I will lose you in the future

The sofa shuddered under the assault, its joints groaning as if ready to give way. Heavy breathing and breathy moans echoed through the house, persisting long into the night.

Even knowing the truth, the betrayal hit Madison anew—a cold, sharp twist deep in her chest. Six years of love doesn’t just evaporate. She clamped a hand over her mouth, fighting to keep any sob from escaping.

When the sounds downstairs finally ceased, Madison forced herself to regain composure. She held her breath, every muscle taut as she strained to catch their words.

“Honey, how did it go? Is everything settled?”

Patrick let out a low, satisfied chuckle, his voice intimate and thick. “Smooth as silk. Once the paperwork is finalized, our son will be the legitimate heir to the Madison fortune.”

“A family that big, with that much to lose… they’d never want a scandal like this going public. The money, the shares… it’ll be ours for the taking.”

“And this wedding… it’s the perfect leverage. Imagine the headlines: ‘Heiress Jilted at the Altar.’ How much do you think they’d pay to keep that quiet?”

Ruth breathed a sigh of relief, then her voice tightened with fresh anxiety. “The documents? Are they safe?”

“Right here with me. Don’t worry.”

Ruth seemed overjoyed. She planted a loud, smacking kiss on his cheek.

“Quiet down! What if she hears? And how could you just move into the master bedroom? If she finds out…”

Ruth brushed it off, her tone turning venomous. “So what if she does? The game’s already won. Besides, I’ve waited years for this. This house will be mine sooner or later. What’s the difference if I move in now?”

Tears spilled down Madison’s cheeks. Six years with the man she loved. Six years with the friend she’d trusted with everything. And all of it—a meticulously crafted trap. All of it, just for a title, for a claim to her family’s legacy.

She closed the door softly, shutting out their voices for good. If she’d ever doubted The System, the events of this night had shoved her headfirst into the brutal truth.

She sent a few quick texts from her phone, then collapsed onto the bed. Patrick and Ruth’s words replayed on a loop in her mind. She didn’t sleep a wink.

Early the next morning, a reply came from the wedding venue coordinator. Madison got ready quickly and headed for the door.

“Madison? Where are you off to?”

Ruth stood in the kitchen doorway, holding a bowl, clearly having just finished making breakfast.

Madison’s face was a blank mask. “Out. I have some things to take care of.”

Ruth’s smile didn’t falter. “At least have some breakfast first. I made plenty. Sweetie, go bring some for Auntie Madison.”

Madison opened her mouth to refuse, but the little boy was already barreling toward her, bowl in hand.

The next second, searing hot oatmeal splashed across her skin, accompanied by the shattering crash of ceramic. The impact sent her sprawling. Sharp shards sliced into her arm, and blood immediately began to flow—a vivid, shocking red against the floor tiles.

The boy sat on the floor, wailing with a piercing, theatrical shriek.

The world tilted. The searing burn of the oatmeal fused with the sharp sting of the cuts, her skin blistering into an angry, swollen red.

Ruth rushed over and scooped up her son, her eyes welling up as she shouted at Madison. “Madison, if you didn’t want us here, you could have just said so! Was it necessary to push a child?!”

Patrick came running downstairs at the commotion. Seeing him, Ruth’s voice pitched even higher. “Madison, how could you? Asking a child to serve you is one thing, but he was being so good! Why would you shove him?!”

Patrick arrived, but instead of going to them, he hurried to help the injured Madison to her feet. He glared at Ruth, fury in his eyes. “I saw the whole thing! Madison didn’t lay a finger on him! Ruth, what the hell are you playing at?! If this isn’t good enough for you, then get out! Both of you!”

Ruth’s eyes flooded with tears. “Patrick! After all these years… how can you speak to me like that?!”

The frightened child began to cry again. “Daddy! You’re scaring me!”

Patrick’s angry expression faltered, replaced by a flicker of awkwardness. “I’m not your— Just be quiet!”

He turned back to Madison, his voice gentle. “Madison, go wait in the car. I’ll handle this and take you to the hospital.”

Madison didn’t respond, letting him guide her to the front door. Her mind was numb, still reeling from the shock. A gust of wind caught her, sending a fresh wave of agony through her burned arm.

Behind her, the front door, not fully closed, swung open a crack, letting their voices carry clearly outside.

“What are you trying to pull?”