ELARA

I'm not a mean girl by nature, I promise, but seeing the look of pure, startled shock on Miranda's face at the insult made something inside me purr. 

"What is the meaning of that, Elara? How can you say such a thing to your best friend? What is wrong with you?" Shawn shouted, his voice booming across the canopy. 

He stepped protectively close to Miranda, whose eyes immediately blurred with fake tears. In the next breath, she buried her face against his shirt for consolation, acting as if my words had physically wounded her.

Over a simple insult?

I scoffed, my lip curling in a sneer. The sheer audacity of these fools was breathtaking.

"Is that why she would put her face against the chest of a married man?" 

I made sure my voice was loud, projecting it so the surrounding guests couldn't possibly look away. 

"Or is there something going on here that I'm simply not aware of?"

I caught the guilty, frantic darting of eyes between Shawn and his family-his rude, entitled sisters and his overbearing mother. The air under the canopy grew thick with the sudden, awkward silence of a possible secret being dragged into the light.

Grandpa Max, however, didn't look guilty. He looked thoughtful. And dangerously angry.

"Shawn, push that woman away from you this instant! Since when did you two become such close friends?"

I smirked, watching Shawn hesitate. He was caught in a visible tug-of-war between his grandfather's authority and his obsession with Miranda. 

Yet, deep down, a sharp pain kept cracking the remains of my already shattered heart.

This was the man I had given up my life-and my health-for.

And here he was, on the verge of publicly disobeying his grandfather for the first time, all for the woman currently clinging to his buttons like a parasite.

"I doubt he would, Gramps..." I taunted, the bitterness bleeding into my tone as I fought back the tears threatening to spill. "I think they are best friends. Or maybe... they're much more."

"Shut your mouth, peasant!" Linda shrieked, her eyes unsettled. "You think you can come here and cause a scene? Father, can't you see what she's doing? This is your birthday and she is-"

"All I can see is that she is telling the truth," Grandpa Max interrupted, his voice like gravel. He stared at his grandson, who was still holding Miranda. "Are you cheating on your wife, Shawn?"

Shawn blanched, his face turning a wrong shade of pale as he shook his head quickly. He pushed Miranda away-gently, but with enough force to put distance between them that hadn't been there before.

"Of course not," he said, rushing to my side. He flung an arm around my waist, pulling me close in a way that felt more like a restraint than an embrace. 

"I love Elara. She is the best wife a man could ask for. I'm just unhappy that she would insult her best friend this way, especially when Miranda only wanted to give her a hug..."

I saw Grandpa Max glance at me, looking for an explanation, but I couldn't bring myself to lie to the old man. Not today. Instead, I simply pushed the gift toward him again, my fingers trembling slightly.

"Here, Gramps. Open it."

All the while, I fought the bile rising in my throat. I wanted to shrug off Shawn's filthy arm, especially when he leaned in, a sleazy smile on his lips as he whispered into my ear.

"You look so good tonight, wife. I can't wait to strip you inch by inch when we get home..."

He nipped at my ear, a gesture that used to make me shiver with love, but now only made me feel cold.

The display seemed to placate Grandpa Max for the moment. The old man smiled broadly, his tension easing as he began to open the gift I'd brought. But that smile wavered into confusion the moment he lifted the golden pocket watch from its lining.

"Thief!" Linda shouted, her eyes flashing with a sudden, triumphant contempt.

Shawn's hand instantly fell from my waist as if I had turned to lead. He didn't even wait for me to speak before he stepped away, distancing himself from the "scandal."

"You stole Miranda's idea, didn't you? Too bad for you... she already gave Father the exact same gift!"

I frowned, my heart sinking as I looked at the table of gifts. What?

I looked at Miranda. She was tearing up again, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs. 

Does the well in her ever run dry? I wondered, disgusted by the theatricality of it.

"I'm sorry, Elara... I shouldn't have..." Miranda whimpered.

"Don't apologize to her, my dear," Linda snapped sharply.

I looked at Miranda, my eyes narrowing into slits. "You shouldn't have what?" I needed to hear the lie she had concocted.

Miranda looked as though I had sucker-punched her. She shook her head frantically and dissolved into fresh, loud sobs. I wanted to throw up my hands at the sheer performance of it all.

"One more word, Elara, and I will cut that sharp tongue right out of your mouth! How dare you bring a fake gift to Grandpa? There is only one of these in the entire state!" Claire, Shawn's elder sister, snapped, stepping forward like a guard dog.

I ignored her completely and turned to Grandpa Max, my voice steady. "Is your friend here? The one who owns the jewelry company?"

Grandpa Max raised a brow, obviously curious. After all, in all the years he knew me, I never fought back, never defended myself.

He beckoned to a staff member, but before anyone could move, Arthur-the owner of Becketts Jewelry-stepped out of the watching crowd.

Without a word, he took the pocket watch from Grandpa Max's hand, weighing it in his palm for a long, silent moment. He pulled a jeweler's loupe from his pocket and inspected the gears. Then, he looked up and smiled.

"This one is the real one. 100% authentic. It's the masterpiece I personally engraved." He then glanced at Miranda's gift on the table. "That one... is a high-quality counterfeit."

Shocked murmurs rippled through the guests like a tidal wave. Even Shawn stared at Miranda, his mouth slightly agape, the shock of her failure written all over his face.

"I... maybe she exchanged it?" Miranda stammered, her voice thin, desperate, and cracking.

I scoffed, stepping closer to her. "Give up the charade, Miranda. You've been found out."

She shook her head, looking to Shawn for help, but Grandpa Max had seen enough. The old man's face was like stone.

"Get her out of here!"

The guards moved to drag her away, but I felt a sudden, burning urge to speak to her myself, to see the mask slip completely. I raised a hand, stopping them. 

I tapped her lightly on the shoulder and walked out of the canopy toward the back of the estate, knowing her pride and her desperation would force her to follow me.

We ended up by the edge of the massive swimming pool, the water dark and still under the moon, reflecting the cold light of the stars.

But before I could get a single word of my victory out, the woman flung herself into the pool.

I stood there, paralyzed by the sheer shock of it-the stillness of the night only breaking when she started screaming for help, thrashing in the water as if she were being pulled down by a monster.

Immediately, Shawn appeared. He ran toward the water like he had been standing in the shadows, waiting for his cue. 

I wondered, with a sick, sinking feeling in my stomach, if she had planned this entire thing, if maybe she had gestured that he should follow her...

He dove in without hesitation. He pulled her out just as quick, and when she finally gasped for breath after he performed a panicked first aid, he lunged toward me. 

He gripped my arm so hard I knew it would leave a permanent bruise.

"What is wrong with you?!" he screamed in my face, his eyes wild with a terrifying, unhinged rage. "Do you want to kill her? You know she can't swim!"

The lie was so absurd I actually laughed. 

Because I knew for a fact that Miranda could swim.

"You are really such a pawn..." I laughed some more, shaking my head at him as the moonlight caught the tears I refused to let fall. "You are a pathetic, blind pawn, Shawn."

"You really expect me to believe you didn't push her?" Shawn's mouth worked in silent anger, his face contorting into something monstrous.

Before I could even think to defend myself, he shoved me into the pool.

He shoved me with all his strength toward the deep end. Knowing I couldn't swim. Knowing about the trauma of the water that lived in my very bones.

I hit the water and sank like a stone. Then I came up for air once, screaming for help, my lungs burning... but no one seemed to hear. 

Instead, I watched through blurred, stinging eyes as he lifted Miranda into his arms and walked away toward the lights of the party, never once looking back.

He was going to leave me here to die.

ELARA

I was drowning.

I fought the water with every ounce of strength I had left, but I was fighting the panic too. The trauma dragged me under like a physical weight-the jagged memory of the first time I had met Shawn. 

He had saved me then, a nerdy girl being tormented by bullies who thought it was fun to try and drown me inside the school pool.

I could still hear their high-pitched laughter. I could still feel their small, cruel hands forcing my head down. I remembered the burning in my chest, the terror, and the absolute helplessness.

I had hated the water ever since.

And yet, knowing my past-knowing that water was my greatest fear-he had pushed me into it. He knew it traumatized me. He knew I could die.

He wasn't just angry. He was trying to murder me.

The realization was harder and colder than the water flooding my lungs.

I struggled, my limbs thrashing weakly as I refused to let my story end in this dark, silent deep. I refused to let my revenge be stalled before it even began. I refused to let my baby die. 

Yet... my muscles burned with exhaustion, my chest screamed for oxygen, and my vision blurred into a stinging, chlorine-stained haze.

I tried to scream, but I only swallowed more of the pool's emptiness. I sank, my body growing heavier with every passing second, my silk dress tangling around my legs like a snare. Tears spilled even underwater...

Please...

My thoughts began to scatter as the darkness crawled closer, whispering for me to just let go.

In those final seconds, I wanted to call my father. I wanted my brothers. 

A wave of regret swamped me, more suffocating than the water. I should have listened to them when they warned me. I should have listened when they fought against this marriage, when they begged me not to donate a part of my body to a man they didn't trust.

I should have-

I heard a splash. Distant. Muffled.

Did Shawn come back for me? Did he finally remember who I was to him? Did he actually care?

Did he-

The darkness claimed me before I could find the answer.

-

When I regained consciousness, the rhythmic beep of a monitor was the first thing I heard. 

I floated in the gray space between sleep and awareness, my body feeling like it was made of lead and my head pounding with a thrum. The sharp, sterile scent of antiseptic settled over me before my mind could fully catch up.

Hospital.

When I finally managed to peel my eyes open, they found a stark white ceiling, the edges blurred. Slowly, my gaze drifted down to a nurse in pale blue scrubs, flipping through a chart at the foot of my bed.

"Hey..." I croaked. My throat felt like it had been scrubbed with sandpaper. My voice was barely a rasp.

Her eyes widened slightly, and she rushed to my side. "Hey, Miss Elara. Take it easy. How are you feeling?"

"Fine..." I whispered weakly, swallowing against the pain. "Water..."

She nodded quickly, pouring water into a plastic cup. She slid a hand behind my head to support me, tilting the straw to my lips. The first sip burned like fire. The second was heaven.

"How do you feel now?" she asked softly, her eyes full of a professional kind of pity.

"Better..." I murmured. I tapped her wrist gently with a trembling hand. "Can you lift me up? I want to sit up..."

She hesitated, her eyes flickering to the monitors, torn between caution and compassion.

"It's okay," I assured her quietly, trying to find a spark of my old strength. "I think I'm fine..."

With a soft sigh, she adjusted the bed, the motor whirring as it propped me up.

"Thank you," I whispered, leaning back against the thin pillows. "Has anyone come for me? What hospital is this?"

"You are in Gracefilled Hospital," she replied. "And yes, the gentleman who brought you in... he's been checking on you every hour."

For a second, my heart twisted with a phantom hope. Shawn?

Then she added, "He says he's your friend. Your lawyer, to be exact."

I shut my eyes as the hope died a cold death. Cassius. Of course it was him.

He must have come to the party to pay his respects to Grandpa Max. He must have noticed I was missing. He was the only one who ever looked for me. He must have followed the trail of destruction Shawn left behind and found me drowning in the dark.

Tears slipped from under my lids before I could stop them.

When I opened them again, the nurse looked alarmed. 

"Are you in pain anywhere? Should I call the doctor?"

I shook my head slowly. The pain wasn't something a doctor could fix. It lived in the hollow of my chest. It lived in my memories.

It was pain, and a crushing gratitude. Cassius had saved me from being murdered by my own husband.

"There was an old man who came earlier, too," she added gently. "Your grandfather?"

My throat tightened. What had those people told Grandpa Max? Had anyone checked the CCTV, or had Shawn already erased the evidence? Did the old man believe their lies about me pushing Miranda?

Ignoring the pounding in my skull, I asked for my phone. She retrieved it from the bedside drawer and handed it over.

"Thank you..."

As she turned to leave, a cold remembrance slammed into my gut, turning my blood to ice.

The pregnancy kit. The double red lines. My baby.

"Wait!" I called out, my voice cracking with panic.

She turned back, her expression shifting into something guarded and somber. "Yes?"

"My baby..." My hand drifted to my stomach, trembling. "My baby... is it still okay?"

The nurse didn't speak. Her lashes dropped, her gaze fixed firmly on the floor.

The silence was the only answer I needed. 

A weak, broken sound tore out of me as I clutched my stomach. My breath hitched, my chest collapsing inward as the world tilted on its axis. 

When she tried to step closer to comfort me, I shook my head desperately, waving her away. 

She hesitated for a second, then quietly slipped out of the room.

And I finally broke.

I screamed, gripping my stomach, as sobs ripped violently out of me. The fat hot ears soaked the thin hospital gown, the sheets, and my shaking hands. My shoulders heaved with a grief that felt too massive for me to hold.

Shawn had almost killed me. But he had successfully killed my baby. He had snuffed out a life while my own kidney was the only reason he was still breathing.

How wicked could a man be? How could he be so heartless to the woman who gave him everything?

My hands shook as I wept uncontrollably, as I scrolled through my contacts, my blurred vision stopping at a name I hadn't dared to call in five long, lonely years.

Dad.

It was time to go home. I couldn't carry this weight alone anymore. If I tried, I knew it would finally kill me.

The phone rang twice before a deep, familiar voice answered.

"Hello?"

I swallowed hard, biting down on my lower lip until I tasted copper. "Dad..." I whispered. "It's me."

A long, heavy pause followed.

"Elara?"

"Dad..."

"Oh my God! Elara!" His voice broke, the shock quickly turning into intuition as he heard my agonizing sobs. "Elara? What's the matter? Why are you crying? Where are you?"

His tone sharpened with a parental panic, and I could hear my oldest brother in the background, demanding to know what was wrong.

"Elara, tell me where you are! Talk to me! Did that bastard do something to you?!"

My sobs worsened, choking the words I desperately wanted to say. I couldn't breathe, let alone explain the horror of the last few hours. I ended the call because the silence was the only thing I could manage.

My baby...

With wet trembling fingers, I typed out the name of the hospital and hit send.

When he arrived with my five brothers, I would tell them everything. No more hiding.

And then, I would let them help me burn Shawn's world to the ground.

SHAWN

"If anything happens to Elara, just know that you will lose your position in the company! Every single share...!"

Grandfather's voice thundered across the hospital room, heavy with an authority that usually made my blood run cold. But I didn't look at him. Instead, I rolled my eyes discreetly, tightening my grip on Miranda's hand as she lay in the bed next to mine, looking like a wilted lily.

"How can you not even go to visit your wife while she's in a hospital bed?" he snapped, his glare boring straight into the side of my head.

"Elara is strong. She's a country girl, she'll be okay," I replied flatly, forcing a calm I didn't entirely feel. My chest felt tight, but I pushed the sensation down. "Miranda here has a weak heart, Grandfather. She needs actual care. I will see Elara later when things have settled."

"I've told you what I told you... if she-"

My mother stepped in quickly, barely masking her irritation with the old man. "Father, let it go. He will see Elara after this drip is over. Priorities."

Grandfather Max didn't look convinced. His displeasure was written plainly in the deep lines of his face as he shot me one last look of pure disappointment before turning on his heel. He left the room without sparing Miranda a single glance.

"Is he gone?" Miranda whispered, her voice a fragile reed. She fluttered her lashes open, her beautiful eyes filling with tears that looked like shards of glass on the verge of shattering.

"Yes, he's gone," I murmured, brushing my thumb lightly over her knuckles. "Don't worry about him, love. His bark has always been worse than his bite."

She sniffed, managed a small, trembling smile when my mother praised her for her "strength" in the face of such a tragedy.

"Don't mind that peasant," my mother scoffed, her voice dripping with a bitter contempt she usually saved for the help. "I can't wait for my son to be done with his plans and finally get married to you, Miranda. I would kill that girl off myself if I could... why didn't she just drown?"

I pushed away the faint, irritating twist of guilt in my chest at the thought of Elara actually dying. I shrugged it off, leaning back in my chair with a nonchalant exhale. "She'll get what's coming to her soon enough. I still have those pictures I took... the ones that prove she's been unfaithful."

"Good, my son. Good," my mother nodded. "Make sure you get rid of her. Once and for all."

I would. I had to.

I was tired of tolerating Elara. Tired of the fake debt I carried for her. Every time I looked at her, I felt the phantom itch of the scar on my back, a constant reminder that I owed her my very life. It was a cage. 

Watching her pretend to care for me, pretending to be the perfect, doting wife, when I knew she had been the reason for my near-death six years ago grated on me more than I cared to admit. It was a game of shadows, and I was done playing.

Maybe if her barren womb had taken pity on her, I would have stuck around longer. Maybe if she had given me something tangible-an heir to the family name, a reason to stay-I could have tolerated her boring presence.

But the fates were clearly against her. So why should I be on her side?

Since my grandfather was hellbent on denying me a marriage filled with actual passion, I would simply grab what I wanted by force. By the time the doctored images surfaced, Grandfather would be the one pleading with me, begging me to divorce Emma so that our family name wouldn't be dragged through the mud.

Just then, a sharp knock sounded on the door.

Cassius stepped in, his face an unreadable mask.

"Hey, man..." I greeted him casually, expecting the usual updates. But he ignored my greeting entirely, walking straight over to me and thrusting a thick stack of documents and a pen into my hands.

"Sign."

I frowned, releasing Miranda's hand to take the papers, the weight of them feeling strange. "What is this? What's going on?"

He didn't answer. His eyes were cold, distant.

My gaze dropped to the bold heading at the top of the first page.

PETITION FOR DIVORCE.

What?

Elara was divorcing me?

"What the hell is the meaning of this?" Rage flared instantly in my veins, making me see red as I jumped to my feet.

I told myself I was angry because my game had been stolen from me. Because I wouldn't get the satisfaction of watching her break under my terms.

"Elara wants a divorce. Grant it," Cassius said, his voice as cold as a winter morning.

"Good! The peasant finally came to her senses and realized she doesn't belong here," my mother scoffed from the corner.

But I was restless. Why now? Why so suddenly? What the hell was going on that I didn't know about?

"Are you not my best friend, Cassius?" I snapped, the plastic of the pen creaking under my tightening grip. "Wait... tell me the truth. Are you sleeping with my wife? Is that why you're doing her dirty work?"

Cassius's laugh was short, dripping with sarcasm.

"You think she's anything like you, Shawn?" he scoffed, shaking his head. "She is a respectable woman who has finally come to her senses. She's done being your doormat."

How the hell had that woman managed to get my best friend on her side?

"What is wrong with you, Cassius? Why are you defending her like she's some kind of saint?"

"Just sign the damn papers, Shawn. Isn't this exactly what you've spent the last five years wanting?"

He turned his gaze to my mother. "Right? You want him to be free? Get him to sign."

My mother looked momentarily confused by his intensity, but she still urged me to go ahead. "Shawn, be fast and sign before the fool changes her mind! This way, my father will have no choice but to accept it since it came from her!"

But I knew my grandfather better than anyone. He would twist this, find a way to blame me, to accuse me of pushing that "gracious" girl away until she broke.

In a fit of blind fury, I tore the papers into pieces. The sound of the ripping paper matched the violent energy inside my chest.

"Where is she?" I snarled, stepping into Cassius's space. "Where is that damn woman? How dare she try to leave me before I discard her?"

I was about to demand he take me to her when my jaw suddenly went slack. My attention was caught by the television across the room. A breaking news broadcast was flashing a "Special Report."

Elara's face filled the entire screen.

But it wasn't the Elara I knew. This was a glowing younger version, little below eighteen years old,  her hair perfectly styled, her eyes sparking with a life I had never seen. 

Next to her was an image of the Viking family, the richest, most powerful dynasty in the country.

My hand began to shake, the torn papers fluttering to the floor like snow.

The little girl laughing in the family portrait-surrounded by five older boys-had the same hair, the same unmistakable eyes as my wife, as Elara's picture by the side.

With trembling fingers, I grabbed the remote and turned the volume up.

"...In a shocking twist of events, the daughter of billionaire mogul Silas Viking, Elara Viking-who has been hidden from the media for over a decade-has been identified. Sources confirm she is currently at Gracefilled Hospital, where she is recovering from a near-fatal incident..."

What?

My wife... a Viking?

The room went deathly silent. My mother's glass hit the floor, shattering into a thousand pieces, but no one moved. 

If Elara was a Viking... if those five men were her brothers...

My heart hammered against my ribs so hard it was painful, as my mind conjured up the current identities of these men.

Fuck. 

I looked at the television again, then at the shredded divorce papers at my feet. A cold, paralyzing dread began to seep into my bones.

What have I done?