She Misspelled Her Worth for His Last Name

“Ma’am, Sir Brynn is eagerly awaiting your arrival here in Bonneville. Have you made your decision? If you agree to marry him, your identity will be erased. No one from here, not your family or your friends, will ever be able to find you again.”

Ayla Wynn rubbed her wrists. The burns were raw and bleeding from the rope that had bound them, but there was nothing more painful than the memory distracting her.

For a decade, she had been the happiest in Maine with Bennett Duffield, the man she had known that long and fallen in love with for five years.

Not once in her life had she ever imagined sharing that love with two strangers whose presences were another way of saying—she was not enough.

It all started a few years ago when Bennett returned from a business trip with a kid named Aston, the son of the person who had saved the tycoon’s life once.

Overwhelmed by gratitude, the CEO decided to repay the kindness by being the boy’s father figure.

To give Aston what he called a complete family, Bennett forced his own fiancée to endure abortions—eight times over the course of three years.

Even then, Aston never once saw Ayla as a mother figure. He only ever called one woman his mommy—Vayda Abshire, the one Bennett pretended to marry for the sake of the kid.

To keep that boy happy, Bennett even had Vayda move into the same master bedroom he slept with Ayla.

The fantasy almost cost Ayla’s life. Once, on a picnic trip, robbers ambushed their car. To distract the masked men, Bennett pushed her out of the car while he escaped with Vayda and Aston. He left Ayla behind to be stabbed—ninety-nine times.

And on what was supposed to be their wedding day, Aston pleaded, “Daddy, I don’t want anyone to replace Mommy!”

That was all it took for Bennett to tear off Ayla’s wedding gown, drag her to an abandoned warehouse, tie her to a post, and leave her there with the livestream of him kissing Vayda at the altar.

Ayla was three months pregnant then.

Recalling all that, she let out a painful laugh.

‘They’re my supposed-to-be husband’s real family now while I’m just… no one,’ she realized.

With that, she gripped her phone tighter and nodded. “There’s nothing left for me here.”

“Got it, ma’am,” Callan, the Raffertys’ most trusted man, replied. “The paperwork should be finalized within seven days. Everything’s been prepared for your wedding. Sir Brynn will be thrilled when he hears you agreed, ma’am.”

The last part piqued Ayla’s curiosity. “If I may ask, why me? He could marry anyone. No one even knows my family compared to his.”

——

Before Callan could explain, a question from another man cut in.

“Compared to whom?”

Behind Ayla, Bennett was still in his groom’s suit—the very one she had picked and tailored herself, back when she thought it would be her standing beside him at the altar.

She quickly pressed the end button, forcing a tight smile like she hadn’t just made the most pivotal decision of her life. “It’s nothing. You misheard.”

Bennett nodded just like that. After all, he approached her to apologize, “Hey, what happened today… It was my fault. But please, just trust me. I promise, from now on, I’ll—”

Ayla didn’t want to hear another promise she knew too well he’d break anytime soon. “I trust you,” she said without meaning it.

Just like that, they went home together. As the car rolled to a stop in front of the villa, she spotted two figures from a distance—an adult woman and a kid, standing close together and giggling as they talked.

Anyone looking wouldn’t have guessed otherwise—they looked so much like they were mother and son by blood.

When Ayla reached for the car door handle, Bennett held her wrist.

“Love, the kid’s still shaken from earlier,” he said carefully, avoiding her gaze. “I’m afraid if he sees you now, it might scare him. Could you wait here outside for a bit?”

When she didn’t answer, she caught a trace of frustration between his brows. “You know Aston only trusts me and Vayda…” he reasoned.

She looked at him then, wondering, ‘Has he forgotten how he lifted me once into his arms and spun me around in joy after I agreed to be with him? Has he forgotten when he promised me a home?’

Those questions distracted her for a moment. By the time she snapped back to the present, Bennett was already walking away. He left her in the car, the cold wind biting at her skin through her thin clothes.

Silently, she watched him disappear inside the villa with Aston and Vayda, laughing hand in hand… like a perfect little family.

‘That’s supposed to be my home,’ she thought to herself, ‘so why? Why do I feel like I don’t belong here?’

She wanted to leave already. But there were still a few things inside she needed to do.

Hours stretched forever as she stayed there outside. It was already late at night, and still, she heard nothing from Bennett.

Eventually, she let herself in, and no one but the silence greeted her. In the dark, she crept up the stairs and pushed open the door to the master bedroom.

But even that was no longer hers; Vayda was lying there, cuddling Aston and gently humming a lullaby. Bennett was watching beside them.

The scene was so warm, so intimate—it burned Ayla’s eyes.

“Isn’t this supposed to be my room?” Ayla blurted out, nearly laughing in disbelief.

“Bennett…” Vayda turned to her “husband,” sinking in his arms. “She’s mad at me and Aston. Maybe I should move out with him…”

But the smirk she threw over her shoulder told Ayla Vayda never intended to go anywhere.

“Vayda’s exhausted from the wedding and still came back to look after Aston,” Bennett began. “Unlike you—who disappeared and came back late at night. You could show a little more thought.”

“Look, Aston’s still young. This room…” He pointed toward the window. “It gets great sunlight. It’s perfect for a kid’s room, wouldn’t you agree? Now, stop making a fuss over this.”

The next second, he caught sight of her red, tear-filled eyes, so he added casually, “Just bear with it, Ayla. Move to the storage room for now.”

Ayla’s fingernails dug deep into her palms, but she felt no pain—she was used to this.

In fact, before the Wynns gave her a comfortable life, she’d grown up in an orphanage—cramped, damp, cold. She had slept shoulder to shoulder with dozens of other orphans.

When Bennett had learned that, he’d chosen this sunlit room just for her. The crystal charm in the window, the pink plush toys, the soft lamp on the nightstand—they picked them out together.

“From now on, you’ll live a warm and happy life. I’ll replace your gloomy childhood with sunshine,” he promised once.

‘Now… he’s taking my sunshine away and giving it to someone else,’ Ayla thought bitterly.

Without arguing with him any longer, she gave Bennett a bitter smile and turned to go downstairs, reminding herself, ‘This is the 96th time.’

Back when Bennett was courting her, he had confessed ninety-nine times. On the day she agreed to be with him, she said, “If you disappoint me ninety-nine times, I’ll leave. No ifs. No buts.”

Hiding away in the cramped storage room, she took a photo of her ID and sent it to Callan. With that, she curled up in the dark and quickly fell into a deep sleep.

In her dreams, a hazy figure held her hand, running with her under the warm sun… until a chill jolted her awake.

She stood up abruptly and switched on the light, only to find herself drenched and the sheets soaked through.

“That’s what you get for bullying Mommy!” a small voice piper up from above.

Ayla looked up—just as another splash of cold water hit her in the face.

Wiping her face, she saw Aston standing by the window with an empty cup in his hand.

“When did I ever bully your mommy?” she asked, her voice edged with anger.

The boy just grinned and threw the cup. It hit her square on the forehead, and blood trickled down her brow.

The pain jolted her. She grabbed the boy’s wrist. “Who taught you to disrespect me like this, huh?”

“Let go of me! I hate you!” Aston screamed and bit her hard on the wrist.

Not expecting that, Ayla gasped and instinctively pushed the kid away.

He landed on the floor with a thud, clutching his ankle and bursting into tears.

Soon, the lights in the hallway snapped on one by one.

Then came the voice she had come to dread.

“What’s going on in here?” Bennett demanded.

Before she could defend herself, Aston beat her to it, sobbing loudly as he pointed at her. “Daddy! She hit me!”

Bennett stepped into the room, dressed in loungewear, his gold-rimmed glasses gleaming under the hall light.

Behind the lenses, his eyes could freeze.