The lawyer’s voice on the other end of the line was steady but hesitant. “Mrs. Valeria, I just need to ask again, are you absolutely sure you want to proceed with filing for divorce? You do remember the prenup you signed with Mr. Valeria. It says you can’t legally divorce unless… well… unless one of you is dead.”

I pressed the phone harder to my ear, staring at the cold hospital floor. “Don’t worry,” I whispered. “I’ll be dead in a few days anyway. So just… finalize it.”

Before he could argue, I hung up. The silence that followed buzzed like static in my ears.

I started pulling the tape off the IV in my arm when my phone lit up on the side table. Another message. I didn’t even have to look to know what it was — it always came at the same time, like clockwork.

When I finally opened it, there it was: a video. Nadia’s giggle. Xander’s low laugh. The shaky image of them tangled together in his hotel suite. Again. The fiftieth video she’d sent me — always labeled Oops, sorry, wrong send. Always just enough to remind me who I really was in their eyes.

I didn’t cry. I didn’t break the phone. I didn’t even bother to watch it all the way through. I just tossed it into my bag, finished taping gauze over the IV mark, and zipped up my small suitcase.

I was done.

As I waited for the nurse to finish the discharge papers, my mind drifted to the first time everything really started to fall apart — long before Xander, long before the yacht.

I was fifteen when my mother shattered my world. She’d been cheating on my father with Nadia’s father for years — I’d always heard the late-night calls, the slammed doors, the crying. When the divorce papers came, I thought I’d stay with Dad. But Mom forced me to come with her. “A daughter belongs with her mother,” she said.

That was the first time I felt truly unwanted.

At first, living with Nadia didn’t feel so bad. She was sweet — bright, giggly, the daughter everyone adored. We shared secrets, clothes, and whispered about our dreams at night. But it didn’t take long for the cracks to show. When she didn’t get her way, she’d cry to our parents. And somehow, the blame always landed on me.

When we were older, I saw her drape herself over Xander at family parties. They’d been closer than siblings, even though they weren’t by blood. She told me they were together. But then she left him for her acting dreams abroad. He was drunk the night I found him alone on the balcony, eyes red, whiskey in hand.

I was stupid. I thought comforting him meant I mattered. That night was a mistake for him — for me, it was the start of my ruin.

When the tabloids leaked photos of us, the scandal nearly destroyed both families. A quick wedding was the only fix. I convinced myself it was fate. And for two short years, it almost felt real. Until she came back. Until she stood in my kitchen, sipping my coffee, saying I’d seduced her man.

Xander defended me, or so I thought — until I found them in my bed. It never really ended. It only grew more blatant.

And now they didn’t even bother to hide it.

My mind snapped back to the hallway when I heard footsteps. Voices. Laughter.

“…are you sure you’re okay to be here?” Nadia asked, her voice a low, sweet drawl.

“Of course,” Xander replied, so casual. “It’s not like she died.”

My breath caught behind the corner. I pressed my back to the cold wall.

Nadia giggled. “But what if she finds out about our baby?”

“So what?” he scoffed. “It doesn’t matter. You’re the one I want to have my child, not her. We’ll surely get married soon. I promise you.”

The words stung worse than any wound on my body. They disappeared into his room, shutting the door. Three months pregnant, I heard Nadia say. Their baby. And yet they’d stolen mine from me like it was nothing.

When I got home, I opened the closet and started packing. Everything Xander had ever given me — the clothes, the jewelry, the perfume he said made me smell expensive. All of it went into a black trash bag. He didn’t deserve to see me draped in anything he’d bought to cover the truth.

I was shoving shoes into the bag when the front door slammed. I froze as my mother’s perfume hit me before she did.

She slapped me so hard my ear rang. “What the hell did you do with our money, Lauren?”

I stared at her, blinking back the stars in my vision. “What are you talking about?”

She shoved a folder of bank statements into my chest. “Gambling? All those debts under your name? We lost everything! Do you know how embarrassing this is for me?”

I shook my head, my voice a whisper. “No… I didn’t— I never—”

“It’s your name!” she screamed. “You filthy, useless—”

Nadia’s voice floated in behind her like a snake’s hiss. “Mom, what’s wrong?”

My mother whirled around. “Your sister’s a gambler! She ruined us!”

Nadia gasped — wide-eyed, all innocent sweetness. “Mom, I wanted to tell you. I found out weeks ago but… I didn’t want Lauren to get mad at me for telling. I’m so sorry, Mom. I should have told you.”

My mouth dropped open. “That’s a lie! You used my name—”

The second slap split my lip. “Liar! After everything I did for you!” My mother grabbed a handful of my hair and yanked until I screamed.

Nadia just stood behind her, eyes wide and fake-sorry.

That night, my mother hit me until I couldn’t feel my arms, my ribs, my legs — fifty strikes that burned like acid on my skin. Xander didn’t stop her. Nadia didn’t flinch. They just watched. Smirking. Whispering. Mocking.

But as I lay on the floor, curled around my bruises, I promised myself one thing: Just a few more days. Just hold on a little longer.

And then I’d be gone.

I woke up on the cold concrete floor of the storage room, my body curled awkwardly under a scratchy blanket that smelled of mold and stale oil. Every inch of me ached — ribs, hips, the side of my face still raw where my mother’s ring had cut into my cheek.

I shifted, trying to sit up, and bit back a scream when pain shot through my shoulder. That was when the door creaked open and Nadia stepped in.

“Oh, look who’s finally awake,” she cooed, voice dripping with fake sweetness. She turned to Xander standing just behind her. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of her.”

Xander’s eyes flicked over me like I was a stain on his floor. “Just let her rot. She’s nothing to us now.”

Nadia turned back, her smile sharpening like a blade. She shut the door and knelt next to me, pulling a first aid kit from behind her back.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, hmm? Poor thing.”

She pressed a cloth to the cut on my lip — too hard, too long, like she enjoyed the way I flinched. I hissed in pain, but she only laughed.

“You know,” she said, pressing down even harder, “you’ll never be enough for this family. Got it? Never. Not when you’re nothing but a little seductress stealing what was mine.”

My voice cracked. “I never stole him. You left—”

She slapped a hand over my mouth, nails digging into my cheek. “Shut up. I went for my dreams. You think you’re special because you were the perfect replacement? Look where that got you.”

She pulled out a battered lunchbox, flipping it open so the stale smell hit my nose immediately. “Eat,” she said, voice too bright. “I made it myself. Don’t be ungrateful.”

She shoved a spoon toward my lips, and I realized it was shrimp. My throat closed up on instinct — I was allergic. I turned my head away, but Nadia’s grip on my jaw was iron.

“Eat it, Lauren! Don’t be dramatic now. Eat it!” she hissed, jabbing the spoon against my lips until the shrimp touched my tongue. My stomach turned, bile rising up so fast I nearly choked.

In that moment, something in my mind flickered — a memory from when we were kids. Nadia and I giggling under blankets, sharing secrets. Back when we were sisters in the truest sense — until I won that school contest, until they put my face on the cover of the community paper. She’d been so furious. She’d told everyone I cheated. One by one, my friends turned their backs. The teachers glared. The principal called me a liar.

And Nadia just stood there, pretty and innocent, saying, “I’m sorry. I tried to stop her. She loves attention too much.”

The taste of the shrimp snapped me back. I gagged, vomiting onto the floor. Nadia jerked back, shrieking in disgust. “You bitch! You did that on purpose—”

The door flew open. Xander stepped in, annoyance already etched into his features. “What the hell is going on now?”

Nadia turned to him, her eyes wide, voice trembling. “I was trying to help her, Xander! I made her food and she threw it up! She hates me—”

Xander’s face twisted with disgust as he looked at me, weak and trembling on the floor. “You ungrateful bitch. She’s trying to feed you and you can’t even be thankful?”

They mocked me then. Both of them. Their voices mixed together — little jabs, half-laughs, like I wasn’t even there. But I didn’t hear it for long. The edges of my vision went fuzzy, my head spun, and the world finally went dark.

When I woke up again, I was in a hospital bed. The walls were clean. The sheets smelled like bleach. A nurse hovered over me, frowning as she checked the bruises blooming across my arms.

“You’re lucky,” she said quietly. “You went into shock from the allergy and the injuries. You need rest.”

I stared at the ceiling, tears pooling but never falling. “Do you need me to call your family?” the nurse asked gently.

Family. The word scraped against my ribs like broken glass. I turned my head away and whispered, “No. There is no family anymore. I’m all alone.”

The nurse squeezed my shoulder, pity in her eyes. She left me with my thoughts. The steady beep of the monitor filled the room. My phone vibrated in my pocket. For a moment I thought it was my father — maybe he’d finally come for me. But when I answered, the voice on the other end wasn’t his.

“Lauren.”

My breath caught. Noah. His voice was the same as always — smooth, sharp, a warmth I hadn’t felt in years. “I heard from your father,” he said. “So you’re finally divorcing him, huh?”

I swallowed, my throat raw. “Yes. I’m done with him. I… I want out. Noah… do you still want me?”

He laughed — low, easy, like he already knew my answer. “Of course I do. You’re mine, Lauren. You always have been. I’ll pick you up myself — give me a few days. I can’t wait to make you mine for real this time.”

I shut my eyes, a strange heat blooming in my chest. “Yes. I’ll be waiting for you.”

When the call ended, I let myself hope for a breath — just a small taste of freedom. But then a shadow fell over my bed. I looked up — and there he was.

Xander. His eyes narrowed, lips curled into that cold half-smirk.

“Who were you talking to?” he asked, his voice low. “Are you cheating on me now, Lauren?”

Before I could reach for my phone, his hand shot out and snatched it from my fingers.

“Open it now,” Xander demanded, his hand gripping my phone like it was his property — like I was his property rather than wife.

I forced my voice to stay calm, even as my skin crawled. “The password is my birthday.”

He snorted, thumbs tapping the screen. “Easy. December 5.”

A bitter laugh slipped out before I could stop it. “That’s not my birthday. That’s Nadia’s.”

His fingers froze mid-tap. He looked up, confusion flashing across his face before it twisted into irritation. “So what? Why are you being dramatic again, Lauren? It’s not that important.”

Not that important. Three years of marriage, one lost child, and he didn’t even know the day I was born. But deep down, I knew — he could recite every detail about Nadia without missing a beat. Her birthday. Her favorite food. The exact shade of lipstick she wore to bed.

Me? I was just… here.

I looked away, voice hoarse. “It never mattered, did it?”

He didn’t answer. He just tossed the phone back onto the side table, already bored. “Never mind that. Get up. You’re being discharged today.”

I blinked. “What? I’m not ready — I can’t even walk properly yet.”

“So what?” His tone turned sharp. “You’re needed at home. Your mother’s birthday party needs arranging. You know how she is, and Nadia and I don’t have time to handle it.”

My mouth dropped open. “Xander, I can barely stand! And I’m not apologizing to Nadia. She gave me shrimp on purpose, she knew I was allergic—”

He rolled his eyes so dramatically it made my blood boil. “There you go again, always blaming someone else. You’re so stubborn, Lauren. This is exactly why you’ve never been at her level. She’s everything you’re not — useful, graceful, wanted. You? You should’ve died instead of our child.”

His words punched the air out of my lungs. But before I could find something — anything — to throw back at him, the door swung open.

Nadia drifted in, her soft fake smile plastered onto her perfect lips. She carried a bouquet of lilies, my least favorite flower, and cooed, “How are you feeling, sister? Do you need anything? We were so worried.”

I stared right through her, the rage in my chest a furnace. I was done pretending.

Xander’s hand pressed down hard on my shoulder. “Apologize to her, Lauren. Right now.”

“No.”

His grip tightened, nails digging into my skin. “Apologize.”

Nadia tilted her head, pouting. “Don’t make this harder than it needs to be. Just say sorry, Lauren. I forgive you.”

Forgive me. For what? For surviving? For watching my baby die while they planned their perfect life?

I bit down the scream building in my throat and said nothing. No tears this time. Just cold silence. That seemed to annoy them more than any begging would have.

“Fine,” Xander snapped. “Be that way. But you’re still coming home to plan Mother’s party. You owe us that much.”

They dragged me out of the hospital before the nurse could even check my bandages properly. Back at the house, they left me in the guest room to recover — but I knew better. I was nothing more than a maid with a ruined womb and a name they could blame for their messes.

I forced myself out of bed that night. I found every piece of our so-called life together — the wedding album we never finished, the love notes he used to scribble when he still needed to convince me he cared, the designer dresses he gifted me after every scandal. All of it.

I dragged the box to the garden, the cold air biting at my bruised skin. One by one, I dropped the memories onto a pile. When the match flared, I didn’t flinch. I watched the flames eat the lace, the letters, the lies. Sparks rose into the sky like tiny ghosts, each one carrying a piece of the girl who once thought she was loved.

I whispered to the fire, “Few more days. Just a few more.”

Back inside, I lay on the cold sheets, heart pounding as my phone buzzed on the table. The screen lit up with a single message from my father: Everything is ready. Noah will pick you up soon. It’s time to disappear.

I read it twice, my chest tightening in a strange, sharp way — part fear, part hope. Free. It didn’t feel real yet, but it was coming.

I pressed the phone to my chest and let out a shaky breath. I pictured Noah’s steady eyes, his warm voice telling me I was his. I pictured the way I’d walk out of this prison with nothing but a suitcase and my name finally wiped clean.

No more wife. No more daughter. Just Lauren — whoever that might be.

The next morning, they forced me to stand at the dining table, drawing up guest lists, talking about catering like nothing had happened. Nadia stood at Xander’s side, her hand resting on his arm like she’d never left it.

When our eyes met, she smirked — that little tilt of her lips that said, You’re still here. And you’re still nothing.

But inside, I felt it like a heartbeat under my ribs: Not for long.

Tomorrow, I'll be gone.