That day, while waiting to pick up my daughter from school, a viral interview clip popped up on my phone. A woman on the screen was smiling, bragging about how she had once convinced her boss not to rescue his kidnapped fiancée from the wilderness. "It was good for her to suffer a bit," she said smoothly. "Otherwise, once she married into the family, who would be able to keep her in her place?" In the video, her hand, with its bright red nails, brushed past her ring finger. Inside the band of her ring was a tiny, custom wave pattern—a design I had handdrawn myself. It turned out that behind my back, my husband had already hooked up with his secretary. It turned out that the three days I spent kidnapped and terrified didn't even compare to one of his business deals. My life was nothing compared to the profit in his eyes. I didn't want to love Julian Vance anymore. Vivian Sommers's POV On my way to pick up Chloe from her afterschool art class, I saw a viral interview clip on TikTok. The caption was eyecatching: What's the worst thing you've ever done but never admitted to? The camera didn't show the woman's face. It only focused on her hand resting on the rim of a coffee cup. Her nails were painted a striking scarlet red. She spoke in a casual, airy tone, as if she were telling a harmless story from the past. "I used to work for this billionaire CEO." "He had a fiancée. She came from a wealthy family and had a pretty fiery temper." "Once, she was kidnapped and held in the mountains. My boss was right in the middle of signing a massive merger. I convinced him not to go save her right away." "I told him, 'Let her suffer a bit. It'll humble her. Otherwise, how are you going to manage her once she wears your ring?'" Someone in the studio let out a soft laugh, but the room quickly fell quiet. The woman laughed too. "Who knew she was so fragile? She completely broke after that night. They had to send her to a private psychiatric facility, locked away for years. Looking back, I don't think I did anything wrong. If she hadn't gotten out of the way, I wouldn't be where I am today." I pulled over at the intersection. The wind was howling outside. Dead leaves scraped across my windshield. I stared at the screen, my eyes locked on the ring on her finger. That ring wasn't from a luxury brand. I had drawn the sketch myself years ago. Inside the band, there was a tiny, delicate wave pattern. I had designed it specifically for Julian to wear on our wedding day. But that ring never made it to the altar. Instead, it ended up on Mila Hayes's finger. The comment section was already in chaos. Some called her evil, some demanded to know who the CEO was, and others dug up old news articles, remembering a highprofile kidnapping of a wealthy young heiress in Boston years ago. I didn't click on those articles. I already knew what was under those old headlines. There would be photos of me running into Julian's press conference, wrapped in a dirty, torn coat. There would be pictures of the raw, unhealed bruises on my wrists and ankles. People would be speculating if I had lost my mind, wondering why I chose that exact day—Julian's biggest triumph—to ruin his moment. Back then, I was a broken mess, while Julian stood under the bright lights, with a perfectly styled Mila standing right by his side. Even after all these years, I still remembered the way he looked at me that day. It wasn't pity. It was embarrassment. The car behind me honked loudly. The light had turned green. I tossed my phone onto the passenger seat and started the car. As I turned the corner, my phone buzzed again. A text from an unknown number popped up: Vivian, are you okay? The only person who would call me that had lost the right to ask that question a long time ago. I deleted the message and parked in front of the art school. Chloe ran out with her little backpack bouncing on her shoulders, her cheeks flushed, holding a drawing tightly in her hand. "Mommy! I drew the wind today!" I knelt down to catch her in my arms, smiling. "How do you draw the wind, sweetie?" Chloe nodded seriously. "You can! See, the trees are bending, and the girl's dress is flying. That means the wind is here." I held her close. Yes. The wind is invisible, but it always leaves a mark. Just like the past. Chloe kept talking excitedly in the back seat about how one classmate drew a purple sun, and another drew a dog that looked like a potato. I listened quietly, watching her in the rearview mirror. A child's world is so small. A single piece of paper is their entire sky. Sometimes, I felt so grateful that Chloe didn't know how easily adults could lie about love, or how quickly they could throw you away. My phone was on silent, but it kept vibrating inside my bag. I didn't answer. I used to rush to answer Julian's calls the very second they rang. I was always terrified of making him angry, terrified of him thinking I was spoiled, terrified of losing my chance to hear his explanation. But now, the phone was buzzing, and I could still drive, still pick up my daughter, and still put dinner on the table. My world didn't end. When we got home, Chloe taped her "wind" drawing to the fridge. Looking at the crooked trees and the flying dress, I smiled. If the wind had to blow, I hoped this time, it would blow the old dust far, far away.
Vivian Sommers's POV Before I turned twenty三, I believed my life would always be perfect. I was the treasured daughter of the Sommers family. I played the violin, performed at solo concerts, and had a private driver to take me everywhere. Julian Vance was a young, ambitious guy my father had brought into the company after the Vance family went bankrupt. He was smart, resilient, driven, and extremely handsome. Everyone said we were a perfect match. I was the crown jewel of the Sommers family, and he was the brilliant young man who would run our business one day. I believed that too. Until the day before our engagement rehearsal, when I stepped out of the bridal boutique and was dragged into an unmarked van. Those men hadn't planned it on a whim. They knew exactly who I was. They knew Julian was about to sign a massive, careermaking logistics deal, and they knew the Sommers family was backing him. They didn't just want a simple ransom. They wanted Julian to freeze the deal and pay a massive deposit to secure my safety. I wasn't scared at first. I believed my parents would save me. I believed Julian would come for me. But the first day passed, and nobody came. The second day passed, and still, nothing. On the third night, I heard my captors cursing outside the door. "That bastard Julian Vance used her to climb to the top, and now that she's in trouble, he doesn't give a damn. He's holding his press conference right now. He hasn't sent a single dime. He's coldblooded." I curled up in the corner, my hands completely numb from the ropes. I wanted to scream at them. Julian wouldn't do that. He just doesn't know yet. But the guard threw his phone in front of me. On the screen was a live broadcast of the signing ceremony. Julian, wearing a sleek, dark suit, was standing on the stage, accepting applause. Mila stood right behind him, adjusting his tie. She did it so naturally, as if she had done it a thousand times. The reporter asked him if today was the most important day of his life. Julian looked directly into the camera and said, "Yes." My heart shattered. The captor told me to make one last call. When the line connected, Mila's voice came through first. "Vivian? Julian is busy right now." My voice shook. "Put him on the phone." Mila let out a soft, mocking laugh. "Stop making a scene, Vivian. This deal can't wait. Julian said he'll handle your situation once this is over." I was trembling with terror. "I'm going to die!" The line went silent for a second. Then, Mila lowered her voice. "Then learn your lesson. Stop acting like the entire world revolves around you." The call went dead. The kidnappers' faces turned dark. They thought they had a winning card in their hands, but all they got was Julian's silence and my family's hesitation. I only found out later why my parents had hesitated. On that very same day, they had received a secret DNA test report. I wasn't their biological daughter. Julian was the one who had handed them that report. He told them their real daughter had died in infancy, and that I was just a child mixed up in a hospital error years ago. Arthur and Evelyn Sommers felt like their sky had fallen. They still loved me, but the grief of losing their real daughter paralyzed them. While they were drowning in shock, Julian naturally stepped in and took full control of the situation. And he chose to sign his deal first. During those terrifying days, I heard my name mentioned constantly by the guards. Sometimes they said the Sommers heiress was worth millions. Sometimes they said she wasn't worth a dime. They said men like Julian Vance knew exactly how to play the devoted fiancé, but when it came down to choosing between a woman and his career, he was as cold as ice. Those words felt like a physical blow to my chest. At first, I was angry, but eventually, I didn't even have the strength for anger. I started counting the cracks on the wall. One, two, three. I counted until dawn, and then I started over. I was terrified that if I stopped, I would see Julian standing on that stage, saying "Yes" to the camera. That wasn't the man I thought I was going to marry. That wasn't the man who held an umbrella over me in the rain, or the boy who promised he would never leave me. It doesn't take years for a person to become a stranger. It only takes one choice.
Vivian Sommers's POV I was held in an abandoned wedding venue deep in the mountains. The walls still had faded, peeling "Just Married" banners. At night, the cold wind howled through the broken windows, rustling the plastic ribbons. It sounded like someone was laughing at me in the dark. The kidnappers had been careful with me at first. But when they realized no money was coming, their patience wore thin. I was beaten, and they forced me to pose for terrifying photos. The physical pain was nothing compared to the agonizing realization that I had been abandoned. I found a moment of chaos during a shift change and ran. It was pouring rain. The mountain paths were pure mud and rock. I didn't know how long I ran. I only remember the sharp rocks slicing open the soles of my feet. The pinky finger on my left hand was broken, and it would never fully straighten again. In the distance, I saw bright lights. I ran toward them. It was the venue for Julian's celebration party. Large screens lined the hall, reading: A New Era: Strategic Partnership. The room was filled with reporters, investors, and employees. I was wearing a torn, dirty plastic tarp I had found in a shed. When I stumbled into the bright hall, the entire room fell dead silent. Every single camera turned toward me. I saw Julian. And I saw Mila standing right next to him. I reached my hand out to him, my voice barely a whisper. "Julian... save me." Julian's face turned incredibly dark. He stepped down from the stage, but he didn't hold me. Instead, he stood in front of the cameras, blocking their view of me, and whispered, "What are you doing here?" I froze. I was covered in blood and mud, barely able to stand. And his first question was why was I here. Mila walked over with a polite, gentle smile, offering me a blanket like a saint. "Vivian, please don't ruin the press conference. You're making things very difficult for Julian." I grabbed Julian's sleeve. "They beat me, Julian. They threatened me. I called you... why didn't you come?" A flash of irritation crossed Julian's eyes. "I sent Mila to negotiate with them," he said. "You could have just waited. Why did you have to crash this event today?" It felt like a knife twisting in my chest. "Wait?" My voice shook violently. "How long was I supposed to wait?" Julian lowered his voice, hisswhispering so the mic wouldn't catch it. "Vivian, you used to be so sensible. Why can't you just behave?" Behave. There it was again. I finally understood. Mila hadn't come up with that phrase on her own. The press conference quickly descended into absolute chaos. Though Julian managed to scrub the internet of the worst stories, some photos still leaked. People whispered that the Sommers heiress had lost her mind, that she was throwing a tantrum to ruin her fiancé's big day, and speculated about what had happened to me in the mountains. Nobody asked if I was hurt. Later, in the dressing room, Mila handed me the DNA test results with a smug smile. "Do you really think the Sommers family will still burn the world down for you?" she mocked. "You're just an outsider who got swapped at birth. Julian is being incredibly generous by keeping you around." That was the moment I realized the ground beneath my feet had been completely swept away. My parents remained silent. Julian was cold. And Mila stood by, watching me fall from grace. That night, they kept me in a small holding room next to the venue. Outside, the staff were packing up. Trash cans clattered, and damp footsteps marked the carpet. I sat in the corner of the sofa, wrapped in the blanket, but I couldn't stop shivering. Outside the door, people were gossiping. "Was that really Vivian Sommers?" "Looked like her. But how did she end up looking like a street dog?" "Julian is so unlucky. His biggest night completely ruined by her." I listened to their whispers, feeling a deep, hollow absurdity. I had almost died in those mountains, but their first reaction was that Julian was unlucky. When you are broken enough, even being the victim makes you an embarrassment. Julian came in once. He stood near the door, keeping his distance, and told his assistant to take me to the hospital. I looked up at him, hoping he would come with me, but his phone rang, and he turned around to answer it. In that second, I stopped pretending he was just too busy. He simply didn't care about me anymore.
Vivian Sommers's POV They took me back to the Vance estate. Julian publicly claimed I was "recovering from trauma." My adoptive parents never came to see me. They only sent a lawyer with a trust fund agreement, stating it was the final settlement they could offer for my future. Money. By then, I didn't know what money could possibly buy back for me. I ate on time, slept on time, and sat through sessions with the therapists they brought in. Julian told me not to look at the news, so I didn't. He told me never to mention the kidnapping, so I kept my mouth shut. Everyone said I was finally "behaving." Only I knew the truth. I was terrified. I was terrified of being locked away again, terrified of being abandoned, terrified that my screams would be treated as another dramatic scene. But the hardest part was Julian's touch. Whenever his hand brushed mine, my entire body would shake violently. Even though I knew he wasn't one of the kidnappers, my body remembered the dark cabin in the mountains. Julian put up with it at first. But eventually, his patience ran out. One night, after a celebration dinner, he came home smelling heavily of alcohol. I was sitting on the edge of the bed, trying to massage my crooked pinky finger. He stared at my bandaged hand, and his first words were, "How much longer are you going to act like this?" I looked up. "I'm trying to get better." "Better?" Julian let out a cold laugh. "I've waited long enough, Vivian." He reached out to pull me toward him. Panic seized me. I scrambled back, knocking over the bedside lamp. The ceramic shattered with a loud crash. In the blinding panic, I grabbed a heavy bronze paperweight from the nightstand and threw it at him. It struck his forehead, drawing blood. Mila was the first to burst into the room. She didn't ask what happened. She just screamed for the guards. "Call the doctor! She's having another episode!" The next day, I was sent to a highsecurity private psychiatric facility. Julian signed the papers himself. He looked at me through the glass and said, "Vivian, when you're stable, I'll take you home." I stood behind the locked doors, watching the heavy metal gates slam shut. I knew he was never coming back. From the moment I crashed his press conference, Julian didn't see me as his fiancée. He saw me as a problem that needed to disappear. I stayed in that facility for a very long time. Seasons changed. I finally accepted that I would never be the happy twentythreeyearold girl again. And then, the doctor delivered another piece of news. I had been pregnant. But the baby didn't survive. When the doctor told me, it was raining outside. I lay on the cold white bed, the red marks from the leather restraints still visible on my wrists. When I heard "we couldn't save the baby," I didn't cry. I was just numb. I hadn't even known I was pregnant. I didn't know that during my darkest nights, a tiny life had been quietly keeping me company. Then, the grief hit me like a tidal wave. It froze my hands and feet, choked the air out of my lungs, and finally broke through my chest in a scream. I thought I had already lost everything. My identity, my parents, my fiancé, my violin. But fate wasn't done with me. It took the one tiny soul I never got to hold. That night, for the first time, I sobbed so hard the entire ward could hear me. When the nurses rushed in, I curled into a ball, whispering, "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry." I didn't even know who I was apologizing to. For a long time after that, I couldn't bear to hear the sound of a baby crying. Whenever a visitor brought a baby down the hall, I would pull the blanket over my head and dig my nails deep into my palms. The doctor didn't force me to recover quickly. He only made me write one sentence every day: I am still alive today. At first, my broken finger made the handwriting look like chicken scratch. But eventually, I was able to fold the paper neatly and place it in my drawer.
Vivian Sommers's POV I saw Julian again years later, right outside Chloe's school. Years had passed since those dark events. I had cut my hair short and opened a small antique restoration workshop, fixing old jewelry, instruments, and picture frames. Since my left pinky wasn't fully functional, I had learned to work at a much slower pace. I thought I had built a quiet, invisible life. Until Mila's TikTok interview went viral. Julian stood outside the crowd of parents, wearing a long dark coat. He looked much thinner and more exhausted than I remembered. When he saw me holding Chloe's hand, he froze. Chloe hugged my leg. "Mommy! I wasn't the last one picked up today!" I stroked her hair. "Good job, sweetie." Julian's eyes drifted to Chloe's face. His voice was cracked and hollow. "Is she... yours?" I pulled Chloe slightly behind me. "She has nothing to do with you." "Vivian." Hearing my name from his mouth felt strangely familiar, yet it stirred absolutely nothing in my chest. Just a dull, heavy tiredness. Julian took a step forward. "I saw Mila's interview. I swear, Vivian... I didn't know she did that to you back then." I looked him dead in the eye. "You didn't know she told you not to come? Or you didn't know I was actually being hurt?" Julian choked on his words. "I thought the guards were keeping an eye on you, that nothing serious would happen," he stammered. "I thought you were just shaken up. I never imagined..." "You never imagined it because you never bothered to ask." My voice was quiet, but Chloe felt the tension and gripped my hand tighter. Seeing her reaction, Julian's eyes welled with tears. "How old is she?" "None of your business." "Is she... mine?" "No," I cut him off. "Chloe is adopted. You can run a background check if you want, but stay away from her." Julian stood frozen on the sidewalk. He stared at me, finally seeing the hollow spaces those painful years had left on my face. "Why didn't you contact me after you were discharged?" I almost laughed. "Julian, you signed the papers to lock me away, and you didn't visit me once in years. Now you're asking why I didn't call you?" Julian's face went entirely pale. I helped Chloe into her car seat and buckled her in. Julian instinctively reached out to block the door, scraping his knuckles against the metal frame. I looked at the thin line of blood on his hand and said coldly, "Move." Julian whispered, "I just want to make it up to you." "Then stay away from me." I made sure Chloe was safe inside, slammed the door, and locked the past outside. Chloe was very quiet in the back seat. After a few blocks, she whispered, "Mommy, did that man know you?" My knuckles were white against the steering wheel. I didn't want to drag my daughter into the mess of my past, nor did I want her to know how cruel people could be in the name of love.
Vivian Sommers's POV "Yes," I said softly. "But we haven't spoken in a very long time." Chloe thought about it. "He made you sad." My heart softened. "You could tell?" "Yeah," Chloe nodded. "Your smile didn't look real." I pulled over to the side of the road, turned around, and adjusted her scarf. "Mommy's okay. We're going to have dinner at Maya's house tonight, okay?" Chloe's eyes lit up instantly. "With strawberry cupcakes?" "Yes, with strawberry cupcakes." Dr. Maya Sterling was the therapist I had met at the recovery center. Over time, she became my closest friend. She was the one who helped me navigate the adoption process after I got out. Back then, my doctor had suggested I get a pet to help with my anxiety. But during a volunteer trip to an orphanage, I met Chloe. She was a tiny, quiet thing, holding a stuffed rabbit that was missing an eye, standing far away from the other kids. I fixed the rabbit's eye for her. After that, she followed me everywhere, quietly calling me "big sister." Eventually, she started calling me "Mommy." I knew that when I first brought Chloe home, it wasn't entirely selfless. I had lost a child, and I had lost the ability to ever have another. Chloe was like a tiny nightlight, illuminating the dark, empty corners of my broken heart. But over the years, I realized she was never a replacement. Chloe was Chloe. She was picky about her food, hated waking up early, drew weird pictures of the wind, and would clumsily offer me tissues whenever I woke up from a nightmare. I would never let Julian Vance near her. That night, I dropped Chloe off at Maya's place and went back to my workshop alone. As expected, Julian was waiting by the door. He looked like he had been drinking, his eyes bloodshot, clutching a dusty wooden box in his hands. "These are your things from back then," he said, his voice trembling. "I kept them." I didn't reach for it. The box probably held old photos, the brooch from my engagement dress, and invitations to a wedding that never happened. Julian believed that if he could just gather the broken pieces, he could glue the past back together. But the thing that broke wasn't a photo. It was me. Julian cracked the lid open. I saw a glimpse of a pale gold wedding invitation and an old brooch. It was a butterfly brooch, studded with tiny diamonds, that I had worn for my twentieth birthday. I used to love it so much. I thought butterflies were beautiful and light, as if they would never have to touch the dirt. Now, looking at it, I felt absolutely nothing. "I've kept them all these years," Julian repeated. I looked at him. "When you were hoarding these trinkets, did you ever stop to think about how I was surviving in that facility?" Julian's hand froze. He kept those beautiful things to pretend I was still unbroken. As long as he didn't look at the real, shattered me, he could pretend we had just had a misunderstanding, that we were just victims of Mila's lies. Julian began talking rapidly, his words stumbling over each other. He said the DNA report had shocked my adoptive parents so deeply they collapsed, and he had to take charge of the company to keep things stable. He said the logistics deal affected thousands of employees' livelihoods, so he couldn't stop it. He said Mila told him the kidnappers were just trying to scare the Sommers family, and that they wouldn't actually hurt me. I listened to him, entirely detached.
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