Ethan Cole had been chasing my mom for years. She’d turned him down clearly and repeatedly. And he still had the nerve to grin at me and say, “Kid, when I finally win your mom over, remember to call me Dad.” He got on my last nerve. So I tied him up and tossed him onto the bed. Then I slapped his broad pecs until they swelled and grabbed him by the hair. “Is this what a father looks like after his son leaves him too wrecked to crawl?” “Stop hounding my mom.” “Or every time I see you, I’ll make you regret it.” 01 The brooch Ethan Cole had given my mom? She refused to keep it. He turned around and tossed it to me. “A little early gift from Dad, for when you start calling me that.” “It’s expensive, too.” I wasn’t taking his gift, and I certainly wasn’t accepting his favor. I gave his shin a light kick. “My dad is dead. If you want to join him, I’ll call you Dad.” He didn’t get angry. He just hooked an arm around my neck with a goofy grin. The warm, masculine scent of his cologne filled my senses. But there was nothing dignified about him. He acted nothing like a man who had just turned thirty. He blew lightly against my ear. “What a rude little mutt.” “Even if I’m not your dad, I’m still your uncle. Is that how you talk to your elders?” 02 That was exactly why having him as my uncle made it worse. Ethan Cole had lost both parents when he was young. Our families had always been close, so my grandparents took him in and raised him. My mom was eleven years older than him. He called her Sis. They’d grown up together. Later, my mom and dad fell in love and got married. By the time I was old enough to run around, teenage Ethan Cole had started chasing my mom. Trying to wreck my parents’ marriage would have been bad enough. But right after my dad died, Ethan doubled down and moved straight into our house. He’d been camped out there for years. I told him, “A toad like you has no business dreaming of a swan.” Smiling, he held up one knuckle. Then he slipped it between my lips and pressed it against one of my canine teeth. When he pulled it out, a faint tooth mark was left on his fingertip. He waved it in front of me. “Look at that. The little toad has fangs.” Immature. Stupidly, unbelievably immature. 03 Our apartment only had two bedrooms, and my mom usually came home late. Ethan insisted on waiting for her so he could make her a late-night snack before leaving. After cooking, he somehow kept chatting until it was too late and he was “too tired” to go home. So he squeezed into my bed again. Over the years, he’d taken over my bed often enough that several sets of his pajamas had ended up in my closet. He was a restless sleeper. One minute he’d roll over; the next, he’d throw a leg across my stomach. When I woke in a haze, it felt like I was wrapped up with an octopus. Warm breath brushed my neck, tickling my skin. I was just about to push him away when he mumbled, “Claire…” That was my mom’s name. Something hard pressed against the side of my thigh. I woke all the way up. Before I could even process the disgust, he leaned toward me. His lips landed on mine without warning. Heat shot straight through me. I shook with rage and kicked him out of bed. Ethan hit the floor with a dull thud and a breathless groan. He didn’t even get mad. Sitting there, dazed, he looked up at me. “What happened? Bad dream?” I smiled through my clenched teeth. “Yeah. Dreamed a dog bit me.” The shameless bastard still tried to climb back into bed, half-asleep. He reached for me. “Let me rub your ears. There, there. Bad dream, be gone.” I slapped his hand away. “Don’t touch me. Get out!” His hand stopped in midair. After several seconds, he slowly pulled back the knee he’d planted on my mattress. He looked a little annoyed now, too. He stripped off his pajama top and threw it straight at my face, almost like he was getting even. “Such a brat. You’re young, but you’ve got a hell of a temper.” By the time the shirt slid off my face, he was gone. I took a furious breath, only for his scent to flood my nose again. Pushy, overbearing, and impossible. I punched his pajamas twice, just to vent. “Damn it. What a jerk.” 04 These days, just seeing Ethan Cole made my whole body feel wrong. So I started taking the long way around him. He blocked the front door one day and asked, “What did I do to offend you now, Your Highness?” My eyes flicked over his full lips. I looked away fast. “Good dogs don’t block the door.” I didn’t expect him to be that shameless. He leaned close and murmured by my ear, “Woof. Can we make up now? Don’t talk trash about me in front of your mom.” I told him I had a summer job and would be late if I didn’t leave. After a few steps, I remembered something and glanced back. Ethan was still standing there with his arms crossed, smiling at me. “I’m not making up with you. We were never friends in the first place.” The restaurant was slammed with the dinner rush. Then I got stuck with an especially obnoxious customer. Pouring his drink wasn’t enough. He kept teasing me. “Aren’t you a little young to be waiting tables?” “Come stand beside me and keep my glass full. I’ll tip you.” I refused. “Sorry, I also have a few private rooms to cover.” “If you need anything, please call me.” When I tried to leave, he grabbed my hand. The unfamiliar touch made my stomach turn. I jerked away as if I’d been burned. He stared at me, his face going through several shades of red and white. Then he glanced at the other people at the table. His temper exploded. He picked up his wineglass and threw the drink in my face. “What kind of service is that? I’m spending hundreds of dollars on dinner here!” “Some punk who hasn’t even grown his first beard thinks he can give me attitude?” “Get your manager!” I was still trying to figure out what to say when the private-room door swung open. Of course it was Ethan Cole—the man I’d just said I would never make up with. Our eyes met, and mine immediately slid away from his flushed lips. The customer looked at Ethan, and his whole expression changed. “Mr. Cole! What a coincidence. I didn’t know you ate here.” Ethan walked in. “I heard something going on in here.” The customer hurried over with a smile. “Nothing serious. Just a disrespectful server.” “I’ll complain to the manager and take care of it.” “Are you entertaining clients tonight?” Ethan shook his head. “No. My kid is working here for the summer, getting a little life experience. I came to check on him.” The customer immediately started flattering him. “Of course someone from the Cole family is different.” “If I’m lucky enough to see your young man here next time I come in, I’ll make sure he’s taken care of.” Ethan smiled. “Hear that, Julian? Mr. Carter says he’ll take care of you.” “Come here.” 05 He called me over. Mr. Carter’s face turned awkward in an instant. Ethan acted as if he hadn’t noticed. He simply reached out and wiped the wine from my chin. “What happened, little mess?” I was supposed to hate Ethan Cole. But his touch was so gentle. Gentle enough to make a dull ache rise in my chest. My voice came out almost plaintive, like I was looking for shelter. “He threw it at me.” Ethan pretended not to know. “Who would dare?” Then he turned to Mr. Carter. “You saw what happened, right?” “This kid has been spoiled rotten since he was little. I’ve always held him in the palm of my hand.” “He’s never had to suffer a single indignity, and the one time he’s out of my sight, this happens.” He looked back at me. “Who was it?” Before I could answer, Mr. Carter broke. He grabbed napkins and bent over to wipe my clothes. “I’m sorry. You see, we ran into an old acquaintance.” “My fault. I’d had too much to drink and didn’t recognize you.” “I sincerely apologize.” I’d never seen this kind of adult double-dealing up close. I’d never seen someone so much older than me bow and scrape, either. The unfamiliarity of it made me look at Ethan again without thinking. He smiled at me, his eyes crinkling. “Speak up, little prince.” “If you’re still upset, somebody’s about to have a very bad night.” A sheen of cold sweat appeared on Mr. Carter’s nose. I pressed my lips together. “It’s fine now.” 06 He took me away from the restaurant. “Come to my place and change. Your mom will worry if you go home like this.” He said it was for my mom. I appreciated it anyway. In his car, I murmured, “Thanks.” He’d clearly heard me, but he leaned over to tease me. “Hmm? What was that?” I turned my head and met his amused eyes. He was focused on me, close enough that his breath tangled with mine. I wet my lips and immediately faced forward again. “I said thanks!” He laughed, and the hand he ran through my hair only made a mess of my thoughts. 07 His place was enormous—a penthouse apartment that was several thousand square feet. I rarely went there, and every time I did, I complained. “Your place is this huge, and you still come crowd into my apartment every night.” He ignored that and told me to stay. He buzzed around like a busy bee, finding me clean clothes and a fresh towel. He changed the sheets, adjusted the humidifier, and lit a scented candle. It was more preparation than I’d ever needed to sleep in my own bed. Even after I burrowed under the covers, he kept planning cheerfully. “Hey, do you want to take a bath?” “I’ll have someone clean the tub tomorrow. You can soak for a while.” “What do you want for breakfast?” I couldn’t understand him. After spending all these years throwing himself at a brick wall in my house, wasn’t he tired of it? “Isn’t this a lot of trouble?” He leaned against the doorframe and smiled. “Not at all. The place finally feels lived-in.” “It’s usually pretty empty.” Moonlight washed over him, giving his whole figure a hazy, lonely look. I stared at his face, my thoughts tangled. For one strange second, Ethan Cole didn’t seem quite so unbearable. He turned to leave, and before I could think better of it, I called him back. He looked over his shoulder seriously, almost hopeful that I had more to say. I pressed my lips together, then said, “We’re good.” Ethan blinked, then broke into a smile. He walked to my bed and bent over me. The scent of him made my thighs clench before I could stop them. He brushed one fingertip across my nose. “Good night, brat.” 08 My mom always told me, “Your uncle is lonely. He’s had a hard life. You don’t have to be so hostile to him all the time.” For the first time, I thought I understood a little. I’d barely started seeing Ethan differently when he made another grand confession to my mom. An apartment building has no shortage of gossip. The neighbors downstairs were whispering, “Oh, please. He says he’s her little brother, but he’s sending her roses now.” “When Claire Bennett’s husband was still alive, that brother of hers was always showing up.” “They must have had something going on back then, too.” “Shameless.” My temper flared. I leaned over the second-floor railing and called down, “Gossiping about people behind their backs brings bad luck, you know?” Their expressions changed. “Watch your mouth!” “I’m talking to you the way you’re talking about other people.” When I got home, the roses still hadn’t been cleared away. My mom sat at the table, her eyes red as she wiped my dad’s framed photo. My heart clenched. My mom was such a strong woman. But she could still cry like she’d been hurt beyond words. She said, “If your dad were here, maybe there wouldn’t be so many rumors.” 09 I didn’t blame my dad for being gone. I blamed that idiot Ethan Cole. Furious, I stormed to his place. He was drunk, being helped out of a car by a beautiful woman. They looked far too familiar with each other. My clenched fists wouldn’t stop shaking. I took him from the woman, dragged him inside, and threw him onto the bed. Ethan looked miserable, his whole body flushed and burning hot. I grabbed his tie, wanting to choke him with it. “Ethan Cole, this is your final warning.” “If you ever dare to—” His mouth cut me off. He murmured, unfocused, “Come on. Let me do it…” I stopped cold. My fury plunged into ice. I heard my teeth click together. “What?” My voice came out cold enough to freeze. He fumbled at my clothes. “Give me…” “What the hell do you want?” A hard slap stopped him. I grabbed him by the throat and cursed. “You act like some tragic romantic while making my mom’s life miserable.” “And then you turn around and try to get into bed with someone else.” “You really think you get to have everything?” “You piece of trash—what gives you the right to chase my mom?” There were rules about not hitting someone in the face, especially not like that. I was his nephew. I was a full ten years younger than him. Ethan’s unfocused eyes cleared a little. For the first time, the man who was always smiling looked angry. His chest rose and fell hard beneath my palm. Heat radiated through his shirt, hot enough to burn me. “No right? Have I ever treated you badly? Have I ever treated your mom badly?” “Neither my mom nor I need anything from a filthy bastard like you!” “Do you hear me?” Ethan’s eyes burned red. The hand gripping my arm stood out with veins. Anyone would lose it after being cursed out by someone younger. Ethan was no exception. “Filthy bastard? Am I in bed with someone right now?” “No.” “I’m going after her, and no one’s going to stop me.” “You little bastard. I’ve treated you right for years, and this is what I get?” “Wait until I’m your dad. Then you can yell at me.” 10 That one line poured gasoline on the fire. I had never met anyone so shameless. Treating me right? Was that what he called watching my mom get worn down by his pursuit while the neighbors talked? Was it treating me right to start discussing my “new dad” when my father’s body was barely cold? Any good opinion I’d formed of him had clearly been a concussion. I pinned him down, my voice frighteningly calm. “You still want to be my dad?”

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1 On my nineteenth trip abroad, Justin bypassed tourist spots again, dragging me into a dense rainforest. Insects crawled through mud, guttural calls echoed. I clutched his sleeve, pleading we turn back. He ignored me, eyes fixed on his phone’s blinking red dot. A viper coiled around my calf. I reached for Justin, but he leapt forward, catching Renee, his childhood best friend who’d vanished two years ago, as she jumped from a tree. “Took you long enough,” she teased, arms around his neck. “I promised I’d bring you home,” he murmured. I collapsed onto the mud, blood pouring from the snakebite. The truth hit: nineteen trips weren’t memories for us. They were cover while he hunted her. He’d promised marriage after our travels. I’d followed him through deserts, rapids, and snow-capped peaks. All I got was a man whose eyes held only another woman. I was exhausted. His journey was over. And so were we. … The rental car broke down right when the rain started to fall. Justin popped the hood, checking the engine while dialing emergency services. He scowled, his face full of annoyance. “You really need to watch where you’re walking,” he snapped at me. “Now we all have to waste time waiting for an ambulance because of you.” I sat helplessly on the muddy shoulder of the road. Listening to his complaints, I didn’t even have the energy to respond. Looking up, I saw Justin and Renee wearing full-body protective gear. I was wearing ordinary hiking clothes. Justin hadn’t told me our final destination, nor had he prepared any gear for me. He hadn’t even spared me a single glance when the snake bit me. Tears mixed with the rain, dripping onto the blood-stained mud beneath me. By the time the ambulance arrived, my consciousness was fading fast. Justin and Renee climbed into the back with me. He held my hand, but his head was turned completely toward Renee, a soft smile playing on his lips. “I left the hotel in the middle of the night,” Justin said softly to her. “I was terrified you’d run away again if I was a minute late. Don’t pull a stunt like this ever again. Do you have any idea what the last two years have been like for me?” As he spoke, his grip on my hand tightened painfully. I knew that intensity wasn’t meant for me. Renee tossed her hair back, looking thoroughly pleased with herself. “That was your punishment! You have to remember: the first peeled shrimp always goes into my bowl!” Justin offered her an indulgent laugh. “Alright. I promise.” As darkness pulled me under, their conversation echoed relentlessly in my mind. Two years ago, Renee had stormed off and vanished simply because Justin placed a single peeled shrimp in my bowl at dinner. Yet I was supposed to be his fiancée. Justin and Renee grew up together. When I met her for the first time, she smiled and called me “sister,” but her arm naturally slid through Justin’s. Justin had told me not to overthink it. “I only see her as a little sister.” But do normal siblings bathe together and scrub each other’s backs? Renee had endless demands. She insisted on riding shotgun in his car, demanded that Justin hand-feed her, and forced him into fitting rooms to zip up her dresses. Her total lack of boundaries chilled my heart time and time again. I had fought with Justin over it. Seeing his complete lack of remorse, the thought of breaking up crossed my mind for the very first time. Pathologically, that was when Renee vanished, and Justin suddenly insisted on taking me on a world tour. He never mentioned Renee’s name. He claimed that traveling together before marriage would help us understand each other better, promising we’d tie the knot the moment we returned. He thoughtfully packed my bags, swaying my resolve to leave. During the trip, I noticed something was off. Sometimes he insisted on staying in a single city for three months; other times, he demanded we board a flight the moment we landed. “Can’t we explore a little?” I had asked him at an airport terminal, feeling exhausted. “I heard the local food here is amazing.” Justin had kept his head down, staring intently at the red dot on his phone screen. “It’s all tourist traps. The scenic spots are overcrowded. Just look up pictures online.” It wasn’t until today that I finally understood: the red dot he monitored twenty-four hours a day was Renee’s real-time GPS location. She ran, and he chased. A wave of overwhelming grief jolted me back into a brief state of consciousness. Their voices drifted into my ears once more. “Why did you even bring Sadie along?” Renee complained softly. “To cook for me,” Justin replied casually. “You know how sensitive my stomach is.” Yes, we all knew how delicate Justin’s digestive system was. Ever since I got together with him, I had been meticulous about his diet. Even while traveling, I did my best to buy fresh groceries and cook his meals personally. It turned out I had treated him too well, so well that he forgot how I had spent countless nights hunched over toilet bowls, throwing up from severe motion sickness and unfamiliar food. In Justin’s eyes, I was nothing more than a glorified live-in maid. Renee never cared about his health. Whenever she wanted something, Justin would indulge her without question. Once, he ate ultra-spicy hotpot with her and ended up collapsed on the floor in agony from acute gastritis. Yet the next time she invited him out, he went without hesitation. I had once thought Justin was just too polite to say no, so I offered to decline her invitations on his behalf. Before I could even finish my sentence, Justin had snatched my phone away. “Renee just wants to eat hotpot. What did she do wrong?” Right. She did nothing wrong. So what did I do wrong? All I wanted was a loving, complete outcome for our relationship. All I wanted was for the man I loved to have eyes only for me. He couldn’t do it. And I was done waiting. When I woke up, the hospital room was completely empty. I picked up my phone from the nightstand and saw a text Justin had sent two days ago: [The hospital is too depressing, so we left first. The bills are paid. Get some rest, and I’ll bring you a souvenir when we get back.] Staring at those cold words, a bitter, self-deprecating smile touched my lips. Right then, my phone pushed a notification for Renee’s latest social media update. They had visited the city’s most famous cathedral, waited in line for viral ice cream, and taken dozens of intimate photos along the beach. In the photos, Justin was smiling brighter than I had ever seen in five years. We had been together for half a decade, yet looking at him now felt like watching a complete stranger flaunt his happiness with someone else. He claimed he hated crowds, yet he abandoned every single one of his rules for Renee. Or rather, Renee was his only rule. I stared at those photos for a long time, unable to process the hollow ache in my chest, until the doctor walked into the room. I couldn’t understand a word of the local language. Seeing the solemn expressions on their faces, an unsettling dread filled my heart. With trembling hands, I pulled up a translation app on my phone. The cold, robotic voice translated the doctor’s words: “We were unable to save your baby.” My hands went limp, and the phone crashed onto the floor. The sharp sound echoed in the quiet room, shattering my heart into pieces. I refused to accept it. I gestured frantically, trying to double-check with the doctor. In that moment, I desperately prayed that the translation app was broken. When the doctor offered a solemn, confirming nod, all the strength drained from my body. My hands drifted unconsciously down to my flat stomach. Justin suffered from severe oligospermia, and my uterus had been severely damaged from a previous miscarriage years ago. This was supposed to be our last chance at having a child. If I hadn’t followed him into that rainforest, if I hadn’t been bitten by that snake, my baby might still be alive inside me. It was too late. Grief and resentment consumed me, but I still forced myself to call Justin. He deserved to know. It was his child, too. The phone rang endlessly. It wasn’t until the thirteenth call that he finally picked up. Justin’s impatient voice blasted through the receiver. “You’re awake? We’re very busy right now, we’ll talk later.” Hearing his voice, tears spilled down my cheeks. “Justin… our baby is gone,” I choked out, struggling to string the words together. Justin hesitated for a single second before letting out a mocking laugh. “Our baby? Sadie, come up with a better lie next time. Trying to trick me into coming back with a stunt like that is pathetic.” I froze, stunned into silence. He didn’t believe me. I had told him about the pregnancy weeks ago. He had nodded while sitting right beside me. He hadn’t listened to a single word I said. Justin loved me even less than I had imagined. I forced down the lump in my throat, trying to explain again, but the loud chime of an airport boarding announcement rang over the line. My heart skipped a beat. “Justin, where are you?” He fell silent for a moment before moving to a quieter spot. “Renee wants to go home.” The final thread holding my composure together snapped. “So?” I wept. “You just abandoned me? Justin, I’m still in the hospital!” I never imagined he could be this heartless. He had left me stranded in a foreign country without a second thought, all for Renee. “Who knew when you’d wake up?” Justin replied, his tone flat and unbothered, as if discussing the weather. “You can’t expect us to wait around forever.” A moment later, Renee’s voice drifted into the background. “Sadie, you’re so independent, I’m sure you can manage to fly home on your own, right? We’ll be waiting for you back home!” Home? That was never my home. In a foreign land, unable to speak the language, I handled my own discharge paperwork and dragged my exhausted body back to the hotel. The room was in disarray. Justin’s jacket was still tossed over the sofa, evidence of how hurriedly they had packed, terrified I might wake up and slow them down. I numbly packed my belongings. While clearing out the nightstand, I found Justin’s old tablet tucked between the mattress and the frame. His messaging account was still logged in. After a brief hesitation, I tapped on his chat thread with Renee. Even though they had seen each other every day, their chat history was endless. Justin sent her pictures of fallen leaves on his morning commute, ordered extra portions of food whenever he found a good restaurant, and replied to her messages instantly, even during major corporate meetings. Everything he gave to Renee was something I had spent five years praying for. My chat window with Justin was always dead silent. No matter what I sent, he replied with a single, transactional “Okay.” I let out a soft, bitter laugh. My fingers scrolled upward through the logs, landing on the day Renee had vanished two years ago. Justin had sent hundreds of frantic texts and made dozens of calls. [Renee, where are you running off to?] [Please stop scaring me. Just send me one message, please.] [I was wrong. I promise I’ll peel the shrimp for you first next time.] Even through plain text, I could feel his desperation and guilt. The words “I’m sorry” appeared repeatedly. Early the next morning, Renee had finally replied: [If you can find me, I’ll forgive you and go back with you.] Attached was a blurry photo of an unnamed highway. Renee always dropped subtle clues, and no matter how cryptic they were, Justin never complained. He simply replied: [Wait for me.] Then he transferred money directly to her bank account with a note: [Don’t skimp on yourself.] Seeing this version of Justin left me thoroughly stunned. He had never worried about me. When I was once stranded on a mountain during a storm for a day and a night, Justin didn’t make a single call. When I finally dragged myself home, exhausted and bruised, he merely offered a cold remark. “I’m very busy. I don’t have time to deal with trivial matters.” When I suffered my first miscarriage, bleeding heavily on a hospital bed with my life hanging by a thread, Justin hadn’t answered his phone once. He was attending an art exhibition with Renee. It wasn’t until I was discharged that he casually drove over with Renee to pick me up. “Your constitution is too weak,” he had said, his tone as light as air. “You need to exercise more.” I wasn’t blind to his blatant favoritism. I had once deliberately left home for a few days, desperate to see if he would worry about me. He didn’t. He worked as usual and went out drinking with his friends at night, a smile glued to his face. “She’ll come back on her own,” he had told his friends confidently. Justin was certain that my love for him would keep me by his side forever, certain that I would forgive everything he did. But long before I loved him, I loved myself. I calmly shut down the tablet. I booked two one-way flight tickets. One to Chicago to pack up my remaining life. And one to Seattle, to erase Justin from my existence entirely. After a grueling ten-hour flight, I landed in Chicago, only to find an electronic invitation waiting in my inbox. A welcome-back party for Renee was being held at The Grand Plaza Hotel. It was the exact venue I had booked months ago for our wedding. Every single detail of the ballroom had been designed by me. Yet the woman standing in the spotlight wasn’t me. On Renee’s social media feed, the venue looked almost identical to my original wedding vision, except every single red rose had been replaced with white Lisianthus flowers. [Thank you to Justin for flying these flowers in! I love them so much!] In the photo, Justin’s reflection in the glass was slightly blurred, but the tender, affectionate smile on his face was unmistakable. Of course. Justin had always insisted that whatever Renee wanted, she would get. In this relationship, I had always been the outsider. Being squeezed in the middle was unbearable. I hated it. Returning to our apartment, I packed my bags without stopping for a moment. Everything connected to Justin was left behind. While I was packing, my phone rang. It was Justin. He lowered his voice, his tone sharp and hurried. “Are you back in Chicago? Hurry up and bring the gift on the desk over to the hotel. I was in a rush and forgot it.” I walked over to the desk. Sitting right in the center was an exquisite velvet jewelry box. Inside was a limited-edition diamond ring—one of only three in the entire city. “Justin, sending a ring to a friend isn’t appropriate, is it?” I said quietly. When this ring was first released, Justin had promised he would fight to buy it for me as a wedding band. Now, that promise had been completely wiped from his mind. Justin’s tone turned impatient. “What’s inappropriate about it? Renee likes it.” “You’re getting jealous over nothing again. It’s just a ring. I’ll buy you another one later.” I let out a faint smile. What I wanted was never just a ring. In the hotel ballroom, Justin was pacing like a nervous wreck, shuffling his feet to hide his anxiety. “It’s still not here? Can’t you hurry her up?” he grumbled to his friend. When the courier finally appeared at the door, the weight on Justin’s chest lifted. However, the courier didn’t just deliver the ring box. He also handed over two official medical reports. One was my hospital discharge report for a complete miscarriage. The other was an official medical diagnostic report confirming Justin’s severe oligospermia. Justin’s eyes widened in horror. His fingers began to tremble uncontrollably. “This… this is impossible…”

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1 On our fifth anniversary, Laurie flaked at the last minute, claiming a sudden emergency at the office. Seeing how crushed I was, my best friend, Jasper, and my younger brother, Sam, offered to take me to the amusement park. All day long, they went out of their way to pamper me, buying cotton candy and waiting in line for roller coasters. I genuinely thought they just couldn’t stand seeing me down. That was until I went to grab drinks and overheard them whispering behind the vending machines. Jasper lowered his voice. “Laurie blew off their fifth anniversary just to chase the Northern Lights in Iceland with Simon.” Sam shrugged it off. “She’s just helping her first love cross an item off his bucket list. So what? At the end of the day, she’s still marrying my brother.” Jasper let out a quiet chuckle. “We just need to keep Sean distracted until tonight so he doesn’t catch on.” Standing behind the vending machine, a wave of bitter irony washed over me. What I mistook for sympathy was nothing more than an elaborate cover story orchestrated by the people I trusted most. I tossed the drinks into the trash, turned on my heel, and walked out of the park. I pulled out my phone and sent Laurie one final text: You can watch the Northern Lights with him. You can give him the rest of your life, too. Then, I blocked her. I left every group chat with Jasper and my brother. I was done playing my part in a circus where everyone knew the script except me. I hadn’t been walking for ten minutes before Sam caught up to me. He grabbed my wrist, showing no guilt whatsoever, only annoyance. “Sean, why are you running off like that? Jasper waited in line for an hour to get fireworks tickets.” Jasper rushed over too, shoving his phone back into his pocket. “We were just chatting casually. Why do you always take things out of context?” I looked at them. “What was the context I missed?” Sam choked on his words for a second, then scowled. “Simon has had severe trauma since he survived that avalanche two years ago. The doctor said going back to an aurora observation site helps with recovery. What’s wrong with Laurie keeping him company?” “So there was no emergency at the office.” “Laurie was just worried you’d overthink things,” Jasper said, softening his tone. “Sean, she’s planning to propose to you as soon as she gets back. Why ruin a five-year relationship over something so small?” I suddenly laughed out loud. They had mapped out my entire day, calculating when I should eat and when I should watch the fireworks. The only thing they hadn’t calculated was that I would overhear the truth. My phone vibrated in my palm. Laurie was calling from an unknown number. The moment I picked up, her voice came through. “Unblock me.” In the background, I could hear the howling arctic wind. And Simon’s voice. “Laurie, come quick. The sky is lighting up.” Laurie covered the receiver, her voice turning distant for a second before returning, calm as ever. “The safety emergency was real. After I resolved it, I just happened to join him on the trip.” “A detour from Boston all the way to Iceland?” Silence hung on the other end for two full seconds. “Sean, stop twisting my words.” “I’m not twisting anything. I’ve let it go.” “I saw your text,” her tone turned cold. “It’s fine if you’re disappointed or angry, but don’t test me with breakups.” Jasper immediately chimed in. “Sean, just let her stay with Simon until his treatment session is over. We can talk when she gets back.” Sam added from the side, “If Laurie actually still liked Simon, would you even have had a chance with her for the past five years?” That sentence pierced my eardrums like a needle. Laurie must have heard it too, because her voice softened slightly. “I’ll be back in three days. The launch for the Boreal System is that same day. Make sure you finalize the presentation slides.” The Boreal System was an early warning risk control software I had spent four years building. During the hardest stretch, I slept in the office for three straight months. Laurie had once placed an aurora snow globe on my desk, promising that when the system officially launched, she would take me to see the real Northern Lights. Now, as the system was about to be released, she had gone to see them with someone else first. “Laurie, we’re broken up.” She let out a soft sigh. “You’re just speaking out of anger. Sean, don’t make me deal with your emotions when I get back.” The line went dead. Sam rubbed his nose and reached out to pull me. “Alright, Laurie explained everything. Let’s go, the fireworks are starting.” I dodged his hand and took a cab home alone. In the entryway sat the custom watch Laurie had given me two months ago. Underneath the box was an Iceland travel brochure. I used to think it was a subtle hint at a proposal. Now I realized it was just a page dropped from Simon’s itinerary. The computer in the study was still on. Laurie’s corporate account hadn’t logged out, and an itinerary confirmation email was centered on the screen. The flight was booked two weeks ago. The hotel was an aurora view suite. The guests listed were Laurie and Simon. The so-called emergency was a lie prepared for me from the start. Just as I was about to close the tab, a new email popped up. The sender was Jasper. Subject: PR Contingency Plan Regarding Mr. Sean’s Exit from the Boreal Project. Sent three days ago. I opened the attachment. The very first line read: If Sean discovers the Iceland trip, his brother, Sam, will handle comforting him, while Jasper delays him. And on the last page, there were two words personally approved by Laurie: Approved. The next morning, Laurie sent her assistant over with a necklace. The assistant placed the velvet box on the table with a smile. “Ms. Gosling said this is an anniversary gift. She hopes you can cool off and join the launch rehearsal on time this afternoon.” The pendant was a silver snowflake. Identical to the one I received on my birthday three years ago. I flipped over the bottom of the box and saw the duty-free receipt. Location: Iceland Airport. Quantity: Two. I pushed the box back across the table. “Thank her for me, but please tell her to give this to someone more suitable.” The assistant looked awkward. “Mr. Sean, Ms. Gosling also said that the Boreal project is at a critical stage. It’s best not to bring personal feelings into work.” I raised my eyes. “Take a message back to her for me too: Don’t use other people’s hard work to please her ex.” That afternoon, I went to the company headquarters. A massive poster hung by the entrance of the launch hall. Laurie’s name was at the top, and Simon stood right beside her, labeled as the Creative Founder of the Boreal System. My name was completely gone. Jasper was directing the staff to swap seat tags. When he saw me, he immediately dragged me aside. “Why are you here early?” “If I didn’t come early, how would I know someone else is sitting in my seat?” He lowered his voice. “This is just a marketing strategy. Simon is an avalanche survivor. Using his story gives the media a narrative they actually want to cover.” “So you erased my name.” “Ms. Gosling said that true achievers don’t need to obsess over credit.” I stared at the man who had been my friend for twelve years. When he was maliciously fired by his previous employer, I brought him into Laurie’s company and begged her to make him the PR Director. The first time he received a bonus, he hugged me crying, swearing he would never let me down. Now, he was using the crisis management skills I taught him to manage me. The giant screen suddenly lit up. Laurie joined the video conference remotely from Iceland. She wore a black parka, with a snow-covered wooden cabin behind her. Simon was wrapped in her scarf, sitting by the fireplace. “Let’s start the rehearsal,” she said. I stepped in front of the camera lens. “Who approved that poster?” When Laurie saw me, her brows furrowed. “Simon’s story has more marketing value. After the press conference, I will credit your contributions in an internal memo.” “I don’t want an internal memo.” Simon rose from the sofa and interrupted softly. “Sean, don’t blame Laurie. I just felt a personal connection to the name Boreal, so I agreed to help promote it.” He raised his hand to adjust his scarf, revealing a woven cord on his wrist. I had woven that cord for Laurie myself. Embedded in the knot was an old microchip, the processor that burned out during the very first successful test run of the Boreal System. Laurie had said it was proof of what we endured together. I asked, “Where did you get the item on your wrist?” Simon subconsciously glanced at Laurie. Laurie said indifferently, “It’s just an old cord. He liked it, so he took it.” “That’s mine.” “Sean,” her tone grew sharp. “Don’t make a scene in front of the employees.” Whispers erupted among the staff below. Sam arrived out of nowhere and gestured to me from the front row. “Sean, come down first. Simon is just borrowing it. There’s no need to throw a fit over something so trivial.” I didn’t move an inch. “The core architecture of the Boreal System belongs to me. As of today, I am revoking the authorization.” The hall fell dead silent. Laurie’s gaze darkened. “All your development was completed at the company. The intellectual property belongs to the firm.” “The initial version was written before I ever joined this company. The original source code and copyright registrations are all under my personal name.” Jasper’s face drained of color. Sam rushed onto the stage and grabbed my arm. “Are you insane, Sean? The company invested tens of millions into this project. Revoking authorization now, are you trying to force Laurie to fly back just to soothe your ego?” I pulled my arm free. “I’m simply taking back what belongs to me.” Laurie stared at me through the screen for a moment, then let out a cold laugh. “You won’t do it.” “What?” “You spent four years pouring your soul into Boreal. It’s like your child. You won’t actually destroy it.” She was so certain. Certain that I couldn’t let go of the project, and certain that I couldn’t let go of her. “Continue the rehearsal,” Laurie instructed her assistant. “Temporarily suspend Sean’s backend access. We’ll restore it once he cools down.” The screen went dark. Security guards walked up to me and politely asked me to leave. As the elevator doors were closing, I saw two staff members carrying cardboard boxes out of the R&D department. Inside the boxes were my original handwritten calculation manuscripts. Stuck on top was an international shipping label. Destination: The wooden cabin in Iceland where Laurie and Simon were staying. I intercepted the two boxes. The assistant stepped in front of me. “Mr. Sean, this is Ms. Gosling’s arrangement.” “These manuscripts are my personal property.” “Ms. Gosling said Mr. Simon needs to understand the development process for his interview tomorrow.” I tore off the shipping label and hugged the manuscripts to my chest. “If he wants to tell a story, let him tell his own.” The assistant tried to stop me again, but Sam charged out of the elevator and yanked the boxes out of my hands. “Sean, stop throwing a tantrum!” His movement was too violent. The bottom of the box ripped open, sending hundreds of pages of manuscripts scattering across the floor. A passing employee dropped a cup of coffee, spilling brown liquid right onto the oldest stack of calculation sheets. I knelt down to pick them up. The edges of the paper were soaked through, crumbling at the slightest touch. Those were the very last data sets my father had helped me check before he passed away. He didn’t understand programming, so he wore his reading glasses, checking every single number line by line. Sam caught sight of the handwriting on the paper, and his expression froze. “They’re just a few draft pages. Everything is backed up on the cloud anyway.” I looked up at him. “This is Dad’s handwriting.” His lips twitched, but he quickly averted his eyes. “If Dad were still alive, he wouldn’t want to see you ruin Laurie’s company either.” Jasper knelt down to help me gather the papers, whispering, “Sean, once the Boreal launch succeeds, Laurie is giving you a five percent profit share. If you cooperate now, everyone wins.” “You all knew she was giving the creator credit to Simon, didn’t you?” His hands stopped. I asked again, “Iceland, the itinerary, the project, what else have you been keeping from me?” Sam answered impatiently, “Laurie just owes Simon an closure. They broke up back then because Simon went on a mountain survey for her and got caught in an avalanche.” “And?” “And so Boreal was originally something Laurie wanted to build for him!” Sam glared at me. “You were just the engineer who executed her vision.” Four years of development. Over fourteen hundred sleepless nights. In my brother’s mouth, it all boiled down to being the engineer who executed her vision. I picked up the dry manuscripts and turned to walk away. Laurie’s video call came through to the assistant’s phone. “Put him on.” The assistant handed the phone over. It was late at night in Iceland. Simon was asleep, resting his head on Laurie’s shoulder. She didn’t push him away, only kept her voice hushed. “Simon has an interview tomorrow morning. Hand over the manuscripts.” “No.” “Sean, stop being unreasonable.” “Laurie, do you have any idea that my father’s final notes are on these papers?” She went quiet for a moment. “I’ll hire an expert to restore them.” “Some things can’t be restored.” “Then rewrite them,” her voice carried a hint of exhaustion. “You’re a professional engineer. There’s no need to make things hard for a recovering patient over a few old sheets of paper.” Jasper reminded her from the side, “Ms. Gosling, the media already knows Simon is the project founder. If we don’t have the original manuscripts, the interview will fall apart.” Laurie didn’t hesitate. “Take the manuscripts.” The assistant took a step forward. As I backed away, my spine hit the wall, and the papers slipped from my arms again. Sam took the chance to grab the box, while Jasper blocked my path. Jasper whispered, “Once the launch is over, I’ll personally help you get them back.” “What makes you think you have the right to get anything back for me?” Jasper avoided my eyes. Over the phone speaker, Laurie settled the matter as effortlessly as she always did. “After the project concludes, I’ll stay at the family estate with you for a few days, and we’ll restore your father’s study to exactly how it was.” “What happened to the family estate?” The surrounding air instantly went still. Sam’s face turned ghostly pale. I glared at him. “What did you do to the estate?” “The company was short on cash flow last year, so Laurie used the house as collateral for a loan,” he stammered out. “It was just for temporary liquidity.” That house was the only legacy our father left us. Ownership was split fifty-fifty between us. My signature had never appeared on a single mortgage document. “Who signed my name?” Sam clutched the box tighter. “Sean, Laurie promised to buy me a new apartment. I just thought the old house was sitting empty anyway.” “I asked you, who signed my name?” His eyes turned red as he snapped back, “I forged your signature! But Laurie promised that once Boreal succeeds, the loan will be paid off immediately!” Laurie didn’t deny it. She remained composed on the call. “Sean, I will explain everything when I return. Sign the authorization extension right now, otherwise the bank will recall the loan early, and the estate will be repossessed.” The assistant conveniently handed over a pen and the legal document. The signature flag was already attached to the final page. I looked at my brother, looked at my best friend, and looked at the woman on the screen who had once promised to protect everything I cherished. Then, I took the pen. Laurie’s tense brows finally relaxed. What she failed to notice was that in the authorization duration column, I didn’t write Permanent. I wrote 72 Hours. Laurie didn’t contact me the day she landed. Instead, photos from the airport trending online took over the news. In the shots, she was pushing Simon’s luggage with one hand while keeping her other hand around his waist. They were both wearing matching red cords on their wrists. The caption read: A Decade-Long Aurora Promise Kept. Jasper called me, urging me to get to the office. “The media found out about your relationship with Laurie. Everyone is saying Simon is a homewrecker. You need to clarify things publicly.” “Clarify what?” “Say that you two broke up amicably a long time ago, and that her Iceland trip has nothing to do with you.” I hung up the phone. Half an hour later, Sam arrived at my apartment with two security guards. “Sean, Laurie is waiting at the estate. The bank reps are there too. If you don’t sign the permanent authorization today, the house gets seized.” I went with him. The gates to the ancestral estate were wide open. The pomegranate tree my father planted was uprooted and dumped by the courtyard wall. The antique furniture in the living room had been completely cleared out. Simon stood in the center holding a roll of architectural blueprints, chatting cheerfully with Laurie. “Let’s convert the study into a nursery. It’ll be convenient when we have kids after we get married.” I stopped at the doorway. Laurie caught sight of me, her expression faltering slightly. “He was just talking casually.” “This is my home.” The smile on Simon’s face faded. Sam hastily jumped in, “Sean, Laurie bought out your share of the title. If you marry her later, this will still be your home. Simon is just helping look at the renovation plans.” I walked over to the uprooted pomegranate tree and touched the jagged tally marks on its trunk. My father had carved those marks to measure mine and Sam’s height when we were kids. The axe cut sat right on top of the very last mark my father had made. Laurie walked up behind me. “The roots were rotten, which posed a safety hazard. I’ll have someone plant a new one.” “Where are my manuscripts?” She retrieved the box from her car. The top few pages had already been cut out and placed inside Simon’s media interview binder. Beside my father’s handwriting was Simon’s flourish signature. “The press required physical proof,” Laurie said smoothly. “I’ll return them after the launch.” I reached out and pulled those pages out of the binder. Simon reached over to stop me, and his sleeve caught the aurora snow globe sitting on the edge of the table. The glass shattered on the hard tile floor. Green glitter mixed with liquid spilled across the stone. When Laurie gave it to me, she had recorded a voice message in the base. When Boreal succeeds, we’ll get married. Now, the base was cracked in two, the recorded voice looping erratically: “We will… We will…” Simon turned pale with fright. “I’m so sorry, Sean, I didn’t mean to!” Laurie immediately shielded him behind her back, ordering her assistant to clean it up. I knelt down to pick up the broken base. She gripped my wrist tight. “There’s broken glass. Don’t touch it.” “Let go.” “It’s just an old trinket. I’ll buy you a brand-new one.” I looked up at her, a question slipping out. “Laurie, when you pursued me back then, was it because of him too?” She didn’t catch my meaning. But Simon’s face changed instantly. I pulled an old sheet from his interview binder. It was a wishlist written ten years ago: Watch the Northern Lights. Build a risk warning system. Propose under the pomegranate tree. Signed ten years ago by Simon. Every single thing I had ever done with Laurie was nothing more than an item checked off Simon’s old bucket list. Jasper hurried in. Seeing the list in my hand, he immediately said, “Why bring up ancient history? The fact that Laurie did all those things with you later proves she chose you!” Simon’s eyes welled with tears. “Laurie was just missing me too much back then, so she found someone with a similar personality to keep her company. But she wasn’t bad to you either, Sean. Please don’t force her to admit it.” I looked at Laurie. This was the final chance I was giving her. “Is what he said true?” Laurie offered no answer. She simply placed a legal statement in front of me. “The launch is about to start. Sign this first.” In the statement, I was to admit that I had never participated in the core development of Boreal, and that I apologized to Simon for maliciously attempting to claim ownership. Further down was an incident liability confirmation. During their time in Iceland, Simon had remotely altered the testing parameters, nearly causing the partner company’s hardware to overload. They wanted me to take full responsibility for the malfunction. Sam coaxed me softly, “Sean, Simon has a medical condition, he can’t handle an investigation. You’re a professional engineer, at worst you’ll just face a temporary suspension.” Jasper added, “Once the statement is released, the public outrage will settle down. You’ve loved Laurie for five years, you can’t really stand by and watch her company fail its IPO, right?” Laurie handed me the pen. “Sean, sign it. I will settle the estate loan immediately. Once this passes, we will get married as planned.” I didn’t take it. She took my hand and forced the pen into my palm. “Don’t act out of spite. I know you won’t leave.” At that exact moment, the pain ran so deep that there were no tears left to shed. I signed my name at the bottom of the statement, pulled out another document from under it, and handed them both over to her. Laurie only glanced at the signature before instructing her assistant to release it to the press. She failed to notice that the second document was not an authorization extension. The second the statement went live online, the main screen in the launch hall went black. Laurie’s phone blasted a piercing system alarm. Her assistant rushed in, face pale as a sheet. “Ms. Gosling! The Boreal System authorization just expired!”

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I finally pulled a secret chaser figure from a mystery box, beaming as I proudly displayed it on my husband’s desk. He glanced at it for a fraction of a second, then tossed it right into the trash can. “You’re twenty-six years old. Isn’t playing with this stuff a little childish?” Swallowing my hurt, I retrieved the figure and listed it on a local reselling app. Almost immediately, a buyer from nearby snapped it up. She mentioned she lived close and asked if I could deliver it in person. The moment I stepped into her home, I froze at the entryway. An entire wall of display cabinets stretched across the room, packed with insanely expensive, limited-edition figures. The hostess gave me a warm smile. “My younger boyfriend bought all of these for me. I told him I’m in my thirties and playing with toys makes me look silly, but he insists that in his eyes, I’ll always be a girl.” Just then, the front door clicked open. A man walked in holding two iced beverages, leaning down to plant a soft kiss on her cheek. I stepped aside, but as my eyes caught his profile in my peripheral vision, the blood in my veins turned to ice. This man, who spent fortunes collecting rare figures and treated her like a queen, was the exact same husband who had called me childish and thrown away my secret chaser just yesterday. Joey. 1 Our eyes locked, and the color drained from his face instantly. “Joey, you’re staring at her. Don’t scare the poor girl,” Stella said playfully, wrapping her arm around his. She handed me one of the drinks. “She’s the girl who sold me the secret chaser figure. Her name is Gemma. You two should introduce yourselves.” Joey regained his composure, giving me a curt nod. “Hello.” He turned straight back to Stella, his voice dripping with unbearable tenderness. “You don’t need to buy secondhand stuff anymore. Whatever you want, I’ll buy it brand new for you.” Stella swayed his arm gently. “Secondhand is fine. Otherwise, my heart aches seeing you wait in line for hours every time a limited edition drops.” I dug my nails into my palms until they nearly drew blood, yet I felt no pain at all. Stella had bragged that the figures on the wall were rare collectibles gathered from all over the world. One particular figure made my eyes sting. It was an overseas exclusive released a year ago that I had coveted for months. Joey had been on a business trip to that country back then. I hadn’t even dared to ask for the whole figure, only begging him to bring back a matching commemorative sticker. He had frowned and snapped at me at the time, telling me he had a mountain of work to do and no time for useless garbage. It turned out he wasn’t short on time. He just refused to spare a single shred of patience for me. Yet for Stella, he was more than willing to queue up all day for an entire exclusive figure. “Oh, Gemma, I have a duplicate figure I’d love to gift you,” Stella suddenly offered. “Let me grab it from the bedroom.” The moment she turned the corner, Joey stepped forward, grabbing my arm and pulling me into the shadow of the entryway. “Go home first,” he hissed in a low whisper. “I’ll explain everything when I get back.” My voice rasped with bitter humor. “Explain what? Explain that you’re hiding a mistress and cheating on your wife?” Panic flashed across his eyes. He shoved me toward the door, slamming it shut with a loud bang. My wrist throbbed with a burning pain, and tears streamed down uncontrollably. Through the thin wood of the door, muffled voices drifted out. “Oh? Why did Gemma leave? I didn’t get to give her the gift.” “I just let her go. She’s just a stranger selling secondhand toys, there’s no need to get close to her.” Then came the sound of wet, affectionate kissing. I leaned against the hallway wall, my stomach churning with pure nausea. Suddenly, a realization struck me like a lightning bolt. My period was a month late. I stumbled back to my apartment, tore open a pregnancy test, and waited. Two bold red lines appeared. I was pregnant. Before I could digest the news, the lock clicked. Joey was home. In a rush, I wrapped the test in paper and threw it into the trash. He walked in, catching sight of my deathly pale face, and his brows furrowed. “Why do you look so sick? Are you feeling unwell?” He reached out to touch my forehead, but I pulled away coldly. He withdrew his hand, letting out a heavy sigh. “What happened earlier wasn’t what you think. Stella is the older girl from next door where I grew up. When I was young and my family struggled to eat, her family helped us out. She has a congenital heart condition. Before her mother passed away, she begged me to look after her. I only agreed to pretend to be her boyfriend so she could recover in peace.” “So you cheated on your wife and bought her an entire wall of limited edition figures?” My chest felt as though a crushing weight had settled on it, making it hard to breathe. “Joey, I just realized you have a whole second home out there.” “And she’s eight years older than you!” My voice rose uncontrollably, my whole body shaking. “You called my hobby childish, but you flew across the world to build a wall of toys for her!” Guilt flickered in Joey’s eyes, and his tone softened slightly. “Fine, I already thought those toys were silly anyway. If you like them, I’ll buy them for you from now on. I’ll handle Stella properly. Her heart is weak and she can’t take stress, so don’t go making a scene.” I stared at this man I had loved for six years, feeling an overwhelming sense of strangerhood. “Joey, let’s get a divorce.” He dismissed it as a temper tantrum, a sneer tugging at his lips. “Stop dramatic. I’m just taking care of her. It’s not like I don’t love you. You’re the one who holds the marriage certificate with me.” “Besides, you can’t live without me. Don’t ever mention divorce again. I’m taking Stella to the movies now. Stay home and stop being unreasonable.” The door clicked shut gently. Six years of dating, three years of marriage. I had given him my heart and soul, only to be told not to trouble his mistress. Before I could process the pain, a message popped up from Stella. I’m so sorry, sweetie. My boyfriend has a quick temper and couldn’t host you properly. I saved a figure for you, drop by whenever you’re free to pick it up. I clicked into her social media profile and scrolled through years of posts, every single one revolving around Joey. My dream figure was completely out of print, so Joey contacted the manufacturer directly to custom-make a set for me. Birthday surprise: a huge box of mystery figures! He canceled an important business meeting just to line up for them. Love my younger boy so much! I casually mentioned a celebrity figure, and he delivered it to my hands the next morning. My boy always keeps his promises. Every photo hid subtle traces of Joey. Back when I drank until I threw up at business dinners just to help him secure clients, all I asked for in return was one afternoon accompanying me to a toy shop. Yet he turned around and grabbed every new release for Stella at the first opportunity. By the time I reached the bottom of her feed, the sharp sting in my chest had numbed into complete emptiness. I replied with a short text. No thanks. I don’t want it anymore. I didn’t care about the figures, and I didn’t want Joey anymore either. I contacted a divorce attorney immediately, sending over all the evidence of his infidelity. That wall of figures was purchased with marital assets after our wedding, and in court, I wouldn’t yield a single cent. That night, Joey returned home holding a newly released box set of figures, holding it out to me. “Look, isn’t this the series you wanted before?” I didn’t look up, folding my clothes neatly. “Return it. I don’t want it.” The smile on his face vanished, replaced by annoyance. “You cried begging me for it before. Now that I bought it, you’re pushing it away. Stop looking for trouble.” “I really don’t want it,” I repeated calmly. “What you owe me was never just a toy set.” He lost his temper completely. “Gemma, are you ever going to drop this!” Right then, his phone rang. In his rush, he accidentally hit the speakerphone button, and Stella’s tearful voice echoed loudly. “Joey, my heart hurts so much… my chest feels so tight…” Joey’s face paled. He bolted toward the door, his arm swinging wildly as he stood up, shoving me hard onto the floor. My lower back slammed against the sharp corner of the table, causing me to gasp in agony. In the next second, a searing, excruciating pain flared up in my lower abdomen. “Joey!” I grabbed his sleeve tightly, eyes red. “My stomach hurts so bad, please take me to the hospital, I’m begging you…” He yanked his arm free in frustration. “Enough! Stop using fake pain to compete for attention! This is a matter of life and death for her!” He walked out without looking back once. The pain worsened, and warm blood trickled down my legs. I forced myself to dial emergency services, and an ambulance rushed me to the hospital. Because of that blow, I suffered a miscarriage. Lying in the hospital bed, my eyes remained dry, unable to squeeze out a single tear. While the procedure tormented me, Stella updated her social media. The photo showed her snuggled in Joey’s arms, his hand resting gently over her chest. The caption read: Joey was terrified! Honestly my heart didn’t even hurt that much, I just wanted to trick him into staying longer, teehee. Hidden from him! Seeing those words, the emotional dam broke, and I sobbed uncontrollably. I had prayed for this child for three years. Gone, all because of a single lie. Soon after, another message from Stella popped up. Gemma, let’s meet up. You really need to take this figure, or I’ll feel too guilty. My fingers hovered over the screen before typing a response. Okay. Good. It was time to lay everything out in the open. The next day, as I reached the entrance of the cafe, Stella rushed toward me and slapped me hard across the face. A loud crack echoed through the air. “Gemma, do you have no shame?” Stella’s eyes were red, her voice trembling. “I treated you like a friend, and you tried to seduce my boyfriend behind my back!” I covered my burning cheek, my ears ringing. She shoved her phone in front of my face, showing a photo taken a month ago of Joey and me holding hands in the park. “I went through your social media and realized you two were together all along! Selling me that figure and coming to my house was just a deliberate act to brag and trigger me, wasn’t it?” Her voice rose into a dramatic sob, her hand clutching her chest as her knees buckled toward the ground. “I’m begging you! My heart is weak, I can’t live without Joey! Please let us go, I’ll give you my entire wall of figures!” Bystanders gathered, pointing fingers while phone cameras aimed straight at me. “How shameless! Being a side chick and picking on a sick woman!” I took a deep breath, raised my hand, and slapped Stella right back across the face. “Your boyfriend?” My voice trembled as I pulled our marriage certificate from my bag. “Joey and I registered three years ago. We are legally married.” “As for that wall of figures, it was bought with marital assets. My lawyer has prepared the paperwork, and I will reclaim every single cent.” The crowd fell silent for a moment. “They have a marriage certificate?” “So the sick woman is the mistress?” Stella swayed, her eyes welling up with tears. “Impossible… Joey told me he wasn’t married…” Before she could finish, a heavy force shoved me back. “Gemma!” Joey rushed forward, wrapping Stella securely in his arms, his eyes filled with rage as he glared at me. “Who gave you permission to hit her? You know her heart is bad!” Stella leaned against him, clutching her chest as she whimpered. “Joey, tell me, are you really married? Am I… am I the mistress?” Joey hesitated for only a second. “No.” “She has delusions. This marriage certificate is a forgery. She’s just a crazy woman who has been stalking me.” Those words pinned me to the spot like ice. “Joey, have you lost your mind? We are legally…” His expression turned completely cold as he grabbed Stella’s wrist. “Stella, slap her back.” I stared at him in disbelief, hearing only his frozen voice. “She hurt you just now. Hit her back. I will never let anyone bully my girlfriend.” That gave Stella all the confidence she needed. SLAP! Another heavy strike landed on my other cheek. Stella bit her lip. “That’s what you get for lying and playing the homewrecker.” She looked at Joey, feigning worry. “But… where did she get such a realistic marriage certificate? Forgery is illegal, shouldn’t we call the police?” A flicker of reluctance crossed Joey’s eyes, but in the next second, he snatched the marriage certificate from my hand and tore it to shreds! The scraps fell to the ground like drops of blood. On the day we registered, he had held that certificate in his hands, kissing it over and over. Gemma, you’re finally my legal wife! In just three short years, for another woman, he tore apart our marriage with his own hands. “It’s just a fake document anyway. Let’s see how you spread rumors now,” he said, his voice raspy and final.

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1 Ever since my husband started reserving every single weekend for his late buddy’s sister and her kid, my son started stuffing coins into an old cookie tin. When his teacher asked what he was saving up for, he tilted his head up and said, “To rent a dad for a day.” On the day of the school’s father-son field day, while other kids held their fathers’ hands and sprinted across the finish line, Sam stood alone on the sidelines holding a card. On the back of the card, written in crooked, childish handwriting, were the words: Space available for rent. Half days accepted. I tried to pull him away, but he looked up and whispered, “Mom, did Aunt Amber buy out all of Dad’s time?” Later, when my husband finally realized something was wrong, he rushed home carrying a limited-edition robot kit to make up for missing Sam’s birthday. The front door was ajar. On the living room coffee table lay a return slip drawn by our son. Under the reason for return, it read: Dad is constantly out of stock. Customer service is terrible. Item no longer wanted. … “Rachel, is this how you raise our son?” Nicholas slammed the paper return slip onto the glass table. The thin paper crumpled under his palm. At the top was a grid drawn with colored markers in Sam’s shaky hand. Item Name: Dad. Duration of Use: Six years. Damage Level: Constantly missing, breaks promises, gives my belongings to other people. Reason for Return: Out of stock long term, terrible customer service. Item no longer wanted. Nicholas stared at the words, his face pale and tight. “I’m not even dead, and he’s treating me like broken junk to be returned?” I pulled Sam behind my back. “You’re not junk.” Nicholas choked on his next word. He glared at me, his temper flaring higher. “Rachel, stop with the passive-aggressive commentary. I cleared my schedule to come back and celebrate his birthday today. What more do you want?” I glanced at the limited-edition robot kit in his hand. The corner of the box was crushed. The security tape had already been sliced open and peeled back. “Did Mason reject it first?” I asked quietly. Nicholas froze for a split second. “Can you stop dragging Amber and Mason into everything? Mason is young, he opened it to take a look and didn’t care for it. I knew Sam would like it, so I brought it home.” Before I could reply, Sam poked his small head out from behind my hip. He stared at the battered box, his voice barely a whisper. “Dad, is my birthday present just someone else’s leftovers?” Nicholas knit his brows into a harsh line. “Don’t be so petty, Sam.” Sam squeezed the hem of his shirt. “Then can I have the remote-controlled car you bought for Mason after he’s done looking at it?” Nicholas’s expression darkened. “Sam, Mason’s situation is different. His mom is raising him on her own, and he has sensory processing issues. What’s wrong with me taking a little extra care of him?” Sam slowly lowered his head. “I only have one mom, too.” Nicholas went still. A flicker of guilt flashed across his eyes, but he quickly shoved it down. He reached out to pat Sam’s head, but Sam flinched and ducked away. Nicholas’s hand hovered in the air, his pride wounded. “Sam, I’m your father.” Sam looked up at him. There were no tears, no screaming, no tantrum. Just a terrifyingly quiet gaze. “Can a dad expire?” Nicholas was rendered completely speechless. That night, Sam didn’t touch his birthday cake. He dragged out his metal cookie tin from under his bed and placed it in the center of my palm. Inside was one hundred seventy-three dollars and fifty cents, the bills and coins neatly stacked and sorted. “Sam isn’t renting Dad anymore,” he said, trying his best to offer me a smile. “Mom, keep the money for train tickets.” My throat felt like it had been scraped with sandpaper. I pulled him into my arms. His small, thin shoulders were tense, but he didn’t shed a single tear. For years, Nicholas always claimed he was busy. Busy with the technology center projects. Busy with the youth robotics league. When Amber’s hallway light broke, he was busy fixing it. When Mason had a mild fever, he was busy rushing them to the emergency room. Whenever Amber sighed and said, “Nicholas, my brother ruined his hand back then just to save your life,” Nicholas would drop everything and walk out on Sam’s parent-teacher conferences in the middle of the night. Yet when Sam had his first terrifying high fever at age five, Nicholas didn’t come home. When Sam graduated from kindergarten, Nicholas didn’t come home. When Sam fell on the pavement downstairs and chipped his front teeth, Nicholas didn’t come home. Every single time, he had an excuse. And every single time, the excuse involved Amber and her son. After Sam fell asleep, I walked into the study. At the very bottom of my desk drawer lay an employment contract. Lead Curator, Southwest Ancient Manuscript Restoration Center. I had once stayed in this city for Nicholas, turning down two advanced fellowship programs and giving up a chance to lead my own research team. I wasn’t waiting anymore. I picked up a pen and drew a red circle around a date twelve days from now on the calendar. That was the final deadline to report for duty. In twelve days, I would take Sam and leave. As for Nicholas… since he had been returned, he didn’t need to take up space in our lives any longer. 2 Nine days until departure. I stepped out of the museum’s storage vault, still carrying the faint scent of turpentine and aged paper. When I unlocked the front door, the apartment was in absolute chaos. The rug in Sam’s bedroom had been kicked aside. Two movers were hauling his custom electronics workbench toward the doorway. Mounted on the table was a robotic arm he had spent three months assembling. I had gone out of my way to source those specific, delicate components from a specialized supplier. Every day after finishing his homework, Sam would put on his safety goggles and lean over the desk like a tiny engineer, adjusting every wire with pride. He had named that robotic arm “Little Boat.” He told me that when Dad finally came home, he would program Little Boat to hand Dad a glass of water. Now, Little Boat was shoved carelessly into a cardboard box. Wires were snapped, and half the arm hung limply over the side. Nicholas stood near the hallway, directing the crew. “Careful with those parts. Don’t lose anything. Mason needs them for his competition next week.” I froze in my tracks. “Nicholas, what are you moving?” He turned around, his tone entirely offhand. “I’m borrowing Sam’s setup for Mason for a few days. Mason is competing in the city innovation fair, and they don’t have a proper workbench at their place.” “Borrowing?” I walked over and stepped directly in front of the movers. “Did you ask Sam?” Nicholas frowned. “Sam is just a kid, what does he know? Leaving this gear here is just playing around. Mason actually needs it for serious work.” Just then, Sam ran out of the bathroom. Seeing his workbench being hauled away, his face drained of all color. “Dad, no!” He sprinted forward and wrapped his small arms around the table leg. “Little Boat isn’t finished! The teacher needs to check it tomorrow, I promised her!” Nicholas grabbed Sam by the collar and pulled him back. “Stop throwing a fit.” Sam panicked, tears brimming in his eyes. “You said this workbench was mine!” Nicholas said sternly, “Mason needs it more than you do.” Sam stared up at him, bewildered. “What about me?” Nicholas lost his patience entirely. “You have your mother to stay with you every day. You have a complete home. What does Mason have? His mother is struggling on her own, and his uncle lost his livelihood because of my past accident. Why can’t you just yield to him for once?” I let out a cold laugh. “So you’re paying off your debts to the family by stealing from your own son?” Nicholas’s expression shifted. “Rachel, watch your mouth!” “Is it too harsh?” I pointed at the snapped wires of the robotic arm. “You crushed three months of your son’s hard work just to curry favor with someone else’s child, and I’m supposed to applaud you?” Nicholas suppressed his anger. “Don’t make this a moral crusade. I’ll buy him a brand new set tomorrow.” Sam suddenly spoke up, his voice barely audible. “You said that last time, too.” Nicholas stiffened. Sam looked up, counting on his fingers one by one. “You said you’d buy me a telescope, but you gave it to Mason.” “You said you’d take me to the astronomy exhibit, but you went to the hospital with Aunt Amber.” “You said you’d teach me how to solder circuit boards, but Mason cried, so you left.” He sniffled softly. “Dad, are your tomorrows only reserved for other people?” Nicholas’s face darkened inch by inch. “Sam, don’t pick up your mother’s dramatic habits.” Sam flinched at the harshness in his tone. I stepped forward and gathered Sam into my arms. “You want to move it? Fine.” Nicholas looked at me, caught off guard, as if he hadn’t expected me to yield. I pulled out my phone and hit record. “State it clearly for the camera. This equipment belongs to Sam. You are taking it without his consent. Any damage will be reimbursed at full price, and the credit for his design remains solely under his name.” Nicholas sneered. “You’re recording this? Rachel, you’ve become completely unhinged.” I nodded. “Yes, because I know exactly how reasonable you like to pretend you are.” The movers stood there awkwardly. Nicholas pressed his lips into a tight line, but ultimately signaled the workers to carry the boxes out. At eleven that night, Amber posted an update on social media. In the photo, Mason sat at Sam’s workbench, grinning brightly with his prominent canine teeth showing. The caption read: Mason finally has his very own tiny laboratory. Thank you, Nicholas. You always say my brother ruined his hand for you, but I know you’ve always considered us your real family. The very first like on the post came from Nicholas. Sam leaned against my side. When he saw the photo, he didn’t cry. He simply walked over to his bedroom wall, peeled off a sticky note that read Dad and Sam build a Mars rover together, crumpled it into a tight ball, and tossed it into the trash can. I closed my phone, opened my laptop, and finalized the lease agreement for a two-bedroom apartment in the new city. The landlord messaged asking when I could move in. I replied: As soon as humanly possible. Three minutes later, a text from Nicholas popped up. Is Sam still throwing a tantrum? Soften him up a bit. I’ll take him behind the scenes at the tech museum this weekend to make it up to him. Looking at the word compensation, a hollow wave of absurdity washed over me. He always assumed injuries could be discounted. He had no idea that some things, once broken, came with no customer support at all. 3 Four days until departure. Sam’s youth robotics showcase was held at the community center. Without his workbench, he had been forced to piece together a crude, makeshift vehicle using spare parts from old toys. Before leaving the house, he polished the tiny plastic chassis three times. Then, he carefully tucked an entry ticket into his jacket pocket. It was the ticket he had saved for Nicholas. I asked him, “Are you still waiting for him?” Sam kept his head down, snapping a small wheel into place. “He said he would definitely come today.” I didn’t shatter his hope. When we arrived at the venue, other children were fine-tuning impressive, polished creations. Sam sat in a quiet corner, cradling his humble little car, his eyes darting toward the glass entrance every few seconds. Five minutes before the presentations began, Nicholas sent a text. Emergency system glitch at the technology center. I’ll be late. Tell Sam not to make a scene. I put the phone away. Sam had already seen the notification banner on my screen. He asked quietly, “He’s not coming again, right?” I knelt down and straightened his collar. “Mom is here to watch you.” He nodded gently. “Okay.” When Sam’s name was called, he walked onto the small stage, his voice trembling slightly into the microphone. “My project is named… The Homecoming.” A few parents in the audience chuckled softly. Sam held the controller tightly. “It can automatically detect paths, navigate around obstacles, and find its pre-set destination.” The little car hummed to life. Though it moved slowly, it navigated around every barrier on the board with steady precision, finally stopping right in front of a small wooden block labeled Home. The instructor led the applause. A faint smile finally touched Sam’s face. At that exact moment, familiar voices echoed from the back door. “Mason, slow down, watch your step.” Nicholas walked in, holding Mason’s hand. Amber followed right behind them, her voice soft and sweet. “Nicholas, it’s Mason’s first time on stage. He feels so much safer with you here.” The smile on Sam’s face instantly froze. I turned around to look at Nicholas. When his eyes met mine, a flash of guilt crossed his face, but he quickly composed himself and walked over. “See? I made it.” I looked down at the project in Mason’s hands. It was a robotic arm. The outer casing had been covered in shiny new stickers, but I recognized the jagged scratch along the base immediately. That was Sam’s Little Boat. Sam recognized it, too. His fingers turned white around his controller. “Dad… that’s mine.” Nicholas frowned. “It’s just borrowed for Mason’s presentation.” Mason shrank behind Nicholas’s jacket, his eyes welling up with tears. “Uncle Nicholas, am I not allowed to use it? Does Sam hate me?” Amber immediately knelt down to hug her son. “Sam, I don’t mean to criticize you, but your father just wants Mason to build some confidence. You’re so smart, missing one minor opportunity won’t hurt you.” Sam looked at her. “Then why can’t he miss an opportunity?” Amber’s smile stiffened. Nicholas snapped sharply, “Sam!” The entire room fell dead silent. Sam flinched from the sudden shout, but he didn’t back down. “It’s mine.” Nicholas lowered his voice to a harsh whisper. “Stop making a fool of me in public.” I stepped firmly between Nicholas and my son. “The only person making a fool of himself here is you.” Noticing the surrounding stares from other parents, Nicholas’s temper flared. He reached out aggressively to snatch the makeshift car from Sam’s arms. “Since you don’t know how to behave, I’m taking this back until you learn some manners!” “No!” Sam pleaded, clinging to the toy with all his strength. During the struggle, the small vehicle slipped from their hands and smashed onto the hard floor. A sharp, jagged piece of metal sheared off and sliced straight across Sam’s open palm. Blood welled up immediately. Sam turned pale from the sudden, searing pain. I lunged forward and grabbed his wrist. “Don’t move!” Nicholas panicked for a split second. “Sam… I didn’t mean to…” Sam looked at his shattered project on the floor, then down at the bright red blood dripping from his hand. Slowly, he pulled the crumpled entry ticket out of his jacket pocket. It was crushed from being held tightly all morning. He held it out toward Nicholas. “Dad, I’m returning your ticket.” Nicholas’s voice went raspy. “Sam…” Sam raised his left arm to wipe away his tears. “You don’t have to come anymore.” I rushed Sam straight to the urgent care clinic. While the doctor stitched his palm, he bit his lower lip hard, refusing to let out a single cry. The nurse praised him for being brave. Sam stared at his heavily bandaged hand and whispered, “It’s better if it hurts a little.” My heart squeezed tightly. “Why?” He looked up at me. “So I’ll remember never to save a ticket for him again.” I wrapped my arms around him, tears threatening to spill over. When we got home, Sam sat at his desk and emptied every coin remaining in his cookie tin. He counted them one by one, then took a marker and wrote new words on the lid. It no longer said Rent a Dad. It said Moving Fund. I pulled up the travel app on my phone, selected our train tickets scheduled for five days later, and rescheduled them for the day after tomorrow. There was nothing left in this house worth waiting for. 4 The day before our departure. I took Sam to the main branch of the technology museum to retrieve his stolen workbench. Nicholas wasn’t at his office desk. A staff member mentioned that the annual youth science festival was taking place, and Nicholas was downstairs at the underground hydro-stage area accompanying special guests. I held Sam’s hand as we walked toward the lower exhibition hall. As soon as we reached the entrance, I saw Nicholas standing beside the water curtain stage. He was leaning over, carefully adjusting a pair of protective goggles for Mason. Amber stood right beside him, smoothing down the collar of his suit jacket with a natural, practiced intimacy. Sam stopped dead in his tracks. I felt his tiny hand go completely limp in mine. Nicholas spotted us. He instinctively pulled away from Amber’s touch. “Rachel? What are you doing here?” “Taking back what belongs to my son,” I said. Amber offered a gentle, sorrowful smile. “Rachel, Mason is still using the workbench. Could you grant us just two more days? His final evaluation is coming up, and switching equipment now would cause him a complete meltdown.” I stared cold eyes at her. “If he has a meltdown, what does that have to do with my son?” Amber’s eyes instantly welled with tears. Nicholas’s brow furrowed in annoyance. “Rachel, can you stop starting a fight the moment you show up?” Sam suddenly spoke, his voice unnaturally calm. “Dad, I don’t want it anymore.” Nicholas blinked, caught off guard. “What?” Sam pointed toward the back door. “I don’t want the workbench, and I don’t want Dad anymore. Let me and Mom go.” He turned around and pulled my hand. At that precise moment, the red warning lights above the hydro-stage flashed frantically. An ear-splitting alarm blared through the underground speakers. Warning: Drainage failure detected in the underground exhibit. All visitors, evacuate immediately. Panic erupted instantly. Staff members yelled through megaphones, “Do not crowd the water curtain area! Use the exits on the right!” A second later, the overhead emergency high-pressure sprayers malfunctioned, pouring massive torrents of water down like a waterfall. Water accumulated rapidly across the polished floor. People slipped, and children screamed in terror. I instinctively scooped Sam into my arms and sprinted toward the main exit. In the surging chaos, Mason was knocked over by the fleeing crowd, tumbling into the narrow maintenance trench beside the stage. Sam was bumped out of my grip by a rushing crowd, falling backward into an equipment alcove on the opposite side. The automatic fire door of the alcove short-circuited, slamming down halfway and jamming securely in place. Water surged inside, quickly submerging Sam up to his knees. I threw myself against the crowd, screaming like a lunatic. “Sam!” Nicholas was closest to the stage. He saw Sam first, but in the next fraction of a second, his eyes caught sight of Mason trapped in the trench. Sam gripped the bottom edge of the metal door, his voice shaking. “Dad! Save me!” Mason was crying hysterically. “Uncle Nicholas! I’m scared!” Amber shrieked frantically, “Nicholas! Mason can’t swim! Please save him first!” In that single instant, Nicholas hesitated. It was truly only a split second. But I saw it with horrifying clarity. He turned his back on Sam and sprinted straight toward Mason. Sam saw it, too. The small hand he had reached out through the gap slowly dropped to his side. A burst of raw agony exploded in my chest. “Nicholas!” My voice was instantly drowned out by the roar of rushing water and frantic screams. I threw myself against the jammed door, slamming my shoulder into the heavy frame once, twice, again and again. Water surged up to my waist. Sam’s face grew paler by the second. His trapped right hand was caught underneath the heavy metal frame, blood seeping out and diffusing into the rising water. He didn’t call for his father again. He just looked at me. “Mom… it hurts.” I gritted my teeth and forced my fingers into the narrow gap beneath the door. Sharp metal edges sliced into the back of my hands, but I felt no pain. “Sam, look at Mom,” I sobbed, prying upward with everything I had. “Don’t close your eyes. Mom is taking you out.” Behind us, Nicholas had already lifted Mason into his arms and carried him to the safety platform. Amber threw her arms around him, weeping and calling his name. Using every ounce of strength in my body, I managed to wedge the door open enough to drag Sam out. His right hand hung completely limp. His little body was ice cold. When the paramedics arrived, I carried him straight into the back of the ambulance. Nicholas came running after us, his clothes soaked through. “Rachel! How is Sam?” I shoved him back, refusing to let his fingers touch the gurney. Seeing Sam’s pale, bloodless face, terror finally took hold of Nicholas’s eyes. “Sam! Dad is right here!” Sam kept his eyes closed, giving no reaction at all. The paramedics pushed me back, and the doors of the emergency bay slammed shut. The red light flickered on above the entrance. I sat on the cold metal bench in the hallway, blood still dripping slowly from the gashes on my knuckles. My phone screen was shattered and water-damaged. I opened the chat window with my attorney and sent over the signed documents. The divorce papers are finalized. Custody and asset division will go through litigation. I want a permanent order keeping Nicholas away from my son. After hitting send, I opened the transit app. I changed our tickets scheduled for tomorrow morning to the final train leaving tonight. Nicholas… you didn’t just fail to choose him today. You failed to choose him every single time.

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1 When the national training camp roster was announced, my father took me straight to the nephrology ward. Skylar sat in a wheelchair, pale. Brenda, the woman I’d called Mom for over a decade, slid a medical report across the desk. “You and Skylar are an initial match. You’re an athlete, you’re strong. You can live fine with one kidney. Save your sister first.” Tyler stood by the door, holding my driver’s license. “There will be other competitions, Brooke. She can’t wait.” I stared at them and laughed bitterly. My ten years of training meant nothing to them but a box of spare parts for Skylar. Down the hall, my father sent voice notes to relatives: “Skylar has a chance! Brooke’s a match.” Tyler coaxed Skylar: “Don’t be scared. Brooke won’t leave you hanging.” My phone buzzed. The family group chat shared a GoFundMe: Please Help Save Our Beloved Daughter, Skylar. I quietly deleted the ethics committee appointment they’d scheduled for me, then replied to Coach Dawson. Since they wanted me to part with a piece of my body, I’d start by cutting myself out of this family. … Coach Dawson’s reply popped up almost instantly. Brooke, are you confirming your registration? If you don’t report within forty-eight hours, your spot goes to the alternate. I stared at the screen, my fingertips numb with cold. The official roster for the Women’s 400-Meter Hurdles National Training Camp. My name sat at number three. I had spent ten grueling years running for this exact spot. Ten years ago, when I won my very first regional championship, Tyler stood outside the finish line, holding up his jacket to block the cold wind for me. “Brooke, when you make the national team, I’ll carry your flag.” I believed him. So even when my knees throbbed so painfully in the middle of the night that I couldn’t sleep, even when my ankles were wrapped in layers of compression tape, I never once thought about stopping. Yet right now, he stood in a hospital corridor, holding my ID, refusing to give it back to me. The physician placed the chart back on the desk. “It’s only an initial match. We still need detailed secondary evaluations. A living organ donation must be entirely voluntary on the donor’s part, especially since she’s a professional athlete. The risks and recovery timeline require extreme caution.” Brenda nodded frantically. “She’s voluntary! Brooke has always been a good girl. She’s just overwhelmed right now.” I lifted my head. “I am not voluntary.” The hallway went dead silent. Tears welled in Skylar’s eyes first. “Brooke… I’m so sorry. If I weren’t dragging everyone down, you wouldn’t be put in such a hard spot.” The moment she spoke, Brenda dropped to her knees to pull her into a tight hug. “Skylar, baby, don’t think like that. Your sister is an athlete, she recovers fast.” My father’s face darkened instantly. “Brooke, we’re family. Don’t be so calculating.” I turned my eyes to Tyler. He knew better than anyone that I hadn’t even gone home for Christmas just to prepare for this camp. He knew that after donating a kidney, I might never be able to return to elite athletic performance. Yet he simply avoided my gaze. “Brooke, just give Skylar some hope for now. I’ll stay by your side through your entire rehabilitation.” He wasn’t ignorant of the consequences. He had simply made the decision to sacrifice me. Brenda reached over, trying to snatch my phone. “Stop looking at all those messages. The hospital scheduled your ethics evaluation for tomorrow morning. Just cooperate with the doctors.” I took a step backward. “I’m not going.” My father slammed his palm onto the back of a plastic chair. “Don’t you dare!” Skylar flinched dramatically, and Tyler immediately bent down to support her. “Don’t worry, I’m here.” When he looked up at me, his voice was heavy with reprimand. “Brooke, stop terrifying her.” I was the one being pushed onto an operating table. Yet he was scolding me for terrifying her. The physician reminded them once more, “Family members cannot make medical decisions on behalf of an adult donor.” Brenda offered a strained smile. “We know, Doctor. She’s just stubborn. We’ll talk some sense into her once we get home.” I lowered my eyes, flipping my phone screen downward. The red recording indicator on the screen was quietly blinking. I was seven years old when my father brought Brenda and Skylar into our house. That was the day I learned Skylar wasn’t just a stepsister. She was my father’s biological daughter, too, born to Brenda. My father had patted my head back then, saying, “Brooke, you’re a family now. You’re the older sister, and Skylar is frail. You need to look out for her.” For over ten years, I called Brenda “Mom.” And for over ten years, I yielded everything to Skylar. I gave up the bigger bedroom, gave up my birthdays, gave up my father’s affection. And now, they wanted my body, too. As we walked out of the clinic, my father was already tapping away in the family chat. Brooke’s initial match came back positive! Skylar is saved! A flood of praise instantly erupted in the group. Brooke is so mature! That’s how an older sister should act. She’s an athlete, losing one kidney won’t hurt her. Not a single person asked whether I consented. I reached out to take my ID back from Tyler. He slipped it into his coat pocket. “After you calm down.” Before major competitions, he used to hold onto my race bib and kinesiology tape just like this. I used to think it was thoughtfulness. Only now did I realize that the same hands could be used to lock me down. When we arrived home, the dining table was covered with dishes. Low-sodium meals, blanched vegetables, half a bowl of clear broth. Everything was tailored specifically for Skylar’s delicate condition. Brenda sat beside her, carefully blowing on a spoonful of soup to cool it down. “Skylar, drink more. The doctor said you can’t be malnourished right now.” Only when caring for Skylar did she resemble a true mother. Meanwhile, after calling her Mom for more than a decade, the only lesson I had learned was how to surrender. Tyler sat on Skylar’s other side, slicing an apple into tiny, uniform cubes for her. I stood in the entryway, my heavy gym bag still slung over my shoulder. I had been fasting since morning for blood draws, then dragged around all afternoon to discuss organ donation procedures. My stomach twitched with sharp, empty pangs. No one asked if I had eaten. I turned and walked into the kitchen. Inside the pot was only half a bowl of cold rice porridge. The moment my fingers touched the rim of the bowl, Brenda stepped into the kitchen behind me. “That’s for Skylar’s midnight snack,” she said coldly. “You’re an athlete, missing one meal won’t kill you.” I looked at her. In that singular moment, it became crystal clear to me: she wasn’t incapable of being a mother. She was simply only a mother to Skylar. My father pushed an old debit card across the kitchen counter toward me. “Transfer last month’s state team stipend to your mother.” I stared down at the card. It was my training allowance card, which had been linked to Brenda’s phone account for years. “That’s my emergency reserve for training camp,” I said softly. My father scowled. “Don’t you see what this family is going through right now? Skylar needs a private room, she needs dialysis, she needs to wait for surgery!” Brenda’s eyes reddened. “You’ll have plenty of prize money once you’re on the national team! Skylar can’t afford to wait right now!” I spoke up in a low voice. “Didn’t you already start a fundraiser?” The living room fell instantly quiet. Skylar immediately dropped her head. “Brooke, I’m sorry for making a scene and embarrassment out of our family. Maybe… maybe I shouldn’t seek treatment.” Brenda rushed out of the kitchen to wrap her arms around Skylar. “Don’t speak such nonsense!” Tyler handed a piece of apple to Skylar’s lips. “Eat this first. Don’t worry about any of this.” My phone chimed with a notification. It was a link sent privately by a relative. Brooke, you’re such a good girl. I shared the fundraising link for you! I clicked the link. At the very top of the GoFundMe page was a photo of Skylar lying frail in a hospital bed. The second photo was a back view of me crossing a finish line in my state team uniform. The caption read: Older sister Brooke is a state athlete and has agreed to selflessly donate her kidney to save her sister. A bond of true sisterhood. Please help this family in need. I stared at that photo, my fingers tightening around the edge of my phone. That was a photo from last year’s National Youth Championships. After crossing the finish line, I had collapsed onto the track, my knees raw and bleeding onto the asphalt. My parents hadn’t come. Only Tyler had shown up. He had said that moment of glory deserved to be preserved. I raised the screen right in front of Tyler’s face. “Did you give them this photo?” Tyler’s posture stiffened. “Your aunt said the fundraising platform required proof of the family’s situation. Brooke, it’s an emergency. We can delete the photo later.” Skylar chimed in with a soft, trembling voice. “Brooke, are you mad at me for using your picture? I was just afraid people wouldn’t help me…” Every sentence she spoke sounded like an apology, yet every sentence dragged me into the spotlight to be judged by everyone. I pulled the debit card back and shoved it into my bag. “I’m not transferring a single cent.” My father’s face turned livid. “Brooke, are you trying to force my hand?!” I didn’t bother arguing further. As I turned to head upstairs, a banking alert popped up on my phone. The remaining balance in that old stipend account had just been forcibly transferred out. Tyler pursued me to the foot of the stairs, lowering his voice to a gentle plea. “Brooke, I know you feel wronged. But Skylar really has no other way out.” I stopped on the steps. “Did the doctor say that to you directly?” He fell silent for a moment. “Your parents wouldn’t lie to you.” A faint, bitter smile touched my lips. He hadn’t even bothered to ask the doctor himself. He simply assumed that my sacrifice was the default option. The next day, the state team hosted a farewell ceremony for the athletes selected for the national squad. Coach Dawson had reserved three seats in the very front row for my family. Three chairs. My father, Brenda, and Tyler. She handed me the event program, smiling as she patted my shoulder. “Don’t look so tense today. This is a massive milestone.” I nodded silently. Yet when the ceremony began, those three seats remained completely empty. My teammates walked up to the stage one by one. Some received bouquets from their mothers; others had fathers holding up cameras to capture the moment. When my name was called, Coach Dawson was the only person standing in the audience, clapping warmly for me. She tucked a bright bouquet of sunflowers into my arms. “Brooke, keep running forward. No one can run your lane for you.” A sudden wave of heat prickled my nose, and tears nearly spilled over. After the group photos, my phone buzzed several times. Brenda had posted a photo in the family group chat. Skylar was sitting on a hospital bed, wrapped tightly in my official USA National Team jacket. Tyler was kneeling partially beside the bed, zipping the jacket up to her chin. My father stood on the side, holding a mug of warm water. Brenda’s caption read: Skylar wanted to wear her sister’s jacket for good luck. We will all get through this together. She and I shared half the same blood. Yet that tiny shared lineage wasn’t a bond of affection in their eyes, it was a license to strip me bare. Relatives flooded the chat with replies. Skylar looks so pretty in it! The sisters have such a deep bond. Skylar will definitely recover! I looked down at the standard team track jacket I was wearing. That official national team windbreaker had been issued just last night. It had my name printed clearly across the back: BROOKE. I had carefully ironed it and placed it at the very top of my suitcase. Now, it was draped over Skylar. A text from Tyler popped up. Skylar just wanted to try it on for encouragement. It’s just a jacket, don’t be so petty. I stared at the words don’t be so petty for a very long time. When I was younger, I owned a pair of track spikes that I wore during my very first state victory. Skylar had begged to try them on. She wore them while running through the gravel paths in the neighborhood garden, snapping the spikes and clogging the soles with mud. My father had brushed it off, saying children were naturally curious. Tyler had advised me that shoes could easily be replaced. Later, my first championship medal was taken by my father and placed under Skylar’s pillow in the hospital. He claimed looking at it gave Skylar courage. Every single time, it was met with don’t be so petty. It was as if the moment I stood up for myself, I became the villain. Coach Dawson walked over, saw the photo on my screen, and her expression darkened instantly. “Did your family take that without asking?” I locked the screen. “It’s fine.” She didn’t push further, simply handing me an envelope containing my reporting documents. “The team bus will take you to the airport tomorrow morning at six-thirty. Don’t forget your ID and medical clearance files.” My chest tightened sharply. My driver’s license was still in Tyler’s possession. And my registration letter… had been in my suitcase last night. I caught a cab straight back to the house. The living room lights were blazing. My father, Brenda, Tyler, and Skylar were all gathered there. My national team windbreaker was draped across Skylar’s lap, while the removable name tag from the back sat casually on the coffee table. I walked over and picked the jacket up. Skylar’s eyes filled with tears immediately. “Brooke, I didn’t mean to… I just wanted to feel a little bit of confidence.” Brenda pressed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Brooke, it’s just a piece of clothing. Skylar is going through so much, must you fight her over everything?” I pinned the name tag securely back onto the jacket. “This belongs to me.” Tyler frowned deeply. “Can’t you even grant her a tiny piece of hope right now?” I looked him dead in the eye. “Since when did my personal belongings become her source of hope?” He choked on his words, unable to answer. My father threw a printed document onto the glass table. “You’re not going to the airport tomorrow.” “The hospital scheduled your ethics committee review.” I turned my head toward Tyler. “Did you know about this, too?” He averted his eyes from mine. “It’s just an interview.” Brenda interjected, “It doesn’t mean surgery right away. We just need to give Skylar a ray of hope first.” I turned around, walked upstairs, and unzipped my suitcase. The clear document pouch was completely empty. My ID, my backup bank card, and my national team registration letter were all gone. Behind me, Brenda’s voice was soft and sickeningly gentle. “Mom is keeping those safe for you. I’ll give them back once the interview is finished.” I gripped the hard shell of the suitcase, my knuckles turning stark white. They didn’t just want me to yield. They were actively locking the door on my future. At four in the morning, muffled noises echoed from downstairs. My father was on the phone. “Yes, we are definitely bringing her over today. She’s just throwing a minor temper tantrum, it won’t affect the donor evaluation.” Brenda stood outside my bedroom door holding a glass of warm milk. “Brooke, drink this and get a little more sleep. We’ll head to the hospital when you wake up.” I stared at her hand gripping the glass tightly, making no move to take it. “Sleep until I miss my flight registration?” Her eyes instantly turned red. “I have no choice! Skylar suffers so much pain during dialysis every day, can’t you just feel a little sympathy for her once?” I asked in a low voice, “When my knees hurt so badly in the middle of the night that I couldn’t sleep, did you ever feel a single drop of sympathy for me?” She froze. It was as if the thought had never once crossed her mind. A moment later, my father stormed up the stairs. “Brooke, you are going to that hospital today whether you like it or not! Skylar is my daughter, she is your flesh and blood!” “You share the exact same blood, how can you be so heartless?!” I looked at him calmly. “She’s your daughter, but so am I. Yet from beginning to end, you’ve only ever treated me as the spare part built to save her.” Tyler stood right behind him, holding the ethics interview confirmation form. The edges of the paper were crumpled under his tight grip. “Brooke, just sign this first,” he urged, his voice desperate. “It’s not a surgery consent form, it’s just an evaluation agreement.” I stared at him. “Are you going to force my hand to sign it, too?” Bloodshot lines streaked the whites of his eyes. “I don’t want to force you! But I can’t just stand by and watch Skylar die!” I stepped closer to him. “What if I can never run again after donating?” His voice went hoarse. “I’ll handle your rehabilitation. If you can’t run anymore… I’ll support you for the rest of your life.” I looked at him, and suddenly, a quiet laugh escaped me. “Tyler, I want the track. I don’t want a bed provided by you to lay in for the rest of my life.” His face drained of color in an instant. My father lunged forward to grab my gym bag. “You still think you’re leaving?” “If you walk out that door today, I’ll pretend I never had a daughter like you!” I clamped my hands onto the straps of my bag. “From the moment you put my picture on that fundraising page, you stopped treating me like a daughter.” My father raised his hand to strike me. Tyler immediately stepped in, grabbing his wrist. “Sir, don’t hit her!” I stared at Tyler’s hand. He knew how to block a slap. But he wouldn’t block the blade aimed at my life. I turned back into my room and pulled a dusty metal box out from beneath the floorboards. Inside lay my very first regional championship gold medal. Beneath the medal was a printed copy of my temporary digital flight permit, a secondary bank card, a duplicate copy of my registration letter issued directly by Coach Dawson, and a medical risk assessment form handed to me by the team doctor. I had long stopped trusting them with my final way out. Brenda’s face turned ghastly white. “When did you prepare all of this?” I shoved my windbreaker firmly into my duffel bag. “The moment you all agreed to donate my organ without my consent.” Tyler took a step toward me. “Brooke, don’t go.” I unclasped the red braided string from my wrist. On my eighteenth birthday, he had tied it around my wrist outside the training facility, telling me he hoped I would stay safe and sound in every single race. I placed the red string into his open palm. “Tyler, you protect her. I’ll protect myself.” His fingers clenched violently around the string. I picked up my bag and walked downstairs. Brenda ran out behind me, weeping, while my father roared my name from the porch. Skylar stood at the top of the stairs wrapped in her robe, calling out “Brooke” in a frail, soft voice. I didn’t stop for a single second. The cold morning wind whipped against my face, cutting like a blade. Outside the residential gates, Coach Dawson was sitting in the passenger seat of the team van. Seeing me approach, she asked no questions and simply pushed the door open for me. When we reached the airport, the boarding call was already echoing through the terminal speakers. As I handed my digital boarding pass to the agent, my phone vibrated intensely. It was Coach Dawson calling from the terminal entrance. Her voice was unusually grave. “Brooke, don’t panic.” “The national team administration just received a signed document submitted directly by your family.” “They claimed you are currently undergoing organ donor evaluations, and the team medical board is requesting a temporary hold on your registration.” “It’s not a cancellation of your spot, but you must clear the medical audit and provide a formal statement within twenty-four hours.” Immediately after, a voice note from Tyler popped up on my screen. Brooke, I just wanted you to come back and talk to them once. Please come back first. We can figure out a way to resolve the registration issue later. The boarding gate scanner let out a sharp, crisp green beep. I gripped my phone, turned off the screen, and stepped straight into the jet bridge. I needed to reach the base, secure my spot, and only then would I have the strength to settle these debts one by one.

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1 Vincent’s strict rules took effect on the second day of our marriage. “Monthly personal spending is capped at fifteen hundred dollars.” “Any single purchase over one hundred dollars requires a receipt and my prior approval.” “I’m not being stingy, Nina. I’m helping you build good financial habits. You’ve always been reckless with money.” Back then, I thought he made sense. So for three years, I deliberated for half a month over buying a jacket, and waited days for his text approval just to replace my contact lenses. Until last month, when I found a credit card statement tucked inside the inner pocket of his suit jacket. Cardholder: Brooke, his executive coordinator. Transactions from the past three months: A luxury boutique: $12,000. A high-end SPA annual membership: $4,500. A Michelin-starred restaurant: $2,000. The total exceeded my personal allowance for two whole years. I folded the statement and slipped it back into his pocket, exactly as I had found it. When he came home that evening, he saw me writing in my ledger. “How much did you spend today?” he asked casually. I didn’t even look up. “One hundred and twenty dollars. Sixty-three for groceries, fifty-seven for utilities.” He hummed in satisfaction and walked into his study. What I wrote on the last page of that ledger wasn’t a set of numbers. It was my signature. Signed at the bottom of a divorce agreement he hadn’t seen yet. … The next morning, Vincent flipped to the last page of my ledger. The divorce papers were tucked underneath the drawer lining, so he missed them. He only saw the rows of meticulously written figures. “Why were the utilities twelve dollars higher yesterday than last month?” He tapped his finger against the page, his voice completely calm. “It was cold. The water heater ran a little longer.” “Nina, twelve dollars isn’t much, but bad habits start small.” He pulled out his fountain pen and wrote next to the entry: Control consumption. I stared at those words, suddenly feeling that three years was an eternity. Long enough for him to forget that before our marriage, I had never kept a single ledger in my life. My mother called right then. She coughed twice and asked gently, “Nina, the hospital said the follow-up MRI needs a contrast injection. Six hundred and eighty dollars seems so expensive. Maybe a regular scan is enough?” I gripped my phone tight. “It’s not too expensive, Mom. Get the contrast scan.” Vincent glanced up at me. Once the call ended, he opened our shared family account app on his phone with practiced ease. “What scan?” “My mom’s post-op checkup. Six hundred and eighty dollars.” “Didn’t she just get checked last month?” “The doctor saw a shadow and wants to confirm.” Vincent frowned. “Let her do the basic one first. Contrast scans are just hospitals trying to boost revenue. She’s getting older, and contrast dye is hard on the kidneys anyway.” With a flick of his thumb, he tapped Reject. I stared at him. “The specialist explicitly recommended the contrast.” “The specialist isn’t paying the bills.” He set his phone face down on the table. “You always let your anxiety take over and believe whatever people tell you.” The landline in his study rang. Vincent answered it, his tone visibly softening. “Brooke, what’s wrong?” Her voice leaked through the speaker. “Vincent, about that necklace for the brand launch? The jeweler says the security deposit is three thousand dollars. Should I pay out of pocket first?” “No need. Swipe the corporate secondary card.” “Won’t finance flag me for going over budget?” Vincent chuckled softly. “It’s for work. Don’t waste time worrying about small change.” I lowered my head and transferred six hundred and eighty dollars to my mother. The money came from an old bank account I had kept from before our marriage. The moment the transfer went through, Vincent’s phone buzzed with a notification. He saw the alert on the family asset management app, and his face instantly darkened. “Where did you get that money?” “It was left over from before we got married.” “Didn’t I tell you all household funds need to be managed together?” “That money is for my mother’s test.” “I never said I wouldn’t pay. I just wanted to verify if it was necessary first.” He snatched my phone and linked my old account into the shared family portal. “Don’t spend money behind my back again, Nina. Honesty is the foundation of a marriage.” He sounded so righteous. As if I were the one who had committed a crime. Before Vincent left for work, I habitually reached out to adjust his tie. The moment my fingers brushed his collar, the memory of that secondary card statement flashed in my mind. My hand slowly pulled back. He didn’t notice. He just glanced at his watch. “I have rehearsals for the launch event tonight, so I won’t be back for dinner. Don’t buy too many groceries, food spoils if left too long.” After the door clicked shut, I booked the appointment for my mother. That afternoon, an invitation to a brand launch arrived in my inbox. It was Davenport Group’s new line of high jewelry, named Lumina. The lead designer listed on the invitation was Brooke. I opened the digital brochure. The cover feature was a half-moon crescent brooch. It was identical to the sketch locked in my study drawer. Beneath the image was a single line of text: [Created by Brooke after three quiet years, dedicated to every woman trapped inside a marriage.] I pushed open the study door. The drawer holding my sketches was completely empty. “I told Brooke to take those sketches.” Vincent didn’t deny it when he returned home. “You were just sitting around doing nothing anyway. Brooke can turn them into real pieces. It’s not a waste.” I stood by the dining table. “I drew those.” “I know.” “Why is her name on the booklet?” Vincent studied me for a few seconds, as if weighing how to explain a simple concept to a child. “Because she handled the sourcing, the production, and the marketing. Nina, a few loose sketches aren’t a final product. Stop confusing a casual hobby with a professional career.” “I was a jewelry designer before we got married.” “Your little boutique turned a net profit of less than a hundred and fifty thousand a year.” His voice was indifferent. “Davenport Group invested five million in this launch. Could you afford the cost of failure?” I gave no answer. Three years ago, when he asked me to close down my studio, he used the exact same excuse. He said it was for my own good. He said my stomach was fragile and I shouldn’t pull late nights. He said he could provide for me. Back then, I handed over my client lists, locked my keys in the drawer, and truly believed I had been blessed with the safest marriage in the world. Only now did I realize that someone who is kept has no right to claim ownership. “Add my name as co-designer,” I said. Vincent picked up a glass of water, his tone growing cool. “We can discuss it after the launch.” “I want it changed now.” “Nina, stop acting throwing a tantrum at a time like this.” He set the glass down. The water sloshed inside. “Brooke has worked herself to the bone for four months for this event. If you jump out now to demand credit, how will the team look at her?” “She worked for four months. I drew for four years.” “So what?” Vincent looked up, his eyes cold and logical. “You want everyone to know that the CEO’s wife sat idle at home for three years and suddenly popped up to ride her husband’s coattails?” My nails dug deep into my palms. He always had a way of twisting things, wrapping my legitimate work into something shameful. The next day, I went to Davenport headquarters. Brooke was inside the main conference room trying on jewelry. Seeing me, she raised her wrist, showing off a delicate, translucent jade bangle. It was my mother’s wedding gift to me. “Mrs. Davenport, you arrived just in time. Could you check if this piece suits the featured set?” I walked over. “Take it off.” Her smile stiffened slightly. “Vincent said the showcase needed a touch of classic heritage. He let me borrow it for a few days.” “That belongs to me.” “I know.” She gently stroked the polished surface, her voice dropping to a whisper. “But Vincent said leaving it in your jewelry box just collects dust. It’s better off creating real value.” There were over a dozen staff members sitting around the table. Some pretended to read documents, while others stared straight ahead, pretending to be deaf. When Vincent pushed the door open, Brooke was pretending to slip the bangle off. “What’s going on?” With tear-filled eyes, she whispered, “Nina doesn’t like me wearing it. I’m taking it off right now.” Vincent placed a hand over hers, stopping her. “The promotional shoot starts in ten minutes. Changing the look now will ruin the schedule.” Only then did he turn to me. “It’s just a bracelet. She’ll return it as soon as the launch ends.” “It belongs to my mother.” “Your mother gave it to you, which makes it yours. Lending it to a colleague for a day isn’t something to throw a fit over.” Brooke chimed in softly, “Vincent, please don’t argue with Nina because of me. It’s fine if we skip my promo shots.” “The whole production team has been waiting for two hours. How can we just cancel?” Vincent handed her a corporate expense slip. “The deposit for the necklace is approved. I added seven thousand to your wardrobe budget as well. Don’t scrimp.” He turned back to me, as if suddenly remembering something. “Did your mother’s test results come back?” “This afternoon.” “If there’s no major issue, stop making her run to the hospital over nothing. Travel expenses add up.” The room fell dead silent. Brooke lowered her eyes, but a subtle curl lingered at the corner of her lips. My phone rang. It was the hospital. The doctor informed me that the shadow looked suspicious. They advised immediate hospitalization for surgery, requiring a four-thousand-five-hundred-dollar deposit. I submitted the expense request right in front of Vincent. He glanced at the notification on his screen. “Four thousand five hundred dollars is not a small sum. I’ll talk to the specialist first.” “The surgical bed is only held until this afternoon.” “Then let them release it. If it were truly an emergency, they wouldn’t turn a patient away over a deposit delay.” He tapped Hold Approval. A brand assistant hurried over right then. “Brooke, the rush fee for the couture gown logistics comes out to seven thousand dollars.” Brooke pulled out a card and handed it over. “Charge it here.” As the POS machine spat out the receipt, Vincent’s phone screen lit up. A notification popped up: Secondary Card Transaction: $7,000. He glanced at it once, then casually flipped his phone face down on the table. I went straight to a jeweler and sold my diamond wedding ring. The buyout offer was six thousand dollars, just enough to cover my mother’s hospital deposit. As the clerk placed the ring into a sealed bag, she asked, “Are you sure you want to go through with this? There’s an inscription inside the band.” I shook my head. “It’s fine.” That ring had originally cost forty thousand dollars. Vincent had placed it on my finger himself, promising he would never let me worry about money again. Now, it was worth just enough for one surgery. When I returned from the hospital, Vincent was sitting in the living room. The buyback receipt from the pawn shop sat on the glass coffee table. “Where is your ring?” “Sold.” “Why couldn’t you wait for my approval?” “My mother couldn’t wait.” His jaw tightened. “I spoke with a consultant. The surgery could easily have been postponed by a week.” “They would have given the bed to someone else today.” “Then we would have found another hospital.” “The lead surgeon only had availability this week.” I bent down to change my shoes, my voice barely audible. “I paid for it with my own ring. You don’t have to bear a single cent.” Vincent stood up and grabbed my wrist. His grip wasn’t painful, but it held me firmly in place. “Nina, do you really have to push me like this?” “Pushing you how?” “Pushing me to play the bad guy who doesn’t care about your mother, forcing me to bow my head to you over a few thousand dollars!” I looked at him, completely speechless. So in his eyes, my mother’s life was nothing more than a bargaining chip for me to win an argument. Vincent let go of my wrist and pulled a black metal card from his wallet. “There’s fifty thousand in this account. The PIN is your birthday. Go buy the ring back. Don’t make the Davenport family look like a joke to outsiders.” My reflexes moved faster than my mind. I reached out to take it. Just then, his phone screen flashed. Brooke sent a picture of herself wearing my jade bangle alongside the twelve-thousand-dollar necklace. Her message read: Vincent, will you come with me to meet the investors tonight? I’m nervous going alone. Vincent withdrew the card and slid it back into his wallet. “Go to the hospital first. I have a business dinner tonight.” “My mother has surgery tomorrow morning. A family member needs to sign the consent form.” “Your signature is enough.” “She’s been asking to see you.” “After the launch.” He grabbed his jacket, stepping toward the door before pausing. “Come to the showcase tomorrow night. Brooke said having the designer’s family present creates better press. Don’t wear anything too shabby. I’ll have my assistant send over a dress.” The evening before my mother’s surgery, Simon came to the hospital. He was a former legal advisor to my late father, and someone I had known since childhood. He handed me a thick manila folder. “Your father left you a proxy trust for thirty-two percent of Davenport Group shares. It expires next month. You never reached out, so I had to bring it to you in person.” I froze. “What shares?” “Thirty-two percent,” Simon said, looking into my eyes. “When Vincent was starting the business, your father provided the initial seed capital under your name. After your wedding, you signed a proxy agreement transferring voting rights to Vincent for three years.” Memories flooded back. Right before our wedding, Vincent had brought me a stack of papers. He told me they were for setting up a joint account and updating insurance beneficiaries. I hadn’t read a single line. I had just signed where he pointed. “And when the three years are up?” “You can choose to renew it, or you can revoke it immediately.” The hospital room door swung open. Vincent stood at the entrance, his eyes locking onto the document folder in Simon’s hand. “What are you doing here?” Simon stood up calmly. “I’m helping Nina sign the surgical consent form.” “She has a husband. She doesn’t need your help.” Vincent walked in, placing another set of documents on the table in front of me. “The brand launch requires a formal design release. Sign this, and I’ll have accounting reimburse all of your mother’s medical expenses.” I flipped to the final page. The scope of the release covered all of my design work, both before and after our marriage, granting perpetual rights to the company. “And if I don’t sign?” Vincent’s expression remained completely unbothered. “Then we follow company policy for reimbursement requests. I can’t guarantee every medication your mother needs will pass approval.” My mother’s quiet voice came from behind the privacy curtain. “Nina, is Vincent here?” Hearing the faint sound of gurneys rolling down the hallway outside, I picked up the pen. Vincent held down the edge of the paper, reminding me softly, “Sign your full name, Nina. Don’t make a mistake.” I wrote out Nina Shen, stroke by stroke. As the tip of the pen lifted off the paper, my mother let out a quiet, heavy sigh from behind the curtain. “Nina, I allowed you to marry him back then because he promised me he would never make you bow your head.” Vincent’s fingers rigidified slightly. A nurse pushed open the door. “Family members please step back, we’re moving the patient to the operating room.” He snatched up the signed agreement, avoiding my eyes. Before the launch event began, the assistant delivered a dress that was a size too large at the waist. The price tag still bore Brooke’s name. It was a piece she had tried on and rejected. I didn’t wear it. Instead, I wore a simple black dress I had bought three years ago. The collar was slightly faded. Vincent stood behind me, clasping a simple necklace around my neck. “Don’t mention design credits tonight, and don’t bring up your mother’s hospitalization.” “Investors don’t like founders with complicated baggage.” In the mirror, he was standing behind me, his touch as meticulous as ever. For a fleeting second, I almost forced myself to believe that he was just overly focused on his career. Until Brooke pushed the door open. She was dressed in the Lumina series’ showpiece gown, my mother’s jade bangle gleaming on her wrist. “Vincent, the press has arrived.” Vincent fastened the final hidden button on my dress and stepped back. “Nina, take a seat in the second row. If reporters ask, tell them you’ve always supported Brooke’s creative vision.” I turned around. “Those designs are mine.” “You signed the release contract.” “I signed an authorization, not a waiver of authorship.” Brooke inhaled softly. “Maybe we should just credit Nina publicly tonight. Even if the brand gets pulled from the showcase and investors sue us, I don’t want Nina to feel mistreated.” Vincent turned his gaze on me, his tone dropping below freezing. “Are you satisfied now?” Those four words felt like a brutal slap across the face. I didn’t argue further. Halfway through the presentation, the host invited Brooke onto the stage. The massive LED screens displayed twenty-four pieces of high jewelry, one by one. Every single one of them originated from my sketches. Finally, the centerpiece appeared on screen, a crescent brooch named Homeward. I had drawn it right after my father passed away. Vincent had once held me close and whispered that we would never sell this piece; we would save it for our future daughter. On stage, Brooke smiled brightly into the cameras. “Homeward was a gift from Vincent to me. He once told me that a woman can live without a marriage, but she can never live without her own identity.” Applause erupted across the auditorium. Vincent sat in the front row, looking up at her with admiration, a look I hadn’t seen directed at me in three years. Suddenly, the host walked down the aisle and handed me the microphone. “Mrs. Davenport, we hear you also come from a design background. How would you evaluate Ms. Brooke’s creation?” Every lens in the room pivoted to cover my face. Vincent leaned over, whispering a terse warning, “Answer the way we agreed.” I held the microphone. “It feels very familiar.” A few light chuckles echoed through the crowd. The host pressed on. “Familiar in terms of style?” Brooke spoke up first, her voice dripping with artificial grace. “Nina often looked through my draft folders at home. Our tastes naturally influenced each other.” She sounded modest, yet she skillfully flipped the accusation of plagiarism onto me. Vincent took the microphone from my hand. “My wife hasn’t worked professionally in design since our marriage. She occasionally doodles at home, and Brooke shares concepts with her so she doesn’t feel isolated.” I looked directly into his eyes. “Vincent, are you entirely sure about that?” He frowned. “Don’t cause a scene.” Right then, the main screen flipped to a side-by-side promotional shot. In the photo, Brooke wore my jade bangle, standing side by side with Vincent under the headline: Davenport Group’s Ultimate Creative Partners. Someone in the crowd yelled out jokingly, “Vincent, with Ms. Brooke understanding you so deeply, isn’t your wife jealous?” Vincent offered a polite smile. “Nina is very mature. She knows how to keep work and personal life separate.” Brooke walked over with two glasses of champagne and handed one toward me. “Nina, thank you for your understanding over these past three years. Vincent always says that without you keeping the home running smoothly, he couldn’t throw himself entirely into supporting my work.” As she leaned in, her voice dropped so low only I could hear: “The fifteen-hundred-dollar monthly rule? I suggested it to him.” “I told him that when a woman has no financial freedom, she can’t run away. Vincent thought it was brilliant.” I looked up at her. She smiled with immaculate sweet malice. “Oh, and that perpetual design release? I drafted it myself. When you signed it, you must have been so worried about your mother, right?” The glass in my hand trembled slightly. I didn’t throw the drink in her face. Vincent stepped over and took the glass from my hand. “Your stomach is weak. Don’t drink alcohol.” I looked at him calmly. “Did you restrict my money because you were afraid I’d leave?” “I restricted it because you lack financial discipline.” “And handing my work to her was also for my own good?” His patience finally snapped. He lowered his voice to a hiss. “Nina, as the CEO’s wife, you are already luckier than ninety-nine percent of women out there. Stop trying to have everything.” “And what if I insist?” “Then feel free to try walking away.” Vincent smoothed down my shoulder strap, his gesture appearing intimate while his words burned with ice. “No job, no client network, and your mother’s ongoing medical expenses racking up every day. How far do you honestly think you can walk?” I stared at his face, and suddenly, I smiled. It wasn’t out of spite, nor was I waiting for him to pull me back. I simply realized that these three years had officially come to an end. I pulled the signed divorce papers from my evening clutch and slipped them into the front pocket of his suit jacket. “Vincent, remember to approve it.” He assumed it was just another itemized receipt and didn’t even bother to look down. I turned and walked straight out of the convention hall. Simon was waiting outside by his car. I handed him my three years of expense ledgers. Tucked inside the last page was the formal revocation of my share proxy. “Deliver this directly to the board of directors.” He took the ledgers. “What about the brand launch inside?” Inside the auditorium, the stage screen began counting down for the grand reveal. Five. Four. Three. I tapped the confirmation button on my phone, sending a remote command linked directly to the venue’s broadcast server.

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1 To secure my daughter Poppy an internship, I came out of retirement and traded my proprietary core algorithm with my best friend’s firm for a three-month spot. Eager to impress, Poppy offered to help a male coworker organize files one evening. By the next morning, rumors exploded. She was accused of seduction and wrecking a marriage. Garrett’s wife slapped her in front of the entire office, weeping and threatening to jump. The team rallied around Garrett, calling Poppy a home-wrecker. I pulled her out, but that night his wife posted a carefully edited video that triggered a tidal wave of cyberbullying. Poppy just said she was tired and wanted to sleep. By the time I sensed something was wrong, she’d swallowed a lethal dose of sleeping pills and fell into a vegetative state. I suffered a catastrophic brain hemorrhage and was left paralyzed. In the months that followed, Garrett’s wife built a massive online following as the brave, faithful wife, dragging him onto reality shows and monetizing our tragedy. While my family was destroyed, I died in agony. When I opened my eyes again, my phone buzzed with a text from Poppy. … [I’m working late tonight to help a colleague sort some files.] My breathing hitched. My hands shook uncontrollably. Another message popped up instantly, accompanied by a cute sticker. [Mom worked so hard to get me this spot. I have to prove myself and make you proud!] My heart hammered against my ribs. I typed back at lightning speed. [It’s an emergency! Come home right now!] This time, under no circumstances would I let Poppy be alone with Garrett again! Minutes later, the front door unlocked. Poppy rushed inside, panic written all over her face, not even stopping to kick off her shoes. “What happened to Dad? Is everything okay?” Looking at her glowing, youthful face, tears nearly spilled from my eyes. In my past life, Poppy became a breathing corpse in a hospital bed. Everyone knew she was brain-dead and urged us to pull the plug. My husband and I refused to give up. We watched our vibrant, beautiful daughter swell up, lifeless and fading. It tore my heart into shreds. My mother-in-law brought old photos of Poppy to my bedside, sobbing as she begged me to let ourselves and the child go. I hesitated, paralyzed by grief. Until someone leaked Poppy’s hospital room address online. Trolls invaded the ICU, taking crude, humiliating photos of her limp body and spreading them across social media. The headlines screamed: Karma Hits Hard and The Fate of a Home-Wrecker. Garrett’s wife pinned Poppy’s face to her live-stream cover to drive traffic for her online shop. She put on a hypocritical show in her live streams, sighing heavily and telling her viewers not to be too harsh, right before pitching her products. The chat was filled with praises for her big heart and vicious insults claiming my daughter deserved to die. Her sales smashed new records. I was so consumed by rage that I suffered another stroke, completely paralyzed. Once a top-tier tech architect holding core industry patents, I was reduced to a drooling, helpless invalid. Eventually, our family couldn’t afford the medical bills for two bedridden patients. We had to bring Poppy home to let nature take its course. My mother-in-law died of heartbreak during the harsh winter. My husband’s hair turned completely white as he struggled to care for me, only to be crushed by a semi-truck on his way to fetch my medication, leaving nothing behind. By the time the police identified his remains, I had already suffered a fatal heart attack, dying alone in our cold apartment. Recalling every nightmare of that past life made my blood run cold. The culprits behind this tragedy weren’t just Garrett and his wife. There was also my so-called best friend. I masked the cold fury in my eyes and took my daughter’s hands. “Your father cooked a feast to celebrate your new job.” “That is the most important emergency right now.” In the previous life, when Poppy started her internship, David and I made a lavish dinner. We waited with excitement, only to get her text about working late. We knew how hard the job market was. Even though our savings could support her comfortably for the rest of her life, she wanted her own career and wanted to make us proud. We understood that. To avoid burdening her, we said nothing and never forced her to come home. We had no idea that silent understanding would lead to our total destruction. In this life, to hell with working overtime! Instead of being set up by snakes, we were going to sit down as a family and enjoy a proper meal. I scooped a huge portion of fish onto Poppy’s plate. She blinked, looking at me with a helpless smile. “How do I explain this to my coworker tomorrow?” “I promised to help, and now I’m at home eating a feast.” “He went through so much trouble to get me permission to enter the secure document vault. He’s going to be furious if I bail.” I raised an eyebrow and served her another piece of fish. “He’s just a colleague. Why do you owe him an explanation?” “Everyone at the office knows you have connections. You should use that pull to set boundaries.” “It’s a rare chance to put your foot down. Don’t waste it and end up taking the blame for someone else’s work.” Poppy blinked, biting her chopstick as she pondered my words. I gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. She had always kept her struggles to herself so we wouldn’t worry. It wasn’t until everything collapsed in the past life that I realized the unbearable pressure she faced at work. Enduring psychological abuse just to build a resume was never worth it. I placed my hand over hers and met her eyes with absolute certainty. “You are your parents’ precious daughter. No one gets to bully you.” “Tomorrow, I’m taking you to resign. We can take our time finding a job. There’s no rush.” “If you want, I’ll teach you programming step by step myself!” Poppy froze, her expression torn, looking down in silence. Suddenly, her phone rang. Poppy casually hit the speakerphone button. Garrett’s anxious, sharp voice blared through the speaker. [Why did you leave? Didn’t you say you were going to help me?] [Who taught you to handle work like this!] [You only got this job through connections anyway! Aren’t you embarrassed to embarrass your family like this!] I snatched the phone straight out of my daughter’s hand and let out a cold laugh. “Helping you was an act of courtesy, not an invitation to walk all over her!” “If you can’t even finish your own basic workload, no wonder Ms. Mercer keeps denying your promotion!” “Looks like you’re the one next on the layoff list!” The line went completely dead before he abruptly hung up. Poppy stared at me in shock, swallowing hard. She reached out to take her phone back, but I held my hand over it firmly. She went back to eating her dinner in silence before taking a shower. As I was rinsing the dishes, the water running in the sink, a chime sounded. I glanced down at the screen. It was a text from Garrett. [Poppy, I was just overwhelmed earlier. I shouldn’t have raised my voice at you.] [The workload is huge and I really can’t handle it alone. Please come back and help me!] [When the team has our next dinner, I’ll make sure you get integrated into the group.] [Don’t tell your mom. Just slip out quietly and come over.] I sneered. I immediately backed up the messages to my cloud drive and blocked Garrett’s number on her phone. I cut off his ability to harass Poppy once and for all. The next morning, I accompanied Poppy to the office. The moment we stepped through the glass doors of the suite, a shrill, hysterical screech erupted from the open floor. “Where is Poppy? Where is the little slut trying to seduce my husband!” “The Valley Firecracker isn’t someone you can mess with!” I frowned. Tessa was standing in the middle of the room, her eyes wide and scanning the cubicles like a mad dog. She held a phone recording in one hand while dragging a terrified female employee with the other. The employee was trembling, and the moment she saw Poppy, she pointed frantically. “That’s her! She’s Poppy!” Tessa snapped her head toward us, charging forward with terrifying speed. Whispers instantly broke out among the surrounding employees. “That’s what happens with nepo babies. They have zero skills, so they rely on cheap tricks to get ahead.” “The manager asked Garrett to train her, and Garrett took her everywhere last week. She probably thought he had big pull!” “She offered to work late with him yesterday. Two people in a closed room, she probably couldn’t wait to jump a married man!” “How shameless. Here I thought she was just an innocent little rookie.” I shot a freezing glare at the two gossiping women and tightened my grip on my heavy leather handbag. The two women instantly shrank back, shutting their mouths and looking away. Poppy was shaking violently beside me. She shook her head, looking at her colleagues in utter desperation. “I didn’t! That’s not true!” “I offered to help because Garrett was mentoring me recently!” “I wanted to pull my weight and show I was working hard!” “I had a family emergency yesterday, so I went straight home! We were never alone together!” Her colleagues exchanged knowing, sarcastic smirks. They stood on the sidelines, enjoying the drama and tossing fuel on the fire. It was the exact same scene from my past life. Except this time, I didn’t burst into helpless tears while trying to explain. I held Poppy’s trembling hand tightly, looking at her with immovable strength. “A bunch of clueless bystanders. Talking to them is a waste of breath.” “You did nothing wrong. You don’t owe them an explanation!” “Stay calm!” She froze, bit her lip, and gave me a firm nod. Suddenly, Tessa lunged forward aggressively, calling Poppy a lying whore and reaching out to grab her hair. Without a second thought, I swung my heavy leather tote with full force, smashing it straight into Tessa’s phone and sending it flying across the room. Tessa turned to me in a murderous fury, spewing a torrent of profanities. I swung the bag a second time, slamming it directly into her mouth. Tessa staggered back, falling onto her butt on the carpet, holding her bloody lip in absolute shock. I swept a freezing glance across the open office. “A company this size doesn’t even have security?” “What are we paying you useless people for!” Dead silence descended upon the floor. The security guards who should have been on duty were nowhere to be seen. Garrett’s face turned pale as he rushed forward to embrace his crying wife. “We’re just small fish, how could we ever compete with people like you?” “She has Ms. Mercer backing her! If we cross them, we’ll be blacklisted from the entire industry!” “Poppy, let me give you one last piece of advice!” “Focus on honest work instead of using seduction to climb the corporate ladder!” Garrett shook his head with dramatic disappointment. Poppy was shaking with rage. I walked straight up to Garrett with an icy face. The moment he raised his head, I raised my palm and slapped him across the face. “What kind of garbage are you! Take a look in the mirror!” “You look like a bloated pig! Only a pig-obsessed woman like your wife would think you’re a prize!” Garrett’s expression darkened instantly. He scrambled to his feet, yelling that I was committing assault. Tessa went completely insane, grabbing a heavy potted plant from a desk and smashing it onto the floor. The office turned into pure chaos. Security was nowhere in sight, and the coworkers stood by doing nothing. Tessa sobbed hysterically, screaming that we were abusing our power, threatening to jump out of the eighteenth-floor window. I walked over and pushed the window wide open for her. “Jump!” Tessa faltered, her hands slipping slightly from the window frame. Seeing this, Garrett rushed forward and wrapped his arms around her waist. “Honey, don’t do anything crazy!” “She’s the one who destroyed our family and sent you provocative texts to rub it in!” “Just because her mother is a big shot, are we supposed to suffer in silence?” “Our life is ruined by her! Why should she get away with it? Let’s expose her online!” Heavy footsteps sounded from the hallway. My best friend, Mia, walked in, her brow furrowed in deep annoyance. “What is all this noise!” “The CEO is coming by for an inspection shortly. Do you all want to get fired!” The moment she spoke, the employees scrambled back to their cubicles. Garrett held his wife, tears streaming down his face, acting as if the entire world owed them justice. Mia turned to me, raising her eyebrows in surprise. “Evelyn? What are you doing here?” I looked at her, my smile not reaching my eyes. “As an executive, is this how you manage your staff?” “Garrett begged my daughter for help, and now he fabricates lies out of thin air to slander her! How do you even hire people like this!” Mia’s eyes widened slightly. She immediately snapped at Garrett. Garrett’s face shifted, and he pulled out his phone. “I didn’t want to ruin her completely, but your mother refuses to let it go.” “Your own mother is destroying your reputation! I’ve been more than generous!” Garrett opened a text message thread. On the screen was an explicit image of a scantily clad woman. And the face belonged to my daughter. “Look for yourselves!” “She has no shame! She sent this photo directly to my phone!” “Look closely at the sender’s number!” Gasping sounds rippled through the office. Poppy snatched the phone, all color draining from her face. She broke down in tears, protesting that she never took or sent such a picture. But the phone number matched hers perfectly. Mia let out a loud cough, signaling Garrett to put the phone away. She shot a look at my daughter, her face filled with undisguised disgust. “You really have no self-respect.” “He has a happy family. Why do you have to ruin it, and get exposed in public?” “If I were you, I’d jump out that window right now!” Poppy’s knees buckled in terror as she wept uncontrollably. I pulled her into my arms, standing as steady as a mountain. Garrett held his swollen cheek and spoke up again. “The CEO asked me to mentor the new intern, so of course I tried my best. Who knew it would turn into a nightmare!” “Ever since she started, Poppy constantly tried to be alone with me!” “Once we got familiar, she started making physical contact!” “Yesterday when I was drowning in work, she volunteered to help. Everyone in the office heard her!” “I thought she was being helpful, so I put in a request for archive access.” “She knew the secure document vault didn’t have security cameras inside, so she took advantage of it! She stripped completely naked right in front of me!” “She said if I gave her a good review to ensure her full-time conversion, she’d make it worth my while! I refused, so she tried to force herself on me! Then she sent me this photo, threatening to send it to my wife!” “I have a happy marriage! Why are you trying to ruin me!” Garrett looked utterly broken. I felt nauseous listening to his ridiculous lies. I held my trembling daughter tight, holding back the urge to tear him apart with my bare hands! Mia coughed softly again, signaling Garrett to stop talking. Across the room, the employees pretended to work while staring intently at my daughter. Their gazes were like sharp daggers, flaying her alive. “Evelyn, take Poppy home for now.” “Everyone needs to calm down. Making a scene benefits no one.” “The CEO is arriving later. I’ll explain the situation to her.” “Though as for your daughter’s internship… I’m afraid…” Mia put on an apologetic, helpless smile. “I’m just worried about the firm’s reputation. Even though you’re old friends with Ms. Mercer, ruining the company’s image leaves us no choice but to take strict disciplinary action.” I ignored Mia’s words entirely, keeping Poppy securely behind my back. I stood tall, looking down at Garrett with icy contempt. “The document vault holds our core proprietary assets. Access permissions require multi-tiered administrative approvals.” “If anyone enters without authorization, the system administrator receives an immediate alert.” “When we had a near-data leak previously, Ms. Mercer held multiple meetings demanding an upgrade to the security architecture, but even you, Mia, failed to solve the vulnerability.” “Yet just days before Poppy joined, a breakthrough miraculously occurred.” “Tell me, who built that system upgrade?” “I am the top system administrator of this entire company!” I folded my arms, letting out a cold, mocking laugh at Garrett. “I never approved Poppy’s request to enter the document vault last night.” “So how exactly did she enter?” “You sound so confident claiming her access was approved, without even verifying the system logs.” “The previous administrator was Mia. Do the two of you share some dirty little secret?”

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1 The night before we were supposed to get our marriage license, I walked in on my fiancé and my best friend kissing on our wedding bed. In a state of sheer panic, I tumbled down the stairs, suffering a severe traumatic brain injury. When I finally woke up, I had developed a rare form of intermittent amnesia. My memory was trapped on the day I first tried on my wedding dress, resetting automatically every seven days. For the past six months, my fiancé and my best friend stayed by my side. Alongside my parents, they showered me with meticulous, unwavering care. I truly believed I was surrounded by love. Until today, when I overheard Amanda’s hushed voice through the crack in the door. “What if Summer sees you kissing me like this?” Lucas gave a soft, careless laugh. “What is there to fear? Tomorrow is the seventh day. She will wake up and forget everything all over again. In her heart, we will always be the people who love her most.” My hands trembled violently around the glass tumbler I was holding. He had no idea that my memory had fully returned. I did not just remember the betrayal on the eve of our marriage. I remembered every detail of the past six months. I remembered how they had used the flaws in my mind to shamelessly carry on their affair right under my nose. I turned around, walked quietly back to my room, and booked a one-way ticket to Europe for tomorrow. From now on, no matter how vast the world was, they would no longer be a part of my life. … “Good morning, Summer. How did you sleep last night?” Amanda stood in the doorway, holding a glass of warm milk, her face beaming with a sweet, innocent smile. I flipped my phone face down onto the desk, concealing the confirmation text for my flight. I raised my head and looked at her innocent face. Six months ago, this exact face was tilted up on my wedding bed, welcoming Lucas’s kiss. “I slept fine,” I said, my voice completely flat. Amanda walked over and set the milk beside my hand. Her eyes darted around my desk, scanning for anything unusual. Finding nothing, her smile widened. “Lucas said you had a high fever last night. He specifically asked me to warm up some milk for you. Drink it while it’s hot. Don’t let our good intentions go to waste.” She emphasized the words “good intentions” with deliberate weight. I looked at the steaming glass. A sudden wave of nausea churned in my stomach. Ever since I got sick, Lucas had stayed by my bedside every single time I ran a fever, staying awake through the night to care for me. I used to think that was devotion. Until last night, when I reviewed the security footage from our house and heard him tell Amanda: “Her lucid periods are getting longer lately. I will take her to the clinic next week. Let us increase the dosage on that medication the doctor mentioned.” Amanda had nestled into his chest, her tone dripping with mock pity. “It must be so hard on you, having to manage this invalid.” “It is no trouble,” Lucas had replied smoothly. “For you, I am willing to do anything.” Listening to them exchange sweet vows of devotion had torn my heart to shreds. The tender care I had cherished was nothing more than Lucas monitoring a broken machine that threatened to malfunction at any moment. Lucas walked into the room. Seeing Amanda so close to me, his brow furrowed slightly. “Why are you still in here? Summer needs her rest,” he said. Amanda turned to leave. As she passed Lucas, her fingers subtly brushed against the hem of his jacket. Lucas’s gaze darkened, but he did not pull away. Every single gesture fell directly into my eyes. Once the door closed, only Lucas and I remained in the room. He stepped up to me, naturally reaching out to press the back of his hand against my forehead. “Fever is gone,” he exhaled softly, his tone laced with heart-wrenching tenderness. “Summer, do you have any idea how terrified I was last night?” I stared into his affectionate eyes. For the past six months, those eyes had been my only anchor. Whenever I faced the terrifying unknown of my memory loss, he was the one who held my hand and whispered that everything would be alright. He told me I was his world, that we would have the grandest wedding imaginable. Back then, I was moved to tears. Now, a bone-chilling cold swept through me. “Lucas,” I murmured. “If one day I remembered everything, would you be happy?” Lucas’s fingertips went stiff. A flash of panic darted through the depths of his eyes, though he masked it almost instantly behind a warm, smooth smile. He pulled me into his chest, resting his chin lightly on the crown of my head. “Silly girl. Whether you remember or not, you are my wife. As long as you stay by my side, I am happy.” I rested against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. Suddenly, everything felt utterly meaningless. I pushed him away gently. “I am tired. I want to sleep for a bit.” Lucas caught off guard. Normally, I would cling to him at this hour, asking endless questions about our wedding preparations. But he did not dwell on it. He simply tucked the duvet neatly around my shoulders. “Alright, get some rest. Tomorrow, I will take you to try on your wedding dress.” He leaned down, intending to kiss my forehead. I turned my head away, avoiding his touch. His lips brushed uselessly against my cheek. He looked at me, a flicker of scrutiny creeping into his gaze. “Summer, what is wrong?” I closed my eyes. “Just a slight headache.” Lucas remained silent for a moment. “Alright, I will let you rest.” He turned and walked out. The moment the door clicked shut, I opened my eyes and stared up at the ceiling. Tomorrow would be the seventh day. It would also be the day I vanished. Lucas, your little game is over. In the afternoon, my parents arrived. My mother carried a thermal flask while my father followed behind with boxes of health supplements. Amanda walked closely alongside them, affectionately holding my father’s arm. “Dad, Summer just recovered from a fever. She shouldn’t eat anything too greasy,” Amanda said softly. My father patted the back of her hand with a fond smile. “Amanda is always so thoughtful.” I leaned back against the sofa, watching the three of them project an image of familial warmth without a trace of emotion. Six months ago, the accident had damaged my brain. Fearing my parents would sink into deep despair, Amanda had volunteered to become their goddaughter, promising to care for them in their old age. At first, I was touched. Amanda and I had been like sisters, after all. It did not take long for me to realize how catastrophically wrong I had been. Amanda appeared in front of my parents more and more frequently, subtly eroding my place in the family. What truly broke my heart, however, was my parents’ attitude. In the security footage I had recovered, my mother had smiled warmly at Amanda and Lucas. “Dear, don’t you think Amanda and Lucas look so much better together? Summer’s condition isn’t fit for marriage anyway. Why not just bless these two instead?” My father had nodded repeatedly in agreement. All four of them had laughed together, completely unconcerned about me as I lay upstairs, unconscious with a raging fever. My mother poured the soup into a bowl and brought it over to me. “Summer, sweetheart, have a taste.” The maternal devotion in her eyes was almost overflowing. Yet this was the very mother who had handed my love to someone else on a silver platter, forcing me to live as a hidden third wheel for six long months. “I don’t want it,” I replied coldly. My mother froze, her hands hovering awkwardly in the air, unsure of whether to pull the bowl back or push it forward. Lucas stepped in smoothly to diffuse the tension. “Mom, Summer isn’t feeling well today. I was actually just about to take her to the clinic for a checkup. She can drink your soup when she feels better.” His words were seamless, and Amanda chimed in seamlessly right on cue. Sitting beside them, I felt like a puppet being casually arranged. Lucas looked down at me, his tone dripping with sweetness. “Let’s go, Summer. I’ll take you to the clinic. We still have to try on your dress tomorrow, so we can’t afford any delays.” I looked at the four people who used to be closest to me in the world. My parents, my fiancé, my godsister. They had banded together to deceive a helpless invalid. After all, I had fluid on my brain. After all, my memory could only hold seven days. A faint smile touched my lips. I turned to look at Lucas with a vacant expression. “Alright, let me get my coat.” When we arrived at the clinic, Lucas went through his usual routine, seeking out the doctor for a private consultation, putting on a flawless display of deep concern. If I hadn’t collapsed on the street two weeks ago and been rushed to a real hospital by a kind stranger, I never would have known the truth. During emergency treatment, the doctors cleared the fluid pressing against my nerves, restoring my memory. I never would have discovered that Lucas had spent a fortune building a mock clinic setup just to keep me under control. Every single medical staff member here was an actor hired to keep the lie alive. After a series of fake examinations, Lucas returned holding a strip of pills, his face clouded with worry. “Summer, the doctor said your condition is worsening. The fluid has spread again. Starting today, we have to double your dosage.” I looked at the dozen pills of various shapes and sizes in his palm. A bitter smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. “Lucas, do I really have to take these? You said it didn’t matter if I ever remembered, that you would love me forever…” Before I could finish, Lucas raised his voice slightly, cutting me off. “Summer, this is no time to throw a tantrum! Tomorrow is the dress fitting, and the wedding is next week. This is critical!” I stared at his unyielding expression, chose not to push further, and swallowed the handful of pills at once. Only then did a satisfied smile return to his face. He pulled out his phone, stepping aside as he spoke. “Rest here for a moment while I call your parents to let them know you’re alright.” Watching his back, I walked into the restroom, jammed my fingers down my throat, and threw up until my stomach turned inside out. The pills washed down the drain. I stared at my pale reflection in the mirror, my resolve hardening into steel. Yes, the dress fitting was important, and the wedding was important too. It was just a pity that Lucas would never get to see me wear that dress. That evening, Lucas took me to a high-end private restaurant. It was a habit he had built over the past six months. On the night of the sixth day, he would always take me out for a lavish dinner, claiming it was to celebrate our upcoming wedding. In reality, it was just to keep me calm and ensure I would reset smoothly the following day, just like forcing me to swallow those suppressants. The restaurant had been reserved exclusively for us. A grand piano sat quietly in the center of the dining hall. Lucas held my hand as he guided me to a table. “Take a look and see what you like,” he said, handing me the menu. I didn’t take it. “You order. I like whatever you pick.” Lucas paused, looking at me with a subtle, sharp scrutiny hiding beneath his eyes. “Summer, you are acting very strange today. Usually, you would be begging for the beef Wellington here.” I picked up my water glass and took a small sip. “Is that so? Maybe I just don’t have much of an appetite today.” Lucas didn’t probe any further. He ordered a few dishes I used to favor. While we waited for the food, Amanda arrived. She wore a tailored designer dress and pulled out the chair next to Lucas without an ounce of hesitation. “Lucas, Summer,” she greeted, settling in comfortably. “I just finished fitting my bridesmaid dress and thought I’d drop by for a bite. You don’t mind, do you, Summer?” I looked at her. “Not at all.” Amanda seemed slightly caught off guard by my composure. She raised an eyebrow, her gaze landing on my bare wrist. “Summer, where is the diamond bracelet Lucas gave you? Didn’t you say you’d wear it every single day?” I set my glass down. “I took it off.” “Why?” she asked, putting on an exaggerated look of surprise. “It felt too heavy,” I replied casually. “It was cutting into my skin.” Lucas’s expression darkened instantly. That bracelet was something he had personally bid on during a business trip to South Africa last month. He had told me it represented a love that was one of a kind. “Summer, do you not like it anymore?” His tone carried a subtle edge of danger. I met his gaze dead-on. “It’s not that I dislike it. I just feel like it doesn’t suit me anymore.” Lucas stared at me intently, as if searching my face for the slightest crack in my composure. But he found nothing. Seeing the tension rising, Amanda immediately stepped in to play the peacemaker. “Oh, Summer is probably just tired of wearing the same thing. Lucas, you can just buy her a better one tomorrow, right?” She turned toward me, pointing at her own neck. “Summer, look at this necklace. Does it look good on me?” It was a ruby necklace Lucas had bought at an auction six months ago. Originally, it was meant to be my wedding gift. But after my accident, it found its way onto Amanda’s neck instead. “It looks nice,” I said softly. Amanda smiled triumphantly. “Lucas said the shade really complements my skin tone. Summer, when you try on your wedding dress tomorrow, could you lend me your glass slippers? I have a major audition tomorrow, and I need a pair of statement shoes to hold the floor.” She had finally revealed her true motive. Those glass slippers were custom bridal shoes I had personally helped design. They were one of a kind in the entire world. Lucas frowned. “Amanda, stop causing trouble. Those are Summer’s wedding shoes.” Amanda pouted, tugging gently on Lucas’s sleeve. “But after Summer tries them on tomorrow, she won’t be wearing them again for a while. Leaving them in the closet will just collect dust. Why not let me borrow them? Summer and I are best friends, she definitely won’t mind. Lucas, please just say yes!” Lucas glanced at me. I could see the gears turning in his head, weighing whether to protect the dignity of his memory-impaired fiancée or satisfy the vanity of his secret lover. In the end, he chose the latter. “Summer,” he said, taking my hand and softening his tone. “Amanda is your best friend and our parents’ goddaughter. As her older sister, just let her have her way this once. Tomorrow at the fitting, I will have a new pair sent over.” His hand was warm, but my heart was cold as ice. “Sure,” I pulled my hand back gently. “If she likes them so much, she can just have them.” Lucas froze. Amanda was equally stunned. Neither of them had expected me to yield so easily. “Summer, are you serious?” Lucas asked, genuine disbelief in his voice. “I am,” I looked straight into his eyes. “They’re just a pair of shoes. I don’t want them anymore.” Not just the shoes. I don’t want you anymore, either. The two of them carried on chatting and laughing across the table, but I paid them no mind. Let them play their game. My countdown was almost up anyway. When we left the restaurant, the sky had turned pitch black. Lucas drove us home. The ride was suffocatingly quiet. He didn’t turn on the radio, nor did he initiate a conversation. He simply kept checking on me through the rearview mirror every few minutes. I leaned against the window, watching the city lights blur past. I had traveled this same road for six months, every cycle filled with naive anticipation for a wedding dress fitting, only to wake up in despair again. The car pulled into the underground garage. Lucas parked, but he didn’t unbuckle his seatbelt right away. He turned his body toward me. “Summer. What is wrong with you today?” A hint of suppressed irritation leaked into his voice. “In the past, you would never give your things away to anyone else. And you would never look at me with those eyes.” I met his gaze. “What kind of eyes?” Lucas fell silent, struggling to find the right words. “Like you are looking at a total stranger,” he finally said. I let out a soft laugh. “Lucas, you are overthinking. I just feel like since we are getting married, there is no need to fuss over minor details.” Lucas stared at me, his brows tightly knit. Suddenly, he leaned over, unbuckled my seatbelt, and pulled me into a tight embrace. “Summer, don’t scare me,” he muttered, burying his face into the crook of my neck, his voice trembling slightly. “You are all I have left.” A faint trace of perfume hit my nose. It was Amanda’s signature scent. I closed my eyes, hiding the repulsion flooding my chest, and gently patted his back. “Lucas, let’s go upstairs. I am really tired.” Lucas released me, searching my eyes as if trying to confirm whether I was truly alright. Finally, he nodded. “Okay.” Back inside the house, Lucas drew my bathwater just as he always did, then brought out the hairdryer to dry my hair. His movements were gentle, his fingers running through my strands with comforting warmth. “Summer,” he spoke over the hum of the dryer. “Tomorrow, right after the fitting, we will go get our marriage license.” I looked at his reflection in the mirror. His eyes were focused, dripping with apparent devotion. If my memory hadn’t returned, if I hadn’t overheard his conversation this morning, I truly would have believed he loved me to his core. “Alright,” I whispered to my reflection. Once my hair was dry, Lucas carried me to bed and pressed a kiss onto my forehead. “Goodnight, my future Mrs. Crawford.” I shut my eyes. “Goodnight.” I waited until I heard the door close and his footsteps fade down the hallway before opening my eyes. I pulled back the covers and stepped out of bed, pulling a pre-packed suitcase from beneath the frame. Inside were just a few basic pieces of clothing and my passport. Then, I slid the engagement ring off my left ring finger. It was a five-carat pink diamond. Lucas had once claimed it represented his unconditional love for me. I placed the ring directly on top of the original purchase receipt on the nightstand. Finally, I pulled out my phone and blocked every single contact number belonging to Lucas, Amanda, and my parents. When everything was done, I checked the wall clock. Three in the morning. Four hours until my flight. I sat on the edge of the bed, looking around the room where I had been confined for the last six months. It was filled with traces of Lucas: the plush toys he bought, the curtains he picked, the wooden carvings he crafted by hand. I used to think this was my safe haven. Only now did I realize it was a meticulously constructed cage. I stood up, took the handle of my suitcase, and walked toward the door without a single trace of hesitation. Lucas, your “seventh day” will never come again.

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Seven years after I got sucked into a trashy romance novel, my best friend finally gave up and divorced the story’s secondary male lead. I spent weeks taking her to wild night clubs, bungee jumping off snowy peaks, and holding her hand until we ended up at the beach. She finally wiped away a tear as she hurled her platinum wedding ring far into the ocean waves. “Fine. That’s it,” she muttered, her voice raw. “He and that golden female lead can torture each other for the rest of their lives. I am done playing the sacrificial wife. Come on, let’s go home.” She paused, staring at my hand with a puzzled frown. “Wait, why are you still wearing yours? Don’t tell me you still have feelings for Matthew?” I casually slipped off my diamond band and gave it a soft toss into the foam. Unlike her dramatic gesture, mine was completely effortless. “I just realized there is no point in wasting my energy on this person or any of his drama anymore. It’s completely meaningless.” True moving on happens without a sound. Mackenzie’s explosive anger only proved she still cared deep down. Me? I simply didn’t love Matthew anymore. Mackenzie froze at my words, then burst into uncontrollable sobs. I turned around with a sigh, stepping forward to wrap her in a hug. That was when I noticed Matthew standing right behind us. The notoriously cold, stoic billionaire stood under the moonlight, his thin lips trembling almost imperceptibly. “Is that so?” he whispered, his voice cracking. “Am I truly that meaningless to you now?” 1 Getting caught talking trash behind someone’s back is usually embarrassing. Yet, as I met Matthew’s pitch-black eyes, every trace of awkwardness simply died inside me, replaced by a hollow calm. I pulled my stone-drunk best friend up by her arm and started walking toward the coastal hotel. It was past midnight. The ocean breeze blew sharp and cold, carrying the dark hum of the tide. Moonlight washed over Matthew as he leaned against the door of his sleek sports car. As I brushed past him, the faint scent of tobacco hit my nose. I used to hate it when he smoked, so he had quit for years just for me. But the night the novel’s female lead, Betty, returned from abroad, he had stood on the balcony puffing through an entire pack. When dawn broke, he turned to me after I had stayed awake all night and whispered a quiet, “I’m sorry.” Sorry for what? Back then, I didn’t dare dig deeper. I didn’t truly understand until Betty pulled strings to steal the prime news anchor position I had poured three years of sweat into. She even came to my house to gloat, casually throwing the rescue cat Matthew and I had raised together right out of the second-story window. When I lost my mind and reached out to slap her, a massive surge of force pinned my wrist and shoved me down onto the hardwood floor. Matthew had shielded Betty, looking down at me like a stranger. “No matter what happens, you have no right to touch her.” That was the moment I finally understood his apology. He was telling me he had chosen Betty, completely discarding my seven years of devotion. “Let me drive you,” Matthew called out behind us. His voice was raspy from the sea wind. Sensing I was about to refuse, he added quickly, “You two have been drinking. You can’t drive, and walking back to the hotel at this hour isn’t safe.” I couldn’t read his shadow-draped expression, but Mackenzie was still weeping against my shoulder, muttering nonsense. “Fine,” I said softly. “Thanks, Mr. Crawford.” Matthew’s hand froze as he reached for the door handle. 2 The interior of the car was suffocatingly quiet. Mackenzie was completely passed out in the backseat, leaving me stuck in the passenger side. The atmosphere stretched tight with unspoken tension. Ever since our fallout, Matthew and I hadn’t seen each other for months. Sitting side by side felt entirely foreign. Gancing at the rearview mirror, Matthew broke the silence. “Jerry has been looking everywhere for the two of you.” Jerry was the secondary male lead Mackenzie had loved to the point of foolishness. It was because of him that Mackenzie, just like me, had given up the chance to return to our real world three years ago. “I know,” I replied neutrally. Seeing my indifferent response, Matthew pinched the bridge of his nose with one hand on the steering wheel, letting out a heavy sigh. “Jerry and Betty aren’t what you think. They are just foster siblings…” “I said I know,” I cut him off cleanly. When Mackenzie and I first glitched into this book, a system error left us completely unaware of the plot. We had to rely on each other, treating this place as our reality. By the time the system finally activated, we had already fallen deeply in love with Matthew and Jerry. Even when the system offered us a ticket back to our real lives, we chose to stay behind. Young women in love always do reckless, heartbreaking things for the men they cherish. But every wall hits back. I had turned around, and now I was just waiting for Mackenzie to make her final choice. “If you’re trying to get me to convince Mackenzie to take Jerry back, you are barking up the wrong tree,” I said, my voice hardening. “Even if Jerry and Betty were pure as snow, I would never take his side or do anything to hurt Mackenzie. Besides…” I let out a cold laugh. “They aren’t innocent at all.” Mackenzie had found Betty’s secret diary inside a lockbox in Jerry’s private study, a room he had explicitly forbidden Mackenzie from entering. It was filled with Betty’s obsessive feelings for her foster brother, along with an unsent reply written by Jerry himself. Line after line detailed his unspeakable love for Betty, explicitly noting how Mackenzie’s personality and expressive eyes reminded him so much of his true love. After reading it, Mackenzie had vomited right beside the safe. She called me weeping uncontrollably: “Get me out of here. Please, Sam, get me away from him.” Mackenzie used to care about her appearance more than anything. But for the past two weeks, she had drowned herself in booze, crying in her sleep until her face was swollen beyond recognition. Yet she looked in the mirror yesterday and asked me, “Do I look less like Betty now?” 3 When we arrived at the hotel, I tucked Mackenzie into bed, wiped off her makeup, and changed her into pajamas. When I stepped back out, I realized Matthew was still standing outside the room. Meeting my surprised gaze, he hurriedly put out the cigarette burning between his fingers. “Is there anything else, Mr. Crawford?” He opened his mouth, his voice dropping low. “Jerry is on his way up.” My expression went icy. I turned around to slam the door shut, but his hand clamped around my wrist. “What are you doing?” I snapped. Matthew stared at me, his dark eyes laced with faint red veins, looking utterly exhausted. “He knows he was wrong,” he murmured. “He deeply regrets it. He just wants to apologize.” “An apology fixes everything?” I scoffed. “Does he not realize how repulsive his actions were? What a total scumbag.” It is nearly impossible to be polite to the trashy husband of your best friend. I thought I was holding back, but Matthew’s face still visibly paled. His usual cool composure cracked, revealing a raw flicker of panic in his eyes. He lowered his head, hiding his expression. Taking advantage of his hesitation, I snatched my wrist back and went to shut the door. At the very last second, his large, pale hand caught the edge of the frame, using his own flesh to block the door from closing. The hallway light was dim. “Sam,” his voice was barely a whisper. “Today is my birthday.” I pretended not to hear. “Today is my birthday,” he repeated, his tone laced with a stubborn, desperate edge. “You said you would always celebrate my birthday with me.” 4 Matthew leaned his head closer, an unconscious habit from when he used to seek affection from me. His eyes looked exactly the same as they did seven years ago when I first fell for him: dark, intense, hiding a fiery wildness beneath a layer of frost. “Matthew,” I called his name. A flicker of genuine hope lit up his eyes. But before I could say another word, his phone vibrated violently. The caller ID displayed a single name: Betty. Matthew’s lips parted, his movements stalling with hesitation. “Because of Mackenzie’s social media post, Betty’s career is taking a massive hit…” Betty had majored in broadcast journalism, just like me. The moment she returned to the country, she snagged my primetime show and built a massive following as a star anchor, heavily backed by both Matthew and Jerry. I didn’t bother looking at him again. “Go ahead, answer it.” Matthew stood frozen. He didn’t pick up the call. The hallway clock ticked steadily toward midnight. In a rare display of vulnerability, his voice sounded painfully strained, as if he knew what he was about to ask was completely unreasonable. “Sam… can I ask for a birthday gift?” I had spent the whole day running around with Mackenzie and was far too exhausted to keep playing these emotional games. I offered a lazy nod. The customized ringtone kept chiming in his pocket. Matthew swallowed hard. “Can we… not get divorced?” I noticed his fingers clenching into a tight fist, his knuckles turning stark white. He was probably thinking about Betty’s public image again. After all, the heads of the Crawford and Vance families couldn’t both go through a high-profile divorce because of the same woman. “Sure,” I agreed smoothly. A rare wave of pure relief washed over Matthew’s face, a visible smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He took a step back, finally letting go of the door frame. With tender eyes, he traced the features of my face, looking at me the exact same way he did when we first got together. I used to think that look meant love. Before turning around to answer the phone, he left me with a final phrase, his voice bubbling with a bizarre, child-like excitement. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Sam.” 5 I shut the door quietly. It didn’t matter anyway. I had already struck a deal with the system: the moment Mackenzie gave the word, we would leave this world together for good. Divorce or no divorce, it didn’t mean a thing to me anymore. 6 The next morning, Mackenzie was still fast asleep. I went downstairs to the hotel kitchen to borrow their blender and make her some warm honey soy milk. When I stepped back into the hallway, a sharp, terrified scream shattered the quiet. “Ahhh! Get off me!” “Don’t touch me!” I sprinted into the room. Jerry and Betty were already standing inside. I had overlooked the fact that hotel security wouldn’t dare block a billionaire like Jerry Vance. Jerry’s brows were pulled into a tight frown, his expression a mix of confusion and mounting irritation. “That’s all in the past, Mackenzie! Betty and I are foster siblings. Acting out like this ruins our family name! Do you have any idea what people are saying online about Betty?” He grabbed her arm firmly. “She is a public figure! Do you realize your little tantrum is throwing away years of her hard work? How did you become so unreasonable? Come home with me and post a statement saying it was all a misunderstanding.” Betty dabbed at the nonexistent tears in the corners of her eyes, putting on a picture of tragic innocence. “Jerry, don’t blame Sister Mackenzie. It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have been so foolish when I was younger, writing those embarrassing things in my diary…” She let out a soft, mournful sigh. “I realized my mistake long ago, and I’ve completely let go of those feelings.” Jerry’s hand on Mackenzie’s arm suddenly stiffened. The plot of this book was painfully simple. Betty and Jerry shared a taboo, foster-sibling romance, caught between moral boundaries and undeniable desire. Meanwhile, her dynamic with Matthew was a tragic story of childhood salvation and second chances. When Betty returned to the country, she was supposed to engage in a high-stakes, angsty love triangle with both men. Except Mackenzie and I had glitched into the narrative. Jerry had never truly gotten over his taboo obsession, and his possessiveness over Betty went far beyond sibling affection. Hearing her deny her feelings for him right there caused his composure to crack, an instant flash of hurt washing over his face. Watching their silent exchange, Mackenzie laughed through her tears. Her hair was a messy nest, wet tear tracks staining her cheeks. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?!” she sobbed. “Why do I have to be a spectator to your epic romance? What am I to you? What were my seven years worth?!” Jerry and Betty stood there in their immaculate designer clothes, looking down at her like she was a hysterical madwoman. 7 I couldn’t stand it for another second. I rushed forward, but a long arm reached out and caught me by the shoulder. Matthew towered over me, his dark eyes devoid of warmth. “This is between them,” he said coldly. “Sam, can you stop putting Mackenzie above us every single time? We have our own lives to fix…” He paused, adding smoothly, “Besides, Betty is at the peak of her media career. Mackenzie shouldn’t be sabotaging her right now.” I almost couldn’t believe my ears, but a cold wave of realization settled in quickly. He was the male lead, and she was the female lead. Ever since Betty rescued him from a dark alley when he was just a rebellious teenager, he had been irrevocably in love with her. To him, anyone else’s agony was nothing compared to a single strand of Betty’s hair. “Stop making a scene,” Matthew said, looking back at Mackenzie. “If Mackenzie posts a public apology to Betty online, we can put this all behind us. I won’t hold your recent behavior against you either. Let’s all just go home, alright?” As if remembering something pleasant, Matthew’s expression softened slightly, a faint flicker of warmth gracing his eyes. “Bella is waiting for us at home. You’re so heartless, leaving her behind for so long without coming back to check on her.” Bella was the rescue cat Matthew and I had adopted together. Seven years ago, while hiking, I saved Matthew after he was ambushed and severely injured by his family’s business rivals. At the exact same time, I rescued a tiny, stray calico cat that had been mauled by wild dogs. Back then, Bella was terrified of everyone, refusing to let anyone near her except me. I used to joke that she was just like Matthew, always wearing a fierce glare and refusing to let anyone touch her besides her owner. Matthew would stare at the kitten coldly, turning his head with an annoyed huff. Bella couldn’t care less, rubbing her tail against my ankles with purrs. In the end, Matthew would lose his patience, scoop me into his arms, and glare at the tiny cat: “Get lost! Don’t you have your own wife?!” I used to laugh until my stomach hurt. Back then, I thought those moments were ordinary happiness. Who could have guessed that a few years later, when Betty returned and tried to kick me with her high heels, Bella would leap up to protect me? She scratched Betty’s arm. Betty had flown into a psychotic rage. “Do you really think Matthew cares about you?! You are nothing more than my temporary replacement! Now that I am back, he won’t even look at you! And this miserable cat!” She grabbed Bella and threw her straight out the second-story window. Enraged, I tried to fight back, but Matthew tackled me to the ground, holding me down. He then escorted Betty out of the house, letting her ride away triumphantly in the pink sports car he had bought for her. I crawled down the stairs, bleeding and limping, searching frantically in the rain for Bella. Eventually, both the cat and I collapsed from blood loss. I was rushed to the hospital. When I woke up with a sharp, dragging pain in my lower abdomen, the doctor scolded me harshly: “How could you be so careless? You’re pregnant! You almost had a miscarriage, do you realize that?!” In a daze, I asked him, “Bella… where is my cat?” The doctor frowned. “What cat? You were completely alone when the paramedics brought you in.” When I finally returned to the house, Bella’s body was still soft, but icy cold. She would never stand up to rub against my ankles again. 8 Without a word, I tipped the thermos and poured the boiling honey soy milk straight over Matthew’s hand. Scalded, he instinctively snatched his hand back, his gaze instantly turning dark and dangerous. “What is wrong with you?!” “I should ask what the hell is wrong with you!” I yelled, my voice shaking with pure fury. “Bella has been dead for months! I sent you dozens of messages and you ignored every single one of them! How dare you bring her up like she’s still alive?!” Matthew’s face went through a bizarre transformation. “What are you talking about? How could Bella be dead? I explicitly told Betty to go over and feed her every single day…” He whipped his head toward Betty. Betty nervously shifted her gaze away, not daring to meet his eyes. All the color drained from Matthew’s face. Steels of panic returned to his eyes, and he tried to grab my arm again. “Whatever happened, let me explain when we get home, okay?” I slapped his hand away with everything I had. “Get out!” I dashed over and shielded Mackenzie like a mother hen, turning around and landing two brutal slaps right across Jerry’s face. The pampered billionaire was completely stunned by the impact. Red handprints swelled on his cheek. He stared at me in shock, then turned to Mackenzie with a furious, disbelieving glare. “You’re just going to let her hit me?!” They all knew Mackenzie and I were closer than biological sisters. My actions were a direct reflection of her feelings. Jerry simply couldn’t accept it. Mackenzie didn’t even look at him. She closed her eyes, tears flowing silently down her cheeks, her hands trembling violently as she clutched the hem of my shirt. “Mr. Vance, take your trash and leave,” I said coldly. “She is never going back with you. Nothing you have done makes you worth another second of her time. You don’t deserve her love.” Betty tried to step forward to play the victim again. “How could you hit my brother?! You’re just taking your anger out on him because of Matthew…” I fixed her with a glare that could kill. “Take one more step toward us, and I won’t just slap you. I will post the footage of what you did to my cat online for the entire world to see. Try me, Betty.” Betty stomped her foot, turning to the men. “Jerry! Matthew! Look at her!” Surprisingly, both Matthew and Jerry remained dead silent, ignoring her dramatic whines. 9 Once the door shut and they were gone, I wrapped my arms around Mackenzie. “It’s over, it’s over now. I’m here. I’m taking you home.” Mackenzie sobbed so hard she seemed almost delirious. “Can we really go home?” “Yes,” I whispered gently. She pulled back, staring at me with a sudden flash of clarity in her eyes. “Wait… the system said the interdimensional portal was closed! What price did you pay to open it?!” 10 After burying Bella, I spent weeks in the hospital undergoing intensive treatments to save my pregnancy. Every single message I sent to Matthew vanished into the void. Day after day, long needles were pushed into my veins. I hid under the thin hospital blanket every night, weeping until my eyes were raw. A nurse recognized me as a former TV news anchor and asked for an autograph. On the wall-mounted TV, my old show was airing, but Betty was the one hosting it, smiling radiantly under the studio lights. “So you stepped down because you got pregnant!” the nurse chattered happily. “I was wondering why Betty suddenly took over your spot. Hey, you industry insiders must know all the juicy gossip, right? Is it true that Betty secretly married the CEO of the Crawford Group?” My hands froze. I opened my phone and saw Betty’s latest social media update. She had posted a picture of the pink sports car Matthew gave her, tagging him publicly with the caption: A eighteenth birthday gift finally received at twenty-five. She had also shared videos of a grand firework show and a custom drone light display. The icy billionaire had bent over backward to make her smile, unfazed by how cliché it was. Then came a video of her cradling a fluffy, expensive kitten, tagging Matthew playfully: The very first life we are raising together. Followed by an influx of comments asking about the backstory, Betty responded mysteriously: Shh! That’s a secret between Matthew and me! Shortly after, internet sleuths dug up an old photograph of a teenage Matthew and Betty feeding a stray calico cat behind an abandoned school building. The tender smile on young Matthew’s face was something I had never seen in my seven years with him. So, he was capable of smiling at a tiny creature. He didn’t hate Bella because she was a cat; he hated her because her owner was me. It all made sense now. Love was never something logical. I had given Matthew seven years of my life, pouring my whole heart out for him. Yet the moment Betty walked back into the room, she won everything without even trying.

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