1 The air in the Mojave wasn’t just hot; it was a physical weight. The digital readout on the dash of our heavily modified Ford Bronco climbed past 150, then 155, finally settling at a shimmering, hellish 160 degrees. Out there, the landscape was a blast furnace, and I’d been in it for the better part of an hour, mapping a potential lithium deposit. Now, back in the truck, the world was starting to tilt. Black spots swam in my vision. Dehydration. The bad kind. My hands, clumsy and thick, fumbled with the clasp of my backpack. I’d prepared for this. I always did. My fingers closed around the familiar shape of my HydraCharge bottle, the one with the high-potency electrolyte mix. I brought it to my cracked lips, the metallic tang of dried blood already on my tongue. But the smell that hit my nostrils wasn’t the faint, sugary scent of the mix. It was acrid. Ammonia. Urine. My head snapped up. Across the seat, Leo Hayes, my wife’s childhood friend, was guzzling my actual HydraCharge, his Adam’s apple bobbing with each greedy swallow. A surge of pure rage cut through the dizziness. Before I could lunge, my wife, Anna, grabbed my sleeve. “Ethan, don’t,” she said, her voice tight. “I gave it to him. He was starting to fade. Just… drink that for now. It’ll get you by.” The black spots in my vision consolidated into a pulsing, dark mass. I held up the bottle of piss, my hand shaking. “I’m already fading,” I rasped, each word scraping my throat like sandpaper. “You want me to drink this? Are you trying to kill me?” Anna’s face hardened. “Don’t be so dramatic. Leo isn’t like you. He doesn’t spend every morning at the gym. He can’t handle this kind of heat. He needed it more.” She gestured dismissively at the bottle in my hand. “Besides, it’s sterile. It’s liquid. In an emergency, you do what you have to do.” It was like listening to a stranger. This was beyond reason. With the last ounce of clarity I had, I grabbed the satellite phone, my fingers barely cooperating. I mashed the preset button for base camp, sending our GPS coordinates with an emergency beacon. My voice was a shredded whisper. “Dehydration, critical. Survey on hold. Requesting immediate evac. And… report a robbery within the team. Call the authorities.” Anna ripped the phone from my grasp, her face a mask of fury. “What the hell is wrong with you?” She tried to dial out, to cancel the call, but the screen flashed a prompt: IRIS IDENTIFICATION REQUIRED. Her fingers were like claws, prying at my eyelid. “Ethan, stop this! It’s one bottle of water! You’re calling a rescue and crying ‘robbery’? If we lose the funding for this survey because of your tantrum, will you take responsibility?” I clamped my eyes shut, using what little strength I had left to grip her wrist. The world spun. A fire was raging in my gut, and every breath was like inhaling shards of glass. I licked the tiny bead of blood from my split lip, a pathetic attempt at moisture. It did nothing. Resisting her had drained my reserves. I didn’t know how much longer I could hold on. Leo let out a long, satisfied sigh, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Easy, Ethan,” he said, his voice slick with false concern. “Anna was just looking out for me. I mean, if I died out here, can you imagine the paperwork?” He then unscrewed the cap and poured a stream of the life-saving fluid over his face, neck, and hands, letting it drip onto the dusty floor mats. “This stuff really works. Good thing you brought some, man. I wouldn’t have thought of it.” My knuckles were white where I gripped the seat frame. I wanted to tear him apart. It was my specific prep. I’d argued we should bring a case of it, but Leo had sneered, calling it “bro science,” insisting plain water was fine. So, I was the only one who had it. And now, as I was dying for it, he was using it to wash his face. Anna turned to him, her voice instantly softening. She pressed her palm to his forehead, then his neck. “You don’t need to apologize to him, Leo. You were kind enough to leave him something. It’s his own fault for being too proud to drink it.” She snatched the bottle of urine from my slackening grip and threw it into my lap. “Who do you think you’re fooling, Ethan?” she spat. “I know all about your Special Forces training. You’re not this fragile. If you were truly dying of thirst, you’d drink anything. Leo’s not built like you. He needs extra care. Why do you always have to make everything about you?” Kind enough? Giving me his piss wasn’t kindness. It was humiliation. My throat was too swollen to form a reply. I reached into my pack again, my fingers searching for the small, foil packets of oral rehydration salts—my last-ditch medical backup. The moment I pulled one out, a sharp sting exploded across my cheek. Anna had slapped me, hard, and snatched the packet away. “You had this the whole time?” she shrieked. “And you didn’t offer it to Leo? You were just going to watch him suffer? God, you are a sick, selfish bastard!” I’m the sick one? Despair and a white-hot fury washed over me. When the temperature spiked, they had all refused to get out of the air-conditioned truck, afraid of the sun. It was me—just me—who went out into that 160-degree inferno, surveying the claim, collecting the data, taking the readings. It’s why I was the one who was dying. And this was my reward. My wife, stripping me of every single thing that could keep me alive. I lunged. Not at her, but at Leo. My fist connected with his jaw, a satisfying, solid crack. “You don’t get to use my things,” I roared, my voice tearing. “You’re off this team! You’re fired!” In the next instant, the passenger door behind me flew open. Anna, screaming, planted her foot in the middle of my back and shoved. I tumbled out of the truck and onto the scorching sand. “Playing the team leader now, are we, Ethan?” she yelled down at me. The other two team members in the back finally spoke up, their voices dripping with accusation. “Come on, Captain. We’re all colleagues here. No need to get violent.” “Yeah, you seem to have plenty of energy to throw a punch. Why are you trying to steal Leo’s water?” Steal? It was my water. But I couldn’t get the words out. The ground was a skillet, searing my skin through my clothes. My vision blurred. A trickle of blood oozed from the corner of my mouth. From behind Anna, Leo gave me a smug, triumphant smirk. “You know what? I should just give it all back to him,” he said loudly, playing the martyr. “I’m a member of a national survey team. It’s an honor to sacrifice for the mission.” Anna slammed the door, the sound cutting off the worst of the heat. “Don’t you dare say that. I won’t let anything happen to you.” And just like that, I was left outside, abandoned to the sun. I clawed at my throat, forcing out a few, blood-choked words. “He… a man who’d watch his teammate die… talking about sacrifice?” I coughed, a dry, racking sound. “What a joke.” The window slid down an inch. Anna glared out at me. “Don’t you dare talk about Leo like that! We grew up together. I know who he is!” Grew up together. That was her excuse for everything. It was the reason she’d bent the rules to get him, an unqualified liability, onto my team. I had believed her. I was a fool. Would a simple childhood friend inspire this kind of devotion? The kind that makes a wife watch her husband die? A low hum started in my ears. My consciousness was fraying at the edges. Survival instinct kicked in. I scrambled up, grabbing the edge of the open window to pull myself to my feet. With a vicious snarl, Anna hit the power-window button. It shot upwards, crushing my hand against the frame. A strangled cry of pain escaped my lips. Through the tinted glass, I could see the other team members watching my agony with detached amusement. “Look at him,” one of them said, his voice muffled. “He’s really committed to the act. The captain should’ve been an actor.” Anna pressed the button again, driving the glass deeper into my flesh. “You want to pretend you’re dehydrated?” she screamed through the window. “Then stay out there and feel what it’s really like! I refuse to believe a trained soldier is weaker than the rest of us.” I couldn’t even scream for help. With a final, desperate wrench, I tore my hand free, the risk of broken bones nothing compared to the agony of the crushing pressure. I collapsed, crawling pathetically into the narrow strip of shade cast by the massive truck. It offered no relief. My body was cooking from the inside out. The fear of death, real and absolute, enveloped me. From inside the truck, I could hear the faint murmur of conversation, then a burst of laughter. Just as my vision was fading to black, a heavy boot pressed down on my face, grinding it into the hot sand. I looked up into Leo’s smiling face. “You didn’t know, did you?” he whispered conspiratorially. “Anna’s wanted to divorce you for a while now.” A flicker of hatred ignited in my dying eyes. He grinned, enjoying my reaction. “But a divorce means splitting assets. That’s messy,” he continued. “A grieving widow, though… she gets everything. It’s much cleaner.” He unscrewed the cap of my HydraCharge and poured the remaining liquid onto the sand, just inches from my face. “So you see,” he said, his voice dropping to a venomous hiss, “I’d rather pour this out than give you a single drop.” My body screamed at me to lick the wet sand, but I couldn’t move. Leo laughed, a low, cruel sound. He knelt beside me. “Sun will be down soon,” he mused. “The temperature will drop. But that’s when the coyotes come out. The big ones.” He produced a folding utility knife, flicking it open. With a swift, deliberate motion, he dragged the blade across my forearm. “We’ll come back for your body in the morning.” Blood welled up, dark and thick. The pain, the betrayal, the sheer injustice of it all gave me one last, explosive burst of strength. I surged up, slamming my head into his chest and knocking him to the ground. The coppery taste of blood filled my mouth, offering a moment’s grotesque moisture. “Leo,” I choked out, my voice a demonic rasp. “This is murder.” The commotion brought everyone tumbling out of the truck. They dragged me off him. Leo, scrambling to his feet, pointed a trembling finger at the blood-stained knife on the ground. “He just attacked me! I was trying to give him some water, and he stabbed me! He said he was going to use the blood to attract predators so we’d all get eaten!” It was such a blatant, insane lie. I wanted to scream, to smash his lying mouth. Anna rushed to Leo’s side, then turned on me, kicking me hard in the ribs. “You animal, Ethan! Just because we wouldn’t let you pull rank and hoard supplies, you want us all dead?” She looked at Leo with teary-eyed admiration. “And to think, Leo was about to humble himself and give you some of his water. You don’t deserve it!” I forced the words from my ruined throat. “It was… never…” “The person who deserves to die in this desert is you!” Anna shrieked, her words a spear through my heart. One of the other team members spat in my direction. “I thought you were just jealous because Anna pays more attention to Leo,” he sneered. “I didn’t realize you were a psychopath who’d try to kill us all. What a goddamn mistake it was ever working with a monster like you.” These were men I had trusted, men I had trained. Now, they wouldn’t give me a shred of doubt. A broken, whimpering sound escaped my lips. I tried to lift my bleeding arm, to show them who was really wounded. They didn’t see it. Or maybe they chose not to. They were all clustered around Leo, comforting him. “Don’t worry, man, we’re here.” “As soon as we get back, we’re reporting him to the Director.” “Report him? Screw that, he belongs in prison!” Anna let out a cold, bitter laugh. “He’ll have to survive the night first.” My heart, which had been pounding with rage, grew quiet and still. The sun touched the horizon, painting the sky in shades of blood and fire. The desert air began to cool. But I was still bleeding. The scent was on the wind. The night hunters would come. There was no way I would live to see the morning. Leo’s eyes were full of malice. Anna’s were as cold and empty as a winter sky. “If you get on your knees and apologize to Leo right now,” she said, her voice flat, “and if you’re still alive in the morning… maybe we’ll consider taking you with us.” I looked at her, the woman I had built a life with, the woman I had faced down countless challenges alongside, and I saw a complete stranger. My consciousness was sinking into a deep, dark well. The pain was gone, replaced by a profound numbness. My soul felt like it was detaching, drifting away. The last thing I heard was Leo’s voice, thick with fake sympathy. “Ethan? Hey, man, are you okay?” Silence was my only answer. “He’s bled a lot,” he said to the others, a note of manufactured panic in his tone. “What if the smell really does bring something to our camp? I… I don’t want to see him die, even after what he did. I have an idea. Let’s dig a hole. We can bury him and the bloody sand. That should mask the scent.” The idea was met with unanimous agreement. I heard the scrape of shovels against sand and gravel. A shallow pit was dug beside me. Then, hands were on me, kicking and rolling my limp body into the hole. Sand filled my mouth and nose. I was suffocating. This wasn’t about masking a scent. This was about burying me alive. With a final, twitching effort, my fingers moved, catching on the cuff of his pants. Leo shrieked and jumped back as if he’d been electrocuted, stomping on my wrist with a sickening crunch. “He’s still trying to kill me!” he screamed. Anna began to shovel with frantic energy, dumping load after load of sand onto my body. “Leo was trying to help you, you ungrateful son of a bitch!” The sand piled on, heavy and suffocating. “I don’t know how I was ever so blind! I never saw the monster you really are! I’m divorcing you!” My breath grew shallow. My heartbeat slowed. I could still hear her, comforting Leo. “Don’t blame yourself for this, honey. We’re in a dangerous place. Accidents happen. It’s not your fault.” My last flicker of a will to live went out. I let the darkness take me. Just as they were burying me, a new sound cut through the desert air—a low, rhythmic whump-whump-whump that grew rapidly louder. A helicopter. Its downdraft hit them like a hurricane, blasting sand everywhere. They dropped their shovels, shielding their faces as they scrambled back toward the Bronco. Strong hands pulled me from the shallow grave. The crushing weight vanished. Air, sweet and precious, flooded my lungs. Voices echoed around me. The rescue team. The Director must have dispatched them the moment my beacon went off. The team’s medic, a woman with sharp, focused eyes, knelt beside me, her movements efficient and sure. She assessed my condition, then barked out orders. “Airway is obstructed with sand and dirt! Needs immediate clearing!” “He’s in severe dehydration. Get a line in him, Lactated Ringer’s, now!” Anna stumbled towards them, squinting against the rotor wash. “What are you doing? Are you people even professionals? He’s not dehydrated, he’s faking it!” The medic didn’t even waste a look on her. She simply handed Anna a satellite phone. “Your questions are for Director Evans. My job is to save this man’s life, not explain it to you.” They cleared the sand from my nose and throat and fitted an oxygen mask over my face. A cool rush spread up my arm as the IV fluids began to work their magic. Through the static, I heard the voice of the Director of the Department of Natural Resources, cold as steel. “Anna. As of this moment, every member of your survey team, with the exception of Ethan Cole, is terminated and under official investigation. You will all be held financially liable for the losses incurred by this failed expedition.”

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My son had a febrile seizure from a high fever. I rushed home to find the apartment at 115°F. The nanny, claiming to be cold-sensitive, had refused to use the AC. My son was rushed to the ICU. I slapped her, paid her severance, and fired her. That night, my husband Michael came home accusing me: “Lara! Was it worth giving Nina a chill by running the AC? She’s now hospitalized because of you!” I shoved the video of our son’s resuscitation in his face. “It might not kill me, but it could’ve killed our son! If a grown woman can’t handle 38 minutes of AC, why is she a nanny?!” Michael softened instantly. “Okay, you’re right. My fault.” Everything seemed normal until our son’s fever spiked again. Michael pretended to take us to the hospital but flew us via private helicopter and dumped us in the Arctic. With his arm around Nina, he laughed down at me: “Cold air helps fever, right? Play doctor today! Enjoy the climate!” Calmly, I texted the only number that mattered: 【Come take out the trash.】 1 The message had barely been sent when one of Michael’s goons let out a triumphant shout. “Boss, she did it again! Just like you said, she’s texting her brother. Good thing we brought the signal jammer!” Michael glanced at my screen and sneered. “Lara, when are you going to grow out of this pathetic habit of running to your big brother every time there’s a problem? It’s disgusting, you know that?” He mocked the words on my screen. “‘Come take out the trash!’ Ooh, so tough. I’m so scared.” His cronies pointed at me, howling with laughter. “You’re gonna listen to the boss today! With this jammer on, you can’t even send a period!” Michael looked pleased. He draped a lavish fur coat over Nina’s shoulders and glared down at me, huddled with our son. “Lara, have you learned your lesson yet?” I was only in a thin silk nightgown. The -50 degree air was already making my body convulse with shivers. My son’s lips were turning a frightening shade of blue, his tiny body trembling violently in my arms. I clutched him tighter. “Michael, what lesson is there to learn?!” I shrieked, my voice raw against the wind. “It’s my house! My AC! Our son was having a seizure! He could have died! I showed you the ICU video, are you blind?!” A gust of wind tore across the ice, feeling like a thousand tiny knives on my exposed skin. My son let out a piercing, agonized wail. I stumbled toward the helicopter, waving my arms frantically. “Michael, you know his condition! If he keeps crying like this, you know what will happen!” His expression flickered. His reckless lifestyle before we had a child had resulted in our son being born with a congenital lung defect. The doctors had warned us repeatedly to keep him from crying excessively, as it posed a risk of suffocation. Michael had even quit drinking and smoking for him. He’d once beaten a previous nanny and put her in the hospital just for letting our son cry for two minutes during a diaper change. And now? For Nina, he was willing to risk our son’s life. Seeing his hesitation, I pressed on. “Michael, please…” “Michael, honey, let’s just bring her up,” Nina interrupted, her voice a delicate murmur. She snuggled deeper into his arms, her eyes glistening with fake tears. “I’m fine. So what if I almost collapsed from a chill? It’s not important. We shouldn’t let Lara and the baby suffer because of me…” She paused, then added slyly, “Besides, you shouldn’t worry too much, Michael. I saw the nanny cam footage from that day. The baby was in that air-conditioned room for hours, and even though he was crying later, probably because he got cold, nothing bad happened…” Almost collapsed? Crying for hours? She had practically sprinted out of my apartment that day. And I had rushed my son to the hospital the second she was gone. “She’s lying, Michael! The security app is on your phone! You can check the footage right now!” But before I could finish, his face hardened. He lowered the rope ladder, his voice a low growl. “Go! Strip them both! This woman can’t speak a single word of truth. Today, I’m going to teach her a real lesson!” The helicopter descended slightly, and Michael immediately pulled Nina into a protective embrace, fussing over her coat. “You lied about our son’s condition too, didn’t you?” he spat at me. “You’d even use your own child just to get attention! You make me sick, Lara. You keep making things worse for yourself. If you don’t start begging for forgiveness, you can stay down there and rot!” He then turned to Nina, cupping her face with a look of profound tenderness. “Nina, as long as I’m here, I will never let anyone hurt you. Don’t be afraid.” 2 The moment Michael had Nina settled, his goons swarmed me. They leered, their eyes raking over my body before one of them ripped away my thin robe. I scrambled backward, clutching my son, but I was no match for them. They shoved me to the ground, tore my son from my arms, and ripped off his last layer of clothing, tossing his naked body onto the ice. A heart-wrenching scream tore through the air, but it was already weaker, thinner than before. Panic seized me. I started crawling toward him, ignoring the searing pain as my bare skin froze to the ice, tearing away with every movement. A long, crimson trail marked my path. My son was also frozen to the surface, and every attempt to lift him only made him cry harder. I huddled over him, trying to use my own body heat to melt the ice beneath him, whispering soothing words as my own blood pooled around us. Minutes later, Michael must have noticed the growing sea of red. He pushed Nina aside and leaned down for a better look. Before he could speak, Nina slid down the ladder. “Lara, just apologize! A man has his pride. All his friends are here today. If you don’t apologize, how can he face them?” I lunged, grabbing the collar of her coat. “Why should I apologize?! My son was in the ICU because of you! Do you dare let Michael check the security footage right now?! Only an idiot like him would fall for your pathetic lies!” I screamed. “You said you collapsed? Show me your hospital report!” Michael had followed her down. My words made him look at Nina with a flicker of doubt. But in that instant, Nina tore off her own fur coat and dropped to her knees beside me with a thud. She started slapping her own face, hard. “Michael, it’s all my fault! Please, just take Lara and go home! Don’t fight with her because of me…” she sobbed. “But… Michael, I swear I wasn’t lying. I’ll just kneel here. In a few hours, when I collapse from the cold, then you’ll believe me…” The doubt in Michael’s eyes melted into pure adoration. He rushed to her side, helping her up with a look of utter devotion. Then he turned to me, his eyes like ice. “Lara! You have a real talent for twisting the truth. If I wasn’t here to protect her, you’d eat a sweet girl like Nina alive! Since you insist on this attitude, don’t blame me for what happens next!” He turned and barked an order. “Go! Open the cage and let the polar bear out! Let him have some fun!” A chorus of whoops and cheers erupted from the helicopter. “Whoa, never seen a polar bear play with a human before! Thanks for the show, Mrs. Cole!” They scrambled toward a large iron cage. Just as they were about to open it, a young woman’s timid voice piped up from behind. “Boss… my dad saw a polar bear on an expedition once. He said they’re incredibly aggressive. If they smell blood, they’ll… they’ll actually eat people. Look, Mrs. Cole and the baby are covered in it. If you let it out, someone might actually die…” Michael motioned for the man at the cage to pause. He was about to speak when Nina let out a faint, pained whimper. “Michael, never mind. I’m not afraid of collapsing. I’m just… I’m worried about the baby in my belly…” she whispered. “And that day… I had just found out I was pregnant when Lara threw me out. Maybe… maybe that’s why she’s so angry…” I didn’t even know the bitch was pregnant! But I had no chance to defend myself. Michael’s face became a mask of cold fury. “Open the cage!” he roared. The next second, the seven-foot-tall beast was charging directly at us. Michael hauled Nina onto the helicopter and watched me scramble away with my son, roaring with laughter. “Lara! Let’s see how tough you are now! You tried to harm Nina, and you tried to harm her unborn child! You deserve everything that’s coming to you!” 3 I ran, my lungs burning, my feet slipping on the ice. The young woman who had spoken up before tried to intervene again, but Michael cut her off. “Not another word. I have a medevac on standby. Nothing fatal will happen. But if you say one more thing, you can go down there and join her!” The girl shrank back, terrified into silence. The bear, true to her warning, was driven into a frenzy by the scent of blood. I desperately scooped up snow and rubbed it on our bodies, trying to mask the smell, but every step I took left a fresh, bloody footprint. The massive animal followed my trail, its roars echoing across the frozen wasteland. The extreme cold and blood loss made the world swim. Finally, my legs gave out. As I collapsed, I saw the bear lunging. In a last, desperate act, I rolled over, shielding my son with my own body. The bear’s paw, bigger than my head, slammed into my back. A sickening tearing sound filled my ears. I felt its claws scrape against my spine, and a river of hot blood streamed down my back. I arched my body, trying to let the warmth of my blood cover my son, hoping for some small sign of life, a whimper, a stir. Nothing. I reached up a trembling hand and placed it under his nose. There was no breath. Scrambling forward on my hands and knees, I screamed at the helicopter, a raw, animalistic sound of pure agony. “Michael! He’s not breathing! Even a monster doesn’t eat its own young! You’re a beast! We’ll haunt you from our graves!” My scream seemed to stun him. He ordered the pilot to descend. When he saw the vast, bloody slush on the ice below, the color drained from his face. Before he could speak, one of his men rushed forward. “Boss, we got a reply to that text she sent! It says… it says in one hour, we’ll all be meeting our maker…” That message sent Michael into a full-blown panic. He pointed a shaking finger at me. “Lara! What did you do?! The jammer was on! How could you get a reply?!” I stared back, my eyes burning with hatred. “What’s the matter, you coward? Scared now?! It doesn’t matter how I did it. The message is right! In less than an hour, you’re all going to hell! Every last one of you monsters!” Fear warred with fury in Michael’s eyes. He fell silent, but Nina stepped forward, pointing at me with a trembling finger. “Lara, what are you doing? I brought that equipment myself! It’s impossible to get a signal through it! You and Michael are family! Why would you try to scare him like this?!” She turned and clutched Michael’s arm. “Michael, let’s just bring her up. I’ll forget you ever promised to protect me. My feelings don’t matter. As long as you’re okay…” Her words reignited his rage. He turned to his men, his voice dripping with venom. “You guys like to play with knives, right? Use her as a target. Anyone who hits her gets ten million dollars, on the spot!” “Bring the chopper in closer! Let’s make this interesting!” A deafening cheer went up. The next second, a hail of blades rained down from the sky. My back was mangled; I couldn’t get to my feet. I could only roll on the ice, trying to shield my son’s body. But my movements were clumsy, and within seconds, five knives had embedded themselves in my legs and ribs. A blackish tint immediately spread from the wounds. The knives were poisoned. As I rolled, one of the knives in my ribs was driven deeper, tearing through my stomach and into my son’s back. A sharp, piercing cry erupted from the bundle in my arms. Seeing my son’s body, now covered in his own blood, I finally broke. “Michael! Pull me up! Get us to a hospital! The knives are poisoned! My son… he’s really not going to make it!” The raw terror in my voice seemed to cut through his rage. He grabbed a pair of binoculars and looked down. The sight of the black blood spreading across the ice made him lose his composure completely. He grabbed one of his men, shaking him violently. “You said it would just be a few scratches! What the hell is this?! Call the medevac! Call them now!” 4 The man looked at him helplessly. “Boss, Nina was in charge of the medevac. Only she has the contact number…” Michael grabbed Nina’s wrist, his voice trembling. “Nina, now! Call the rescue team! Save Lara! Save our son!” Nina, startled by his intensity, fumbled for her phone. But just as she raised it, she paused. “Michael, I can’t make the call. The signal jammer is still on. If we turn it off, her brother will get the message for sure…” Michael hesitated for a split second, then grabbed a walkie-talkie. “Fly to the nearest hospital! Now!” Before he could finish, Nina snatched the device from his hand. “Michael, she hasn’t even apologized yet. That’s the whole reason we came out here. If we just go back now, how will you look your friends in the eye…?” she cooed. “I’m just thinking of you, Michael. I don’t have any selfish motives…” He immediately switched off the radio. He looked down at me, curled in a pool of my own blood, and screamed, “Lara! Just apologize! Say you’re sorry and I’ll take you to the hospital!” His voice cracked. “I’m worried about him too! For our son’s sake, just give in! Please! I’m begging you!” The poison was making my vision blur. I pointed a bloody finger at him and used my last ounce of strength to scream, “You are a monster, Michael! Take us to a hospital now! Or when my brother gets here, I swear to God I will have him kill you!” Nina feigned a look of panicked concern. “Lara, stop being so stubborn! Your brother is not going to get that message! Just pretend to apologize and we can all go to the hospital, okay?” Michael was pacing frantically. He grabbed a megaphone and pleaded into it. “Lara, please! I’m on my knees here! Just say you’re sorry! It’s the only way to save our son! No one else can help you! Your brother is not coming!” The last word had barely left his lips when a single gunshot blew the megaphone out of his hand. Suddenly, the sky was filled with the thrum of rotor blades. Dozens of helicopters swarmed above us. “Her brother is here!”

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My dad always liked my sister better. I was the one who didn’t belong. So I married a man who lived a thousand miles away, and I never looked back. Yesterday, I got the call. He was dead. While cleaning out his belongings, I found his old phone. It only had one app on it: Maps. Not even a single social media icon. My sister walked in, snatched the phone from my hand, her eyes red-rimmed. “Candice, don’t. Just don’t look.” 1. At the funeral, I didn’t shed a single tear. My relatives stood around me, their shoulders shaking with suppressed sobs. I just stood there, a complete outsider. My sister, Luna, came over, her eyes swollen and puffy from crying. She reached for my hand, but I pulled away. “Candice, please don’t be like this.” I stared at the black-and-white photo in the center of the hall. The man in the picture was smiling, but I could barely remember his face. “Be like what?” My voice wasn’t loud, but it cut through the quiet weeping, silencing the room. A few of my aunts exchanged glances, making tutting sounds. “Some people are just ungrateful.” “Her own father dies and she doesn’t even cry. Her heart must be made of stone.” “I know, right? She was always stubborn, not half as sweet as Luna.” I’d been hearing variations of those lines for over twenty years. I was used to it. My dad’s preference for Luna wasn’t a secret. It was a blatant, unapologetic favoritism. For my tenth birthday, I had my heart set on the most popular doll of the year. Instead, my dad came home with a giant Transformer. It was what Luna had been begging for. He pushed the giant toy into Luna’s arms, ruffling her hair. “Our little Luna is the best girl.” Then, he pulled a crumpled notebook from his pocket and tossed it to me. “You’re a girl. Stop thinking about useless toys and focus on your studies.” The cover of the notebook had a cheesy slogan printed on it: Study Hard and Get Ahead. That night, I tore the notebook to shreds and flushed the pieces down the toilet, one by one. I didn’t cry. I just knew, in that moment, that there was no room for me in this house. 2. After the funeral, it was time to sort through his things. My dad didn’t own much. His room contained a single, beat-up wardrobe. I folded his clothes, one by one, and packed them into cardboard boxes. Luna knelt beside me, silently polishing a picture frame. It was a photo of her and our dad at an amusement park. She was perched on his shoulders, smiling like a sunflower. I searched the entire house. There wasn’t a single photo of just him and me. In the one family portrait we owned, I was standing in the far corner, my expression stiff, looking like I’d been awkwardly photoshopped in. Luna looked up, her voice hoarse. “Candice… Dad left something for you. It’s in his desk.” I pulled open the bottom drawer. Inside was a small metal box, covered in a thin layer of dust. I opened it. It wasn’t filled with anything valuable. It was a stack of certificates. “Student of the Year, Luna.” “First Place, Art Competition, Luna.” “Star Dancer, Luna.” The box was overflowing with proof of my sister’s achievements. At the very bottom, my fingers brushed against a few loose papers. They were mine. My university acceptance letter and a couple of certificates for academic excellence. They were just shoved at the bottom, not even in a plastic sleeve. The corners were frayed. A bitter smile touched my lips. My heart felt like a block of ice. See? Even in his memories, Luna’s accomplishments were more important than mine. Seeing my expression, Luna quickly tried to explain. “No, Candice, that’s not it! Dad… he showed your acceptance letter to all our relatives. He was so, so proud.” “Was he?” I held the letter up to the light. “So proud that he buried it at the bottom of a box, without even bothering to frame it?” 3. Most of the relatives were still lingering. My aunt took Luna’s hand, sighing dramatically. “Oh, Luna, this family will depend on you now. You can’t count on your sister for anything.” “Your father was sick for years, and you were the one here, taking care of him. He didn’t waste his love on you.” My uncle chimed in. “Exactly. Her sister moves across the country, doesn’t visit for years at a time. So cold-hearted.” “The house, the savings… it should all go to you, by right.” They said all of this openly, right in front of me as I stood in the doorway. My father… was sick? I didn’t know. No one had told me. After I moved away, he never once called me. Whenever I called home, my mom would answer, rush through a few pleasantries, and then hang up, saying Dad was busy or had stepped out. So he was sick. They’d hidden it so well. Were they trying to protect me from worrying, or did they just decide the daughter who didn’t matter didn’t need to know? I guessed it was the latter. I let out a cold laugh and walked into the living room. “Are you all done?” The room fell silent. All eyes were on me. I looked at my uncle. “You don’t need to worry about my father’s affairs. And what he did or didn’t leave for me is none of your business.” My uncle’s face turned beet red. “What kind of attitude is that? We’re your elders!” “And being an elder gives you the right to gossip about other people’s private lives?” I stood my ground. “You… you ungrateful child! Your father’s body is barely cold, and you’re already trying to tear this family apart!” Luna rushed over and stood between me and our relatives. “Uncle, Auntie, please stop. My sister… she’s hurting, too.” Her defense felt more like a performance. A way of showing everyone that she was the true master of this house. I pushed her aside. “Whether I’m hurting or not is my business,” I said, my voice sharp and clear. “But you were right about one thing. He loved Luna the most. You certainly can’t count on me.” With that, I turned, walked back to my room, and locked the door. Outside, the relatives’ whispers grew louder, more brazen. I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling. That man spent his entire life showing me I wasn’t as good as Luna. And even in death, he was still using others to remind me of it. 4. I stayed in the old house to handle the arrangements. Luna tiptoed around me every day, wanting to talk but too afraid to start. She’d bring me food, and I’d eat it in silence. She’d pour me hot water, and I’d take it without a word. We were like two strangers living under the same roof, connected only by the man who was gone. One night, I couldn’t sleep. I walked out of my room and saw Luna sitting on the sofa in the dark living room. The only light was the glow from her phone, illuminating half of her face. She was crying. Silently. I stood there for a moment, about to retreat, when she saw me. “Candice.” She hastily wiped her tears and stood up. “Can’t sleep?” I asked, my tone flat. “No.” She looked down. “Candice, Dad… he really missed you.” That again. I was so tired of hearing it. “Did he? I never got that impression,” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. Luna flinched. She walked over slowly and held out her phone. “Look at this.” It was a video. The background was familiar—the riverfront park in the city where I lived. The camera was shaky, focused on the back of a young woman flying a kite. Her laughter, bright and clear, carried on the breeze. “What is this?” I asked, confused. “It’s a video one of your old college friends posted. She said she ran into you,” Luna said softly. “I forwarded it to Dad.” Then I heard his voice from the phone’s speaker, heavy with wheezing and a cough he couldn’t suppress. “Cough, cough… My girl… my Candice… she has such a beautiful laugh…” “Just like her mother…” My heart seized in my chest. The video was only fifteen seconds long. But he spoke as if he’d been watching it for a lifetime. “Dad’s phone had almost no memory,” Luna said. “He couldn’t save much, but he saved this one video. He watched it several times a day.” “He said that hearing your laugh made the pain in his body a little easier to bear.” 5. I snatched the phone from her, playing the video over and over. The man’s voice in the video was weak, frail. It was a world away from the booming, powerful voice I remembered—the voice of a man who could yell at me for half an hour without taking a breath. My hands started to shake. “When did he get sick?” “Three years ago. A heart condition. The doctor said it was an old problem, from overworking himself when he was young.” Three years ago. The year I got married. He didn’t come to my wedding. He just had someone deliver a card with a hundred-dollar bill inside. At the time, my husband’s family had mocked me, whispering about how my own father wouldn’t even show up for his daughter’s wedding. I was so angry I threw the money away and swore I would never have anything to do with him again. “Why didn’t you tell me?” My voice was trembling. “Dad wouldn’t let me.” Luna’s tears started falling again. “He said you lived so far away, you had your own life, and he didn’t want to be a burden.” “He said… he said the person he failed most in his life was you. He was too ashamed to face you, let alone ask you to come back and take care of him.” A burden? Ashamed? The words were so absurd I wanted to laugh. When had he ever felt sorry for me? Was it when he turned my bedroom into Luna’s piano room? Or was it when he gave the only spot at the good high school to Luna and told me I should go to a trade school instead? I stared at her, my eyes burning. “Do you really think saying all this now will make me forgive him? Don’t be so naive, Luna.” “You enjoyed his favoritism for twenty years. Now that he’s dead, you want me to remember his ‘good side’ so you can inherit everything with a clear conscience?” “No! That’s not it, Candice! I didn’t!” Luna was stung by my words, grabbing my arm frantically. “Then tell me why!” I shook her hand off. “Why did he do all of it?” Luna’s lips trembled, but no words came out. She just shook her head, tears streaming down her face. Seeing her like that only made me angrier. It was always like this. Whenever we argued, she used her tears as a weapon, making it seem like she was the one who was deeply wronged. 6. The next day, the lawyer arrived. He was an old friend of my dad’s, a man named Mr. Harris. He saw me and sighed. “Candice. You’re finally back.” I said nothing. My aunt and uncle, having heard the news, had also shown up. They sat on the sofa, looking smug and expectant. Mr. Harris pulled a document from his briefcase. “This is your father’s last will and testament.” Everyone in the room held their breath. My uncle cleared his throat, putting on a show of magnanimity. “My brother had a hard life. Whatever he decided, we’ll respect it. But Luna was always the most devoted daughter. It’s only right that he left a little more for her.” My aunt nodded eagerly. “Exactly. Candice was never around. She didn’t contribute anything.” I watched their performance with cold eyes. Luna sat next to me, wringing her hands, her palms sweating with nerves. Mr. Harris adjusted his glasses and began to read. “The contents of the will are quite straightforward.” “The house under Mr. Davis’s name, as well as all savings in his accounts, are to be left to…”

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“I want a divorce! My husband doesn’t love me anymore!” The moment I stepped into City Hall, clutching my water-damaged marriage certificate, I heard a young woman’s cry from the next counter over. She was a mess, tears carving streaks through her makeup as she wailed about her broken marriage. The crazy thing was, her husband had the same name as mine: Damian Holt. Except her Damian Holt was the richest man in Northwood City. Mine was just an ordinary guy. I smiled at the strange coincidence and handed my certificate to the clerk. “I need a replacement, please.” But a second later, the clerk gave me a confused look. “Ma’am, our records show your status as ‘unmarried.’ And this gentleman… he’s already married.” She tapped her screen, then pointed at my document. “This certificate is a fake.” I froze, a glacial chill creeping over me, stealing the air from my lungs. My head turned on its own, my eyes drawn to the woman at the next counter. Her phone screen lit up, the wallpaper a wedding photo. The man in the tuxedo was the same man I’d been married to for three years. 1 As I stood there, stunned into silence, the woman made a call. “Damian Holt, I want a divorce. Get down here and sign the papers now!” She had it on speaker. I heard a familiar voice on the other end, laced with a weary sort of affection. “What’s this about a divorce again? Honey, I’m sorry. Whatever I did, I’m sorry, okay?” The woman wiped at her tears. “Don’t call me that. I won’t be your ‘honey’ for much longer. This isn’t a discussion; it’s a notification. Get down here and sign.” “If you don’t,” she threatened, “I’ll fly abroad where you’ll never find me. Two years of separation is an automatic divorce anyway.” A new edge of panic entered the man’s voice. I even heard the clatter of a chair being knocked over. “Don’t go anywhere! I’m on my way!” The call ended. The woman sniffled, turning back to the clerk. “My husband’s coming. Once we file, it’s a 30-day waiting period before it’s final, right?” “That’s correct. You can pick up the final decree in thirty days.” She nodded and moved to a nearby waiting chair, her eyes red and puffy, the picture of heartbroken vulnerability. I wanted to run, but it felt like every ounce of strength had been siphoned out of me, leaving me rooted to the spot. My mind was a blizzard of white noise. This had to be a dream. It was the only explanation. How could the marriage certificate we got two years ago be a fake? Snapping back to reality, I pleaded with the clerk, “Could you please check again? We got married right here, two years ago. How can it be fake?” The clerk held up the soggy, ruined document and pointed to the seal. “Ma’am, look here. The official seal is crooked. It’s definitely a forgery.” Her voice softened. “As for why… you’ll probably have to find that out for yourself.” Her eyes were full of pity, a look I couldn’t bear. I forced myself to stand and shuffled away. That’s when the young woman looked up and saw me. Her eyes widened slightly. “Hey, we look kind of alike, don’t we?” My heart skipped a beat. Looking at her, at the familiar shape of her eyes and curve of her brows, my face hardened into a mask. I opened my mouth to say something, but the main door swung open. A man burst in, looking like he’d rushed all the way here. “Honey!” At the sound of his voice, both of us turned. And I saw his face. A face I knew intimately. Just last night, he had held me, whispering promises against my skin. But now, his eyes saw only one woman, and it wasn’t me. 2 Seeing Damian, the woman—Mila—crossed her arms, her expression instantly turning frosty. “Good, you’re here. Let’s get this over with.” Damian looked frantic, so focused on her he didn’t even notice me standing just a few feet away. “Even a criminal gets to know the charges against them, right? Honey, just tell me what I did wrong. I’ll change, I promise.” His voice was a desperate plea. “I spent eight years chasing you before you finally married me. We’ve only been married a year. You can’t just divorce me. You might as well just kill me.” Mila sniffed, her eyes welling up again. “When you married me, you promised you’d treat me like a queen for the rest of my life. A year in, and you already take me for granted.” “You’re always busy with work,” she accused, her voice cracking. “You’re away for half the month.” As she spoke, my own face grew paler with every word. Damian was always busy. Always traveling for business or pulling all-nighters at the office. I worried he was working himself to death, so I’d wake up at five in the morning to cook him breakfast, always trying new recipes to nourish him. But it was all a lie… Mila began to list his crimes. “Three years ago, when I went abroad, you promised you’d wait for me. Six months in, you missed sending me a ‘goodnight’ text once.” Three years ago. That was when I met Damian. He told me it was love at first sight. Countless times, in our most intimate moments, he would kiss my eyes, his gaze filled with a love so deep I thought I could drown in it. “Last Valentine’s Day,” she continued, “I said I was craving those famous crab cakes from the Harbor District. You sent your assistant to get them. You didn’t even go and wait in line yourself.” That day, Damian had told me he was stuck at the office with a deadline. He didn’t come home all night. When he finally showed up, he was carrying a box of cold crab cakes. I knew the line for that place was hours long, and my heart swelled with a mix of sympathy and love as I threw myself into his arms. “And last week! I told you my stomach hurt, and you didn’t come home immediately to make me some soup! It took you two whole hours to get here!” That day, I had a raging fever. I called Damian, begging him to take me to the hospital. He’d barely been home for a few minutes when he glanced at his phone, claimed an urgent work emergency had come up, and left me with a box of fever reducers. I was drenched in a cold sweat, too weak to get water. I dry-swallowed the pills and curled into a ball, shivering through the night alone. My vision blurred. Every word out of Mila’s mouth was another needle piercing my heart. My nails dug into my palms, but I was too numb to feel the pain. “I never had to peel my own shrimp when we were dating,” she sobbed. “This morning, you forgot to peel my shrimp for me.” “You’ve changed,” she concluded, her voice trembling. “Your heart has changed. I don’t want to be with you anymore. We’re getting a divorce!” She spoke like a wounded princess, every complaint a testament to a world of pampering I had never known. Damian’s face was etched with pain as he gently wiped her tears away. “I just walked away from a multi-billion dollar deal for you, and you say I don’t love you? I’ll cut back on work. I’ll spend more time with you, okay?” He cradled her face in his hands. “Please don’t cry. It kills me to see you cry. I’m sorry. I’ll fix it. I’ll fix everything.” After a long session of his gentle coaxing, Mila’s tone finally softened. “Fine. This is your last chance. If you make me angry again, I’m never forgiving you.” They clung to each other, ready to leave as one. Just then, Mila seemed to remember something and turned, her gaze landing on me. “Honey, look. Doesn’t she look a lot like me?” Damian looked up. His eyes met mine, and for a split second, his pupils contracted in shock. Then, just as quickly, he looked away, his expression smoothing over into indifference. “I don’t see it. My wife is much prettier.” Mila gave him a playful, scolding glance. I just stood there. My heart felt like it had been plunged into ice water, the cold so sharp it was a physical pain. 3 I dragged my numb body home. When I opened the door, I found an unexpected person inside. Damian Holt. He was sitting on the sofa, legs crossed, still in the tailored suit that looked so out of place in my cramped little apartment. It was laughable. How had I never noticed? How did I ever believe he was just a regular office worker? When he saw me, the warmth I was used to was gone, replaced by an icy calm. “So, you know.” It wasn’t a question. My hands clenched into fists. I couldn’t understand how he could be so composed after his entire world of lies had been exposed. No shame, no guilt, no apology. He acted as if this was a minor inconvenience. But this was my three years. The marriage certificate was a lie. The love I believed in was a lie. His very identity was a lie. Every memory we had made, every shared moment, was a fraud. I bit down on my tongue, the sharp tang of blood holding back a fresh wave of tears. My voice came out raspy. “What are you doing here?” Damian looked at me like I was a stranger, like we were two parties negotiating a business deal. “Mila saw you today. I can’t have you appearing in front of her again.” He stated it so matter-of-factly. “I’ll arrange for you to move abroad. I’ll also give you a sum of money that will set you up for life.” His words fell like shards of ice, and the blood in my veins turned to slush. “What… what are you saying?” He met my gaze without flinching, his eyes empty of any emotion. “I’m saying I won’t let anyone destroy my marriage.” A bitter, broken laugh escaped my lips, and tears finally streamed down my face. “Your marriage? If what you have with her is a marriage, then what was this with me?” “You already know, don’t you? The certificate was a fake.” He paused, then delivered the final blow. “Three years ago, Mila was going abroad for her studies. You looked a bit like her, so I pursued you. But now that she’s back, you no longer have any value.” Value. Even though I had suspected it, hearing the truth from his own mouth was like a physical blow, stealing the breath from my lungs. I was just a substitute. A placeholder he used to ease his longing for another woman. The taste of blood filled my mouth. I clenched my jaw, my voice defiant. “And what if I say no?” Damian rose from the sofa and closed the distance between us, looming over me. “If you want your mother to rest in peace in her grave,” he said, his voice dangerously low, “you’ll do as I say.” My eyes flew wide with disbelief. “You’re threatening me with my mother? Damian, are you even human? You lied to me for three years, and now you’re using my mother’s ashes to force me out?” His tone was flat, devoid of emotion. “If you accept my offer, it’s not a threat.” Tears streamed down my face. I raised my hand to slap him, but he caught my wrist in a grip of steel. With a cold shove, he sent me stumbling backward. I lost my balance and fell, my forehead cracking against the corner of the coffee table. A warm liquid immediately trickled down my skin, painting my vision red. Damian’s brow furrowed, and he took an instinctive step toward me. But then, his phone rang. I watched as his expression instantly softened, his voice turning gentle. “I’m on my way. I’ll make it for you and bring it right over.” He turned to leave, then stopped. He strode back, grabbed my arm, and hauled me to my feet. “Mila’s craving seafood chowder,” he said, his grip bruising. “You make the best. Go cook it for her.” My eyes, bloodshot and filled with tears, stared into his. I struggled against his hold. “Damian, what do you take me for?!” His eyes narrowed. His voice was quiet, but it carried a chilling finality. “Don’t forget your mother’s ashes.” All the fight drained out of me. I closed my eyes, and I surrendered. 4 I was taken to a lavish villa. After I finished making the seafood chowder, Damian took it to Mila without so much as a glance in my direction. He left in such a hurry that I didn’t get my phone back. The gash on my forehead remained untreated. Night had already fallen. I had no choice but to start walking. In a daze, I remembered another night like this, two years ago. My phone had died, I couldn’t call a cab, and I had to walk home. Damian couldn’t reach me and had spent two hours frantically searching. When he finally found me, he’d pulled me into his arms, his voice trembling. “You scared me to death, Claire. I thought something had happened to you.” He’d even teared up when he saw my blistered heels. But now, he could look at the bleeding cut on my forehead without a flicker of emotion. My heart felt like a hollow, aching cavern, the pain so deep it had become a dull numbness. I was halfway home when the world swam, and everything went black. I woke up in a hospital. A nurse was checking my vitals. “You fainted from low blood sugar,” she explained gently. “A kind stranger brought you in.” I remembered then that I hadn’t eaten all day. The seafood chowder I’d spent an hour simmering—I hadn’t even had a single spoonful. The nurse paused, then added, “You’re also about two months pregnant. You really need to take better care of yourself and be mindful of your diet.” The world stopped. I looked down at my still-flat stomach in disbelief. Pregnant… A twisted, unrecognizable smile pulled at my lips. If this had been yesterday, I would have been overjoyed. But now… After the IV drip was finished, I left the hospital in a fog. I’d barely been home for a few minutes when several men burst through the door and grabbed me. I thrashed in their arms, terror seizing me. “Who are you? What are you doing!” They drove me to the cemetery and dragged me out of the car. There, standing in front of my mother’s headstone, was Damian. My heart hammered against my ribs, my voice shaking. “Damian, what are you doing?” He turned, his expression surprisingly calm. “What did you put in the soup? Mila had severe stomach pains after she ate it.” His gaze was cold. “Claire, you just don’t learn, do you?” “What?” I stared at him, bewildered. “I didn’t do anything.” “You suspect I tampered with the soup?” His eyes were like chips of ice. “Are you still denying it? You made the soup. Who else could it have been?” His voice dropped, laced with accusation. “Did you know Mila was pregnant with my child? Is that why you tried to make her miscarry?” Mila was pregnant too… My hand unconsciously went to my own stomach, my fingers curling into a fist. “No! I didn’t know she was pregnant. I didn’t do anything.” Damian’s cold stare was unnerving, but I saw a flicker of doubt in his eyes. He was hesitating. I opened my mouth to explain again, but just then, his phone rang. After a brief, tense conversation, his face contorted with rage. When he looked back at me, his eyes were filled with pure, unadulterated fury. “Claire, how dare you tell her!” he roared. “It seems you really don’t take my warnings seriously. Well, you won’t like the consequences!” Before I could process his words, he signaled to one of his men. In the next horrifying second, I could only watch as the box containing my mother’s ashes was smashed onto the ground, shattering into pieces. “NO!”

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My mother was in a car accident. Internal bleeding. They rushed her into surgery. I called my fiancé, Ian, a surgical prodigy, and begged him to operate on her himself. He promised he would. But as the operating room doors swung shut, he turned and walked into a different theater. I knelt on the cold linoleum of the hallway all night, praying for her to pull through. But the only thing that came back out was my mother’s body, covered by a white sheet. A raw, keening sound tore from my throat. I tried to rush to her, to see her one last time, but Ian’s star student, Serena, blocked my path, her grip like iron. Through a tear in the sheet, I saw it—an incision on my mother’s chest that should not have been there. And I knew, in that same moment, that Ian was in another room, transplanting a heart into Serena’s young son. The donor… was my mother. 1 My mother’s face was a pale, waxy grey beneath the sheet. The world swam in and out of focus, a dizzying blackness at the edge of my vision. I struggled against Serena’s hold, but her strength was inhuman. “Let me go! Get off me! I have to see my mom!” I screamed, my voice shredding. “She can’t be dead! Ian told me it was just a routine procedure to stop the bleeding! Why did she die on the table?” My grief echoed down the sterile hallway. Serena didn’t answer my questions. She just shot a look at the orderlies, a silent command to move the gurney faster. My legs gave out from under me. As I crumpled to the floor, my gaze fell on the gurney one last time. Through the blood-soaked sheet, I saw it—a long, brutal incision down the center of her chest, and beneath it, a sunken, hollow space. Her heart was gone. A phantom pain, sharp and searing, lanced through my own chest. It was the same agonizing cramp I’d felt hours earlier, while I was waiting outside the OR. My eyes widened in horror. I lunged forward, trying to rip the sheet away, to see the truth for myself. But before my fingers could touch the fabric, Serena grabbed me by the hair and dragged me back, shouting for security to restrain me. “Miss Hayes, I understand you’re grieving,” Serena said, her voice a cold, flat line. But her eyes held a glint of something else. Something cunning. “But the deceased should be treated with respect. Please don’t disturb the body.” I stared up at her, my own eyes burning red. “Something went wrong with the surgery! I am her next of kin, and I have a right to know what happened! Where is Ian?” A smirk played on her lips. “Dr. Vincent is busy saving lives. He doesn’t have time for you.” I watched, helpless, as they wheeled my mother’s body away. My hands shaking, I pulled out my phone and tried to call Ian. Ninety-nine times. He declined every single call. But his social media feed had a new post. A photo of him in his surgical scrubs, holding the hand of a small boy in a hospital bed. The caption read: A new life begins. Wishing you a long and healthy future. And there, on the chart visible in the corner of the photo, was the patient’s name: Leo. The procedure: Heart Transplant. Leo. Serena’s son, born with a congenital heart defect. The image of that horrific incision on my mother’s chest flashed in my mind. A monstrous truth began to dawn. Leo had been on the transplant list for ten years. How was it possible that a perfect donor match suddenly became available the very moment my mother was wheeled into surgery? With a guttural roar, I launched myself at Serena, my hands closing around her throat. “Where did your son’s heart come from?” I shrieked. “What did you do to my mother?” She clawed at my hands, gasping for air. A second later, I was thrown violently backward. Ian, fresh out of the operating room, shoved me away from her. My head cracked against the wall, and hot blood trickled down my temple, but he didn’t even glance at me. He was too busy fussing over Serena, gently brushing at the red marks on her neck, his eyes filled with a pained tenderness that was meant for me. “Susan! Are you insane?” he yelled. “Serena worked tirelessly to save your mother, and this is how you repay her?” Tears streamed down my face, mixing with the blood, staining the collar of my white blouse. My mom had spent all week sewing it for me by hand. I was supposed to wear it today, for the photo on our marriage license. The first time I ever wore it, and I had lost her forever. “You promised me, Ian!” I sobbed. “You promised you would do her surgery yourself! Why was Serena in that room?” “And don’t you think it’s a little too convenient? My mother shouldn’t have died! You let her die! You murdered her and you stole her heart for Leo!” The raw hatred in my eyes must have startled him, because he flinched. “What are you talking about? Your mother had a splenectomy! What does that have to do with her heart? How dare you drag Leo into this!” Serena, now safely nestled in Ian’s arms, had shed her defiant sneer. Her face was a mask of tear-streaked vulnerability. “Dr. Vincent, she had lost too much blood. She was already gone by the time she reached the OR. I did everything I could, but I couldn’t save her. It’s all my fault.” She looked at me, her voice trembling. “If Susan won’t believe me, then… then I’ll pay for it with my own life.” 2 Ian pulled her closer, shielding her as if I were the monster. He turned his gaze on me, his eyes filled with disgust and accusation, as if I were a raving lunatic. “Susan, every surgery has risks. It would have been the same even if I had been the one operating! Your mother’s life mattered, but what about Leo’s? Does his life not matter? I only have two hands! I can’t be in two places at once! Besides, Leo’s transplant was a far more critical procedure. Your mother’s surgery was simple. Of course it had to make way for Leo’s!” A cold, bitter laugh escaped my lips. So, in the eyes of this supposedly noble doctor, some lives were worth more than others. A simple “make way” was all it took to sign my mother’s death warrant. I should have seen it. Serena had named her son Leo. Ian Leo. It was a shrine to her obsession, and even though the boy wasn’t his, it was enough to buy Ian’s loyalty. “How could you say that?” I whispered, horrified. “She wasn’t just my mother, Ian, she was your benefactor! She paid for your entire education! And now her heart has been ripped out of her chest, and you stand there and defend this… this butchery? Or is there something else going on between you and your star student?” His face went rigid. He was an orphan. My mother had sponsored him from the time he was a child until he’d earned his doctorate. But he was deeply insecure about his past, and hated any mention of the charity that had saved him. At the same time, he had always shown a special, almost paternal indulgence towards Serena, who came from a similarly difficult background. “That’s enough, Susan! You’re hysterical! I won’t listen to this filth!” he snapped. “My relationship with Serena is purely professional! You have no right to slander us! If you keep this up, I’ll have you committed!” “Serena is a brilliant surgeon whom I trained myself! I trust her skills completely! What happened to your mother was a tragic accident! You need to accept it!” Hiding behind Ian, Serena shot me a look of pure, triumphant malice. “Susan, I am so, so sorry,” she said, her voice dripping with false sympathy. “But no matter what I did wrong, you can’t accuse me and Dr. Vincent of… that. I’ve told you, you’re mistaken. My conscience is clear, about your mother, and about my relationship with my mentor.” Blinded by rage, I lunged at her again. To protect Serena, Ian kicked me, hard, in the stomach. “I’ll say it one more time, Susan! No doctor would touch your mother’s heart without authorization! You’re the one who’s lost her mind!” A blinding, searing pain exploded in my abdomen. A warm gush of blood soaked through my jeans. The world tilted on its axis, and I collapsed into darkness. The last thing I heard was Ian’s voice, suddenly laced with panic. “Susan? Susan, what’s wrong?” When I woke up, I had miscarried. The baby I never even knew existed was gone. Maybe it didn’t want a father like him. Ian was at my bedside, his eyes filled with guilt. “Susan, how are you feeling? I’m so sorry. I… I didn’t know you were pregnant. Don’t be sad, we can have other children…” I shook my head, my voice a dead whisper. “No. We won’t.” I was done with him. I would make him and Serena pay for what they had done, in blood. But he didn’t understand. He just pulled out a death certificate and a pen, trying to press them into my hand. “Susan, I’ve had my team look into it. Leo’s transplant procedure was completely by the book. I trust Serena, but I’ll keep investigating, just to prove to you that you’re wrong. You have to let this go. People die, Susan. You have to wake up. Your mother wouldn’t want to see you like this, deluding yourself, turning into some crazy woman.” I shook my head violently, shoving his hand away. “You’re the one who’s deluded! I won’t sign it! This was murder! I demand an autopsy! I’m going to find out the truth!” He sighed, and in an instant, the guilt in his eyes hardened into something cruel. He grabbed my wrist, his grip like a vise. “If you won’t come back to reality on your own,” he said, his voice dangerously low, “then I’ll have to help you.” 3 I felt the bones in my wrist crack under the pressure, but he didn’t let go. He forced my hand down, scribbling a signature onto the form. “You’re a murderer, Ian! Both of you! You’ll burn for this!” I shrieked. “You say I’m lying, that I’m crazy? Then have the guts to come with me. Let’s go lift that sheet together and see what’s underneath!” His patience finally snapped. He threw a folder onto my face. “Susan, I have been trying to be gentle with you, for the sake of your mother, for the sake of our baby, but you refuse to listen! Open your eyes and read! That is the official organ donation consent form for Leo’s donor! See for yourself if the name on it is your mother’s!” I snatched the paper, my eyes scanning the page over and over. The donor’s name was not my mother’s. But it was impossible. I couldn’t have been wrong. The image of her empty, blood-filled chest was burned into my mind. It had haunted me even in my unconscious state. “No… it can’t be…” The door opened and Serena walked in. She knelt dramatically by my bedside. “Susan, you can blame me all you want, but my child is innocent! You have the legal documents right in front of you. Why won’t you believe it? You were almost a mother yourself! My Leo is only ten years old! How can you be so cruel as to use him as an excuse to slander me?” Ian pulled her to her feet. “She’s a madwoman, Serena. Don’t waste your breath trying to explain.” I ignored them, grabbing Ian’s arm, my grip desperate. “You say I’m lying? Then come with me. Let’s go look at my mother’s body. Right now.” He hesitated. He sat on the edge of my bed and gently touched my swollen wrist, a flicker of remorse in his eyes. His touch was soft, but his next words plunged me into an abyss of ice. “Susan, you can’t see her anymore.” “I’ve already signed the papers. I had her sent for cremation.” My head spun, a roar filling my ears. The pain in my chest was so intense I couldn’t breathe. “You bastard!” I gasped. “That’s my mother! You had no right to make that decision!” Ian was silent. It was Serena who spoke, her voice laced with a sickening innocence. “Susan, I was the one who suggested it. I was worried you were too emotionally unstable to face the body. I only asked Dr. Vincent to sign because I was thinking of you. Was that so wrong?” I whipped my head around to face her, wanting to tear her apart. I lunged forward and slapped her across the face with all my strength. A red handprint instantly bloomed on her cheek. “Who gave you the right to touch my mother?” I screamed. “Who the hell do you think you are?” Ian pulled Serena behind him, and then, without a word, he slapped me back, hard. I clutched my stinging cheek, staring at him in disbelief. The man who had once knelt before my mother and sworn to love and protect me for the rest of his life, had just struck me for her killer. “Susan! Serena was only trying to help you! How can you be so ungrateful?” he snarled. “Apologize to her. Right now. If you don’t, this wedding is off. It’s not like we ever made it to the courthouse anyway.” Tears blurred my vision. A desolate, arctic wind swept through my heart. This was the man my mother had sacrificed for, scrimping and saving for years, never buying herself a new dress so that he could have the best education. This was the man I had given my entire heart to, my complete and utter trust. I was a blind fool. And my foolishness had cost my mother her life. I looked at Ian, all the warmth draining from my eyes. “You don’t have to threaten me with marriage. I will not marry my mother’s murderer.” “And you don’t get to call this off, Ian. I’m ending it. We’re done.” I ripped the engagement ring—the one he had so carefully chosen for me—off my finger and threw it straight at his face. When it clattered to the floor, I stomped on it, again and again. He stared at me, dumbfounded, as if he couldn’t comprehend that the woman who had followed him so devotedly for years could be capable of such finality. He reached for my hand, but I shoved him away. Ignoring the pain in my body, I ran. All I wanted was to get my mother’s ashes and take her home. I walked all the way home from the crematorium, clutching the urn, feeling the warmth of her remains slowly turn to a chilling cold. My tears had run dry. But when I opened the front door to our apartment, a fresh wave of rage seized me, so violent it made my entire body tremble.

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Three days after we got our marriage license, I logged into the HR system to schedule our honeymoon leave for my wife, Katerina. Only to find that her fifteen days of vacation time were already marked as ‘taken.’ I froze, my mind reeling. We were together every day. When could she possibly have taken a honeymoon? I immediately dialed her number. “Your vacation days… they’re gone?” Her voice on the other end was impossibly gentle. “Oh, that. It wouldn’t look good for me to take a vacation right after my promotion to VP. I just had HR cancel the days. Why? Is something wrong?” “No, nothing,” I said, forcing a laugh. After hanging up, I pulled up her employee profile in the system. My eyes locked onto the name listed in the ‘Spouse’ field. Then, I took the stairs, heading straight for the workstation of the man listed there: an intern named Caleb Finn. 1 I slammed into Caleb at the fifth-floor landing. The paper gift bag in his hand burst open, sending packages of specialty chocolates scattering across the floor. They were from Silver Creek. When he looked up and saw it was me, his expression was brazen. He bent down, picked up a box, and offered it to me. “Hey, Marcos. My wife and I brought these back from our honeymoon in Silver Creek. You should try some.” The words “Silver Creek” were like a needle to the heart. Katerina had held my hand so many times, whispering, “As soon as this project is over, we’ll go to Silver Creek. We’ll see the fields of wildflowers beneath the snowy peaks and eat the local rosewater pastries.” She’d been saying that for eight years. From the late nights we spent as nobodies, grinding away in obscurity, to her confident stride as a top executive, she had never once made good on that promise. The last time it came up was as we were leaving the courthouse, license in hand. She’d muttered vaguely, “What’s so great about Silver Creek, anyway?” It turned out she’d already seen the snow-capped mountains and wildflower fields. With another man. My throat felt thick, my breath catching in my chest. “Do you know that Katerina and I are married?” I asked, my voice raspy. Caleb just smirked. “Yeah, I know.” I stared into his eyes, desperately searching for a flicker of innocence. He was young. Maybe he was just a naive intern, manipulated by Katerina’s power. I was already calculating in my head: if he agreed to walk away, I could pull some strings, get him a better position at a top-tier firm. But his next words shattered that delusion. “She told me it was a sham marriage.” My hands trembled as I pulled the marriage certificate from my bag, holding it up for him to see. “This has the county’s official seal. How could it possibly be a sham?” He slapped the red booklet out of my hand, scoffing. “That’s hilarious. Katerina mentioned you were a little unstable, always fantasizing that she’s your wife. Guess she wasn’t exaggerating.” He deliberately stepped on the certificate, grinding his shoe onto our photo, leaving a dirty black scuff mark. “She went to the courthouse with you out of pity,” he sneered. “Part of her new duties as VP—caring for mentally ill subordinates.” He turned and walked away, leaving my pride crushed on the floor beneath his footprint. The strength drained out of me. I sank to my knees, unable to stand. I was the sole heir to a multi-billion-dollar fortune, playing the part of an ordinary employee so Katerina wouldn’t feel insecure. Eight years. We’d held hands in secret in the breakroom, shared a bowl of cheap ramen on late nights, planned our future in a tiny rented apartment. Behind the scenes, I was the one rewriting her proposals, begging my father to grant her unprecedented promotions, and calling in favors from my wealthy friends to secure her investments. I had carried her through the hardest times, and just when we finally got married, my life with her was dismissed as a delusion? I desperately tried to wipe the scuff mark off the photo with my sleeve, but the stain seemed to have melded with the paper, only growing darker the more I rubbed. Clenching my jaw, I called my father’s executive assistant. “Mr. Harrison, I need you to check the official marital status of Katerina Vance.” I staggered back to my desk, feeling hollowed out. A moment later, his reply came through. “Mr. Shaw, the county records confirm you and Ms. Vance are legally married.” “However, it appears Ms. Vance instructed someone in HR to list Mr. Finn as her spouse in the company’s internal system.” “In a divorce, she could claim the system entry was a clerical error, while still legally being married to you. This would position her to claim half of your personal assets.” My fists tightened. Every bit of her success, every piece of her shining armor—I had given it all to her. If she dared to betray me, I would be the one to personally drag her down from the heavens and into the mud. … Mr. Harrison sent over Caleb’s complete file. Katerina had personally interviewed him. She’d offered a third-year college student an intern’s salary of a hundred thousand dollars a month. While other interns started at the bottom, Caleb was immediately appointed as the VP’s personal assistant on the 60th floor. His registered home address was a luxury condo across the street from the office—a condo Katerina had purchased, claiming it was a place to rest during her lunch breaks. The papers trembled in my hands. I had let Katerina use me as a stepping stone to reach the sky, only for her to let another man reap the rewards. Before I could confront her, she called me, her tone accusatory. “Honey, were you looking through my files in the HR system?” The perks of being a boss. She had spies reporting my every move. “Even if we’re close, I am a Vice President now. It’s not appropriate for a junior employee like you to be snooping around my profile. Besides, trust is the most important thing in a relationship.” I bit back the rage boiling inside me, listening coldly as she continued her charade. For eight years, I had been her workhorse—pulling all-nighters to perfect her plans, chasing down clients, shielding her from difficult situations. All she had to do was offer me a smile. When I collapsed with a fever from overwork, she’d stayed by my side all night, cooling my forehead with a damp cloth. When I once mentioned off-handedly that I loved the artisanal croissants from a little bakery in the South End, she woke up early for three straight weeks to buy them for me. Those small moments of tenderness had wrapped around my heart like vines, convincing me the love in her eyes was real. I never questioned her late nights, her business dinners, her long trips. It was all a lie. A carefully constructed performance to trick me into paving her way to the top. I sent her the screenshot. “You didn’t want me looking at your profile because you were afraid I’d find out your husband is listed as Caleb Finn?” There was a brief silence. Then, she explained, “He’s just an intern with no connections. Having my name in his file protects him from a lot of office politics and bullying…” And what about the years of condescension and scorn I endured while hiding my identity for her sake? I couldn’t listen anymore. I hung up on her. Whether as her lover or her subordinate, it was the first time I had ever ended her call. A second later, the internal office line rang. It was Katerina, her voice now dripping with authority. “Marcos Shaw. My office. Now.” I was ready for a fight. But the moment I opened the door, she threw herself into my arms. I gripped her shoulders, pushing her back. “Katerina,” I asked, my voice hoarse, “why are you giving him special treatment?” She caressed my cheek, her tone as sweet as honey. “He’s a recent graduate, struggling to find his footing. I’m just giving him a bit of a safety net. Don’t overthink it.” “Don’t overthink it?” I shoved her away. “What about everything I’ve done for you? Does none of that matter?” Her gaze was so full of love it made my head spin. “Of course it matters. You’re so jealous your lips have gone pale. It breaks my heart to see you like this.” She turned, picked up a glass of water, and held it to my lips. “Here, drink some of this. Calm down.” I turned my head away, sulking. “I’m not thirsty. I have to go prepare for the project presentation.” Seeing my defiance, she took a large gulp of the water herself. Then, before I could react, she pressed her lips to mine. The warm water, laced with her scent, forced its way down my throat. I swallowed reflexively, choking. A wave of dizziness hit me. The lights in the office began to spin. The last thing I saw was the dark, unreadable expression on Katerina’s face as it blurred into nothing… … In the main conference room, the board of directors, the investors, and the suppliers were all waiting for my presentation. But I was unconscious, knocked out by the water Katerina had given me. When I finally woke up, I bolted towards the conference room, my heart pounding with dread. I was too late. The Chairman, my father, was furious. “Marcos Shaw! How dare you be late for a meeting of this importance!” Katerina stepped forward, playing the part of the peacemaker. “Chairman Vance, please don’t be angry. Marcos has been working so hard he must have accidentally overslept.” “Luckily,” she added with a bright smile, “our new intern, Caleb Finn, was able to step in. His presentation was absolutely brilliant!” The blood rushed to my head. I stared in disbelief at the projector screen. It was displaying my sketches—the ones I’d spent a month on-site at the construction yard to create. And in the bottom-right corner, in bold letters, was Caleb’s name. She hadn’t just stolen my work. She had drugged me to clear the path for him. The executives shook their heads, walking past me with looks of disappointment. Once the room was empty, Caleb rushed to Katerina, wrapping her in a tight hug and planting a kiss on her cheek. “Katerina, thank you!” She pinched his chin affectionately. “For what? I told you I’d help you rise to the top.” “Why?” I trembled with rage. “That was my work! My blood, sweat, and tears!” She shot me a cold look. “You’ve been here for years and you’re still a junior associate. It was time to give Caleb a chance to prove himself.” I lunged forward, intending to go straight to the Chairman and expose everything, but Katerina grabbed me, her grip like steel. In the struggle, my elbow struck her arm. She hissed in pain. Caleb immediately pulled up her sleeve. A fresh, bloody gash was weeping on her forearm. His eyes reddened as he touched the wound. “You even drugged yourself… and you cut your own arm to stay awake, just for me!” Katerina simply wiped a tear from his eye. “I’d do anything for you.” My stomach churned. I turned and fled to the elevator. Katerina chased after me, slamming the emergency stop button just as the doors closed. The elevator jolted violently, plunging us into darkness. “I have claustrophobia! Let me out!” I screamed, hammering on the doors, my nails splintering against the steel. “You need to calm down,” her voice came from the darkness. “Stop bullying a young man who’s just trying to get by.” I begged her, pleaded with her, but she just made a call, telling the maintenance crew they could leave for the day, severing my last shred of hope. When they finally rescued me the next morning, I was a wreck. A crust of dried blood and tears was caked on my forehead where I’d hit it against the wall. My throat was raw, and my eyes stung and watered at the slightest exposure to light. My colleagues looked at me with pity as they handed me my termination letter. Violating company policy by accessing a superior’s private information. Unexcused absence from a critical meeting. Maliciously leaving work before the end of the day… I demanded to see Katerina, but was told she had taken Caleb to a resort for a “site inspection”—a celebration of his early promotion. As for me, I was given one hour to clear out my desk and get off the property. I didn’t go back to the small apartment filled with our memories. I hailed a cab and went straight to a gated mansion in the city’s most exclusive neighborhood. The Chairman—my father—who had been so disappointed in me yesterday, was now a storm of shock and paternal fury, calling the family doctor to treat my injuries. “That vile woman must have a death wish!” he roared. “How dare she lay a hand on my son!” My mother was wiping away tears. “This is all your fault, Arthur! Insisting he learn the business from the ground up. Look what it’s done to him…” Seeing the two people he loved most in distress, my father’s anger found its target. “That bastard! I’ll fire her immediately! And that intern she’s protecting can go with her!” Firing them was too easy. I wanted to be the one to watch her fall. “Dad,” I said, my voice steady. “I want to come back to the company. As your successor.” He would have given me the moon if I’d asked for it. Of course he agreed. The next day, Katerina was informed that her site inspection was cut short. She was to return to headquarters immediately to meet the new, incoming CEO. When she rushed into the executive suite, flustered and annoyed, the large leather chair swiveled around to reveal my face. “Marcos? What are you doing here?”

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It was my company’s IPO celebration. My wife Isabella left the party early and didn’t return. At dawn, she stumbled in drunk, reeking of alcohol, with a vivid red mark on her neck. She hugged me, muttering her first love Paul’s name. Just then, Paul—Hollywood’s biggest star—posted cryptically online: 【We all need to take care of ourselves, so well that regret can no longer disturb us.】 The internet exploded. My wife publicly replied: 【Pretending, so well, that I’ve already forgotten you.】 Chaos followed. Furious fans flooded our company’s accounts, calling me a homewrecker. Rumors spread at work; partners pulled deals. My anxious assistant paced around. I sipped my coffee calmly. “Why panic?” “Send the security footage from last night’s garage to a hundred gossip blogs. Say the ‘wronged husband’ filmed it himself.” “And don’t blur the license plate. Let the whole city see that Lamborghini.” 1 The moment the video dropped, it seized every entertainment headline. 【Hollywood Star Paul Hale Exposed in Cheating Scandal】 【Tech Mogul’s Wife’s Affair with A-List Actor】 【Ethan Hawke Films The Whole Thing】 The three hashtags shot to the top of the trending charts, the heat around them refusing to die down. The street below my office was a swarming mass of reporters. My assistant, Mr. Evans, rushed in, his voice trembling. “Mr. Hawke, your wife… and Mrs. Hale, your mother-in-law, have both called.” I scrolled through the trending topics, my face a mask of indifference. Evans swallowed hard. “They want you to make a public statement clarifying that the man in the car… was you.” A cold laugh escaped my lips. “And why would I do that?” “She abandons me to spend the night with another man, and I’m supposed to cover for her? To drag my own name through the mud?” “Maybe you should book them an appointment with a neurologist. Only a brain-dead fool would think of using their husband as a shield for their affair!” The words had barely left my mouth when the office door was kicked open with a thunderous crack. Isabella stormed in, her eyes bloodshot with rage. She pointed a trembling finger at my face, her voice a raw scream. “Ethan, what the hell is wrong with you? Are you insane? Spreading these lies about your own wife online!” She slammed her phone down on my desk. The security footage was still playing on the screen. “Paul wasn’t feeling well, and I was just giving him a ride home! It was nothing like the sordid fantasy you’ve cooked up in your head!” “So we stayed in the car for an extra hour, what’s the big deal? Why are you making a mountain out of a molehill?” “Now Paul’s new movie is being shelved, and his endorsement deals are being canceled!” “You are going to delete that video and issue an apology right now. Then you’re going to sue every single person who reported on it!” My gaze turned to ice. “If nothing happened, then where did that kiss mark on your neck come from?” “If nothing happened, why did you spend the entire night clinging to me, crying out Paul’s name?” She froze for a second, her fury shifting to disbelief. “I was drunk! I wasn’t in my right mind!” “And who doesn’t have a passionate, unforgettable love from their past? Everyone does!” “Was it really necessary to plaster this all over the internet? To ruin us both just to make a point?” “I’m with you now! What more do you want from me?” I flipped my tablet face down on the table, my eyes like shards of ice when I looked up. “Isabella, you’re the one who destroyed your own future. And you’re the one who destroyed our marriage.” “And another thing. Do you really think a pathetic excuse like ‘I wasn’t in my right mind’ erases the disgusting thing you did?” “A woman like you, with no self-control, deserves to be publicly shamed, again and again.” “Don’t you dare wrap your infidelity in the pretty packaging of ‘unforgettable love.’ You make me sick.” Isabella’s chest heaved with rage. She kicked the coffee table over with a crash, the veins on her forehead bulging. “Ethan!” She snatched a heavy glass ashtray from the floor, her hand stopping just inches from my face. I didn’t flinch. I smiled. “Go on. Smash it. Tomorrow’s headline will be ‘Heiress of the Hale Corporation Attacks Husband in Violent Rage.’” “I guarantee you, it will be even more popular than your little tryst with Paul.” Her body went rigid, and her hand fell, trembling, to her side. A short while later, Isabella’s mother—the executive CEO of the Hale Corporation—called me herself. Her voice dripped with condescension. “Ethan, I’m giving you one last chance.” “You have five minutes to delete that video. Then, you will use the official Nexus Corp account to release a statement, telling everyone that you were the man in the car.” “The Hale family will not tolerate a scandal of this magnitude.” I leaned back on the sofa, swirling the wine in my glass. “Mrs. Hale, I’m not the one who caused a scandal. Your precious daughter is.” “After what she did, the fact that I didn’t halt my own company’s IPO is a kindness I’m already regretting.” The line went dead silent. Then, through gritted teeth, she asked, “What is it you want?” “Money? Resources? Shares in the Hale Corporation?” “Name your price. Just make this right with the media.” I took a sip of red wine. “I don’t want anything.” “I just want Isabella to pay for what she’s done.” Mrs. Hale laughed, a sound devoid of humor. “Pay? Ethan, are you sure you want to openly challenge the Hale family?” “Let me make one thing clear. Without us, you are nothing.” “You have ten minutes. If you haven’t done as I said by then, don’t blame me for being ruthless.” 2 The line went dead. Mr. Evans looked at me, his face etched with worry. “Sir, Mrs. Hale… she has a certain amount of influence.” “The projects we’ve been negotiating recently all rely on technology from the Hale Corporation. We can’t afford to—” “It’s fine.” I cut him off, my voice cold as I swiped through my phone. “I’m actually curious to see what they’ll try next.” Time ticked by. I didn’t call a single press conference. Instead, a photo surfaced online, posted by Paul’s agent. It showed him lying in a hospital bed, tears streaming down his face. The caption read: 【Thank you all for your concern. Please don’t attack anyone. This is all my fault.】 In the picture, Paul was dressed in a hospital gown, an oxygen mask over his face, his eyes red and swollen with tears. Simultaneously, the news that Paul had attempted to take his own life by overdosing shot to the top of the trending charts. Public opinion turned on a dime. My company’s social media was bombarded by his fans, a torrent of vicious curses aimed directly at me. 【He’s a monster! He’s trying to bully Paul to death!】 【Ethan Hawke needs to die! Give Isabella back to Paul!】 【We support Paul! The one who isn’t loved is the real victim!】 My phone rang again. It was Isabella, her voice seething with a hatred she couldn’t hide. “Paul tried to kill himself. Are you happy now, Ethan?” “If anything happens to him, I swear to God, I will drag you down to hell with me!” The sheer absurdity of it was staggering. “Isabella, stop blaming me for everything.” “Did I force him to swallow those pills? Did I force him to become your mistress?” “If you love him so much, why don’t you just go die with him?” “Oh, and by the way, tell Paul that next time he tries a stunt like this, he should use something stronger than a handful of vitamins.” “It’s one thing for you to be an idiot, but don’t assume the rest of the world is too.” I slammed the phone down. But my actions had thoroughly enraged Mrs. Hale. That afternoon, our company’s overseas expansion plans hit a wall. One after another, our partners sent termination letters. Not only that, but investors began pulling out of our new projects, citing “high risk due to the misconduct of Nexus Corp’s executive management.” Mr. Evans put down the phone with a heavy sigh. “Sir, another contract terminated.” “They’re trying to burn us to the ground.” In the span of a single day, I went from the celebrated CEO of a newly public company to a man drowning in astronomical debt. A message from Isabella popped up. 【This is what you get for crossing the Hale family, Ethan.】 【Apologize now if you know what’s good for you. Don’t make us get nasty.】 【The divorce papers are in the mail. Don’t even think about fighting it.】 I let out a soft laugh. And replied with a single word: 【Pathetic.】 Isabella, apparently shocked that I still refused to bow, stormed into my office with her entourage in tow. “Ethan, get the hell out!” “This is my company now. You have no right to be here!” I remained seated on the sofa, watching her with detached amusement. “Have you lost your mind, Isabella?” “I made you a general manager at my company, and suddenly you think you own the place?” “Why don’t you go check who the majority shareholder is?” “This place has absolutely nothing to do with you, or the Hale family.” She stood frozen, dumbfounded. She had assumed that the shares I’d given her when we married, combined with her own clandestine acquisitions, would have secured her the top spot. But I had been prepared for this. Standing behind her, Paul’s lower lip trembled, his eyes welling up with tears. “Isabella, maybe we should just go.” “If we make him angrier, who knows what other lies he’ll spread about me online…” He blinked, and a fat tear rolled down his cheek. The sight of it sent a pang of protectiveness through Isabella. She spun back to me, her eyes blazing. “Don’t get too comfortable, Ethan!” she roared. “Every ounce of pain Paul has suffered, I will repay to you, tenfold!” “You just wait! One day, I will run you out of this city! I’ll have you blacklisted from the entire industry!” I smirked, giving her a lazy nod. “Alright. I’ll be waiting.” 3 My gaze shifted to Paul. “By the way, Mr. Hale, next time you fake an overdose, you might want to bring a toxicology report from the hospital.” “Falsifying medical records is a serious crime, you know.” Paul’s face went white, the blood draining from his lips. Isabella shoved him behind her, her embarrassment turning to fury. “That’s enough, Ethan! You will not threaten him again!” Seeing her stand there, a righteous defender of her lover, was so laughable I could barely contain it. “Isabella, you’re the one who turned him into a homewrecker.” “You love him, but you couldn’t stand that he had no power, no status. You couldn’t give him a legitimate title, but you were more than happy to use my family’s resources to claw your way up…” “You’re the one who dragged him into this scandal! It was your insatiable greed, your need to have everything, that did this!” Isabella’s fists clenched, her chest heaving. She grabbed Paul by the arm and stormed out, slamming the door behind her. In the days that followed, the Hale family launched an all-out assault. My personal information was leaked online. Photoshopped images of me in a coffin circulated widely. My company’s internal network was repeatedly hacked by anonymous attackers. Mr. Evans reported it to the police, but each report only triggered a fresh wave of retaliation. Meanwhile, Isabella brought Paul as her date to the Hale Corporation’s annual gala, declaring her love for him in front of the entire media. “Paul,” she said, her voice ringing with emotion, “let’s get married.” The world cheered for their “epic love story.” And I was cast as the villain, a sick, twisted man. When Mrs. Hale called again, her voice was dripping with smug triumph. “Ethan, I warned you. The Hale family is not to be trifled with.” “However, if you publicly admit that you maliciously fabricated this entire story, and then get on your knees and beg me…” “I might consider letting you off the hook.” I toyed with a teacup, then lowered my voice. “Mrs. Hale, your memory must be failing in your old age. You seem to have forgotten my last name.” My father, though long retired, was a man whose word was still law in this city. My mother had founded a world-leading research institute, with connections spanning the globe. I hadn’t used my family’s power because I still held some small sentiment for the marriage we once had. I didn’t want to be utterly ruthless. But now, I could see they weren’t worthy of such sentiment. Isabella’s voice came through the line. “You’ve seen what my mother can do. If you don’t clear this up, we will crush you completely.” “I’m going to teach you the true meaning of regret.” A small, cold smile touched my lips. “We’ll see about that.” I was dying to see how a pathetic, second-rate dynasty like the Hales planned to go up against the Hawke family of New York.

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The moment the second pink line appeared on the test, a jolt of pure joy shot through me. I didn’t even wait to catch my breath before racing to the office to tell Richard. But I froze outside his oak-paneled door, his voice, sharp and cold, slicing through the wood. He was on the phone with his personal physician. “Pregnant? How the hell is that possible? I’ve never missed a single dose of her birth control. With her fragile health, what right does she have to carry my child? God, don’t let her give me something… defective.” A pause. My blood ran cold. “Listen, at her next check-up, you tell her the embryo isn’t viable. Tell her she needs to terminate. And send me Scarlett’s ultrasound schedule. I want to be there for her.” The chill of the brass doorknob seeped through my palm, a venomous cold that shot straight to my core, shattering my heart into a million icy shards. And yet, months later, after I finally did lose the baby and fled the country to escape him, Richard Cross followed me across the ocean and knelt in the rain, begging me to love him again. 1 I drove home in a daze, a ghost behind the wheel, his cruel words echoing in the hollow space where my heart used to be. It was impossible to reconcile that man with the Richard who, just last night, had rested his head on my stomach, whispering with a soft sigh why our baby hadn’t come yet. When we first got married, Richard had been eager for a child, but I was the one who hesitated. My health had always been delicate, and I was terrified of passing my frailties on. I wanted to wait, to spend a couple of years getting my strength back. When I told him, he’d wrapped me in his arms, his voice a warm murmur against my hair. “It’s okay, Thea. We can wait. Your health comes first.” So I spent two years focusing on my body, and when I finally felt stronger, more ready, Richard never brought it up again. We were intimate, never using protection, and I just assumed we were leaving it up to fate. But month after month, year after year, nothing happened. The emptiness in my womb started to feel like a personal failing. I began to think something was wrong with me. Richard would always be there to soothe my anxieties. “Don’t worry, T,” he’d say. “It will happen when it happens. We can’t rush it.” I was so lost in my own self-blame that I never saw the glint of satisfaction in his eyes. Thinking of it now, my vision blurred, tears spilling over and tracing cold paths down my cheeks. Suddenly, a deafening CRUNCH of metal on metal threw me forward. My first thought was that I’d been rear-ended. Before I could even unbuckle my seatbelt, a woman emerged from the car behind me. She was stunning, all sharp angles and flawless makeup, a femme fatale in a designer dress. She stalked toward my car, her face a mask of fury. She pounded on my window with a manicured fist, demanding I get out. “What is wrong with you? The light was green! Are you blind? My husband just bought me this car! Of all the cursed luck to run into an idiot like you today!” My already frayed nerves snapped. A moment ago, I would have gotten out, ready to apologize and exchange insurance information. Now, I just scowled and rolled the window down an inch. “Ma’am, you hit me. The light may have been green, but that doesn’t give you the right to plow into my bumper.” “Oh, please!” she sneered. “If you weren’t daydreaming, I wouldn’t have hit you! Let me tell you something, my husband is the CEO of Cross Corp. So if you know what’s good for you, you’ll get out of this car, get on your knees, and pay for the damages before I make you wish you’d never been born!” The name ‘Cross Corp’ hit me like a physical blow. My head snapped up, my eyes locking onto hers. She saw my reaction and let out a triumphant, ugly laugh. “Oh, so you have heard of my husband? Good. That makes this easier. Get out and beg for my forgiveness right now. Because when he gets here, this is going to get a whole lot worse for you.” And then it clicked. Scarlett. This had to be the Scarlett from the phone call. I studied her properly for the first time—the killer curves, the fiercely beautiful face. We were polar opposites. Richard’s words came back to me: I want to be there for her. She was pregnant, too. A fresh wave of agony ripped through me as I thought about how he cherished her child while despising mine. My voice was ice. “Why don’t you call him? I’m dying to see what he can do to me when he gets here.” Scarlett froze, clearly thrown by my sudden shift in attitude. “Fine! You just wait!” she shrieked, turning away to furiously dial her phone. A dark, twisted part of me actually hoped he would come. I wanted to see the look on his face when he had to explain who this woman was. But Richard never showed. Instead, the police did, their sirens cutting through the gridlock our two cars had created. In the end, we were both found equally at fault and told to handle our own repairs. As we were leaving, Scarlett shot me a look of pure venom. “This isn’t over. I will make you pay for this.” I just smiled a thin, humorless smile, and watched her face contort in rage as I hit the gas and drove away. Back home, I collapsed onto the sofa, drained and exhausted. My hand instinctively went to my belly, to the tiny, secret life inside, and the tears started to fall again, silent and relentless. Just then, the front door opened, and Richard was there. He saw the tears on my face and was at my side in an instant. He knelt before me, his touch gentle as he wiped my cheeks with his thumbs, his voice laced with concern. “Thea? What’s wrong? Why are you crying? Did I do something?” His anxious expression, the way he looked at me… he seemed like a man desperately in love. If I hadn’t heard that phone call with my own ears, I would have been completely fooled by his masterful performance. “I’m pregnant,” I said, my voice flat, my eyes fixed on his, searching for a crack in the facade. Just as I expected. A flicker of sheer panic crossed his eyes before he masked it with a performance of pure ecstasy. “Oh my God! Thea, that’s… that’s wonderful!” He pulled me into a fierce hug. “We’re finally having a baby!” He pulled back, his face beaming. “I’m calling the Cross Memorial Hospital right now. I’ll get you the best doctor, a whole team to look after you until the baby is born.” Watching him lie so effortlessly, I felt a wave of nausea so profound I thought I might be sick. I shoved him away, hard. He stumbled back, a look of genuine confusion on his face. “What is it? Thea, aren’t you happy?” “I’m thrilled,” I replied, my voice a monotone. “But I’m tired.” Seeing my exhaustion, he took my hand, his expression softening into one of deep sympathy. “Of course, you must be. I’m sorry. It must be tough on your body. I’ll make sure to spend more time with you from now on.” I laughed silently, a bitter, hollow sound in my own mind. I didn’t have the energy to fight him anymore. I just nodded and went to our bedroom, closing the door behind me. Let’s see how long you can keep this act up, Richard. 2 A few minutes later, the mattress dipped beside me. Richard’s arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me close. He nuzzled my neck, his voice a low murmur. “Thea, do you want a boy or a girl? I hope it’s a girl. A little girl, as beautiful and unique as you. I’d be the luckiest man in the world to have two of you in my life.” He kept whispering, musing about names, but his sweet words were a wall of noise I couldn’t let in. All I could see was Scarlett’s furious, beautiful face. When I didn’t respond, he seemed to lose interest. Just then, his phone buzzed on the nightstand. He slipped out of bed and took the call on the balcony. Even through the glass, I could hear his tone—low, careful, placating. He was cooing at her, promising a new car, designer bags, anything she wanted. But she was clearly not having it. He was practically begging, his voice dripping with a pathetic desperation I’d never heard from him before. “Just listen to me!” “Of course I love you! I love you and the baby.” “She’s just… acting strange today. I need to stay here with her.” “Okay, okay! Fine! I’m coming. I’m on my way right now, alright?” He ended the call and came back inside. I kept my eyes closed, feigning sleep. I felt his gaze linger on me for a moment before he quietly left the room. The second I heard the front door click shut, my eyes flew open. I listened for the sound of his car pulling out of the driveway, then scrambled out of bed, grabbed my keys, and raced to the garage. I followed him to a lavish, gated community on the other side of town. I owned a condo in the same development, a wedding gift from my parents, so getting past security was no problem. The route he took felt sickeningly familiar. He finally pulled up to a stunning yellow villa at the end of a quiet cul-de-sac. He was keeping her here. Cross Corp had been an investor in this development. Richard had told me he was designing this specific house, a one-of-a-kind villa, just for me. A gift. And he had given it to me. He just let someone else live in it. The front door swung open, and Scarlett, clad in a slinky slip dress, launched herself into his arms. They kissed right there on the doorstep, a desperate, hungry kiss that seemed to go on forever. The sight was a dagger to my heart. I sat in my car, choking on silent sobs, the years I’d spent with Richard flashing before my eyes. I realized with a sickening lurch that I had never really known him at all. I was crying so hard I didn’t notice the man tapping on my passenger-side window. “Thea? Is that really you?” I hastily wiped my eyes and stared at the stranger. “It’s me! Leo! Leo Carter. I lived next door to you when we were kids.” When my confused expression didn’t change, he puffed out his cheeks. “You know! The little chubby kid who used to follow you around begging for candy!” Suddenly, the image of a small, round-faced boy materialized in my mind, perfectly overlaying the handsome face of the man in front of me. He took my stunned silence as an invitation, opening the passenger door and sliding in. His gaze followed mine to the villa across the street. “You like that place? Don’t even think about it, it’s been occupied for years. It was already taken when I bought my place here.” He continued, oblivious to the storm raging inside me. “That was about, what, four or five years ago? I saw it when I first moved in and thought of you immediately. It just seemed like your style. But when I asked the property manager, they said it wasn’t for sale. It was reserved by the developer’s CEO for his wife.” He shook his head. “I’ve seen the woman who lives there a few times, though. She doesn’t fit the house at all. No idea what the CEO was thinking.” Four or five years ago. We weren’t even married yet. They’d been together that whole time. The air in the car suddenly felt thick, unbreathable. My vision tunneled, the world went black, and I knew nothing more. When I came to, the sterile white ceiling of a hospital room swam into view. Leo was asleep in a chair beside the bed, and he jolD awake when I stirred, immediately calling for a doctor. “You’re finally awake,” he said, relief washing over his face. “You brought me here?” I asked, my voice a faint whisper. “Yeah. You just passed out cold. Scared the hell out of me. The doctor said you’re in the early stages of pregnancy. Your blood pressure is unstable, and the fainting spell was probably caused by extreme emotional distress. While you were out, I used your phone to call your husband. He should be here by now.” At the mention of Richard, my gaze dropped, a shadow falling over my heart. Speak of the devil. “Thea! What happened?” Richard burst into the room, his face a mask of panic. He rushed to my side, grabbing my hand, his eyes red and wet. “Why did you collapse? I nearly had a heart attack when I got the call!” 3 I pulled my hand from his grasp without a word, turning my face to the wall. I couldn’t bear to watch his performance. My rejection left an awkward silence hanging in the air. Leo, standing behind him, broke the tension, explaining what the doctor had told him. Only then did Richard seem to notice there was another person in the room. “You’re the one who brought my wife to the hospital?” he asked, his tone shifting from worried husband to imperious CEO. He pulled a checkbook from his jacket, scribbled a number, and tore it out, holding it out to Leo. “Thank you for your help, but we don’t require your assistance any longer. This is for your trouble. You can go now.” Leo glanced at the check, then at me, a look of pity in his eyes. He didn’t take it. “No, thank you. Thea and I are old friends. I was just helping her out.” He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly at Richard. “It’s just… you look awfully familiar, sir.” Richard’s eyes hardened, his posture becoming defensive. “I wasn’t aware my wife had any friends. You should take the money. It’s best to keep things clean.” The air crackled with a strange, unspoken hostility between them. Just as I was about to intervene, a nurse came in and asked for the family member to step outside for a moment. Richard shot Leo one last dismissive look, shoved the check into his hand, and followed the nurse out. With Richard gone, Leo placed the check on the bedside table. He hesitated, looking like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. I saw his struggle and made it easy for him. “You’ve seen him before, haven’t you? At the villa.” Leo’s face fell, and he gave a grim nod. “I understand now why you were crying earlier.” “Do something for me,” I said, cutting straight to the point. “Anything.” “Go to the Lefford Private Clinic. Find a doctor named Evelyn Reed. Ask her what these are.” I reached into my purse and pulled out the bottle of ‘vitamins’ I had been taking for years. Leo took the bottle, squinting at the plain white pills inside. “Okay. I’ll go right now.” My expression was stone. “Whatever you find out, you tell no one but me. Promise me.” He nodded, his face serious, and left without another word. He was barely gone when Richard returned, his expression utterly devastated. He looked like his world had just ended. “Thea,” he began, his voice choked with emotion. “The doctor… he said our baby has a severe developmental defect. The heartbeat has stopped. It’s a threatened miscarriage, and… and they said the only option is to terminate the pregnancy as soon as possible. For your own health.” He buried his face in his hands, a grown man, sobbing uncontrollably. A wave of revulsion washed over me. I stared blankly at the ceiling, waiting for his performance to end. When his sobs subsided, I asked, my voice empty, “Are you sure?” He was too lost in his act to notice my coldness. “Thea, I know how much this baby means to you. I know how hard this is to accept, but we have to. For your sake. We have to do the procedure.” He took my hand again. “We can have other children. Lots of them.” Without hesitation, I took the consent form and signed my name. Then I turned over, pulling the covers over my head. Richard must have mistaken my silence for grief. He patted my shoulder, his voice thick with false sympathy. “Don’t be so sad, Thea. It just wasn’t meant to be.” Then he eagerly took the signed form and rushed out to make the arrangements. The moment he was gone, I threw back the covers, packed my few belongings, and walked out of that hospital without looking back. I went home, grabbed the deed to the villa, and drove straight to the gated community, demanding the property manager accompany me to evict the unauthorized tenant. When the door opened, Scarlett’s eyes widened in surprise, which quickly morphed into a contemptuous sneer. “What are you doing here? I haven’t even gotten around to dealing with you, and you have the nerve to show up at my door?” The property manager, aware of her relationship with the CEO, tried to be diplomatic. “Miss Peters, I’m afraid we have to ask you to pack your things and vacate the premises. The owner of this property is returning.” “What?!” Scarlett’s smug superiority vanished. “Do you have any idea who I am? I’m Mrs. Richard Cross! How dare you try to kick me out? This house belongs to Richard! Who is this other owner?” The manager was sweating now. “The deed is in this lady’s name, ma’am. She is Mrs. Cross.” Scarlett’s head snapped toward me, her face twisting into an ugly mask of disbelief and hatred. “So it’s you! You’re the barren old hen who can’t even lay an egg!” she spat, her voice dripping with venom.

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My husband is hopelessly in love—with his little girlfriend. Lately, she’s been giving him the silent treatment, and he’s been a nervous wreck, a fresh crop of stress sores blooming at the corner of his mouth. I cover my mouth to hide a smile. It’s a good thing my own little boyfriend would never do that to me. Until Valentine’s Day. The boy’s handsome face is tight with tension. “I don’t care. I’m tired of being your dirty little secret.” “If you don’t make it official, I’m going to volunteer for a relief mission in Africa. I’ll let the sun ruin my face, so you’ll never see this face you love so much again.” I’m hopelessly in love, too. And I’m a sucker for a pretty face. Panicked, I march to my husband and lay my cards on the table. “We need to get a divorce, now. If we don’t, the boy I’m keeping is going to get ugly.” The man, who rarely shows any emotion, suddenly crushes the teacup in his hand, his voice raspy. “You swore you’d love me for a lifetime.” “Jennifer,” he chokes out, “how could you fall out of love so fast?” 1 On Valentine’s afternoon, the streets are teeming with couples. I find Adrian on the city’s luxury shopping avenue. He’s leaning down, murmuring to a crying girl, his voice softer than I’ve heard it in years. “Don’t cry, okay? It was my fault. I won’t do it again.” “Come on, sweetheart. You’ll smudge your makeup.” After a bit more coaxing, the pretty girl finally cracks a smile and says playfully, “If you make me mad again, I’m really going to ignore you. You can’t keep treating me like this, Adrian.” They hug, then start kissing, right there on the street. It’s a passionate, lingering kiss. If you were close enough, you could probably hear the wet smacking sounds. A few passersby turn to stare. Even on Valentine’s Day, a full-on public make-out session is a bit much. I cover my face and quietly back away. If only the man wasn’t my husband of five years. I’d be munching on popcorn, watching to see how long they’d keep it up, how big of a crowd they’d attract. But the man is Adrian. My childhood friend, the man I dated for three years and have been married to for five. 2 I have the divorce papers in my purse. But they’re so engrossed, I figure it’s probably not a good time to interrupt. What if he gets mad and drags out the divorce? The man waiting for me at home wouldn’t get his divorce certificate, and then he’d be crying and taking it out on me in bed all night. Just as I’m about to slip away, the girl, Skylar, spots me. She gives Adrian a little push. Her wide, watery eyes are full of challenge, her voice sickly sweet. “Ma’am, are you stalking me and my Adrian?” “You have no shame. Adrian loves me, but you’re still clinging to your title as his wife and won’t let go.” I frown. Are all mistresses this self-righteous now? When Skylar first came into the picture, my marriage with Adrian wasn’t completely broken. When I heard he was spoiling some new girl, I threw a fit. I screamed, I yelled, I smashed things in our house. Then, I collapsed and begged him to come home. I swallowed all my pride, promising to forgive him if he just broke it off with her and came back to me. Remembering her past provocations, my first instinct is to fire back a sarcastic comment. But then I think of the divorce papers in my bag, and the beautiful boy waiting for me at home. I force a pleasant smile. “Actually, I’m here to talk to Mr. Thorne about our divorce.” I pull the papers from my purse and hand them to him. “Here. The assets will be divided according to our prenup. My lawyer will be in touch.” “I’ve already signed. Just let me know when you’re free, and we can go get the certificate.” Skylar’s face lights up with unconcealed joy. She tugs on his sleeve, her voice a purr. “Adrian…” But for some reason, Adrian’s pleasant expression darkens. “A divorce? Is this some new trick to get me to come home?” “It’s Valentine’s Day. Skylar is young, I have to be with her. Jennifer, be a good girl. I’ll come home and see you tomorrow.” Skylar looks triumphant, leaning intimately against him and mouthing the words, “Old hag. I told you your husband loves me.” How pathetic. I, the wife, am being treated like the secret mistress. “No, thank you,” I say, my voice cold. “From now on, you don’t have to come home at all.” I toss the divorce papers at his face and walk away. 3 I drive back to the apartment I share with Philip. He’s in the kitchen, cooking. The scent of my favorite braised pork belly fills the air. My gloomy mood vanishes instantly. I skip into the kitchen. “Philip, I talked to Adrian about the divorce today. Don’t worry, we’ll be divorced soon.” Then I see him. And I have to swallow. Philip is a boxer, and he’s in perfect shape. A chiseled eight-pack, sharp V-lines. He’s ruggedly handsome, with a wild edge. And right now, he’s shirtless, wearing the small pink apron I bought him, his abs flexing with each breath as he meticulously chops vegetables. He looks like a perfect, domesticated house-husband. My brain is screaming. Whose domestic god is this? I want to press my face against his chest, kiss him, bite him. “You’re finally home, my lady?” His captivating eyes crinkle with a smile. He expertly flips a fish in the pan, then turns off the heat. “Dinner will be ready in a minute.” Suddenly, I’m not that hungry anymore. I put on my most virtuous expression. “Let’s not eat just yet.” A playful glint appears in his eyes. His voice drops to a husky murmur. “Want to eat me first?” … It was Valentine’s Day. But I spent the entire night in bed. It isn’t until the sky begins to lighten the next day that I finally get to eat my braised pork belly, my back aching. Something glitters around my neck. I look down. It’s the new serpent necklace from Bulgari. A piece that costs a fortune. Philip doesn’t come from money. When I first met him, he was fighting in illegal underground matches. I don’t know how long he had to save up to buy me a multi-million dollar necklace. He sees me looking at him, and his ears turn red. He keeps feeding me spoonfuls of fish soup, his actions steady despite his blush. His warm breath tickles my ear as he says, his voice full of sincerity, “I know it’s not much. It’s not good enough for you.” “Jennifer, I’ll work harder. I’ll buy you a better Valentine’s gift next year.” I hadn’t received a Valentine’s gift since my falling out with Adrian. A warmth spreads through my chest. I throw my arms around him. “I believe in you.” 4 The divorce proceedings are officially underway. But every time I send the papers, his secretary sends them back. He doesn’t believe I’m serious. And why would he? I used to be crazy about him. We were childhood sweethearts. My parents were always busy, so they’d leave me at his house for him to look after. When kids bullied me, he was the one who stood up for me. When I was so sick I was about to pass out, he was the one who climbed over my fence in the middle of the night to take me to the hospital. When I got my first period and was crying in the bathroom, not knowing what to do, he was the one who, red-faced, went to buy me pads and taught me how to use them. I fell for him, hard. At our high school graduation party, I got drunk and confessed my feelings. He gently stroked my head. “That’s my line,” he’d said. “Jennifer, I’ve liked you for a long time, too.” After three years of dating, we got married. I thought we’d be happy forever. Then I found out he was seeing other women. I saw him with a new intern from his company, kissing her in a private room at a club. I was standing right outside the door. I heard him, drunk, complaining to his friends: “You guys have no idea. Jennifer and I have known each other for over twenty years. Sex with her is like my left hand touching my right. I have to take a pill just to get it up for her.” “I never should have rushed into marrying her. The thought of going home to her makes me want to puke from boredom.” Adrian had many lovers. Skylar was just the one who stuck around the longest. Everyone said he was serious about her. He showered her with gifts, took her to exclusive parties, and introduced her to his friends as his “girl.” When she came to our house to taunt me, he immediately defended her and blamed me. I was a mess, crying my eyes out. The man who used to comfort me at the slightest frown now just sat there, smoking, watching me have a complete breakdown and destroy our home. When I was finally exhausted, he took a drag from his cigarette and said with a smirk, “Quite the crier, aren’t you?” “Jennifer, I’m just tired of our relationship. But I still see you as a sister. If you need a man, I don’t mind if you find someone on the side. Just don’t you dare touch Skylar. If you do, I’ll really be done with you.” I sat on the floor, surrounded by the wreckage, and realized I didn’t recognize the man in front of me. But even then, I didn’t agree to a divorce. Everyone in our social circle said I was pathetic, so in love with him I’d tolerate anything. Now, I truly regret not taking him up on his offer. 5 The divorce papers are returned again. I have no choice but to go to his office and confront him. But I’m stopped at the entrance by Skylar and her entourage. She’s holding a sign that reads: NO DOGS OR JENNIFER THORNE ALLOWED. The people around her start to snicker. “So that’s Adrian’s wife? She’s not all that. Not nearly as sweet as Skylar.” “If it wasn’t for her being his childhood friend, Skylar would be the one with the ring…” Skylar, basking in the attention, holds her head high. “Old hag, aren’t you going to leave? You’re not welcome here.” I look at them like they’re a bunch of idiots. If they know I’m his childhood friend, they should also know that my family is just as powerful as his. I’ve never bothered with Skylar before because I felt the problem in my marriage was with Adrian. But my restraint has clearly made her bold. I raise my hand to slap her, but Adrian appears out of nowhere and catches my wrist. “Jennifer, she’s young and doesn’t know any better. Let it go.” He looks at me with disapproval. “Are you really going to hit her? When did you become so vicious?” If I back down now, the story of how Jennifer Thorne was barred from her husband’s company by his mistress will be all over the elite circles. I’ll be a laughingstock. He’s so concerned with protecting Skylar, he hasn’t given a single thought to my own predicament. A dull ache starts in my chest. I clench my fists, my nails digging into my palms. “I’m here to talk about the divorce…” “I’m not signing,” he cuts me off. “Jennifer, stop this, okay? Skylar is no threat to you. I’m just… keeping her around.” 6 I look at Skylar. Spoiled by Adrian, her eyes immediately fill with tears. She reaches for his hand. “Honey…” He shakes her off. For all his philandering, he knows Skylar is not wife material. And he knows his family adores me. He reaches out to stroke my hair. “Look, I know you’re doing all this to get me to come home. I’ll come home tonight. Just be good and stop making a scene.” I step back, avoiding his touch. The last bit of pain in my heart dissipates. He clearly hasn’t been back to our marital home in the last six months, or he would have noticed that all my things are gone. Moved to my apartment with Philip. I take a deep breath. Just as he thinks I’m about to back down, I slap him, hard, across the face. The sound is crisp and loud. A red handprint blooms on his handsome face. Skylar, her eyes wide with horror, screams at me, “You old bitch! How dare you hit my husband? You’re just jealous that he loves me! A venomous shrew like you doesn’t deserve to be loved!” I slap her too, my face impassive. In the stunned silence, I pull the divorce papers from my bag again. “How many more of these do I have to send before you’ll sign?” “And don’t act so high and mighty, you impotent old man. You think I still love you? That’s hilarious. You’re old, and you’ve got a thick skin.” Adrian is two years older than me. If Skylar thinks I’m an old hag, what does that make him? A fossil? Adrian’s face is a thundercloud. But when he sees the clear disgust in my eyes, he starts to tremble. The color drains from his face. “You really want a divorce? This isn’t just a tactic to get me home?” “What else would it be?” Before I leave, I say, my voice low and dangerous, “You know my family is not to be trifled with. If you don’t sign, bed photos of you and every single one of your little girlfriends will be trending online by tomorrow.” 7 Back at our apartment, Philip is at his desk, typing away. But the moment I walk in, he senses my mood. He drops what he’s doing and pulls me into his arms. “What’s wrong, my lady? Who upset you? I’ll go beat them up tomorrow.” Philip is usually a man of few words. Even in bed, I’m the one doing most of the talking. But now, seeing my pout, he’s in a fluster, trying to think of jokes to cheer me up. When that doesn’t work, he lifts me, red-faced, and sets me on his lap. “Look, baby, a bouncy castle,” he says, flexing his abs. I actually laugh. Seeing that it’s working, he gently lays me on the sofa, takes off his shirt, and ties a black silk scarf around his eyes. The afternoon sun streams in, glinting off his bronze skin. He looks like a Greek god. He makes his pecs dance. “Look, baby. They can dance for you.” “…” I have to admit, the view has significantly improved my mood. Without hesitation, I tug at the waistband of his gray sweatpants. He gets the message and eagerly gets to work. As I’m reaching my peak, I hear him panting in my ear, whispering that he loves me, his voice a low, sexy growl, full of adoration. 8 Young men have stamina. I got home at two, and by the time we were done, it was dark outside. Philip cleaned me up, tucked me into bed, and even adjusted the air conditioning to the perfect temperature before he left the room. But I can’t sleep. Skylar’s words echo in my mind. A venomous shrew like you doesn’t deserve to be loved. Before, I would have brushed it off. But I’ve just been through a failed marriage. My husband of five years, my childhood sweetheart, cheated on me and complained to his friends that I was boring and frigid. I get out of bed and walk to the living room. Philip is in the kitchen again, chopping vegetables. Ever since we got together, he’s been determined to fatten me up. Adrian used to pinch the soft flesh on my stomach, his eyes full of disgust. “Jennifer, you haven’t even had kids, and your stomach is already flabby. Your waist is so thick. Looking at you just kills my libido.” His words had humiliated me. I wasn’t fat. I’m 5’5″ and weigh 118 pounds. But after his comments, I started dieting, starving myself until I was anemic and weak, until I ended up in the hospital with low blood sugar. It was only later that I found out he was seeing a model at the time. She had a tiny waist, so he found fault with mine. Philip has never been like that. When I told him I was worried about gaining weight, he cupped my face in his hands, his eyes serious. “Why would you need to lose weight? You’re not fat at all. You’re so thin, you need to eat more to be healthy.” “Adrian said I was fat…” I’d mumbled. “Then why didn’t you tell him he was small?” he’d muttered under his breath. “He’s probably insecure, so he has to insult you. What a pathetic asshole.” As I enter the kitchen, Philip’s sharp eyes spot me. He frowns. “Baby, why aren’t you wearing slippers? You’ll catch a cold.” He quickly washes his hands and lifts me into his arms. But I have something to ask him. “Philip,” I begin hesitantly. “Do you think… I’m a bad person? That I don’t deserve to be loved?” In the quiet kitchen, I can hear my own anxious heartbeat. He looks at me, stunned. “How could you not deserve to be loved?” he blurts out. “You’re amazing.” The cooking fumes must be getting to me, because my eyes start to water. Philip is still talking, his voice a soothing murmur in my ear. “Don’t listen to those people. You deserve to be loved more than anyone. Adrian cheated because he’s blind and a piece of trash. He doesn’t know how to appreciate what he has.” A weight lifts from my chest. He’s right. Why am I letting two awful people make me doubt myself? I signal for him to put me down, then grab his apron and pull him down for a kiss. “Baby, again? Aren’t you hungry? Maybe we should eat first.” Little Philip is already at attention, but he’s trying to hold back, his eyes red with effort. I stroke his face. “I’m not hungry. I’d rather eat you.” Neither of us notices the phone in the living room, ringing off the hook. All the calls are from Adrian.

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My parents’ 19th attempt at a business failed. They were scammed out of two hundred thousand dollars. The night before school started, my mother brought me a glass of warm milk. I drank it, stunned by the rare show of affection. The last thing I heard before I passed out was my mother’s choked whisper: “Penny, Mom and Dad have to go.” “Your sister is too little. We can’t leave her all by herself.” “You be a good girl and stay here. As soon as we make enough money, we’ll come back for you…” When I opened my eyes, my parents and my sister were gone. 1 The room was pitch-black. I stood on a stool, stretching to reach the light switch. I flicked it again and again, but nothing happened. Then I remembered what Mom had said. We didn’t have money to pay the electric bill. My lip trembled. I felt around on the floor for my slippers and carefully put them on. Then, I pushed open the storage closet door and called out, my voice small and wavering, “Mommy? Mommy?” No one was in my parents’ room. Not in the living room. Not in the kitchen. And not in my sister Rosie’s sweet-smelling bedroom. A wave of panic washed over me. I scurried back to my own room like a frightened mouse. Back to the tiny little storage closet. My sister’s room had a big, beautiful princess bed. But Mom said I thrashed around in my sleep and she was afraid I’d fall off. So, instead of a bed, they just laid a threadbare blanket on the floor for me. I curled up on the blanket, my ears pricked, listening for any sound from outside. Maybe… maybe Mom and Dad just took Rosie to the morning market? They did that a lot. They would take Rosie out to play, out to eat, out to the park. They said Rosie was still little, so she didn’t need a ticket. I was too big; my ticket would cost extra. They said they used to take me to the park all the time when I was Rosie’s age. I felt a pang of regret. Why couldn’t I remember any of it? I wanted so badly to know what it was like to go to the park with Mom and Dad… I balled up my little fist and tapped it against my head. It’s okay, Penny. They just took Rosie out to play. They’ll be back soon. 2 I drifted off to sleep, curled on the floor. When I woke up again, the living room was bright with daylight. My stomach rumbled loudly. But Mom and Dad had forgotten to leave me breakfast. I stared at the big refrigerator, swallowing hard. I couldn’t open it. The fridge was for Dad’s beer, Mom’s face masks, and Rosie’s expensive imported fruit. There was no food in there for me. I patted my empty tummy, stood on my tiptoes, and filled a cup with water from the tap. I gulped it down. But that only made me feel hungrier. I wandered around the apartment. I still had the five-dollar bill I’d found on the street in my little backpack. I wanted to go outside. There was a bakery at the entrance of our complex. Five dollars could buy a lot of bread rolls. But I didn’t have a key. If I left, I’d never be able to get back in. 3 The lady next door started cooking. I stood on a stool on the balcony, greedily inhaling the scent of food wafting through the air. Today she was making barbecue ribs and my favorite—shrimp! Well, I’d never actually eaten shrimp, but I’d seen Mom make them for Rosie. They were bigger than my hand, with bright red shells. They looked so delicious. The cooking smells faded. I swallowed again and climbed down from the stool, disappointed. Suddenly, I spotted something under the living room curtains. A package of rice crackers! The ones Rosie had thrown away! I scampered over and snatched them up. It was a whole bag! The seal was broken and the crackers inside were a little soft, but I treasured them, eating every last one, bite by bite. Outside, the sky slowly began to darken. When were Mom and Dad coming home? Would they bring me leftovers from the restaurant? 4 Night fell completely. The power was still out. The apartment was dark, stuffy, and hot. No electricity meant no fan. Besides, Mom always said I was a kid and didn’t feel the heat, and that fans were dangerous anyway. I was never allowed to turn one on when she wasn’t home. I fanned myself furiously with a plastic advertisement fan Mom had brought back from the town square. Sweat poured out of me like rain. I fumbled my way to the bathroom and smacked my forehead on the edge of the sink. The pain brought tears to my eyes. Mommy, Daddy, where are you? Crying, I found my little washcloth, turned on the tap just a little, and wet it. I greedily pressed the cool cloth to my face. The relief on my burning skin was instant. The tiles below the sink were so cool. I lay down, pressing as much of my body as I could against them, and drifted into a hazy sleep. A sharp, urgent knocking at the door startled me awake. “Daddy! Mommy!” They must have forgotten their keys! That’s why they didn’t come home all night! I scrambled up and stumbled to the door. When I opened it, my parents weren’t there. Just a few men in black shirts with thick gold chains around their necks. One of them, a big man with a dragon tattoo on his arm, grabbed me by the shoulders and lifted me up. “Kid, where are your folks?” 5 I burst into tears, shaking my head frantically. “I don’t know! They took my sister out to play!” “Mommy said I have to be a good girl and wait at home. She said they’ll come back for me after they make a lot of money…” A skinny man crouched down, his eyes crinkling into a smile I didn’t understand. “They’re not coming back for you, kid…” “Your mommy and daddy don’t want you anymore.” I froze, tears welling in my eyes. The big man carried me inside and tossed me onto the sofa. The men in black shirts stormed through my parents’ room, Rosie’s room, and finally, my little storage closet. The skinny man spat on the floor in disgust. “They took everything valuable. All that’s left is this worthless brat!” “Hey boss, what if we sell the kid?” 6 The big man with the dragon tattoo slapped the skinny man hard across the face. “I told you, we’re professional collectors, not damn kidnappers!” “Ask the kid if she has any other relatives. We’ll drop her off with them and seize the apartment.” A bald man knelt in front of me. “Kid, where do your grandparents live?” I shook my head. The bald man clicked his tongue. “Any other family? Aunts? Uncles?” I kept shaking my head. The skinny man sneered. “What, is she stupid or something? Why else would her parents ditch her when they ran?” I glared at him. “I’m not stupid! And my mommy and daddy said they would come back for me!” The skinny man laughed, a cruel, mocking sound. He leaned in close, his eyes glinting. “You don’t get it, do you, kid? Your parents owe us a lot of money.” “They took your sister and skipped town yesterday!” “See? I was right. Your mommy and daddy really don’t want you anymore.” The bald man shoved him aside. “Kid, that guy’s right,” he said impatiently. “Your parents owe us money, and they took off with your sister. You get what ‘took off’ means? It means they abandoned you! Now think hard. Any relatives? Our boss is a nice guy; he’ll give you a free ride to their place. Otherwise, when we clear this place out, you’ll be sleeping on the street.” I sobbed, shaking my head. “I-I don’t know any relatives! Please, don’t kick me out!” “Mommy said to wait for her here! She promised she’d come back for me…” But tears and begging were useless. The skinny man grabbed me by the arms, lifted me up, and tossed me into the elevator. When it reached the ground floor, he dragged me out like a sack of potatoes and dumped me outside the building’s main entrance. I tried to run back inside, but the glass doors wouldn’t open. I remembered how Mom and Dad always had to scan their phones to get in. I didn’t have a phone. I was locked out. 7 I crouched by the door and cried for a long, long time. The sun was scorching, and I hadn’t eaten in over a day. My stomach ached with a sharp, stabbing pain. Suddenly, the bald man came out. He was carrying a big plastic bag. “Kid, you really don’t have any other family?” I shook my head, dazed. I didn’t know if we had relatives. I grew up in the mountains with my grandma. After she died, my parents brought me to the city and locked me away in that boxy apartment. The farthest I’d ever been was the bakery at the entrance of the complex. The bald man sighed and set the bag down in front of me. “See that security guard over there?” he asked, pointing. “Go ask him to call 911 for you. The police will take you somewhere you can get a hot meal.” He paused, a strange look on his face. “It’s a pretty good place. I grew up in one, too.” A place with food? That sounded wonderful. I grabbed the bag and stumbled towards the security booth. But when the guard with the little mustache heard my parents were gone, he reached out and pinched my bottom. In that instant, I remembered the old man who lived next door back home. He used to promise me candy and lure me into his house, where his stubble would scratch my face. Grandma saw him one day and chased him with a kitchen knife, screaming curses. That night, she scrubbed me in a big tub for what felt like hours, her voice rough. “Penny, from now on, if anyone tries to kiss you or touch you, you bite them! Bite them hard! You hear me?” I snapped back to the present. In the cramped, closet-like security booth, the guard was lifting up my little dress. 8 I opened my mouth and bit down as hard as I could. He howled in pain and let go. I shoved the door open and ran. I ran until my lungs burned. It was only then that I realized the plastic bag the bald man had given me was gone. The sun beat down relentlessly. I’d lost a shoe, and the black asphalt seared the sole of my bare foot. I saw a stray cat lounging in the shade of a bush. It looked so cool there. “Kitty, can I stay at your house for a little while?” The orange cat tilted its head, as if to ask, Don’t you have a home of your own? Tears streamed down my face. “I-I used to,” I sobbed. “But not anymore.” The men in black shirts said my parents owed a lot of money, and the apartment had to be used to pay the debt. I didn’t know what that meant, but the bald man had said our home belonged to them now. Seeing me crying like a mess, the orange cat disdainfully climbed a tree. I sat down in the shade, and soon, mosquitoes swarmed me. I’d swat one away, and another would land. I was hot, tired, and covered in itchy bites. I don’t know when I fell asleep. 9 As evening fell, people came out to walk their dogs and take out their trash. I saw bags filled with leftovers—half-eaten bread rolls and discarded crusts! I scrambled over and grabbed half a roll and two pieces of crust. Then I saw it: half an apple in the bin. The other half was still good! I had always wanted to eat an apple, but Mom only ever bought two. One for Rosie, and one for her and Dad to share. I’d secretly gnawed on the core once. It was so sweet! The bread was a little stale, but I wolfed it down, alternating bites of bread and apple. The food from the trash was so good, even better than Rosie’s old crackers. But a little while later, my stomach started to hurt. A lot. I looked everywhere, but I couldn’t find a bathroom. I squatted behind some bushes and carefully pulled down my underwear. Suddenly, a cleaning lady charged at me, waving her broom. “Whose kid is this? Old enough to know better and still pooping in public! Are you an idiot?” She grabbed my arm and yanked me to my feet. I didn’t have time to pull my clothes back up, and my underwear fell into the messy puddle on the ground. Tears streamed down my face. The lady threw me to the ground, pinching her nose and pointing at me with her broom. “Which building do you live in? Go get your parents! Public defecation is a fifty-dollar fine!” I clutched my dress, sobbing. “M-my parents are gone. The uncles took our apartment. I-I don’t have a home…” Her eyes widened. “Well, what do you know. An unwanted little stray! And you dare make a mess here? You’re going to eat it!” I struggled, but she was too strong. She grabbed my neck and started shoving my face towards the mess. I screamed. Suddenly, a familiar voice cut through my terror. “Kid? Why didn’t you go to the police station?” It was the bald man!

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