Elden Ring

Ten days before the wedding, my fiancée spent over a hundred million to buy Marcus Collins a luxury yacht. So, I silently threw away the matching rings I had once planned to give her. Seven days before the wedding, she spent 50 million dollars to celebrate Marcus' birthday. Thus, I set fire to the photo album that held every memory of our past. Three days before the wedding, she wore the ring I had used to propose, and she kissed him deeply by the sea. Today, I finally chose to step aside. I notified our families and friends that the wedding was canceled, and I personally returned the engagement tokens to the Yardley family. Lowering my head, I said softly, "Mr. and Mrs. Yardley…I've always known I'm not worthy of Claire. I hope you can understand."

Every April Fools’ Day, Wilson Hale and Chloe Mercer turned our anniversary into a joke. A fake proposal. A trick ring. A room full of laughter. And every year, Wilson was sure I loved him too much to leave. This year, cake cream slid down my face, my ring hit the marble floor, and he still smiled like I would forgive him by morning. He forgot one thing. I was not Vivian Gray, the lonely girl with nowhere to go. I was Vivian Vescari, daughter of the most feared mafia family on the East Coast. I had left that world because I wanted to be loved before anyone knew my name. For six years, I thought Wilson was that man. Then I learned even his first confession had been an April Fools’ bet. So I stopped being the joke. I went home.

[WARNING: MATURE CONTENT] Being the third party in a relationship cuts deeper than any blade ever could. I watch him glorify her, obsess over her, pour every ounce of his devotion into someone who will never be his wife. The bitter irony tastes like poison on my tongue. I deserve that consuming passion, that unwavering dedication. After all, I'm the one who wears his ring, bears his name, shares his bed. Yet when he looks at me, there's nothing. Just cold, empty indifference. "You are nobody to me." His words echo through my memory like a death knell. "It's impossible for me to care about you. The only person I want isn't here because of you." The marriage was nothing more than a business transaction. I realized this truth far too late.

After being in love with Dylan for seven years, I planned to propose to him at his birthday party. But then I overheard him speaking to his friend in Italian: "You like Lydia? I'll give her to you. I'm tired of her anyway. Sarah is better—she's a dancer, young and sexy." He thought I couldn’t understand, but he didn’t know that I had learned Italian for him. I threw away the ring I had designed for him, tore apart the wedding suit I had sewn and left. Our friends were all speculating how long it would take before I came back. Dylan sneered with disdain, "She’s just an orphan with no family. Where could she go without me? Three days at most." But to his surprise, I never returned and found a new home.

When Matthew Sinclair accused me of selling company secrets, I expected my girlfriend to stand by me. Instead, Selena Oxford told me to apologize. To the man who framed me. That was the moment I understood that trust was not something you pleaded for. You either had it, or you did not. I resigned the same day, cut every tie, left a ring on the table that she would never wear, and walked out of her life without looking back. I believed we would never cross paths again. Eight years later, at a black-tie banquet, Selena spotted me across the crowd. I was dancing with another woman, moving through the room as if I belonged there. In front of everyone, now known as a corporate powerhouse, she met my gaze with red-rimmed eyes and asked, "Was it for her? Is that why you left me eight years ago?"

The year I was at my poorest, I impersonated my sister to take care of her blind fiancé in exchange for one hundred thousand dollars. On the day he regained his sight, I left without a word. When we met again, it was during a business interview. I was a nameless intern reporter. He had returned to his rightful status as the heir of the influential Hughes family. During the interview, the host asked, "We’ve heard that during your illness, your fiancée, Miss Dawson, stayed by your side through thick and thin. The two of you are about to get married?" He lifted his hand slightly, revealing a ring, and his lips curled into a faint smile. "Yes, we’re getting engaged soon." Yet, his gaze, through the lens of his glasses, landed—intentionally or not—on me, standing in the corner.

Selina Morrison was a Tomboy to the bones. She was repulsed by men but not until she met Brian Rivers. Brian swung into her life like a knight and melted down the walls of her cold heart. Selina couldn’t help falling in love with him. She gave up her fortune just to be with him and helped him rise to a prestigious CEO. After three years when Selina was expecting Brian to sweep her off her feet and give her a ring, she walked into a public scene of her boyfriend kissing another woman. That woman was her best friend. Torn by Brian’s and her friend's cruel betrayer, Selina swore off loving another man. She returned to a Die-hard tomboy and vowed revenge on Brian. But what if bedding the hot sexy Billionaire Travis Scott, seems to be the only way to achieve the revenge she so much desired?

Today is my wedding day. When we reach the ring-swapping ceremony, my wife, Ariana Holmes, suspends the ceremony for three minutes, simply because a man has barged into the venue. He glares at Ariana darkly. "Ariana Holmes, you've tattooed my heart on your chest, yet now you're marrying another man? Are you forcing me to carve my heart out of your body?" As soon as his words fall, he lifted the blade in his hand. Realization dawns on me. It turns out that the heart tattooed on Ariana's chest isn't mine, but rather, her first love's. At that moment, Ariana, who was all docile and quiet earlier, shudders violently. She slides the ring onto my finger haphazardly before rushing toward Ivan Hatfield. "What the hell do you want from me, Ivan?"

On day ten of our cold war, Barry posted a pic—him and Lyla, locked in a kiss. His 'one true love.' I sent in my study abroad application without a word. At our grad party, he strolled in with Lyla, fingers laced with hers, looking at her with all his affection. A friend hesitated. "But what about Amelia? She loves you. You guys are getting married." Barry smirked. "She was just a stand-in. Now that Lyla's back, my fiancée should change too." So I slipped off the ring, handed it over, and disappeared. And he lost it. Tore through everything trying to find me. Years later, he finally did. Saw me with my husband, picking out baby supplies. His eyes went red. "Amelia, come back with me. Please?"

Unable to take it anymore, I upload a photo of my husband, Johann Garner, holding hands with his secretary, Eva Ford, to the company's group chat. A long while later, Johann finally replies, "It's just something we do when we're working together. Those who are vile in nature will always view things differently from others." Messages from his colleagues begin flooding the group chat immediately. They all discuss whether or not I'm delusional. But I'm the only one who knows just how skilled Johann is at manipulating others as an expert manipulator. After muting the group chat, I look down at the ring Johann has slipped onto my finger when he first proposed to me. When exactly can I escape from the prison he has built around me?