The bracelet looked exactly like the one I broke.Lena picked it up and said solemnly, "Zara, this is our Moyer family's heirloom. Your grandmother gave it to me, and now, I'm passing it on to you. You must continue this tradition.""Did Grandma leave a pair of these bracelets?" I asked, feeling more confused than ever. It looked too familiar."No, just one," she replied.That didn't make sense at all."But wasn't that one broken? I even married Winston to repay the cost of that priceless bracelet, and I was planning to have a kid to pay off the debt. How is there another one now?" I muttered.I couldn't help but wonder if the supposed debt wasn't genuine and if I had spent the whole time repaying something that didn't exist. Lena's carefully crafted expression showed signs of cracking as she gave a forced smile. "Well, it turns out your dad made that one from the bottom of a beer bottle to fool any potential thieves. Our heirloom is so valuable that if it were lost, our ancest
Allen and Lena were over the moon, flooding all social media platforms with the joyous news as if the Moyer family were the only ones capable of having twins. They each held a baby, their smiles so wide they could hardly be contained.Winston, my dear husband, stayed by my bedside, his eyes red and tearful as he kept asking if I was still in pain. He vowed never to have more children, expressing that if he had known the extent of pain I would have to endure during childbirth, he would never have put me through it as he couldn't bear to see me suffer.He initially grumbled about not liking the two little troublemakers who had caused me so much pain. However, the next moment, he was holding both of them, his eyes filled with delight as he said that our daughter resembled him and our son resembled me.It was the beginning of autumn, and the midday sun shone warmly on me, casting a golden glow on Winston's hair. It made him look lively and charming. At that moment, I realized that r
Queenie never had any grand aspirations for wealth or status. For her, happiness meant being with me, living a simple life with a nine-to-five job, earning a modest salary, and residing in a modest home. She cherished the small joys of life, like shopping for discounted vegetables and meat at the market and cooking a simple yet delicious meal together at home.She often told me that her happiness came from being with me as a person and not about the Hayes family. However, I was born into the Hayes family. From a young age, I carried the weight of my parents' expectations on my shoulders. As a member of the Hayes family, I didn't have the luxury of living the life I wanted. My education, hobbies, future, and dreams were all predetermined by my family's needs and ambitions.The Hayes family was vast, with countless relatives. My grandpa favored my young uncle, making my dad's position seem insignificant.The family business was enormous, and entrusting it to my inexperienced uncle
My mom proved to be even more ruthless than my dad. She found me, dropped to her knees without a word, and begged me. She reminded me of the years they had spent raising me, pleading that I ensure they wouldn't be left without a sense of security in their old age.In essence, they were pressuring me to abandon everything. I was to pursue money and power for their sake, secure the Hayes family's head position, and ensure our grip on wealth and influence. Their priority was maintaining their luxurious, elevated lifestyle. My happiness, my desires—whether I even wanted those things—meant nothing to them. Sometimes, it felt like I was nothing more than a tool for achieving their ambitions.My dad told me bluntly that he would go after Queenie if I didn't comply. He said, "You're right. I'm incapable of outmaneuvering your uncle. But no matter how incompetent I am, I can easily make Queenie's life in Harveyton unbearable."To be honest, that day was the coldest my heart had ever felt
Yesterday afternoon, my dad called and demanded that I make a decision within two days, or they would take action.I felt cornered because I genuinely didn't know how to talk to Queenie about this. The mere idea of her packing her belongings and leaving, accompanied by the unspeakable anguish it would inflict upon me, was a burden too heavy to bear.I wasn't sure if I could ever have a semblance of normality in my life again after that.So, I gathered some friends to drink with me. I drank heavily because I had made a decision—a disgraceful, heartless decision. The thought of what I would have to face the next day made life seem hopeless, so I drank even more.Before losing consciousness, I handed my car keys to my assistant, using my last bit of clarity to tell him to take me home no matter what state I was in.Even if it meant returning to the Hayes family's residence, he should not leave me out on the streets. Despite the imminent breakup, I wanted to part ways with Queenie in
I grabbed a brush from the bathroom and scrubbed myself furiously, desperate to wash away the overwhelming sense of filth. Even as the rough bristles tore into my skin, drawing blood and causing searing pain, I felt no closer to feeling clean.My mind was consumed with thoughts of Queenie and the nearly five years we had spent together—the happy moments, the arguments, every single memory.At that moment, I realized I was terrified. Never before had I experienced such abject fear. Knowing Queenie's uncompromising stance on love and fidelity, I knew she would never forgive me once she discovered my transgression.She would undoubtedly turn and leave, heedless of any pleas I might make. I probably wouldn't even have the courage to ask for her forgiveness in the face of her justified anger.I regretted everything. If I had listened to my friends and taken Queenie away from all this, none of this would have happened. But I had hesitated. Even now, I couldn't be certain if my hesitati
We both knew the truth—neither of us could cross the chasm that had formed between our hearts.After that, I went home almost every day. We managed to maintain a semblance of normalcy in our day-to-day lives. We prepared sumptuous dinners and tended to our garden. I even considered adopting a pet to keep Queenie company while I was away.However, no matter how hard we tried, we couldn't rekindle the warmth we had once shared. Queenie hardly smiled anymore. No matter what I did to cheer her up, she would only give a half-hearted smile, her eyes remaining cold and distant.I knew something had transpired during our separation, but she refused to discuss it. My attempts to uncover the truth through private investigators were in vain. Any evidence had been meticulously erased.Eventually, I realized Queenie was simply biding her time, waiting for the moment when she would be forced to relinquish all hope and leave.A month later, my mother joyfully told me that Daniela was pregnant an
I clenched my fists, barely resisting the urge to rush over to Queenie's side. All I wanted was to embrace her and whisper assurances that I would protect her, always. But I knew I had no right to do so.My dad's threat hung heavy in my mind, and the stares of Daniela and her mother bore into Queenie like daggers. One wrong move or word and those blades would descend upon Queenie, cutting her to shreds.The pain was unbearable. I felt sorry for Queenie. I was powerless and couldn't help her. With all my heart, I wished for her to stay strong and survive. She deserved better than me. Daniela's mother slapped Queenie, calling her a whore and a homewrecker, accusing her of seducing other people's boyfriends.Queenie stood rigidly, her gaze filled with humiliation. Her lips trembled, and the light in her eyes gradually faded.I winced in agony but held myself together, picking up Daniela and walking away.Countless times afterward, I berated myself for choosing to take Daniela away