, I was never in love with Veronica.” The single sentence hung in the air, instantly silencing the room. Before they could muster a response, the door swung open and Veronica walked back in. Her eyes took in the scene—the shattered glass, my soaked clothes—and her brow knitted in annoyance. “What are you all doing?” No one expected her to return, and they certainly didn’t expect the flash of anger in her eyes to be, for once, on my behalf. A nervous silence followed, until someone finally mumbled, “We were just messing with him, Veronica…” “This is how you mess with someone?” Her voice was cold. “He may be a dog, but he’s my dog. No one else gets to kick him.” She glared at the group. “Whoever threw that water, slap yourselves. Now. Don’t make me do it.” This time, it was my turn to be surprised. Veronica, showing a shred of humanity? Defending me? Amid the surreal sound of reluctant, popping slaps, she strode over, wrapped her own cashmere scarf around my damp shoulders, and led me out of the room. I followed, completely bewildered. Once in the hallway, her phone rang. It was Julian. “Veronica, where did you go?” His voice, low and intimate even through the speaker, made my stomach clench. “I feel a little anxious here all by myself… Can you come back and stay with me?” She hesitated, her gaze flicking to me. “Caleb,” she said, her tone softening, “can you get to the infirmary on your own?” I looked down at my drenched shirt, at the raw scrape on my palm from breaking my fall. Then I looked at her, at the conflict in her eyes. I almost laughed. “Of course.” The two words were like a pardon. Relief washed over her face. “Good. Then you can just head home after.” I nodded. “Alright.” I didn’t go to the infirmary. I went home. The first thing I did was call the private investigator I’d hired three years ago. “Mr. Vance, I am so terribly sorry,” he said, his voice thick with apology. “We made a mistake in the initial report. On the day of the accident, it wasn’t just Veronica Donovan who was brought in. Her best friend, Claire Sterling, was in a separate accident on the same day…” He continued, “The Sterling family moved to New York right after her heart surgery. They haven’t been back in years.” I stood there, phone pressed to my ear, a long silence stretching between us. Finally, I found my voice. “I see. Find her exact location for me.” “And once you do,” I added, a spark of life igniting within me for the first time in years, “book me the next flight out. I need to see her.” 2. I’d always had a fragile constitution. The day’s turmoil—the emotional whiplash, the fall, the dousing—sent my body into rebellion. I collapsed into bed and fell into a feverish state. I don’t know how long I was unconscious, but through the hazy fog of sickness, I felt a cool, gentle hand on my forehead. It felt just like Elara’s. Whenever I was sick, she would stay by my side all night, her presence a comforting balm, coaxing me to take my medicine, her voice a soft lullaby. The memory was so vivid, so painful, that a tear escaped my eye and traced a path down my temple. I reached out, my fingers closing around that hand, and whispered her name, a desperate prayer. “Elara…” A sharp pain shot up my arm as my wrist was squeezed, hard. My eyes flew open. I was staring into the furious face of Veronica Donovan. “Who,” she hissed, “is Elara?” The disappointment was a bitter pill. I let my gaze fall away. “An old friend,” I lied. “I was dreaming about when we were kids.” Suspicion still clouded her eyes, but she chose to accept it. She knew nothing of my past, nothing of the real reason I had pursued her. All she saw were the years of my unwavering devotion, and in her mind, a man as pathetically loyal as me couldn’t possibly have room in his heart for anyone else. “How did you get in?” I asked, my voice raspy. Her expression flickered. “You gave me the passcode to your place a while ago… I called you a dozen times, and when you didn’t answer, I let myself in.” She shifted her weight. “Tonight is the joint dinner with our families. I need you to…” “Don’t worry,” I cut her off. “I know what to do.” I understood perfectly. This sudden, uncharacteristic display of concern was just a prelude. She needed me to play the part of the devoted fiancé for one more night, to put on a show for our parents. After years of chasing a ghost in her, I figured I owed her this one last performance. A final act of penance for my mistake. I forced my aching body out of bed and into a tailored suit. The crisp fabric and knotted tie did little to hide my pallor, but I looked presentable. Veronica had already gone downstairs to wait in her car. When I opened the passenger door, a cloying mix of her perfume and an unfamiliar, masculine cologne assaulted my senses. It was sickening. Julian was sitting in the front seat. He turned and gave me a triumphant smile. “Veronica felt that on such an important occasion, she should bring along someone she truly cares about,” he said, his words dripping with insinuation. “You don’t mind, do you, Mr. Vance?” “I thought this was a dinner for our two families,” I said, my voice flat. Veronica glanced at me in the rearview mirror, a hint of guilt in her eyes. “There will be a lot of people there,” she said defensively. “Julian just returned to the country. It’s a good chance for him to network. Besides…” she hesitated. “My parents adore you. Maybe you could put in a good word for him.” I looked at the two of them in the front, so cozy, so obviously a pair. The absurdity of it all was almost comical. Her fiancé, tasked with singing the praises of her lover at their own family gathering. Only Veronica could be so brazen. And it was just one more piece of proof that she could never have been the one. “Fine,” I said. When we arrived, it was clear this wasn’t an intimate family dinner. The Donovans had used my family’s name to throw a lavish business soiree. For years, they had leveraged their connection to Vance Industries, raking in profits and climbing the social ladder. My role tonight was simple: to be the mascot, the living guarantee that no matter what deals the Donovans made, the Vance fortune would be there to back them up. Amid the drone of conversation, Julian approached me, a smug look in his eyes. “You look bored sitting over here all by yourself, Caleb. Why don’t you join us for a round of Truth or Dare?” Before I could refuse, his circle of friends had surrounded me, trapping me in their game. A beer bottle was spun. It pointed directly at me. Julian held out a deck of cards. “Pick one.” I flipped it over. The question was simple. “Is the person you love most in this room?” A ripple of laughter went through the group. “Seriously? Do we even need to ask?” someone shouted, their eyes flicking toward Veronica, who stood nearby, watching. “Yeah, everyone in this city knows Caleb Vance is Veronica’s biggest fanboy! Of course he loves her most!” They all thought the answer was obvious. A foregone conclusion. I slowly shook my head. “No,” I said, my voice clear and steady in the sudden silence. “She’s not here.”

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The ten-year reunion was a predictable sea of muted business attire and forced smiles. Julian Hayes, our class’s golden boy turned tech millionaire, was holding court, a scotch swirling in his hand. “Come on, Julian,” someone called out from the circle of admirers. “We’re all pushing thirty. Most of us are married, some even have kids. How is a guy like you still on the market?” A practiced, melancholy smile touched his lips. “Some of us are haunted,” he said, his voice just loud enough to carry. “Cursed to spend a lifetime chasing the ghost of the one that got away. I’d rather be alone than settle.” As if on cue, his gaze drifted past the crowd, landing on the woman beside me. On my wife, Seraphina. His eyes were a storm of unspoken history. The air crackled. A wave of excited whispers went through the group. “He’s talking about Sera, isn’t he?” “Oh my god, they were the couple everyone rooted for in college! I was heartbroken when he left and she ended up with Ethan.” “Let’s be real, Ethan just saw an opening. Julian and Sera were the real deal.” Amid the rising chatter, I leaned in, my lips brushing against my wife’s ear. Her skin was cool. “Darling,” I murmured, my voice a low rumble only she could hear. “They’re saying I stole you. What’s your take?” 1 “Wait, Ethan, you and Seraphina are married?!” The exclamation cut through the noise, followed by a ripple of shock. Julian’s head snapped up, his eyes locking onto Sera with raw disbelief. A few of the old classmates laughed awkwardly. “Seriously? You guys never said a word! We’ve known each other for over a decade, that’s cold.” “Yeah, unless… Sera didn’t want anyone to know.” “Well, she was a wreck when Julian left for his fellowship in London. I heard she spiraled into a deep depression.” “So, it makes sense she’d fall back on Ethan. He was always there, lurking.” “Don’t defend him. We all know Julian only left because his family had nothing. Ethan’s family might have been struggling, but they had a name. He took advantage…” I tuned out the noise, placing a piece of seared salmon—her favorite—onto Seraphina’s plate. Five years. Three years of dating, two of marriage. Not every ghost gets to write a sequel. Besides, Sera and I grew up together. We were history long before Julian was a chapter. If I hadn’t insisted she come tonight, he wouldn’t have even laid eyes on her. But she hadn’t touched the salmon. Her fork lay beside her plate, untouched. Her eyes were still fixed on Julian, a locked, silent conversation I wasn’t privy to. The warmth of the evening suddenly felt like a chill on my skin. I put my own fork down, a cold knot tightening in my stomach. Don’t tell me he still has a hold on her. I’d almost managed to forget how completely she’d once been consumed by him. Back in college, Julian was the brilliant, brooding scholarship kid from the wrong side of the tracks. Seraphina, the daughter of a real estate tycoon, had fallen for him, hard. She’d helped him, supported him, only for him to push her away with a snarl. “You’re just like the rest of them,” he’d spat, his pride more fragile than glass, “looking down on me from your ivory tower.” It took her a year to break through that wall. They were together, and then, in their junior year, he was gone. A single letter left on her pillow was his only goodbye. You deserve better than me. I won’t hold you back. She raced to JFK, but only saw the silver glint of his plane climbing into the clouds. The breakdown that followed was real. I was the one who found her on the edge of her balcony, a ghost in the city lights. I was the one who pulled her back from the brink. “He doesn’t want you, Sera. But I do,” I’d whispered, holding her trembling body. “What was it you loved? His ambition? His struggle? I can learn to be that man. Let me be the one who stays.” From that day on, I molded myself into a reflection of the man she’d lost, but with a promise to never leave. My family’s construction business, teetering on the edge of bankruptcy, found a lifeline with a timely investment from her father. Then came the ultimatum from her parents: marry the heir to a rival firm or be cut off. I was prepared to step away, to release her. But that night, she came to me, wrapping her arms around me as if she were drowning. She cried, begging me not to abandon her too. “If you leave,” she sobbed into my chest, “it will kill me.” I smoothed her hair. “No one dies from a broken heart, Sera.” “But I love you.” “And Julian?” I asked, my own heart a stone in my chest. She pulled my head down, her lips finding mine in a desperate, searching kiss. “I hate him,” she breathed against my mouth. “From now on, all I want is Ethan.” My hands clenched at her waist, and I pulled her closer. By morning, her parents had accepted me as their son-in-law. The whispers in our social circle were brutal. They called me a climber, the man who saved his family’s failing company by seducing a vulnerable heiress. They were all just waiting, watching for the day she’d inevitably discard me. But she didn’t. For five years, we built a life. We were the power couple, our love a fortress. Until tonight. Until the ghost walked back in and I saw the look in her eyes. My heart gave a sharp, painful jolt. “How utterly pathetic.” Seraphina’s voice, sharp and cold as ice, sliced through the reunion’s buzz. Julian’s smile froze on his face. “I married Ethan because I love him,” she declared, her voice ringing with authority. “Who didn’t fall for a manipulative asshole in college? Don’t you dare try to tarnish my husband’s name with your revisionist history.” She turned the full force of her scorn on Julian. “And you, Julian. All that time in London, and this is what you’ve become? Have you even broken eight figures? A staff of ten?” The last of his smile evaporated. Then, she turned to me, her entire demeanor softening as she looped her arm through mine. “Honey, I told you we shouldn’t have come. This is such a bore.” “You’re not wrong,” I murmured back, my voice low and steady. “Anyone who upsets you deserves whatever you give them.” A stunned silence fell over the room. The party was, for all intents and purposes, over. As we left, the gossipers from before mumbled apologies, wishing us a long and happy life. Julian remained at the table, his head bowed, a solitary figure in his designer suit. As we stepped out of the ballroom, I felt it: Sera glanced back over her shoulder. He looked broken, a portrait of regret. Her hand, intertwined with mine, tightened for a fraction of a second. Then she faced forward again, a bright smile on her face as if nothing had happened, and we walked to the car. Back in our penthouse, the city lights sprawling beneath us, the evening’s events settled like a poison in my gut. I loosened my tie, my voice hoarse. “Sera… if you want to be with him again, we can talk about a divorce—” Before I could finish, she shoved me back onto the velvet sofa, hiking up her cocktail dress to straddle my lap. Her fingers silenced my lips, then traced a path down my throat, the touch electric against my skin. Her cool, composed face was inches from mine, a stark contrast to the fire in her eyes. “Don’t you ever say that,” she whispered, her breath warm against my cheek. “Now carry me to bed. I want you.” She kissed me, a hungry, claiming kiss that left no room for ghosts or doubts. We were a tangle of limbs and whispered words, moving from the living room to the bedroom. For a moment, all the ugliness faded. A genuine smile touched my lips. And then her phone rang, buzzing on the nightstand. Acting on instinct, I reached over and hit answer. Heavy, ragged breathing came through the speaker. Then Julian’s voice, thick with alcohol and choked with emotion. “Sera… why couldn’t you just wait for me? It’s only been five years…” He sobbed. “You call me a monster, but you have no idea… I’ve only ever loved you.” I let the silence hang for a beat, then spoke, my voice devoid of emotion. “It’s three in the morning, Julian.” Another pause. “Sera just fell asleep. She had a… strenuous evening. Should I wake her?” The line went dead. I looked over at my wife, her face serene in sleep. Her eyelashes fluttered, and I saw the faintest glimmer of a tear track at the corner of her eye. A nightmare, perhaps. Pulling her into my arms, I held her close, trying to banish the ghosts for both of us as I drifted into an uneasy sleep. 2 Two hours later, I woke to an empty bed. The space beside me was cold. Where did she go? A low murmur of voices drifted from the living room. My first thought was a break-in. I slid out of bed, not bothering with shoes, and crept to the bedroom door, cracking it open just enough to see. The scene in the living room froze the blood in my veins. The cool air from the vents felt like a polar vortex under my bare feet. Julian was on our sofa, his face a mask of anguish, clutching the sleeve of Seraphina’s silk robe. “I’m sorry, Sera, I was a fool. Please, just give me one more chance.” Sera stood stiffly, pulling her arm away. She had Julian’s phone in her hand and was speaking into it with cold fury. “Get over here and collect your boyfriend. He’s making a drunken scene outside my apartment building.” A few minutes later, hurried footsteps echoed in the hallway. I widened the crack in the door. The woman who rushed in was instantly recognizable: Claire Thorne. The sole heiress to the Thorne hospitality empire, a family whose fortune dwarfed even Sera’s. She lived in our building, a few floors up. Her eyes were red-rimmed with panic as she fussed over Julian. I almost had to admire his talent. In college, he had the heiress of the city’s top development firm ready to die for him. Now, after a few years abroad, he had the undisputed princess of New York’s high society wrapped around his finger. I closed the door silently as they left. My phone buzzed. It was a text from my best friend, Mark. [You see this? That scumbag Julian was at The Carlyle bar, crying to some gossip columnist about how he still loves Sera. The video is already going viral!] [What a pathetic loser. Sees you two are happy and suddenly he’s full of regret.] I ignored his rant and sent him the photo I’d discreetly snapped of the scene in my living room. [Looks like he has a girlfriend. Claire Thorne.] Mark’s reply was instantaneous. [WTF?! Is there a brain-eating amoeba attached to that guy? What does Claire Thorne see in him?!] I slipped back into bed just as the first light of dawn was breaking. The chaos, however, was just beginning. I was jolted awake later that morning by the sound of shouting. I stumbled out of the bedroom to find Sera’s parents, Robert and Eleanor Vance, sitting ramrod straight on the sofa, their faces like thunderclouds. They’d seen the news. “Get that boy out of New York!” Robert’s voice boomed. “That pathetic video from last night… I’ve had three calls from board members this morning! This is a PR nightmare.” Eleanor turned to her daughter. “He’s the one who abandoned you, Seraphina. Don’t be a fool. He’s using these disgusting tactics to ruin your marriage, to ruin us.” “If you don’t handle this,” Robert finished, his voice a low threat, “the full weight of Vance Realty will come down on him. We will bury him.” He stormed out without another word. Seraphina stood biting her lip, her eyes red. She turned and saw me standing there. “Ethan,” she said, a flash of panic in her eyes. “It’s not what it looks like. And Julian is engaged to Claire Thorne now. I don’t know why he’s doing this.” She took a deep breath. “I’ll fix it.” And she did. Sera, who had been taking over the reins of her family’s company, went on the offensive. We did a series of high-profile interviews and photoshoots, positioning ourselves as the unshakable power couple. She used the positive press to launch an aggressive campaign, poaching contracts and deals right out from under the Thorne empire. It was a declaration of war. A month later, the war came to us. We were leaving a gala at The Met when Julian stumbled out from a darkened alcove, lurching towards us. His white shirt was askew, a smear of blood at the corner of his mouth. “Sera, help me… please…” The scene was so eerily familiar, it was like a scene from a movie I’d seen a thousand times. He was the wounded hero, the noble soul beaten down by a cruel world. He grabbed for her sleeve, his eyes locking on me. He flinched, snatching his hand back as if burned. “Mr. Vance… Ethan… I’m sorry,” he stammered, shrinking back. “I’ll leave the city. I promise. You’ll never… you’ll never have to see me near her again.” His voice cracked. He clenched his fists, squeezed his eyes shut, then turned and limped away, a solitary, tragic figure disappearing into the New York night. I almost had to laugh. The performance was flawless. He had perfectly staged it to look like I, the jealous husband, had sent thugs to teach him a lesson. He was painting me as a violent monster, all while playing the victim to win Sera’s sympathy. The problem was, he was Claire Thorne’s fiancé. Making a move on him would be corporate suicide. I would never be that stupid. I shot a glance at Sera. Her face was an unreadable mask. “I heard Vance Realty blacklisted him,” she said, her voice cool as she took my arm. “His company is about to go under. He’s been begging for a lifeline.” She smiled, a cold, sharp thing. “Not my problem.” In the car, I tested the waters. “Sera… you don’t actually think I had anything to do with that, do you?” She leaned her head on my shoulder. “I know you didn’t,” she said softly. “I trust you.” I nodded, letting out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. She knew me. She knew how hard I’d fought to rebuild my family’s name, how much I valued our stability. She knew I wouldn’t risk it all on such a reckless act. The next morning, five hundred million dollars vanished from our primary corporate account. It was the seed money for our IPO. Without it, my company, my family’s legacy, was dead in the water. I called Sera. No answer. Panicked, I drove to her office, storming past her assistant and throwing open the door. And there he was. Julian, sitting on the plush sofa, looking pale and fragile, a fresh bandage on his cheek. Seraphina was beside him. Her head snapped up, her eyes meeting mine. “Five hundred million. It’s gone from the account, Sera. Was it…” I needed to hear her say it. “I took it,” she said, her voice flat. “Why?” Her eyes were chips of ice. “Julian’s company was five hundred million in debt. I paid it off for him.” Julian himself looked stunned, fumbling for his phone to check his company’s accounts. I stared at her, uncomprehending. She stood, grabbing his hand and pulling him behind her, shielding him like a mother protecting her child. “You owe him this, Ethan!”

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My mother’s voice, sharp and laced with that familiar disappointment, crackled through the phone. “Melina. Any news?” I sighed, staring out my penthouse window at the glittering New York skyline. “No, Mom. Not yet.” “This is number nineteen, isn’t it? Honestly, there’s no such thing as perfect genetic stock. You keep holding out, and you’ll find yourself past your prime. The clock, my dear, is ticking.” After we hung up, my gaze drifted to the man sleeping in my bed, his profile soft in the ambient city light. Julian. Could he be the one? The father of my child… and my next meal. 1 My name is Melina, and I am, for lack of a better term, a praying mantis. We are a race of sirens, born into the stuff of male fantasy. Wide eyes, delicate jawlines, impossible waists, and legs that go on for days. We are sculpted to drive men to madness. After millennia of evolution, we are, on the surface, indistinguishable from human women. There is, however, one small biological imperative that separates us. Mating, for us, is an hours-long affair. And to successfully conceive, we require… a significant nutritional supplement, provided by our chosen partner. I’ve always been pickier than the other girls. I’m searching for the perfect man, and my criteria are non-negotiable: devastatingly handsome, a genius-level intellect, and over six-foot-one. But there’s a crucial fourth requirement—he must be a monster. A truly wicked soul. One can’t just go around consuming the innocent. That invites a kind of cosmic retribution I have no interest in. And so, my adult life has been a revolving door of men. I’ve had a rockstar with hollow eyes, a college quarterback built like a god, a Wall Street wolf with a predatory smile, and an Ivy League poet who quoted Keats in bed. Yet here I was, thirty years old, and still empty-handed. My phone buzzed, pulling me from my reverie. It was Julian. Hey beautiful. Dinner tonight? I miss you. 2 Julian Vance was candidate number nineteen. He was twenty-six, a brilliant M.D./Ph.D. student at Columbia, doing his residency at a top Manhattan hospital. We’d met on one of those elite dating apps for people who claimed to be too busy for love. For our first date, we ended up at a 24-hour Korean spa in Queens. After watching a Knicks game on the big screen, he confessed his feelings in the quiet of the communal lounge, sometime after midnight. “What is it you like about me?” I’d asked, teasing him. “I’m four years older than you, you know.” He just smiled, his eyes sincere. “Age is just a number. My only worry is that a woman like you would find me too… inexperienced.” “Well,” I’d purred, “why don’t we find out?” And I kissed him. His lips were soft, yielding. He smelled of clean soap and something uniquely, intoxicatingly him. He was a good boyfriend. Despite a brutal residency schedule, he always made time for me. He was perpetually broke, living on a resident’s salary, but was generous to a fault, always insisting on paying. He was tall, sculpted, brilliant—perfect in every way. And that was the problem. He seemed to be a genuinely good person. It was time to end it. My time was precious. My affections needed to be distributed. That night, after dinner, we went back to a hotel. He stepped out of the shower, steam clinging to his skin, and found me waiting in bed, wearing nothing but desire. My body, a landscape of curves and long limbs, had been the undoing of eighteen other men. But Julian was different. We’d spent more than a dozen nights like this, yet we’d never gone all the way. Tonight was no exception. I could see the tension in his jaw, the fight in his eyes, but he just swallowed hard, his face flushing, and gently pulled the covers over me. That was it. I was done. “Let’s break up,” I said coldly, sitting up and reaching for my clothes. “I’m tired of this game.” Panic flared in his eyes. “What? Why? No, I don’t want to break up.” He rushed to my side, wrapping his arms around me from behind. “Melina, what did I do wrong? Just tell me, and I’ll fix it. Please, don’t do this.” I rolled my eyes, pushing him away. “You’re my boyfriend, Julian, but you can’t meet my needs. What’s the point? Besides, the age gap is real. I’m thirty. My mother is on my case about marriage. You’re still a student. I can’t afford to wait for you.” I was dressed and heading for the door, but he grabbed my arm, his grip surprisingly strong. “Don’t go. Please,” he begged. “I’ll marry you. Thanksgiving is next week. Come home with me. Meet my mother. As soon as we get back, we’ll go to City Hall.” He punctuated his frantic words with kisses—on my lips, my neck, my shoulders—until my resolve melted and my body went soft against his. 3 His desperation worked. I stayed. We fell back into bed in a tangle of limbs and feverish whispers. But just as we reached the point of no return, he stopped, his breath ragged against my skin. “Just a little longer, my love,” he whispered, his voice thick with restraint. “Wait until we’re married. I want this to be right.” So pure. After all my years, I’d finally found a unicorn. Maybe… I could give up the idea of children. Maybe a life with someone like this wouldn’t be so bad. With that thought, I drifted off to sleep. I dreamed I had a daughter. She was beautiful, with skin like porcelain, wide eyes, and impossibly long lashes. A perfect miniature of me. I turned my head, wanting to see her father. A man lay on the floor, soaked in blood. I held my breath, leaning closer, and then I realized with a jolt of horror—he was headless. I woke with a gasp, my heart hammering. The clock read 3:00 AM. My eyes were painfully dry. My kind has compound eyes, a trait I usually hide with cosmetic contacts. I’d fallen asleep without changing them. I stumbled toward the bathroom and saw a sliver of light under the door. A figure was hunched in the corner, speaking in a low, urgent whisper into his phone. “…Mom, the asset is secured. I’m bringing her home in a few days… Don’t worry, she’s perfect. Five-foot-eight, one-thirty, ideal measurements. Healthy, no genetic markers… She’s a premium-grade asset. The investors will be thrilled.” It was Julian. In the dim, sterile light, he looked like a stranger. A wave of disappointment washed over me. The sweet, innocent student was just another piece of trash. But then, a different feeling bloomed in my chest, a dark and thrilling excitement. This was it. My perfect prey. Mom, I thought with savage glee, we’re finally going to have a baby. 4 We left the next day. Julian was in a hurry to get me home. As it happened, so was I. A few overheard words weren’t enough. I needed to see his evil for myself, confirmed beyond any doubt. Julian, I thought, don’t you dare disappoint me now. With Thanksgiving around the corner, all the trains were booked. Julian suggested we take my car, explaining his hometown was deep in the Appalachians, where a vehicle was a necessity. As we drove out of my garage, he turned to me, his expression carefully casual. “Babe, could we keep this trip between us for now? We can surprise your family and friends when we get back.” “Why?” He sighed dramatically. “I just… I don’t want them to talk you out of this. My family, we don’t have much. And being a doctor isn’t a path to riches. I’m afraid they’ll think you’d have a hard life with me.” I smiled, playing my part. “Whatever you want, Julian. I’d do anything for you.” I love you to death, I added silently. Yours, specifically. I drove the entire way while Julian sat in the back, citing motion sickness, hidden behind a baseball cap, a facemask, and sunglasses. Hiding from surveillance cameras, no doubt. I decided to poke him. “Aren’t you hot under all that? You look less like you’re going home for the holidays and more like you’re on your way to murder someone.” He flinched before forcing a laugh. “Just used to wearing a mask at the hospital. Are you tired? We can switch.” “No, I’m fine,” I said sweetly. “You should rest.” He needed to conserve his energy, after all. After a dozen-plus hours, we arrived. His home was in a tiny village in rural Pennsylvania, nestled deep in the mountains. We turned off the highway onto a series of winding, unmarked roads. My GPS was useless. No outsider could ever find this place. As we neared the village, a crowd materialized, surrounding my car. Old men, young boys, fathers with babies. There were men in simple clothes holding the latest iPhones. But there were no women. That was wrong. In a place this poor and isolated, you’d expect to see women and children everywhere. The men were usually away, working in cities. Something was deeply wrong with this place. Julian’s words echoed in my mind. Premium-grade asset. The investors will be thrilled. Who were the investors? These men outside my car, their faces a mask of rustic simplicity, their eyes devouring me with a raw, possessive hunger? 5 The car crawled through the throng. “They’re all staring at me,” I said, my voice trembling convincingly. “It feels… strange. Maybe we should just get a hotel?” Julian patted my hand. “Don’t worry. People in Blackwood Creek are just… friendly. They heard I was bringing my girlfriend home.” He rolled down his window. “Hey, everyone, give us some room! You’re scaring my wife!” “Let’s get a look at her, Julian!” one man yelled. “Tell her to take off the sunglasses!” “Yeah, damn fine figure on her. Looks like she’ll breed well.” “Our Julian’s the smart one, alright. Always brings back the best.” The men’s crude laughter and leering made my skin crawl. Julian, however, was unfazed. “What’s the rush?” he called back with a grin. “You’ll all get a good look in a couple of days.” The crowd finally parted. The car wound through a few more turns before pulling up to Julian’s house. It wasn’t a dilapidated shack. It was a modern, three-story home that screamed of money. Two people were waiting. His mother, a woman with a strained smile, and a younger woman he introduced as his cousin, Clara. “You must be Melina,” his mother chirped. “My, you’re even more beautiful in person. Come in! You must be exhausted.” I handed over the gifts I’d brought. While Julian’s mother was overly warm, Clara was cold and withdrawn, her eyes holding a deep, unsettling sadness. After dinner, Julian’s mother led me upstairs. “This is Clara’s room. You’ll sleep here. It’s tradition, you see. The bride and groom can’t sleep together before the wedding.” She smiled that same strained smile. “Now, dear, if you don’t mind taking off your clothes… I had a seamstress make some dresses, and I want to see if they fit.” 6 Why on earth would she need me to undress in front of her? Unless she wanted to inspect the merchandise. To confirm I was as “premium” as advertised. Fine. A little nudity meant nothing to my kind. Under her watchful gaze, I slowly undressed until I stood naked before her. Her eyes lit up. She moved closer, her gaze clinical and thorough, scanning every inch of my body. I felt like a prize pig on an auction block. It was utterly dehumanizing. “A perfect fit!” she finally declared. “As if they were made just for you.” She bustled downstairs and returned with a glass of milk. “Drink this. It will help you sleep.” Her eyes were fixed on me, waiting. I drank it all. Soon, a heavy drowsiness washed over me. I collapsed onto the bed, the world dissolving. Just before I lost consciousness, I heard the door open and Julian’s voice. “Well, Mom? Told you she was top of the line.” “She is,” his mother replied. “The best one you’ve ever brought back.” “I’m thinking we don’t sell this one. We keep her. For breeding.” “Alright. It’s your call. We’ll have Clara watch her. Let’s go make the arrangements.” 7 I awoke to a gag in my mouth and a crushing weight on my body. The air was thick with the stench of stale breath and excited, grunting pants. “Hurry it up, Billy! Julian will be back soon!” a voice whispered. “Relax. Clara said him and his ma went out. We got time.” “Well, don’t take all night! The rest of us are waiting!” “Can’t believe Julian’s keeping this one. My old lady’s worn out after so many births. I was hoping to buy this one…” My eyes snapped open. A heavyset man was on top of me. By the bed, several others were lined up, waiting their turn. These foul creatures thought themselves worthy of fathering my children? The very idea was an abomination. I began to scream, my voice muffled by the gag, feigning terror. “She’s awake! Even better,” another one chuckled, closing in. “Now the real fun can begin.” I stopped struggling, and through the gag, I gave them a look of pure invitation. Let’s play.

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The world shattered the moment I found out about my husband and my sister. “It was never you, Clara. It was always her.” Liam’s eyes were bloodshot, his voice a blade. “You were the one who got in the way.” Each word was a hammer blow to my heart. The blood drained from my face. A tremor wracked my body—a toxic cocktail of pain, fury, and humiliation. “I was in the way?” My voice was a sharp, desperate whisper. “You knelt on the floor and begged me to marry you, Liam. And now you’re telling me it was always Ava?” A raw, hysterical laugh tore from my throat. It dissolved into a flood of tears that streamed down my face, hot and relentless. Seeing me so utterly broken seemed to jolt him from his cold rage. Panic flickered in his eyes. He reached for me, then snatched his hand back as if burned. His lips trembled, unable to form a coherent sentence. “Clara, that’s not what I meant… You… let me explain…” But I was already gone. I walked out the door like a ghost, an empty shell propelled by a pain so vast it had hollowed me out completely. I stumbled onto the street, oblivious, a zombie navigating a world that had lost all color. A blinding light sliced through the fog. The moment the truck hit me, my last coherent thought was, This still doesn’t hurt as much as my heart. 1 The sterile scent of antiseptic filled my nose. I forced my eyes open, squinting against the harsh sunlight piercing through the blinds. “Miss Hayes? You’re awake.” A young nurse came in, her voice soft. “You’ll be fine. You’re just a bit weak. We need to get your strength back up.” I stared at her, uncomprehending. The phantom agony of betrayal still echoed in my nerves, my mind a disoriented haze. This scene… I knew this scene. This was the hospital room from when I was twenty, after I collapsed by the pool. It was all coming back. Three days ago, I had won the National Dance Championship. My parents, ecstatic, had insisted on throwing a celebration at the Grandview Hotel. My younger sister, Ava, had recently failed her audition for the summer intensive. Though she pretended it didn’t bother her and my parents told her it was nothing, I knew how sensitive she was. I’d spent the whole party keeping an eye on her. When she disappeared, I went looking. I found her outside by the pool. A moment of distraction, a child running past, and I was knocked into the icy water, the shock pulling me into darkness. Before I could fully process the impossible reality of my return, the door to my hospital room opened again. Liam stood there, holding a bouquet of flowers. Behind him, her face a carefully constructed mask of concern, was Ava. “How are you feeling?” Liam walked to my bedside, his hand reaching for my forehead. “The fever’s broken. You just need to rest.” Instinctively, I recoiled from his touch. My expression was a complicated storm of emotions I couldn’t yet name. “I’m fine. Thank you.” Ava rushed forward. “Clara, it’s all my fault. If it wasn’t for me, you never would have ended up in here.” Her face was stained with tears, her voice trembling, her eyes brimming with guilt. Liam immediately wrapped an arm around her, his touch gentle as he guided her to a chair. “It’s not your fault, Ava. It was an accident.” His voice held a tenderness he had never used with me. Ava leaned into him, a subtle shift of weight, a silent claim. She looked up at him, her eyes a mix of gratitude, sorrow, and something else—a flicker of dependence I’d never seen before. I watched them, a cold, bitter clarity dawning in my heart. The intimacy, the unspoken language between them… it was so obvious. How had I been so blind my entire life? Sensing my glacial stare, Liam’s face flushed. He cleared his throat. “Ava and I are here to take you home.” Back at the house, my mother led me to the dining table. “Ava had Maria make all your favorites,” she said, placing a piece of short rib on my plate. “She cried all night, saying she wished it had been her who fell in the water…” I listened to my mother’s chatter, my stomach churning as I looked at the greasy piece of meat. I had lost my appetite. “Mom, I think I’m just going to go to my room.” She paused. “Alright, honey.” She helped me from my chair. “We’ll keep it warm for you, in case you get hungry later.” Lying in my bed, I replayed my previous life with Liam. Countless details, once dismissed as insignificant, now surfaced, each one a small, sharp piece of the devastating truth. He said I was the one in the way. Fine. This time, I would give them exactly what they wanted. I would step aside and let them have each other. This time, I would not be an obstacle. The next day, I began packing a suitcase for the dorms. “Clara, why are you moving out?” my mother asked, bewildered. “The campus isn’t far. Michael can drive you every day.” I placed my hairdryer into the suitcase. “Finals are coming up. I need to focus.” “Don’t go, Clara, please.” Ava grabbed my sleeve, her voice a soft, childish whine. “I’ll miss you if I can’t see you.” It was her signature move—the pouting, the wide eyes, the saccharine tone that always made me give in. I gently pulled my sleeve from her grasp. “I’ll be back after my exams are over.” That evening, Liam came to see me. “You’re moving into the dorm?” He held out a small box of strawberry tarts. “Can’t you stay? Ava’s really upset.” I didn’t take the box. My favorite was blueberry. He always got it wrong. I used to think he just couldn’t tell the difference. Now I knew the truth: he just didn’t care enough to remember. He never once mixed up Ava’s favorite, peach. “If you need a tutor, I can help you study. You don’t have to move out,” he said earnestly, placing the box on my desk. “No, thank you,” I replied, my voice cool and distant. “I just want to focus on my studies without any distractions.” “Alright then. But if you need anything, I’m always here for you.” He gazed at me, his expression full of the same deep concern that had fooled me for a decade. The same look that had made me believe I was the center of his world. If I hadn’t lived and died by his lies already, I might have fallen for it all over again. “I was never in love with you. You misunderstood. Our parents misunderstood.” His words from the end of my last life echoed in my head—the self-righteous justification that had shattered my reality, turning a decade of devotion into a pathetic, one-sided joke. 2 Living in the dorm was a breath of fresh air. The quiet solitude was a balm on my wounded soul, allowing me to pour all my energy into my studies and, more importantly, my dance. In my past life, I had been offered a scholarship to study abroad with a world-renowned company in London. I turned it down for Liam. This time, I wouldn’t make the same mistake. It was ten o’clock when I left the dance studio, muscles aching with a satisfying burn. “Clara, there’s someone downstairs for you,” my roommate, Jess, said, her eyes twinkling with curiosity. “Is that your boyfriend? He’s gorgeous.” I glanced out the window. A tall, familiar figure stood under the sprawling oak tree, a small box in his hand, his eyes fixed on the dormitory entrance. “No,” I said flatly, ignoring her teasing. I didn’t go down. Instead, I pulled out my phone and sent Liam a text. “Did you need something?” If I was going to cut ties, I had to be decisive. No more face-to-face meetings. My phone buzzed with an incoming call. I hesitated for a second before answering. “Clara, I brought you something to eat,” Liam’s smooth voice said through the phone. “Why don’t you come down and get it?” “Thank you, but I don’t need it.” I hung up without another word, my heart a calm, steady rhythm in my chest. Liam stood frozen, staring at his phone. He hadn’t expected such a cold dismissal. Something was different. Something had changed. When he got back to his car, Ava was waiting in the passenger seat. “Liam, did you see Clara?” she asked, her big, watery eyes full of faux concern. “No,” he said, his tone clipped. He was still reeling from my rejection. “She wouldn’t come down.” “Oh, it’s all my fault. My ankle is twisted, otherwise I could have brought it up to her dorm myself,” Ava lamented, her lower lip trembling. “She hasn’t been home in so long. I hope she’s okay.” Tears welled in her eyes, threatening to spill over. Liam’s focus snapped back to her. A wave of protectiveness washed over him. “Hey, hey, don’t cry. I know you’re worried about her, but she’ll be fine.” He gently brushed a tear from her cheek, his finger lightly tapping the tip of her nose. “You’re the one we need to worry about. You’re too thin. You need to eat more.” Later that night, Liam found himself staring at my name in his contacts. Before my curt text earlier, the last message from me was from the day of the banquet. I had asked if he could arrive a little early; I wanted to wear the necklace he was getting me. It was a new design by Mr. Chloe, a piece I had been dreaming of for months. He had planned to surprise me with it. But Ava, in her infinite helpfulness, had told me the moment he’d secured the purchase. I had been so happy, my eyes sparkling like crushed starlight. A faint smile touched Liam’s lips at the memory. He typed out a message: “Are you asleep? Want to get lunch tomorrow?” He waited. A long time passed, but the screen remained blank. A flicker of disappointment crossed his face. She’s probably just asleep, he told himself. She didn’t see it. Lying in my dorm bed, I saw his message and scoffed. Was this a date, or was he just following Ava’s instructions? Every time we’d planned to be alone in the past, Ava would miraculously appear. “Ava’s by herself, let’s just have her join us,” he would always say. And I never questioned it. Liam and I had known each other since we were kids. We grew up together. He’d sit for hours while I practiced, we’d study together, share our secrets. Our friends, our parents—everyone assumed we were destined to be together. An inseparable pair. I had believed it, too. How naive I’d been. Ava was five years younger, a little shadow who was always trailing behind us. While I excelled, she was… average. Quiet, timid, a fragile little thing wrapped in a cocoon of insecurity. My parents never pushed her, their only wish for her was to be happy. I, in turn, felt a natural, sisterly duty to protect her. It never occurred to me that she and Liam were tangled together. My husband, the love of my life, and my sister, my own flesh and blood. The two people I trusted most, conspiring to push me into an abyss. Looking back now, I was a fool. Utterly, completely blind. I remember one Valentine’s Day. Liam and I were going to walk across Lovers’ Bridge. And then, suddenly, there was Ava, turning our twosome into a clumsy threesome. I had gently tried to hint, “Doesn’t Mom need you at home?” Tears immediately welled in her eyes. “Clara… am I bothering you and Liam?” she whimpered, stumbling back a step. “I’ll… I’ll go home right now.” Her trembling shoulders and the sight of her retreating back, racked with sobs, was enough for Liam to turn on me. “Clara, she’s your sister! How could you say that to her?” I felt a hot flush of shame, instantly regretting my words. “Liam, don’t yell at Clara,” Ava cried, running back to grab my hand. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have intruded…” Liam rushed to her side, pulling her into a protective embrace. “It’s not your fault. Your sister was out of line.” And I, the fool, saw nothing wrong with that picture. I just stood there, drowning in guilt. 3 The next morning, I finally replied to Liam. “No, thank you. I have to study.” Then I put him out of my mind and dove headfirst into my work. That evening, I got a call from my dad. “Clara, Liam’s grandfather is back from his trip. We’re all having dinner at their estate tomorrow night.” In my past life, Mr. Sterling had always been incredibly kind to me. As much as I wanted to avoid Liam, I couldn’t be disrespectful. I had to go. I ignored the designer dress my parents had laid out for me and opted for simple jeans and a white shirt. When we arrived, I could see Liam and Ava in the garden, laughing together. I handed my gift to the old man. “Mr. Sterling, it’s so good to see you. I hope you’re well.” “Clara, my dear girl, come sit by me,” he said with a warm smile. He then called over to Liam. “Liam, get Clara a glass of iced tea. It’s a warm evening.” A nearby housekeeper chuckled. “The moment Miss Hayes arrives, our young Mr. Sterling steals our jobs.” “It’s what the boy should be doing,” his grandfather laughed along. I took the glass from Liam, my thanks cool and distant. Sensing the chill between us, Mr. Sterling deliberately seated us next to each other at dinner. “Clara, can I sit next to you?” Ava appeared, her eyes wide and pleading. “I’ve missed you so much. We haven’t eaten together in ages.” Before I could answer, Liam had already moved, pulling Ava into the seat between us. He then proceeded to fill her plate with all of her favorite dishes. “Liam, Clara loves this dish. You should give her some,” Ava said, pointing to a platter. “I don’t like it anymore,” I said calmly, before he could move. “Oh, Clara, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know…” Her eyes reddened, a tear trembling on her lashes. I looked up at her, my gaze knowing and direct. My stare must have struck a nerve. She flinched, her hand knocking over a wine glass in a clatter of panicked movement. “Clara, you’re scaring her,” Liam chided, his tone sharp with accusation. “She’s just trying to be nice.” I simply glanced at him before returning to my meal. His grandfather, sensing the strange tension, asked Liam to drive me home after dinner. “Clara, I wasn’t trying to blame you earlier,” he said, taking my hand as we walked to the car. “It’s just… Ava is fragile. You have to be more patient with her.” I pulled my hand free. “Okay.” “I got this for you,” he said, pulling a small velvet box from his pocket. “I saw it and immediately thought of you.” He opened it to reveal a delicate jade bracelet. “It’s warming jade. Your circulation is poor, this should help.” He moved to put it on my wrist. In my past life, he claimed he never loved me. Yet every gesture, every touch, every thoughtful gift was a lie that made me believe we were meant to be. As I got out of the car, I discreetly slipped the bracelet off and tucked it into the small compartment by the rearview mirror. If I was truly done, I couldn’t accept his gifts. Mid-week, I went home to gather a few things and took the opportunity to box up every gift Liam had ever given me. There was the pinwheel from our childhood, sand art from a beach trip, and countless pieces of jewelry. The box was surprisingly large and heavy. I taped it shut and shoved it into the deepest corner of my closet. There was no need to return it, but I would never open it again. My talent in dance had caught the attention of Professor Finch, the head of the department. He called me into his office. “Clara, there’s an opportunity to study under the legendary Alistair Finch in London. He was very impressed with your competition tape. They have resources there that could change your life. You need to take this seriously.” In my past life, Professor Finch had said the same thing. The first person I had told was Liam. “Clara, that’s wonderful,” he had said, though his smile didn’t reach his eyes. “But a young woman like you, all alone, thousands of miles from home… what if something happens? What if you get hurt?” He looked at me, his voice soft and laced with concern. “I would be worried sick.” Back then, I thought he truly couldn’t bear to be without me. I had held his arm and told my professor, “I have everything I need right here.” The memory was so absurd it was almost funny. “Professor,” I said, my voice firm with conviction. “I will take this opportunity.” “Good. Talk to your family. If there are no objections, you leave in a week.”

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In the fifth year of my marriage to Julian, after eight failed rounds of IVF, I finally conceived twins. But four months into the pregnancy, the woman he’d always loved, his high school sweetheart, came back to the country. She had kidney failure and needed a transplant. From that day on, my husband stopped coming home after work. Instead, he went to the hospital. The parenting books on our nightstand were replaced with medical journals. One day, Julian, whom I hadn’t seen in ages, came home and wrapped his arms around me, his voice ecstatic. “Scarlett, you’re my lucky star! Tens of thousands of people were tested, but you’re the only one who’s a match for Thea.” “If you give her one of your kidneys, she’ll be saved.” For a moment, I thought I was hearing things. “You mean,” I asked, my voice barely a whisper, “you want me to terminate our pregnancy… to donate a kidney to Thea?” Julian, lost in his joy, didn’t seem to notice my shock. “We can always have more children, Scarlett. Thea’s health is what’s most important right now.” I stared at him, at the cruel excitement in his eyes, and wondered if he had any idea what he was saying. 1. He didn’t seem to register the horror on my face. “With your kidney,” he continued, beaming, “Thea will make a full recovery.” My head was spinning. I looked him straight in the eye, needing to hear it again. “You want me to donate my kidney to Thea?” He tapped my nose playfully, a gesture that once felt endearing. “My wife is so smart. And so kind. Thea was worried you wouldn’t agree because of the babies.” When had I ever said I would agree? My voice trembled with rage. “You want me to get rid of the babies I fought so hard to conceive… to give a kidney to Thea?!” A flicker of impatience crossed Julian’s face. “Don’t be so dramatic, Scarlett. We haven’t even seen what these babies look like. But Thea… she’s been a part of my life for over twenty years. You expect me to just stand by and watch her die?” Horror, disappointment, helplessness—a tidal wave of emotions washed over me, and my legs gave out. I collapsed onto the sofa. But there was no concern in his eyes, only a frantic urgency as he yanked me back to my feet. “Don’t just sit there. We need to get to the hospital. There are a lot of tests to run.” He pulled me up so abruptly I stumbled, my thin nightgown offering no protection from the sudden chill in the room. As we reached the door, I grabbed the frame, my knuckles white. “You’re going to make me go out in my pajamas?” “Oh,” he said, as if just noticing. He quickly grabbed a coat from the rack and threw it over my shoulders. “You’re four months along, Scarlett. You’re huge. It doesn’t matter what you wear.” He flashed the smile that had once captivated me. “Besides, it’s not like I’m embarrassed by you.” But I saw the flicker of disdain in his eyes. How could he say that? On the wall, our wedding photo seemed to mock me. I was once a beautiful, slender bride, full of hope. It was the years of fertility drugs that had stolen my figure. 2. The car sped through the city streets. Soon, we arrived at Thea’s hospital. Nurses, doctors, even other patients, greeted Julian by name. He was, after all, the hospital’s biggest benefactor. They knew me, too—as the woman who had undergone more failed IVF cycles than anyone else. We went to Dr. Mason’s office. He was a good friend. Julian didn’t waste any time. “Scarlett is a match for Thea,” he announced. “Schedule the surgery as soon as possible.” Mason, who had just taken a sip of water, choked, spraying it across his desk. “Julian, do you have any idea what you’re saying?” A look of disgust crossed Julian’s handsome face. “Are you deaf as well as stupid?” he sneered. “I said, schedule an abortion for Scarlett. She’s donating a kidney to Thea.” Mason’s jaw dropped. I knew why he was so shocked. He had been with me through all eight rounds of IVF, through the endless, agonizing egg retrievals. He knew what this pregnancy meant to me. “Does Scarlett even agree to this?” Mason pressed, his voice strained. “She doesn’t have a choice,” Julian replied coldly. His words sent my heart plummeting back into the abyss. Five years of my understanding, my unconditional support, had led him to believe my opinion didn’t matter. I stumbled out of the office and sank onto a bench in the hallway, leaning against the cold wall. A pair of elegant heels appeared in front of me. I knew, without looking up, that it was Thea. Even in the hospital, she was dressed in a beautiful designer dress, her makeup flawless. Julian had arranged a VIP suite for her, of course. I thought back to my own hospital stays during the IVF treatments. I had once asked if I could wear my own pajamas instead of the scratchy hospital gown. Julian had accused me of being an attention-seeker. The signs were always there, weren’t they? I had just been lying to myself. I looked up. Thea was staring at me, her lip curled in a sneer. “Scarlett, you look pathetic. You’re embarrassing Julian, showing up here like this. He owns this hospital, for God’s sake. Have some respect.” She flicked her hair back. “But I have to admit, you’re smarter than I gave you credit for. You know what matters to him. Donating your kidney is the only way you’re going to keep him.” Just then, I felt a flutter. A tiny kick. For the first time, I felt my babies move. My hands flew to my belly, a protective instinct surging through me. Seeing my silence, Thea shoved me. “Are you deaf? Who do you think you are, clutching your stomach like that? You should be grateful for the opportunity to save me.” “Besides,” she hissed, her voice dropping to a venomous whisper, “those two little bastards should never have been born in the first place. Julian promised me…” I shot to my feet and slapped her, hard. “I don’t want your charity, and I will not harm my children for a viper like you. You want my kidney? Dream on.” The color drained from her already pale face. She stared at me, stunned. Then, she let out a piercing shriek. “Scarlett, how dare you hit me! You stole five years of my life with Julian! You owe me this!” She raised her hand to strike me, but I was ready. I shoved her, and she went sprawling to the floor. “I don’t owe you anything,” I said, my voice shaking with a lifetime of suppressed rage. “I’ve known women like you my whole life. The homewreckers who play the victim. You don’t deserve to live.” When I was a child, my father had an affair. His mistress, pregnant and triumphant, moved into our home. I watched my parents fight, listened to the screams that shattered our once-happy family. My mother, heartbroken, wasted away and died. That’s why I married Julian. He had sworn he would only ever love me. That’s why I had endured so much to have our children, to build the perfect, unbreakable family I’d always craved. Thea’s cries brought Julian running. He saw her on the floor and, without a second thought, shoved me aside, rushing to her aid. “Thea, what happened? Are you okay?” He glared at me, his eyes blazing. Thea clutched his arm, her face streaked with tears. “Julian, what am I going to do? I made Scarlett angry. She won’t give me her kidney. I don’t want to die, Julian. I don’t want to leave you.” Then, to my astonishment, she knelt before me. “Scarlett, I’m begging you. Please, save my life.” Julian immediately pulled her into his arms. “Shh, Thea, it’s okay. I’m here. I won’t let anything happen to you.” I couldn’t watch this pathetic melodrama a second longer. I turned to leave, but Julian grabbed my arm. “Where do you think you’re going? You’re not leaving until you apologize to Thea.” 3. I raised an eyebrow, a cold smile playing on my lips. “My husband is holding another woman in his arms, and I’m the one who has to apologize? Have you no shame, Julian?” His jaw tightened, a vein throbbing in his temple. Five years together had taught me to recognize this look. He was furious. Thea struggled to her feet, clinging to him. “Julian, it’s okay. As long as Scarlett agrees to the donation, a little humiliation is nothing.” And just like that, with a single word from her, the rage vanished from his face. He didn’t even glance at me as he scooped her into his arms and carried her back to her room. My own legs felt like they were made of cotton as I somehow managed to walk out of the hospital. I assumed Julian would stay with Thea that night. But just as I was about to fall asleep, he came home. He tiptoed into the room, his cold hand slipping under my nightgown, his fingers tracing my waist as if nothing had happened. “Why were you so childish at the hospital today?” he murmured, his voice soft and familiar. “Getting jealous like a little girl. Thea and I are just friends.” I no longer cared what they were. All that mattered was protecting my babies. He leaned in to kiss my forehead. I fought back a wave of nausea and took his hand, placing it on my belly. “Julian,” I whispered, “the babies moved today. They kicked me. They’re already…” “Enough!” He snatched his hand back as if he’d been burned. “I know you’re attached to them, Scarlett. But are you really going to watch Thea die?” As a mother, my children would always come first. They had been inside me for four months. I had waited for them for five years. I decided to try one last time. “Julian, I’ll do it,” I said, my voice pleading. “I’ll give Thea my kidney. But please, let’s wait until after the babies are born. Then I’ll do whatever you want.” He stared at me, his expression unreadable. Then his voice turned to ice. “Thea can’t wait. This disease is destroying her, body and soul. She lives in constant fear. Get some rest. We’ll have other children.” He left the room, slamming the door behind him. The sound echoed the shattering of my heart, and the tears I’d been holding back finally fell. 4. Hours later, my tears finally ran dry. I picked up my phone and saw something that plunged me even deeper into despair. Julian had canceled all the orders for the baby supplies we’d picked out together. The crib, the stroller, the tiny clothes. The reason for return on every single item was the same: “Pregnancy terminated. No longer needed.” He had even returned the pair of tiny pink socks he’d been so excited about. I remembered the way his eyes had lit up when he saw them. “My daughter has to have these,” he’d said. Now, he didn’t care. I wiped my eyes and got out of bed. I started to pack. I didn’t have much. In my single-minded pursuit of pregnancy, I hadn’t bought new clothes in years. I gathered the essentials, then started searching the house for anything of value. If I was going to do this alone, I would need money. Bank cards, cash, jewelry—I took everything I could find. I looked around the home I had shared with Julian for five years. There was a pang of sadness, but it was overshadowed by a gnawing anxiety for the future. But I would not let anyone hurt my children. I boarded a plane and flew to a city where no one knew me. I thought I had bought myself some time. I was wrong. On the third day, he found me. I was fast asleep. The babies had been particularly active the past few nights, and I was exhausted. A sharp, insistent knocking woke me. Thinking it was room service with my breakfast, I stumbled to the door. When I opened it, the face I never wanted to see again was staring back at me. Julian. His eyes were blazing with fury. “You’ve got some nerve, Scarlett. Running away with my money.” He pulled a wad of cash and a credit card from his pocket and threw them in my face. “You love money so much? Here. Is this enough to buy your kidney? If not, I can add more.” Tears blurred my vision. The man I had loved for five years felt no sadness, no regret at my absence. All he saw was a walking organ donation. Before I could react, he grabbed me. “It doesn’t matter where you run, Scarlett. I will always find you. Donating your kidney to Thea is your only way out.” He dragged me onto a plane and back to the hospital. He threw me into a private room and posted four guards at my door. Despair was a physical weight, crushing the air from my lungs. The babies, sensing my terror, kicked and tumbled inside me. Suddenly, I felt a warm gush between my legs. I looked down and saw blood. I curled into a ball on the bed, crying out his name. I didn’t want to die. I didn’t want my babies to die. Julian, fresh from Thea’s room, stormed in and berated me in front of the guards. “She’s a pathological liar. She’ll do anything to get out of this. Just watch her. Make sure she doesn’t leave. The rest doesn’t matter. The babies will be gone soon enough anyway.” His words were a physical blow. I started to tremble uncontrollably as I felt my life, and the lives of my children, draining away with the warm blood. Just as my eyes fluttered shut, a figure burst into the room.

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Everyone in our circle knew I loved Seraphina Winer to the point of madness. For years, I had quietly given her everything. When her mother fell ill, I secretly brought in the country’s top specialists to treat her. When she launched her company, I poured a fortune into clearing her path to success. Whenever I found something beautiful or rare, my first instinct was to lay it at her feet. After twelve years of marriage, I held onto the belief that my devotion would one day win her heart. I never imagined she was sleeping with her male secretary behind my back. The sonogram, the endless, blindingly intimate photos he sent me—they were enough to turn my heart to ash. I didn’t scream or break things. I calmly called a meeting of the board and had Seraphina removed from her position as CEO. I would make her understand. Without me, she was nothing. 1. On my birthday, I treated myself to a prime-grade steak and my favorite matcha mousse cake. I sat in the cavernous living room, savoring the solitude. Seraphina walked in after settling a filthy stray dog she’d brought home, her expression grim. “Why isn’t dinner made?” she demanded, her gaze sweeping over my plate. “You know I don’t eat steak, and I can’t stand matcha. What am I supposed to eat?” I didn’t look up. “There’s instant ramen in the cabinet. Just add hot water.” Her face tightened with anger. “I flew back from out of town specifically to celebrate your birthday, and this is the attitude I get?” she snapped. “So I was delayed by work, so what? I even brought you a gift. What more could you possibly want?” “Was it really my birthday you came back for?” I countered, my voice sharp, finally meeting her gaze. A small, cold smile touched my lips. “I saw the pictures. You and Leo Archer, taking a leisurely stroll in the park this afternoon.” While I was at home, my heart filled with anticipation, planning a surprise for us, she was basking in the afternoon sun with her secretary, looking for all the world like a pair of lovers. It would have been a beautiful picture, if she weren’t already married to me. And my birthday “gift”? The dirty stray dog she’d impulsively rescued during her little walk with Leo. Seraphina’s face went rigid before her brows furrowed in annoyance. “Yes, I got back this morning. Leo was having a rough day, so I took him to the park to clear his head. As his boss, isn’t it my job to care about my employees’ well-being?” She sat beside me, her tone still devoid of any warmth or guilt. “Eddy, I know what this is really about. Don’t take your obsession with having a baby out on Leo.” “I told you before, I’m just starting to build my empire. My work takes all my energy. I simply don’t have time for a child.” “You’re thirty-five,” she added coolly. “Do you really think you’re still young enough to have a healthy child?” I may be thirty-five now, but I was in my early twenties when I married her. For twelve long years, I’d yearned for a child, and for twelve years, she’d put me off with the excuse of her career. I had always supported her, respected her, acting as the silent, unshakeable foundation she stood on. Her pride was immense. To help her conquer the business world, I secretly leveraged my family’s resources, paving every inch of her road to success. I had given everything to walk this path with her. And now that she was a titan of industry, a celebrated name, she had the audacity to tell me I was too old, unworthy of fathering her child. Sensing the shift in my mood, Seraphina moved to embrace me, her voice softening into a placating purr. “Darling, I really don’t have the time. And you don’t have the energy to raise a child alone. I’m thinking of you.” She gestured toward the dog. “This little guy might not be perfect, but all creatures have a soul. We can raise him as our child, okay?” I caught the faint, cloying scent of another man’s cologne on her, and a wave of nausea washed over me. I pulled away from her, my face a mask of indifference. “If all creatures have a soul, why didn’t you give the dog to Leo? What, is it not as good as the limited-edition sports car you bought him this afternoon? He gets a priceless car, and I get a stray dog?” Her expression soured instantly. “Did the paparazzi snap that too? Eddy Cole, are you investigating me? How can we be a couple if there’s no privacy or trust between us!” She scrambled for an excuse. “I bought him the car because he’s been with me for years, from obscurity to success. Don’t I owe him a thank you?” I stared at her, a bitter taste filling my mouth. It felt like a hand was squeezing my throat, like I’d been slapped across the face. “Seraphina,” I said, my voice strained, “he’s been your secretary for three years. I’ve been your husband for twelve. And you used our money to buy him a priceless car as a ‘thank you’?” Twelve years, and she still didn’t understand. It wasn’t about the dog, or the car. It was about her contempt for me. Her face flushed with rage. “Why have you become so petty? A little money and you’ve completely lost your head. You’re a house husband. What would you do with a sports car, drive it to the grocery store?” She waved a dismissive hand. “I can’t be bothered to argue with you. Keep up this nonsense and this marriage is over!” Just then, her phone rang. The anger vanished from her face, replaced by a gentle concern as she answered. “Leo? What’s wrong? Don’t worry, I’m home. I’ll be over as soon as I’m done here.” Leo’s shaky voice crackled through the phone. “Sera… I was in an accident. I think my leg is hurt…” “Okay, just wait for me, I’m on my way!” Seraphina’s face was pale with worry. Without another word or a single glance back at me, she bolted out the door. A moment later, a text from an unknown number buzzed on my phone. It was a sonogram report. Seraphina Winer, three months pregnant. Below it, a neatly typed message. “This is our first child. To celebrate, Seraphina bought me a sports car and a new villa.” “Tonight, she’s all mine, Eddy. Happy birthday. Enjoy the dog.” 2. My world tilted. My eyes were glued to the sonogram, a blade twisting in my chest. The strength drained from my body, and I collapsed onto the floor. Soon after, a text from Seraphina arrived. “Something came up at the office, meeting a partner. Won’t be home tonight. I owe you for your birthday, I’ll make it up to you with a gift at the business event tomorrow.” She added one last line. “Don’t be angry. Get some sleep.” I stared at the two messages, a bitter, hollow laugh escaping my lips. Seraphina and I met in college. It was love at first sight for me; she couldn’t have been less interested. She was raised by a single mother who was later diagnosed with a severe brain tumor. They were desperate for money to cover the treatment. I couldn’t bear to see her suffer. I paid for everything, anonymously, and arranged for the nation’s top neurosurgeon to perform the operation. The surgery was a success. To protect her pride, I told her the money came from a charity fund. She was at her lowest point, but her pride was unyielding. “Eddy Cole,” she had demanded, “what do you want from me?” I laid my heart bare. “I love you.” She was silent for a long moment. “You want to be my boyfriend,” she said, her brow furrowed, “but my career is just starting. We’d have to keep it a secret. Wouldn’t that hurt you? Eddy, you’re a good man, but I have nothing to give you…” The love of a young man is pure and fearless. “I’ll endure anything, as long as I can be with you,” I promised her. “Seraphina, I will help you achieve your dreams, and I will wait for you to love me back. Please, just give me a chance.” The sun was setting that day, painting the sky in shades of rose. The young woman stood on her toes and pressed a soft kiss to the young man’s cheek. “Okay.” And so we began. To open the doors of the business world for her, I used my family’s influence behind her back, smoothing her path. She became an overnight sensation, a rising star lauded for a brilliant investment. In the beginning, even if our love wasn’t deep, she treated me with respect, understanding, and care. As she fought her way up, I was always by her side. I took drinks for her at networking events until I was vomiting in the streets, once so violently I ended up in the hospital with a bleeding stomach. She held my hand then, her voice full of pain. “Eddy, let’s get married. I will make something of myself. And even if I can never truly love you, I swear I will never, ever hurt you.” Twelve years had passed. We saw each other less and less. Now, when she looked at me, all I saw was irritation. Her endless stream of cruel words had become a thousand tiny cuts. The sonogram was the final, fatal blow, plunging straight through my scarred and broken heart. Tears streamed down my face as I smiled. I typed back a single message. “Seraphina, let’s get a divorce.” The next morning, there was still no reply. I suspected she hadn’t even bothered to read my message. But Leo Archer’s Instagram had been updated. A new post showed him with perfectly styled hair revealing the elegant line of his neck. He wore a custom-tailored black suit, and on his wrist, an emerald watch caught the light with a cold, green fire. I knew that watch. It was my mother’s only legacy, my most precious treasure. My heart plummeted. I rushed to the safe. The watch was gone. An icy dread washed over me. Besides me, only one other person knew the combination. Seraphina. I grabbed my keys and sped to the location of that night’s business gala. When I arrived, Seraphina was in her element, laughing with a group of industry titans. She didn’t even notice me. But Leo did. He sauntered over, deliberately flashing the watch. “Well, well, Eddy. You really came dressed like that? A bit pathetic, don’t you think?” His voice dripped with contempt. “The only reason you married her is because you met her a few years before I did. Dumb luck. But look at you now. Just an old man, wasting away. You don’t belong in a place like this. You should leave before you embarrass yourself further.” Rage, white-hot and uncontrollable, surged through me. Seeing him treat my mother’s memory so flippantly, I snapped. I swung my hand, slapping him hard across the face. “Give. Me. My. Watch.” “Ah!” Leo cried out, clutching his face and stumbling theatrically to the ground. Seraphina cut through the crowd, her eyes wide. Seeing Leo on the floor, she rushed to his side, shielding him with her body. Her glare was glacial. “Eddy, are you insane?!” “Who gave you permission to touch him?” she hissed. “He provoked me,” I said, my voice dangerously low. “He had it coming. Seraphina, why is my mother’s watch on his wrist?” Leo feigned innocence. “It’s all my fault. I couldn’t find the right accessory for this suit. I heard Eddy had an emerald watch, and Sera said it would look perfect on me, so she let me borrow it…” I stared at Seraphina, the pain so intense I could barely breathe. “You gave him my mother’s legacy to curry his favor?” Even after learning of her affair, of their child, I never thought she could be this cruel. I had once confided in her, against my grandmother’s advice not to reveal my family background, that my mother had died protecting me, and that this watch was the only thing I had left of her. How could she give it away so carelessly? Seraphina shielded Leo, her voice trembling with fury. “Is this watch that valuable? Once it’s in our house, it’s our property. I can give it to whomever I please. Do I need your permission?” “Eddy, the food you eat, the clothes you wear, the roof over your head—I gave you all of it! How dare you question me?” Before she could finish, I raised my hand again. This time, the slap was for her. She didn’t flinch, taking the full force of the blow. Leo shrieked, rushing to her side. “Are you crazy? You hit her over a watch? She’s a giant of the industry! Do you have any idea who she is?” “Enough! Stop embarrassing yourselves!” Seraphina roared. She ripped the emerald watch from Leo’s wrist and hurled it at me. “Take it! Take the piece of junk your pathetic, dead mother left you! I wouldn’t have even touched it if Leo didn’t like it!” “Now take your watch and get out!” she screamed. The watch hit the marble floor with a sickening crack. The emeralds skittered across the floor, the watch face cracked—a perfect mirror of our broken marriage. Something inside me finally shattered. I grabbed a wine bottle from a nearby table and threw it in her direction. “Seraphina,” I yelled, my voice breaking, “you are the biggest disappointment of my life!” Security guards quickly subdued me. Seraphina’s face was contorted with rage. “Eddy, I am powerful now! I am influential! I am still offering you the position of my husband, so don’t be so ungrateful!” How laughable. Everything she was, I had built. I stared at her, my voice cold and steady. “I don’t need your pity. We’re getting a divorce. And I will show you what it means to have nothing.”

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When my benefactor went bankrupt and wanted to die, I played dumb. “Baby, your birthday’s next month,” I purred, tracing circles on his chest. “I saw this watch that would be just perfect for you. It’s a steal, really, only five million dollars. Too bad I’m a little short.” Tears welled in his eyes, his voice thick with emotion. “You… you remembered?” He then proceeded to haul bricks, deliver food, and sell off his properties until he scraped together the five million. I took the money, and without a second glance, spent it all. Then I pouted. “But the new collection of handbags is just gorgeous. I want one so badly…” Any thought of dying evaporated from his mind. Now, the moment his eyes opened each morning, his only thought was making more money. 1 It was the third year of being Tedd Vance’s pretty little canary when the whispers started: he was broke. Tedd was still away on a business trip when the staff began to vanish, one by one. The house grew quieter, emptier. Anna, the head housekeeper who’d always had a soft spot for me, pulled me aside, her face etched with concern. “Miss Cecilia, you should pack up whatever you can grab and get out of here while there’s still something left to take.” Did she think I didn’t want to run? The problem was, after three years as Tedd’s canary, I’d been completely ruined for a normal life. I was spoiled rotten. He was the perfect benefactor—stupidly rich, ridiculously easygoing, and utterly devoted. I hadn’t suffered a single day; I’d only known luxury. Where else would I find a fool who’d shower me with money and cater to my every whim? Besides, maybe the rumors were just that—rumors. I was willing to bet on one last chance. 2 The day the bankruptcy became official, Tedd came home. His designer suit was a mess of wrinkles, and dark circles bruised the skin under his eyes. He looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks. He bypassed the plush sofa and sank to the floor, leaning against its base, a small, gleaming blade in his hand. His expression was unnervingly calm, his eyes as still and deep as a well. He toyed with the blade, spinning it between his fingers, its edge glinting as he positioned it over his wrist. The house was dark. With the staff gone, no one had bothered with the lights. I fumbled along the wall, my fingers searching for the switch. Click. The sudden flood of light made Tedd flinch. He turned his head, his eyes widening slightly when he saw me. “Cece,” he murmured, his voice hoarse. “You… you’re still here?” I feigned ignorance, pretending I didn’t see the blade in his hand or understand the gravity in his tone. I threw myself at him with all the practiced drama I could muster, wrapping my arms around his neck. “Baby, you’re finally back! I missed you so much.” My hands, moving on instinct, immediately began patting down his pockets. Empty. Not a single gift box, not even a trinket. It seemed the rumors were true. There was really nothing left. Usually, Tedd returned from a trip laden with extravagant gifts for me. He knew exactly what I was searching for. A shadow of despair crossed his face. “Cece, I’m so sorry, I…” I cut him off, settling into his lap and taking his hand in mine, my voice a delicate, regretful sigh. “Baby, your birthday’s next month. I saw this watch, it would look perfect on you. Such a shame it’s five million dollars, and I’m a little short.” My interruption threw him off. He blinked, the words he was about to say forgotten. Then, what I’d said registered. His eyes went red with emotion. “My birthday… you still remember?” I shot him a playful, reproachful look. “Of course I remember. How could I ever forget your birthday?” He looked deeply moved, his hand trembling in mine. “Five million… that’s nothing. I’ll transfer it to you right now…” He trailed off, the reality of his situation crashing back down on him. I just watched him, my eyes wide and expectant. Tedd rubbed his eyes, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “There’s… there’s a bit of a cash flow problem right now. Just give me a couple of days, and I’ll get it to you.” He tried to stand. “I should go. I need to take care of this now.” I tightened my grip, pulling him back down. “And another thing. While you were gone, the staff just up and left. There’s no one here to even make dinner.” A flicker of raw pain crossed Tedd’s face. He clenched his fists, then slowly forced them to relax. “I’m sorry. It’s all my fault.” He shrugged off his jacket and walked toward the kitchen. “I’ll cook.” There were still some groceries in the fridge. Tedd tied on an apron and got to work. He’d slimmed down over the past couple of weeks, but his body was still solid. A broad chest, a great ass. After being spoiled by a man who looked like that, how could I ever settle for anyone else? Damn it all. I was in deep. 3 Tedd had learned to cook during his university days abroad. He wasn’t a master chef, but he wasn’t terrible either. Thankfully, I wasn’t a picky eater. The main course, after all, was still to come. After dinner, he tried to leave again. I dragged him straight to the bedroom. “Baby, you’ve been acting so strange since you got back,” I murmured, pinning him to the bed. “Did something happen?” His eyes flickered. His attempt to push me away softened. “No, it’s nothing. I just need to sort out the funding issue as soon as possible.” My fingers traced lazy patterns across his chest, my voice dripping with manufactured sorrow. “Always work, work, work. Haven’t you missed me at all?” I hooked my leg over his hip. His Adam’s apple bobbed. I didn’t give him a chance to answer, silencing him with a kiss. He could sort out his business later. First, he was going to take care of mine. Halfway through, Tedd clung to me, his voice cracking with a vulnerability I’d never heard before. “Cece… you’re so good to me.” I quickly pressed my fingers to his lips. Shhh. Don’t say another word. Any more of that, and my guilt might actually kick in. 4 When I woke up, Tedd was already gone. Out looking for work, I presumed. I took my time getting up, showering, and finding the breakfast he’d left for me on the table. After eating, I felt a little full, so I took a walk around the small garden to aid my digestion. That’s when my best friend, Betty, blew up my phone. Betty: I THINK I’M STILL DREAMING BUT DID YOUR MAN JUST DELIVER MY LUNCH???? Attached was a ridiculously blurry candid shot. I zoomed in and couldn’t help but roll my eyes. The photo made him look five-foot-five, but even in that distorted mess, I recognized Tedd instantly. To think, he was a CEO just a few weeks ago. How had he fallen so far, so fast? I made a few calls to some well-connected friends and got the scoop. Someone had deliberately set him up, sabotaging him so thoroughly that no reputable company would touch him. His resume was being tossed in the trash before it even landed on a desk. Damn them. My heart ached for him. The truth was, I wasn’t penniless. Tedd had been incredibly generous over the years, and being the money-lover I am, I’d converted most of his lavish gifts into cold, hard cash. Fine. If the world was against him, we could just switch roles. I’d support him. This was just cruel. When Tedd came home that evening, I stopped him at the door. “Baby, what if we just moved back to my hometown? We could start over there.” I saw the tension visibly drain from his shoulders. He nodded, a look of profound relief on his face. “Okay.” With his agreement, I started packing. Clothes, shoes—all essential. This handbag was two hundred thousand, that one was half a million—they were all assets, they had to come. The jewelry Tedd bought me was priceless, absolutely essential. I ended up with several massive suitcases packed to the brim. As I stared at the mountain of luggage, I realized Tedd had been far too quiet for far too long. I went to find him. He was sitting on the sofa, perfectly still. Something felt wrong. “Why aren’t you packing?” He stirred, as if waking from a trance. “I don’t have much. Just some toiletries will do.” He casually tossed a few items into a duffel bag. That night, Tedd fell asleep early. Curled up under the covers, his face was peaceful, his brow smooth. He looked so serene it made my heart melt. At least, it did until I saw the unsent text message he’d drafted on his phone. “I’ve liquidated all my assets. It came out to exactly five million. Cece, take the money and live a good life.” And then I saw the bottle of sleeping pills tucked away in the back of his nightstand drawer. 5 The next morning, Tedd slept in for once. He seemed in high spirits, dressing in a crisp suit as if preparing for a long trip. “Baby, I’ve transferred the five million to your card.” He straightened his tie. “I have to go on a business trip. I might be gone for a month. You head back to your hometown first, and I’ll come find you when I get back.” Just as he was about to walk out the door, I, feigning surprise, glanced at my phone. Then, without batting an eye, I spent every last cent. Tedd froze in the doorway, the color draining from his face as he watched it all unfold. I set my phone down, my expression a mask of innocence. “Baby, what’s wrong? You look so pale.” I let a little pout form on my lips. “Are you really leaving? You know, the new handbag collection just dropped, and I want one so, so badly…” You want to die on me? Not until you’ve earned me a cool hundred million, you don’t.

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To clear the way for his mistress, my husband faked his own infertility and demanded a divorce. “It’s for the best,” he said, his voice thick with fake sincerity. “You don’t have to worry. I could never remarry after this. The guilt would be too much.” I cried, my sobs so violent it was hard to breathe. But the second I turned my back, I let out a sigh of relief and tossed the shredded remains of his real test results into the trash. I had been worried he wouldn’t be able to handle the truth. Turns out, I worried for nothing. Oh, we were getting a divorce, all right. And I was going to make sure he left with nothing but the clothes on his back. When I silently agreed, he was overjoyed, already planning to welcome his pregnant mistress into our home. What my husband didn’t know was that the paternity test he was holding was a fake. And the infertility report I’d just thrown away? That was the real one. 1 Holding Tyler’s medical report, my heart had been a lead weight in my chest for days. I walked in from work one evening to find his entire family sitting in our living room. The moment I stepped through the door, every head turned in unison to stare at me. Their faces were grim, their eyes a mixture of pity and judgment. For a terrifying second, I thought they knew. My heart clenched, but I forced a smile. “Mom, Dad, you’re here! You should have called. I just bought some fresh seafood. Have a seat, dinner will be ready in a bit.” I started to roll up my sleeves and head for the kitchen, but my mother-in-law’s voice stopped me. “Phoebe, wait. We need to talk to you about something.” My husband, Tyler, looked at me, his face a blank mask. “Phoebe, let’s get a divorce.” “What did you say?” I whispered, my eyes wide with disbelief. He held out a piece of paper. “A few weeks ago… Mom had us both get check-ups, remember? The results came in. I’m infertile. And it’s irreversible.” How could he have a report? I was the one holding it. It clicked. The whole family was in on it. This was a setup. My mind reeling, I took the paper from his hand, my heart pounding with suspicion. Suddenly, I remembered what a friend had told me two weeks ago. “Phoebe, I saw your husband at the OB-GYN clinic today. He was with some young woman, and she was very obviously pregnant.” “And I heard them calling each other ‘honey’ and ‘babe’!” She’d even sent me a photo. I recognized the woman instantly. She was an intern from Tyler’s office. He had told me she’d quit months ago. I had been about to call Tyler and demand an explanation when the hospital called me. They said he had left an important document at the reception desk. It was his real report. The conclusion was written in cold, clinical print: Tyler would never be able to have children. But Tyler didn’t know that. And neither did his mistress. Pushing down the storm of emotions inside me, I put on my best performance. “Honey, it doesn’t matter,” I said, my voice choked with fake tears. “I don’t care if you can’t have kids. I love you. We can adopt if we want to.” For a moment, I saw a flicker of doubt in his eyes, but it was quickly extinguished. “No,” he said, his voice firm. “I can’t handle the pressure, the pitying looks from your family. Let’s get a divorce. It’s the last act of love I can give you.” He looked at me, his eyes shining with false nobility. “I can’t be so selfish as to take away your chance to be a mother. I love you, Phoebe, but I want you to be happy more.” 2 “No! I won’t do it! Plenty of people in the world can’t have children, and they make it work. Why can’t we?” I cried, clinging to his arm. “We can try Eastern medicine, alternative treatments… there are options!” Tyler immediately shot down the idea. “I’m a man, Phoebe! How am I supposed to hold my head up if people know? My life would be over! If you really love me, you’ll keep this a secret.” I broke down completely. The tears of heartbreak were fake, but the sense of betrayal was agonizingly real. I had been a devoted wife for years, and this is how he repaid me? By faking a medical condition to push me out for another woman? He was going to learn that playing with people’s hearts has consequences. In a last-ditch, staged effort, I turned to his parents. Tyler was their eldest, the golden child. “Mom, Dad, please, talk to him! We can’t just give up. People will talk!” My father-in-law took a long drag from his cigarette and shook his head. “Phoebe, this kind of condition… it’s a lost cause. Dragging it out will only ruin his reputation. You have to understand a man’s pride.” I looked at his younger brother, Caleb. “Caleb, please. You know how good your brother has been to you. Talk to him. We can get through this.” A muscle twitched in Caleb’s jaw. “Phoebe, this divorce is a relief for him. Just let him go. It’s different for a man. The gossip… it’s like being flayed alive.” His wife just looked down at her hands, silent. Their united front was all the confirmation I needed. A wave of triumphant joy washed over me, but I let the tears flow freely. Tyler pulled me into an embrace. “Phoebe, it’s my fault. I’m a broken man; I don’t deserve you. I’ll make sure you’re compensated, of course. You deserve that much.” Gasping between sobs, I finally gave in. “I know you’ve always been a good man. Okay… I respect your decision.” 3 I excused myself to the bathroom, splashing cold water on my face. My hand tightened around the real report tucked inside my purse. The doctor’s words echoed in my mind: “With a sperm survival rate of less than one-tenth of one percent… there’s no hope for a natural pregnancy.” For the past two weeks, my biggest problem had been how to break the news to him gently. I never imagined he’d hand me the solution on a silver platter. His report was a forgery, but his condition was real. For years, his family had assumed I was the reason we were childless. Now that another woman was pregnant, their suspicions were confirmed. Just then, a text came through from my friend. “He’s taken her to three different clinics and even sent a blood sample to a specialty lab in another country. It’s confirmed: it’s a boy!” And there it was. The Chen family, with their old-fashioned obsession with a male heir, had found their excuse to get rid of me. If he was so eager to play the proud papa to another man’s kid, who was I to stop him? Let them bask in the joyful anticipation of their new arrival. 4 I dried my eyes, stormed out of the house, and slammed the door for good measure. The divorce was happening, but not yet. I needed to drag this out. I made a show of calling all his friends, begging them to intervene. I cornered his best friend, Mark, in the street, putting on a spectacular display. “Mark, how can he be so sensitive?” I wailed, loud enough for the neighbors to hear. “As long as I don’t mind, what does he have to worry about? Why does he have to divorce me? Please, talk to him! A man needs a family, even without kids!” Mark looked deeply uncomfortable. He obviously knew the real story. “Phoebe, please, keep your voice down. This is… a private matter. If he thinks this is for the best, maybe you should just let him go.” The neighborhood gossip mill was already churning. “What a wonderful woman. Her husband can’t have kids, and she still wants to stand by him.” “Yeah, if the roles were reversed, you can bet he’d be long gone.” He was worried about his reputation, but I wasn’t. I started an online diary. I wrote about my husband’s tragic infertility and his selfless decision to divorce me so I could have the chance to be a mother. I posted screenshots of his family’s cold texts and my friend’s well-meaning warnings. I even included a tearful video of myself. The internet ate it up. Our story was hailed as the ultimate tragic romance, the peak of “Bad End” love. One commenter wrote: “He sacrificed his own happiness for yours, never knowing that all you ever wanted was him.” I read it and cried, my tears of gratitude very real. Of course, I publicly begged everyone to respect our privacy. “This is a very sensitive issue for a man. Please, don’t try to find him or disturb his life.” Everyone thought I was a lovelorn fool. Some even tried to talk sense into me. “While being child-free is a valid choice, having your own child is a beautiful thing. Maybe your ex-husband really is doing what’s best for you.” On the day we were supposed to sign the papers, I hesitated again. “Maybe we should just try one more time. I really don’t want to do this.” Tyler’s patience was wearing thin. “What is your problem? Do you want the whole world to know I’m sterile so they can point and laugh at me?” he snapped. “I told you, I’m never getting married again! I won’t be a burden to anyone!” I knew he was getting antsy. His little intern was pushing to make things official, and he was terrified I’d find out the truth. He thought I couldn’t live without him. He had no idea I was just squeezing the last drops of value out of him. I took his hand, my eyes full of sorrow. “We were husband and wife. Before we say goodbye, let’s make one last beautiful memory together.” I’d seen influencers making “breakup countdown” videos. I always thought it was a sweet idea. Tyler had called it pathetic. But now, consumed by guilt, he couldn’t refuse. “Just… as a formal farewell,” I whispered, the very picture of a heartbroken woman. He looked at me, a flicker of something soft in his eyes, and finally nodded. 5 We drove to his hometown. Tyler had always been close to his grandparents. After his grandfather passed, his grandmother lived alone in the old house. She took my hand the moment we arrived. “When are you two going to give me a great-grandchild?” she asked, her eyes twinkling. “Don’t follow those modern trends. A child is a continuation of your life, a symbol of your love. It’s what makes a life complete.” I felt a pang of nostalgia for the woman I used to be, the woman who truly believed that love was enough. Now, I just couldn’t wait to see the look on their faces when the truth came out. Tyler watched me clean the entire house from top to bottom, a look of genuine appreciation on his face. “Phoebe, thank you.” “It’s nothing,” I said, resisting the urge to slap him. “I know how much your grandmother means to you. It’s just a shame I won’t be able to visit anymore. A divorced woman… life will be hard. But don’t worry, I’ll work hard. I won’t let anyone say your ex-wife is a failure.” “I’ll make sure everyone knows you were a man with the best taste in the world.” That did it. “Phoebe,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Besides our shared assets, I have about half a million saved from before we were married. It’s yours.” “I couldn’t possibly. You’ll be all alone; you’ll need it.” I pretended to refuse, but I knew he’d insist. He was a hypocrite who needed to buy a clear conscience. With his six-figure salary and rising career, half a million was a small price to pay for peace of mind. Sure enough, he pulled out his phone and initiated the wire transfer. Moments later, my phone pinged with the notification. What he didn’t know was that his new boss, a staunch traditionalist, had a strict policy against promoting divorced employees. Tears of “gratitude” streamed down my face as I leaned against his shoulder. “Let’s take a picture,” I sobbed. “It might be our last chance.” He smiled and agreed. I posted the screenshot of the bank transfer to my online diary. The praise came flooding in. 6 The divorce would have to wait a little longer. We still had a list of things we’d always promised to do together. We hiked a mountain to see the sunrise. We rowed a boat on a serene lake. He cooked me breakfast. We watched an old classic, Titanic, at a revival theater. The moments were genuinely beautiful, which made my online posts all the more poignant. My followers were heartbroken for us. “Why does fate have to be so cruel to such a perfect couple?” “Please don’t separate! Adopt a child! Your family can still be complete!” I could see it was getting to him. It’s hard to reject a beautiful, kind, successful woman who is willing to stand by you even after learning you’re infertile. He was wavering. But he had no way out. The intern wasn’t going to let him go that easily. That night, after he thought I was asleep, Tyler opened my purse. He saw the report.

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For ten years, my mission was Jerry Ewing, the city’s top business magnate. And for ten years, I failed. I once threw myself in front of a car to save him—costing me the hearing in my left ear. I thought that would finally complete my mission. That he’d marry me. Instead, his voice turned icy: “Marry into the Ewings? With a heart as toxic as yours, Julia? You tried to kill Lila. Get your head fixed first.” His sentence: “Letters of contrition. Ten thousand words a day. Write until you understand your depravity.” To complete the mission, I obeyed. He sent me to his private retreat for “treatment.” A year later, I returned broken. He greeted me coldly: “A year. Have you learned your lesson?” I nodded, hand resting on my slightly swollen belly as I knelt on the frozen ground. “Julia Vance knows her place now,” I whispered. “I will never presume to be worthy of the Ewings.” The moment I spoke, a cold voice echoed in my mind: [Host has abandoned the mission. Annihilation in eight days.] 1 After a year of being locked away in that remote retreat, he had finally decided to bring me home. “Hurry up. Don’t keep the master waiting.” The butler, Mr. Henderson, found me in a damp, dark room in the furthest corner of the facility, clad in rags. The air around me was thick with the stench of antiseptic and stale sweat. He waved a hand in front of his nose, his face twisting in disgust. “Really, Miss Vance. It’s only been a year. How could you let yourself fall into such a state?” he sneered. “You knew we were coming for you today. Or is this pathetic display meant to win the master’s pity?” I fought against a sharp, stabbing pain in my lower abdomen, struggling to my feet. I tugged at the tattered remnants of my dress, trying to cover my exposed skin. “You’re right, Mr. Henderson,” I mumbled, my head bowed. “I am a disgrace to the master.” I curled my swollen, frostbitten toes into my worn-out shoes and shuffled obediently behind him. The path was slick with snow and ice. The frozen ground tore open the half-healed sores on my feet, and I stumbled, a fresh wave of pain making me slow my pace. Mr. Henderson shot me a look of pure contempt. He grabbed my arm, his fingers digging in like claws. “Stop the act, or you can stay here and rot forever!” he hissed. “Don’t think I don’t know. The master provided you with a private therapist, gourmet meals, and luxury accommodations. This whole drama queen routine is because you heard you were coming home. It won’t work.” I bit my lip to stifle a cry and forced myself onward until I stood before Jerry Ewing. Through my one good eye, I took him in. He was exactly as I remembered: impossibly handsome, with an air of cold arrogance that kept the world at arm’s length. His gaze swept over my thin rags and bare feet standing in the snow, and his brow furrowed. He shot a questioning look at Mr. Henderson. The butler leaned in and whispered something in his ear. Jerry’s expression hardened into one of pure disgust. “So, she’s still the same manipulative creature,” he said, his voice dripping with scorn. “Does she really think this pathetic act will move me?” Everyone in the city knew the story: the heiress of the Vance family, obsessively in love with the great Jerry Ewing for a decade. I had spent a fortune, poured all my energy into becoming his wife. But they didn’t know the truth. It was all for the mission. And even with all my efforts, Jerry had never once acknowledged me as his fiancée. He was convinced I had used my family’s influence to pressure his parents, forcing him into an engagement he never wanted. I once believed my devotion could melt his frozen heart. But he never truly saw me. His eyes were always looking for someone else. I remember the tenderness in his gaze when he looked at Lila Gray. A warmth he had never, not once, shown me. I had been willing to die for him, yet his heart belonged completely to another woman. The irony was a bitter pill to swallow. After a year apart, there were a million things I wanted to say, but the words died in my throat. Jerry sighed, a sound of weary impatience. “Julia. Do you finally understand what you did wrong?” His voice was quiet, but each word was a shard of ice piercing my heart. The world started to spin, and my legs gave out from under me. For months, I had survived on scraps at the retreat. My body was a fragile wreck; I could barely stand for more than a few minutes. “Still with the theatrics?” He took an involuntary step toward me, his hand outstretched as if to help, but then he froze, a sneer twisting his lips. “You have a talent for drama. It’s a shame you’re not an actress. If it weren’t for Lila insisting I bring you back for our wedding, I wouldn’t even want to look at you.” A year ago. His beloved Lila had been in her perfume workshop when she’d accused me of knocking over a vial of volatile chemicals. She claimed the fumes had sent her to the ICU. Jerry’s face had been a storm cloud of fury. “Your heart is so toxic, Julia. How could you ever be fit to join my family? If you want to marry me, you’ll first do a stint at my private retreat in the countryside. They’ll help you reflect on what a monster you’ve become.” I was a Tasker. Ten years ago, a car accident had left me in a coma, a vegetable. A system chose me, transporting my consciousness into this world. My only way back to my real life, to my family, was to complete the mission: make Jerry Ewing agree to marry me. Now, after a year of torture, he was marrying his one true love. All my sacrifices, all my pain—it was all for nothing. In that moment, something inside me broke. Why should I keep fighting in this world that wasn’t mine? I looked up at the cold, untouchable man before me and let out a soft, defeated sigh. “Julia Vance knows her place now. I will never again presume to be worthy of the Ewing family.” [Host has voluntarily abandoned the mission. All traces of Host in both worlds will be annihilated in eight days.] Even though I’d expected this, a sharp pain lanced through my heart. I forced a brittle smile to my lips. “Congratulations, Mr. Ewing. To you and Miss Gray. May you have a long and happy life together.” He stiffened, clearly thrown by my words. The old me would have screamed, raged, and thrown the tantrum of a lifetime. But that girl was gone. Nothing mattered anymore. He stared at me, his eyes narrowed in disbelief. “Since you love to perform so much,” he said coldly, “I have another stage for you.” At his command, his men dragged me roughly to the private garden. They shoved me toward the grand fountain, ignoring my struggles as they doused me with freezing water. Someone grabbed my hair, forcing me to my knees on the icy marble. The laughter of the staff echoed around me. I felt the collar of my dress being pulled tighter, the sensation of choking, of drowning. My last defense shattered. A wild, broken laugh escaped my lips. I surged to my feet, wrenching myself from their grasp, and staggered into the center of the fountain. I tore off my sodden, clinging rags. I grabbed the decorative watercolors left by the edge and, in a frenzy, smeared the vibrant pigments all over my skin. Naked and painted, I stood in the heart of the fountain, meeting their shocked stares. You want to humiliate me? You want to see me shamed? Here I am. I looked directly at a stunned Jerry Ewing and screamed, “Are you satisfied now?” My defiance must have enraged him. His next order was to have me thrown into an abandoned factory on the outskirts of the city. He wanted to break me, to force me to beg for his forgiveness. But I didn’t care anymore. I only had eight days left. The air in the factory was thick with the smell of damp and decay. Moss crawled up the crumbling walls, and the scuttling of rats was the only sound. I thought it was a fitting place to end this meaningless life. I drifted into a hazy sleep. My mind took me back to that first day, before he sent me away. “Julia. Do you know what you did wrong?” Back then, I was still naive enough to think I held some small place in his heart. My jealousy had made me reckless. “What did I do wrong? You’re just biased! You always take her side!” I had screamed. I hadn’t touched that vial. Lila had set me up. He didn’t listen. He slapped me, hard, across the face. “You’re a spoiled brat,” he’d said, turning his back on me. “Perhaps some time at my retreat will teach you some humility.” He didn’t know. He didn’t know that what awaited me wasn’t therapy. It was a pack of wolves in human clothing. They descended on me… Three months later, Jerry appeared before me again. I refused to answer his questions. His face contorted with rage. “A few months in here and you’ve decided to play deaf and dumb? Still so stubborn?” He didn’t know that after he’d left the first time, the torment had begun. Day and night. My screams lasted all night. Eventually, they tired of the noise. They slapped me, over and over, calling me the filthiest woman on earth, until blood poured from my ear. I wanted to give up. But the thought of my family, waiting for me in my own world, was the only thing that kept me going. They locked me in an empty room. Then they stopped giving me food. They said if I was too weak, I wouldn’t have the energy to make such annoying sounds. But the torment… it never stopped. When I woke up again, I was in a familiar room. My family’s city home. A system prompt floated in my mind: Annihilation in six days. I had been unconscious for two. A figure moved toward me from across the room. A jolt of pure terror shot through me. I tried to scramble away, but a hand pressed me back down onto the bed. “Don’t be scared, Julia,” a sweet voice chirped. “It’s me, Lila.” She sat on the edge of my bed, her face a mask of innocent concern. In her hand, she held a small jar of medicated balm. “Don’t be afraid, silly,” she cooed, but her other hand shot out, her fingers closing around my wrist like a vise. I remembered the perfume workshop. How she’d deliberately knocked over the vial as I walked by, then collapsed, pretending to be poisoned, pointing her finger at me. I knew she hated me. She wanted Jerry for herself. Yet she always played the part of my dearest friend. Her pity was more poisonous than any chemical. Seeing my body tremble, a smirk played on her lips. “How will your wounds ever heal if you don’t let me put some ointment on them, Julia?” “Ah!” With the last of my strength, I shoved her away. “Agh!” To my shock, Lila flew backward, as if propelled by a great force. My push had been feeble; there was no way it could have sent her flying like that. The door burst open and Jerry rushed in, catching Lila just as she was about to fall. He looked at her with such tender concern, but when his eyes landed on me, they were filled with venom. “Julia! I thought a year of reflection might have changed you, but you’re still the same monster. Lila comes here out of the goodness of her heart to bring you medicine, and you attack her? I should have left you to rot in that place!” Lila melted into his arms, her voice a soft sob. “Jerry, don’t say that. Julia’s been through so much. She’s probably just not feeling well.” “She brought this on herself,” Jerry snarled. “Crawling around in the snow like a madwoman. Why couldn’t she just walk back on her own?” A bitter laugh escaped my lips. A fifty-kilometer mountain road, in my condition? “She had the best food, the best care at that retreat! Is she so spoiled she can’t handle a single word of criticism?” “If it weren’t for your soft heart, she wouldn’t even be here. Ungrateful bitch.” The best food? The best care? “The master is right,” Mr. Henderson chimed in from the doorway. “When we went to pick her up, she said she had gotten used to the retreat and looked down on the Ewing estate. If we hadn’t begged her, she wouldn’t have come back at all.” “I think you’re too soft on her, Master. Look at her now. Does she look the least bit remorseful?” I stared daggers at the butler. We had no history of animosity, yet he stood there, weaving a web of lies. Someone had clearly coached him. Jerry’s face flushed with anger. He yanked me from the bed. The half-healed wounds on my body tore open again, and a low groan of pain escaped my lips. He gripped my arm, forcing me to stand, the agony twisting my features. He ignored my pain, his grip tightening. “Lila came to help you, and this is how you treat her? Was life at the retreat so comfortable that you’ve forgotten your place?” “If Lila hadn’t pleaded for you, you wouldn’t have the right to even stand in my presence! You’re not weak, you’re just an actress. How long are you going to keep up this charade?” “Lila is nothing but kind to you, and you repay her with this? Do you even have a heart?” He shoved me back onto the bed and stormed out of the room, pulling Lila with him. As she left, Lila glanced back over her shoulder, a triumphant, mocking smile on her face. I knew what she was flaunting. The man I had chased for a decade was now hers, effortlessly. Fine. She could have him. My time in this world was almost over anyway. My father, hearing I was back, rushed to see me. Seeing the silver in his hair, I couldn’t stop the tears. He wasn’t my father from my world, but his love for me was real. I was his only child, and he had always cherished me. Now, look what I had become. He wrapped me in a tight embrace, but as his hands brushed against the raw scars on my back, he recoiled. His eyes filled with anguish as he gently traced a long, deep wound. “Julia… your injuries! What in God’s name happened to you?” Through my tears, I managed a bitter smile. “It’s nothing, Dad. I brought it on myself.” My father’s face contorted with rage. He smashed his water glass on the floor and immediately took me to the hospital. Jerry and Lila, hearing the news, followed us there. When the test results came back, the doctor looked at us, his expression a mixture of shock and confusion. His next words sent a shockwave through the room. “Julia… she’s pregnant.”

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