Nicholas Blackwood hated me for a decade after his beloved died. She was his moon; I was merely her shadow. I offered him my world, only to be met with icy scorn: “If you truly want to please me, Lindsay, the best thing you could do is die.” Yet when the great hall burned, he died saving me. In his final moments, he pushed me away. “If only my life had never been touched by yours…” At his funeral, his mother wept: “If only I’d let him marry Clara Bellewood.” His father accused me: “He saved you three times. Why did you only bring him ruin?” Even I regretted our marriage. So I leapt from the Stargazer’s Spire—and woke up ten years earlier. This time, I’d cut all ties with Nicholas Blackwood. I’d give them the ending they deserved. 1 “Lindsay Vance, you have a talent for getting what you want, don’t you? To think you’d manipulate my parents into threatening me, forcing my hand into this marriage. Do you really believe this is how you’ll find happiness?” The voice, low and cold, belonged to a boy. I blinked, my vision clearing to see Nicholas, a much younger Nicholas, standing before me. He was eighteen again, dressed in the sharp crimson of a young lord, his features still holding a wild, untamed arrogance that time would later temper. I was back. I was truly back. I fought down the wave of grief and relief that threatened to overwhelm me, my gaze drinking him in like a woman dying of thirst. “You don’t want to marry me,” I stated, my voice steadier than I felt. “The one you truly want is Clara Bellewood, isn’t it?” Nicholas scoffed. “So what if it is? Are you going to step aside?” “Yes,” I said, with a sincerity that startled him. My parents had died in service to the Crown, securing a generation of peace for the kingdom. As a reward, the King had granted me a single boon: a Royal Decree of Marriage. It was a blank slate, a promise from the throne that I could marry any nobleman I chose. By the same token, I could use it to secure a marriage for anyone else. He stared at me for a moment, then let out a sharp, disbelieving laugh. “You’ve already used the King’s decree to back me into a corner. My parents are unmovable. Our wedding is a foregone conclusion. How exactly do you plan to ‘step aside’ now?” He leaned back against the cool stone of the palace wall, his arms crossed. “Look, Lindsay, I don’t have time for your games. Just take your decree and go. I’ll wait for you here.” The disgust in his eyes was a physical blow, a thousand tiny needles piercing my heart. In this life and the last, I had loved him for so long. He had risked everything to save me, twice, and I had mistaken his honor for affection. I’d joyfully requested the decree, believing he felt the same, only to realize my love was his prison. My ten years of devotion had been his ten years of torment. In my past life, I had performed countless acts of charity, bartered with my own life force, all for the slimmest chance of his rebirth. Before the end, a mystic had given me a warning. “Within the first twelve hours of his new life, you must resolve his three greatest regrets. Once it is done, you must leave him forever.” “Then,” the old man had promised, “your paths will diverge. He will not die at thirty because of you. You will both find your own peace.” “But know this, child. Every rebirth has its price.” As long as Nicholas could live, I was willing to pay any price. I went before the King and used my boon, my one royal favor, to request a marriage decree for Nicholas Blackwood and Clara Bellewood. I knew his three regrets by heart; they were etched into the pages of his private journal. Regret marrying Lindsay Vance. Regret not defying my parents’ will. Regret not being able to save Clara Bellewood. Now, the first of his regrets was fulfilled. I walked out of the palace, the royal scroll in my hand, and presented it to Nicholas. He looked at me with the contempt of a man who believes he’s been thoroughly outmaneuvered, reaching to unroll the parchment. I placed my hand over his, offering a gentle smile. “Wait until tomorrow. There might be a surprise.” He shot me a look. “Pointless. Whether I read it today or tomorrow, it still says I’m marrying you, doesn’t it? What’s gotten into you? Are you that ecstatic about finally trapping me?” I was ecstatic. But not for the reason he thought. Because I can finally see you alive again. I smiled. “I think you’re the best man in the world. Anyone who marries you will be incredibly happy.” “Let’s go,” he grunted, turning away so quickly I might have thought he was blushing if I didn’t know better. The carriage rattled through the city. As we passed the festive lights of the flower market, I pulled back the curtain, overhearing the chatter of women on the street. “Tonight’s the celestial alignment! They say if you watch the meteor shower from the Stargazer’s Spire with the one you love, you’ll be bound together for all eternity!” A memory pierced me. In my last life, I’d heard the same words and eagerly begged Nicholas to take me. He had looked at me with that chilling, distant gaze. “Isn’t one lifetime of my misery enough for you, Lindsay? You want to chain me for three?” he’d mocked. “It’s a foolish superstition for children and romantics. If you want to be duped, go alone. Don’t drag me into it.” The memory was so vivid, the coldness in his eyes still made me shiver. I quietly let the curtain fall. But this time, something was different. “You want to go?” Nicholas’s voice was flat, devoid of emotion. I looked up, startled. “I can take you to the Spire tonight,” he continued, not meeting my eyes. “I won’t have time to accompany you to your parents’ memorial after the wedding. Consider this… an apology.” I stared at him, a flicker of hope and sorrow warring within me. This was the Nicholas I knew—venom on his tongue, but a heart softer than anyone realized. He didn’t love me, yet he had thrown himself into danger for me three times without hesitation. The first, when we were ambushed by highwaymen, he’d taken a blade to his right arm to protect me. The arm that could once send an arrow through a target a hundred paces away could never again draw a bow. The second, when I was struck by the Crimson Fever, he’d scaled the treacherous Frostfang Peak to find the rare Frost-Lotus that saved my life, nearly breaking his leg in the process. The third, during the fire at the royal palace, he had died to pull me from the flames. Nicholas Blackwood was a good man in every way. He just didn’t love me. I knew that after today, our fates would be untangled forever. Even if we stood atop the Stargazer’s Spire and watched the meteor shower of a century, we would never be bound for eternity. Still, I pushed down the burning moisture in my eyes and gave him a smile that felt as bright and cheap as a carnival prize. “I’d love that. Let’s go see the stars fall together.” 2 Our carriage was stopped halfway there. A frantic-looking maid, one of Clara Bellewood’s, claimed her mistress was suffering from a terrible headache and was calling for Nicholas. Nicholas’s brow furrowed. He swung himself out of the carriage without a second thought. “Clara isn’t well. I need to check on her. You go back to the manor. I’ll meet you at the Spire later tonight.” “Alright,” I nodded. He seemed surprised by my easy agreement. “You used to hate it when I went to see her. A sudden change of heart?” I opened my mouth to speak, but he cut me off with another cold laugh. “Right. We’re about to be married. I suppose she’s no longer a threat to you.” He strode away, missing the flicker of sorrow and resignation in my eyes. The truth was, I’d never tried to stop him from caring for Clara. I had only ever intervened once, when I discovered Clara was entangled with a married court official. I had warned him, pleaded with him to stay away. But he never knew the whole story. After she died, he was lost in a decade of grief. If I had to choose, I would rather see him happy with Clara—even a flawed Clara—than watch him suffer and die for my sake. My first stop was the city registrar to secure my travel papers. Then, I returned to the Blackwood manor. The Duchess had prepared a feast herself, the table laden with all my favorite childhood dishes. As was my habit, I slipped the white fur cloak from my shoulders and draped it over hers. “It’s getting colder, Your Grace. You must take care of yourself.” She beamed, her eyes crinkling with affection. “My sweet girl, always so thoughtful. Now, let me see the royal decree! I have waited so long for the day I can finally call you my daughter.” The Duke, noticing I had returned alone, began to bristle. “That boy didn’t escort you back? The decree has been issued, and he still doesn’t know how to cherish you! Just wait until he gets home, I’ll give him a piece of my mind!” Their genuine warmth was a bittersweet ache in my chest. After my parents fell, they had taken me in, an orphan girl with nothing, and given me everything. I had always been the dutiful daughter. But this time, I had to betray their hopes. I looked at them, my voice heavy with purpose. “Your Grace, my Lord… I will not be marrying Nicholas.” I continued before they could protest. “I’m leaving for the Riverlands tomorrow. I won’t be here to look after you, so you must promise to look after each other.” The Duchess froze, her smile vanishing. “Your parents died for this kingdom. You grew up in this house. This is your home, Lindsay! Where would you go?” Her voice grew urgent. “Is it because of that Bellewood girl? Did Nicholas hurt you? Is that why you’re calling off the wedding?” “Don’t be rash,” she pleaded, taking my hands. “He has feelings for you, I know it. He wouldn’t have risked his life for you twice if he didn’t. Every year on your birthday, he spends months searching for the most perfect, unique gifts. I’ve seen how you care for him, learning to cook his favorite meals, massaging his injured arm every day. You two would be so happy together!” she insisted. “Besides, that girl is trouble. We can’t let her win. Please, don’t leave out of anger.” In my past life, they had said the same things. In the end, I lost my husband, and they lost their son. We all drowned in a lifetime of regret. I gently wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. “Your Grace, you can’t force a heart to love. Nicholas’s heart belongs to someone else. It was wrong of me to ever try and claim it.” My voice dropped to a near whisper. “I had a dream last night. In the dream, he married me, but he couldn’t bear to look at me. He threw himself into his work, traveling to the most dangerous frontiers, running himself into the ground until his body was a wreck of old wounds. The food I made, he wouldn’t eat. When he was sick, he wouldn’t let me near. He told me… he told me the pain I brought him was greater than any happiness. And then… he died at thirty, saving my life.” The memory was so real, my own heart seized with a pain so sharp it stole my breath. The Duchess paled. “But… but that’s just a dream, my dear. Nicholas wouldn’t…” I sniffed, forcing a watery smile. “Dreams can be warnings, Your Grace. I want him to live a long life. We don’t have to be husband and wife. I just need him to be alive.” I took a deep breath. “He carries the weight of a dukedom on his shoulders, with so little choice in his own life. The least I can do is give him the freedom to choose who he loves.” I knelt before them and bowed my head to the floor three times, the gesture heavy with finality. “My travel papers are in order. I beg you, let me go. For the love and kindness you have shown me, I will be eternally grateful. I will spend my life repaying that debt.” The Duke’s stern expression softened. He helped me to my feet. The Duchess, weeping silently, pressed a thick stack of bank notes into my hand. “If this is what you’ve truly decided, then we will not stand in your way. But you remember this, Lindsay. No matter what happens, this house will always be your home.” Tears I could no longer hold back streamed down my face. I threw my arms around her. “Thank you, Your Grace.” By cutting my ties with Nicholas, the tragedy of our past life would be erased. He would live to be an old man. The Duke and Duchess wouldn’t lose their son and grow to hate me. This time, everyone would have their happy ending. The second of his regrets, I thought, should now be resolved. But I had to fulfill all three within twelve hours. There was still one left. Would it be so simple? That evening, I went to the Stargazer’s Spire. The air was filled with the soft murmurs of couples, all there to wish for a shared destiny under the falling stars. “Lindsay Vance.” A familiar voice cut through the night. I turned, a foolish spark of joy igniting in my chest, only to see Nicholas’s face, twisted into a mask of pure fury. He grabbed my wrist, his grip like iron, his eyes shot with red-hot anger. “I knew you were manipulative, but this is a new low. Just because I didn’t escort you home, you ran to my parents and filled their heads with poison, causing them to publicly humiliate Clara. She tried to take her own life, Lindsay. Are you satisfied now?”

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1 At my best friend’s birthday party, I got wasted and crashed next to a gorgeous stranger. Platonically. My so-called best friend, instead of looking out for me, snapped a perfectly angled photo and posted it to his Instagram story. The caption: “That’s my boy Leo, ‘scoring’ wherever he goes! ” The next morning, I was trending for all the wrong reasons. During a media scrum, my two childhood friends, Bella and Zoe, who had always sworn they’d trust me unconditionally, didn’t just fail to defend me—they threw me under the bus. “Leo’s always been a player, ever since we were kids. He loves the attention from women. What can we do?” “I guess we’re just not as exciting as the girls he finds on the outside. But thank God we have Finn now!” I let out a cold laugh. After deciding to quit the industry, I cornered the beautiful stranger from the party outside her hotel. “Hey. About last night. Aren’t you going to take responsibility?” Her eyes, a stunning shade of amethyst, widened slightly. “How, exactly?” “Marry me.” … When Bella and Zoe returned to our shared condo, I was staring blankly at the freshly printed marriage certificate in my hand. I was so out of it, I didn’t even notice them walk up. “A marriage certificate? Whose?” Bella snatched it from my grasp, flipped it open, and let out a derisive snort. “Leo, seriously? Your career is in the toilet, so you get a fake marriage license to shut people up? Pathetic.” Zoe’s smile was more restrained, but her words were just as sharp. “A fake like this won’t fool anyone, Leo. When you’re exposed, it’ll only be more humiliating for you.” I frowned, taking the certificate back. A bitter laugh almost escaped me. These were the girls who had professed their undying devotion to me, who swore to trust me no matter what. As I stood to go to my room, my eyes met those of the person standing behind them. Finn. I was surprised to see him. “What are you doing here?” Finn stepped forward, his face a mask of guilt, and before he even spoke, he slapped himself hard across the cheek. “Leo, I’m so sorry. I swear I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. You know I’m new to the industry. I had no idea a stupid Instagram story would blow up like this.” He played the innocent victim to perfection. A damn shame he wasn’t an actor. I crossed my arms, watching him with a detached curiosity. “Then why don’t you clear things up?” He blinked, feigning confusion. “Clear what up?” “The truth, Finn. That nothing happened.” I couldn’t stand his act anymore, and my voice rose. He immediately flinched and ducked behind Bella, as if I were about to hit him. “I… I can’t lie.” “That’s enough.” Bella and Zoe instantly jumped to his defense. One grabbed my arm, pulling me back, while the other stood between me and Finn. “Leo, you’re the one who can’t keep it in your pants, and now you want Finn to lie for you?” Bella sneered. “You think everyone is like you, able to lie through their teeth without a shred of conscience?” “Honestly, you brought this all on yourself,” Zoe added, her voice laced with disappointment. “Finn is just too kind and naive. He felt so bad he insisted on coming to apologize in person, and this is how you treat him? By bullying him?” “Bullying him? Me, with no self-control?” I was so angry I could only laugh. Growing up, thanks to Bella and Zoe’s possessiveness, there hadn’t been a single other girl in my life. Even Finn, my one and only guy friend, had to get their stamp of approval before I was “allowed” to hang out with him. I’d actually been happy to finally have a brother. Now, it seemed my joy had been tragically misplaced. “I’m not arguing with you. You’re being completely irrational, as always,” Bella scoffed, taking Finn’s arm and leading him downstairs. Zoe sighed. “Leo, you need to get your act together.” She followed them down the stairs. Staring at the empty stairwell, it suddenly hit me. If I was going to sell this place, I’d have to fix it first. Years ago, I’d entered a TV talent show on a whim. I ended up getting a bit of a following and was signed by a label. After my first real paycheck, I bought this condo. Bella and Zoe, not wanting to be separated from me, used the excuse of “protecting” me to get money from their parents and buy the unit directly below mine. Then, against all building regulations, they had a spiral staircase installed, connecting our two homes. It meant they could come and go from my place as they pleased. I’ll admit, that convenience had its perks. There was a time I fell into a lake during a variety show shoot and came down with a raging fever that night. They’d come up with takeout, found me delirious, and rushed me to the hospital. But I didn’t need that kind of “care” anymore. 2 The next morning, I was jolted from a deep sleep by a frantic call from my assistant, Benny. “Leo, what the hell happened last night?” I was still half-asleep, mumbling, “Happened? With who?” “Dude, just check your socials. You’re trending again.” Trending? The fog in my brain vanished. I immediately pulled up my phone’s browser. My name was everywhere. #FinnApologizesInPerson,GetsVerballyAbusedByLeo #LeoCutsTiesWithChildhoodFriendsAndBestieAfterScandal #BellaAndZoeSpeakOutOnLeosBetrayal The comments were a cesspool of vitriol. 【What a scumbag. Can’t control his own dick and now he’s attacking people. I always thought Leo seemed like a decent guy, but he’s disgusting behind the scenes.】 【Unfollowed him yesterday. Honestly heartbroken. Can’t believe the artist I supported is this kind of trash.】 【A man with no self-respect is worthless. If I were his friend, I’d cut him off too. Who needs a friend like that?】 This was… interesting. Bella and Zoe had brought Finn over last night, and he’d left through their apartment. So how did this become about me attacking him, instead of a potential three-way scandal? It was obvious. Someone was buying bots and boosting these hashtags, using me as a stepping stone. I clicked on Finn’s social media profile. Sure enough, for a brand-new artist, his follower count had skyrocketed past 300,000 in less than two days and was still climbing. The comments were filled with people praising his “purity” and “kindness,” vowing to protect him. When I switched back to the call, Benny’s voice was hesitant. “Leo… Rex said they’re putting your new album on hold. He wants you to come into the office.” “Do you need me to get the driver to pick you up?” I stretched, sitting up in bed. “No need. I was planning on seeing Rex anyway.” If I remembered correctly, my contract was up in a month. Given the current PR nightmare, the label would never re-sign me. Perfect. I was tired of it all anyway. This was my chance to just walk away. As soon as I arrived at the agency, Benny rushed to meet me, his expression a mixture of pity and anxiety. I waved a hand, letting him know he didn’t need to say anything. When I entered my manager Rex’s office, Bella, Zoe, and Finn were already there. Rex, his face grim, tossed a contract onto the desk in front of me. “The variety shows you were booked for have all dropped you. No one wants to touch you right now. This opportunity… Bella fought to get it for you. Take a look. If it seems okay, sign it.” In the middle of this firestorm, some producer was brave enough to sign me? And Bella got me the gig? Since when did she have that kind of pull? Puzzled, I opened the contract. After a few glances, I flipped to the attached script. And I laughed. This wasn’t Bella fighting for me. This was a custom-made production designed for the four of us. The script had me deliberately antagonizing Finn on camera, turning our real-life drama into a primetime spectacle to maximize the buzz. They were going to squeeze every last drop of value out of me, letting Finn build his career on my ashes. My laughter clearly unnerved Bella. “What’s so funny?” she snapped. My smile vanished. “What are you so nervous about?” I retorted instinctively. “You…” Bella clenched her fists, about to step toward me, but Finn held her back. “Leo, if you don’t want to be on the same show as me, I’ll just pull out. You really need this chance right now. Don’t let your pride get in the way.” Before I could even respond, Bella and Zoe said in unison, “No.” “Finn, you’re a rookie,” Zoe said. “Every moment of screen time is precious for you.” Rex’s face was grim as he stared at me. “Leo, this is the company’s decision!” I nodded slowly, then asked the question that had been burning in my mind. “Last night’s trending topics… that was the company’s doing too, wasn’t it?” Rex’s lips thinned into a hard line. He didn’t answer. That was answer enough. A bitter wave of sorrow washed over me. I picked up the pen from Rex’s desk and signed my name on the contract with a flourish. Everyone in the room visibly relaxed. I stared Rex straight in the eye, handing him the contract. “For ten years of guidance and support,” I said, each word precise and cold, “our debt is paid. We’re even.” Without a second glance at their stunned faces, I grabbed the script and walked out. 3 “What artist gets hit with a scandal and then immediately signs on for a show? That’s just asking for more trouble. What is Rex thinking?” Benny muttered, frowning as we waited for the elevator. I just smiled, a sad, knowing smile. “Benny, I’ve been in this business for ten years.” Ten years. I hadn’t won any major awards, I wasn’t a superstar, and my voice was even starting to lose its edge. Every agency needs fresh blood. And Finn just ‘happened’ to create this massive stir at the perfect time. The company might have considered damage control at first. But once Bella and Zoe, my supposed “devoted sisters,” hammered the final nail in my coffin, any attempt to clear my name would have been met with skepticism from the fans. It was far more profitable to use my downfall to launch Finn. This is the entertainment industry. It’s a cruel place, devoid of loyalty. Benny fell silent, chewing on the pearls in his bubble tea. His eyes started to turn red. “But it’s not your fault, Leo. I’ve seen how careful you’ve been with your reputation these past ten years. It’s Bella and Zoe who are the ungrateful ones. Without you, they never would have even had a career, let alone become this beloved ‘devoted duo.’” A wave of gratitude washed over me. I pulled him into a quick hug. The two girls I grew up with were less loyal than the assistant I’d known for a decade. “Benny, I’m planning on leaving the business. So… use this time to figure out your next move, okay?” As I let him go, the trio walked up behind us. “Leaving the business?” Bella’s voice was sharp with suspicion. “Leo, who are you bad-mouthing now?” Her voice was drowned out by the ding of the arriving elevator. I pretended not to hear her, waved goodbye to Benny, and stepped inside. I saw a flash of annoyance on Bella’s face, but she was too proud to follow me after I’d given her the cold shoulder. It wasn’t until I was in my car that I saw a message from my not-yet-well-acquainted wife, Aurora. 【Sorry, I was busy and just saw the news. Do you need me to make a statement?】 I quickly typed back, 【No, it’s fine. Thanks!】 After a moment’s thought, I sent another. 【Could you book my flight to Aethelgard for a month from now? I have to film a show first.】 The reply was almost instantaneous. 【Of course.】 I cringed, feeling the awkwardness even through the screen. The truth was, when I’d cornered her at the hotel, it was a moment of pure impulse. I’d spouted all that nonsense without thinking. I never, ever expected her to actually agree—and then, as if afraid I’d back out, she dragged me straight to the courthouse to get the license. I figured she must think I was loaded with money. But then, as soon as we had the certificate, she handed me a black card linked to her private account. Holy hell. The balance in that account was more than I’d make from ten platinum albums. And that wasn’t all. She then mentioned her properties in the capital, Aethelgard, and said she’d take me to have the deeds transferred to my name. That’s when it hit me. I hadn’t just married some girl. I’d married a goddamn CEO. When she later mentioned wanting to have the wedding in Aethelgard, I naturally had no objections. My parents happened to live there too. That night, I was eating instant ramen and scrolling through my tablet, looking for a construction company. Zoe came up from downstairs, snatched the ramen cup out of my hands, and tossed it in the trash. “This is what you’re eating? Come downstairs. Finn made spicy hot pot. He sent me up to get you.” I looked at her, my heart filled with a profound sense of disappointment. I’ve had a sensitive stomach since I was a kid. They both knew that. For eighteen years, they never let me eat anything spicy or raw, let alone something as oily and fiery as hot pot. But now, because of Finn, they could so easily forget something they once cared about so deeply. “I don’t eat hot pot. Give me back my ramen.” Zoe’s lips tightened. For a long moment, she didn’t move. Finally, she crouched down, meeting my eyes at eye level, just like she used to when she was trying to coax me. “Leo, I know you’re still angry. But Finn is different from you. He’s a rookie. If we don’t speak up for him, your fans will tear him apart, and he’ll never get his big break.” “But you’re different. Even if you can’t make it in this industry anymore, you still have me and Bella. We’ll take care of you.” I couldn’t help but laugh. “Hard pass. I don’t eat leftovers.” My dismissive attitude infuriated her. “Leo…” she snapped, her face hardening. I was done listening to her nonsense. “Can you please leave? I’m busy.” Zoe’s face grew darker and darker until she finally stormed out in a rage. She never once glanced at what I was doing on my computer.

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1 “Fiftieth test run, and we’re still number one! The data is solid!” Mitch slapped me on the back so hard I stumbled forward. I wasn’t a paralyzed husk in a hospital bed. I was reborn. “You earned this, man!” Mitch grinned, thinking my daze was from the thrill of the car’s performance. He urged me to get ready for the race tomorrow. “Wait!” I shouted, stopping him in his tracks. “Don’t submit the car’s specs yet. I need to check something!” As I sprinted towards the garage, I pulled up the preliminary data Kane had already posted online. It was completely different from mine, which was why, last time, I suspected nothing. But as I stood before my own car, the webpage on my phone suddenly refreshed. “Blaze! What the hell is going on? Kane just updated his specs—they’re identical to ours!” Mitch’s face was ashen as he ran in after me, already dialing to complain to the race organizers. My own expression was grim, but I held up a hand to stop him. “The submission deadline is midnight. We have time.” In my past life, Kane had “accidentally” leaked the two identical spec sheets online, siccing his fan army on me. It all hinged on this single moment. My frantic posts of my build videos were drowned out by their sneering comments. “Wow, technology is amazing. You can even deepfake videos now.” “Everyone knows the real competition is in the custom builds. Why don’t you just steal Kane himself and have him drive for you?” “Kane was putting his entire legacy on the line for this race, and you rich bullies just had to cheat. Is there no justice in the world?!” My team was harassed, pelted with rotten eggs in the street, afraid to even go home. My only recourse was to prove my skill on the track. But the moment I hit the ignition, my car exploded right on the starting line. Kane was the only one untouched by the blast. He coasted to victory, basking in the glory. The investigators, professional engineers, they tore my car apart and found nothing. No faulty parts, no explosives. Nothing that could have caused the detonation. So Kane’s fans spun a new narrative: I had done something terrible, and this was divine retribution. I deserved to die. Even as a comatose patient, I was subjected to a decade of quiet torment and neglect. I couldn’t even call for help. I could only pray for someone to grant me the mercy of a quick end. My parents, broken by the public hatred, eventually took their own lives. And then my fiancée, Bella, walked into my hospital room on the arm of Kane, disguised as a grieving fan, and unplugged my life support. The official story was that the comatose patient, wracked with guilt, had finally given up. I died with my eyes wide open, a silent scream of injustice trapped within me. But now… now heaven had given me a second chance. And I would make damn sure the ones who were truly guilty paid the price. 2 “A race of this caliber happens maybe once in a generation! This is your shot, Blaze, you can’t just give up because of this!” “Forget about Kane. Just double-check the car. We’re racing, no matter what!” Mitch snatched the phone from my hand and locked me in the garage with the car. I clenched my jaw and began a meticulous inspection, stripping the car down, piece by piece. Even if someone had leaked my design, the performance data would be wildly different if even a single component was off by a fraction of a millimeter. How could Kane possibly have found parts identical to mine when my own were still installed? And even if he did, under the exact same conditions, why did my car explode? I wracked my brain, replaying that day in my mind. Kane was a master of self-promotion, always surrounded by a swarm of fans. He never had a chance to get near my car. But the person on his arm at that time… It was my fiancée, Bella. An invisible hand squeezed my heart. Eight years together. I was so sure we were going to exchange rings. Instead, she had stood by the man who framed me and cut short my life. I couldn’t dwell on it now. I shook my head, clearing the chaotic thoughts. I began disassembling the car, removing every custom part. I had poured three years of my life into this machine. I loved these cold, metal components. It wasn’t easy to let them go. But then the image of my parents flashed in my mind—leaping from my hospital window, with me powerless to even claim their bodies. My hands moved faster. Once the parts were removed, I pulled a dusty collection of components from a storage locker. This was my original design—a masterpiece in its own right. But my obsession with perfection had led me to dream up a new, nearly flawless version, the one I had just dismantled. Even with my stolen specs, Kane couldn’t match my skill on the track. He’d need a rocket ship to beat me. Within minutes, the car was reassembled with the older parts. I’d made a few tweaks, and the overall performance had jumped significantly. It was a panther, coiled and ready to strike. Elated, I sent the new specs to Mitch. The situation had developed too quickly, and I was the only one in the garage. Not even a master thief could copy me this time. I had just started to relax when Mitch appeared again, his face bone-white. A terrible premonition washed over me. “Kane…” Mitch’s voice was strained. “He just posted online about his ‘original concept.’ The specs… they’re identical to the version you just built.” “Impossible!” I snatched his phone. On the screen, Kane was speaking with a wistful look on his face. “Honestly, when I first reached this stage, I thought it was perfect. But then… someone stole a key component. I had no choice but to create the newer, more flawless version you see today.” I refreshed the official race page. Kane’s vehicle specs had been updated to match my new build. His fans lauded him as a resilient genius. My face grew paler with every comment I read. How could this be? A significant portion of the parts in this build were vintage, off-the-market components I had found in a rural junkyard. I had spent months grinding and lubricating them, and only a few had become usable. I’d picked the best one. A part that, by sheer chance, had its edges perfectly rounded by a rainwater leak while in storage, allowing for a seamless fit with the machinery. The odds of replicating that were astronomical. And the part Kane had… its specs were identical to my single best one. A statistical impossibility. I opened the hood and carefully removed that very component. It felt warm in my palm. Could this be it? The source of the explosion? The memories of the endless nights spent perfecting it, and the lonely curses in the hospital room, swirled in my head. I walked silently to the furnace, the component clutched in my hand. As the workshop crew watched in dismay, I tossed it into the flames. Hearing the sound of it melting, I turned without hesitation and went back to my garage. This time, I would only choose the path that gave me the advantage. 3 Mitch watched me do it all, his eyes brimming with tears. After all, I had just personally destroyed the only two working designs I had left. “Blaze… what do we do now?” I took his phone and glanced at the screen. As expected, fans were already swarming my comments section, parroting Kane’s bravado. “Not so tough now, are you? Kane released all his specs. You’re hiding yours because you know you can’t compete. Just drop out!” “This guy’s style was always a cheap knock-off of Kane’s. He probably copied his way to the top and is panicking now that the specs have to be public!” … In minutes, they had tried and convicted me online. Then, my own phone buzzed. A message from Bella, who hadnt spoken to me in days. My brow furrowed. “Stop messing with those machine parts. Come out and have some fun with me tonight.” I hadn’t told her what I was doing. And she knew I needed absolute focus before a race; she never bothered me during this time. But now, she was spamming me with a chain of messages, using every excuse to lure me out of the garage. A voice message came through, her tone laced with a sob. “Blaze, give up. If you keep going like this, you’re going to die!” I simply closed my phone and said to Mitch with a faint smile, “It’s fine. There’s still time. I’ll make another one.” I took a deep breath and set my phone to Do Not Disturb. I sat back down at my workbench. I started from scratch, designing and building based on the standard parts I had on hand. This was, by far, the simplest build I had ever done. It took only two hours. As I compiled the data to send to Mitch for review, I lit a cigarette and collected my thoughts. On the surface, this was an intermediate, entry-level build—the kind a rich kid would buy to get into the sport. But I had altered one crucial aspect. This was a sleeper build. It looked basic, but once it hit a professional track, its performance would surge to its absolute maximum in an instant. It was a dangerous, high-risk technique—a masterpiece of desperate genius I had conceptualized during my ten years of torment in that hospital bed. Kane had never lived my hell. He would never see the secret hidden within the design. The next second, my phone buzzed with a notification. A “special feature” from Kane’s team. “We’ve heard some of our fans want to get into racing! As a special treat before the championship, Kane has designed this exclusive starter model. For anyone interested, now’s your chance!~” My hands started to tremble. I couldn’t even bring myself to open the message from Mitch confirming my fears. It was impossible. It couldn’t be this coincidental. I had just finished it. Kane, who had been out and about all afternoon, had somehow instantly produced an identical design, right down to its functions and its strengths and weaknesses. Clenching my fists, I tapped open the detailed specs. The same. The same. Everything was exactly the same. A sliver of hope remained. As long as Kane hadn’t discovered the final, crucial secret of the build, he would use my previous, more powerful design in the race. If he did, I could clear my name. With that thought, I immediately opened the official race website. The data flashed before my eyes for a second, and then—the site went down for maintenance. CRACK! Mitch slammed his fist into the wall. “Damn it, Kane!” he roared. “It has to be him, pulling some strings again!” “Once the data is uploaded, it can’t be changed! How is the committee letting him get away with this over and over again?! I’m gonna go find someone and take him down!” I looked up from the sea of scattered parts on the floor, my face a dark mask. “No. The organizers… I have to see them myself.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393266”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I am a coffin-born child. A local seer read my fate and declared I was born under a shadowed moon, unlikely to survive my eighth winter. If I was to have any hope of a long life, I needed a patron—a guardian to shelter me from the darkness that clung to my soul. On the day I turned one month old, my father was to follow the seer’s instructions to the letter. He was to hold me, his eyes squeezed shut, and walk from our doorstep, scattering a trail of ash and salt with every step. After one hundred paces, he was to open his eyes. The first thing he saw, whatever it was, would become my guardian. That day, as my father stepped out into the world with me in his arms, the heavens seemed to curdle. A freak storm had swollen the river, and the torrent had torn a chunk out of the old hillside cemetery, dislodging the ancient graves. He walked his hundred paces. When he opened his eyes, he was staring at a casket. A massive, blood-red casket, bobbing silently in the floodwater before him. 1 My name is Luna. I was born on the fifteenth of July, a night of the full moon, hence the name. The old-timers in our town, Blackwood Creek, sometimes call me “Half-Moon,” a grim little joke I wouldn’t understand until much later. My mother’s labor was a nightmare. It ended with her death. It should have been my death, too. The town midwife, a woman who’d seen more than her share of sorrow, warned my father that the spirit of a woman who dies in childbirth is a restless, vengeful thing. A mother and child lost together? That was a curse of the highest order. She insisted my mother be laid in her coffin immediately and moved to the old parish morgue on the outskirts of town. But in the dead of night, I clawed my way out of my mother’s womb. Old Man Silas, the part-time caretaker of the morgue, was nursing a bottle of cheap whiskey when he heard an infant’s cry coming from inside the coffin. The sound sobered him up faster than a slap to the face. He was sure it was a ghost. My father was the fourth son in his family, so everyone just called him “Four.” Silas, his hands trembling, called out into the gloom. “Martha, lass… whatever I did to you, it’s not on me! Don’t you be havin’ a go at an old man!” he stammered. “You… you leave me be! I’ll burn some extra candles for you, how about that?” He lit candles and incense, but the baby’s cries only grew stronger, more insistent. A thought struck Silas. Could it be… Martha ain’t dead? He scrambled to pry open the coffin lid. There I was, nestled between my mother’s legs, slick with blood and still attached to the afterbirth. “A corpse… giving birth?” Silas was so stunned he forgot to even pick me up. He just grabbed his lantern and sprinted through the dark towards our house. “Thomas! Thomas, open up!” he hollered, banging on the door. “It’s your wife! Your Martha… she’s had the baby!” My father, my grandparents, and half the neighbors were in our small house, making grim preparations for a funeral. When they heard Silas screaming that my dead mother had given birth, a fresh wave of fear washed over them. “Silas, what nonsense are you spouting?” one of the neighbors called out. “We carried Martha to the morgue ourselves not five hours ago!” “Yeah, you’ve had too much to drink, old man. The dead don’t have babies.” “Wait a minute,” another voice whispered. “They say on a full moon in July, the veil is thin. What if that ain’t really Silas at the door? What if it’s a spirit?” The suggestion hung in the air, chilling everyone to the bone. My father’s voice shook. “Uncle Silas… it’s not that we don’t believe you, but… can you prove it’s really you? How do we know you’re not… something else?” Silas, a respected elder in our small community, was furious. “You listen here, you little punk!” he roared. “When you were four years old, you fell into the septic tank! If I hadn’t been passing by to pull you out, you’d still be in there eating shit! You think I’d lie about something this big? Your wife had the baby!” My father’s face relaxed slightly. “It’s really him,” he breathed, and unbolted the door. But his anxiety returned in a rush. “Uncle, are you saying Martha… she’s not dead?” Silas’s expression softened with pity. “The mother’s gone, son. But there’s a little one in that coffin, and she’s crying her lungs out. I thought I was seeing things, but I swear on my life, there’s a baby in there.” “Come on,” he urged. “No more talk. Let’s go.” The sheer impossibility of it all—a baby born from a corpse—overwhelmed their fear with a morbid curiosity. A procession of a dozen people, armed with lanterns and torches made from split bamboo, made their way to the morgue. By the time they arrived, my cries had weakened to faint whimpers. Acting on pure instinct, I had crawled up my mother’s body and was suckling at her breast. When the townsfolk opened the coffin, that was the sight that greeted them. Me, nursing from my dead mother, whose eyes were wide open, as if she couldn’t rest until she knew I was safe. My grandmother gasped and quickly lifted me out. “She really did it… I thought the baby was gone with her.” She gently reached down and closed my mother’s eyes. “Rest now, Martha,” she whispered. “I swear I’ll raise this child right. You can go in peace.” My father fell to his knees beside the coffin, his forehead hitting the wooden floor. “Martha… you gave your life for her. I’ll raise our daughter, I swear it. I’ll never take another wife. You can rest now.” And with that, my mother’s eyes finally stayed closed. Father Michael, the local man of the cloth who’d been brought in to perform the last rites, pushed through the crowd. “Quickly, is it a boy or a girl?” My grandmother, having just cut the umbilical cord and wrapped me in her shawl, looked up. “A girl, Father. Why?” Father Michael’s brow furrowed. “Born on the fifteenth of July, at the third stroke of midnight. Her birth signs are all shadowed, and being a girl only deepens the connection to that darkness.” He ticked off points on his fingers. “She was born in a coffin, from a body that had passed. She’s been touched by death. It will be a miracle if she survives.” He paused, his eyes grave. “Her eighth year… there will be a great trial, a calamity that will seek to claim her.” “What?” My father, who had loved my mother since they were teenagers, was already broken by her death. The thought of losing me too was more than he could bear. He scrambled forward, grabbing at the priest’s robes. “Father! You have to save my daughter! She’s all I have left of Martha! If anything happens to her, how can I ever face my wife in the afterlife?” Father Michael stroked his beard. “Get up, son. There is a way. But you must do exactly as I say…” 2 After a week of prayers and rituals, my father laid my mother to rest. Then, on the day I turned one month old, he began the ritual Father Michael had prescribed. He held me close, his eyes squeezed shut, and started walking from our front door, leaving a trail of ash and salt behind him. The seer had been clear: one hundred steps. No more, no less. When he opened his eyes, the first thing he saw would be my patron, my guardian, whose spiritual strength I could borrow to survive. He had barely taken a few steps when the sky darkened, and a fierce wind whipped through the valley. It snatched the ashes from his hand, sending them swirling like a swarm of gray butterflies. The river beside the path was raging, and in the distance, he could hear shouts. Something about a landslide, a mudslide, the old cemetery on the hill collapsing. Temptation gnawed at him. He wanted to open his eyes, to see what was happening, but Father Michael’s warning echoed in his mind. Not until the hundredth step. He gritted his teeth and pushed on. He walked, wondering what he would see. A tree? A stone? Please, not a toad… Just as he took the hundredth step, I let out a happy gurgle in his arms. My father opened his eyes. And there it was. A massive, blood-red casket, carried by the churning river, had drifted to a stop right in front of him. It was uncanny. The coffin had been moving with the current, but as it drew level with my father, it simply… stopped. He stood there, clutching me, a cold sweat breaking out on his forehead. His first instinct was to turn and run. But then he remembered the seer’s words: The first thing you see. For my sake, for the promise he’d made to my mother, he took a deep breath. He bowed his head, holding me out towards the crimson coffin. “To whoever rests within,” he began, his voice shaking. “I don’t know your name… but our meeting here must be fate. My daughter… she has had a hard start. Her mother is gone. The seer said she needs a patron, a guardian to borrow strength from, just to live. I’m asking you… please, be my daughter’s guardian.” It was a coffin washed down from the old hills, who knew how old it was, what ancestor it held. But he was desperate. He would take the chance. He never expected a response. But as the words left his lips, the piece of red paper with my birth details, tucked into my swaddling, fluttered up and landed softly on the coffin lid. Slowly, the lid began to slide open. A figure sat up inside. It was a woman, dressed in a magnificent, blood-red gown, a coronet of black jet and pearl on her head. Her face was as pale as porcelain, but her lips were the color of fresh blood. Her eyes, dark and intelligent, were unnervingly alive, and a strange, knowing smile played on her lips. Those eyes held a power that rooted my father to the spot, his legs turning to jelly. Then, she spoke, her voice a low, melodic hum that seemed to echo from another time. “If it is fate, then so be it. This child shall be my goddaughter.” She looked at me. “Born on the half-moon of July? We shall call her Half-Moon. Easy to remember.” My father stared, his mind reeling. “You… what are you? A person or a ghost?” The woman’s smile widened. She rose from the coffin, not climbing, but floating, landing weightlessly on the muddy bank before him. She looked down at him, her presence overwhelming. A long, crimson fingernail, sharp as a talon, gently traced the line of my jaw. “Neither person,” she purred, “nor ghost.” Her eyes glinted. “I am… a corpse.” “Aaaah!” A terrified scream tore from my father’s throat, but his body was frozen, as if encased in concrete. His hands trembled so violently he could barely hold me. The woman reached out and took me from his arms, cradling me against her chest. I, a one-month-old infant, felt no fear. In fact, I was drawn to her, to the cold, ancient scent that clung to her. I snuggled into her embrace and gurgled happily, nuzzling against her as if searching for milk. My reaction seemed to amuse her. “Clever girl. Your godmother has no milk for you, but I cannot let my daughter go hungry.” She reached up to her coronet and plucked a pearl from it—a magnificent orb that glowed with its own cold, internal light. She placed it in my father’s trembling hand. “Go,” she commanded. “Take this to the city. Find my daughter the finest wet nurse money can buy.” She gently patted my cheek. “Be good, little Half-Moon. You’ll have your milk soon.” 3 The woman—my new godmother—commanded my father to take the luminous pearl to the city and exchange it for money. With me held hostage in her cold embrace, he had no choice but to obey. But a new fear gripped him. “But… I’m just a poor farmer,” he stammered, his face pale. “How can I explain possessing something so valuable? If someone asks where I got it, what do I say?” “Leave the town,” the woman said, her voice leaving no room for argument. “Take a carriage to the provincial capital. Find the street called ‘The Gilded Span’ and look for a shop named ‘White’s Emporium of Antiquities.’ The proprietor is a man named White. You will ask him for five thousand silver dollars.” The sum struck my father like a physical blow. In those days, a good year of farming might earn a man a few dozen dollars. Five thousand was an unimaginable fortune. “I… I can’t!” he panicked. “I wouldn’t dare!” The woman laughed, a sound like cracking ice. “You are not afraid of me, yet you fear the living?” She flicked her wrist, and a flicker of red light, like a spark, shot from her finger and sank into my father’s hand. “Fear not. No one will harm you. Just go.” My father, now more afraid of refusing than of obeying, set off for the city with the pearl. The old saying, “an innocent man with a treasure is a magnet for thieves,” echoed in his twenty-year-old mind. He clutched the priceless pearl, his heart pounding with every step. He caught a neighbor’s ox-cart to the county seat, then boarded a train for a three-day journey to the capital. It was his first time in a big city. The towering buildings and bustling streets were a world away from Blackwood Creek, but the thought of me in the clutches of that undead creature spurred him on. He asked for directions and made a beeline for White’s Emporium. The shop was an imposing, multi-story building with a grand, carved sign. It dealt in antiques, art, and artifacts of immense value. The owner, Mr. White, was rumored to be the wealthiest man in the southern province, a descendant of a high-ranking official from the old imperial court—a master of forgotten arts. When my father stated his business at the door, the shopkeeper looked him up and down, sizing up his rough-spun clothes and worn boots. He spat out a few lines of coded trade-speak. When my father couldn’t answer, the man’s face soured with contempt. “Listen, kid, do you have any idea what kind of establishment this is?” he sneered. “We don’t just let any riff-raff in. We don’t deal in stolen or undocumented goods. Be on your way.” He had my father shoved out the door and, as an afterthought, tossed two copper coins on the ground. “You look hungry. Buy yourself some bread and go home.” My father had left home with barely enough money for the journey, and had been eating scraps to save his return fare. He was shocked that even the act of throwing him out came with a two-penny charity. He picked up the coins, tears welling in his eyes. “Sir, I’m not lying,” he pleaded. “I have something truly special for your master. My daughter… she’s with… her. She’s just a month old, and her mother is gone. If I fail, my little girl will die!” He thrust his sleeve forward, pulling it back just enough to reveal a sliver of the pearl’s cold, otherworldly glow. The shopkeeper’s eyes went wide. “That’s…” “Please, sir,” my father begged, “just tell him I’m here. I, Thomas Croft, will spend the next life as your beast of burden to repay the kindness!” Moved by his desperation and the undeniable authenticity in his eyes, the shopkeeper relented and went to fetch his master. Mr. White of the Emporium looked to be a man in his forties, impeccably dressed in a tailored Western suit and tie, holding a polished cane like an English gentleman. When he saw the pearl in my father’s hand, his professional calm shattered. He seized my father’s wrist, his eyes burning with intensity. “Where did you get this?” he demanded. His fierce gaze terrified my father. “She… she told me not to say,” he stammered. “She only said to ask you, Mr. White… if you would buy it.” Mr. White’s brow furrowed. He studied my father for a long moment, then his grip loosened. “I will,” he said, his tone softening. “How much does she want?” My father, abashed, could barely speak the words. He held up five fingers. “Five… five thousand silver dollars.” Mr. White took the pearl, examining it with a jeweler’s loupe. Without looking up, he gestured to the shopkeeper. “Arthur, go to the vault. Get him five thousand.” My father couldn’t believe his ears. Five thousand dollars, just like that? Seeing his stunned expression, Mr. White clapped him on the shoulder with a friendly smile. “An excellent piece, young man.” “If you ever come across anything else of this quality,” he added, “be sure to bring it to White’s Emporium first. If I’m not here, Arthur will take care of you. Whatever you have, I’ll buy it.” 4 Mr. White not only bought the pearl but also treated my father to a lavish meal. After a few glasses of wine, he started talking more freely, treating my father like an old friend. “Thomas, my boy, I won’t lie to you,” he said, leaning in. “This pearl… it’s from an ancient tomb. Hundreds of years old, at least.” “A gem of this size and quality,” he continued, “is something reserved for royalty, for kings and emperors. This piece… it came from an imperial mausoleum, didn’t it?” As he spoke, his eyes were fixed on my father, searching for any flicker of confirmation. But my father just waved his hand dismissively. “An emperor’s tomb? Nothing like that! We’re from a poor, forgotten corner of the country…” He trailed off, remembering the woman’s warning: Sell the pearl and return immediately. He quickly stood up. “Thank you for your hospitality, Mr. White, but my daughter is waiting for me. I must be going.” Mr. White didn’t press him. He offered to arrange a ride, but my father refused. The shopkeeper, Arthur, gave him a bundle of dried rations for the journey home. My father sewed the five thousand dollars in bank notes into the lining of his old coat and left without a moment’s delay. He didn’t know that the moment he stepped out of White’s Emporium, he was marked. A gang of thieves had been watching the shop. Four of them, led by a sharp-eyed woman. They weren’t common pickpockets; they specialized in robbing people coming out of high-end antique shops and pawn brokers. My father, with his shabby clothes and nervous demeanor, screamed “big score.” The first one, a wiry man named Finn, bumped into my father “accidentally.” As he did, he slit open the cloth bundle my father was carrying. A pile of hard, coarse oatcakes spilled onto the dusty street. My father cried out in dismay, tears in his eyes. “My cakes! My oatcakes!” Finn feigned embarrassment. “Oh, terribly sorry, friend. Just an accident. They’re all dirty now, you should probably just leave them.” My father, good-hearted and unsuspecting, shook his head. “No, no, sir. These were a gift. They’re made with good flour. We don’t even get to eat this well at Christmas back in my village. I’ll just dust them off.” Finn was bewildered. He’s in the capital city, and he’s not buying himself a decent meal? He’s crying over oatcakes? My father pulled a few copper coins from his pocket. “To be honest, sir, I came to the city on an errand for an elder. I didn’t bring much money. This is just enough for my train ticket back. The shopkeeper gave me these two coins out of pity. When I get to the county seat, I won’t even have money for the cart ride home. I’ll have to walk half a day through the mountains.” Finn was now seriously questioning his life choices. Had the boss been wrong? Was this kid actually broke? He reported back to his leader, a woman named Sadie. She remained unconvinced. She sent Finn to watch the city while she and her other two men, Gus and Jed, bought tickets for the same train as my father. Jed was rail-thin and had a nervous stutter, but he was a fearsome brawler, a master of a strange, jerky fighting style. “B-b-boss,” he stammered, “th-th-that kid… h-he won’t even s-s-spend money on a c-c-cup of water. Y-you s-sure he’s got the goods?” Sadie, idly flipping a small, wicked-looking blade between her fingers, was certain. “He’s got it. I can smell the money on him. And who is Mr. White? He doesn’t waste his time on just anyone. That kid was in there for two hours. He made a big deal.” Gus, the third man, wasn’t a fighter but an expert with knockout drugs. “Even if you’re trying to be discreet,” he mused, “you wouldn’t be that cheap, would you? He’s been gnawing on those oatcakes for three days. I’m getting a sore throat just watching him.” Sadie shot him a look. “Then why don’t you go offer him a drink?” Gus understood. He got a tin cup of water from the train attendant, stirred in a dose of sleeping powder, and approached my father. “Friend, you look familiar,” he said, perfectly mimicking the accent of our region. “You from Redding County too?” The train’s final stop was Redding, and after three days of tailing him, they had the local dialect down pat. My father’s eyes lit up. “Mister, you’re from Redding too?” Gus smiled. “Well, my grandmother is. From Hawk’s Hollow, over by the dam. And you?” My father, overjoyed to meet someone from “back home,” immediately told him everything. “I’m from Blackwood Creek, by the old bridge! That’s only a few miles from there!” “Well, what do you know,” Gus chuckled. “Small world. You must be thirsty, eating those dry cakes. Here, have some water. I just got it.” 5 My father was hesitant. “Oh, I couldn’t possibly…” “Don’t be a stranger,” Gus insisted. “For all we know, your family and my grandma’s could be cousins.” My father took the cup and drank, then, not wanting to take without giving, he offered Gus two of his oatcakes. “Here, you have some! They’re delicious! A friend in the city gave them to me. We never get to eat food this good back home.” He wasn’t lying. In those lean years, with crushing rents and taxes, most families in our village survived on boiled yams and wild greens. A bit of grain in a watery soup was a luxury. He had been saving those oatcakes. Gus, not wanting to break character, took one and bit down. The dry, gritty texture was like swallowing sandpaper. He started choking, his face turning red. If my father hadn’t quickly handed him back the cup of water, he might have passed out. “Ahem… cough… My friend,” Gus wheezed, “you can actually eat this stuff?” My father just smiled a sad, simple smile. “Mister, you’ve never known a hard day, have you?” Gus froze, suddenly paranoid. Had this simple farm boy seen through his act? He mumbled an excuse and beat a hasty retreat. He reported back to Sadie. “Boss, that kid’s not as simple as he looks. I almost blew my cover. He seems naive, but I think he’s got a sharp mind.” Now, only Sadie and Jed hadn’t shown their faces to my father. Jed frowned. “Boss, did we really get it wrong?” But Sadie was stubborn. “We’ve followed this kid all this way. I’m not leaving empty-handed. Jed, we’ll do it the old way.” Jed nodded. They got off the train at the next stop and took a shortcut to head my father off on the mountain path back to our village. Sadie, though a gang leader, was only in her early twenties. She braided her hair, smudged some dirt on her face, and could easily pass for a teenager. Jed, with his naturally cruel-looking face, played his part perfectly. He grabbed Sadie’s arm, twisting it until she cried out in real pain. “You little tramp! Thought you could run, did you?” he snarled as my father approached on the path. “Your father owes me five hundred dollars in gambling debts! He sold you to me to clear the slate! I was gonna make you my seventh wife!” “You want to run?” he spat. “Pay the debt first!” Sadie fell to her knees, sobbing. “Mr. Owens, please, let me go! I’ll work like a slave to pay you back! I’m too young, I don’t want to be your wife!” Jed slapped her hard across the face. “Five hundred silver dollars! You think you can ever earn that much? I’m telling you right now, you either pay the money, come be my wife, or I’ll sell you to the nearest brothel! You choose!” My father saw this and his blood boiled. This was pure bullying. He stepped between them, shielding Sadie. “You have a debt with her father, you take it up with him! What kind of man bullies a young girl?” “Even if she owes you money, you have no right to hit her! Can’t you talk things out civilly?” Jed, with his beady, rat-like eyes, saw his prey had taken the bait. He grabbed my father by the collar. “And who’s this bum? Her boyfriend? You want to be the hero, huh? Then you pay her debt!” My father froze. He didn’t have any money. “H-how much?” Jed held up a hand, five fingers splayed. “Five hundred silver dollars. Not a penny less!” Behind him, Sadie clutched at my father’s sleeve. “Mister, please, save me! I don’t want to marry him!” My father felt a wave of dizziness wash over him. Five hundred? Do I look like I have five hundred dollars? He had five thousand sewn into his coat, but that was my ransom money, my life. He couldn’t touch a single dollar of it. All he had to his name were a few oatcakes and the two copper coins the shopkeeper had thrown at him. My father’s bewildered response stunned Sadie and Jed. Could he really be a broke, simple-minded fool who didn’t even have five hundred dollars? They exchanged a look. Jed decided to force the issue. He kicked my father to the ground, straddled him, and slapped him twice. “No money? Then what are you playing the big shot for? Let’s see what you’ve really got on you!” He started tearing at my father’s coat. The coat was old, the cotton fabric thin and brittle. It ripped easily. Panicked that the money sewn inside would be revealed, my father threw up his hands to protect his chest. As he did, a brilliant red light flashed from his wrist. Jed was flung backward as if hit by a cannonball, flying through the air and crashing into a tree thick as a man’s waist. The trunk splintered. Jed crumpled to the ground, coughing up blood. He stared at my father in disbelief and terror. “You… you…” 6 My father was as shocked as anyone by his own power. He remembered the red spark the woman had shot into his wrist before he left. Had she known? Had she foreseen this? Sadie, seeing her man taken down, was furious, but it only confirmed her suspicion: my father was no simpleton. He had been playing dumb all along, hiding his true strength. She grabbed my father’s arm. “Come on, let’s go!” He was dazed. “What? What about him?” “He’s a wicked man, he got what he deserved,” Sadie said urgently. “Besides, what if he tries to blame you for this? Do you have the money to pay for his injuries?” My father felt a pang of guilt about leaving a man injured, but Sadie painted a picture of Jed as a monster who preyed on the weak.

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The third time Professor Pierce ignored my question, a live feed materialized in front of me, text scrolling through the air. 「Go, hero, go! A true gentleman, ignores everyone but Sera. 10/10.」 「Get lost, you snake. Stop getting in the way of Julian and Sera’s epic romance!」 One comment, glowing a furious red, stood out. 「Seriously? He’s a professor. It’s his job to answer questions. If he only wants to teach the heroine, he should just offer private tutoring.」 And that’s when it hit me. I was the villainess of this story, denied even the right to ask the male lead a simple question. The moment I understood, I dropped his class and found a new mentor. Later, after I won the Grand Championship in the Mech Artificer competition and became the nation’s newest Grandmaster, Julian Pierce appeared on stage, his arms full of flowers, his eyes soft. “Luna,” he said, “if you ever have any technical questions, you know you can always come to me.” I offered him a smile as distant as a dying star. “I have my own master to answer my questions, but thank you. Perhaps you should use this time to comfort your dear Sera. She looks like she’s about to cry.” It seems that without the villainess to drive the plot, the hero and heroine’s halos don’t shine quite so brightly. 1 “Professor, I have a question. Why does this set of components keep slipping after assembly?” It was the Q&A session in Mech Engineering, Section 7. I was the first to raise my hand, eager to ask Professor Julian Pierce for help. His eyes flickered over me for a fraction of a second before moving on, settling on Seraphina, the girl in the front row who was dozing off. The moment his gaze landed on her, his expression softened. He tapped her desk, his voice a stern but gentle caress. “Miss Seraphina, do you have any questions?” I blinked, stunned, and raised my hand a little higher. “Professor, I have a—” A soft groan from Seraphina cut me off. She stretched luxuriously, yawned, and then looked up at him with a bewildered expression. “A question? About what? This assembly is so simple. Don’t you know how to do it, Professor?” The class erupted in laughter. Professor Pierce sighed, a look of helpless fondness on his face. “Go back to sleep.” He addressed the class again. “If there are no other questions, that’s all for today. Go to the materials lab, pick up one set of Part Five and one set of Part Six. Assemble them at home. I’ll check them tomorrow.” I shot to my feet, my voice rising. “Professor, I have a question!” It was as if he couldn’t hear me. He cast one last look at Seraphina, who was already slumped back over her desk, and then turned and walked out of the classroom. I sank back into my seat, a hot wave of humiliation and anger washing over me. Why did he always ignore me? Every single time I tried to ask him something, he acted as if I didn’t exist. If he treated everyone this way, it might not have stung so much. But his favoritism toward Seraphina was blatant. If Sera had a question, he would answer with infinite patience. If she didn’t, he would personally ask if she understood the lesson. We were all his students. Why the hell was he treating us so differently? It made me burn with jealousy, and I couldn’t help but resent her for it. As my glare threatened to bore a hole through her back, the feed appeared again, words drifting in the air before me. 「Yes, King! Protect your queen! He only has eyes for Sera.」 2 I stared at the floating text. King? Were they talking about Professor Pierce? 「Ugh, that snake Luna needs to just disappear. Stop getting in the way of Julian and Sera’s relationship!」 I’m Luna. Since when was I a snake? And a relationship? They’d only known each other for a week. Another comment, this one in bold red, scrolled past, echoing my own thoughts. 「This is messed up. A professor’s duty is to teach his students. If he’s only going to focus on the heroine, he should just be her private tutor.」 Exactly! That’s exactly right! If you’re a teacher, you treat everyone the same. Why should Seraphina get special treatment? The lines of text kept coming, and with them, the answer. We were living in a novel. And I was the designated villainess. In this story, I was in love with Julian Pierce. I couldn’t stand seeing him be so kind to Seraphina, so I constantly targeted her. According to the feed, my next move was to steal her materials to make her fail the assignment. But the plot would twist. She would use the incomplete set of materials to build an even more powerful component, shattering the existing performance records for that part. Her genius would catch the eye of a legendary Grandmaster, who would take her on as his personal apprentice. Meanwhile, the component I slaved over all night wouldn’t even be deemed worthy of testing before being tossed into the recycling bin. Right on cue, we were all collecting our materials. If you weren’t eating in the campus dining hall, you could go home. Seraphina casually tossed her materials onto her desk, patted her stomach, and smacked her lips. She nudged her deskmate. “Kira, dining hall?” Her deskmate was Kira, an ice queen who preferred to be alone. I had tried to be friendly with her several times, but she’d given me the cold shoulder. Now, after less than a week of knowing Seraphina, she was like a different person. Her frosty eyes seemed to melt. Though her expression remained neutral, her voice was soft. “Yeah.” The feed went wild. 「See? No one can resist our sunshine girl, Sera!」 「Anyone else: ‘Get lost.’ Sera asks: ‘Yeah.’ The ice queen and the sunshine girl. I ship it.」 「LOL, Luna the snake is about to have a meltdown!」 I’ll admit, it stung. My family was wealthy, and I’d been doted on my entire life. I was used to having a circle of “friends” constantly trying to win my favor. I’d never been the one to initiate friendship. Except for with Julian Pierce. And with Kira. And both of them treated me with utter disdain while putting Seraphina on a pedestal. How could I not be furious? As I watched them walk away, I clenched my jaw and glanced at Seraphina’s materials. Just as they reached the door, Kira paused. “You’re just leaving your stuff on the desk? Will it be okay?” Seraphina stuck out her tongue. “What could happen? Let’s go, let’s go, I’m starving!” The feed flashed a warning. 「Sera, baby, be careful! The snake is about to steal your parts!」 「Go, brave Sera! No fear! Even if Luna steals her stuff, Sera will do it a hundred times better!」 Steal? My pride would never let me stoop so low. I gave the materials one last look, then turned and walked out. I’d like to see how the girl who slept through the entire lecture was going to do a hundred times better than me. 3 “Look, there’s a sliding mechanism here. You have to push this piece in, then lock the component underneath into place. That should do it.” Professor Alan Shaw, the instructor for Section 1, patiently explained the solution to my problem. The light bulb went on in my head. I followed his instructions, and the assembly clicked together perfectly. “Thank you, Professor Shaw!” I beamed. He waved it off. “It’s a common mistake. Most students overlook that detail and fail the assembly. The fact that you noticed it on your first try is impressive.” I lifted my chin proudly. I was, after all, the top-ranked student in the Mech Engineering department. It wasn’t just for show. But according to the feed, I wouldn’t be number one for long. My grades were about to plummet because I’d become so consumed with envy and hatred for Seraphina that I’d forget to improve myself. As if, I thought. I’m not stupid enough to waste my time trying to sabotage her. Why would I target another talented woman over a man with questionable professional ethics? Was I insane? Speaking of which, how did she create that higher-performance component? Was it possible that this assembly didn’t actually require all these materials? With that question burning in my mind, I started disassembling the part I had just completed. Professor Shaw looked puzzled. “That was a solid build. It would have tested above 90% efficiency. Why are you taking it apart?” Mechs are graded from Level 1 to 10, with each level having low, mid, and high-tier classifications. Components are the same. A part needs at least 80% performance data to be usable. Below 85% is low-grade, 85-90% is mid-grade, and above 90% is high-grade. The Part Six we received today was for a Level 2 mech. The current market record for it was 96.8%. But in the novel, Seraphina’s version reached an astonishing 98.91%. I don’t deny that geniuses exist. But I’m one of them. If she could do it, so could I. I pressed my lips together. “I want to see if I can do better.” A smile of appreciation spread across Professor Shaw’s face. “I like your spirit. That’s a great attitude to have.” His tone then became a little wistful. “Why did you transfer to Section 7, anyway? With your grades, Section 1 is a much better fit.” I was originally in Section 1. I only transferred because of Julian Pierce. Three years ago, my family was taken hostage by star pirates during a vacation. Julian, a mech pilot at the time, led the rescue team that saved us. He fulfilled every fantasy I ever had about a hero. I worshipped him. As I got older, that worship blossomed into a crush. When I found out he was teaching at my academy—in Section 7—I immediately requested a transfer to be closer to him. It had only taken one week to shatter that perfect image. “Professor Shaw, you’re right,” I said. “Section 1 is a better fit. Can I apply to transfer back?” 4 Professor Shaw’s eyes lit up. He immediately pulled open a drawer and started rummaging for a form. “Of course! Anytime! You keep working on your component, I’ll fill out the transfer application for you!” Watching him scribble away eagerly, I couldn’t help but smile. Whatever the feed said, I had no intention of being a supporting character in someone else’s story. I didn’t care how their plot developed. My goal was, and always had been, singular: to become a Grandmaster Artificer. … I didn’t sleep that night. I assembled and disassembled the two parts over and over, until my hands were raw and blistered. But finally, I discovered a new method. As dawn broke, I headed to the academy with dark circles under my eyes, carrying my finished components to find Professor Shaw for data testing. When he saw the pile of leftover materials I hadn’t used, his jaw nearly hit the floor. He rushed me to the testing lab and placed my component in the diagnostic machine. Three seconds later, a set of numbers lit up the display. 5 “Who took Miss Seraphina’s materials? If you come forward now, I’ll overlook it. But if I find out who it was…” I was five minutes late for class. As I reached the door, I heard Professor Pierce’s cold, hard voice. “Then I will ensure that a student with such poor character is expelled from this academy.” What was going on? Did Seraphina’s materials go missing after all? I glanced around. Seraphina looked unconcerned, Kira looked indifferent, and the rest of the class just looked confused. The feed was scrolling frantically. 「Check the security cams, hurry! Before Luna deletes the footage!」 I rolled my eyes. I didn’t steal anything, why would I delete the footage? “Permission to enter,” I called out. Professor Pierce narrowed his eyes at me, not letting me in. “Miss Seraphina’s materials are missing. Are you aware of this?” I nodded. “I am now. You just said so.” He let out a long, meaningful “Ohhh.” Then he asked, “And what are your thoughts on the matter?” His tone and expression infuriated me. “She lost them, so she should find them. What other thoughts could I have? If you don’t know how, Professor, I’d be happy to help you pull the security footage.” My attitude seemed to surprise him. His brow furrowed. “Whoever dared to steal them wouldn’t be stupid enough to leave the footage behind.” “Speaking of which,” he said, his eyes locking onto mine, “why are you so late today? What were you doing?” He might as well have just announced to the entire class that my tardiness was due to me tampering with the security system. As expected, his words made every student in the room look at me with suspicion. The scrolling feed was just as annoying. 「Pierce is in protective husband mode!」 「Yes, King! You deserve a wife like her!」 I ignored him, walked straight into the classroom, and went to my seat. “What I do is my business, not yours,” I said coolly. “And as for the footage, even if it’s deleted, I can restore it. Just because you can’t, Professor, doesn’t mean I can’t. Don’t worry, I’ll get your precious Sera the justice she deserves.” Then, right in front of everyone, I made a call. “Dad, a student in my class lost something. Could you have someone pull the security footage for me?” After I hung up, Seraphina turned to look at me, her expression dismissive. “Luna, there’s no need to go to all that trouble. The materials are gone, so be it. I’ll just get another set and start over. I hope the professor can give me a little more time.” So this time, she had lost all her materials. She clasped her hands together, blinked playfully at Professor Pierce, and pouted. “Please?” He chuckled, completely charmed. “You. You just don’t care about anything, do you? But this is about more than just some missing parts.” I cut him off. “The components we build are collected by the factory. Not a single one can be missing.” The materials we used were supplied directly by a major mech corporation. The parts we made were sent directly back to them for use. “At its simplest, this is a case of missing materials. At its worst, it affects the trust and partnership between this academy and the corporation! This must be investigated thoroughly!” I had another reason for pushing this. My father was on the academy’s board of directors, and my mother owned the corporation. What was stolen was, essentially, my family’s property. Of course I wanted it found. I wanted to shove the truth in the faces of every single person who doubted me. With a directive from a board member, it took less than thirty minutes for the Dean of Students to arrive at Section 7 with security and the surveillance footage. Halfway through the video, I couldn’t help but laugh. “Seraphina, is this what you call ‘missing’?” 6 The security footage was crystal clear. After lunch, she had returned to the classroom, picked up her bag with the materials inside, and left. She still had them when she reached the academy gates. The Dean, a man of impressive resources, had even managed to obtain the public surveillance footage from outside the school. Seraphina boarded a hover-train and traveled to a mech parts factory where she worked part-time. At the factory gate, she met a gray-haired man who was wiping tears from his eyes. He was a worker there who had lost a set of materials he’d taken home to assemble. The parts were expensive, and he was terrified of having to pay for them and losing his job. When Seraphina learned the missing set was Part Six, her charitable spirit took over, and she gave him hers. With the truth revealed, Seraphina ducked her head in embarrassment. After a moment, she looked up, forcing a pained smile. “If I miss one assignment, the worst that can happen is a failing grade. But that man has a family to support. If he lost his job, how would they survive?” “I admit I shouldn’t have given away the materials,” she said, tears streaming down her face, “but when I saw him like that, I just couldn’t bear it…” I snorted. “I have no problem with you doing a good deed. But you shouldn’t use things that don’t belong to you to do it. And you shouldn’t have lied and said they were stolen. Without this video, every single student in this class would have been branded a potential thief because of your lie.” “You couldn’t bear to see that man get fired, but you could bear to see us carry the weight of a crime we didn’t commit?” Seraphina sobbed and apologized. “It’s my fault. I have no excuse. I’ll pay for the materials myself, as compensation to the school.” I scoffed. “You should pay for them. They were—” “Sera was just being kind!” Pierce cut me off, his voice sharp. “Is it a crime to do a good deed now? That’s enough, Luna. Stop wasting everyone’s time.” His hypocrisy made me laugh. “The ones wasting everyone’s time are you and Seraphina, aren’t they? One of you lies about being robbed, and the other stops class to play detective for her. Now you’re trying to pin the blame on me? Professor, try not to be such a staggering hypocrite.” My words left him with a face as dark as a thundercloud and her with a face as white as a sheet. Whatever lingering admiration I had for him completely evaporated in that moment. I had planned to stay for the rest of the class, but now I couldn’t stand to be in that room for another second. I gathered my things and walked toward the door. “Class is in session! Where do you think you’re going?” Pierce demanded.

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The new transfer student was magnetic. But my childhood friend, Liam, said her behavior was just a desperate cry for attention. Then, one night, I was crumpled on the floor, paralyzed by cramps. He stumbled in, reeking of alcohol. “Do you have any idea,” he slurred, “that if I hadn’t come to get you, I would’ve had her tonight?” I froze. Later, he blocked my path on the way to school, his face a mask of confusion. “Quinn,” he pleaded, “why are you ignoring me?” 1 The new transfer student, Maya, caused a stir the moment she arrived. The low-cut tank top she wore under her uniform revealed the edge of an intricate tattoo just above her chest. The second class ended, a swarm of boys surrounded her desk, all trying to start a conversation. The only one who didn’t join the frenzy was Liam. He walked over to me instead. A smile played on his lips. “Come on, Quinn. Let’s go get you a carton of chocolate milk.” On the way to the vending machine, I asked him, “Don’t you think the new girl is cool?” Liam’s brow furrowed. “Stay away from her, Quinn. To guys, that’s not ‘cool.’ That’s just being easy.” I didn’t answer. He grabbed my arm. “Did you hear me? A girl like that… she’s cheap.” I just nodded. When we got back to class, the crowd of boys had dispersed. I was surprised to see Maya had moved seats. She was now sitting next to Liam’s empty desk. She smiled and extended a hand toward him as he approached. “Hi there, new deskmate.” The next second, Liam’s hand was in hers. Maya turned her head, and her eyes met mine. For a fleeting moment, our gazes locked. Then, she broke into a wide, triumphant grin. 2 After school, I was packing my bag when I noticed Liam, who was usually the first one out the door, hadn’t moved. Maya was propped on her elbows, gazing at him with an expression of pure adoration. Liam’s eyes found mine. “Hey, Quinn, you head home by yourself today. I’m helping Maya with her homework.” My hands stilled. My gaze flickered to Maya. She gave me a sheepish smile. “Everyone says you and your ‘Prince Liam’ are childhood sweethearts. Mind if I borrow him for a bit? Just to help me with my English?” She winked. “I’ll buy you ice cream tomorrow, little sis.” Liam chuckled. “Why aren’t you buying me ice cream?” Maya leaned so far into him that her body was practically draped over his. “With our relationship,” she purred, “you should be the one buying it for me.” Had they really gotten that close in just one afternoon? I said nothing. I just turned and walked away. As I reached the doorway, I heard Maya’s voice. “Uh oh, is your little wifey upset?” “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said. “That’s just a joke everyone in class goes with.” “Hehe, so not your little wifey, huh?” My heart hammered against my ribs, a sour ache spreading through my chest. I walked faster. 3 When I got home, Liam’s mom was already waiting downstairs, just like every other day. She greeted me with a warm smile. “You two rascals, why so late today?” Her eyes scanned the street behind me. “Hey? Quinn, where’s Liam? Why are you by yourself?” I kept my head down, afraid she’d see my red-rimmed eyes if I looked up. “He had something to do.” I sidestepped her and bolted into the building. “What’s wrong, Quinn?” she called after me. “Did Liam bully you? I’ll give him a good talking to for you!” 4 It had always been like this. For as long as I can remember, Liam’s mom had treated me like her own. “Quinn is my future daughter-in-law,” she’d declare. “No one gets to bully her, not even my own son!” When we were in elementary school, there was a trend of buying gold lockets for your “future daughter-in-law.” Without a second thought, Liam’s mom bought one for me. It was a tiny, perfect gold ax charm. My mom said it was too expensive and told me I couldn’t accept it, but Mrs. Anderson insisted, fastening it around my neck herself. Liam’s eyes had crinkled with laughter. “See, Quinn? Now you’re officially my little wifey. You can’t run away now!” It’s embarrassing, really. It seems I was the only one who ever took it seriously. 5 The next morning, I didn’t wait for him like I usually did. I went to school early, alone. My deskmate, Trista, was surprised. “Hey, Quinn. Where’s your other half?” I didn’t say anything, but my eyes drifted uncontrollably to Liam’s empty seat. Trista’s face lit up with understanding. “Ah, you two had a fight.” A moment later, she nudged me. “Look, here comes your knight in shining armor. He’s got breakfast. Definitely an apology offering.” I couldn’t help but feel a flicker of hope. If Liam apologized, maybe I could forgive what he’d said about me and Maya… Just then, Maya came jogging into the school from the other side of the courtyard. She called out his name. Liam stopped. He handed her the breakfast he was holding, a wide, undisguisable smile on his face. Trista’s jaw dropped. “What the hell is going on?” I tore my eyes away and opened my textbook. Liam and Maya walked into the classroom, laughing and talking as they sat down. He didn’t even glance in my direction. Trista fell silent. 6 During gym class, the boys were playing basketball. Maya came back from the snack bar with an ice cream cone. As if by some cruel coincidence, she tripped right in front of me. The ice cream landed, with perfect precision, right on my brand new skirt. Trista gasped. “You did that on purpose, Maya!” Maya looked at me, but there wasn’t a hint of apology in her eyes. “Oops, my bad, Quinn,” she said, her voice dripping with mock sweetness. Trista immediately stepped in front of me. “What is wrong with you? Just because you’ve latched onto Liam, you think you can provoke Quinn? Don’t you know they’ve been practically inseparable since they were kids? You really think you can come between them?” Before Trista could finish, a basketball came flying toward us, whistling past her ear. She let out a terrified shriek. Liam jogged over. He pulled Maya behind him, shielding her, his voice sharp and accusatory. “Quinn, are you bullying her?” I stared at him. His face was a mask of impatience. The sour ache in my chest suddenly went numb. “Are you blind, Liam?” He froze, his eyes wide with disbelief. In all our years, even during our worst fights, I had never spoken to him like that. Maya tugged on his arm, her voice a whiny drawl. “Don’t fight, you guys. It was my fault. I’ll apologize, okay?” She prattled on. “I know you and Quinn are a couple. I won’t make things difficult for you.” “Don’t be ridiculous,” Liam cut her off, his eyes still locked on me, cold and hard. “That was all a joke. How could I ever be with someone who can’t take a hint?” He picked up the basketball and started walking away. Maya giggled and skipped after him. “What do you mean, ‘can’t take a hint’? You’re just talking nonsense.” The wind whipped across the field, a cold gust that chilled me to the bone.

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Three months after William Thorne got back together with his ex, he suddenly asked about me. “Has Sera been hiding away, crying her eyes out again these past few days?” His friends exchanged glances. “Come to think of it, we haven’t seen her in ages.” “Didn’t I hear she got married a while back?” “No way. That’s just a rumor, probably a desperate ploy to get William’s attention.” William’s voice was cool and detached. “Go tell her to meet me at the usual place tonight.” His friends started to whoop and holler. “If she shows up crying, you gonna go soft on her, William?” He let out a soft, dismissive laugh. “We’ll see.” But that night, I never came. I waited until the city was draped in the deep blue of late night, and still, there was no sign of me. He called my phone. I didn’t answer. He had a girlfriend, and I was a married woman. It was better to keep our distance. 1 The day William Thorne and his ex-girlfriend, Melina Vance, got back together was my birthday. Just as I was about to cut the cake, the door to the private room was thrown open with a violent shove. It was Melina again. The one who had nearly driven William to self-destruction. She was breathtakingly beautiful, her dress and makeup flawless, every strand of her hair seeming to catch and hold the light. My first instinct was to hide my hands behind my back, but the rough calluses on my fingers snagged on the delicate silk threads of my dress. “William.” Melina pushed past one of our friends, her designer skirt swishing as she rushed toward him. “I give up,” she declared, her voice ringing through the sudden silence. “I’m waving the white flag this time.” Though her words were of surrender, she held her chin high, a queen refusing to let her crown slip, fighting back the tears that welled in her eyes. The room was dead quiet. I couldn’t help but look at William. He sat on the sofa, his expression a mask of cold indifference. He hadn’t even glanced at Melina, but the hard line of his jaw told a different story. “William, I’m only going to ask you this once,” Melina’s voice trembled. “Do you want me back, or not?” A dry, cynical laugh escaped William’s lips. “Who do you think you are, Melina? You break up with me when you want, and you get back with me when you want?” As he spoke, he reached out, yanking me into his lap. The movement was so abrupt that my nose slammed into his solid chest, the impact sending a jolt of pain so sharp it made my eyes water. “Can’t you see I have a girlfriend, Melina?” William’s voice was a low growl. He dipped his head, and his lips found the damp corner of my eye where a tear was forming. The color drained from Melina’s face. “Fine. You’re ruthless.” She pointed a shaking finger at him, tears finally streaming down her cheeks. “William Thorne, I swear I am done with you for good this time!” Her furious gaze then landed on me, a look of pure venom, before she spun around and shoved the table with all her might. The champagne tower crashed to the floor in a symphony of shattering glass. The cake, my beautiful birthday cake, was now a ruined mess on the carpet. Shards of glass flew through the air, cutting both of us. A deep gash on her arm, and for me, a slice across my face. But in that instant, William let go of me. His immediate reaction was to grab her. “Don’t move. You’re bleeding,” he said, his eyes filled with a raw, undeniable ache for her. “Don’t touch me! Go worry about your precious little girlfriend!” Melina cried, shoving him away before running out of the room. It was as if I’d become invisible. William stood frozen for only two seconds before he bolted after her, not even sparing me a single backward glance. 2 Maybe it was to spare me the embarrassment. Or maybe, more likely, it was because they were William and Melina’s friends. I was just an outsider, someone who didn’t belong in their world. One by one, they all trickled out, leaving me alone in the room. I stood there in my pretty dress, my hand pressed to the stinging cut on my face. A tide of grief, dark and silent, began to swallow me whole. This was meant to be the grandest, most extravagant birthday of my life. That beautiful, two-tiered cake… I had stared at its twin through the bakery window countless times as a child, dreaming of what it would taste like. I almost had it. But now, it was just a ruin on the floor. I knelt, found a piece that was still clean, and took a bite. It didn’t taste as magical as I’d imagined. It wasn’t even as good as the cheap cupcakes I sometimes bought. Still, I ate the whole piece. Just as I finished, my phone rang. It was William. “Seraphina.” His voice came through the receiver, and in the background, I could faintly hear Melina’s. “I’m here,” I whispered. “There’s something I need to tell you. Please, just… don’t cry.” It was true, I cried easily. It was like I was born with tear ducts that were a little too close to the surface. “William, are you serious?” Melina’s voice, sharp with anger, cut through. “You’re breaking up with her, and you’re still trying to comfort her?” William’s tone became rushed. “Let’s break up. They said your face got cut. I’ll send you some money.” He added, his voice low and hurried, “Don’t make a scene. It’ll be more money than your father makes fishing for three years.” Before I could say a word, he hung up. 3 William had always been generous. I’d heard stories about his past girlfriends; he showered them with gifts while they were dating and gave them a hefty severance package when it was over. My best friend, Ruby, practically twisted my ear as she lectured me. “Don’t you dare be stupid, Sera.” “Only an idiot would turn down the money.” “You got dumped on your birthday, and your face was nearly ruined. The fact that we’re not suing him for emotional distress is us being merciful.” The cut, stretching from my forehead to the corner of my eye, began to heal slowly, but the money from William never arrived. I tried to contact him and Melina for an explanation, but I couldn’t even get past their gatekeepers. Instead, I got a vicious verbal beatdown from Melina and her circle of friends. Just as I was about to go to the police, my family ran into trouble. My dad owns a small fishing boat. A few days ago, out on the water, a storm kicked up and his boat scraped against someone’s private yacht. The owner was demanding a huge sum for repairs. Money we didn’t have. If we couldn’t pay, my dad would go to jail. If the compensation William had promised was anything like the legends, it would have been just enough to cover the damages. My dad was so stressed his hair seemed to turn grayer overnight. I transferred all my savings from part-time jobs and scholarships to him, but it was a drop in the ocean. Ruby, fed up with my hesitation, snatched my phone and sent a message to William. His call came almost immediately. But when I answered, it was Melina’s voice on the other end. 4 “Seraphina, is it?” Her voice dripped with contempt. “So pathetic. I guess poor people really have no shame.” “Wasn’t leeching off him enough? You still have the audacity to ask for compensation?” “You women from fishing villages… you really know how to hook a man and reel in the cash, don’t you?” My face burned with humiliation. I wanted to fight back, to say something, but my words caught in my throat, and tears started to fall. How could she say that to me? We had been dating for less than a year, and nearly every fight we ever had was because of her. The first time, he abandoned me on the side of the road in the middle of the night because of her. I was terrified. We gave each other the silent treatment for two weeks, and I cried for two weeks straight. The second time, he flew off to Europe to chase her down and was unreachable for a week. I had decided then and there to break up with him. But he came back a wreck and got into a minor car accident. His friends called me, over and over, telling me he wanted to see me. I saw him, and my resolve melted. The third time was my birthday. My face was almost permanently scarred. The doctor said if the cut had been half a centimeter over, I would have lost my eye. Didn’t they owe me for that? “I’m just asking for what I’m owed,” I said, forcing the words through my sobs. “You’re the one who scarred my face.” “But you’re not disfigured, are you?” Melina scoffed, then hung up with a sharp click. A moment later, a notification popped up. A transfer of five thousand dollars from William’s account. I clutched my phone, tears dripping onto the screen. In the end, out of a stubborn sense of pride, I refused the transfer. Accepting that money would have been settling. I was a poor girl from a fishing village; I couldn’t win a fight against a prince and princess like them. But I swore to myself, one day, I would make Melina Vance pay for what she did. 5 The deadline to pay for the yacht came and went, and we still hadn’t raised enough money. Then, the owner of the yacht showed up at our house. I found it strange. Weren’t people that rich supposed to be busy? Why would he personally come all the way to our small town over something like this? Was he afraid we’d abandon the boat and run? I snuck a glance at the man. The watch on his wrist was a brand William had mentioned once. It was worth at least eight figures. I couldn’t make sense of it, so I stopped trying. I just stood beside my father and brother, our heads bowed, hoping he’d show some mercy. And this man, Nathaniel Vance, did more than show mercy. My father was stunned. “You’re… you’re giving me a new fishing boat?” My brother was trembling with excitement. “You mean… I can open a shop on shore? I don’t have to fish anymore?” A new, state-of-the-art, fully automated fishing boat was my father’s lifelong dream. Opening a small shop and settling down was my brother’s. “Correct,” Nathaniel said, his gaze landing on me. He got straight to the point. “On one condition: she marries me.” He pointed at me. “She has a lucky star. An astrologer I trust told me that marrying her this year will double my assets.” My father and brother both turned to me. “Sera, what do you think?” I was completely dumbfounded. Nathaniel looked to be in his late twenties. He was handsome and well-built, though he had a stern look on his face when he wasn’t smiling. A billionaire with a towering frame and a sharp suit… by any measure, I was getting the better end of this deal. I swallowed nervously. “My dad gets a new boat, and my brother gets a shop. What’s in it for me?” Nathaniel paused, a flicker of surprise in his eyes, and then he smiled. When he smiled, his stern features softened, revealing a surprising warmth and elegance. I felt my cheeks grow hot and quickly looked away. He waved a hand, and an assistant brought in several boxes of small cakes. They were delicious-smelling cupcakes. The kind I could eat three of in one sitting. Clutching a box of cakes, I asked him the most important questions I could think of. “Your last name is Vance. Do you know a Melina Vance?” Nathaniel thought for a moment. “I believe there’s someone by that name among the junior members of a branch family.” “Is she… afraid of you?” The smile in his eyes deepened. “Her entire family is most likely very afraid of me.” “In Port Sterling… is the Vance family more powerful than the Thorne family?” “By a significant margin.” “Okay, then.” I hugged the cupcakes tighter and nodded firmly. “I accept.” “But I’m still in college. Can we… wait to get married?” Nathaniel’s gaze was deep as he looked at me, a soft smile playing on his lips. “We can get the license now. The wedding can wait until after you graduate.” I held up my hand to him. “Deal.” Nathaniel shook my hand. “A pleasure, Mrs. Vance.” My face flushed. “Maybe you should just call me by my name for now. I’d rather not go public with this yet.” Nathaniel stood up. He was so tall. I had to crane my neck to look at him. “Of course, Sera.” Hearing him say my name felt… different. So different that my ears were still burning long after he’d gone. 6 I’d occasionally run into William and Melina on campus. Sometimes they were the picture of a perfect couple, all lovey-dovey. Other times they were fighting. But they always made up quickly. I started to actively avoid them. Many students whispered behind my back that I had fumbled the bag, letting a golden goose slip through my fingers. They assumed I was consumed with jealousy over Melina. But none of them knew my little secret. Often, I would wake up in the middle of the night, open my banking app, and stare at the astronomical sum Nathaniel had given me as a betrothal gift. I would count the zeroes over and over again until I drifted back to sleep, completely content. Summer break arrived quickly. I went home to fish with my dad, completely removing myself from William’s world. So, I was surprised when one of his friends called me. After a bit of small talk, he finally got to the point. “Sera, the usual place tonight. William wants to see you.” I was about to refuse. “Dress up, wear something pretty, okay?” he added conspiratorially. “I’ll let you in on a little secret: William and Melina are done. For real this time.” “This is your chance. Seize it.” He hung up before I could even get a word in. My dad was calling me to help with the nets. I quickly forgot all about the phone call. 7 His friend returned, clapping William on the shoulder with a grin. “Just got off the phone with Sera.” The others immediately started their teasing. “So, William, if she shows up crying, you gonna go soft on her?” William tapped the ash from his cigarette, a slight smile on his lips. “We’ll see.” “But seriously, man,” one of them said, “Sera’s way easier to be with than Melina.” “Yeah, Sera’s a sweetheart.” “Remember when you had that car accident? The way she rushed to the hospital?” “She started bawling the second she walked into the room. It was heartbreaking to watch.” William seemed to drift back to that memory, a flicker of softness entering his eyes. “You and Melina have been all over each other lately. Sera’s probably been crying her eyes out in private.” “The last time I saw her, she looked like she’d lost a lot of weight. And you could still see the scar above her eye.” The hand holding the cigarette paused mid-air. Sera had been hurt that day, too. How could he have been so callous, just leaving her there? But Sera was sweet. She was easy to soothe. He went home and changed into a crisp white shirt. Sera loved him in white shirts.

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I was trampled by a spooked horse, my body left broken on the cobblestones. The two men who had sworn to protect me with their lives didn’t even turn their heads. One was busy solving riddles at a festival stall, all to win the lotus-blossom lantern that Princess Seraphina admired. The other was waiting in line for two hours to buy her favorite rosewater tarts. A stranger helped me to the healer’s ward. It was a miracle I survived. Three days later, Seraphina came to my chambers, swinging the lantern triumphantly. “Aveline, darling,” she cooed, “I told them you’d like this lantern too, but they insisted on giving it to me. Do you want it now?” I looked at her, my gaze as cold as ash. “No.” And the two of them? I was done with them, too. For more than a decade, they had been my shadows, my sworn protectors, my closest friends. Drake and Brishen. They promised their lives for my safety. And I, like a fool, had believed them. I thought I couldn’t live without them. But that was before Princess Seraphina arrived. That was before I realized how tragically wrong I had been. Limping, I returned to my father’s estate and finally relented to my mother’s incessant pressure. “I will do it,” I told her. “I will marry the Crown Prince.” 1 My mother’s head snapped up, her eyes wide with disbelieving joy. “Aveline? You truly mean it?” “Oh, my dear girl! I’ve been telling you for years, you are the perfect choice for Crown Princess! When Prince Alistair ascends the throne, you will be the Queen, a mother to the entire kingdom.” Her voice was a flurry of excitement. “Why have you been wasting your time with those two? One is a Duke’s son, the other a General’s heir, but how can they possibly compare to the Crown Prince?” “Now that you’ve agreed, I’ll start arranging your dowry at once! You will have the most magnificent wedding this city has ever seen!” Just as I nodded, two figures appeared in the doorway. Drake and Brishen exchanged a look, a shared, arrogant smirk playing on their lips. “Aveline,” Brishen drawled, “who did you just say was getting married?” I had no intention of lying. My face was a placid mask. “I am.” “Ha! Lady Aveline has always been such a good, quiet girl. Since when did you learn to tell such fanciful tales?” Brishen let out a short, mocking laugh. Drake, ever the more serious of the two, still didn’t believe me. “There’s no point in lying, Aveline. Is this because we’ve been distant lately? Are you jealous of Seraphina? Is this your little ploy to get our attention?” I remained silent, my only wish for them to leave. But then, they produced a lantern from behind their backs. “Surprise!” “We know we lost track of you at the festival, that you snuck back home on your own, but we still brought you a lantern!” Brishen said with a grin, tossing a battered, sad-looking thing at me. I recognized it instantly. It wasn’t a gift they had chosen for me. It was the one Seraphina had paraded around with three days ago, the one she’d grown tired of and discarded. How thoughtful of them to pick up her trash for me. I didn’t reach for it. My voice was ice. “I’m not feeling well. Please, leave.” Drake and Brishen glanced at each other, but made no move to go. Instead, Brishen stepped forward and gave my shoulder a hard, playful shove. “Ah!” The blow landed directly on my barely-healed injury. A sharp cry of pain escaped my lips. Brishen looked at me, bewildered. “What are you playing at? Acting like you’re seriously hurt? It’s not a good look, Aveline.” He scoffed. “If Seraphina were here, even if she were truly wounded, she wouldn’t make such a fuss. The difference between you two is like night and day.” Drake nodded in agreement. “He’s right. Seraphina would never be so petty.” A cold, bitter laugh welled up inside me. They truly thought this was about jealousy. They thought I couldn’t stand Seraphina. They had no idea I had already given up on them entirely. “Then go find your precious Seraphina,” I said, my voice dangerously calm. “She was a princess of the old court, raised in a palace. Naturally, she’s far superior to a provincial girl like me.” With that, I gestured for my lady’s maid to help me, and I turned my back on them. I could feel their bewildered eyes on my limping form. “When did Aveline become like this?” Brishen’s voice followed me, laced with disdain. “So small-minded, and such a flair for the dramatic. She should join a traveling theater troupe!” Drake sighed in disappointment. “If she doesn’t want our company, then it’s her loss. This hibiscus cake was a gift from the Prince’s own kitchens. Let’s take it to Seraphina instead.” 2 Three days later, it was my birthday. Unlike previous years, my mother personally oversaw the preparations, inviting the wives and daughters of the kingdom’s most powerful noble families. I glanced at the guest list and felt it was far too grand. “Mother, perhaps something simpler would be better?” She waved away my concern. “Nonsense, Aveline. You are the daughter of the Lord Chancellor. For years, you’ve let those two boys throw you paltry celebrations. They were hardly fit for our station! Now that you are to be the Crown Princess, your birthday must be celebrated with the dignity it deserves.” With that, she bustled off to continue her arrangements. I stood by the window, lost in thought. As fate would have it, Seraphina and I shared a birthday. Before she came into our lives, Drake and Brishen’s world revolved around me. They would scour the entire capital, spending fortunes just to find a gift they knew I would love. They fretted over every detail of my birthday, terrified of disappointing me, ready to pluck the stars from the sky if I asked. But everything changed last year, when Princess Seraphina, of the deposed royal line, was granted a pardon. For her service in exposing traitors to the new crown, she was given a title and an estate. It was I who had taken pity on her lonely state, introducing her to my two dearest friends, asking them to look after her. I never imagined her ambition ran so deep, that she would methodically, piece by piece, steal my place in their lives. Especially when they learned her birthday was the same as mine. From then on, all their efforts were bent on pleasing her. Last year, they gave her a pair of priceless jade bracelets. I received nothing. So this year, I expected nothing. The next morning, my lady’s maid, Elara, ran to me, her eyes red from crying. “My lady, I went to invite Lord Drake and Lord Brishen, just as I do every year. They both refused to come! They said they were going to Princess Seraphina’s estate!” Her voice trembled with indignation. “All these years, they only ever came to your celebration! How could they? Men’s hearts are so fickle.” I listened quietly, my own heart a placid lake. “Don’t speak of this again,” I said softly. I dressed and joined my mother in the grand hall to receive our guests. They were all powerful figures, and upon learning I was to be the Crown Princess, they fawned over me with compliments and gifts. Of course, there were whispers. “Didn’t she used to be inseparable from the heirs of House Thorne and House Valerius?” “Everyone assumed she would marry one of them. Who would have thought she’d land the Crown Prince!” “Hmph. A woman of such loose morals, and the Prince still wants her?” “She spent years cavorting with two other men. Who knows if she’s even… untouched?” “Hush, lower your voice!” Elara, bristling with anger, made to confront them, but I placed a gentle hand on her arm. “It’s not worth our breath.” It was only then that I realized how skewed the world’s perception of me had become. After the last guest had departed, I was about to retire when I heard a noise from my private courtyard. The main gates were closed. Someone had climbed the wall. My hand flew to the dagger hidden in my sleeve, thinking it was a thief. But the figures standing before me were Drake and Brishen. And behind them, a smiling Seraphina. “Aveline! We’ve been waiting for you for ages!” Seraphina chirped. “We waited for your guests to leave so we could celebrate with you properly!” “Look! The boys made me this birthday cake, but it’s far too big for me to eat alone, so I brought it to share!” From beneath her cloak, Seraphina produced half of a leftover cake, marred with bite marks and the imprint of teeth. 3 I stared at her, saying nothing. Beside me, Elara was seething. “My lady would never eat someone’s leftovers! This is an insult!” Seraphina’s face instantly hardened. Her eyes flashed as she raised a hand and slapped Elara across the cheek. “I am speaking to your mistress! How dare a servant interrupt?!” Seeing Elara struck, a roar filled my ears. My own hand shot out, striking Seraphina with twice the force. “My lady’s maid,” I hissed, “is not for others to discipline.” I pulled Elara behind me, my heart aching at the red mark blooming on her face. My anger surged. The last time we met, I had made it clear that it was the end, that we should not see each other again. But they thought I was throwing a childish tantrum. They didn’t believe me. And now they show up at my door, insulting me with a half-eaten cake and striking my maid? This, I could not endure. Drake and Brishen were instantly enraged. “Aveline! How could you strike her?” “Seraphina is delicate! A blow like that could seriously injure her!” They fussed over her, cooing and soothing. Seraphina, clutching her cheek, began to sob prettily. “Brishen, Drake, my darlings,” she whimpered. “I told you Aveline would be too proud for my little cake. See? Now she’s truly angry.” “It’s all my fault. Perhaps I should go to the West End now, wait in line, and buy her a new one!” She said the words, but made no move to leave. Drake frowned. “Don’t be silly. It’s too late. A lady like you shouldn’t be out buying cakes at this hour.” Brishen readily agreed. “A half-cake is still a cake! Aveline, can you stop being so spoiled for once? Seraphina’s heart was in the right place, bringing us here. Don’t ruin the evening for everyone!” I couldn’t help but laugh, a cold, sharp sound. As if I had begged them to come. “I will say this one last time. I am to be married soon. I ask the three of you to conduct yourselves with some dignity. The gate is that way.” I took Elara’s arm, intending to take her back inside to tend to her face. But they were shameless. Even after all I’d said, they refused to leave. Drake’s voice followed me, thick with disappointment. “Aveline, when did you become so small-minded? So we missed the festival with you a few days ago. We already explained. That day, Seraphina was overcome with memories of her past, of the fallen kingdom. We were busy comforting her. We didn’t notice you’d gone.” “You were never this petty before. Are you really going to hold a grudge this long? To use lies about getting married just to push us away?” Brishen, however, was undeterred. He grabbed Seraphina’s hand and made to push past me into my private chambers. “It’s fine. Aveline will be angry for a few days, and then she’ll get over it. She’s never been able to live without us. What’s there to be afraid of?” Seraphina tossed the half-eaten cake at my feet and, with a triumphant little smirk, swept into my room. But she wasn’t watching where she was going. She had only taken a few steps when her foot caught on a dark wooden chest. “Ah! Help me!” Brishen and Drake’s faces paled. “Seraphina!” They rushed to her side, helping her up with worried expressions. Seraphina had only bumped her arm on the floor, leaving a small red mark. But to see it, you’d think she’d broken a bone. The two of them looked at me, their faces cold with accusation. “Aveline, what is wrong with you?” “Did you leave this chest here on purpose? Did you want Seraphina to fall?” “I get it now. You’ve always been jealous that she’s prettier than you. You wanted her to fall and ruin her face, didn’t you? That would make you happy!” The accusations rained down on me, so absurd they were almost laughable. I had been trying to get them to leave from the very beginning. They were the ones who had forced their way in, and now they were blaming me. Seraphina, ever the master of false sincerity, chimed in. “Oh, don’t blame Aveline! It was my own clumsiness. Aveline, darling, it was all my fault, please don’t be upset.” “We only came to celebrate your birthday. Even though we’ve seen everything there is to see here, we’re such good friends, we had to at least stop by!” Her tone was a sickening mix of condescension and pride, as if I should be grateful for their charity. I was about to deliver a scathing reply when Seraphina’s eyes lit up, her gaze falling on the various chests and boxes piled in my room. “Aveline, what is all this? Why are you hoarding so many treasures? Didn’t you tell us you had no money?” The small chest she had tripped over was one of many that hadn’t yet been put away. Inside it, and in the others, were gifts from the Crown Prince, Alistair. His betrothal gifts. There were so many that the treasury storerooms were full, and the overflow had to be kept in my chambers. I had planned to have them sorted after my birthday. I never imagined these three would invite themselves in. Seraphina began to rummage through them with unabashed curiosity. “Don’t touch those,” I said, my voice sharp. She ignored me, even beckoning her two companions to join her. Brishen opened one at random. It was filled with priceless jewels. His jaw dropped. “Aveline, you told us you were poor! How could you hide all this from us? That’s not what friends do!” Drake, too, was mesmerized by the glittering gems. “Aveline, the other day Seraphina admired that one simple hairpin of yours, and you refused to give it to her. And all this time you were hiding this.” Seraphina’s eyes were wide with greed. She clutched a whole chest of jewelry to her chest. “Aveline, I love these so much! Can you give them to me?” Seeing my silence, Brishen frowned and came to persuade me. “Aveline, Seraphina has always looked up to you like an older sister. Don’t be a stranger. What’s one chest of jewels? You have so many.” He turned to Drake. “Isn’t that right?” Drake nodded. “If you refuse to give them to Seraphina today, it only proves that you are petty and jealous, and unworthy of your station.” Seraphina put on her sweet, innocent act again. “Oh, don’t be so harsh! Aveline is so good to me, I’m sure she’ll give them to me. Right, Aveline?” I laughed. “Let’s see if you have the nerve to take them.” These were personally selected by the Crown Prince for his future bride. Every piece bore the royal sigil. Even if I dared to give them away, did Seraphina have the courage to wear them in public? Seraphina smiled smugly. “Then I thank you in advance, Aveline! Brishen, Drake, my dears, you’ll help me carry this chest out later, won’t you?” Before she finished, her gaze shifted again, landing on the magnificent scarlet gown hanging on a screen. “Heavens, what a beautiful dress! Isn’t this the legendary Sunbird Gown? The one the finest royal seamstress of the old kingdom spent two years embroidering with threads of pure gold?” “This gown alone is worth a king’s ransom! After the old kingdom fell, it was thought to be lost forever.” “Aveline, how did it end up here?” I was exhausted, weary down to my bones. I wanted this to be over. I told them the truth. “It was a gift from the Crown Prince.” But none of them believed me. “Aveline is just the Chancellor’s daughter. How could she obtain such a priceless gown? It’s probably a replica.” “Today is her birthday. Some wealthy noble must have given it to her as a gift. Seraphina, if you like it, just have Aveline give it to you as well.” The sheer audacity of it all. Seeing the way they coddled her, a wave of disgust washed over me. Seraphina stroked the fabric with a look of pure longing. “Aveline, we’re sisters, what’s mine is yours. This gown is too beautiful. Just let me try it on?” “No.” My refusal was cold and absolute. But Drake and Brishen grabbed my arms, dragging me away from the screen. “Why are you being so selfish? Seraphina just wants to try it on. She won’t damage it!” Brishen produced a flask of wine from somewhere. “It’s your birthday, after all,” he said, moving toward me. “And you can’t have a birthday without a drink!” “This is a wine that Seraphina brewed herself. A rare treat! Come on, have a taste!” I struggled against them. “The royal physician said I cannot drink any alcohol!” When I fell from the horse, I had injured not just my shoulder, but a bone in my leg. With the wedding approaching, the physician had given me a powerful medicine to speed my recovery. He had specifically warned me not to touch a single drop of wine. But my words were met with scorn. “Who are you trying to fool, Aveline? You used to be able to drink us all under the table. What’s a single flask of wine to you?” “If you don’t drink today, you’re disrespecting Seraphina, and you’re disrespecting us!” They exchanged a look. One forced my jaw open while the other poured the wine down my throat. The strong, cloying taste of it made me choke, tears streaming from my eyes. They just laughed. “See? You can handle it just fine.” I tried desperately to spit the wine out, but an unnatural heat was already spreading through my body. Something was terribly wrong. I clutched at my throat, stumbling toward the door. “Help me…” “Honestly, Aveline’s acting is getting better and better. It’s just a flask of wine, is it really necessary to put on such a show…” Brishen and Drake watched me go, their voices dripping with amusement. My whole body began to tremble. Their voices faded. The world spun, and then everything went black. As I collapsed, their expressions finally changed. “Aveline!”

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The day they held me down and forced the bitter draught down my throat, a pool of blood spread beneath me on the cold stone floor. My voice had been stolen by a poison, and all I could do was make desperate, clicking sounds with my tongue, trying to tell Lord Damian it was his child I was losing. But his handsome face was a mask of ice, his voice a lash. “Pregnant before marriage. Trysting with another man. Do you know your sin, Lyra?” He had forgotten. At the midwinter feast, it was he who drank the spiced wine, he who cornered me, he who forced himself upon me. He had whispered my name in my ear, Lya. I shook my head, tears streaming down my face. He gently wiped them away, even as he brought the bowl of poison to my lips. “Be rid of this bastard child, and I will find a good match for you.” I bit down hard on the heel of his hand. He merely frowned, soothing me as if I were a frightened animal. “The process is a little painful. You must endure it.” A woman in a gown the color of blood clung to his sleeve. His expression softened instantly. He called her name. Belle. “It’s foul in here,” he murmured to her. “You shouldn’t have come.” A new wave of blood, hot and bitter, rose in my throat, and I choked. Belle… Lya… The name he’d whispered that night… it was never meant for me. 1 A deep, tearing pain radiated from my womb. The blood beneath me was a shocking, vivid scarlet. Damian’s usually placid face finally showed a flicker of panic. I lay in bed for three days, a ghost in my own body. Beyond the partition screen, I heard his mother, the Duchess, speaking to him. “Damian, Lyra is a good girl. She’s of an age to be married. What are your thoughts on the matter?” Her words were a weight, pressing down on me. I peered through the silk screen, my eyes fixed on his silhouette. “My cousin is indeed a fine woman,” he said. The Duchess’s teacup rattled in its saucer. Her tone was carefully casual. “Are you saying you wish to marry her, Damian? Or…” His dark lashes lifted. His voice was a final, damning judgment. “No. She can only ever be my cousin.” A sigh of relief escaped the Duchess. She smiled, saying she would find a good family for me, and that it was time to set a date for his own wedding to Lady Isabelle, the daughter of a neighboring Duke. Damian’s expression remained unreadable. As he left, he said only, “As you wish, Mother.” The Duchess’s voice, now stripped of its warmth, drifted through the screen, mocking my silent hopes. “You heard him, didn’t you?” My hands clenched into fists, my nails digging into my palms. My empty womb felt as if it were being wrung out by a coarse rope, the pain so intense it stole my breath. I was a distant relation of the Ashworths, the ruling family of this duchy. After my parents died, I sought refuge here. The Duchess had intended to turn me away. “Mother,” a young Damian had said, “the estate is vast. We can spare a plate for our cousin. Let her stay. She can be a companion for me.” With that one word, “cousin,” he had given me a home. We were inseparable, two children against the world. He gave me the warmest room in the east wing, taught me my letters, and guided my hand as I learned to paint. Anything the other young ladies of the house had, he ensured I had as well. And the things they didn’t have, he would find just for me. “Our Lyra,” he used to say, “deserves the best of everything in this world.” I had once joked, “Then if I ever marry, cousin, you must prepare a grand dowry for me.” Damian, who so rarely showed emotion, had suddenly gone cold. “If that day ever comes,” he had said, his voice tight, “I will be the one to give you away.” But at the feast, drunk on spiced wine, he had backed me against the cold stone of the garden wall, his breath hot against my skin. “Lya,” he’d rasped, “don’t be afraid… Lya, I desire you.” I thought he meant it. I thought he cared for me. But now, all he said was, “Pregnant before marriage. Trysting with another man. Do you know your sin?” The Duchess stood over me. “If you are clever, I will not only give you the antidote for your voice, but I will find you a respectable husband and see you married with all due ceremony.” “But you will take this secret to your grave.” After that night with Damian, I had fled in terror. When I discovered I was carrying his child, I had tried to find him, to confess everything. But his mother’s maids intercepted me. They forced a draught down my throat that stole my voice and sent me into darkness. When I woke, Damian was there, his eyes black pools of fury. “Cousin, what is the meaning of this?” The physician knelt, trembling. “My lord… the young lady… she is with child.” Damian’s face became a mask of cold fury. He seized my wrist, his grip like iron. “Tell me,” he demanded, his voice a low growl. “Who is the bastard’s father?” I could only shake my head, my throat raw from silent screams, trying to tell him it was him. I cried until my eyes were swollen shut, but not a single word could escape. He threw my hand away from him, a strange, cold sneer on his lips. “Is he worth this? You’d protect him even at the cost of your own honor?” I wept, shaking my head frantically. He gently wiped my tears, even as he brought the bowl of poison to my lips. “Be rid of this bastard child, and I will find a good match for you.” I bit down hard on the heel of his hand. He merely frowned, soothing me. “The process is a little painful. You must endure it.” A woman in a scarlet gown appeared, clinging to his sleeve. Damian, who was notoriously fastidious and hated to be touched, allowed her proximity without a word. “Belle,” he said, his voice softening with concern. “It’s foul in here. You shouldn’t have come.” Something inside my head fractured. The Duchess’s words when she’d poisoned me echoed in my mind: Belle… Lya… You foolish child. Did you really believe the ramblings of a drunken man? If he hadn’t mistaken you for Belle, do you truly think he would have touched you? Belle… Lya. So it was true. I clutched my chest and coughed up a mouthful of blood. That night of stolen passion was nothing more than a fever dream. The Duchess had said they were a perfect match—noble blood, equal standing. A union blessed by fate. And I? I was nothing. The chasm between us was as wide as the sky. How could I ever be worthy of carrying his child? Using his hand, she had destroyed our baby and my last hope. Now, she held out a small vial—the antidote. “Will you marry him, or not?” I took the vial. After a long, silent moment, my voice returned, a raw, broken whisper. “I will.” 2 For days, Damian tried to see me, but I refused him, citing my poor health. Isabelle came instead, bearing gifts of expensive broths and tonics. She made a great show of adjusting her sleeve, revealing a delicate silver filigree bracelet on her wrist. “It was a gift from Damian,” she said, a shy blush on her cheeks. “I told him I’m not fond of bracelets, but he insisted. He said it’s a family heirloom, passed down to the brides of House Ashworth for generations.” “He also said it looks beautiful on me. Don’t you think so, Cousin Lyra?” I had seen that bracelet once, years ago. I’d found it in a small, carved box in Damian’s study. He had snatched it from my hands, his face tense, before promising he would give it to me as a wedding gift. And now, he had given it to her. If it was never meant for me, why make the promise at all? A bitter smile touched my lips. “It’s beautiful.” To think that he, a man of so few words, could speak such praise. He must love her dearly. Isabelle suddenly insisted on taking it off for me to try. I refused. In the clumsy push and pull between us, there was a sharp crack. The bracelet lay on the floor in pieces. Her eyes welled with tears, her expression one of a startled, wounded fawn. I was speechless. How had it broken so easily? “I’m so sorry, I…” “It’s alright, it’s alright…” she whispered, scrambling to pick up the shattered silver. That’s when Damian arrived. He helped Isabelle to her feet, his brow furrowed. “Be careful, you’ll cut your hands.” She leaned into his embrace, her shoulders trembling, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes. Damian’s gaze fell from the broken bracelet to me. His voice was glacial. “Aren’t you going to explain?” I met his dark, unreadable eyes, searching for something, anything. But there was nothing there for me. The dead, placid thing that was my heart gave a painful throb. My throat felt like it was stuffed with cotton. “Damian, I…” Isabelle spoke first. “Damian, it was my fault. Cousin Lyra said she liked my bracelet, so I wanted to let her try it on. I didn’t expect it to fall.” His expression softened immediately. “It’s not your fault. The silver must have been too fragile. If it’s broken, it’s broken. It doesn’t matter.” Then he turned to me, his face a mask of stone once more. “Lyra. Apologize to Isabelle.” The ache in my womb returned, a phantom pain. When I was a child, a servant knocked over a brazier and a single spark singed the hem of my dress. Damian had chased the boy with a riding crop for a mile, dragging him back to apologize to me. The next day, he had a bolt of the finest silk sent to my rooms for a new gown. Now, the way he looked at me was the same way he had looked at that terrified servant boy. Tears burned behind my eyes. I lowered my gaze. “Lady Isabelle, I am sorry.” Isabelle shot Damian a look of feigned annoyance. “How can you be so harsh with her?” “She made a mistake,” Damian said, his voice devoid of pity. “She will make amends.” He reached out and, with a swift movement, unpinned the Starfall Brooch from my cloak. He fastened it onto Isabelle’s gown. “This suits you better.” My hair, freed from the clasp, tumbled down my back. I watched them, the perfect couple, and my heart felt as if it were being pierced by a thousand needles. That brooch… he had won it as the champion’s prize at the Autumn Hunt. The crowd had cheered, telling him to give it to the lady he favored. Amidst the noise, he had pinned it on me, his voice clear. “I have no favored lady. Or if I do, it is only Lyra.” Everyone knew he cherished me. And now, he had given it away with his own hands. Isabelle touched the brooch, a triumphant smile playing on her lips. “Thank you, Cousin Lyra.” “You are welcome,” I managed to say. “Damian,” she pleaded, “my chambers feel so bare. I wish to purchase some new things. Could you ask Cousin Lyra to accompany me?” Damian scoffed. “Her? Her taste has always been… common. You’d be better off taking a maid.” Ice flooded my veins. In his eyes, was I now worth less than a servant? The old me would have argued, would have berated him. But that Lyra was gone. I looked at him, my voice trembling with a sorrow he would never understand. “My lord cousin is right. My taste is poor. I wouldn’t be of any help.” I don’t know what nerve I struck, but his hand shot out, grabbing my wrist. “If your taste weren’t so poor,” he sneered, “would you have thrown yourself away on some stable boy?” My back hit the wall with a sickening thud, the impact forcing tears from my eyes. His face was inches from mine, his voice a cold whisper. “Why are you crying? This is the path you chose.” “Damian,” Isabelle called from behind him. He released me instantly. I could scream in pain and he wouldn’t flinch, but a single word from her, and his anger vanished. He was truly different with her. He turned to Isabelle, his voice warm again. “If she will not go with you, I will give you her chambers.” “However…” he paused. A flicker of anticipation lit Isabelle’s eyes. My own heart tightened. “She has just… lost a child. Her room is tainted with the smell of blood. Be careful not to be soiled by the filth.” A dense, suffocating pain filled my chest. My empty womb ached as if it were being flayed. He didn’t care about my pain, my grief. He only cared that she might be sullied by my presence. Isabelle let out a musical laugh, her eyes darting to me with pure malice. “I see.” Her laughter was a blade, mocking my foolishness, mocking the unclean thing that had dared to desire the noble Lord of House Ashworth. As they left, Damian threw one last warning over his shoulder. “Try not to cause any more trouble.” A single withered petal drifted from the window and landed in my palm. Cause any more trouble, I mouthed to myself. And then, I began to laugh. Very well, cousin. I will give you exactly what you wish for. 3 In the past, whenever we argued, Damian would be the one to make peace. A plate of rosewater tarts was brought to my room. The servant said they were from him. But I had never liked rosewater tarts. My maid, Clara, tried to comfort me. “My lady, Lord Damian must be so worried about you that he’s muddled. He simply forgot your preference. Don’t be angry.” Her eyes shone with hope. “He still cares for you, my lady!” My heart stirred. I was about to take a bite when Isabelle’s maid rushed in and slapped the tart from my hand. “That’s for Lady Isabelle, from Lord Damian! How dare you eat it?!” A cold wind seemed to blow through the crack in my heart. So, it wasn’t for me after all. Clara’s face flushed with shame. “My lady, I didn’t know…” I shook my head. “It’s fine. It was never meant for me.” Isabelle waved a dismissive hand. “It’s no matter. Damian has been sending a river of gifts to my rooms these past few days. If you like rosewater tarts so much, cousin, you only had to ask.” Clara, incensed, shoved the entire plate back into Isabelle’s arms. “Here, take them!” Isabelle stood frozen, tears welling in her eyes. Damian, arriving at that very moment, rushed to her side, dabbing at her tears with his own handkerchief. “Don’t cry.” When he looked at me, his eyes were full of cold fury. “When did you become so envious? I send Isabelle a plate of tarts, and you must snatch them away?” “I didn’t…” I tried to explain that the servant had brought them to me, that it was a mistake. But he wouldn’t listen. “I don’t need your excuses. I see the truth with my own eyes.” He took the plate and contemptuously emptied its contents into the fish pond. “Anything she has touched…” he said, his voice dripping with disgust. “Is tainted.” He turned back to Isabelle, his voice softening. “If you still wish for tarts, I will have the kitchens send more.” He was the perfect, gentle lord. Isabelle leaned close to my ear, her lips curved in a triumphant smile. “What does it matter that you were once his favorite? In his eyes, you are nothing now.” Damian had my allowance cut. The servants, seeing which way the wind blew, stopped tending to my needs. Autumn arrived, and I wasn’t even given fabric for a new cloak. In years past, Damian would have taken me to the city tailor himself. Now, he spent his days with Isabelle. She brought me a bolt of hideous, moss-colored wool. “I was going to use this to line my boots,” she said with a sweet, cutting smile. “But then I heard you had no funds for new clothes, so I brought it straight to you.” I felt no anger. “Thank you, Lady Isabelle.” “Oh!” she cried out, “accidentally” knocking over a candlestick. Hot wax spattered across the back of my hand. A searing pain shot up my arm. Damian, who had appeared from nowhere, rushed to Isabelle, carefully examining her hands, turning them over and over. “Are you hurt anywhere? Does it hurt?” My own hand was blistering, the pain so sharp tears sprang to my eyes. But no one asked if I was in pain. Isabelle shot me a triumphant look, then began to cry, complaining that her hand was burned and that only Damian’s kiss could make it better. Their intimate display made me feel like an intruder in my own room. From beginning to end, Damian never once noticed my injury. Instead, he rounded on me. “She brings you a gift out of kindness, and you deliberately knock a candle over to harm her?” “You are incorrigible.” “I should never have let you stay in this house.” He had forgotten. He had forgotten holding my hands in his, all those years ago, and saying, “Keeping you here, Lyra, was the best decision I have ever made.” And: “Our Lyra deserves the best of everything in this world.” I closed my eyes, a wave of nausea and sorrow washing over me. A single, hot tear escaped and traced a path down my cheek. 4 The Duchess informed me that a blacksmith, a commoner, had agreed to marry me. He didn’t mind, she said, that I had… lost a child. The wedding would be after the Autumn Hunt. “As you wish, my lady.” My life belonged to this house. I would marry whomever they chose. Every year, Damian took me to the Hunt. This year, another woman stood at his side. He was, as always, the champion. He won the grand prize and began to walk toward the crowd. Toward me. My palms grew damp with sweat. But then, just before he reached me, he turned. He presented the prize, a magnificent hunting falcon, to Isabelle. “For you.”

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I died. I died on the way back for my husband’s birthday. The car crash mangled my body beyond recognition, but perhaps because of some lingering attachment, my soul drifted back home. And there I saw him, Aiden, leading another woman through our front door. With them was a little boy who was the spitting image of him. I watched them eat a cheerful family dinner. I watched the boy knock over the Lego castle I’d spent a year building. I watched as Aiden took call after call, people trying to break the news of my death, and his face remained a mask of indifference. It wasn’t until he saw the package I’d sent him that something finally, terribly, broke. My name is—was—Agnes. The accident stole my life, but it couldn’t sever my obsession. My soul now wanders the halls of the home that was once my sanctuary, a place now tainted with the scent of strangers and betrayal. Aiden ushered Zoe, the woman he’d always wanted, inside. Trailing them was a boy of about three or four. The moment I saw the child’s face, the heart that had long stopped beating seemed to clench. So that’s why he’d agreed to marry me so readily all those years ago. His true love was already carrying his child. “Come on in, sweetheart,” Zoe said, smiling as she ruffled the boy’s hair. He bounded over to Aiden, his voice a pure, innocent chime. “Daddy!” A genuine, unguarded smile spread across Aiden’s face as he swept the boy into his arms. Watching the three of them, a perfect picture of a happy family, my lingering attachment began to curdle into a bitter, gnawing resentment. I followed them inside. Every piece of furniture, every painting on the wall, had been chosen by me. “Where’s Agnes?” Zoe asked, sinking into the sofa as if she owned it. Aiden set the boy down and opened the fridge, pulling out a slice of cake. My cake. The last one. “She’s on a business trip. Won’t be back for a while.” He handed Zoe a bottle of milk. “In that case, can Leo and I stay here for a bit?” Zoe’s voice was velvet, her eyes flicking toward the boy. She added, as if it were an afterthought, “He’s been asking for his daddy so much lately.” Aiden chuckled and crouched down in front of Leo, whispering something in his ear. The boy immediately scrambled up and darted towards the stairs. “Leo, slow down!” Zoe called after him. “And what about you?” Aiden’s voice dropped, and he moved towards Zoe on the couch, leaning in close. “Did you miss me?” A blush crept up Zoe’s neck. She gave a shy nod, and in the next instant, his mouth was on hers, her bright red lips silenced. Their hands intertwined as they lost themselves in the kiss. My suspended soul died a second death. I tried to leave, to flee this place, but every time I tried, I found myself drawn back, tethered to Aiden’s side. No peace, not even in death. “Don’t,” Zoe murmured, turning her head away, her face flushed. “Leo might see.” Aiden froze for a second, then pulled back, straightening the shirt I’d given him for our anniversary. “Later, then.” As the grandfather clock in the hall chimed the hour, Zoe smiled. “Time flies. I’ll go make dinner.” But Aiden caught her, pulling her into an embrace. “No, I’ll cook. You’ve had a long day.” She turned in his arms and gave him a quick, sweet kiss. He paused, surprised, then took control, deepening it into something more. In all the years I’d known him, I had never once seen him cook. Not once. In the beginning, he’d complained about my cooking, so I secretly spent a fortune on classes to improve. The thought of him ever making a meal for me was an impossible fantasy. While Aiden went to the kitchen, Zoe headed upstairs. Remembering my Lego castle, I drifted up after her. She ran a hand over the intricate spires of the model on the desk. “Leo,” she said to the boy playing a game on a tablet nearby. “Want to live here for good?” Leo nodded enthusiastically. Zoe pointed a finger at my creation. “Mommy doesn’t like this.” Without a moment’s hesitation, the boy walked over and shoved it. The castle I had pieced together for a year shattered, a cascade of plastic bricks crashing to the floor. The noise brought Aiden running from the kitchen, spatula still in hand. “What was that?” he demanded, his brow furrowed. “It was me! I bumped it by accident,” Zoe said instantly, pulling Leo into a protective hug, her voice trembling with false remorse. “No, it wasn’t Mommy! It was me! I did it!” Leo burst into tears, looking up at Aiden. In the end, Aiden couldn’t bring himself to scold the boy. He just told him to be more careful. Zoe stepped over the scattered pieces, walked up to Aiden, and draped herself over his arm, her pitiful expression melting his anger away in an instant. “Dinner’s ready,” she announced. “Come and eat.” And then I saw it. Behind Aiden’s back, Zoe gave Leo a triumphant thumbs-up. My gaze fell to the plastic wreckage on the floor, and a sharp, phantom pain shot through my chest. Weren’t you supposed to feel nothing when you were dead? Weren’t you supposed to be free? Then why did my heart still ache so terribly? I reached down, trying to pick up a piece, but my hand passed straight through it. I was three years younger than Aiden. His parents had died saving my father, and my mother, out of a sense of profound debt, brought him into our home. He’ll be your husband one day, she told me. I was ten years old. I took her words as gospel. From that day on, I devoted myself to him, right up until the very end, when I was rushing back to celebrate his birthday. His birthday was easy to remember. It was our anniversary. The seventh. “Aiden,” Zoe said over dinner, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. “Where are we going for our anniversary tomorrow?” For the first time, Aiden was silent. He never let Zoe’s questions hang in the air, but this time, the silence stretched. “Wherever you want to go,” he finally said. “Anything you want.” Every year before, I had planned everything for our anniversary, his birthday gift included. He never had to lift a finger. Not that he ever appreciated it. He’d stand me up every time, leaving me waiting alone. The thought stung. Had he ever stood Zoe up? Later that night, after Zoe was asleep, Aiden went out to the balcony for a cigarette. He pulled out his phone, the screen glowing in the dark. Two minutes until midnight. I knew what he was waiting for. He was waiting for my text. The first “Happy Birthday” of the day. I had sent it every single year, without fail. He, on the other hand, never got my birthday right. It was always a day early or a day late, a careless afterthought. The gift was always the same, too: a tube of lipstick. The clock on his phone ticked from 11:59 to 12:00. Then 12:01. 12:02. No new messages appeared. He switched his phone to airplane mode, then switched it back. He did this three times. Still nothing. He blamed the network, he blamed his phone, but it never once occurred to him that something might have happened to me. He didn’t even bother to send a single message. I was always the one to initiate. The cigarette burned down to the filter, searing his lip. He swore, flicking it into the darkness, and then, with a casual swipe of his thumb, he blocked my number. His duty done, he slipped back into bed, curling up against Zoe’s warm back. A cold curiosity bloomed within me. I wanted to know what he would do when he finally found out I was dead. The next morning, as Aiden carried breakfast out from the kitchen, the doorbell rang. “Who the hell is it this early on a weekend?” he muttered, annoyed, and went to get the door. It was a courier. He signed for the package. It was my birthday gift to him. A pair of custom cufflinks. Aiden tore open the package, his expression shifting to one of confusion as he saw the velvet box inside. The cufflinks I had chosen so carefully. In my naivete, I thought such a thoughtful gift might convey the depth of my love, might make him cherish our marriage a little more. Now, he barely glanced at them before tossing the box onto the coffee table. There was no fondness on his face, only irritation. “Aiden, who was it?” Zoe asked, coming down the stairs. “A package from Agnes,” he said flatly. “What is it?” she pressed, sidling up to him, a vinegary note in her voice. She had a way of prying, of turning every question about me into an accusation. “Nothing,” he said, not indulging her as he usually would. Zoe’s expression flickered, but she quickly pasted on a smile. “Oh, right! You promised you’d take me and Leo out today. When are we leaving?” At the mention of an outing, Aiden’s mood brightened. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “Wherever you want to go. I can drop everything for you and my son.” “Really? That’s amazing! I’ll go pack right now!” Zoe squealed, dashing off to the bedroom. Aiden watched her go, a faint smile on his lips, but I saw a flicker of something else in his eyes—a deep, weary boredom. When you’re with her, do you ever think of me? On the coffee table, the cufflinks I had pinned so much hope on looked pathetically small. A testament to my shattered love, a mockery of my wasted life. The sun streamed through the window, but my soul felt darker than ever. I watched their smiling faces and felt the bitter sting of irony. Why marry me, only to betray me? He could have just said no. I had asked him that once. His answer was a single, devastating line: “My family owes yours a debt. I can’t go back on my word.” And so, you felt entitled to hurt me without limit. Aiden, I wish we had never even begun. Just as they were about to leave, his phone rang. It was the police department, calling to inform him of my death. “Yeah, what is it?” Aiden answered, his tone clipped with impatience. He hated being interrupted when he was on his way out. A solemn male voice came through the line. “Am I speaking with Mr. Aiden Sterling? I’m calling to inform you that your wife, Ms. Agnes Vance, passed away in a car accident a week ago. We need you to come to the city morgue to identify the body. Please accept our condolences.”

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