Chapter 1

That day, while waiting to pick up my daughter from school, a viral interview clip popped up on my phone.

A woman on the screen was smiling, bragging about how she had once convinced her boss not to rescue his kidnapped fiancée from the wilderness.

"It was good for her to suffer a bit," she said smoothly. "Otherwise, once she married into the family, who would be able to keep her in her place?"

In the video, her hand, with its bright red nails, brushed past her ring finger.

Inside the band of her ring was a tiny, custom wave pattern—a design I had handdrawn myself.

It turned out that behind my back, my husband had already hooked up with his secretary.

It turned out that the three days I spent kidnapped and terrified didn't even compare to one of his business deals.

My life was nothing compared to the profit in his eyes.

I didn't want to love Julian Vance anymore.

Vivian Sommers's POV

On my way to pick up Chloe from her afterschool art class, I saw a viral interview clip on TikTok.

The caption was eyecatching: What's the worst thing you've ever done but never admitted to?

The camera didn't show the woman's face. It only focused on her hand resting on the rim of a coffee cup. Her nails were painted a striking scarlet red.

She spoke in a casual, airy tone, as if she were telling a harmless story from the past.

"I used to work for this billionaire CEO."

"He had a fiancée. She came from a wealthy family and had a pretty fiery temper."

"Once, she was kidnapped and held in the mountains. My boss was right in the middle of signing a massive merger. I convinced him not to go save her right away."

"I told him, 'Let her suffer a bit. It'll humble her. Otherwise, how are you going to manage her once she wears your ring?'"

Someone in the studio let out a soft laugh, but the room quickly fell quiet.

The woman laughed too. "Who knew she was so fragile? She completely broke after that night. They had to send her to a private psychiatric facility, locked away for years. Looking back, I don't think I did anything wrong. If she hadn't gotten out of the way, I wouldn't be where I am today."

I pulled over at the intersection.

The wind was howling outside. Dead leaves scraped across my windshield.

I stared at the screen, my eyes locked on the ring on her finger.

That ring wasn't from a luxury brand.

I had drawn the sketch myself years ago.

Inside the band, there was a tiny, delicate wave pattern. I had designed it specifically for Julian to wear on our wedding day.

But that ring never made it to the altar. Instead, it ended up on Mila Hayes's finger.

The comment section was already in chaos.

Some called her evil, some demanded to know who the CEO was, and others dug up old news articles, remembering a highprofile kidnapping of a wealthy young heiress in Boston years ago.

I didn't click on those articles.

I already knew what was under those old headlines.

There would be photos of me running into Julian's press conference, wrapped in a dirty, torn coat. There would be pictures of the raw, unhealed bruises on my wrists and ankles. People would be speculating if I had lost my mind, wondering why I chose that exact day—Julian's biggest triumph—to ruin his moment.

Back then, I was a broken mess, while Julian stood under the bright lights, with a perfectly styled Mila standing right by his side.

Even after all these years, I still remembered the way he looked at me that day.

It wasn't pity.

It was embarrassment.

The car behind me honked loudly.

The light had turned green.

I tossed my phone onto the passenger seat and started the car.

As I turned the corner, my phone buzzed again.

A text from an unknown number popped up: Vivian, are you okay?

The only person who would call me that had lost the right to ask that question a long time ago.

I deleted the message and parked in front of the art school.

Chloe ran out with her little backpack bouncing on her shoulders, her cheeks flushed, holding a drawing tightly in her hand.

"Mommy! I drew the wind today!"

I knelt down to catch her in my arms, smiling. "How do you draw the wind, sweetie?"

Chloe nodded seriously. "You can! See, the trees are bending, and the girl's dress is flying. That means the wind is here."

I held her close.

Yes.

The wind is invisible, but it always leaves a mark.

Just like the past.

Chloe kept talking excitedly in the back seat about how one classmate drew a purple sun, and another drew a dog that looked like a potato.

I listened quietly, watching her in the rearview mirror.

A child's world is so small. A single piece of paper is their entire sky.

Sometimes, I felt so grateful that Chloe didn't know how easily adults could lie about love, or how quickly they could throw you away.

My phone was on silent, but it kept vibrating inside my bag.

I didn't answer.

I used to rush to answer Julian's calls the very second they rang. I was always terrified of making him angry, terrified of him thinking I was spoiled, terrified of losing my chance to hear his explanation. But now, the phone was buzzing, and I could still drive, still pick up my daughter, and still put dinner on the table.

My world didn't end.

When we got home, Chloe taped her "wind" drawing to the fridge.

Looking at the crooked trees and the flying dress, I smiled.

If the wind had to blow, I hoped this time, it would blow the old dust far, far away.