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Her stepsister stole her husband, just like her stepmother had once stolen her father. After learning she had stomach cancer, she found a way to get her husband to sign the divorce agreement. Thirty days later, they met again at a global technology conference. The arrogant man who had once looked down on her stood before her with bloodshot eyes. He desperately begged for another chance. Her brothers broke down in tears and pleaded for forgiveness. She simply turned around and walked away. ===== Stage II adenocarcinoma. The doctor slid the medical report across the polished mahogany desk. The diagnosis printed in black against the white page looked less like medical information and more like a death sentence. Roselyn Hudson watched the doctor's mouth move, yet none of his words seemed to reach her. Above them, the fluorescent lights hummed without pause, the sound pounding against her head. Breathing became difficult. The air around her felt scarce. Sweat gathered at the back of her neck before tracing a path down her spine. No tears came. Instead, she dug her nails into her palm until half-moon marks appeared in her skin, but even then, she felt nothing. What are the odds? Roselyn asked in an even voice. The doctor seemed taken aback by how calm she sounded. Patiently, he explained the treatments available to her. Targeted therapy. The possibility of surgery. The difficult months waiting ahead. Without any change in expression, Roselyn listened and nodded. Not long afterward, she left the hospital. As soon as the heavy glass door closed behind her, the strength left her legs. Down the cold tiled wall of the hallway she sank until her knees met the floor. The report remained locked against her ch**t. A sudden knot tightened in her stomach, and the tumor inside her made itself known again. Suddenly, her phone vibrated inside her purse. Her shaking fingers reached for it. The message was from her husband, Adrian Riley. Don't wait for me tonight. I have a business meeting. The text carried the same distance and indifference she had come to expect. As the successor of Riley Group, Adrian stood at the center of the city's largest real estate empire. For the past three years, Roselyn had quietly filled the role of the quiet wife behind him. She had given up a future in AI medical research. She had taken care of his home. She had tolerated the ridicule of the people around him. Through it all, she had loved him. Earlier that morning, however, a sweet unfamiliar perfume had lingered on his collar. Not long after that, his phone screen had lit up with a message from someone saved under a single name. Emma. Emma Hudson. Emma was Roselyn's half-sister. She was the daughter born from their father's af**ir with Sophia Grant. Sophia had once destroyed Roselyn's mother's marriage. Now it seemed the same story was beginning all over again. With those innocent eyes and that soft voice of hers, Emma had ended up in Adrian's bed. Roselyn's eyes remained fixed on the message. Another wave of pain tore through her stomach, spreading through her like fire. One tear slipped free. She brushed it away and her expression turned cold. Then she unlocked her phone and searched for two things. The rules for dividing assets after a divorce and the price of targeted treatment for stomach cancer. Forty minutes later, her car rolled into the garage at the Riley estate. Adrian's Aston Martin wasn't there. Good. He wasn't at home. Without hesitation, she headed for Adrian's study. The room carried the familiar scent of his cologne mixed with leather. Her destination was the safe concealed behind a painting. The code wasn't difficult to remember. It was Adrian's birthday. A click sounded from the lock. From inside, Roselyn removed a thick stack of contracts related to an acquisition Adrian was preparing for. After that, she located their prenuptial agreement. Carrying it to the shredder, she fed the document through one page at a time. Once it was gone, she printed a standard divorce agreement and carefully completed the asset division section using the information she had just researched. Afterward, she made a copy of the cancer diagnosis. The divorce agreement and medical report were then slipped into the middle of the contract stack. Next, she picked up her phone and called Jenifer Riley. Jenifer was Adrian's mother. She was also the person who controlled the Riley family's finances. For as long as Roselyn could remember, Jenifer had looked down on her and considered her nothing more than a woman after the Riley family's money. What do you want? Jenifer asked. Impatience filled her voice. Mrs. Riley, Roselyn said evenly. "I'm calling about my divorce with Adrian. I need him to sign the agreement tonight, and we need to discuss the settlement." Silence followed on the other end. A moment later, a quiet laugh escaped Jenifer. In her eyes, Roselyn had finally accepted reality and realized she would never truly fit into the Riley family. So you're finally showing your true colors, Jenifer said in a clipped tone. "Come to my place tomorrow morning. I'll handle everything from there." I'll be there, Roselyn replied before ending the call. Her eyes drifted to the documents spread across the table. A faint, bitter smile appeared on her lips. Only after midnight did the front door open. Loosening his tie, Adrian stepped into the living room. The scent of al**hol lingered on him, mixed with that familiar perfume. Roselyn remained seated on the couch. The stack of papers rested on the coffee table between them. Why haven't you gone to bed yet? Adrian asked with a frown as he ran a hand through his hair. There wasn't a trace of guilt on his face. What showed instead was irritation. These need your signature, Roselyn said as she pushed the documents toward him. "Your mother said they were related to the acquisition and needed to be handled right away." A long sigh escaped Adrian. He was well aware that his mother and Roselyn had never gotten along. Reaching into his pocket, he took out a pen and opened the thick file. Inside her ch**t, Roselyn's heart pounded relentlessly. Outwardly, however, she showed nothing. Using one finger, she indicated the last page. Sign here, and here. Tired and convinced Roselyn knew nothing about corporate matters, Adrian didn't waste time looking through the hundreds of pages. His signature quickly landed on every marked line. Without realizing it, he signed away his marriage together with the acquisition documents. Afterward, Adrian dropped the pen onto the floor. You don't look well, he said, his brow tightening further. The remark carried criticism, not concern or kindness. "Roselyn, don't start creating problems right now. I'm exhausted. Just let me get some rest." For three years, Roselyn had loved this man. Now, there was nothing left. Only an ending she could finally see clearly. It's nothing. My stomach's bothering me again, Roselyn said softly. "It's an old issue." Ask Donna to make you some soup tomorrow, Adrian said before walking toward the bedroom. Alone in the dim room, Roselyn tightened her grip on the folder. Then she took out her phone and sent a message to her best friend, Nina Parker. I have cancer. I'm divorcing Adrian. Nina replied, "What? I'm on my way!" I still need to deal with a few things. Come tomorrow, Roselyn responded. After getting to her feet, she headed upstairs. When she reached the master bedroom, she noticed the door hadn't been fully closed. A voice drifted from inside. It was Adrian. Emma, sl**p well. Roselyn stopped where she was. Pain churned through her stomach once again, but not a sound escaped her lips. Without looking inside, she continued past the room and entered the guest bedroom. They hadn't shared the same bedroom for months. After locking the door, she placed the signed documents inside the nightstand drawer. Under the faint light, she began writing. "Freedom Countdown. Sign the divorce agreement. Secure financial compensation. Return to my career. Keep the diagnosis secret." One final word was added. "Survive." Whatever happened, she had to survive. No one could know the truth. She would allow them to believe she was simply causing trouble. Without water, she swallowed two strong painkillers. Still wearing her clothes, she lay down on the bed and stared upward until daylight slipped through the curtains. By morning, Adrian was already standing near the front entrance, adjusting his watch. As Roselyn came downstairs, he glanced at her briefly. Then he walked out without another look. Soon, everything would be finished. The divorce agreement had already been signed. Drawing in a steady breath, Roselyn picked up her phone and called Jenifer. I'll arrive in thirty minutes. Chapter 2 You're A Snake Roselyn occupied a velvet armchair in the spacious living room. Across from her, Jenifer sat with a saucer in hand while her manicured nails struck against it at regular intervals. The gesture made her irritation obvious. Without a word, Roselyn pushed a document over the glass coffee table. Jenifer took the papers and looked through them. As soon as she reached the end of the document, her eyebrows shot up. She sl**ped it down onto the table. Thirty million dollars? Jenifer's sharp voice shattered the silence. "Have you completely lost your senses, Roselyn? What have you ever done for the Riley family that makes you think you're entitled to that amount? This is nothing but blackmail!" Not a single change appeared on Roselyn's face. She opened her designer handbag and removed a silver flash drive. Then she set it down in front of Jenifer. Every claim I've made can be verified, said Roselyn. "The drive contains records proving Adrian moved substantial marital assets into an offshore account under Emma's name. It also contains internal correspondence detailing how Riley Group dealt with tax issues connected to a major development project from last year." Jenifer's face immediately lost all color. Her grip tightened against the armrests. I'm only asking for what is legally mine. On top of that, I deserve compensation for the emotional harm I've endured. Roselyn settled back into her seat as she spoke. "If you choose not to agree, these documents will be submitted together with my divorce filing. The moment that happens, they'll become part of the public record. I imagine both the media and the IRS will be very interested in reviewing them." Jenifer stared at her, breathing hard. Only then did she understand how badly she had misjudged Roselyn. For years, she had seen Roselyn as someone weak and obedient. You're a snake, Jenifer spat through clenched teeth. You should know-I learned it from watching people like you, Roselyn retorted. Jenifer's expression hardened. If information like this ever got out, Riley Group could lose hundreds of millions in value. Compared to that, thirty million dollars was nothing. Fine. Jenifer gave in reluctantly. "But you're signing a nondisclosure agreement first. Then pack everything you own and leave Adrian's house." I have no problem with that, Roselyn agreed. Without hesitation, she accepted the NDA from Jenifer, signed it, and stood. You have three days to transfer the money into my account. If that deadline passes, the files will be released automatically. Leaving the house behind, Roselyn headed for the exit. The oak door shut behind her with a heavy sound. The moment she settled into her car, a slight tremor ran through her hands. She had succeeded. Instead of going home, she drove to her office. Long before she became Adrian's wife, Roselyn had helped establish a medical AI technology company as one of its founding engineers. After the marriage, however, fewer and fewer people viewed her the same way. She walked through the familiar hallways. The efficient, professional atmosphere felt completely different from the endless conflict surrounding the Riley family. Outside the office of Gerald Hardy, the company's operations director, she paused and knocked on the door. Surprise flashed across Gerald's face when he saw her. "Roselyn? I wasn't expecting you. Come in and have a seat." From her bag, Roselyn took out a white envelope and handed it over. "Gerald, I've decided to step down from my nonexecutive board position. For now, I'll also be transferring my voting rights." As Gerald reviewed the letter, a frown slowly appeared. "Does this have something to do with Mr. Riley's af**ir?" My health is the reason, Roselyn answered. She offered no further explanation. "Right now, I need time to rest." After signing the paperwork, Gerald let out a sigh. "No matter what happens, there'll always be a place for you here." Thank you. For the first time that day, Roselyn truly felt grateful. After leaving his office, she made her way toward the elevators. A hand suddenly caught the doors before they could shut completely. Nate Robinson stepped into the elevator. As Adrian's executive assistant, his arrogance rivaled that of his employer. Mrs. Riley, Nate sneered as his gaze swept over her. What brings you here? To see Mr. Riley? You know he can't stand it when you follow him around. Roselyn felt her stomach tighten. To steady herself, she rested a hand against her abdomen and kept her breathing under control. I'm here to complete the process of leaving the board, Roselyn replied calmly. "And from this point forward, you'll address me as Ms. Hudson." A moment of surprise crossed Nate's face before he burst out laughing. "Leaving the board? Is this another one of your attempts to get attention? Does Mr. Riley even know you're doing this?" Roselyn kept her eyes on the elevator doors and didn't look at him. "That's not something you need to concern yourself with." When the elevator reached the lobby, the doors opened. Without another word, Roselyn stepped out. Behind her, Nate remained where he was, still wearing that disdainful look. Once she returned to her car, Roselyn pulled out a notebook. She crossed off the second item on her list-secure financial compensation. Then she placed a check mark beside the first item-sign the divorce agreement. Below the four items, she wrote something new. "Freedom Countdown: 30 Days." A vibration came from her phone. A message appeared on her phone from her cousin, Stefan Hudson. Roselyn, there's a private dinner happening tonight. Would you like to come with me? For several seconds, Roselyn looked at the text. Exhaustion weighed on her. The stress and the tumor had left her body aching. Even so, she needed to start rebuilding her connections. She needed to find the version of herself that existed before Adrian became part of her life. Her fingers moved across the screen. "Where is it, and what time does it start?" Silence filled the house when Roselyn arrived home. In the hallway, Donna Flynn, the elderly housekeeper who had always been kind to her, was busy dusting. The moment Donna saw her, concern showed on her face. Roselyn's pale appearance was impossible to miss. Mrs. Riley, are you alright? Donna, I'd rather you call me Roselyn. I'm alright. Just a little tired. Actually, I'll be moving out soon. Shock spread across Donna's face. "Moving out? Oh dear... I'm sorry to hear that." Donna understood better than anyone how Roselyn had been treated under that roof. You don't need to be sorry. A smile appeared on Roselyn's lips. Though tired, it was genuine. "This is the right decision." Roselyn headed for the guest room upstairs. A suitcase came out, and she started packing her belongings. Everything Adrian had purchased for her remained exactly where it was. Her gaze settled on the closet after it had been emptied. At that moment, something she hadn't felt in years stirred inside her-anticipation. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, she opened her laptop and began writing an email to the mentor who had guided her in the past. Is there still room for me on the new AI diagnostics project we talked about last year? The email was sent. Before two minutes had passed, a response arrived. Roselyn! We've been waiting for you. After closing the laptop, Roselyn sat quietly for a moment. Goodbye, Adrian, she whispered to the empty room. Chapter 3 I Owe Him My Life For the private dinner, Roselyn picked out a black dress with a clean, elegant design. Just as she prepared to head out, her phone started ringing. Roselyn, I owe you an apology. An inspection came up and delayed me. Stefan sounded rushed. "So I asked a friend to pick you up instead. He's already outside waiting." A frown crossed Roselyn's face. "Stefan, that's unnecessary. I can make it there myself." Relax, you'll be fine with him. I'll see you at the restaurant. Before she could respond, Stefan ended the call. With her clutch in hand, Roselyn took the elevator down to the first floor. At the curb, a black Maybach was already parked. When she neared the vehicle, the driver got out and opened the rear door. Roselyn stepped inside. Someone else was already seated on the opposite side. The light from a tablet cast a glow across his features. Sharp bone structure. A calm expression. An authority that didn't need to be announced. His presence alone was difficult to ignore. The man sitting there was Kevin Wheeler. Roselyn stopped cold. Kevin turned to look at her. For a split second, something intense flickered across his face before disappearing. The change vanished so quickly that she couldn't be certain she had seen it at all. Hello, Roselyn greeted with a courteous smile. My name is Roselyn Hudson. I'm Stefan's cousin. Thank you for coming to get me. Kevin Wheeler. His voice was low and steady. "Stefan talks about you often. From what I understand, you've had a difficult time recently." Roselyn immediately grew guarded. Without thinking, she closed her fingers into her palms. Why would Stefan tell him something so personal? There are a few things in my life that need to be dealt with, she said after a pause. Rather than questioning her further, Kevin offered, "If you find yourself needing assistance, you can reach out to me." His tone remained casual, yet the offer felt far more significant than it should have. Confusion flickered across Roselyn's face. She couldn't understand why someone she had only just met would extend that kind of offer. Soon afterward, the Maybach rolled into the underground parking area of an upscale restaurant. Kevin stepped out and opened the door for her. Standing next to him made most people feel diminished by comparison. Roselyn rarely experienced anything like that. Together, they made their way into a private dining room where Stefan was already seated and motioning for them to join him. As the dinner continued, Roselyn began to understand the extent of Kevin's influence. He wasn't simply a friend of Stefan's. He was one of the investment world's most influential figures, someone capable of shaping the future of countless companies with a single decision. Even so, he spent most of the evening listening rather than speaking. Stefan carried much of the conversation with one story after another. Several glasses of w**e later, Stefan started talking about their family's past. Roselyn's uncle, Arthur Cunningham, was a legend, Stefan said with a grin. Arthur Cunningham? Kevin repeated. The way he said the name was noticeably quieter. "He is your uncle?" A nod came from Roselyn as a familiar sadness surfaced inside her. "That's right. He passed away many years ago." Kevin didn't look away. Something about the way he watched her sent a sudden shock through Roselyn. I owe him my life, Kevin said. The amusement vanished from Stefan's face. Roselyn became completely still. Many years ago, he pulled me out of a situation that should have ki**ed me, Kevin continued. His gaze remained fixed on her. "Afterward, he never asked for anything in return." An old memory surfaced in Roselyn's mind. She remembered hearing that Arthur had once rescued a boy from a vehicle engulfed in flames. He had been so happy because of that, but he had never revealed who that boy was. Since then, I've never forgotten what I owe him, Kevin said. "Meeting you tonight finally gives me a chance to repay that debt." Roselyn thought of the uncle who had always shown her kindness. Her throat tightened as emotion rose inside her. "That's not necessary. My uncle would've done the same for anyone. You don't owe me anything." I disagree. I know exactly what I owe. Kevin's voice made it clear he wasn't open to debate. "If there's ever something you need, all you have to do is tell me." Sensing the atmosphere growing heavier, Stefan cut in, "Roselyn, do you realize how valuable that offer is? Getting a favor from Kevin is like hitting the jackpot." Roselyn turned her attention to Kevin. There was no trace of pity in his eyes. All she found there was sincerity. She needed support now more than ever. Even so, she wanted to hold on to what remained of her pride. Thank you, Kevin, Roselyn whispered. "If the day comes when I have nowhere else to turn, I'll remember what you've offered." The corner of Kevin's mouth lifted slightly. Once dinner ended, Kevin refused to let her find her own way home and arranged for the driver to take her back. The ride passed in silence. When the car finally arrived outside her apartment building, Roselyn stepped out onto the sidewalk. Roselyn. Kevin's voice stopped her before she could walk away. "Don't forget what I said." Roselyn caught her breath. Before any response could leave her lips, the darkened window rose, and the Maybach disappeared into the night. A cool breeze brushed against her coat while she remained standing on the sidewalk. Her arms folded across her body as one thought after another ran through her mind. There was no doubt that Kevin was a dangerous man. Yet after everything she had gone through, he was also the first person to offer her something completely genuine. Chapter 4 Stop Making A Scene The following day, Roselyn met Nina at the hotel cafe. Across the table, Nina used the edge of her fork to cut into a slice of red velvet cake. I still don't know how you pulled that off. Thirty million dollars from Jenifer? That's unbelievable. Disbelief filled Nina's face as she shook her head. "Once she saw those financial records, she didn't have anywhere to run." Only a small smile appeared on Roselyn's face. Beneath the table, she quietly pressed her fist against her abdomen as a sharp cramp tore through her stomach. I just had something valuable enough to negotiate with. The strain in Roselyn's voice was difficult to hide. Nina was too caught up in the conversation to notice how drained Roselyn looked. "Oh, right. I think I spotted Kevin upstairs earlier." A playful smile spread across her face. "The man who offered to help you." Getting to her feet, Roselyn moved quickly. "Excuse me. I need to go to the restroom." Leaving the cafe behind, she walked into the hotel's grand main corridor. Without warning, another surge of pain hit her. The pain became so severe that she had no choice but to stop beside a marble column and brace herself against it. Her eyes closed as she concentrated on the breathing techniques her doctor had taught her. Several moments later, the pain finally began to ease. Slowly, she opened her eyes again. Directly across the corridor stood a luxury jewelry boutique. Carefully arranged lighting reflected against rows of glass display cases. One particular piece drew Roselyn's attention. An extraordinary sapphire and diamond necklace occupied the center of the display. Its name was "True Love." Roselyn caught sight of it and froze for a moment. Six months ago, Adrian had brought her to this same boutique. Standing beside her, he had pointed at the necklace and spoken in a low voice. "That necklace belongs to you, Roselyn. No one else should wear it." Back then, she had accepted every word as truth. Looking back, she felt fo**ish. Roselyn was ready to leave when movement inside the boutique caught her attention. All the color vanished from her face. For a moment, she couldn't move. The two people entering the store were Adrian and Emma. Through the spotless glass, Roselyn watched Adrian speak with the store manager. With an eager nod, the manager unlocked the display at the center of the boutique. Carefully, he removed the necklace and handed it over to Adrian. Adrian turned toward Emma. Using his own hands, he secured the necklace around her neck. An exaggerated g**p escaped Emma. Without any hesitation, she wrapped her arms around Adrian and ki**ed him. As he drew her closer, his hand came to rest at her waist. Concealed behind the marble column, Roselyn didn't move. Her nails bit into her palms until pain spread through her hands. A metallic bitterness settled in her mouth. The pain in her stomach intensified. Soon, the burning sensation rose into her throat. Breath became difficult to draw, yet her eyes remained fixed on them. With a shopping bag, Adrian and Emma eventually left the boutique. Roselyn tried to retreat farther into the shadows, but it was too late. Emma's sharp gaze locked onto her. A victorious gleam flashed across her eyes. Roselyn! What a surprise. Her sweet voice echoed through the corridor. Holding tightly to Adrian's arm, she guided him straight toward Roselyn. The moment Adrian noticed her, he stopped walking. Look at this. Adrian bought it for me. Lifting her chin, Emma made sure the newly acquired necklace was impossible to miss. "He told me the sapphires made him think of me." Nausea churned inside Roselyn, but she refused to let it show. What are you doing here, Roselyn? The question came from Adrian, and his voice carried nothing but cold disapproval. Anyone listening would've thought he was confronting a stranger instead of speaking to his wife. Roselyn met his gaze. How disappointing. This was the man she had given up her career for. This was the man she had once imagined spending her future with. I stopped by for coffee. Though Roselyn's voice sounded strained, it didn't waver. "I didn't expect to see you two." A frown appeared on Adrian's face. For the first time, he seemed to register how pale and unwell she looked. "Stop making a scene, Roselyn." Making a scene? A humorless laugh slipped from Roselyn's lips. "All I'm doing is standing here." Leaning against Adrian, Emma rested her head on his shoulder. "Adrian, we should leave. We still have to pick up my gown." Without another look at Roselyn, Adrian turned away. "You're right. Let's go." Roselyn remained where she was and watched them disappear around the corner. The moment they were gone, the adrenaline left her. The pain came rushing back with even greater force. It ripped through her body and almost drove her to her knees. She reached toward the marble column for support, but her hand missed. A strong arm caught her around the waist before she could fall. In the next second, she found herself held firmly against a solid ch**t. I've got you. The quiet voice sounded near her ear. Struggling for breath, Roselyn lifted her head through blurred vision. Kevin. Without any effort, he steadied her and led her toward a velvet bench tucked away from the main corridor. Kevin asked, "That man... is he your husband?" Roselyn shut her eyes. At last, a tear slipped free. "Yes, and the woman beside him is my half-sister." Something changed in Kevin's expression. Anyone could tell he was angry. "He humiliated you for another woman." It doesn't matter anymore, Roselyn whispered. Kevin's gaze shifted to the arm she still kept pressed across her stomach. "You don't look well." It's just an ulcer. I'll be alright. The answer came naturally, but her uneven breathing exposed the lie. For a long moment, Kevin said nothing. He clearly didn't accept her explanation, yet he let it go. What I said before still stands. The edge in his voice softened. "Whenever you're ready to be honest with me, I'll listen." Footsteps suddenly echoed from around the corner. Moments later, Nina appeared, panic written across her face. "Roselyn! I've been looking everywhere for you! I saw Adrian and..." The rest of her sentence vanished when she noticed Kevin. With a brief nod, Kevin acknowledged her presence. Before leaving, he gave Roselyn one last look. "Take care of her," he said to Nina. Then he turned away and disappeared into the crowd without another word. Nina hurried over and took hold of Roselyn's hands. "Roselyn, your hands are freezing. What happened? And why was Kevin with you?" Drawing in a shaky breath, Roselyn tried to steady herself. "He helped me." Slowly, she rose from the bench. Her body still felt weak, but her thoughts had never been more certain. "Nina, please take me home. There's something I need to do first." ...... What happens next? Available chapters here are limited, click the button below to install the App and enjoy more exciting chapters (Automatically jump to this novel when you open the app) &4&

She woke up in an interstellar beast-world novel as the fake heiress everyone hated—a spoiled, low-ranked female doomed to a brutal ending. The real heiress would return in two years, so she got to work fast: stealing opportunities, making money, and building connections with anyone powerful enough to keep her alive. She wouldn't touch the heroine's chosen men, but the ones the heroine kept around and never valued? She took every last one. ===== "Your Highness, take a look at this one. He's strong and sturdy." "And there's this one. He's thinner, but very attractive." "This one over here is very timid. Perfect if you enjoy something unusual..." People hurried to crowd around Ella Morgan, their faces glowing with eager flattery. Everyone knew that Ella, the third Princess, despite being only a C-level female with weak spiritual power, always spent money lavishly without hesitation. In their eyes, there was only one reason she would appear in a small market like this. She had obviously come to choose a few males as her servant. Their constant chatter made Ella's head pound. It had been three days since she transmigrated into this werecreature universe. In her previous life, she had been an ordinary office worker, squeezed dry by endless overtime until she worked herself to death at her desk. When she first woke up and realized she had become a princess, she nearly wanted to celebrate with ch**pagne. Unfortunately, that excitement disappeared the moment she absorbed the memories of this body. She realized she had transmigrated into a novel. She had read this novel before. The story centered around the true princess of the Central Empire, an S-level female who had been separated from her family and raised elsewhere. After finally returning home, she was treasured by her parents, adored by her two older brothers, and became deeply involved with more than a dozen exceptional males. Back then, Ella had enjoyed reading it quite a lot. Watching so many outstanding males grow jealous and compete for the heroine's affection had been undeniably entertaining. But the problem was that she had not become the heroine. She had become the fake princess, Ella. Even while reading the novel before, Ella had disliked this character who shared the same name as her. It wasn't even because the character was especially evil. Compared to typical villainesses who poisoned people, framed others, or hired assassins, the character had never committed any unforgivable crimes. She was merely obsessed with handsome males, spoiled by her status, and burdened with weak spiritual power. Even so, the author of the novel seemed determined to pour every ounce of malice onto her. The moment the true princess returned, the parents who had once spoiled Ella immediately viewed her as a fraud who had stolen their daughter's place. Her two older brothers, who had once protected her so fiercely, began to resent her for taking everything that rightfully belonged to their real sister. The males Ella had once admired turned against her with cruel words, while the nobles who had once flattered her openly ridiculed her. Later in the story, even after the character Ella experienced a dramatic rise in spiritual power and became a rare S-level female, she still lost completely to the heroine's overwhelming plot armor. In the end, everything was taken from her, and she was exiled to the Barren Star. Meanwhile, the heroine was living a sweet and carefree life. Back when Ella read that ending, it had infuriated her. She had never expected that one day, she would have to face that fate herself. After transmigrating, she spent a long time thinking things through and came to one conclusion. The story had only just begun. She still had a chance to change her future. There were still two full years before the real princess returned. And Ella's spiritual power had not gone through its second awakening yet. She was still only at C-level. What she needed to do now was secure enough resources to protect herself before the real princess came back. Money? Because of her weak spiritual power, the old Ella had developed a habit of spending recklessly to hide her insecurity. Even with an enormous monthly allowance, almost nothing remained in her account. Power? Although the old Ella was a female, who had a high social status in this universe, her spiritual power was painfully weak. On top of that, she had been spoiled as a princess and refused to take on any responsibilities, leaving her without any real authority in the empire. Ella spent the entire night thinking before finally setting her sights on the males. She planned to compete with the real princess for them. Naturally, she had no intention of fighting over the male leads who were completely devoted to the heroine. The males she wanted were the important characters who didn't end up with the heroine. To put it simply, she planned to win over the males the heroine had overlooked. For example, Kyson Howe, the heroine's most loyal guard later in the story. Kyson came from the family of a convicted traitor. Two years ago, his family collapsed. Some relatives were executed, while the rest were exiled. As for him, he was reduced to a mere servant. In the original novel, after the heroine bought him and treated his injuries, Kyson became deeply devoted to her. Now, Ella was here two years before the heroine would arrive. Getting Kyson to pledge that loyalty to her sounded like a great idea. With that thought, Ella continued walking deeper into the market. In the novel, Kyson was described as a werewolf. Ella searched for nearly ten minutes but still could not find any werewolf. The male beside her continued rambling. Ella interrupted him coldly. "Do you have any werewolves?" The male paused for a moment at her words. At that moment, another male nearby, who had failed to squeeze through the crowd earlier, suddenly brightened. "Your Highness, I have exactly the one you're looking for!" Ella lifted a brow and tipped her chin slightly. "Lead the way." The male instantly bent over with eager politeness and hurried to guide her farther into the market. At last, they stopped in front of a door. With a flattering smile, the male pushed the door open. "This one is tough and can endure all kinds of labor. He's still young, too. And he's really cute..." Kyson listened quietly as the male listed his so-called "merits." He wondered who had come for him this time. Suddenly, light poured into the room, so bright that he instinctively narrowed his eyes. Through his blurred vision, he could barely make out a slender figure standing outside. A sweet, clean scent drifted through and rushed into his nose. Kyson forced himself to lift his head, trying to see the female more clearly. Under the glare of the light, all he could distinguish was a pair of eyes that suddenly seemed to shine brightly. Then, he heard her clear voice. "I'll take him!" Chapter 2 We're Done The male was quick to read the situation. The moment he noticed the satisfaction in Ella's expression, he immediately raised the salary. Ella didn't find it unacceptable. There were a hundred thousand coins left in her account. Without hesitation, she handed over her bank card. The male accepted it with a wide grin. "Get out! Greet your new employer!" The silver-haired young male remained motionless, and the male lifted his foot, about to kick him. Ella immediately placed her hands on her hips and snapped, "How dare you kick him? Who gave you permission to touch what's mine?" The male instantly bent over in apology and retreated a step. "Please forgive me, Your Highness." Ella signed the contract, excitement rising in her ch**t. Her plan had succeeded! "Let's go," she said to Kyson. From Kyson's position, all he could see were a pair of slim ankles and the gently swaying hem of her dress. He forced his stiff body to crawl after her. After only a short distance, the footsteps ahead suddenly stopped. Kyson's body instantly tensed. He prepared himself for the pain that was about to come. Ella looked down at him and let out a quiet sigh. She lowered her gaze toward Kyson. "Can you stand straighter?" For a moment, Kyson almost failed to process her words. Then, he gave a small nod and tried to straighten his back. Ella quietly let out a breath of relief and led him outside. The moment they stepped out of the market, a bright female voice suddenly called out, "Your Highness!" Ella looked up instinctively. A young female with a ponytail was hurrying toward her with obvious delight written across her face. It was Zoey Dixon, the old Ella's closest friend. Ella looked away indifferently, her expression turning cold. A low gr**n suddenly sounded behind her. She turned around at once and saw Kyson's body swaying unsteadily. She quickly reached out to catch him. The pain from Kyson's injuries had made him dizzy for a moment. When his thoughts finally cleared, he realized he had collapsed into Ella's arms. Shock filled his widened eyes as he immediately struggled to stand upright again. Unfortunately, his weakened body failed him, and bl**d from his wounds smeared onto her clothes. This was bad. Kyson froze completely, not daring to move another inch. Males were naturally tall and big, and supporting him took more effort than Ella expected. She immediately gestured for a nearby guard to bring the car over. Feeling Kyson trembling against her, she assumed he was just too weak. By then, Zoey had already reached them. "Your Highness, I finally found you! Why did you come to a place like this?" Zoey's voice sounded warm, but her face showed clear disapproval. The moment her eyes landed on Kyson, disgust appeared in them. "This kind of place doesn't suit you at all! And you're even getting close to a servant like him. If Jonathan finds out about this, he'll dislike you even more!" Ella gave her a faint glance. Taking that as encouragement, Zoey continued, "Honestly, I think you should spend more time learning royal etiquette. Be more elegant and gentle. That's the kind of female Jonathan likes!" Ella finally lost her patience. "Shut up," she said coldly. Zoey was stunned into silence by her harsh attitude. Ella ignored her reaction. This so-called best friend came from an insignificant family with little status. Her spiritual power was just as weak as the old Ella's. Because they shared similar circumstances, the old Ella had treated Zoey as a close friend and cared deeply about her. Unfortunately, this friend had always relied on the old Ella's identity as a princess to benefit herself. She constantly used Jonathan Ford, the male the old Ella liked, to manipulate her. After the true princess returned, Zoey was also the first person to betray her and side with the heroine instead. Ella had no interest in maintaining this fake friendship. Right now, all her attention was focused on the male leaning weakly against her. The guard arrived and helped the half-conscious Kyson into the car. Ella stepped forward to get in as well, but Zoey suddenly blocked her way. "Your Highness, what is wrong with you today? I'm only saying this for your own good. If you keep refusing to listen to me, Jonathan will never pay attention to you again!" "Enough. I heard you already," Ella said and waved her hand impatiently. "Now move. You're blocking my way." Zoey stared at her in pure shock. In the past, Ella would have panicked the moment Jonathan was mentioned. As long as it involved him, she would obediently listen to every word she said. So why was Ella acting so differently today? "Your Highness! It's Jonathan's birthday party tonight. We're already running late. You should ditch this male and go to the birthday party with me now." Ella did not even bother looking at her. "You can go on your own. Move." Zoey was taken aback, embarrassment flashing across her face. Without the accompany of a royal, someone of her status would never be allowed into Jonathan's birthday party. For a moment, she even suspected Ella was deliberately humiliating her by doing this. Zoey clenched her teeth and threw out her final card. "Your Highness, if you refuse to listen to me, then I'll never talk to you again!" Only then did Ella finally look at her. She pointed at herself and asked, "What did you just call me?" Zoey blinked in confusion. "Your Highness..." "That's right," Ella replied with a faint smile. "So what gives you the right to order a princess like me around?" Zoey's face instantly turned red with humiliation. Ella brushed past her and stepped into the car. Furious, Zoey rushed to the door and shouted, "What is this supposed to mean? I'm your only friend!" The car window slowly lowered. Zoey's eyes brightened immediately, thinking Ella had changed her mind. But Ella leaned halfway out of the window and said, "Oh, right. I almost forgot to mention it. I don't think you're qualified to be my friend anymore. We're done. Also, make sure you return all the clothes, handbags, jewelry, and money you've borrowed from me over the years." "What... what are you talking about..." Ella's smile widened. "If you refuse, I'll have my eldest brother deal with your family." The car window rolled back up, and the hovercar quickly disappeared. Zoey remained standing there in a daze. She felt certain that Ella had gone crazy. *** Kyson thought he must be dead. Otherwise, why would someone be treating him so gently now? Ella pulled her hand back with a sigh. After returning home, she had tried using her spiritual power to soothe Kyson. Unfortunately, the results were barely noticeable. He still had not opened his eyes. Letting out another sigh, Ella took out the medical kit and personally tending to Kyson. Chapter 3 The Expensive Gift This wasn't something Ella should've handled herself, but she didn't trust anyone else to do it. She was worried rumors would start spreading. Especially if her eldest brother, Chris, heard about this. Although the old Ella was a useless female at this time, her father doted on her, and her mother was also very patient with her. Her second-eldest brother, Ricky Morgan, was an oddball in the royal family. He spent his days in the entertainment industry and rarely returned home. Still, they were close enough. But her eldest brother, Chris Morgan, was completely different. He was extremely stern. He was ten years older than her and currently served as a major general of the empire. He was stationed in the border sector year-round, but whenever he occasionally returned to Capital Star, his discipline toward the younger generation was so harsh that it bordered on unreasonable. Even the old Ella, despite being a female, couldn't escape it. She was terrified of him. If Chris found out she'd bought a male servant and kept him at her side, he would definitely scold her. So, Ella hid the unconscious Kyson in her room. The technology in this world was highly advanced. The medicine used to treat wounds came in the form of a nano-repair spray that could quickly stop bl**ding and stimulate cell regeneration. However, no matter how advanced the technology was, it still couldn't remove the pain caused when the medicine stimulated the wounds. "Ugh!" His eyes flew open, and he instinctively struggled, his arms lashing out in resistance. "Ouch!" A female's startled cry rang out beside him. Kyson immediately froze, cold sweat spreading across his body. He wondered if... in his struggle just now, he had accidentally hurt the female who had taken him in. Ella hadn't expected Kyson to accidentally hit her. Only after a while did she finally recover enough to straighten herself. When she looked back, her gaze met Kyson's half-open eyes. Ella bent down slightly until her face was close to his. "You're awake?" Kyson still looked somewhat dazed. Ella picked up the spray bottle and shook it lightly. "I'm applying the medicine to you now. Bear with it for a bit, and don't move." Kyson remained silent. His unfocused eyes stayed fixed stubbornly on her. In fact, he couldn't see clearly at all. Ever since suffering a head injury, his vision had remained blurry. But his hearing was perfectly fine. She was going to treat his wounds? For a moment, Kyson thought he must be dreaming. His whole body stiffened as fear crept into him. He was afraid the dream would suddenly shatter. Seeing that Kyson had gone still, Ella hurriedly finished applying the medicine. After treating his wounds, she looked at him and said, "Can you stand up? If you can, go sl**p on the sofa." Only then did Kyson slowly realize this might not be a dream after all. Even in his dreams, he wouldn't dare imagine a female telling him to sl**p on a sofa in her own room. Still dazed, he slowly pushed himself upright and tried hard to make out Ella's appearance. Ella pointed toward the sofa across the room. "Go." The sofa was large enough for him to lie down comfortably. Kyson moved slightly and realized his wounds had even been treated and wrapped with bandages. He nodded awkwardly and made his way forward. Then came a dull thump as his head slammed hard into the leg of a table. Only then did Ella realize something wasn't right. She walked over to Kyson and waved a hand in front of his eyes. Kyson's unfocused gaze shifted faintly. "You can't see clearly?" she asked. Kyson hesitated briefly before giving a small nod. A complicated look crossed Ella's face. She hadn't expected Kyson to have problems with his eyesight. In the original storyline she remembered, the heroine's rescue of him had only been mentioned briefly. Most likely, his eyes had later been healed by the heroine's spiritual power. But Ella couldn't do that. She didn't possess that level of spiritual power. Ella sighed to herself. The gap between a heroine and someone like her-a side character-was just too wide. After letting out another quiet sigh, she helped Kyson lie down on the sofa. "Just sl**p here for tonight." Kyson's body remained stiff as he lay there. Ella tossed a thin blanket over him before climbing into her own bed and shutting her eyes to rest. She was completely exhausted. Anything else could wait until after she woke up. Kyson lay motionless on the sofa for a long time, not daring to move. He hadn't expected this kind of reaction from her. This female had treated his wounds and even allowed him to sl**p on the sofa... Was this real? Kyson couldn't tell anymore. Exhaustion finally overtook him, and he slowly closed his eyes. Even if something waited for him tomorrow, at least tonight, he could rest for real. Not long after Ella fell asleep, the sharp ringing of her communicator jolted her awake. Still half asleep, she accepted the call without even checking who it was. "Hello?" A loud voice immediately burst from the other end of the call. "Ella! It's almost midnight already! Weren't you supposed to personally deliver Jonathan's gift? If you don't get over here now, you'll miss your chance! I've already covered for you for a long time, so where are you?" It was Ricky. Ella sat up groggily as the relevant memories slowly surfaced in her mind. Jonathan was an unfavored male from a noble family, the Ford family. By relying on the old Ella's status as a royal princess along with her popularity and resources, he'd managed to become a fairly well-known celebrity in the entertainment industry. The old Ella was one of Jonathan's most devoted fans. Every year on his birthday, she personally handled everything and showered him with ridiculously expensive gifts. Last year, she had given him a limited-edition Star Sea series hovercar, but Jonathan had complained that it was too flashy. So after learning from that mistake, the old Ella decided to give him something more practical this year. She'd asked Ricky to order a spiritual power bond crystal from another sector for her. It was said to help nourish a male's spiritual power, and it cost her a full one million coins. One million coins! Thinking of that, Ella became fully alert in an instant. "Ricky! You didn't give him the gift yet, did you?" Ricky let out a snort. "Now you're panicking? There are only eight minutes left before midnight. Hurry up and get over here already. I've brought the crystal with me. I'm just waiting for you to hand it to him personally." "Don't give it to him!" Ella nearly screamed. "Just wait for me! I'm coming right now!" But Ricky apparently didn't catch the rest of her shouting and abruptly ended the call. Ella jumped out of bed, threw on some clothes in a rush, and sprinted out the door. On the sofa, Kyson slowly sat up, confusion filling his face as his unfocused eyes stared toward the direction she'd disappeared. *** The party hall blazed with bright lights, and beautifully wrapped gifts were piled high in the center of the room. The guests kept glancing toward the second-floor terrace. Leaning lazily against the railing, Ricky casually held a small gift box in his hand. Excited gasps rose from the crowd below. "Oh my God! That's Prince Ricky! He's so handsome!" "Wait, aren't you a male, too? Why are you acting this excited? Ah! He just looked over here! He looked at me!" Clearly bored, Ricky tossed a few charming looks toward the crowd before withdrawing his gaze again. He sneered inwardly. If his sister hadn't begged him to show up at Jonathan's birthday party, a superstar like him would've never attended an event like this. And after making him come all the way here, Ella herself hadn't even appeared. Once he got home, he was definitely going to scold her for this. "Your Highness," someone called out behind him. Ricky turned his head, and annoyance immediately flashed across his face when he saw who it was. At some point, Jonathan had walked up behind him. As a male werepavo, Jonathan was undeniably good-looking. He was tall, with delicate skin and eyes that naturally gave him a gentle appearance. But Ricky still caught the trace of arrogance hidden in his gaze. "Princess Ella still hasn't arrived?" Jonathan asked, unable to hide the impatience in his tone. He found the situation strange. Every other time, Ella would've arrived long ago. But today, there was still no sign of her now. Ricky was losing patience as well. He lifted his hand, ready to hand the gift box directly to Jonathan. Once the gift was delivered, he could finally leave this place that made him uncomfortable all over. But just as he was about to pass over the box, an anxious voice suddenly rang out. "Wait!" Chapter 4 Ready To Choose A Prime Mate Ella's shout rang through the banquet hall, instantly drawing everyone's attention toward her. Under the stunned gaze of the entire crowd, she rushed onto the terrace, grabbed the gift box straight out of Ricky's hands, and clutched it tightly against her ch**t. Thank goodness. She'd made it in time. Ricky stared at her in surprise before slowly looking her over. "What exactly are you wearing?" A coat tossed over a nightgown. Was this supposed to be some new trend? Ella was still catching her breath when another voice suddenly interrupted with clear dissatisfaction. "Your Highness, you're late." Ella turned toward the speaker and finally got a proper look at the male standing beside her. Jonathan was tall and lean, with handsome features. Unfortunately, he wasn't remotely her type. Jonathan frowned slightly as he looked at her. "Your Highness, why did you come dressed like this?" Attending a banquet without even wearing a formal gown was an outrageous breach of etiquette. Ella paused for a second. The audacity of him! She was a princess, yet he dared to speak to her like this? If not for the expensive gift, she wouldn't even have bothered coming here tonight. Still, Ella kept a polite smile on her face. "Sorry about that. I was in a bit of a hurry when I left home." Beside them, Ricky silently turned his face away, his expression dark. He'd disliked watching his sister chase after this weak-looking male for a long time already. Unfortunately, Ella had always been hopelessly devoted to him, so he could only pretend not to care. He genuinely couldn't understand what Ella saw in Jonathan. In his opinion, if she really wanted Jonathan, all she had to do was pressure the Ford family a little, and Jonathan would've been her mate. Noticing Ricky's dark expression, Jonathan suppressed his irritation and decided not to pursue the matter of Ella arriving late. He generously let the issue slide. "It's fine. I'm happy you came, Your Highness." His eyes shifted toward the gift box in Ella's arms. Zoey had already told him that Ella had asked Ricky to order an extremely valuable bond crystal for him. He was waiting for Ella to personally hand over the gift. Ella blinked her wide eyes and spoke with visible nervousness. "I... I have something I need to tell you." The terrace wasn't far from the main hall, so the guests below heard her clearly. Instantly, they exchanged amused looks and let out knowing chuckles. Here it came again. Everyone assumed Ella was about to confess her love to Jonathan all over again. Every year on Jonathan's birthday, something like this would happen. Every year, Ella confessed her love and got rejected. And after every rejection, she ended up crying. The males who had witnessed this before were already used to it and practically treated it as part of the entertainment. But to everyone's shock, Ella hesitated briefly before continuing, "I came here today because I want to make things clear between us. We shouldn't keep seeing each other anymore. I can't keep fooling around like this." Jonathan stared at her in disbelief, convinced he'd heard her wrong. "What did you just say?" The surrounding guests instantly became interested. Something felt completely different this year. Had Ella suddenly changed her approach? Ella kept a serious expression as she spoke sincerely. "My mother has already started arranging a future prime mate for me. You know my spiritual power is weak, so my future prime mate will already be making a sacrifice by bonding with me. If I continue getting involved with other males, it'll hurt him. I've thought about it carefully, and I think I should start behaving more appropriately from now on. After all, if I keep getting tangled up with other males, my prime mate will suffer because of it. I can't do that to him. Don't you think I'm right?" Everyone present was completely stunned. The banquet hall fell silent in an instant. So everything Ella had done for Jonathan before had only been her... fooling around? And she valued her future prime mate this much? Thinking about it carefully, everyone started to envy her future prime mate. If Ella could lavish that much money and attention on Jonathan when she was merely "fooling around" with him, then once she truly chose a prime mate... just how much she would spoil him? Several young males immediately sensed an opportunity, and the way they looked at Ella quickly changed. Even Ricky was shocked. He snapped his head toward his sister in disbelief. Jonathan's face shifted from shock to humiliation before finally hardening into a cold expression. "Oh? Is that so?" he sneered. "Your Highness, what does your decision to choose a prime mate have to do with me? Choose whoever you want. Honestly, I'm curious myself to see how many males would actually want that position." He thought she'd gone crazy. Was she trying to play hard to get by doing this? This wasn't even the first time she'd done something like this. Every other time, she'd come back after a few days to apologize to him. But today was his birthday, and she was embarrassing him in front of everyone. A prime mate? She was nothing more than a useless female with C-level spiritual power. Who would want to be her prime mate? Ricky had finally heard enough. He looked at Jonathan coldly and said, "Forget everyone else. You're not even qualified to stand among the candidates." Inside, he cursed Jonathan repeatedly for daring to speak to his sister so arrogantly. Jonathan froze immediately, his face turning dark. His lips twitched slightly, but in the end, he didn't dare argue with Ricky. Ella might indulge him, but Ricky absolutely wouldn't. Not only was Ricky a prince, but he also possessed enormous influence in the entertainment industry. He simply couldn't afford to offend someone like Ricky. Ella nearly applauded Ricky on the spot, cheering wildly for him in her heart. Below the terrace, the guests had already started whispering among themselves. "Exactly. A royal female choosing a prime mate is a serious matter. The Ford family's status is still too low, and Jonathan's background isn't nearly good enough for that..." "What happened to Her Royal Highness this year? Why did she suddenly fall out with Jonathan?" "Didn't you hear what she said? She's done playing around. Hey, do you think I'd have a chance if I tried becoming her prime mate?" "You? Forget it. The prime mate of a royal female has to come from a first-class noble family..." As those scattered conversations drifted upward, Jonathan's expression turned stormy. For years, he'd worked desperately to make people forget that his father had once been nothing more than a servant. But now, all those efforts had been ruined. Meanwhile, Ella's full attention was fixed on the crystal in her arms. After saying everything she needed to say, she linked arms with Ricky and prepared to leave, even politely saying goodbye to Jonathan before going. "Now that everything's settled, Ricky and I should head back. Goodbye." With that, the two of them left the banquet under the watchful eyes of the entire crowd. The moment she climbed into the hovercar, Ella hugged the gift box and patted it with relief. This was worth about one million coins. She'd almost handed it away for nothing. But in the next second, Ricky snatched the box straight out of her arms. A faint smile appeared on his face. "Alright. Start talking. What exactly is going on with you?" Ella immediately fell silent. She looked at Ricky's handsome face and quickly searched through the old Ella's memories. Fortunately, although the old Ella had spent the past few years in a rebellious phase, she'd always been extremely close to Ricky. He'd spoiled her almost without limits. So, Ella copied the attitude of the old Ella from her memories, straightening her back with stubbornness. "Everything I said was true. You don't believe me?" Ricky narrowed his eyes. "Weren't you completely obsessed with your Jonathan? Just last month, you got into a huge fight with Mom over him and refused to accept anyone else as your prime mate." Ella touched her nose awkwardly. That was true. Because of that matter, the old Ella had argued fiercely with her mother last month, then stormed out of the royal palace and moved into her current house. Ella let out a dry laugh. "I was just... a little resistant to marrying a total stranger." Ricky thought for a moment and replied, "So as long as the male isn't a stranger, you're willing to accept it?" Ella nodded so fast that it was almost frantic. "I'll fully cooperate with the arrangements!" Jonathan honestly wasn't wrong about one thing. There probably weren't many noble males willing to become her prime mate anyway. And even if there were, she'd only just reached the age for bonding. There was still plenty of time before she actually had to deal with the matter. Ricky stared at her for a while before muttering under his breath, "How did you suddenly become this sensible?" Then, he tossed the gift box back into her lap. Ella immediately hugged the box tightly like it was a treasure. Just as she finally relaxed, Ricky casually dropped a bombshell. "Perfect timing. You'd better behave yourself these next few days. Chris is being transferred back to Capital Star soon to report on his duties. Don't let him catch you causing trouble again." Ella instantly felt her scalp prickle with dread. "Soon? When exactly is he coming back?" she asked. "Probably in about three days. He'll stay in Capital Star for about half a month, so you'd better behave." Ricky paused when he noticed the panic written all over her face. "You already did something bad, didn't you?" Chapter 5 Kyson Is Having A Fever Ella immediately shook her head and repeatedly insisted that she'd been behaving perfectly well. Ricky still looked doubtful, but he only gave a casual nod. "Relax. Haven't I always cleaned up your messes for you? Even if something bad really happens, just push the blame onto me. I'll handle it." Ella was genuinely touched. She immediately wrapped herself around Ricky's arm and shook it lightly. "You're seriously the best brother in the world!" Ricky went still for a brief second. At some point, his sister had gradually become quieter and more distant. It had been a very long time since she'd acted this close to him. Now, with her hugging his arm and speaking to him in such a soft tone, she reminded him of the little girl who used to cling to him when they were children. The thought made the corners of Ricky's lips curve upward slightly, and his mood instantly improved. *** The hovercar slowly stopped in front of Ella's house. Still unwilling to give up completely, Ella climbed out while holding the gift box up toward Ricky. "Are you absolutely sure this crystal can't be returned?" "Something like this can't be returned. Just keep it for yourself." The moment Ricky finished speaking, he watched his sister's face visibly collapse in disappointment. Only then did he remember that, with how weak her spiritual power was, she probably wouldn't even be able to activate the crystal properly. "Well... you can at least keep it as decoration," he added sympathetically. Ella stood there and watched Ricky's hovercar disappear into the distance. Finally accepting reality, she turned and walked back to her house. It was already deep into the night, and the entire place was dark. She shut the door behind her and turned around, only to freeze in shock. Kyson was standing a short distance away, silently watching her with his gray-blue eyes. Ella stared at him in confusion, unable to understand why he was standing there instead of resting. Moonlight streamed through the window, and under the pale glow, she noticed a pair of wolf ears had appeared on top of Kyson's head. They twitched faintly. At that moment, Ella still saw him as the future loyal guard. It instinctively lowered her guard. She even stepped closer in concern. "Your ears... why are they-ah!" Before she could finish speaking, Kyson suddenly staggered forward and threw himself at her. Ella was too stunned to react in time. "What are you doing?" Only then did she slowly realize how st**id she had been. She had actually allowed an adult male to stay alone with her in the same room. To hide him and take care of him secretly, she'd even dismissed all the guards stationed around the house. She'd completely forgotten that Kyson was destined to become the heroine's loyal guard, not hers. "Kyson! What are you trying to do? Just let me go!" But no matter how loudly she shouted, Kyson gave no response. "Kyson, I saved you, and this is how you repay me?" She couldn't understand it at all. Perhaps because Ella struggled too hard, Kyson unconsciously used more strength to hug her. Ella shuddered at the scorching heat pouring off him. Why was his body so hot? Then, a terrible realization hit her-he was having a fever. This was a critical detail she'd completely forgotten. In this world, male spiritual power was naturally unstable. At certain periods, they would experience a fever due to hormone instability. The period could last anywhere from one to three days. If a male going through it didn't receive soothing from a female, his spiritual power could spiral completely out of control. Kyson was actually having a fever right now? Panic instantly flooded Ella. Her spiritual power was pitifully weak. There was no way she could soothe him. Kyson felt as though his entire body had been dragged into a raging storm of heat. He'd already exhausted nearly all his strength trying to hold onto the only thread of reason he had left. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he vaguely understood what he was doing, but he couldn't stop himself. The scent coming from the female before him was unbearably attractive. It made him want to get closer to her. Kyson lowered his head instinctively and rubbed against her cheek, using his face to wipe away the tears running down her skin. With trembling fingers, Ella reached for the communicator wrapped around her wrist. Right now, all she wanted was to eliminate the threat in front of her. Just as she was about to activate the sequence, a strained whimper sounded beside her ear. A moment later, something warm and wet landed on her neck. He was crying? Ella was stunned. Her eyes met Kyson's. Those gray-blue eyes were overflowing with tears, completely filled with despair. Ella froze. In the end, she still couldn't do it. Blaming herself for being too soft-hearted, she desperately tried to gather the tiny amount of spiritual power inside her body to soothe him. Kyson's body suddenly trembled violently. He panted a few times, his breathing rough and uneven, before gradually calming down. Then, almost unconsciously, he lowered his head and rubbed affectionately against the side of her neck. Ella's body slowly relaxed. After a long while, Kyson held the unconscious female in his arms, bewildered. He recalled the burst of fragrance that had suddenly spread through the air earlier... What exactly was that? Why had the spiritual power raging inside him calmed down just because of that scent alone? And why hadn't she ki**ed him? ...... What happens next? Available chapters here are limited, click the button below to install the App and enjoy more exciting chapters (Automatically jump to this novel when you open the app) &5&

When they met again, her ex-husband tearfully begged for remarriage. However, the wheelchair-bound tycoon of business lore, rumored to be unable to walk, rose to his feet, clasping her hands tightly, "You are worthy of pursuing her?!" ===== "I've filed for divorce. Four million should set you up for life." Colton Stevens impatiently walked over, his frustration almost palpable. "It's our third wedding anniversary today, can't we at least finish this meal together?" Allison Clarke's face froze for a heartbeat. Her nails dug painfully into her palm as she fought to keep her composure. Colton scoffed, his eyes cold and distant. "Even if we finish this meal together, I'll never love you. Besides, Melany's back. She's proud, and she won't stand for this whole situation." A flicker of softness crossed his face at the mention of Melany Johnson, a warmth that had never been reserved for Allison, no matter how hard she'd tried. She had bent over backward for him, cared for his parents, and sacrificed everything for years. But none of it had earned her more than a passing glance. Melany was the one who held his heart--had always held it. She had walked out on him three years ago, breaking off their engagement and leaving for abroad. Yet now, with a mere word from her, Colton had easily embraced her return and chosen to divorce Allison without a second thought. Allison gripped the table's edge as if trying to steady herself against a sudden gust of wind. "Does your grandpa know about this?" Colton let out a sharp, mocking laugh. "Don't think you can hide behind Grandpa. He's in the hospital and can't handle any stress. My parents are on board with the divorce. In fact, Melany met with them just today." Allison's heart sank, an icy chill creeping through her veins. She had once been celebrated as a genius perfumer, renowned hacker. For three years, she'd buried every trace of that brilliance, molding herself into the perfect housewife. Just recently, she had secured a rare opportunity with Cobweb--the most elusive intelligence network--hoping to help the Stevens family clinch a crucial deal. A chance like that was nearly impossible to come by. Yet now, it all seemed like a cruel farce. "So, Melany's at your parents' place?" she asked, her voice brittle. "Naturally." Colton smiled, his features softening as if the thought of Melany made everything brighter. "They just had dinner. Melany's always gotten along with my parents. They've been singing her praises all evening -- saying how thoughtful and understanding she is." "And you all knew she was coming back," Allison murmured, her voice thick with disbelief, "but left me in the dark." Her eyes glistened, the sting of betrayal cutting deep. Thoughtful and understanding -- how ridiculous. His parents used to make the same comments about her. Colton shot her an impatient glare. "It wasn't on purpose. The butler just forgot to mention it. Don't start creating drama where there isn't any." He looked at her then, truly looked at her, and for a moment, his expression shifted to one of disdain. Allison had always been delicate, her skin flawless, and her features striking, especially her bright, clear eyes. But none of that mattered. She was boring, and that was all. The ideal housewife, yes--everything he could have wanted in a caretaker for his parents--but living with her was stifling. Allison ironed clothes and prepared meals with precision every day. Her routine was so predictable that Colton never had to wonder what she was doing. She was the picture-perfect housewife--dutiful and entirely devoted to staying home. But he was beyond tired of it. "And whether you accept the fact or not, you're leaving tonight." Colton hesitated, realizing how harsh he sounded. "You can move to Starfish Villas. Take the villa, it's yours." He had done his research on Allison. She came from a modest rural background, dropped out of school early, and hadn't seen much of the world. If it weren't for the fact that she had saved his grandfather's life, she would never have married into the Stevens family. In his mind, offering her the villa seemed more than generous for someone with her humble beginnings. But Allison's face didn't show gratitude. Instead, she offered him a thin, cold smile. "So, she's moving in now?" Allison didn't care about the villa or the four million he offered. She could make far more as a top-tier hacker. What hurt was being discarded after three years of loyalty. Colton sighed and said, "The room on the second floor was always hers. Melany's back and has nowhere else to stay, so I told her she could move in. If you're still here, she'll feel uncomfortable." Her silence was enough to annoy him, assuming she was unhappy with the deal. His frustration grew. "Don't push it. You need to know when enough is enough." He glanced at his watch, clearly counting down the time. "Now that I've lodged my divorce petition, we'll meet in the courthouse in a few days. You'd better make preparations and hire a lawyer..." He did not get to finish. "I know what to do," Allison cut him off, her voice laced with disgust. Her mind wandered back to a childhood memory--when she was blinded and in grave danger. A boy carried her on his back for three days and nights, saving her life. That boy had said his name was Colton Stevens. Now, three years after their marriage, that same boy was forcing her to leave. Time had an uncanny way of warping people into strangers. "I'll go," Allison said, snapping back to the moment. She stood up and looked at Colton firmly with detachment. "From now on, we owe each other nothing." Colton let out a breath, relieved. "Good." As if on cue, the housekeeper, Kaelyn Thorpe, appeared at the top of the stairs, struggling with a suitcase. "Sir, your parents called and said Ms. Clarke needs to leave right away, so I packed her things... Oh no!" Before she could finish, she dramatically yelped and pretended to twist her ankle. Allison's suitcase tumbled down the stairs, spilling her belongings everywhere. Chapter 2 Return "Ms. Clarke, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to!" Kaelyn hurried down the stairs, her face a picture of exaggerated concern. "Maybe you can just toss everything in a bag for now?" she added, hiding her disdain behind a sweet smile. Kaelyn had always looked down on Allison, seeing her as nothing more than a poor country girl who'd shamelessly latched onto Colton for a better life. Colton frowned in frustration. "You're so clumsy!" he snapped, glancing at the scattered clothes. Allison's suitcase contained so little--a few clothes and hardly any jewelry. She hadn't even spent much of the money he had given her over the years. She lived simply, frugally, and it was a reflection of how she had never tried to take advantage of her status. But love couldn't be forced or faked. "Melany's luggage takes priority. Just toss Allison's things in a storage bag," Colton added dismissively, eyeing the broken suitcase. "I'll have the housekeeper buy you a new one tomorrow." Allison gave a faint, bitter smile. "That suitcase was the one I stole from the kidnappers when we were running for our lives. If it hadn't been for it, we would've drowned back then." For years, she had taken care of that suitcase--just as she had taken care of their marriage. And now, like their relationship, it lay shattered. Colton let out a cold laugh. "That story might fool my grandfather, but it doesn't work on me." The memory of being kidnapped as a child was too vague, and he always doubted that Allison had been with him during that time. Turning to Kaelyn, Colton raised his voice. "Hurry up and pack her things!" "Yes, sir," Kaelyn eagerly began to gather Allison's clothes, but she deliberately stepped on them, dirtying them in the process. With a sickly sweet tone, she mocked, "Ms. Clarke, Mr. Stevens' grandmother always says that people are like clothes. Once a person's clothes are stained, it doesn't matter how much you wash; the marks never truly fade." Allison had always been kind to Kaelyn, even when she didn't have to be. After all, Kaelyn was a distant relative of Colton's grandmother. Years ago, when Kaelyn had made a blunder that nearly put the Stevens family at odds with Kellan Lloyd, the eldest son of the Lloyd family, it was Allison who had smoothed the waters. She had negotiated a deal with Kellan, who was paralyzed, securing the critical land for the Stevens' commercial project. Back then, Kaelyn had been grateful, almost humbled. But now, emboldened by the winds of change within the Stevens family, Kaelyn acted as if she had never bent the knee. It all boiled down to one thing--Colton's grandmother's favor had drifted, and with it, so had the family's attitude. "If clothes get dirty, you're right," Allison said, her eyes flicking to Colton, "they're impossible to clean completely." She shrugged, a casual finality in her voice. "So, I won't be needing them anymore." She had never liked those bland, shapeless things anyway. They had never quite suited her. For the first time, Colton looked at Allison as if seeing her through a new lens--her usual softness was now replaced with a sharp edge. After saying that, Alison turned and walked away. Stepping out of the villa, Allison dialed a familiar number. When the call connected, her voice was calm, almost light. "Rebecca, I'm divorced, and I've moved out of his villa. My house and car are still in Vrining. Mind if I crash at your place for the night?" On the other end of the line, Rebecca Green went from silence to squealing joy within seconds. "Holy crap! You finally divorced that i**ot! Forget crashing--you're staying over for a party! A single's party!" Even from a distance, Allison could hear Rebecca's exaggerated laughter bubbling through the phone. "If the folks at Cobweb find out the founder is back, the servers will explode!" Chapter 3 Cruise Party Inside the villa, Colton's gaze falling on the dining table loaded with food. Frustration flared inside him, especially as his mind flashed back to the memory of Allison just left earlier. Allison had stayed composed, but something about her felt colder, harsher than before--far from the docile, compliant woman he once knew. But the thought slipped away quickly. To him, Allison would always be that dull, submissive housewife. Without him, she'd be nothing. Outside the villa, a sleek Lamborghini pulled up, and a woman stepped out. "Allison, darling!" Rebecca rushed over and wrapped Allison in a warm embrace. "You know, you could live at my place forever if you wanted to!" Rebecca, the only daughter of the Eternity Group's owners, practically owned half the city's skyline. A roof over Allison's head was hardly an issue. "So, what on earth happened tonight?" Rebecca asked, pressing close, her cheek resting against Allison's neck. "You still smell like cooking oil. Don't tell me you were cooking for that m**on again?" Allison felt the familiar tightness in her throat, emotions rising as Rebecca's hug warmed her. "Let's talk in the car," she said. Once inside the Lamborghini, Allison began to recount what had happened this whole day. Her voice remained steady, but Rebecca's temper flared like a spark igniting dry wood. "Can you believe this? Colton got dumped by Melany on their wedding day, and now he's trying to crawl back to her by divorcing you? They're made for each other--two peas in a rotten pod!" Rebecca raged. "And his parents!" Rebecca added, her anger rising like a storm. "You've been looking after them for three years, bending over backward for that family, and this is the thanks you get?" Rebecca continued her tirade, her words like b*llets. "Listen, he's lost his memory of that incident in his childhood, sure, but that doesn't excuse what he's done. You've more than paid your dues over the last three years. There's no point pretending to be the woman he wants anymore. You've wiped that slate clean." Allison slouched in the passenger seat, her gaze distant as the world blurred past her window. "It's done. We're even now." For three years, she'd molded herself into Colton's image of the perfect woman. She'd ditched her heels, pulled her hair back, and settled for modest, boring outfits--ones she didn't even like--all to mirror Melany. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't compete with the woman he truly loved. "Allison, the truth is, the Stevens family doesn't deserve someone like you." Rebecca's voice softened, thick with the weight of emotions as she sensed Allison's exhaustion. "Divorce is a process, but until it's settled, you'll stay with me. You're like a sister to me, anyway." Allison managed a small smile. "Okay." Growing up in an orphanage, Allison had never had any family members. But Rebecca had always treated her better than anyone ever had. Their conversation trailed off as they arrived at an exclusive makeup studio. Rebecca rolled down the window and waved enthusiastically at Mary Brown, a famous makeup artist. "Hey, Mary! Got a little project for you!" Allison rubbed her temples, g**aning softly, "Honestly, I'm wiped. I don't think I can handle makeup tonight." "Oh, come on! You're not planning to keep that whole tired, 'still-waiting-for-him' look, are you?" "Yeah... Definitely not." "Exactly!" Rebecca's face lit up. "Relax and let the pros do their magic. These are top-tier, international artists. Tonight, they're bringing out the version of you the world's been missing!" Thirty minutes later, the transformation was undeniable. Nearly everyone who saw her in the mirror was momentarily stunned. Allison's naturally striking features had always been overshadowed by exhaustion. But now, with just a touch of makeup, she was breathtaking. Her long, feline eyes, accentuated by just the right amount of shadow, were captivating without going overboard. A delicate beauty mark drawn near the corner of her eye added a hint of daring that felt almost rebellious. Even Rebecca couldn't contain her excitement. "This... this is the Allison I remember!" She gestured to a rack of dresses being brought in. "Sweetheart, pick any gown that calls to you. I pulled out all the stops for tonight. We're celebrating your freedom on a luxury yacht. I swear, it's going to be a night you won't forget!" Allison waved it off. "I'm not in the mood." Rebecca watched her closely, sensing she could still be holding onto the past. Time to pull out the big guns! "You know there are going to be international perfumers at this party, right? Including the brains behind Charisma Company! Don't tell me you're not curious to finally meet him." Charisma was the country's most prestigious perfume brand. Allison had crossed paths with the CEO at an international perfumery competition. His creations had been nothing short of art. For the first time in forever, they evoked a feeling of déjà vu, something about them reminding her of her mother's style. But like her, the CEO was an enigma. He'd never showed up in public, even as Charisma shot to global fame. No one knew what he looked like, not even now. "Alright, let's check it out." Allison finally relented, her curiosity piqued. After all, she'd once hacked into Charisma's database, coming up empty-handed. And something in her gut still whispered that this mysterious perfumer could be linked to her mother, somehow... ...... What happens next? Available chapters here are limited, click the button below to install the App and enjoy more exciting chapters (Automatically jump to this novel when you open the app) &5&

Her stepsister stole her husband, just like her stepmother had once stolen her father. After learning she had stomach cancer, she found a way to get her husband to sign the divorce agreement. Thirty days later, they met again at a global technology conference. The arrogant man who had once looked down on her stood before her with bloodshot eyes. He desperately begged for another chance. Her brothers broke down in tears and pleaded for forgiveness. She simply turned around and walked away. ===== Stage II adenocarcinoma. The doctor slid the medical report across the polished mahogany desk. The diagnosis printed in black against the white page looked less like medical information and more like a death sentence. Roselyn Hudson watched the doctor's mouth move, yet none of his words seemed to reach her. Above them, the fluorescent lights hummed without pause, the sound pounding against her head. Breathing became difficult. The air around her felt scarce. Sweat gathered at the back of her neck before tracing a path down her spine. No tears came. Instead, she dug her nails into her palm until half-moon marks appeared in her skin, but even then, she felt nothing. What are the odds? Roselyn asked in an even voice. The doctor seemed taken aback by how calm she sounded. Patiently, he explained the treatments available to her. Targeted therapy. The possibility of surgery. The difficult months waiting ahead. Without any change in expression, Roselyn listened and nodded. Not long afterward, she left the hospital. As soon as the heavy glass door closed behind her, the strength left her legs. Down the cold tiled wall of the hallway she sank until her knees met the floor. The report remained locked against her ch**t. A sudden knot tightened in her stomach, and the tumor inside her made itself known again. Suddenly, her phone vibrated inside her purse. Her shaking fingers reached for it. The message was from her husband, Adrian Riley. Don't wait for me tonight. I have a business meeting. The text carried the same distance and indifference she had come to expect. As the successor of Riley Group, Adrian stood at the center of the city's largest real estate empire. For the past three years, Roselyn had quietly filled the role of the quiet wife behind him. She had given up a future in AI medical research. She had taken care of his home. She had tolerated the ridicule of the people around him. Through it all, she had loved him. Earlier that morning, however, a sweet unfamiliar perfume had lingered on his collar. Not long after that, his phone screen had lit up with a message from someone saved under a single name. Emma. Emma Hudson. Emma was Roselyn's half-sister. She was the daughter born from their father's af**ir with Sophia Grant. Sophia had once destroyed Roselyn's mother's marriage. Now it seemed the same story was beginning all over again. With those innocent eyes and that soft voice of hers, Emma had ended up in Adrian's bed. Roselyn's eyes remained fixed on the message. Another wave of pain tore through her stomach, spreading through her like fire. One tear slipped free. She brushed it away and her expression turned cold. Then she unlocked her phone and searched for two things. The rules for dividing assets after a divorce and the price of targeted treatment for stomach cancer. Forty minutes later, her car rolled into the garage at the Riley estate. Adrian's Aston Martin wasn't there. Good. He wasn't at home. Without hesitation, she headed for Adrian's study. The room carried the familiar scent of his cologne mixed with leather. Her destination was the safe concealed behind a painting. The code wasn't difficult to remember. It was Adrian's birthday. A click sounded from the lock. From inside, Roselyn removed a thick stack of contracts related to an acquisition Adrian was preparing for. After that, she located their prenuptial agreement. Carrying it to the shredder, she fed the document through one page at a time. Once it was gone, she printed a standard divorce agreement and carefully completed the asset division section using the information she had just researched. Afterward, she made a copy of the cancer diagnosis. The divorce agreement and medical report were then slipped into the middle of the contract stack. Next, she picked up her phone and called Jenifer Riley. Jenifer was Adrian's mother. She was also the person who controlled the Riley family's finances. For as long as Roselyn could remember, Jenifer had looked down on her and considered her nothing more than a woman after the Riley family's money. What do you want? Jenifer asked. Impatience filled her voice. Mrs. Riley, Roselyn said evenly. "I'm calling about my divorce with Adrian. I need him to sign the agreement tonight, and we need to discuss the settlement." Silence followed on the other end. A moment later, a quiet laugh escaped Jenifer. In her eyes, Roselyn had finally accepted reality and realized she would never truly fit into the Riley family. So you're finally showing your true colors, Jenifer said in a clipped tone. "Come to my place tomorrow morning. I'll handle everything from there." I'll be there, Roselyn replied before ending the call. Her eyes drifted to the documents spread across the table. A faint, bitter smile appeared on her lips. Only after midnight did the front door open. Loosening his tie, Adrian stepped into the living room. The scent of al**hol lingered on him, mixed with that familiar perfume. Roselyn remained seated on the couch. The stack of papers rested on the coffee table between them. Why haven't you gone to bed yet? Adrian asked with a frown as he ran a hand through his hair. There wasn't a trace of guilt on his face. What showed instead was irritation. These need your signature, Roselyn said as she pushed the documents toward him. "Your mother said they were related to the acquisition and needed to be handled right away." A long sigh escaped Adrian. He was well aware that his mother and Roselyn had never gotten along. Reaching into his pocket, he took out a pen and opened the thick file. Inside her ch**t, Roselyn's heart pounded relentlessly. Outwardly, however, she showed nothing. Using one finger, she indicated the last page. Sign here, and here. Tired and convinced Roselyn knew nothing about corporate matters, Adrian didn't waste time looking through the hundreds of pages. His signature quickly landed on every marked line. Without realizing it, he signed away his marriage together with the acquisition documents. Afterward, Adrian dropped the pen onto the floor. You don't look well, he said, his brow tightening further. The remark carried criticism, not concern or kindness. "Roselyn, don't start creating problems right now. I'm exhausted. Just let me get some rest." For three years, Roselyn had loved this man. Now, there was nothing left. Only an ending she could finally see clearly. It's nothing. My stomach's bothering me again, Roselyn said softly. "It's an old issue." Ask Donna to make you some soup tomorrow, Adrian said before walking toward the bedroom. Alone in the dim room, Roselyn tightened her grip on the folder. Then she took out her phone and sent a message to her best friend, Nina Parker. I have cancer. I'm divorcing Adrian. Nina replied, "What? I'm on my way!" I still need to deal with a few things. Come tomorrow, Roselyn responded. After getting to her feet, she headed upstairs. When she reached the master bedroom, she noticed the door hadn't been fully closed. A voice drifted from inside. It was Adrian. Emma, sl**p well. Roselyn stopped where she was. Pain churned through her stomach once again, but not a sound escaped her lips. Without looking inside, she continued past the room and entered the guest bedroom. They hadn't shared the same bedroom for months. After locking the door, she placed the signed documents inside the nightstand drawer. Under the faint light, she began writing. "Freedom Countdown. Sign the divorce agreement. Secure financial compensation. Return to my career. Keep the diagnosis secret." One final word was added. "Survive." Whatever happened, she had to survive. No one could know the truth. She would allow them to believe she was simply causing trouble. Without water, she swallowed two strong painkillers. Still wearing her clothes, she lay down on the bed and stared upward until daylight slipped through the curtains. By morning, Adrian was already standing near the front entrance, adjusting his watch. As Roselyn came downstairs, he glanced at her briefly. Then he walked out without another look. Soon, everything would be finished. The divorce agreement had already been signed. Drawing in a steady breath, Roselyn picked up her phone and called Jenifer. I'll arrive in thirty minutes. Chapter 2 You're A Snake Roselyn occupied a velvet armchair in the spacious living room. Across from her, Jenifer sat with a saucer in hand while her manicured nails struck against it at regular intervals. The gesture made her irritation obvious. Without a word, Roselyn pushed a document over the glass coffee table. Jenifer took the papers and looked through them. As soon as she reached the end of the document, her eyebrows shot up. She sl**ped it down onto the table. Thirty million dollars? Jenifer's sharp voice shattered the silence. "Have you completely lost your senses, Roselyn? What have you ever done for the Riley family that makes you think you're entitled to that amount? This is nothing but blackmail!" Not a single change appeared on Roselyn's face. She opened her designer handbag and removed a silver flash drive. Then she set it down in front of Jenifer. Every claim I've made can be verified, said Roselyn. "The drive contains records proving Adrian moved substantial marital assets into an offshore account under Emma's name. It also contains internal correspondence detailing how Riley Group dealt with tax issues connected to a major development project from last year." Jenifer's face immediately lost all color. Her grip tightened against the armrests. I'm only asking for what is legally mine. On top of that, I deserve compensation for the emotional harm I've endured. Roselyn settled back into her seat as she spoke. "If you choose not to agree, these documents will be submitted together with my divorce filing. The moment that happens, they'll become part of the public record. I imagine both the media and the IRS will be very interested in reviewing them." Jenifer stared at her, breathing hard. Only then did she understand how badly she had misjudged Roselyn. For years, she had seen Roselyn as someone weak and obedient. You're a snake, Jenifer spat through clenched teeth. You should know-I learned it from watching people like you, Roselyn retorted. Jenifer's expression hardened. If information like this ever got out, Riley Group could lose hundreds of millions in value. Compared to that, thirty million dollars was nothing. Fine. Jenifer gave in reluctantly. "But you're signing a nondisclosure agreement first. Then pack everything you own and leave Adrian's house." I have no problem with that, Roselyn agreed. Without hesitation, she accepted the NDA from Jenifer, signed it, and stood. You have three days to transfer the money into my account. If that deadline passes, the files will be released automatically. Leaving the house behind, Roselyn headed for the exit. The oak door shut behind her with a heavy sound. The moment she settled into her car, a slight tremor ran through her hands. She had succeeded. Instead of going home, she drove to her office. Long before she became Adrian's wife, Roselyn had helped establish a medical AI technology company as one of its founding engineers. After the marriage, however, fewer and fewer people viewed her the same way. She walked through the familiar hallways. The efficient, professional atmosphere felt completely different from the endless conflict surrounding the Riley family. Outside the office of Gerald Hardy, the company's operations director, she paused and knocked on the door. Surprise flashed across Gerald's face when he saw her. "Roselyn? I wasn't expecting you. Come in and have a seat." From her bag, Roselyn took out a white envelope and handed it over. "Gerald, I've decided to step down from my nonexecutive board position. For now, I'll also be transferring my voting rights." As Gerald reviewed the letter, a frown slowly appeared. "Does this have something to do with Mr. Riley's af**ir?" My health is the reason, Roselyn answered. She offered no further explanation. "Right now, I need time to rest." After signing the paperwork, Gerald let out a sigh. "No matter what happens, there'll always be a place for you here." Thank you. For the first time that day, Roselyn truly felt grateful. After leaving his office, she made her way toward the elevators. A hand suddenly caught the doors before they could shut completely. Nate Robinson stepped into the elevator. As Adrian's executive assistant, his arrogance rivaled that of his employer. Mrs. Riley, Nate sneered as his gaze swept over her. What brings you here? To see Mr. Riley? You know he can't stand it when you follow him around. Roselyn felt her stomach tighten. To steady herself, she rested a hand against her abdomen and kept her breathing under control. I'm here to complete the process of leaving the board, Roselyn replied calmly. "And from this point forward, you'll address me as Ms. Hudson." A moment of surprise crossed Nate's face before he burst out laughing. "Leaving the board? Is this another one of your attempts to get attention? Does Mr. Riley even know you're doing this?" Roselyn kept her eyes on the elevator doors and didn't look at him. "That's not something you need to concern yourself with." When the elevator reached the lobby, the doors opened. Without another word, Roselyn stepped out. Behind her, Nate remained where he was, still wearing that disdainful look. Once she returned to her car, Roselyn pulled out a notebook. She crossed off the second item on her list-secure financial compensation. Then she placed a check mark beside the first item-sign the divorce agreement. Below the four items, she wrote something new. "Freedom Countdown: 30 Days." A vibration came from her phone. A message appeared on her phone from her cousin, Stefan Hudson. Roselyn, there's a private dinner happening tonight. Would you like to come with me? For several seconds, Roselyn looked at the text. Exhaustion weighed on her. The stress and the tumor had left her body aching. Even so, she needed to start rebuilding her connections. She needed to find the version of herself that existed before Adrian became part of her life. Her fingers moved across the screen. "Where is it, and what time does it start?" Silence filled the house when Roselyn arrived home. In the hallway, Donna Flynn, the elderly housekeeper who had always been kind to her, was busy dusting. The moment Donna saw her, concern showed on her face. Roselyn's pale appearance was impossible to miss. Mrs. Riley, are you alright? Donna, I'd rather you call me Roselyn. I'm alright. Just a little tired. Actually, I'll be moving out soon. Shock spread across Donna's face. "Moving out? Oh dear... I'm sorry to hear that." Donna understood better than anyone how Roselyn had been treated under that roof. You don't need to be sorry. A smile appeared on Roselyn's lips. Though tired, it was genuine. "This is the right decision." Roselyn headed for the guest room upstairs. A suitcase came out, and she started packing her belongings. Everything Adrian had purchased for her remained exactly where it was. Her gaze settled on the closet after it had been emptied. At that moment, something she hadn't felt in years stirred inside her-anticipation. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, she opened her laptop and began writing an email to the mentor who had guided her in the past. Is there still room for me on the new AI diagnostics project we talked about last year? The email was sent. Before two minutes had passed, a response arrived. Roselyn! We've been waiting for you. After closing the laptop, Roselyn sat quietly for a moment. Goodbye, Adrian, she whispered to the empty room. Chapter 3 I Owe Him My Life For the private dinner, Roselyn picked out a black dress with a clean, elegant design. Just as she prepared to head out, her phone started ringing. Roselyn, I owe you an apology. An inspection came up and delayed me. Stefan sounded rushed. "So I asked a friend to pick you up instead. He's already outside waiting." A frown crossed Roselyn's face. "Stefan, that's unnecessary. I can make it there myself." Relax, you'll be fine with him. I'll see you at the restaurant. Before she could respond, Stefan ended the call. With her clutch in hand, Roselyn took the elevator down to the first floor. At the curb, a black Maybach was already parked. When she neared the vehicle, the driver got out and opened the rear door. Roselyn stepped inside. Someone else was already seated on the opposite side. The light from a tablet cast a glow across his features. Sharp bone structure. A calm expression. An authority that didn't need to be announced. His presence alone was difficult to ignore. The man sitting there was Kevin Wheeler. Roselyn stopped cold. Kevin turned to look at her. For a split second, something intense flickered across his face before disappearing. The change vanished so quickly that she couldn't be certain she had seen it at all. Hello, Roselyn greeted with a courteous smile. My name is Roselyn Hudson. I'm Stefan's cousin. Thank you for coming to get me. Kevin Wheeler. His voice was low and steady. "Stefan talks about you often. From what I understand, you've had a difficult time recently." Roselyn immediately grew guarded. Without thinking, she closed her fingers into her palms. Why would Stefan tell him something so personal? There are a few things in my life that need to be dealt with, she said after a pause. Rather than questioning her further, Kevin offered, "If you find yourself needing assistance, you can reach out to me." His tone remained casual, yet the offer felt far more significant than it should have. Confusion flickered across Roselyn's face. She couldn't understand why someone she had only just met would extend that kind of offer. Soon afterward, the Maybach rolled into the underground parking area of an upscale restaurant. Kevin stepped out and opened the door for her. Standing next to him made most people feel diminished by comparison. Roselyn rarely experienced anything like that. Together, they made their way into a private dining room where Stefan was already seated and motioning for them to join him. As the dinner continued, Roselyn began to understand the extent of Kevin's influence. He wasn't simply a friend of Stefan's. He was one of the investment world's most influential figures, someone capable of shaping the future of countless companies with a single decision. Even so, he spent most of the evening listening rather than speaking. Stefan carried much of the conversation with one story after another. Several glasses of w**e later, Stefan started talking about their family's past. Roselyn's uncle, Arthur Cunningham, was a legend, Stefan said with a grin. Arthur Cunningham? Kevin repeated. The way he said the name was noticeably quieter. "He is your uncle?" A nod came from Roselyn as a familiar sadness surfaced inside her. "That's right. He passed away many years ago." Kevin didn't look away. Something about the way he watched her sent a sudden shock through Roselyn. I owe him my life, Kevin said. The amusement vanished from Stefan's face. Roselyn became completely still. Many years ago, he pulled me out of a situation that should have ki**ed me, Kevin continued. His gaze remained fixed on her. "Afterward, he never asked for anything in return." An old memory surfaced in Roselyn's mind. She remembered hearing that Arthur had once rescued a boy from a vehicle engulfed in flames. He had been so happy because of that, but he had never revealed who that boy was. Since then, I've never forgotten what I owe him, Kevin said. "Meeting you tonight finally gives me a chance to repay that debt." Roselyn thought of the uncle who had always shown her kindness. Her throat tightened as emotion rose inside her. "That's not necessary. My uncle would've done the same for anyone. You don't owe me anything." I disagree. I know exactly what I owe. Kevin's voice made it clear he wasn't open to debate. "If there's ever something you need, all you have to do is tell me." Sensing the atmosphere growing heavier, Stefan cut in, "Roselyn, do you realize how valuable that offer is? Getting a favor from Kevin is like hitting the jackpot." Roselyn turned her attention to Kevin. There was no trace of pity in his eyes. All she found there was sincerity. She needed support now more than ever. Even so, she wanted to hold on to what remained of her pride. Thank you, Kevin, Roselyn whispered. "If the day comes when I have nowhere else to turn, I'll remember what you've offered." The corner of Kevin's mouth lifted slightly. Once dinner ended, Kevin refused to let her find her own way home and arranged for the driver to take her back. The ride passed in silence. When the car finally arrived outside her apartment building, Roselyn stepped out onto the sidewalk. Roselyn. Kevin's voice stopped her before she could walk away. "Don't forget what I said." Roselyn caught her breath. Before any response could leave her lips, the darkened window rose, and the Maybach disappeared into the night. A cool breeze brushed against her coat while she remained standing on the sidewalk. Her arms folded across her body as one thought after another ran through her mind. There was no doubt that Kevin was a dangerous man. Yet after everything she had gone through, he was also the first person to offer her something completely genuine. Chapter 4 Stop Making A Scene The following day, Roselyn met Nina at the hotel cafe. Across the table, Nina used the edge of her fork to cut into a slice of red velvet cake. I still don't know how you pulled that off. Thirty million dollars from Jenifer? That's unbelievable. Disbelief filled Nina's face as she shook her head. "Once she saw those financial records, she didn't have anywhere to run." Only a small smile appeared on Roselyn's face. Beneath the table, she quietly pressed her fist against her abdomen as a sharp cramp tore through her stomach. I just had something valuable enough to negotiate with. The strain in Roselyn's voice was difficult to hide. Nina was too caught up in the conversation to notice how drained Roselyn looked. "Oh, right. I think I spotted Kevin upstairs earlier." A playful smile spread across her face. "The man who offered to help you." Getting to her feet, Roselyn moved quickly. "Excuse me. I need to go to the restroom." Leaving the cafe behind, she walked into the hotel's grand main corridor. Without warning, another surge of pain hit her. The pain became so severe that she had no choice but to stop beside a marble column and brace herself against it. Her eyes closed as she concentrated on the breathing techniques her doctor had taught her. Several moments later, the pain finally began to ease. Slowly, she opened her eyes again. Directly across the corridor stood a luxury jewelry boutique. Carefully arranged lighting reflected against rows of glass display cases. One particular piece drew Roselyn's attention. An extraordinary sapphire and diamond necklace occupied the center of the display. Its name was "True Love." Roselyn caught sight of it and froze for a moment. Six months ago, Adrian had brought her to this same boutique. Standing beside her, he had pointed at the necklace and spoken in a low voice. "That necklace belongs to you, Roselyn. No one else should wear it." Back then, she had accepted every word as truth. Looking back, she felt fo**ish. Roselyn was ready to leave when movement inside the boutique caught her attention. All the color vanished from her face. For a moment, she couldn't move. The two people entering the store were Adrian and Emma. Through the spotless glass, Roselyn watched Adrian speak with the store manager. With an eager nod, the manager unlocked the display at the center of the boutique. Carefully, he removed the necklace and handed it over to Adrian. Adrian turned toward Emma. Using his own hands, he secured the necklace around her neck. An exaggerated g**p escaped Emma. Without any hesitation, she wrapped her arms around Adrian and ki**ed him. As he drew her closer, his hand came to rest at her waist. Concealed behind the marble column, Roselyn didn't move. Her nails bit into her palms until pain spread through her hands. A metallic bitterness settled in her mouth. The pain in her stomach intensified. Soon, the burning sensation rose into her throat. Breath became difficult to draw, yet her eyes remained fixed on them. With a shopping bag, Adrian and Emma eventually left the boutique. Roselyn tried to retreat farther into the shadows, but it was too late. Emma's sharp gaze locked onto her. A victorious gleam flashed across her eyes. Roselyn! What a surprise. Her sweet voice echoed through the corridor. Holding tightly to Adrian's arm, she guided him straight toward Roselyn. The moment Adrian noticed her, he stopped walking. Look at this. Adrian bought it for me. Lifting her chin, Emma made sure the newly acquired necklace was impossible to miss. "He told me the sapphires made him think of me." Nausea churned inside Roselyn, but she refused to let it show. What are you doing here, Roselyn? The question came from Adrian, and his voice carried nothing but cold disapproval. Anyone listening would've thought he was confronting a stranger instead of speaking to his wife. Roselyn met his gaze. How disappointing. This was the man she had given up her career for. This was the man she had once imagined spending her future with. I stopped by for coffee. Though Roselyn's voice sounded strained, it didn't waver. "I didn't expect to see you two." A frown appeared on Adrian's face. For the first time, he seemed to register how pale and unwell she looked. "Stop making a scene, Roselyn." Making a scene? A humorless laugh slipped from Roselyn's lips. "All I'm doing is standing here." Leaning against Adrian, Emma rested her head on his shoulder. "Adrian, we should leave. We still have to pick up my gown." Without another look at Roselyn, Adrian turned away. "You're right. Let's go." Roselyn remained where she was and watched them disappear around the corner. The moment they were gone, the adrenaline left her. The pain came rushing back with even greater force. It ripped through her body and almost drove her to her knees. She reached toward the marble column for support, but her hand missed. A strong arm caught her around the waist before she could fall. In the next second, she found herself held firmly against a solid ch**t. I've got you. The quiet voice sounded near her ear. Struggling for breath, Roselyn lifted her head through blurred vision. Kevin. Without any effort, he steadied her and led her toward a velvet bench tucked away from the main corridor. Kevin asked, "That man... is he your husband?" Roselyn shut her eyes. At last, a tear slipped free. "Yes, and the woman beside him is my half-sister." Something changed in Kevin's expression. Anyone could tell he was angry. "He humiliated you for another woman." It doesn't matter anymore, Roselyn whispered. Kevin's gaze shifted to the arm she still kept pressed across her stomach. "You don't look well." It's just an ulcer. I'll be alright. The answer came naturally, but her uneven breathing exposed the lie. For a long moment, Kevin said nothing. He clearly didn't accept her explanation, yet he let it go. What I said before still stands. The edge in his voice softened. "Whenever you're ready to be honest with me, I'll listen." Footsteps suddenly echoed from around the corner. Moments later, Nina appeared, panic written across her face. "Roselyn! I've been looking everywhere for you! I saw Adrian and..." The rest of her sentence vanished when she noticed Kevin. With a brief nod, Kevin acknowledged her presence. Before leaving, he gave Roselyn one last look. "Take care of her," he said to Nina. Then he turned away and disappeared into the crowd without another word. Nina hurried over and took hold of Roselyn's hands. "Roselyn, your hands are freezing. What happened? And why was Kevin with you?" Drawing in a shaky breath, Roselyn tried to steady herself. "He helped me." Slowly, she rose from the bench. Her body still felt weak, but her thoughts had never been more certain. "Nina, please take me home. There's something I need to do first." ...... What happens next? Available chapters here are limited, click the button below to install the App and enjoy more exciting chapters (Automatically jump to this novel when you open the app) &4&

As a substitute, she wanted to leave but was rejected. She thought her husband might start to have feelings for her, but as it turned out, he simply wanted to wait for his first love to return before getting rid of her. Faced with their intimacy, she taught the sc**bag and his mistress a good lesson and left without hesitation, focusing on her career. However, her unfaithful ex-husband actually began to pester her... ===== "We'll divorce on Monday. Aside from the compensation in the agreement, you may request anything else you need." Kristian Shaw, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, exuded an air of cold detachment. His voice firm and emotionless. His piercing gaze settled on the silent woman opposite him, his eyes inscrutable. "Why so sudden?" Freya Briggs asked, her voice quieter than usual. Kristian's answer was blunt. "Ashley is back." Freya knew exactly who Ashley was. After a brief pause, she replied, "Okay." Kristian hesitated, caught off guard by her immediate acceptance. Freya opened the divorce papers, her thoughts drifting to the past. Two years ago, they had met at a n**htclub. She had been weighed down by worries; he had been nursing a broken heart. A few drinks later, they found solace in each other's company, talking late into the night. There had been no impulsive o*e-n**ht st*nd--just a quiet parting afterward. Three days later, he had returned with his assistant to propose marriage. And she had agreed. After getting married, he had treated her well--tending to her needs, drying her hair with gentle hands, and solving her problems before she even voiced them. Their relationship had been perfect--until six months ago, when a single phone call changed everything. Overnight, he grew distant, his warmth replaced by icy indifference. That was when she learned the truth: Kristian had married her because she bore a faint resemblance to his lost love, Ashley Bradley. The memory made Freya press her lips together before she asked lightly, "You said I could ask for compensation, right?" "Yes," Kristian replied flatly. "Anything I want?" She lifted her gaze to him, her delicate face devoid of its usual brightness. For a fleeting moment, guilt flickered in his ch*st. "Yes." He had already resolved to grant her reasonable demands. After all, she had been good to him all the time. Freya's voice was steady. "Then I want the most expensive car in your garage." "Fine," Kristian agreed. "A villa in the suburbs," she added. "Done," he said. Freya smiled. "And a share of the money you've earned in the last two years." For the first time, Kristian's composure cracked. His eyes narrowed slightly, as if questioning whether he'd heard correctly. "What did you say?" Freya, unfazed, repeated her demand. "Our earnings during the marriage count as marital property, don't they? Based on my calculations--excluding investments--your salary and dividends over the last two years amount to several billion. I don't want much--just 40%." A heavy silence settled between them. Then, she added, as if casually mentioning the weather, "Of course, you're welcome to take 40% of my income too." Kristian's patience finally snapped. "Freya!" His voice carried an edge of disbelief. Had he really felt guilty earlier? How had he never noticed her greed? Freya met his gaze evenly. "Is that not acceptable?" Absolutely not. Kristian dismissed the idea instantly. "Then forget it." Freya set down her pen. "Next time I see your family, I'll bring up your emotional infidelity. I'm sure they'll take my side." Kristian's expression darkened, his stare turning glacial. He hadn't anticipated this side of her--realizing now that her past docility had been an act. "Do you really want to negotiate with me like this?" he demanded. "Yes." Freya held his gaze without flinching. She knew he despised threats--but she despised infidelity more. "Fine." Kristian's eyes turned stormy, his voice glacial. "You'll get what you want. But if the divorce hits complications, you'll regret it." Freya leaned back in her chair, her tone razor-sharp. "Kristian Shaw, is that a threat?" This version of her was foreign to Kristian. For two years, she'd been the picture of compliance--gentle, accommodating, never defiant. Now, she met his anger with unshakable calm. "No." Already calculating countermeasures, he bit out, "You'll have the assets. We divorce on Monday." Freya's lashes lowered briefly before she added, "One more condition." "Speak." His patience frayed. "Take me shopping tomorrow." She ignored the frost radiating from him. "Afterward, we'll tell your family together that I ended things." "Deal," Kristian conceded. With that, he strode toward the door, unable to stomach another second in her presence. Earlier, he'd even considered granting her a grace period to process the divorce. How laughable. She couldn't wait to carve up his fortune and be rid of him. Had Freya been able to read his thoughts, she might have laughed and said, "That little money? Do you really think I care?" Kristian reached the door and halted. Without turning around, he said, "I won't be back tonight. I'll pick you up at nine tomorrow morning. Make a list of the stores you want to visit." Freya's voice followed him, calm but laced with something sharp. "Are you going to see Ashley Bradley?" Kristian's jaw tightened. "That's none of your business." Freya let out a quiet breath, as if she had already expected that answer. "I don't tolerate cheating," she said plainly. "So before the divorce is finalized, you'd better not end up in b*d with her." Kristian whirled back, looming over her. Freya didn't blink. "What? Can't endure two more days?" "I understand your bitterness," he said, eerily composed, "but lashing out won't help. This is a divorce, not war." Freya blinked at him. For a moment, she was at a loss for words. This man was truly shameless. Kristian didn't wait for a response. "Good night." And with that, he turned and left. The door clicked shut behind him. Freya's gaze drifted down to the divorce papers still lying on the table. She stood there for a long time, unmoving. To say she felt nothing would have been a lie. She wasn't made of stone. The moment she discovered she was nothing more than a stand-in, the hurt had settled deep in her bones. Kristian had been her first love. In twenty-four years, no one else had breached her defenses. Before the betrayal, he'd been perfection itself--attentive, steady, silencing every doubt with his quiet devotion. So when she learned of Ashley, she'd offered to leave. To free him. But he'd refused. Chapter 2 Kristian Was Pure S**mbag The reason behind Kristian's refusal was simple. Before Ashley returned, he needed someone to manage his elders at home--and Freya, adored by his parents and grandpa, was the obvious choice. But sometimes, Freya couldn't help but wonder--did he really think she was a f*ol? Otherwise, why would he assume she'd play along in hiding his a**air? Now, with his sudden demand for divorce, frustration simmered inside her. Even after six months of steeling herself, a stubborn flicker of emotion remained. She let out a slow breath, crossed to the sofa, and grabbed her phone. She tapped the contact labeled "Fred"--untouched for two years--and typed, "Check if Shaw Group's facing any issues. And find out if Kristian's terminally ill." Fred's replies exploded onto the screen instantly. "Holy--Freya?!" "Never thought I'd hear from you again!" "Two years, Freya. TWO." "Where've you been?!" She didn't bother explaining. Mood sour, she fired back a single word, "Check." Fred caved. "On it!" She tossed the phone aside and waited. If Kristian was divorcing her to spare her some tragedy, she'd forgive him--maybe even help. But if he was just an unfaithful j**k? She'd drop him without a second thought. Thirty minutes later, her phone buzzed with Fred's verdict. "Zero troubles. No illness, no crisis. Why the h*ll are you asking? Kristian's loaded, hot, and sharp--you two are a match. Don't you like pretty boys? Give it a shot!" She ignored the jab and shot back, "You are so blind." Then she silenced her phone. No external factors meant only one thing--Kristian was pure s*um. Fred stared at his screen, baffled. Did Freya wake up in a mood today? Freya's gaze landed on the divorce papers. After a pause, she snatched a pen, scrawled her name, and shoved them into a drawer. Then she headed for the shower. When she emerged, her phone was a disaster--dozens of unread messages and 32 missed calls. No guessing needed. Frederick Price--aka Fred--had clearly blabbed about her resurrection to the entire world. Towel draped over her damp hair, she reached for her phone--only for it to ring again. The caller ID flashed; it was her father. Her ch*st tightened. Two years of silence, and now he called? She'd left Alerith City due to a situation involving her mother, and neither had she reached out to her father nor had he contacted her--until now. After a pause, she answered coolly. "Hello." Silence. Freya, never one for patience, was about to hang up when Hugh Briggs' raspy voice cut through. "Mina." That name clawed at buried memories. "What do you want?" she asked flatly. Hugh hesitated, guilt threading his words. "Frederick told me you reached out. Said you were digging into Kristian. Need help?" "No." Freya had no interest in his involvement. A beat passed before Hugh ventured, "What's your relationship with him?" "A couple." She let the word hang. "About to divorce." Hugh's breath hitched. She was married? "You--" he started. "If that's all, I'm done." Freya didn't want to waste any more breath on him. "Wait!" he rushed. She held her tongue. The line crackled with tension. Finally, he muttered, "When are you coming back? That woman's gone." Then, hastily, he added, "Your mom's belongings are untouched." Her fingers tightened around the phone. For a flicker, emotion crossed her face--then vanished. "Noted." She hung up before he could protest. Hugh stared at the dead line, frustration curdling in his ch*st. He hadn't even asked about her marriage. Freya didn't spare him another thought. She flicked her phone to airplane mode, towel-dried her hair, and collapsed into b*d. The night passed without dreams. By eight the next morning, she was up--dressed and breakfasted. Today, she'd taken care with her makeup. Her skin glowed; her lips, naturally full, needed no enhancement. But her eyes--sharp, luminous--were the real weapon. Her smile was bright, bringing a warmth that could instantly lift anyone's spirits. When Kristian arrived, she was already waiting on the sofa. Her shoulder-length hair was pinned back, bangs swept up under a black beret. At the sight of him, she rose gracefully, reaching for a coat and draping it over her shoulder. "Let's go." She grabbed her purse, her tone composed and unbothered. Kristian didn't move. His tailored suit emphasized his height as he said, "Not today." Freya stilled. "I have other commitments." His voice was indifferent. His gaze lingered--too long--on her face. "Tomorrow." "Kristian Shaw." Her tone was a warning. He disliked it instantly. "I put on makeup today," she said, her voice deceptively calm but carrying an unmistakable edge. "If you want our divorce to go smoothly on Monday, push aside whatever plans you have. I don't deal with people who break their promises." Kristian's eyes narrowed. After a silent calculation, he stepped out to make a call. Fragments floated back--Ashley... hospital... follow-up. Freya's grip on her purse turned white-knuckled. Inside, she seethed. Even now, Ashley occupied his thoughts completely. Kristian missed Freya's fury. All he saw was how she shone today--vibrant, untamed. Nothing like the subdued woman he knew. After hanging up, he inquired where she wanted to shop. Freya mentioned the largest luxury mall in town. This wasn't shopping. This was a spree. By 10 AM, the four bodyguards trailed behind her like pack mules--arms stacked with watches, jewels, designer bags. Kristian's phone chimed nonstop with alerts. As Freya strode into yet another jewelry boutique, his jaw hardened. This wasn't retail therapy; she was intentionally trying to irritate him. Chapter 3 Why Hurt Ashley? Gerard Todd, Kristian's ever-dutiful assistant, hesitated for a moment before asking, "Sir, should I go ahead and book a restaurant?" Kristian massaged his temples, irritation flashing across his face. "No need." He knew Freya was venting her frustration. If splurging eased her temper, so be it--he'd let her spend freely. The moment the words left his mouth, his phone vibrated. Another alert flashed--over thirty million had just vanished from his account. Gerard averted his eyes, while the four bodyguards stood stiffly, arms laden with shopping bags like silent, overburdened mules. Freya strode out of the jewelry boutique and casually handed her latest purchase to Gerard, whose hands were conspicuously empty. Just as she turned to continue her spree, Kristian's phone rang. His posture shifted instantly. The tension in his shoulders eased, his frown softening as he glanced at the caller ID. Long fingers cradled the phone, his voice uncharacteristically tender as he answered. "Hello, Ashley." Gerard and the bodyguards exchanged startled glances. Had their boss forgotten Freya was standing right there? "Ashley was in a car accident on her way to a hospital follow-up. She's unconscious--still in surgery," the voice on the line blurted, frantic. "Please come. She kept calling your name before they took her in." "Send the address. I'm on my way." Kristian's ch*st constricted, the words sharp with urgency. He ended the call, his gaze flickering to Freya. An explanation hovered on his lips, but he swallowed it. Instead, he turned to Gerard and the bodyguards. "Stay with her. Buy whatever she wants. If it doesn't fit in the car, have it delivered by this afternoon." "Yes, sir," the five men chorused. Without another word, Kristian strode off, leaving Freya and the others in his wake. An uncomfortable silence settled over the group. Gerard adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, forcing a polished smile. "Mrs. Shaw, don't worry. Mr. Shaw will return once he handles matters." "What a loyal employee," Freya murmured, her tone laced with something unreadable. Gerard blinked, thrown by her response. Freya studied the mall's glittering chandeliers, her voice deliberate. "Being his assistant is one thing. But cleaning up his messes? Tell me, Gerard--have you ever seen a man ditch his wife mid-date to run to his mi**ress?" The bodyguards stiffened; Gerard's smile froze. For a heartbeat, all five men stared at her with something dangerously close to pity. This might be the price of marrying into wealth--knowing her husband had left her for another woman while she was expected to swallow the insult. "Save the sympathy." Freya scoffed, amused by their expressions. She gestured to the bags weighing them down. "A single one of those could cover your salary for a year. Maybe ten." The blow landed perfectly. She pressed, "Well, anything you'd like?" Five pairs of eyes widened in unison. Freya's mind worked in ways they couldn't follow. "Since he's off playing hero for his darling, let's put his money to better use." She twirled the black card between her fingers, her voice quieter now. The sting surprised her. She hadn't realized Kristian's departure would still claw at her. Right now, all she wanted was to drain his account dry. Gerard and the bodyguards gaped. Delighted by their shock, Freya resumed shopping, the card clutched like a weapon. She assumed Kristian would linger at the hospital all day. But as she sat down to eat, he appeared like a storm, his presence slicing through the restaurant's warmth. Before anyone could react, he seized Freya's wrist and hauled her toward the parking area, his grip ironclad. Her back slammed against the car door, pain radiating through her. She winced. What the hell was his problem? His accusation came like a whip crack, "Why hurt Ashley?" Kristian trembled with suppressed rage. "You hired that hit-and-run driver, didn't you? I gave you everything you wanted, the house, the car, the money. What more do you want? Why did you still hurt her?" He looked like vengeance personified, his eyes glacial. "When did I--" Freya's confusion was genuine. "Still lying?" His voice could've frosted glass. "You planned this. Picked today so I'd be distracted while your hired man ran her down. You know I'd die before letting her suffer." His voice was Arctic frost, the kind that seeped into bones and made spines stiffen. Freya's initial fury dissolved into something colder, sharper. His absurd accusation had an ironic effect--it drained her rage, leaving only icy clarity. She met his gaze, lips curling in derision. "How poetic. Turning betrayal into some grand romance." "Freya Briggs!" Kristian's control frayed, his shout raw with warning. "You're delusional." She didn't flinch, status be damned. "Think. Why would I trash my fresh start--my freedom--over someone like her?" "You know exactly why." His voice dropped lower, a bl**e pressed to her throat. A realization flickered. "Ah. You think I'm still obsessed with you?" Kristian said nothing, but his clenched jaw and the fire in his eyes were answer enough. "Why should I still want you?" Freya laughed, the sound brittle. "After being treated as a stand-in? After your infidelity? After watching you fawn over another woman?" The words landed like sl*ps. Kristian stiffened. "I didn't cheat," he ground out. "You handed her your heart while wearing my ring." Her smile was lethal. "That's cheating." "Enough deflection," he snapped. "You're the one hallucinating conspiracies!" Silence. Kristian studied her, as if peeling back layers for the first time. The weight of his scrutiny was suffocating. Freya refused to wilt. "So she claimed I hired a man to k*ll her, and you just... believed her?" "Yes." His anger faltered under her unwavering stare, but the frost remained. "Ashley didn't lie. And she has proof." Freya's brows arched. Her fingers dug into her bag strap, knuckles whitening. "Perfect. Let's go to the hospital. Right now." Kristian blinked. Her immediate agreement threw him. Guilty people didn't invite confrontation. Doubt slithered in. Was the evidence fabricated? "Move." Her command shattered his thoughts. He released her wrist, disconcerted by her detachment. Something ugly twisted in his ch*st--annoyance? Guilt? Before he could name it, he yanked out his keys and wrenched the car door open. Chapter 4 Are You Threatening Me? Gerard stepped forward swiftly to take the keys, assuming the role of driver without hesitation. Freya yanked the passenger door open and slid inside, her gaze fixed straight ahead--ignoring Kristian entirely. A knot of dread tightened in Gerard's ch*st. What if Freya said something outrageous? The thought made his fingers clench around the wheel. After a weighted pause, he ventured, "Mrs. Shaw, you--" "Drive." Her reply was a bl**e, sharp and final. Gerard flicked a glance at the rearview mirror. Kristian's expression gave nothing away. Swallowing hard, he pulled out of the parking area. Silence smothered the car like a thick fog. The tension was unbearable. Gerard's shoulders tensed, his grip on the steering wheel turning his knuckles white. Neither Kristian nor Freya spoke. Both radiated a frost so deep it could've cracked the windows. Gerard knew Kristian's moods well--but Freya? She'd been almost cheerful earlier. What the hell happened? He bit back a sigh. Questions wouldn't help now. In the back seat, Kristian's gaze drifted unbidden to Freya's profile. Something unfamiliar twisted in his ch*st--an emotion he refused to name. Thirty minutes later, the car halted at the hospital entrance. Kristian seized Freya's wrist, dragging her toward the VIP ward. His grip was iron, unyielding. She winced, her voice dripping with mockery. "At this rate, I won't be the one charged--you'll be arrested for assault first." He dropped her arm like it burned him. Angry red marks circled her skin. Freya shot him a look so scathing it could've melted steel. Guilt flickered in Kristian's ch*st--brief, unwelcome. It vanished the moment Ashley's bruised face flashed in his mind. "Follow me," he muttered, turning on his heel. He didn't wait to see if Freya obeyed. The door swung open. Ashley lay propped up in b*d, her face lighting up at the sight of Kristian. "Kristian," she breathed, voice sweet with devotion. He was at her side in an instant, fingers brushing hers in silent reassurance. Freya strode in, took one look at them, and smirked. "Should I leave? Give you two some privacy?" "Freya. Enough." Kristian's voice was winter itself. He didn't look at Freya, his hand still resting on Ashley's back. "You're here to apologize." Freya closed the distance to the b*d, studying Ashley properly for the first time--soft features, delicate frame, eyes wide with practiced innocence. Ah. Now she understood. This was the woman Kristian loved. "Miss Bradley." Freya laced her fingers together. "My darling tells me you've accused me of hiring your attacker--with evidence." She stressed the word, gaze locked on Kristian. "Care to share?" "Kristian..." Ashley's fingers tightened around his, her lower lip trembling... ...... What happens next? Available chapters here are limited, click the button below to install the App and enjoy more exciting chapters (Automatically jump to this novel when you open the app) &5&

My fiancé's adopted sister was a well-known tarot reader across the countryside. Before any wedding in the village, couples would always ask her to read the tarot. A favorable draw meant a blessed union; an unfavorable draw meant disaster. Only those who drew favorable cards were permitted to register their marriage—a custom handed down in the village for centuries. In my ninth year with Jason, our ninety-ninth tarot reading came up as an unfavorable omen yet again. Before our hundredth attempt, I caught the sound of hushed voices through a crack in the door. "Jason, truth be told, every reading has actually been favorable. Angela is honestly quite pitiful, being kept completely in the dark like this." "Exactly. Angela is naive and strictly follows the rules. Aren't you afraid she'll run away heartbroken if she ever finds out?" Jason's voice carried no warmth whatsoever, "Eve has been spoiled rotten. She's terrified that Angela will steal away her special treatment once she marries into the family. Since I can't give Eve a marriage of her own... this is the only way I can make it up to her. "Besides, Angela drifted here after losing her memory. Even if she learned the truth, where could she possibly run to? "What's more, she is utterly miserable in love with me. A few sweet words and she'll forget all about it..." Every single word Jason uttered was like a thorn driving straight into my heart. It was never a matter of us being incompatible. He simply didn't want to marry me. My entire body went numb. Trembling, I pulled out my phone and typed out a reply to my mother. Angela: Mom, I'm not waiting for him anymore. I agree to the arranged marriage. ******************* I never told you to hide this from her. Don't go putting all the blame on me! Eve Lawrence's sweet, girlish voice rang out, and everyone burst into laughter. Jason Lawrence dotingly tapped her cheek, "That's right. This was all my idea. I can't bear to let you go." Through the crack in the door, I watched Eve climb onto Jason's lap, and the two of them kissed passionately, completely lost in the moment. The heated scene burned my eyes, but the other people inside looked on as if they had long grown accustomed to it, completely unsurprised. So this was it—everyone here already knew about the secret relationship between these two. I was the only one kept completely in the dark. It felt as if something inside my chest had shattered softly into pieces. They were right. I really was a fool. A complete, utter fool. I should have realized it long ago. Jason's feelings for his adopted sister, who he'd watched grow up since she was little, had long crossed the line between siblings. He brought her with him to every important event. On every holiday, there was always a gift for her, along with the one he gave me. He never let Eve go without, even if it meant denying my gift. Even the wedding I had anticipated for so many years was postponed indefinitely, all to make up for her regrets. Suddenly, someone spoke up, "How can she even compare to Eve? Jason only took her in back then because she was hurt and had amnesia. Who would have thought she'd just leech onto him and never leave? She played so hard to get at the start, insisting on waiting until marriage. But look at her now—she's let Jason have his way with her plenty of times. She's got no curves and is completely stiff in bed. She's the only one who thinks she's anything special… Jason furrowed his brows and shot the crowd a warning look. "Angela Pearson's shy. Don't say this kind of thing in front of her, or else…" Everyone quickly agreed that they would stop. My head went off like a thunderclap, and my lips turned white instantly. It was a bright, sunny day, but I felt like I had been thrown into an ice cave, and cold seeped through every inch of my body. He only prohibited them to say these things to my face—wasn't that just proof that he agreed with every word? I couldn't stand to listen anymore. I turned, and stumbled out of the courtyard and all the way home. After crying myself out under the covers, I fell into a heavy, groggy sleep. When I opened my eyes again, Jason had his arms wrapped all the way around me. He was asleep, and there was a glaring red stain smudged on his white shirt. I immediately thought of the scene I had just witnessed, and my stomach churned violently. I pushed him away, got out of bed, and clutched the trash can, retching my guts out. Jason woke up to my movement. Seeing how I looked, he frowned and got out of bed, his voice laced with concern, "What's wrong, honey? Are you not feeling well?" As he spoke, he lifted his hand and reached to pat the top of my head, like he always did. I stepped back, and his hand landed on thin air. Perhaps it was the first time he had felt this distance from me, Jason froze for a moment. My face was deathly pale, but I still shook my head, "I'm fine." Jason got up and poured me a glass of water. I took the glass and tilted my head back to drink it, when I suddenly heard him speak again, "The tarot was a bad omen again this time. We'll have to put our wedding off a little longer." I lowered my head and let out a bleak smile. On the first time, it was a bad omen, so he told me to wait. Then there was a second time, a third time… I had waited for him for nine full years. Even after I recovered my memory and reconnected with my mother, I still clung to him, too attached to leave for home. In the end, I found this whole thing was nothing but a complete scam. Jason, how much longer do you want me to wait? I asked with a hoarse voice. A notification ping popped up for his favorite contact. He lowered his head, and his mind was already somewhere else. Next time for sure. His tone was light, evasive and perfunctory. I closed my eyes, my nose stinging with tears. I can't wait for that day any longer. I Chapter 2 Jason waved his phone in front of my face. "We can't get a marriage certificate, but I'll throw you a proper wedding to make up for it. This is what the venue looks like after setup." My gaze fell to the photo on his phone—The entire venue was filled with all kinds of flowers, looking lavish and grand. However, just one small thing—I am allergic to pollen. It's Eve who loves flowers more than anything. Once, I reacted so severely that I went into shock and had to be hospitalized. When I opened my eyes again, the always-strong Jason was crying like a mess in front of me. He said he would protect me from then on, and this would never happen again. But now he acts like he doesn't care at all. An elegantly arranged wedding venue, but the bride is allergic to pollen. So who exactly is this make-up wedding for? I lost all interest, quietly went back to bed and closed my eyes. Early the next morning, he drove me to the bridal shop to pick out a wedding dress. Just as I was about to get in the car, someone looped their arm through mine. Eve poked her head out in front of me and said, "Angela, I want to sit in the passenger seat." Before I could answer, Jason made the decision for me, "Honey, Eve gets carsick, switch seats with her." Eve immediately opened the passenger door with a big smile on her face. Sitting in the back seat, I watched them feed each other snacks openly and affectionately. I suddenly remembered that Jason once solemnly swore that only his future wife could sit in his passenger seat. I already get carsick, and now I felt even sicker to my stomach. When we arrived at our destination, the shop assistant led us into the store. I immediately spotted a pure white wedding dress encrusted entirely with diamonds, displayed front and center. I walked toward it involuntarily, reaching up to brush my hand over the fabric. This is exactly the wedding dress I have told Jason I dreamed of, countless times. Tears fell before I could stop them. The next second, Jason pulled my hand away. "Babe, you got the wrong one. That's Eve's bridesmaid dress. This one is yours." He led me to a plain, grayish-tinged wedding dress. A chunk was torn out of the hem, which had also yellowed, and we had no idea what had damaged it. I froze, staring at Jason in disbelief, "You call this a wedding dress?" Jason nodded as a matter of course, "I had this vintage-style wedding dress specially designed for you. Isn't it so unique?" I tried to speak, but I couldn't get a single word out. The whole situation just felt utterly absurd. Eve lowered her head, acting like she had been wronged, "If Angela doesn't like this one, we can switch..." Before she could finish her sentence, Jason pulled her into his arms, "You don't have to wrong yourself like this. No one will steal your spotlight in this dress." Then he fixed his gaze on me, "Angela, you'll already be the center of attention that day, you don't need to wear something so flashy." While we were stuck in this deadlock, the shop assistant must have heard our argument and walked over. She glanced over the three of us, then put on a professional smile. This wedding dress of ours is the best-selling style in the whole shop, she said, pointing at the diamond-encrusted gown. And it matches your temperament perfectly. When you and your fiancé stand in the center of the stage, everyone will comment on what a perfect couple you two are. " She was giving Eve an enthusiastic sales pitch. I curled my lips in a mocking smile, because she'd gotten the bride wrong. After all, anyone could see who Jason was closest to. It was really an easy mistake to make. Jason's face suddenly darkened. He enunciated each word clearly, "This is my sister. My girlfriend is over there." The atmosphere fell suddenly silent. The shop assistant glanced at me, her expression a mix of awkwardness and pity. I waved her off, then turned to look at Jason. "Since you've already decided Eve will wear that one, that's fine by me." A look of faint satisfaction crossed Jason's face. He'd expected I'd compromise for him, just like always. After all, I had compromised countless times for him before. When Eve and I wanted to eat at different places, I gave in; When we both happened to like the same item, I gave in again. Jason smiled, and raised his hand, trying to stroke my hair. I stepped back. His hand froze mid-air, and a flash of surprise crossed his face. I sighed, swallowing back the ache of tears before I forced the words out, "Jason, let's break up." II Chapter 3 Jason's expression shifted, and he spoke in disbelief, "Just because of this trivial thing about the wedding dress?" Trivial? Everything related to me is trivial, but if the same thing happened to Eve, it would be a major issue. That's right, it's exactly because of the wedding dress. Eve suddenly rushed up to me. "Angela, please don't fight with Jason because of me, this is all my fault..." As she spoke, she grabbed my hand and forced it to hit herself over and over. I tried to pull away several times, but I was completely no match for her strength. Jason wanted to step forward to stop her, when all of a sudden, Eve let go of my hand and fell backwards. I hadn't used any strength at all. The next second, Jason shoved me hard. I stumbled and fell to the ground, and my head hit the table dead-on. I gasped in shock, but Jason didn't even glance at me; He rushed straight to Eve. I raised my hand to touch my head, and my hand came away covered in blood. I called out for help instinctively, "Jason, my head..." He was holding Eve in his arms, and he looked at me with disdain. "Stop pretending! You started it! You've been in the village for almost ten years now, do you still think you're the same little princess you used to be? You're not that delicate." If anything happens to Eve, you will pay for it. With that, he carried Eve and left in a hurry. Watching his fading back, I closed my eyes weakly. When I first came here, I was injured and had lost my memory, so I was terrified of everything around me. It was Jason who helped me. He taught me the customs and ways of life here, helped me build my confidence step by step, and then he pursued me, saying he would take care of me for the rest of his life. I didn't believe him at first, but during a sudden flood, I was swept away and almost lost my life. It was he who risked his own life to save me. After I survived that disaster, he knelt on one knee in front of me and swore he'd treat me well for the rest of my life, and that if he ever broke his promise, may heaven strike him dead. And I believed him. But now, time has changed, and I am no longer the one he favors above all else. I thought of my childhood days at home. Back then, I never had to compromise for anyone. Even though my family had other siblings, my needs were always prioritized, and I was never anyone's second choice. I started to miss home. Not long after I woke up in the hospital, Jason called, "Good thing that Eve is fine. She's been big enough to forgive you, but you still have to come back and apologize to her." Then he hung up the phone. I thought it over. Even if I was leaving, I still needed to go back and get what belonged to me. Once I made up my mind, I checked out of the hospital. Back in the village, I had just stepped through the gate when I saw a whole crowd of people sitting in the yard—all of Jason's relatives and kinsfolk. I forced myself to go in and said hello to everyone. His mother glanced at me sideways, speaking in a harsh tone, "I heard your tarot reading is unfavorable again this time. How can you be so useless? It's been nine years and you still haven't married into our family." Hearing this, everyone began chattering their opinions. Isn't she some kind of bringer of bad luck… If you ask me, a hundred readings all turned out bad, there's no use forcing it. We still have Eve, don't we? I've watched that girl grow up, I'd rest easy knowing she marries Jason… Jason's family never took a liking to me, an outsider, right from the start. But for Jason's sake, I bit my tongue and backed down countless times. Now, I don't have to endure it any longer. My gaze swept over the crowd, "That's right, I've also been wondering why they kept doing the reading after getting 100 bad omens..." A flicker of guilt crossed everyone's faces. I finally understood. All these years, everyone else knew the truth about the tarot readijng. That was why, even after 100 bad omens, no one stepped forward to drive me out. Only I was kept completely in the dark from start to finish. Your family's door is too hard for me to get through. I won't force it any longer from now on, I said calmly. Only then did Jason walk up to me. "What nonsense are you talking about?" I retorted sharply, "Now you come out to play the peacemaker? Why didn't you show up when your whole family was attacking me just now?" Jason was stung by my harsh attitude, and he softened his tone, "Come on, don't say things in anger. We'll hold a grand wedding tomorrow. After that, no one will ever say you don't deserve to be my bride..." I wrenched my hand out of his grip and walked straight into the house. Suddenly, my phone chimed. I looked down to see a friend request from an unknown account popping up on the screen. III Chapter 4 After the crowd dispersed, Eve carried a bowl of rice in and set it on the table. "Angela, don't be upset. Have something to eat." I lifted my gaze, and I froze. My eyes fell on the jade bracelet on her wrist, and all the blood in my body turned cold. That was the coming-of-age gift my mother gave me. I had worn it ever since I first came to this village; even the year I was almost swept away by the flood, I clutched it tight in my hand the whole time. Later, Jason offered to keep it safe for me. He said he would put it on my wrist himself during our wedding. Why was it on her wrist now? I jumped to my feet, stepped forward and grabbed Eve's hand, "This is mine. Give it back to me." Eve stepped back. "Jason gave it to me!" Jason heard the commotion and came in. He glanced at the bracelet on Eve's wrist and immediately understood what had happened, and said offhandedly, "Eve saw it the other day and thought it was pretty, so I gave it to her." I glared at Jason furiously, "You knew exactly how much this means to me!" But he just shrugged it off, "It's just a bracelet. Eve, give it back to her." Eve pouted sulkily, pulled the bracelet roughly off her wrist, and held it out to me. I reached out to take it, and the next second, Eve let go of it. The bracelet fell to the floor and shattered into pieces. I crouched down like a madwoman to pick up the pieces. Eve hid behind Jason, her voice trembling with tears, "I didn't do it on purpose, Jason…" Jason shot me a glare. "It's your fault for being so harsh, and that scared Eve, that's why she dropped it. Are you happy now?" With that, he wrapped his arm around Eve in a protective posture and walked out the door, as if he was terrified I would hurt her. As they passed me, Eve's stepped on my hand with her small leather shoes and ground hard into it. Once the two of them were gone, a wave of belated pain came surging up. I lowered my head and saw that my hand had been lacerated by the jade bracelet fragments, bleeding non-stop. But somehow, I felt that the physical pain didn't even amount to a fraction of the ache in my heart. When Jason came back, his attitude shifted, "What are you doing packing your things?" I paused in silence for a moment, "I want to…" Before I could finish my sentence, Jason's phone rang. He held up a hand to cut me off mid-sentence and answered the call. A moment later he hung up, quickly throwing on his clothes, "Eve has a stomachache, I'm going over to check on her. We can talk about whatever this is later." With that, he turned and left without the slightest hesitation. I wanted to say, "I want to go home and get married," but the words died in my throat. I stared blankly at Jason's fading silhouette, when a car horn blared and pulled me out of my trance. I dragged my suitcase out of the house and stopped in front of a black sedan. A man I didn't know got out of the car and took the luggage from my hand. "Get in. I'll take you home." I nodded and got in the car. The familiar scenery outside the window blurred past as we drove. For the first time, I could actually feel that I was really leaving this place for good. Oddly enough, I did not feel even a shred of reluctance.

Pregnant with my husband's baby—flew to his city to surprise him for our anniversary. His call hits me at the door: "Babe! Happy five years! Got a surprise for you—arrives tomorrow." I cover the camera, grinning. "I've got a surprise for you too. Five minutes." Hang up. This blonde in the elevator smiles at me. "Wait—you're Nathan's wife? He talks about you constantly." My heart melts. Elevator opens. His office—right there. Hand on the door. She grabs me, smile like ice. "I'm Chloe. Nathan's girlfriend." "This is our time. Stay here. I'll get you when we're done." Oh. Guess this is my surprise. Door slams shut. I'm frozen. Brain screaming. Chairs scraping. Then—those sounds. "Babe, I'm still bruised from last time. Go easy on me?" No. I didn't hear that. His voice—unmistakable. "What's wrong? You're being so quiet. Come on, let me hear that pretty voice." Every nerve in my body dies. Nathan. My Nathan. The boy who begged me to marry him. My whole life. Screwing her. Right there. Last night we FaceTimed about baby names. I should burst in there. Rip his head off. My hand's on the handle. I bolt. Elevator. Two girls giggling. "Oh my god, did you see Nathan's girlfriend? She's stunning. Five years and they're still all over each other." "Right? He literally moved the company here so she could finish school. Goals." Can't breathe. Ribs cracking. Five years. Same as our marriage. His "expansion" wasn't for our future. It was for her. Voice shaking. "Wait—isn't Nathan married though?" They look at me like I'm insane. "Married? Nathan? Girl, if that man had a wife, he'd tattoo her name on his forehead." "He parades that girlfriend around like a trophy. Wedding's in a week. Whole office is invited." Something inside me shatters. No one knows I exist. Our marriage—erased. Except her. She knows. Did he tell her while they were in bed? Over coffee? Doesn't matter. I'm the joke either way. Stomach flips. I crash outside, puking into the bushes. Tears choking me. Won't stop heaving. I look up. His office window. Two shadows pressed together. Don't know how long I stand there. Sun beating down. Sweat everywhere. His call lights up my phone. New shirt. Buttoned tight. Hair perfect. Face—nothing. Like he wasn't just inside her ten minutes ago. He squints. "Babe, is that... wait, are you outside my building?" I smile so wide my face hurts. "Yeah. Surprise." Nathan's sprinting toward me. His face lights up. "Babe! Oh my god—you're here? This is the surprise?" He's ten feet away and I can already smell her perfume on him. My stomach flips. I clutch the pregnancy test in my bag. "Yeah. Surprise." He grabs my hand, practically dragging me through the lobby. Reception's gawking. Including those two elevator girls. Nathan stops, shooting them a look. "This is my wife. Next time she shows up, walk her straight to me." Right. He thinks they made me wait. He leads me to his office. The place is pristine. Every surface wiped down. But that smell. God, that smell. He's rubbing my shoulders now like I'm made of glass. "Baby, don't pull stunts like this again, okay? That flight's brutal on you." Brutal. Right. The door flies open. Chloe breezes back in like I'm invisible. "Hey babe, left something in here. Just grabbing it real quick—" Nathan's whole body goes rigid. He yanks her forward. "Whoa—this is my wife, Emma. Show some respect." Then to me, voice smooth: "This is Chloe. My buddy Jake's little sister. He's traveling, asked me to keep an eye on her." Chloe's eyes lock on mine. That smirk could cut glass. "Oh, Emma. Right. Yeah, we already met. Remember?" Nathan blinks. "Wait, when?" I open my mouth— Chloe reaches under the couch cushion. Pulls out leopard-print panties. Holds them up like buried treasure. "Found them! Must've dropped these when I was changing this morning." Nathan goes white. "Babe—no, listen—she borrowed my office before my meeting—that's all—" Chloe's already twirling the lace, grinning at me. "Exactly. Nathan's devoted to you, Emma. And me? I've got my own boyfriend. We're so in love." She tugs her collar down. Hickeys everywhere. My nails dig into my palms so hard I feel skin break. Nathan's face cycles through panic, rage, guilt. He grabs Chloe's collar, yanking it back up. His voice goes hard. "Get. Out." She flinches. Eyes go glassy. He shoves her through the door. Slams it. Locks it. Then spins around, hands up like he's approaching a spooked horse. "Babe. She's just—she's immature. Don't listen to her. I'll make sure Jake deals with her." He's so good at this. Academy Award–level. I almost want to applaud. "Does lying get you off, Nathan? Like, is this fun for you?" He freezes. "What? Babe, no—what are you even—" Still playing dumb. Something inside me shatters. "She's not Jake's sister. She's not anyone's sister. She's your girlfriend, Nathan. You're marrying her in seven days." My voice cracks. "So what am I? Your side piece? Your backup plan?" I'm standing right in front of him—and Nathan's eyes are locked on his phone. His face goes white. "Babe, I've got an emergency. Just wait here, okay? I'll be right back." He's out the door. I stare at where he just was. Everything I've been holding in doesn't explode—it just caves in. Like someone punched a hole through my ch//est. He's done with me. This marriage is done. I sit there until I go completely numb. Finally I grab my phone. "Marcus. I need divorce papers. Adultery. He gets nothing." I hang up and walk outside. The city's massive and loud and I realize I have nowhere to go. My vision starts blurring. My knees buckle. A car slams into me. I'm on the pavement. Fire tears through my stomach. Something warm is spreading down my legs. Blood. My dress is soaked with it. I grab my phone with shaking hands. Hit his name. It rings. He doesn't pick up. The car door opens. Chloe steps out with her phone pressed to her ear. "Babe? Oh god, I just hit someone with my car. She's pregnant." Pause. "I won't get arrested for this, right? I'm really scared." Nathan's voice comes through her speaker—totally calm. "You're fine. Call an ambulance for her. I'll take care of everything." My heart just stops beating. He always said he'd answer my calls first. Always. Chloe squats down next to me. That smirk's back on her face. "Wonder what he'll do now. Think he'll actually come after me for hurting your little accident? Or make this whole thing disappear?" She grins. "God, I can't wait to see." I'm clutching my stomach, gasping. Can't get words out. My phone lights up. Nathan calling back. I can't lift my arm anymore. Everything goes black. I wake up in a hospital bed. The doctor's standing there looking uncomfortable. "I'm so sorry. We did everything we could, but we couldn't save the pregnancy." My hand slides to my stomach. It's flat now. Empty. The baby's gone. Chloe's smug face flashes through my mind and rage floods my entire body. I grab my phone and call Marcus. "I want her charged. Hit and run. Everything." But I don't get a court summons. I get cops showing up at my hospital room. "Ma'am, you're being charged with insurance fraud. Faking a pregnancy to extort money, causing severe emotional distress to the victim. Six days detention, ten thousand dollar fine." I'm in shock. "What? That's insane—I didn't fake anything—" They hand me a stack of documents. Medical records stating I was never pregnant. Witness statements claiming I'm a scam artist. All of it "proving" I made the whole thing up. And every single page? Signed by Nathan. Six days in jail. Darkest days of my life. Not just the mental t0rture—there's this crew inside that decides I'm their target. Beat me until I'm bleeding everywhere. Fresh miscarriage and they're making me hemorrhage on concrete. Walk out barely functioning. Sunlight bu//rns. Every sound's too loud. Get my phone back. Nathan's spam-called me. "Babe, where are you? Flew home? Could've told me. Been worried." "Why won't you answer? Still mad about Chloe?" "She's a kid. You're almost thirty—be the bigger person. This petty cr@p is exhausting." Started worried. Ended blaming me. All because I'm supposedly "holding grudges." Zero clue everything I just survived is his doing. Phone buzzes. Friend request. Chloe's selfie grinning at me. "Heard you got out. Add me. You'll wanna see this." Accept. Photo dump hits. Wedding shots—her in white, him in a tux. Kissing. Laughing. Picture-perfect couple. Like they're the ones who took vows. "While you were locked up? Nathan and I did our engagement shoot every day. Didn't think about you once." "Wedding's tomorrow! Come if you want. Unless you're gonna be weird about it." Sends venue address. I stare at the screen. Memories flood back. Grew up watching affairs wreck my family. Made me terrified of marriage. Nathan knew—so he rewrote his family's ancestral code just for me. Any Cross man caught cheating gets buried alive. That code's sacred to them. Only reason I said yes. Was gonna let him walk. Sign papers. Move on. But they killed my baby. They want me at their wedding? I'll be there. THE WEDDING Next day. Biggest venue in the city. Chloe and Nathan at the altar looking magazine-perfect. All smiles and sweet talk. I'm in the back corner. Watching. Phone buzzes. Nathan again. "Babe, talk to me. It's cool—soon as this wraps, I'm coming to find you. We'll fix this face to face." I almost laugh. Right as they're exchanging rings— Horn blares. Loud as he11. Everyone spins around. Funeral procession rolls onto the lawn. Six guys carrying a coffin. Guy up front's got a bullhorn: "Cross family law—cheaters get buried alive. Nathan Cross, you left your wife for your mistress. We're here for you."

After I caught my husband Clark having an affair with his secretary in the office, I filed for divorce. Unexpectedly, the only condition he proposed was to sleep with him... ** "Nyla, are you sure you want me to draft a divorce agreement?" Valarie's voice crackled through the phone, hesitant and worried. "Think about it. Once you sign this, you and Clark will have nothing to do with each other anymore." Nyla stared at the amber liquid in her glass. The whiskey burned her throat, but nothing could burn away the images from last night. Her fingers tightened around the phone. "Yes," she said finally. "I'm leaving him." "Why?" Valarie's confusion bled through the speaker. "Clark's been so good to you. He loves you so much..." Nyla almost laughed. Love. What a joke. She pressed her lips together, fighting back the bitter taste rising in her throat. After hanging up, Nyla looked out the window. The massive LED screen on the skyscraper across the street was still playing that press conference. Clark stood there in his perfect suit, holding up that ridiculous jewelry piece. Using the world's finest diamonds and gemstones, he had created a one-of-a-kind piece for his wife. It was named "Love Nyla." He named it after Nyla, declaring to the world his eternal love for her. Upon its release, "Love Nyla" instantly ignited social media discussion, remaining a hot topic. The world was buzzing about their enviable love. Outside, the LED screens continued to replay the video, but Nyla chuckled self-deprecatingly. "Love me?" she muttered to herself. "Love me enough to sleep with another woman on our anniversary night?" Last night was their third wedding anniversary. Clark had said he wanted to surprise her and asked her to wait for him at home. Nyla wore Clark's favorite white dress, lit candles, and prepared his favorite dinner, waiting eagerly until late at night. She had waited. And waited. Midnight came and went. At one in the morning, her phone suddenly buzzed with a Facebook friend request. A strange profile picture with the note "A surprise for you." Nyla was about to reject the message outright, but then the person sent another message: [Are you still awake? Is it because your husband isn't with you?] Nyla's alarm bells went off. How did this person know Clark wasn't home? She didn't accept the friend request, but the messages kept coming: [Stop pretending, I know you're reading this.] [Your husband is with me now.] [I was scared of thunder, so he worried about me and came to keep me company.] [What a good man, but it's a shame he's not good for you alone.] Each message stabbed Nyla like a knife in the heart. Her hands trembled. Her mind told her it might be a prank, but deep down, a voice frantically questioned it. The last message completely broke her defenses: [If you don't believe me, I'll send you the address. The door lock code is your wedding anniversary.] Nyla couldn't sit still any longer. With trembling fingers, she accepted the friend request. The other party immediately sent an address and a password: 0823. It was indeed their anniversary. Nyla rushed out of the house like a madman and drove to the address. It was an upscale apartment. She stood in front of the door, her finger hovering over the combination lock, her heart pounding. She entered 0823, and the lock clicked and the door opened. A men's suit jacket lay scattered in the hallway. She recognized it as the three-year anniversary gift she had given Clark, which Clark had worn when he left that morning. A pair of black lace paanties lay on the sofa in the living room, and a wine glass with a woman's lipstick stain on it lay on the coffee table. From the hallway to the bedroom, men's and women's clothing was scattered everywhere. The most striking thing was a red lace nightgown, torn to shreds, lying by the bedroom door. Nyla's legs were so weak she could barely stand, but she still trembled as she pushed open the half-open bedroom door. On the bed, Clark, na-ked, embraced another woman. The woman knelt on the bed, her head buried between Clark's legs, licking Clark's pen.is. Clark's eyes were closed, his face a look of enjoyment, m0-aning, "Yes, that's it, great..." The woman asked proudly, "Am I better, or is Nyla better?" Clark replied, "You think you can compare with Nyla?" Then he spun the woman around, grabbed her h1ps from behind, and thrust wildly. The woman's m0-ans mingled with Clark's heavy gasps. The scene completely devastated Nyla. Eight years had passed, from their innocent college romance to their current marriage. Everyone had envied their love, saying they were a match made in hea-ven. But now, it all seemed so absurd. She covered her mouth, resisting the urge to vomit, and fled the nauseating place. She drove to a bar downtown and sat alone in a corner, drinking furiously. The sharp taste of the whiskey stung her throat, but it couldn't numb the pain in her heart. When Valarie received her call and rushed to the bar, Nyla was already completely drunk. "Nyla!" Valarie's voice cut through her memories as she slid into the booth across from her, face etched with worry. "Why are you so drunk? What happened? Did Clark make you mad?" Drunk Nyla looked at her with red eyes. "Val, I don't want to hear that name right now." Nyla took another swig of the whiskey in front of her, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. "Val, I saw him hooking up with that woman right in front of me. It's definitely not a misunderstanding." Valarie saw her friend's pained expression and held her hand with a heartache. "Nyla, maybe you two can talk it out..." "There's nothing to talk about," Nyla interrupted decisively. "Divorce. Every time I think about him hooking up with that woman, I feel sick." Chapter 2 Nyla returned home and sat on the living room sofa, staring at her phone. The number she had just dialed glowed on the screen. After calming down from her anger and pain, she had to face reality. A divorce required financial independence. Clark was covering all of her father's monthly medical expenses. The bills reached a staggering $100,000 each month. She simply couldn't afford it. Her fingers trembled as she scrolled through her contacts. She stopped at a familiar name. Professor Anderson. Her former research supervisor from graduate school. "Professor Anderson? This is Nyla. Nyla Jayston." She tried to sound calm, but her voice cracked slightly. A surprised voice came from the other end. "Nyla! Oh my god, are you okay? I haven't been in touch since you got married three years ago." Nyla bit her lip hard. The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth. "Professor, I want to return to research. I know this sounds sudden, but I need a job." "Of course!" Professor Anderson agreed without hesitation. "You're one of the best students I've ever taught. Your thesis on molecular biology was groundbreaking. I can contact you right now with a company that's looking for a senior researcher position. The salary is excellent." "Thank you," Nyla whispered. Relief flooded through her chest. "I really appreciate this." "Don't mention it. You have incredible talent. It's a shame you left research when you got married. When can you start?" "As soon as possible." After hanging up, Nyla felt a small spark of hope. She could do this. She could leave Clark and rebuild her life. She walked into their bedroom and began packing. Her hands moved mechanically, folding clothes and placing them in a suitcase. Hanging in the closet were the matching pajamas they'd bought on their honeymoon in Paris. On the dresser sat a small angel figurine they'd brought back from Italy. On the wall were photos of them at the beach, laughing and kissing under the sunset. Each item silently spoke of past sweetness. Yet now they stabbed her heart like knives. How had she been so blind? How had she missed the signs? She opened the dresser drawer to retrieve some personal belongings. Her wedding ring caught the light, mocking her. Then she saw it. The marriage certificate. With trembling hands, Nyla picked it up. She flipped to the first page, revealing two young, radiant faces. Her own smile was so bright it hurt to look at. Clark's eyes shone with pure joy. It was August 23rd, three years ago. To become the first couple to receive their marriage certificate that day, they had woken up at four in the morning to queue at the registry office. Clark had been as excited as a child. He spoke nervously throughout the entire ride. "Nyla, we're really getting married," he had said, bouncing in the passenger seat. "I feel like I'm eighteen again. Like the first time I saw you in Professor Wilson's chemistry class." When the staff handed them the marriage certificate, Clark's hands had trembled violently. He took it carefully, as if it were made of glass. Tears welled in his eyes. "Nyla, we're finally husband and wife," he had whispered, his voice breaking with emotion. "I swear I'll love and protect you for the rest of my life. You're everything to me." Nyla had believed every word. She had thought they were soulmates. Forever. But now... She stared at her beaming smile in the photo. Before she could shed a tear, she heard the familiar sound of a car engine downstairs. Her heart stopped. The garage door rumbled open. Footsteps on the stairs. "Honey, I'm back!" Clark's voice echoed from downstairs, cheerful and casual. Panic seized Nyla's chest. She hurriedly shoved the marriage certificate back into the drawer. She wiped her eyes frantically and tried to appear normal. The bedroom door was still open. She couldn't let him see the suitcase. Footsteps approached down the hallway. Clark pushed the door open, his face lighting up when he saw her. Without warning, he wrapped his arms around her from behind. His embrace had once been her safest haven. Now Nyla felt only nausea rising in her throat. She could smell an unfamiliar scent on his skin. Sweet vanilla shower gel. He had obviously showered somewhere else before coming home. "Did you miss me?" Clark whispered softly in her ear. His voice carried a lazy satisfaction, like a cat who'd just finished a meal. Nyla's muscles tensed. She resisted the urge to shove him away. Her body felt rigid as stone. "Where have you been?" "I'm sorry, babe." Clark's lie rolled off his tongue effortlessly. "I was so busy at work yesterday that I fell asleep at the office. I completely missed our anniversary." He pulled an exquisite jewelry box from his jacket pocket. "But look what I got you to make up for it." He opened the box with a flourish. Inside lay an exquisite diamond necklace. The stones caught the bedroom light, throwing rainbow patterns on the walls. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" Clark's eyes sparkled with pride. "Turn around so I can put it on you." Nyla mechanically turned around. She felt like a puppet with cut strings. Clark's fingers traced her neck as he fastened the clasp. The cold metal pressed against her skin. The diamonds felt heavy. Suffocating. "Perfect," Clark stepped back to admire his handiwork. His satisfaction was obvious. "Tomorrow night is Grandpa's birthday party. The entire Summer family will be there. With this necklace, you'll definitely be the most beautiful woman in the room." "Do I need to go?" Nyla asked. Her voice sounded hollow even to her own ears. She just wanted to escape. To get away from everything connected to the Summer family. "Of course you need to go. You're my wife." Clark looked at her with what seemed like genuine affection. He leaned in to kiss her, but Nyla quickly pushed him away. "You should shower first," she said, turning her face away. Clark nodded, seemingly unbothered. "Good idea. I've been working all day." He grabbed some clothes and headed to the bathroom. The shower turned on. Steam began seeping under the door. Nyla's phone suddenly buzzed with a notification. She glanced at the screen. A Facebook message. Her blood turned to ice. On the screen was a photo. A woman wearing a necklace identical to the one around Nyla's neck. Hickeys and scratches covered the woman's pale skin. The photo was cropped to show only her slender neck and the curve of her breasts. Below the image was a message that made Nyla's world crumble: [Does the necklace look good? I picked it out especially for you. I wore it when we faking last night. Clark said it looked beautiful on me.] Chapter 3 Nyla felt a surge of nausea wash over her. She quickly removed the necklace from her neck. Without hesitation, she tossed it into the bedroom trash can. The diamonds clinked against the metal bin. She rushed into the guest bathroom and turned on the shower. The scalding water burned her skin, but she didn't care. She grabbed the shower gel and frantically scrubbed her neck and body. She needed to remove every trace of Clark. Every memory of his touch. Her skin turned red from the harsh scrubbing, but she still felt dirty. The thought of that necklace clinging to another woman's neck made her sick. She imagined it swaying as that woman moved beneath Clark. The mental image made her stomach lurch. The bathroom door suddenly opened. Clark stood in the doorway, his eyes fixed on Nyla through the glass shower door. His gaze traveled over her wet hair, down her shoulders, following the water droplets that traced her curves. Clark's breathing became heavy. His eyes burned with lust. "Nyla, you're so beautiful," he said, his voice thick with desire. Nyla heard his voice and immediately wrapped herself in a towel. She stepped out of the shower, but the thought that he might have looked at that other woman the same way made her nauseous. "Don't come near me." Nyla took several steps back, but Clark was already approaching. "Baby, what's wrong?" Clark reached out to touch her cheek, but Nyla quickly dodged his hand. Clark didn't give up. Instead, he pulled her into his arms. His hands began wandering over her body, caressing her back through the towel. Then they moved lower. "Nyla, I want you," he whispered in her ear. His breath was hot against her skin. Nyla's body went rigid. She tried to pull away, but Clark was much stronger. His hand moved to her breast, his thumb brushing over the sensitive skin. His other hand slid down toward her inner th1gh. "Let's have a baby, okay?" Clark's voice was filled with longing. "We could have a beautiful child. A little girl with your eyes." Nyla felt ice water flood her veins. She thought of the photo that woman had sent. The same hands that were touching her now had been all over another woman's body just hours ago. Anger and disgust exploded inside her chest. "Get away from me!" Nyla pushed Clark with all her strength. "Clark, I'm tired! I don't want to do this right now!" Clark stumbled backward, startled by her sudden fury. He stared at Nyla's face, confusion clouding his features. "Honey, I'm sorry." His voice immediately filled with guilt. "I shouldn't have pushed you. I just want you so badly. I love you so much." He paused, searching her face. "If you don't want a child right now, we can wait." Watching Clark's apologetic expression, Nyla felt a mixture of emotions churning in her stomach. This man had been gentle and caring toward her for three years. She couldn't reconcile this version of him with the man who had been with another woman last night. But the facts were undeniable. Those photos. Those messages. The necklace in the trash can. That night, Nyla lay awake staring at the ceiling. Clark's breathing was even beside her. The painful images replayed in her mind over and over. She didn't sleep until dawn. The next morning, Nyla woke with dark circles under her eyes. Her reflection in the mirror looked hollow and tired. "Honey, are you feeling okay?" Clark asked with concern. "You look exhausted. Maybe you should rest today." Nyla shook her head. "I'm fine. We need to get ready for your grandfather's birthday party." As they drove through the gates of the Summer family estate, a black car suddenly roared past them. It stopped directly in front of the main entrance. The license plate read "DAMON-1." Clark's hands tightened on the steering wheel. His face darkened instantly. "Uncle Damon," he muttered under his breath. Damon Summer was Clark's uncle, Richard's youngest son. Despite being only six years older than Clark, Damon had always intimidated his nephew. He had refused to join the family business, starting his own company instead. That company was now worth five times more than Summer Group. Damon was known for being brilliant, ruthless, and vindictive. Last year, he had overheard Clark making disparaging comments about him at a business dinner. As punishment, Damon had refused a potential partnership that would have brought Summer Group hundreds of millions in revenue. Clark parked behind the car. As Nyla stepped out of the car, her high heel caught in the gravel driveway. She wobbled, about to fall backward. Suddenly, a pair of strong hands caught her waist, steadying her against a solid chest. Nyla looked up into a pair of deep, dark eyes. The man was tall and imposing, probably around twenty-nine. His features were sharp and perfectly sculpted. High cheekbones, a straight nose, a strong jawline. He wore a tailored dark gray suit that emphasized his broad shoulders and lean build. This was Damon Summer. "Careful," Damon said. His voice was deep and magnetic, with a hint of genuine concern. For a moment, Nyla found herself caught in his gaze. Clark appeared beside them, his face flushed with jealousy. He roughly grabbed Nyla's hand and pulled her away from Damon. "Thank you, Uncle," Clark said tersely. His voice was tight with barely controlled anger. He dragged Nyla toward the manor entrance. After they'd walked a few steps, he leaned close to her ear. "Nyla, you know I don't like you getting too close to other men," he whispered harshly. "Not even my uncle." Nyla almost laughed at the irony. Here was Clark, who had been with another woman just last night, acting possessive about her talking to his uncle. "So you'd rather have your wife fall flat on her face in front of the Summer family estate?" she replied coldly. Clark immediately backed down. "Honey, that's not what I meant. I just don't want people to get the wrong idea." Nyla ignored him and continued walking toward the entrance. The Summer family manor was impressive, with its grand foyer and crystal chandeliers. But Nyla felt no joy at being here. In the living room, Clark's grandmother Marie immediately called out with a beaming smile. "Nyla, Clark, you're here! Come sit down!" Nyla took a deep breath and forced a polite smile. Whatever her feelings about Clark, she still respected his grandparents. Richard had always treated her kindly. "Hello, Grandpa. Hello, Grandma," she greeted them warmly. Marie's eyes lit up as she watched Clark and Nyla approach. She had been trying to convince Damon to settle down for years. "Come, sit here next to me," Marie patted the sofa beside her. As they settled in, Damon entered the living room. Marie's expression immediately shifted to disapproval. "Look at Clark," she said pointedly to Damon. "He's got his company running smoothly, and his wife is absolutely beautiful. They might be giving us a great-grandchild soon." Her voice grew stern. "And you? You're almost thirty and still single. If you don't bring a girlfriend to the next family gathering, don't bother coming at all!" Damon's gaze flicked to Clark, then settled on Nyla. His lips curved into a half-smile. "Yes," he said quietly. "Really beautiful." Chapter 4 Marie's headache intensified at Damon's nonchalant attitude. She shook her head and turned her attention to Clark and Nyla. "You've been married for three years now. When are you planning on having kids? I'm looking forward to having great-grandchildren." The moment this topic came up, the atmosphere in the living room suddenly became tense. Nyla's fingers gripped her teacup so tightly her knuckles turned white. This was her most sensitive topic, the one that pierced her heart every time it was mentioned. Clark's aunt Anne immediately seized the opportunity. She leaned forward with a sneer. "Nyla, you and Clark have been married for three years. What will it look like if you don't have a child? What will others think of our Summer family?" She paused, malice glinting in her eyes. "And if Clark hadn't insisted on marrying you, do you think you could have married into our Summer family with your background? Don't be so ungrateful. You don't want to have children for Clark, but there are plenty of women out there who would." Anne spoke with mock concern, but her gaze was filled with contempt. She had always looked down on this niece-in-law. Talking about children made Nyla's chest tighten with pain. Of course she wanted a child. She had given up her promising career in scientific research to be a good wife. But she couldn't conceive. She had secretly visited doctors who said nothing was wrong with her body. Perhaps it was stress. But the Summer family often mocked her, calling her barren and useless. Just as Nyla was drowning in humiliation, Clark suddenly took her hand. He smiled at his grandmother. "Grandma, we're trying! There's no rushing these things. We have to let nature take its course." Then he turned to Anne, his voice stern. "Anne, watch your words. Nyla is my wife, and I won't tolerate anyone speaking to her like that." Anne's face flushed red at being publicly rebuked. "I'm doing this for your own good. You've been married for so long without any progress..." "That's enough," Clark interrupted sharply. "You don't need to worry about Nyla and me. And I want to make it clear that I'm honored to have Nyla as my wife. She didn't marry up." Nyla felt a confusing mix of emotions as she listened to Clark's defense. The love they had shared over the years was genuine. Clark's protection of her had always felt real. He consistently stood between her and his family's criticism. But at the same time, his betrayal was also real. Those photos, that necklace in the trash can, the woman's taunting messages. All of it reminded her that this man had deceived her completely. Anne was clearly unwilling to let this go. She continued with false sweetness. "I'm just telling the truth. No pre-gnancy in three years? Maybe there's something wrong with her body. With all the medical advances these days, she should get checked out. There are treatments for these things." "Anne!" Clark's voice turned dangerously cold. "I'm warning you for the last time. Whether or when we have children is between Nyla and me. It's not your business to interfere." In the past, Nyla would have been grateful for Clark's protection. She would have seen it as proof of his love. But today, hearing these words felt hollow. She knew that the moment Clark cheated, everything changed. No amount of public defense could erase what he had done in private. Midway through the banquet, Clark's phone suddenly rang. "Sorry, everyone," Clark said with an apologetic smile. "There's an emergency at work. I need to handle this right away." He turned to Nyla, his expression softening. "Honey, can you have Grandma's driver take you home? I'll be back as soon as I can." Marie waved dismissively. "Clark, go ahead. Don't worry about Nyla." Clark kissed Nyla's forehead quickly. "I'll make this up to you, I promise." As soon as Clark's car disappeared down the driveway, Marie's polite mask slipped completely. She looked at Nyla with open displeasure. "Well, now that Clark's gone," Marie said coolly, "I suppose you'll be wanting to leave too." The temperature in the room seemed to drop. "Nyla's not some delicate flower," Anne chimed in with renewed confidence. "She can find her own way home, can't she?" Nyla felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment. She had been dismissed like a servant. Without Clark's protection, she meant nothing to these people. "I think that's my cue to leave," Nyla said. She stood up. "Thank you for your hospitality." The butler, following Marie's subtle nod, escorted Nyla only to the manor gate. He immediately turned back toward the house, leaving her standing alone on the roadside. That's when the rain started. Fat droplets fell from the dark sky, quickly soaking through Nyla's silk dress. She pulled out her phone to call a taxi, but the app showed no available drivers in this remote area. The Summer estate was far from the city center. The rain intensified rapidly. Within minutes, Nyla was completely drenched. Her carefully styled hair hung in wet strands around her face. Her dress clung uncomfortably to her skin. Just when she thought things couldn't get worse, headlights cut through the darkness. A black car slowed to a stop beside her. The window rolled down, revealing Damon's sharp features. Chapter 5 As Damon prepared to leave the manor, he glanced out the car window. Through the rain, he could see Nyla huddled against the stone wall near the gate. Her dress was completely soaked, clinging to her body and outlining her curves. Her long hair hung in wet strands around her face, making her look fragile and abandoned. Damon understood immediately what had happened. He knew Marie and Anne's personalities well. They would never be kind enough to arrange transportation for the niece-in-law they had always disliked. He turned to his assistant Spencer, who was sitting in the passenger seat. "Get out and hold an umbrella for her." Spencer immediately grabbed the black umbrella from the floor and stepped out into the rain. He walked quickly toward Nyla while Damon rolled down his window. "Get in," Damon said to Nyla. His voice was characteristically cold and commanding. "I'll take you home." Nyla looked up, startled to see it was Damon. She instinctively took a step back, shaking her head. "Uncle Damon, it's okay. The rain will stop soon. I can wait." She remembered Clark's warnings about how dangerous Damon could be. Clark had specifically told her to keep her distance from his uncle. She didn't want to cause herself any more trouble, especially not tonight. Damon's brow furrowed when he saw Nyla clearly trying to avoid him. His tone grew deeper and more commanding. "Get in the car. Don't make me repeat myself." His natural dominance was overwhelming. The way he spoke made it nearly impossible to refuse. Nyla felt her resolve weakening under his intense gaze. Before she could refuse again, Spencer appeared beside her with the umbrella. He gently took her damp clutch from her trembling hands. "Ms. Nyla, please get in the car," Spencer said kindly. "This rain will continue for at least another hour. It's very windy out here, and you're not dressed warmly enough. You'll catch pneumonia." Spencer's tone was gentle and concerned. Nyla glanced up at the dark storm clouds, then down at her completely soaked dress. Water was still dripping from her hair. She was starting to shiver uncontrollably. Finally, biting her lip, she opened the car door and slid inside. The interior of the car was warm and luxurious. Soft leather seats and the faint scent of expensive cologne filled the space. Nyla immediately felt the temperature difference. Damon glanced at her wet dress, which was now clinging even more tightly to her body. The fabric had become almost transparent. He could see the outline of her undergarments. His throat tightened involuntarily. Without a word, he took off his dark gray suit jacket and tossed it to her. "Thank you," Nyla murmured, quickly pulling the jacket around her shoulders. It was still warm from his body heat and smelled like his cologne. The scent was surprisingly comforting. "I'll have it cleaned and return it to you." "Just throw it away," Damon replied coldly. His tone carried casual arrogance, as if the expensive jacket meant nothing to him. The car pulled away from the manor and drove smoothly through the rainy night. Silence settled between them. Nyla huddled in the corner of the backseat, not daring to look at the powerful man beside her. She could feel an oppressive aura radiating from him. It made her unconsciously nervous. She stole a glance at his profile. His jaw was sharp and perfectly defined. His dark hair was styled impeccably despite the rain. Everything about him screamed wealth and power. He was nothing like Clark, who was gentle and approachable. Damon seemed dangerous. Twenty minutes later, the car stopped in front of Nyla's house. She quickly gathered herself and reached for the door handle. "Thank you so much for the ride," she said hurriedly, leaving his jacket on the seat. "I really appreciate it." Damon watched her disappear inside the house. The faint scent of jasmine perfume still lingered in the car where she had been sitting. He found himself breathing it in deeply. His body reacted involuntarily to her proximity. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "She's your nephew's wife," he warned himself silently. "Control yourself." As soon as Nyla entered her house, she felt a wave of dizziness wash over her. Her body began to feel hot despite her wet clothes. Her head felt heavy and confused. Before she could even change out of her soaked dress, everything went black. She collapsed in the living room. When Nyla woke up, she found herself lying in a hospital bed. The room smelled strongly of disinfectant, but the bedside table was covered with familiar treats. Strawberry shortcake, colorful macarons, handmade chocolates, and a large bouquet of pink roses. "Ma'am, you're finally awake!" A nurse appeared beside her bed, looking relieved. "You've had a high fever for over twenty-four hours. Mr. Summer was so worried. He stayed by your bedside the entire time. He only left an hour ago because of an emergency call." The nurse checked Nyla's temperature with a digital thermometer. "Do you want me to call him? He'll be so happy to know you're conscious." Looking at the familiar arrangement of gifts, Nyla felt her heart soften despite everything. She had always been prone to illness and had a terrible fear of injections and medication. Whenever she was sick, Clark would do exactly this. He would buy all her favorite treats and flowers, hoping to cheer her up and speed her recovery. It had become their tradition over the years. These sweet memories made her chest ache with confusion. How could the man who cheated on her be the same person who spent the night worried beside her hospital bed? "Where is he now?" Nyla asked, pushing herself up in bed. "I want to find him myself." The nurse smiled. "He's somewhere in the hospital taking care of business." She left her room and walked down the sterile hospital corridor. As she rounded the corner, she stopped dead in her tracks. There was Clark, coming out of the obstetrics and gynecology department. But he wasn't alone. A woman walked beside him, her hand resting protectively on her belly. Chapter 6 Clark gently helped the young woman out of the obstetrics clinic. Both of them were smiling, their faces glowing with happiness. Nyla immediately recognized her. This was the woman from the photos in those anonymous messages. Just then, the woman spotted Nyla standing frozen in the hallway. Her eyes lit up with surprise and something that looked like malicious delight. "Oh wow, isn't that Mrs. Summer?" she exclaimed loudly. "What a coincidence running into you at the hospital!" At the sound of her voice, Clark looked up. His eyes met Nyla's across the corridor. His entire body went rigid. He quickly dropped his hand from the woman's arm, panic flooding his features. "Nyla!" Clark hurried toward her, his voice high with nervousness. "Why are you here? You should be resting in your room!" He reached her side, speaking rapidly. "I was just downstairs getting your medicine when I accidentally bumped into Jordyn here. She's my new secretary, and she's pre-gnant. I was worried she might fall, so I helped steady her." His explanation tumbled out in a rush. Sweat beaded on his forehead despite the air conditioning. Nyla's gaze moved to the woman's slightly swollen belly. She felt her breathing become shallow and labored. But she forced herself to remain outwardly calm. "Miss Jordyn," Nyla said slowly, "when did you get pre-gnant? Where's the father? Shouldn't he be here with you for such an important appointment?" Jordyn caressed her belly with obvious pride. A sweet, satisfied smile spread across her face. "I just found out I'm two months along. The father couldn't be here because he's so busy with work, but he was absolutely thrilled when I told him." She practically glowed as she spoke. "He said he wants to give me and the baby the best life possible. He's already bought me a beautiful apartment downtown and promised to make everything official after the baby arrives." Every word felt like a knife twisting in Nyla's chest. Jordyn continued, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "Mrs. Summer, you're so lucky to have such a wonderful husband. But I think my boyfriend is just as amazing. He tells me I've become even more beautiful since getting pre-gnant. He can barely stand to leave my side." She paused, tilting her head with feigned innocence. "Mrs. Summer, do you have time? I'm free today. Would you like to have dinner together? I could invite the baby's father to join us." The challenge in her eyes was unmistakable. Clark's expression darkened. He shot Jordyn a warning look. "My wife doesn't have time. Miss Jordyn, I'm sure your boyfriend is waiting for you. Don't keep him worried." His voice carried clear dismissal and irritation. Then he wrapped his arm around Nyla's shoulders, his touch gentle and concerned. "Honey, you're still recovering. You shouldn't be walking around the hospital. Let me take you back to your room." He spoke in the same caring tone. "She's just a secretary. Don't worry about her." Jordyn's face crumpled at the cold dismissal in Clark's voice. Her eyes filled with tears, making her look young and vulnerable. "You're right. I got too excited. I'm not worthy of having dinner with Mrs. Summer." She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, looking genuinely hurt. "I should go. My boyfriend will be wondering where I am." With that, she turned and walked away, her shoulders shaking slightly. Clark's expression flickered. For a moment, he looked like he wanted to follow her. But when he noticed Nyla watching him carefully, he stayed put. He turned back to Nyla and patted her head affectionately. "Be good, okay? I have some urgent things to handle at the company. I'll have James drive you home. Get some rest, and I'll be back tonight to check on you." His voice was warm and loving, the same tone he had used for three years of marriage. As soon as Nyla returned to her hospital room, her phone buzzed with a new message. It was from Jordyn. The first image was a pre-gnancy test showing two clear pink lines. Then came a series of messages that made Nyla's hands shake: [Nyla, I know you figured it out today. The baby is Clark's. Don't think he loves you as much as you believe. If he truly loves you, then what am I doing in his life?] [Do you know how obsessed he is with me? Every year on your birthday and your anniversary, after he puts you to sleep, he comes to spend the night with me. He's so passionate with me, so wild. We go through boxes of c0n-doms, and I can barely walk the next day.] [We've faking in his car, his office, even in your bedroom when you were away. He's done things with me that I bet he's never done with you. Has he ever been truly passionate with you, Nyla? Or does he save all his fire for me?] Reading these brutal messages, Nyla felt something break inside her chest. Her hands trembled as she set down the phone. She took deep, measured breaths, trying to suppress the storm of emotions threatening to overwhelm her. That evening, Clark returned with an elegant white box. Inside was a strawberry mousse cake from the city's most expensive French pastry shop. It had once been Nyla's absolute favorite dessert. "Baby, I brought your favorite cake," Clark said carefully, watching her face for a reaction. "The doctor said you're still weak and need to eat more sweets to build up your energy." He opened the box with a flourish, revealing the delicate pink confection. In the past, Nyla would have clapped her hands with delight at seeing this cake. She used to say it was almost too beautiful to eat. But now, looking at it made her stomach turn. She picked up the small silver fork and took a mechanical bite. The overly sweet flavor sat in her mouth like paste. She couldn't swallow it. Without a word, Nyla stood up and threw the entire cake box into the trash can. The beautiful dessert landed with a dull thud. Clark stared at her in shock. "Nyla, what's wrong with you? " Chapter 7 Nyla turned to face Clark, her eyes completely devoid of their usual warmth. "It doesn't taste the same anymore." Her voice was eerily calm, but it sent a chill through Clark's entire body. He rushed to her side and pulled her into his arms. "Baby, maybe this bakery changed their recipe," he said. "I'll call them tomorrow and find out. No matter how much it costs, I'll make sure they get the taste exactly right again." Nyla's body remained rigid in his embrace. "Things change, Clark. Once they change, you can't go back." Her voice was still calm, but each word felt like an icicle piercing Clark's heart. He sensed she wasn't just talking about the cake anymore. She was talking about them. Clark felt panic rising in his chest. That was when his phone rang. The ringtone cut through the tension. Clark glanced at the caller ID and his face went pale. Nyla caught the shift in his expression, and her disappointment deepened. "I... I need to take this call," Clark stammered. "There's an emergency at work." Nyla turned away from him completely. "Go ahead. Work is important." Clark stood frozen for several seconds, torn between answering the phone and staying with his wife. Finally, he made his choice and headed for the door. As he stepped into the hallway, Nyla could hear his voice through the thin walls: "Jordyn, what's wrong? Are you feeling sick? I'll be right there..." His voice faded as he moved further away, leaving Nyla alone in their living room. The silence felt suffocating. Nyla stared at the white walls, feeling like they were closing in on her. Twenty minutes after Clark left, Nyla's phone buzzed with an incoming call. She didn't recognize the number, but she answered anyway. "Mrs. Summer, I hope I'm not interrupting," came Jordyn's sweet voice. "I'm not feeling well, so I borrowed Clark from you tonight. He came without hesitation when I called. He said nothing was more important than making sure I was okay." Nyla's grip tightened on the phone, but she said nothing. Jordyn continued with obvious satisfaction. "You know what Clark told me today? He said I'm younger and prettier than you. He said I can give him something you never could - a child. He mentioned that you haven't been able to conceive in three years. He's worried there might be something wrong with your body." "Oh, and that strawberry mousse cake you threw away today?" Jordyn's voice turned mocking. "Clark buys me that same cake all the time. He says sweet treats are perfect for sweet girls. Don't you think it tastes sweet, Mrs. Summer?" The call ended with Jordyn's cruel laughter. Nyla sat in the darkness, feeling something fundamental shift inside her. The pain was so intense it took her breath away. Then slowly, mercifully, numbness began to set in. From that day forward, Nyla began quietly packing her belongings. She folded her clothes carefully and placed them in suitcases. She packed her books, her makeup, her jewelry. Each item felt heavy with memories she no longer wanted to keep. Clark became even busier during this time. He came home later and later, sometimes not at all. When he did return, he was distant and distracted. Meanwhile, Jordyn's messages never stopped. Photos of her growing belly, pictures of expensive gifts, taunting words designed to twist the knife deeper. Nyla's best friend Valarie came over to help with the divorce paperwork. "Given that Clark committed adultery and got another woman pre-gnant, you could definitely ask for substantial compensation," Valarie said seriously. "Plus, you gave up your career for this marriage. That's worth a lot in court." Valarie spread the legal documents across the coffee table. "You sacrificed your research position at the university. You could have been earning six figures by now." But before proceeding with anything official, Nyla felt she should tell her father. She drove to the hospital where he was still recovering from his recent surgery. Her father looked better than he had in weeks. His color was returning, and he was sitting up reading the newspaper. "Dad," Nyla began carefully, "if... hypothetically... if I wanted to get divorced, what would you think?" Her father set down his newspaper and studied his daughter's face intently. "Nyla, is something wrong between you and Clark?" Nyla forced herself to maintain eye contact. "I'm just curious. If that day ever came..." "Absolutely not!" Her father's voice rose sharply. "Nyla, do you understand what the Summer family has done for us? When my factory had that terrible accident, they provided the money that saved us from bankruptcy. They've been paying my medical bills for three years. Without them, we would have lost everything." Her father's face was flushed with emotion. "Clark has been nothing but good to you. How could you even think such thoughts? Has someone been filling your head with ideas?" Nyla realized she couldn't continue this conversation. Her father had no idea about Clark's betrayal. She couldn't bear to put her sick father through that kind of shock and disappointment. She was about to change the subject when her father's phone chimed with a text message. He glanced at the screen and his face went completely white. The message was from Jordyn. It contained a photo of her and Clark kissing passionately in what looked like a hotel room. Below the image was a message that read: "Thought you should know - I'm pre-gnant with your son-in-law Clark's baby." Chapter 8 Harrison suddenly developed a violent coughing fit. His body convulsed as he struggled to breathe. His face turned an alarming shade of blue, and his hands clawed at his chest. The phone slipped from his trembling fingers and clattered to the floor. Nyla saw the message on the fallen phone and immediately understood what had triggered his condition. Rage flooded through her veins, but her father's health took priority over confronting Jordyn. She frantically pressed the call button for the nurses. "Help! I need a doctor now!" she shouted into the hallway. A team of medical staff rushed into the room. They immediately began checking her father's vital signs while Nyla stood helplessly in the corner, watching his condition deteriorate before her eyes. The lead doctor emerged from the examination looking grave. He pulled off his mask and shook his head slowly. "Mr. Jayston's condition has suddenly worsened," he said wearily. "His kid ney failure has progressed rapidly. We need to transfer him to the ICU immediately for intensive monitoring and treatment." Nyla felt her legs go weak. "How serious is this?" "It's critical," the doctor replied bluntly. "But I'm afraid we have a problem. Our ICU is completely full. Every bed is occupied, and there's a waiting list. All the hospitals in the city are experiencing the same shortage of resources." "Wait?" Nyla could barely comprehend what she was hearing. "Doctor, my father can't wait. Look at him!" Her father was still struggling to breathe normally. His skin had a grayish pallor that terrified her. "I understand your concern, Mrs. Summer, but we're doing everything we can," the doctor said helplessly. "All we can do right now is stabilize his condition with medication and hope a bed opens up soon." Desperation clawed at Nyla's chest. She thought immediately of Clark. As the heir to Summer Group, he had connections throughout the medical community. He could pull strings and get her father the care he needed. With shaking hands, she dialed Clark's number. After several rings, someone picked up. But it wasn't Clark's voice that greeted her. "Hello, who's calling?" came Jordyn's sickeningly sweet voice. Nyla's blood turned to ice. "This is Nyla. I need to speak to Clark immediately. It's an emergency." "Oh, Mrs. Summer!" Jordyn's voice was dripping with false concern. "Clark is in the shower right now. He's been taking such good care of me all day that he's completely exhausted. Poor thing needs to rest." Nyla bit back her fury and forced herself to stay focused. "This is about my father. He's dying and needs an ICU bed. Please put Clark on the phone right now." "Oh my, what terrible timing," Jordyn said with obvious fake sympathy. "I wasn't feeling well this afternoon either. Just some pre-gnancy nausea and dizziness, you know how it is. But Clark was so worried about me and the baby that he immediately called in the best medical team in the city. They're all on standby right now, just in case something happens to us." Nyla's hands were shaking so violently she could barely hold the phone. Her father was dying, and her husband was playing house with his pre-gnant mistress. "Can you please just-" Nyla began, but Jordyn cut her off. "Oh, I hear the shower turning off. Clark will be so tired after everything we've been through today. I should probably let him rest. You understand, don't you?" The line went dead. Nyla stood in the hospital hallway, feeling like the world was collapsing around her. She closed her eyes and tried to think of alternatives. Then suddenly, an image flashed through her mind - a figure handing her a coat in the rain. Damon's cold but decisive voice echoing in the car. Without allowing herself to second-guess the decision, she dialed his number. "Mr. Damon, this is Nyla," she said when he answered. "I'm sorry to bother you, but my father is critically ill. He needs an ICU bed urgently, but the hospital says they don't have any available. I know this is a lot to ask..." "Send me the hospital address," Damon's voice cut through her rambling. It was sharp and authoritative. "I'll handle it. Ten minutes." The line went dead, but his words carried more reassurance than Clark's empty promises ever had. Exactly ten minutes later, the hospital director personally arrived at her father's ward. Behind him came a full medical team, including specialists Nyla recognized from medical journals. They moved with efficient precision. "Mr. Jayston will be transferred to our premium ICU immediately," the director told Nyla respectfully. "We're bringing in the city's leading kid-ney specialists for consultation. He'll receive the absolute best care available." Within an hour, her father was settled in a private ICU room with round-the-clock monitoring. That evening, after her father's condition had finally stabilized, Nyla returned to the house she had shared with Clark. She sat in their living room, surrounded by three years of memories that now felt like lies. She opened her phone and began forwarding every single message and photo Jordyn had sent her to Clark's email address. The videos of Jordyn showing off expensive jewelry. Photos of their intimate moments in the apartment Clark had bought her. Recordings of Jordyn rubbing her belly and cooing, "Daddy loves us so much. He's going to give us everything." After sending all these, Nyla typed a final message: "Clark, these are from your girlfriend Jordyn. Since you two love each other so much, I'll step aside and let you be together." Then she photographed the divorce papers Valarie had prepared and attached them to another email: "The divorce agreement is ready. Have your lawyer contact Valarie tomorrow to finalize everything." After hitting send, Nyla stood up and began dismantling their life together. She pulled their wedding photos off the walls and threw them directly into the trash. The jewelry Clark had given her, the clothes he had bought, the makeup he had surprised her with - everything went into garbage bags. She called a moving company and worked through the night to clear out her belongings. By dawn, the house looked exactly as it had before she had moved in - empty and cold. Nyla took one final look around the space that had once felt like home. She dragged her suitcase to the door and walked out without looking back.

As a substitute, she wanted to leave but was rejected. She thought her husband might start to have feelings for her, but as it turned out, he simply wanted to wait for his first love to return before getting rid of her. Faced with their intimacy, she taught the sc**bag and his mistress a good lesson and left without hesitation, focusing on her career. However, her unfaithful ex-husband actually began to pester her... ===== "We'll divorce on Monday. Aside from the compensation in the agreement, you may request anything else you need." Kristian Shaw, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, exuded an air of cold detachment. His voice firm and emotionless. His piercing gaze settled on the silent woman opposite him, his eyes inscrutable. "Why so sudden?" Freya Briggs asked, her voice quieter than usual. Kristian's answer was blunt. "Ashley is back." Freya knew exactly who Ashley was. After a brief pause, she replied, "Okay." Kristian hesitated, caught off guard by her immediate acceptance. Freya opened the divorce papers, her thoughts drifting to the past. Two years ago, they had met at a n**htclub. She had been weighed down by worries; he had been nursing a broken heart. A few drinks later, they found solace in each other's company, talking late into the night. There had been no impulsive o*e-n**ht st*nd--just a quiet parting afterward. Three days later, he had returned with his assistant to propose marriage. And she had agreed. After getting married, he had treated her well--tending to her needs, drying her hair with gentle hands, and solving her problems before she even voiced them. Their relationship had been perfect--until six months ago, when a single phone call changed everything. Overnight, he grew distant, his warmth replaced by icy indifference. That was when she learned the truth: Kristian had married her because she bore a faint resemblance to his lost love, Ashley Bradley. The memory made Freya press her lips together before she asked lightly, "You said I could ask for compensation, right?" "Yes," Kristian replied flatly. "Anything I want?" She lifted her gaze to him, her delicate face devoid of its usual brightness. For a fleeting moment, guilt flickered in his ch*st. "Yes." He had already resolved to grant her reasonable demands. After all, she had been good to him all the time. Freya's voice was steady. "Then I want the most expensive car in your garage." "Fine," Kristian agreed. "A villa in the suburbs," she added. "Done," he said. Freya smiled. "And a share of the money you've earned in the last two years." For the first time, Kristian's composure cracked. His eyes narrowed slightly, as if questioning whether he'd heard correctly. "What did you say?" Freya, unfazed, repeated her demand. "Our earnings during the marriage count as marital property, don't they? Based on my calculations--excluding investments--your salary and dividends over the last two years amount to several billion. I don't want much--just 40%." A heavy silence settled between them. Then, she added, as if casually mentioning the weather, "Of course, you're welcome to take 40% of my income too." Kristian's patience finally snapped. "Freya!" His voice carried an edge of disbelief. Had he really felt guilty earlier? How had he never noticed her greed? Freya met his gaze evenly. "Is that not acceptable?" Absolutely not. Kristian dismissed the idea instantly. "Then forget it." Freya set down her pen. "Next time I see your family, I'll bring up your emotional infidelity. I'm sure they'll take my side." Kristian's expression darkened, his stare turning glacial. He hadn't anticipated this side of her--realizing now that her past docility had been an act. "Do you really want to negotiate with me like this?" he demanded. "Yes." Freya held his gaze without flinching. She knew he despised threats--but she despised infidelity more. "Fine." Kristian's eyes turned stormy, his voice glacial. "You'll get what you want. But if the divorce hits complications, you'll regret it." Freya leaned back in her chair, her tone razor-sharp. "Kristian Shaw, is that a threat?" This version of her was foreign to Kristian. For two years, she'd been the picture of compliance--gentle, accommodating, never defiant. Now, she met his anger with unshakable calm. "No." Already calculating countermeasures, he bit out, "You'll have the assets. We divorce on Monday." Freya's lashes lowered briefly before she added, "One more condition." "Speak." His patience frayed. "Take me shopping tomorrow." She ignored the frost radiating from him. "Afterward, we'll tell your family together that I ended things." "Deal," Kristian conceded. With that, he strode toward the door, unable to stomach another second in her presence. Earlier, he'd even considered granting her a grace period to process the divorce. How laughable. She couldn't wait to carve up his fortune and be rid of him. Had Freya been able to read his thoughts, she might have laughed and said, "That little money? Do you really think I care?" Kristian reached the door and halted. Without turning around, he said, "I won't be back tonight. I'll pick you up at nine tomorrow morning. Make a list of the stores you want to visit." Freya's voice followed him, calm but laced with something sharp. "Are you going to see Ashley Bradley?" Kristian's jaw tightened. "That's none of your business." Freya let out a quiet breath, as if she had already expected that answer. "I don't tolerate cheating," she said plainly. "So before the divorce is finalized, you'd better not end up in b*d with her." Kristian whirled back, looming over her. Freya didn't blink. "What? Can't endure two more days?" "I understand your bitterness," he said, eerily composed, "but lashing out won't help. This is a divorce, not war." Freya blinked at him. For a moment, she was at a loss for words. This man was truly shameless. Kristian didn't wait for a response. "Good night." And with that, he turned and left. The door clicked shut behind him. Freya's gaze drifted down to the divorce papers still lying on the table. She stood there for a long time, unmoving. To say she felt nothing would have been a lie. She wasn't made of stone. The moment she discovered she was nothing more than a stand-in, the hurt had settled deep in her bones. Kristian had been her first love. In twenty-four years, no one else had breached her defenses. Before the betrayal, he'd been perfection itself--attentive, steady, silencing every doubt with his quiet devotion. So when she learned of Ashley, she'd offered to leave. To free him. But he'd refused. Chapter 2 Kristian Was Pure S**mbag The reason behind Kristian's refusal was simple. Before Ashley returned, he needed someone to manage his elders at home--and Freya, adored by his parents and grandpa, was the obvious choice. But sometimes, Freya couldn't help but wonder--did he really think she was a f*ol? Otherwise, why would he assume she'd play along in hiding his a**air? Now, with his sudden demand for divorce, frustration simmered inside her. Even after six months of steeling herself, a stubborn flicker of emotion remained. She let out a slow breath, crossed to the sofa, and grabbed her phone. She tapped the contact labeled "Fred"--untouched for two years--and typed, "Check if Shaw Group's facing any issues. And find out if Kristian's terminally ill." Fred's replies exploded onto the screen instantly. "Holy--Freya?!" "Never thought I'd hear from you again!" "Two years, Freya. TWO." "Where've you been?!" She didn't bother explaining. Mood sour, she fired back a single word, "Check." Fred caved. "On it!" She tossed the phone aside and waited. If Kristian was divorcing her to spare her some tragedy, she'd forgive him--maybe even help. But if he was just an unfaithful j**k? She'd drop him without a second thought. Thirty minutes later, her phone buzzed with Fred's verdict. "Zero troubles. No illness, no crisis. Why the h*ll are you asking? Kristian's loaded, hot, and sharp--you two are a match. Don't you like pretty boys? Give it a shot!" She ignored the jab and shot back, "You are so blind." Then she silenced her phone. No external factors meant only one thing--Kristian was pure s*um. Fred stared at his screen, baffled. Did Freya wake up in a mood today? Freya's gaze landed on the divorce papers. After a pause, she snatched a pen, scrawled her name, and shoved them into a drawer. Then she headed for the shower. When she emerged, her phone was a disaster--dozens of unread messages and 32 missed calls. No guessing needed. Frederick Price--aka Fred--had clearly blabbed about her resurrection to the entire world. Towel draped over her damp hair, she reached for her phone--only for it to ring again. The caller ID flashed; it was her father. Her ch*st tightened. Two years of silence, and now he called? She'd left Alerith City due to a situation involving her mother, and neither had she reached out to her father nor had he contacted her--until now. After a pause, she answered coolly. "Hello." Silence. Freya, never one for patience, was about to hang up when Hugh Briggs' raspy voice cut through. "Mina." That name clawed at buried memories. "What do you want?" she asked flatly. Hugh hesitated, guilt threading his words. "Frederick told me you reached out. Said you were digging into Kristian. Need help?" "No." Freya had no interest in his involvement. A beat passed before Hugh ventured, "What's your relationship with him?" "A couple." She let the word hang. "About to divorce." Hugh's breath hitched. She was married? "You--" he started. "If that's all, I'm done." Freya didn't want to waste any more breath on him. "Wait!" he rushed. She held her tongue. The line crackled with tension. Finally, he muttered, "When are you coming back? That woman's gone." Then, hastily, he added, "Your mom's belongings are untouched." Her fingers tightened around the phone. For a flicker, emotion crossed her face--then vanished. "Noted." She hung up before he could protest. Hugh stared at the dead line, frustration curdling in his ch*st. He hadn't even asked about her marriage. Freya didn't spare him another thought. She flicked her phone to airplane mode, towel-dried her hair, and collapsed into b*d. The night passed without dreams. By eight the next morning, she was up--dressed and breakfasted. Today, she'd taken care with her makeup. Her skin glowed; her lips, naturally full, needed no enhancement. But her eyes--sharp, luminous--were the real weapon. Her smile was bright, bringing a warmth that could instantly lift anyone's spirits. When Kristian arrived, she was already waiting on the sofa. Her shoulder-length hair was pinned back, bangs swept up under a black beret. At the sight of him, she rose gracefully, reaching for a coat and draping it over her shoulder. "Let's go." She grabbed her purse, her tone composed and unbothered. Kristian didn't move. His tailored suit emphasized his height as he said, "Not today." Freya stilled. "I have other commitments." His voice was indifferent. His gaze lingered--too long--on her face. "Tomorrow." "Kristian Shaw." Her tone was a warning. He disliked it instantly. "I put on makeup today," she said, her voice deceptively calm but carrying an unmistakable edge. "If you want our divorce to go smoothly on Monday, push aside whatever plans you have. I don't deal with people who break their promises." Kristian's eyes narrowed. After a silent calculation, he stepped out to make a call. Fragments floated back--Ashley... hospital... follow-up. Freya's grip on her purse turned white-knuckled. Inside, she seethed. Even now, Ashley occupied his thoughts completely. Kristian missed Freya's fury. All he saw was how she shone today--vibrant, untamed. Nothing like the subdued woman he knew. After hanging up, he inquired where she wanted to shop. Freya mentioned the largest luxury mall in town. This wasn't shopping. This was a spree. By 10 AM, the four bodyguards trailed behind her like pack mules--arms stacked with watches, jewels, designer bags. Kristian's phone chimed nonstop with alerts. As Freya strode into yet another jewelry boutique, his jaw hardened. This wasn't retail therapy; she was intentionally trying to irritate him. Chapter 3 Why Hurt Ashley? Gerard Todd, Kristian's ever-dutiful assistant, hesitated for a moment before asking, "Sir, should I go ahead and book a restaurant?" Kristian massaged his temples, irritation flashing across his face. "No need." He knew Freya was venting her frustration. If splurging eased her temper, so be it--he'd let her spend freely. The moment the words left his mouth, his phone vibrated. Another alert flashed--over thirty million had just vanished from his account. Gerard averted his eyes, while the four bodyguards stood stiffly, arms laden with shopping bags like silent, overburdened mules. Freya strode out of the jewelry boutique and casually handed her latest purchase to Gerard, whose hands were conspicuously empty. Just as she turned to continue her spree, Kristian's phone rang. His posture shifted instantly. The tension in his shoulders eased, his frown softening as he glanced at the caller ID. Long fingers cradled the phone, his voice uncharacteristically tender as he answered. "Hello, Ashley." Gerard and the bodyguards exchanged startled glances. Had their boss forgotten Freya was standing right there? "Ashley was in a car accident on her way to a hospital follow-up. She's unconscious--still in surgery," the voice on the line blurted, frantic. "Please come. She kept calling your name before they took her in." "Send the address. I'm on my way." Kristian's ch*st constricted, the words sharp with urgency. He ended the call, his gaze flickering to Freya. An explanation hovered on his lips, but he swallowed it. Instead, he turned to Gerard and the bodyguards. "Stay with her. Buy whatever she wants. If it doesn't fit in the car, have it delivered by this afternoon." "Yes, sir," the five men chorused. Without another word, Kristian strode off, leaving Freya and the others in his wake. An uncomfortable silence settled over the group. Gerard adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, forcing a polished smile. "Mrs. Shaw, don't worry. Mr. Shaw will return once he handles matters." "What a loyal employee," Freya murmured, her tone laced with something unreadable. Gerard blinked, thrown by her response. Freya studied the mall's glittering chandeliers, her voice deliberate. "Being his assistant is one thing. But cleaning up his messes? Tell me, Gerard--have you ever seen a man ditch his wife mid-date to run to his mi**ress?" The bodyguards stiffened; Gerard's smile froze. For a heartbeat, all five men stared at her with something dangerously close to pity. This might be the price of marrying into wealth--knowing her husband had left her for another woman while she was expected to swallow the insult. "Save the sympathy." Freya scoffed, amused by their expressions. She gestured to the bags weighing them down. "A single one of those could cover your salary for a year. Maybe ten." The blow landed perfectly. She pressed, "Well, anything you'd like?" Five pairs of eyes widened in unison. Freya's mind worked in ways they couldn't follow. "Since he's off playing hero for his darling, let's put his money to better use." She twirled the black card between her fingers, her voice quieter now. The sting surprised her. She hadn't realized Kristian's departure would still claw at her. Right now, all she wanted was to drain his account dry. Gerard and the bodyguards gaped. Delighted by their shock, Freya resumed shopping, the card clutched like a weapon. She assumed Kristian would linger at the hospital all day. But as she sat down to eat, he appeared like a storm, his presence slicing through the restaurant's warmth. Before anyone could react, he seized Freya's wrist and hauled her toward the parking area, his grip ironclad. Her back slammed against the car door, pain radiating through her. She winced. What the hell was his problem? His accusation came like a whip crack, "Why hurt Ashley?" Kristian trembled with suppressed rage. "You hired that hit-and-run driver, didn't you? I gave you everything you wanted, the house, the car, the money. What more do you want? Why did you still hurt her?" He looked like vengeance personified, his eyes glacial. "When did I--" Freya's confusion was genuine. "Still lying?" His voice could've frosted glass. "You planned this. Picked today so I'd be distracted while your hired man ran her down. You know I'd die before letting her suffer." His voice was Arctic frost, the kind that seeped into bones and made spines stiffen. Freya's initial fury dissolved into something colder, sharper. His absurd accusation had an ironic effect--it drained her rage, leaving only icy clarity. She met his gaze, lips curling in derision. "How poetic. Turning betrayal into some grand romance." "Freya Briggs!" Kristian's control frayed, his shout raw with warning. "You're delusional." She didn't flinch, status be damned. "Think. Why would I trash my fresh start--my freedom--over someone like her?" "You know exactly why." His voice dropped lower, a bl**e pressed to her throat. A realization flickered. "Ah. You think I'm still obsessed with you?" Kristian said nothing, but his clenched jaw and the fire in his eyes were answer enough. "Why should I still want you?" Freya laughed, the sound brittle. "After being treated as a stand-in? After your infidelity? After watching you fawn over another woman?" The words landed like sl*ps. Kristian stiffened. "I didn't cheat," he ground out. "You handed her your heart while wearing my ring." Her smile was lethal. "That's cheating." "Enough deflection," he snapped. "You're the one hallucinating conspiracies!" Silence. Kristian studied her, as if peeling back layers for the first time. The weight of his scrutiny was suffocating. Freya refused to wilt. "So she claimed I hired a man to k*ll her, and you just... believed her?" "Yes." His anger faltered under her unwavering stare, but the frost remained. "Ashley didn't lie. And she has proof." Freya's brows arched. Her fingers dug into her bag strap, knuckles whitening. "Perfect. Let's go to the hospital. Right now." Kristian blinked. Her immediate agreement threw him. Guilty people didn't invite confrontation. Doubt slithered in. Was the evidence fabricated? "Move." Her command shattered his thoughts. He released her wrist, disconcerted by her detachment. Something ugly twisted in his ch*st--annoyance? Guilt? Before he could name it, he yanked out his keys and wrenched the car door open. Chapter 4 Are You Threatening Me? Gerard stepped forward swiftly to take the keys, assuming the role of driver without hesitation. Freya yanked the passenger door open and slid inside, her gaze fixed straight ahead--ignoring Kristian entirely. A knot of dread tightened in Gerard's ch*st. What if Freya said something outrageous? The thought made his fingers clench around the wheel. After a weighted pause, he ventured, "Mrs. Shaw, you--" "Drive." Her reply was a bl**e, sharp and final. Gerard flicked a glance at the rearview mirror. Kristian's expression gave nothing away. Swallowing hard, he pulled out of the parking area. Silence smothered the car like a thick fog. The tension was unbearable. Gerard's shoulders tensed, his grip on the steering wheel turning his knuckles white. Neither Kristian nor Freya spoke. Both radiated a frost so deep it could've cracked the windows. Gerard knew Kristian's moods well--but Freya? She'd been almost cheerful earlier. What the hell happened? He bit back a sigh. Questions wouldn't help now. In the back seat, Kristian's gaze drifted unbidden to Freya's profile. Something unfamiliar twisted in his ch*st--an emotion he refused to name. Thirty minutes later, the car halted at the hospital entrance. Kristian seized Freya's wrist, dragging her toward the VIP ward. His grip was iron, unyielding. She winced, her voice dripping with mockery. "At this rate, I won't be the one charged--you'll be arrested for assault first." He dropped her arm like it burned him. Angry red marks circled her skin. Freya shot him a look so scathing it could've melted steel. Guilt flickered in Kristian's ch*st--brief, unwelcome. It vanished the moment Ashley's bruised face flashed in his mind. "Follow me," he muttered, turning on his heel. He didn't wait to see if Freya obeyed. The door swung open. Ashley lay propped up in b*d, her face lighting up at the sight of Kristian. "Kristian," she breathed, voice sweet with devotion. He was at her side in an instant, fingers brushing hers in silent reassurance. Freya strode in, took one look at them, and smirked. "Should I leave? Give you two some privacy?" "Freya. Enough." Kristian's voice was winter itself. He didn't look at Freya, his hand still resting on Ashley's back. "You're here to apologize." Freya closed the distance to the b*d, studying Ashley properly for the first time--soft features, delicate frame, eyes wide with practiced innocence. Ah. Now she understood. This was the woman Kristian loved. "Miss Bradley." Freya laced her fingers together. "My darling tells me you've accused me of hiring your attacker--with evidence." She stressed the word, gaze locked on Kristian. "Care to share?" "Kristian..." Ashley's fingers tightened around his, her lower lip trembling... ...... What happens next? Available chapters here are limited, click the button below to install the App and enjoy more exciting chapters (Automatically jump to this novel when you open the app) &5&

After I caught my husband Clark having an affair with his secretary in the office, I filed for divorce. Unexpectedly, the only condition he proposed was to sleep with him... ** "Nyla, are you sure you want me to draft a divorce agreement?" Valarie's voice crackled through the phone, hesitant and worried. "Think about it. Once you sign this, you and Clark will have nothing to do with each other anymore." Nyla stared at the amber liquid in her glass. The whiskey burned her throat, but nothing could burn away the images from last night. Her fingers tightened around the phone. "Yes," she said finally. "I'm leaving him." "Why?" Valarie's confusion bled through the speaker. "Clark's been so good to you. He loves you so much..." Nyla almost laughed. Love. What a joke. She pressed her lips together, fighting back the bitter taste rising in her throat. After hanging up, Nyla looked out the window. The massive LED screen on the skyscraper across the street was still playing that press conference. Clark stood there in his perfect suit, holding up that ridiculous jewelry piece. Using the world's finest diamonds and gemstones, he had created a one-of-a-kind piece for his wife. It was named "Love Nyla." He named it after Nyla, declaring to the world his eternal love for her. Upon its release, "Love Nyla" instantly ignited social media discussion, remaining a hot topic. The world was buzzing about their enviable love. Outside, the LED screens continued to replay the video, but Nyla chuckled self-deprecatingly. "Love me?" she muttered to herself. "Love me enough to sleep with another woman on our anniversary night?" Last night was their third wedding anniversary. Clark had said he wanted to surprise her and asked her to wait for him at home. Nyla wore Clark's favorite white dress, lit candles, and prepared his favorite dinner, waiting eagerly until late at night. She had waited. And waited. Midnight came and went. At one in the morning, her phone suddenly buzzed with a Facebook friend request. A strange profile picture with the note "A surprise for you." Nyla was about to reject the message outright, but then the person sent another message: [Are you still awake? Is it because your husband isn't with you?] Nyla's alarm bells went off. How did this person know Clark wasn't home? She didn't accept the friend request, but the messages kept coming: [Stop pretending, I know you're reading this.] [Your husband is with me now.] [I was scared of thunder, so he worried about me and came to keep me company.] [What a good man, but it's a shame he's not good for you alone.] Each message stabbed Nyla like a knife in the heart. Her hands trembled. Her mind told her it might be a prank, but deep down, a voice frantically questioned it. The last message completely broke her defenses: [If you don't believe me, I'll send you the address. The door lock code is your wedding anniversary.] Nyla couldn't sit still any longer. With trembling fingers, she accepted the friend request. The other party immediately sent an address and a password: 0823. It was indeed their anniversary. Nyla rushed out of the house like a madman and drove to the address. It was an upscale apartment. She stood in front of the door, her finger hovering over the combination lock, her heart pounding. She entered 0823, and the lock clicked and the door opened. A men's suit jacket lay scattered in the hallway. She recognized it as the three-year anniversary gift she had given Clark, which Clark had worn when he left that morning. A pair of black lace paanties lay on the sofa in the living room, and a wine glass with a woman's lipstick stain on it lay on the coffee table. From the hallway to the bedroom, men's and women's clothing was scattered everywhere. The most striking thing was a red lace nightgown, torn to shreds, lying by the bedroom door. Nyla's legs were so weak she could barely stand, but she still trembled as she pushed open the half-open bedroom door. On the bed, Clark, na-ked, embraced another woman. The woman knelt on the bed, her head buried between Clark's legs, licking Clark's pen.is. Clark's eyes were closed, his face a look of enjoyment, m0-aning, "Yes, that's it, great..." The woman asked proudly, "Am I better, or is Nyla better?" Clark replied, "You think you can compare with Nyla?" Then he spun the woman around, grabbed her h1ps from behind, and thrust wildly. The woman's m0-ans mingled with Clark's heavy gasps. The scene completely devastated Nyla. Eight years had passed, from their innocent college romance to their current marriage. Everyone had envied their love, saying they were a match made in hea-ven. But now, it all seemed so absurd. She covered her mouth, resisting the urge to vomit, and fled the nauseating place. She drove to a bar downtown and sat alone in a corner, drinking furiously. The sharp taste of the whiskey stung her throat, but it couldn't numb the pain in her heart. When Valarie received her call and rushed to the bar, Nyla was already completely drunk. "Nyla!" Valarie's voice cut through her memories as she slid into the booth across from her, face etched with worry. "Why are you so drunk? What happened? Did Clark make you mad?" Drunk Nyla looked at her with red eyes. "Val, I don't want to hear that name right now." Nyla took another swig of the whiskey in front of her, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. "Val, I saw him hooking up with that woman right in front of me. It's definitely not a misunderstanding." Valarie saw her friend's pained expression and held her hand with a heartache. "Nyla, maybe you two can talk it out..." "There's nothing to talk about," Nyla interrupted decisively. "Divorce. Every time I think about him hooking up with that woman, I feel sick." Chapter 2 Nyla returned home and sat on the living room sofa, staring at her phone. The number she had just dialed glowed on the screen. After calming down from her anger and pain, she had to face reality. A divorce required financial independence. Clark was covering all of her father's monthly medical expenses. The bills reached a staggering $100,000 each month. She simply couldn't afford it. Her fingers trembled as she scrolled through her contacts. She stopped at a familiar name. Professor Anderson. Her former research supervisor from graduate school. "Professor Anderson? This is Nyla. Nyla Jayston." She tried to sound calm, but her voice cracked slightly. A surprised voice came from the other end. "Nyla! Oh my god, are you okay? I haven't been in touch since you got married three years ago." Nyla bit her lip hard. The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth. "Professor, I want to return to research. I know this sounds sudden, but I need a job." "Of course!" Professor Anderson agreed without hesitation. "You're one of the best students I've ever taught. Your thesis on molecular biology was groundbreaking. I can contact you right now with a company that's looking for a senior researcher position. The salary is excellent." "Thank you," Nyla whispered. Relief flooded through her chest. "I really appreciate this." "Don't mention it. You have incredible talent. It's a shame you left research when you got married. When can you start?" "As soon as possible." After hanging up, Nyla felt a small spark of hope. She could do this. She could leave Clark and rebuild her life. She walked into their bedroom and began packing. Her hands moved mechanically, folding clothes and placing them in a suitcase. Hanging in the closet were the matching pajamas they'd bought on their honeymoon in Paris. On the dresser sat a small angel figurine they'd brought back from Italy. On the wall were photos of them at the beach, laughing and kissing under the sunset. Each item silently spoke of past sweetness. Yet now they stabbed her heart like knives. How had she been so blind? How had she missed the signs? She opened the dresser drawer to retrieve some personal belongings. Her wedding ring caught the light, mocking her. Then she saw it. The marriage certificate. With trembling hands, Nyla picked it up. She flipped to the first page, revealing two young, radiant faces. Her own smile was so bright it hurt to look at. Clark's eyes shone with pure joy. It was August 23rd, three years ago. To become the first couple to receive their marriage certificate that day, they had woken up at four in the morning to queue at the registry office. Clark had been as excited as a child. He spoke nervously throughout the entire ride. "Nyla, we're really getting married," he had said, bouncing in the passenger seat. "I feel like I'm eighteen again. Like the first time I saw you in Professor Wilson's chemistry class." When the staff handed them the marriage certificate, Clark's hands had trembled violently. He took it carefully, as if it were made of glass. Tears welled in his eyes. "Nyla, we're finally husband and wife," he had whispered, his voice breaking with emotion. "I swear I'll love and protect you for the rest of my life. You're everything to me." Nyla had believed every word. She had thought they were soulmates. Forever. But now... She stared at her beaming smile in the photo. Before she could shed a tear, she heard the familiar sound of a car engine downstairs. Her heart stopped. The garage door rumbled open. Footsteps on the stairs. "Honey, I'm back!" Clark's voice echoed from downstairs, cheerful and casual. Panic seized Nyla's chest. She hurriedly shoved the marriage certificate back into the drawer. She wiped her eyes frantically and tried to appear normal. The bedroom door was still open. She couldn't let him see the suitcase. Footsteps approached down the hallway. Clark pushed the door open, his face lighting up when he saw her. Without warning, he wrapped his arms around her from behind. His embrace had once been her safest haven. Now Nyla felt only nausea rising in her throat. She could smell an unfamiliar scent on his skin. Sweet vanilla shower gel. He had obviously showered somewhere else before coming home. "Did you miss me?" Clark whispered softly in her ear. His voice carried a lazy satisfaction, like a cat who'd just finished a meal. Nyla's muscles tensed. She resisted the urge to shove him away. Her body felt rigid as stone. "Where have you been?" "I'm sorry, babe." Clark's lie rolled off his tongue effortlessly. "I was so busy at work yesterday that I fell asleep at the office. I completely missed our anniversary." He pulled an exquisite jewelry box from his jacket pocket. "But look what I got you to make up for it." He opened the box with a flourish. Inside lay an exquisite diamond necklace. The stones caught the bedroom light, throwing rainbow patterns on the walls. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" Clark's eyes sparkled with pride. "Turn around so I can put it on you." Nyla mechanically turned around. She felt like a puppet with cut strings. Clark's fingers traced her neck as he fastened the clasp. The cold metal pressed against her skin. The diamonds felt heavy. Suffocating. "Perfect," Clark stepped back to admire his handiwork. His satisfaction was obvious. "Tomorrow night is Grandpa's birthday party. The entire Summer family will be there. With this necklace, you'll definitely be the most beautiful woman in the room." "Do I need to go?" Nyla asked. Her voice sounded hollow even to her own ears. She just wanted to escape. To get away from everything connected to the Summer family. "Of course you need to go. You're my wife." Clark looked at her with what seemed like genuine affection. He leaned in to kiss her, but Nyla quickly pushed him away. "You should shower first," she said, turning her face away. Clark nodded, seemingly unbothered. "Good idea. I've been working all day." He grabbed some clothes and headed to the bathroom. The shower turned on. Steam began seeping under the door. Nyla's phone suddenly buzzed with a notification. She glanced at the screen. A Facebook message. Her blood turned to ice. On the screen was a photo. A woman wearing a necklace identical to the one around Nyla's neck. Hickeys and scratches covered the woman's pale skin. The photo was cropped to show only her slender neck and the curve of her breasts. Below the image was a message that made Nyla's world crumble: [Does the necklace look good? I picked it out especially for you. I wore it when we faking last night. Clark said it looked beautiful on me.] Chapter 3 Nyla felt a surge of nausea wash over her. She quickly removed the necklace from her neck. Without hesitation, she tossed it into the bedroom trash can. The diamonds clinked against the metal bin. She rushed into the guest bathroom and turned on the shower. The scalding water burned her skin, but she didn't care. She grabbed the shower gel and frantically scrubbed her neck and body. She needed to remove every trace of Clark. Every memory of his touch. Her skin turned red from the harsh scrubbing, but she still felt dirty. The thought of that necklace clinging to another woman's neck made her sick. She imagined it swaying as that woman moved beneath Clark. The mental image made her stomach lurch. The bathroom door suddenly opened. Clark stood in the doorway, his eyes fixed on Nyla through the glass shower door. His gaze traveled over her wet hair, down her shoulders, following the water droplets that traced her curves. Clark's breathing became heavy. His eyes burned with lust. "Nyla, you're so beautiful," he said, his voice thick with desire. Nyla heard his voice and immediately wrapped herself in a towel. She stepped out of the shower, but the thought that he might have looked at that other woman the same way made her nauseous. "Don't come near me." Nyla took several steps back, but Clark was already approaching. "Baby, what's wrong?" Clark reached out to touch her cheek, but Nyla quickly dodged his hand. Clark didn't give up. Instead, he pulled her into his arms. His hands began wandering over her body, caressing her back through the towel. Then they moved lower. "Nyla, I want you," he whispered in her ear. His breath was hot against her skin. Nyla's body went rigid. She tried to pull away, but Clark was much stronger. His hand moved to her breast, his thumb brushing over the sensitive skin. His other hand slid down toward her inner th1gh. "Let's have a baby, okay?" Clark's voice was filled with longing. "We could have a beautiful child. A little girl with your eyes." Nyla felt ice water flood her veins. She thought of the photo that woman had sent. The same hands that were touching her now had been all over another woman's body just hours ago. Anger and disgust exploded inside her chest. "Get away from me!" Nyla pushed Clark with all her strength. "Clark, I'm tired! I don't want to do this right now!" Clark stumbled backward, startled by her sudden fury. He stared at Nyla's face, confusion clouding his features. "Honey, I'm sorry." His voice immediately filled with guilt. "I shouldn't have pushed you. I just want you so badly. I love you so much." He paused, searching her face. "If you don't want a child right now, we can wait." Watching Clark's apologetic expression, Nyla felt a mixture of emotions churning in her stomach. This man had been gentle and caring toward her for three years. She couldn't reconcile this version of him with the man who had been with another woman last night. But the facts were undeniable. Those photos. Those messages. The necklace in the trash can. That night, Nyla lay awake staring at the ceiling. Clark's breathing was even beside her. The painful images replayed in her mind over and over. She didn't sleep until dawn. The next morning, Nyla woke with dark circles under her eyes. Her reflection in the mirror looked hollow and tired. "Honey, are you feeling okay?" Clark asked with concern. "You look exhausted. Maybe you should rest today." Nyla shook her head. "I'm fine. We need to get ready for your grandfather's birthday party." As they drove through the gates of the Summer family estate, a black car suddenly roared past them. It stopped directly in front of the main entrance. The license plate read "DAMON-1." Clark's hands tightened on the steering wheel. His face darkened instantly. "Uncle Damon," he muttered under his breath. Damon Summer was Clark's uncle, Richard's youngest son. Despite being only six years older than Clark, Damon had always intimidated his nephew. He had refused to join the family business, starting his own company instead. That company was now worth five times more than Summer Group. Damon was known for being brilliant, ruthless, and vindictive. Last year, he had overheard Clark making disparaging comments about him at a business dinner. As punishment, Damon had refused a potential partnership that would have brought Summer Group hundreds of millions in revenue. Clark parked behind the car. As Nyla stepped out of the car, her high heel caught in the gravel driveway. She wobbled, about to fall backward. Suddenly, a pair of strong hands caught her waist, steadying her against a solid chest. Nyla looked up into a pair of deep, dark eyes. The man was tall and imposing, probably around twenty-nine. His features were sharp and perfectly sculpted. High cheekbones, a straight nose, a strong jawline. He wore a tailored dark gray suit that emphasized his broad shoulders and lean build. This was Damon Summer. "Careful," Damon said. His voice was deep and magnetic, with a hint of genuine concern. For a moment, Nyla found herself caught in his gaze. Clark appeared beside them, his face flushed with jealousy. He roughly grabbed Nyla's hand and pulled her away from Damon. "Thank you, Uncle," Clark said tersely. His voice was tight with barely controlled anger. He dragged Nyla toward the manor entrance. After they'd walked a few steps, he leaned close to her ear. "Nyla, you know I don't like you getting too close to other men," he whispered harshly. "Not even my uncle." Nyla almost laughed at the irony. Here was Clark, who had been with another woman just last night, acting possessive about her talking to his uncle. "So you'd rather have your wife fall flat on her face in front of the Summer family estate?" she replied coldly. Clark immediately backed down. "Honey, that's not what I meant. I just don't want people to get the wrong idea." Nyla ignored him and continued walking toward the entrance. The Summer family manor was impressive, with its grand foyer and crystal chandeliers. But Nyla felt no joy at being here. In the living room, Clark's grandmother Marie immediately called out with a beaming smile. "Nyla, Clark, you're here! Come sit down!" Nyla took a deep breath and forced a polite smile. Whatever her feelings about Clark, she still respected his grandparents. Richard had always treated her kindly. "Hello, Grandpa. Hello, Grandma," she greeted them warmly. Marie's eyes lit up as she watched Clark and Nyla approach. She had been trying to convince Damon to settle down for years. "Come, sit here next to me," Marie patted the sofa beside her. As they settled in, Damon entered the living room. Marie's expression immediately shifted to disapproval. "Look at Clark," she said pointedly to Damon. "He's got his company running smoothly, and his wife is absolutely beautiful. They might be giving us a great-grandchild soon." Her voice grew stern. "And you? You're almost thirty and still single. If you don't bring a girlfriend to the next family gathering, don't bother coming at all!" Damon's gaze flicked to Clark, then settled on Nyla. His lips curved into a half-smile. "Yes," he said quietly. "Really beautiful." Chapter 4 Marie's headache intensified at Damon's nonchalant attitude. She shook her head and turned her attention to Clark and Nyla. "You've been married for three years now. When are you planning on having kids? I'm looking forward to having great-grandchildren." The moment this topic came up, the atmosphere in the living room suddenly became tense. Nyla's fingers gripped her teacup so tightly her knuckles turned white. This was her most sensitive topic, the one that pierced her heart every time it was mentioned. Clark's aunt Anne immediately seized the opportunity. She leaned forward with a sneer. "Nyla, you and Clark have been married for three years. What will it look like if you don't have a child? What will others think of our Summer family?" She paused, malice glinting in her eyes. "And if Clark hadn't insisted on marrying you, do you think you could have married into our Summer family with your background? Don't be so ungrateful. You don't want to have children for Clark, but there are plenty of women out there who would." Anne spoke with mock concern, but her gaze was filled with contempt. She had always looked down on this niece-in-law. Talking about children made Nyla's chest tighten with pain. Of course she wanted a child. She had given up her promising career in scientific research to be a good wife. But she couldn't conceive. She had secretly visited doctors who said nothing was wrong with her body. Perhaps it was stress. But the Summer family often mocked her, calling her barren and useless. Just as Nyla was drowning in humiliation, Clark suddenly took her hand. He smiled at his grandmother. "Grandma, we're trying! There's no rushing these things. We have to let nature take its course." Then he turned to Anne, his voice stern. "Anne, watch your words. Nyla is my wife, and I won't tolerate anyone speaking to her like that." Anne's face flushed red at being publicly rebuked. "I'm doing this for your own good. You've been married for so long without any progress..." "That's enough," Clark interrupted sharply. "You don't need to worry about Nyla and me. And I want to make it clear that I'm honored to have Nyla as my wife. She didn't marry up." Nyla felt a confusing mix of emotions as she listened to Clark's defense. The love they had shared over the years was genuine. Clark's protection of her had always felt real. He consistently stood between her and his family's criticism. But at the same time, his betrayal was also real. Those photos, that necklace in the trash can, the woman's taunting messages. All of it reminded her that this man had deceived her completely. Anne was clearly unwilling to let this go. She continued with false sweetness. "I'm just telling the truth. No pre-gnancy in three years? Maybe there's something wrong with her body. With all the medical advances these days, she should get checked out. There are treatments for these things." "Anne!" Clark's voice turned dangerously cold. "I'm warning you for the last time. Whether or when we have children is between Nyla and me. It's not your business to interfere." In the past, Nyla would have been grateful for Clark's protection. She would have seen it as proof of his love. But today, hearing these words felt hollow. She knew that the moment Clark cheated, everything changed. No amount of public defense could erase what he had done in private. Midway through the banquet, Clark's phone suddenly rang. "Sorry, everyone," Clark said with an apologetic smile. "There's an emergency at work. I need to handle this right away." He turned to Nyla, his expression softening. "Honey, can you have Grandma's driver take you home? I'll be back as soon as I can." Marie waved dismissively. "Clark, go ahead. Don't worry about Nyla." Clark kissed Nyla's forehead quickly. "I'll make this up to you, I promise." As soon as Clark's car disappeared down the driveway, Marie's polite mask slipped completely. She looked at Nyla with open displeasure. "Well, now that Clark's gone," Marie said coolly, "I suppose you'll be wanting to leave too." The temperature in the room seemed to drop. "Nyla's not some delicate flower," Anne chimed in with renewed confidence. "She can find her own way home, can't she?" Nyla felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment. She had been dismissed like a servant. Without Clark's protection, she meant nothing to these people. "I think that's my cue to leave," Nyla said. She stood up. "Thank you for your hospitality." The butler, following Marie's subtle nod, escorted Nyla only to the manor gate. He immediately turned back toward the house, leaving her standing alone on the roadside. That's when the rain started. Fat droplets fell from the dark sky, quickly soaking through Nyla's silk dress. She pulled out her phone to call a taxi, but the app showed no available drivers in this remote area. The Summer estate was far from the city center. The rain intensified rapidly. Within minutes, Nyla was completely drenched. Her carefully styled hair hung in wet strands around her face. Her dress clung uncomfortably to her skin. Just when she thought things couldn't get worse, headlights cut through the darkness. A black car slowed to a stop beside her. The window rolled down, revealing Damon's sharp features. Chapter 5 As Damon prepared to leave the manor, he glanced out the car window. Through the rain, he could see Nyla huddled against the stone wall near the gate. Her dress was completely soaked, clinging to her body and outlining her curves. Her long hair hung in wet strands around her face, making her look fragile and abandoned. Damon understood immediately what had happened. He knew Marie and Anne's personalities well. They would never be kind enough to arrange transportation for the niece-in-law they had always disliked. He turned to his assistant Spencer, who was sitting in the passenger seat. "Get out and hold an umbrella for her." Spencer immediately grabbed the black umbrella from the floor and stepped out into the rain. He walked quickly toward Nyla while Damon rolled down his window. "Get in," Damon said to Nyla. His voice was characteristically cold and commanding. "I'll take you home." Nyla looked up, startled to see it was Damon. She instinctively took a step back, shaking her head. "Uncle Damon, it's okay. The rain will stop soon. I can wait." She remembered Clark's warnings about how dangerous Damon could be. Clark had specifically told her to keep her distance from his uncle. She didn't want to cause herself any more trouble, especially not tonight. Damon's brow furrowed when he saw Nyla clearly trying to avoid him. His tone grew deeper and more commanding. "Get in the car. Don't make me repeat myself." His natural dominance was overwhelming. The way he spoke made it nearly impossible to refuse. Nyla felt her resolve weakening under his intense gaze. Before she could refuse again, Spencer appeared beside her with the umbrella. He gently took her damp clutch from her trembling hands. "Ms. Nyla, please get in the car," Spencer said kindly. "This rain will continue for at least another hour. It's very windy out here, and you're not dressed warmly enough. You'll catch pneumonia." Spencer's tone was gentle and concerned. Nyla glanced up at the dark storm clouds, then down at her completely soaked dress. Water was still dripping from her hair. She was starting to shiver uncontrollably. Finally, biting her lip, she opened the car door and slid inside. The interior of the car was warm and luxurious. Soft leather seats and the faint scent of expensive cologne filled the space. Nyla immediately felt the temperature difference. Damon glanced at her wet dress, which was now clinging even more tightly to her body. The fabric had become almost transparent. He could see the outline of her undergarments. His throat tightened involuntarily. Without a word, he took off his dark gray suit jacket and tossed it to her. "Thank you," Nyla murmured, quickly pulling the jacket around her shoulders. It was still warm from his body heat and smelled like his cologne. The scent was surprisingly comforting. "I'll have it cleaned and return it to you." "Just throw it away," Damon replied coldly. His tone carried casual arrogance, as if the expensive jacket meant nothing to him. The car pulled away from the manor and drove smoothly through the rainy night. Silence settled between them. Nyla huddled in the corner of the backseat, not daring to look at the powerful man beside her. She could feel an oppressive aura radiating from him. It made her unconsciously nervous. She stole a glance at his profile. His jaw was sharp and perfectly defined. His dark hair was styled impeccably despite the rain. Everything about him screamed wealth and power. He was nothing like Clark, who was gentle and approachable. Damon seemed dangerous. Twenty minutes later, the car stopped in front of Nyla's house. She quickly gathered herself and reached for the door handle. "Thank you so much for the ride," she said hurriedly, leaving his jacket on the seat. "I really appreciate it." Damon watched her disappear inside the house. The faint scent of jasmine perfume still lingered in the car where she had been sitting. He found himself breathing it in deeply. His body reacted involuntarily to her proximity. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "She's your nephew's wife," he warned himself silently. "Control yourself." As soon as Nyla entered her house, she felt a wave of dizziness wash over her. Her body began to feel hot despite her wet clothes. Her head felt heavy and confused. Before she could even change out of her soaked dress, everything went black. She collapsed in the living room. When Nyla woke up, she found herself lying in a hospital bed. The room smelled strongly of disinfectant, but the bedside table was covered with familiar treats. Strawberry shortcake, colorful macarons, handmade chocolates, and a large bouquet of pink roses. "Ma'am, you're finally awake!" A nurse appeared beside her bed, looking relieved. "You've had a high fever for over twenty-four hours. Mr. Summer was so worried. He stayed by your bedside the entire time. He only left an hour ago because of an emergency call." The nurse checked Nyla's temperature with a digital thermometer. "Do you want me to call him? He'll be so happy to know you're conscious." Looking at the familiar arrangement of gifts, Nyla felt her heart soften despite everything. She had always been prone to illness and had a terrible fear of injections and medication. Whenever she was sick, Clark would do exactly this. He would buy all her favorite treats and flowers, hoping to cheer her up and speed her recovery. It had become their tradition over the years. These sweet memories made her chest ache with confusion. How could the man who cheated on her be the same person who spent the night worried beside her hospital bed? "Where is he now?" Nyla asked, pushing herself up in bed. "I want to find him myself." The nurse smiled. "He's somewhere in the hospital taking care of business." She left her room and walked down the sterile hospital corridor. As she rounded the corner, she stopped dead in her tracks. There was Clark, coming out of the obstetrics and gynecology department. But he wasn't alone. A woman walked beside him, her hand resting protectively on her belly. Chapter 6 Clark gently helped the young woman out of the obstetrics clinic. Both of them were smiling, their faces glowing with happiness. Nyla immediately recognized her. This was the woman from the photos in those anonymous messages. Just then, the woman spotted Nyla standing frozen in the hallway. Her eyes lit up with surprise and something that looked like malicious delight. "Oh wow, isn't that Mrs. Summer?" she exclaimed loudly. "What a coincidence running into you at the hospital!" At the sound of her voice, Clark looked up. His eyes met Nyla's across the corridor. His entire body went rigid. He quickly dropped his hand from the woman's arm, panic flooding his features. "Nyla!" Clark hurried toward her, his voice high with nervousness. "Why are you here? You should be resting in your room!" He reached her side, speaking rapidly. "I was just downstairs getting your medicine when I accidentally bumped into Jordyn here. She's my new secretary, and she's pre-gnant. I was worried she might fall, so I helped steady her." His explanation tumbled out in a rush. Sweat beaded on his forehead despite the air conditioning. Nyla's gaze moved to the woman's slightly swollen belly. She felt her breathing become shallow and labored. But she forced herself to remain outwardly calm. "Miss Jordyn," Nyla said slowly, "when did you get pre-gnant? Where's the father? Shouldn't he be here with you for such an important appointment?" Jordyn caressed her belly with obvious pride. A sweet, satisfied smile spread across her face. "I just found out I'm two months along. The father couldn't be here because he's so busy with work, but he was absolutely thrilled when I told him." She practically glowed as she spoke. "He said he wants to give me and the baby the best life possible. He's already bought me a beautiful apartment downtown and promised to make everything official after the baby arrives." Every word felt like a knife twisting in Nyla's chest. Jordyn continued, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "Mrs. Summer, you're so lucky to have such a wonderful husband. But I think my boyfriend is just as amazing. He tells me I've become even more beautiful since getting pre-gnant. He can barely stand to leave my side." She paused, tilting her head with feigned innocence. "Mrs. Summer, do you have time? I'm free today. Would you like to have dinner together? I could invite the baby's father to join us." The challenge in her eyes was unmistakable. Clark's expression darkened. He shot Jordyn a warning look. "My wife doesn't have time. Miss Jordyn, I'm sure your boyfriend is waiting for you. Don't keep him worried." His voice carried clear dismissal and irritation. Then he wrapped his arm around Nyla's shoulders, his touch gentle and concerned. "Honey, you're still recovering. You shouldn't be walking around the hospital. Let me take you back to your room." He spoke in the same caring tone. "She's just a secretary. Don't worry about her." Jordyn's face crumpled at the cold dismissal in Clark's voice. Her eyes filled with tears, making her look young and vulnerable. "You're right. I got too excited. I'm not worthy of having dinner with Mrs. Summer." She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, looking genuinely hurt. "I should go. My boyfriend will be wondering where I am." With that, she turned and walked away, her shoulders shaking slightly. Clark's expression flickered. For a moment, he looked like he wanted to follow her. But when he noticed Nyla watching him carefully, he stayed put. He turned back to Nyla and patted her head affectionately. "Be good, okay? I have some urgent things to handle at the company. I'll have James drive you home. Get some rest, and I'll be back tonight to check on you." His voice was warm and loving, the same tone he had used for three years of marriage. As soon as Nyla returned to her hospital room, her phone buzzed with a new message. It was from Jordyn. The first image was a pre-gnancy test showing two clear pink lines. Then came a series of messages that made Nyla's hands shake: [Nyla, I know you figured it out today. The baby is Clark's. Don't think he loves you as much as you believe. If he truly loves you, then what am I doing in his life?] [Do you know how obsessed he is with me? Every year on your birthday and your anniversary, after he puts you to sleep, he comes to spend the night with me. He's so passionate with me, so wild. We go through boxes of c0n-doms, and I can barely walk the next day.] [We've faking in his car, his office, even in your bedroom when you were away. He's done things with me that I bet he's never done with you. Has he ever been truly passionate with you, Nyla? Or does he save all his fire for me?] Reading these brutal messages, Nyla felt something break inside her chest. Her hands trembled as she set down the phone. She took deep, measured breaths, trying to suppress the storm of emotions threatening to overwhelm her. That evening, Clark returned with an elegant white box. Inside was a strawberry mousse cake from the city's most expensive French pastry shop. It had once been Nyla's absolute favorite dessert. "Baby, I brought your favorite cake," Clark said carefully, watching her face for a reaction. "The doctor said you're still weak and need to eat more sweets to build up your energy." He opened the box with a flourish, revealing the delicate pink confection. In the past, Nyla would have clapped her hands with delight at seeing this cake. She used to say it was almost too beautiful to eat. But now, looking at it made her stomach turn. She picked up the small silver fork and took a mechanical bite. The overly sweet flavor sat in her mouth like paste. She couldn't swallow it. Without a word, Nyla stood up and threw the entire cake box into the trash can. The beautiful dessert landed with a dull thud. Clark stared at her in shock. "Nyla, what's wrong with you? " Chapter 7 Nyla turned to face Clark, her eyes completely devoid of their usual warmth. "It doesn't taste the same anymore." Her voice was eerily calm, but it sent a chill through Clark's entire body. He rushed to her side and pulled her into his arms. "Baby, maybe this bakery changed their recipe," he said. "I'll call them tomorrow and find out. No matter how much it costs, I'll make sure they get the taste exactly right again." Nyla's body remained rigid in his embrace. "Things change, Clark. Once they change, you can't go back." Her voice was still calm, but each word felt like an icicle piercing Clark's heart. He sensed she wasn't just talking about the cake anymore. She was talking about them. Clark felt panic rising in his chest. That was when his phone rang. The ringtone cut through the tension. Clark glanced at the caller ID and his face went pale. Nyla caught the shift in his expression, and her disappointment deepened. "I... I need to take this call," Clark stammered. "There's an emergency at work." Nyla turned away from him completely. "Go ahead. Work is important." Clark stood frozen for several seconds, torn between answering the phone and staying with his wife. Finally, he made his choice and headed for the door. As he stepped into the hallway, Nyla could hear his voice through the thin walls: "Jordyn, what's wrong? Are you feeling sick? I'll be right there..." His voice faded as he moved further away, leaving Nyla alone in their living room. The silence felt suffocating. Nyla stared at the white walls, feeling like they were closing in on her. Twenty minutes after Clark left, Nyla's phone buzzed with an incoming call. She didn't recognize the number, but she answered anyway. "Mrs. Summer, I hope I'm not interrupting," came Jordyn's sweet voice. "I'm not feeling well, so I borrowed Clark from you tonight. He came without hesitation when I called. He said nothing was more important than making sure I was okay." Nyla's grip tightened on the phone, but she said nothing. Jordyn continued with obvious satisfaction. "You know what Clark told me today? He said I'm younger and prettier than you. He said I can give him something you never could - a child. He mentioned that you haven't been able to conceive in three years. He's worried there might be something wrong with your body." "Oh, and that strawberry mousse cake you threw away today?" Jordyn's voice turned mocking. "Clark buys me that same cake all the time. He says sweet treats are perfect for sweet girls. Don't you think it tastes sweet, Mrs. Summer?" The call ended with Jordyn's cruel laughter. Nyla sat in the darkness, feeling something fundamental shift inside her. The pain was so intense it took her breath away. Then slowly, mercifully, numbness began to set in. From that day forward, Nyla began quietly packing her belongings. She folded her clothes carefully and placed them in suitcases. She packed her books, her makeup, her jewelry. Each item felt heavy with memories she no longer wanted to keep. Clark became even busier during this time. He came home later and later, sometimes not at all. When he did return, he was distant and distracted. Meanwhile, Jordyn's messages never stopped. Photos of her growing belly, pictures of expensive gifts, taunting words designed to twist the knife deeper. Nyla's best friend Valarie came over to help with the divorce paperwork. "Given that Clark committed adultery and got another woman pre-gnant, you could definitely ask for substantial compensation," Valarie said seriously. "Plus, you gave up your career for this marriage. That's worth a lot in court." Valarie spread the legal documents across the coffee table. "You sacrificed your research position at the university. You could have been earning six figures by now." But before proceeding with anything official, Nyla felt she should tell her father. She drove to the hospital where he was still recovering from his recent surgery. Her father looked better than he had in weeks. His color was returning, and he was sitting up reading the newspaper. "Dad," Nyla began carefully, "if... hypothetically... if I wanted to get divorced, what would you think?" Her father set down his newspaper and studied his daughter's face intently. "Nyla, is something wrong between you and Clark?" Nyla forced herself to maintain eye contact. "I'm just curious. If that day ever came..." "Absolutely not!" Her father's voice rose sharply. "Nyla, do you understand what the Summer family has done for us? When my factory had that terrible accident, they provided the money that saved us from bankruptcy. They've been paying my medical bills for three years. Without them, we would have lost everything." Her father's face was flushed with emotion. "Clark has been nothing but good to you. How could you even think such thoughts? Has someone been filling your head with ideas?" Nyla realized she couldn't continue this conversation. Her father had no idea about Clark's betrayal. She couldn't bear to put her sick father through that kind of shock and disappointment. She was about to change the subject when her father's phone chimed with a text message. He glanced at the screen and his face went completely white. The message was from Jordyn. It contained a photo of her and Clark kissing passionately in what looked like a hotel room. Below the image was a message that read: "Thought you should know - I'm pre-gnant with your son-in-law Clark's baby." Chapter 8 Harrison suddenly developed a violent coughing fit. His body convulsed as he struggled to breathe. His face turned an alarming shade of blue, and his hands clawed at his chest. The phone slipped from his trembling fingers and clattered to the floor. Nyla saw the message on the fallen phone and immediately understood what had triggered his condition. Rage flooded through her veins, but her father's health took priority over confronting Jordyn. She frantically pressed the call button for the nurses. "Help! I need a doctor now!" she shouted into the hallway. A team of medical staff rushed into the room. They immediately began checking her father's vital signs while Nyla stood helplessly in the corner, watching his condition deteriorate before her eyes. The lead doctor emerged from the examination looking grave. He pulled off his mask and shook his head slowly. "Mr. Jayston's condition has suddenly worsened," he said wearily. "His kid ney failure has progressed rapidly. We need to transfer him to the ICU immediately for intensive monitoring and treatment." Nyla felt her legs go weak. "How serious is this?" "It's critical," the doctor replied bluntly. "But I'm afraid we have a problem. Our ICU is completely full. Every bed is occupied, and there's a waiting list. All the hospitals in the city are experiencing the same shortage of resources." "Wait?" Nyla could barely comprehend what she was hearing. "Doctor, my father can't wait. Look at him!" Her father was still struggling to breathe normally. His skin had a grayish pallor that terrified her. "I understand your concern, Mrs. Summer, but we're doing everything we can," the doctor said helplessly. "All we can do right now is stabilize his condition with medication and hope a bed opens up soon." Desperation clawed at Nyla's chest. She thought immediately of Clark. As the heir to Summer Group, he had connections throughout the medical community. He could pull strings and get her father the care he needed. With shaking hands, she dialed Clark's number. After several rings, someone picked up. But it wasn't Clark's voice that greeted her. "Hello, who's calling?" came Jordyn's sickeningly sweet voice. Nyla's blood turned to ice. "This is Nyla. I need to speak to Clark immediately. It's an emergency." "Oh, Mrs. Summer!" Jordyn's voice was dripping with false concern. "Clark is in the shower right now. He's been taking such good care of me all day that he's completely exhausted. Poor thing needs to rest." Nyla bit back her fury and forced herself to stay focused. "This is about my father. He's dying and needs an ICU bed. Please put Clark on the phone right now." "Oh my, what terrible timing," Jordyn said with obvious fake sympathy. "I wasn't feeling well this afternoon either. Just some pre-gnancy nausea and dizziness, you know how it is. But Clark was so worried about me and the baby that he immediately called in the best medical team in the city. They're all on standby right now, just in case something happens to us." Nyla's hands were shaking so violently she could barely hold the phone. Her father was dying, and her husband was playing house with his pre-gnant mistress. "Can you please just-" Nyla began, but Jordyn cut her off. "Oh, I hear the shower turning off. Clark will be so tired after everything we've been through today. I should probably let him rest. You understand, don't you?" The line went dead. Nyla stood in the hospital hallway, feeling like the world was collapsing around her. She closed her eyes and tried to think of alternatives. Then suddenly, an image flashed through her mind - a figure handing her a coat in the rain. Damon's cold but decisive voice echoing in the car. Without allowing herself to second-guess the decision, she dialed his number. "Mr. Damon, this is Nyla," she said when he answered. "I'm sorry to bother you, but my father is critically ill. He needs an ICU bed urgently, but the hospital says they don't have any available. I know this is a lot to ask..." "Send me the hospital address," Damon's voice cut through her rambling. It was sharp and authoritative. "I'll handle it. Ten minutes." The line went dead, but his words carried more reassurance than Clark's empty promises ever had. Exactly ten minutes later, the hospital director personally arrived at her father's ward. Behind him came a full medical team, including specialists Nyla recognized from medical journals. They moved with efficient precision. "Mr. Jayston will be transferred to our premium ICU immediately," the director told Nyla respectfully. "We're bringing in the city's leading kid-ney specialists for consultation. He'll receive the absolute best care available." Within an hour, her father was settled in a private ICU room with round-the-clock monitoring. That evening, after her father's condition had finally stabilized, Nyla returned to the house she had shared with Clark. She sat in their living room, surrounded by three years of memories that now felt like lies. She opened her phone and began forwarding every single message and photo Jordyn had sent her to Clark's email address. The videos of Jordyn showing off expensive jewelry. Photos of their intimate moments in the apartment Clark had bought her. Recordings of Jordyn rubbing her belly and cooing, "Daddy loves us so much. He's going to give us everything." After sending all these, Nyla typed a final message: "Clark, these are from your girlfriend Jordyn. Since you two love each other so much, I'll step aside and let you be together." Then she photographed the divorce papers Valarie had prepared and attached them to another email: "The divorce agreement is ready. Have your lawyer contact Valarie tomorrow to finalize everything." After hitting send, Nyla stood up and began dismantling their life together. She pulled their wedding photos off the walls and threw them directly into the trash. The jewelry Clark had given her, the clothes he had bought, the makeup he had surprised her with - everything went into garbage bags. She called a moving company and worked through the night to clear out her belongings. By dawn, the house looked exactly as it had before she had moved in - empty and cold. Nyla took one final look around the space that had once felt like home. She dragged her suitcase to the door and walked out without looking back.

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"Want me, Adeline?" Blaine's voice brushed my ear as his hands locked around my hips. I clutched the bedframe while he drove into me again, and a bright shock of pleasure raced through every nerve I had. My back bowed under him. A helpless sound slipped out of me, half sigh and half surrender. "Yes... it feels amazing." "Then let me have my turn, baby." He gave a low, rough laugh, and the tempo of his body changed—harder, faster, more demanding. I went loose beneath him, stripped of strength, carried only by the force of him. When the climax finally broke over him, it came with a deep, feral sound. His broad weight dropped against mine for a second, our bodies still tangled together. I reached for him instinctively, wanting to keep him close, but he was already moving. He rose from the mattress in one smooth motion and took the edge of the bed, dragging a hand back through his tousled hair. I stared at his side profile instead. He looked unreal—carved, polished, impossible. The line of his jaw was so severe it seemed chiseled by a sculptor's hand, like some living statue brought to life. That perfect Alpha belonged to me. Blaine had power, beauty, status, and the authority of the Briarcliff Pack behind him, one of the most feared packs on the East Coast. I had none of that. I was only an Omega with no pack to stand behind me. Still, he had never been cruel to me. He treated me gently, spoke with respect, and never humiliated me in front of the others. Yet there was always distance under the softness, something I could feel even in the heat of bed. Our marriage had started as a bargain for politics, and for three years our bodies had fit together almost perfectly while the center of him stayed sealed away. The one thing that made that gulf unbearable was the reason the pack kept whispering: I still hadn't given him an heir. I had gone to the clinic again and again. My best friend—the pack doctor—kept telling me the same thing: I was healthy, only overwhelmed. But that answer never reached the people gossiping behind my back. Blaine never accused me outright, but his silence only made the shame heavier. Tonight, though, was supposed to end all of that. Two weeks earlier, I had learned I was pregnant. My fingers slid over the small curve of my stomach. It was still flat, still easy to hide, but it carried everything I had been waiting for. Today was our third anniversary, and I had chosen this night on purpose. I wanted to tell him myself. I was gambling every last piece of my heart on the hope that he would finally let me in—that he would look at me and, just once, choose me in return. "Blaine," I said quietly, my voice rough from what had just happened. "Adeline, we need to talk." He cut across me at once and stepped away, leaving me with a sudden, cold hollow where his body had been. I swallowed and forced my lips into something like a smile. "What is it?" The air seemed to harden around us. Blaine grabbed the robe from the floor, shrugged it on, and then said in a flat voice, "We should get a divorce." For a moment, I felt as if the room had tipped sideways. My ears rang. "What did you say?" I managed, but even to me, my voice sounded thin and broken. "Serena is back." His words landed like a blow. The name split through me with brutal clarity. Serena—his fated mate. The daughter of his former Beta. They had been meant to hold a mating ceremony and spend their lives together. Instead, disaster had struck. Serena had thrown herself in front of Blaine during a rogue attack and taken a devastating wound straight to the heart. Even after that, Blaine had never let go of the idea of being with her. Then she vanished without warning. For three years there had been no trace of her. I had almost managed to forget she existed. I bit down on my lip until I tasted blood, trying to keep my hands from shaking. Blaine looked at me once, briefly, and then kept going. "Her wolf spirit was badly damaged in that attack, so she went away to recover. The healer told her..." His expression tightened. Guilt shadowed his eyes. "She only has six months left." I went still. A damaged wolf spirit wasn't just weakness. For a werewolf, it was a slow, grim death. "I'm so sorry," I said, and I meant it. "We can find her help. The best healers, herbalists, whatever she needs—" "No." The word came out sharp enough to slice. His impatience had already replaced the guilt. "That's not what she asked for. She only has one wish left." He hesitated for a beat, then set his jaw. "She wants to spend the last six months as my wife." The sound that came out of me was almost a laugh, but it broke before it could become one. Tears blurred my sight. "This can't be serious. Blaine, I'm your mate. And I—" "Adeline, the title of Luna was always meant for Serena." He shut me down without letting me finish. His stare had gone cold again, emptied of warmth. "I expected you to support this." My hand drifted to my stomach. I needed him to understand, needed him to stop before he walked past the point of no return. "Are you really going to do this?" I asked. "Think about it before you decide. Are you sure you won't regret it?" In the pack, a child born outside marriage was never spared judgment. I could already imagine the stares, the whispers, the way my baby would be marked before it even drew breath. Blaine, though, completely misunderstood what I was trying to say. His gaze sharpened into ice. "You really are disappointing, Adeline. I know exactly what you're scared of. You're worried about losing the pack's protection, worried you'll lose the comfortable life I've given you." His mouth curled in disdain. "Fine. I'll fix that for you. I'll hand you an unlimited credit card right now. If you can't even offer a little compassion, then you're hopeless. Cold. Self-centered. Unreasonable. You don't deserve to be loved." The words hit harder than anything else he had said. Then he delivered the final blow. "And that's exactly why your father died," he snapped. "Because he had a weak, useless, selfish daughter who couldn't protect him. He was left to face those rogue wolves alone." My thoughts went blank. How could he say that to me? My father had been killed by rogue wolves. Blaine knew I had nearly fallen apart after losing him. He had been the one who found me and brought me into the Briarcliff Pack. Back then, he had lifted me into his arms and said, "You'll be my Luna. The Luna of the Briarcliff Pack, one of the strongest packs on the East Coast. No one will hurt you again." I could still remember the severity of his face, the strength in his jaw, and the way I had believed him. For one reckless moment, I had thought I had finally found a reason to keep living. Now even that memory felt rotten. The tenderness I had cherished had never truly existed. It had all been my own invention, a lie I had fed myself until it looked like love. In one breath, it was as if the air had been ripped from my lungs. "Fine. I agree to the divorce." My voice came out unnervingly calm. "And I won't accept your mark either." Only by rejecting the mark could we sever the bond properly as wolves. Blaine's eyes flashed. "You think refusing the mark will make me back down? Don't waste your time. It's settled." At that exact moment, the phone on the bedside table started buzzing. The ringtone was unmistakable. Serena. He snatched it up at once. The hard line of his face softened so completely that I barely recognized him; his expression turned warm in a way I had never once managed to earn. When the call ended, the mask snapped back into place. "Serena said she'll stay in the guest wing," he told me. "She's not coming to take your room, Adeline. I won't be bringing her into the master bedroom." Then he looked at me with open disgust and added, "See? You don't even come close to someone like her." Without another glance, he walked out. My knees gave out before I could steady myself. I slid down the wardrobe, one shaky breath at a time, until I was crumpled on the floor. It was almost absurd. I had truly believed tonight would change everything. I had convinced myself this would be the night he finally chose me, the night he loved me back. Instead, it became the most humiliating night of my life. Tears blurred everything. It felt as though my chest had been split into a thousand sharp pieces. Trembling, I pressed my palm over my lower stomach. There was a tiny life there. My friend's warning from the hospital came back to me with painful clarity: "Adeline, you don't have a wolf. If your emotions spiral, the baby could be in danger." I could not afford to fall apart. And I would not accept the cruel terms Blaine had shoved at me. He thought he was being merciful by keeping me from being cast out as a rogue. He knew perfectly well that for an Omega without a wolf, being packless was practically a death sentence. He was betting on my fear. He was certain I wouldn't dare refuse him. But even as despair pressed in around me, another voice surfaced in my memory, low and steady like a growl against my skin. "Adeline, remember... no matter how far you drift, you'll always have me." No. I could not make a deal with the devil. Thirty days. That was how long a divorce took to finalize. One month. It had to be enough time for me to find a way to survive. Then my phone buzzed. A message from Blaine. "Be at the Pack Council Hall tomorrow at nine sharp to finalize the divorce papers." Chapter 2: Fractured Vows I never knew exactly when sleep finally took me. All through the night, my stomach kept knotting and turning, like someone had shoved it into a blender and switched it to high. Since yesterday, the pain had only grown sharper. Was my child reacting to his father's coldness? Was he quietly protesting for me? When I stared at the empty bedroom, the truth hit hard: Blaine had not come back once. So he had spent the entire night with Serena. That thought sent tears rushing back into my eyes. How could he erase everything I had done for him so completely? I still remembered the moment he hauled me out of my father's blood. That was the instant I had fallen for him with everything I had. For three years, I had lived at his command. I was only an Omega, but I was capable, and he had leaned on me for nearly everything. I handled the orphanage for young pups. I settled disputes inside the pack, balanced the accounts, and guarded our reputation with obsessive care. Too many nights, I had worked until the sky went black. Briarcliff’s climb to power was not built on Blaine’s strength alone. It was built on my labor too. Of course, I would bet my life he would never admit that. By the time I looked at the clock, it was already past nine-thirty. I forced myself to hurry through my morning routine. I needed this marriage ended as fast as possible. But the scene at the Council Hall gate made me stop so abruptly I nearly lost my balance. Blaine had Serena locked in his arms, holding her as though she were the rarest thing in the world. Last night, that same chest had been the place I leaned against. The air seemed to vanish from my lungs. For a second, I could not draw a breath. Then came the words that shattered what was left of me. "Of course, Serena. I’ve always loved you," Blaine said, his voice softer than I had ever heard it. "Even when I was making love to Adeline, I was saying your name in my heart." Everything inside me collapsed at once. The skin at my neck burned fiercely, as if someone had pressed a branding iron against it again and again. It was more than pain in my body. It rose from somewhere deeper, ripping through my soul and racing through my veins like fire. My heart felt struck through, then split into a thousand jagged pieces that tore at my chest from the inside out. My face drained white. My knees nearly gave way. So that was it. Every hot night, every moment I had mistaken for closeness, every time I had trembled in his arms and said his name—he had been thinking of Serena all along. I had only been a substitute. A miserable replacement. Then I caught the flicker of a smug smile on Serena’s lips. Was she really sick? A wave of unease twisted through my stomach, and a cramp hit so hard I almost folded in half. No. I could not break here. I could not let them see me fall apart, and I absolutely could not expose the secret of my pregnancy. I clenched my teeth and straightened, drawing on every bit of strength I had left. When I spoke, my voice was steady. "Fine. Let’s get this over with." Blaine’s brows pulled together. His eyes swept over my face, suspicious. "Why do you look so pale?" Before I could answer, Serena broke into a coughing fit. When she finally spoke, her voice was feeble and sweet. "Adeline, I know you’re being forced into this." She pressed herself weakly against Blaine’s arm. "I already begged him. Blaine promised you could keep the life of a Luna." Tears spilled down her cheeks. "Adeline, please don’t blame Blaine for being cruel. He’s only doing this because he’s afraid you’ll have regrets after I’m... after I’m gone." How kind of her. Every sentence she spoke only made Blaine’s devotion to her more obvious. And each word reminded me exactly what I was to him: the clingy wife who refused to let go. Blaine rose to his feet and shot me a cold look. "Come inside. Stop wasting time." He could not wait to be done with me, to leave me behind as quickly as possible. And six months from now, was he really still planning to take me back? I hesitated, and Serena immediately stepped in again, her tone dripping with false concern. "Adeline, it’s not too late if you want to change your mind—" Then she launched into another fit of violent coughing. I cut her off. "Change my mind? For a jerk who thinks about another woman while he’s having sex?" I watched Blaine’s expression harden all over again. I gave him a sharp smile. "So what is it, Alpha Blaine? Are we going in, or do you want me to reconsider?" With a furious shove, he pushed Serena ahead of him toward the office. I followed behind. Seeing them side by side made me feel like an intruder. My eyes started to sting again, but I forced the tears back. There was no point crying over someone who did not love me. The hall was nearly deserted. The moment the staff saw Blaine enter, they shot to their feet in alarm. "Alpha?" "We’re here for a divorce," Blaine said flatly. They froze. Their eyes flicked between Serena and me before landing on me. "Luna..." "Just process it," I said, handing over my ID. Too nervous to ask anything else, the clerk began typing with shaking hands. The only sound in the hall was the system’s sharp beeping, each tone scraping at my nerves. A few minutes later, the clerk suddenly stopped. His face had gone tense and troubled. "Alpha, the system shows that you and Luna Adeline are both registered as core pack members. Under Wolf Pack Law, Section 72, your divorce request has a one-month cooling-off period." Blaine’s face darkened at once. "What did you say?" "I mean that you can only file today," the clerk said, sweating now. "If both sides still want the divorce after thirty days, the mate bond can be officially dissolved then." Thirty days. That meant I would still be wearing the title of Blaine’s wife while he paraded Serena around for a full month. "Is there really no other option?" I heard myself ask, even though I already knew the answer. The clerk wiped at the cold sweat on his forehead. His voice shook. "I’m sorry, Luna. Those are Council rules. The system is locked down. I don’t have permission to override it." Blaine strode up to me, his tall frame throwing me into shadow under the weight of his Alpha aura. "Adeline, are you so desperate to get away from me?" His jaw flexed. "Are you throwing a fit now? I’ve explained this to you more than once. This is temporary. In six months, we’ll remarry, and you’ll still be Luna. Who exactly are you performing for with this 'I’m desperate to escape' act? Trying to make me feel guilty?" He ground the words out through his teeth. I almost laughed. He was the one forcing the divorce, the one who had dragged his old flame in front of me to humiliate me, and now he disliked it because I was finally giving him what he wanted? "Blaine, you really do think too highly of yourself. Do you imagine I’m some pet you can call in and cast out whenever it suits you? When you want me, I’m your Luna. When you don’t, I’m just a placeholder you can toss aside?" I took a step back, putting distance between us. "There is no temporary," I said, my voice carrying through the vast hall, clear and hard. "The second I sign, we’re finished. Permanently." Blaine reached out as if to grab my arm, but Serena’s weak voice cut across the moment. "Blaine... the wind is so cold. I feel chilled..." I did not stay to watch them lean into each other. Turning away, I headed straight for the Council Hall exit. I had to get to the hospital. I had to make sure my pup was safe. Chapter 3: Fractures at the Manor I rushed out of the office and went straight to the hospital. After what had happened the day before, I had to know whether my pup was all right. Valerie, my best friend, brought her glitter-covered, diamond-studded iPad down on her desk so hard the sound cracked through the room. "Absolute morons," she snapped, her white coat whipping around her legs as she paced. "They don't understand a single thing about what's actually happening." I lifted the tablet, but the brightness stabbed at my eyes before I could even focus. Every feed was drowning in praise for "Alpha Blaine's noble sacrifice." The leading post showed Blaine wheeling Serena out of the office. His head was angled toward her, his eyes soft, his whole face arranged into something warm and protective. And me? I had been reduced to a throwaway line: "the wolfless ex-wife finally remembers her place and steps aside." The comments were worse. "Bless Serena. She's the real Luna. After everything she's suffered, she deserves happiness." "Adeline should've left forever ago. Three years clinging to the Luna title and what did she give the pack? She can't even produce an heir." "Didn't she stall the divorce because she wanted more money? Greedy parasite." "Alpha still hasn't taken the Luna title from Adeline. Probably because Serena is too delicate right now. He must not have had a choice." Each line landed sharp and hot, like a slap I couldn't dodge. "Enough." Valerie plucked the iPad out of my grip and killed the screen. "People get brave when they're hiding behind keyboards. Let them choke on their trash opinions." I lay back on the examination table and fixed my gaze on the fluorescent panel above me. Even with the screen dark, those comments hissed through my skull, poisonous and persistent, eating at whatever pride I had managed to keep. "I'm fine, Valerie," I said, and my own calmness sounded strange to me. "What strangers say doesn't matter. They mean nothing to me." The lie was obvious, even to me. When everyone seemed to be pointing at you, indifference became almost impossible. Valerie watched my face with the caution of someone who knew every crack in it. "Adeline, hear me out. Serena may become Blaine's wife, but she isn't yet. And Blaine still hasn't formally removed you as Luna. If you told him the truth—if you told him about the baby—maybe things would change. His grandmother has always loved you, too." Her grandmother's voice drifted through my memory, gentle and fond: "Adeline, I have never met a kinder soul. Blaine needs a Luna like you." But that belonged to another life. "No." I cut Valerie off before she could say more, the refusal leaving me almost before I decided to speak. "We're divorced. Serena has all of his heart now. I won't raise my child inside a poisoned family." Blaine's words pushed back into my mind before I could stop them: "Even when I was making love to Adeline, it was your name I was whispering in my heart." That sentence had not faded. It was still buried in me like a blade. "He told me he doesn't love me, Valerie. He even said..." My throat closed, and my voice shook despite my effort to steady it. "He said that when he was in bed with me, I wasn't the one in his thoughts." Valerie's expression hardened into fury. "That bastard." "If he learns about this baby, he'll either treat it like an inconvenience or drag me into a custody war just to hand the child to a nanny afterward. This baby belongs with me. With only me." For a few seconds, Valerie said nothing. Then her voice dropped. "So you're leaving?" I had spent the entire night turning that question over until it bruised. Leaving meant severing myself from everything I had built here: the room I had decorated piece by piece, the orphanage I had poured myself into, even the people I had once mistaken for friends. Staying meant accepting humiliation as a daily routine. "I have to." I nodded once, making the decision feel solid. "For my pup, I need to put as much distance between Blaine and me as I can." "Where would you go? Back to your uncle's territory?" Valerie's brow creased. "Adeline, he has never seemed trustworthy. And now that the Silvermount Pack is basically under his control, returning there might put you in even more danger." I didn't answer, because she was right. My uncle had never liked me. If my father's name hadn't still carried weight while he was alive, I would have been forced out of the Silvermount Pack years ago. Now, with everything stripped from me, going back would make me easy prey. Then another face flashed through my thoughts—the man whose presence had felt wild, dangerous, almost beastlike. No. Whatever happened, I would not walk into another Alpha's territory. There was still a second path. Once I left the Alpha Commissioner's residence, I would begin drawing a new map for my life. "Don't worry, Valerie. You know me." I gave her a small smile, hoping it looked steadier than I felt. "I always figure out how to stand up again." Valerie exhaled heavily, then reached for the ultrasound machine. She squeezed a thick ribbon of cold gel onto the probe. "Fine. Lie back. Let's check on your little one." I smiled and settled onto the table. The gel shocked a flinch out of me when the probe slid over my stomach. A grainy black-and-white shape shimmered to life on the monitor. Then a fast, steady heartbeat filled the room. Thump. Thump. Thump. Nothing I had ever heard had been more beautiful. Valerie kept her eyes on the screen. Slowly, the tension left her brows, and a small, professional smile touched her mouth. "Right here, Adeline." She indicated a tiny bright point. "Your pup is developing exactly as it should. And..." She hesitated, then raised the volume a little. "Hear that? That heartbeat is stronger and much faster than a human baby's would be. You've got a healthy little wolf pup in there. Even without wolf traits of your own, Blaine's Alpha blood is clearly dominant." I stared at that small life flickering on the screen until my eyes burned. My child. My blood. My family. Wherever I went, whatever choice came next, this fragile heartbeat would be the reason I kept moving. Valerie put the probe aside and passed me tissues so I could clean the gel from my abdomen. "Adeline, you need to understand what you're choosing," she said, no softness leaving her gaze but all the seriousness returning to it. "You don't have a wolf spirit. Physically, you're an ordinary human woman. Carrying a werewolf baby is going to be hard on your body. It will drain you in ways you can't predict. And raising a wolf pup alone... you don't know yet how difficult that could become." "I'll manage." I pushed myself upright, the tissue crumpling between my fingers. "Not having a wolf doesn't make me helpless." Valerie held my eyes for a long moment. At last, she nodded. "All right. If this is what you choose, then I'll support you—as your friend and as your doctor. But I have one condition. You come in for regular checkups. If your body starts failing under the strain, you listen to me without arguing. And with that awful flu spreading around—" "Agreed." After the examination, we went over the precautions I needed to take during pregnancy. Valerie prescribed vitamins, told me to rest whenever I could, and reminded me again to keep my emotions as steady as possible. When I left the hospital, some of the weight inside me had eased. The baby was healthy. For the moment, that was enough strength to keep breathing, keep planning, keep going. On the drive back to the Alpha Manor, the shape of a plan began forming. I could move into the apartment near the orphanage. A recent flu outbreak had left them short-handed, and they needed help badly. I had lived there before I married Blaine. One month remained for me to put everything in order: find another pack, prepare quietly, and disappear before Blaine even understood I was gone. By the time I parked in the driveway, I drew in a slow breath. This might be one of my final returns as the mistress of this house. The thought hurt in a tender, bitter way, but I had already accepted it. Then I walked into the Alpha Manor, and the sight ahead stopped me cold. The staff were throwing my belongings out of the master bedroom. Blaine had told me Serena would not be taking my room. Yet my clothes, my books, and the hair clip Blaine had once bought for me were scattered across the lawn as if they were garbage. My gaze caught on the clip. It had snapped cleanly in two, crushed beneath an old sweater like it had never mattered. Blaine had picked it up on a whim after an Alpha conference; to him, it had been nothing more than an afterthought. But I had held it for ages that day, foolishly believing it meant he had thought of me, truly thought of me, for the first time. To me, it had been worth more than any jewel. Now it lay broken in the dirt, and all I saw was myself reflected in it—discarded without care. "Why were you at the hospital?" Blaine surged toward me without warning and clamped his hand around my arm. Suspicion, not concern, burned in his eyes. I tried to pull free, but his strength pinned me in place. "We signed the divorce papers, Blaine," I said, my voice going cold. "Focus on your future wife. Don't waste your attention on an Omega who will soon be out of your life." "Oh, Adeline, you're home." Serena rolled her wheelchair closer, her gaze sliding over the mess of my belongings on the grass. False guilt softened her features like a mask. "I'm so sorry. Blaine insisted that I needed a room with better airflow while I recover. You know how stubborn he gets." She spoke as though the Luna title had already settled on her shoulders. Nausea climbed from my stomach into my throat. I flicked one dismissive hand and finally shoved Blaine away. "Don't trouble yourself," I said, ice threading through every word. "I have no intention of staying in the Alpha Residence." I turned to go. Blaine didn't let me. He dragged me into a guest room and slammed me against the wall, caging me there. His eyes had gone feral, rage blazing in them as if he wanted to rip me apart. A violent tremor shot through my body— Chapter 4: The Room Between Us Blaine's POV "What did she just say?" Panic struck through me so sharply that, for one breath, I forgot how to move. Adeline's voice had gone flat and frozen, final in a way that made it feel as though she were already sliding out of my reach. Had she heard what I had told Serena that morning? That had only been mercy. A dying woman needed steadiness; the doctors had said Serena's emotions mattered if she was going to recover. Yet Adeline had looked almost bloodless, and the wild urgency in her need to leave only fed the anger burning in me. Serena had been right. Adeline was probably frightened of losing her position, so now she was trying to make me feel guilty. She was only an Omega—without influence, without money, without leverage. What made her think she could walk away from the pack? My hand locked around her arm. I searched her face, trying to read the thoughts she refused to give me. Why did her feelings matter this much to me? Had I actually started caring for her the way Serena had accused me of doing? No. Impossible. Not now. Not ever. Two hours earlier, while we were driving back, Serena's fingers had settled over my hand. My first instinct had been to withdraw, but I had stopped myself when I saw how weak she looked. "Blaine," Serena had asked, her lashes wet, "are you thinking about Adeline? Or... do you love her?" "Don't say absurd things. Serena, you're the woman I love," I had said, too sharply. "I could never love a selfish, powerless Omega. No one has ever been as brave as you were when you took that attack for me." Something had flashed in Serena's eyes, but I dismissed it before it could mean anything. Then she had breathed out and said, "I think Adeline is just scared she'll lose the life you provide. In time, I'm sure she'll understand why you're doing all of this." Her chest had shuddered as she went on, tears slipping faster. "Besides, I only have six months left. However much you love me now, I can never truly keep you. And Adeline's behavior makes me feel like some horrible villain." "You aren't one." I had brushed the tears from her cheeks. "I'll make her apologize to you." "No, Blaine. Please don't." Serena had caught my arm at once. "You know the only thing that matters to me is where your heart stands." I had bent my voice lower. "Then listen to me. In one month, you will be my wife." After that, exhaustion had claimed her, and she had fallen asleep against me. Looking down at her gentle face, I had felt my fury toward Adeline flare all over again. Why couldn't Adeline accept this with some dignity? I was only asking her to step aside for a while. Six months. That was all. When Serena died peacefully, I would marry Adeline again. I would even give her a wedding grander than the first one to make up for it. She would remain the Luna of the Alpha Manor, still surrounded by comfort, rank, and everything money could offer. Instead of appreciating that, she acted as though I had betrayed her. She knew exactly what our marriage had been from the beginning. Her father had died at the hands of rogue wolves, and her mother had abandoned her afterward, leaving alone without looking back. My grandfather and Adeline's grandfather had been close friends, so Grandfather had ordered me to protect her. Serena had just left me then. When I found Adeline collapsed in grief, fragile as blown glass, I had lifted her from the ground without thinking. "You will be Luna of Briarcliff Pack," I had promised her. "No one will hurt you again." She had sobbed against me until she passed out. Once she woke, we completed the marking ceremony. I had made the terms plain: this was a practical arrangement, nothing more. I needed someone to occupy the position of Luna. Still, she had accepted with almost painful happiness. Every day, she cared for me with obsessive attention. I told her it was unnecessary, but she kept doing it anyway. In bed, she was fire; sometimes all it took was seeing her seated quietly across a room for my body to react. No. I could not let my thoughts keep circling back to Adeline. If she believed she had the right to refuse an Alpha, then I must have encouraged that illusion myself. The car rolled to a halt. Serena raised her tired face toward me, her voice faint and pleading. "Blaine, will you carry me upstairs? I don't think I can hold on much longer." "Of course." I gathered her into my arms, pushed through the manor doors, and caught the first servant I saw. "Which room gets the best airflow?" The servant went pale. "Alpha, the master bedroom has the best ventilation." My frown came immediately. I had promised Adeline I would not force her out of the master bedroom. Then Serena bent forward and coughed blood into her palm. "Serena!" My roar made the servant flinch. "Get a doctor. Now." Serena clutched at me before the servant could move. "No, Blaine. I can't listen to another doctor tell me there is nothing to hope for. You know how many I've already tried. Please." I turned back to the servant, my voice going cold. "Go to the master bedroom. Remove all of Adeline's belongings." Only then did I realize Adeline had not returned yet. Where had she gone? "Where is Luna Adeline?" I demanded. "Luna Adeline went to the hospital," the servant answered. The memory of her bloodless face hit me at once. Was she actually ill? I sent a mind-link to my Beta without delay. "Find out why Adeline went to the hospital." When she came back, I would make one thing clear: I would not keep indulging her willfulness. If she kept acting this way, I would cut off her financial support. My Beta had not even left before Adeline returned to the estate. I strode to the entrance and seized her the moment she came in. "Why were you at the hospital?" She tried to wrench herself free, her teeth clenched. "We just signed the divorce papers. You should be worrying about your future wife, not an Omega who will be out of your life soon enough." "Oh, Adeline, you're home." Serena wheeled herself closer, her eyes landing on the personal items scattered across the floor. Guilt softened her tone. "I'm so sorry. Blaine insisted I needed the room with better ventilation for my recovery. You know how stubborn he is." Adeline did not look at Serena. Her stare stayed fixed on the mess of her belongings. Among them lay a broken hair clip—the one I had once brought back from an Alpha conference. I had barely thought about it at the time. It had not cost much, and it had been easy to buy. But I remembered that night. Adeline had come to me with a passion so fierce anyone would have thought I had given her some priceless jewel worth hundreds of thousands. She was an Alpha's daughter; luxury had not been new to her. Even so, her eyes that day had shone as though I had handed her the most precious thing in existence. I had enjoyed what she gave me that night. The hair clip itself had vanished from my mind afterward. Now, watching the light break in her eyes, I felt something twist. "Don't bother," Adeline said, tearing free of my grip, her voice carved from ice. "I won't be staying in the Alpha Residence anymore." "What are you talking about?" I caught her wrist again. "Is this another tantrum?" The determination in her gaze was the same steel I had seen when she signed the divorce papers. No. I would never let her move out. She was an Omega; outside alone, she could be attacked by rogue wolves at any time. But beneath that excuse lay a thought I did not want to name: if she left now, she might never return. My hand tightened. I dragged her straight to the guest room beside the master bedroom, and before reason could catch up, I shoved her against the wall. A hiss tore from me. She trembled. Rage snapped through my control, and I bit down on her lip. She needed to learn. Adeline's POV Inside the room, I stared at Blaine in stunned disbelief. His familiar scent closed around me, making my head blur, and a moan escaped before I could stop it. Last night, his kisses had burned just like this. But sanity cut through the haze: his first love, his fated mate, was just beyond the door. In a single breath, grief and heartbreak hardened into towering anger. So I sank my teeth into his lower lip. Blood spread across my tongue instantly. "Argh—" Blaine made a low sound of pain, and his hold loosened by reflex. Now. I used every bit of strength I had, lifted my hand, and struck him across the face. Slap! The sound cracked through the empty living room. Blaine's eyes flared wide. A heartbeat later, fury twisted his face, and he reached for me again. "Alpha Blaine," I said, breath dragging out of me, each word forced into place, "why are you doing this? Do you regret divorcing me? Have you fallen in love with me?" He stepped back as if I had thrown filth at him. His smile came cold and cruel. "Do you honestly believe I can't give up your body? My wolf is only reacting to the female he marked. Don't confuse that with love. Love is something you will never get from me." Pain cramped through my stomach, sudden and brutal. He had no idea how merciless those words were. It felt like the man I loved most had taken everything I had felt and declared it worthless. The ground seemed to disappear beneath me. I grabbed the doorknob to keep myself upright, then lifted my head and forced calm onto my face. "Excellent, Alpha Blaine. Your love means nothing to me anyway." The air went rigid. Blaine's eyes reddened. Still, at last, he released me. "Good. Otherwise, I would need to make it even clearer that I don't love you. Not even a little." A black hole opened inside me. Again, I was falling. Hearing Blaine say the truth with his own mouth—that he did not love me—still ripped through me. My knees almost gave way. "May I leave now?" I forced out through my teeth. "Never." Blaine's roar filled the room. "You are staying here. You know what happens to an Omega alone outside. You'll be attacked. Kidnapped. You'll waste the pack's security resources." My heart had already gone numb from hurting. I inhaled slowly and said, "Reject me, and I won't be the pack's responsibility anymore." "I know exactly what you're trying to do." His voice dropped into ice. "You want pack gossip turned against Serena. You want everyone saying she is the villain because you were thrown out of the Alpha Manor while she was sick." All the strength left me. My thoughts emptied. Whatever I did, he would find a way to humiliate me. That was the difference between being loved and being unwanted. My hand moved to my lower abdomen. I had almost said I only meant to move out for a while when Blaine's tone suddenly softened. "The master bedroom is better for Serena's recovery," he said. "I'll have the servants prepare another bedroom for you on the west side of the second floor. It will have the same conditions as the master bedroom." "Fine," I heard myself say. My voice trembled, though I fought to steady it. "But I need to leave now." Red rose in Blaine's eyes again. Before he could erupt, I rushed to explain. "The orphanage has been overwhelmed lately. It's flu season, and the children need someone to care for them. I need to stay at my apartment so it's easier to look after the sick kids." His brow pulled tight. "You don't have to stay there. You can drive back and forth." I shook my head. "No. I'm afraid I'll carry the virus back here. That would be dangerous for Serena's recovery." "Cough... cough, cough..." Serena's familiar, fragile coughing drifted from the other side of the door. She had clearly heard us. "Blaine..." Her weak voice seeped through. "Adeline is right. My immune system is very fragile right now. If I catch the flu, I might..." She let the sentence die, but no explanation was needed. Blaine's face turned unreadable. His gaze shifted from me to Serena beyond the doorway, and I could see him measuring the choice in front of him. "Temporarily," he said at last, each word ground out between his teeth. "Only temporarily. When things at the orphanage settle down, you will come back. That is an order. If you use this as a chance to run, I will hunt you down myself. Remember who you are, Adeline. You belong to Briarcliff Pack forever." I gave him no answer. A month could change many things. And Blaine still did not know that I owned a gallery where Alpha councils were often hosted. With that opening, I could look for a pack that truly fit me. I lifted my luggage from the floor and drove toward the apartment near the orphanage. Chapter 5: Quiet Replacements Serena's POV Adeline had left. I kept my eyes on Blaine while he stood there with his fingers pressed to his split, bleeding mouth. My pulse hammered so hard it seemed to shake my ribs. Yes, I had heard them. All of it. Every ugly, breathless word. Blaine had kissed her. He had pushed himself on her. And now the thought would not leave me alone—if I had not painted myself as a woman half a step from the grave, would he have come back to me at all? Would he have accepted this ridiculous marriage arrangement, even with its six-month limit? No. He never would have. The truth sat right in front of me, impossible to ignore. Adeline mattered to him. She was not a substitute he had grabbed because he was lonely, not some pretty distraction to pass the time. That woman had spent three years cutting her initials into a heart I used to believe no one could enter. Even after he spat those vicious things at her, his body betrayed him. My fingers tightened around the arms of the wheelchair until my knuckles ached. Leaving Blaine back then had been the stupidest decision of my life. Worse than that, though? I had not even been the one who saved him that night. Not really. Some unknown she-wolf had appeared, pulled him from danger, and vanished before anyone could ask her name. I had simply been there when his eyes opened. So he believed I was his savior. The entire Briarcliff Pack believed it with him. Naturally, I did not correct them. I had been his girlfriend. Who else would they expect to find at his side? Then I lied again. I told him my wolf had disappeared, that she had been taken from me. I wanted his guilt. I needed it. With that guilt wrapped around him, the plan I had carried for so long could finally begin. I had never wanted to bury my whole life inside a pack as Luna. I wanted distance. Cities. Countries. A life that stretched farther than pack borders and ceremonies. Maybe, somewhere out there, I would meet a man better than Blaine. I had believed I deserved that. So I walked away. To make the lie believable, I found a hospital that treated more than humans. Wolves, witches, other species—the place knew how to keep secrets. One witch sealed my wolf for me, and after that, I arranged a full medical record to support the story. For a while, I tried everything I thought I wanted. Human men. Male wolves. Freedom. None of them measured up to Blaine. When news reached me that Blaine had bonded, I did not panic. It changed nothing. The moment I came to him and made my request, he did not make me beg. He said yes at once. I will not deny it—when he agreed, my heart lifted. I loved him. In that instant, I knew I still did. But days later, I saw what I had not wanted to see. Blaine had returned to me, yes. Happiness had not come with him. That was when understanding struck like cold water. Blaine was not the same man I had left behind. Some part of his heart, some hidden corner of his thoughts, had already shifted away from me. He looked as if he had fallen for Adeline without even realizing it. I could not allow that. Before he understood his own feelings, I had to take back what belonged to me. His attention. His devotion. His heart, completely. I had already studied Adeline from every possible angle. I knew her background, her habits, her weaknesses. She had no wolf, true, but she had been born an Alpha's daughter. Royal enough, once. Now her father was gone, and that old title carried no real power. Still, I had to admit she had earned praise while she served as Luna. She was not one of those useless women who knew only how to smile and arrange flowers. She was capable. Too capable. That made her dangerous. But danger could be erased. And I would erase every mark she had left behind. I drew in a long, careful breath and forced the turbulence inside me to settle. Then I guided my wheelchair closer to Blaine. When I reached for him, I let my hand shake just enough before my fingertips brushed the wound on his lip. "Blaine," I whispered, soft enough to sound afraid. "Did she hurt you?" His gaze cleared a little, as though I had dragged him back from wherever his mind had gone. The darkness in his face remained, but the wild edge in his eyes dulled. "She's completely lost it," he said, the words scraping through his teeth. "Please don't talk about her that way." I lowered my eyes. "She's in pain. No female wolf could calmly watch her mate being shared. This is because of me. I should never have returned and ruined things between you." His jaw flexed. The anger that had sharpened his expression began to loosen, replaced by something heavier. Guilt, yes. But not only guilt. Something I could not name, and did not like. "Serena, no." He crouched in front of me until his eyes were level with mine. His voice had softened in an instant. "None of this is on you. I made you a promise. You deserve this. Don't put the blame on yourself." Relief slipped through me, small but sweet. For the moment, Blaine's heart seemed to tilt toward me again. "Lunch is ready, Alpha Blaine, Ms. Serena," a servant announced with a respectful bow, breaking the silence between us. Blaine stood. Without pausing, he moved behind my chair and began wheeling me toward the dining room, as if caring for me had always been his most natural instinct. "You're hungry," he said. It was not a question. "You should eat." I let myself enjoy it. Sunlight poured through the enormous floor-to-ceiling windows and spread across the spotless dining table in pale gold. For one fragile moment, the room felt like the past had opened its doors for us. Just Blaine and me again. Before the lies became complicated. Before Adeline. Servants set down the dishes one after another. The scent of creamy mushroom soup rose first, warm and familiar, tugging a memory loose before I could stop it. "I remember, this used to be—" "What is this?" Blaine's voice cut clean through mine. The temperature in the room seemed to drop. His eyes fixed on the bowl as if someone had placed poison in front of him. A hard crease formed between his brows. "Didn't I already make myself clear? I said not to serve this again." Then his attention moved to the steak beside it, and his expression darkened further. "And this? Medium? Are you trying to wreck my stomach?" The servant went rigid. In the next second, their head dipped low, and fear shook their voice. "I'm terribly sorry, Alpha. I'll remove it immediately. It's only that... Luna used to prepare all of your meals personally, and she said—" "She said what?" Blaine asked, his tone changing so suddenly that even I noticed it. The servant swallowed. "Ma'am... Luna said your stomach cannot tolerate heavy food well, especially after long patrols. That was why she changed your diet three years ago. She has been cooking your steak medium-well herself because she said that was best for you." A tightness clamped around my chest. Adeline had even altered the way he ate. "Cough... cough, cough..." I forced the coughs out at just the right moment, sharp enough to pull him back to me. "Serena!" Blaine turned at once, alarm flashing across his face. He bent toward me and patted my back with nervous care. "Are you all right?" I shook my head faintly and leaned into him while pretending to catch my breath. Only after the coughing eased did I lift my face, pale and fragile, and look at him with all the gentleness I could summon. "Don't scold them, Blaine. They're only trying to look after you." I waited, then shaped a small, tired smile. "From now on... let me cook for you. You always loved the sandwiches I made for you back then." His body stilled. "No," he said at once. "Your health—" "The doctor said light activity would be good for me," I cut in before he could refuse properly. "And I can't stand thinking of you skipping meals because nothing tastes right. If I cook for you, Blaine, it will make me happy. It will make me feel... as if I can still be useful." He looked at me then, and the guilt in his eyes softened into tenderness so thick it was almost too easy. "Serena..." After a long breath, he reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "You're too kind." I gave him a warm smile. Inside, I laughed. If I wanted to replace Adeline, I could begin with what touched him every day. His meals. His routines. The quiet places she had claimed without permission. "Oh, Blaine," I added, as though the thought had only just occurred to me. I let a flicker of excitement brighten my eyes. "There is one small thing I wanted to discuss with you. The Moonstone Salon is coming soon, and I was hoping I might display a few of my paintings there." The Moonstone Salon carried real weight among the wolf packs. A place there would not simply show my art. It would show me. If my work appeared at an event of that standing, my position would rise with it. He looked surprised, so I continued before he could question me too closely. "I want to do something that matters for you and for the Briarcliff Pack. And if... if any of the paintings happen to sell, I would like every bit of the money to go to the pack orphanage." Emotion gathered in Blaine's face, deepening until it seemed ready to spill over. "Of course," he said immediately. His voice turned gentle, and his smile followed. "Of course, Serena. I'll ask my Beta to arrange the best location for your work. Whatever you need, I'll make it happen." Exactly. Just as I had planned. I rested against him, quiet and content on the outside, while inside my mind assembled the next pieces one by one. Chapter 6: The Envelope of Truth Adeline's POV The moment I left the Alpha Manor behind, I drove to the apartment I had bought before I ever became Blaine's wife. He knew it existed, of course, but he had never once crossed its threshold. It had no manicured gardens, no glittering chandeliers, no servants drifting in and out like shadows. There were only two modest rooms, a living space, and a small kitchen with a window facing the city's blur of neon. Still, every inch belonged to me. For once, I didn't have to plan a meal around Blaine's appetite. I dropped onto the soft couch and let my lungs expand, as if ...