1 To force me to break off our engagement, my fiancé drove my father’s company into bankruptcy, saddling us with millions in debt. The shock triggered a heart attack, and my father was rushed into intensive care. As I knelt and begged my fiancé for the money to cover the surgery, my childhood friend, Stephen Blackwood, suddenly returned from abroad. He arranged for the best doctors and stayed by my side, keeping a round-the-clock vigil at my father’s bedside. But a week later, my father suffered another, more severe heart attack. To give him peace in his final moments, Stephen knelt before him and swore he would marry me, that he would take care of me for the rest of his life. After the funeral, my spirit broken, I canceled my engagement. I married Stephen instead. Five years later, I overheard a conversation between him and my ex-fiancé. “I have to hand it to you, your move was brilliant,” my ex, Mark, said. “You got that leech Lucille to give up on me willingly. But tell me, if she ever finds out you were the one who killed her father, do you think she’ll want to kill you?” My hand froze on the handle of the private lounge door. Mark’s mocking voice continued. “You’re a real piece of work, Stephen. Lucille grew up with you, treated you like a brother. I bet she’d never dream that the person who bankrupted her father’s company was you.” Mark scoffed. “If it weren’t for Ava, I never would have taken the fall for you all these years. I may have hated Lucille, but I’d never go as far as driving her father to his grave.” A glass slammed onto the table. Stephen’s voice, thick with alcohol and anger, cut through the air. “What I owe Lucille, I’ll spend my life making up for. And I only helped you back then because I wanted Ava to be happy. If you ever hurt her, if you make her shed a single tear, I’ll kill you.” Mark let out a cynical sound. “So devoted. Too bad she met me first. You’d better go back to protecting your precious Lucille. After all, you killed her father. Be careful he doesn’t come back to haunt you in your sleep.” Crash! A glass shattered against the door, and I heard footsteps approaching. I took a sharp breath and fled, stumbling down to the bar. I grabbed a glass and threw back the contents in one gulp. I never drank, and the alcohol burned my throat, bringing tears to my eyes. The words echoed in my mind, over and over. The one who ruined my father wasn’t Mark. It was Stephen, the man who paid for his surgery. The second heart attack a week later… it must have been because of something Stephen said. No wonder my father had stared so intensely at him as he took his last breath. I had thought it was a look of gratitude, of entrusting me to him. The man I had shared a bed with for five years, the husband who held me in the palm of his hand, was the one who had indirectly murdered my father. And our marriage, his years of false affection, were nothing more than his idea of compensation, a way to soothe his own guilt. It was a sick joke. Grief and rage churned inside me. My gaze fell on the empty glass in my hand when I felt a pair of arms wrap around me from behind. Stephen buried his face in my neck, his voice a warm, drunken murmur. “Lucille, you were gone so long. I missed you… Let’s go home. I love you, Lucille… I love you so, so much…” For years, whenever Stephen got drunk, he would whisper how much he loved me. His friends always said a drunk man’s words are a sober man’s thoughts, that he was utterly devoted to me. Now, it was all just a pathetic lie. I gently pushed him away and helped him into the car. He collapsed onto my lap, his brow smoothing as he fell into what looked like a deep sleep. “Ava… Ava… why didn’t you choose me? Why…” This time, I heard it clearly. The name that haunted his dreams. Ava. Ava Reed. The woman who stole my fiancé. Stephen’s one true love. He had never forgotten her. He had married me and put on this grand performance of a loving husband, all for her. I had underestimated the depths of his devotion to her. A phone clattered from his pocket. I bent to pick it up, and the screen lit up with a new message. “Thanks for covering for me tonight, Stephen. I can’t accept the necklace, it’s too much.” A second later, a notification popped up from Ava’s social media. Her new post: “Love is priceless.” The photo was of a dazzling diamond necklace, the very one that had made headlines for being sold to a mysterious billionaire for a hundred million dollars—a one-of-a-kind piece. She had posted it for me to see. This week, Stephen had been so busy he’d barely eaten, ending up in the ER with stomach pains. The moment he was discharged, he flew to London. I was so worried, thinking he was killing himself for work. Now I knew the truth. He had gone to an auction. Even doubled over in pain, he had to be there to buy the world’s most precious necklace for the woman he truly loved. My fingers moved on their own, typing in the screen lock password. The last digit entered, the phone unlocked. It was Ava’s birthday. Stephen never let me touch his phone, always talking about personal space. The first thing I saw was Ava’s radiant smile, his wallpaper. No wonder his eyes always softened whenever he unlocked his phone. I opened his photo gallery. It was meticulously organized. Ava at Ten. Ava at Eleven… Ava at Twenty-Five. Each album was filled with pictures of Ava, capturing her smile through the years. Thousands of photos, and not a single one of me. Not even one of himself. Only Ava. Just like his heart. It had only ever belonged to Ava. I opened his notes app and found his diary. [Date] Sunny. Ava scraped her knee on a branch today. It’s all my fault. I never should have planted those trees in the yard. [Date] Sunny. Ava got married today. As long as she’s happy, anything I do is worth it. My only purpose is to see her smile. [Date] Rainy. I got married. When I saw Ava in the crowd, I wished with all my heart that she was the one standing beside me. The car pulled into our driveway. I looked up at the bare yard, a chill spreading through my limbs. There used to be two peach trees there, transplanted from my childhood home. My father had planted them for me on my tenth birthday. Looking at them always made me feel like he was still with me. Then one day, their roots mysteriously rotted. Stephen held me for three days and nights as I cried. Now I knew. It was him. He was the one who destroyed the only living memory my father left me. A new message popped up from his assistant. [Mr. Blackwood, per your instructions, the final draft of your will is complete. All assets will be left to Ms. Ava Reed.] [It just needs your signature to be executed.] Through a blur of tears, I saw him again, at my father’s funeral, holding me close and making a promise. “Lucille, I’ll give you a home. Everything I have will be yours.” I put Stephen to bed, but unlike every other night, I didn’t take off his shoes or care for him. I went straight to the guest room. I closed my eyes, but all I could see were the loving gestures, the tender moments, the beautiful lies of the past five years. The next morning, I woke to sunlight streaming across my face and found Stephen gazing at me, his eyes soft. He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead. “Lucille, were you upset last night? I’m sorry, I had too much to drink. I promise it won’t happen again.” His performance was as flawless as ever. I just hummed in response, pushed him away, and went to the bathroom, washing the lingering warmth of his kiss from my skin. The breakfast table was laden with food. Before, this would have filled me with joy. But after reading his diary, I couldn't feel anything but disgust. This was a feast of all of Ava’s favorite dishes. The sound of a key in the front door cut through the silence. Ava swept in, dressed in a pristine white dress, and sat down at the table as if she owned the place. She gave me a small smile. “Sorry to intrude, Lucille. Stephen and I have a photoshoot this morning, he invited me over for breakfast.” I said nothing, my eyes fixed on the keychain in her hand. It was identical to mine. Stephen sensed my mood and leaned in to whisper, “Ava is our best friend. It’s normal for her to have a key…” He stopped mid-sentence, his voice changing as he shot up from his seat and snatched a glass of soy milk from Ava’s hand. “Ava, you can’t drink that! How can you still forget after all these years?” Ava smiled coyly. “You’re right. I’m so lucky to have had you looking out for me all this time.” They stared at each other, a portrait of two lovers lost in their own world. I had no desire to watch. As I turned to leave, Ava called out to me. “Lucille, I remember you studied photography. Could you shoot for me today? I don’t really trust the new photographer.” I hadn’t touched a camera since my father died. He was the one who had taught me everything. The weight of it in my hands brought back the image of his frail, defeated form in his last moments. I never had the courage to press the shutter again. Stephen knew this. He had locked all my equipment away, telling me not to force it, that he would help me heal until I was ready. But now, before I could refuse, he was pushing me into the back of his car. “Lucille, you know Ava gets carsick. You’ll have to sit in the back.” He’d forgotten that my carsickness was worse. I had barely touched my breakfast, and my stomach churned the entire way. When we arrived, Stephen carefully held the hem of Ava’s dress as he escorted her into the studio. I leaned against the car, gasping for fresh air. “Lucille, the shoot is about to start,” Stephen said, grabbing my arm and pulling me inside. “Be good. Don’t be difficult. This is important for Ava and for Blackwood Enterprises.” I stumbled, nearly falling. Holding the camera after five years felt alien and terrifying. My hands trembled. I fought back the waves of grief and forced myself to shoot. During a break, Ava and I were alone in the studio. She flipped through the photos, a smirk on her face. “You’re just as useless as your father, Lucille. Can’t do anything right. Like father, like daughter.” My nails dug into my palms, my body shaking with a rage that was about to erupt. Slap! A sharp, stinging pain exploded across my cheek. Ava shook her hand, looking down at me with contempt. “You’re so shameless, Lucille. I can’t believe after Mark dumped you, you immediately latched onto Stephen. What makes you think you’re worthy of him? Let me tell you, both Mark and Stephen belong to me. You are not worthy.” My head was still reeling from the blow when she suddenly grabbed my hand, slapped herself across the face with it, and then crumpled to the floor. She clutched her cheek, her eyes welling with tears, a perfect picture of a damsel in distress. “Lucille, I didn't say the photos were bad,” she sobbed. “I just wanted you to try a different angle… If you didn’t want to, you could have just said so…” The door opened and Stephen dropped the water bottle he was holding. He rushed past me, kneeling to check on Ava. “Stephen, I’m fine,” she whimpered. “Please don’t blame Lucille. She didn’t mean it. I just lost my balance.” “Ava, you’re too kind! You don’t have to cover for her, I saw the whole thing!” Stephen helped her up as if she were made of porcelain, cradling her in his arms. He turned to me, his face contorted with a fury I had never seen in our five years of marriage. “Lucille, apologize to Ava! Have I been so easy on you these five years that you’ve turned into this venomous woman?” “You know how important her face is to her!” he raged, his eyes blind to the red handprint swelling on my own cheek. I lifted my head, my voice steady. “The one who should apologize is Ava, not me. She brought up my father. Stephen, speaking of my father, is there anything you’d like to apologize for?” A flicker of shock crossed his eyes. “If it weren’t for me back then, Dad would have been gone even sooner. Lucille, I promised him I would take care of you for the rest of your life, but that was on the condition that you wouldn’t hurt Ava.” A bitter laugh escaped my lips. I shouldn't have expected anything. The world went black, and I collapsed. When I woke, the sterile smell of antiseptic filled my nostrils. A nurse was removing an IV from my arm. “Congratulations, you’re pregnant. You’re quite weak, so you need to avoid stress and eat well.” My hand instinctively went to my belly. For five years, I had wanted a child with Stephen. I never imagined it would happen now. My phone buzzed. It was a text from him. [The doctor said you’ll be fine with some rest.] [As soon as you apologize to Ava, I’ll come and take you home.] I smiled weakly and turned off the phone. “Miss, the doctor has scheduled another check-up for you. Please come with me.” I followed the nurse, but she led me to a stairwell. I was about to ask why when Ava’s voice came from behind me. “I heard you’re pregnant. I underestimated you, Lucille. Do you know why you haven’t had a child in five years?” I turned to face her triumphant gaze. “Because I told Stephen I didn’t want you to have one. The ‘vitamins’ he fed you every day? They were birth control pills.” She watched me, waiting for me to break. But I just said, “I see.” I started to walk past her, but a sudden force shoved me from behind. I tumbled down the stairs, a searing pain shooting through my entire body. I looked down and saw the crimson stain spreading beneath me. I had lost my baby. When I came to after the procedure, I placed the divorce papers on the hospital bed. I walked out, got into a taxi, and went to the airport. Just before I boarded the plane, a final message from Stephen appeared on my screen. [I can’t believe you’d go after Ava again. Apologize and stop this nonsense. Don’t make me force you.]
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