My son’s girlfriend said their dog was in a bad mood. So my son canceled his trip home to see me. “Mom, I’m not coming back for the sixth either. If Snowball gets depressed, that’s serious.” I listened to the cheerful barking on the other end of the line. He had probably forgotten — this was the third year in a row he hadn’t come to see me. Including Chinese New Year. He had also forgotten that my doctor had just handed me a terminal cancer diagnosis. “Mom, why aren’t you saying anything? Never mind, I’m hanging up. I still need to take Snowball out to cheer her up.” In the dead silence after the call ended, I pulled the IV tube out of my arm. — **1** The nurse came rushing in, panicked, trying to put the needle back in. “Ms. Shen! You can’t do this! Your condition—” I pushed her hand away, my face cold. “Discharge me. Now.” The cancer had spread through my body. Every movement sent sharp pain shooting through me, but I stood up straight. I dialed my lawyer’s number. My voice was completely steady. “Have a car ready. Take me back to the estate.” The car moved smoothly along the road. Then Hayden’s call came through. I picked up. Through the speaker came the sound of Crystal putting on her baby voice. “Snowball, sweetie, just one bite — this is wagyu beef, flown in specially for you.” Then came Hayden’s impatient voice. “Mom, what is wrong with you? It’s the holidays and you’re deliberately making my life difficult? Ever since you got sick, Snowball’s been depressed because of you.” “Transfer fifty thousand dollars right now. I need to take Snowball to a pet therapist. If we wait any longer it’s going to get worse.” I said nothing. My stomach clenched in waves. This time last year, I had just finished a round of chemo. I had a fever that wouldn’t break. I had nearly lost half my life. And my wonderful son had been out skiing in Hokkaido with Crystal, posting a grid of smiling vacation photos on Instagram. He had sent me a two-hundred-dollar Venmo with the message: *Happy New Year, Mom. Stay warm, drink plenty of water.* I cut off the memory. I didn’t open my banking app the way I normally would have. I simply asked, calmly, “Hayden, do you know what today is?” There was a pause on the other end of the line. Then came an enraged outburst. “There you go again with the guilt trip! Is this fun for you? Let me tell you something — you better stay alive a good long time, because if you die, all that money is useless to you!” The call slammed dead. I looked out the window at the business empire I had built with my own hands. I thought of all those years, drinking at client dinners until my stomach bled just to close a deal. The only love that had kept me fighting — my love for my son — dissolved completely in that moment. I returned to the cold, empty estate. The living room was stacked with New Year gifts I had prepared for Hayden: the latest gaming console, limited-edition sneakers. Every one of them felt like it was mocking me. My chest tightened. The pain took my breath away. “Mr. Zhao.” I spoke. My voice came out rough. “Ms. Shen, shall we finalize the will now?” “No.” I shook my head. “Draft the first document. Notify all banks to freeze every supplementary credit card under Hayden’s name. Effective immediately.” The moment the words left my mouth, my phone began buzzing nonstop. A flood of voice messages from Hayden came through. *”Mom, have you lost it? Why won’t my card work?!”* *”Crystal and I are out right now! Do you know how embarrassing this is?!”* *”Are you insane?!”* I turned off my phone, walked to the study, and picked up the framed photo of my late husband. I traced his gentle smile with my fingertips and said quietly, “Gerald, it’s time to clean house.” I turned to my lawyer. “Put out word that my condition has improved, and that I plan to name a successor for the company this holiday season.” It was bait. I wanted to see with my own eyes exactly what kind of creature I had raised. Less than thirty minutes after the news broke, Hayden messaged me on Snapchat. A complete one-eighty. *”Mom, are you feeling better? Crystal and I are getting in the car right now! Please take care of yourself!”* *”Mom, what do you want to eat? I’ll bring it back for you.”* *”Mom, I know I’ve been a bad son. Don’t hold it against me.”* Reading those copy-pasted pleasantries, my stomach turned. Mr. Zhao and I sat in the living room. I was wrapped in a heavy blanket, sunk into my wheelchair, waiting quietly. Late that night, the door was thrown open. Crystal came in first, carrying Snowball. The moment she crossed the threshold, she started fanning the air in front of her face dramatically. “God, what is that smell? It reeks of old people and medicine in here.” Snowball leapt out of her arms and tore across the expensive rug, claws raking across the leather sofa. Hayden came in behind her. Not only did he not stop the dog, he laughed. “Mom, look — Snowball’s just bringing some energy into the place.” From the moment he walked in, he hadn’t once looked directly at my face — a face that had wasted away almost beyond recognition. Hayden dropped onto the sofa across from me and got straight to the point. “Mom, Mr. Zhao said the succession process has started. Has it actually been filed?” I gave a vague smile. “That depends on how you behave.” Hayden immediately slipped into a fawning expression and reached for the kettle on the coffee table. “Mom, you must be thirsty. Let me pour you some water.” He handed me a cup of scalding water. My body was weak, my hands were shaking. I couldn’t hold it. The cup hit the floor. The boiling water splashed across my hand — and a few drops landed on Snowball’s fur nearby. “Ah!” Crystal let out a piercing scream. Not for me. For her dog. She lunged forward, pulled out tissues, and dabbed frantically at the few drops of water on Snowball’s coat. “My baby! Are you burned? Does it hurt?” She didn’t look at me once. Even as my hand began to swell and redden. — **2** I stared down at my burned hand, and suddenly thought of the time Hayden had a high fever as a little boy. I had held him all night, wiping down his body with rubbing alcohol, not sleeping for a single moment. Crystal finished comforting her dog and turned to me with a performance of concern. “Aunt Helen, honestly, with your health being what it is, maybe you should consider a care facility. They have professionals there. It would be better for you.” She paused, then added pointedly, “And it would be a shame to leave this estate sitting empty. I think it would make a lovely place for a wedding.” Hayden jumped in right on cue. “Exactly, Mom! The energy here is great, it’s perfect for us young people. You’d be much better off at a nice facility, and we’d feel so much more at peace.” I nodded. “Alright. I’ll think about it.” Right in front of them, I pulled out my phone and texted Mr. Zhao. *Inventory all antiques and artwork in the estate. Prepare for transfer.* At dinner, the table was full of Hayden’s favorites — braised pork ribs, sweet-and-sour fish. The chemo had destroyed my appetite. All I could manage was a bowl of plain congee. Between bites, Hayden complained, “Mom, VP Reynolds at the company is getting completely out of line with me. You need to hand over full authority soon.” The next morning, I was woken by the clattering and banging from downstairs. I pushed myself out of bed and made my way to the top of the staircase. Below, Crystal was standing with her hands on her hips, directing a team of movers to rearrange the furniture. She was pointing at my most treasured piece — the rosewood bookcase. The one my husband had loved most. “This thing — it’s old, it’s ugly, throw it out. Just looking at it brings bad luck.” “Stop.” My voice came out sharp. “Don’t touch that.” Crystal looked up at me. Not a trace of guilt on her face. She smiled, sarcastic and sweet. “Oh, Aunt Helen, you’re up! I figured out with the old, in with the new — I’m refreshing the place a little, for good luck.” “And this space would be perfect for a luxury play area for our Snowball.” Hayden stood to the side and didn’t say a word against it. In fact, he played along. “Mom, that bookcase is so dark, it gives off bad energy. It’s affecting our luck.” I was shaking with fury. I gripped the banister and made my way down the stairs, one step at a time. I spread my arms wide and stood in front of the bookcase. Snowball suddenly charged at me, barking furiously, snapping at the hem of my trousers. Crystal stood off to the side with her arms crossed, watching, amused. “Look how smart Snowball is — she knows quality when she sees it. She’s just not a fan of these old things.” I couldn’t take it anymore. I swatted at the dog hard. “Get away from me!” Snowball startled, yelped, and scrambled backward — straight into the display cabinet behind her. *Crash—* The sound of something shattering cut through the entire room. The blue-and-white porcelain urn that had been sitting on the top shelf of the cabinet tumbled to the floor and broke into pieces. It had contained my husband’s ashes. The only urn. A roar went through my head. My body went rigid. Hayden’s first reaction was to point his finger in my face and scream at me. “What is wrong with you! Why did you have to yell that loud? If something happened to Snowball, you’re paying for it!” He was worried about the dog. Not his father’s ashes. Crystal rushed over too, scooping up the dog, checking her over from head to toe for scratches. She kept muttering under her breath, “God, this is so morbid, dead people’s things should’ve been thrown out a long time ago, keeping them in the house is terrible luck.” My legs gave out beneath me. I sank to the floor. My hands shaking, I reached out to gather the broken pieces. A shard sliced into my finger. Blood fell, drop by drop, onto the pale gray dust. Hayden looked at me on the floor and grew even more impatient. He grabbed my arm roughly. “Alright, enough of the pity show! Get up and sign the will, don’t make us late for Snowball’s grooming appointment!” I wrenched my arm away from him. I raised my head. Whatever emotion had been in my eyes was gone. Only ice remained. I pulled myself up off the floor. Hayden took a step back. Something in my gaze had shaken him. But the thought of the money steadied his nerve. He reached for the coffee table, picked up a document he had obviously prepared in advance, and slammed it down. His voice was thick with greed and urgency. “This is an unconditional power of attorney over the company’s shares. For the sake of stability, you need to sign this right now.” Crystal hugged Snowball and chimed in from behind him. “That’s right, Aunt Helen. You’re not thinking clearly anymore. Hayden is the only one who can protect this family’s legacy.” I looked at the document — it was practically a mugging dressed up in legal language — and the corner of my mouth moved slightly.

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On the day of the wedding, I swapped souls with Vivienne’s sworn enemy. When I opened my eyes, Vivienne’s body was covered in hickeys. “Don’t leave so many marks next time. My husband finds out, he’ll kill you.” My heart shattered. I told her who I really was, my voice trembling. Vivienne froze. Then she leaned in and kissed me with a smile. “Right. You’re my husband. A little husband is still a husband.” “Be a good boy and rest up. I’ve got a wedding to get to. I’ll come back tonight and take care of you.” At the million-dollar wedding that had been planned for me, she declared her love for someone else in front of everyone. Then she covered the microphone and whispered, “Ethan, for these seven days, you are my husband in the eyes of the world.” Rage burned through me. I stormed the stage wearing Marcus’s face. “I, Marcus Cole, am Vivienne’s side piece!” — **1** The entire hall erupted. A flash of panic crossed Vivienne’s eyes. She composed herself quickly, her brow furrowing. “You’ve always loved picking fights with me. Spreading lies, hurting people — you’ll do whatever it takes.” “I’ve let it go before, but today is my wedding day. Don’t push me.” Everyone in the city knew Marcus Cole and Vivienne were enemies. Born rivals. If I hadn’t lived it myself, I never would have known these two had already been sleeping together. Malicious whispers cut into my ears. I let out a cold laugh. “You have three hickeys on your left chest. Fresh ones.” I dropped the bombshell and dared her to take off her dress and prove me wrong. Vivienne knew my personality better than anyone. This wasn’t going to end quietly. She grabbed my wrist and warned me not to make it worse — she’d explain everything later. But I didn’t want her explanation. I reached out and tore at her wedding dress. The gown, the lining — all of it ripped open. Three fresh hickeys on her left chest, plain as day. The room exploded. “Did Vivienne really cheat? And with Marcus Cole — the man responsible for her family’s deaths?” “Impossible! When Dylan was kidnapped, Vivienne threw everything she had into saving him. She said she’d give her life for his.” “Nobody in this city would believe she stopped loving Dylan!” Vivienne’s eyes went red. She stared at me, silently begging me to back down. I shook her off and opened my mouth to keep going. But Marcus — wearing my face — cut me off with a sharp cry. “Enough! I left those marks. How would you even know that?” “Did you put cameras in our bedroom? What are you after?!” He twisted the whole thing around, making it look like I was the one targeting Vivienne. I was furious. I almost blurted out the whole soul-swap situation right then. But Vivienne shot me a look. Her friend group immediately swarmed me and dragged me into a corner of the venue. They took turns trying to talk me down. “Ethan, didn’t you promise Vivienne you’d behave today? She even promised you three months alone with her.” “You two have been tangled up for ten years. You’re definitely the only husband she has in her heart.” I stood there frozen. I couldn’t even breathe. “Ten years? She and I — Ethan Walsh — have only been together seven years.” The heartbreak curdled into rage. Vivienne’s friends started talking over each other, piecing together the history. It started with Vivienne and Marcus running away together on New Year’s Eve when they were teenagers. Then their vow at the top of the Pinnacle Tower. Then the expedition they’d survived together on a mountain climb — clinging to life, clinging to each other. The whole wedding became a backdrop. No — the wedding belonged to them too. Before they ran out of things to say, they told me about the day before Vivienne met me. Her parents had been invited on a trip by Marcus’s family. A landslide. No survivors. “If that hadn’t happened, Ethan, you and Vivienne would’ve gotten married with your families’ blessings a long time ago.” “And… Vivienne doesn’t hate you. She just… loves you in a way that hurts her.” — **2** I sat there and listened to the whole epic love story between my wife and her affair partner. Then I let out a quiet, hollow laugh. I pressed my palm until the pain cut through, forcing myself to stay sharp. I hit record. “Start over from the beginning. Tell me exactly how much Vivienne loves Marcus.” Her friends didn’t notice anything was off. They just figured their boy Ethan had snapped. They talked until the sky went dark. Walking out of the venue, I had one thought left in my head: I’m done with her. But I’m getting my body back. I tucked the recorder into my pocket and kicked open the door to the bridal suite. Vivienne was waiting. Exhaustion was written all over her face. “I figured out what happened. Marcus used your family heirloom — the bloodstone — to swap your souls without telling anyone.” That bloodstone. I’d retrieved it from the family vault myself to keep her safe. The only person I’d ever told about its power was her. Vivienne paused, then continued. “I’ve already talked to him. Don’t be angry. You’ll swap back in seven days.” As for the affair — she never offered a single word of explanation. I looked at her in silence and pressed play. The color drained from Vivienne’s face as the recording played. Her knuckles turned white. Her eyes went red. When she spoke, the words came out unsteady. “Ethan, that was the past. I only love you now.” “If I didn’t love you, why would I have chosen to marry you instead of Marcus?” I found it funny. I actually laughed. Vivienne took that as a good sign and let out a breath of relief. She even lightened up, pushing her luck. “Because of what happened to my parents, I blamed Marcus for years. He went through a lot because of me. This feels like a chance to make it right.” “Think of the wedding night as something I owe him. It’s still your body, so just pretend it didn’t happen. Don’t let it bother you.” She kept talking like I wasn’t even there. I looked at her, flat and cold, and said exactly one thing. “Why should my dignity pay for your mistakes?” Vivienne looked annoyed. She pulled out the old line about being one unit, husband and wife. Then she gave me a disappointed look and said I was being unsympathetic. I didn’t bother arguing. “Give me back the bloodstone and my body. And sign the divorce papers while you’re at it.” “You’re the one at fault. Walk away with nothing.” Lucky that Marcus hadn’t gone public with the soul-swap. Otherwise I never could’ve gotten Vivienne’s friends to hand me evidence of her affair on a silver platter. Vivienne’s eyes narrowed. She snapped at me for being reckless. “Forcing the swap back early will hurt both bodies. You can’t give Marcus even seven days?” “And Ethan — don’t joke about divorce. That would really hurt me.” I wouldn’t budge. That pushed Vivienne to her limit. She held herself back from lashing out at me. Marcus, though, couldn’t stand it anymore. He burst out of the room and came at me. “You’ve always used the fact that Vivienne loves you as a weapon. You hurt her whenever you want. You don’t deserve her. There are plenty of people who would.” Vivienne looked genuinely moved. She turned away from me. She was upset now. The whole thing was absurd. I crossed my arms and looked Marcus up and down. “You two deserve each other. She’s a liar, you’re worse — no wonder you found each other.” I don’t hold back with words. Never have. Even if Marcus wanted to take a swing at me, I wasn’t afraid. But the hand he raised never came down on my face. Vivienne caught his wrist and pulled him into her arms. “Marcus, I know you’re angry for me. And you’re right — Ethan has always taken me for granted.” — **3** Her eyes, sharp and clear, found mine. There was a cruelty in them that left no room for argument. “Actually, I don’t need your permission to do anything.” “Ethan, you married me. You need to learn what it means to be my husband. You can’t keep acting like a child.” A chill ran through me. I stepped back and grabbed the door handle. But she yanked me by the arm and dragged me into the darkened bridal suite. Vivienne locked the door. No light. Just her voice. “When Marcus and I are done, I’ll let you out.” The bridal suite was Vivienne’s design. That room had always been locked. Her ultimate secret. I hit the floor hard. Scraped my palm. I pushed myself up through the pain. Moonlight fell across the walls, and the color drained from my face. Every wall was covered in photos of Marcus. Portraits. Couple shots. Intimate photos. Every single one had a date written underneath. My birthday. Our anniversary. The night we got engaged. Even the day I first visited her parents’ graves as her husband. Blinding fury and disgust crashed over me. I started tearing the photos off the walls. And the whole time, Marcus’s breathless voice drifted through the walls. “Vivienne, I’m yours. I’ll always be yours.” Vivienne moaned his name back. Then mine. Back and forth. The moment I remembered that was my body, I bent over and dry-heaved. When I straightened up, my face was blank. I flicked the lighter. The room caught fast. Everything was flammable. The fire spread before I could think. Thick smoke tore through my lungs. I coughed until my chest felt like it was splitting. I smashed the window. I was halfway out when Vivienne crashed through the flames. “Ethan!” She smothered the fire, then wrapped her arms around me in the charred room and held on tight. “Are you out of your mind?! You nearly gave me a heart attack!” She must have smelled the smoke and come running. Her clothes were still half-undone. Not even the smoke covered the smell on her. I shoved her away. Before I could say anything, she grabbed my arm. “You burned yourself? Do you know how much Marcus cares about his skin?” “Just because it’s not your body, you think you can trash it? That’s a twisted way to get back at someone.” Vivienne’s expression went cold. She forced me to the hospital to get skin grafts done on Marcus’s body. I fought her the whole way. It didn’t matter. I stood there helpless while Marcus used my body to sign the consent forms. Eyes shining with tears, he clutched Vivienne’s sleeve. “Vivienne, I’m worried there are other injuries he’s hiding.” Vivienne understood immediately and ordered a full examination — the works. I told them through gritted teeth that nothing was wrong. They pushed me into the exam room anyway. The doctor came back with results. “The patient’s eyes were exposed to intense smoke and heat. The corneas have been damaged. Vision has significantly deteriorated.” Marcus sobbed into Vivienne’s arms. “I knew he was hiding something. Is he trying to make me go blind for the rest of my life once we swap back?” Vivienne shot me a withering glare. Then she turned back to Marcus and spoke gently. “Don’t worry. We’ll have him sign a cornea donation form. After the swap, we’ll do the surgery — same time as the skin grafts.” My eyes went wide. “There’s nothing wrong with my eyes right now!” Marcus had bribed the doctor. He wanted my eyes. I needed to prove I could see. I read out every word in sight, one after another. Vivienne hesitated. Marcus’s expression flickered. Then he put on a wounded look and started whimpering. “You could see when you came in. You probably just memorized everything then.” Fury surged through me. I laughed, ice cold. “So you want to be blind that badly. Fine. I’ll make it happen.” I raised my hand and drove it straight toward my own eyes. — **4** Marcus stared at me in disbelief, stunned that I’d actually snapped. Vivienne’s pupils contracted. She lunged and grabbed my wrist. Her face had gone pale. She growled at me under her breath. “What are you doing? Do you have any idea how much it hurts to poke your own eye? Is it really worth destroying yourself like this?” I looked at her, genuinely confused. It’s just pain. What’s the big deal? They thought the swap wouldn’t happen for seven days. But that was outdated information. The bloodstone could only hold the connection for three days. In three days, I’d be back in my own body — and I’d catch them completely off guard and leave. Nobody would be able to force skin grafts or cornea donations on me after that. Vivienne didn’t know any of this. She swallowed her anger. “Stop making a scene. You cause the damage, you deal with the consequences.” She called the doctor over and had the cornea donation form brought in, all business. Marcus signed two names on it and shot me a satisfied look. I said nothing. Let him sign. If he signed and I wasn’t around to collect, what was the point? Vivienne softened her voice. “Ethan, don’t be scared. Even if you can’t see, I’ll take care of you for the rest of your life. You don’t have to be afraid.” “Just rest for these seven days. Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you.” Guilt had made her generous. Vivienne offered me three requests. On the first day, I asked for the bloodstone back. Marcus hemmed and hawed and refused to hand it over. After I pushed him hard enough, he admitted he’d sold it. That same day I ransacked his place and listed everything he owned for sale online — including his used clothes. On the second day, I asked for a divorce. “Transfer the bridal suite to my name. I’m selling it.” I wasn’t in my own body yet, so pushing a clean split was difficult — I just needed her signature on the divorce papers first. Vivienne’s face went cold. She pressed her lips together. Under pressure from Marcus, she nodded. On the third day, I asked for seven years’ worth of dividends back. A divorce fund. Something to fall back on. Vivienne had no objections. Marcus did. He shot me a resentful glare. “Finance only recognizes Ethan’s face. Come with me.” The window for the swap was closing. I couldn’t tip my hand early. I figured he wouldn’t try anything, so I got in the car. I was wrong. Halfway there, everything went sideways. Several black SUVs came out of nowhere and rammed us. Marcus screamed in terror. I clenched my jaw and hit the emergency contact button on the phone. The next second, the phone was ripped away. My hands were tied. By the time Vivienne arrived, Marcus and I were both barely conscious on the concrete floor. “Ethan! Marcus!” I forced my eyes open. Fury simmered in my chest. Marcus, you idiot. Your emergency contact wasn’t 911. It was Vivienne. The kidnappers grabbed us both by the hair and grinned. “Ms. Vivienne, Mr. Reid needs a transplant. Both of your men are a match.” “Out of respect for you, he only needs one. Your choice. Who lives?” My mind was running fast, calculating every angle. Marcus was sobbing. “Vivienne, save me. Please save me.” Vivienne’s face was a wreck. Her fists were clenched so tight the veins stood out. She tried to speak several times. “I — I choose—” The kidnappers ran out of patience. They raised a solid steel pipe, aiming at both of our heads. Right before it came down — Vivienne raised her hand and pointed. “Him. I choose him.” Ethan Walsh’s body. Marcus Cole’s soul. I was about to die. I was smiling. Three. Two. One.

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The brother who had been so disgusted by my confession that he fled the country was finally back. His fiancée threw a welcome-home party behind my back. I showed up uninvited. Before I even walked through the door, I heard his best friend say: “Aren’t you worried she’ll latch onto you again now that you’re back?” Ethan draped an arm around his fiancée’s waist. “The beating I gave her before I left should have knocked some sense into her.” “Of course,” he added, “if she starts up again—” He laughed softly. “Then I’ll just have to ship her off somewhere so remote she’ll never forget her place.” Laughter erupted inside. I pushed the door open and walked in. The room went instantly quiet. Everyone stared at me with contempt. His fiancée sneered. “Shameless. Nobody invited you.” Ethan gave me a knowing look and said lightly, “My fiancée speaks her mind. Don’t take it personally.” “But honestly, you shouldn’t be here.” I swept my gaze over the crowd drinking in the spectacle. Then I let out a sudden, broken sob. And grabbed Ethan’s best friend by the arm. “Babe,” I cried, “why didn’t you tell my brother I’m pregnant?” — **1.** Ryan yanked his arm away in shock, staring at me like I was something he’d stepped in. “Stella, are you out of your mind? Why the hell would I ever touch you?” The room exploded with laughter. Ethan frowned and pulled his fiancée, Violet, closer as they stepped toward me. “Stella, if you wanted my attention, you didn’t have to make a scene like this.” I met his disgusted gaze. I pressed a hand to my stomach, going for pitifully helpless. “Ethan, I really am carrying Ryan’s baby.” “That’s impossible.” Violet hurled her wine glass at me. The liquid splashed across my face and soaked into my clothes. “Still delusional? My brother can’t stand you. What, you couldn’t climb your way into Ethan’s bed so now you’re going after the next rich heir?” The wine stung my eyes like needles. I reached up to wipe them. Ryan grabbed my wrist and wrenched my hand away. “You say it’s my kid — when exactly did we sleep together?” The wine blurred my vision until tears streamed down my face, but no one cared. My voice shook. I had no choice but to say it. “About six weeks ago. At the Nightfall Club. Someone slipped something into your drink, Ryan. That night — it was me.” “That’s insane! How could it have been you!” Ryan’s grip loosened in shock. Ethan’s expression darkened. “Is that true?” Ryan said blankly, “I was drugged that night. I knew someone was there, but I had no idea who…” He cycled through women like he was flipping channels — his schedule was booked out years in advance. There was no chance he remembered who he’d been with. Ethan exhaled roughly and closed his eyes. When he opened them, they were burning with fury. The next second, he backhanded me across the face. The force of it sent me stumbling backward into the champagne tower. The room gasped. The entire tower crashed down on top of me. I pressed my palm to the floor and cut it on the shards. The pain was sharp enough to make me tremble. I forced my eyes open and saw Violet coming at me, her face twisted with rage. She raised her hand and slapped me twice across the face. “Say it! You seduced my brother, didn’t you!” Ryan watched me with open irritation. “Yeah — did you crawl into my bed on your own? Because the idea that I’d actually want you makes me sick.” My head was spinning from the blows. Through the daze, I caught Ethan staring at me with an intensity I couldn’t read. For just a moment, I thought I saw something in his eyes. Like he actually cared. I denied it instinctively. “No. He forced me.” Violet screamed again. “Liar! You threw yourself at my brother! Ethan, don’t believe her!” She grabbed Ethan’s arm and clung to it. Ethan stroked her hair gently. “It’s okay, Violet. I know.” Then he looked at me, and his eyes went cold. My chest tightened with dread. Sure enough — the next second, Ethan patted Ryan on the shoulder. “I didn’t raise Stella right. That’s on me. I’ll give up a percentage of the West District deal next month as an apology.” He then turned to address the room. “Stella seduced Mr. Ryan of her own doing, without any shame. I will handle her personally. Are we clear?” The guests exchanged glances, then fell over themselves to agree. “Grew up outside a proper home — what do you expect? No class, no limits.” “She went after Ethan first, now Ryan. Absolutely shameless.” I dug my nails into my palm. A shard of glass drove deeper into my flesh. The pain kept my head clear. Ethan was still Ethan. He would never pick a fight with the Ryan family over me. Why would he? — **2.** Ethan grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the car. I shook him off. “Why does my brother suddenly care what I do?” I said flatly. “Shouldn’t you be managing Violet’s feelings right now?” Ethan smiled at me. “A few years apart and you’ve picked up some new tricks.” I didn’t respond. He stepped in front of me and blocked my path until I got in the car. I swallowed my irritation. Now wasn’t the time. I climbed in and spent the whole ride staring out the window. When the car passed through the gates of the Foster estate, I went still. Three years ago, Ethan had whipped me with his own hand — ten lashes — and then thrown me out himself. I hadn’t expected him to bring me back. I was fifteen when the Foster family found me. My birth parents were already gone by then. The only one who welcomed me was Ethan — the Fosters’ adopted son. The estate was vast and hollow. I was too scared to sleep. Ethan flew back from out of state that same night, still carrying a warm box of date pastries. He pushed open my bedroom door and said: “If the dark scares you, leave the light on. I’ll stay with you.” For three years after that, he walked beside me through everything. Introduced me to people. Helped me find my footing. When a business associate mocked me in private, Ethan walked away from an eighty-thousand-dollar contract on the spot. The day I turned eighteen, he took me to the rooftop observatory. The wind was fierce up there. He draped his jacket over my shoulders and asked what I wished for. I said quietly, “Can you be my boyfriend?” I remember the hope I felt in that moment. What I got instead was him stepping back, revulsion written across his face. “How could you have feelings for your own brother?” Ethan left me alone on that cold, dark rooftop. I walked through the snow for hours before I finally made it home. Then I found Ethan holding Violet in his arms, repeating over and over how disgusted he was. And Violet — the moment she saw me — smiled and held him tighter. After that, Ethan whipped me again. Ten more lashes. Family discipline, he called it. Each stroke came with a demand: say it. *I will never have feelings for Ethan Foster again.* By the time it was over, I was barely conscious, lying on the floor. Violet pressed her stiletto heel into the wounds on my back. “This is what you get for being shameless.” The next morning, Ethan threw me out of the house and had me sent abroad. And everyone laughed at me for being unable to keep my place. That was the moment I understood. If I couldn’t have Ethan, then I would take what was rightfully mine: the Foster family itself. — Back at the estate, Ethan shoved me down into a chair. The Foster family’s medical team surrounded me immediately. Ethan stood over me, staring down. “Stella, if I find out you’re not actually pregnant, you know what happens.” He didn’t believe me. But I was prepared. “And if I really am?” I asked calmly. Ethan slammed his fist down beside me and forced out two words: “Disgusting. Mistake.” I smiled faintly and rolled up my sleeve, letting the doctor draw blood without resistance. “Ethan, if I’m really carrying his child, it’s good for both families. Why are you so against it?” He laughed coldly. “Don’t flatter yourself. First of all, we don’t know if you’re even pregnant. Second — how are you so sure it’s Ryan’s? Has Ryan even admitted to anything?” He leaned closer. “Stop selling yourself so cheap, Stella. Did your parents auction you off so many times it started to feel normal?” My face went white. There was a time when Ethan had pitied me — when my gambling-addicted foster parents kept selling me off to cover their debts. He’d been furious on my behalf. Now he was using it as a weapon. Ethan watched the shame cross my face. Then, suddenly, his voice softened. “What I said at the party tonight — that was because the deal with the Ryans closes next month. I can’t afford complications right now.” He crouched in front of me and used tweezers to carefully pick the glass fragments from my wounds himself. I watched him do it. I felt nothing. The stick-and-carrot routine. Ethan had worn that one out years ago. Back in school, Violet had never been able to stand me. She bullied me relentlessly. Ethan never said a word against her. Instead, after every time Violet hurt me, he’d take me to an amusement park to smooth things over. I used to tell myself he was stuck in the middle and doing his best. Later I figured it out. I was easy to manage — a little comfort was all it took. But Violet was different. She was the Ryan family’s princess. She wasn’t someone he could afford to upset. Ethan finished dressing my wounds. His fingertips brushed lightly over the bandage. His voice carried a trace of amusement. “Going through all this just to get a rise out of me — making yourself a mess and cooking up some baby that may or may not exist. Was it worth it?” I met his eyes. He looked like he could see right through me. I smiled. “Ethan, I genuinely like Ryan.” His expression darkened instantly. He scoffed. “Impossible. You like someone else? And Ryan, of all people?” Before he could say another word, the test results came back. “Miss Foster is indeed pregnant.” Ethan spun around to face the doctor. The doctor held his ground under the pressure. “The father is confirmed to be Ryan.” A crash — Ethan swept the medical kit off the table, his hands trembling. I calmly placed a hand over my stomach. Then I found the female doctor standing just behind the others and met her eyes. She gave me a firm, steady nod. — **3.** When Ethan looked at my stomach again, he couldn’t hide the hatred. “Get back to your room.” He was scowling hard. I didn’t move. “Which room is mine?” Ethan paused. He clearly remembered that three years ago, he’d thrown me out along with everything I owned. “Didn’t you give this estate to Violet?” I said. “Because she said it was a waste to leave it empty — might as well use it for her wardrobe.” Ethan had pressed my hand down and made me sign the transfer papers himself. The only thing my birth parents had ever left me had become Violet’s walk-in closet. Ethan was silent for a few seconds. He avoided my eyes and called Ryan. Ten minutes later, Ryan arrived with Violet in tow. The moment he saw me, Ryan’s cruelty kicked in automatically. “So you really are knocked up. Think that gives you leverage over me? You wish.” Violet looked up at Ethan with wounded eyes. “Ethan, what do we do?” Ethan turned to Ryan. “If we terminate the pregnancy, do you have any objection?” Ryan glanced at me with contempt. “Obviously not. Someone like her doesn’t deserve to carry my child.” The two of them went back and forth like I wasn’t there. I slammed my hand on the table. “I don’t agree. I’m keeping this baby.” This child was my leverage. My entire plan depended on it. But apparently Ryan misread something in my expression, because he stared at me with a complicated look. Ethan narrowed his eyes and stepped between us. “You don’t get a say in this. Someone take her and lock her up.” I shot to my feet and dodged the hands reaching for me. “On what grounds? I don’t get a say in my own child?” Ethan grabbed me and twisted my arm behind my back, then shoved me into the nearest storage room. He tossed my phone in after me. The door locked. His voice came through the crack. “I’ll arrange the procedure for tomorrow.” The storage room was pitch black. Before I even realized it, cold sweat had soaked through my shirt. My breathing came fast and shallow. I threw myself at the door, pounding it like a madwoman. “Ethan! Let me out — I have claustrophobia!” Violet had locked me in small spaces enough times to give it to me. Ethan’s footsteps paused. Then they came closer. I forced myself to breathe slowly. I waited for him to open the door. But he stopped just outside it. “If I don’t give you consequences, you’ll never learn.” “Use the time in there. Think about what you should and shouldn’t do.” Then his footsteps faded away completely. I couldn’t believe Ethan would actually leave me. The darkness pressed in from every side, like something was about to swallow me whole. My heart leapt into my throat. Then everything went black. When light finally hit my face again, I opened my eyes — weak, disoriented. And found Violet standing over me. With a man I didn’t recognize. Violet drove her heel down onto my face. Her voice reached me like something out of a nightmare. “How dare you taint my brother.” Then she picked up a camera. “Ethan went and scheduled a whole procedure. So much trouble,” she said lightly. “Once you’ve been used up, who’s going to believe that baby is Ryan’s?” The stranger’s eyes crawled over me as he stepped forward. Violet turned and walked out, pulling the door shut behind her. Her parting words: “Make it quick. Bring the video to the main hall when you’re done.” The man’s hands moved to my legs. I kicked him away with everything I had. He yelped in pain and slapped me hard across the face. “Stop fighting. Do you know who you’ve made an enemy of?” I screamed: “I’m Stella Foster! You touch me and my brother will destroy you!” It was the only name that still carried weight. Ethan’s. But the man just laughed. He grabbed a fistful of my hair and spat in my face. “Who do you think sent me?” The words turned into a ringing in my ears. His greasy hands tore at my collar. Desperate, I reached to my waist and found the small self-defense knife I kept hidden there. I drove it into the back of his skull. He dropped like dead weight. I crawled to my feet. Wiped the blood from my face. Walked to the camera with its blinking red light. Saved everything. — **4.** I pushed open the storage room door and picked up my phone from the floor. The screen was cracked. When I turned it on, I found a message from Dr. Helen. *Stella — reporters are camped outside the Foster estate asking about the baby. Ethan said he’s giving a statement at 2 p.m. today.* It was 1 p.m. A bad feeling hit me. I sent a quick message and headed downstairs. The moment I stepped outside, cameras swung toward me from every direction. Violet spotted me and went pale, like she’d seen a ghost. “What are you doing out here?” She lunged at me. I stepped aside. I raised the camera. “Your little plan didn’t work, Violet. Disappointed?” She flinched but forced herself to hold her ground. “What are you doing?” I smiled coldly and backhanded her across the face. Violet clutched her cheek and screamed. The sound brought Ethan and Ryan running out at the same time. Ethan crossed the distance in a few long strides and clamped his hand around my wrist hard enough to fracture it. His eyes swept over me. I was covered in dust. There was blood on me. My clothes were torn. Ethan barely registered any of it. “What is wrong with you? You’re an embarrassment.” I wrenched my arm away from him and raised my voice. “Violet hired someone to rape me! To make sure I couldn’t affect Ryan’s reputation!” Ethan’s hand froze in midair. Every camera lens in the crowd swung toward me. I held up the camera. “I have it all on here. Everything she said. Evidence of attempted assault on Violet’s orders.” The color drained from Violet’s face. She shook her head frantically. “That’s not true! I didn’t do anything!” But the cameras kept rolling. Violet let out a scream and threw herself into Ethan’s arms. “Ethan, I swear it wasn’t me! Please, you have to help me!” Ethan wrapped his arm around her protectively. When his eyes found mine, I saw a flicker of something — guilt, maybe. But Violet’s tear-streaked face turned up toward him. “Ethan…” He hesitated. Then he looked away from me. “Let it go, Stella.” His voice came out rough and low. “Violet’s young, she doesn’t think. Don’t make it into more than it is — I’ll have her apologize to you later.” His words turned my stomach. I was younger than Violet. But because Violet was his fiancée, she would always get his defense. I looked to Ryan. He wouldn’t meet my eyes either. “On what grounds?” I held the camera tighter. “Nothing actually happened, did it?” Ethan’s expression carried a trace of tiredness. “Why make this bigger than it needs to be?” In his mind, this was nothing. The numbness in my chest spread. I stopped speaking. I turned to face the press, and I raised the camera. It was ripped out of my hands. Ethan took my only piece of evidence and without a moment’s hesitation, popped out the memory card and smashed the camera against the ground. I stared at him. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. “Apologize to Violet,” he said. “What?” I thought I’d heard wrong. Ethan repeated himself. “Apologize to Violet. Tell everyone you made it up.” “It’s better for everyone this way.” He meant trade my dignity for Violet’s reputation. I understood him perfectly. Even though I had long since stopped expecting anything from Ethan, my eyes still stung. My chest felt like something was grinding it apart, over and over. The pain never quite stopped. Ethan kept his cold eyes on me, waiting for me to say the words. “It was me who—” I opened my mouth slowly, drawing it out, my eyes drifting toward the gate. At that moment, the front doors of the estate swung open. “What exactly is going on here?” A middle-aged man in a jacket bearing the Foster family crest walked in. Ethan straightened slightly at the sight of him. “Uncle Richard.” This was the man who actually ran the Foster family: Richard Foster. When I saw him, I wiped the corner of my eye. Richard glanced briefly at my stomach, like he already knew everything. I covered my abdomen with my hand and stepped back. Richard looked away and spoke. “Ethan — didn’t the Foster and Ryan families arrange a marriage alliance?” Ethan hesitated. “Yes.” “I’m the one who decides who the parties are.” Richard looked at me. “Since Stella is carrying a Ryan child, she’ll be the one to marry Ryan.”

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I’ve always been the delicate one — soft curves, a tiny waist, and zero tolerance for discomfort. After getting pulled into this beast world, my beast husband spoiled me just the same. But then a new female showed up in the territory. She was nothing like me. She hunted alongside the males, tough and tireless, never once complaining. Cang Su’s eyes lit up the moment he saw her. After that, he couldn’t stop finding fault with me — my chest was too full, my waist too small, I was too fragile. He said I was too high-maintenance. Everything had to be just right — hot water to drink, fully cooked meat to eat, soft fur wrapped around my body at all times. He brought that female in to train me. For three years, every time I pushed back, she beat me for it. And Cang Su would threaten me. “If you don’t shape up, I’ll send you to the Snake Clan’s territory!” He knew perfectly well that snakes were my biggest fear. Until one day, he pulled that threat out again. I couldn’t take it anymore. I shoved him away, tears streaming down my face. “I’m done with you. I want a different beast husband!”

The only response I got was Luo Yao’s vine whip cracking across my chest. A searing line of pain spread from the point of impact. I looked down, eyes blurring with tears. The fur wrap I wore had split open, the pale skin of my chest showing through the gap. A red welt blazed across my skin where the whip had landed. My skin had always been sensitive. A small scratch was enough to make me cry. There was no way I could just endure this. “Luo Yao, you’ve gone too far!” But Luo Yao only looked at me with self-righteous certainty. “You’re the one who’s gone too far. You’re Cang Su’s female — how dare you speak to him like that?” My eyes burned red. The pain made my breath hitch in sharp little gasps. I stared at her in disbelief. Cang Su heard her words, and something flickered across his face — just for a moment. Then he turned on me with a sneer. “Look at yourself. Useless. In this entire territory, who else would ever take you as their female besides me?” “Luo Yao’s right. Don’t be so ungrateful.” He studied me with cold, impatient eyes, his gaze pausing on the curve of my waist with undisguised contempt. I knew exactly what had changed. The moment Luo Yao arrived, he started resenting how fragile I was. I couldn’t go out hunting with him the way she could. He resented every little thing I needed. Heated water. Cooked meat. Soft furs to keep my skin from chapping. Nothing like Luo Yao, who wore nothing but a grass skirt and walked into any situation without a second thought. But I had tried, once. I’d actually tried to be more like her. The fever that followed nearly killed me, and only then did he see that I was different — and decide to accommodate me. I thought about that, and something hardened in my chest. I clenched my fists. “There are plenty of males in this world. I don’t need you specifically. You clearly don’t even like me anymore — so let’s just end this.” Cang Su’s expression didn’t change. If anything, he looked more irritated. “Enough. I only wanted you to learn half of what Yao knows before letting you go. But if you keep this up, don’t blame me for what comes next.” He was completely sure my words were just an outburst. Sure that I couldn’t leave him. After all these years, I’d been difficult — but always obedient in front of him. So he’d always believed I couldn’t survive without him. What he didn’t understand was that when I’d first arrived in this strange world, I was utterly alone. No one. Nothing. Just fear. He was the one who walked up to me and held out a handful of small sweet berries. He was the one who offered to be my beast husband. That’s why I’d held on to him so tightly. He was the only anchor I had in a world I didn’t know. But now he didn’t want me. All he’d given me for a long time was pain and humiliation. So fine. We could be done. The coldness in his voice only made me more certain. I wiped my face and said it again. “No. I told you — I don’t want you anymore. I’m going to find someone new.” I pressed my hand over my torn top and turned to go. Cang Su grabbed my arm. The grip was immediate and brutal. My wrist went red in seconds, a deep ache radiating up through the bone. He didn’t seem to notice. He just glared at me. “I’ve clearly spoiled you rotten.” “I had Yao train you for three years. Three years, so you could become a female worth having. I did that for you — and this is how you repay me?” Luo Yao, who had been quiet up until now, stepped in right on cue. “Cang Su, this is my fault. I just couldn’t stand watching her disrespect you like that. Maybe I should leave.” She paused, then sighed with practiced exhaustion. “I just didn’t realize she was this fragile. When we go out hunting, we take hits far worse than this. Most of us don’t even flinch. She just… she’s never going to make it as a proper female at this rate.” Cang Su let out a cold sound of agreement. “She’s been pampered too long. No ability, no spine, and now she wants to speak to me like that. She needs to be corrected.” Before I could react, he shoved me down onto the stone bed beside us. I panicked, twisting and fighting against his hold. “Cang Su — what are you doing? Let go of me, please—” It was useless. His grip locked my arms down without even straining. When I stopped being able to move, Luo Yao smiled and stepped forward. The vine in her hand this time was aimed between my legs. “Exactly. Ruan Tang, the way you’ve been acting is a disgrace to every female in this territory.” “I’m going to teach you some manners.” —

The crack of the whip came down hard. “This one is for showing disrespect to your beast husband.” My vision went dark at the edges. The pain and numbness hit at the same time, and I couldn’t hold back the cry that tore out of me. Cang Su didn’t stop her. Instead, he moved to bind my wrists and ankles to the stone bed. Then he stood over me, looking down at my tear-streaked face with something like detachment. He said two words. “Keep going.” I hadn’t even recovered from the first blow when a sharp burst of pain exploded across my mouth. Luo Yao had hit me across the lips. She was smiling as she looked at me. “Just hold on a little longer, Ruan Tang.” “Cang Su is your beast husband. He asked me personally — I can’t let him down.” “This one is for insulting your beast husband with your words.” The vine came down again. It landed across my chest. I screamed. The place where she struck me went completely numb. “This one is for being so delicate you burden your beast husband into finding soft furs to keep you covered.” Then the second blow. Then the third. Across my waist. Across the back of my thighs. Each one came with its own justification. My whole body was shaking. I turned toward Cang Su through the pain and the tears. “It hurts. Cang Su — it hurts, please let me go—” His expression was glacial. Unmoved. My heart went cold and quiet. It felt like something heavy had settled into my chest and was pulling me down into the dark. Luo Yao lifted her arm again. The vine aimed for my bare thigh. “This one is for—” A low, flat voice cut through the room. “Enough.” I was drenched in cold sweat. I forced my eyes open. It was Cang Su who had spoken. He stared down at me and released the restraints. His voice was hard. “Ruan Tang. Do you understand what you did wrong?” I said nothing. I pushed through the pain and got myself upright, then walked toward the door in silence. As I passed him, his voice came again, tightly controlled. “Still nothing to say? Want to go through this again?” I stopped. Then I turned and slapped him across the face as hard as I could. My voice was wrecked from all the crying and struggling. “You clearly want to be with Luo Yao, Cang Su. Go ahead. Be her beast husband.” “I hate you.” The slap didn’t seem to leave a mark on him. But my palm immediately burned hot and red, like I’d hit stone. Still, he went still for a moment. I’d never done anything like that before. He was too surprised to stop me — he just let his expression go cold and came back with another threat. “Don’t push your luck.” Something iced over in my chest. I shoved him aside and stumbled out, making it back to my own room. I hadn’t set foot in this place since Cang Su brought Luo Yao here to train me. But thankfully, my things were still here. I dug through a corner of the room until I found a small wooden carving in the shape of a snake. A snake-clan boy had given it to me not long after I first arrived in this world. Back then, he’d followed me around for days. Wherever I went, he went. He didn’t care about the cold looks Cang Su kept throwing his way. But I was terrified of snakes. One look at those gold slit-pupils — the ones that marked him as a snake-clan male — and I was almost shaking too hard to function. I could never bring myself to go near him. He must have seen the fear on my face, because it wasn’t an act. Something in his expression dimmed a little. After that, he stopped following me. But before he left, he put the wooden snake carving in my hands. He told me that if I ever needed him, all I had to do was break it. He’d find me within three days. I took it without fully understanding why. I hid it from Cang Su and kept it. I never thought I’d actually use it. But now, compared to how I used to feel about snakes, the thought of Cang Su scared me more. I turned the carving over in my fingers, then snapped it in two without hesitating. Looking at the two broken pieces, something in me unclenched. I felt lighter. I started gathering the few things I could take with me. There wasn’t much. A few worn pieces of clothing, some small trinkets. That was it. Ever since Luo Yao had come to the territory, Cang Su had stopped giving me anything. The hunted meat, the small red berries I loved most — all of it went to her now. These days, he was more her beast husband than mine. But it was fine. Three more days, and I’d be out of here. Goodbye, Cang Su. No. Not goodbye. More like: never again. I was still turning that thought over when Luo Yao walked in, easy and unhurried. She looked at the state I was in and let a smirk settle across her face. Then she said something I hadn’t seen coming at all. “For a fellow transmigrator, you really are a disappointment.”

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Ricardo said he had severe cardiac asthma. He couldn’t handle stress, and strenuous physical activity was out of the question. That was his excuse for not touching me. Three years running. I felt sorry for him. I took over every household chore, spent a fortune on specialty medications, and never once asked him to fulfill his duties as a husband. Then came the fire at the mountain resort. A burning beam collapsed and pinned my leg. I was trapped in thick smoke, screaming for him. He stood at the emergency exit with his hand pressed to his chest, his face twisted with helplessness. “Hathaway, the smoke in there is too thick. If I go in, I won’t make it out…” Then his new assistant cried out from the second floor. Ricardo didn’t hesitate for a single second. He charged straight into the flames and carried that young woman out at a full sprint. So it wasn’t that he couldn’t push himself physically. He just didn’t think I was worth dying for. “Ricardo! Help me!” Thick smoke churned through the corridors of the mountain resort. Flames raced along the carpet in every direction. A burning wooden beam had my right leg pinned flat to the ground. The heat was intense enough to sear my skin. The oxygen was being sucked out of my lungs breath by breath. Every inhale felt like swallowing broken glass. I stretched my arm toward the emergency exit a dozen feet away, desperate. Ricardo was standing there, completely unharmed, a wet cloth pressed over his mouth and nose. “Hathaway! Hold on! I’ll get someone!” He shouted it loud, but his eyes were already pulling back. He was scared, and he was looking for a way out. “I can’t move that beam, and the smoke — my asthma…” He coughed twice, sharp and theatrical, pressing a hand to his chest, doing his best impression of a man who couldn’t breathe. “If I go in there, I’ll have an attack. We’ll both be trapped.” I stared at him, unable to process what I was seeing. That was my husband. We’d been together for eight years. Married for three. For the sake of his so-called cardiac asthma, I had turned down a promotion. Every single day I managed his diet and his medications on schedule. For three years he hadn’t lifted anything heavier than a coffee cup, let alone touched me as a husband. I thought that was love. I thought it was devotion. But now, with my life on the line, he wouldn’t even try. He had already written me off. “Ricardo… please…” The fire was spreading fast. My vision was beginning to blur. Then, from the staircase at the top of the second floor, a sharp scream cut through the roar of the flames. “Ricardo! Help! I can’t get down!” Katherine. The personal assistant Ricardo had hired just last month. Fresh out of college, young, pretty, the kind of girl who found a reason to hover near him in a short skirt every single day. The moment he heard her voice, every trace of hesitation vanished from his face. He threw the wet cloth to the ground, and moved like a man possessed — sprinting straight into the black smoke, which was far thicker on her side than mine. “Katherine! It’s okay! I’m coming!” Not one second of doubt. I watched him take the stairs two at a time through the burning wreckage, the whole structure groaning under his feet. A few minutes later, Ricardo burst back through the smoke with Katherine in his arms. He had wrapped his suit jacket tightly around her, one hand shielding the back of her head. When he passed me, he didn’t glance down. Not even once. His eyes held only the trembling girl pressed against his chest. “You’re safe, Katherine. I’ve got you. Don’t be scared.” His voice was rough from the smoke, but underneath it was a tenderness I had never once heard him use with me. I watched them disappear into the emergency exit. Then I heard the crack of another beam giving way above me. Something inside me collapsed right along with it. So he wasn’t physically incapable after all. He wasn’t afraid of smoke, or death, or an asthma attack. He simply didn’t care enough about me to find out. By the time the firefighters broke through the window to reach me, I had already slipped into semi-consciousness. “Miss! Stay with us! Don’t close your eyes!” Cold water from the hose killed the flames around me. Several firefighters worked together to lift the beam and drag me free. Outside the ambulance, the night air hit me and I doubled over, coughing up a dark mass from deep in my lungs. My right leg was beyond pain. It had gone completely numb. They settled me onto a stretcher. Through the crowd, my gaze drifted to the lawn nearby. Ricardo was down on one knee. His face was frantic. Both his hands were wrapped around Katherine’s, and he was leaning over her, performing rescue breathing with everything he had. Katherine was in a thin silk nightgown, her body half-collapsed against his chest. “Katherine, come on, wake up. Don’t scare me like this…” His voice broke. He was nearly crying. I bit down on my lip until I tasted blood. One of the firefighters standing beside me followed my gaze. His brow furrowed slowly. “Is that someone you know? The way that guy ran into a burning building for her, I figured she had to be his wife.” “Where’s your husband? I don’t see him with you.” I closed my eyes. Tears cut through the ash and soot on my face. “I don’t have a husband,” I said quietly. The firefighter paused, let out a low breath, and wheeled my stretcher toward the ambulance. Just as the doors were about to close, Ricardo seemed to finally remember something. He spun around. He saw me on the stretcher — blackened, burned, barely recognizable. His eyes flickered. Almost on reflex, he loosened his grip on Katherine’s hand and took a step toward me. Then Katherine “happened” to wake up at exactly that moment. She threw her arms around his waist and burst into tears. “Ricardo… I thought I’d never see you again…” His feet stopped. He sank back down, pulled her close, and gently patted her back. The ambulance doors swung shut. They cut off that perfect picture of two people who had “found each other through crisis.” And they cut off the last three years of my stupidity and grief.

By the time the hospital finished treating my burns and smoke inhalation, it was the following morning. The doctors wanted me to stay for observation. I said no. I dragged my casted right leg out of there on crutches and took a cab back to the home I had spent three years building into something beautiful. The moment I pushed open the front door, a wave of perfume hit me. My slippers had been kicked aside in the entryway. In their place sat a pair of pink stilettos. I swapped my shoes without expression and limped into the living room. What I found turned my stomach. Katherine was sprawled across the living room’s imported massage chair, completely at ease. The one I had bought last month with my entire year-end bonus — spent on relieving Ricardo’s supposed “chronic back tension.” She was wearing my limited-edition silk robe. The one I had never once allowed myself to wear. Ricardo walked out of the kitchen carrying a steaming bowl of soup. He saw me. His step faltered for just a moment. Guilt flickered across his face, then disappeared behind a wall of indignation. “You’re back? Why didn’t you stay at the hospital a few more days?” He set the soup on the coffee table. His tone was the same flat indifference you’d use with a stranger who’d wandered into the wrong room. I kept my eyes on the robe draped over Katherine’s body. “Why is she here?” Katherine startled like a spooked deer and scrambled out of the chair, tugging self-consciously at the hem. “Hathaway, it’s not what you think. The fire took everything I had with me. Mr. Ricardo felt bad for me and offered the guest room for a few days.” “This robe — I found it in the closet with the tags still on, so I assumed no one wanted it. I just borrowed it for now. If it bothers you, I’ll take it off right now and wash it.” Her eyes were already going red as she said it. She turned toward Ricardo with the look of someone who needed rescuing. Ricardo stepped forward immediately, positioning himself between Katherine and me. “Hathaway, what kind of face is that to come home with?” “Katherine went through a traumatic experience last night. She had nowhere to go. What’s wrong with me bringing her back here?” “It’s just a robe. Are you seriously this petty over a piece of clothing?” I looked at him standing there, all righteous indignation, shielding her like she was something fragile and precious. “Traumatic experience?” I pointed at the cast on my leg. My voice came out hoarse and scraped — damage from the smoke. “Ricardo, last night when I was pinned inside that fire, you told me your asthma was too bad to come in.” “But then you sprinted into thicker smoke to save her. So what happened to the asthma? Did the fire burn it away?” The color flooded into his face. His eyes shifted sideways. He raised his voice to bury the guilt. “The firefighters were already coming for you. Katherine was on the second floor — with that much fire, she would have died if I hadn’t moved. It’s not the same.” “Besides, you’re strong. You’ve always been strong. Getting pinned wasn’t going to kill you.” “Katherine’s health has always been fragile. She can’t take what you can.” Strong. Fragile. Convenient. Because I never complained, never clung to him, kept the household running without asking for anything — I apparently forfeited the right to be saved. I was shaking. I gripped my crutch and stepped forward, reached out and grabbed the collar of Katherine’s robe. “Take it off,” I said. Each word slow and flat. Katherine shrieked and clutched the fabric to her chest. “Ricardo, help me!” “Hathaway! What is wrong with you!” He shoved me. I was already unsteady on one leg. The push sent me stumbling backward, and my casted leg slammed hard against the edge of the coffee table. The pain exploded through my whole body. I hit the floor and sat there, cold sweat breaking out instantly. Ricardo didn’t look at me. He went straight to Katherine, running his hands up her arms, checking her over. “Are you okay? Did she scare you?” Once he was satisfied she was unharmed, he turned and looked down at me. His expression was pure contempt. “Hathaway, when did you become like this?” “Do you have any idea what you looked like just now? You were acting like a lunatic.” “I’m telling you right now — Katherine is staying here. If you can’t handle that, you can get out.” I sat on the cold floor and looked up at the two of them. Three years of everything I’d given. And I got “lunatic” and “get out.” I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream. I just pressed a hand against the coffee table and slowly pushed myself to my feet. “Fine,” I said. I looked at Ricardo. My voice was steady and cold. “I bought this house outright before we were married. It’s in my name.” “The one who needs to leave is you.” Ricardo went still. He clearly hadn’t expected that. Not from me — the woman who had bent and folded herself for three straight years without breaking. “Don’t push your luck, Hathaway.” His jaw tightened. “Keep this up and we’re sleeping in separate rooms. You know my heart can’t take this kind of stress. Are you trying to put me in the hospital?” The same script. Three years of the same script. Any time I held my ground, out came the heart condition, and I’d crumble under the weight of my own guilt. Not this time. “Do whatever you want,” I said. I turned and walked toward the master bedroom. “You have thirty minutes. Take your mistress and get out of my house.” “If you’re still here after that, I’m calling the police for unlawful trespass.” I shut the bedroom door behind me and turned the lock. From the other side came the sound of Ricardo slamming his fists against the door and screaming. I didn’t hear a word of it. I slid down against the door until I was sitting on the floor, and the tears came — quiet and absolute, like a dam giving way. Three years. I gave three years of my life to someone who had never once intended to give anything back.

The next day, I pushed through the pain in my leg, got up on my crutches, and showed up to work on time. Today was the presentation for Grandview Group. I had been the lead on this project for six solid months. If we won this contract, I’d get a substantial bonus and lock in a promotion to Design Director. It was the position I’d been working toward. I had pulled countless all-nighters for this. I had revised the designs more times than I could count. I walked into the office, plugged my USB drive into the computer, and started pulling up the 3D model for one final check. Katherine walked over carrying a cup of coffee. She was wearing a fitted blazer and a skirt short enough to be a statement. She spotted me, and the corner of her mouth curved up. “Morning, Hathaway. How’s the leg?” She said it loudly. Heads turned all around the office. Then her ankle rolled. “Oh!” The entire cup of scalding coffee came down directly onto my laptop keyboard. The screen flickered twice, then went black. A faint burning smell drifted up from the machine. The motherboard was gone. Everything in my head went white. “Katherine!” I shoved myself to my feet and grabbed her by the collar. “That was deliberate.” “Hathaway — what are you doing! I didn’t mean it!” Katherine’s eyes went red immediately. The tears were right there, ready. “I lost my footing in the heels — if it’s such a big deal, I’ll pay for the laptop. Why are you being so aggressive?” She played the wounded victim perfectly. The whole office was watching. “Come on, is she seriously going after the new girl over a coffee spill?” “It was an accident. Does she have to grab her like that?” I laughed, but there was nothing funny about it. I let go. “Pay for the laptop? The only copy of the 3D model I’m presenting to Grandview Group in thirty minutes was on that drive.” “The client walks through the door in half an hour. What exactly am I supposed to show them?” I pointed at the security camera mounted above us. “Let’s go. Security office. We pull the footage and settle this right now.” I grabbed her wrist and started moving toward the door. Katherine struggled and twisted, then suddenly called out toward the end of the hall. “Mr. Ricardo! Help!” Ricardo came down the hallway in a sharp suit, jaw set, moving fast. He was VP of the company. He ran things here, and he knew it. “What is going on out here? Does anyone actually work in this office?” The room went quiet. Katherine grabbed his arm like he was a life raft. “Mr. Ricardo, I swear it was an accident — I spilled coffee on Hathaway’s computer by mistake, and now she’s accusing me of doing it on purpose. She almost hit me…” Ricardo looked at the smoke still curling up from my laptop. Then he looked at me. His eyes were hard. “Hathaway. You’re a manager. Act like one.” “Making a scene over something like this is completely unprofessional.” I kept my breathing steady. “Ricardo, that laptop had the final model for the Grandview project.” “She destroyed six months of the company’s work. I’m pulling the security footage to find out what actually happened. Is that a problem?” Ricardo’s expression didn’t change. “The cameras are down. Maintenance reported it this morning.” He said it without blinking. “And even if she did it on purpose — you’re the project lead. Not backing up critical files is on you.” I stared at him. “Are you serious right now?” “The model file was too large for the company cloud. I finished the final render last night. When exactly was I supposed to back it up? And that’s somehow my fault?” Ricardo cut me off. “Enough. Stop making excuses.” He raised his voice so the whole floor could hear. “Due to this critical oversight — causing irreparable loss to the company — Hathaway’s performance bonus for the next six months is suspended, effective immediately.” “Furthermore, her candidacy for the Design Director promotion is revoked.” “Katherine will take her place at the Grandview presentation. She prepared a backup proposal. It’s rough, but it’s something. Better than showing up empty-handed.” The office went completely silent. Even Katherine looked stunned for a moment. Then her eyes lit up with something she couldn’t quite contain. I stared at Ricardo. He had let Katherine destroy my work, taken my promotion, handed my presentation slot to the woman who had destroyed it. All in one move. All in public. “On what authority?” I said through my teeth. “On the authority of being VP of this company.” He looked down at me with warning in his eyes and satisfaction barely concealed beneath it. “And you’re going to apologize to Katherine right now, in front of everyone. Your behavior this morning was a serious breach of professional conduct.” “If you don’t, don’t bother coming in tomorrow. I’ll make sure you don’t work in this industry again.” He thought that would break me. Just like every fight over the past three years — he’d go cold, and I’d cave. Every single time. I looked at his face. Then I looked at Katherine standing behind him, trying to hide her smile. I didn’t rage. I didn’t cry. I reached over, pulled the ruined USB drive from the port, and dropped it in the trash. “No need to wait until tomorrow.” “I quit.”

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The moment my blind date sat down, she demanded I buy a luxury penthouse in the city center — in cash — and put her name on the deed. She picked her teeth and looked me up and down like I was something she’d scraped off her shoe. I glanced past her at the part-time matchmaker standing behind her — eyes red, nearly in tears, desperate to close a deal. I pulled out my bank card, handed it to the matchmaker, and said with a smile, “I’ll marry you instead.” “City center. Top-floor penthouse. Full cash payment. My name on the deed.” The woman across from me — Chris — dug a fingernail between her teeth, picking at the remnants of the chicken wings she’d just demolished, and gave me a lazy sideways glance. The cheap perfume clinging to her skin mixed with the greasy smell of sauce, and I felt my temples start to throb. “Oh, and you need to buy me a house first. I’m not picky about the car — a Porsche 718 will do. Pink.” I leaned back in the booth. The faded shirt I was wearing was the same one I’d had on when I crawled out from a pile of bodies. It was older than Chris herself. “You should count yourself lucky I’d even consider a military guy like you. You understand that, right?” She spat a clean-picked bone onto the table. A few drops of grease splattered across the surface. I didn’t say anything. I just reached for the complimentary lemon water and took a sip. Sour. Fitting. My eyes drifted past her heavily made-up face and landed on the girl standing behind her. She was wearing an ill-fitting uniform from the matchmaking agency, with a name tag pined to her chest that read: Trainee Matchmaker — Samantha. She was young — probably still in college — no makeup, eyes red-rimmed. She was staring at me, lips moving silently, mouthing something. Run. Get out of here. I narrowed my eyes slightly. Interesting. Chris tapped the table impatiently when I didn’t respond. “With your situation, the second you walk out that door you won’t even be qualified to carry my bags. I’m doing you a favor.” “Oh?” I finally spoke. My voice came out a little rough. “Three minutes to decide. Either transfer the deposit right now, or get lost. Don’t waste my time.” She crossed her legs, pulled out her phone, and started scrolling TikTok on full volume — loud and grating. That’s when I felt something gently tap my knee from under the table. I looked down and saw a crumpled napkin being pushed across from the other side. Samantha had her head down, pretending to tidy the table, but her hands were trembling slightly. I hoked the little paper ball with my foot, slid it to my side without drawing attention, and picked it up. I smoothed it open. The handwriting was small and neat but huried. Run. She’s a scammer. They’re a whole gang. Don’t give them any money — they’ll take everything you have. The last stroke had pressed so hard it nearly tore through the napkin. I looked up just as Samantha lifted her eyes to meet mine. They were full of terror and pleading. Chris was still going on behind her, full of herself. “Made up your mind yet? I’m telling you — Heavenly Match is the most elite agency in the city. You’d have to be out of your mind not to jump at this chance.” “Manager Stockton told me your profile says you have two hundred thousand saved up. That’s just enough for the down payment.” I smiled. So they’d already figured out exactly what I had. I closed my fist around the note and stood up. Chris thought I was leaving. Her expression flipped instantly and she shrieked, “Where do you think you’re going? I’m not done talking!” The agency manager — a plump, overly friendly woman — immediately appeared with two security guards, cutting off my path. “Mr. Johnson, Chris is one of our top-tier members. You’re a lucky man that she’d consider you. Is there a problem?” Manager Stockton’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. The threat in them was obvious. Samantha went pale. She shrank behind Stockton, shaking. I looked at her, then turned to Stockton. “No problem at all,” I said calmly, sitting back down. “But I have one condition.” Chris and Stockton exchanged a look. Both of them smiled — gredy. “Name it.” “I don’t want installments,” I said, measured and unhurried. “I want to pay for the house in full, the car in full, and the wedding fund all at once.” The room went dead quiet. Chris’s eyes went wide. She was barely breathing. Stockton’s cheks quivered as she tried to contain her smile. Only Samantha stared at me in disbelief, shaking her head over and over. I gave her a small reassuring look, then turned back to Stockton. “But I’ll need your agency to provide a written guarantee — confirming that Chris has a clean background and that the marriage will be stable and harmonious. If anything goes wrong, your agency bears full responsibility.” “Absolutely, of course!” Stockton agreed without a second’s hesitation. In her eyes, I was already fish on the hook. “There’s just one more small thing.” I paused, and my gaze settled on Samantha. “For our next meeting, I’d like Samantha to be our dedicated matchmaker.”

Stockton’s smile stiffened for just a moment before bloming back into full warmth. “Of course! Samantha, did you hear that? Go ahead and thank Mr. Johnson!” Samantha looked at me, hesitant, and said quietly, “Thank you, Mr. Johnson.” Chris curled her lip. “What’s a trainee going to do? Whatever, as long as the money shows up I don’t care who’s there.” I left them with my new phone number. Under their gredy, contemptuous stares, I walked out of that upscale matchmaking agency. The sunlight outside was sharp. I took out my phone and made a call. “Wesley.” “Sir.” My personal assistant Wesley picked up immediately. “I need you to look into a matchmaking agency called Heavenly Match. Also two people — one named Chris, one named Samantha.” “And prepare two documents for me. One standard contract, and one deed of gift.” I hung up and turned the crumpled napkin over in my pocket. The girl’s handwriting still held a trace of warmth. In a city this cold, that tiny act of kindness felt like something rare. I didn’t know why she’d tried to help me. But I knew I wasn’t going to let her get swallowed up by these wolves. The next morning, Wesley’s report landed in my inbox. Efficient as always. Heavenly Match was a front — a full-scale fraud operation. They specifically targeted men with limited social circles but some savings, whose finances weren’t easily tracked. Veterans. Programmers who’d spent years working away from home. They fabricated the persona of a wealthy, beautiful woman and used every trick available to earn the target’s trust, then bled them dry under the guise of marriage. Chris was their star performer. Multiple prior offenses. Several victims had already lost everything. But the section of the report about Samantha stopped me cold. Samantha was a finance major and a top student — she’d held the national first-class scholarship for three consecutive years. She was an orphan, raised at Sunshine Home, a children’s care facility on the edge of the city. She’d taken this part-time job to raise money for surgery for a younger boy at the orphanage who’d been born with a congenital heart defect. She’d been tricked into working there. Stockton had lured her in with promises of high pay, had her sign a contract, then confiscated her ID and student card to keep her trapped. Worse — the photos gang used in their online profiles were all taken from Samantha’s personal accounts. They used her fresh, wholesome image to reel in targets, then swapped her out for Chris once the hook was set. The last page of the report included a photo: Samantha at the orphanage, holding a thin little boy, smiling the softest smile. Sunlight fell across her. Clean. Untouched. I closed the email. Something sat heavy in my chest. She was already stuck in the mud herself, and she was still reaching out to pull someone else free. My phone buzzed. A text from Samantha. Mr. Johnson, please don’t trust them. They’re all scammers. Just go to the police — please don’t have any more contact with them. There was a crying emoji at the end. I could imagine exactly how frightened she’d been when she sent that. I replied: I know. Then I called Wesley. “Sir?” “Get ready. Tomorrow, we close the net.”

The next day I showed up at the coffee shop at the agreed time. The scene was bigger than before. Chris hadn’t just come herself — she’d brought a whole crew of so-called relatives who filled two large tables. They were decked out in gold and jewelry, thick-necked, eyeing me like I was a meal. Samantha was standing in the corner. She looked even paler than the day before, like she didn’t know what to do with her hands. Chris spotted me and lifted her chin. “Bold of you to actually show up. You got the money ready?” Stockton stepped forward with a warm smile and held out a document. “Mr. Johnson, this is the prenuptial agreement we’ve prepared. Take a look — once everything looks good, we’ll sign and head to the bank.” I took it and skimmed through. The terms were absurd. The groom voluntarily transfers all assets under his name to the bride. All monthly income after marriage must be surrendered to the bride for her exclusive management. The groom may not interfere with the bride’s social activities in any capacity. In the event of divorce, the groom shall vacate with nothing and pay the bride ten million dollars in emotional damages. This wasn’t a prenuptial agreement. It was a bill of sale. “Everything look okay?” Chris asked, smug. The relatives behind her started chiming in. “Chris is one in a million — you’re lucky to have her!” “Stop stalling and just sign it, we’re waiting to celebrate!” “A military boy landing Chris? You’ve hit the jackpot, friend!” The jering and laughter filled the coffee shop. The other patrons were staring. In the corner, Samantha looked like she was about to cry, her lip white where she’d been biting it. I decided the curtain had gone on long enough. I picked up the agreement and tore it apart, page by page, in front of all of them. The pieces drifted down through the air. The entire coffee shop went silent. The smile froze on Chris’s face. Then she exploded. “What the hell are you doing?! Are you out of your mind?!” Stockton charged toward me, jabing a finger in my face. “You’re playing us?!” “Security Security! Throw this broke loser out!” The relatives swarmed in, shoving me, screaming. “He doesn’t know what’s good for him!” “A nobody like you trying to marry Chris — dream on!” “Hit him! Show him what happens when you mess with us!” They shoved me back hard. I stumbled and caught myself against the wall. The old shirt tore at the shoulder. I didn’t pay attention to any of it. My eyes moved through the chaos and found Samantha — huddled in the corner, arms over her head, crouched on the floor, her thin shoulders shaking. I pushed through the crowd and walked toward her, one step at a time. Everyone froze, unsure what I was doing. I stopped in front of her. And then, in front of everyone, I got down on one knee. I reached into my pocket and took out a velvet box. I opened it. A pink diamond ring caught the light and threw color across the room. It had been my mother’s. Worth more than anything in this room. I held it out to Samantha, and though I didn’t raise my voice, every word carried clearly across the coffee shop. “Samantha, I don’t have a luxury penthouse. I don’t have a Porsche.” “All I have is a past that involved a uniform, and future that might be worth something.” “Will you marry me — a broke soldier?”

Time seemed to stop. The coffee shop was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Everyone stared at us, frozen. Samantha lifted her head. Her eyes were wet with tears, and they were filled with shock and total disbelief. She looked at me. She looked at the ring. Her lips trembled. She couldn’t get a single word out. Chris was the first one to snap out of it. She doubled over laughing. “He’s lost it — he has absolutely lost it!” “Some broke guy pulls out a glass marble and thinks he’s doing a proposal? I’m dying!” Stockton joined in. “Mr. Johnson, isn’t this a bit dramatic? If you don’t have the money, just say so. Isn’t this embarrassing for you?” The relatives fell over each other laughing. “Did the army knock something loose in his head?” “That’s a pink diamond? I’d bet that’s from a dollar machine!” “Samantha, don’t fall for this guy — he can barely feed himself, let alone you!” Samantha’s face shifted between red and white. She looked at me with a complicated mix of emotions — moved, uncertain — but above all, worried. “Mr. Johnson, please stand up,” she whispered. “Don’t do this.” She thought I was staging this to give her a way out. She thought I was sacrificing whatever dignity I had left to fight these people off for her. She was afraid they’d humiliate me even more. I didn’t stand. I just looked at her and waited. I knew what she was afraid of. Chris’s laughter turned sharper. “Samantha, what are you just standing there for? Tell this lunatic to get out.” “If you dare say yes, I’ll make sure you never graduate. I will make your life in this city impossible.” Stockton followed up with her own threat. “Samantha, remember your contract. I still have your documents. Think carefully about the consequences.” Samantha was shaking harder now. She looked at Stockton and Chris — hard-faced and threatening — then back down at me, still kneeling. The tears finally broke loose, rolling down one after another. She didn’t say yes. She didn’t say no. She just cried, and kept saying, over and over, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” I knew she was apologizing to me. For not being able to help herself. For not being able to accept what I was offering. Just as Chris was moving to drag me away, the coffee shop door swung open. The sound of synchronized footsteps came from outside. Ten black Rolls-Royce Phantoms pulled silently to a stop in front of the shop. The doors opened. A line of men in black suits and white gloves filed in and took positions along both sides of the room, cutting the noise in half like a wall. At the front was my assistant, Wesley. He was wearing a perfectly tailored Armani suit, gold-rimed glasses, and an expression cold enough to drop the temperature in the room. He walked straight through the crowd, stopped in front of me, and bowed slightly. “Mr. Johnson. Everything you requested is ready.” He held out a black folder. I didn’t take it. I stayed one knee, eyes on Samantha. Wesley understood. He opened the folder himself. He removed a card first — matte black, a fish design engraved in solid gold. “This is the Global Elite Black Card. No spending limit. Redeemable for cash at any bank in the world.” Chris stopped laughing. Stockton’s eyes nearly popped out of her head. They might not have recognized the card, but they couldn’t miss the weight it carried. Wesley didn’t acknowledge their reactions. He continued “These are the property deds for the entire Tower A of Riverside Crown — all forty-eight penthouse units, transferred into your name.” “These are the purchase contracts for ten pink Porsche 718s.” “This is a certified check for eight hundred and eighty thousand dollars, redeemable immediately.” “And additionally—” With every item Wesley named, the color drained further from Chris’s and Stockton’s faces. By the time a thick stack of deds and car contracts sat on the table, their legs had started to give. A collective intake of breath swept through the coffee shop. Everyone was staring at me — at this man in a worn-out shirt, kneeling on the floor of a coffee shop, proposing to a matchmaker — like they were seeing something they couldn’t explain. Chris’s mouth worked soundlessly. She pointed at me, voice cracking. “You — you—” She couldn’t finish a sentence. Stockton lost it entirely. She collapsed straight to the floor with a thud, and a moment later the acrid smell of urine spread from where she sat. She had wet herself. I didn’t look at either of them. From the beginning to the end, there had only been one person in my sight. I raised the ring again and asked quietly, “So — will you marry me now?”

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My divorce battle with Lawson had been dragging on for six months. We’d gone from the couple everyone envied to the couple everyone pitied. Thirty minutes before the third hearing, Lawson asked to meet me. He pressed his fingers against his temples, exhaustion written all over his face. “It’s time to end this circus. Mia can’t wait any longer.” “Name your price. I’ll pay it.” Before I could say a word, his phone screamed to life. He picked up, and a soft smile spread across his face — the kind he didn’t even notice he was making. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll just give her a little more money.” “I’ll be done soon. Be a good girl and wait for me at home.” I stared at that face — familiar and foreign all at once — and felt something inside me finally let go. “Forget it.” “Lawson, you don’t have to keep fighting this. I’ll agree to the divorce.” The divorce war that had dragged on for six months ended with me walking away. For a moment, everyone was stunned. After all, Lawson and I had been married for seven years. A divorce case that had been crawling along for half a year — most people just assumed we were two people too stubborn to admit they still cared. The media ran wild. Lawson’s official response was perfectly polished: “I apologize for taking up public attention. Eve and I have finalized our divorce, but we remain friends. I wish her nothing but happiness.” My eyes lingered on the word “friends” for a long time. I let out a quiet laugh. Lawson and I had torn each other apart more than once over Mia. We were long past friendship — we couldn’t even hold onto the last scraps of dignity. But today, Lawson was being nicer to me than he’d been in all six months of this. After I gave him my answer, he sat on the couch for a while, slowly packing away the negotiation materials he’d prepared. “If that’s the case, I’ll get the divorce agreement to you as soon as possible.” “As for the company — I’ll leave you twenty percent of the shares as compensation.” “There’s also a property downtown. That’s yours too.” He finished, thought for a moment to make sure he hadn’t missed anything. Then he stood up. Maybe even he thought this had wrapped up suspiciously fast. At the door, he turned his head back. “Take care of yourself. Going forward.” I closed my eyes and said nothing. My attorney sent over the divorce agreement and all the documents. After the files came through, he added a note: “The reason cited for the divorce is irreconcilable differences — a mutual, amicable separation. Under the relevant statutes, aside from what he’s voluntarily gifting you, the remaining assets will be split equally.” Irreconcilable differences. Such a clean way to dress up the word “cheating.” I’d still underestimated just how good Lawson was at keeping up appearances. My phone buzzed. Lawson had sent a photo and a voice message. The photo showed my desk at the office. Everything on it had been swept to the floor. But the voice in the message belonged to a woman. “Eve, I heard you’re leaving. Let me help you clean up all this junk.” Mia. Her voice had that soft, lilting quality — the kind that curled up at the end of every sentence. No wonder people liked her. I held down the voice message, then replied calmly: “I may be leaving, but I’m still the largest shareholder of this company.” “If I wanted to, I could have you and all this junk packed up and thrown out together.” She didn’t respond for a long time. When the next message came through, it was Lawson’s voice — with Mia’s quiet sobbing faintly in the background. “Eve, Mia didn’t mean anything by it. Don’t be like this.” I didn’t bother replying. I gathered my things, stood up, and walked out of the courthouse. On my way to the car, Lawson sent two more messages. He’d put a picture frame back on the desk. “The rest of it can go — it’s all old anyway. But keep this one.” That frame held a landscape photo of the Arctic. Back in the year we started the company, he’d printed it out and made me a promise: “Once we make it through this, I’ll take you to the Arctic. We’ll take a photo just like this one.” Seven years later, Lawson had gone from a nobody to the CEO of one of New York’s most talked-about publicly traded companies. Money, power — all of it within reach. But that little trip to the Arctic? He never brought it up again. Lawson was right. Old things should be thrown away. I didn’t reply. Instead, I tapped on his profile and pressed delete.

I went to the office to complete my resignation paperwork with HR, then got ready to leave. My hand was on the door handle when I heard voices just outside — colleagues passing by. “Seven years of marriage and she just walks away like that. What’s Eve trying to prove?” “Didn’t someone say the divorce was because of cheating? You don’t think it was her, do you?” “Had to be. She must’ve done something behind Lawson’s back. That’s why she caved so fast today.” “I heard Lawson even gave her shares as compensation. He’s honestly too decent for this…” I stood there with my eyes down, not moving. The HR rep shot me an uncomfortable look. “Ms. Eve, they’re just talking — please don’t take it to heart…” Whether it was “just talking,” I knew exactly what it was. I could even guess whose mouth it had come out of. To give Mia’s arrival a reasonable explanation. To protect his girl from the backlash. He chose to push me out front, to let me take the hit for her. Seeing that I hadn’t responded, the HR rep forced a smile. “Everyone knows how much you gave to stand by Lawson’s side. You came from nothing together, built everything from the ground up — people genuinely admired what you two had.” “They don’t know anything. They’re just running their mouths.” “I’ll report it to their manager right now and make sure they’re spoken to.” That made me go quiet again. I was willing to go through the hard times with Lawson because, back then, he really was good to me. He’d buy me the newest clothes without thinking twice, while refusing to replace his own jacket that he’d worn for two years straight. He remembered my birthday, our anniversary — but could never keep track of his own. Our wedding was held in the countryside. It wasn’t extravagant, but it was proper. The best that little town had to offer. He always gave me the best of what he had. So on our anniversary, with the dim, intimate lighting glowing around us — he’d sat staring at the two little figurines kissing on top of our cake and said: “Eve, do you ever think… is this really the life we want?” That was why it hit me so hard. I wasn’t ready to give up. I still believed he loved me. I kept holding onto that belief until I’d ground us both down into something bitter and broken — two people who could barely stand the sight of each other. I held on until he started trying to pay me off. Only then did I let myself give up. I came back to the present and shook my head at the HR rep, then shoved the door open. The colleagues who’d been whispering outside immediately went silent, heads dropping carefully to avoid my eyes. But their reaction wasn’t because of me. It was because of Lawson and Mia, walking toward us from the far end of the hallway.

Mia followed a step behind Lawson, a brand-new badge hanging from her neck. Design Director. The position I had just vacated. She held a stack of documents in her arms, flipping through them uncertainly. Lawson would turn to her every now and then, walking her through the details. His secretary, Lisa, trailed just behind and to the left of them. She was smiling in Mia’s direction, but the irritation and contempt underneath it were impossible to hide anymore. When she spotted me, Lisa stopped short. “Ms. Eve.” At that, Lawson looked over too, whatever he’d been about to say to Mia left unfinished. Mia stood there, and her eyes went red on cue. “Lisa, I know you don’t like me — but Eve has already resigned. Isn’t it a little inappropriate to keep addressing her that way?” “Besides, Eve’s resignation was a personal matter, wasn’t it? Taking out whatever frustration you have over her leaving on me — I really don’t appreciate that…” She put deliberate emphasis on the words “personal matter.” The colleagues who’d been whispering exchanged glances, their expressions settling into something more certain than before. Lisa stood there, at a loss for words. I folded my resignation form and spoke up, completely unbothered. “Lisa was just being polite. Why are you making such a big deal out of it?” “And for the record — I never said anything about why I resigned. Spreading assumptions like that, Mia? That’s the part that I find inappropriate.” Mia’s face went pale. She started to say something, but Lawson put a hand out — not hard, just enough to stop her. His gaze settled on me. “This is on me. Let me take you out sometime — a proper send-off.” “You’ve put in so many years. What you’ve contributed here matters.” I smiled. “Don’t bother. If I’d known anyone could fill this seat, I wouldn’t have worked myself half to death for it.” Lawson’s expression shifted. I had no interest in watching it. I turned and walked away. Outside, a light rain had started. I raised a hand to shield myself, and it hit me — the day everything between me and Lawson finally broke apart had been exactly like this. Gray and drizzling. I’d been pulling an all-nighter at the office and my blood sugar had crashed past midnight. I called Lawson and asked him to bring something to eat. Instead, a woman’s voice answered. That was the first time I let go of all the composure I’d been carefully holding together. I heard myself demand an answer. Why is she answering your phone? How dare you let some woman come this close? Lawson, what exactly do you want? A long silence on the other end. Then a quiet exhale. That one sound was enough to drain the warmth from half my heart. “I’ll have Lisa bring you something to eat.” “Get some rest tonight. Tomorrow — we need to talk about a divorce.” I sat alone in the empty office, shaking with cold. “On what grounds, Lawson? Don’t forget — I helped build this company from nothing. You have no right to—” He cut me off, his voice light as air. “Without me, no one would have hired a designer with your history.” Every word left me instantly. Years ago, I’d been caught up in a plagiarism scandal — someone in the industry had accused me of stealing their concept. My company fired me on the spot, and the label stuck. I was blacklisted across the entire field. I had nowhere to go. Lawson — who’d been pursuing me at the time — reached out and pulled me back up. He said he believed me. He said someone that talented didn’t deserve to be buried. In that moment, I genuinely fell for him. Naive and foolish enough to trust him completely. During the six months of our divorce proceedings, my authority at the company had been quietly hollowed out piece by piece. The team I’d built and mentored was reassigned to other departments. The Director position wasn’t something just anyone could walk into. Lawson had to clear a lot of road for Mia to get there. More than half of my leaving was anything but voluntary. I came back to myself. Lisa had followed me outside at some point without my noticing. She held out an umbrella, speaking quietly. “Eve — this is from Mr. Lawson. The rain makes the roads slippery. Please be safe.” I smiled at her, but didn’t take it. I walked out into the rain. I’d gotten through worse storms than this. A little drizzle was nothing.

What I didn’t expect was that what happened outside the HR office that day made it onto the internet. Within hours, the topic of my conflict with Mia was trending at the top of the charts. At first, people speculated that Mia had broken up my marriage — that she was the reason things fell apart between Lawson and me. Then a video hit the trending page. An “exposé,” analyzing me. It laid out my schedule, my movements, and everyone I’d been in contact with over the past six months in meticulous detail. Some of the specifics were disturbingly accurate. The comment section turned against me almost immediately. An avalanche of insults and mockery came crashing down. I watched that video from beginning to end. Most of the personal details were real. But every interpretation was fabricated. There was only one person who could know my private life that precisely. I called Lawson’s number. Mia picked up. “You’re divorced and you’re still calling your ex? God, Eve, have some self-respect.” “Aren’t you getting enough hate online? You want more, so you came to me?” Her voice was nothing like the version she performed in front of Lawson. I kept my face blank. “I recorded everything you just said. Slander without evidence — get ready for a letter from my attorney.” “You—” I hung up before she could finish. I pulled up the page again. The hate had intensified. I clicked on the profile of the account that had posted the video. Sure enough — within the thirty minutes since I’d hung up, they’d posted an update. This time, the post made it explicit: I was the one who had betrayed the marriage. They compiled a file. Everything from the old plagiarism scandal — the accusations, the blacklisting, the full story — laid out for public consumption. The comment section erupted. Once a thief, always a thief — stole someone’s work back then, now stealing someone’s man. Everything she has came from Lawson. And she still cheated? Unbelievable. You can just tell by looking at her. If she’d plagiarize someone’s work, of course she’d cheat. Reading those words, I felt like I’d been dragged back ten years — back to the most helpless stretch of my life. I opened Lawson’s friend request, the one he’d sent two days ago. My hand trembled as I hit accept. I sent him a message. Lawson. The video online — that was you, wasn’t it? He replied fast. Eve, you’re the largest shareholder of the Carter Group now. You have more money than you could ever spend. But Mia just started — she can’t afford any negative press right now. I took a slow breath. You know I never plagiarized anything. The “typing” indicator sat there for a long time. Then his message appeared. No one cares about that anymore. Let it run its course and it’ll die down on its own. Stop being so precious about it. Ten years ago, Lawson held me and swore that even if the whole world turned against me, he never would. Ten years later, Lawson was telling me the truth didn’t matter. That no one cared. I read that message, and whatever last shred of hope I’d been holding onto quietly disappeared. Then the doorbell rang. Through the peephole, I saw a cluster of dark camera lenses pointed directly at my front door. Reporters’ voices overlapped outside. “Ms. Eve — Lawson just denied that Mia had anything to do with your divorce. What’s your response?” “Is the video circulating online accurate? Are you the one who was unfaithful?” “Can you comment on the plagiarism incident from ten years ago?” My phone lit up with a large transfer notification from Lawson. The memo said: compensation. I let out a breath and closed the app. I opened the front door. The cameras went off like a lightning storm. I stepped into the flashbulbs, looked directly into the nearest lens, and smiled. “Good afternoon. I’m Eve.”

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Ethan Thorne, at the lavish baby shower for his son from an affair, announced to all the high-society guests that he was sending my ten-year-old daughter, Lily, to boarding school in Switzerland, all just to impress his new love. He looked down at me, advising condescendingly, “Sending Lily abroad is for her own good. Don’t be unreasonable and affect my relationship with my wife.” I clutched the cold steak knife, staring at his hypocritical face, and suddenly laughed. He still didn’t know. Three years ago, the woman he personally poisoned to death—Eleanor Hayes—was his true wife. And I am Eleanor’s twin sister, Natalie Hayes. For three years, I’ve endured humiliation and suffering, solely to protect the only remaining trace of my sister in this world: her daughter. Since Ethan is practically begging for his downfall, it’s time to settle all our scores – past and present. Today was the celebration party for Serena Davies, Ethan’s executive assistant, being promoted to Group Vice President. He had specially booked the entire top-floor ballroom of the hotel. All the prominent figures in the corporate world were in attendance. He sat at the head of the main table, the usual cold, ruthless look of a corporate mogul replaced by an expression of pure tenderness as he gazed at the delicate Serena Davies beside him. And I, Ethan’s legally recognized wife, was relegated to a table in a quiet corner. I watched this ridiculous charade with a detached gaze. Beneath my blouse, my chest was still wrapped in thick gauze. Three weeks ago, the company’s overseas project ran into trouble, and the opposing party hired people to ambush him one night. I took a knife for him. The wound was so deep, you could see the bone. But the first thing he asked when he woke up was if Serena Davies had been scared. “Mrs. Thorne, Mr. Thorne is asking you to join him for a toast.” His assistant’s voice interrupted my thoughts. I looked at the glass of red wine on the table, already cold, and didn’t move. The music in the ballroom stopped. Ethan raised his glass, his gaze sweeping over the crowd before landing coldly on me. “Ellie, today is Serena’s big day. As the lady of the Thorne house, you should offer her a toast.” I looked up, meeting his eyes directly. “My wound hasn’t healed yet. I can’t drink.” At my words, the entire ballroom fell silent. Serena gently tugged on Ethan’s sleeve, her eyes instantly welling up. Her voice was so fragile, it sounded like it might disappear with a whisper. “Ethan, it’s all my fault. Ellie must still be angry with me, angry that I held this celebration. I should apologize to her right away…” With that, she actually stood up, feigning an apology. Ethan pulled her back into her chair, his face abruptly darkening. “Eleanor Hayes! How long are you going to keep this up?” His voice was low but filled with undisguised fury. “Serena is under a lot of work pressure and her health isn’t great. I just wanted her to be happy. You’ve been riding horses and skiing since you were a kid; you’re tough as nails. What’s a little stab wound? Do you have to embarrass me today?” Tough as nails? What’s a little stab wound? I forced a smile, finding it utterly absurd. Three years ago, my sister, Eleanor Hayes, was pregnant. In this very ballroom, Serena suddenly fainted. A private doctor claimed she suffered from heart palpitations and weakness. A psychic even emphatically declared that the baby Eleanor was carrying would bring Serena bad luck. Ethan believed it. He personally brought her that so-called prenatal supplement and forced Eleanor to drink it. “Ellie,” he said, “you have a strong constitution; you can have more children later. But Serena, she’s delicate, she won’t be able to handle it.” Eleanor died that winter night. Even on her deathbed, she clutched my hand and made me promise to look after Ethan for her. And now, he was using the same excuse to trample on “Eleanor Hayes’” dignity. I hadn’t even spoken, but Ethan had already lost his patience. He slammed his hand on the table, making a champagne flute topple and red wine spill everywhere. “Today, I have an important announcement to make.” He scanned the room, his gaze finally landing on the side of my table. There sat my ten-year-old daughter, Lily. “Lily is ten now; it’s time she learned independence. I’ve already arranged for her to attend boarding school in Switzerland. She’ll study there and won’t need to come home for holidays; the school will handle everything.” Boom— A collective gasp of shock rippled through the ballroom. Everyone stared at Ethan in astonishment. Lily was only ten. This so-called Swiss boarding school was just a way to send Lily far away, to abandon her in a foreign place where she’d have no one and be forgotten. Lily’s small face instantly turned pale. She clutched my sleeve in terror, trembling uncontrollably. “Mom… I don’t want to go… I’m scared…” I reached back and squeezed her cold little hand, then slowly stood up. The knife wound on my chest tore open from the abrupt movement, warm blood seeping through the gauze and staining my white blouse. But I felt no pain. I stared intently at Ethan, asking each word distinctly. “What did you say? Where are you sending Lily?”

Ethan looked at me, his brows tightly furrowed, a flicker of impatience in his eyes. “That school is the top private institution in Europe; countless children from elite families would kill to get in. Lily studying there will only benefit her future.” “I’m her father. Do you think I’d harm her? This is your overprotective love, and it’s ruining her prospects.” “The bigger picture, Ellie. As the lady of the Thorne house, you should understand what sacrifices need to be made more than anyone.” The bigger picture. Always the bigger picture. He forced Eleanor to her death to preserve his beloved’s “bigger picture.” Later, he stripped me of my management authority in the corporation to appease shareholders – the “bigger picture.” And now, he wants to abandon his ten-year-old daughter in a foreign country without a second thought, all for the “bigger picture.” I was so angry I laughed, my voice piercingly harsh in the empty ballroom. “The bigger picture? Ethan, you’re willing to throw your ten-year-old daughter to the wolves in a foreign country just to please another woman, and you call that ‘the bigger picture’? What a truly devoted father you are!” “Shut up!” Ethan erupted in fury, slamming to his feet and pointing at me. “Eleanor Hayes, how dare you speak to me like that?!” Serena, feigning fear, shrank behind Ethan, advising in a sugary voice, “Ellie, Ethan is just thinking about the child’s well-being. Lily staying here, seeing us like this, wouldn’t be good for her development. How can you be so selfish, only thinking of yourself and not wanting to let go of her, without considering her future?” I spun around, my gaze like a sharp blade piercing Serena. “For her well-being?” I walked step by step towards the main table, glaring at her. “If you’re so concerned about children, your daughter, Isabella Thorne, is already fifteen. She should see the world, so why not send her?” Serena’s face paled, and she shook her head frantically. “Isabella… she’s not well. She can’t handle hardship. And… and Ethan said Lily needs the training more…” “Lily needs the training more?” I scoffed. “Aren’t you always bragging to people that the Thorne family will eventually be yours, that you’re the one Ethan truly cares about? So, when it comes to making sacrifices, why are you suddenly remembering that Lily is the legitimate Thorne daughter?” Serena was speechless, reduced to hiding behind Ethan, sobbing softly. “Ethan, look at her… I was only trying to help, and she’s humiliating me like this in front of everyone…” Ethan protectively shielded her, his gaze towards me colder than ice. “Eleanor Hayes, I’m not discussing this with you today; this is a decision!” He waved his hand, and an assistant, trembling, presented a document to me. “Mrs. Thorne, this is the school enrollment agreement. Please sign it.” Lily cried and rushed forward, clutching Ethan’s leg tightly. “Daddy! Please don’t send me away! I promise I’ll be good and never make you angry again! Daddy…” Ethan didn’t even glance at her, coldly pushing her away. “Guards, take Lily upstairs! No one is to see her without my permission!” “I’d like to see who dares!” I snarled, pulling Lily behind me. The lethal aura from years of special forces training instantly erupted, forcing the bodyguards who were about to advance to take a collective step back. Ethan narrowed his eyes, staring at me dangerously. “Eleanor Hayes, are you trying to defy me?” “What if I am?” I looked at him coldly, then suddenly reached out and snatched the document from the assistant’s hands. To everyone’s horrified gazes, I tore it with both hands. “Rip—” The enrollment agreement was ripped in half and thrown at Ethan’s feet like trash. “Ethan, listen carefully. As long as there’s one Hayes family member alive, Lily will never be sent to a place like that by you!”

“Slap!” A resounding slap echoed through the ballroom. Ethan’s hand hung in mid-air, trembling with rage. I turned my head, my cheek burning, a trace of blood seeping from the corner of my mouth. But I didn’t flinch, only looked at him with eyes that saw a dead man. Lily shrieked, rushing forward to shield me, glaring at Ethan like an enraged cub. “Don’t hit my mom! You’re a bad man! I don’t have a dad like you!” Ethan froze. Seeing the hatred in his daughter’s eyes, a flicker of panic crossed his face, but it was quickly masked by fury. “Fine! Fine, Eleanor Hayes! What a daughter you’ve raised!” He pointed at me, gritting his teeth. “You think I won’t touch you just because of the Hayes family connections? Believe me, I’ll divorce you right now!” Serena, behind him, secretly curled her lips, her eyes full of malicious triumph. “Mr. Thorne, please calm down.” She feigned concern, stepping forward and speaking in a soft voice. “She’s just not thinking clearly. After all… after all, she once lost a child, so she’s naturally a little overprotective of Lily.” Lost a child. How dare she bring that up! A murderous rage instantly boiled within me, and I stared at Serena, my eyes burning red. “Serena Davies, say one more word, and I promise you won’t live to see tomorrow’s sun.” My voice was quiet, but it carried an icy chill that cut to the bone. Serena flinched, taking two steps back, trembling as she hid behind Ethan. “Eleanor Hayes! You’re completely insane!” Ethan was furious. “Guards! Take my wife back to the suburban villa! No one is to see her or let her leave without my permission! Lily’s affairs are now entirely under Vice President Davies’s charge!” The bodyguards rushed forward like hungry wolves. I didn’t resist, only cast Ethan one last cold glance. “Ethan, you will regret this. Everything you owe Eleanor Hayes, I will make you pay back a thousandfold.” I took Lily’s hand and turned, walking out of the ballroom. The night wind was biting, chilling me to the bone, but it couldn’t extinguish the fire of anger in my heart. The suburban villa—that was the most secluded property owned by the Thorne family. Calling it a villa was a euphemism for a place of confinement. As soon as we stepped through the front door, the heavy sound of a lock clicking shut echoed behind us. Lily clung to me, sobbing uncontrollably. “Mom, what do we do? I don’t want to go abroad, I want to stay with you…” I knelt, gently wiping away the tears from her face. My eyes were filled with both tenderness and fierce determination. “Don’t be scared, Lily. With Mom here, no one can send you away.” I stood up, surveying the empty villa. This place wouldn’t hold me. The Hayes family’s network already spanned this city. With just one phone call, the top legal team could ruin Ethan’s reputation. But I couldn’t do that. I not only had to save Lily; I also had to make Ethan and Serena Davies pay. I would make them answer for Eleanor’s death!

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My husband bought beef trimmings every day but never ate them himself. After I cooked them up, he’d only put pieces in my bowl and our daughter’s. “Eat more, you two. I’m useless — this is all I can give you right now. Once I make more money, things will be different.” I rushed to reassure him. Secretly, my heart felt warm. Then one day, on my way to pick up our daughter, I passed by the butcher’s stall. The owner recognized me right away. “Sia, your husband really spoils you. He comes in every day and buys the premium cuts — always pays extra to get the best. Says his wife deserves nothing but the best.” I froze on the spot, a chill spreading through my whole body. I had never once eaten premium steak. My daughter tugged at my hand, looking confused. “Mom, we’ve always eaten beef trimmings at home.” She was right. That’s all she and I had ever eaten. So who was William buying those premium steaks for? …… My daughter’s voice was small, but I heard every word. “Do you sell beef trimmings separately?” Maggie, the butcher, stopped what she was doing. “Beef trimmings? We don’t sell those. They’re just scraps.” She pointed toward a small table off to the side, where packages were stacked. “We leave them over there. Homeless folks can take them for free.” She frowned. “Why do you ask? Your husband always buys the premium steak.” Something squeezed tight around my heart. William and I had met through a setup — a blind date arranged by mutual friends. After we married, everyone said we were the perfect couple, devoted and steady. Ten years of marriage. Not a single fight. I never once thought he would cheat. I bent down and adjusted our daughter’s scarf, my eyes stinging. William had knitted that scarf himself and given it to me on our first anniversary. That day, my usually composed husband was uncharacteristically flustered. I teased him that it was ugly, but I kept it tucked away carefully all these years — until I wrapped it around our daughter’s neck. I pulled myself together and looked back at Maggie. “Maggie, can I get your number? If my husband buys the premium steak, will you let me know? I’d like to have the other ingredients ready.” I had no appetite for anything else after that. I took my daughter home. I’d barely started cooking when William walked through the door. “Sia, I’m home. I missed you.” He set down the beef trimmings and pulled me into his arms, his touch gentle. His phone rang. He immediately pulled away and stepped out onto the balcony. A message from Maggie lit up my screen. “4 lbs of premium beef. $300. Same as always.” A string of laughing emojis followed. My heart sank. William came back from the balcony shortly after, an apologetic look on his face, his phone still showing an ended call. “Sia, the company needs me to go back and revise a proposal. There’s an issue with this project.” I looked at the slightly strained expression on his face and nodded. William exhaled with relief and pulled me close again. “Marrying you is the luckiest thing that ever happened to me.” “Once this project wraps up, let’s take a trip somewhere. Just the two of us.” I looked down at the coat he’d never taken off and quietly said, “Sure.” He let go of me and headed for the door, steps quick and urgent. On the table sat the beef trimmings. The runoff had soaked into the surface. I grabbed a cloth and swept it all into the trash. My daughter stood in the bedroom doorway, clutching her stuffed rabbit. I opened my mouth, then closed it. I didn’t know how to tell her that her father already had another family. I swallowed the ache rising in my chest and coaxed her softly. She was a good girl. She took her bread and milk and headed back to her room without a fuss. I followed William’s car to an upscale neighborhood. I watched him carry the premium beef and groceries inside, happiness written all over his face — unguarded in a way I had never seen from him. Not even in our most intimate moments had he ever let himself go like that. I had always thought he was just reserved by nature — that he was that way with everyone. Turns out I was just the exception. While I stood there in a daze, the door swung open. A woman answered — flawless makeup, a fitted dress that traced every curve, heels clicking against the floor. Freya. William’s high school desk neighbor. In his yearbook photo, the two of them were pressed close together, Freya laughing as she leaned against him. I had been jealous. William tore up the photo to make me feel secure. But I turned back that day — and saw him carefully piece it back together and hide it somewhere I’d never find. Back then, I loved him. So I forgave him for clinging to the past, and I believed we would make it to the end together. Now he was laughing, pulling that woman into his arms, burying his face in her neck — then conjuring a single rose to make Freya smile. Without realizing it, tears were streaming down my face.

“Daddy!” A little boy burst out of the house. William scooped him up and swung him onto his shoulders. “Let’s go! We’re home!” A sharp ache bloomed in my chest — grief tangled with rage. I wanted to storm over there and confront them both, wanted to see William’s face when I asked him why he threw away ten years of marriage. But the door closed behind them. Faint laughter drifted through it. I bit down on my lip until it bled. I didn’t let myself cry. For a moment I even thought — maybe if I had never found out, I could have kept living with my eyes closed, happily enough. But I knew that was impossible. I drove home in a daze. Our daughter was already asleep. My phone buzzed — a text from William apologizing for working late, with a $50 transfer. He spent $300 on premium beef for his mistress. He sent me $50 and fed me beef trimmings. Tears blurred my screen. I let myself fall apart — sobbing until I could barely breathe — until the grief burned itself out and left me numb. Then I opened my email. A message from the company. “Our new New York office has huge potential. A branch manager position is yours when you get here.” I typed back two words without hesitation: “I’m in.” New York was where I grew up. Going back was nothing but good. I had given up that promotion before — for William’s sake, to keep our family whole. I stayed and did it all: the job, the house, the daughter. But I didn’t need to do that anymore. My daughter and I were leaving together. I reached out to a college friend who practiced law and asked her to draft divorce papers. William was meticulous. He had almost certainly been quietly funneling money to Freya for years. But what was mine, I wasn’t leaving behind a single dollar of. As his legal wife, I had every right to access William’s accounts. His monthly salary: $20,000. $12,000 went to Freya every month. Another $2,000 for gifts. The remaining $6,000 came to me for household expenses. I had taken that $6,000, added my own salary, and stretched it across the mortgage, the car payment, utilities, groceries — scrimping so hard I wouldn’t let myself buy a new piece of clothing. Meanwhile, William had transferred nearly $1.16 million to Freya over the years. Every transfer was labeled “household expenses.” Going back eight years, I could see a monthly charge for prenatal checkups. I hadn’t even finished reviewing everything when I heard the front door open. I saved the records quickly and moved them into a folder labeled “Divorce.” By the time I was done, William was standing in the doorway. “You’re still up?” “Helping an intern refine a proposal.” He rubbed my temples. On the screen was a revised draft. “Go to bed. I’ll handle the rest.” I reached over and closed the laptop, then looked up at him steadily. “How was the steak?” The arms around me went rigid. William’s breathing faltered. But he steadied himself quickly. “Jason ordered late-night food and threw in an order for me.” What William didn’t know was that I had run into Jason on the way home. No late-night food. No overtime.

I wasn’t ready to call him out yet. I just nodded. “I’m sleeping in Amy’s room tonight.” Before he could answer, I was already headed to our daughter’s room. His touch now made my skin crawl. People are strange that way — love can turn on a dime. The day I went to pick up the divorce papers, the school called. “Please come in as soon as you can. Amy hit a classmate.” I tucked the papers into my bag and rushed over. In the office, Amy stood with her head down, saying nothing. Freya sat to the side, holding her son. I crouched down and kept my voice soft. “Amy, I want to hear what happened.” “John said Mom is a homewrecker. A mistress who broke up a family…” A nine-year-old doesn’t fully understand those words. But she could feel the cruelty in them. “He said those things about you, so I hit him.” The teacher shifted uncomfortably. “Kids don’t really know what they’re saying…” Freya looked polished as ever — glossy waves, a full face of makeup. William had kept her well. She was in her thirties but looked ten years younger. “My son wasn’t wrong,” she said. The contempt in her eyes was naked. She didn’t bother hiding the provocation. “You seem to know a lot about my family,” I said, with a cold smile. “Everyone knows Amy’s dad never showed up. If you’re not the other woman, what are you?” “Go ahead and call your husband right now — let’s settle this face to face.” She was certain I couldn’t. “Fine.” I was curious what William’s face would look like when he saw us both in the same room. I dialed. It rang twice and went dead. The room went quiet. The teacher threw me a look of thinly veiled disdain. “As a parent, you really should be setting a better example.” Freya didn’t bother hiding her laugh. “Other woman, other woman — Amy’s mom is the other woman! Amy’s the illegitimate kid!” John clapped along gleefully. I gripped my phone. This actually made things easier. I didn’t need to hold back anymore. Then Freya calmly called a contact saved as “husband.” He picked up immediately. “Babe, our son’s in trouble at school. Can you come?” “On my way. Give me a minute.” That low, steady voice — I had heard it for ten years. I would know it anywhere. William arrived fast. “Freya, is our son okay—” He saw me the moment he stepped through the door and went completely silent. “Babe!” Freya crossed the room and pressed herself against him, playing wounded. “Sia…” He moved his lips. He didn’t say anything else. “Do you two know each other?” the teacher asked, stepping in. William met my eyes. His flickered. “No. I don’t know her.” That hit me somewhere cold. Ten years of marriage. And William’s answer was “I don’t know her.” He couldn’t look at me. He turned to Amy. “Apologize.” No room for argument in his tone. I stepped in front of my daughter. “You’re saying I’m the mistress? That Amy is illegitimate?” He hesitated — just briefly — then looked at me directly. “As a parent, I’d hope you’d have the courage to take responsibility in front of the children.” William’s words nailed me in place like a public shaming, while Freya stood beside him looking like she had won. I had expected this. I still felt the sting. I called the police. William, stone-faced, signed the mediation agreement on behalf of the family. I wasn’t surprised. I accepted it calmly. “William. I want a divorce.” His expression darkened. His tone wasn’t kind. “Freya is a single mom. We’re old friends. I was just playing the part of her husband — she doesn’t have what you have. As a woman, I’d hope you could be compassionate. If you blow this up and ruin her reputation…” I watched William’s face become a stranger’s. He had thought about it — if I accepted the label of mistress, that shame would follow me for life. It could follow Amy too. But all he could see was Freya crying, because her own lie had been exposed. “William, I mean it.” I pulled out the divorce papers. “There’s a pen at the police station. Might as well sign while we’re here.”

Seeing that I wasn’t bluffing, William felt a flicker of panic — then steadied himself. Sia wouldn’t actually divorce him. He knew better than anyone how much she loved him. They had been solid for ten years. She was angry, that was all. She’d cool down. Reassured by his own logic, William looked back at me and relaxed. “Take Amy home. Give yourself some time to calm down.” Then he walked over to Freya. His stride had a faint air of retreat. I put the divorce papers away. I knew it wouldn’t be that simple. Fine. If he wanted to drag it out, he could wait for the lawsuit. Eight years of infidelity. Everyone in that upscale neighborhood believed William and Freya were married. A few conversations with the neighbors would be enough to establish that — and combined with the bank records, it was plenty to support a bigamy charge. “Sia, your ex is unbelievable. He used your joint assets to buy her a house and a car. The down payment came from your own savings — the money you brought into the marriage.” My friend was furious in our text thread. “That spineless piece of garbage. By the time I’m done in court, he won’t have a thing left.” I stayed calm and sent her Freya’s address, then laid out what I needed. She would handle gathering the evidence. Freya was used to spending freely. I’d like to see how she planned to pay back over a million dollars. That thought actually lifted my mood. I took my daughter out to dinner. William dropped Freya off and — for the first time — turned down her offer to stay for dinner. He wanted to get home. Sia was probably sulking, and he needed to smooth things over. He had been too harsh earlier, and he’d let his feelings get out of control. He’d hurt her. He needed to fix it. On the way, he passed the butcher. The stall was still open. On impulse, he bought a premium cut. By the time he came to, it was already wrapped and bagged. “Want some beef scraps too? Your wife loves them, right? She was just here asking about them a few days ago. I told her — you’re a good husband. Real thoughtful.” The gentle embarrassment he had imagined did not come. William’s face went pale. He paid and rushed home. At the trash bin outside the building, he found a scarf. His scarf — the one he had knitted for Sia. She had thrown it away. William’s mind was a mess. He needed to get upstairs. Fast. He had this irrational feeling that if he was too slow, Sia would disappear from his life for good. When he got home, I was just hanging up the phone — I’d been arranging Amy’s school transfer. Her new school in New York was set. My parents had already sorted everything. Amy could start whenever we arrived. “Sia.” William was disheveled, still catching his breath. I glanced at the premium steak he was holding. “Not tired of it yet?” I watched his expression fall, and felt just fine about it. I went back to packing. There wasn’t much in this house that belonged to me. One small suitcase was enough. “Sia, I—” “When did it start?” I cut him off. I still wanted to hear it from him. Silence stretched between us. Finally, under the weight of my gaze, William broke. “Eight years ago. When you were in the hospital having Amy, Freya came back to the States.” “She was in a bad place. She wanted to drink, so we met up — and one thing led to another. I swear it was only that once.” His voice cracked with emotion. My expression didn’t change. William let out a hollow laugh. “I never expected it to happen from just that one time. I didn’t believe it — I made Freya get an amniocentesis.” “The results came back. The child was mine.” “William. Do you even believe that yourself?” A grown man who couldn’t push away a woman who came onto him drunk. How convenient. “The divorce papers are on the table.” “Does it have to come to this?” My patience was gone. I threw a hard drive onto the table. “Sign it, or see you in court.”

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At five years old, I was adopted by the Andres family. But it took them ten years to find out that on the very day they adopted me, their real daughter had been there too. They just happened to choose me instead. I was the one who was supposed to die in her place. After that, they were filled with regret and remorse. They wished I had never entered their lives at all. Cooper Andres stood by and did nothing, time after time, whenever I was falsely accused. “Smile. You love smiling, don’t you?” “Back then, if you hadn’t flashed that disgusting smile at me, I would have chosen Claire!” “Daisy, you’re the one who killed Claire. You.” When he found out I was carrying his child, Cooper forced me onto the operating table. That time, I lost both my life and the baby’s. Then I opened my eyes again. I was back on the day they came to the orphanage. — “Daisy, what are you doing hiding up here?” Ms. Laura, one of the staff at the orphanage, rushed over and carried me down from the rooftop. “Ms. Laura, I… I don’t want to go.” Laura gently patted the back of my hand. “Silly girl, the Andres family is here today. They’re loaded.” “If they pick you, you’ll never have to worry about a thing for the rest of your life.” “Make sure you smile, okay?” A chill ran through me. I thought of how Cooper, in my past life, would demand I smile over and over again, no matter what was happening. He made me smile when I was falsely accused of stealing. He made me smile when rumors were spread about me. And even when he found out I was pregnant with his child, he only paused for a moment before telling me to smile anyway. To smile while I got rid of the baby. I pressed my lips together. And finally, the moment the luxury car pulled up, I slipped away and hid in the storage room. This life, I absolutely, absolutely, absolutely refused to have anything to do with the Andres family ever again. I must have fallen asleep at some point, because when they found me later, I heard that the Andres family had left without adopting anyone. I didn’t know why. But I didn’t care either. That night, I lay in bed and looked around at the thirty-some kids sharing the dorm with me. I had no idea which one of them was the Andres family’s real daughter. According to what the Andres family had said, she was somewhere in this room right now. I didn’t want any more contact with the Andres family than necessary. But I also remembered the first ten years after they adopted me in my past life. Mr. and Mrs. Andres had been genuinely kind to me. Cooper too. I thought, if their real daughter could find her way back to them in this life, maybe that would count as repaying the kindness they’d shown me before everything fell apart. But before I could do anything about it, the Andres family came back a second time. This time, all the girls around five or six years old were asked to give blood samples. In my past life, that had never happened. When I came out after giving blood, I saw Cooper walking toward me, his expression cold and unreadable. Something stirred in me. Word was that it had been the Andres family’s young heir who requested the blood tests. Could it be that Cooper had been reborn too? I looked down and stepped to the side to avoid him. A pair of expensive sneakers paused in front of me for just a moment, then continued past. The next day, I noticed one of my dormmates was gone. I remembered her — a quiet little girl who cried all the time. A total crybaby. I never expected that the little crybaby would turn out to be the Andres family’s real daughter. The peace didn’t last two days before the Andres family showed up again. This time, they said they wanted to adopt a companion for their daughter. And this time, I had nowhere to hide. All of us, myself included, lined up in a row, waiting for the Andres family to make their choice. The first one out of the car was their real daughter. The little crybaby who used to cry at everything had already become a princess everyone wanted to protect. Cooper held her the entire time, only setting her down when they reached us. “Claire!” Several girls rushed toward her, eyes shining with excitement. Even though we were all young, the kids here had learned to think ahead. Everyone knew that if you got to go home with Claire today, you’d get to wear pretty dresses like hers someday. You’d live in a big house. You’d have people looking after you. Every pair of eyes was fixed on Claire. But for some reason, Claire walked straight up to me. My body moved before my brain could catch up. I shoved Claire to the ground. “Claire!” “Daisy!” “Claire!” —

That day, Ms. Laura made me stand in the corner facing the wall for three hours as punishment. I figured that after shoving Claire like that, there was no way the Andres family would ever adopt me. But three days later, I was sitting in the back of their car. Ms. Laura told me the Andres family had chosen me. The paperwork was already done. It hit me like a shock of electricity. But it was done, and I had no choice but to accept it. At least Claire was easy to be around. And Mr. and Mrs. Andres were just as warm and caring as they had been in those first ten years of my past life. The only one in the house who was cold toward me was Cooper. He almost never spoke to me. But sometimes I’d catch him watching me in silence. A few days later, at dinner, I heard Cooper make a suggestion to Mr. and Mrs. Andres. “Dad, can we get the orphanage set up with proper heating?” I went still and looked down at my plate. Honestly, I’d been trying to figure out the same thing for days. In my past life, the orphanage caught fire because of a faulty electric blanket. The place was always short on funding, so they’d been using the same blanket for years. “Of course. That was an oversight on our part,” Mr. Andres said. “They took care of Claire for years. The least we can do is give something back.” In the end, the Andres family not only had proper heating installed, they also donated ten million dollars to the orphanage. I had been racking my brain trying to figure out how to prevent what happened, and come up with nothing. Cooper solved it with a single sentence. I still kept my distance from him. But honestly, I was grateful. Setting aside everything that happened between us in my past life — Cooper’s second chance at life had genuinely changed things for the better for a lot of people. — Years passed in a blink, and Claire and I were in high school. Life with the Andres family during those years was quiet and comfortable. With Claire back where she belonged, the family’s business had grown even bigger than it had in my past life. Cooper was still in college, but he had already started interning at the company. Over those years, I barely had any real contact with Cooper. Partly because I went out of my way to avoid him. But Cooper had always kept his distance from me too. The contrast between how he treated me and how he doted on Claire was impossible to miss. Mr. and Mrs. Andres noticed, and so did Claire. They both seemed to feel a little bad about it from time to time. Claire especially, since she’d always been a crybaby from the time she was small. And I understood why I’d been brought into the Andres household in the first place. I was there to take care of Claire. So for all those years, outside of school, my life basically revolved around her. No matter the situation, Claire always came first for me. And Claire depended on me just as much. So when everyone found out that I didn’t want to go to the private school where Claire was enrolled, and instead had applied to a public high school, Mr. and Mrs. Andres were stunned. Even Cooper looked at me differently. “Daisy, why do you suddenly want to go to a public school?” “Right — I mean, your grades are great, but our family really doesn’t need you to push yourself that hard.” Claire nodded along, eyes already glistening. I tightened my grip on my hands under the table. She was right about one thing. A family like the Andres family didn’t need their kids to take the hard road. They’d already mapped out their children’s futures long before any decisions needed to be made. Private school, then studying abroad. Especially with Cooper being as accomplished as he was. As long as Claire and I played by the rules, we’d be comfortable for the rest of our lives. But I didn’t want that. This life, I wanted to live on my own terms. So for the first time, the girl who had always done what she was told dug in her heels. The whole family took turns trying to talk me out of it, but I wouldn’t budge. In the end, it was Cooper who came through for me. He said, “Let her do what she wants.” Just those few words. And with that, I got into the top public high school in the city. —

Once high school started, I left early every morning and came home late every night. After evening study sessions, I’d often stay even later before finally heading back. One time, the Andres family driver dropped me off at the school gate and a classmate saw. After that, I turned down the rides and started taking the bus to school instead. Mr. and Mrs. Andres didn’t fully understand, but they respected my decision. At first, being separated from Claire every day felt a little strange. But I was quickly buried under the weight of the coursework, and there wasn’t much time to think about anything else. One evening after study hall, I stayed behind to work through a problem that had been giving me trouble. By the time the security guard came to check the building, it was almost eleven. I rushed to the bus stop, but the last bus had already gone. Fortunately, in this life, the Andres family had always taken care of me. Even though I tried to spend as little of their money as possible, I never let my account drop below a healthy amount. I pulled up a rideshare app on my phone and booked a car. The moment I got in, I noticed something off about the way the driver was looking at me. “Still in school, huh, sweetheart?” His voice had a greasy quality to it. Our school had a strict uniform policy, so the question wasn’t exactly innocent. I gave a flat “mm-hm” and set an alarm on my phone. One minute from now. Then my phone rang. I thought it was the alarm, but when I looked at the screen, it was Cooper. I hesitated, then answered. “Where are you?” His voice was low on the other end. I was quiet for a second. “You’re just heading home now? You took a rideshare?” I said yes. “Send me the license plate. Where are you right now?” I glanced out the window and gave him a street address. It happened to be near the entrance to a night market, so there were still plenty of people around. “Get out of the car now and wait. I’m coming to get you.” “No, no, it’s fine, I can get home on my own.” I kept refusing. There was a pause on his end, and then the line went dead. Right away, a message came through from Cooper. “License plate.” I had no choice but to send it to him. The rest of the ride was dead quiet. When we arrived, I saw someone standing at the intersection a little way off. When Cooper saw me step out, he turned and walked without a word. I followed silently behind him. Then, out of nowhere, his voice came back. “Are you scared of me?” My steps faltered. In my past life, it was around this same time that the truth came out — that Claire had been at the orphanage the day I was adopted. Back then, I had faced Mr. and Mrs. Andres’s cold looks and Cooper’s burning resentment. Overnight, I went from being their cherished daughter to an unwanted stray. Even though I was still enrolled at the private school, those classmates had a talent for reading the room. The moment they sensed that the Andres family had turned on me, the trouble started. Snakes showing up in my backpack. Glue on my chair. Prank after prank. At first they were cautious, wary of the Andres name, wary of Cooper. But once they realized no one was going to step in on my behalf, it escalated fast. It all came to a head at a classmate’s birthday party, when someone slipped something into my drink. By the time I realized what had happened, it was already too late. In a panic, I stumbled into Cooper’s room. That only made things worse. Cooper, who had already despised me, looked at me with a hatred so cold and absolute that it felt like being thrown into a frozen lake. Mrs. Andres said I was vicious. That I couldn’t let go of the family’s wealth, that I had lost my mind trying to become Cooper’s wife. She said the Andres family must have wronged me in a past life, and that I had come back to collect. Every word cut into me like a blade, slow and deliberate. I wanted to leave. I wanted to run. I wanted to disappear. But I had nowhere to go, and no money of my own. Eventually I found the courage to walk away from the Andres family. But without a degree or any real skills, all I could do was scrape by with a job at a coffee shop. And then everything stopped when they found out I was pregnant. Cooper forced me onto the operating table. He said he would not allow me to have his child. It disgusted him. I had begged him. A cut I had gotten once wouldn’t stop bleeding, and a doctor had told me that my blood didn’t clot properly. Even a small wound, if left untreated, could kill me. And I genuinely was not in any condition to go through that procedure. But Cooper went ahead anyway. I didn’t make it. Though, in those last moments of my past life, I wasn’t afraid. I almost felt like leaving this world that way was… fine. “Oof!” Lost in those memories, I hadn’t noticed Cooper had stopped walking. I walked right into him. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” I stepped back quickly and apologized, eyes down. He was wearing a camel-colored trench coat. Behind his gold-framed glasses, his eyes were dark and unreadable. After a long moment, he turned and walked away without saying a word. That night was nothing more than a small interruption. What followed was an even heavier load of schoolwork. Unlike my past life, the curriculum at a public school moved fast. By junior year, we had already covered most of what was usually left for senior year. After that, it was all practice tests and SAT prep.

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