"You're doing this on purpose. Playing the victim for sympathy."

"Since you love playing the victim so much, I'll give you what you deserve. Effective immediately, you're demoted."

The moment Marcia finished snapping at me, she spun on her heel and left without a backward glance. She walked fast, as if every second away from Edward put him in mortal danger.

I raised my hand and touched the spot where she'd struck me. A thin line of blood welled up where her freshly manicured nails had broken the skin.

They always said it on TV, and now I knew it was true. Even the deepest love couldn't withstand the grinding of time. Sooner or later, two people who once adored each other could look at one another and feel nothing but disgust.

The whispers around the office came in waves.

"He's got it rough. Married into a rich family, and even if he never intended to climb the social ladder, the world slapped that label on him anyway."

"What Ms. Harding did was cold-blooded. An employee who works himself to the bone can't compete with some guy who knows how to bat his eyes and play helpless."

"All over a cup of coffee. She shredded the contract he busted his back to land, and then demoted him on top of it."

"If I were him, I'd divorce her too."

Hearing the gossip, I felt none of the old frustration, none of the familiar ache.

Because I was done with Marcia. The divorce I'd demanded wasn't a bluff.

I slipped out quietly through the tide of murmurs.

Carl Fox, the closest thing I had to a real friend here, stepped forward and slung an arm around my shoulder. "Hey, man. You okay?"

"Let's just walk out together. We don't have to take this crap."

I let out a bitter laugh. "Walk out? You?"

"You've got your parents to take care of and kids to feed. Jobs aren't exactly falling from the sky right now. Stay, keep your head down, and earn your paycheck."

I went back to my office. The second the door clicked shut, my eyes burned red.

I'd only had the promotion for a few days. The chair hadn't even warmed up, and she was already pushing me out.

My mother was lying in a hospital bed. She needed money for treatment. The thought had barely formed when my phone buzzed in my pocket. The screen showed her attending physician's number.

"Mr. Stephens, you need to get to the hospital. Now."

"Your mother is insisting on being discharged. She says she doesn't want to be a burden to you anymore."

I didn't even stop to grab my things. I just ran.

When I pushed open the door to her room, her eyes were swollen and raw from crying. The moment she saw me, she quickly wiped the tears away and forced a smile onto her face.

"There you are, sweetheart."

"Mom's feeling so much better now. I can go home."

"Mom, don't lie to me. Your condition is getting worse. There's no way you can leave the hospital."

"Sweetheart, we have to face reality. Nobody knows my body better than I do."

"Just help me with the discharge paperwork, okay? I want to go home and cook you a proper meal."

"You silly boy. It's your birthday today!"

She reached up and cupped my face, her palm warm against skin hollowed out by too many sleepless nights.

Her eyes went red again.

In the end, I couldn't argue with her. I signed the papers and brought her home.

We stopped at the market on the way, and she and I loaded up on groceries. Half were dishes I loved. The other half were Marcia's favorites.

While she bustled around the kitchen, Mom kept calling Marcia. She'd been discharged today, and it was my birthday. She wanted the three of us to sit down together, like a real family.

But the calls never went through.

On the ninety-ninth attempt, someone finally picked up.

It was Edward.

"Oh, hey! Is that you, Everard?"

"Looking for Marcia? She's curled up on my shoulder, fast asleep. She looked so exhausted, I didn't have the heart to wake her."

My chest seized. Instinctively, I turned to look at my mother.

The phone was still on speaker, so my mother could hear everything.

But she didn't seem to be listening. She just kept smiling, bustling around the kitchen.

I quickly switched off the speaker and told Edward, "Could you please have your assistant pass along a message? When she wakes up, ask her to come home. My mother was discharged from the hospital today, and it's also my birthday. I'm hoping we can all sit down together."

"Sure thing, buddy. I'll definitely let her know."

He put a strange emphasis on the word definitely, almost giddy about it.

I didn't press him on why they'd been sleeping near each other. All I wanted was for Marcia to come home and spend some time with my mother. Just talk to her. Make her happy.

But after the food was ready, Marcia still hadn't come back.

My mother and I sat at the dining table and waited. One hour passed. Then another.

When the dishes went cold, my mother carried them back to the kitchen and steamed them hot again.

We waited deep into the night. The figure we kept hoping would appear in the doorway never came. Her phone was off. Our messages went unanswered.

"Mom, let's just eat."

"We don't need to wait anymore."

This time, she didn't argue.

"Alright. Let's eat."

She still wore that gentle smile, piling food onto my plate without stopping. I didn't know why, but a heavy sense of dread settled in my chest. My left eyelid wouldn't stop twitching.

Later that night, my mother pushed open my bedroom door. She was coughing as she tucked the blanket back around me. "This child. Kicking off his covers in his sleep. How am I supposed to stop worrying about you?"

I wasn't asleep. I hadn't slept at all.

She stood there watching me for a full hour before finally going back to her room.

The next morning, my mother—who had always been an early riser—didn't get up to make breakfast.

My heart lurched, pounding hard, as if I already knew I'd lost the most important thing in the world.

I walked to her room. She was still lying there.

Something felt wrong. I reached out and touched her hand.

The ice-cold skin stabbed into my palm like a blade. My legs buckled beneath me.

"Mom. Wake up."

Her eyes were shut tight, as though they would never open again. Panic tore through me. I pulled her upright, ready to rush her to the hospital, but then I saw the letter she'd left for me.

My dear boy, if you're reading this, your mother is already gone.

Everything between you and Marcia—I knew all of it.

My son, if living like this is too painful, let each other go. Go find your father.

I hope you can forgive me. I've already contacted your dad to come take you home.

Tears blurred my vision. The ink on the letter bled where they fell.

Then I heard noise outside the door.

"Everard, it's already ten o'clock and you haven't made breakfast?"

"Marcia, are you hungry? I can go in and cook something for you."

"See, you always know how to take care of me. Unlike some people who don't have a thoughtful bone in their body."

I set down the letter. I wiped the tears from my face. Then I walked out of the room, my expression carved from stone.

The first thing I saw was Marcia and Edward, their lips inches apart, about to kiss.

"If you two want to swap spit, take it outside. Don't defile my home."

I didn't want my mother's spirit to witness this. I wouldn't let it taint her passage to the next life.

"What the hell is wrong with you this early in the morning?"

Marcia spun around, seething, and grabbed the nearest object she could find to hurl at me.

I sidestepped it.

"Edward had something in his eye. I was just blowing it out for him." She crossed her arms. "Meanwhile, you're completely useless. All you do is throw jealous fits without lifting a finger. Edward and I both have low blood sugar. If we don't eat soon, we'll—"

"You want to eat? You have hands and feet. Use them."

My voice was cold. Colder than it had ever been.

If Marcia had possessed even a shred of decency, she would have come home yesterday to share that meal with us.

My mother was dead.

There was no reason left to tell her.

I walked in and gently wiped my mother's face, making sure she looked dignified for her final journey.

But when I stepped back out, I saw something in the soup tureen on the dining table. A turtle. A medium-sized turtle.

It was the birthday gift my mother had given me when I was a child. I'd raised it ever since.

I lost it. I charged over like a man possessed and got in Edward's face.

"What the hell did you put in that soup?"

Edward just smiled, all wide-eyed innocence. "Oh! It's a soft-shell turtle!"

"Marcia said she wanted soup, and I saw one in the tank on the balcony, so I just grabbed it and stewed it..."

Rage flooded my veins and drowned out every rational thought I had.

My fist connected with Edward's face. Then I kicked the dining table over.

Marcia screamed. Without a second thought, she hurled the bowl of hot soup at my back.

The scalding broth seared through my shirt and into my skin. My brow knotted tight, but I didn't make a sound.

"You psycho! You're an absolute lunatic!" she shrieked. "You just lash out and hit people whenever you feel like it!"

"Are you blind, Marcia? Does that look like a damn soft-shell turtle to you?" I roared. "That was my pet. My companion. The only friend I had through fifteen years of loneliness."

Marcia froze. It clearly hadn't occurred to her that Edward had actually stewed my turtle.

"Is he really that stupid? He can't tell the difference between a turtle and a soft-shell?"

Her tone softened. "Alright, alright. It's just a turtle. Go buy another one."

A bitter laugh clawed its way up my throat. Just a turtle. It wasn't just a turtle. It was the last living thing my mother had given me. The last piece of her I had left.

She'd already ripped my heart out by betraying me. And now she stood there defending the man who'd killed my pet.

"Get out," I said. "Both of you. Get out of my house."

"I'll have a lawyer draw up the divorce papers."

Marcia hadn't planned on leaving, but the hatred burning in my eyes must have convinced her I'd kill Edward if they stayed. She grabbed him and hurried out.

At the door, she turned back. "My father's birthday is the day after tomorrow. You will be at the Harding estate on time. Dress properly. Don't embarrass me."

She paused. "And as for the divorce, that's not happening."

After they left, I grabbed a can of air freshener and sprayed every corner of the apartment, desperate to erase any trace of them.

David Harding had never thought much of me. At every birthday banquet, he went out of his way to make that clear. No greeting. A seat shoved in the farthest corner. Barbed remarks disguised as small talk.

It didn't matter that I'd poured everything I had into Harding Corp. I never earned so much as a nod of approval from that man.

To him, I was a nobody. A commoner who had no business setting foot in the Harding household. He'd even declared that any children Marcia and I had would carry the Harding name, not mine.

Two days later, I brought my mother's ashes home from the crematorium.

I'd just changed into mourning clothes, preparing to keep vigil, when a group of men barged in and seized me. They didn't give me a chance to struggle. They pinned my arms and dragged me out the door.

I didn't realize where they were taking me until we arrived.

The Harding estate. The birthday banquet.

And I was wearing mourning white from head to toe.

Anyone with half a brain would think I'd done it on purpose. Showing up to a birthday celebration dressed for a funeral was as good as cursing the old man to die.

Sure enough, every head in the room turned. I became the center of attention for all the wrong reasons.

Marcia and David Harding spotted me at the same time. Their faces darkened like storm clouds rolling in.

Marcia stormed over and slapped me across the face. "Are you determined to humiliate this family? Is that it?"

Harding relatives hurled their glasses at me, shouting for me to get out.

David Harding's voice cut through the noise. "I'm not even dead yet and you're already trying to jinx me?"

He slammed his palm on the table. "Someone break his legs."

"And rip that cursed rag off him."

Marcia didn't spare me another glance. She turned her back and let the security guards close in, their fists and boots finding me again and again.