I was a supposedly penniless orphan, desperate for a family's love.

When Aiden Hayes saved me from a drunken attacker, he became my entire world, promising to protect me forever.

I worked three jobs and gave him $5 million to fund his company, and on our wedding eve, I thought I was the luckiest woman alive.

Until I woke up to find my waist-length hair shaved off by Aiden, just to comfort his "sister" Zaria who had cut hers.

"Now the ugly duckling won't outshine you at the wedding," Aiden whispered to Zaria as they stood over my bed.

He publicly declared that Zaria's happiness meant more than my dignity, warning me not to throw a tantrum.

From then on, whenever Zaria wanted something, he took it from me.

Whenever his mother humiliated me, he demanded I apologize.

I packed my bags in silence and canceled the wedding behind his back.

But shortly before the big day, I accidentally overheard their true plan in the living room.

"Once we're married, I'll transfer her company shares to you," Aiden's voice echoed coldly.

"Do you think she suspects anything?" Zaria giggled in his arms.

"She's an orphan with nothing but me! She won't dare leave."

"That's exactly why I crashed that car three years ago!"

***

My scalp froze, exposed to the biting air of the bedroom.

I reached up, my fingers meeting sharp, prickly stubble where eight years of waist-length hair used to be.

Aiden stood at the foot of the bed, the silver shears in his grip catching the dim hallway light.

"What did you do?" I asked. My voice came out hollow, stripped of panic.

"Don't overreact, Mazie," Aiden said. He lowered the scissors but made no move to hide them. "It's just hair. It grows back."

I looked down at the pillow.

Thick, dark ropes of my hair lay scattered across the white silk. They looked like dead snakes, severed and tossed aside.

"You shaved my head while I slept."

"Zaria is devastated," he shot back, taking a step closer to the mattress. "She had to cut hers for the surgery. She's been crying for hours in the guest room. She felt like a freak."

"So you made me one?"

"I leveled the playing field." He tossed the shears onto the nightstand. The heavy metal clattered across the wood. "Now she doesn't have to feel alone. You're my fiancée. You should be willing to make a sacrifice for her."

I ran a trembling hand over my bare skull. The cold sank straight into my skin.

"A sacrifice," I repeated.

I pushed the blankets back and stood up. The hardwood floor chilled my bare feet.

"Just last month, I wired five million dollars into your failing accounts," I said, holding his gaze. "I worked eighty-hour weeks for six years to build that portfolio. I emptied every trust, every savings fund I had to pull your tech firm out of bankruptcy."

Aiden flinched, his jaw tightening. "Keep your voice down."

"I bought your company's survival with my life savings," I continued, stepping toward him. "And you repay me by taking a razor to my head in the dark?"

"Money has nothing to do with this!" He pointed a finger at my face. "Zaria lost her identity today. I did what I had to do to prove she is still beautiful."

"By mutilating me."

"It's just keratin, Mazie. Grow up."

He didn't even look guilty. He looked annoyed.

The bedroom door creaked open, the sound slicing through the tense silence.

Zaria stood in the frame. She wore Aiden's oversized gray sweater, the sleeves hanging well past her fingertips. A choppy, uneven bob framed her tear-stained face. She walked farther into the room, stepping squarely on a clump of my severed hair. She didn't even look down.

"Aiden?" she whimpered, clutching the doorframe. "Are you guys fighting? I heard yelling."

"We're not fighting," Aiden said.

His tone softened instantly. The harsh, defensive lines of his face vanished as he rushed to her side, wrapping a protective arm around her shoulders.

"Everything is fine, Z," he whispered.

Zaria looked past him. Her wide doe eyes landed on my bald head.

She gasped, slapping both hands over her mouth.

"Oh my god, Mazie!" she cried. "Why did you do that? You loved your hair!"

I stared at her.

The sheer audacity of her performance left me numb. I didn't scream. I didn't throw the heavy brass lamp sitting on the dresser. I just watched her play the victim in the crime she undoubtedly orchestrated.

"He cut it," I said. "For you."

"Aiden, no!" Zaria pushed his chest, tears spilling over her pale cheeks. "Tell me you didn't force her! I never asked for this!"

"She agreed to it," Aiden lied smoothly, rubbing circles on Zaria's back. "She wanted to support you."

"I didn't," I said.

Aiden shot me a lethal glare. "Shut up, Mazie."

"I won't shut up," I replied, crossing my arms. "You drugged my tea, didn't you? That's why I slept so heavily."

Aiden stiffened. "You were stressed. I gave you a mild sedative to help you rest. It was for your own good."

"You sedated me so you could assault me."

"Stop using words like assault!" he barked. "I gave you a haircut! Zaria is going through hell, and you are making this all about yourself!"

Zaria buried her face in his shoulder, sobbing harder. "I ruin everything. I should just leave."

"You're not going anywhere," Aiden told her. He kissed the top of her choppy hair.

My phone buzzed on the mattress, vibrating against the scattered locks of my own hair.

I walked over and picked it up.

The screen lit up with a message from an unsaved international number.

Message read: Flight AF023 to Paris confirmed. First Class. Your family is waiting for you, Mazie. We're so sorry we lost you.

My biological parents.

The wealthy French aristocrats who had spent twenty years searching for their missing daughter. The private investigator had handed me the DNA results three days ago. I had hesitated to reply. I thought I had a life here in New York. I thought I had a man who loved me, a wedding to plan, a home to build. I had ignored their calls because I wanted to stay with Aiden.

What an absolute joke.

I looked at Aiden, who was currently wiping Zaria's tears with his thumb.

I tapped the screen.

Reply sent: I'll be on that flight.

All the remaining anger evaporated from my chest, leaving behind a crisp, hollow clarity. The man standing in front of me was not my future. He was a parasite.

I locked my phone and slipped it into my pajama pocket.

"I want you both out of my bedroom," I said.

Aiden scoffed. "Don't act like a martyr. You can wear a wig until the wedding."

"There won't be a wedding."

Aiden froze. Zaria stopped crying for one measured beat.

"Excuse me?" Aiden demanded.

"I am done, Aiden," I said, walking to the closet. I pulled out a small black duffel bag. "Keep the five million. Consider it the price of my freedom. But we are finished."

"You're being ridiculous!" He marched toward me, leaving Zaria by the door. "You're going to throw away a four-year relationship over a haircut?"

"I am throwing it away because you crossed a line," I said. "You violated my body while I was unconscious."

"Oh, stop being so dramatic!" He threw his hands up. "It's just hair! You're making it sound like I cut off an arm!"

"You took away my agency."

"I took away a few inches of dead cells to save my best friend's sanity!"

Zaria let out a loud, tragic sob, dropping to her knees.

"This is all my fault!" she wailed.

She scrambled across the floor, lunging toward the nightstand.

Her fingers wrapped around the silver scissors Aiden had dropped.

"Zaria, stop!" Aiden yelled.

She pressed the sharp blades against her own messy bob. "If Mazie hates me, then I'll shave mine completely too! It's the only way to make it fair! I refuse to let her leave you!"

She didn't actually squeeze the handles. She just held them there, waiting for him to react.

Aiden lunged across the room.

He snatched the scissors out of her hand, tossing them violently against the wall. The metal clattered to the floorboards.

He pulled Zaria into his chest, shielding her as if I were the one threatening her with a weapon.

Then, he slowly turned his head toward me.

Thick blue veins bulged against the pale skin of his hand as he gripped Zaria's shoulder, his eyes locking onto mine with absolute, murderous fury.

"Look at what you drove her to do," Aiden snarled.

"She held a pair of closed scissors near her ear," I pointed out, my voice flat. "She didn't even squeeze the handles."

"Because I stopped her!"

He kicked the discarded shears across the floorboards. The metal spun and hit the baseboard with a sharp clink.

"You're a cold, heartless bitch," he said.

"I am the one missing half my hair," I replied.

"I thought you had a shred of empathy." He tightened his grip on Zaria, pressing her closer to his chest. "She is losing her hair to an illness. You can't even spare a few inches without staging a massive tantrum."

"You sedated me and shaved my head in the dark," I said. "That's not a tantrum. That's a crime."

"Call the cops, then!" he shouted, his voice echoing off the walls. "Tell them I gave my fiancée a haircut so my sick best friend wouldn't feel like a monster. See who they side with."

"I don't need the cops," I said. "I just need you out."

"Gladly." Aiden scooped Zaria into his arms.

Zaria buried her face in his neck. "Aiden, I'm so sorry," she whimpered. "I ruin everything."

"You ruin nothing," he whispered, his tone shifting instantly to comfort her.

He carried her out into the hallway.

"Don't expect me to apologize tomorrow," he called back over his shoulder.

"I won't be here tomorrow," I said.

The heavy oak door slammed shut.

I walked to the corner, picked up the small plastic dustpan, and knelt on the hardwood floor.

I swept the dark clumps of my hair into a neat pile. My hands didn't shake. My chest felt entirely hollow. I dumped the remnants of my eight-year effort into the trash can, tying the plastic bag in a tight knot.

I walked into the bathroom and stared at the mirror.

Uneven, jagged patches of scalp stared back at me. I ran my fingers over the rough stubble. A strange sense of liberation washed over me. The girl who had bent over backward to please Aiden was gone, sheared away with the locks in the trash.

I walked back to the bedroom, sat on the edge of the mattress, and unlocked my phone.

A string of notifications illuminated the screen. My Twitter icon showed ninety-nine plus mentions.

I tapped the app.

Zaria's profile sat at the very top of my feed. She had uploaded a video an hour ago, right before Aiden slipped the sedative into my chamomile tea.

The location tag read: Maple Street Cafe.

I pressed play.

The camera panned up to the sprawling branches of the old oak tree outside the cafe. Then, it flipped to show Zaria and Aiden sitting side by side. Aiden laughed, wiping a smudge of powdered sugar off Zaria's cheek.

"Some things never change," Zaria's voice chirped through the tiny speaker. "Childhood sweethearts forever."

I scrolled down to the caption.

True love always wins against the corporate bankroll. Some people think money can buy a ring, but it can't buy history.

The comments section was a war zone.

User @ZariaFan99: That Mazie girl is such a homewrecker. You and Aiden belong together!

User @TechBro22: She literally bought his company just to force him to date her. Total psycho behavior.

User @ZariaLove: I heard Mazie threw a fit because Aiden spent an hour at the hospital with Zaria today. What a toxic third party.

Zaria had replied to that last comment with a single, sad-face emoji.

"Childhood sweethearts," I murmured to the empty room.

I stared at Aiden's smiling face on the screen.

"I'll always protect you," he had promised me eight years ago.

A drunk senior had cornered me against the bleachers at the university freshman gala. Aiden had shoved the guy backward, shielding me with his own body.

"I guess I am the threat now," I said aloud.

I didn't type out a defense. I didn't block the accounts.

I took three quick screenshots, capturing the video, the caption, and the replies. I saved them to a secure cloud folder labeled Legal.

Then, I tapped the heart icon on Zaria's post.

I dialed the unsaved international number from my messages.

A woman answered on the second ring. "Hello? Is this Mazie?"

"Yes," I said. "I am confirming my seat on the flight."

"Oh, thank heavens!" The woman's voice cracked with emotion. "Your mother has been weeping since we got your text. We'll have a car waiting at Charles de Gaulle. Do you need us to arrange anything else?"

"Just the car," I said.

"Are you traveling alone, dear? The investigator mentioned a fiancé."

"I am traveling alone," I said, standing up. "The engagement is off."

"I am so sorry to hear that. Should we involve our legal team to handle any shared assets?"

"I already have a lawyer drafting the separation of my investments from his company," I replied. "He won't see another dime."

"Excellent. We'll ensure your privacy upon arrival. Your father is eager to meet you."

"I look forward to it," I said.

"Safe travels, Mazie."

"Thank you."

I hung up and walked into the walk-in closet.

I grabbed my black duffel bag and unzipped it. I pulled my silk blouses from their hangers, folding them in swift, efficient squares. I ignored the row of white dresses I had bought for the upcoming bridal showers.

I needed my passport.

I usually kept it in the small safe behind Aiden's winter coats.

I pushed his heavy wool trenches aside. A thick gray overcoat slipped off its hanger, tumbling to the carpeted floor.

I bent down to pick it up.

A folded piece of glossy paper slipped out of the side pocket.

I unfolded it.

It was a medical printout.

The black-and-white image showed a grainy, peanut-shaped curve.

Patient Name: Zaria Dawson.

Date: October 14.

The bold text at the top of the page read: Obstetric Ultrasound - 8 Weeks.

I stared at the black-and-white image. Eight weeks.

The betrayal was not just emotional anymore. It was physical. Aiden had slept with Zaria two months ago, right around the time I was finalizing the buyout for his failing tech firm. I had spent my nights crunching numbers to save his legacy, while he spent his nights in her bed.

I crumpled the glossy paper into a tight ball. I tossed it into the trash can next to the plastic bag holding my severed hair.

The heavy oak front door clicked open.

Heavy footsteps echoed down the hallway.

"Mazie? Where are you hiding?"

Lucia.

Aiden's mother marched into the living room. She wore a tailored crimson pantsuit and thick-soled designer boots. She didn't bother to wipe her feet. Clumps of wet dirt tracked across the hardwood floor I had spent an hour mopping yesterday.

"You're leaving a mess," I said, walking out of the bedroom.

Lucia scoffed, crossing her arms. "I am your future mother-in-law. You should be offering me tea, not criticizing my footwear. You've absolutely no manners."

"I am not making you tea."

"Excuse me?" Lucia narrowed her eyes, stepping closer. She looked at my bare, jagged scalp and let out a sharp, mocking laugh. "Aiden told me about your little tantrum. He said you shaved your own head just to make Zaria feel guilty. You look ridiculous."

"He told you I did it?"

"Don't play the victim. You're always trying to steal the spotlight from that poor, sick girl." Lucia waved a dismissive hand. "Anyway, I came here to settle the wedding party details. Zaria is devastated by your childish behavior today. To make it up to her, she will be your only bridesmaid."

I stared at her.

"You want my fiancé's pregnant mistress to be my only bridesmaid?" I asked.

Lucia blinked. Her smug expression faltered for one measured beat. "What nonsense are you spewing?"

"I found the ultrasound in Aiden's coat. Eight weeks."

"Oh, please." Lucia recovered quickly, adjusting her diamond collar necklace. "Men have needs. You work eighty-hour weeks. You neglected him. If Zaria is carrying my grandchild, that's a blessing. You'll still get the ring, so stop complaining."

I let out a dry, humorless laugh.

"There's no ring," I said. "And there's no wedding."

Lucia's face turned red. "You can't cancel the wedding! The invitations are already sent. The deposits are paid."

"Then you can marry him," I said. "Or Zaria can. I don't care. If you are so unhappy with my manners, go get a new daughter-in-law."

"You ungrateful brat," Lucia spat. "After everything we have done to welcome you into this family."

"Welcome me?" I stepped forward, closing the distance between us. "Three years ago, I worked three jobs to buy Aiden his first car. Zaria took it for a joyride and crashed it into a tree. Do you remember what you said at the hospital?"

Lucia clamped her mouth shut.

"You didn't ask how I felt about losing twenty thousand dollars," I continued, my voice rising. "You asked if Zaria was startled. You told me to stop crying over metal when she had a bruised wrist."

"She was fragile!" Lucia shouted.

"She is a parasite, and so are you."

Lucia raised her hand, her palm flying toward my face.

I caught her wrist mid-air.

Her eyes widened in shock.

I shoved her backward with both hands.

Lucia stumbled over her thick-soled boots. She flailed, her arms pinwheeling before she collapsed onto the beige sofa.

Her crimson suit bunched up around her waist.

She scrambled into a sitting position, her face twisted in pure rage.

"You just wait!" Lucia roared, pointing a shaking finger at my chest. "Tomorrow Aiden will have you on your knees apologizing to Zaria!"