"Which one?"

"Oh, you know, his little mistress. The one they call his 'god-sister'—Martha McClain. She's something else. Came in for a full checkup because she had a hangnail she couldn't clip properly."

"And then there are others. Like that one." One of the nurses subtly jerked her chin in my direction.

"A while back, she was rushed in past midnight, hemorrhaging. From admission to discharge, not a single person came to see her. They incinerated the fetus and nobody even cared. Poor thing..."

My hand drifted to my lower abdomen without thinking.

That baby. William and I had both looked forward to her arrival once.

Even after William stopped caring, I'd still held on to that hope.

But maybe it was better this way. She was gone, and now I could leave with nothing tying me down.

I headed home to grab my travel documents.

But the moment I stepped through the door, I sensed something was off.

Martha was draped around William like a vine, coiled against his chest. Her eyes were red and swollen, as though she'd been crying.

The second she saw me, she pointed a finger straight at me.

"Serena, just because you married William doesn't mean you can challenge my sister's place in his heart!"

"Where did you hide my sister's photo? Give it back. Now!"

Ever since I'd married William, Martha had picked fights every other day.

One time she claimed I'd hired thugs to ambush her.

Another time she said I was the one leaking dirt about her on social media.

In the beginning, William still believed my explanations.

Later, he'd just watch me cry with cold indifference, then assign another dozen bodyguards to Martha's detail.

He'd brush me off with the same line.

"Her sister took good care of me. Now that her sister's gone, I owe it to her to look after Martha."

Even after I'd caught the two of them in bed together, I'd been naive enough to believe him.

Martha watched me standing there, seemingly at a loss for words, and a smug little smile tugged at her lips.

Then she heard me speak.

"Maybe your sister found out from beyond the grave that you've been seducing her ex-husband. Maybe she's the angry one."

"What did you just say?!"

Martha stormed toward me in her little heels, arm raised in fury.

Before the slap could land, I caught her wrist and gave her the gentlest push forward.

Just as I expected.

I hadn't used an ounce of force, but Martha crumpled into William's arms, instantly playing up a twisted ankle.

Her eyes glistened with tears.

"William, my foot hurts so badly. What if I can never dance again?"

"But my sister loved watching me dance..."

Sister. That word was the trigger. It never failed.

William's gaze turned glacial in an instant. The chill of it cut straight through me.

"Martha's still young. Why do you have to start things with her?"

"If you didn't take it, you didn't take it. You think I'd accuse you for no reason?"

I almost fired back. Accuse me for no reason? When has that ever stopped you?

But then I thought about our wedding night, how he'd snuck glances at that dead woman's portrait when he thought I wasn't looking.

How he'd actually gone behind my back to consult a fortune teller, asking whether marrying me was what had caused her death.

All the fight drained out of me.

"Apologize to Martha. If you won't—"

William didn't get to finish. He watched me bend at the waist in a deep bow.

"I'm sorry."

He blinked, caught off guard.

He'd probably forgotten. I'd lost every shred of pride a long time ago in this place.

The last time I'd refused to apologize, I'd been held down in the cold spring in December for thirty-six hours.

Martha had supervised personally, watching me with a smile.

"A homeless nobody from the mainland comes to Harbor City, she follows Harbor City rules."

Honestly? I was terrified of the cold.

My bow brought that familiar curl back to Martha's lips. She lifted her chin.

"The jade earrings. Take them off and give them to me."

I took off the jade earrings my mother had given me before I moved to Harbor City.

William knew exactly what they were. He frowned, which was rare for him.

"I'll have Martha return them to you in a few days."

Return them? Of course she would.

But that wasn't all. In a few days, I'd make them pay back double.

I ignored the two of them clinging to each other and headed upstairs.

They'd clearly already been fooling around in the master bedroom. A maid was wiping handprints off the glass frame of our wedding portrait. Another was carrying out a tied-up garbage bag that reeked of something foul.

When they saw me come in, they bowed in greeting, every one of them wearing the same indescribable look of pity.

I avoided their eyes and opened the safe. As I packed my documents into my bag, a blank sheet of paper slipped out.

I glanced at it, and an idea took shape.

Then I slid the wedding ring off my finger and placed it back in its box.

"What are you doing, taking off your ring?"

Before I could turn around, something ice-cold pressed against my neck.

I looked down. A sapphire necklace.

"I was afraid I'd lose it, so I put it away." I brushed him off with a few vague words and stepped out of William's reach.

He hadn't gotten the delighted reaction he'd expected. Annoyance flickered across his face, chased by something like a bad premonition he couldn't quite name.

"Isn't this the sapphire you've been dying for? You nagged me about it for a whole month."

"Mm. Right. Thanks."

Two years ago, I had wanted it desperately. But after watching Martha wear one just like it for six months, it didn't seem all that beautiful anymore.

I gently pushed away William's hand as it tried to settle over my stomach.

My gaze landed squarely on Martha's bitter, almond-shaped eyes in the doorway.

She swayed her hips as she walked in, shouldering me aside.

"William, your mother wants us back at the estate for dinner tonight. We should get ready."

She shot me a smug glare.

William nodded.

Usually, I went to the Whitney estate for dinner alone. Then the next day, Jemima would have William bring Martha along for a proper family meal.

I assumed this had nothing to do with me and looked away.

But then William said something I didn't expect.

"Serena, come with us tonight."

Martha looked like she was about to crack her teeth from clenching her jaw so hard.

I thought about what was hidden behind the plaque at the Whitney estate.

I nodded.

What belonged to me needed to be taken back.

Martha dressed herself in glittering jewels. I went to the closet and picked out an outfit that looked as close as possible to what I'd worn the day I first arrived in Harbor City.

This time, I didn't foolishly squeeze in next to William, trying to join their conversation.

I chose a seat farther away and sat quietly.

When we arrived at the Whitney estate, Jemima greeted Martha with warm hugs and chatter. Then her eyes slid over to me, and she let out a cold snort through her nose.

"What are you doing here?"

But William reached over and took my hand.

"Mom, how can we have a family dinner without my wife?"

I looked down at his fingers laced through mine.

For a moment, my mind went blank.

I couldn't tell what year it was anymore.

Was it the year I loved him most? Or the year I still didn't know there was someone else perched at the top of his heart?

Jemima's voice dripped with acid sweetness.

"Fine. Of course. How lovely."

"But before you sit at this table, you'll serve the tea first."

The ceremonial tea service. Again.

Years ago, Jemima had used this same ritual to put me in my place. I'd flipped the table.

Back then, William had laughed and called me wild and spirited. Said I was exactly his type.

Now he paused, considered it for a moment, then waved his hand.

A servant pressed a cup of hot tea into my hands.

I endured the stinging numbness spreading through both hands.

"Mrs. Whitney, this is my first time performing the ceremonial tea service for you. After this cup of tea, I'd like to have my prayer charm back—the one behind the plaque."

"How petty can you be? It's just some worthless trinket. The Whitney family has no use for it."

Jemima didn't notice the look of stunned surprise on her own son's face.

That prayer charm was the one I'd earned through a pilgrimage of prayer, climbing every step on my knees to the temple gates. I'd done it to pray for William's safety and good fortune.

But today, it finally hit me.

He didn't deserve it.

A servant had just taken down the prayer charm and was about to hand it to me when Martha suddenly raised her voice.

"Mother Whitney, my sister was supposed to be the Whitney family's bride. She may have passed, but even in death, she belongs to this family. Shouldn't Serena serve tea to her as well, according to tradition?"

"After all, the first wife is the wife. Anyone who comes after is just a concubine."

With that, a black-and-white memorial portrait was brought forward and placed on the chair like a throne.

Looking at Martha's face, a surge of fury rose inside me.

I shoved aside the scalding tea that had been placed in my hands again. The liquid splashed out and landed squarely on Martha's feet, turning the skin an angry red.

"Your sister had no title, and neither do you. At least a concubine is formally taken into the family. You're the only one who threw herself at the door uninvited."

I let out a cold laugh and turned to bark at the servant.

"Give me the prayer charm."

"Don't you dare!"

Martha stepped forward.

"Who do you think you are, insulting me and my sister? I bet you're the one who killed her. Why else would William have married you?!"

I fixed her with a glare.

"How your sister died—don't tell me you don't know."

Martha instinctively glanced back at Jemima. The older woman's composure cracked, panic bleeding into anger.

"You cheap little tramp, what kind of filth are you spewing?!"

In the chaos that followed, Martha suddenly lurched backward, one hand snatching my sleeve. Her weight dragged me forward, and together we sent the memorial portrait crashing to the floor.

Shards of glass sliced into my arm. The photograph Martha had screamed about losing earlier that day tumbled out and landed right at my feet.

Before I could react, Martha had already thrown herself into William's arms, sobbing hysterically.

"See?! I told you Serena stole my sister's photo! I've heard there are witches on the mainland—she was probably trying to curse her!"

"And now she's destroyed the portrait too! Everyone was right. Serena killed my sister, and now she wants to kill me and Mother Whitney too!"

I lifted my head and met William's eyes. They were dark. Bottomless.

He spoke one word at a time, each one deliberate.

"Make her kneel. Full ceremonial bow."

Two people seized me by the arms and forced me down, grinding both knees into the broken glass. Over and over, they pressed my forehead to the floor.

I didn't know how long it lasted.

Finally, I heard William's voice.

"Do you understand what you did wrong?"

I clenched my teeth and said nothing.

The yellowed prayer charm lay discarded on the ground. I groped for it blindly and closed my fingers around it.

I staggered to my feet.

"Where do you think you're going?"

William frowned.

"Home."

He assumed I meant his home. Relief softened his expression. For once in his life, it occurred to him that he was about to be a father.

"You have a prenatal checkup tomorrow. Don't forget. I'll come back early tonight."

Then, lowering his voice, he added, "Martha loved her sister very much. You really went too far this time."

I ignored his shifting moods—hot one moment, cold the next.

Step by step, I walked out of the Whitney estate.

I hailed a cab and told the driver to take me to the harbor.

William didn't come home that night. He sent someone over with a pot of herbal soup.

The next day, he took Martha to the hospital for her burn.

The day after that, they watched the sunset together.

The fourth day. The fifth.

William brought Martha to a nightclub for drinks. One of his buddies was flipping through an entertainment magazine on the table.

He took one look and broke into a sleazy grin.

"Whitney, your wife went back to the mainland to visit family? How'd she end up in a tabloid?"

William didn't pay much attention.

His friend grew impatient, spreading the magazine open and shoving it in front of him.

"Look for yourself if you don't believe me!"

William gave it a careless glance—and couldn't look away.