Everyone believed Christine Thorne adored me. Even after my father and I were exiled from the family empire, she kept our engagement. She rehearsed our wedding ninety-nine times for perfection. What no one knew? Each rehearsal had a different groom—one of her ninety-nine lovers, chosen by lottery. "Scott, darling," she'd purr, "you're already my husband. Let them have one wedding each... that's fair, no?" I’d take her cash and rush to the hospital. The charade shattered on our real wedding day. When she walked down the aisle with my mother’s illegitimate son, I broke. "Anyone but him!" I begged. Her smile was icy. "I’m pregnant with his child. Don’t be like your pathetic father, begging for his hospital bills." Under a hundred mocking stares, I fled with the money—just in time to see my father jump. His blood hit my face as his dying whisper came: "Stop begging her." 1 I held my father’s cooling body, my own blood turning to ice in my veins. My mouth was open, but no sound came out. Christine's ringtone sliced through the silence. I answered on instinct. Her lazy, sensual voice purred through the phone. "Scott, darling. Leo and I are having our wedding night, but we're out of condoms. Be a dear and pick some up." My fingers trembled, about to end the call, but she wasn't finished. "Oh, and grab a bag of those gummy bears he likes. The boy has a sweet tooth. I need to keep him happy." My mind flashed back to the night she rescued my father and me from a squalid little apartment. She had slipped a ring onto my finger, her touch gentle. "Trying to hide from me? You made me look for so long." "Even if you're not a Vance anymore, you're still my husband, Scott. I will give you the most perfect wedding." That first night, I was still in a daze. She popped a candy into my mouth, her voice laced with pity. "Don't be scared. Have a candy. From now on, life will only be sweet." I knew about her reputation, her notorious flings, but I fell for her anyway, greedily devouring every scrap of affection she threw my way. I never cared about the lovers; I told myself it was all an act. But Leo was different. She was carrying his child. In our five years of marriage, no matter how passionate things got, Christine always took precautions. My greed had finally caught up to me. The one exception she made was for the person I hated most in the world. If it weren't for Leo and his mother, my father would still have a wife, and I would still have a mother. As always, she hung up first. I watched, numb, as the men from the funeral home wheeled my father away. When they handed me a small, heavy box, I finally shattered, the sobs tearing from my throat. Just as I received the death certificate, my phone rang again. "Mr. Vance? The DNA results are in. Your father was the long-lost son of Alistair Kane." "We've already booked you a flight. Would you be willing to meet your grandfather? And please, don't be afraid. The rumors about him are greatly exaggerated." I clutched my father's ashes, tears blurring my vision. "Yes," I whispered. "Excellent. In three days, have your documents ready. Someone will be there to pick you up." I returned to the villa, a ghost in my own home. A group of drunk women were laughing loudly in the living room. "Christine, isn't Leo your husband's half-brother? I thought you hated him. Why was he the groom today?" Christine swirled the red wine in her glass, a slow, deliberate smile spreading across her face. "I had no choice. The father of my child needs to have a respectable lineage." After a round of boisterous cheers, someone asked cautiously, "But what about Scott?" Christine's smile turned wicked. "Oh, Scott? He's so well-behaved. I could fuck other men right in front of him, and he’d just dutifully hand me a condom. It's just a wedding. I'll make it up to him later." The women roared with laughter. "Aren't you afraid he'll actually get mad and leave? I mean, if it weren't for Leo, he'd still be the Vance heir!" Christine shrugged. "He won't. Even if I kicked him out, he'd get on his knees and beg me not to leave him." "After all," she added, her voice dripping with contempt, "his pathetic, dying father depends on my money to stay alive." I staggered backward, bumping into someone standing silently behind me. "Brother, you're back." I turned to see Leo's face, my eyes hardening. "I don't have a brother." I started to walk away, toward the side door, but Leo let out a sudden, sharp cry. "Ah!" The chatter in the living room died instantly. 2 Christine sauntered over, hands in her pockets. She saw Leo on the floor and then gave me a long, meaningful look. "Did you push him?" Leo scrambled to explain. "No, no, it wasn't my brother! I just tripped." Then, he started to sob softly. "Christine... my stomach hurts..." Christine clicked her tongue and helped him up, then shot me a cold glare. "Come here." She guided Leo back into the main villa, lifting his shirt to inspect his stomach as if he were a precious, fragile treasure, completely ignoring my presence. The other women exchanged glances and quietly slipped out, whistling mockingly as they passed me. Before, no matter how promiscuous she was, they never would have dared to be so brazen. They were smart. They could see that Leo was different from the ninety-nine other lovers. And so, I was now relegated to their status—an object to be toyed with and disdained. The realization sent a splinter of pain through my long-numb heart. She didn't ask a single question. She just looked at me, her face a mask of indifference. "Scott. Apologize." I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood. "I didn't push him." A cruel smile touched Leo's lips as he whispered to the butler, "Go get the master's cat." My blood ran cold. "What are you doing?" Christine's smile was brutal. "Scott, Leo isn't like those other men. He's my partner, the heir to the Vance Corporation, and he is carrying my child." "I will not tolerate anyone hurting the father of my baby. Including you." "So, you need to learn your lesson. There are consequences." As she finished speaking, the cat—my cat—was thrown into the scalding hot pot on the dining table. It let out a shriek of agony that would haunt me forever. I lunged forward, but Christine grabbed me, forcing my head down, making me watch as the little creature that had been my only comfort for ten years was boiled alive. She leaned in, her whisper a venomous caress in my ear. "This time, Scott, it's just the cat. If you dare touch Leo again, the next thing you should weigh will be your father's life." A single, silent tear slid down my cheek. The memory of her defending me in front of her other lovers now felt like a cruel joke, a boomerang that had come back to strike me between the eyes. Then, she slid a divorce agreement in front of me. "Sign it. My child can't be born a bastard." I stared, trembling, at my cat floating in the bubbling broth. It was the only solace I had left after being thrown out of my home, and now, just like my father, it was gone. This marriage had no meaning anymore. I took the pen and signed my name with a steady hand. Christine's brow furrowed for a split second, a flicker of surprise that I hadn't hesitated. She scoffed. "Since you're no longer my husband, you can move into the servant's quarters. From now on, you'll earn your father's medical fees with your own labor." A bitter smile twisted my lips as I remembered my father's last words. "That won't be necessary." Just then, the sound of retching came from my room. My heart sank. I burst in to see my bedsheet, a gift from my father, covered in vomit. Leo stood up, a look of faux apology on his face. "Sorry, brother. It's my wedding day with Christine, I guess I drank a little too much." He pulled a ten-dollar bill from his wallet. "This sheet looks pretty old anyway. Here's ten bucks for a new one." SLAP! My eyes were bloodshot as I struck him across the face. "Leo, you've gone too far!" He clutched his cheek, looking tearfully at Christine, who had followed me in. "Christine, I didn't mean to! I already apologized!" The next thing I knew, a searing pain exploded across my own cheek. 3 She had used all her strength, knocking me to the ground. She didn't even glance at me. Instead, she rushed to Leo's side, gently examining his face. "Did that make you feel better?" Leo whimpered, burying his face in her arms. "It was my fault. I ruined my brother's bedsheet." Only then did Christine's gaze fall on the filthy mess on my bed. "Burn it," she said, her voice flat. "No! My father gave that to me! I can wash it, please, don't burn it!" She knew. She knew I had nightmares every night, that only by clutching that sheet could I find any peace. But she ignored my desperate pleas, turning to the servants behind her. "The new master of the house has arrived. Throw out all of this old junk." CRASH! Our wedding portrait was torn from the wall and swept out of the room like trash. All I could hear was the echo of her vow from that day. "I, Christine Thorne, swear to love only Scott Vance for the rest of my life." As the flames licked at the sheet, I dove toward the fire pit, snatching it from the embers with my bare hands, trying to smother the fire with my own body. Blisters immediately rose on my skin. Christine rushed to my side, grabbing my hands, her eyes sharp. "Does it hurt?" But then Leo suddenly clutched his stomach, pointing at the open urn on my nightstand. "I'm allergic to dust! Brother, what are you doing with a box of ashes?" "Christine, help me! I can't breathe!" "NO!" I lunged forward, a primal scream tearing from my throat. But it was too late. Leo kicked the urn, sending my father's ashes scattering across the floor. The rage I'd suppressed for so long finally erupted. I grabbed his hair, my eyes blazing red. "You did that on purpose, didn't you?" "You bastard! It wasn't enough for your father to be a homewrecker who seduced my mother, now you have to be one too and steal another man's wife!" Leo shrieked, "Christine, he's lost his mind! He's trying to kill me!" My hands closed around his throat, but one of Christine's bodyguards kicked me so hard I flew across the room. I landed on the shattered pieces of our wedding portrait, the shards digging deep into my flesh. Blood began to pool beneath me. Ignoring the pain, I crawled across the floor, trying to gather my father's ashes, leaving a bright red smear in my wake. Tears dripped onto the gray dust. "Dad, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..." But in the next instant, Christine snatched the urn from my hands. And with chilling indifference, she poured what was left of my father into the toilet. The sound of the flush was a roar that threatened to shatter my eardrums. I knelt before the porcelain bowl, stunned, then slowly looked up at her, my eyes blood-red. "Christine," I whispered, my voice a blade of ice, "I will never, ever forgive you." For a split second, shock and pain flickered in her eyes. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared. Leo held up a clump of his hair, his voice tragic. "Christine, look what he did! Maybe we shouldn't have the baby. If he's like this over a wedding, what will he do when our child is born? Will he try to kill me?" Christine pulled him into a tender embrace, cooing softly. "No, my love. I'll protect you." Her gaze then fell on me, cold and lifeless, as if I were an inanimate object. She called to a servant at the door. "Get the scissors." She took them and stood over me, grabbing my chin and forcing my head up. "Scott, have I been too lenient with you?" Then, she began to cut. She pressed the cold steel against my scalp, shearing off my hair in rough, uneven chunks, like a patch of worthless weeds. The day before our wedding, she had held my hair in her hands, calling it her most precious treasure. When she was finished, my head was nearly bare, with only a few pathetic strands remaining. She tossed the scissors aside and turned back to Leo, kissing his hair with a reverence that made my stomach turn. "Are you happy now?" Leo’s tears turned to a triumphant smile, his eyes glinting with victory as he looked at me. "Hah! Brother, you look like a clown!"
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