On our wedding night, Gavin Harrington didn’t uphold his promise to inject capital into the Hale family business to keep it afloat. Instead, he had a crate of scratch-off lottery tickets delivered. He unbuttoned his custom-made dress shirt, his eyes carrying an air of bored mockery. “Two million dollars’ worth of instant winners, Rory. Cash in whatever you get. Learn to be a good girl, and maybe you’ll get a real treat.” I knew he was punishing me. Punishing me for disrupting his meeting yesterday and, more specifically, for dumping a glass of Cabernet Sauvignon all over his skimpily-dressed little secretary. But this time, I didn’t scream or cry. Even when my fingers brushed against a small, dented brass charm in his jacket pocket—a token from our youth that still held a trace of his warmth—I just calmly wiped it clean. The shock in Gavin’s eyes was fleeting, quickly replaced by a smug satisfaction. He circled around me, his warm breath fanning my ear. “That’s my girl. That’s more like the Mrs. Harrington I married.” He slid an unlimited black card into the lace of my bodice. The cold plastic felt like a blade against my skin. “Take it. This should be enough to stabilize your father’s company.” I managed a brittle, forced smile, pulled the card out, and held it back out to him. “I won’t be needing it.” He didn’t know that while he was busy trying to “tame” me these past few days, the debt collectors had pushed my father too far, and he had fallen from the twenty-eighth floor of his office building. And the dead, after all, have no use for money. 1 Gavin’s eyebrows immediately knitted into a furious knot as I pushed the black card back. “Aurora Hale,” he snapped, using my full, formal name. “Playing hard to get is a turn-on once. Do it twice, and it’s just pathetic.” He tossed the card onto the scattered lottery ticket boxes, where it landed with a sharp, echoing clatter. “Suit yourself. I guess your father’s backbone is tougher than I thought. He can probably handle a few more days.” The mention of my father made my heart seize up. Yes, Gavin, how could you possibly know? That backbone, the one that used to shield me from the world, was now shattered and lying in the cold storage unit of a funeral home. I didn't say anything. I just crouched down and picked up one of the scratch-off cards. My fingernail scraped against the silvery coating, a dry, grating shush that sounded deafening in the silence of our opulent bridal suite. Gavin stood over me, watching. He was waiting for me to flare up, to demand answers, or to clutch at his legs and beg like I used to. But I simply kept scratching. The first card: Try Again. The second: Two Dollars. When Gavin was chasing me, he loved taking me to little convenience stores to play these. Back then, he was the Harrington family’s black sheep, and I was the gilded princess of the Hales. He’d said, “Rory, when I hit the jackpot, I’ll buy you the biggest diamond ring in the world.” I’d replied, “You don’t need the jackpot, Gavin. You’re my jackpot.” Those promises were heavy, crushing me now under their weight. My phone vibrated. It was an urgent text from the funeral director: [Ms. Hale, the body reconstruction requires immediate next-of-kin confirmation. Please come as soon as possible.] My hand shook, and my nail tore through the thin cardstock. Just then, Gavin’s phone rang. In the cavernous, quiet room, his ringtone was a jarring intrusion. He glanced at the screen, and the cold hardness in his expression instantly softened, replaced by a tenderness I hadn’t seen directed at me in years. When he answered, his voice was dangerously gentle. “What is it, Piper? Are you still hurting?” “Don’t cry. I’m on my way.” He hung up, grabbed his jacket, and headed for the door without a glance in my direction. “Gavin.” I called out his name, my voice raw and unfamiliar. He paused, turning back with undisguised impatience. “Piper was scared. She had a nightmare. I’m going to check on her.” “Tonight is our wedding night,” I stated calmly, factually. Gavin scoffed, securing his cufflink. “Aurora, are you actually trying to hold me to that?” “You dumped wine all over Piper yesterday. Did you ever stop to think she was acting as my assistant? She wore that sheer dress to cover for me, and you humiliated her in front of everyone.” He walked closer, his expression cooling further. “She’s young. She’s sensitive. Unlike you, Ms. Hale. You’ll stomach anything for money.” Every word was a needle plunged into my lungs. In his eyes, my justifiable anger was a tantrum. His mistress’s calculated manipulation was pure, fragile innocence. “What if I tell you not to go?” I looked up, my gaze steady amidst the wreckage of scratch-offs. The funeral home closed at midnight. If he left now, taking the only car, I’d be stranded in this isolated hillside mansion. I wouldn’t get to the funeral director in time, and my father would spend another day in that cold drawer. Gavin looked at me as if I’d told the funniest joke. “Rory, get your identity straight.” “The Hale name is barely breathing right now. It is hanging on by a thread that I control.” “What right do you have to tell me where to go?” With that, he turned and strode out. The front door slammed shut. Then came the roar of the engine as his car sped away. All that was left for me was the house full of wedding décor and that entire crate of sarcastic lottery tickets. I looked down at the scratch-off I’d torn. It was a winner—a hundred dollars. Too bad the prize section was ruined. It was void. Just like my seven years with Gavin. Utterly, irrevocably ruined. 2 That night, I walked ten miles. I walked down the winding canyon road in paper-thin silk flats that weren't meant for anything but marble floors. My heels were quickly ground to bloody pulp, and every step sent a sharp, drilling pain up my legs. But that pain was clarifying. By the time I reached the funeral home, the staff was locking up. The attendant, startled by my disheveled, bloody state, looked at me with a measure of pity. “Ms. Hale, you made it.” “Your father’s body sustained significant trauma. We’ve done what we can, but…” “I understand.” I cut him off, picking up the pen to sign the confirmation form. My hand was shaking violently; my signature was jagged, clumsy, and ugly. My father, George, had always prized dignity and wrote a beautiful, steady hand. If he could see my signature now, he’d probably tap me on the head and call me a disgrace. But Dad, your daughter is completely spent. “When is the cremation scheduled?” I asked. “We’re backed up. The soonest we can do it is the morning after tomorrow.” The day after tomorrow. Good enough. By the time the paperwork was finalized, the sky was already turning a pale, sickly gray. As I stepped out of the funeral home, Gavin’s call came through. “Where are you?” His voice was thick with sleep, and in the background, I could hear a woman’s low, soft murmur. “I’m out,” I replied flatly. “Get your ass home now.” His tone turned instantly frigid. “My mother is coming for brunch. Don’t let her see you looking like some whore who stayed out all night.” “Aurora, if you dare embarrass me in front of my mother, the Hale company funds are permanently frozen.” Always the same threat. Always the same routine. A few days ago, I would have panicked, stammered an excuse, and jumped into the first cab home. Now, I just felt a chilling amusement. “Fine.” I hung up. When I reached the mansion, Gavin was at the breakfast table reading a financial newspaper. Piper Wells, the secretary, emerged from the kitchen carrying a glass of milk, wearing my expensive silk wedding night robe. I hadn’t even had a chance to put it on. It hung loosely on her petite frame, yet somehow managed to convey a clear, brazen declaration of ownership. “Oh! Rory! You’re back?” Piper squeaked, looking like a startled doe. “I’m so sorry. My clothes got dirty last night, and Gavin just told me to borrow this…” “I’ll take it right off and give it back!” She made a move to untie the belt, allowing a tantalizing glimpse of the fact that she was wearing nothing underneath. Gavin put down his paper and frowned, his voice sharp. “Don’t you dare. It’s just a robe. It’s not like she’ll miss it.” He looked at me, his gaze dropping to my feet, which were crusted with dirt and blood. His frown deepened. “Where the hell were you carousing all night? You look like a damn beggar.” “I don’t like that robe anymore.” I bypassed Piper and headed straight for the stairs. “It’s soiled. Throw it away.” Behind me, I heard the sound of shattering china. Piper’s voice was tearful and wounded. “Gavin, is Rory mad at me?” “Ignore her,” Gavin said, his tone cold and cutting. “The Hale family is collapsing, but the princess still thinks she’s royalty. It’s a pampered sickness.” 3 Mrs. Harrington arrived shortly after. Piper was perched on Gavin’s lap, feeding him peeled grapes. My mother-in-law didn’t look angry; in fact, she smiled with a rare, approving affection. “Piper is such a sweet girl, so thoughtful. Not like some bad luck charms who walk in the door with a face like a tombstone. Absolutely cursed.” I stood at the top of the stairs, clutching my father’s death certificate. Hearing the word “tombstone” made my fist clench involuntarily. Gavin glanced at me, his eyes indifferent. “Mother is here. Aren’t you going to serve tea? Did your family’s manners die with their wealth?” I walked down silently and picked up the teapot. My wrist was still shaking—a painful souvenir from my ten-mile walk. The muscle spasms were intense. As I poured the tea, Piper shrieked and recoiled dramatically into Gavin’s chest. “Ah! It’s too hot!” The truth was, the water hadn’t even splashed her. But Gavin reacted instantly, shoving me away. The boiling tea cascaded over my hand, scalding my skin and instantly swelling it bright red. “Aurora Hale, was that intentional?” Gavin shielded Piper, his gaze full of disappointment. “She wore a robe, and you can’t stand it? You have to pull this high-school jealousy act in front of my mother?” Mrs. Harrington snorted and heavily tapped her cane on the marble floor. “High society princess? More like a jealous shrew! Gavin, how can a woman like this be your wife? Divorce her now, and put this sweet girl in her rightful place.” If this were a week ago, the word “divorce” would have sent me to my knees, weeping and pleading with my mother-in-law. I loved Gavin with a desperate, self-annihilating passion. But now, hearing it, I felt a peculiar wave of relief. “Fine.” Ignoring the sharp pain in my hand, I looked up at them, my voice calm as a still pool. “Let’s get divorced.” The air in the living room froze solid. Gavin’s initial shock melted into a deep sneer of mockery. He pushed Piper off, stood up, and stalked toward me, his fingers brutally clamping down on my jaw. “Divorce? Aurora, what do you think you have to bargain with?” “Don’t forget, your father’s failing company owes the bank over three hundred million dollars. Without me, how will you plug that hole? Will you sell yourself on the street?” “Or do you want your ‘respectable’ father to spend his old age in a federal penitentiary?” Up until yesterday, these threats would have completely broken me. Now, they were just pathetic. He had held my one and only weakness hostage. But that weakness was gone. The soft spot was dead. “Believe what you want.” I slapped his hand away. I was done with these pointless arguments. “I’m tired. I’m going upstairs.” A moment later, I heard the heavy, resounding crash of a vase shattering. Gavin’s enraged roar echoed through the mansion: “Aurora Hale, get back here! Who gave you permission to speak to me like that?” “Gavin, please don’t be angry. Rory is probably just upset…” Piper’s soft, whiny voice joined the chaos. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have worn her robe. I’ll take it off right now and return it to her, even if I have to walk outside naked…” “You wear it! Keep it on!” Gavin ground the words out. “I want her to see who gives the orders in this house!” I shut my bedroom door, muffling the noise below. The water blisters on my hand were already raised and translucent. I found a needle, sterilized it over a lighter, and, without expression, popped the biggest blister. Pus leaked out. It hurt. But this physical pain was nothing compared to the agony of my father lying in that cold morgue drawer. I rummaged through a box and pulled out my wedding ring. It was a five-carat pink diamond—a dazzling, priceless stone Gavin had given me when he proposed. At the time, he’d said, “Rory, you’re my princess. The best things in the world belong to you.” Now, this ring was the only valuable thing I owned. My father’s funeral needed cash. The burial plot needed to be paid for. The best mahogany urn needed to be bought. Gavin had frozen my accounts, and the Hale company assets were sealed. I couldn’t let my father leave this world in shame. I slipped the ring into my pocket, changed into black clothes, and quietly exited the mansion through the back door. 4 The Meridian Exchange—the city’s largest, most discreet pawn shop. The owner scrutinized the pink diamond, his eyes wide with shock. “Ms. Hale, this is a rare piece. The auction where Mr. Harrington bought it was front-page news. Are you absolutely certain you want to pawn it?” “Yes.” I didn’t hesitate. “Sell it. Final sale.” The owner tutted, then named his price. “Three million. That’s my final offer.” The ring was originally worth over twenty million. But I didn’t have time to haggle; the funeral home needed payment now. “Done. Transfer the funds.” Just as I reached for the pen, a long, well-manicured hand clamped down over the ticket. The familiar scent of cedar and high-end cologne wafted over me, bringing with it a suffocating sense of pressure. “Aurora Hale. Are you that desperate for cash?” My body went rigid. I slowly looked up. Gavin Harrington was standing right behind me. He was wearing a perfectly tailored suit. Trailing him was a smirking Piper and a few of his rich friends, who stood with crossed arms, watching the spectacle. Their eyes were full of a cruel, voyeuristic amusement. “Well, well, isn’t that the Mrs. Harrington? Selling her wedding ring? Is Gavin starving you, man?” “Gavin, did you push the lady too hard? Can’t even afford food?” Gavin ignored their taunts, his eyes locked on mine, churning with cold fury. “You rejected the black card I gave you, only to turn around and humiliate yourself at a place like this?” “Do you want the entire city of New York to know that I abuse my wife?” He snatched the ring off the counter, his thumb rubbing the massive diamond. His voice dripped with sarcasm. “Three million? That’s what seven years of our life together is worth to you?” I looked at him, feeling only a profound sense of the absurd. If he truly cared about those seven years, he wouldn’t have brought his mistress home on our wedding night. He wouldn’t have watched my father drown in debt. “The ring is mine. I have the right to dispose of it.” I reached out to grab it back. “Give it to me.” Gavin easily pulled his hand away. He saw my frantic urgency and suddenly smiled—a smile that was vicious and brutal. “You want money, don’t you? Fine.” He pulled out his checkbook, quickly scrawled a number, and tore off the check. He tossed it lightly, letting it flutter onto my cheek and land on the floor. “That’s five million dollars.” He pointed at the check on the dirty floor, speaking to me as if I were a pet dog. “Kneel down. Pick it up. The money is yours. The ring stays with me.” Piper wrapped her arm around Gavin’s, her voice sweet and clinging. “Gavin, this ring is gorgeous. I want it.” Gavin fondly stroked her nose. “You like it? Consider it yours.” He casually took the ring—the symbol of our supposed “forever”—and slipped it onto Piper’s middle finger. It fit her perfectly. “Oh, thank you, Gavin!” Piper lifted her hand, showing off the diamond’s fiery sparkle under the lights, and shot me a triumphant, pitying look. “Rory, since you didn’t want it, I guess I’ll take it.” I watched the scene unfold, my heart clenching so hard it felt like a silent, crushing blow. But I didn’t cry. I slowly bent my knees. In the scornful gaze of Gavin and his friends, I knelt down and picked up the check. If it meant my father could rest in peace. What was my dignity? What was my pride? When he saw that I actually knelt and took the check, the smile vanished from Gavin’s face. It was replaced by a concentrated, violent rage. He must have expected me to tear the check up and run away, weeping as I always did. He was wrong. “Thank you, Mr. Harrington.” I folded the check, put it into my pocket, and turned to leave. “Stop!” Gavin grabbed my wrist, his grip so powerful I thought he might shatter the bones. “Aurora, how did you become so utterly base?” “For five million dollars, you gave up your wedding ring? Do you have any heart left?” I looked up, meeting his furious gaze. “Gavin, you gave the ring to someone else.” “As for my heart…” I gave a dry, empty laugh. “It’s been dead for days.” 5 With the five million dollars, my father’s funeral arrangements were handled smoothly. I chose a sunny burial plot, a spot he always loved, overlooking the entire city skyline. The day of the cremation was gray and overcast. I didn’t call any relatives or friends. Since the Hale family collapsed, everyone who had fawned over us had fled, afraid of catching the contagion of ruin. I walked the empty path of the cemetery alone, holding the urn. The wind was fierce, stinging my eyes. My phone, in my pocket, was vibrating frantically. It was Gavin. I ignored it, but he kept calling. Finally, I answered. “Aurora Hale! Where the hell are you?!” His roar was deafening, mixed with loud music and the clinking of glasses. “There’s a critical corporate mixer tonight, and I need you to get your ass over here!” “I’m busy,” I said softly, looking at my father’s kind face in the stone photo. “Busy? Doing what besides being a parasite at home?” Gavin sneered. “Don’t think I don’t know you’re still sulking over the ring. Play nice tonight, charm Mr. Wallace for me, and I’ll buy you a ten-carat rock.” “Oh, and Piper is here, too. She doesn’t know the business etiquette, so you’ll need to coach her and help her field the drinks.” He wanted me to babysit and be the human shield for his mistress. This was the man I had loved for seven years. “I’m not coming.” I hung up and turned the phone off. The world was finally silent. I sat by the gravestone for the entire afternoon. It wasn’t until the cemetery groundskeeper came to tell me they were closing that I finally stood up. When I returned to the mansion, it was late. The lights were on in the living room. Gavin was slumped on the couch, his tie loose, reeking of alcohol. Piper was kneeling on the floor, helping him pull off his shoes, her eyes red-rimmed and tear-stained. When Gavin saw me walk in, he grabbed the crystal ashtray off the coffee table and hurled it. Smash! The ashtray grazed my forehead and hit the wall, shattering. Shards of glass flew everywhere. A sliver sliced open my brow bone. Warm blood immediately ran down into my eye, turning my vision a horrifying red. “Aurora Hale! You think you’re so tough, don’t you? Hanging up on me? Turning off your phone?” Gavin swayed as he stood up, staggering over to grab my collar. “Do you know how important that deal was to me tonight? Because you didn’t show up, Mr. Wallace was furious! If this deal falls through, how will you pay for it?” I let him shake me, a soulless doll. “Say something! Don’t play mute!” He noticed the blood on my face and momentarily paused, a flicker of something that might have been guilt crossing his face. But the guilt was quickly buried by rage. “A little scratch and you’re playing the victim? Piper was covering for you all night, and she threw up all the meds for her stomach ulcer! That is your failure as my wife!” Piper whimpered, clutching her stomach and leaning weakly against the couch. “Gavin, don’t blame Rory… Maybe she really did have an emergency…” “What emergency could she possibly have?” Gavin sneered. “She probably went looking for some gigolo! Used the five million from the ring to buy herself a pretty toy!” He reached out to frisk my pocket. “Where is the money? Hand over the rest of the money!” I fought him off, fiercely protecting the pocket that held the burial plot receipt and my father’s death certificate. “Let go!” “Never!” During the struggle, a thin slip of paper fluttered out of my pocket. It landed perfectly, right by Gavin’s polished leather shoe. The air seemed to still. It was the cremation certificate issued by the funeral home. The bold, black lettering seemed to scream under the crystal chandelier. [Deceased: George Hale] [Cremation Date: October 15, 2025] Which was today. Gavin’s hands froze.
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