Betrayed on Our Anniversary

People used to say Pierce Voss, my husband, also the boss of the largest mafia in Kingsburg, and I were the kind of couple others envied.

He once lit fireworks across the entire coastline just to celebrate my birthday.

He bought me a private island because I mentioned loving the ocean.

He made the entire mafia respect me as the most esteemed woman in the world.

He shut every woman out of his world so I would never feel insecure.

I thought our love was unbreakable.

After ninety-nine rounds of IVF, I finally got a positive result. I was so happy I couldn’t sleep the whole night, planning to surprise him at our tenth-anniversary party the next day.

But instead, I cut into our wedding cake and found Lena Young’s pregnancy report hidden inside.

She fell to her knees in front of everyone, sobbing.

“Serena… I have cancer. I don’t have long. Please… let me stay with Pierce for whatever time I have left. Give my child a name.”

The room erupted, with gasps, whispers, cruel amusement.

And in an instant, the woman Pierce Voss had supposedly adored became the laughingstock of the entire Kingsburg city.

The love I had been so proud of shattered like cheap glass.

Clutching my own pregnancy report, I held back my tears and prepared to walk away with my baby, far from his world, far from the lies.

But before I could escape, someone framed me for harming her.

I was thrown into detention for three days.

And in those three days, I lost my child.

Pierce Voss lost me, and every last piece of love I ever had for him.

No matter how desperately he begs later, there is no returning to who we used to be.

The crystal chandeliers scattered fractured light across the ballroom, turning everything into a glittering illusion, perfect, polished, and painfully expensive. Our ten-tier anniversary cake rolled in on a silver cart, drawing a wave of applause from the hundreds of guests who had come to celebrate our tenth wedding anniversary.

“Mr. and Mrs. Voss,” the attendant said with a rehearsed smile as she offered the knife. “If you’d do the honor.”

Pierce’s hand slid over mine, guiding the handle into my fingers. His touch used to feel like a promise. Tonight, I didn’t know what it meant.

We pressed downward together.

The knife hit something solid.

Pierce’s brow twitched. He pulled the blade back, reached into the fault line of buttercream, and drew out a folded sheet streaked with frosting.

A medical report.

His eyes flashed crimson at the edges.

The young server pushing the cart went white. “I, I’m so sorry, Mr. Voss, Mrs. Voss! I must’ve, something slipped in. I didn’t…” She stumbled forward, panicked hands reaching for the cake.

Her heel caught.

She fell hard.

The mask on her face was knocked loose.

A pale, exhausted face appeared.

And the room stopped breathing.

My breath froze.

“Lena Young,” I whispered.

Pierce’s consigliere. The woman who’d supposedly taken a leave for “health issues.”

Before Pierce could speak, two of his men, black suits, Voss Mafia insignia at their cuffs, stepped forward and grabbed her roughly by the arms, ready to drag her out like a trespassing threat.

But Lena lifted her tear-swollen eyes to Pierce and clung to the hem of his suit trousers.

“Pierce… I can’t wait anymore.”

Her voice cracked like something dying. “The doctors, they found cancer. It’s bad. I don’t have long.”

The ballroom rippled with gasps.

Her fingers trembled as she pressed a hand to her stomach.

“Serena… please,” she sobbed. “I’m pregnant. Just let Pierce stay with me for the time I have left. Give the baby his name… please.”

Pregnant.

The word stabbed through my ribs like a sharpened icicle.

My palm closed so tightly that my nails broke skin.

Inside my clutch sat my own pregnancy report, still warm from being clutched all night, still unreal.

Positive.

After ninety-nine rounds of IVF.

After a decade of injections, surgeries, miscarriages, and hope that tasted like poison.

After fighting for a child until hope became humiliation.

Ninety-nine attempts. And someone else succeeded without even trying.

Pierce didn’t turn to look at me. He just stood there, staring at the crying woman at his feet.

His jaw worked once, like he was fighting himself.

“Serena,” he finally said, voice low, “I’ll explain when we’re home.”

Then he nodded at his men.

“Escort my wife out.”

I didn’t fight them.

Didn’t speak.

Didn’t cry.

I was delivered back to the mansion we had lived in for ten years, ten years of what I thought was devotion, loyalty, and hell disguised as love.

I sank onto the sofa, the pregnancy report burning like a brand in my palm.

Ninety-nine rounds.

Pierce had been there through every one.

Holding me through hormone crashes, rubbing my back when I wept until my lungs ached, whispering that we just had to try again, that he wanted a family with me more than the world.

And now another woman carried his child.

My world didn’t crumble.

It went silent.

I reached for my phone.

My fingers didn’t tremble, they were steady in a way that frightened me.

I texted my dad, who had run my family’s affairs since I’d run away ten years ago.

“Dad, I’m coming home. I’ll take the position the family reserved for me. Seven days.”

His reply came instantly.

“Come home, Serena. Your place was never gone.”

Ten years ago, I had abandoned everything, our family legacy, the Hale expectations, the life designed for me, to run to Pierce.

And for defying my family's will, I had paid the price.

My syndicate had dragged me into the punishment hall.

Forced me into their brutal Blood Oath Reckoning, a ritual meant for traitors, not heirs.

A punishment he watched from behind barred doors as I bled for choosing him.

I thought I could love him forever and ever.

But tonight changed everything.

Ten years later, I’m going back.

Back to the Hale estate.

Back to reclaim the power and identity I once threw away.

From this moment on, I would live my own life, and Pierce Voss would be nothing but a closed chapter.

A final, merciless ending.