The day of my wedding to Julian Astor, his adopted sister decided to throw herself from a rooftop. For her, Julian left me standing at the altar in my wedding dress, fleeing without a second thought. Facing a hall full of mocking eyes, I made a public proposal. “Whoever walks up this aisle and marries me today, I will be your wife!” Three years later, Julian returned to the Astor estate with his precious adopted sister in tow. I was lounging on a leather sofa, sipping bird’s nest soup and watching a TV drama. Julian’s eyes locked onto my swollen belly, and he gritted his teeth. “Whose bastard are you carrying?” I took another delicate sip of my soup and smiled sweetly. “The baby in my belly is an Astor, of course.” … Julian stormed over, his face a mask of fury, and yanked me from the sofa. “You bitch! I left with Iris on our wedding day. I haven’t been back in three years. How could you possibly be carrying my child?” I found it amusing. I never said it was his. He wasn’t the only man in the Astor family. “Of course, the child in my belly isn’t yours,” I said coolly. “You’re not worthy of being my child’s father.” Iris’s face was a picture of shock. “Eliza, even though Julian left you at the altar, he let you keep the title of Mrs. Astor. He let you enjoy the wealth and luxury of this family. How could you be so shameless as to get pregnant with a bastard?” My gaze flickered to her. “Iris, you’re the adopted daughter of the Astor family, yet you openly seduce your own brother. When it comes to shamelessness, who could possibly compete with you two?” Iris immediately turned to Julian, her voice thick with hurt. “Julian, for the past three years, we’ve been so careful, our relationship so pure. But she… she’s already carrying a bastard. She’s cheated on you.” The word “cheated” sent Julian into a rage. He raised his hand and slapped me hard across the face. “You bitch! You get pregnant with some bastard and dare to throw dirt on me and Iris? Get out of this house!” Pain exploded in my cheek, my head ringing from the blow. Three years ago, when Julian ran off with Iris, leaving me to be ridiculed at my own wedding, I made a desperate choice. In a fit of anger, I offered myself to any man who would marry me on the spot. It was Julian’s uncle, Vincent Astor, who walked up that aisle. In this city, Vincent was known as the “Ice King,” a man feared and respected by all. Since marrying him, everyone I met treated me with fawning respect. After I became pregnant, Vincent doted on me, treating me as if I were made of glass. He wouldn’t let a single hair on my head be harmed. For Julian to dare to lay a hand on me today… if Vincent found out, there would be blood. To prevent a family tragedy, and as a prayer for my unborn child, I said coldly, “If you two get out right now, I’ll pretend this never happened.” But they were having none of it. Iris grabbed a fistful of my hair. “Julian, she’s just bluffing! She wants to kick us out so she can use that bastard in her belly to take over the Astor fortune.” Julian snarled, “You bitch, so that was your plan. I won’t let you succeed.” I twisted free from Iris’s grip, my face hard. “The day you two ran away, Grandfather Astor removed you from the family registry. The Astor fortune has nothing to do with you anymore.” Iris laughed. “That was just something the old man said in a fit of anger. Julian is the only grandson. He would never truly disown him.” Julian looked smug. “Grandfather has always said that everything the Astors own will be mine.” I cradled my belly, my voice like steel. “Not anymore. The child in my belly is also an Astor heir.” I thought I had made myself clear enough. But Julian only glared at me with renewed fury. “You bitch, so you really are trying to pass off a bastard as an Astor heir. I’m going to teach you a lesson today!” He slapped me again, harder this time. I clutched my stomach as I fell to the floor. Seeing the feral look on their faces, a wave of fear washed over me. I was terrified they would hurt my baby. “The child isn’t a bastard,” I cried out. “He’s…” Before I could finish, Julian knelt down, scooped up the spilled bird’s nest soup, and shoved it, along with the shattered porcelain shards, into my mouth. “For three years, Iris and I have been roughing it, while you’ve been living in luxury, cheating and swindling this family with that bastard in your belly!” “Today, I’m going to let you have your fill!” I choked, unable to speak. The sharp fragments cut my mouth, and blood filled my throat. I tried to push him away, but Iris’s stiletto heel ground into the back of my hand. The pain was excruciating, but I couldn’t even scream. After forcing all the soup into my mouth, Julian spat on me, then stood up, dusting off his hands. Iris moved her sharp-heeled shoe until it hovered over my swollen abdomen. Panic seized me. I grabbed her ankle with both hands, desperate to stop her from pressing down. Vincent was sterile. This child was a miracle, the result of three years of seeing specialists all over the world. A mocking smile played on Iris’s lips. “Eliza, you look like a bitch protecting her pup right now. It’s pathetic.” Julian frowned at my belly. “If word gets out that I was cheated on, how can I ever show my face in this city again? Iris, crush the bastard in her womb!” I shook my head wildly, spitting out a mouthful of soup and blood. “The baby… the baby is… Vincent’s…” I gasped. Julian froze, then burst into manic laughter. “Eliza, you don’t even bother to craft a good lie! Everyone in this city knows my uncle has no interest in women. He’s sterile.” “Right now, I am the only one who can continue the Astor line. Why else do you think my grandfather was in such a hurry for me to marry you and produce an heir?” Iris chimed in, “Julian is the sole heir. Grandfather even cut off his cards to force him to come back and take over the family business.” “You pathetic bitch,” she sneered. “Caught in your lie, and you dare to try and pin this on his uncle?” Julian and Iris had been gone for three years without a single call home. Grandfather Astor was truly disappointed in him and had cut him off, intending to sever all ties. But seeing how irrational they were now, I knew better than to argue. “I’m not lying,” I pleaded again. “The baby is really Vincent’s. If you don’t believe me, I can call him and you can ask him yourself.” I reached for my phone on the table, one hand still protecting my belly. If I could just contact Vincent, he would come for me. He would save us. But as soon as my fingers touched the phone, Julian snatched it and smashed it on the floor. The screen shattered. My heart sank. He grabbed my chin. “My uncle is a volatile man. He’s the Ice King everyone in this city fears. If he finds out I can’t even handle a small matter like my own wife cheating on me, he’ll think I’m useless. He won’t give me the company.” “Is that why you wanted to call him, Eliza?” I shook my head frantically. “No, I’m carrying…” Before I could finish, Iris’s heel pressed down hard on my stomach. “Julian, why are you wasting your breath on this slut? Let’s just get rid of the bastard and go to Grandfather for our reward.” A violent pain ripped through my abdomen. I could feel the baby thrashing inside me, a desperate, frantic movement. A terror I had never known flooded me. “Please,” I begged them, “let my baby go…” Iris pulled out her phone and pointed it at me. “Get on your knees and bark like a dog. Say you’re a filthy slut, and I’ll spare your bastard.” For my child, I cast aside all pride. I crawled to my knees. “Woof, woof,” I whimpered, my voice trembling. “I’m a filthy slut.” Iris leaned down, a triumphant smirk on her face. “Eliza, when I knelt before you and begged you not to marry Julian, did you ever imagine this day would come?” Back then, Iris had come to me, telling me she and Julian were in love, begging me to call off the wedding. The marriage between the Astor and Shen families was a union decided by our parents, a web of business alliances. If I had broken the engagement, the blame and the fallout would have been on my family. I had refused. I never thought she would hold that grudge until today. I had no energy to rehash the past. “Please,” I begged, “call an ambulance.” Julian kicked me hard in the back. “You really are a bitch, Eliza! You’d do anything for that bastard!” I fell forward, my belly slamming against the hard floor. A fire spread across my abdomen. “You said… you said you’d spare my child…” Iris’s tone was dismissive. “I said I would spare your child. Julian didn’t say anything.” “You bitch, you used a bastard to impersonate me and swindle the Astor family. You think I’d let you get away with it? Not a chance!” Julian kicked me again, this time directly in the stomach. A sharp cramp seized me, and a gush of red blood flowed from between my legs. I felt the frantic movements in my womb slow, then stop. Despair washed over me. I looked at them, my eyes filled with a searing hatred. “Julian Astor, Iris Thorne, you will regret this!” Iris stood beside him, her gaze venomous. “Julian, this bitch still hasn’t learned her lesson. It seems she needs more convincing.” Julian sneered. “Let’s see who makes who regret what. Iris, get a rope.” Iris immediately understood. She found a rope in the living room and walked towards me. I scrambled backward, dragging my bleeding body across the floor. “What are you doing?” I cried, my eyes wide with terror. Their excited faces were my only answer. They tied my hands and feet together, then dragged me out of the house, leaving a long, bloody smear on the floor. They pulled me to the edge of the swimming pool. Julian kicked me in, and with my limbs bound, I sank helplessly to the bottom. The water filled my nose and mouth. The agony of suffocation washed over me. Just as I thought I was about to die, Julian pulled on the rope, yanking me from the water. “Eliza, have you learned your lesson? Will you dare to cheat on me again?” I gasped for air, a new wave of pain seizing my abdomen. I had taken prenatal classes with Vincent. I knew what this was. I was going into premature labor. Even though I knew the chances of my baby surviving were slim, I couldn’t give up. “I was wrong,” I pleaded. “I’ll never do it again. Please, spare me and my child. I’m in labor, please, call an ambulance…” Julian spat at me. “You bitch, still thinking about that bastard. I see you have no remorse at all!” “There is no way I’m letting that bastard leave this house alive today!” He raised his foot to kick me back into the pool. I closed my eyes in despair, bracing for the water, for the end.

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To cure the “false heir’s” depression, my fiancée, Wendy Reed, who had sworn she would marry no one but me, secretly went and got a marriage license with him. In turn, I agreed to the arranged marriage my family had prepared, wedding the high-society heiress Riva Thorne, who had been secretly in love with me for years. For seven years of marriage, she loved me to the bone, her touch a constant presence every night, clinging to me as if she had a desperate case of skin hunger. I thought I had finally found happiness. Until one night, after we’d made love, I overheard her talking to her best friend. “Jules is a global superstar now. When are you dumping Jack?” “It doesn’t matter. Being with someone I don’t love is the same no matter who it is. Besides, I have to keep an eye on Jack, make sure he doesn’t mess with the happiness Jules has worked so hard for.” I opened her laptop in her study. In a hidden folder were over a hundred thousand photos of Jules Carter, and a hundred unsent love letters. No matter how lost I had been, it was time to wake up. I ordered a life-sized mannequin and planned a fire. From this day forward, through heaven and hell, our paths would never cross again. 1 After successfully ordering the necessary props online, I shut down the screen. In just three more days, according to my plan, I would vanish from Riva’s world forever. I turned, and my eyes met hers, sparkling with a smile. She had aired out the scent of her perfume outside, waiting until her own body was warm before daring to wrap her arms around me from behind. “Why aren’t you asleep yet?” The familiar warmth of her body, the embrace that had always been my greatest source of security, now sent a bitter ache through my heart. We had been married for seven years, and she loved me to the bone. Everyone in the elite circles knew that Riva Thorne, the great heiress, was utterly devoted to her husband. She told me it was love at first sight when we were children, that she had carried a torch for me for fourteen years. At our wedding, she had sworn her vows with tears in her eyes, saying that marrying me was like a dream come true. She knew my past. She used her family’s power to make life hell for the childhood sweetheart who had abandoned me, sabotaging Jules’s career to avenge me, claiming she hated anyone who had ever wronged me. Her performance was flawless. So flawless that even I, an award-winning actor, couldn’t see the cracks. A bitter memory surfaced. In the throes of passion, she always liked to call me “Jules.” Jules, Jules, Jules. I, like a fool, thought she was calling for me, Jack. Now I knew. From the very beginning, she had been calling for him. I lowered my head, secretly wiping a tear from the corner of my eye. She didn’t notice, continuing on her own. “Your… brother, won that big award. There’s an industry party tomorrow, but you should just stay home with me. I’m afraid seeing him will upset you.” I silently counted in my head. This was at least the hundredth time she had used an excuse like this to keep me from a social event. I used to think it was just her possessiveness, and I indulged her, even choosing to step back from my career at its peak. Now I knew the truth. It was all to clear the way for Jules. “I have a meeting with Director Lee tomorrow. He wants me to be the lead in his next film. I can’t miss it.” “It’s fine, we won’t go. I’ll smooth it over for you. Even if my husband never works another day in his life, I can support you.” But I had no desire for fame or fortune. I had once told her that starring in one of Director Lee’s films, earning the role on my own merit, was my lifelong dream. At the time, she had sworn she would support me in making that dream a reality. She hadn’t forgotten. It was just that Jules wanted the role, too. So my dream had to become his stepping stone. Seeing my prolonged silence, she coaxed, “Jack, darling, let’s not be difficult, alright? We can go to parties anytime. Isn’t the time we have together more precious?” “The day after tomorrow is our seven-year anniversary. I promise I’ll give you a surprise you’ll never forget, okay?” I forced a smile. “Of course. And I’ll have a great gift for you, too.” The seven-year itch, Riva. We’re not going to make it. From now on, you’ll be on your own. Just you. My gift to you… is letting you go. 2 In the middle of the night, after Riva had fallen asleep in my arms, I couldn’t stop myself from getting up and going to the study. Her own words, the photos, the love letters on her computer—it was enough to shatter any hope I had left. But our seven years together weren’t a lie. We had so many sweet memories. I couldn’t let it go. I walked to the small safe by her desk. It was like Pandora’s box, mysterious and dangerous. I had asked her a few times, during our moments of intimacy in this very room, what she kept inside that was so precious. But she would always change the subject, never telling me the combination, only challenging me to guess. I had tried my birthday, her birthday, our wedding anniversary—all wrong. Now, with a trembling hand, I typed in Jules’s birthday. For the first time, I prayed I was wrong. The safe clicked open. My heart plummeted. Inside lay a pair of matching rings. Engraved on the inner band were the initials S.T. & J.C. Riva Thorne & Jules Carter. The style was old, but the rings were pristine, clearly cherished and meticulously cared for by their owner. All the strength drained from my body. A sharp, gouging pain tore through my heart. No matter how foolish I had been, the reality was now unavoidable. Riva had never, not for a single moment, loved me. The next day, for the first time, I defied Riva’s wishes and decided to go to the party. Her expression darkened, but she didn’t try to stop me. She only insisted, “You can go, but my Jack is so handsome, you have to stay by my side. If that brother of yours tries to bully you, I can protect you right away.” She acted like a loyal puppy guarding its master. But I knew she was just afraid I would leave her sight and steal Jules’s thunder. I had no intention of doing so. I was about to fake my own death. I just wanted one last chance to see the directors and writers who had helped me in my career. When we arrived, all eyes were on me and Jules. “The lead in Director Lee’s next film has to be Jack Vance. He’s got Riva Thorne backing him, and everyone knows he’s a phenomenal actor.” Hearing this, Jules stormed over to the group. “What makes you so sure? That role is mine!” The crowd scoffed. “You still have less experience than Jack. Don’t get ahead of yourself.” “Yeah, so what if he’s married to Wendy Reed? We’re talking about the Thorne family here. It’s obvious who’s getting the resources.” “Right? You won one little award. A little humility would do you good.” Jules was practically hopping with rage. “You people! Just you wait, I’ll make you eat your words!” He shot me a venomous look. “Some people can enjoy their moment for now. We’ll see who’s humiliated later! Hmph!” He then shoved me, hard. I stumbled, my knee cracking against the corner of a table. The pain brought tears to my eyes. But Riva, who had promised to protect me, acted as if she had seen nothing, letting his actions slide. I lowered my gaze, trying to ignore the bitter sting in my heart. Suddenly, the lights in the banquet hall dimmed. It was time to announce the film’s true leading man. “Let’s give a big congratulations to Jules Carter!” “And a special thank you to the billion-dollar-box-office screenwriter, ‘Sylvie,’ for her support! She has generously waived her fee for this script and even invested three hundred million dollars, all to ensure that Jules could star in her new film. Because he is her one and only leading man, her muse!” Jules took the stage, grabbed the microphone, and looked down on the crowd, his voice dripping with scorn. “Jack Vance. After all these years, you still can’t win against me.” “Loser!” Jules stood in the spotlight, the center of everyone’s universe, shining and triumphant. I looked at Riva beside me. She was holding my hand, but her eyes were filled with unadulterated joy for him. My own eyes darkened. I laughed bitterly to myself. Yesterday, in her study, I had accidentally seen the manuscript by ‘Sylvie.’ The title page read: “To my one and only leading man, Jules.” Sylvie… was Riva. It was the love she could never speak aloud. Even though I had expected it, seeing it play out before my eyes still sent a dull, throbbing ache through my chest. Director Lee walked over to me, his voice a low comfort. “Don’t worry about it, kid. There will always be a place for you in my films.” I shook my head with a sad smile. “Thank you for your kindness, Director. But I’m afraid… there won’t be another chance.” 3 Riva, feigning ignorance, snuggled into my arms. “I’ll fund a few movies for you to play around with, how does that sound?” “I have a surprise for you tonight on the waterfront. Having my love is more important than any leading role.” I stretched my lips into a smile. Words that once sounded like honey now tasted like cloying, expired sugar. But to avoid suspicion, I forced myself to swallow them. “Okay.” After expressing my gratitude to Director Lee and the other industry veterans, I made to leave early. She dismissed the driver, planning to take me for a drive herself. But the second before she started the car, a message lit up her phone. I glanced over. I recognized the number. It was Jules. Her expression changed instantly. She looked at me, hesitant. “Jack, something urgent came up at the office. Would you mind going to the waterfront by yourself?” I froze for a second, then smiled. “It’s fine. You go take care of business.” She pressed a quick kiss to my lips and hurried back towards the banquet hall. I started the car, but not in the direction of the waterfront. I drove back to our villa. The rest of my time would be spent preparing for tomorrow. I gathered all the memories of my time with Riva. The digital ones, including the backups in the cloud, I permanently deleted. The physical ones, I prepared to burn. Suddenly, an anonymous text popped up on my phone. The first thing I saw was a photo of a drunk Riva, sleeping beside Jules. 【She has a sensitive stomach, but she still drank herself sick to protect me. You’re not mad at me, are you, brother?】 【The truth is, even though she publicly opposes me and steals my resources for you, she secretly compensates me a hundred times over. Do you know why?】 【Did you know Riva has been my little follower since we were kids? She’s always loved me. Marrying you was just to keep you in check!】 【You didn’t really think someone would just love you for no reason, did you?】 【She says every night, she has to imagine it’s me to even go through with it. She even said you’re just second-hand goods she didn’t want, that you didn’t even save your first time for her. Disgusting!】 The messages came in a relentless flood. My heart remained a placid lake. I just worked faster, packing my things. After moving the mannequin into the bedroom and ensuring it would burn completely, I doused the house in gasoline. I forwarded all of Jules’s texts to the most notorious paparazzi team in the entertainment industry, then snapped my SIM card in half and tossed it into the bushes. I pressed the ignition button and walked away, towards the distant horizon. The path ahead was dark, but that was fine. I knew I would eventually walk into the dawn. On the other side of town, Riva was completely oblivious. She looked down at Jules, her tone tinged with an unconscious reprimand. “What are you doing here? Tomorrow is my anniversary with Jack. This will make him suspicious.” Jules’s eyes reddened. “Are you blaming me?” Riva panicked. “No, that’s not what I meant. I’m sorry, Jules.” He crossed his arms and let out a small huff, a grudging acceptance. A call from her head housekeeper came in. Riva frowned and silenced it. After this happened a dozen more times, she finally realized something was wrong. “What is it?” “Ma’am, it’s terrible! Sir… he… he set the house on fire and killed himself!” “We tried to fight the fire, but… there was nothing we could do.”

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The day of my wedding, my sister decided to fly home. Just like that. And just like that, my parents, my brother, and my fiancé all abandoned me—left me standing alone in my wedding dress—to go pick her up from the airport. While my sister, Luna, posted a beaming group photo to her Instagram story, bragging about how loved she was, my frantic calls went straight to voicemail, each one a silent scream into the void. The only person who answered was Caleb, my fiancé. He had one thing to say before hanging up: “Stop making a scene. We can always have another wedding.” They turned me into a clown at my own long-awaited ceremony, a spectacle of pity and ridicule for every guest to whisper about. I handled everything that followed with a calm I didn’t know I possessed. Then, I went home, opened my journal, and wrote down a new number: 99. It was the ninety-ninth time they had broken my heart. It would also be the last time I ever asked for their love. I’d already filled out my application for the research program abroad and packed my bags. They thought I’d finally learned to be quiet and obedient. They had no idea I was just getting ready to leave. … The door to my room was thrown open without a knock. My brother, Leo, strode in. He saw me staring blankly at my journal and let out a scoff. “Aren’t you a little old for that? Still writing in a diary like a schoolgirl?” Normally, I would’ve shot back a sarcastic reply. This time, I didn’t even look up. My silence seemed to irritate him. Leo ran a hand through his hair in frustration, then snatched the journal from my desk. He glanced at the open page. All it said was a single number: 99. The tally of their disappointments over the years. He couldn’t make sense of it. Frowning, he tossed the journal onto the floor. “Forget this nonsense. Luna’s craving your garlic butter shrimp scampi. Get downstairs and make it for her.” He added, “Consider it your apology for that snide little comment you left on her post today.” “Okay,” I said, my voice flat. I rose from my chair and headed for the door. Leo was clearly taken aback by my lack of protest. In the past, whenever they’d demanded I cook for Luna, I’d always put up a fight, crying as if I’d suffered the world’s greatest injustice. Why was I so quiet now? “What’s with you, Stella? Did you have a personality transplant? Or are you planning to put something in the food?” He eyed me suspiciously, trying to read the devious plot he imagined was brewing behind my eyes. His gaze fell to my slightly reddened, puffy eyelids. For a moment, he actually shut his mouth. After a long pause, he tried again, his voice softer. “Look, Luna’s been abroad for a whole year. It’s the first time she’s been back. We were just excited to see her. You should try to understand.” “It was just a wedding,” he added, as if that explained everything. “We can always throw another one for you later, can’t we?” I said nothing, pulling the shrimp from the refrigerator and beginning to rinse them under the cold tap. Just a wedding. Yes, of course. In their world, nothing could ever be more important than welcoming Luna home. Not even the wedding I had dreamed of for so long. The gown, a gorgeous couture piece, was one I’d saved for months to rent. The venue, the flowers, the music—I had spent over half a year meticulously planning every single detail with the wedding coordinator. They had seen it all. They’d watched my excitement build, day by day. And in the end, the people closest to me, my own family, were the ones who made me a laughingstock. The bride whose family was a no-show. The bride whose groom never appeared. While Luna was flaunting her airport welcome wagon on social media, I was facing a room full of mocking stares and pitying glances, cleaning up the mess of my shattered dream all by myself. Even the hotel staff, seeing my pale, tear-streaked face, had told me to go home and rest, their eyes full of sympathy. But the first thing my family did when they got home was to order me into the kitchen. A bitter, humorless smile touched my lips. I’d been planning to turn down my mentor’s offer for the prestigious research program abroad. With my parents getting older, Leo busy with his career, and my own wedding, it had seemed like the right thing to do. Now, I knew leaving was the only right decision. It was a shame the application took time to process. I still had two more weeks to endure. I pushed past Leo. “Excuse me. You’re in my way.” My coldness was like a punch landing on a pillow. He looked helpless. Just as he was about to say something else, the little princess in the living room called out to him. “Leo! I can’t get this chestnut open!” Instantly, his focus shifted. “Don’t even try, Luna! You’ll hurt your hands,” he called back, rushing to her side. “You’re going to be a concert pianist! Let me do it for you!” The buzzing fly had finally left the kitchen. I glanced down at my own hands. The fingers, once slender, were now red and swollen from an allergic reaction to the shellfish I was handling. After placing the platter of shrimp on the dining table, I took in the scene in the living room. The atmosphere was disgustingly cheerful. My father, a man perpetually “too busy” with his business, was now sitting attentively, listening to his youngest daughter’s tales of her adventures abroad. My mother held Luna in a tight embrace, her eyes filled with concern, cooing about how much weight she’d lost, how hard it must have been for her all alone out there. And Leo sat beside them, diligently peeling chestnuts for his darling sister. I stood there, a silent observer of this picture-perfect family moment. The dining room and the living room felt like two separate worlds, a stark line drawn between them. One thrummed with warmth and laughter; the other was steeped in cold, lonely silence. “Stella, why are you just hiding over there?” Luna’s voice, sickly sweet and laced with faux innocence, cut through the air. The three of them finally turned their attention to me. My father’s brow furrowed instinctively. “Who are you trying to scare with that long face? Get over here!” My mother’s face hardened with impatience. “This whole wedding fiasco is your own fault for picking a bad date. It has nothing to do with Luna.” Then, the ultimatum. “If you dare hold a grudge against your sister, don’t you ever call me ‘Mom’ again!” Luna pouted, leaning into Mom’s shoulder. “Oh, Mommy, don’t say that. You’ll make Stella sad.” But as she spoke, a gleam of triumph in her eyes betrayed her. I knew she was far from innocent. I had texted her the wedding date a full week in advance. She’d seen the message. She’d even replied, promising me a “surprise.” And what a surprise it was. This was her favorite game, a little drama she’d been directing since we were children: forcing our family to choose. I was never the one they chose. Not my parents. Not my brother. And now, not even the man who was supposed to spend the rest of his life with me. I should have been devastated. But maybe I was just numb. Hearing their words now, I felt nothing but a quiet emptiness. “I’m not angry.” The three words hung in the air. Every one of them stared at me, shocked. Not angry? How could that be possible? I watched their expressions, a deep, cutting irony settling in my chest. See? They knew what they did was wrong. They knew it was hurtful. Yet they did it anyway, and then had the audacity to blame me for my own pain. My sudden calm was more unsettling to them than any of my past hysterics. After a moment of tense silence, my father spoke. “Good. As long as you’re not angry. We’re family. Don’t be so petty.” “Yes, I know.” I nodded obediently. Seeing that I genuinely didn’t seem to be holding it against them, they visibly relaxed and drew Luna towards the dinner table. Besides the shrimp I’d made, the table was laden with a feast of seafood prepared by our housekeeper—all of Luna’s favorites. “You’re too thin, sweetie. You need to eat up,” Mom and Dad fussed, their chopsticks relentlessly piling food onto Luna’s plate until it was a small mountain. She just smiled, basking in the attention, and continued to boast about her studies abroad. She claimed she’d already secured a spot in a prestigious orchestra and would be performing soon. Mom, Dad, and Leo hung on her every word, showering her with praise. I just quietly ate my rice. My silence must have finally pricked at my mother’s conscience. She seemed to remember the grievance I’d suffered. A single shrimp was dropped into my bowl. I looked up. Her expression was awkward, forced. “There, eat. Don’t always think we favor Luna. See? I saved one for you.” I stared at the shrimp for a long moment, then set down my bowl. “No, thank you. I’m full.” Her face fell, a flash of anger in her eyes. “What is wrong with you, child?” Before she could continue her scolding, Luna, sitting beside her, suddenly clutched her throat, her face paling. “Mom… I… I can’t breathe!” In an instant, my parents and Leo were swarming around her. They saw the red welts breaking out on her skin and panic set in. “It’s an allergic reaction! How could this happen?” My mother’s frantic gaze swept the room and landed on me. The next second, a sharp crack echoed through the room as her hand connected with my cheek. The force sent me stumbling, and I fell to the floor, my head ringing. “Stella, what did you put in the food? Don’t you remember what your sister is allergic to?” Leo stared down at me, his face a mask of disgust. “I knew you were too quiet. You were plotting to hurt Luna all along! How could I have a sister as venomous as you?” “Enough! Stop yelling! Let’s get Luna to the hospital, now!” my father roared. Only then did my mother and brother tear their hateful glares away from me. The family rushed out, leaving me alone on the cold floor, one hand pressed to my throbbing, swollen cheek. I didn’t do it. The words were stuck in my throat. I wanted to scream them. But this scene had played out too many times before. I knew, with absolute certainty, that even if I said it, they wouldn’t believe me. So be it. The housekeeper, hearing the commotion, hurried in and tried to help me up. She gasped when she saw my hands. “Miss Stella, your hands! They’re so swollen!” “I’m fine,” I said, shrugging off her kindness. I pushed myself to my feet and walked back upstairs to my room. As I picked up the journal from the floor, a flood of memories washed over me. When I was eight, our family didn’t have much money. All five of us were crammed into a tiny, rundown house. My parents worked tirelessly, and with three kids to look after, they were stretched to their breaking point. They decided to send one of us to live with our grandparents in the country. Leo was about to start high school, a crucial time. Luna was too young and frail; they couldn’t bear to part with her. I didn’t want to see my parents so worried, so I raised my hand. I volunteered. Before I left, my mother stroked my hair and called me her most sensible, understanding child. What no one told me was that the price of being “sensible” was eight years of exile. For eight years, I only saw my parents, my brother, and my sister at Christmas. Year after year, I watched them in photographs, their clothes growing finer, their smiles wider. I knew our family’s fortune had changed. I waited and waited for them to bring me home. I waited until I went from a little girl to a teenager, until my beloved grandparents had both passed away. Only then did the car finally come for me. The tiny, shabby house of my memory was gone, replaced by a three-story villa. The room they gave me was on the first floor, tucked away in the darkest corner. It had none of the books and gaming consoles that filled Leo’s room, nor any of the whimsical, fairy-tale decorations in Luna’s. It was a perfect reflection of my place in this family: an afterthought, easily ignored. I packed the few belongings I had into my suitcase. The leave of absence I’d arranged with my mentor for the wedding was no longer needed. I was about to call him to say I’d be back in the lab tomorrow when my phone rang. It was Caleb. My fiancé. I assumed he was calling to discuss the wedding fallout. I was wrong. The moment I answered, he unleashed a torrent of accusations. “Stella, what did you do to Luna? Why is she in the hospital?” The man I knew as calm and collected had now lost his composure twice in one day. The first time was when he heard Luna was coming home. The second was now. And the most bitter irony of all was that he was supposed to be my fiancé.

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My husband’s true love was getting married. To make her regret her choice, he abandoned our entire Holy Order—and me—and ventured into the mortal wilds to hunt abominations. I burned nine hundred and ninety-nine whispering runes, begging for a word, but received no reply. In the hundredth year, I stopped trying. I lay upon my enchanted frost-crystal bed, content to receive the life-sustaining elixirs sent by the Archon himself. Then, suddenly, he returned. Staring at my swollen belly, he seethed, his words laced with venom. “I have been gone a century, and we have not once met. Whose bastard do you carry?” I remained unbothered. “You may have no appreciation for your own consort, but others have a keener eye for treasure.” 1 Kaelen ripped me from the frost-crystal bed, his eyes burning with murderous rage. “You faithless whore! I am gone for a mere century, and not only do you shame me by swelling with another’s child, but you dare to be defiant about it!” he roared. “Tell me! Who is the wretch you lay with?” His movements were brutal. With a sweep of his arm, he sent a row of crystal vials crashing to the floor, their contents spilling in a glittering, useless mess. The Order’s Elder, my husband’s own mentor, rushed in at the sound. He paled when he saw the crackling arcane energy gathering in Kaelen’s hands. “Kaelen, you must not harm the Lady-Regent! She carries—” “What Lady-Regent?” Kaelen cut him off with a snarl. “She is not worthy of the title!” His grip on my wrist was agonizing. I wrenched myself free, fury finally bubbling to the surface. “If I am not worthy, are you? Kaelen, for one hundred years, what did you leave me besides a crumbling Order and not a single word of guidance?” “By the very laws you wrote into our Codex, a consort whose partner is missing for five years may be considered widowed. By that law, you and I have long been finished!” Kaelen’s face flushed a deep, mottled red with rage. He refused to hear another word, dragging me violently from the Grand Master’s spire. “So you’ve found a way to justify your treachery! I will let the entire Order see the corruption that rots in your very bones!” I was still weak from an old wound, and the pregnancy had left me even more drained. I was no match for Kaelen’s raw power. The Elder, Valerius, broke out in a cold sweat, grabbing Kaelen’s arm without a thought for his own safety. “My boy, listen to me, I beg you! Release the Lady-Regent, she is…” His plea only fueled Kaelen’s fury. He spun around and struck me across the face. The slap, empowered by his magic, sent a ringing through my ears, but it couldn’t drown out his furious accusations. “Elder Valerius has always been a man of impeccable judgment! What dark spell have you woven to cloud his mind so? You are a sorceress of the vilest sort, and I will purge you from this sacred place today!” Valerius froze, swallowing the words of protest. He knew that any further pleading would only provoke Kaelen to more extreme violence. If this child were lost, it would be a disaster not just for Kaelen, but for the entire Order—a truth he could not yet speak aloud. I was hauled like an animal to the Hall of Penance, a place thronged with acolytes, where a woman with the grace of a celestial being was already waiting. It was Elara, Kaelen’s chosen protégé. A hundred years ago, when Kaelen left to hunt demons, Elara had announced she was entering a deep meditative seclusion. Now it was clear: her seclusion was a lie. They had gone to the mortal realm to live as husband and wife. Seeing my protruding belly, a cruel smile played on her lips. “I thought I would need to work a little harder upon my return. I never imagined you, old woman, would be so wanton as to bring about your own destruction.” Before I could respond, Kaelen shoved me before the assembled disciples. His voice, amplified with magic, boomed across the nine spires of our citadel. “Seraphina, you have committed a sin of monstrous proportions. In recognition of your three years of service managing this Order, I will spare your life. If you willingly step down and pledge your undying loyalty to Elara, I will grant you a place within these walls.” He paused, a cold smirk on his face, the edge of his blade glinting menacingly. “But if you refuse… I will cleanse this house of your filth myself!” His self-righteous words were laughable. When he left, he had held my hand, his voice thick with false emotion, promising to find the tears of a Southern ocean siren to cure the poison that afflicted me. It was only for that promise that I agreed to abandon my own magical pursuits and take on the burden of running the Order for him. Now, the poison had seeped deep into my very essence, but the siren’s tears he spoke of never materialized. No wonder… No wonder he hadn’t killed me outright in the spire. He needed a grand, public excuse to install his lover in my place. Whispers erupted among the acolytes. “I knew it. The Grand Master has been gone a century. How could his consort be with child?” “I saw Elder Valerius tending to her so carefully… I thought there must be some other explanation.” “So, she was unfaithful…” “Silence!” Elder Valerius roared, stepping forward to shield me. He turned his piercing gaze on Elara, whose face was a mask of innocence. His words were heavy with meaning. “I know full well who the father of Seraphina’s child is!” Kaelen’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Elder! I have been gone a century! How could a child of mine possibly appear now?” But Valerius was resolute. “His lineage is true and just. You will not question it further!” Elara, sensing the tide turning, clutched Kaelen’s sleeve, her voice a pathetic whimper. “Master, the Elder has always loved you most. How could he possibly condone Seraphina’s adultery? She must have ensnared him with dark magic! Look, his own aura is clouded… I fear…” Kaelen’s eyes hardened. He drew his sword with a sharp rasp. “Seraphina, you dare to consort with demons and heretics! You court death!” I felt no fear. I asked him one question. “Others may not know why the Elder’s aura is disturbed, Kaelen, but are you truly going to feign ignorance?” 2 As Grand Master, Kaelen had vanished for a hundred years without a trace. No one knew if he was alive or dead. Elder Valerius, who had raised Kaelen as his own at the behest of his dying father, was sick with worry. How could he not be? Kaelen knew he was at fault. As he was about to speak, Elara shoved me violently towards the great incense brazier at the front of the hall. “You venomous witch! Not only do you cheat, but you dare to slander the Master!” A sharp pain exploded at the back of my head. The world tilted, a wave of nausea washing over me as the brazier’s sharp corner broke my skin. Blood, hot and sticky, matted my hair. I stumbled and fell to the ground, a sudden, sharp cramp seizing my abdomen. Elder Valerius’s face went white. “Summon the Master Healer! Now!” The nearby acolytes hesitated, their eyes darting to Kaelen. The Elder’s voice cracked like a whip. “What is this? Does an old man’s command mean nothing now?” Elara sneered. “The Master Healer is a figure of great importance. Why would he attend to a common slut?” Kaelen’s voice was a low growl. “Someone attend to the Elder. See that he is not further bewitched by this demonic influence.” At his command, a high-ranking disciple cast a binding spell, trapping Valerius where he stood. The Elder stared in disbelief. “This is insubordination! Treason!” He struggled against the magical bonds, and the disciple, with a slight frown, cast a second spell—a lightning rune. A bolt of raw power struck Valerius, and he cried out in agony before collapsing, silenced. Kaelen watched, unmoved. “Kaelen, have you gone mad?!” I bit my tongue, forcing myself to find clarity through the pain. “Release us, if you value your life! This child… this child is not one you can afford to harm!” He ignored me, summoning a powerful artifact. With a flick of his wrist, a sound like tearing silk filled the air, and an immense weight crashed down upon my shoulders, forcing me to my knees. The impact on the stone steps sent a jarring pain through my bones, as if they were shattering. Kaelen’s voice rang out. “As Grand Master, I have always been just! Our Order has been disgraced by this harlot, and she will be dealt with according to our laws.” “Seraphina, do not say I did not give you a chance. If you will not rid yourself of that bastard spawn, then I will purify my own house myself.” My knees screamed in protest, but I crawled forward, terror seizing me. “What are you going to do?” Kaelen tilted his head, lightning crackling in his hand. “I will use the sacred Skyfire to burn the filth from your soul. For breaking your vows, for carrying a bastard, for weaving dark spells to bewitch the pure of heart—today, before all, you will receive forty-nine bolts of Skyfire as a lesson to all who would follow your path!” My breath caught in my throat. I looked up at the sky, where dark clouds were already gathering. Skyfire was the judgment of the heavens, a power that had reduced countless mortals and monsters to ash. My own magic had been nullified, my body weak. A single bolt would be a death sentence for me, let alone my child. Amid the rising cheers of the crowd, Kaelen began the incantation. A bolt of pure energy tore through the sky. I could only curl around my belly, shut my eyes, and brace for the end. But the pain never came. I looked up. A Shadowguard stood before me, his body smoking from the impact of the Skyfire he had taken in my stead. He swallowed a mouthful of blood and spoke, his voice steady. “Grand Master, the Lady-Regent’s station is now one of great importance. She is beyond your authority to harm. I urge you to cease.” It was the first time anyone had dared to so openly defy Kaelen. He narrowed his eyes, his power sweeping over the guard. “And who are you? You have some skill, but you are not of my Order. Our internal affairs are no concern of yours.” The Shadowguard was undaunted. “The truth of this matter cannot be revealed publicly. If the Grand Master wishes to know, perhaps we could speak in private—” Kaelen laughed, a short, ugly sound. His sword flashed out, striking at the guard. “I will see for myself what manner of man dares to so brazenly covet what is mine!” The Shadowguard, already weakened from blocking the Skyfire, was no match. The blade struck true, shattering his life force. He collapsed, dead before he hit the ground. A gasp rippled through the younger acolytes. Warm blood splattered across my pale face. Elder Valerius had been taken away. My own power was a stagnant pool. I was truly alone, with no one left to protect me. Kaelen stood a few paces away, his face a mask of pure killing intent. “Seraphina, and here I thought you had allied yourself with some great power. You betrayed me for a guard who must hide in the shadows?” At this point, I had nothing left to lose. “This child… he is… he is the—” Before I could finish, another roar echoed from the heavens. The second bolt of Skyfire shattered the feeble shield I had managed to conjure, striking my belly with its full, devastating force. 3 I convulsed, curling into a tight ball, the pain so absolute it stole my voice. It felt as if my womb was being torn open. Blood flowed freely, staining the pristine white marble beneath me. My hand, trembling, reached out and clutched the hem of Kaelen’s robe, leaving a streak of blood. “Please,” I begged, my voice a ragged whisper. “A healer… the child…” All my pride was gone. I just wanted someone to save my baby. Amid the overwhelming agony, I felt a terrible stillness inside me. I could have sworn I’d felt him kick just this morning. Kaelen’s foot came down, crushing my hand without a hint of mercy. “It is far too late for begging.” Elara stood beside him, her gaze dripping with contempt. “Master, even in this state, she still tries to protect her bastard. She must have truly fallen for her lover.” Kaelen’s eyes went cold. “A treacherous harlot like you… drowning would be too kind. Today, I will make an example of you and purge this Order of its sickness.” Two disciples seized me, hauling me to my feet. They wrapped heavy iron chains around my body, cinching them tight over my still-bleeding womb. “No… Kaelen, what are you doing? Let me go!” I screamed. “If you touch my child today, you will face a fate so dire you will regret this moment for all eternity!” No one listened. I was bound brutally to a great stone pillar and hoisted a hundred feet into the air. “Kaelen, let me go!” My voice was shrill with terror. Hearing the fear in my voice, a smile finally touched his lips. “When you were so bold as to take a lover within these sacred walls, did you not once imagine the shame of this day?” The enchanted iron chains tightened, activating the protective magic woven into my undergarments—the Vestments of Woven Light. Seeing it shimmer, Elara’s eyes flashed with jealousy. “Master, this witch has shamed you so profoundly, yet she still has the audacity to wear the Order’s most sacred treasure!” At her words, Kaelen sneered. With a mere thought, the Vestments vanished. I felt a sudden coldness, and a moment later, heard the gasps and lewd laughter from the crowd below. I realized with dawning horror that I was naked. I tried to cover myself, but my limbs were bound fast. “Kaelen, for what you have done today, you will surely live to regret it!” The sound of mocking laughter echoed from all sides. Kaelen took Elara’s hand, and together they ascended the steps of the hall to sit upon the throne of judgment. His voice was imperious. “There is no one in this world who can make me feel regret!” “Let the punishment begin!” At his command, a wind rose from nowhere. Thirty-six Gales of Atonement, each crackling with lightning, swirled towards me. I hung naked and exposed, the winds tearing strips of flesh from my body. One gale, then two… The crowd roared its approval. Some began to throw stones. I screamed, but my cries were lost in the storm. My flesh was flayed away, my blood painting the ten thousand marble tiles of the hall a gruesome crimson. Beneath the chains, the pain in my belly had turned to a numb ache. I felt something shift inside me, something giving way. “No, Kaelen, please, stop…” I shrieked, tears and blood streaming down my face. Kaelen watched, deaf to my pleas, a cold smile on his face as the torture continued for two full hours. By now, every last member of the Order had gathered to watch the spectacle. When the gales finally subsided, I was a raw, bloody mess, not a single patch of skin untouched. Only the faintest breath proved I was still alive. “The child…” Kaelen rose, surveying my wretched state from his high throne, a look of satisfaction on his face. “This, Seraphina, is the price of betraying me.” He leaned forward. “As for that bastard… beg me. If you beg me nicely, I might just let it live.” Hearing this, I threw away my last shred of dignity and began to plead, my voice raw. “Please, Kaelen! I will be your slave for the rest of my life, just please, spare my child! I’ll do anything you ask!” With a flick of his wrist, he used his magic to lift me, forcing me to meet his gaze. “Then confess. Confess before the entire Order. Tell them exactly what sins you have committed.” I looked down at the faces of the disciples who had once called me Lady-Regent with respect, and I began to speak, my voice a hollow murmur. “I am a harlot… I should not have taken a lover… I have brought shame upon this Order… I am a sinner…” Hearing my confession, Kaelen finally seemed satisfied. He laughed, a triumphant, ugly sound. “Since you have seen the error of your ways, I will grant you your life.” His smile turned cruel. “But this unholy spawn cannot be allowed to exist. I will send it to be reunited with its father!” He drew his sword, the sharp tip aimed at my swollen abdomen, where the fate of my child was already sealed. I raised a hand, a futile, final gesture to protect him, my eyes filled with utter despair. A flash of cold steel, a searing pain deep within me. And at that exact moment, a wave of power so immense it could level mountains crashed down upon the hall.

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The day I planned to propose, my girlfriend stood before our entire company and announced her wedding date—to someone else. I didn’t cry. I didn’t make a scene. I just went to find her, needing an explanation. But I overheard her talking to a friend instead. “Aren’t you afraid doing this will piss off Liam?” “I have no choice. Ethan’s family despises him. If I don’t marry him, they’ll force him to marry some fool. Besides,” she added confidently, “Liam loves me too much. He’d never leave me.” Later, my family arranged a more suitable match for me. As fate would have it, my wedding day was the same as hers. As a bride, she was riddled with anxiety, a terrible premonition hanging over her. She told her bridesmaids to keep a close watch, to make sure I didn’t show up and cause a scene. That’s when one of her bridesmaids said awkwardly, “You didn’t know? Liam’s getting married today, too.” 1 “Mom, I’ll agree to the arranged marriage.” The teacup in my mother’s hand trembled. She looked at me, her face a mask of shock. “Are you absolutely sure, sweetheart?” Her concern was palpable. Just last night, a video of my girlfriend, Ava, accepting another man’s proposal had gone viral. Everyone knew the prestigious Croft family was celebrating an engagement, but the groom wasn’t me, the man she’d been with for eight years. Seeing my silence, my mother’s voice grew urgent. “Liam, marriage is a monumental decision. Please, don’t do this out of spite.” I swallowed the bitterness lodged in my throat and shook my head. “Mom, I’ve just… seen things clearly. You didn’t immediately reject the Croft family’s offer because you believe their daughter is a better match for me than Ava. I trust your judgment.” My mother let out a deep sigh. “The eldest Croft daughter is indeed an exceptional young woman. I’ve heard she’s as kind as she is beautiful, grounded and intelligent. But perhaps you should meet her first, before making a final decision?” “No. You can handle the arrangements. I’m fine with whatever you decide.” After settling things, I had a meal at home before returning to the small apartment I’d bought for myself. I never expected to find Ava there. Hearing the door open, she casually ended her phone call. “You’re back later than usual. A rough day at work?” I slipped off my shoes. “What are you doing here?” I asked. “I was just passing by on my way back from a work dinner and thought I’d pop in to see you,” Ava said, her voice as soft and sweet as ever. She moved to embrace me, just like she always did. But as she drew near, I caught the scent of a familiar men’s cologne. It was the one Ethan always wore, his signature scent. A wall of resistance shot up inside me. I subtly sidestepped her embrace, but a wave of sour disappointment washed over me. “You’ve seen me. You can go now.” Ava’s outstretched arms froze in mid-air. A small smile touched her lips. “Oh, Liam, don’t be like this. Weren’t you just complaining a few days ago that I don’t spend enough time with you? I cleared my entire evening just for you.” Yesterday, I was supposed to propose to her. I’d even called her that morning, reminding her to leave work early for our dinner reservation. I waited at the restaurant from daylight until dusk. She never showed. She never even called. Just as the restaurant was closing and I was about to go find her, I received a video from an unknown number. It was Ethan, proposing to Ava in front of their entire office. In the video, their colleagues were cheering, ecstatic. I couldn’t believe it. I rushed to her company, needing to hear her explain it herself. That’s when I overheard the conversation with her best friend. That’s when I realized that in this game of love, I had been made a complete and utter fool. Remembering her words from last night felt like a knife twisting in my heart, the pain suffocating. I looked up at the woman before me, her features so gentle, and my vision blurred with tears. A crushing weight settled on my chest, making it hard to breathe. Seeing my tears, a flicker of panic crossed Ava’s face. She fumbled to wipe them away. “Liam, what’s wrong? Did someone hurt you?” 2 Growing up, Ava was the neighborhood tomboy—mischievous, rebellious, but with a fierce sense of justice. She couldn’t stand to see anyone bullied. I was the opposite: quiet, introverted, never quite fitting in with the other kids. They found me boring and always left me out. Whenever that happened, Ava would plant her hands on her hips, her cheeks puffed out in indignation, and march right up to them. “Fine, don’t play with him! Who needs you anyway?” Then she’d turn to me, clap me on the shoulder, and grin. “Don’t worry. From now on, I’ve got your back. If they mess with you again, you tell me, and I’ll sort them out!” From that day on, she was my shadow, a little sunbeam warming my lonely world. When we got to college, I finally confessed my feelings for her, and we fell together as naturally as breathing. Our relationship made her even gentler with me. We shared everything. During our happiest moments, she would talk about the future. “You’d better give me the most spectacular proposal, Liam,” she’d tease. “Otherwise, I’m not marrying you.” I never forgot those words. Then, we both joined the student government, and Ethan burst into our lives. He and Ava were in the same major, sharing a world of technical jargon I couldn’t penetrate. At first, she would patiently translate their academic discussions for me. But soon, her patience wore thin. “If you don’t get it, look it up online,” she’d snap. “Or just don’t listen. It’s not your major, it’s useless for you to know.” She and Ethan became inseparable, talking from morning till night, in person and online. For me, she had only a few perfunctory words. Friends warned me to pay attention, to be wary of their connection. I brushed it off. I believed in privacy, even in a relationship. I trusted that she wouldn’t fall for someone else. Reality slapped me hard across the face. That night, Ava didn’t leave. She said she was worried about me. I looked at her for a long time before finally saying, “Do whatever you want.” I went to my room and, just as she was about to follow, I clicked the lock shut. She stood outside the door, her expression complex. After a moment, she said, “Liam, I’ll be right out here. Whenever you’re ready to talk, I’ll be waiting.” I ignored her. A hot tear fell onto the back of my cold hand, the sensation searing. Ava, I’m done loving you. I woke the next morning with a dull ache in my temples. As I left my room, I saw Ava hastily putting on her coat. “Liam, something urgent came up, I have to go. I’ll text you the restaurant address tonight, we’ll have dinner together.” She was gone before I could even reply, a blur disappearing before my eyes. I pursed my lips and glanced at the sofa where she’d slept. In her haste, she’d left her phone behind. I picked it up, intending to get it to her later. Just then, a notification lit up the screen. Ava never used a passcode. The message was from someone named “Monkey.” It was a photo of Ethan, looking disheveled but smiling gently at the camera from a hospital emergency room. The caption read: “Don’t rush. Drive safe. I’ll wait for you right here.” 3 Now I understood why she’d been in such a hurry. A bitter laugh escaped me. I arranged for a local courier to deliver her phone to her office, then headed to my own job. I’d started at my family’s company right after graduation. My father, wanting to test my mettle, had me start from the bottom. Through my own efforts, I’d since become a department manager. As soon as I arrived, my assistant handed me a project proposal. “Mr. Hayes, this needs your attention. All the groundwork is done, it just needs your signature.” I took it and saw it was a collaboration with Ava’s family company, Hayes Industries. I had no memory of it. “Has my father approved this?” “No,” my assistant replied, momentarily flustered. “You said before that unless it was a major partnership, Hayes Industries should always be our first choice.” I remembered then. I had said that. I’d thought our families would be one, so it didn’t matter who profited more. Besides, it’s not easy for a woman to run a corporation. As her boyfriend, I felt it was my duty to support her. “Let this one go,” I said. “But from now on, prioritize what’s best for our company. We go with the most advantageous partner.” After a long day of work, I decided to check out a new Chinese restaurant that had just opened. When I got there, it was packed. Just as I was about to leave, I heard a familiar voice. “Mr. Hayes, you’re here for dinner too?” I turned to see Ethan and Ava sitting at a table, smiling. When Ava saw me, her expression froze for a second before she quickly recovered. “I was just about to call you to join us! I can’t believe you’re already here. Come, sit with us.” She waved over a waiter for another set of cutlery. I hadn’t eaten much for lunch and was starving. So I stayed. “Mr. Hayes,” Ethan said, “I remember you like spicy food. Let’s order a few more dishes for you.” I glanced at the table. Everything was mild. Both Ava and I loved spicy food. She used to say that a dish without chili had no soul, that eating it was like a death sentence. Now, faced with a table of bland food, she didn’t bat an eye. She shot Ethan a playful glare. “I think you’re the one who wants it. Don’t you remember what the doctor said today? You can only have mild food for now.” Ethan just smiled sheepishly. “I’m paying tonight, I just wanted to cater to our guest. But, I’ll listen to my little boss. Whatever you say, goes.” Ava laughed, a mix of amusement and exasperation. “What ‘little boss’? That sounds terrible, don’t call me that again!” Her words were a reprimand, but her tone was fond. Watching them, the heart that had been shattered into a million pieces felt nothing at all. A moment later, Ava’s phone rang. “You two go ahead and eat. I have to take this.” As she walked away, the smile on Ethan’s face faded, replaced by a provocative stare directed at me. “You know, Liam, I’m actually impressed. You know Ava and I are getting married, yet you still cling to her. You’ve got some nerve.” Catching the disdain in his voice, I looked up. “Is stealing someone else’s girlfriend something to be proud of? Something worth showing off in public?” “You—” Before he could finish, thick smoke began billowing from the restaurant’s kitchen. Someone screamed, “Fire!” The bustling restaurant descended into chaos. Everyone scrambled to escape. I stood up, ready to leave, when a figure slammed into me. Before I could regain my balance, I heard a familiar, panicked voice. “Ethan, let’s go! It’s a fire!” Ava didn’t stop. She grabbed Ethan’s hand and pulled him out of the building. Once outside, staring at the smoke pouring from the restaurant, her heart pounded with the thrill of survival. She threw her arms around him. “Thank God… thank God we’re okay…” Then, she seemed to remember something. She spun around and saw me, standing a short distance away, watching them with cold eyes. Her voice caught. “Liam, I… I was just so scared. I didn’t mean to not call for you…” “I know,” I cut her off, my voice frigid. In that moment, as she pulled him away, I knew with absolute clarity: the girl who once promised to protect me forever was gone. Seeing I wasn’t angry, she visibly relaxed and offered to drive me home. “No, thanks. Ethan looks pretty shaken up. You should probably take him home first.” 4 In the days that followed, I didn’t contact Ava. I was busy preparing for my own wedding. I received a message from the jeweler and used my lunch break to pick up the custom-made wedding rings. They were originally meant for Ava, for a proposal that would never happen. As fate would have it, just as I stepped into the store, Ethan walked in right behind me. He saw the small, elegant box in my hand and looked at the designer with an air of arrogance. “I want to see the ring he’s holding.” “I’m sorry, sir. This was a custom design for Mr. Hayes. It belongs to him.” Ethan scoffed. “A custom ring? Acting like you’re about to get married…” His voice trailed off as a dark realization seemed to dawn on him. “You’re planning to crash my wedding with this, aren’t you?” Seeing the madness in his eyes, I couldn’t be bothered to engage. “If you’re sick, get help. Don’t come here and act insane.” I turned to leave with the box. Suddenly, he lunged. Before I could react, he ripped the box open, threw the rings on the floor, and began stomping on them with his heel. That wasn’t enough. He rushed to the counter, grabbed a small mallet, and started smashing them with all his might. “Liam, you will not ruin my wedding! I’ll destroy your rings, and then we’ll see how you plan to crash anything!” “Ethan, are you crazy?”

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1 To seize my place as the future Crown Princess for my illegitimate half-sister, Evelyn, my three older brothers stopped at nothing. My eldest brother, Damon, deliberately unleashed his prized tiger, which tore half the skin from my face, leaving me disfigured. My second brother, Julian, secretly allowed bandits into our estate. They severed the tendons in both my hands, ensuring I could never hold a quill again, my talents forever wasted. My third brother, Adrian, bribed a debauched nobleman to violate me, shattering my reputation and my purity. Evelyn successfully took my place and became the Crown Princess. Only after their goal was achieved did my three brothers remember me. “Don’t worry, Alice,” they promised, “we’ll make it up to you. We’ll take care of you for the rest of your life.” I clutched the marriage contract just delivered to me by the crippled Lord Chancellor, and answered calmly, “That won’t be necessary. Your repentance is a burden I can no longer bear.” It took me three days to legally sever all ties with them. Then, without a backward glance, I stepped into the bridal carriage. Later, I heard my three brothers turned the capital city upside down, even posting a bounty, just to bring me home. But what did it matter? I was no longer connected to them in any way… … In the training grounds, my eldest brother, Damon, was personally training a tiger cub. He was the most renowned beastmaster in the Kingdom of Veridia, training animals exclusively for the royal family. But now, he stroked the cub’s head, his face full of tender hope. “Pip,” he murmured, “you must be a good boy, so you can protect Evelyn when you’re grown…” Tears streamed down from under my mask, seeping into the unhealed wounds on my cheek. The stinging pain was sharp and deep. I had always wanted a tiger cub of my own, but Damon had always scolded me for my impropriety, saying that the tiger was the king of beasts, a companion fit only for a king. I used to think he was just a stickler for rules, afraid I would bring trouble upon myself. Now I knew the truth: for the person he truly cherished, he was more than willing to bend those rules. Seven years ago, after my mother passed away and my father brought his mistress and her illegitimate daughter, Evelyn, into our home, the brother who had once adored me became a stranger. His eyes saw only Evelyn; his trueborn sister had ceased to exist. I walked over to Pip and stroked his soft, downy head. “Brother,” I asked, my voice low, “do you remember that I always wanted a tiger cub, too?” Damon saw me and recoiled as if from a monster. He snatched Pip into his arms, his eyes wary. “Alice, what are you trying to do? This is a wedding gift for Evelyn. Don’t you dare think of taking it!” His distrust wasn’t new. Seven years ago, when Evelyn first arrived at our estate, she had deliberately paraded in front of me in her new, fine clothes, a clear provocation. I paid her no mind, simply ordering my handmaiden, Lyra, to escort her out. But Evelyn tore her own dress, slammed her head against a stone table, and accused me of attacking her. When Damon arrived, he saw only her pathetic, tear-streaked face. She shrank into his arms like a frightened fawn. “Brother,” she whimpered, “Lady Alice said I was a bastard, unworthy of such fine cloth. She had her maidservant tear my clothes from my body…” Damon had always been simple-minded, believing only what he saw with his own eyes. He refused to listen to my explanation, slapped me hard across the face, and our relationship has been cold ever since. In his mind, I was a jealous shrew who wanted everything for herself. It was true seven years ago, and it was true now. I had tried to prove my innocence countless times over the years, only to be met with disgust and dismissal. Every word from my mouth was, to him, a lie. Now, on the verge of leaving forever, I had finally found peace with it. You can’t force affection, and a heart won by deceit will never be true. My goal today was simple: to sever our ties, not to reconcile. Damon looked at the disownment writ I had prepared and sneered. “A highborn lady with such a petty heart. You’re nothing like Evelyn, so gracious and understanding. Having a sister like you is my greatest shame.” I touched the cold, unfeeling mask on my face, as if tracing the ruined flesh beneath. “And having a brother like you,” I said with a self-mocking laugh, “is mine.” I had always adored Damon, hanging on his every word, never once contradicting him. Even after the tiger mauled me, I never directly accused him. This was the first time in my life I had shown him such insolence. He couldn’t stand it. He grabbed me by the throat, his eyes shot with blood. “You brought this on yourself, Alice! The day you commanded that cub to attack Evelyn, you should have known this day would come!” I was suddenly thrown back to a summer when I was eight. Evelyn had dragged me into the tiger enclosure to play. I tried to stop her, warning her of the danger, but she was determined to touch a cub that was teething. The startled cub pounced, scratching her face. When Damon rushed in, she pointed at me and screamed that I had ordered the attack. Without a single question, he locked me in an empty tiger cage and starved me for three days and three nights. The memory was a heavy stone in my chest, crushing the air from my lungs. Eager to be free of this place, I pushed through the pain. “Since you hate me so much, Brother, then sign the papers. Then Evelyn can be entered into the family archives as your trueborn sister…” “Fine! A venomous creature like you was never worthy of being my sister anyway!” Damon snatched the quill from a servant and scrawled his name. He threw the document in my face. “Don’t you regret this! Who would want you, looking as you do now? What good is cutting ties? You’ll still have to live in this house, eating our food, using our resources!” I picked up the writ, folded it carefully, and tucked it into my sleeve. “You needn’t worry, Lord Damon. Alice will not be a burden.” His eyelashes fluttered. He took a step closer, his voice a low growl. “You call me Lord Damon?!” I stepped back, maintaining the distance between us. “Our ties are severed. It is only proper.” He trembled with rage, his jaw tight. “Good! Very good! Let’s see how long your pride lasts. Don’t come crawling back to me!” I won’t, I thought. In three days, I will leave this house and never return. Regret, hardship… whatever comes next, it will be mine alone to bear. 2 The next day, I entered the study of my second brother, Julian. After our father, the Duke, passed away, Julian, as the most learned and promising son, inherited his title and became the new Lord Chancellor. Years in the royal court had taught him a composure Damon lacked. He didn’t react to my unannounced entry, his eyes remaining on the document he was writing. A single, perfunctory question drifted from his lips. “Are your hands any better?” I looked at my hands. Though the wounds had healed, they could no longer hold a quill. “Much better,” I said, a bitter laugh escaping me. “Thank you for leaving me with at least some ability to function.” Julian, pleased by my lack of hysterics, offered a small, satisfied smile. “Now, this is how a lady of a great house should behave. Alice, don’t blame me for my harshness. Evelyn suffered so much in her youth. Her skills in poetry, painting, and politics are no match for yours. If we hadn’t helped her this time, I fear she would have chosen a life of lonely spinsterhood after losing the Prince…” I gazed at the painting of orchids I had gifted him, which hung on the wall. A wave of sorrow washed over me, a single tear tracing a path down my cheek. “And what about me, Brother? My engagement is ruined. What am I to do? Live out my days as a lonely spinster?” He saw my tear but mistook it for an accusation. The flicker of guilt in his eyes vanished, replaced by annoyance. “Alice, I was trying to spare you some dignity. You know full well how you came by that engagement to the Prince! Evelyn was the one who saved him. You shamelessly stole the token of affection the Prince left for her, which led him to propose to the wrong sister! You owe her this!” At the Midsummer Festival when I was ten, I pulled a boy my age from the river. Before he lost consciousness, he pressed a jade pendant into my hand. I didn’t know he was the Crown Prince, who had snuck out of the palace to see the festival, so I casually left the pendant on my dressing table. Evelyn’s mother, while pretending to bring me medicine for a cold, saw it. After making inquiries, she returned with Evelyn and accused me of theft. They described the pendant’s design and the events of that day with perfect accuracy. My father and brothers naturally believed them. But when the Prince came to formally propose, he ignored the pendant. Instead, he closed his eyes and gently took my hand. “It was her,” he declared. “This is the hand that saved me. I would not mistake it!” The Prince’s validation did not clear my name. It only made my father and brothers despise me more, convinced I had used some dark art to bewitch him. From that day on, Julian lost all faith in me and sided completely with Evelyn. He held fast to our father’s last words: “You must help Evelyn reclaim the marriage that is rightfully hers!” “Alice, if you have a shred of conscience left, you will wish Evelyn nothing but happiness!” Julian’s sharp words pulled me from my reverie. I no longer had the will to argue. I nodded meekly. “I understand.” I took down the orchid painting. “This was my finest work. Let it be a wedding gift for the Prince and Evelyn. Since you never truly liked it anyway…” A flicker of regret crossed his eyes, but his proud, stoic nature wouldn’t allow him to show it. He looked down. “Do as you wish. As long as you don’t cause any trouble for Evelyn.” I placed the disownment writ on his desk and offered him the quill. “Sign this, Brother, and I guarantee I will never disturb Evelyn again.” He looked up sharply, his voice laced with anger. “Are you threatening me?” “Yes,” I replied calmly. Julian hesitated, then snatched the quill and signed his name. “You said it! Don’t you dare go back on your word!” I folded the document and glanced one last time at the decree he was drafting. “Lord Julian,” I said, “reducing taxes by thirty percent will certainly help the common folk, but it will be a great burden on the royal treasury. A ten percent reduction, coupled with incentives for cultivating fallow land, would be a more sustainable path to prosperity.” His eyes lit up, the corners of his mouth twitching into an appreciative smile. “Alice, you truly have a gift for governance. It’s a shame your heart is so twisted. Stay by my side. Be my advisor. As for this disownment writ… I’ll consider it a childish tantrum.” I shook my head calmly. “Thank you for the offer, Lord Julian, but my nature would only vex you. I will not offer my counsel again. Consider this last piece of advice a repayment for your years of care.” Julian sighed. “Very well. We will speak again when you have come to your senses and changed your ways.” You won’t have time to wait for that, Brother, I thought. In two days, we will part ways, forever.

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The day I was diagnosed with terminal cancer, I discovered my in-laws had never paid into my health insurance as they’d promised. Staring at the zero balance in my account and my own meager savings, I sat in the hospital corridor for an entire day. Later, I asked my oncologist how long I had left if I chose not to pursue treatment. After he told me, I went to my in-laws’ house under the cover of darkness, turned on the gas stove, and chose to take them with me. The next thing I knew, I was back in the year I first got married. To avoid making the same mistake, I decided to handle my own insurance this time. This one small change led me to an unexpected discovery. The person who had denied me my insurance… wasn’t who I thought it was at all. 1 “Kelly, sweetheart, now that you’re married into our family, we’re all one. I know your job doesn’t offer benefits, so from now on, let us handle your health insurance.” My mother-in-law’s kind voice echoed in my ear. Before I could even process it, my body had already given its reflexive answer. “Okay…” My eyelid twitched. I quickly changed my tune. “Okay… I mean, it’s okay, but really, I can handle it myself, Eleanor. My salary isn’t high, but with Mark’s income, we have more than enough. I wouldn’t want to trouble you.” I kept my face calm, but my palms were slick with sweat. I had no idea if this deviation from my past life would trigger some unforeseen negative consequence. But right now, I had to distance myself from my two-faced in-laws as quickly as possible. In my previous life, it was because I believed they genuinely had my best interests at heart that I entrusted them with something so important. Looking back, I had been an absolute fool. I had treated them like family, and they had treated me like an idiot. “Well, if you say so, Kelly.” To my surprise, my in-laws didn’t insist. They readily agreed to my proposal. “But you two are just starting out, and there are a lot of expenses when you’re newlyweds,” Eleanor said. “Let us transfer four thousand dollars to you every month. You can use it however you see fit. Don’t you dare refuse this, Kelly.” Right then and there, she pulled out her phone and transferred forty-eight thousand dollars to my account. She explained it was a year’s worth of support paid in advance, to save us the psychological pressure of monthly payments. She smiled and told us to spend it freely, to ask if we ever needed more, as they had little use for money themselves. Mark was their only son; everything they had would one day be ours. My father-in-law chimed in, echoing her sentiments. After the transfer, they didn’t linger. They left our new home without any fuss. Watching the elderly couple’s retreating figures, the confusion in my heart deepened. 2 That evening, after Mark got home, I served the dinner I’d prepared. As we ate, I casually brought up his parents’ offer to pay for my insurance. There was no surprise on Mark’s face, as if his parents had already filled him in. Just as I suspected. “Yeah, Mom and Dad told me when they left this morning,” he said, his tone perfectly calm. “It’s normal for you to not want to bother them. They gave you the money anyway, so you can just arrange it yourself.” After dinner, he cleared the table and went to the kitchen to do the dishes, his behavior completely normal. I sat back down, a growing sense of unease creeping over me. If my in-laws had been the ones to deliberately screw me over in my past life, then after I rejected their offer this time, they shouldn’t have been so agreeable. Even if they transferred the money to keep up appearances, they should have complained to their son behind my back, griping about what an ungrateful daughter-in-law I was and trying to get the money back. But they had done none of that. It made my defensive actions seem pointless, like I was the one making a scene over nothing. I even began to doubt my own memories, wondering if my past life had just been a vivid nightmare. I shook my head, forcing myself to stay calm. It was better to be cautious. I would take it one step at a time. As I was about to get up, my phone vibrated. It was a text from my mom. Mom: Kelly honey, you’ve been married almost a month and I haven’t even visited you yet. Are you working tomorrow? I was thinking of stopping by. I thought for a moment and replied that I had the day off, that she could come whenever she liked. In her reply, I noticed something strange. My mom, who was terrible with technology and only used her phone for calls and basic texts, had sent me a popular, trending meme. 3 The next morning, Mark had been gone for less than two minutes when the doorbell rang. Despite the tension I’d been under since my rebirth, the sight of my own mother helped me relax a little. I got her a pair of slippers and went to the kitchen to pour her a glass of water. Before I could even sit down, my mom asked a very sudden question. “Kelly, I heard your in-laws gave you some money?” I had no intention of hiding it. “Yes,” I replied. “They offered to pay for my health insurance, but I thought it would be too much trouble, so I declined. They transferred me the money to do it myself instead.” “Hmm, you did the right thing, Kelly,” my mom said, nodding and taking a sip of water. “Something that important shouldn’t be left to outsiders. What if they said they’d pay, but never actually did anything? Then if you got really sick and needed it, you’d be in a real mess, wouldn’t you?” I murmured in agreement and reached for the remote to watch some TV. But my mom stopped me, pressing on. “So, how much did they give you?” I turned to look at her. Her face held a look of casual curiosity, as if she were asking what I’d had for breakfast. But a gut feeling, a sixth sense, made me lie. I told her I’d received two thousand dollars. I didn’t know how she’d heard about the money, but I prayed that whoever told her hadn’t mentioned the exact amount. Perhaps fate was on my side. She clearly didn’t know the real number. A flash of disappointment crossed her face when I said two thousand. “Kelly, honey, I don’t mean to criticize, but your in-laws seem quite well-off. Two thousand is all they could spare? We didn’t even ask them for a dowry, we just wanted you two to be happy. But looking at it now, maybe we asked for too little. Maybe they think we’re easy to push around, and they don’t value you because of it.” I said nothing, just watched my mom talk to herself. “If I had known, I would have demanded a fortune! Then you wouldn’t be living so frugally now!” she continued. Then she asked, “So, is it two thousand a month, or two thousand for the whole year?” “I don’t know. I didn’t ask.” My feelings were a confusing mix. A terrible suspicion began to form in my mind. She had never been this interested in my finances before. Her behavior was deeply abnormal. She didn’t notice my silence, her words tumbling out. “Well, why don’t you give that two thousand to me? I’ll pitch in a little extra and get your insurance sorted for you!” 4 My heart sank. The terrible suspicion now consumed me. I couldn’t stop myself from connecting my mother to my lack of health insurance. Although there was little concrete evidence yet, considering everything that had happened since my rebirth, it wasn’t impossible for my mother to have been the one pulling the strings. To test my theory, I transferred four thousand dollars to her. “Mom, I know I can trust you with this. Please, you handle the insurance for me. You don’t need to add any of your own money, we have enough. Consider the rest a little something from me to you and Dad. Since I’m not at home, I can’t take care of you as much, so use the money to buy yourselves something nice.” “Of course! I’ll get it done for you, don’t you worry!” My mom cheerfully accepted the money and left shortly after. The next few days passed quietly. My in-laws acted as they always did. They’d send good morning texts in the family group chat and share photos of their meals. They never once mentioned the forty-eight thousand dollars, as if it had never happened. No one asked if I’d paid my insurance. They seemed to trust me completely. The money was mine to do with as I pleased. My husband, Mark, was also completely normal. Our life continued just as it had before we were married. If I cooked, he did the dishes, and vice versa. He was upholding all the promises he’d made to me, without a hint of impatience. My suspicion of my mother grew stronger. I decided I had to verify it myself. A week after I gave her the money, I went to a pharmacy to buy some antacids with my insurance card. The pharmacist told me there were no funds in the account. At first, I didn’t believe her. Seeing my shock, she thought her machine might be broken, but after checking several times, the result was the same. It felt as if my bones had been removed. I collapsed onto a nearby chair, all strength gone from my body. The pharmacist helped me to a small sofa. After thanking her, I stubbornly texted my mom, asking why there was no money on my insurance card. Mom: No money? How is that possible? I definitely paid it! Her reply was one of utter surprise, her self-righteous tone making me wonder if I’d brought the wrong card. After a moment’s thought, I called her. The phone rang for a long time before she answered. I immediately noticed an unusual sound in the background, something I’d never heard at my parents’ home before. It sounded like a child, maybe around ten years old. Before I could ask, my mom abruptly hung up. She sent a text moments later, claiming she was busy and couldn’t talk, telling me to just text her if I needed something. The more I thought about it, the more something felt wrong. I let Mark know I was heading out and drove to my parents’ house. On the way, I tried calling my mom repeatedly, but she either hung up or rejected the call. Her texts became more and more irritated. She asked if I had nothing better to do, telling me to just stay home and relax on my day off instead of constantly calling her. I didn’t reply to her last texts. I had already arrived at their apartment complex. I parked the car, hurried into the building, and took the elevator to the tenth floor. The elevator dinged open, and I walked to the door on the left side of the hallway. I entered the passcode. After a moment’s pause, the door didn’t open as expected. Instead, a cold, electronic voice announced: Incorrect Password. I looked around, confirming several times that this was indeed the home I had lived in for years before my marriage. A knot of anxiety tightened in my stomach. I tried the code again, several times. The result was the same. Left with no other choice, I started pounding on the door. If anyone was inside, they would surely hear me. After several minutes of banging, my parents’ door remained shut. Instead, the door next to theirs opened. The neighbor, seeing it was me, scratched her head in confusion. “Kelly? What are you doing here? Didn’t your parents sell this place?”

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1 I’d always favored my own son, crushing my stepson at every turn. The year they both brought their girlfriends home for Christmas for the first time, I rolled out the red carpet for my son’s girlfriend, serving her hand and foot. But my stepson’s girlfriend, on her very first visit, I put to work in the kitchen. I was the very picture of the evil stepmother. Later, when I was on my deathbed, my son and daughter-in-law said it was bad luck to even visit. They refused to see me. It was my stepson and his wife who hired a caregiver for me. As I looked at the two of them, my last breath was a sigh of regret. “Mom, what’s in the box? Hurry up and show us!” Hearing my son’s voice, I froze. My mind went blank for a solid two seconds. I blinked, the scene before me eerily familiar. Wasn’t this five years ago? The Christmas my son and stepson first brought their girlfriends home? But… that’s impossible. I died, didn’t I? Could it be? Was I… reborn? Before I could unravel the thought, my son’s impatient voice prodded me again. I looked up at him, my gaze drifting to the woman beside him. Her face was a mask of pure anticipation, but behind it, I could almost see the vicious sneer she’d worn in my final days. My hand trembled, the gift box nearly tumbling into the pot of stew on the table. I jerked it back, shifting it to the side. Then, I turned to the other young woman at the table. “Jenna, dear,” I said, my voice steady. “This is a little something to welcome you to the family. I hope you and Ethan will be very happy together.” Confusion flickered across her face, but she reached out and accepted the box. I pulled my hand back and, without a moment’s hesitation, unclasped the cheap bracelet from my own wrist. “Claire,” I said, turning to my son’s girlfriend. “This was passed down from my mother. It’s yours now. I trust you’ll make my son happy.” The last words were ground out between clenched teeth. My little performance stunned the room into silence. All four of them stared at me, their minds clearly struggling to catch up. I simply picked up my fork and knife and began to eat, ignoring their collective shock. After my husband—their father—passed away, I’d made no secret of my preference. My biological son, Caleb, was my golden boy. My stepson, Ethan, was a constant reminder of my second-class status as a stepmother. So when they both brought their girlfriends home, my bias extended to them. I doted on Claire, my son’s girlfriend, serving her the finest food and drink. Meanwhile, I treated Jenna with cold disdain, ordering her around as if she were the hired help. It was her first time in our home, yet I’d made her cook the entire Christmas dinner. Caleb had mentioned Claire wanted a nice bracelet. I, who usually pinched every penny, who bought myself costume jewelry for less than twenty dollars, had drained my savings. I spent thousands on the piece now in Jenna’s hands. Claire’s parents were notoriously greedy, demanding an outrageous sum of money before they’d “allow” her to marry. But because my son loved her, I was prepared to hand over my entire nest egg. I truly believed I had never done her wrong. Later, when it was time for me to be cared for, I chose to live with Caleb. When Claire was pregnant, I waited on her like she was a queen. But what did I get in return? They were embarrassed by me. They told their friends I was the live-in housekeeper. Worse, when I fell gravely ill, they called me a jinx, dumped me in a hospital, and never looked back. My own son wouldn’t even block his wife’s cruelty; he just stopped answering my calls. The chill of that betrayal was colder than death itself. With a nurse’s help, my heart heavy with shame, I called Ethan. I never expected him to come, but he did, with Jenna by his side. They brought me nourishing soups and gifts. They hired a full-time caregiver to see to my needs. I died without ever managing to say, “I’m sorry.” But now, realizing I’d been given a second chance, I’d changed the script. That bracelet was going to Jenna. I finally saw the truth. My daughter-in-law was a viper, and my son was a thankless leech. Ethan and his wife—they were the ones with kindness and decency in their hearts. You raise children so they’ll take care of you when you’re old. Well, if my own blood was a bad investment, then I would invest in the one I could count on. 2 The rest of the meal passed in a heavy, unnerving silence. Ethan and Jenna, both quiet by nature, ate without a word. Claire, on the other hand, was less subtle. When I bent down to pick up a dropped napkin, I saw her foot sliding away from Caleb’s under the table, a silent, angry kick. After dinner, Jenna instinctively rose to clear the plates. I glanced at Claire, who was already absorbed in her phone, and cleared my throat. “Jenna cooked this wonderful meal,” I announced. “So, Claire, you can do the dishes.” The smile on Claire’s face froze. “Oh,” she said, her voice dripping with disdain. “I don’t do dishes, Eleanor.” “Really? Who does them at your house, then?” I asked, feigning curiosity. “My mom, of course,” she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. A bitter smile touched my lips. I must have been blind in my last life. Looking back, Claire wasn’t close to her own parents; she was hardly the picture of a dutiful daughter. What on earth made me think she would ever take care of me? I let out a small, sharp laugh. “Well, you see, once you’re married, someone has to do them. Who’s it going to be in your new home?” Claire shot me a look, as if I were some kind of prehistoric relic. “We’ll hire a housekeeper, obviously. Right, Caleb?” She turned to my son, seeking his immediate agreement. And then I heard it, from my own flesh and blood. “Yeah,” Caleb said, without a hint of shame. “Or, you know, we’ll have you, Mom.” A cold sneer formed in my heart. They hadn’t even walked down the aisle, and they’d already cast me as their unpaid servant. Well, it made sense. That’s exactly what I was in my last life. This time, however, they were in for a bitter disappointment. In the end, it was Jenna who quietly stood up and washed the dishes. I knew Claire wouldn’t lift a finger, not even if I dragged her to the sink. In my previous life, I had cooked elaborate feasts every day just to convince her to stay a little longer. Now, I couldn’t wait for her to leave. While they were all chatting in the living room, I decided to slip away to my room to review my finances—my nest egg. But as I turned, I saw Caleb following me. He shut the door behind him, his voice an immediate accusation. “Mom, what is wrong with you today? Wasn’t that bracelet for Claire? Why did you give it to Ethan and Jenna?” His voice rose. “And you made Claire wash dishes on her first visit! Are you trying to sabotage my marriage before it even starts?” I shot him a dismissive glance and continued searching for the key to my lockbox. I didn’t bother explaining. “It’s my money. I’ll give my gifts to whomever I please.” He was genuinely angry now. “If you don’t treat Claire right, who’s going to take care of you when you’re old? You can’t possibly be thinking of relying on them, can you?” Without looking up, I replied flatly, “Yes. I am.” Why would I rely on them? So they could take my money and leave me to rot in a hospital? Caleb had always been the center of my universe, coddled and spoiled. I’d always given in to him. This was likely the first time he’d ever heard me speak to him with such finality. He just stood there, stunned, for a long moment. Finally, he spat out, “You’re acting possessed today,” and stormed out of the room. I ignored him and continued my search. It had been so long, I couldn’t for the life of me remember where I’d hidden the key. Just then, a soft knock came at the door. It was Ethan. “Mom,” he said, holding out the gift box. “You should have this back.” I looked at the box in his hand, exasperated. “I gave that to your girlfriend. What’s the meaning of this?” “It’s too valuable,” he explained simply. I sighed. Ethan and Jenna, I swear, were too good for their own good. When his father was alive, I’d treated Ethan decently enough. But the moment he was gone, my kindness vanished. I knew what people thought of me—the wicked stepmother. I just never cared. And Jenna… I’d never once offered her a genuine smile. Yet here they were, this sweet, unassuming couple, still showing me respect. Honestly, if I were in their shoes, I’d hold a grudge. And that, right there, was the very reason my heart was finally, irrevocably changing. 3 I forced a smile, hoping it looked more friendly than it felt. “I know I haven’t been fair to you over the years, Ethan,” I said, a pang of guilt twisting inside me. After all, I’d practically shoved the gift in Claire’s face before changing my mind. “Now that you’ve found a wonderful woman, it’s only right that I give you a proper gift.” Thankfully, he just stood there in silence for a few moments before nodding. “Thank you, Mom.” I waved him off, and as he left, my fingers finally closed around the key. I opened the lockbox and pulled out my bank book. I stared at the balance: $200,000. In my last life, Claire’s parents had demanded a “bride price” of $188,000 before they would consent to the marriage. I’d handed it over without a second thought. But since I was choosing Ethan this time, this money was destined for him. Still, once bitten, twice shy. It was probably wise to keep a little something for myself, just in case. When I emerged from my room, the living room was empty. The walls in our house were thin. I could hear Caleb in his room, placating Claire, telling her I was just an old woman who didn’t know any better and not to take it to heart. From Ethan’s room, I heard Jenna’s soft voice telling him they needed to be good to me, to slowly repay my kindness. I paused for a beat, then returned to my room, took the bank book, and slipped it into my pocket. The New Year’s Eve broadcast had been on for a while, the sound of fireworks popping outside. Caleb and Claire emerged from their room, announcing they were going for a walk. Good riddance. I was glad to see them go. After the door clicked shut, I looked at Ethan and Jenna. I hesitated for a second. “You two should go out for a stroll as well.” They exchanged a look and their hands found each other. I knew that look. They had something they wanted to say to me. I searched my memory, trying to recall this specific day in my past life. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but then… a flicker. Something flashed in my mind. That’s right. There was something important. In my previous life, after dinner, Caleb and Claire had also gone out. Ethan had come to my room alone. He told me he and Jenna were planning to get married and he needed my help with the money for her family. Jenna’s parents were only asking for $100,000. But under my financial thumb, most of Ethan’s salary over the years had gone to supporting the household. He simply didn’t have that kind of money. I had refused him without a second thought. I was perfectly willing to give Caleb the money, but to give it to Ethan? It felt like a waste. I’d immediately insulted Jenna, sneering that she should take a good look at herself and ask if she was even worth that much. That conversation had soured the mood in the house for days. After the holidays, Ethan announced he was moving to another city for work. But before he left, he insisted we formally separate our finances and living arrangements. Of course, I refused. I wouldn’t admit it, but I knew Caleb was nowhere near as capable as Ethan. If Ethan left, who would support this family? But that time, Ethan was adamant. He put it to me bluntly: was I going to live with him, or with Caleb? I remembered the scene vividly. Caleb had exploded. “Mom, if you don’t stay with me, who’s going to look after Claire’s baby when it comes?” Ethan ignored him, his eyes fixed on me. “Mom, if you choose to come with me, Jenna and I will take care of you. If you choose him, I will still send you money to support you.” At the time, all I heard was Ethan’s cold, emotionless tone. I felt my own son needed me more. But now, thinking back… one was asking me to serve, the other was offering to provide for me. What a complete and utter fool I’d been. Snapping back to the present, I heard Ethan’s voice. “Mom, Jenna and I are planning to get married.” I looked at the two of them. Ethan was a straightforward man, and Jenna was a woman of few words. Honestly, I didn’t care who he married, as long as he was happy. Remembering how their lives had flourished, I took a deep breath. “How much are they asking for?” I asked. Last time, Ethan had come to me in private, probably afraid I would reject him. This time, perhaps because of the bracelet, he’d brought Jenna with him to ask together. The room was quiet for a moment. “Jenna’s parents are asking for one hundred thousand,” he finally said. “Consider it a loan, Mom. I’ll pay you back.” I felt the bank book in my pocket. A part of me still stung at the thought of parting with the money. But I knew myself. When I was young, all I wanted was a man to rely on. Now that I was old, all I wanted was a son to care for me. I was getting on in years, and I wasn’t some titan of industry. For me, this money was an investment. I made the wrong choice in my last life. I wasn’t about to make the same mistake twice. But to my surprise, just as I pulled the bank book from my pocket and placed it on the table, before I could even begin to discuss the details, the front door burst open. Caleb and Claire were back. And the first thing his eyes landed on was the bank book on the table.

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The Duchess, my sister-in-law, had just shoved her own son and daughter from the gallery window. I, who had witnessed the entire thing, did not scream. I did not call for help. I simply sat, calmly sipping my tea, and watched the tragedy unfold. I watched, my expression serene, as one child was impaled on the wrought-iron fence below, and the other shattered upon the cobblestones. I did this because, in my previous life, I had screamed for a physician the very instant it happened. But I was too late. The children died, and the Duchess, Theresa, swore to everyone that I was the murderer. My mother, returning from a pilgrimage, rushed back to the manor with a hand-picked witness and, without a moment’s hesitation, condemned me. Helpless, I turned to my brilliant scholar husband, begging for his support. He tore his hand from my grasp. “You venomous snake!” he spat. “You lured me away just so you could commit murder!” Then my brother, the formidable Lord Regent, his face a mask of incandescent rage, ran me through with his sword. He ordered my body to be dragged to the public square and drawn and quartered. As I died, I couldn’t understand. Why? Why did my husband and my own mother bear false witness against me? Until I opened my eyes again and found myself back on the very day the children died. 1. “Fanny, darling, you take the gifts back to the manor. The children must be waiting. I’m just going to pop into the tavern next door for a bottle of wine.” The sound of my husband Alexander’s voice sent a jolt through me. I was reborn. It was real. In my last life, Alexander and I had been returning from the Winter Ball at the palace. Halfway home, he had made the same excuse to stop at the tavern. The moment I had stepped through the doors of the manor, I’d seen the children screaming as they fell. I had sprinted forward, desperate to save them, while simultaneously shouting for a servant to fetch a physician. The Duchess, Theresa, was collapsed on the floor, paralyzed by fear. Seeing me was like seeing a lifeline. “Fanny, save me!” she’d sobbed. “The children weren’t focusing on their studies, I only meant to punish them by making them stand at the window for a while… I never thought… please, you have to help me!” By the time I reached them, the children were already gone. My brother, Alistair, the Lord Regent, had lived a life of impeccable discipline. He had taken Theresa as his second wife but had no other mistresses. These two children were his only heirs. He would want blood for this. The commotion drew the neighbors. They pointed at me, accusing me of murdering the young Lord and his sister. I tried to explain that I had just returned, that Theresa was the one responsible. But then Alexander rushed in, his finger pointed at my nose, his voice thick with hatred. “Fanny, you are a monster! You tricked me into leaving so you could kill children!” Amid the chaos, my mother, who was supposed to be on a religious retreat, burst in with her so-called witness, her eyes demanding my life. “You poisoner! Give me back my grandchildren!” Before I could form a word, my brother Alistair, home at some unknown point, ran me through with his sword. He roared for his men to drag me to the executioner’s square to be drawn and quartered, and they tore my head from my body as I watched in horror. To my dying breath, I never understood why they did it. The phantom terror of being torn apart still lingered. I swore on my trembling hands. This time, I would uncover the truth. And I would make every single one of them pay in blood. I calculated the time. The children’s “accident” was still half an hour away. As Alexander turned down the alley towards the tavern, I saw him exchange a subtle, knowing glance with Theresa’s handmaiden, Rosalind. A chill of pure ice cascaded down my spine. My husband, who had sworn he loved me more than life itself, was in league with my sister-in-law. I couldn’t fathom why. But I would not be a lamb to the slaughter. “Darling,” I purred, forcing a playful pout. “I want to see the new collection at the jeweler’s. Won’t you come with me, please?” Alexander, caught off guard after his signal to Rosalind, flinched. He quickly recovered his gentle, coaxing tone. “My sweet girl, just tell me what you’d like. I’ll bring it back for you.” A wave of revulsion washed over me. I fought it down and linked my arm through his. “No, I won’t have it. Your taste is so dreadfully old-fashioned. If you’re in such a hurry, why don’t you go back first?” Did he think I was still a fool? My mother and sister-in-law were already waiting at home, ready to spring their trap. In my last life, they had been the ones to hold me down, allowing my brother to deliver the fatal blow. 2. The jeweler had many new designs on display. As I browsed, Alexander grew increasingly impatient, urging me to leave. I pretended not to notice, my hatred for him a burning coal in my gut. He had the audacity to set a trap for me. If I didn’t still have a use for him, I would have had him cut down where he stood. Finally, I saw my loyal maid, Clara, give me the signal that all was arranged. Only then did I casually select a set of jewelry. “Fanny, that’s a man’s set…” I was already walking out of the shop. “I like it,” I said dismissively. “If there’s nothing else, I’ll be heading home now.” He was practically giddy with relief. He couldn’t wait for me to go back. In my last life, he had used every trick in the book to lure me home, straight into their web. This time, I was eager to see what pathetic games they would play. As my carriage departed, I glanced back and saw Rosalind slip furtively into the shop. The two of them put their heads together, whispering. I smiled coldly and settled back into my seat. Just like last time, the Regent’s manor was eerily quiet, the servants all dismissed. The moment I walked in, I saw the two children falling from the gallery. This time, it was a few minutes earlier. Theresa was already collapsed on the floor. The second she saw me, she crawled towards me on her knees, her face a mask of terror. “Fanny, save me! The children weren’t focusing on their studies, I only meant to punish them by making them stand at the window for a while… I never thought… please, you have to help me!” I wrenched my arm from her grasp and called towards the door. “I’m afraid that’s no use, Sister. I’ve already sent Clara to fetch the city guard and a physician.” This time, I had no intention of saving anyone. At the mention of the city guard, Theresa’s feigned panic turned to genuine horror. She began to stammer that it wasn’t on purpose. She was a brilliant actress. If I hadn’t seen that same face screaming for my death in my past life, I might have even believed her. The guards and the physician arrived quickly. As we descended the grand staircase, we saw the physician shake his head grimly. Outside, a crowd of neighbors had gathered, their curses aimed at me. After all, the world believes in wicked aunts, not wicked mothers. The guards began to question everyone separately. While Theresa was being interrogated, I waited. Suddenly, my magnificent brother, the Lord Regent, stormed back into the manor like a hurricane. He pushed through the crowd and his hand closed around my throat. He had been a warrior in his youth, and his aura was that of a killer. He had adored these two children above all else. Now, believing I had murdered them, he was ready to kill me with his bare hands. “Fanny,” he snarled, “did you loathe them this much? Enough to send them to their deaths?” The neighbors began to spit in my direction. Alexander and I had been married for five years without a child, and the court gossips whispered that I was jealous of my brother and his perfect family. I had denied it, but I knew Alistair had never truly believed me. Now, his eyes were bloodshot, like a beast that had lost all reason. His hand hovered over the hilt of his sword, ready to draw it. “If anything has happened to my children,” he ground out, “I swear I will have your life for it.” The memory of his sword piercing my chest overwhelmed me. I was frozen with terror, unable to speak. Theresa emerged from her questioning and saw the scene. “My Lord!” she cried. “I had just gone up to the gallery when I saw Fanny push the children! When I tried to save them, she nearly killed me too!” She pointed to her forehead, which was now bruised and bleeding. My dear sister-in-law. With a single sentence, she meant to sign my death warrant. 3. Don’t let my sister-in-law’s delicate frame fool you; when she shrieked and lunged at me, she came with the force of a battering ram. I sidestepped her lunge and, in front of everyone, kicked her squarely in the backside, sending her face-first into the mud. I snorted. “Dear sister, you were the one who pushed the children. Why are you trying to frame me?” The chaotic manor fell silent, broken only by Theresa’s muffled sobs. No one had expected me, a high-ranking lady of the court, to resort to such brutish violence. Even my enraged brother instinctively loosened his grip. I seized the opportunity and scrambled away from him. Recovering, Theresa’s voice exploded. “You’re insane! They were my children! How could I possibly harm them?” “Perhaps you’ve forgotten, Sister, but they aren’t your biological children. And since you find my presence so inconvenient, what better way to solve both problems? Frame me for their murder, and you get rid of three obstacles at once.” My words struck her like lightning. Her face went ashen. She shot a panicked look at Alistair, then turned back to curse me. “You fiend! You’re trying to sow discord! Why would I use my own children’s lives to frame you?” “Sow discord? After the palace banquet today, my husband and I went directly to the jeweler’s. When would I have had the time to harm the children?” I watched her face pale even further and was about to press her when a hand clamped over my mouth. “That’s enough!” It was Alexander, who had just rushed in. He shot a pained, protective look at Theresa, then tightened his grip on my mouth. “Fanny, what nonsense are you spouting? When did I ever go to a jeweler’s with you?” My heart turned to ice. Even knowing he was a traitor, facing his open betrayal still sent a shard of pain through me. He had denied me just like this in our last life. The mystery that had haunted me to my death was now, seeing his devotion to Theresa, painfully clear. “Alexander,” I said, my voice muffled as I struggled against his hand, “you were the one who wanted to buy wine. I only begged you to come with me to the jeweler’s. How can you deny it?” I finally broke free, my eyes locking on his, filled with despair and fury. “Why are you lying for her?” Alexander’s eyes darted away for a second before he flatly denied it. “What lies are you telling? We all know you’re the killer. We have witnesses and evidence. Are you trying to blame the Duchess for your crime?” Every word was another nail in my coffin. As I opened my mouth to speak again, my mother, Lady Isolde, burst in, just as she had before. “Damn you, Fanny! You murdered my grandchildren, and I will see you pay with your life!” Her distress seemed genuine, her curses flying from her lips. “Theresa, my dearest girl, do not worry! Mother will see justice done for you today!” My mother, the woman I had respected for twenty years, the Dowager Duchess of the manor, pointed an accusing finger at me. “Call the guards! Arrest this murderer!” A profound chill settled deep in my bones. My own mother, whom I had loved and revered for two decades, was personally accusing me of murder. Before Alistair married, he had doted on me. But after Theresa arrived, everything changed. It was as if she, not I, had become the true daughter of the house. I looked at my mother in anguish. “Mother, are you truly saying I killed them? I am your daughter.” I hoped to appeal to some lingering ember of affection. I was wrong. She wouldn’t even look at me, her face a mask of hatred. “Get out of my sight! This family has no place for a thankless wretch like you!” She dragged a trembling maid forward. “The Regent’s house has treated you well, Fanny! Why did you have to harm the young Lord and his sister? Here! Here is the witness who saw it all! Do not even think of denying it!” At the word “witness,” Alistair lunged at the maid, grabbing her by the collar. “What did you say? Did my sister truly murder my children?” The maid nodded, terrified. Just like last time, my mother insisted I was the murderer. I stared at her, my voice catching in my throat. “Mother… why? Why are you doing this to me?” I thought I might see a flicker of remorse, but all I received was the stinging slap of her hand across my face. “Insolence! You have murdered the heirs of this house! You are not worthy to call me mother! Alistair! Have her executed!” That slap didn’t just strike my face; it shattered the last vestiges of love I held for my mother. Alistair, having heard the ‘confession,’ turned to me, his eyes filled with a murderous light. He charged, drawing his sword and thrusting it toward my chest. A suffocating wave of terror washed over me. My vision blurred, but through the haze, I saw Theresa, hiding behind my mother, a triumphant smile on her face. My husband stood beside her, a protective arm around her. I closed my eyes in despair as the cold steel broke my skin. At the last possible second, a dark object flew through the air, striking Alistair’s blade and knocking it aside. A powerful voice boomed through the manor. “Halt!”

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1 Duke Alaric had loved me for five years, and in all that time, he defied my wishes only three times. The first was on the day my mother died, when he returned from the Northmarch with a pregnant dancing girl in tow. The second was on the day after my mother died, when he took an axe to the Silverwood trees my parents had planted for me in the manor gardens. “Liana is with child,” he’d said. “The scent of the blossoms disagrees with her.” The third was on the day of my mother’s funeral, when he held a grand wedding feast for Liana at the Gilded Lily Pavilion. As I clutched my mother’s memorial urn, I finally understood that when grief reaches its absolute peak, tears refuse to fall. And so, I used the golden sigil of command—a right earned by the blood of my family, the House of Valerius, all of whom had died as loyal marshals of the realm—to petition the King for a decree of annulment. When I hear a beloved has two minds, I come to him with a heart resolved to break. We had loved each other for five years. The breaking took only three days. After my mother’s passing, I volunteered to take command of the fortress in the Northmarch. Before the ducal manor, the Lord Chamberlain who delivered the royal assent looked at me with pity. “Lady Evelyn,” he said, his voice soft with regret. “You have waited for the Duke for five years. Your hardships were finally coming to an end. Why would you choose to go to that bitter, frozen land?” He sighed. “The Duke is utterly devoted to you. The entire capital has been waiting for your wedding celebration.” I lowered my eyes and smiled, a bitter, self-mocking curve of my lips. Devoted? Perhaps, once. That is, if I hadn’t, by chance, overheard a conversation between Alaric and the house physician seven days ago. “Your Grace,” the physician had said, his tone hesitant. “Lady Liana is now three months along. Perhaps it is time to cease the Duchess’s barrenness draught?” Alaric’s brow furrowed. His voice was cold, laced with a chilling obsession. “Why would we stop?” “If Evelyn Valerius were capable of bearing a child, she would use it as leverage to prevent my marriage to Liana. Only when she is crippled by her own shame and inadequacy will I have the chance to give Liana the title she deserves.” The physician sounded uneasy. “But my lady, the Duchess, is so deeply in love with you—” Alaric’s eyes flashed with ice. “If she had any sense, she would understand that I only married her to repay the debt I owe her father and brothers for saving my life. I would never have had to scheme so desperately to bring Liana home otherwise!” He finished with a sneer. “It is her great fortune to have married me at all!” I stood outside the door, hearing every single word. A cold so profound it felt like it was in my bones washed over me, and my legs trembled, barely able to hold my weight. So, the tonics the physician brought me each day were not to restore my health. They were draughts of barrenness, meant to ensure I would never, ever conceive. I stumbled back, my heart seizing. A year ago, Alaric had been ambushed by raiders in the Northmarch. I had ridden for five days straight without rest, and when I found him, I had sliced open my own wrist and let three full bowls of my blood drain out to save him from the brink of death. The physician who treated me then told me my body had been gravely weakened, that I would likely never bear children. I was devastated, lost in a grief so deep I wished for death. It was Alaric who had knelt before me in front of the entire court, swearing he did not care that I was barren. The King, moved by his valor in battle and his profound love for me, had granted him the title of Duke of the Northmarch. But I never imagined it was a lie. The physician who diagnosed my infertility had been planted by Alaric from the very beginning. He convinced me I was barren, and then, with draught after draught, he stole from me my right to ever become a mother. And he did all of this, this intricate, cruel deception, simply to win military glory and a title, so he could one day openly marry the woman he brought back from the Northmarch. The thought drew a hollow, desolate smile to my face. “Lord Chamberlain,” I said, my voice steady. “My mind is made up.” Seeing my resolve, the old courtier did not press further. “His Majesty has decreed it. At the conclusion of Lady Valerius’s funeral rites, the decree of annulment shall be issued. You may then depart with your command, my lady.” At the mention of my mother, my eyes burned. My husband, the man who had sworn to cherish and honor my mother as his own, who had promised me a life with him and him alone, had not once come to see her since his return to the capital. He probably didn’t even know she had died. I fought back tears and accepted the King’s command. It was alright. In one more day, I would have my annulment. I could leave this manor forever. Returning to the manor with the royal scroll, I ran right into Alaric. Seeing my thin clothes, he immediately shrugged off his own heavy cloak and draped it over my shoulders, his touch a familiar gesture of concern. “The spring chill is treacherous. Why aren’t you wearing more? You’ll make me worry myself sick.” His cloak was saturated with a heavy, sweet perfume. In all the capital, only Liana wore that scent. The gesture was so absurd I could only find it laughable. I looked up at him, my face pale and gaunt. But Alaric didn’t even notice. He was lost in his own thoughts. “Ah, that reminds me. In your dowry, weren’t there two bolts of fine silk brocade? I was thinking of having a gown made for Liana.” He continued, his tone earnest. “After all, if she hadn’t taken care of me in the Northmarch, I might never have seen you again.” I lowered my gaze, and for the first time, I didn’t argue. “Very well.” 2 “Evelyn, don’t misunderstand,” he said quickly. “I just pity her, all alone with no one to rely on. It’s not like you. You have me.” I forced a smile. “It’s no matter. I don’t mind. Go on, take it.” With my permission, Alaric’s face lit up with undisguised joy. He released my hand and hurried towards the storeroom. I watched as he carefully selected three bolts of iridescent, water-colored silk. He then summoned the finest tailor in the capital, his voice gentle and serious as he gave meticulous instructions on the cut and embroidery. In the five years since our betrothal, he had never once shown me such care. A humorless smile touched my lips. I walked over to him and presented him with a scroll. “This is a royal decree of marriage I petitioned for, on behalf of you and Liana,” I said. “Consider it a way to give her child a proper name.” Alaric froze, a flash of pure ecstasy in his eyes. But he quickly masked it, pulling me into a fierce embrace, his voice thick with feigned heartbreak. “Evelyn, you sacrifice so much for me. I can never repay you.” He held me tight. “Rest assured, no matter what happens, the lady of this house will always be you.” His embrace was as warm as ever. But this time, it only made my stomach churn. The moment the new gowns were finished, Alaric took the decree and, making some excuse, left the manor. Watching his retreating back, I was suddenly thrown back in time. Three days ago, the old steward of my family’s estate had come to me. My mother’s old illness had returned, he’d said. She had coughed up so much blood it had soaked half her bedding. Her time was short. I had panicked, grabbing Alaric as he was about to leave the manor, my voice choked with tears. “Alaric, can you please come with me to my family’s estate? My mother—” Before I could finish, Liana’s sweet, cloying voice drifted in from the courtyard. “Alaric, my love! You promised you would help me choose new hairpins today. Are you ready?” At the sound of her voice, Alaric pushed my hand away, his expression strained. “I’m terribly busy right now, Evelyn. Can I go with you when I have a spare moment?” But my mother closed her eyes for the last time, and Alaric never came. In that moment, all my hope, all my love, shattered into dust. I knelt at my mother’s bedside, sobbing until I couldn’t breathe. With a tremendous effort, she gripped my hand, a dry, faint smile on her lips. “Alaric didn’t come,” she whispered, each word a struggle. “Don’t be angry with him when you go back.” “After I’m gone, he is all you have left in this world.” “You must be good to each other… you must…” I watched her take her last breath, and my heart felt as if it had been ripped from my chest by a wild beast. Tears swam in my eyes, and I wanted to scream, Mother, the man you call my only support is with another woman right now. For her, he has made it so I can never have children of my own. There were twelve hours until my departure from the capital. I hadn’t even begun to pack my belongings when Alaric, without a moment’s delay, brought Liana to the manor. When I went to the side courtyard, I found Alaric himself, axe in hand, chopping down the twin Silverwood trees he had planted for me as a symbol of our love. He looked up, his gaze faltering when it met mine. He stood at the courtyard gate, holding the hand of Liana, who was dressed in a striking crimson gown. He, so handsome; she, so exquisitely beautiful. They looked like a pair destined for each other. Liana, her face a mask of false concern, walked towards me, one hand on her belly. “The maids told me these were your favorite trees, sister,” she sighed. “It’s all my fault. I only mentioned that the scent of the blossoms made me feel unwell, and His Grace insisted on cutting them down.” She clutched Alaric’s arm, looking at me with wide, innocent eyes. “I never wanted to marry him before you, sister. But the Duke worries so for the child in my womb.” Her eyes raked over me, a cruel glint within them. “It is only after becoming a mother myself that I’ve learned… a woman’s life is one thing before she is a mother, and quite another after. It is a burden you, thankfully, will never have to bear.” Every word was a poisoned dart aimed directly at my heart. But Alaric didn’t care. He pulled her protectively behind him and said to me, his voice placating, “Liana is with child. Don’t lower yourself to her level.” He had no memory of the promise he made me five years ago, before he, my father, and my brothers rode off to war against the northern hordes. He had blushed and sworn three things to me. First, that when he returned victorious, my father and brothers would be with him, safe and sound. Second, that when he had won his glory, he would make me his wife. Third, that in this life, he would take no other. But in the end, my father had died taking a flurry of blades meant for Alaric. My brother had been drawn and quartered by the enemy while covering Alaric’s retreat. When my mother heard the news, she wept tears of blood until she fell ill and never recovered. And Alaric, his glory won, now intended to marry the woman he brought back from the Northmarch. He had broken all three promises. I looked at him, and he finally seemed to notice me, asking absently: 3 “Evelyn, the wind is cold. Where are you going with those bags?” I pulled my lips into a thin, humorless line. “I’m returning to my family home.” “Oh, good,” Liana said, her smile wide, but her eyes filled with scorn and malice. “For a moment, I was worried you were angry with me and wouldn’t be attending my wedding to Alaric.” Her gaze dropped and she suddenly noticed the pair of Twin Dove Clasps I held in my hand. Her eyes lit up, and without asking, she snatched them from me. “Oh, I like these. Alaric, darling, make your sister give them to me, won’t you?” Alaric’s expression froze. He looked at me, a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. But before he could speak, I said, my voice devoid of all emotion, “You may have them.” For a second, I saw utter disbelief in Alaric’s eyes. Liana’s triumphant smile also faltered. She had just noticed the inscription on the clasps: our two names, intertwined. They were our betrothal gift. A vicious light entered her eyes. She raised the clasps high and smashed them onto the ground. “What worthless trinkets,” she spat. “They look fine from a distance, but up close, they’re as common as scrap metal.” With a sharp crack, the two clasps broke into four pieces, lying amidst the muddy, fallen petals of the Silverwood trees. Just like my five years of love for Alaric. I gave a desolate smile. There was nothing left to hold on to. I turned to leave. Seeing my frail figure, so thin it looked as if the wind might blow me away, a strange, inexplicable panic seized Alaric. “Wait!” I turned back, my gaze calm and empty. “I promise you,” he said, his voice earnest. “After the wedding tomorrow, I will go with you to see your mother.” A sharp pain lanced through my heart, not for him, but for my mother. I hid my burning eyes and said nothing. There was no point. There were only four hours left until my departure from the capital. My mother’s funeral was to be held on the exact same day as Alaric and Liana’s wedding. I held my mother’s urn, every step feeling as if I were walking on the blades of knives, the pain searing through my flesh and into my very bones. White mourning papers filled the air like snow. As I rounded a corner, I came face to face with Alaric. He was dressed in celebratory red, mounted on a magnificent warhorse, his face beaming with joy. Behind him was Liana’s grand bridal carriage, carried by eight men, followed by a procession of wedding gifts that stretched for a mile. The joyous music and the cheers of the crowd filled the streets. Until I appeared, holding my mother’s urn, dressed in simple, white mourning clothes. It was as if a slash of white had cut through a sea of red. The crowd fell silent. Seeing me, the smile on Alaric’s face froze. His eyes filled with anger. “Evelyn,” he hissed, “must you humiliate me like this on my wedding day?” The old me would have cried, would have defended myself. But this time, I felt nothing. Not a single ripple in the dead calm of my heart. I simply said, “Move.” Alaric looked at me as if I were a stranger. Liana, however, suddenly stepped down from her carriage, her face streaked with tears. “Lady Evelyn, I know you do not like me, but you must think of Alaric!” She sobbed. “You are already unable to bear children! Are you trying to drive me to my death by making such a scene at my wedding?” “Fine! I will die, then!” She screamed and threw herself headfirst towards the carriage wheel. Alaric, panicked, caught her and then turned on me, his voice frigid. “Evelyn, have you not caused enough trouble? Will you not be satisfied until Liana is dead?” At his words, the crowd’s gaze turned on me, filled with scorn. “Is that the woman Duke Alaric was meant to marry? So jealous and without virtue.” “To think she would use such a tactic to force her husband’s hand. What a spectacle.” I heard their whispers, but my heart remained as still and silent as a pool of stagnant water. Alaric bit his lip. My lonely figure in the crowd reminded him of something, and for a moment, he looked lost. He reached out a hand, as if to touch me, but I shoved it away. “Don’t touch me!” My reaction seemed to extinguish the last flicker of gentleness in his eyes, leaving them cold as ice. He pushed the weeping Liana towards me. “Apologize to Liana. Now,” he commanded. “Or else—” He never finished his sentence. Nine royal attendants, all dressed in white mourning robes, cut through the red silk and celebratory music of the procession and stopped directly in front of him. “A decree from His Majesty the King!” The announcement sent a wave of confusion through the crowd. In the sudden jostling, the black cloth covering the urn in my hands fell away, revealing the nine characters I had carved myself: The Spirit Urn of the Lady Valerius, née Wang. A collective gasp went through the ducal wedding party. The crowd fell utterly silent. And in that instant, Alaric’s face went bone-white.

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