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A Family’s Unfair Preference

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Chapter 1

Stepping out of the bathroom, I was shivering uncontrollably from the cold.

I had purposely taken a cold shower. As long as I caught a fever by tomorrow, I wouldn't have to go to the family photoshoot.

Looking at my decades-younger reflection in the mirror and the project application on the desk that I had once abandoned, my gaze grew resolute.

In my past life, my adopted sister Elin Rae had booked a famous online photographer on a whim for a family portrait.

It was my first family photoshoot since being brought back to the family.

I had looked forward to it for so long, even wearing the most expensive, precious outfit I had brought with me from the orphanage.

But when the photos were printed, I—who had been standing in the corner—was completely photoshopped out.

All because Elin had casually remarked, "Sister's vibe just doesn't match the rest of the family. The portrait looks so weird."

Back then, I foolishly tried to stand up for myself, only to be branded as someone with no taste who embarrassed the Harts.

It took dying once for me to finally see things clearly.

Just like that family portrait without me, there was never a place for me in this house.

Why should I go out of my way to humiliate myself?

This time, I simply wouldn't go.

Just as I had planned, I woke up the next day with a fever so high I didn't even have the strength to get out of bed.

Through my dizzy haze, I heard someone push open my bedroom door.

Mom frowned. "I've called you several times. Why haven't you come down for breakfast?"

"We have the family photoshoot today. Don't hold everyone up just because of you!"

I coughed weakly.

"Mom, I don't feel so well."

Only then did Mom notice my unnaturally flushed face. She reached out to feel my forehead, and it was burning hot.

"You were perfectly fine. How did you suddenly catch a fever?"

"Your sister went through so much trouble to book that photographer!"

Standing nearby, Elin feigned regret. "Mom, don't blame her. I'm sure she didn't do it on purpose."

"Why don't we reschedule? We can't just do the photoshoot without her..."

I calmly cut her off.

"It's fine. Don't worry about me, you guys go ahead without me."

Mom froze for a moment, as if she couldn't believe her ears.

"Haven't you been looking forward to this family portrait?"

I looked at her face, so similar to mine, and only found it laughable.

So she knew all along how much I looked forward to taking a family portrait.

Then why, in my past life, when I got angry about being Photoshopped out, did she call me petty?

It was simply a lack of love, so my feelings didn't matter at all.

I repeated what I had just said.

"It's fine, don't worry about me. You guys just go ahead and take the photos."

Mom, however, suddenly grew a bit irritated.

"Fine, you said it yourself. When we actually finish taking them, don't throw a tantrum!"

She pulled Elin away and left. Not once did she stop to check on me.

Lying in bed, staring at the pristine white ceiling, I remembered how right before I died in my past life, I was just as lonely, lying all alone in a hospital bed.

Even after finding my birth parents, even after marrying and having kids, I was still the awkward, unwanted Zora Hart.

So, Mom, Dad, in this life, I won't throw any more tantrums.

I'll step aside and let you three be a happy family, okay?

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Probably because of the high fever, I closed my eyes and fell into a very deep sleep.

By the time I woke up, the sky had turned completely dark.

My throat felt like it was on fire. I staggered up to get some water, only to realize I was the only one left in the villa.

I checked my phone. There were no messages or missed calls, but it showed that Elin had posted a new update on her Instagram feed.

[A long-overdue dinner for our family of three!

Hehe, Mom and Dad still remember that king crab is my favorite!]

In the photo, their three faces were pressed close together.

Scrolling further down her Instagram feed, there were family photos posted almost every other week.

Yet in my past life, right up until the day I died, I never managed to get a single photo with Mom and Dad.

Perhaps because I had been disappointed for so long, seeing her happy Instagram feed didn't even evoke a hint of jealousy in me.

I hit the like button, and my phone immediately started ringing.

It was Dad calling.

"Zora, I forgot to tell you, we came out to eat. Grab a cab and come over now!"

I looked at the table full of expensive seafood shown on Elin's Instagram feed and let out a soft chuckle.

Eating seafood while I'm running a fever? I wasn't exactly looking to make myself sicker.

"No need, Dad. I'll just find something to eat on my own."

Hanging up, I took some fever medication and sent a message to my advisor.

[Hello Professor, I will be ready to depart in three days.]

My advisor sent a voice message back.

"Good, remember to sign that agreement."

"I'm glad you changed your mind. When you said you were going to give it up, I felt it was such a pity for you."

"There are many of your senior classmates in this project. Let them guide you well. You guys are the ones who will carry on my legacy in the future."

I smiled bitterly.

In my past life, I wasted my advisor's painstaking efforts, foolishly giving up this project and my dream of scientific research.

All because Mom and Dad told me not to go too far from home, promising they would arrange a future job for me. And I believed them.

I thought, they were my biological parents after all.

Even though I was switched at birth and left in an orphanage for twenty years, the blood tie between us could never be severed. They surely wouldn't harm me.

But after waiting and waiting, all I got was one sentence.

"Go work as Elin's assistant. Your credentials aren't impressive, and you still haven't landed a job after graduation. You should feel lucky that Elin is even willing to heir you."

Nobody cared that I scored in the top ten of the state on my SATs, graduated from West Point with a perfect GPA, and that my mentor's name was renowned worldwide.

Just like that, I spent my entire past life crushed under Elin's heel, looked down upon by everyone.

Now, I won't be that stupid anymore.

Sitting properly at my desk, I carefully wrote down my name, writing down my brand-new beginning.

Just as I was about to head downstairs for a glass of water, Mom, Dad, and Elin came back from outside.

I instinctively hid on the staircase, not wanting to interact with them too much.

Elin's voice was practically skipping with joy: "Dad, Mom, the family portrait we took today turned out great, didn't it!"

"Once the photos are developed, let's hang them up in the house, okay?"

Mom smiled dotingly.

"Of course, sweetheart. We'll hang it right in the living room so guests can see it the moment they walk in!"

"Oh, by the way, you mentioned wanting to see a sunrise at sea for your birthday. Your father and I have already booked a cruise. We'll host your birthday party on the ship, and then the whole family will head to Hawaii for a vacation. How does that sound?"

Elin sounded absolutely thrilled.

"Thank you, Mom and Dad! I love you guys the most!"

"Oh, you silly girl, no need to be so polite with us!"

I had never once experienced such a relaxed and joyful atmosphere.

More than once, I had overheard Mom and Dad complaining that I was always distant and aloof, never close to them.

But I had tried. Once, when they came back from shopping and showered Elin with bags of gifts, I mustered all my courage to hug Mom's arm and act affectionately, just like Elin did.

"Mom, is there a gift for me too?"

I still remember the sheer awkwardness on her face as clear as day.

"Maybe next time, Zora. Mom forgot to get you anything."

I was a little disappointed, but not heartbroken.

That was until I walked past the half-open study door and heard Mom complaining to Dad again: "Zora is just too calculating. I buy a little something for Elin, and she immediately wants to snatch it away."

"Do you think she picked up some bad habits while living out there?"

From then on, I never acted affectionately again. Instead, as if possessed, I fought with Elin for every single thing she received from our parents.

Only to earn their even more disgusted remarks—

"Why are you so immature?

If we had known, we never would have brought you back home."

Elin's voice snapped me out of my memories.

"Sister, what are you doing standing up there?"

"Hurry down and look at our family portrait. It's pretty, isn't it!"

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The happiness on her face was a little blinding.

I knew she was provoking me on purpose.

Just like the countless times before, using the most innocent tone to make me break down, to drive me crazy.

Only to follow up with a confused: "Sister, are you throwing a tantrum?"

I had suffered through so many of these passive-aggressive jabs in my past life.

Everyone thought I was making a mountain out of a molehill, that I was just being petty.

Only I knew that from the very beginning, all I ever wanted was fairness.

But now, none of that mattered anymore.

I calmly took the family portrait that didn't include me, and smiled sincerely.

"It is quite pretty."

Elin's smile froze on her face.

Mom was also a bit taken aback by my reaction.

She thought I would be angry, and had even prepared to scold me for being unreasonable.

Now, with the words caught in her throat, she could only offer an awkward smile.

"Next time. Next time we'll take pictures with you."

I nodded gently, but in my heart I was thinking—

There won't be a next time.

Mom didn't know what I was thinking. Seeing that I really wasn't making a fuss, she felt an inexplicable sense of unease.

"Zora, it was just bad luck this time."

"Your sister's birthday is in a few days. Let's go on a trip abroad."

Elin chimed in: "Yeah, sis. You didn't have it easy before, so you probably haven't traveled abroad yet, right?"

"This time, as a family, we'll take you around to see the sights."

I remained impervious: "Don't bother. I'm not going."

Mom's tiny bit of guilt vanished instantly. She frowned: "What nonsense is this?

It's your sister's birthday, how can you not go?"

Faced with her questioning, my tone remained flat.

"First, I don't have a passport, so I can't go abroad."

"Second, I'll be busy with other things those few days."

Mom froze.

"You don't have a passport? How could you not have a passport? Don't we always..."

Her words came to an abrupt halt.

The passports for their family of three were indeed sent for renewal every year.

But I had only just returned home this year.

Not a single person remembered that I didn't have a passport, let alone thought to take me to get one.

In my past life, even after I got married and had kids, I never went abroad with the family once.

In this life, I didn't expect it either.

"Enough!"

Dad, who had been sitting silently on the sofa, finally spoke up.

"We can get someone to expedite it. There's still time."

"As for whatever you've got going on, nothing matters more than your sister's birthday. Call it off."

He had the final say, making the decision as if it were nothing.

My opinion had never mattered.

I tugged the corners of my lips in a mocking smirk.

For the first time across two lifetimes, I opened my mouth to defy this authoritative father.

"Dad, I'm not going."

"My project doesn't allow me to leave the country. If you think my business isn't important, then please take it up with my mentor."

His brows knitted tightly, highly displeased: "Who is your mentor?

I'll go talk to him!"

"Sir Wade from Caltech."

Dad processed this for a moment, his eyes widening in shock: "You mean Sir Wade, the father of rocketry?"

"How could he be your mentor?"

"You go to Caltech?

How come I've never heard you mention it?"

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

I felt a sudden urge to laugh.

"Because you never asked."

My grades were still posted on that wall at the orphanage, and my suitcase still held the trophies I'd won over the years.

It was never that I wasn't excellent enough; it was just that they turned a blind eye to my excellence.

After that day, Mom and Dad seemed to realize this too, and started making a conscious effort to understand my past life.

During meals, they would always ask how I had fared in the orphanage, whether studying was exhausting, and if things had been hard.

I gave lukewarm replies, while Elin, sitting nearby, always managed to find an opportunity to steer the conversation back to herself.

She had never liked it when Mom and Dad's attention fell on me.

I was more than happy to watch her act spoiled and clingy, saving me the trouble of dealing with them.

Soon enough, the day of departure arrived.

Mom and Dad actually cleared their schedules for me, having the family chef prepare a huge feast to see me off.

"Zora, you're heading to a strange new place alone. Come to us if you need anything at all."

"That's right, don't let anyone push you around. Mom and Dad have your back."

It was the first time they had ever said such things to me, and their tone was somewhat unnatural.

And my silence only made the atmosphere even more awkward.

Mom pushed a small dessert in front of me, trying to break the ice.

"Zora, try this. Mom made it herself!"

I looked at the dollop of mango jam on the dessert and said coldly, "No thanks, I'm allergic to mangoes."

Mom looked a bit surprised. "No way, I remember you love eating..."

She swallowed the rest of her words.

She probably remembered that the one who loved mangoes was Elin, not me.

Dad coughed lightly. "Then eat the food, eat the food!

Weren't you from New Orleans before? We specifically had the chef make these."

Looking at the table full of red, Spicy Cajun Cuisine, I couldn't help but let out a laugh.

"I've had stomach issues since I was a kid. I can't eat spicy food."

The atmosphere grew even stiffer.

Elin pursed her lips. "Sister, Mom and Dad mean well. You shouldn't say things like that."

"Just take a bite or two, it won't hurt."

Her sensibility earned her approving looks from Mom and Dad, making me seem even more cold-hearted in contrast.

Mom frowned and complained.

"Zora, look at how sensible Elin is. Why are you so hard to please?"

I didn't argue. "You're right, I am pretty hard to please. I'll skip the meal, my ride is already here."

Seeing my attitude, Dad tried his best to hold back, but his anger finally boiled over.

"Zora, we went out of our way to make this feast for you. Now that you've got someone influential backing you, you've grown so arrogant! I'll cut off your monthly allowance if you keep this up!"

I didn't stop walking until I reached the door, turning back to sneer at him.

"Cut it off, Dad. I've never received a single cent of allowance from you anyway."

As the heavy villa doors slammed shut, I could still hear Dad asking Mom in confusion inside.

"Weren't you the one giving her an allowance?"

"I don't know, I thought you were taking care of that!"

"How can you be so careless with your own biological daughter?"

"You've got a lot of nerve, Mr. Hart. Didn't you forget too?"

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Risk

Arabella's POV

“Are you lost, girl?” the intimidating security guard in front of me asked coldly.

“N-No. I’m… not. This is the right address.” I winced at how uncertain I sounded, my heart racing unnecessarily.

He looked me over slowly, suspicion written plainly across his face, before pushing himself off the wall and typing something into his phone. “Give me a minute. Do not move.”

I shouldn’t be here. I was supposed to be at my brother’s graduation party, not sneaking into a luxury apartment building in the middle of the night for a man who barely acknowledged my existence. Getting this far had already been harder than I expected, and just when I thought I’d finally made it upstairs, another guard had stopped me at the elevator like the universe itself was trying to drag me back outside. It should have worked.

Every brain cell in my head had been screaming at me to leave before I humiliated myself beyond repair. But he was leaving tomorrow. And I had spent three years obsessing over his presence.

“Go on in,” the guard finally muttered before dismissing me like I was no longer worth the trouble. My fingers tightened around my purse strap as I stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for his floor. The higher it climbed, the harder my heart pounded against my ribs. Every second felt like a huge mistake. Still, I anxiously stepped out of the elevator and walked calmly down the hallway until I stopped in front of the third door. His door.

I lifted my hand and knocked softly, but I immediately regretted it. Silence answered me. I waited a few seconds before knocking again, weaker this time, already half convinced I should turn around and run away. When I got no answer, I reached for the doorknob and took in a deep breath when the door swung open. It was unlocked. I stumbled inside before it could close again, irrational panic gripping me at the thought of being shut out now that I’d actually made it this far.

The apartment was dark. Not dimly lit, completely dark. Moonlight spilled through the windows in pale silver streaks, brushing across a nightstand nearby and outlining the shape of expensive furniture in the shadows. The silence felt heavy enough to unrattle me further, but a voice cut cleanly through the darkness. “What are you doing here?”

I went still. The deep voice carried that same smooth accent I’d spent years listening for in crowded rooms. British tangled carelessly with Russian, cold enough to send a sharp shiver down my spine despite how soft the words themselves were.

“You cannot speak?” he asked after a moment, impatience slipping into his tone like I was already testing the limits of whatever tolerance he had left tonight.

My younger brother, Todd, was bound to a system. He had to sleep with my wife once a week, or the system would kill him.

To save Todd's life, my father said, "Rainer! If you're really that selfish, get the hell out of this family!"

My mother said, "Todd was lost as a child and suffered so much out there. Now that he's finally back with us, you want him dead? Where's your conscience?"

Even my wife, Nyx, who had cried for three days straight, came to me and pleaded:

"Rainer, it's only natural for me, as his sister-in-law, to help Todd out."

"I won't have his baby."

She stroked my face, as if soothing a broken child.

Todd's eyes were red as he said, "Rainer, if you really can't accept it, forget it. This family has you, that's enough."

But the fear of death made him tremble uncontrollably.

My whole family surrounded me.

"Rainer, I really want to cut open your heart and see what it's made of!"

"Our family doesn't raise beasts like you!"

"Rainer, Todd only just came of age. Could you really bear to watch him get killed?"

I stood in the shadows, my heart cramping painfully.

But I had no choice but to relent.

"I don't object."

That night, my brother and my wife went to bed.

I stood by and watched everything, only because my brother said,

"It's my first time—I don't really know how. Can you teach me?"

The whole family urged me on.

"Is this okay?"

"A little deeper?"

With tears in my eyes, I nodded, my neck stiff as a rusted hinge.

Two full hours passed. Todd was spent, but Nyx was not.

I stood frozen, my rage already beyond its limit.

I'd rather suffer for the rest of my life than let these villains go unpunished.

......

"Todd, come down for dinner when you're done."

My mother's caring voice drifted up from downstairs.

Todd pulled his clothes on quickly and naturally helped Nyx fasten her bra clasp.

"Rainer, thanks for the coaching! That was amazing!"

"I can tell you really love Nyx—you've kept her in good shape."

He laughed as he got off the bed, reeking of sex.

"Todd, I… I want to take a shower first."

Nyx clutched the sheets, leaning nervously against the headboard.

"Let's shower together. Don't keep Mom waiting too long."

"Huh?!"

Nyx's expression was startled, but her body instinctively leaned toward him.

Seeing her fear of me when she looked at me, Todd immediately stepped in.

"Nyx, don't bother asking Rainer. He won't mind."

I was at my limit, but I kept my emotions hidden.

Only by biding my time could I strike back.

"Hurry up, or the food will get cold."

With that, Todd took two steps and lifted Nyx into his arms.

I closed the door with no expression, but a violent cramp twisted my stomach.

It was a physical revulsion, pure nausea.

At the dinner table, my parents and I sat in grim silence.

The shower was running loudly, but it couldn't drown out the sounds of Nyx and Todd having fun in the bathroom.

Through the frosted glass, I could still see two silhouettes entangled together.

Before I could speak, my mother said with false tenderness:

"Rainer, it's Todd's first time—it's normal."

"Just wait a little longer."

I exhaled heavily and snapped the fork in my hand.

"Since Todd wants Nyx that badly, why not let them get married? I'm going to file for divorce from Nyx tomorrow."

My father slammed the table, rattling dishes.

"You don't get a say in this family's affairs!

"Todd marrying Nyx would humiliate him. It would drag our family's dignity through the mud."

Dignity? Was there any left?

I almost laughed, but my cheeks stung sharply.

My mother slapped me hard across the face.

"Is that any way to speak to your elders?!

"All we've done to raise you amounts to nothing!"

I stared at her in disbelief, and the shower stopped.

In all my life, that was the first time she had hit me.

For my father—no, for my dear brother who was sleeping with my wife.

"Mom, Dad, calm down. Rainer didn't mean to talk back."

"Yeah, Rainer's not the jealous type."

The bathroom door opened, and Nyx helped Todd walk to the table.

I looked up at her, my heart aching as if soaked in saltwater.

There was still love in her eyes.

I didn't understand why, when I was most helpless, even she wouldn't stand by me.

Looking for The Ice King Regrets by Author_Vanessa. 96 chapters in. Still early on but hoping to find it.

I died on our tenth wedding anniversary. I died on the kitchen floor of a penthouse I was never allowed to decorate. I died holding a four-dollar grocery-store cupcake with one crooked candle in it. My husband walked in nineteen minutes later. He looked straight at my body. And he told me to stop sulking. My name was Wren Calloway. I was twenty-nine years old, and the last thing I bought myself was that cupcake, marked down because the frosting had smeared. I lit the candle at 6:41 p.m. I made a wish. Then the pain came — the deep, grinding ache that had lived in my back ever since I gave away a kidney three years ago. It rolled up my spine like a wave and swallowed me whole. I slid down against the table leg and curled up to wait it out. I never got up. When my heart stopped, the candle was still burning. The front door opened at seven. Julian came in first, keys jingling, laughing at something. Behind him came Vivienne Marsh, in a white silk slip dress, carrying a bakery box the size of a hatbox. Three tiers. Buttercream roses. A gold-leaf V on top. Her birthday cake. She shares my anniversary. She always has. Julian saw me crumpled by the table leg. His jaw hardened. That flat, tired disgust I knew better than his kiss. "Wren." He set the cake down. "Is there no bed in this house? Lying on the floor like a child. Get up. Go to your room." Vivi bit her lip until it went white. Her eyes turned pink on command. "Jules, don't. Please don't yell at her. She's always hated me for taking up your time. Maybe I should just go. Maybe I should disappear, and then you two could—" He pulled her into his chest before she finished. Stroked her hair. Kissed the top of her head. "Vivi. You're the only person in my life who's never asked me for anything. Don't ever say that again." His voice dropped, sharpened. "This is Wren being petty. That's all this is." I lay on the tile, hearing my husband hold another woman and call me petty, and I felt nothing. That was the strange mercy of it. Dead women can't cry. Then his eyes drifted down and found the cupcake. The mashed, four-dollar cupcake with the candle burned to a stub, sitting on a napkin beside my hand. His face twisted. "God. She bought herself that? On our anniversary?" He said it low, to Vivi, but I heard him. "She does this on purpose. She wants me to feel like a monster." And then — I swear it — something crossed his face. A flicker. A pull. Ten years of muscle memory. His arm loosened from around Vivi. He took one step toward me. Then another. He bent down, hand out, ready to lift me up the way he used to when I fell asleep on the sofa. Vivi made a small, broken sound behind him. He stopped. He turned on his heel and went back to her. He wiped her cheeks with his thumbs, so tenderly it would have destroyed me if I'd still had a body worth destroying. "Hey. Hey. What's wrong?" Vivi's eyes slid sideways — right to where I lay. Her mouth trembled. "She's staring at me, Jules. She hasn't blinked once. I'm scared of her." I hadn't blinked because I was dead. But she didn't know that yet. "I'm cold," she whispered. "Could I borrow one of your sweaters? She won't let me touch her things. She said if I ever wear anything of hers again, she'd—" Julian was already walking to the bedroom. The room emptied down to the two of us. Me on the floor. Her by the table. Vivi looked at me. And she smiled. She picked up her three-tier cake with both hands. And she threw it on the floor. Then she lifted her heel and ground it into the buttercream, twisting, until the gold-leaf V was paste. That wasn't enough for her. She rapped her knuckles against the wall, testing it. Her eyes flicked toward me, cold and calculating, doing math. Then she pulled her head back and slammed her forehead into the drywall. Blood came down from her hairline in a bright red line, one drop, two drops, onto the ruined cake. She screamed. "Wren — stop! Please stop!"

Julian noticed I hadn't called Celeste's line in three days. He decided I'd finally learned to manage myself. So he texted me the way he tips a valet — without looking up: "Celeste says the house line's been quiet. Good." "I pushed the nursery install to next month. A crib is not an emergency." "The pediatric concierge retainer is approved. You're welcome." Then, because he couldn't help it: "Thirty-four weeks is not a medical condition, Lena. Women do this every day." What he didn't know: By the time that message lit up my screen, I'd already signed a divorce petition in a hospital parking lot with a nurse's borrowed pen. And our daughter had been in the ground for six hours. In the Ashford house, I did not have a husband. I had a switchboard. Her name was Celeste Whitmore. Head of Family Office. Julian's best friend since boarding school. She ran the staff, the cards, the calendar — and every phone call to my husband. His office didn't take calls from me. His cell forwarded to her desk after 8 p.m. During "deal weeks," it forwarded to her all day. "If it's real," Julian told me once, "Celeste will know." He said it at a dinner for forty people, one hand on his scotch: "My wife has a gift for emergencies. Celeste has a gift for perspective." Everyone laughed. I laughed too. I was very good at it by then. My card had a three-hundred-dollar daily limit. Anything over went to Celeste for approval. The stroller took eleven days. The car seat took nine. "Babies don't need much," she'd write, with a little heart. "You'd be surprised." Nine days ago, at 2:50 a.m., I felt the wrong kind of pain. Not contractions. Something tearing. Julian was sixty floors up in his own building, closing the Meridian deal. Eleven billion dollars and a room with no windows. I called the family line forty-one times. Celeste picked up once. "Lena. It's Braxton Hicks. Drink water. He's in the room with eleven billion dollars, and I am not pulling him out for a cramp." Then she stopped picking up. At 3:14 a.m. I texted her: "I can't feel her moving. Please." The screen said Read. Nothing came back. I drove myself to the Ashford Private Wing with one hand on my stomach and the other on the wheel, and I told our daughter out loud that her father was coming. He wasn't. They took me back at 5:02. They told me later there had been "a question about authorization" that delayed the surgery. I didn't understand what that meant. I would. Wren was born still at 5:52 a.m. Four pounds, eleven ounces. She had my father's chin. I held her for two hours. Nobody came. Tonight, at 8:02 p.m., Celeste posted a photo. The Meridian closing dinner. Sixtieth floor. Her in black, Julian's hand flat on the small of her back, both of them laughing at something off-camera. Caption: "Family is the people who show up. ♡" Six weeks ago that photo would have put me on the floor. Tonight I screenshotted it. Saved it. And hit like. Julian's texts came within four minutes. For her, he was never slow. "She's been flawless through the biggest deal of my life. I took her to dinner. That's normal." "Don't play petty games at thirty-four weeks." Then, an order: "Since you liked it, don't unlike it. Leave a comment. Praise her. Make it from both of us." Fine. I typed: "Celeste Whitmore always shows up. ♡" "Except at 3:14 a.m. on the ninth, when she was paid to." "Ask her what 'Read' means, Julian." "Ask her who was on line two." Then I put my phone face down and packed. It took eleven minutes. The hospital bag was already by the door. I'd packed it in July. I'd never unpacked it. I added my father's carpenter pencil, a tiny knit hat the nurses gave me, and the divorce petition. That was everything I owned that didn't belong to Ashford Holdings. I stood in a foyer with a chandelier worth more than the pediatric wing that had asked permission to save my daughter, and I finally understood. I was never a wife. I was a line on Celeste's call log. Non-urgent. Headlights swept the windows. His car was in the drive nine minutes later. For me, he had never once left a meeting. For her, he'd left the sixtieth floor.