“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.

The morning of my mother’s birthday dawned clear and cold. I sat in my vanity, pretending to fuss with my hair. I could hear Nadia’s high laugh echoing down the hallway

One more hour, I told myself. Just let them leave.

The door slammed open behind me. Nadia stood there in her silk robe. Her eyes flicked to my chest and then she lunged. I didn’t even have time to flinch before her fingers closed around the thin silver chain my father had given me when I turned sixteen.

“Give that back!” I shouted, grabbing at her wrist, but her other hand was already fisted in my hair, yanking me backward until I cried out.

“This? This cheap little thing?” she sneered, her breath hot against my ear. “You don’t deserve it. Daddy’s favorite, huh? How’s that working out for you now?”

I grabbed her wrist, yanking the necklace back so hard it cut into my palm. “It’s mine, give it back!”

She laughed in my face. “You think he cares about you now? You think anyone does?”

Something inside me snapped. My palm came up before I could stop it, I slapped him.

Nadia froze for a split second, shock flashing in her eyes, before she recoiled, pressing her fingers dramatically to the red mark blooming on her skin.

The door slammed open. Xander’s voice sliced through the air. “What the hell is going on?”

Nadia let out a shaky little sob, eyes wide and brimming with tears that weren’t real. “She hit me, Xander! I just wanted to borrow the necklace for the party, it would’ve matched my dress, but she went crazy! I was only trying to help her get ready—”

“That’s a lie!” I hissed. “She took my necklace—”

But before I could finish, my mother appeared behind him, hair perfect, eyes glittering with the kind of disgust she never bothered to hide. “Lauren, you ungrateful child. You can’t behave for one day?”

My fingers tightened around the tiny chain, my father’s last promise digging into my palm. “She stole it, she—”

“Enough!” Xander snapped. “You’re not going. I won’t have you embarrassing us in front of important people. You stay here.”

“You can’t—”

My mother’s cold hand came down on my shoulder. “You’ve been nothing but a shame since into this family. You stay here and think about what you cost us.”

Before I could blink, the door slammed shut. The lock clicked.

I pressed my back to the door, my shoulders trembling as I sank to the floor.

Through the door, I could hear Nadia’s giggle, soft and smug. “It’s better this way, don’t you think? We can’t let her ruin today.”

Their footsteps faded down the hall, their voices trailing off with the sound of the cars pulling away one by one. And then finally, the house fell still.

I grabbed my phone, my hands shaking as I pulled up Noah’s number. I pressed call, praying he’d answer. He did before the first ring even finished.

“Lauren?”

His voice was so warm I almost broke. “They locked me in,” I whispered. “They left for the party, but they locked me in. I’m ready to go, please, Noah. I can’t stay here.”

A low growl rumbled through the line, that same protective anger that made me believe him when he said he’d save me. “Stay right where you are. I’ll be there soon, baby. You hear me? You’re not going to spend one more night in that hellhole.”

A tear slipped down my cheek. I didn’t bother to wipe it away. “I’m ready to leave.”

Third person’s pov

Back at the grand ballroom, the celebration that was supposed to showcase perfection was already teetering on chaos.

Guests milled around awkwardly beneath the glittering chandeliers. The tables were half-empty, no servers in sight, and the main buffet remained sealed shut in the catering trucks that never arrived. No music drifted through the hall.

Lauren’s mother was the first to snap. Her sharp voice cut through the crowd like a whip as she rounded on Xander, who was standing near the bar, checking his phone for the third time in five minutes.

“Where is she?!” her mother hissed. “Where is that useless girl? She’s the one who was supposed to handle all this, the catering, the band! I want her here now.”

Xander’s jaw twitched. He hit call again. Voicemail. He tried again. Voicemail. A few of the guests had started whispering and pointing at the tense knot of family near the stage. Someone coughed to hide a laugh when the music still didn’t start.

“She’s not picking up,” Xander muttered, teeth grinding together. “You! Go check if she’s at home. Now.”

A hush rippled through the room as a butler stepped forward, carrying a small, elegant box with a white ribbon tied perfectly on top.

“Sir?” the butler said, clearing his throat nervously. “This just arrived for you. Delivered directly at the gate. It’s… from Mrs. Lauren.”

Xander ripped the lid off then froze. Inside, nestled on crisp white paper, were two things: Lauren’s wedding ring and a single, crisp set of divorce papers. Her signature sat at the bottom in steady, deliberate strokes.

The blood drained from Xander’s face. Nadia peered over his shoulder, her painted lips curling into a sneer. “Oh. She’s divorcing you finally?” she said.

Lauren’s mother let out a furious screech, drawing startled gasps from the guests. “Find her! Now! She’s not going to humiliate this family, not like this. Bring her back here this instant!”

But before they could move, the butler stepped forward again, sweat beading on his brow. “Sir, there’s more. The… the house, it’s—”

“What?” Xander barked. “What about the house?”

The butler swallowed hard. “There’s a fire, sir. It’s spreading through the kitchen, the storage, the staff are saying it’s bad. The whole back wing is gone.”

“And Lauren? Is she there? Where is she?” Xander asked.

The butler hesitated. Everyone fell silent, watching his lips move, waiting for the words that would break the last fragile thread holding them all together.

“I’m afraid,” the butler said hoarsely, “she was still inside. She… she burned with the fire… and it seems like Mrs. Lauren is dead.”