Juan Vaughan Gaughan

At the charity gala, my father handed the community center proposal I’d spent days building to my stepsister, Chloe. In front of everyone. The entire room applauded her. My husband, Liam, stood beside her, smiling as if they were the stars of the evening, not me. During intermission, Chloe came over with a glass of champagne and lowered her voice. “Ava, don’t look so sad.” “Even though you’re his wife, when he has to choose, he always chooses me.” In that moment, a wave of exhaustion washed over me. I didn’t want my father’s favoritism anymore. I didn’t want Liam anymore either. I looked at her, then at the man who was finally starting to panic. “If you want him that badly, he’s yours.” “Liam, my lawyer will contact you tomorrow.” That was it. From now on, I wouldn’t wait for anyone to choose me. ... At the Caldwell Foundation, the community center project was all anyone could talk about. Everyone knew my father had framed it as the final test for his successor. The office was buzzing with whispers. “Ava’s obviously more qualified. She went to Columbia for architecture, her résumé is impeccable. But the chairman clearly favors Chloe.” “Chloe’s better with donors. She’s a natural at these kinds of events.” “Then there’s Liam. Ava’s husband is on the board now, too. But I saw him having lunch with Chloe at The Modern last week. It didn’t look like a project meeting.” I walked past them with my coffee, and they fell silent, their gazes following me as I passed. My heart sank. A few hours later, I was summoned to my father’s study. Chloe was already there. She sat beside my father’s favorite armchair, looking completely at ease. My father tapped his fingers on the desk. “Ava, Chloe,” he said. “The board has approved the launch of the community center project. You will each prepare a proposal. At next month’s charity gala, the board and our guests will evaluate both.” After he spoke, he l......

At the charity gala, my father handed the community center proposal I’d spent days building to my stepsister, Chloe. In front of everyone. The entire room applauded her. My husband, Liam, stood beside her, smiling as if they were the stars of the evening, not me. During intermission, Chloe came over with a glass of champagne and lowered her voice. “Ava, don’t look so sad.” “Even though you’re his wife, when he has to choose, he always chooses me.” In that moment, a wave of exhaustion washed over me. I didn’t want my father’s favoritism anymore. I didn’t want Liam anymore either. I looked at her, then at the man who was finally starting to panic. “If you want him that badly, he’s yours.” “Liam, my lawyer will contact you tomorrow.” That was it. From now on, I wouldn’t wait for anyone to choose me. ... At the Caldwell Foundation, the community center project was all anyone could talk about. Everyone knew my father had framed it as the final test for his successor. The office was buzzing with whispers. “Ava’s obviously more qualified. She went to Columbia for architecture, her résumé is impeccable. But the chairman clearly favors Chloe.” “Chloe’s better with donors. She’s a natural at these kinds of events.” “Then there’s Liam. Ava’s husband is on the board now, too. But I saw him having lunch with Chloe at The Modern last week. It didn’t look like a project meeting.” I walked past them with my coffee, and they fell silent, their gazes following me as I passed. My heart sank. A few hours later, I was summoned to my father’s study. Chloe was already there. She sat beside my father’s favorite armchair, looking completely at ease. My father tapped his fingers on the desk. “Ava, Chloe,” he said. “The board has approved the launch of the community center project. You will each prepare a proposal. At next month’s charity gala, the board and our guests will evaluate both.” After he spoke, he l......

Blair, the woman Jax had never gotten over, was back in Texas after her divorce. Everyone was waiting to see me, the Mexican immigrant, get thrown out on the street. After all, I had spent seven years as the unofficial fiancée of Jax Caldwell, heir to one of Texas’s wealthiest oil families. I had even given him a son. But then, out of the blue, he proposed. I hadn't even had a moment to feel the joy before I overheard him on the phone with his family’s attorney. “Why not just wait for Blair?” the lawyer asked. Jax’s voice was pure ice. “Blair needs to maintain her dignity. I’ll marry Elara first. In two years, once she has her permanent green card, we can get a clean divorce. No financial entanglements.” “It’s the perfect solution.” The attorney sounded skeptical. “Will she agree to a sham marriage?” A low, soft laugh came through the phone. “Of course she will.” “For a green card? She doesn’t have a choice.” … I stood frozen outside the study, my blood turning to ice water in my veins. On the phone, the attorney hesitated. “Jax, are you sure about dipping into the portion of the family trust set aside for Blair? Isn't it a bit premature?” A whistle cut through the background—one of Jax’s friends, probably. “Hey, better watch out for Blair’s bankrupt ex-husband coming after you for cash.” Jax’s voice dropped, his tone an absolute warning. “Watch your mouth.” The other end of the line went silent. With a single sentence, he had shielded Blair’s honor. Meanwhile, I—his fiancée, the mother of his son—was nothing more than a commodity to be bought off with a green card. The attorney spoke again, steering the conversation back on track. “Are you certain Elara will accept this… temporary arrangement, and keep quiet for two years?” Jax gave another low laugh. I could picture him perfectly: leaning back in his leather chair, tapping the ash from a cigar like a king surveying his domain. “She will,” he said......

Blair, the woman Jax had never gotten over, was back in Texas after her divorce. Everyone was waiting to see me, the Mexican immigrant, get thrown out on the street. After all, I had spent seven years as the unofficial fiancée of Jax Caldwell, heir to one of Texas’s wealthiest oil families. I had even given him a son. But then, out of the blue, he proposed. I hadn't even had a moment to feel the joy before I overheard him on the phone with his family’s attorney. “Why not just wait for Blair?” the lawyer asked. Jax’s voice was pure ice. “Blair needs to maintain her dignity. I’ll marry Elara first. In two years, once she has her permanent green card, we can get a clean divorce. No financial entanglements.” “It’s the perfect solution.” The attorney sounded skeptical. “Will she agree to a sham marriage?” A low, soft laugh came through the phone. “Of course she will.” “For a green card? She doesn’t have a choice.” … I stood frozen outside the study, my blood turning to ice water in my veins. On the phone, the attorney hesitated. “Jax, are you sure about dipping into the portion of the family trust set aside for Blair? Isn't it a bit premature?” A whistle cut through the background—one of Jax’s friends, probably. “Hey, better watch out for Blair’s bankrupt ex-husband coming after you for cash.” Jax’s voice dropped, his tone an absolute warning. “Watch your mouth.” The other end of the line went silent. With a single sentence, he had shielded Blair’s honor. Meanwhile, I—his fiancée, the mother of his son—was nothing more than a commodity to be bought off with a green card. The attorney spoke again, steering the conversation back on track. “Are you certain Elara will accept this… temporary arrangement, and keep quiet for two years?” Jax gave another low laugh. I could picture him perfectly: leaning back in his leather chair, tapping the ash from a cigar like a king surveying his domain. “She will,” he said......

My daughter came home from her cub class and said to me, completely out of the blue, “Mommy, you should divorce Daddy.” I froze, the apron still in my hands. “Why?” Lily lifted her small, soft face to mine. “Because Daddy doesn’t love us,” she said quietly. “He only loves Ivan, and Ivan’s mom.” “You don’t say it, but I know.” “Last time, when Daddy got his year-end bonus, you wanted to sign me up for piano. But Aunt Vivian just had to cry, and Daddy sent all the money to her and Ivan instead.” “And on your birthday, Daddy had already ordered you that moonstone bracelet, but when Ivan threw a fit, he gave it to Vivian to make her feel better.” “He’s always kicking you out of the Blackwood pack-house group, too. Every single time, you have to beg him to add you back.” “If you’re only staying with him because of me, then… then I don’t want you to. I just want you to be happy.” I couldn’t hear the rest of what she said. The tears came first. The Blackwood pack-house group was the private chat for the Alpha's residence. His parents, his ex-wife, his heir—they were all in it. Even the housekeeper. Getting kicked out was a public declaration: you didn’t belong in the pack house. And I had been kicked out twenty-seven times. In five years of marriage, Adrian had never given me a claim mark, never acknowledged me as his Luna before the Moon Goddess. All I ever got was a placating, “Wait a little longer.” I had waited five years. That night, Lily ate the last roasted chicken leg—Ivan’s favorite—and Adrian kicked me out of the pack-house group for the twenty-eighth time. His message was cold. “When you’ve taught her to respect her elders and the future Alpha, I’ll add you back.” A few minutes later, Vivian posted a story, clearly timed for maximum effect. “Someone’s been living in the pack house for five years and still can’t hold her spot in the family chat. I wonder who?” I stared at the words, my stomach twis......

My daughter came home from her cub class and said to me, completely out of the blue, “Mommy, you should divorce Daddy.” I froze, the apron still in my hands. “Why?” Lily lifted her small, soft face to mine. “Because Daddy doesn’t love us,” she said quietly. “He only loves Ivan, and Ivan’s mom.” “You don’t say it, but I know.” “Last time, when Daddy got his year-end bonus, you wanted to sign me up for piano. But Aunt Vivian just had to cry, and Daddy sent all the money to her and Ivan instead.” “And on your birthday, Daddy had already ordered you that moonstone bracelet, but when Ivan threw a fit, he gave it to Vivian to make her feel better.” “He’s always kicking you out of the Blackwood pack-house group, too. Every single time, you have to beg him to add you back.” “If you’re only staying with him because of me, then… then I don’t want you to. I just want you to be happy.” I couldn’t hear the rest of what she said. The tears came first. The Blackwood pack-house group was the private chat for the Alpha's residence. His parents, his ex-wife, his heir—they were all in it. Even the housekeeper. Getting kicked out was a public declaration: you didn’t belong in the pack house. And I had been kicked out twenty-seven times. In five years of marriage, Adrian had never given me a claim mark, never acknowledged me as his Luna before the Moon Goddess. All I ever got was a placating, “Wait a little longer.” I had waited five years. That night, Lily ate the last roasted chicken leg—Ivan’s favorite—and Adrian kicked me out of the pack-house group for the twenty-eighth time. His message was cold. “When you’ve taught her to respect her elders and the future Alpha, I’ll add you back.” A few minutes later, Vivian posted a story, clearly timed for maximum effect. “Someone’s been living in the pack house for five years and still can’t hold her spot in the family chat. I wonder who?” I stared at the words, my stomach twis......

I was reborn on my eighteenth birthday. On the television, my father had his arm around my adopted sister, Savannah, telling voters that she had taught the Walton family what it meant to have a daughter. On camera, my adopted sister was the girl rescued from a low-income neighborhood, the most valuable asset in the family’s campaign machine. Off camera, I, his biological daughter, had already been erased from the family narrative. In my last life, it all started with this interview. Step by step, they forced me into the role of the “unstable problem child,” until they sent me to a behavioral correction center in Utah and I died in that blindingly white room. And for one chance to start over, I had traded away my ability to love them. I looked down at my wrist. The old scars were gone. A bitter smile touched my lips. The love was gone, too. They would never control me with family again. Time to start from the beginning. … “Eliza?” My brother, Ethan, the future face of the Walton family, frowned at me. “Why are you staring at the TV?” I didn’t answer. I walked right past him. He froze for a second before hurrying after me. “Hey, what’s wrong with you? Dad said you should be happy for Savannah.” “That’s your victory,” I said. “It has nothing to do with me.” Ethan’s expression stiffened. In his memory, I had never spoken to him like that. My mother’s voice carried up from downstairs. “Kids, come down! We got a cake for Savannah!” Ethan glanced at me, then hurried downstairs, running toward that picture-perfect scene. I stood in the shadows of the staircase and watched the people below. My parents surrounded Savannah. Campaign advisers surrounded my parents. Everyone was smiling. Savannah stood in the middle, the family’s most valuable campaign asset. She was also the person who had ruined my life. This time, I wouldn’t make the same mistake. I turned and went back to my room without a secon......

Blair, the woman Jax had never gotten over, was back in Texas after her divorce. Everyone was waiting to see me, the Mexican immigrant, get thrown out on the street. After all, I had spent seven years as the unofficial fiancée of Jax Caldwell, heir to one of Texas’s wealthiest oil families. I had even given him a son. But then, out of the blue, he proposed. I hadn't even had a moment to feel the joy before I overheard him on the phone with his family’s attorney. “Why not just wait for Blair?” the lawyer asked. Jax’s voice was pure ice. “Blair needs to maintain her dignity. I’ll marry Elara first. In two years, once she has her permanent green card, we can get a clean divorce. No financial entanglements.” “It’s the perfect solution.” The attorney sounded skeptical. “Will she agree to a sham marriage?” A low, soft laugh came through the phone. “Of course she will.” “For a green card? She doesn’t have a choice.” … I stood frozen outside the study, my blood turning to ice water in my veins. On the phone, the attorney hesitated. “Jax, are you sure about dipping into the portion of the family trust set aside for Blair? Isn't it a bit premature?” A whistle cut through the background—one of Jax’s friends, probably. “Hey, better watch out for Blair’s bankrupt ex-husband coming after you for cash.” Jax’s voice dropped, his tone an absolute warning. “Watch your mouth.” The other end of the line went silent. With a single sentence, he had shielded Blair’s honor. Meanwhile, I—his fiancée, the mother of his son—was nothing more than a commodity to be bought off with a green card. The attorney spoke again, steering the conversation back on track. “Are you certain Elara will accept this… temporary arrangement, and keep quiet for two years?” Jax gave another low laugh. I could picture him perfectly: leaning back in his leather chair, tapping the ash from a cigar like a king surveying his domain. “She will,” he said......