The Snow Mountain Lie Can’t Be Mended, Iodine Coolness Weaves into the Strings

Evelyn's betrayal of her own sister ends up revealing a shocking truth. Evelyn is pregnant with David's child-David, who is Steffy's husband, and Steffy is Evelyn's older sister. Confident that she will become the heir to the Willson family fortune, Evelyn secretly conducts a DNA test on Steffy and Hendri Willson. But is the result of that DNA test truly valid? And what truth will ultimately come to light-one so shocking that it leaves everyone stunned?

I was the "perfect" fiancée for Harrison Vincent—regal, silent, and low-maintenance. For two years, I suppressed my career as a forensic accountant to be the "safe" choice that polled well with his family’s shareholders. But at a high-society gala, I found him in a VIP lounge with a socialite wrapped around him. He told her I was just a "boring art piece display stand" he had to drag around until his trust fund was unlocked. I didn't scream or make a scene. I mentally filed a "bad debt" report, tossed my emerald engagement ring into a glass of stale champagne, and walked out of his life. That same night, I found myself in a dark jazz club bathroom, using a strip of my velvet dress to stop the bleeding of a mysterious man with a gunshot wound and eyes like grey flint. The fallout was immediate. Harrison blocked my credit cards, assuming I’d crawl back once I couldn't afford rent. His mother called me a "nobody" while simultaneously begging me to handle the family's medical emergencies because they were too panicked to function. They treated me like a tool they could discard and pick up at will, never realizing I had already moved my things into a cramped Brooklyn apartment. I couldn't understand why they thought I was still their puppet, or why a black Maybach began following me through the city streets. I had saved a stranger's life and ended a toxic engagement, yet the air around me felt heavier and more dangerous than ever. The truth came out at the hospital when the most feared man in the city stepped out of the shadows. It was the man from the bathroom—Collis Vincent, the ruthless head of the family. He didn't just humiliate Harrison; he took my hand in front of everyone and made a chilling declaration. "Harrison is a fool to have let you go, Helena. Your arrangement with him is terminated. From now on, you'll be working with me."

For five years, I tolerated my husband Franklyn' s cheating. My only condition was simple: keep it out of my sight. Then his college crush, Heaven, came back. He didn't just parade her around-he stole the community center I designed in memory of our late son and gave it to her as a gift. When photos of their affair were leaked at her launch event, he shielded her from the cameras and pointed the finger at me. He told the world I was an unstable, grieving wife who was having an affair. He forced me to publicly confess, shattering my reputation. Then he came home and told me Heaven was pregnant and that I needed to move out of our penthouse to give her a "calm environment." "You know how much you care for children, Clara," he said, using my deepest pain against me. That night, I signed the divorce papers. At the airport, as he screamed my name from behind the security gate, I calmly pulled the SIM card from my phone, dropped it in the trash, and boarded the plane.

Andrea was the very model of a Capital City heiress—disciplined, proper, flawless. But in this moment, she was lost in her husband’s relentless rhythm. Under the warm canopy of their curtained bed, Andrea’s eyes, hazy with pleasure, gazed up adoringly at William as he moved above her with a low groan. In the final instant, he raised his hands and covered her eyes. His whisper brushed her ear. “Be good. Give it to me.” Blushing, Andrea arched her back higher, offering herself to him completely. The next moment, a dagger plunged straight into her chest. William’s murmur turned vicious. “Be good! This time, give me your heart!” It was the eighth wound he had inflicted for Sandra’s sake. “Andrea, this is what you owe her. You have to bear it.” The haze in Andrea’s eyes vanished. She turned her face away, listening numbly to the flurry of movement in the room, her lowered gaze hollow with despair. Her voice came out flat. “Is that so? Then my debt is paid.” Whether it was the life he saved ten years ago, or the tangled disgrace from three. A decade past, during a city festival, William had rescued Andrea from a kidnapper’s grasp. Still a youth then, he’d been impatient with the little girl’s tears, yet he held her close, his voice gruff but steady. From that day, William was etched into Andrea’s heart. She watched him from afar at banquets, never daring to speak—because Sandra was always at his side. She saw him pick flowers for Sandra, tuck them into her hair. She saw him keep vigil all night in the Sanctum, praying for her protection. She saw him fly into a rage for Sandra’s sake, offend Prince Logan, and suffer injuries that kept him abed for half a year. Then, three years ago, a drugged William pulled a passing Andrea into a room. The girl’s secret longing was laid bare before the world. Everyone said the young miss of Andrea’s Family Estate was lovesick and desperate, that she’d used a vile trick to climb into the bed of the newly-engaged young marquis—forcing him to break his childhood promise and marry her instead. Even William believed it. He despised her utterly. So when Sandra collapsed, vomiting blood, during their betrothal ceremony, William drove a sword into Andrea’s chest without hesitation. A revered Sanctum seer had declared it her punishment for stealing another’s destined match; only a medicine from her heart’s blood could break the curse. And Andrea accepted it. Though none of it was her doing, the secret joy in her heart filled her with guilt. She thought one sword thrust had settled the debt. She never imagined it was only the beginning. Then came the second, on their wedding night. The third, at the Mid-Autumn banquet… up to this, the eighth. “Young Miss…” Her maid Layla’s voice, choked with tears, sounded in Andrea’s ear. Andrea turned her head, offering a smile uglier than any sob. “Tomorrow at the palace, I will ask Aunt Victoria to help me get a divorce!” From the day she met William until now—eight years. Three years, eight wounds. If one stab counted for each year, it was enough. Enough to cancel the past. *** The next morning, Andrea woke to find William sitting beside the bed, watching her with a complicated expression. “Sandra is well now. She…” Andrea hadn’t expected the first word from her husband to be that name. Three years of endurance shattered in an instant. “Sandra! Sandra! If your heart holds only Sandra, why did you marry me?” Her voice broke. “We are husband and wife! I… I’m in pain, too!” She tore the bandage from her chest, revealing the terrible lattice of scars beneath. William’s breath caught. He looked away, as if he couldn’t bear the sight, and carefully rewrapped the wound. “It won’t hurt anymore. Never again.” “Court Physician Patrick perfected an ointment. Next time, you won’t feel a thing.” Andrea’s voice died in her throat. She pushed William away and stared at him, perfectly still. Meeting her calm gaze, William felt a sudden, inexplicable pang of panic. “Get some rest.” He dropped the words and left. Andrea began to laugh—a raw, wrenching sound that twisted into tears. Why had she been foolish enough to believe William could ever ache for her? Even after three years of giving him everything he asked, managing his estate, enduring every slight—none of it equaled a single, careless glance from Sandra. Like last year’s harvest festival, when William gave her a bracelet. Sandra had merely glanced at it, and he’d immediately taken it from Andrea’s wrist—the very wrist he had placed it on. Andrea wiped her tears dry and called out sharply. “Layla, help me dress. We are going to the palace.”

Emma had spent five years trying to forget the one man who broke her heart-David. She thought she had moved on, built her life, and healed. But fate had other plans. One unexpected afternoon, he appeared at her doorstep, claiming he had changed, claiming he never stopped loving her. Furious, betrayed, and confused, Emma had no idea if she should slam the door... or let him in. Everyone warned her: David had walked away once-why trust him again? But when he looked at her with the same intensity she remembered, every doubt melted... and every buried feeling surged back. Just when Emma thought she could resist, secrets from their past resurfaced, a mysterious warning threatened her safety, and David's return stirred more than just old memories. Could she give love a second chance... or would trusting him again be the biggest mistake of her life?

My husband thinks I'm nothing without him. The wine from my anniversary dinner still drips from my ruined silk dress as he tells me to move into the guest room. His mistress smirks from MY chair. Little do they know who I really am. The text message illuminates my phone: "Mercer, the Belgian royal family doesn't like to wait. Are you really going to stay buried forever?" Tonight, the Ghost Queen returns from exile. And Caspian Mills will learn what happens when you replace a queen with a counterfeit.