Chase Sterling and I were purely platonic friends for twenty-six years. We were inseparable, but he was a relentless player who couldn’t stand being alone. So, whenever he got a new girlfriend, I would proactively distance myself and cut contact. On my twenty-seventh birthday, Chase—likely annoyed by his family constantly pressuring him to settle down—showed up at my front door bright and early. “Quinn, why don’t we just make do with each other?” I was just about to curse him out when he added, “I’m serious.” For the first time ever, Chase crossed the boundary and held his hand out to me. I looked at him and thought about it for a few seconds. “Chase, if we cross this line and become a couple, we can never be friends again if we break up.” He gave me his signature, cocky grin. “We’re not going to break up. I couldn’t bear to lose you.” And so, I took his hand. That “making do” lasted for three years. At our engagement party, Chase and his frat brother, Tyler, sneaked out to the balcony for a smoke. “Chase, I know you originally asked Quinn to be your cover because you were terrified your grandfather would go after Lily. But looking at her today… I think Quinn is actually genuinely in love with you.” “You didn’t… forget to tell her this was all just for show, did you?” The hazy cigarette smoke obscured Chase’s face. His voice was cold and indifferent. “I was in a rush that day. I forgot.” My footsteps came to a dead halt right around the corner. In my hand, I was holding the cold medicine I had just bought for him. Tyler sounded horrified. His voice spiked as he called him a bastard, then leaned in closer to ask: “So what the hell is the situation with you and Quinn now? Are you actually marrying her or not?” “Because just yesterday, right before your engagement, I saw Lily post on her private story. You were at her apartment in the middle of the night, wearing nothing but a bathrobe, cooking her late-night snacks.” Chase let out a low chuckle. “Lily is my real girlfriend, obviously.” “As for Quinn? She’s just a strategic business merger. What’s the difference between a real marriage and a fake one?” “I knew she liked me a long time ago. Giving her a picture-perfect marriage and the title of my wife… I’d say I’m treating her pretty damn well.” The glass of water in my hand grew so hot it burned my palm. I lowered my head, feeling incredibly pathetic. I realized the cold medicine tablets I was holding had already started melting into my sweaty skin. But what burned hotter was my face. It was the absolute, crushing humiliation of having my secret, years-long crush exposed, only to be mocked and trampled on. “You know what? Quinn is actually pretty clueless. I’ve been around the block enough times to know that nobody’s breathing hitches and refuses to make eye contact when they hold hands with a purely ‘business’ partner.” “She always acts so cool and indifferent, but she’s actually incredibly patient. She lets me get away with everything.” Chase coughed softly, a hint of smug bragging in his voice. “Two days before the engagement, I lied and told her I had an emergency business trip. She didn’t suspect a thing. She even packed my suitcase for me.” “Last night, Lily and I got a little crazy by the window. When I got home at 3 AM, my head was pounding, but all my meds were expired. Quinn literally threw a winter coat over her pajamas and ran out into the freezing cold to buy me medicine. Then she brewed me ginger tea and coaxed me to sleep.” “She woke up every half hour to feel my forehead, terrified I was running a fever.” “I don’t even think she realizes how obsessed with me she is.” Tyler sucked in a sharp breath. “Chase, she’s treated you like gold for years. I refuse to believe you haven’t caught even a tiny bit of feelings for her?” I stood outside the door. I felt like the biggest joke in the world. My eyes burned, and the tears threatened to spill. But I didn’t leave. I wanted to hear Chase’s answer. Without a single second of hesitation, Chase replied with dripping sarcasm. “What kind of stupid question is that? Of course I don’t.” “I’ve known Quinn for nearly thirty years. If we were going to happen, it would have happened a long time ago. I wouldn’t have waited until I was twenty-seven.” “My type has always been the sweet, innocent, soft girls. Quinn is a tough, cold badass. She completely misses every single box on my checklist.” “Love is something that hits you at first sight. I don’t believe in ‘growing to love someone over time.’ Even if you gave me another thirty years, I would never fall for her.” He took a deep drag of his cigarette, sounding completely self-righteous. “But Quinn is my best friend for life, and soon she’ll be my family. Even if I don’t love her, I’ll definitely make sure she’s taken care of.” “I want her, and I want Lily.” My heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vise. But I couldn’t stop myself from smiling a bitter, hollow smile. What did Chase see me as? A convenient object he could just pick up and mold to his liking? Pick it up when he needed it, toss it aside when he didn’t. Just how pathetic and low did he think I was, to assume that marrying me was some kind of generous charity? Out on the balcony, Tyler sighed and patted Chase’s shoulder. “Let’s go back inside, man. The party is starting.” “So tonight, the plan is to introduce Lily as my cousin, right?” I turned my back and quickly hurried down the stairs. I sprinted into a vacant bathroom and dry-heaved over the sink. The tears fell faster than I could wipe them away, completely ruining my carefully done makeup. The emotions I had harbored for years suddenly felt like a putrid, suffocating swamp, pulling me under and making me physically sick. My phone buzzed constantly with group chat notifications. [It’s the engagement party! Where are our main characters?] [Chase and I are walking in now. My cousin is coming tonight too.] [Since when do you have a cousin, Tyler? Where’s Quinn? She’s been MIA.] I found an empty guest room. I washed my face clean and reapplied a light, sharp layer of makeup. For years, whenever Chase dated someone new, I proactively cut contact. Tonight, I wanted to see exactly what kind of girl had stolen his heart. As for him and me? I used a cotton swab to meticulously wipe away a stray tear from the corner of my eye, making sure my foundation was flawless. Chase probably thought I was joking when I told him on day one: If we break up, we don’t stay friends. But I, Quinn, have never been desperate for friends. And I absolutely refuse to spend another second of my life standing beside someone who doesn’t love me. “Baby, what took you so long?” The second I sat down in the VIP room, Chase leaned in, whining and acting cute. “I haven’t taken my meds tonight, and my cough is getting worse.” He blinked his puppy-dog eyes and nuzzled his face into my shoulder. There wasn’t a single trace of the cold, calculating bastard from the balcony. His friends around us started hooting and hollering. “Get a room! Leave the PDA at the door!” “You two are sickeningly sweet! If you weren’t so perfect for each other, I would have kicked you out of the group chat years ago!” “This is what you call a fairy-tale ending! Childhood sweethearts to soulmates! Chase played around for his whole life, but now he’s utterly whipped by our girl Quinn. It actually makes me believe in love.” The sticky, gross residue from the melting medicine tablets was still on my palm. I suppressed my nausea and offered a faint, detached smile. I leaned forward smoothly to grab a sparkling water from the table, expertly dodging Chase’s touch. “Where’s Tyler?” Chase had been about to lean in again, but hearing me ask about Tyler made him freeze. “He went to pick up his little sister! Oh, speak of the devil.” Tyler walked in, followed by a slender, fragile-looking girl in a white sundress. They sat down a few feet away. “You lucky bastard, Tyler. Your sister is gorgeous. You gonna introduce her to the single guys here?” one of the guys joked. Tyler shot an awkward, nervous glance at Chase and replied, “This is my sister, Lily.” “She’s a little shy and not used to this kind of scene, so go easy on her.” Amidst the roaring laughter, I looked at Lily. Her large, doe-like eyes were already locked tearfully onto Chase. The man who had just been trying to nuzzle into my shoulder quietly put some distance between us, leaning back against the armrest. That dull, throbbing pain flared up in my chest again. No matter how hard I tried to suppress it, the grief and fury were overwhelming. Lily hadn’t learned how to hide her feelings. Or maybe, because she was the one who was truly loved, she felt entitled to be bold. Her gaze lingered on Chase with reckless, unapologetic longing. My best friend, Zoe, instantly noticed I was unhappy. She didn’t hesitate. She smiled sharply and said, “Little girl, you shouldn’t be staring at that one. He’s getting married.” Lily’s face instantly flushed crimson. She quickly averted her eyes, forcing an embarrassed, fragile smile. “I’m sorry. I already have a boyfriend.” Chase still had a smile on his face, but his tone carried a sharp, defensive edge. “Zoe, you like to mess around, but not every sweet, innocent girl is like you.” Zoe’s temper flared instantly. She stood up, ready to smack him. I grabbed her arm, holding her back, and smiled directly at Chase. “You talk like you’re some saint. At least Zoe has never two-timed anyone.” Chase froze. He instinctively avoided my gaze. He forced a nervous chuckle to cover his panic. “I haven’t either, baby. Why are you suddenly getting mad at me?” Seeing my visibly icy expression, Chase grabbed a shot of liquor and downed it. “My bad, I phrased that wrong. I apologize to Zoe. Let’s drop it.” As everyone started laughing and changing the subject, I watched Lily look at Chase with profound, aching heartbreak. It was as if I was some tyrannical villain, ruthlessly torturing the two star-crossed lovers. “Alright, alright, let’s play a game! Camera Roll Roulette, how about it?” Tyler jumped in to smooth things over. “If you have anything sketchy on your phone, hide it now! Don’t traumatize us.” “I’ll pick the first date: May 17, 2023!” Everyone pulled out their phones. The rule was simple: if the bottle landed on you, you had to cast your camera roll from that exact date to the big screen for everyone to see. The bottle spun and landed pointing directly at me. I cast my phone screen to the TV. Ocean waves. A sandy beach. A candlelight dinner. And a screenshot of an UberEats delivery confirmation. “That was the year you guys went to the beach for your birthday, right?!” Zoe playfully shoved my shoulder, lowering her voice. “I even asked you if after twenty-eight years of being a saint, tasting a man for the first time was mind-blowing!” I smiled at Zoe. Those memories used to be so beautiful, but looking at them now, they only tasted like ash. One of the guys had sharp eyes and pointed at the screen. “Wait, you guys ordered delivery at 2:00 AM?” “What kind of delivery, Chase?! Was it that kind of delivery?!” The whole room erupted into wolf-whistles and laughter. But Chase, who usually loved dirty jokes, wasn’t smiling. He was staring at Lily, whose face had gone completely pale. “No, it was just some cold medicine. Don’t be gross.” A sudden, vicious wave of malice surged from my chest. “We ordered that medicine because you hurt me, didn’t we?” I smiled sweetly, willing to rip my own scars open just to make them sick to their stomachs. “You were entirely too rough. I have no idea why you were so frantic. That dress was incredibly expensive, and I only got to wear it once.” “Chase, you acted like you had never slept with a woman before. Your technique was terrible.” “Is it because the innocent little girls you usually like never let you touch them?” Amidst the roaring, scandalous cheers of the crowd… I watched Lily lower her head and wipe away tears. I watched Chase’s face twist in displeased, suffocating panic. Even though I had gotten the twisted satisfaction of laughing out loud… Why did my chest feel so painfully tight? Why did my nose sting? “Next!” Tyler wiped the sweat from his forehead and spun the bottle again. It pointed straight at Lily. She forced a fragile, trembling smile. “There’s nothing interesting on my camera roll.” Zoe looked at me, then at Lily, her sharp intuition immediately picking up on the vibe. She frowned. “Little girl, if you can’t handle the game, don’t sit at the table.” Chase frowned deeply. Before he could open his mouth to defend her, I grabbed his hand. I leaned in close to his visibly angry face. From the side angle, it probably looked like we were kissing. “Puppy, I’m a little hungry. Can you go order me some food?” Chase paused for a few seconds, but eventually stood up and walked over to the server by the door to grab an iPad. “I can handle it.” I knew Lily had watched our intimate interaction. Her voice was laced with grinding teeth. She glared at me, her eyes brimming with tears. It was the first time she had looked me dead in the eye all night, and her gaze was filled with reckless, undisguised hatred. Her phone screen was cast to the big screen. The very first image was a text message screenshot. One of the nosy guys in the group read it out loud. “‘Did you sleep with her? You swore to me it was just a strategic business merger! You promised you wouldn’t touch her!’” “‘But I was only thinking of you the entire time, my Lily.’” “‘I want fries, Quinn!’” The guy’s voice reading my food order perfectly overlapped with the last two words of that text message screenshot. The entire VIP room plunged into a suffocating, dead silence. I finished ordering and handed the iPad back to the server. I placed my violently trembling hands under the table and smiled. “What a coincidence.” “But listening to that… it sounds an awful lot like Ms. Lily is a homewrecker, doesn’t it?” “QUINN!” Chase snapped, shouting my name. Meeting my perfectly calm, dead eyes, he forced an ugly, strained smile. “Quinn. Don’t speak to a young girl like that.” Before I could even reply, Lily suddenly raised her voice. “I am NOT a homewrecker.” She stared directly at Chase, her face full of stubborn defiance. “My boyfriend and I are each other’s first loves. We were each other’s first everything. The only reason we’re separated is because his family is too stubborn and refused to let us be together!” “His relationship with his fiancée is just an open, arranged business merger. She had a desperate, pathetic crush on him, and his parents forced them together!” The young girl recklessly unleashed her pent-up emotions, swiping through the photos on her screen. “The day before May 17th, we celebrated his birthday together.” “His flight was at 11:00 PM, but he stayed with me until 9:00 PM before he finally rushed to the airport. He almost missed his flight.” “Before he left, he bought me flowers. We ate cake together, and we made love for hours.” “This is the birthday present he gave me. I just glanced at it on his phone, and he bought it for me instantly.” It was a photo of a breathtaking, dazzling sapphire ring. “He told me that in this lifetime, I am the only woman he will ever buy a ring for.” I was stunned. I had been at that exact auction. I had wanted that sapphire ring too, but some anonymous buyer had outbid everyone in the room with a blank check. Chase had coaxed me afterward. He promised he would buy me an even more beautiful one. But we were literally engaged now. I rubbed my bare, empty fingers. It suddenly hit me. Chase had never, ever bought me a ring. Lily swiped back to the screenshots from the 17th. As the images flew by, the truth hit me like a freight train. Even though he was physically next to me on that beach, Chase had been texting and coaxing her from morning until night. The beautiful scenery we saw? She got photos of all of it. The gorgeous travel souvenirs I looked at? Chase noted them in his app and had them shipped directly to her. And then, there was a photo of a cake. In the shadowy background of the picture, I could clearly see my own dress and the lower half of my chin. I saw myself, hands clasped together, eyes closed, earnestly wishing that I could stay with the man I loved forever. While he was sitting right next to me, texting Lily: “This cake is amazing. I’ll buy you one next time so you can taste it.” It was absolutely, sickeningly repulsive. I grabbed Zoe’s leg under the table. From the exact second that cake photo appeared on the screen… She had silently grabbed an empty glass liquor bottle. “Quinn, that’s… that’s…!” “Don’t rush it,” I smiled at Zoe. Her eyes were shimmering with furious tears. She muttered a few muffled curses about ‘idiots’ and ‘bitches.’ The atmosphere in the VIP room was so tense it was hard to breathe. “Is Ms. Lily finished? Then let’s move to the next round.” I calmly spun the bottle on the table. “I want to select April 2, 2025.” “Who’s playing?” For the first time all night, Chase completely lost his composure. He suddenly threw his arm around my shoulders. “Baby, my head is killing me.” “I just remembered I’m on antibiotics. I can’t be drinking tonight.” “Let’s go to the hospital, okay?” I methodically peeled his fingers off my shoulder one by one, and smiled. “No.” I was the first to cast my phone to the screen. The image was the stark, blinding white walls of a hospital room. It was a photo of the post-op care instructions for a miscarriage. It was the doctor’s warnings saved in my notes app. It was a screenshot of texts I sent to my mom. [The doctor said I might never be able to have children again.] [Mom, they still haven’t found the driver who caused the crash.] [Let’s postpone the courthouse wedding for now.] April 2, 2025, was exactly five days after the accident. On the day Chase and I were driving to the courthouse to officially sign our marriage license. A woman had suddenly sprinted directly into the middle of the road. There was enough distance to brake safely. Chase was an experienced driver; he even knew how to race cars. But he panicked. He panicked so completely that he violently yanked the steering wheel. The entire passenger side of the car—my side—was smashed brutally into the steel guardrail. The baby that had just barely developed a heartbeat was gone. I was critically injured and spent three days in the ICU. When I woke up, I saw Chase kneeling by my hospital bed. He had lost so much weight. He swore to me that he didn’t care if we never had kids, but in this lifetime, no matter what happened, he was going to stay by my side. “Let’s not look at this, Quinn.” Chase gripped my hand desperately, his eyes unable to hide his sheer terror. “I really don’t feel well. Let’s just leave, please.” Lily hesitated, about to disconnect her phone, but Zoe lunged across the table and snatched it out of her hand. With vicious speed, she swiped straight to that exact date. It was a mirror selfie of Lily wearing cheap, novelty lingerie. Followed by a shaky video, the camera pointed at a messy, dirty floor. Amidst the sounds of chaotic, heavy breathing… I heard Lily crying. “You said you hated me! You said you never wanted to see me again for the rest of your life! Why did you come back?!” She was kissed into silence. “I want to fucking kill you!” The man ground his teeth, his voice hoarse as he tried to soothe her. “Lily, that was my baby. Do you know she might never be able to get pregnant again?” “I can give you a baby!” Lily’s voice sounded so incredibly wronged and pitiful. “If you really want to make it up to her, just take our baby and give it to her to raise!” A heavy sigh echoed from Chase on the video. “I love you so much… how could I ever bear to let you lose your child?” “Just consider it… a debt she and I owe you.” I finished watching the grotesque, humiliating spectacle. I took the last sip of my drink, and set the glass down. It felt as if I was finally setting down thirty years of tangled, miserable history. “Chase, we’re done. Let’s break up.” The exact second the words left my mouth, Zoe smashed Lily’s phone against the wall and hurled the heavy glass liquor bottle directly at Chase’s head. “CHASE STERLING, FUCK YOU!” Lily threw herself over Chase to protect him. Tyler grabbed Zoe’s arms, narrowly avoiding getting his face clawed off by her manicured nails. But Chase just stared at me nervously. His eyes flickered with emotions I couldn’t understand, and frankly, had zero desire to decipher. I turned around and took long, purposeful strides out of the VIP room. My driver was already waiting downstairs. We sped all the way back to the apartment Chase and I shared. I pulled out my suitcases and rapidly packed up all my belongings. Even though we had lived together for two years, I was shocked to find that my entire life fit perfectly into just two suitcases. The driver loaded the bags into the trunk and drove me back to my parents’ estate. Everything had been such a chaotic blur. It wasn’t until I was lying in my childhood bed, staring out at the unfamiliar night skyline, that my heart finally slowed down. And then, the realization hit me. Chase and I were actually broken up. The dull, heavy pain I had been suppressing in my chest completely exploded in the silence of the empty room. I sobbed until my lungs burned. It felt like someone had literally carved a piece of flesh out of my body. Even if you know the flesh is necrotic and rotting, cutting it out still hurts like absolute hell. I don’t remember what time I finally cried myself to sleep. When I woke up, my eyes were so swollen they ached. I grabbed my phone. Chase had called me four times. And sent a barrage of texts. [Quinn, can we please just sit down and talk?] [After all these years, even if we can’t be together, are we really not going to be friends anymore?] [Quinn, please don’t do this.] The timestamp on his most recent message… Was right around the time my driver and I had pulled out of the underground parking garage at his building. So I hadn’t imagined it. That really was Chase sprinting desperately toward the elevator banks as my car drove away. I hugged my blanket tight and took two deep breaths. I raised my hand and permanently deleted Chase’s contact info. Break up. Two simple words. When I said them, I was absolutely resolute. I just didn’t expect the withdrawal period to be this agonizing. The most complicated part of all this was our engagement. Our families had deeply intertwined business interests, and we had just launched a massive joint venture. A messy, public fallout would be catastrophic for both sides. My mother saw the guilt on my face after I explained everything Chase had done over the years. Her tears fell first, her heart breaking for me. “Don’t worry about the Sterling family. Your father’s lawyers and I will handle everything.” “You just focus on resting and healing.” I kept my phone turned off for several days until my emotions finally began to stabilize, and then I slowly started checking my messages again. I heard through the grapevine that Chase had shown up at my family’s estate multiple times, but the security guards wouldn’t even let him through the front gates. “Your mom gave the security team a photo of Chase, and the license plates of every single car his family owns, and put them all on a permanent blacklist,” Zoe laughed, trying to cheer me up. “And he caught the family wrath.” “His grandfather beat him so badly he snapped a leather belt on him, and now he’s under house arrest.” “Serves him right!” Then, she scratched her head, looking a little awkward. “But his older brother… the CEO, Pierce Sterling… he asked me for your contact info. He wants to meet with you.” “At first, I told him to go to hell along with his brother.” “But then he told me some things, and I decided to pass the message along.” “Do you want to see him, Quinn?” Chase’s older brother? I searched my memory for any impression of him. He was the son of Mr. Sterling and his first wife. He had a quarter European blood and looked like he was sculpted out of marble. In my memory, he had always lived abroad. He was only three years older than our group of trust-fund brats, but he was incredibly accomplished, mature, and ruthless in business. He had already taken over half of the Sterling Group’s operations.

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“I’m so sorry, but this flight is oversold. Here is a two-hundred-dollar voucher. You need to deplane immediately!” The lead flight attendant had a death grip on my carry-on roller bag. I looked at him coldly, then shifted my gaze to the woman standing next to him. She had just been escorted onto the plane, dripping in head-to-toe designer gear. “Why does she get to board late, while I, holding a full-fare ticket, am being kicked off?” I demanded. The flight attendant sneered, leaning in close to whisper sarcastically, “Because she is Chloe Sterling, of the Sterling Medical Group family. She’s rushing to New York to beg ‘The Miracle Surgeon’—the one no one can ever find—to save her life.” “You think whatever emergency you have matters compared to a life-and-death situation? If you delay Ms. Sterling, you couldn’t repay that debt in ten lifetimes. Now, get lost!” I was dragged off the plane by several beefy security guards. I watched through the terminal window as the cabin door closed. I started laughing from sheer anger. The “Ms. Sterling” he was talking about has a terminal illness. And what he didn’t know was that I am that “Miracle Surgeon.” Her family had spent three months begging on their knees before I finally agreed to fly to New York today to perform her operation. Since they kicked me off, I’m not doing the surgery. Good luck, Sterling. You’re going to need it. Chapter 1 I dragged my suitcase, step by heavy step, over to the gate agent’s counter. “I need to cancel and refund my ticket.” I slammed my ID onto the laminate countertop, my voice thick with resentment. The agent glanced at the screen, looked me up and down, and actually rolled her eyes. “So sorry, but since you ‘chose’ not to board, this is considered a voluntary cancellation. You only get back the taxes and facility fees. That’s sixty bucks. No full refund.” I was so angry I laughed. “Voluntary?” “Your airline oversold the flight and had security drag a full-fare passenger off the plane. You call that voluntary on my part?” The agent’s fingers flew across the keyboard, clacking loudly. She looked incredibly impatient. “Look, you were causing a scene in the jet bridge, disrupting order. Breaking federal regulations.” “Honestly, you should be happy you’re getting sixty bucks back. Don’t push your luck.” Just then, the sound of expensive leather shoes echoed from the terminal floor. That same lead flight attendant from before was walking over, head held high, holding his phone up, recording me. “Look at this loser, trying to scam the airline for cash after getting booted. Totally broke and desperate!” “You just want a bigger compensation voucher, don’t you? Why act so high and mighty?” The flight attendant crossed his arms, his face twisted in mockery. “Is two hundred not enough for a peasant like you?” “Maybe I should post this video online so everyone can see how pathetic you are. Who knows? Some nice person might start a GoFundMe for you. A charity case!” I stared at his insufferable face, fighting to keep my rage under control. “You are going to regret everything you did today.” The flight attendant reacted as if he’d just heard the funniest joke in the world. He laughed so hard tears almost came out. “Regret? Me? Regret something concerning a piece of trash like you who can’t even afford Economy Plus, let alone First Class?” “Ms. Sterling chartered the entire First Class cabin. Even her bodyguards are in Business. Her security detail is worth more than your life.” “Who do you think you are, making me regret something?” He spun around, shouting at the top of his lungs to the passengers milling around the concourse. “Everyone, look at this guy!” “He’s the one who refused to cooperate during an overbooking situation and tried to blackmail the airline! Now he’s harassing the gate agents, delaying everyone. He’s a menace!” The surrounding passengers were instantly drawn in. Whispers and judging looks began to fly. “He looks decent, how can he be such a scumbag?” “Exactly. The airline offered compensation, and he still made a scene. He’s crazy for money!” “Just get out of here, stop embarrassing yourself!” I ignored the onlookers and turned back to the gate agent. “Fine. Cancel it.” “But you are going to write down, in black and white, on the receipt, that this was an Involuntary Denial of Boarding due to airline overbooking.” I needed a paper trail. When the Sterling family inevitably came looking for me, I wasn’t going to let them think I broke the contract voluntarily. I was not taking the fall for this. The flight attendant’s face darkened. He slammed his hand on the counter. “In your dreams!” “We offered you a solution, and you refused it. Now you want to slander the airline?” “Where is security? Are they deaf? Drag this lunatic out of here!” Several airport police officers immediately rushed over, grabbing my arms from both sides in a vice grip. “Let go of me!” I struggled desperately, but the cops didn’t listen. They began dragging me toward the airport exit. As they dragged me past the flight attendant, I couldn’t help but issue a final warning. “You better remember my face today. And remember every word that just came out of your mouth.” “Very soon, you’ll be on your knees begging me.” He wasn’t intimidated in the slightest. Instead, he kicked my rolling suitcase over. The already damaged suitcase split completely open. Clothes and specialized, custom-compounded medications spilled across the dirty floor. The flight attendant stomped on one of the glass vials, crushing it instantly. The specialized formula inside turned to powder under his heel. It was over. That was the specialized medication I had compounded specifically for Chloe Sterling. It was the only dose in the world! Without those meds, Chloe Sterling would never survive the post-operative recovery period! “Oh my, I am so sorry,” the flight attendant mocked with fake sympathy. Countless phone cameras were aimed at me. A barrage of mockery overwhelmed me. I was thrown out of the departure terminal, landing hard on the concrete sidewalk. The flight attendant tossed my suitcase—broken and open—onto me like he was throwing out trash. “Take your garbage and get lost! You make trouble again, and we’re locking you up for disturbing the peace!” Just then, my phone began vibrating like crazy in my pocket. The second I answered, a barrage of furious questions blasted through the speaker. “What is wrong with you!” “The plane took off ages ago. I just checked the flight manifest, and your name isn’t even on it!” It was the Sterling family’s chief of staff. His tone was arrogant, demanding answers. “The Sterling family put so much effort into hiring you. We wired you a massive retainer, and you decide to play diva at the last second?” “Who do you think you are, making the Sterlings wait?” “If it weren’t for the fact that you’re supposed to be the best surgeon for this, you think you’d be worthy of treating our Ms. Chloe?” I tried to explain it was the airline’s fault, but he wouldn’t listen. “I’m warning you. Our daughter’s illness cannot wait. If you are not in the operating room at New York-Presbyterian before sundown today, don’t blame the Sterlings for getting nasty!” “You took Sterling money, you better deliver. Believe me, I can make sure you never practice medicine in this country again!” The call slammed shut. The dial tone droned in my ear. My heart was bursting with fury. I dialed the number back. The second it connected, the chief of staff’s impatient voice snapped, “What else could you possibly have to say? Figure it out and charter a private plane if you have to!” “Don’t bother,” I said, my voice cold. “If you want to know why I’m not on that plane, go ask the lead flight attendant of Chloe’s flight.” “What does that mean?” “Exactly what I said.” I hung up immediately. I opened my mobile banking app, found the three-million-dollar retainers—the “good faith payment”—the Sterlings had sent, and hit ‘Return to Sender.’ I added a four-word note: Find Someone Else. Three million might be a fortune to some, but to me, it wasn’t worth the humiliation I endured today. I blocked every Sterling family contact number. Total blackout. Looking at the crushed specialized medication scattered on the pavement, I let out a cold laugh. Chloe Sterling, your life is out of my hands. I hailed a cab and went straight back to the hospital. I had just sat down in my office when my phone started vibrating like crazy again. It was Dr. Evans, the hospital President. He was screaming the moment I answered. “Ethan Vance! What in God’s name is going on!” “The Sterling family just called me! They said you were causing a riot at the airport and tried to attack Ms. Sterling!” “The flight attendant was apparently forced to remove you from the flight to protect Ms. Sterling. Instead of being remorseful, you had the audacity to return their retainer?” I was stunned. Once it clicked, I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. That flight attendant’s ability to twist the truth was world-class. To cover up the airline’s overselling mistake, he concocted a lie like that. And the hilarious part was that the Sterling family actually believed that total garbage without checking for two seconds. “Old Mrs. Sterling herself gave the order. You are to get on the next flight to New York, get on your knees, beg Chloe Sterling for forgiveness, and perform the surgery immediately!” “If you dare refuse, consider yourself fired!” I ignored the screaming through the phone. I pulled out a blank sheet of paper and quickly scrawled my letter of resignation. I walked upstairs and pushed open the President’s office door. Dr. Evans was still holding his phone, looking surprised to see me. Slap! I slammed the resignation letter hard onto his desk. “Don’t bother firing me. I resign.” Dr. Evans stared at the paper, his eyes wide. “Are you insane? You think resigning lets you off the hook with the Sterlings?” I leaned over his desk, looking down at him. “Dr. Evans, I’m burned out. I’m taking a very long vacation out of state.” “If the Sterlings have the power to revoke my medical license, let them try. If they want to blacklist me, let them.” I turned and walked out. “Wait!” “You come back here!” Dr. Evans was screaming behind me in useless rage. I didn’t look back. I walked right out of the building. I did the math in my head. It was about time. Chloe Sterling’s terminal illness was being held at bay solely by that specialized medication I compounded. Now the meds were gone, and she was at thirty thousand feet. It was time for the symptoms to flare up. When I got home, I turned off my phone, drew the curtains, and slept like the dead. Early the next morning, the moment I turned on my phone, it was flooded with missed calls from the Sterling family. Immediately, an unknown number with a local area code called. I answered, and a familiar voice came through. “Dr. Vance! Please, you have to get to the airport right now! Ms. Sterling started vomiting blood on the flight and collapsed into a coma!” “The airline has authorized a complimentary Business Class seat to fly you specifically to New York on a private charter!” It was the lead flight attendant from yesterday. I let out a cold sneer and exposed him immediately. “Complimentary Business Class? Didn’t you say yesterday I was a broke loser who only deserved to be dragged off the plane?” “Shut up!” He was panicked, but his tone was still demanding and arrogant. “The Sterling family is putting immense pressure on the airline. If I lose my job because of you, I’m coming for you! Get your ass down here now!” I hung up immediately. I blocked that number too. Less than half an hour later, a thunderous pounding erupted at my front door. Boom! Boom! Boom! Along with a strong, pungent chemical smell. “Ethan Vance! You murderous quack! Get out here!” I ripped the door open. A bucket of red paint had been thrown over my outer security door, dripping down the crevices. The flight attendant, flanked by several beefy airline security guards, stood aggressively at my doorstep. Neighbors were already gathering in the hallway, peeking out and whispering. “What a shame. He seemed like such a nice young man, but turns out he’s a corrupt doctor.” “Exactly. They’re throwing paint on his door. He must have done something truly awful!” Hearing the gossip, the flight attendant got even more smug. “Look at this quack, everyone!” “He took a patient’s money and didn’t do his job. He intentionally delayed treatment, causing the patient to be in critical condition!” “Now he’s hiding in his apartment playing dead. A corrupt doctor like this belongs in prison!” His face was contorted in fury. He was clearly being pushed to the brink by the Sterling family and was trying to use me as a scapegoat to save himself. “You think hiding works? Today, you are getting to New York even if I have to drag your corpse there!” I looked at the red paint on the floor and was about to call the police when a heavy set of footsteps echoed from the stairs. Several bodyguards in black suits roughly pushed the spectating neighbors aside. Sterling’s chief of staff walked up, looking down at me with supreme arrogance. The flight attendant immediately fawned over him. “Chief, look, I found him! This won’t delay Ms. Sterling’s treatment!” The chief of staff didn’t even give him a glance. He walked straight up to me. “Dr. Vance, are you done with your tantrum?” He pulled out a check and waved it between his fingertips. “Six million. Double the original retainer.” “Come with me right now, and the Sterlings will let bygones be bygones.” I didn’t even look at the check. I coldly spit out two words. “Not interested.” “Don’t push your luck, kid!” The chief of staff’s face instantly darkened, the polite mask slipping. “You really think you can afford to offend the Sterling family?” He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping low, filled with an icy chill. “You don’t want to go? Fine. Today, I am kidnapping you. I will strap you to that operating table myself.” “You don’t want to pick up the scalpel? The Sterlings have plenty of ways to make you.” “I heard… Dr. Vance’s father currently resides at the Cornwall Assisted Living Facility?” My entire body shuddered. They were despicable enough to track down my father’s whereabouts. “You dare touch my father, and you’re dead!” I gritted my teeth, staring at him with pure hatred. “To cure our daughter, the Sterlings will do whatever it takes.” The chief of staff sneered repeatedly, supreme arrogance on his face. “You better smarten up. Go pack your things now.” “Otherwise, I guarantee your father will be thrown out of that facility today, left on the street!” The surrounding bodyguards immediately stepped forward, restraining me. The flight attendant gloated from the sidelines. “Did you hear that? Still trying to act tough in front of the Sterlings? You really won’t give up until you see the coffin, will you?” Looking at their ugly faces, I suddenly started to laugh. The chief of staff’s brow furrowed, extremely impatient. “What are you laughing at!” “I’m laughing at how stupid you are.” I stopped smiling and looked at the flight attendant, who was still looking triumphant. “You really think I’m refusing to save Chloe Sterling because of a grudge?” “Even if I went right now, she’s already dead.” The chief of staff’s face changed dramatically. She grabbed my collar. “What do you mean!”

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After three years of a dead-end marriage and a husband who refused to sign the divorce papers despite keeping a permanent mistress, I stopped crying. Instead, I started swiping. I was at the boutique, eyeing my fifth Birkin of the month, when my husband’s mistress called to stage an intervention. “Do you even know how to be a wife?” Piper’s voice was shrill, dripping with a mock concern that made my skin crawl. “How can you have the heart to buy another bag right now? The firm is in a liquidity crisis. Nathan is losing sleep every single night over the overhead.” She let out a shaky breath, and then, incredibly, she started to sob. “He’s your husband, Isabel. Don’t you feel anything for him?” In the background, I heard the muffled, low timbre of Nathan’s voice, shushing her, comforting her. This was the fifty-ninth time she had lectured me on my “reckless” spending. She was his lead accountant, his “loyal” employee, and the woman he couldn’t seem to quit. We had been trapped in this divorce battle for three years. I didn’t scream. I didn’t even argue. I simply pressed ‘end call’ and turned to the sales associate with a blank smile. I proceeded to spend half a million dollars on a suite of high-end appliances and designer furniture for a home I had no intention of staying in. Ten minutes later, Nathan called. He let out a heavy, performative sigh. “From now on, Piper is in charge of your accounts. If you need a cent, you ask her. She’s a professional; maybe she can finally cure you of this pathological wastefulness.” I listened in silence. My lack of reaction seemed to irritate him more than a tantrum would have. “What are you even doing with all that junk?” he snapped. “Can’t you just try to live a normal life for once?” “You told me once,” I said, my voice as level as a horizon line, “that the day I found someone who actually wanted me, you’d let me go. That you’d sign the papers.” “Isabel—” “I’m buying my trousseau, Nathan. Every swipe of the card is an investment in my new life. I’ve found someone.” … There was a long beat of silence on the other end. Then, a sharp, dismissive scoff. “Is this the only trick you have left?” Nathan asked. “The ‘other man’ routine? I don’t have the energy for this, Isabel. The company is hit with a federal audit, and things are tense.” He let out another sigh, that mixture of exhaustion and arrogance he wore like a tailored suit. “I don’t expect you to help me carry the weight. I just need you to stay in your lane. Stop trying to buy my attention with high-end receipts. I’ve told you a thousand times: you’ll always be Mrs. Nathan Jackson. Stop acting out. It’s beneath you.” He was so certain. He truly believed that outside of the gilded cage he’d built for me, I was nothing. He thought no one else would look at me. He’d thought that three years ago, and he thought it now. I heard Piper’s voice in the background, teasing him. “You don’t think she’s actually seeing someone, do you?” “Please,” Nathan chuckled, a sound full of smug confidence. “No one else would put up with her. With that temper? I’m the only man on earth who can handle her.” He called it a “temper.” He never realized that he was the one who had transformed a soft, quiet woman into a screaming banshee, and eventually, into this cold, silent stranger. Years ago, I would have fought him. I would have stormed into his office and screamed about the accountant he was sleeping with until security escorted me out. But to a man of his stature, my public pain wasn’t a scandal—it was an ego boost. It was a testament to how much he mattered. For three years, he and Piper had been a “we.” She stood where I should have stood at every gala. She sat at his family’s Thanksgiving table while I stayed home. I was the punchline of every joke in the suburban country club circuit. And yet, every time I begged for a divorce, he refused. He’d look at me with that cruel, confident smirk and say: “You want out? Fine. Find a man who’s willing to take you off my hands. Go out there and see who wants Nathan Jackson’s leftovers. See who’s brave enough to cross me.” He overestimated his shadow. And he vastly underestimated me. The man I found wasn’t just “someone.” He was everything Nathan pretended to be, and more. The line went dead. Still feeling the phantom itch of his arrogance, I walked over to the watch counter and asked to see a limited-edition Patek Philippe. The clerk ran my card and winced. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Jackson. There’s a transaction limit. It’s… well, it’s set to fifty dollars.” A text popped up from Piper immediately: I hope you understand. Nathan is under a lot of pressure. Once the firm clears this hurdle, I might increase your allowance to a hundred. Please, Isabel. Have a heart. Stop being a burden to your husband. I actually laughed. A mistress asking the wife to “have a heart” for the man they were both bleeding dry—spiritually or financially. She had played her part well. To the world, she was the “loyal partner” helping a mogul survive his “unstable” wife. To Nathan’s family, I was the fallen socialite whose parents had gone to prison, a girl who had lost her utility and kept only her expensive tastes. I drove back to the house—a sprawling, glass-and-steel mausoleum I had haunted for seven years. It felt like a walk-in freezer. Nathan and Piper were waiting in the living room. They were sitting close, her hand resting casually on his thigh, her fingers tracing the fabric of his trousers. I had seen this tableau so many times that the sight no longer sparked a fire; it just left behind a cold ash. Piper looked at my empty hands and smirked at Nathan. “You were right. Empty-handed. Just another cry for attention.” Nathan gave a small, indulgent nod. They stood up together as I headed for the stairs. “Isabel,” Nathan called out. “We need to talk.” I stopped and turned, a ghost of a smile touching my lips. “About the divorce? Give me a second to call my attorney.” It was the only way to shut him down. The word ‘divorce’ was the only thing that stopped his “concerned husband” monologue in its tracks. His face darkened instantly. “Do you have any idea how you’d survive a week without me? You think you can provide for yourself?” He sneered, tossing a folder onto the coffee table. “We’re cutting back. Piper put together a budget for you. From now on, every expense goes through her for approval.” I saw the flicker of annoyance in Piper’s eyes. Every time I brought up the divorce, Nathan’s refusal hit her like a physical blow. She wanted the title. She wanted the ring. She masked it quickly with a sugary, condescending tone. “Isabel, you’ve never had to worry about the cost of living. Even a fortune has its limits, and the firm’s capital is tied up. We just need you to cooperate.” I didn’t look at her. I looked straight at Nathan. “You should clear your calendar for next week. I’d like you to meet my boyfriend.” He snorted, the sound of a man who’d heard the same joke too many times. “Is this the ‘Boy Who Cried Wolf’ again? It’s getting pathetic, Isabel.” In the early days of the affair, I had tried to make him jealous. I’d staged “dates” and left fake messages. I’d done it three times, and each time, he’d caught me in the lie. Now, when I was finally telling the truth, he was blinded by his own vanity. Piper chimed in, her voice dripping with poison. “Isabel, are you only saying this because you found out I’m pregnant? I know it’s hard for you, but acting out won’t change the facts.” A cold shock vibrated through me. She was pregnant. Only a year ago, Nathan had looked me in the eye and promised, “I’ll never let a woman on the side carry my name. You’re the only mother I want for my children. If it ever happens, I’ll take care of it. Trust me.” Now, he looked at me and said, “Watch your tone, Isabel. Piper is in a delicate state. I won’t have you upsetting her.” “What a coincidence,” I said, my hand resting lightly on my still-flat stomach. “I’m pregnant too. Why would I waste my energy being upset with her?” They both laughed. It was a cruel, mocking sound. They were utterly convinced I was lying. Nathan’s phone rang, and he stepped out onto the terrace to take the call. The second he was gone, Piper’s mask fell. She stepped into my personal space, her voice a lethal whisper. “He’s not keeping you because he loves you. He keeps you because he pities you. To the Jacksons, you’re just a stray dog they forgot to put down. A man’s heart is where his money is, Isabel.” She leaned in closer. “He’s moved all his personal liquid assets into my accounts. The company might be ‘struggling,’ but I have enough in offshore holdings to last ten lifetimes. I’m making you pinch pennies because I don’t think you deserve a single cent of his. Don’t flatter yourself—he isn’t holding onto the marriage. He’s holding onto his property.” She grinned, a predatory flash of teeth. “And by the way? Nathan already scheduled his vasectomy. You’ll never carry a Jackson heir. My child will be the only one who matters.” I watched her, fascinated by her delusions of grandeur. It wasn’t that Nathan wouldn’t touch me—it was that I wouldn’t let him. The day I found out about them, he had tried to force his way into my bed. I had picked up a steak knife and opened a gash in his arm that required sixteen stitches. His scars—on his arms, his legs, the one near his eye where I’d swung a pair of shears—were the map of our “intimacy.” His mother had tried to have me arrested. Nathan had bailed me out, bleeding and furious, but he never tried to touch me again. For three years, we hadn’t even shaken hands. “He’s all yours, Piper,” I said with a shrug. She looked disappointed that I hadn’t shattered. She took another step toward me as I turned to go upstairs. “One more thing,” she said. “You know your parents? That eight-hundred-million-dollar bond to get them out of that fraud mess? Nathan could have paid it three years ago. He had the cash. But he spent it buying out an entire art gallery in London for me because I told him I liked the paintings. Your parents’ lives didn’t mean as much to him as a few canvases on my wall.” That one hit. I didn’t care about the affair anymore, but the realization that he had watched me beg for help, watched me go grey with stress and spend sleepless nights trying to save my family while he sat on the funds to help them… that was a different kind of pain. My parents had practically built Nathan. They had plucked him from a sea of ambitious young men and groomed him to be the heir to the Jackson empire. He had promised them undying loyalty. But he had forgotten. He had watched them burn and toasted his new mistress with the ashes. Luckily, I had found another way. I had gotten them out three months ago, through a connection he didn’t know I had. I turned back to Piper, my eyes like chips of ice. “He gave you the world, but he won’t give you his name. He’d rather get stabbed by me every night than be married to you. That’s a very… unique… kind of love, Piper.” Her face twisted. Before she could retort, Nathan’s mother, Lydia, swept into the room. “Isabel! Are you harassing her again?” Lydia barked. She rushed to Piper’s side, fussing over her like she was made of porcelain. Lydia had spent years calling me a “barren socialite.” Our relationship had been a war zone since the day Piper appeared. Piper squeezed out a few crocodile tears. Nathan walked back in, and without a second thought, he pointed a finger at me. “Apologize to her, Isabel. Now.” I laughed. It was a sharp, jagged sound. “Apologies are for people who intend to change,” Lydia snapped. “She’s hopeless. Piper is carrying a Jackson child. Isabel, if you lay a finger on her, you’ll regret it. In fact, I’ve decided. You’re moving out. You’ll stay at the Heights.” ‘The Heights’ was a thirty-square-meter studio apartment in a run-down part of the city. Lydia had bought it specifically to humiliate me. She’d told me once, “If you can’t act like a lady in this mansion, I’ll lock you in that kennel.” I looked at Nathan. Usually, he’d push back against his mother’s more overt cruelties. Today, he just looked at me with cold indifference. “Do as she says. Move there until the baby is born. We’ll re-evaluate then.” I didn’t argue. “Fine,” I said. The shock on their faces was almost worth the misery of the last three years. After I left, Nathan assumed I was rotting in that tiny studio. He let Piper drop my daily spending limit to twenty dollars. He treated me like a dog he’d finally managed to crate. It wasn’t until Piper’s son was born that he finally came looking for me. He called, his voice thick with a strange, anxious tension. “Isabel? Where are you?” “Get to the point, Nathan,” I said. Piper’s voice broke in on the extension. “Isabel! I’ve given the Jacksons their heir. We’re having a ‘Sip and See’ for the baby’s one-month milestone. We want you there. It would be… good for you to be around such a happy occasion.” The spite in her voice was palpable. “I’ll be there,” I said. “And I’ll be bringing someone.” “Good,” Nathan said, sounding relieved. “I knew a little time on your own would make you grow up. You’re finally acting like the woman I married.” I smiled to myself. The day of the party, I arrived at the Jackson estate. I was eight months pregnant, my belly prominent under a custom silk gown. And I wasn’t alone. I was leaning on the arm of the man who had been my shadow and my strength for the last year. Nathan was standing in the center of the ballroom, cradling his son. When he saw me, the color drained from his face as if someone had pulled a plug. Piper gasped, her glass nearly slipping from her hand. “Isabel? What… what is this?” The room went silent. Every socialite, every business rival, and every member of the Jackson family stared at us. Or rather, they stared at the man holding my hand: Dominic Thorne. I smiled at my husband. “Nathan, I believe it’s time for formal introductions. This is the man I told you about. My partner, and the father of my child—Dominic Thorne.”

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“What’s up, guys? Guess where your boy Jax is taking you tonight?” It was the dead of night when the streamer and his crew burst through the door, hauling their lighting rigs and cameras into the hollowed-out shell of my living room. I was perched on the ceiling beam, aimlessly counting the ants marching across the wood. “Everyone remembers the Riverdale ‘Wife-Slayer’ case from four years ago, right?” Jax—a guy who built his career on “urban exploration” and tragedy-porn—grinned at the camera. He panned the lens around the room, the harsh LED light sweeping across the dust-choked air until it settled right where I was sitting. I flinched, trying to hide. It took me a heartbeat to remember that I’ve been dead for years. I’m nothing more than a fractured shadow, a ghost tied to a ruin. 1 Jax pointed the camera at the beam beneath my spectral seat, his voice dropping into that rehearsed, theatrical rasp. “They say this is it. The exact spot where that monster, Daniel Miller, finally took the coward’s way out and hung himself after his murder attempt failed.” This was the first time anyone had stepped foot in my house since I died. I leaned forward, drawn by a morbid curiosity to see what the world thought of me now. The phone screen in his hand was a blur of scrolling comments. Scumbag. Monster. Burn in hell. The live chat was a feeding frenzy. “God, Jax, why are you in that psycho’s house? It’s bad luck just looking at it.” “Daniel Miller is a stain on the gender. A literal disgrace.” “I remember the news. He didn’t just hit her; he chased her with a knife. Screaming that he was going to gut her. The neighbors heard the whole thing.” “Yeah, I saw the interview with the wife afterward. She was covered in bruises, looking so fragile. It broke my heart.” “A bunch of us went to his house back then to throw eggs and trash. I was one of them. No regrets.” “He was a coward. He couldn’t face the music, so he kicked the chair. Good riddance.” The vitriol poured in, a digital lynch mob four years late. Jax’s face was practically splitting with glee. Every time he mentioned my name, the viewership numbers spiked. People started sending “gifts”—digital stickers that translated into cold, hard cash—demanding he trash the place or “summon” my spirit just to curse it. In the world of clickbait, my misery was a gold mine. “Easy, guys, easy,” Jax said, pulling a decorative “ghost-hunting” dagger and a stack of sage from his bag. He waved them around with practiced flair. “After Daniel died, his wife was taken in by her family, and this place has been sealed ever since. There are secrets buried in these walls, and tonight, we’re going to find them. If Daniel is still lurking here, I’ll make sure he knows he isn’t welcome in this world or the next.” 2 The crowd roared in the comments. Meanwhile, on the west side of the city, in a sprawling modern villa, Jordan sat frozen. He watched the livestream on a massive 4K TV, his knuckles white as he gripped the remote. Suddenly, he swept the glass decor off the coffee table in a fit of rage. “Damn it!” he hissed. “That piece of trash Daniel… he’s been dead for years. Why is his name still popping up to haunt us?” “That idiot streamer usually just does haunted hospitals. Why today? Why that house?” “I can’t let Madison see this,” Jordan muttered, his breathing ragged. “She’s finally starting to live again. She’s finally moved past the trauma.” He didn’t notice Madison standing in the doorway. She walked over quietly, wrapping her arms around his waist from behind, pressing her cheek to his back. “Jordan, honey, don’t get upset over something so insignificant. It’s not worth it.” She let out a soft sigh. “I’ve made my peace with it. Daniel brought me nothing but pain, but he’s gone now.” She shifted her hand, resting it gently over the slight curve of her stomach. “I have you now. And we have our baby coming.” She looked up at him, her eyes wide and searching. “You’ll always take care of us, won’t you?” Jordan turned, pulling her into a fierce embrace, burying his face in her hair. “Maddie, I was so stupid back then. I was so worried about what our parents would think since we grew up as siblings—even if we aren’t related by blood. I pushed you away. I gave you to Daniel because he was my best friend. I thought he’d keep you safe. I almost cost you your life.” He pulled back, cupping her face. “I’m never letting go again. I’ll be with you forever, I swear.” They kissed, framed by the glow of the television. On the screen, Jax had reached the living room wall. He paused, frowning at a dark, brownish-black stain on the plaster. “Wait, what’s this?” He leaned in, sniffing the air, then recoiled, his face pale. “That’s blood.” A massive spray of blood had oxidized over the years, turning into a grim, crusted map. Under the glare of his high-powered flashlight, you could see faint, rhythmic symbols etched into the wall beneath the stain. “Gross! That is haunting.” “I heard he went insane before he died. A madman is capable of anything.” “Maybe that’s some kind of curse he put on his wife. Evil bastard.” “I’m glad he’s dead.” 3 The comments kept coming, the numbers climbing. I stared at the screen, my spectral heart aching. I felt like I was back there, four years ago, looking through the windows at the “righteous” strangers gathered on my lawn to scream at a man they didn’t know. They had never met me, yet they judged me based on a handful of headlines and internet rumors. Is that what justice looks like? A consensus of strangers fueled by half-truths? A bitter coldness washed over me. I didn’t understand how these people could carry so much hate for a ghost. Jax found a stiff brush in his gear bag. He set up the tripod and began to meticulously scrub the dust and grime away from the blood-stained wall. As the crust fell away, he gasped. “Holy—okay, any experts in the chat? What am I looking at?” He pointed to the edge of the symbols. Almost immediately, a comment pinned itself to the top: “Those are burial rites. Specifically, the ‘Prayer for the Departed.’ It’s meant to guide a lost soul to peace.” Another followed: “Jax, look at the center of the wall. It looks hollow. Break it open.” Jax didn’t hesitate. He pulled a small sledgehammer from his pack and swung. On the third hit, the drywall gave way, revealing a dark cavity. Something fell out with a dull thud. “There we go!” He flashed a thumbs-up to the camera and picked up a small, weathered wooden box. Inside was a single photograph and a leather-bound journal. The photo showed an elderly couple standing proudly behind two younger children. “Who are these people?” “Bottom left… is that Daniel?” “Are those his parents? Why would he hide this?” “Did he kill them too? Did he use that prayer to hide his crimes? Is he even more of a monster than we thought?” The “expert” from before commented again: “That prayer is usually commissioned by a grieving person to bless their family. If a murderer used it, it would actually act as a curse upon himself. And look—he chose a photo with himself in it. He’s putting himself under that protection, or that judgment.” Jax stared at the photo, his expression shifting from excitement to genuine intrigue. “Whatever the case, this just got a lot more interesting. Let’s see what the diary says…” 4 [September 5th, 2015. Today is the day. I’m finally marrying her. I’m marrying the girl of my dreams. Jordan handed Madison’s hand to me himself. I promised him, man to man, that I would spend every breath making her happy. Best friends becoming brothers-in-law. This is the happiest day of my life.] Jax had a “storyteller” voice when he wanted to. As he read, the audience seemed to settle. They were seeing a different Daniel—a nervous, head-over-heels kid who thought he’d won the lottery. In the villa, Jordan felt a chill. He remembered that day. He remembered the way Daniel’s hands shook when he put the ring on Madison’s finger. [September 6th, 2015. Last night was our wedding night, but Maddie didn’t want me to touch her. I feel a bit lost, a bit rejected, but I get it. She’s nervous. It’s a big change. I talked to my sister, Lucy, about how to be better, how to make Maddie feel more at ease. I’ll keep trying. I’ll do whatever it takes for her to love me back.] … As Jax continued to read, the chat went quiet. The “scumbag” comments slowed to a trickle. People were listening. Madison’s face had gone paper-white the moment the photo appeared on the screen. “Jordan,” she whispered, clutching her stomach. “I… I don’t feel well. Can we go upstairs? Please?” Jordan assumed the broadcast was triggering her trauma. He shut off the TV immediately and helped her to bed, tucking her in with a tenderness that felt like a shield. But the words from the stream kept echoing in his head. Ten minutes later, once Madison’s breathing had evened out into sleep, Jordan crept downstairs. He turned the TV back on, the volume low. He didn’t know that upstairs, Madison had opened her eyes. “Damn you, Daniel,” she hissed into the darkness, her face contorting with a sudden, sharp malice. She reached for her phone and opened the livestream. [April 3rd, 2017. Maddie’s been so down lately. I booked a surprise trip for us to the coast, but at the last minute, my boss called. A mandatory overtime crisis. I suggested we push it back two days. She didn’t say anything—she just slapped me across the face and walked out the door. Jordan called later. He said he was in the area and would look after her. I was so relieved. But tonight, neither of them are answering their phones. I’m scared.] [April 4th, 2017. Still nothing. I’m losing my mind. Please, God, let them be okay.] [April 5th… no answer.] [April 6th. I couldn’t take it. I caught the first flight I could. I went to the hotel room I’d booked for us. I can’t believe what I saw. They’re siblings. How could they… how could they be doing that?] 5 “Holy shit!” “What does he mean? What did he see?” “Is this going where I think it’s going?” “Wait, the timeline… Daniel was still being a ‘perfect husband’ then. Did he find out they were sleeping together? Is that why things turned violent?” “Doesn’t matter. Domestic abuse is never the answer!” The chat was a war zone of theories. Jordan felt a sharp, stabbing pain in his temples. He remembered that year. He remembered Daniel calling him, panicked, saying Madison had run off to the coast alone. Jordan happened to be on a “business trip” nearby. He told Daniel he’d handle it. After that… He rubbed his eyes. His memory of that month was a blurred mess. He’d been in a car accident shortly after. A concussion, the doctors said. Madison told him it wasn’t important, that he hadn’t missed anything. But he realized now that Daniel had stopped calling him after that trip. And then, one day, Madison had come home covered in bruises, sobbing that Daniel had turned into a monster. Had something happened before the “abuse”? Jax’s voice cut through the silence of the living room. [April 17th. Maddie came back today. She collapsed in my arms, crying. She said Jordan forced her. That he used his position as her ‘big brother’ to trap her. That piece of garbage. I treated him like a brother, and he preyed on his own sister. I wanted to kill him. I was halfway out the door when Maddie stopped me. She begged me not to. She said it would ruin the family. She said the reason she wouldn’t let me touch her was because she felt ‘unclean.’ I just held her. My poor, stupid girl. I don’t care about that. I love her. I’ll protect her. As for Jordan? He’s dead to me.] Jordan froze. He felt like the floor had dropped out from under him. Madison told Daniel that he forced her? But… before they officially became a couple after Daniel’s death, Jordan had never even looked at her that way. Had he? His memory of that hotel room was a fog of alcohol and blackouts. Something was wrong. He pulled out his phone and started making calls. He needed to find the security footage from that hotel. He needed the truth. 6 The diary pages turned. [May 27th, 2019. Today, Maddie told me she’s pregnant. I’m going to be a father. Finally, something good. A real family. I’m working so much to save up for the baby, so I asked my mom to come move in and help out. My sister, Lucy, just finished her exams and wanted to find a summer job nearby too. But Maddie said no. She was adamant. I decided to rent them a place in the apartment downstairs instead. I just wanted them close in case Maddie needed anything.] [July 15th. Maddie found out Mom and Lucy are living downstairs. She screamed at me for hours. She held a kitchen knife to her own throat and told me if I didn’t kick them out, she’d kill herself and the baby. I was terrified. I agreed to send them back.] [July 18th. I told the landlord we’d be out in a week.] [July 19th. My mother is dead. And Maddie lost the baby.] “Wait, what? How?” “How did the mom die?” “Why was Madison so psycho about the mother-in-law? Bringing a knife to her own throat? That’s extreme.” “Suddenly Daniel isn’t looking like the crazy one here…” I watched the words on the screen, and the nightmare of that day flooded back. I had seen my mom in the elevator that morning. She was carrying groceries, smiling. She told me she was going to make a batch of Madison’s favorite dumplings before she left. In our family, it was a tradition—a mother’s handmade meal to give the pregnant daughter-in-law “good fortune” for a safe delivery. I was in meetings all morning. When I finally checked my phone at lunch, I had forty-three missed calls from my sister. My heart stopped. When I called back, Lucy was hysterical. She said there had been an accident. Both Mom and Madison were at the hospital. I never saw my mother alive again. The story I was told was that Mom had come upstairs to bring the dumplings. She had tripped on the landing and fallen down the stairs, hitting her head. Madison had seen it happen, and the shock had caused her to miscarry. I lost my mother and my child in the same hour. In the hospital room, Madison looked like a ghost. She gripped my hand, her voice a fragile whisper. “Daniel, I’m so sorry. It’s my fault. If I hadn’t been so stubborn, if I’d just let her stay with us, she wouldn’t have been on those stairs…” She was grieving, bleeding, and yet she was comforting me. I told her it wasn’t her fault. I blamed myself for not being there to protect them. I swallowed the bitterness. Looking back now, as a spirit, I see that my mother’s death was only the beginning of the harvest. 7 [July 22nd, 2019. I took two weeks off to take my mother’s ashes back to our hometown for the burial. Maddie was still recovering, so I hired a nurse for her. My dad said he’d meet me at the station. He said he had something important to tell me, something he’d found in Mom’s things. At 4:00 PM, my father was killed in a hit-and-run on his way to meet me.] The police report said he’d lost control of his motorcycle and gone over a cliff. No witnesses. No cameras. An “accident.” I lost both parents in a single week. My hair literally turned white over the next few days. I was a walking corpse. By the time I finished the funerals and returned to the city, it was August. [August 2nd. Lucy got her acceptance letter for the university here in town. With Mom and Dad gone, she’s all I have left. Maddie is my soul, but Lucy is my blood.] [August 24th. I dropped Lucy off at the dorms. I watched her walk onto that campus and prayed she’d have the life our parents wanted for her. A bright future.] [August 30th. Lucy is missing.] [September 1st. Explicit photos of Lucy are all over the internet. Someone leaked them to the university board.] [September 2nd. Lucy jumped from the roof of the science building. She’s gone.] 8 Jax stopped reading. He stared at the page as if the ink were burning his eyes. The chat, usually a storm of activity, went completely silent for a long, heavy moment. I know what they were thinking. They were finally feeling the weight of it. I touched the phantom space where my heart used to be. I’ve been dead so long I’d forgotten what that kind of pain felt like. That year had wrung me dry. It had hollowed me out until there was nothing left but the shell. Finally, a single comment broke the silence: “This is too much.” Then, a flood. Too much. This is a nightmare. Poor guy. Jax sighed, a heavy, ragged sound. “To lose everyone… your mom, your dad, your baby, your sister… all in a few months? I’d lose my mind too.” Someone in the chat pushed back: “Wait, let’s be real. The parents were accidents. The sister was a tragedy, but you can’t blame his wife for that. Just because his life was sad doesn’t give him the right to become an abuser.” “Exactly. He probably snapped and took it out on the only person left. Madison is the one I feel for. She lost her in-laws, her baby, and then had to live with a husband who went psychotic.” In the villa, Jordan clung to that thought. He felt a wave of guilt for doubting Madison. The “internet” was right. Daniel was a victim of circumstance, but Madison was a victim of Daniel. He walked upstairs to check on her. He found her huddled under the covers, sobbing quietly. When she saw him, she lunged into his arms. “Jordan, I’m having nightmares,” she wailed, her body shaking. “I dream about Daniel with that knife… he’s coming for me… please don’t let him get me!” Jordan stroked her hair, whispering promises of safety. He cursed himself for watching that show. It was a circus, a disgusting exploitation of her pain. She was pregnant. She needed peace. He decided to go back down and turn off the TV for good. But as he reached for the remote, Jax flipped to a new page. Jax’s voice boomed through the quiet living room, frozen with a new intensity. [January 1st, 2020. I found it. I found the truth. All of it.] 9 The chat exploded. “January 1st? That was the day of the attack! The day he chased her with the knife!” “I remember the video! It went viral. He was arrested and held for three days.” “Madison did that interview right after, crying about years of abuse. The neighbors backed her up.” “The whole country wanted his head. And then he got out of jail and hung himself. We all thought it was ‘guilt’ or ‘cowardice.’” “Jax, what did he find? What was the truth? READ IT!” Jax teased the camera, drawing out the suspense before turning the journal toward the lens. But the page was blank. “What? Are you kidding me?” Jax flipped through the remaining pages. Blank. Blank. Blank. He reached the very last page of the notebook. There, scrawled in frantic, jagged handwriting, were three lines: [My life is over. If anyone ever finds this, open the third drawer of the desk in the study. Press the false back on the left. The secret of my death is waiting for you there.] Jax scrambled toward the study, the camera lurching with him. He fumbled with the desk drawer, his fingers frantic. He pressed, he pried, and suddenly, a small compartment clicked open. He pulled out an old, cracked smartphone. It wouldn’t turn on, but Jax—ever the pro—popped out the microSD card. “I’ve got a reader in my laptop,” he whispered. The chat held its collective breath as he plugged the card in and synced it to the stream. Two video files appeared on the screen. He clicked the first one. My face filled the frame.

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This was supposed to be the day. For the ninety-ninth time, I was standing in the sterile, fluorescent-lit hallway of the County Clerk’s office, waiting to finally sign the papers that would make Regina Montgomery my wife. Then her phone buzzed. A FaceTime call. It was Toby. Her “best friend.” He was sobbing, his face pressed uncomfortably close to the camera, filming himself on a sidewalk downtown. Apparently, he’d tried to ride a city bike in skinny jeans, and his zipper had gotten caught in the chain. He was trapped, howling about the pain and the embarrassment of people staring. Regina’s hand froze over the marriage license application. Her eyes went wide with a mix of panic and maternal instinct that she never seemed to reserve for me. She started to turn, her bag already sliding onto her shoulder. I grabbed her wrist, my grip tighter than I intended. “Regina, my father is on a ventilator,” I said, my voice thick with a desperation I hated. “This is his last wish. The only thing he’s holding on for.” According to my father’s ironclad trust, only a marriage certificate could trigger the release of the family’s offshore holdings—a private global vault that would secure our future and save my family’s legacy. Regina knew this. She knew my father was counting his breaths. But she looked at me like I was the one being unreasonable. With a frantic, manic energy, she grabbed the application, ripped it into a dozen jagged pieces, and threw them into the air. They fluttered like dead butterflies in the drafty hallway. “Toby is a mess, Jack! He’s sensitive, he can’t handle things like this alone!” she shouted. “You’re leaving? Now?” “Just… just put the pieces back together!” she yelled over her shoulder as she ran toward the exit. “Glue them back, and I’ll come back and be your bride later, okay? I promise!” She kicked off her designer heels to run faster, disappearing into the gray curtain of the afternoon rain. Almost instantly, my phone chimed. It was a text from Toby, sent through the same phone he’d just used to cry for help. Face it, loser. You’ll never be her priority. Just accept your place in the nosebleeds. In that moment, the exhaustion I’d been carrying for years finally solidified into a cold, hard stone in my gut. She never intended to marry me. Not really. I looked at the shredded paper on the floor. If the goal was simply to fulfill a dying man’s wish and secure the vault… did it really have to be her? An hour later, Regina returned. She was drenched, her hair matted to her face, carrying Toby piggyback because his pants were torn open at the crotch. She looked exhausted but wore that self-righteous glow of a martyr. She reached out with the same hand she’d just used to help Toby zip his fly, reaching for the scraps of our license on the desk. “Okay,” she panted, looking for a stamp. “Let’s just do the thumbprint thing and get it over with.” I didn’t move. I reached out and flipped the notary’s desk over. The crash echoed through the quiet office like a gunshot. “Take those hands,” I said, my voice terrifyingly calm, “and save them for changing Toby’s diapers. Because you’re never touching me again.” 1 Regina froze, then surged forward, trying to wrap her damp arms around my neck. She did that little pout—the one that used to make me melt. “Jack, don’t be such a baby! He’s a klutz! He was literally stuck to a bike, what was I supposed to do? Leave him exposed on 5th Avenue?” She tried to nuzzle my cheek, but I jerked my head away. I felt a wave of nausea. “And besides,” she continued, her voice going high and sweet, “this is our ninety-ninth try. You always forgive me. It’s kind of our thing, right?” Before I could answer, Toby—still standing there in his shredded jeans—shoved his shoulder into mine. Hard. I wasn’t expecting it. I stumbled back, my ribs slamming into the sharp edge of a heavy industrial printer. A white-hot flash of pain flared in my side. Regina, as if trying to prove she cared more about me than him, lunged forward to “catch” me. Instead, her elbow slammed directly into the pit of my stomach. I doubled over, the world turning gray at the edges. “Oh my god, honey! Are you okay?” she shrieked. She started hitting my back—hard, panicked thumps that landed right where the pain was radiating. I couldn’t breathe. It felt like an assault disguised as an apology. Toby rolled his eyes, leaning against the wall. “Seriously, man? Regina ran through a monsoon to get back to you. She’s soaking wet, and you’re acting like a drama queen because of a little bump?” He reached out and playfully slapped Regina’s wet hip. She giggled, swiveling her body to swat him away with a limp hand. “Stop it, Toby! You’re making your brother-in-law jealous,” she cooed. The way they looked at each other—it wasn’t a reprimand. It was foreplay. The rage that had been simmering for years finally boiled over. I shoved her away, hard enough that she had to catch her balance on the overturned desk. “The wedding is off,” I said. “I hope you two have a long, miserable life together.” Regina’s face dropped. She tried to soften her voice again. “Jack, come on. Your dad is literally on his deathbed waiting for this. Don’t do this to him.” She knew. She knew my father’s heart was failing, and she’d still walked away for a zipper. My father’s last wish was to see me settled, to hand over the keys to the empire he’d built so I wouldn’t be left alone in the world. I had wanted Regina because I loved her—or at least, I loved the version of her I’d invented in my head. But looking at Toby’s smug grin and Regina’s fake tears, the fantasy shattered. If she didn’t care, why should I? Once I had that certificate and the vault was open, I could have any life I wanted. And Regina? The Montgomery family was hemorrhaging cash. Her father’s firm was a hollow shell, drowning in debt. Her mother had cornered me at a gala last month, crying, saying only my family’s trust could save them from bankruptcy. Regina knew better than anyone: if this marriage didn’t happen, her father would be out on the street by Christmas. Seeing my silence, Regina tried to climb back into my space. “Jack, babe… I’ll be better next time. I promise.” 2 Next time. I almost laughed. On the ninety-eighth attempt, she’d left because Toby’s cat was “depressed” and needed an emergency vet visit. I’d chased after her, tripped, and spent two weeks on crutches with a torn ligament. On the seventy-third attempt, she’d shoved me out of the way to catch a cab for Toby’s birthday party. I’d fallen into a construction barrier, slicing my arm open. She’d just poked her head out the window and yelled, “Clean it up yourself, babe! Toby’s cake is melting!” Every single time, it was the same: “I’ll make it up to you next time.” I was done. I turned to walk away, but I felt a sharp tug at my waist. Regina had reached out and, in a fit of manic playfulness, yanked my belt and trousers down. She let out a sharp, jagged giggle. “There! Since you’re so jealous of Toby’s accident, now you can feel what it’s like. Now we’re even, so stop being grumpy!” Toby barked out a laugh. “Look at you, Jack. Losing your pants just to get some attention? What’s next? When you finally marry Regina, are we going for a threesome?” Regina didn’t argue. She just looked at him with a glimmer of something dark and expectant in her eyes. Something inside my brain snapped. Slap. The sound of my hand hitting Regina’s cheek was the loudest thing in the room. “I am your fiancé,” I said, my voice a low, vibrating growl as I pulled my clothes back into place. “You think humiliating me is a game?” Toby lunged. He swung a fist that caught me right in the jaw. My vision swam. “Don’t you touch her!” he screamed. Before I could recover, he drove his knee into my stomach. I collapsed, the air leaving my lungs in a pathetic wheeze. Regina rushed over, but she didn’t help me up. She hovered over me, her face a mask of faux-concern that didn’t reach her eyes. Toby pointed at me, his voice trembling with manufactured rage. “He hit you, Regina! You can’t marry a monster like this! He’ll ruin you!” I wanted to scream. I had given her ninety-nine chances. They had trampled on my soul, and the one time I pushed back, I was the villain. Fine. I reached out, grabbed a heavy metal paperweight from the floor, and swung it at Toby’s shin with everything I had left. The sound of the bone snapping was sickeningly clear. Toby shrieked, hitting the floor. But within seconds, his expression shifted. He bit his lip, looking up at Regina like a wounded puppy. “Regina… Jack broke my leg,” he whimpered. “It hurts so bad… but please, don’t fight because of me.” It was the same act. The time she ran out on our wedding dress fitting because he called saying he was scared of a thunderstorm. The time she left our families’ introductory dinner to bring him soup. Regina fell for it instantly. She turned to me, her face contorted with fury. “Are you insane? Apologize to him! Now!” I stared at her, cold and unresponsive. “Fine,” she hissed, pulling out her phone. “Let’s see how tough you are when the world sees the real Jack Miller.” My phone vibrated violently in my pocket. I pulled it out, and the blood drained from my face. Regina had just posted a thread to her thousands of followers. It was a collection of photos from the dark months three years ago—photos I thought were private. Me in a collar she’d bought, red welts on my neck. Me on the floor, tears of humiliation in my eyes during a “game” she forced me to play. “Look at my puppy when he loses a game,” the caption read. “He’s so cute when he begs for forgiveness. Just had to make him meow a little to remind him who’s in charge.” Every word was a scalpel, flaying my dignity in front of the world. I looked up at her, my heart turning to ash. 3 She was actually doing it. She was using my trauma as a weapon. Three years ago, Regina had been kidnapped by a predatory stalker. When I finally found her, she was a broken shell of a person, terrified of lights and loud noises. I had spent every waking hour nursing her back to health. But her mind had warped. She decided that the only way she could feel safe was if I was the one in a position of total submission. For six months, I had played along with her twisted psychological games. I’d let her lock me in dark rooms, let her humiliate me, all because I thought it was “healing” her. I thought it was love. Now I realized it was just a leash. I turned to leave, but Regina snatched my car keys from the counter, the ring cutting into my palm. “Where do you think you’re going?” she demanded. “You broke Toby’s leg! I’m taking your car to get him to the E.R.” She didn’t wait for an answer. The engine roared to life, and the car sped away, leaving me standing in the rain. I closed my eyes, forcing the violent impulses down. Talking to her was a waste of breath. I walked to the curb and hailed a cab. The driver looked at me in the rearview mirror, his expression a mix of disgust and mockery. Halfway to my destination, he slammed on the brakes in the middle of a desolate stretch of road near the woods. He held up his phone. It was Regina’s post. “I don’t drive freaks like you,” he spat. “Get out.” He shoved me out and sped off. As I landed in the tall grass by the ditch, I felt a sharp, searing pain in the back of my hand. I looked down. A copperhead snake, startled by my fall, had latched onto my skin. I flung it off, my heart hammering. My hand began to go numb. Trembling, I hit the emergency contact on my phone. Regina. Habit is a cruel thing. She picked up on the second ring. “What? Calling to crawl back?” “Regina… I’ve been bitten. By a snake. I’m out on Old Creek Road…” “Oh, for God’s sake, Jack! Stop faking for attention! Toby is in actual pain. Unless you’re ready to apologize to him, don’t call me again!” The line went dead. She didn’t care if I lived or died. I sat there for a moment, the venom beginning to cloud my thoughts. Then, I opened my contacts and scrolled past Regina’s name. I clicked on a contact labeled “The Enemy.” [Jack]: Getting married. You in? The reply was instant. [Claire Sinclair]: The kind with the vault? [Jack]: Yes. [Claire]: Send me your location. I’m coming to get you. 4 The E.R. smelled of bleach and misery. The doctor was finishing the antivenom drip for the bite on my hand. Claire Sinclair sat in the corner, calmly handling the paperwork for my admission. As I walked toward the exit, I saw them. Regina was knelt on the floor in front of Toby, carefully using a damp cloth to wipe his feet. “There you go, Jay,” she whispered. “Lift your arms for me.” Toby complied, leaning back and shooting me a smirk of pure triumph as I passed. I stopped. My heart felt like it had been encased in ice. I remembered when I had a double kidney infection and was shaking with fever; Regina had been on a Discord call with Toby, laughing at a game. She’d told me, “Order a DoorDash or something, babe, Toby’s about to hit a legendary streak!” I’d spent years thinking she was just flighty. I realized now she was perfectly capable of care—just not for me. Regina looked up, her expression turning into a scowl. “Jack, I really don’t have time for your drama right now. Toby’s injury is serious. Go home. I’ll explain everything later.” The ice in my chest shattered into a thousand jagged pieces. “You don’t have to explain anything,” I said. I turned and walked away. “Fine! Go!” she yelled after me. “See if I care!” Claire met me at the door. We didn’t go home. We went straight to a 24-hour courthouse in the next county over. Photos taken. Forms filled. Stamps pressed. It was clinical. Efficient. Claire looked at the marriage certificate, her face unreadable. “A pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Miller.” “Likewise, Mrs. Miller,” I replied. We drove straight to the hospital where my father lay. Claire stepped up to the bed, taking the old man’s hand. “Dad,” I whispered. “We’re married. Everything is taken care of.” My father looked at me, then at Claire—the daughter of his oldest rival, a woman as sharp as a razor. He closed his eyes, a look of profound peace washing over him, and pressed a heavy, antique key into my palm. The next day, I arranged a meeting with Claire’s parents at a high-end spa resort. As I walked past the outdoor thermal pools, I saw a familiar sight. Toby was lounging in the water, his leg in a waterproof cast. Regina was sitting on the edge, hand-feeding him grapes. “Regina, you’re too good to him,” one of their hangers-on laughed. “Doesn’t your husband-to-be get jealous?” Regina let out a sharp, mocking laugh. “Ugh, don’t even mention him! He’s so exhausting. Yesterday he tried to follow me around like a kicked puppy, begging me to come back. His dad is probably dead by now, which means Jack needs me more than ever. He’ll be worshiping the ground I walk on by dinner time.” The delusion was staggering. I kept walking, wanting to avoid the stench of them, but I only got two steps before a sharp, blinding pain exploded in the back of my head. A heavy, spiked durian fruit—likely from the decorative buffet nearby—thudded to the ground at my feet, stained with my blood. Toby was splashing in the pool, howling with laughter. “Whoops! Look at that! It’s Jackie-boy! Were you eavesdropping, man?” Regina frowned, looking at the blood dripping down my neck. “Jack! Why were you sneaking around? You scared Toby so bad his hand slipped!” She stood up, gesturing for me to come closer. “Just come apologize to him for scaring him, and we can put this whole mess behind us.” The wound throbbed. My heart felt like it had been run over by a truck. “Apologize? To him?” I bent down and picked up the blood-stained fruit. “I think breaking one leg wasn’t enough,” I said, my voice dropping an octave. “You still have way too much energy to use that mouth of yours.” I wound back my arm and threw the fruit with every ounce of rage I had stored for ten years.

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I moved across the Atlantic for Nathan. I traded my life, my career, and my proximity to everyone I loved for the promise of a future with him. But for five years, my residency application has been a cycle of delays and rejections. Meanwhile, Jade—the “family friend” Nathan insisted on taking in—secured her permanent residency in just three months. Nathan personally hired an elite immigration firm to fast-track her case, claiming it was an emergency. In the wake of that disappointment, I told him I wanted to go home. To London. Nathan crumbled. He held me, weeping, begging me to stay. “Summer, you’re my wife,” he whispered into my hair. “Your papers will come through eventually. It’s just red tape. But Jade is different. She’s alone here. Without that status, she could be deported at any moment. Please, just do this for me. Stay.” Once again, I let his tears anchor me. I stayed. Until today. I was at the immigration office for a routine status review. The clerk frowned, clicking through her screen with an expression of pure confusion. “Ma’am,” she said, squinting at my file. “The system shows that Mr. Nathan Thorne’s legal spouse is… a Ms. Jade.” She looked up, her voice softening with pity. “Did you perhaps fill out the wrong form?” The world turned to ice. It wasn’t just the green card I had been waiting for these past five years. Even my title—his wife—was a lie. I didn’t go home. I drove straight to JFK. Just before boarding, a final text from him lit up my screen: Stop being dramatic. Just come home. But Nathan, we haven’t had a home for a long time. 1 The clerk watched me, waiting for a response. When I didn’t speak, she cleared her throat and repeated herself, “Ma’am, you might want to double-check your records…” I snapped back to reality and pulled the paperwork across the desk. I managed a tight, hollow smile. “No need. Thank you.” For a split second, my instinct was to call Nathan. To demand an explanation, to hear the lie he’d inevitably craft to cover this. The phone rang for a long time. When someone finally picked up, it wasn’t Nathan. It was Jade. “Summer? Nathan’s in a board meeting,” she said, her voice dripping with that practiced, fragile sweetness. “Is it urgent? You can tell me and I’ll pass it along. Although, unless it’s about the grocery list, I doubt it’s anything he needs to worry about right now.” She paused, letting the silence sting. “We’re actually in the middle of a merger. You know how it is. You probably shouldn’t bother him with domestic stuff while he’s working.” I couldn’t find my voice. The irony was a physical weight in my chest. In the background, I heard Nathan’s muffled voice. “Who is it?” Jade chuckled softly. “No one, honey. Just a… telemarketer. Go back to the contract.” The line went dead. I stared at the black screen of my phone until a single tear splashed onto the glass. Then, I started to laugh. A bitter, jagged sound. Looking back, I shouldn’t have been surprised. Nathan and Jade had grown up together. She was the “one who got away,” his first love, the girl his parents had always wanted for him. I knew that when we started dating. But Nathan had taken my hand, looked into my eyes with such convincing devotion, and promised me: That’s the past, Summer. You’re my present. You’re my everything. And like a fool, I believed him. Shortly after we moved to New York, Jade suddenly appeared, claiming a job offer had brought her to the city. Nathan was frantic about her safety. She’s a young woman alone in a strange city, Summer. I wouldn’t sleep knowing she was in some sketchy apartment. Please, let her stay with us. So, Jade moved into our guest room. She moved into our lives. Then, she “happened” to get a job as his executive assistant. Anyone with eyes could see it. But Nathan always had the same defense: She’s like a sister to me. Don’t be so insecure. So I closed my eyes. I plugged my ears. I played the role of the perfect, supportive wife. Before I left London, my mother had watched me pack my life into three suitcases. She didn’t try to stop me—she knew I was too far gone in love to listen. She just gave me a tired, knowing smile. “You’re young, Summer. You’ll learn,” she said. “A woman who lives on an allowance lives on a leash. The moment he decides to stop feeding you, you’ll realize you have nothing of your own.” “Being a housewife is a dangerous gamble,” she warned. “And the house always wins.” I was young then. I thought love was a shield. I didn’t take a dime from my family. I followed him across the world with nothing but a heart full of fire, facing a foreign country and a life of isolation. I spent five years adapting. Five years making his life comfortable. And all the while, he had already moved on. My mother was right. I was a guest in my own life. I pulled out my phone and, with trembling fingers, booked the next flight to Heathrow. Tonight. Five years. I didn’t have another five years to waste on a man who didn’t even consider me his wife. The confirmation email popped up. Seconds later, Nathan’s name flashed on the screen. He was calling back. 2 “Summer, I was in a meeting. What’s up?” “Are you at the office?” I asked, my voice eerily calm. “I’m coming over. We need to talk.” Nathan sounded annoyed. “Now? That’s not a great time. I have a dinner with the partners. If it’s not a crisis, we can talk when I get home—” “It won’t wait,” I interrupted. The edge in my voice caught him off guard. Usually, I was the one who adjusted, the one who understood. He sighed. “Is this about the residency thing again? Summer, I’ve told you, you’re my wife. Under the law, it’s just a matter of time. Besides, you don’t even work. Why are you so obsessed with a green card?” “I take care of you, don’t I?” He’d said that a thousand times. Every time, it had sounded like a romantic vow. Now, it sounded like a threat. Take care of me? As what? His mistress? His live-in help? I didn’t give him the satisfaction of an argument over the phone. “I’ll be there in thirty minutes,” I said, and hung up. I needed to look him in the eye when the truth came out. Because I didn’t understand high finance, I rarely visited his office. Nathan was always “too busy,” and I didn’t want to be a distraction. The receptionist had to check my ID for five minutes before she finally buzzed me up to his floor. When I reached his office, the door was slightly ajar. I could hear voices—Nathan’s friends, the “inner circle” of guys he’d known since college. “So, Nate, seriously,” one of them said, his tone thick with smugness. “When are you and Jade finally going to have the real wedding? I’ve got the gift money ready.” “Seriously,” another chimed in. “You’ve been ‘married’ on paper for five years now. You should have a kid by now. Why keep up the charade?” Then came Jade’s voice, fluttering with false modesty. “Oh, stop it, you guys. Nathan only married me so I could get my status. It was a favor.” She lowered her voice, though not enough to keep me from hearing. “If Summer heard you talking like this, she’d get the wrong idea.” The first guy snorted. “So let her. If it weren’t for Nathan, she’d be back in London working some dead-end job. She’s lucky he’s kept her around this long. It’s not like she brings anything to the table like you do, Jade. She’s basically just a high-end housekeeper.” He laughed. “Nate, honestly. Just make it official with Jade. Give the housekeeper a nice severance package and send her packing.” I froze, my hand hovering over the handle. I waited for Nathan to defend me. I waited for him to roar, to throw them out, to tell them that I was the love of his life. There was a silence. Then, Nathan let out a lazy, noncommittal dry laugh. “Alright, knock it off. Jade’s blushing.” “As for the situation at home…” he paused. “She’s been a bit moody lately. I’ll just have to smooth things over. If she can’t handle it, well… we’ll cross that bridge when we get there.” Cross that bridge. The meaning was clear. I was a problem to be “handled” or discarded. The room erupted in knowing laughter. I didn’t stand there like a ghost. I pushed the door open. 3 The room went dead silent. Four sets of eyes snapped toward the door. Nathan’s smile didn’t just fade; it curdled. “Summer? What are you—” He scrambled to his feet, his face a mask of panicked damage control. He rushed toward me. “You’re early. I told you to call me from the lobby so I could come down and get you.” I didn’t move. I just looked at him. The silence stretched until Nathan’s confidence began to crack. He searched my face, looking for the usual softness, the usual forgiveness. “You… you heard that?” he whispered. He tried to laugh it off, gesturing to his friends. “We were just joking around, babe. Locker room talk. Don’t worry about the papers—I’ll have your application pushed through next month, I promise.” I still didn’t speak. My gaze drifted past him, scanning the faces of the men who had just called me a housekeeper. Finally, I spoke. “No need, Nathan. I can see I’m interrupting. I wouldn’t want to get in the way of your… merger.” I’d heard enough. If I stayed and demanded an explanation now, I’d just be the hysterical woman they already thought I was. I would be a caricature of a scorned wife. I had a flight to catch. I just wanted to go back to the house, pack my things, and disappear. But as I turned to leave, Jade reached out and grabbed my sleeve. And then, the performance began. “Summer, wait! Please don’t go! It’s not what it looks like!” she cried, her eyes instantly welling with tears. She looked like a Victorian heroine in distress. “Nathan and I… the marriage is just a legal thing. It means nothing! Please don’t be mad at him. It’s my fault, I asked him to help me!” I looked down at her hand on my arm. “If you’re so worried about me being mad, you should let go.” Jade gripped tighter. “I won’t! Not until you forgive him! Not until you tell us you’re okay!” She actually started to sink to her knees, as if she were going to beg. “Summer, please! I promise, as soon as my status is permanent, I’ll divorce him. I swear! Just don’t let this ruin your marriage!” The guys in the room were looking at me with increasing disgust. To them, I was the cold, heartless woman bullying a weeping girl. Something inside me snapped. “What are you doing, Jade?” I asked, my voice cold as a razor. “Your mother was a social climber who slept her way into my father’s circle, and you’re exactly like her. You’ve spent five years trying to crawl into my husband’s bed while pretending to be his ‘sister.’ And now you want my forgiveness?” “Are you going to play the martyr now, just like she did?” Jade let out a sob that sounded like a wounded animal. Nathan’s face went purple with rage. He stepped between us, shoving my shoulder back. “That is enough!” he roared. “Summer, watch your mouth! You will not talk to her like that. We’ll go home and settle this behind closed doors. Don’t act like a common shrew in front of my colleagues.” The way he shielded her—the pure, protective instinct in his eyes—was the final nail. I didn’t want to fight anymore. I just wanted my arm back. I pulled away, trying to wrench my sleeve from Jade’s grip. I barely used any force. “Ah—!” Jade shrieked. She stumbled back, throwing herself toward the sharp corner of the glass coffee table. She hit the edge with her side and collapsed onto the sofa, clutching her stomach. Her face went pale. “The baby…” she gasped. “Nathan… our baby…” Baby? Before the word could even register, Nathan slammed into me, knocking me aside. “Summer, you’re a goddamn psychopath!” he screamed. “She was trying to make peace, and you tried to kill her?” I hit the wall, my shoulder throbbing. I looked at him, bewildered. “Nathan, you were standing right there. I barely touched her. She fell on purpose.” “And a baby?” I choked out. “You got her pregnant? How do you have the nerve to stand there and judge me?” Nathan was beyond reason. Every word out of his mouth was a poisoned arrow. “So what if I did? You forget yourself, Summer.” “I have paid for every breath you’ve taken for five years. I own that house. I own the car you drove here. I own the clothes on your back.” 4 “From this second, your cards are cancelled. Your access to the house is revoked. Without me, Summer, you are nothing in this city. You’ll be on the street like a stray dog.” Without another look at me, Nathan scooped Jade up in his arms. He turned to his stunned friends. “Don’t just stand there! Call an ambulance! No, forget it, I’ll drive her myself. Move!” They swept out of the room in a frantic rush, leaving me alone in the middle of his glass-and-steel empire, rubbing my bruised shoulder. I laughed. A small, quiet sound in the empty office. Well, Summer. There it is. Five years of devotion. Five years of “us.” This was the ending I’d earned. It was almost a relief. The tie was finally severed. I knew Nathan. He was a man of his word when it came to cruelty. He would freeze the accounts. He would lock the doors. Fine. He could keep the designer bags and the jewelry he’d bought to assuage his guilt. I didn’t want the stench of his money on me anymore. Luckily, I had my passport and my ID in my bag from the immigration office. That was all I needed. I walked out of the building, hailed a yellow cab, and told the driver: “JFK. International terminal.” Nathan knew, deep down, that Jade was probably exaggerating. But he wanted to test me. He’d spent five years building a world where I was a bird in a gilded cage. He thought if he took away the gold, I’d come crawling back, begging for a perch. He thought infidelity was something he could “manage” with a few sweet words and a diamond necklace. After all, he was the provider. He pulled out his phone and officially froze my supplementary credit cards and the smart-lock code to the penthouse. He sent a text: Have you learned your lesson yet? Come to the hospital. Apologize to Jade. If you do, I’ll consider letting this go. But Nathan had forgotten something. I had a life before him. I had a home, a family, and a degree that didn’t belong to him. I hadn’t asked him to support me; I had sacrificed my independence because I loved him. When I saw the text, I didn’t even feel angry. I just felt pity for him. I didn’t reply. Three hours passed. The sun set over the city. No response. Nathan started to fidget. He knew I didn’t have a personal bank account in the States. He knew I didn’t carry much cash—it wasn’t safe. I couldn’t even afford a decent motel. He figured I was wandering around Central Park, crying, waiting for him to call and save me. Five hours later, guilt—or perhaps the fear of losing his favorite toy—started to set in. He sent another text: I’ve unblocked the cards and the door. Just go home. It’s late. It’s not safe for you to be out. We’ll talk about this properly in the morning. Still nothing. An hour after that, Nathan couldn’t sit still. He checked the bank alerts. No activity on the cards. He checked the Nest camera at the front door. The hallway was empty. Midnight in New York. A woman alone, with no car and nowhere to go. His heart hammered against his ribs. He paced the hospital waiting room, typing and deleting messages. Finally, he sent one last text: Stop being dramatic. Just come home. I didn’t see it until I was at the gate. I read it, blocked his number, and deleted the thread in one smooth motion. I turned off the phone and stepped onto the plane. As the wheels left the tarmac, I watched the lights of New York shrink into a grid of tiny diamonds, then vanish into the clouds. No tears. No longing. Just the sudden, overwhelming ability to breathe. Goodbye, Nathan. Back at the hospital, Nathan was spiraling. He was about to swallow his pride and call me when his phone rang. It was Miles, one of his oldest friends from back home. “Hey, Nate. I just landed at JFK—didn’t want to bug you for a ride. I thought you said you and Summer were gonna show me around this week?” “Listen, I think I just saw her at the airport. At the international terminal. Gate for the London flight.” “Is she going home?”

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I had spent eight years of my life loving Bria Hamilton. Now, we were standing at the altar, a “shotgun wedding” meant to seal our forever. The officiant cleared his throat, the sound echoing through the vaulted stone chapel. “Miles Crawford, do you take Brianna Hamilton to be your lawfully wedded wife?” The words were on the tip of my tongue, ready to be offered up like a sacrifice. But before I could speak, a tiny, high-pitched voice—sharp as a needle—exploded inside my head. [Dad! Don’t do it! Bria’s baby isn’t yours!] [The kid in her belly belongs to your brother!] My brain felt like it had short-circuited. My vision blurred for a second as those two sentences burned through my consciousness. The entire guest list was staring at me, waiting for the “I do,” but I was frozen, a statue in a designer tux. If Bria’s baby wasn’t mine… then whose voice was this? Who was this child calling me “Dad”? A split second later, the voice chimed in again, sounding exasperated. [Stupid Dad! She’s been playing you for years. If you marry her, she’s going to lock you in the basement and take everything!] [Quick! Ask for help from my mom! She’s the beautiful, rich one in the front row!] I was reeling. My eyes instinctively darted toward the front row, landing on Helena Vanderwaal. She was the “Ice Queen” of the East Coast elite—a woman who lived in a world of high-stakes acquisitions and silent retreats. She was untouchable, ethereal, and famously single. 1 Even though it was my wedding day, the gravity of the room always seemed to pull toward Helena. She sat there with a cold, detached grace that made everyone else look like they were trying too hard. I caught her gaze—crystalline and indifferent—and immediately looked away, my heart hammering against my ribs. “Little one,” I thought, my mind racing, “do you have any idea who she is? That’s Helena Vanderwaal. She’s the CEO of the Vanderwaal Group. She doesn’t have a man in her life, let alone a child. How could you be hers?” “I know things are messy with Bria, but you can’t just make things up. You can’t just pick a billionaire to be your mother. Get real.” “It’s too late to find a new mom now. Maybe in the next life, kid.” I tried to soothe the voice, assuming it was some hallucination born of cold feet and trauma. But the voice screamed back, louder this time: [Did you seriously forget that night at the St. Regis?] [Your wife and your brother drugged you! They were going to ‘gift’ you to a client to close a deal, but you stumbled into the wrong suite…] [The woman in that bed was Helena Vanderwaal!] The memory hit me like a physical blow. The St. Regis. Three months ago. I had woken up in a haze, the sheets smelling of expensive perfume and something metallic. I remembered a back covered in faint red marks and the rhythm of frantic breathing in the dark. I had thought it was Bria. I thought we had just… had a wild night. But looking at Helena now, I remembered the way she had clung to my neck, her poise shattered, her cries muffled against my shoulder. The “Ice Queen” had been molten lava that night. The officiant, sensing the awkward silence stretching too long, repeated the question: “Mr. Miles Crawford, do you take Brianna Hamilton to be your wife?” Bria squeezed my arm, her smile tight with growing concern. “Miles? What’s wrong? Just nerves?” she whispered, her voice like honeyed poison. She scratched the palm of my hand playfully. “Don’t be scared. Once we’re married, I’ll give you everything.” [Don’t believe her! she bought a house right next to your new place just so she can keep sleeping with Tristan!] The jolt of adrenaline was so sharp I nearly jumped. I took a deep breath and shouted: “I don’t!” The room erupted. The Hamiltons were old money in this town. Rejecting Bria in front of the crème de la crème of society was unthinkable. Especially since I had spent years being Bria’s “lapdog,” the guy who had shamelessly chased her until she finally said yes. I was the “wild” Crawford son who had finally been tamed. And now, at the finish line, I was walking away. Bria’s face turned a sickly shade of gray. “Miles, stop playing. This is the wedding! If you’re upset about something, we can talk after the reception…” [If you wait until after the reception, she wins! My mom is leaving the country tonight to chase after her ‘Great Lost Love’!] [Dad, time is running out! Kick the liar to the curb and get your gorgeous, rich baby-mama back!] “I’m not marrying you,” I said, my voice hardening. A son wouldn’t lie to his father. If he said Bria was a snake, she was a snake. My brother, Tristan, stepped up onto the altar then, moving with a practiced, casual grace. He stood right next to Bria. “Miles, what kind of stunt is this? Bria is doing you a favor by marrying you. Don’t be an ass.” As he got closer, I noticed the ring on his finger. It was a diamond band, nearly identical to my wedding ring. But as the light hit it, I realized mine looked like a cheap imitation compared to the fire dancing on his hand. The realization settled in my gut like lead. The baby Bria was carrying—it was their plan. Tristan was the “adopted” golden boy, the one our parents adored. He didn’t have the pedigree to marry into the Hamiltons on his own. I was the bridge. I was the tool to merge the families, and then I’d be the “happy” father raising his brother’s child while they carried on their affair next door. My parents stood up, their faces purple with rage. “Miles Crawford! Haven’t you embarrassed this family enough? You think marriage is a joke?” “You begged for this girl! And now you’re throwing a tantrum? Why can’t you be more like Tristan? He actually understands what’s at stake!” “You are marrying her today, whether you like it or not!” 2 The wedding had devolved into a circus. Guests were whispering behind their programs, their eyes gleaming with the thrill of a scandal. “The Crawford boy is finally losing it,” I heard someone hiss. “He spent years acting like her shadow, and now he wants to back out? His parents are going to disinherit him by tonight.” “The adopted one is so much more grounded. At least he knows how to play the game.” “Shame. The biological son is always the disappointment.” The words stung, but they also cleared the fog. I realized that my reputation in this town had been systematically dismantled. I used to be the refined Crawford heir, but since Tristan entered the picture, my standing had evaporated. My father and Bria had slowly turned me into a caricature of a loser. Bria grabbed my hand, ignoring my rejection as she turned to the crowd with a forced, brave smile. “Miles is just having a bit of an episode. Please, excuse us. He’s just overwhelmed. We’re going to proceed.” I saw Tristan clenching his fist out of the corner of my eye. I took a sharp breath and wrenched my hand away from Bria. “I said no! I know about you and my brother! I know that baby in your womb belongs to Tristan!” The silence that followed was deafening. It was like a bomb had gone off in the chapel. [Attaboy, Dad! Rip the masks off those two!] [Tristan’s been the one leaking those ‘drunk’ photos of you to the press for years. He’s the reason everyone thinks you’re a joke!] The voice in my head was practically cheering. “What are you saying?” Tristan gasped, clutching his chest like he’d been shot. “Miles, you’ve always been hard on me, but this? To accuse me of something so vile in front of everyone?” “How could you use Bria’s pregnancy as an excuse to run away from your responsibilities?” Bria’s eyes flickered with a moment of pure panic before she smoothed it over with a look of righteous indignation. “Miles, this is too much! If you didn’t want to marry me, fine. But don’t drag Tristan into your delusions!” My father looked at me with pure disgust. “You’re sick, Miles. Truly sick. To humiliate your brother and your bride like this? I don’t know how we raised a son like you.” “You’ve made us the laughingstock of the city!” The guests were snickering now. “Unbelievable. The guy is actually delusional. Imagine accusing your own brother of that.” I ripped the boutonniere off my lapel and threw it on the floor. I turned to leave, but three heavy-set security guards blocked the exit. Bria seized the opportunity to grab my wrist again, her fingernails digging into my skin. “Once we’re married,” she hissed under her breath, her face twisting into something monstrous, “you’ll never be able to act out like this again.” I looked around. No one was on my side. They saw a clown, a liar, a man who needed to be controlled. For the first time in years, I saw the cage for what it was. [Dad, if the ceremony finishes, she’s going to have you committed to a ‘wellness retreat’ in the mountains. It’s a prison!] [There are black SUVs waiting outside. If you leave this room without help, they’ll snatch you!] [Dad! Look at my Mommy!] Helena? I looked toward her seat, but she was already standing up, signaling her assistant to leave. [No! She’s heading to the airport! She’s going to find the ‘Ghost of Christmas Past’!] She was my only lifeline. In a moment of pure desperation, I bit down hard on Bria’s hand. She shrieked and let go. I bolted, diving through the crowd toward Helena. Security lunged for me. I kicked over a table of champagne flutes, the crash of glass creating a momentary barricade of chaos. I ignored the screams and the splashing wine, focused entirely on the woman in the silk dress. Helena turned just as I reached her. I collided with her, nearly knocking her over. “Take me with you,” I gasped, clutching her shoulders. “Please.” Her face was a mask of cold porcelain. She shoved me back with surprising strength, brushing off her dress like I was a piece of filth she’d picked up in the street. “Get lost,” she said, her voice like dry ice. “I don’t do charity cases. And I certainly don’t touch men like you.” [She’s faking it, Dad! She’s totally putting on her ‘Boss Bitch’ act. Once she falls for you, she’s a total clinger!] Helena turned to walk away. I dropped to the floor and grabbed her ankle. Steps thundered behind me. Bria and the guards were closing in. My parents were staring at Helena with terror, terrified of her wrath. “We are so sorry, Ms. Vanderwaal,” my father stammered. “Our son… he’s had a mental break. We’ll handle him.” Bria chimed in, her voice trembling with fake humility. “I am so embarrassed. I’ll make sure he’s looked after, Ms. Vanderwaal. Please, forgive us.” Tristan stepped forward, looking at Helena with that thirsty, sycophantic gaze every man in the city had. Helena didn’t look at them. She looked down at my hand wrapped around her ankle. Tristan stepped up and ground his heel into the back of my hand. “Miles, let go of her! Stop embarrassing yourself!” I cried out in pain. Helena used the moment to pull her foot away, turning her back on me. As she stepped toward the door, I screamed the only thing I had left: “Helena! The baby you’re carrying is mine!” 3 Helena stopped dead. The entire room fell into a tomb-like silence. Every guest turned to look at me, and for the first time, it wasn’t mockery in their eyes—it was pity. They thought I was a dead man walking. Tristan’s mask slipped for a second, replaced by a glint of malicious joy. He leaned down and whispered in my ear, “Miles, if you wanted to climb the social ladder, you picked the highest cliff to jump off of.” “Helena Vanderwaal isn’t a woman you play with.” He was right. Everyone knew Helena lived like a nun. She wore a small, silver rosary around her wrist as a symbol of her detachment from the “filth” of romance. The last man who tried to force himself into her orbit had his life dismantled within forty-eight hours. “He’s literally asking for death,” someone whispered. “I thought he was just a loser, but he’s actually suicidal.” We all held our breath. Helena turned around slowly. Her lips were a thin line, her eyes freezing me in place. She began to twist the silver beads on her wrist—a sign, everyone knew, that she was losing her patience. “My baby?” she said, her voice dangerously low. “Mr. Crawford, you have a lot of nerve.” “No one in this city talks to me like that. I’ve heard about you—the pathetic groom who tries to pin his indiscretions on a woman like me to save his own skin?” The clicking of the beads was the only sound in the room. Bria lunged forward and grabbed my hair, forcing my head down toward the floor in a mock apology. “I am so sorry! He’s delusional! Miles, apologize! Now!” Bria didn’t care that I was claiming another woman’s baby. She just wanted to keep me under her thumb so she and Tristan could have their cake and eat it too. [Don’t worry, Dad! Once you prove the baby is yours, she won’t let them touch you!] [With the Vanderwaals behind you, these people are nothing!] Proof? I thought bitterly. What proof do I have? I barely even know who she is. My father stormed over and slapped me across the face—twice. “Apologize! You’re going to get us all killed!” Helena looked down at me like I was something she’d found on the bottom of her shoe. I looked up at her, my vision swimming, and said as calmly as I could: “Helena. I saw the birthmark. The one shaped like a rose, just below your hip.” Helena froze. Her expression didn’t change, but her pupils blown wide. That mark was in an incredibly private place. No one could have known about it unless they had been… very close. The rest of the room was confused, but Tristan was quick to pivot. “Everyone has birthmarks, Miles. You’re grasping at straws. You probably saw it in a dream or heard a rumor. You really expect us to believe you’ve been with Ms. Vanderwaal?” “If you’re so sure, why don’t we do a paternity test? Right here. Right now.” Tristan was smug. He didn’t believe for a second that a nobody like me could have touched a woman like Helena. Even her presence at this wedding was a fluke, a result of Bria’s family spending a fortune on a charitable donation to Helena’s foundation. The crowd took up the chant. “Yeah! Test him! Let’s see the liar exposed!” “Kick him out of the city! He’s a disgrace!” Helena’s eyes were dark and unreadable. She knew she was pregnant—hardly anyone else did. And this man knew about the mark. Finally, she nodded. “Fine. We’ll do the test. I want to see you realize exactly how much you’ve screwed up before I ruin you.” [Dad, you’re the man! I can’t wait to see her face when the results come in!] [I’ll show you how to handle her. She’s going to be your biggest fan soon enough!] The scandal of the century was in motion. Within an hour, a private doctor arrived. Helena and I were both sampled while the guests hovered, sensing blood. Helena’s grandfather, the patriarch of the Vanderwaal family, had arrived by then. He stood in the corner, leaning on his cane, looking strangely hopeful. “Finally,” he muttered. “My granddaughter might actually have a husband.” Helena scoffed. “Don’t get your hopes up, Grandfather. Once this is over, he won’t be in any condition to walk, let alone marry.” I sat there, bruised and exhausted, watching the blood leave my arm. My parents were huddled together, whispering about how to disown me officially. Bria looked like she wanted to murder me. [It hurts, Dad, but it’s worth it! We’re almost there!] Finally, the doctor returned. He was pale, clutching a folder like it was a live grenade. He walked straight to Helena and whispered in her ear. The “Ice Queen” looked like she’d been struck by lightning. Grandfather Vanderwaal hammered his cane on the floor. “Speak up! Is he the father of my great-grandchild or not?” Tristan chuckled. “Of course not. He’s just a—” “The results,” the doctor interrupted, his voice shaking, “show a 99.99% probability of paternity. Mr. Crawford is the father.”

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On our first wedding anniversary, my wife, Madeline, was two hours late. When she finally walked through the door, I spotted a jagged, dark red stain on the collar of her white silk blouse. It looked like marinara—messy, careless, and intimate. I didn’t need to be a detective to know what it meant. The ghost from her past, the man she’d never quite managed to exorcise from her heart, was back in town. Sensing the weight of my gaze, Madeline didn’t offer an apology. Instead, her face hardened into a mask of practiced indignation. “Dan, I know exactly what you’re thinking,” she snapped, her voice tight with exhaustion. “For once in your life, just let me breathe!” I looked at the diamond ring sitting in its velvet box on the table, then back at her. I decided right then to give her exactly what she wanted. I would let her breathe—permanently. 1 Madeline watched me, her impatience thickening the air between us. “Dan, it’s just a dinner. Why do you have to be so… rigid all the time?” She gestured vaguely at my silhouette. “Look at you. From your head to your toes, every single hair is perfectly in place. You’re trying too hard. You’re so stiff, so flawless, it’s exhausting. It’s like living with a museum exhibit.” I didn’t say a word. I just looked at her, and apparently, that silence was enough to trigger another volley of accusations. I looked down at my bespoke suit. She had clearly forgotten. Today wasn’t just our anniversary; it was the day of the crucial contract signing with the Sterling Group. I had reminded her three times this week. She had checked her calendar. And then, she had simply erased it for him. I stood up, the chair scraping softly against the hardwood. “Madeline, save the speech for the board of directors.” “What is that supposed to mean?” “Since I’m such a bore, I’m giving you your freedom. Go to Cody. Be as ‘relaxed’ as you want.” The name hit her like a physical blow. She froze for a heartbeat before her eyes flashed with anger. “Dan, you’re doing this because I missed a dinner? Are you really that petty?” “No,” I said, my voice dangerously calm. “I’m doing this because your ‘little dinner’ cost the firm the Sterling contract. Their representative pulled out an hour ago because you weren’t there to sign. Are you satisfied now?” The color drained from her face. I watched the gears turn as she finally remembered the stakes of the day. “I… I didn’t think…” She took a step toward me, reaching out, but I retreated two steps, maintaining the distance. “I’m tired, Madeline. Do whatever you want.” I left the ring on the table. It looked lonely under the soft glow of the chandelier. Upstairs, I changed into something comfortable, the silence of the house ringing in my ears. My phone buzzed. It was my father. “Madeline isn’t coming back tonight? You’ve only been married a year, Dan. What the hell is going on?” “Dad,” I said, rubbing the bridge of my nose, “it was an arrangement. You can’t force a woman like her to love a man like me. I’ve already moved the Sterling reps to the Peninsula. She missed her shot. We’re taking the lead on this ourselves.” My father caught on instantly. The tension in his voice softened into cold professionalism. “Understood. I’ll make the calls. Get some sleep, son.” I was lying in the dark when Madeline finally entered the bedroom. “Look,” she said, her voice small but still edged with that stubborn pride. “I’m sorry. I messed up today.” I didn’t turn around. I kept my back to her, staring at the shadows on the wall. “Go away, Madeline. I’m done.” She bristled. “Oh, for God’s sake, get over yourself! It was one dinner, Dan. I’ll go see the Sterling people tomorrow and fix it. You don’t need to give me the cold shoulder like a child.” She let out a sharp, frustrated breath. “You’re like a piece of wood. No wonder I need some air.” The door slammed shut behind her. I pulled up my phone and saw a text from my lawyer with a draft of the new agreement. I smiled into the dark. Tomorrow? By tomorrow, the world would have already moved on without her. The next morning, Madeline got exactly what she deserved: a closed door and a cold reception at the firm. By noon, she did something unprecedented—she invited me to lunch. I had things I wanted to say, papers I wanted her to see, so I went. As I approached the private dining room at the bistro, a high, lighthearted laugh drifted through the door. “Ugh, why do you eat this fancy stuff? I just want some greasy street tacos and a giant soda!” the voice cried. “Come on, Maddy, live a little. Stop being so uptight!” It was Cody. Of course. “I honestly don’t know how you stand it,” he continued. “Everyone in your circle is so… suffocating. But hey, if I’m here, is Dan going to throw a tantrum?” Madeline’s voice followed, light and dismissive. “Order whatever you want, Cody. Dan is a statue. Just looking at him makes me tired. It’s so much easier with you.” “Right? I told you! I bet he was fuming that you stayed out last night. Did he finally show some actual human emotion?” I felt a cold prickle of realization. Last night hadn’t been an accident. It had been a test. A provocation. I pushed the door open. The room went silent. It wasn’t just the two of them; a few of Madeline’s friends—the “inner circle”—were there too. They looked at me with varying degrees of guilt and amusement. “Hey, Dan’s here!” someone chirped. “Sit down, we were just about to order.” I nodded politely and sat next to Madeline. Cody was directly to her left. He caught her eye, a smug, knowing look passing between them, before he ducked his head to hide a smirk. “Is something funny?” I asked. 2 Cody immediately shifted into his “innocent victim” persona. “Sorry, Dan. I just… seeing you show up for a casual lunch in a full three-piece suit… it feels a little ‘Main Character,’ you know? Like we’re all in your movie.” He sighed dramatically. “But I get it. You were born into this. The pedigree, the expectations. It must be hard to ever just… be a person.” Madeline stepped in to defend her pet. “Dan, seriously. Can’t you just relax for once? Why the suit?” I let out a short, dry laugh. “I just came from the airport. I was seeing the Sterling representatives off. You tell me, Madeline—what should I wear when I’m trying to salvage a multi-million dollar deal that my wife blew off?” The table went quiet. Madeline’s expression crumbled, her bravado failing her for a moment. One of her friends tried to play peacemaker. “Hey, work is work! He looks great, Maddy, don’t be ungrateful.” “Exactly,” another added. “My dad wouldn’t dream of meeting a client in anything less. It’s just business.” Cody let out a snort. “Sounds like wearing a mask 24/7. How exhausting. I’m glad I’m just a ‘regular guy.’ Sometimes I’m so busy I just throw on a hoodie and go. Life’s too short to be a mannequin.” He was so proud of his “authenticity,” but all I saw was a man wearing a cheap knock-off watch and a carefully curated “disheveled” look that probably took him an hour to style. I looked at him, then back at the table, and said nothing. Madeline cleared her throat. “Anyway, let’s eat. I ordered the sea bass for you, Dan. And the oysters.” The food arrived, and for a few minutes, the only sound was the clink of silverware. Madeline even had a server crack open a king crab for me, the meat being meticulously extracted. Cody raised an eyebrow. “You guys are so polite. Seafood is meant to be eaten with your hands! That’s half the fun. Like last night—man, those spicy crawfish? The juice was everywhere!” He suddenly clapped a hand over his mouth, looking at me with wide, mock-apologetic eyes. “Oh man, I am so sorry. I totally lost track of time last night. I forgot it was your anniversary.” He leaned toward Madeline. “I told her you’d probably be mad. I just wanted her to have one night where she didn’t have to be ‘The Mrs. Thorne.’” I put my fork down and smiled at him. It was a pleasant, chilling smile. “Actually, Cody, I should thank you. Because of your little late-night snack, Madeline’s family lost about nine figures in equity. Most of which, coincidentally, ended up in my family’s portfolio this morning.” Madeline’s face went white. Cody gasped, his voice rising. “Nine figures? But you guys are married! What’s yours is hers, right? How can you talk about ‘your’ family and ‘hers’?” “Because we have a prenuptial agreement, Cody. Something you probably wouldn’t understand. Being the son of a groundskeeper, the nuances of estate law likely aren’t your forte. In families like ours, we protect our assets. Especially from people who think a casual fling entitles them to a seat at the table.” I turned to my wife. “Isn’t that right, Madeline?” Madeline slammed her hand on the table. “Enough! Just stop it!” She stood up, her eyes burning. “Fine! You want the truth? I didn’t want to spend the anniversary with you. I stayed out on purpose. You’re so arrogant, so self-righteous—and for what? Because you were born lucky? Stop talking down to everyone!” I nodded. “You’re right. Being born lucky is a skill. And unfortunately for Cody, he’s not very good at it.” Cody’s face twisted. “Dan…” “Don’t call me by my first name. We aren’t friends.” Cody turned beet red. He stammered for a moment before snapping, “You think you’re so much better than me? Madeline’s miserable with you! You have no idea, do you? On your wedding night, while you were probably checking the stock market, she was on the phone with me. We talked all night.” 3 So that was it. I remembered that night. She’d claimed she’d had too much champagne and needed to sleep in the guest suite. I’d been a gentleman. I’d let her be. I smiled. “And yet, I’m the one with the ring on her finger. If you’re so convinced she’s miserable, why don’t you tell her to divorce me?” “Dan!” Madeline shouted. The table was frozen. The “friends” were staring at their plates, wishing they were anywhere else. Madeline grabbed Cody’s arm. “We’re leaving. You don’t have to take this from him.” She dragged him out of the booth. As they walked past me, Cody gave me a look of pure, petty triumph. The friends scrambled to follow. One of them, Isabella, paused at the door. “Dan, seriously? You couldn’t just play nice? She’s a woman, she needs to feel something other than… than this. She says being with you is like being buried alive.” I looked up at her. “Isabella, you have enough problems with your father’s secret family to worry about my marriage. Close the door on your way out.” Her face went purple, and she slammed the door hard enough to rattle the glasses. I sat alone in the silent room. I looked at the server, who was hovering awkwardly. “Finish peeling those shrimp,” I said quietly. “I’m paying for them. I might as well eat.” Once I was finished, I drove straight to my parents’ estate. They looked surprised to see me. “Dad, Mom. I’m filing for divorce.” “Is this about the Sterling contract?” my father asked. “It’s a blow, but we can recover.” “It’s not just the contract. Madeline blew it, and then her father had the audacity to text me, telling me I handled the situation ‘poorly’ and that I should apologize to his wife tonight. They think they can use me as a safety net while she runs around with the help’s son.” I showed him my phone. “Cody is back. They were together all night. This marriage was a fraud from day one.” My father’s eyes turned to ice. “The audacity of that family.” I added, “They played us. They wanted our capital to shore up their weaknesses, and then they let their daughter treat our name like a joke. I’m done.” My mother sighed, looking at me with a mix of pity and pragmatism. “Marriage is a heavy thing, Dan. Just be sure. The next woman might not be any different.” “The next woman won’t be Madeline,” I said. “And I won’t be a fool twice.” I called my lawyer and started the process of surgical separation. In a world of interconnected boards and shared assets, divorce is a messy business, but I had the receipts. When I finally got back to our penthouse, I saw a pair of mud-caked, beat-up sneakers kicked carelessly into the middle of the foyer. Cody was sprawled on my Italian leather sofa, his feet up on Madeline’s lap while he played a game on his phone. He was mid-sentence, a cigarette dangling from his lip. “Maddy, save me! You’re so bad at this game!” Madeline laughed, playfully swatting his leg. The coffee table was littered with cheap snack bags and soda cans. It looked like a frat house. I felt a wave of profound disgust—not just for them, but for the version of myself that had tried to make this work. I walked in, my shoes clicking sharply on the marble. Madeline jumped like she’d been shot. “You… what are you doing here?” I let out a cold laugh. “Did I interrupt your ‘relaxation’ session?” “No, I mean… my dad said you were supposed to be at the house?” “That’s your father’s house. You go explain it to him.” I signaled to the two security guards I’d brought with me. “Pack my things. Everything in the primary suite. Now.” Madeline stood up, her face pale. “Dan, what is this? Cody just got back, he had nowhere to stay for a few days. Don’t be like this!” I looked her dead in the eye. “I’m making room, Madeline. You and Cody can be as ‘unstructured’ as you want in this house. I’m out.” “What are you saying?” “I’m saying we’re getting a divorce. I don’t want you anymore.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “400783”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

It had been five years since my death, and the thing that finally woke my dormant soul was the blinding glare of a ring light. A group of ghost-hunting streamers had breached the rotting doors of the cabin. And they had found my phone. The live chat on their screen was already scrolling at a dizzying speed: “Turn it on! Maybe Jax’s ‘evil spirit’ is actually hot!” The screen flickered to life. My face, pale and smiling faintly, was still the lock screen. “Oh, what the hell. It’s that Montgomery trash. The one who pawned his dead mom’s heirloom to blow cash on high-end escorts.” The streamers didn’t stop there. They dug through the debris, their flashlights cutting through the dust, until they found my bones. One of them reached down, his gloved fingers wrapping around the hilt of the hunting knife still wedged deeply into my skull. “Karma’s a bitch,” the guy muttered, spitting on the floor. “Honestly, I kind of want to stab him a few more times myself. Hey Jax, why don’t we grind his bones to dust and scatter him? Give the internet some closure.” Jax, the lead streamer, looked dead into the camera lens with a manic grin. “Don’t worry, chat. We’ll make sure everyone goes home happy tonight.” My murder. My rotting corpse. It was nothing but a carnival to them. A digital lynching. They decided, right then and there, to air every single video saved on my phone to their tens of thousands of viewers. … “Victoria. Hey, Victoria. They found your brother.” Inside the dimly lit, velvet-lined VIP booth of a Manhattan nightclub, the music seemed to fade as every pair of eyes turned toward Victoria Montgomery. Her hand, holding a crystal martini glass, didn’t even tremble. Her eyes were chips of ice. “As far as I’m concerned, he died in the gutter years ago.” “No, Victoria, he’s actually dead.” Her friend slid a phone across the marble table. “The live chat is talking about grinding his bones to dust. It looks like he was murdered. Someone drove a knife straight through his head.” Victoria didn’t miss a beat. “He had it coming.” She took a slow sip of her drink. “He chose to wallow in his own filth rather than just apologize to Simon. And my mother’s locket… he chose to take its location to his grave. Let him rot.” Sitting practically in her lap, Simon—the adopted golden child of the Montgomery family—wrapped his arms around Victoria’s neck, his face buried in her shoulder. “Vicky, please don’t be mad,” Simon whispered, his voice trembling perfectly. A single, pristine tear slipped down his cheek. “It’s all my fault. If I hadn’t come into the family, you two wouldn’t have been torn apart.” “I don’t blame him anymore,” Simon continued, his voice thick with rehearsed martyrdom. “No matter what, he’s the blood heir of the Montgomerys. I’m just the charity case. I never had the right to compete with him.” Victoria’s icy exterior melted instantly. She pulled him into a fiercely protective hug. “Stop being so endlessly forgiving, Simon,” she scolded softly. “But… since he’s gone, we can’t let those internet bottom-feeders desecrate his remains. Let’s have him collected and buried properly.” She praised Simon’s gentle heart, then irritably dialed her assistant to handle the grim logistics. But as she hung up, her gaze drifted back to the livestream playing on the table. Back in the decaying cabin, Jax and his crew were tearing my final sanctuary apart. It wasn’t a large space, but they were tossing it like a DEA raid. They pried open my rusted footlocker. Inside, there were only two sets of moth-eaten clothes, and a meticulously wrapped bundle. Inside the waterproof plastic was a single, framed family portrait. “This doesn’t look like the stash of a billionaire heir,” one of the crew muttered. “You idiot, he got disowned for abusing his adopted brother. Obviously he was broke.” “Look at the photo. He literally scratched the adopted brother’s face out. Jesus, the resentment is real.” Suddenly, the cameraman hoisted my phone up like a trophy. “Yo! Chat! I got past the lock screen!” The chat exploded into a digital frenzy. “YES! Open the camera roll. Let’s see what kind of sick stash this psycho was hiding.” Chasing the dopamine hit of pure traffic, Jax eagerly obliged. He opened the photo gallery first. Back in the VIP room, Simon dug his manicured fingers into Victoria’s sleeve. “Vicky, they can’t just go through his phone! That’s his private life. What if…” His eyes darted nervously. Just then, Victoria’s phone buzzed. It was our father, Richard. “I heard they found the boy’s remains,” my father’s gruff, dismissive voice came through the speaker. “Couldn’t even die quietly without causing a scandal. I washed my hands of him years ago. Just… make sure you comfort Simon. You know how he gets night terrors just hearing Cole’s name.” My father’s words perfectly mirrored Victoria’s own thoughts. She murmured an agreement and hung up. On the livestream, Jax pulled up a scanned document from my photos. “Holy shit. Justice is served! This piece of trash had terminal stomach cancer!” “Wow, the guy who stabbed him actually did him a favor. Spared him the chemo.” “Wait, look at the date on the pathology report. That’s the exact same day Victoria Montgomery released the press statement legally severing all ties with him.” “Poetic cinema. Dumped by his family and handed a death sentence on the same day. He must have lost his mind.” The vitriol rolled across the screen in endless waves. I couldn’t feel the phantom pain of my cancer anymore. But the ache in my chest? That was entirely different. It wasn’t just the internet that had destroyed me. It was the fact that, even in death, I was forced to wear the skin of a monster. Finally, Jax tapped on the video folder. “Alright chat, let’s do this chronologically.” He tapped the very first thumbnail. It was my tenth birthday. Mom was still alive. She was radiant, her hands gently clasping an antique gold locket around my neck. “Cole, my sweet boy,” her voice crackled through the phone’s tiny speakers, warm and full of life. “My mother gave this to me, and now it belongs to you. I want it to keep you safe. I want your life to be smooth and beautiful.” She pulled me into a tight hug. Victoria was standing right beside us, grinning, while Dad looked on with a softness he rarely showed the world. We posed in front of a massive, tiered cake. It was the only photo of all of us together that I had managed to save. In the video, ten-year-old me was running around in circles, Victoria chasing after me, yelling at me not to trip. Mom and Dad were holding hands, sharing a quiet, knowing smile. I ran up to the lens, breathless and beaming. “I’m the happiest kid in the world! I wish I could spend every single birthday with Mom, Dad, and Vicky forever!” Thirteen-year-old Victoria popped into the frame, nodding fiercely. “You’re our little prince, Cole. I promise, I’ll make sure that wish comes true.” In the nightclub, someone had AirPlayed the stream to the massive flat-screen above the bar. Everyone in the room was watching. Most of them had been at that exact party. “God, who would have thought? He used to be this sweet, soft kid following Victoria around like a shadow. How did he turn into such a sociopath?” “He just didn’t know when to quit. If he had just swallowed his pride and apologized to Victoria, he’d still be alive.” “Victoria didn’t pull her punches, though. Banished over a piece of jewelry…” “You don’t get it. Their mom died saving Cole and Simon. Victoria would have forgiven Cole for burning the house down, but pawning their dead mother’s heirloom? That was the ultimate betrayal.” Victoria sat rigidly on the leather sofa, suffocating in her silence. Ever since she kicked me out, the vibrant, laughing older sister I knew had vanished. She became fiercely, ruthlessly protective—but not of me. Of Simon. Whatever I used to have, Simon got. Whatever I asked for, she bought double for him. Maybe to spite me. Maybe to break me. Every time I saw a tabloid headline about Victoria dropping millions on a new loft or a sports car for Simon, I felt nothing. We had been so perfect once. But the day they brought Simon home from the foster system, the rot began. Seeing Victoria caught in the memory, Simon panicked. He grabbed her hand. “Vicky, it’s my fault. If you hadn’t brought me into this house, Cole wouldn’t have acted out. Mom wouldn’t have died.” “Mom died because she was protecting both of you,” Victoria snapped, the nostalgic haze instantly burning away into hard anger. “Cole is the one who took her sacrifice and spat on it. He dared to do that.” “It’s just a shame,” she murmured, her voice cracking slightly. “I never found the locket.” Simon’s eyes darted away for a fraction of a second. “I actually hired an artisan to make an exact replica for you, Vicky. Maybe… maybe Cole just really needed the cash for something important.” “I had my investigators track the cash,” Victoria scoffed, her face twisting in disgust. “He blew it all on VIP bottle service and high-end escorts.” She patted Simon’s hand, her voice rising so everyone in the room could hear. “A man who sells his mother’s soul to buy a night with a whore is no brother of mine!” Her friends chimed in, eager to soothe her. “Let it go, Vic. He’s dead. Like the chat said, karma handled it.” “Wonder who actually killed him, though.” “Who cares? Victoria, if he had crawled back and told you he had cancer, would you have paid for his treatment?” Victoria’s eyes narrowed. “I would have told him to die faster.” On the stream, Jax clicked the second video. My phone didn’t have many videos. They had just watched the only happy one. The second video was pitch black. There was only audio: the deafening roar of wind, chaotic muffled sounds, and the violent screech of tires. It was the day of the car crash. Mom was driving Simon and me back from the amusement park. I had been half-asleep in the backseat. The audio captured Mom’s sharp, panicked voice: “Simon, stop! Don’t touch that!” Ever since Simon arrived, I felt like I was losing my mind. Every time he spoke to me alone, it somehow ended with me being punished. Everyone looked at me like I was broken, malicious. So, terrified and desperate, I had started wearing a tiny, discreet GoPro clipped to my jacket zipper. I recorded my days, just to have proof of reality. Especially when I was alone with Simon. This was the final moment of my mother’s life. I had never been able to watch it. I had only dumped the file onto my phone for safekeeping. Now, I was experiencing it alongside thousands of strangers. Suddenly, the black video shifted—the camera must have been knocked loose. The lens flared, catching the front seat. Simon, practically crawling over the center console, violently yanked the steering wheel toward him. “I won’t go back! You can’t send me back to the group home!” he screamed. CRASH. The horrifying sound of metal crushing metal. The car rolling. Mom took the brunt of the impact. The camera caught her pinned, bleeding heavily. But she wasn’t screaming in pain. She was desperately calling my name. The camera angle shifted dizzily as I dragged my small, battered body toward her. Mom reached out with a trembling, blood-soaked hand. She used the last ounce of breath in her lungs. “Cole… my brave boy. Live a good life. Protect your sister. And… tell your father… he has to send Simon away. Do you hear me? Send him away…” Sirens wailed in the background. The video cut out. The aftermath was a memory seared into my soul. They put a white sheet over her. Simon wailed, putting on a performance of grief so absolute it shook the police officers. Dad and Victoria arrived at the precinct, hollowed out by grief. When they asked if Mom had said anything at the end, I told them the truth. I told them her dying wish was to send Simon away. Simon threw himself onto the linoleum floor, shrieking, hyperventilating, begging Dad and Victoria not to throw him away. And then, my father slapped me across the face. “Cole Montgomery! It’s bad enough you bully your brother in private, but now you’re fabricating your mother’s dying words? She loved you both! She would never say that! You make me sick.” I had sobbed, holding my stinging cheek. “Dad, Vicky, please, I have it on camera! I can prove it!” But they were already walking away, carrying Simon in their arms. In the abandoned cabin, Jax and his crew stood frozen. “Wait,” one of the crew whispered. “This kid… he caused the crash? He murdered his adoptive mom because he didn’t want to get sent back to foster care?” “Jesus Christ. This is some psycho ‘Talented Mr. Ripley’ shit. He killed the mom, played the victim, and turned the family against the real son.” “Is this real? I thought Simon was this sweet, philanthropic actor. Did he really grab the wheel?” In the VIP room, the silence was suffocating. Victoria stared at the screen, all the blood draining from her face. Slowly, mechanically, she turned her head to look at Simon. “You,” she whispered, her voice fracturing. “You killed my mother?” “She gave you everything, and you pulled the wheel?” The realization hit her like a physical blow. “So that day at the precinct… Cole was telling the truth. Why? Why was she going to send you back?” Victoria’s chest heaved. Her mother was sacred. When Victoria had arrived at the crash site, seeing her mother crushed and her two little brothers covered in blood, she had sworn over her mother’s body that she would protect them both. And now, she was realizing that one brother was dead, and the other was the reason her mother was in the ground. Simon panicked. He dropped to his knees right there in the VIP booth, grabbing Victoria’s dress. “Vicky, please! I was just a kid! I was terrified! Mom figured out that I was the one who broke Dad’s antique vase, not Cole. She said she was going to call the agency. I just… I just wanted to stop the car so I could beg her!” “I didn’t know the car would flip! I swear to God! I’ve spent every day of my life trying to make it up to you! I’ve been repenting for a decade!” “Vicky, I’m so sorry! Please don’t hate me!” Victoria’s mind was short-circuiting. Her mother’s dying, blood-choked words echoed through the club’s speakers. Protect your sister. Send Simon away. Suddenly, Blair Kensington—my former fiancée—stepped forward, placing a manicured hand on Victoria’s shoulder. “Vic, take a breath. Simon made a horrible mistake, but he was literally a traumatized child. He’s still the brother you raised and loved.” “If your mother hadn’t threatened to abandon him over a vase, he wouldn’t have panicked. He was insecure. And let’s be honest, you guys only made Cole kneel in the hallway for a few days over the vase anyway. It wasn’t a big deal.” Victoria let out a shaky breath. Even if they had wrongly accused Cole of breaking the vase, did he really have to hold a grudge against Simon for years? Mom overreacted by threatening to send a foster kid back over something so trivial. “Get up,” Victoria said, her voice hollow. “Stop crying. We can’t change the past.” “I love you, Vicky. I’d die for you,” Simon whimpered, standing up and burying his face in his hands. He let out a breath of immense relief. He had survived the landmine. Under the table, his fingers flew across his phone, texting frantically. [Where the fuck are your guys? If they keep streaming, the rest of it is going to get out. Cut the power!] But the massive screen above them kept playing. Blair noticed Simon shaking and wrapped an arm around him. “Don’t worry,” she whispered. “Cole is dead. He can’t hurt you anymore.” “But… he was your fiancé, Blair,” Simon murmured, looking up through his lashes. Victoria snapped her head toward Blair. The chat’s accusations of a “fake heir” destroying the “real heir” were beginning to burn like acid in her brain. How could her sweet, devoted Simon be the monster the internet was painting him as? “Let’s see what else the dead boy kept on his phone,” Victoria commanded, her voice like cracking ice. Video Three. “Tell me, Cole. If I fall into this pond right now, who is Blair going to believe? You, or me?” Simon’s voice. But it wasn’t the trembling, sweet voice he used in the VIP room. It was dripping with venom and mockery. On the screen, my own voice answered, exhausted and utterly defeated. “What more do you want from me? You stole my father. You stole my sister. Now you’re taking the woman I was supposed to marry. What is the endgame here?” Simon, leaning against the stone railing of our estate’s koi pond, smiled. It was a terrifying, dead-eyed smile. “As long as you exist, I’m in danger. The blood heir. You make me nervous. So, I need them to despise you. I need them to abuse you. I need them to want you dead. I won’t be able to sleep until you’re in the ground.” He stepped closer to the hidden camera on my chest. “Why do you get to be born into billions? I was thrown into a literal dumpster in January. If a sanitation worker hadn’t heard me crying, I would have frozen to death.” “Do you know what the group homes are like? Rich people like your parents show up around Thanksgiving, hand out cheap toys, and make us smile for the cameras so they can feel like saints. And then they use us as cautionary tales for their own spoiled brats.” Simon’s face twisted into pure malice. “The day I saw you standing in the orphanage lobby in your custom little suit, looking so soft and loved, I made a promise to myself. I was going to take your life. All of it.” My voice trembled in the recording. “You set me up… you manipulated me into bringing you to my mother so she would pity you?” “Bingo!” With that word, Simon suddenly grabbed my wrists, yanking them toward his own chest, and screamed at the top of his lungs. “Cole! No! I promise I’ll stay away from Blair! Please don’t push me!” SPLASH. He threw himself backward into the deep water. Seconds later, Blair sprinted into the frame. Without a second of hesitation, she shoved me violently into the water and dove in to rescue Simon. The camera caught the underwater chaos, and then the aftermath on the grass. Blair cradling a “shivering” Simon, shooting me a look of absolute disgust. The next cut in the video was Blair marching into Victoria’s home office. “I will not marry a psychopath who tries to drown his own brother,” Blair demanded. “The engagement is off. If our families need a merger, I’ll marry Simon. At least he has a soul.” Ever since I was twelve and someone—I never saw who—pushed me into a lake, I had been deathly afraid of water. I had almost drowned in that koi pond. But when I finally coughed up the water and opened my eyes, there was no concern. Only Victoria, standing over me, her eyes filled with revulsion. “The Kensington engagement is off. If you pull a stunt like this again, Cole, I’ll have you committed to an institution abroad.” The viewers in the livestream, and the elites in the VIP room, fell into a stunned, horrified silence. “Bro. Simon isn’t just an opportunist. He’s a straight-up predator.” “Imagine being Cole. Your own sister and your fiancé literally acting like Helen Keller when the truth is right there.” “He literally confessed to a psychological takeover of the family. He wanted the ‘true son’ dead.” “I used to think Simon was this brilliant method actor. Turns out he’s just a sociopath playing himself.” “Wait, is the sister watching this? Does she realize she’s been the attack dog for the guy who murdered her mom and destroyed her brother?” “Hold up, let’s not make Cole a saint yet. He still pawned his dead mom’s locket to buy hookers. They’re both trash.” In the club, Victoria’s fists were clenched so tight her knuckles were stark white. Everyone in the room was glancing nervously between Victoria, Blair, and Simon. “Vic,” Blair stammered, her arrogance faltering. “You… you know how manipulative Cole is. He probably deep-faked that audio. Or provoked Simon into saying it!” When Victoria didn’t answer, Blair doubled down. “Simon is gentle! He wouldn’t orchestrate something like that!” Victoria slowly turned her head. Her expression was completely unreadable. “Shut up.” She locked eyes with Simon. “Did he push you, or did you throw yourself in?” “Are you seriously interrogating him right now?” Blair shrilled. “I knew it! Deep down, you still prioritize that toxic blood brother over Simon!” “I am speaking to him,” Victoria roared, the sound cutting through the club like a gunshot. She desperately, painfully didn’t want to believe that the boy she had babied for years was the monster on that screen. “I… I don’t know,” Simon stuttered, tears welling up instantly. “Vicky, I swear, I never wanted to hurt him!” Victoria stared at him for a long, agonizing moment. Then, she let out a slow exhale. “Okay.” Blair let out a breath of relief. “See? I told you. You can’t trust anything Cole touched.” The next few videos were painfully mundane. They were recordings of my design sketches, my architectural concepts, my late-night brainstorms. And then, screenshots of those exact same designs, published under Simon’s name. He had stolen my portfolio to launch his own design firm. When I tried to fight back, I was blacklisted. Every firm in the city told me the same thing: Victoria Montgomery had personally ordered them not to hire me. To survive, I had resorted to collecting scrap metal and recycling. The audio of a phone call with Victoria played over a video of my blistered, filthy hands. “Just apologize to Simon,” her voice was tired and condescending over the line. “Admit you plagiarized his work. If you do, I’ll talk to Dad. The Montgomery trust can keep you comfortable for ten lifetimes. Why are you embarrassing us by digging through trash?” “Because he stole them from me, Vicky! Why won’t you just look at the timestamps? Why won’t you believe me?!” I had screamed, crying in an alleyway. “You’re still so stubborn. Clearly, you haven’t learned your lesson,” she snapped, and hung up. Things got worse after that. People recognized me on the street. They would kick over my recycling bags, spilling the cans I had spent all day collecting. They filmed me scrambling to pick them up. “Hey, look! It’s the Montgomery heir! Stealing jobs from the homeless now?” “That’s what you get for messing with Simon, you freak!” The video showed a group of frat boys kicking me into the pavement. I didn’t even fight back. I just curled into a ball. Finally, a kind stranger intervened, chased them off, and tried to call an ambulance. I refused. The stranger pressed a crumpled hundred-dollar bill into my bleeding hand. “Take it, kid. Everyone hits rock bottom. Don’t give up on yourself,” the man had said. The video ended with me sitting alone in a subway station, bruised, bleeding, and entirely broken. People walked a wide circle around me, repulsed by the smell of blood and grime. I pulled Mom’s gold locket from beneath my filthy shirt, clutching it to my chest, sobbing uncontrollably. “Mom,” I whispered to the camera, my voice shattered. “I don’t even know why I keep recording this. Even if someone sees it, they’ll just say I faked it. Nobody is ever going to believe me again.” In the cabin, Jax exhaled a ragged breath. His hands, holding the phone, were visibly shaking. “I believe you, man,” he whispered to the empty room. Behind him, his crew members were wiping their eyes. “Jesus, that’s just… that’s evil.” The chat was moving so fast it was a blur of text. “Simon stole his entire life. His talent, his family, his safety.” “I feel physically sick. The sister starved him out to protect a parasite.” “No way, this is all AI generated! Simon wouldn’t do this!” “Are you brain dead? You literally just watched the guy get beaten in the street because his sister blacklisted him over fake plagiarism. The Montgomerys need to be in jail.” Victoria sat frozen in the VIP room, the memories flashing behind her eyes. She dialed her executive assistant. The man answered, panting. “Ms. Montgomery, I just reached the coordinates. It’s way out in the Adirondacks. But… there’s already a crowd here. Locals, and… I think I saw Simon’s cousin by the police tape.” Victoria ignored the detail about the cousin. “Get in there. Confiscate the phone. I need my cyber-security team to verify the files.” “I can’t, ma’am. The internet is rioting. They’re demanding the police and independent experts verify it live on the stream.” “Then make sure our people are in the room when they do.” Victoria hung up. She slowly turned her gaze to Simon, who was sweating through his designer shirt. “Why are you shaking?” she asked softly. “I’m not,” Simon forced a sickly smile, leaning in to try and use his usual charm. Blair interjected again. “Vic, even if Simon made some mistakes, Cole still pawned your mother’s locket. That’s unforgivable.” The mention of the locket was like throwing gasoline on a dying fire. Victoria, who had been numb, felt the white-hot rage return. She could forgive the car crash—barely. She could maybe even forgive the corporate sabotage. But her mother’s soul? No. “Did I say I forgave him for that?” Victoria hissed. The stream had played through almost all the videos. Most of them were just quiet, sad moments of a life falling apart. Until the second to last video. I was shoved, unconscious, onto the leather sofa of a seedy karaoke bar. This was the footage I had never dared to review. The camera angle was obscured, peeking out from my jacket. Simon walked into the frame. He was impeccably dressed, looking down at my unconscious body with a smirk. He waved a hand, and four high-end escorts walked into the room. “Do whatever you want,” Simon told the women, tossing a thick stack of hundreds onto the glass table. “Just make it look messy. And if anyone asks, he paid you with the cash he got from pawning a vintage gold locket. Got it?” “Understood, Mr. Montgomery,” one of the women giggled. They descended on me, pulling at my clothes. Simon walked out of the room, and the heavy thud of the door locking echoed through the speakers.

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It was the first day of the semester. I was still hauling my suitcases into the dorm when Trinity Ward suddenly grabbed my hand. Her face was flushed, her eyes shimmering with a mix of nerves and a strange, triumphant heat. “Quinn,” she whispered, her voice carrying just enough to reach our other roommates. “Starting today, I’m going to be your stepmother. Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you.” I froze. The iced latte in my hand slipped, hitting the linoleum with a sickening thud. Plastic cracked, and brown liquid splattered across my white sneakers. “Stepmother?” I repeated, the word tasting like ash. “Trinity, you’ve got the wrong person.” I forced a dry laugh and tried to wrench my hand back. “You can’t just go around saying things like that. My father is—” Seeing my disbelief, she didn’t hesitate. She whipped out her phone and began swiping through a gallery of photos. My heart did a slow, painful roll. There he was: my father, Richard Beaumont. In every photo, Trinity was draped over him, their poses intimate enough to make my skin crawl. Finally, she pulled a folded slip of paper from her designer bag and thrust it under my nose. Trinity Ward, 22. Four months pregnant. Fetal vitals: Normal. She rested a hand on her still-flat stomach, a beatific, sickeningly sweet smile spreading across her lips. “Your dad said as soon as you were settled in for the semester, we’d go down to the courthouse and make it official.” I stared at the ultrasound report, and suddenly, I felt a laugh bubbling up in my chest. Poor Trinity. She had done her homework on the Beaumont family fortune, but she’d missed one very private, very permanent detail. My father had a vasectomy twenty years ago. … My first instinct was that this was some twisted hazing ritual. I patted her shoulder, still grinning. “Okay, okay, you got me. Truth or Dare? You’re a great actress, Trinity. For a second there, I actually thought you were serious.” Trinity cut me off, her expression shifting instantly to one of wounded innocence. “I’m not lying to you, Quinn. I know who your father is. I know he’s the CEO of Beaumont International. I know I’m ‘just’ a student and people will say I’m not good enough for him.” She took a shaky breath. “But your mother has been gone for so long, and what he and I have is real. Please, just give us your blessing.” A chill settled over me. This wasn’t a joke. My father, Richard Beaumont, was the city’s most eligible bachelor. The line of women trying to climb into his life stretched out the door of his penthouse and around the block. But in all these years, not one had ever made it past the velvet ropes. It wasn’t that they weren’t beautiful enough. It was because my father’s “garden” had been salted and burned long ago. When my mother almost died giving birth to my brother and me, the terror changed him. He couldn’t lose her again. The day we were born was the day he scheduled his vasectomy. And now, this girl was telling me he’d managed to conjure a miracle baby in his fifties? The absurdity of it was staggering. Without another word, I pulled out my phone to call him. I wanted to hear the confusion in his voice. I wanted him to shut this down. But before the call could connect, Madison Miller, our third roommate, lunged forward and snatched the phone out of my hand. “Stop it, Quinn! You can’t just call him like that!” “He’s my father, Madison. Give it back.” “Mr. Beaumont is a busy man,” Madison argued, her voice frantic. “If you call him and start accusing him of things, think of how embarrassed he’ll be. Besides, Trinity is sensitive right now. Think of the baby! Can’t we just talk this out as adults without making a scene?” I opened my mouth to explain that it was biologically impossible for Trinity to be carrying a Beaumont heir, but Trinity cut in, her voice dissolving into soft sobs. “Quinn, please don’t call Richard.” Her eyes were red-rimmed, a masterclass in performative grief. “I don’t want to cause trouble between you two. I know you’re angry… but this is real. I’m carrying his child.” “I’ll be better to you than a real mother ever could,” she choked out. “I’m begging you. Just give me a chance.” I was caught between fury and exhaustion. I tried to keep my voice level. “Trinity, we’re theater majors. Our reputations are everything. You’re young. Don’t let someone brainwash you into this. This baby… it isn’t his. If you go through with this lie, how are you going to live with yourself?” I thought I was being helpful, but I’d clearly touched a nerve. Trinity shoved my hand away, clutching her stomach as she wailed. “You just don’t want us to be together! Fine! I’ll go to the clinic tomorrow. I’ll get rid of the baby! Is that what you want? Are you happy now?” The sheer audacity of her playing the victim made my blood boil. “I’m giving you a reality check. What you do with your body is your business, but don’t you dare pin this on my family.” The words had barely left my lips when Madison rushed over to scoop Trinity into an embrace, glaring at me over her shoulder. “Quinn, that is cold, even for you! Trinity is going through enough, and you’re standing there making up lies to gaslight her? Where is your heart?” The commotion had drawn our other two roommates into the common area. They stood by the door, whispering and casting judgmental glances my way. Trinity, seeing her audience, doubled down. “I know I’m younger than Richard… I know it looks bad,” she sobbed into Madison’s shoulder. “But I love him. I didn’t mean for the pregnancy to happen, I just wanted to be with him. I wanted to take care of Quinn. Why is she being so mean? Why is she making up stories about her own father?” The “poor little pregnant girl” act was working. One of the girls by the door stepped forward. “Look, Quinn, even if you hate the idea, you shouldn’t say such hurtful things. It’s messed up.” “Exactly,” the other chimed in. “It’s the twenty-first century. If it’s true love, who cares about the age gap? You’re being so old-fashioned.” “If I were you, I’d just accept it. She’s going to be your stepmom. It’s better to have her as an ally than an enemy. Don’t make it weird.” My brain felt like it was going to short-circuit. A red veil of rage dropped over my vision. I turned on them, my voice cracking. “You want to talk about ‘weird’? How about a girl our age claiming she’s my new mommy on the first day of school? Let’s see how ‘progressive’ you feel when your dad brings home a classmate!” I stepped toward them, ready to have it out, but Madison jumped between us, playing the peacemaker. “Stop, stop! Quinn, you know how she is—she doesn’t have a filter, she didn’t mean it that way. Trinity is pregnant; she can’t be stressed like this. Can’t you just humiliate her some other time? If something happens to that baby because of your temper, can you live with that?” Trinity stopped crying just long enough to look at me with big, watery eyes. “Quinn, I know it’s a lot to take in. I can wait. I’ll wait for you to accept me. Just… stop lying about your dad. I really am pregnant with his child. I’ll be so good to you, I promise. Just believe me once.” I studied Trinity. She couldn’t hold my gaze. Her eyes flitted toward the door, then to Madison. There was a frantic edge to her “sincerity” that confirmed everything. There was a grift happening here. But why? Why target me with such a blatant, easily debunked lie? Madison began rubbing Trinity’s back, her tone shifting to that of a concerned older sister—though every word she said was a poisoned arrow aimed at me. “Come on, Quinn. Let it go. Trinity is in a fragile state. We all live together; we have to see each other every day. For the sake of the dorm, can we just move past this?” She nudged Trinity, signaling her to “try” one more time. I looked at them—the weeping “mother-to-be” and her “loyal protector”—and I started to laugh. A cold, hard sound. “The thing is, Madison, I’m not lying. My father had a vasectomy twenty-one years ago. He is sterile. I have the medical records in my digital vault. I can pull them up and project them on the wall right now if you’d like.” I turned to Trinity, my eyes turning to ice. “And you. You say you’re carrying a Beaumont. Tell me, Trinity—what’s his middle name? What’s the name of his private equity firm? Where exactly is our estate located?” The room went silent for a heartbeat. Trinity’s crying hitched. Then, she let out a howl louder than before. “You’re testing me on his name? His name is Richard Beaumont! He’s the CEO of Beaumont International! You live at 18 Seaside Drive!” She gasped for air, her words coming out in a frantic rush. “He has a silver picture frame on his nightstand. It’s a photo of your mother. The corner of the frame is dented because you dropped it when you were six, and he won’t replace it because he says it reminds him of you. He polishes it every single morning!” My heart skipped. She was right. Those were details only someone who had been inside our house—inside my father’s bedroom—would know. My mind raced. How? My father was sterile. That was a fact. But how did she know about the dented frame? Before I could process the confusion, Trinity grabbed the collar of her shirt and yanked it down, revealing a cluster of dark purple bruises on her neck. “Your dad did this,” she said, her face reddening, but her voice steady. “He said he loves seeing his mark on me. Even with the baby, he can’t keep his hands off me. Every night. Sometimes in the afternoon… I tell him to be gentle, but he just laughs and says he’s too happy to stop.” She was on a roll now, the details getting cruder. “He’s so needy. He won’t even let me get dressed after I shower. He says he just wants to hold me. One time, while I was making pasta in the kitchen, he came up behind me and—” “Okay, okay! Too much information!” Madison’s face was bright red as she covered Trinity’s mouth. The other two roommates looked stunned, their expressions a mix of secondhand embarrassment and prurient curiosity. Trinity fell quiet. Madison cleared her throat, adopting a “reasonable” tone. “Look, Quinn. I get it. This is a nightmare for you. But at the end of the day, this is family business. If this gets out, it’ll ruin the Beaumont reputation. The press will have a field day.” She leaned in closer. “Maybe you should just… give everyone a little something to keep things quiet. A hush-money gesture. We all keep our mouths shut, and this stays in this room. It’s for your own good, you see?” Trinity nodded vigorously. “Yeah, Quinn. I’ve spent so much on prenatal vitamins and private checkups. It’s so expensive.” She looked at me with a greedy glint in her eyes. “Your dad always told me how generous you are. A real socialite. A little help wouldn’t hurt you.” She started counting on her fingers. “Fifty thousand each. There are four of us. Two hundred thousand dollars. To you, that’s just the price of a Birkin bag.” “If we get the money, nobody says a word,” Madison added with a slick smile. “Your dad’s reputation stays intact, Trinity can focus on the baby, and we all stay friends. Everyone wins.” She looked at me like she was doing me the biggest favor in the world. I stood there, watching the two of them perform their little duet, and the pieces finally clicked into place. “So,” I said slowly. “This whole elaborate soap opera… was just a shakedown for cash?” Trinity’s face faltered for a second. Madison’s smile dimmed, but she held her ground. “Quinn, how can you say that? We’re thinking about your family’s name—” “Too bad,” I said, stepping back and leaning against my desk. “My father had his surgery twenty-two years ago. He can’t get anyone pregnant. Whoever’s ‘seed’ is growing in there, go find the real father and leave mine out of it.” Trinity turned pale. The two silent roommates suddenly found their voices again, their tones sharp. “Quinn, stop being delusional! We’ve seen the photos of your dad and Trinity. They’re unmistakable!” “Yeah! We even saw your dad picking her up at the campus gate last night. That black Bentley? Hard to miss. If he wasn’t there for her, then why was he even at the school?” Their certainty was unshakable. My stomach dropped. I hadn’t known my father was on campus last night. Madison sighed and patted my arm. “Quinn, honey… I know it’s hard to accept. But your dad was here. If you don’t believe us, I have the video.” She held up her phone. In the grainy footage, a black Bentley was idling near the North Gate. My father was leaning against the door, scrolling through his phone as if waiting for someone. Madison swiped through more photos. My father and Trinity at a dimly lit restaurant. In the car. Him ruffling her hair. His arm around her shoulders. Every shot was perfectly framed. I gripped my phone, my fingers icy. The photos didn’t look photoshopped. The lighting, the angles—everything looked painfully real. The air felt thin. My legs felt like they were going to give out. But a stubborn spark of intuition kept me upright. I pulled out my phone and dialed my father. Again. And again. The ringing was like a rhythmic torture. Every beeeeep made my heart hammer harder against my ribs. Just as I was about to give up, his voice—warm, familiar, and calm—filled the line. “Hey, Quinn. Sorry, sweetheart. I was in a board meeting. Is everything okay?” My throat felt tight. “Dad… were you at my school yesterday?” “I was,” he said, his voice tinged with a slight apology. “I had some business nearby and stopped by the gate to catch up with an old friend. I figured you were busy settling into the dorm, so I didn’t want to bother you.” It sounded reasonable. But it didn’t explain the photos. I gritted my teeth and asked the question that was tearing me apart. “Dad… are you seeing someone? Is there… a baby?” There was a long, heavy silence on the other end. My heart sank into my stomach. “Mr. Beaumont, the files are ready for the second session…” I heard his secretary’s voice in the background. “Quinn, I’m right in the middle of something. I’ll explain everything later, okay? Be a good girl. I have to go.” Click. The dial tone echoed in my ear. I stood there, frozen, as tears finally broke through and hot tracks ran down my face. Madison walked over and draped an arm around my shoulders. “Quinn, your mom has been gone a long time. Your dad and Trinity are both single adults. It’s natural. Don’t overthink it.” “I don’t believe it!” I shoved her away. “My father isn’t like that! He loved my mother so much he ensured he’d never have children with anyone else. He wouldn’t just… throw that away for a college student!” “It’s a lie! Trinity is lying! You’re all lying!” My mind was screaming. I had to see that pregnancy report again. It had to be a forgery. I lunged toward Trinity’s bed, reaching for her designer bag, desperate to find the paper. But before I could touch it, the other two roommates grabbed my arms, pinning me back. “Quinn, calm down! She’s pregnant! You can’t attack her!” I struggled, sobbing now, watching Trinity cower behind Madison. For a split second, the mask slipped, and I saw a flash of triumph in Trinity’s eyes. Then, a familiar voice drifted in from the hallway. “Quinn? I’m here.”

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