On our sixth wedding anniversary, I felt a seam split open in my skull.

Not from pain, but from truth.

“Ethan, that new assistant… how does she taste?”

Marcus’s thought, slick as oil.

Ethan's reply slithered through my veins: "Young. Tender. Like summer berries."

His lips shaped a lie.

His hand shielded me from the crowd, even as his fingers pressed a blood-red cocktail into my palm.

"Don't let Lena find out,"he thought, the words clear as speech. "I’d in a big trouble."

Laughter swirled. Champagne clinked.their mind.

Nobody knew I could hear every thought ,the ability to read minds awakened in me last night. .

Nobody knew I had already known about his betrayal long ago.

There were no tears, no screams

I just replied “yes” to Professor Johnson’s encrypted call-the path I should have chosen six years ago.

In three days, I would vanish.

Not running from him.

Running back to who I was at twenty—the rising star of virus research.

The mental static receded like the tide slipping from shore.

I forced my fingers to unclench. Shattered glass bit into my palm.

Ethan caught the shift.

His laugh cut off like a blade.

He turned; his grip was iron-clad, his voice like​ dripping honey.“Sweetheart?

What’s wrong?”

English.

But my mind replayed his thought, slick and smug:

“I want Celia right now.”

I studied him.

The vampire who knelt in moonlit beach six years ago.

He begged me to accept the Embrace.

He had Chased me from Boston campus to New York labs.

“You’re my fated mate. In 300 years, I’ve felt nothing… until you.”

I believed him. And so, I abandoned my viral mapping research, died in his arms, and was reborn from his blood.

All to walk eternity by his side.

For six years, I showed no aversion to sunlight, no super-senses, no sensitivity to Vervain—only the hollow gift of immortality.

He would ruffle my hair and say, “Even if you never awaken, it’s fine. You’re my mate. That’s enough.”

Yet I did awaken. And the first gift of my awaken, was the sound of him, in his mind, tasting another woman.

A brittle smile touched my lips.

Don’t flinch. Don’t question. Play the tired human wife.

"Nothing," I murmured.

Then—let the question slip.

“What were you guys doing?”

Voice casual. Like idle curiosity.

Ethan smiled naturally, pinching my cheek.

“Just discussed some business things. I knew you wouldn’t want to hear that boring stuff.So we did that in a quiet way.”

His mind whispered: “Let her go. Easier to slip to Celia after the toast.”

He didn’t mention Marcus asking about “his little assistant.”

Didn’t mention “young and tender.”

I wouldn’t tell him about my awakened telepathy.

The air thickened and grew​ suffocating.

I pulled my hand free.

“Don’t let me interrupt. I wanna take a walk outside.”

Before he could answer, I turned and left the banquet hall.

Hudson River wind slapped my face on the terrace.

Vampire whispers drifted:

“Ethan’s mate.”

“Human-born scientist. Their wedding ceremony shook NYC.”

“Still throws grand anniversaries every year. Real prince.”

I once cherished the mortal whispers praising our blood-bonded union,they used to warm me.

But now,someone else’s fairy tale.

No one knew Ethan has cheated on me

Standing there in the cold wind, my mind flashed back to last night.

Last evening, I found out that I've finally awakened the ability to read minds. I'm so excited and want to tell Ethan this good news right away.So I slipped into Ethan’s secret office, wanted to give him a surprise. I eased the cabinet door open, breath held.

Then came muffled moans, a rhythm of betrayal.

There he was. The man who had sworn “I’ll only love you forever” pinned his “summer berry” against the floor-to-ceiling glass.

Behind them stretched New York’s skyline, a glittering stage for his betrayal.

Through the narrow crack, two bodies twisted in a violent rhythm. Her silk blouse hung in tatters, skin flushed fever-bright.

Thighs locked around his waist, grinding against him as his fangs sank deep into her throat.

Blood welled—warm, metallic-sweet. A choked gasp escaped her; hips jerked against his thrust.

His tongue sealed the wound, drinking deep while her nails raked his back, drawing crimson trails.

“Harder,” she rasped.

He pulled back, lips smeared crimson, a low chuckle vibrating in his chest. “You’re dripping for me.”

One sharp thrust. “Sweet?”

Celia’s breath hitched against his mouth. “Sweet enough to kill me.”

Every second, punctuated by the sharp slap of skin, breathless moans, and guttural growls, carved into her a wound deeper than his fangs had ever left.

Hours passed.

When they finally left, clothes smoothed and lies tucked into place, I was already hollow.

I lost the hours.

I pressed my palm to the cabinet door, nails digging into wood.Then slid down, knees buckling.Then nothing.

When I walked out of that building, the blood-bond snapped like a crap.

Ethan was dead to me.

The phone's ring on the terrace tore me from the memory, pulling me back .

Dr. Johnson.

"I’ve submitted your name to the WHO special project," his voice came, careful. "High-security lab on Liberia’s border. Researching Evola—the highly lethal virus.Someone arrives in three days. Say goodbye to your family."

Family.

The word tasted like ash.

My blood family died at my twenty-two.

Ethan became my new world.

Now he’s having an affair.

So he’s no longer my family.

"Johnson," I said, low. "Do me a favor. Seal my records from all public databases. Make me a ghost."

Two heartbeats of silence.

"Are you serious?

Lena, you know what this means. Until declassified, you'll vanish from this world. And Ethan... You're already married. What if he can't find you?"

I almost laughed. "He’s cheated."

A sharp inhale. Then gravel-soft:

"Yesterday, when you said ‘I want back on the bench’…I knew something was broken between you two.

I just didn’t expect this.

I’ll handle it. Erase every trace. These three days—get your affairs in order."

Relief flooded my veins.

One more thing to be prepared, and I would be totally free.

"Thank you," I whispered.

The words had barely faded when cold breath brushed my neck.

A shadow detached from the terrace pillars.

A voice—low, familiar, laced with ice—cut the night:

"Who’s cheated?"

I turned, then I met Ethan’s flustered gaze.

He heard nothing, I knew.

I’d sealed my mind tight—no cracks for his telepathy to slip through.

“Another Johnson’s student,” I said, voice smooth as silk. “Says her husband’s cheating.”

Ethan’s eyes locked on mine. Three silent seconds.

No tremor. No flicker in his eyes.

He exhaled, arm sweeping me close.

A kiss brushed my forehead—soft and practiced.

“Sweetheart. Infidelity? Impossible for me.”

I held his gaze.

My telepathy hummed between us like a drawn blade.

His mind chanted, slick and sure:

“As long as Lena doesn’t know, it doesn’t count.”

“What if it did?” I whispered.

He stilled. Then laughed—a gentle, rehearsed sound.

“It won’t. I love only you.”

I didn’t blink. “I’m asking… if.”

He nuzzled my cheek, voice dipping between sincerity and jest.

“Then punish me. Vanish so completely I can never find you. You’re my mate. Losing you… I wouldn’t survive.”

Flawless delivery.

Almost believable.

But his mind flashed—Celia reclining on his office sofa, fingers hooking his tie, breath hitching.

I smiled,said nothing.

Ethan. Your punishment has already begun.

Three days later, you won’t see me again.

He opened his mouth—

A crisp voice sliced the night.

“Ethan. It’s all set.”

Celia stood poised at the terrace entrance.

Burgundy bodycon dress. Hair coiled in a flawless chignon.

Impeccable makeup. Professional tone.

A stark contrast to the woman pinned against his office window yesterday—shirt torn, bare-shouldered, breathless.

Ethan’s expression froze. He gave a curt nod and a dismissive wave, the space between them perfectly measured. I almost laughed.

Oscars to both of you. I’d have believed the act forever—if I hadn’t seen the truth.

Suddenly, his palms slammed over my eyes.

Ice-cold. Steady.

His whisper grazed my ear:

“Sweetheart… I prepared a surprise.”

“Five.”

“Four.”

“Three…”

He released me.

Beneath the blood moon, an ancient vampire rite unfolded: threads of liquid moonlight wove through Manhattan’s skyline, coalescing into a single luminous numeral:

“10”.

Ethan’s arm tightened around my waist, his thumb tracing the scar where our blood-bond was sealed.

Voice thick with nostalgia:

“Ten years. Since I first saw you in that MIT lecture hall. Time flies.”

I stared upward.

Dizziness washed over me.

Ten years.

From a twenty-year-old lab novice to a thirty-year-old vampire.

A decade could twist devotion into betrayal.

Stain pure love with blood and lies.

Ethan turned to me.

Amber eyes holding only my reflection.

He leaned in—lips a breath from mine—

Chime.

His phone lit up in his pocket.

Annoyance tightened his jaw.

“I made it clear—no interruptions tonight.”

Voice dropped to ice.

He angled the screen away—but not fast enough.

“Assistant.”

Celia.

His thumb swiped rapidly.

His thoughts bled into mine, raw and hungry:

“Just a little longer. Wait downstairs. In the car.”

Pupils contracted. A flicker of hunger in his gaze.

Then—apology smoothed his features.

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry. It’s our anniversary… but clan business—”

“I understand,” I cut in.

“Work comes first.”

Relief flashed across his face.

No goodbye kiss. Just a hurried hug.

Then he vanished into the crowd.

I stood alone on the terrace.

Watched his silhouette dissolve into Manhattan’s glittering dark.

Glanced once at the fading numeral burning in the sky.

Then I followed.

Ethan slipped through the "Staff Only" door marked Rooftop Oasis. I followed on silent instinct.

The door stood half opened, left open for the breeze.

Celia waited beside the water pond, silk dress catching the city’s glow.

“That moonlight display?” she breathed, melting into his arms. “Romantic enough to make me seethe. I watched from up here—practically burning with envy.”

Ethan’s lips brushed her temple. Smirk sharp as shattered crystal.

“Didn’t I give you one just as grand last week? What’s there to envy?” His fingers tightened on her waist, backing her against the wrought-iron pergola draped in jasmine. “Play your part. Don’t slip around Lena. Everything she has? You’ll have it too.”

Now I remember.

Five nights ago, crimson meteors streaked across New York’s southern skyline, a blood-magic spectacle.

He’d texted: “Clan emergency. Working late.”

I’d sent a photo, teasing:

“Who’s the showy fool splurging magic on romance tonight?”

Now I knew.

He was the fool who summoned the stars.

And I was the fool who believed his lies.

Celia traced his jaw. “Can’t I be jealous? You were devouring her with your eyes.”

“Didn’t you say you had something… good for me?” His voice dropped to gravel.

Her laugh, rich in honey and smoke. Hips rolling against the pergola post.

“Only if you unwrap it yourself.” Lips grazing his ear: “Guaranteed to make you forget her name.”

His pupils drank the moonlight as jasmine petals scattered underfoot. Fabric tore with a sharp rip, the sound stolen by the wind.

“Mine,” he rasped against her throat—the word both vow and violation.

“Ethan… harder…” Her moan, polished to perfection; a choked sob blurring pleasure and performance.

Every whisper drove a needle into my chest.

I stood frozen behind the bamboo screen left askew in their haste. My blood ran colder than the grave. Tears fell hot with betrayal, splattering the cold stone.

I’d witnessed this betrayal once before.

Yet hearing it again, the raw hunger in his voice, the calculated cadence of her cries—my still felt shattered. Dull. Agonizing.

The first year after my Embrace, he held me and whispered:

“Every anniversary, I’ll clear my calendar. Only you.”

A single text from Celia, and he abandoned every vow. He scrambled to this place like a starving man.

Just how deep does his addiction to her run?

I closed my eyes.

Buried the storm inside.

Three more days.

Hold on.

Then it ends.

I didn’t return to the banquet.

I went straight to the penthouse on Fifth Avenue—his wedding gift to me.

Past midnight, drifting into half-sleep,the door slammed open.

Ethan stood there, jaw tight.

Only when he saw me in bed did his shoulders loosen.

“Why didn’t you tell me you left?” He pulled me close, chin resting on my crown. “I went back. Scoured the whole damn ballroom. Almost lost my mind.”

I glanced at the digital clock—3:00 AM.

I’d left at 11:00 PM.

Four hours tangled in that car.

How pathetic I was.

“I wasn’t feeling well. Went home to rest. Forgot to tell you.”

Lying used to paralyze me.

Now it slipped out smooth as silk.

Ethan still trembled faintly.

He locked me against him—as if loosening his grip meant I’d vanish.

“Next time, never disappear without a word. Promise me, sweetheart? If you vanish, I’ll tear Manhattan apart stone by stone.”

I shut my eyes,said nothing.

In three days, I’ll vanish to a place you’d never imagine.

A land where the sun scorches, poverty chokes hospitals, no nightclubs, no blood banks.

You won’t follow. And you can’t.

The next morning—

perhaps guilt gnawing at him—Ethan sent a jewelry box.

An heirloom from some European dynasty.

Pearls glowed softly in the sunlight.

“Sweetheart. Last night was my fault. Don’t be angry.”

I glanced at it. Set it aside.

From the drawer, I took a small black box. Handed it to him.

“I’m not angry. This is your anniversary gift. Open it two days later.”

I’d commissioned a gold locket and brooch to match his tailored suits. But the moment I stepped out of his office yesterday, I hurled them into the furnace.

I replaced them with my wedding ring, that would be the last thing I ever gave him.

He took the box, curious.

“Yesterday was the anniversary. Why wait two days?”

I smiled.

“Special surprise inside. Only works if you wait.”

His eyes lit with anticipation.

“Alright. I’ll follow your rules.”

Before the words faded, a knock came at the door.

It swung open and Celia stood there.

Tear-streaked face trembling.

Lashes clumped. Cheeks flushed.