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At my wedding, the massive screen suddenly displayed photos of me in bed with Dominic Black's sworn enemy. Before I could react, Dominic had already handled the chaos with chilling efficiency, then calmly walked me through the rest of the ceremony as if nothing had happened. When the banquet finally ended and I tried to explain, I found him pinning my stepsister to our marriage bed, taking her with savage abandon. My screams and tears earned me nothing but his dismissive reply: "What's this? A slut like you putting on a devoted wife act for me?" After that night, Dominic showered Megan Carter with affection—mansions, jewelry, gifts beyond counting. They paraded their love everywhere, turning me, Mrs. Black, into the laughingstock of Capital City. For three years I fought to win him back. It took a doctor handing me miscarriage papers to finally wake me up. If love was already dead, why was I still clinging to its corpse? —— As the doctor delivered the news, nurses' voices drifted in from the hallway, dripping with envy: "Mr. Black loves Ms. Carter so much! She just had a little scare, and he walked away from a billion-dollar contract without blinking—stayed by her side the whole time. Her room is overflowing with gifts and supplements. I just saw him spoon-feeding her porridge himself!" "That's so sweet! This is what real love looks like when a man has power. But wait—isn't Mr. Black married?" "Oh, you mean that notorious slut? She cheated before the wedding. Damaged goods. Mr. Black's just too kind, letting her keep the title. As if someone like her deserves to be called Mrs. Black." Slut. The word dragged me back to my wedding night, when Dominic had spat it at me with the same contempt. I'd walked into the bedroom still wearing my gown, words of explanation ready on my lips—and froze. Two pale bodies tangled on our marriage bed. The moment I recognized Dominic and Megan, something inside me snapped. I grabbed everything within reach and hurled it at them, screaming. Dominic shielded her with his body. Dressed her with gentle hands. Called a car and sent her away with tender care. Only then did he look at me. I was shattered, sobbing, demanding to know why. He flicked ash from his cigarette, utterly unmoved. "Mia Carter, the devoted-wife act really doesn't suit a slut like you." I cried until I retched. "Dominic, you can't do this to me! And why her of all people?" "You know—you know—it was Megan and her mistress mother who drove my mom to suicide!" Something flickered in his eyes. Then they went red. His foot slammed into the table, sending it crashing. "Mia, so you do know how that feels?" "I put you on a fucking pedestal. All these years, I held back—never touched you before the wedding no matter how badly I wanted to, terrified of scaring you. And you turned around and crawled into bed with Julian Cortez?" "What the hell am I to you?" The photo. Of course. The day before the wedding, Julian and I had both been drugged. We woke up in the same bed. I'd gotten examined immediately. Between the test results and both our memories before blacking out, we'd confirmed nothing happened. I'd planned to explain everything to Dominic after the ceremony. I never imagined someone would display that damning photo at the wedding itself. The pain crushed my chest. All I could do was sob out the truth: "I don't know why Julian and I were set up, but nothing happened between us! Nothing!" Dominic's laugh was ice. "Mia. Do you really think I'd believe you?" I looked up at him, tears streaming. "If you don't believe me—then why go through with the wedding? Why marry me at all?" ________________ $#{2|Chapter 2}$# Dominic's hand clamped down on the back of my neck, his grip bruising. Every trace of love had vanished from his eyes. "Revenge, of course." His voice was ice. "You like being ridden, don't you? Then I'll make sure you spend the rest of your life as a living widow." "Mia." He leaned in close, his breath hot against my ear. "I want your remaining years to hurt a hundred—no, a thousand times more than what I'm feeling right now." The next day, he boarded a flight to the Maldives with Megan. Our honeymoon. Our destination. Dominic had always hated being photographed. But for her, he hired a professional travel photographer. Hundreds of couple shots—him gazing at her on white sand beaches, her draped against him at sunset—all uploaded to her social media for the world to see. By then, my scandal had spread across Capital City like wildfire. Desperate slut. Insatiable whore. The comments were endless. Meanwhile, Dominic became the noble husband who'd been betrayed yet still took responsibility. And Megan? She was celebrated as the brave woman who'd endured public scorn for true love. Their fans flooded my phone with death threats. Funeral wreaths arrived at my door. Someone photoshopped my face onto escort advertisements, images so vile I couldn't look at them twice. While I drowned, Dominic took Megan to every place I'd ever dreamed of visiting with him. Every single one. And still—still—I couldn't let go. How could I? In this entire world, after my mother, he was the only person who had ever truly loved me. The only one who'd been good to me. I was eighteen when my father brought Megan and her mother home. One month later, at my birthday dinner, my mother pressed a blessing charm into my palm. Her hands were warm. Her smile was soft. Then she walked to the rooftop and stepped off the edge. Her diary told me everything. Pages and pages of deliberate humiliation. Megan and her mother's calculated cruelty, their whispered campaigns to break her. I brought the evidence to my father. Megan cried. Her mother cried harder. I was thrown out that same night. That winter was brutal. The kind of cold that seeps into your bones and never quite leaves. I was hours away from sleeping on the streets when Dominic found me. He'd searched the entire city. He pulled me into his arms so tightly I couldn't breathe, his voice caught between fury and anguish. "Why didn't you come to me?" "Mia." He tilted my chin up, forcing me to meet his eyes. "Remember this. Even if the whole world abandons you, I want you. I will always want you." After that, Dominic poured everything he had into taking care of me. He brought me to his elite prep school, a world of trust-fund heirs and designer uniforms where I stuck out like a stain on silk. Everyone waited for me to fail. To crumble. To prove I didn't belong. At the opening ceremony, Dominic took the stage as the top student representative. He was supposed to give an academic speech. Instead, he looked directly into the crowd and said: "Mia Carter is my life. Touch her, and you touch me." The whispers stopped after that. He cooked for me every single day—balanced meals, proper nutrition, determined to put weight on my too-thin frame. Whenever the luxury houses released their seasonal collections, he had everything sent to the house before I could even browse the catalogs. Once, after a trip to Disneyland, I mentioned offhandedly how magical it would be to live in a castle like the fairies did. He bought land. Built me an estate. A secret sanctuary, just for me. Everyone in Capital City's elite circles knew how Dominic Black treated me. It wasn't a secret—it was legend. He made me bright again. Confident. Even a little spoiled, in ways I'd never imagined possible after everything I'd lost. On the nights when the grief crept back—when I woke gasping from nightmares of my mother's fall, terrified that Dominic would leave me too—he would hold me through every sob, every irrational accusation, and repeat the same words with unwavering patience: "Never worry, Mia. Unless I'm dead, I will never stop loving you." How was I supposed to let go of that man? So when he returned from the Maldives with Megan, I swallowed my pride. I begged. I dug out my medical records from the hospital—proof that I'd been drugged, proof that I was innocent—and brought them to him. He wouldn't even look at them. "Fabricated evidence," he said, his lip curling. "Is there anything you won't do?" ________________ $#{3|Chapter 3}$# I was out of options. All I could do was dig out the photographs documenting our past—the love letters where we'd poured out our hearts, the gifts and keepsakes that held meaning only for the two of us. But every item I pulled out, Dominic burned. Eventually, I grew desperate enough to put on lingerie and try to seduce him—anything to make the man who was supposed to be my husband stay home for just one night. Dominic did pause. For the first time in ages, he moved toward me. But just as his lips were about to meet mine, he gripped my chin and smiled—a cruel, mocking twist of his mouth. "Mia, you really are this pathetic, aren't you?" "Too bad I have standards. I don't touch dirty things." The next day, he brought Megan to a charity auction. My intimate photos—the ones I'd sent only to him—had been printed out and placed on the auction block. When I was dragged into the venue, the first thing I saw was my own image splashed across the massive screen. Dominic watched the color drain from my face, his smile wide and vicious. "Like it, wife? Happy first anniversary." Laughter rippled through the crowd. Dozens of leering gazes crawled over my skin. Megan draped herself against Dominic's chest, her delicate frame pressed into his arms as she giggled at me. "With my sister's notorious reputation, Dominic, this gift really does suit her perfectly!" "Though, ever since you and I got together, you haven't touched her once, have you? Someone with her... appetites... no wonder she's throwing herself at you." "I'm not a petty woman. She's still technically your wife, after all. Maybe you should satisfy her sometime?" She pouted, tracing a finger down his chest. "You wear me out every night—I can barely keep up with how insatiable you are..." At her words, Dominic's gaze landed on me. The desire I'd once prayed to see had curdled into pure disgust. "Touch her? I'd rather not catch something." He turned and nuzzled Megan's nose. "Don't worry, sweetheart. I only want someone pure like you. Once the auction money comes through, I'll buy you that bag you wanted, hmm?" Watching them wrapped around each other, I closed my eyes. Tears spilled down my cheeks, and despair—black and absolute—finally pulled me under. My voice came out slow. Steady. Final. "Dominic. Let's get a divorce." He glanced at me sideways. Then he laughed. "Mia, what makes you think you have the right to ask me for a divorce?" He rose, looming over me to drink in my anguish. His thumb brushed across my cheek, wiping away a tear with mock tenderness. "Did you forget what I told you? I'm going to make you suffer for the rest of your life. And this?" He gestured around us. "This is just the beginning." "As long as I don't sign, you'll never be free of this marriage." To punish my disobedience, Dominic moved Megan into our home. The living room. The kitchen. The bathroom. The storage closet. Anywhere I'd been, I'd find them the next morning—used tissues and condom wrappers scattered across the floor. I stopped sleeping. Entire nights passed with my eyes fixed on the ceiling. I saw doctors. I swallowed antidepressants, following their instructions to the letter. Then one day, Megan barged into my room, tablet in hand. "Mia, after all these years, you're still this useless?" "Watching you live like a dog every day... even I'm starting to feel sorry for you." "Fine. I'll be generous and let you die with some clarity." Her smile sharpened. "That night—when you and Julian were drugged? That was me." She turned the tablet toward me. On the screen, surveillance footage played in crisp detail: Megan, tipping white powder into my glass. ________________ $#{4|Chapter 4}$# My first instinct was to snatch the tablet and rush to show Dominic the evidence. But when he saw the surveillance footage, his eyes turned cold as ice. "Megan was right. To cover up your filthy affair, you really would frame her for it." The AI-generated watermark at the end of the video destroyed me completely. Megan threw herself into Dominic's arms, sobbing. He stroked her hair, comforting her, while his lips curled into a sneer aimed at me. "Like mother, like daughter. Your mother must have been the same—couldn't keep her legs closed, cheated on your father, then killed herself out of guilt when she was about to be caught." "First you tried to pin your mother's sins on Megan's mother. Now you're pulling the same trick on Megan herself." His voice dripped with contempt. "Did you really think I'd keep falling for your manipulations?" I stared at him, unable to process what I was hearing. The deepest, most guarded wound in my soul—and for Megan's sake, he'd turned it into a blade without a moment's hesitation. My hand flew up to slap him, but Dominic caught my wrist and hurled me to the floor like garbage. "Without my indulgence, Mia, do you really think you have the right to bare your claws at me?" Megan rushed over, pretending to help me up. But as she leaned close, her whisper was pure venom. "You're just as stupid as your dead mother. Yes, I did it—but did you really think I'd hand you the evidence on a silver platter?" "Your mother couldn't beat mine. And you'll never beat me." Tears streamed down my face, numb and endless. Somewhere in the middle of crying, I started to laugh. I lunged for the scissors on the nearby table and drove them toward Megan. Dominic kicked them from my hand. His expression twisted with horror and disgust. "Have you gone completely insane?" He swept Megan into his arms and summoned every top medical specialist in the city to treat her scratch. Then he moved her into my hidden estate. My condition deteriorated rapidly. I swallowed antidepressants by the handful. My hair began falling out in clumps. My memory fractured, pieces slipping away like water through cracks. To survive, I forced myself to stop thinking about Dominic. I locked myself in my room and buried myself in restoring ancient manuscripts, one crumbling page at a time. I'd discovered this work by accident after the wedding—a way to escape the pain. Back then, I never imagined it would become my lifeline, the very thing that would help me finally leave Dominic. I stopped following news about Dominic and Megan. But as Capital City's power couple, their stories found me anyway. Today, Dominic bought Megan a private island. Tomorrow, they'd appear at some ribbon-cutting ceremony, her arm threaded through his. Megan had seamlessly stepped into the role of Mrs. Black. Meanwhile, I had been erased from existence—forgotten, as if I'd never been real at all. At least I'd grown numb enough that the days somehow kept passing. Six months slipped by. Then one night, Dominic came home. He was drunk—completely wrecked. The moment he walked through the door, his mouth crashed into mine. I kicked. I clawed. I fought. But he was a man unhinged, deaf to everything, and he took what he wanted. The next morning, I woke to a bucket of ice water. Dominic stood at the bedside, revulsion pouring off him. "You're disgusting." "Crawling into my bed while I was drunk—is that how you used to seduce men?" He called in a professional cleaning crew to sanitize the entire master bedroom. Halfway through, he decided it wasn't enough and had the whole room gutted and rebuilt. I watched in silence. I didn't bother explaining anymore. Dominic would never believe me anyway. ________________ $#{5|Chapter 5}$# It wasn't until my follow-up appointment that I discovered, completely by accident, that I was pregnant. When the faint, steady rhythm of my baby's heartbeat filled the ultrasound room, tears I thought had long since dried up spilled down my cheeks again, beyond my control. I had no one left in this world. Not a single family member. Not a single person who loved me. But this child—this child made me greedy. I wanted to keep it. I didn't dare let Dominic find out. I was terrified he'd force me to terminate the pregnancy. Before I could figure out what to do, disaster struck. During my second prenatal checkup, a fire broke out in the hospital. As I fled, I saw Dominic carrying Megan out of another OB-GYN room. The moment our eyes met, I was shoved by the stampeding crowd and lost my balance, crashing to the ground. Panicked feet trampled over me, one after another. Crimson blood pooled beneath me, spreading across the floor in an instant. I screamed for help, terrified. Dominic's gaze lingered on me for barely a second—then he turned away, Megan still in his arms, and never looked back. I lay there in agony, frozen. So this is where we are now. I pulled myself out of the memory. My pillow was already soaked with tears. My hand drifted to my stomach, still aching with a dull, phantom pain. I apologized in silence. I'm sorry, baby. Mommy couldn't protect you. And your father... he really, truly doesn't love me anymore. I should have let go a long time ago. Just then, a courier arrived with a delivery to my hospital room. It was an official appointment letter from the Federal Heritage Administration. When I'd returned the restored manuscripts to the museum, Dr. Catherine Blackwood had been astonished by my work. She'd immediately recommended me to her contacts higher up. They had already promised: the moment I confirmed my acceptance, the government would automatically dissolve my marriage. After completing my discharge paperwork, I walked out through the hospital's main entrance. Dominic's Maybach was parked right outside. He stood with one hand braced against the top of the car door, carefully helping Megan inside. His eyes swept over me. A cold, dismissive smirk tugged at his lips. Then he slid into the car and signaled the driver to leave. The moment his car pulled away, the vehicle the Administration had sent for me arrived, as if on cue. I climbed in. The car made a U-turn and headed straight for the airport.

Three months into my pregnancy, I called off my engagement to Theron Kensington. He frowned, looking at me. "What kind of tantrum is this? Is this just because my mother told you to get rid of the baby for now?" "Yes." He let out an impatient sigh. "Fine. Just go home and rest. I'll talk to my mother." I didn't reply, and he didn't care, turning away to answer a call from his assistant. "Book two tickets to the Bahamas," he said. "I'm taking her out to relax this weekend." That "her" wasn't me. He hung up and said we would talk another time. But what he didn't know was that the baby in my belly had already been confirmed. It was twins. From then on, we would go our separate ways and no longer entangle with each other. I dialed the phone. "Aunt Corinne, help me arrange the move abroad." Since his family didn't want the child. The child would take my last name and have absolutely nothing to do with the Kensington Family ever again. "Elara, it's Valerie Winslow. Theron gave me your WhatsApp. He said I should keep you company when I have time." The notification lit up my screen the exact second I ended the call with Aunt Corinne. A contact request. I stared at the screen for a long moment. I didn't accept. I went right back to packing. Maeve Gallagher walked in just as I was slipping my prenatal records into my passport. She paused in the doorway. Her eyes swept the dismantled living room before landing on my hands. "You packing?" "Yeah." "Where to?" "Leaving the country." She stepped inside slowly and perched on the edge of the couch. Her gaze dropped straight to my flat stomach. "And the baby?" "Coming with me." "Does Theron know?" "He knows we're done. He doesn't know I'm leaving." "When are you going to tell him?" "I'm not." Maeve's mouth opened. She closed it again, swallowing whatever she was about to say. A few seconds ticked by before she shifted gears. "Why exactly is his mother forcing you to get rid of it?" My hands stopped moving. Mrs. Kensington's exact words echoed in my head. "Elara, I had the birth charts read. This baby's astrological signs clash with Theron's. You cannot keep it. Astrologer Vane said you have to terminate the pregnancy." When I told Maeve, she crushed the tissue in her hand into a tight, angry ball. "She's using astrology as an excuse?" "Yeah." "What did Theron say?" "He said he'd talk to her." I folded a sweater, smoothing out the fabric. "Then he called his assistant right in front of me and booked two tickets to the Bahamas. He's taking Valerie." "Who the hell is Valerie?" "His childhood friend. She moved back from abroad two months ago. He said she needed a getaway to relax." Maeve stared at me. The rims of her eyes turned a violent, glassy red. "You're doing the right thing." My phone vibrated on the mattress. Valerie had switched tactics. A direct text message this time. "Elara, Theron mentioned you haven't had much of an appetite. I made some beef bone broth and left it with the security guard at your gate. Make sure you grab it." I passed the phone to Maeve. She read it, her head snapping up. "He had her bring you soup?" "That's what it says." "Where is he?" "Booking their flight to the Bahamas." Maeve shoved the phone back into my hand. A heavy, suffocating silence filled the room. Half a minute later, she got up. She walked over to the closet and started pulling clothes off hangers, folding them into my suitcase one by one. "What do you need me to do?" "Ship that box of books to Aunt Corinne's place for me." "Done." I flipped open my prenatal checkup records on the bed, staring at the black-and-white ultrasound image. Maeve leaned over my shoulder. "Twins?" "Confirmed this morning." "Does he know?" "No." "You're really not going to tell him?" "He doesn't even want one." I closed the folder. "What difference does it make if I tell him there are two?" Maeve dropped the subject. She finished packing the rest of my things in silence. At the door, she paused, throwing one last look over her shoulder. "Take care of yourself. Call me the second you need anything." "I will." The door clicked shut. I sank back into the couch and rested my hand flat against my stomach. Theron walked through the door at nine that night. He toed off his shoes in the entryway and froze. His gaze locked onto the suitcase sitting by the console table. Two seconds later, he strode into the living room. "Where are you going?" "Staying out for a few days." He dropped onto the cushion beside me. His arm reached out, trying to loop over my shoulders to pull me in. "Still throwing a tantrum? I told you I'd talk to my mother." I didn't lean into him. "Did you tell Valerie to drop off that soup?" His arm stiffened. "She said she wanted to meet you, so I gave her the address. She's a good person. You two should talk more." "You gave our home address to a woman I don't know." "What do you mean you don't know her? I've talked about her a million times. We grew up together." "You didn't ask me." He let out a long, heavy exhale. "Fine. I'll ask you first next time. Just unpack the bag." "Did you cancel the Bahamas trip?" Three seconds of dead air. "Her ticket is already booked. It wouldn't look right to cancel it now." "Then go." I stood up and grabbed the handle of my suitcase. He shot up off the couch and stepped right into my path, blocking the door. "Elara, do you even want this relationship to work anymore?" I looked up, meeting his eyes dead-on. "Theron. Your mother ordered me to abort your child, and you call my reaction a tantrum. You handed my personal contact to another woman, and you think I'm overreacting. You booked two tickets to the Bahamas with her, and you think I'm being unreasonable. So tell me. What actually matters to you?" He didn't have an answer. His phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and glanced at the screen. A call from Valerie. He looked at the caller ID, then back at me. "She's been having terrible insomnia lately. I need to take this." He swiped to answer and walked out onto the balcony. His voice drifted back through the glass door, soft and patient. "What's wrong? Can't sleep again?" I gripped my suitcase and walked out the front door. I didn't wait for him to hang up. The elevator doors slid shut. I pulled out my phone and fired off a text to Aunt Corinne. "Expedite the visa." Her reply came through a second later. "Understood." ### Chapter 2 "Elara, you are pushing Theron." The call came earlier than expected. I hadn't even finished my hotel breakfast. "Mrs. Kensington." Two seconds of dead silence on the line. "What did you just call me?" "We broke up. It isn't appropriate to call you Mom anymore." "Broke up?" Her voice spiked, laced with pure, offended fury. "You just decide that? What about the baby?" "I thought you didn't want me to keep it." "That was for your own good. Yours and Theron's. Astrologer Vane read the charts—that child’s astrological signs clash with my son's. Keeping it will ruin your marriage." "There is no marriage anymore." "Elara, don't think you can throw a tantrum just because Theron spoils you. Listen to me. Keep the baby, abort it, I don't care. But you will not use it to hold my son hostage." "I'm not threatening him. I left." "Left? Where could you possibly go?" I let the silence hang. She kept talking, looping through the same tired demands—stop making a scene, come home, rein in my temper, Theron was willing to compromise. I let her run out of breath. "Mrs. Kensington, I respect your choice. Please respect mine." I hit end. The phone barely hit the mattress before a knock sounded at the door. I pulled it open, expecting room service. Valerie stood in the hallway. She held an insulated tote bag, her smile perfectly practiced. "Elara. I finally get to see you." I didn't step back. "Theron said you moved out. He asked me to check on you." "There's no need." "Well, I'm already here." She shoved the bag forward an inch. "Herbal chicken broth. Good for the stomach. I simmered it for three hours last night." I kept my hands at my sides. Her smile stayed plastered in place as she set the bag on the carpet by my feet. "I'll just leave it. Drink it whenever you want." I grabbed the door handle, ready to shut it in her face, but she spoke again. "Elara, actually, there's something else." Her voice dropped into a conspiratorial whisper. "Theron is under a lot of pressure right now. With the company, and the fight with you... He stayed at my place until two in the morning last night." My stomach hollowed out. At ten o'clock last night, he had texted me: *I'll pick you up tomorrow.* Right after hitting send, he went straight to her. Valerie's eyes widened slightly, a perfectly calculated backtrack. "Oh, it's not what you think. He just needed someone to talk to. We've been like this since we were kids. You're the only one in his heart, Elara. I keep telling him what a good girl you are, how he needs to cherish you." Every word was wrapped in fake sisterhood. Every word was a knife, carving out her territory, reminding me that she knew him better, longer, deeper. "Thanks." "Elara, don't fight with him anymore, okay? He's bad with words, but he really cares." "Right." "I'll go now. Drink the soup. You're carrying a baby, don't starve yourself." She turned on her heel and walked down the hall. I shut the door and sank onto the edge of the bed. The screen of my phone lit up. A text from Theron. *Did Valerie stop by? She's great. You two should hang out more.* A second bubble popped up. *I'll pick you up after work. Don't run off.* I ignored it. Pulling a piece of hotel stationery from the nightstand, I grabbed a pen and copied down the travel checklist Aunt Corinne had sent me. Visa tomorrow. Flight confirmed the day after. Bank documents sorted this afternoon. My pen stopped. The screen glowed again. A WhatsApp message from Mrs. Kensington. It was a screenshot of a chat between her and Valerie. Valerie: *Mrs. Kensington, Elara isn't doing well today. I'm going over to check on her and talk some sense into her.* Mrs. Kensington: *Good girl. Thank you for the trouble.* Valerie: *No trouble at all. We're all family.* Beneath the image, Theron's mother had added her own commentary: *Look at Valerie. See how sensible she is? If you were even half as easygoing, I wouldn't have to be so hard on you.* I stared at the glowing pixels. Something clicked. Valerie had only been back in the country for two months. Yet Mrs. Kensington called her *good girl*. The polite exchange reeked of a deeply polished, comfortable intimacy. Two months wasn't enough time to build that. This was a relationship that had been cultivated for a long time. I dropped the phone into my bag and walked out. As I crossed the lobby, the front desk receptionist flagged me down. "Ms. Sterling, someone left this for you." A bouquet of pink carnations. I plucked the small card from the center. *Don't be unhappy, Elara. Everything will be fine. —Valerie.* I dropped the card back into the petals. "Throw it in the trash." Pushing through the revolving glass doors into the morning air, I pulled out my phone and texted Maeve. *I need you to look into something. Find out exactly when Valerie started talking to the Kensington family before she moved back.* Maeve's reply came in seconds. *What are you thinking?* I typed back without breaking stride. *I think her two-month timeline is a lie.* ### Chapter 3 "Elara, are you here for your things? I can help you look." Valerie stood in the center of the living room. I froze in the entryway for two slow seconds before stepping inside. "No need. I'll find them myself." A new box of herbal tea sat on the coffee table. From the kitchen, the heavy, savory scent of simmering soup hung in the air. On the fridge door, a bright sticky note caught my eye. The handwriting wasn't mine. *Theron, remember to drink water.* Valerie trailed behind me. "Theron mentioned this morning you might drop by for your stuff, so he asked me to host you. He's tied up at the company and won't make it back for lunch." "He asked you to stay here?" "Yeah. His stomach's been acting up lately, so I put together a dietary plan for him. I need to keep an eye on the soup." I walked into the bedroom and yanked open the nightstand drawer. Property deeds. Birth certificate. Bank books. I pulled them out one by one and shoved them into my bag. Valerie leaned against the doorframe, watching me. "Elara, can I ask you something?" "Yeah." "Are you really leaving Theron?" "Yeah." She dropped her gaze. "Then what about him?" "He has you." Valerie waved her hands frantically. "You're misunderstanding. Theron and I are really just friends. I've had a hard time adjusting since I moved back, and he's been helping me out. I just wanted to repay him." "By living in his house, making him soup, and leaving sticky notes on his fridge?" She stiffened, a flush creeping up her neck. "Elara, I just wrote that casually. It didn't mean anything." I dropped the subject and walked into the closet. I slid the doors open. Theron's clothes hung neatly on the left. The right side, which used to be entirely mine, was mostly bare. Hanging in the empty space were three brand-new outfits, tags still dangling from the sleeves. Definitely not my style. Valerie's voice drifted in from behind me, quiet and timid. "Mrs. Kensington bought those for me. She told me to wear them when Theron and I go out this weekend." This weekend. The Bahamas. His mother bought another woman clothes and hung them in my closet. I reached up, grabbed my last few jackets off the rack, folded them tight, and stuffed them into my bag. I shoved past her and stepped back into the living room. The soup bubbled on the stove. The front door lock clicked, and Theron walked in. His eyes dropped to the heavy bag on my shoulder, shifted to Valerie, and his brow furrowed. "Why didn't you call me when you got here?" "Just grabbing my things." His gaze caught the edge of my birth certificate peeking out of the bag. His face hardened. "What do you need that for?" "Going abroad." "Abroad? Where?" "Haven't decided." "Elara." His voice went dark. "Can you stop pulling these stunts every single day? You're pregnant. You aren't going anywhere." Valerie chimed in right on cue. "Theron, don't yell at Elara. She probably just wants to get away and clear her head." Theron shot her a look. "Valerie, go check the soup." She slipped into the kitchen. He waited until she was gone. "I just found out about the clothes. My mom took it upon herself to do that." "You don't even know what happens in your own home. Your mother buys clothes for another woman, hangs them in my closet, and you have no idea." "I told you I just found out." "And what did you do about it?" He opened his mouth. I waited. Those few seconds of silence, just like last time, were all the answer I needed. "You said you'd talk to her, Theron. What did you talk about? She calls Valerie a good girl, buys her clothes, hangs them in my space, and texts me to learn from her. Is that the result of your talk?" His face tightened. "I'll handle it." "When?" "In the next couple of days." "Aren't you going to the Bahamas in the next couple of days?" He took a sharp breath. Valerie's voice floated out from the kitchen. "Theron, the soup is ready." He called back a quick response, then turned his focus back to me. "Let's meet up tonight and actually talk. Just... don't leave yet." I hoisted the bag higher on my shoulder and walked to the front door. "Enjoy the soup. I'm not hungry." ### Chapter 4 "Elara, did you really think hiding in a hospital would stop me from finding you?" Mrs. Kensington's voice cut through the quiet hum of the obstetrics waiting room. I was just sitting there, waiting for my number to be called. About eight other pregnant women were scattered around the room with their husbands or mothers-in-law. At the sudden outburst, every single head snapped in our direction. I pushed myself to my feet. "Mrs. Kensington. This is a hospital." "I'm perfectly aware of where we are." She marched over, her heels clicking sharply against the linoleum. "I also know you're here for a prenatal checkup. What, you and my son break up, and you still have the nerve to come to a Kensington hospital?" It wasn't a Kensington hospital. But her family had VIP access, and she personally knew the Head of Obstetrics. In her mind, she owned the building. Valerie trailed right behind her, clutching a thermos to her chest with a perfectly crafted look of concern. "Mrs. Kensington, please keep your voice down. There are pregnant women here." Mrs. Kensington dropped her volume, but not her venom. "Elara, let me be blunt. You are not keeping this baby. Astrologer Vane read the charts. The signs clash entirely. If you keep it, you'll ruin Theron's luck." "Mrs. Kensington, Theron and I are done. The baby will take my last name. It has absolutely nothing to do with your family." She froze. Then, a sharp, mocking scoff slipped past her lips. It wasn't loud, but in the dead-quiet waiting room, it sounded like a gunshot. "Your last name?" Her eyes narrowed. "A Kensington child taking your name?" "We were never married. The baby can take my last name." "Are you threatening me?" "I'm stating a fact." She looked me up and down, her gaze scraping over my casual clothes. "Elara, I won't sugarcoat this anymore. Theron and Valerie grew up together. They're a match I've wanted from day one. You just showed up late. It's not that I look down on you, but you two were never meant to be. While we can still handle this with some dignity, get rid of the child. Make a clean break. It's better for everyone." I shifted my gaze to Valerie. She just stood there, staring at the floor, fingers white-knuckling her thermos. If it wasn't true, she would have denied it. She didn't say a word. The husband of a woman sitting two seats away finally had enough. He stood up. "Lady, this is a public space. Do you mind keeping it down?" Mrs. Kensington snapped her head toward him, hitting him with a glare so icy the man physically shrank back a half-step. I took a slow breath, my hand instinctively sliding down to shield my lower belly. "Mrs. Kensington. I am raising this child myself." "You?" Her voice spiked. "With what money? What's your monthly salary? Do you have any self-awareness about where you come from? You're a small-town girl who only survived in this city because Theron pulled you up out of the mud. And now you have the nerve to reject the Kensington family?" The waiting room was dead silent. Every single pair of eyes was glued to us. Valerie finally decided to play peacekeeper. "Mrs. Kensington, please stop. Elara is having a hard time." She turned her doe eyes on me. "Elara, she doesn't mean it like that. Try not to take it to heart, she's just worried about Theron." She tugged gently at the older woman's sleeve. "Come on, let's just go. Let her get her checkup in peace." Mrs. Kensington let herself be pulled away for exactly two steps before she stopped dead. She spun back around, dug into her designer bag, and slapped a piece of paper onto the plastic armrest of the waiting chair. "Three hundred thousand. Get the abortion. Buy yourself some nice supplements for the recovery." I just stared at the slip of paper. Trying to process that this was actually happening. A woman was standing in a maternity ward, surrounded by expecting mothers, slapping down three hundred grand to buy the death of her own grandchild. A vicious cramp suddenly tore through my abdomen. I gasped, my hand shooting out to grip the back of the chair to stay upright. Then another wave hit. Harder. Sharper. A triage nurse rushed over. "What's wrong? How many weeks are you?" "Twelve," I forced out through gritted teeth. "Twins." All the color drained from the nurse's face. "Sit down right now. Do not move. I'm paging a doctor." Mrs. Kensington remained standing a few feet away, her check still sitting on the chair. "Oh, please. Stop putting on a show for sympathy." Valerie dropped to a crouch beside me, her hand reaching out to grab my arm. "Elara, don't be scared. You're going to be okay." I violently yanked my arm out of her grip. A doctor sprinted down the hall pushing a wheelchair, barking at me to sit. I slumped into it. Mrs. Kensington was still rooted to the spot, suddenly unsure if she should walk away or stick around to see the damage. Just as the nurse angled the wheelchair toward the corridor, the heavy double doors of the waiting room swung wide open. A woman stepped through. Her sharp gaze swept the room, instantly locking onto my pale face. She crossed the floor in quick, confident strides, crouched in front of my wheelchair, and placed a warm, steady hand over mine. "Elle, I'm here." Aunt Corinne. The second Mrs. Kensington recognized the woman kneeling in front of me, her arrogant mask completely shattered. The blood drained from her face. Her lips moved uselessly for a second. "Ms... Ms. Sterling?" Aunt Corinne didn't even spare her a glance. Behind her, Valerie squeezed her thermos, her usual act completely failing her. For the first time today, she was speechless. Aunt Corinne rose to her full height. She turned to the nurse holding my wheelchair. "Is the Head of Obstetrics in the building? Page them here immediately." The nurse hesitated. Aunt Corinne didn't argue. She simply pulled a sleek business card from her tailored coat and held it out. The nurse read the name, her eyes widened, and she took off running. Slowly, Aunt Corinne turned around. She finally let her gaze settle on Mrs. Kensington. "Mrs. Kensington. If you ever breathe the same air as my niece again, you will find out exactly what it means to be ruined." ### Chapter 5 "Both heartbeats are stable. But absolutely no more emotional spikes." The Head of Obstetrics delivered the verdict while Aunt Corinne stood by the bed, her arms crossed tight over her chest. "Elle," Aunt Corinne said, her voice smooth and unbothered. "Your flight is the day after tomorrow. Do we need to push it back?" "No." "Good. I've already cleared everything with the obstetrics team in Vancouver. You'll head straight to the apartment the second you land." I gave a single nod. Aunt Corinne dragged a chair over and sat. She reached into her bag, pulled out a stack of documents, and slid them across the tray table. "From the lawyers. Full custody and last name change for the babies. Sign this, and legally, they sever all ties with the Kensington family." I didn't hesitate. I flipped to the last page, picked up the pen, and signed my name. She scooped up the papers and walked over to the window, pulling out her phone. Her voice stayed low, but the keywords drifted over the sterile hospital air. Withdraw all capital. Terminate the partnerships. Effective immediately. She made one call after another. When she finally hung up and turned back, her expression hadn't shifted a fraction of an inch. "We were co-investing in a few of the Kensingtons' projects. Not anymore. I just pulled the funding." "Aunt Corinne, you don't have to—" "I'm not doing this to get back at them," she cut in. "It's about making a clean break. You're done with the Kensingtons, which means my money doesn't sit in their accounts. It's a rational business decision." I let it go. There was nothing left to say. Maeve showed up later that afternoon. She froze in the doorway when she spotted Aunt Corinne, offering a stiff, polite "Ms. Sterling," before sliding into the chair next to my bed. She dropped a plastic bag of oranges onto the nightstand. "I looked into it," she said, dropping her voice to a near-whisper. "Valerie didn't just get back two months ago. She flew back six months ago. She's been staying in a Kensington-owned apartment." Maeve paused. "Mrs. Kensington set it up." Six months ago. Right around the time I found out I was pregnant. "She moved into their place the second she landed?" "Handled directly by Mrs. Kensington," Maeve nodded grimly. "Mrs. Kensington's entire attitude toward you flipped the moment you got pregnant. And Valerie popped up next to Theron right around the exact same time." I leaned back against the pillows. The pieces finally clicked into place. It was never about astrological incompatibility. It was never about a bad fortune. It was about Valerie. Mrs. Kensington wanted her son with Valerie, and my babies and I were the obstacles standing in the way. The fortune-telling was a cheap cover story. Valerie was the root of it all. Aunt Corinne, who had been listening quietly by the window, only said one thing. "Elle. Pack your things. We're discharging you tomorrow, and we fly out the day after." "Okay." My phone buzzed on the sheets. Theron. "Heard you went to the hospital. What's wrong? Did my mom go looking for you again?" A minute later, another text. "Which hospital? I'm on my way." I didn't reply. My screen lit up with an incoming call from him. I hit decline and tossed the phone aside. Ten minutes later, one more text. "Don't stoop to my mom's level. She just speaks without thinking." Speaks without thinking. Pulling out a checkbook in the middle of a crowded obstetrics department, trying to buy an abortion in front of dozens of people. Speaks without thinking. Maeve glanced at the glowing screen, let out a harsh scoff, and looked away. We checked out the next morning. Aunt Corinne's car idled right at the hospital entrance. I walked through the sliding glass doors, my overnight bag in hand. The morning sun was blinding. And there was Theron's car, blocking the entrance to the parking lot. The second he spotted me, he threw his door open and jogged over. His eyes darted straight to my stomach before snapping up to my face. "Are you okay? Why weren't you picking up your phone?" "There was nothing to talk about." "I yelled at my mom last night. What she did was out of line." "Yeah." "Just come home with me, okay? I swear to God she won't bother you again." "I'm not going back." "Elara, what exactly is it going to take for you to just sit down and talk to me?" he snapped, his frustration boiling over. The back door of the town car swung open. Aunt Corinne stepped out and planted herself right behind me. Theron stared at her, not placing her face. "And who is this?" Aunt Corinne didn't bother with an introduction. She gave him a cold, sweeping glance, then looked at me. "Get in the car." "Hold on a second." Theron reached out, trying to grab my arm. "Look me in the eye and tell me where you're going." "She doesn't report to you," Aunt Corinne deadpanned. Theron's brow furrowed. It was probably the first time in his life anyone had spoken to him like that. "Are you her family? Look, whatever is going on between Elara and me—" "There is nothing between you and Elle anymore," Aunt Corinne cut him off flatly. "She dumped you. She's raising these kids on her own, and they have absolutely nothing to do with the Kensington family. The fact that I haven't come after your mother for waving a checkbook around to force an abortion means I'm already being generous." All the color drained from Theron's face. "Paid her for an abortion? My mom did what?" "You didn't know?" Aunt Corinne looked at him with sheer pity. "There's a lot you don't know." She yanked the car door open. I slid into the back seat. The engine purred to life. As the car pulled away from the curb, I watched Theron in the rearview mirror. He was frozen in place, bathed in the blinding sunlight, looking like a man who had just taken a bullet and hadn't felt the pain yet. He shrank into the distance, smaller and smaller, until he vanished completely. I sank back into the plush leather, resting a hand gently over my stomach. "Once we get there," Aunt Corinne said softly, staring straight ahead, "you just focus on taking care of yourself." "I will."

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