4.

Callista

“Thief,” I spat. “You’re nothing but a goddamn thief.”

Her eyes went wide, that fake calm cracking for just a second, and I laughed “Now I get it,” I murmured to myself. “You got close to me to live my life.”

I let the chuckle roll off my tongue. “Enjoy your thirty seconds of triumph,” I said softly. She immediately pulled out her phone, her fingers trembling as she dialed the police, claiming intruders in her precious building.

I leaned back with my arms crossed. I knew I had them, every single one of them. Soon enough, the wannabe intruders would be arrested for playing their little power games.

Then Daelan stepped onto the balcony. My chest seized, lungs tightening, and I watched helplessly as he kissed her. His goddamn lips on her, right in front of me. I didn’t know when a single tear had escaped.

I looked down, pretending to tie my shoes while my entire world shattered in slow agony. It hurts. Fuck, it hurts so badly I can hardly breathe. But no one will see me break. Ego intact, I clamped down on the sob threatening to tear itself from my chest.

Then the police arrived. I pointed toward the balcony. “There is the witch andt the bastard who won’t let me into my own fucking home.”

“And what did they do?” They laughed. The bastard and the thief up there, mocking me. I could feel my teeth grinding until they hurt. I demanded they do their job but the officers turned toward me instead, and suddenly, cuffs were around my wrists.

My vision blurred. “What the actual fuck? I’m the intruder in my own home?” My voice was strangled with disbelief. “Is everyone high? Has the world gone completely insane?”

Elysia, my so-called best friend, that witch, she looked down at me with that smug little smirk and said, “Oh, did you forget? You transferred all your properties to him.”

My knees buckled and my heart, already bruised and bleeding, shattered completely.

My vision had been bad, but now the reality smashed me like a tidal wave. All those documents my husband had pressed into my hands over the years, telling me it was for business, for convenience… and I had signed every fucking one, trusting him blindly.

I screamed inside.

My life had been stolen under the guise of love. Worse, the bastard had filmed me signing everything, every signature captured on camera.

The police charged me with noise pollution as I bawled uncontrollably. The tears burned, blinding me, but no one cared. Elysia laughed, she laughed as I crumbled into nothing. My mind, usually sharp, now a foggy mess.

I stumbled through the ride, whispering to myself, voice raw: “I have nothing now… nothing. Why?”

Minutes later

I finally got out on bail, the faint hope that my brother might be my lifeline hit me. I called him, heart clinging to a fragile thread. But the moment his voice answered, the thread snapped.

“You called me to what?” he asked, cold as ice. “Don’t try to reach me or our parents anymore. I personally don’t want to associate myself with a loser.” I stared at the phone, knuckles white, nails biting into my palms. The family I had poured my heart, my soul, my money into, the people I protected, provided for now spat me out like garbage.

“Wait… what?” I rasped, voice trembling with disbelief and heartbreak all at once.

“They said the man who bailed you out… mysterious request,” my brother spat, no empathy, just a cold fact like a death sentence. “And honestly? You should’ve seen it coming. You’re nothing but a pawn in this fucked-up game.”

I collapsed onto the floor, my body shaking violently, tears streaming freely now. The weight of the world pressed down on me. The man I trusted, my so-called best friend, my own family, every corner of my life is poisoned by lies.

I whispered to the empty room, barely audible, “I have nothing. Absolutely nothing… and for what?”

My lungs burned as I screamed silently to the universe, but there was no one to hear.

Every memory, every smile, every promise of love shattered. My home, my sanctuary, even my own name, now weaponized against me. And as the night stretched, cold and merciless around me, I realized the truth.

I had nothing. I just wanted to forget about everything…. I looked up and my gaze met a bar I had always called unclassy and empty.

The next day

I woke up to the strange softness of silk against my skin and the faint scent of expensive cologne.

Sunlight slanted through massive floor-to-ceiling windows. Luxurious, yes. But unfamiliar. every surface screamed wealth I didn’t recognize, every detail velvet cushions, polished marble floors, an impossibly big bed was alien.

My head throbbed. My mouth tasted like regret, and whiskey. Slowly, memory began clawing its way through the fog in my brain. My own screams and the bitter, humiliating reality of being “the intruder in my own home.”

I tried to sit up. The sheets slid around me, silk smooth and suffocating. My body felt heavy, drunk in a way that had nothing to do with alcohol. I pressed a hand to my temple, trying to piece it together. I remembered staggering out after my release, chasing down the night with another bottle. My own reckless stupidity. My own need to feel something at least.

Panic curled in my stomach. I fumbled for my phone on the bedside table. It wasn’t there. I cursed, my voice hoarse. “Fuck… someone, anyone…”

Then I remembered: I had the internet. Desperate, shaking hands fumbled for the laptop across from the bed. My fingers hovered over the trackpad, and when the screen lit up, my blood ran cold.

A video was trending with millions of views and comments pouring in like acid.

I was kissing a stranger. My lips pressed to his, my memory came back in shards. The whiskey haze, the night, the words spilling out of my mouth: “Kiss me… at my husband’s wedding.”

I remembered the man. Tall, muscular, impossibly handsome, smirking at me like he already knew me better than I knew myself. I had leaned into him, reckless and desperate and let him… oh my

I pressed a hand to my mouth, eyes wide. “Oh God… I did that?” I tried to breathe, but the knot in my stomach made it impossible.

I flipped through the comments under the video, every single one a knife: “Who’s the lucky bastard?” “She’s insane!” “Fucking diva caught in the act.” “Callista…that bitch was cheating all along yet she acted innocent.” My stomach churned.

“You're awake?” A masculine voice ticked through me, making me melt and putting me on alert.