Chapter 1 I’m incredibly socially anxious. So much so that the only relationship I could ever manage was online. On the very day I was finally tracked down and brought into my incredibly wealthy biological family, my adoptive sister—the “fake daughter”—stood in front of me, crying hysterically, begging to give her engagement back to me. I frantically waved my hands. “No, no, it’s fine! I already have a boyfriend.” The moment those words left my mouth, several lines of text suddenly materialized and floated in the air right in front of my eyes: [LMAO, the evil stepsister is rejecting him so quickly right now. Just wait until she actually sees the male lead, she’s gonna regret it immediately.] [The male lead only has eyes for the fake daughter anyway. She’s just going to use their chat history to stalk and harass him.] [She ends up bullying the female lead so badly she attempts suicide. The male lead hates her so much he breaks her arms and legs and locks her in a psychiatric ward.] What a joke. I’m practically terrified of my own shadow. Why would I ever stalk a total stranger? Just then, the sound of footsteps echoed from the hallway. My adoptive sister, Chloe, ran over with red, teary eyes. “Liam! This is my older sister… your original fiancée.” I turned around and locked eyes with a face I knew intimately. It was Liam Vance. The boyfriend I had been dating online for the past six years. The second Liam’s eyes met mine, a distinct flash of panic crossed his face. He quickly suppressed the emotion, pasting on a polite, distant smile, and extended a hand toward me. “Hello, Miss Sterling. I am Liam Vance, Chloe’s fiancé.” With that, he turned slightly, reaching out to affectionately ruffle Chloe’s hair. His voice was gentle but firm: “Chloe, don’t talk nonsense. The engagement was settled between you and me a long time ago. My wife can only ever be you.” The floating text instantly exploded into a frenzy: [Here we go! The evil stepsister is about to whip out the chat logs and throw a massive tantrum!] [I bet five bucks she bursts into tears in the next three seconds!] I gripped the hem of my shirt tightly, my fingertips turning ice-cold. I forced the corners of my mouth up into a small, polite smile. My voice was very soft, but perfectly steady: “Hello, Mr. Vance.” The floating text paused for a few seconds. [? That’s it? She’s not going to make a scene?] [She’s totally faking it. She’s saving her ultimate move for later. Classic playing hard to get.] Liam was clearly caught off guard as well. He looked at me, his eyes hiding a mix of warning and intense scrutiny. Chloe tilted her head, her eyes still rimmed with red. Her voice was soft and sickeningly innocent: “Sister, do you really not want the engagement anymore?” My eyes flicked briefly to the cufflink on Liam’s sleeve. It was the three-year anniversary gift I had sent him. When he put it on, he had laughed and told me he would wear it to every important occasion from then on. I looked away, my tone completely flat: “I don’t.” The text surged again. [Fake! Keep faking it! She’s definitely going to corner the male lead in private later and cry her eyes out!] My biological mother quickly stood up to smooth things over. She walked over with a bright smile and grabbed my arm: “Alright, alright, let’s not just stand around. Let’s eat first.” At the dining table. My mother placed a piece of braised rib on Chloe’s plate, then turned to me with a beaming smile: “Serena, honey, you mentioned earlier that you have a boyfriend. What does he do for a living? You should bring him over sometime so your father and I can meet him.” Every pair of eyes at the table instantly pinned onto me. The knuckles on Liam’s hand, gripping his chopsticks, turned stark white. His face looked incredibly tense. I raised my eyes, gave him a brief, fleeting look, then lowered my head and picked up a piece of food: “We met online. But we’re about to break up.” The text went absolutely feral. [See?! See?! She’s starting with the passive-aggressive comments!] [Just wait, next step is definitely whipping out the chat logs to play the victim!] My mother’s chopsticks paused in mid-air. “Why on earth would you break up if things are going well?” I chewed a piece of lettuce twice, swallowed, and spoke quietly: “He just got engaged to someone else.” The air in the room became so dead silent you could hear a pin drop. The only sound was the clinking of chopsticks against porcelain. Chloe was quick on her feet. She immediately grabbed a shrimp ball, placed it in my bowl, and smiled sweetly: “Sister, please don’t be sad. Try this, it’s my absolute favorite.” Liam’s hand jerked slightly, as if he wanted to stop her, but he violently pulled it back. I looked at the perfectly round shrimp ball in my bowl and frowned. “I’m allergic to shrimp.” All the color drained from Chloe’s face. Her eyes instantly filled with tears: “Is Sister disgusted by me?” My mother’s expression darkened instantly. “This is the first time your sister has ever served you food. Don’t be a spoilsport.” My father slammed his chopsticks down, his tone dripping with impatience: “It’s just an allergy, what’s the big deal? Eat it a few more times and you’ll build an immunity. Eat it. Don’t embarrass Chloe.” The entire table of people stared at me with freezing, judgmental eyes. It was as if I was the one being incredibly unreasonable. Liam glanced at me, his voice carrying a heavy, oppressive weight: “Just take a small bite, you’ll be fine. We have a family doctor on standby.” I stared at the shrimp ball for two seconds. Then, I picked it up with my chopsticks and ate it. A few minutes later. My neck started to itch violently, breaking out into a massive patch of angry red hives. Chloe let out a dramatic gasp, fat tears rolling down her cheeks: “I… I didn’t know Sister was actually allergic! I thought she just hated me…” My mother immediately pulled her into a hug, patting her back to comfort her, before shooting me a vicious glare: “What is wrong with you? If you’re really allergic, why didn’t you say something sooner? Did you do this on purpose just to make Chloe cry?!” I touched the raised hives on my neck. My voice was very light: “I did tell you. You didn’t believe me.” With that, I stood up. Without looking at a single person at the table, I turned around and walked straight to my room. The door had barely been closed for thirty seconds. Liam pushed the door open and followed me inside. His face was as cold as ice. He kept his voice low, hissing: “Watch your mouth. Do not say a single word about what happened between us before.” “You and I just chatted online to kill time, and you know it. Chloe is the only one worthy of being my wife.” I looked up at him. I wasn’t crying. I wasn’t throwing a tantrum. My face was completely devoid of any emotion. “Liam. This is where we end.” He froze. I didn’t waste another word. I turned around and shut the door in his face. I dug out my antihistamines and swallowed them dry with cold water. The dense, maddening itch on my neck slowly began to subside. I sat down at my desk and opened my laptop. The messaging app icon was flashing frantically. It was Harper. Her profile picture was an orange tabby cat eating a french fry. Her contact name was just “Handler.” She was my only best friend, and also my literary agent. She handled all my copyrights, publishing deals, and schedules. Her messages popped up one after another: [Queen!! Your majesty!! The submissions for the Booker Prize preliminary rounds are opening! Are you done with ‘The Dark River’ yet?! Let’s go win another gold medal!] I typed a few words back: [Winning the same award once is enough.] [The Dark River is aiming for the Pulitzer.] Just as I hit send, someone knocked twice on my bedroom door. Chloe pushed the door open, carrying a plate of mango crepes. Her eyes were still red. “Sister, I know I was wrong earlier. I made you some dessert to apologize.” Her eyes swept across my laptop screen, and she completely stiffened. I only had two people on my entire messaging app friends list. One of them was Liam. His profile picture was a photo of a snow-capped mountain he had used for six years. Crash— The plate slipped from her hands, shattering on the floor and splattering mango everywhere. Her voice suddenly spiked into a shrill, piercing shriek that could be heard throughout the entire floor: “How do you have Liam’s contact info?!” “Sister, if you really love Liam, I… I’ll step aside! But how could you go behind my back and—” The sound of heavy, thunderous footsteps rushed toward my room. My parents and Liam all arrived at the door. My father charged in first. His face was black as thunder. Without a single word, he raised his hand and slapped me across the face. Half my face instantly went numb. A trickle of blood seeped from the corner of my mouth. “You shameless disgrace! Seducing your own sister’s fiancé?! You’ve humiliated the entire Sterling family!” Liam stood near the back of the group, his eyes burning with fury. He probably thought I had intentionally left the chat open on my screen to force him into a corner and demand an explanation. He took two steps forward and held out his hand. “Give me your phone.” I didn’t move. He simply reached over and took it himself. His thumb expertly pressed against the fingerprint scanner where he knew I registered my print. With a soft click, the phone unlocked. He scrolled to my friends list, tapped on his snow-mountain profile picture, and immediately deleted and blocked the contact. The floating text was going absolutely insane. [HOLY SHIT! Look at the evil stepsister’s face! She’s totally pale! She’s definitely going to expose the chat logs now!] I wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth. I looked at the people standing in front of me, one by one. My voice was very soft, but it didn’t shake. “Are we done here? If there’s nothing else, I’m going to sleep.” The floating text abruptly stopped. Chloe’s sobbing choked off for a second. The insults dying on my father’s lips were swallowed back down. Liam stared at me for several long seconds. I couldn’t read the emotion swirling in his eyes. His lips moved slightly, but in the end, he didn’t say a word. Eventually, one by one, they all left. The door closed. The room was completely empty again. I opened my messaging app. My friends list was back to just Harper. I stared at the empty list for a few seconds. When Liam and I first met, my first pen name—the one I had used for ten years—had just been forcibly bought out by my publishing platform in a predatory contract. I had to use Harper’s ID to register a new indie blog and start completely from scratch. Every day, my inbox was flooded with thousands of messages from readers. I rarely bothered to read them. But Liam’s message was different. He said, “Your writing style… it’s exactly like Midnight Lantern.” He had no idea that I was Midnight Lantern. Later, he told me he was the CEO of Starlight Media. He complained about how absurdly expensive Midnight Lantern’s copyright fees were, and asked if I was willing to sell the film rights to the stories I posted on my blog. That was how we added each other. The “me” online and the “me” in real life were two completely different people. Online, I was witty, sarcastic, and could banter with the best of them. Liam said he was exhausted all day, but chatting with me for a few minutes always helped him relax. I was more than happy to let my guard down and just be myself with him. Eventually, he bought the rights to one of my short stories and invited me to consult on the screenplay adaptation. That was the first time we met in person. He stared at my bright red ears and laughed for a long time: “How are you so entirely different from who you are online? You’re so shy you can barely speak above a whisper. It’s actually really cute, though.” I had severe social anxiety since I was a child, but for some reason, being around him never felt exhausting. On my twenty-seventh birthday, he confessed his feelings to me. When I accepted, Harper threw a bucket of cold water on me: “The wife of the Vance family needs to be a social butterfly who can command a room. You’re someone who is too terrified to even open the door for the pizza delivery guy. Do you really think you can survive that world?” I didn’t believe her. I enrolled in public speaking and confidence-building classes. I forced myself to attend small book signings. I stood in front of my mirror and practiced how to hold a champagne glass and make toasts hundreds of times. I ruthlessly broke myself down and rebuilt myself, piece by piece, just so I could force my way into his world. Only for him to turn around and hold someone else’s hand. Outside the window, I heard Chloe’s laughter. I glanced out. Liam had clearly finished comforting her. He was affectionately ruffling her hair as they walked toward the garage. They were probably going shopping. I pulled my gaze away and opened my email. In my drafts folder sat an application to a prestigious literature program at a university in Europe. It had been sitting there for six months. I clicked Send. The text popped up again. [What is she typing now? It’s all in English?] [Plotting something evil, no doubt. She definitely hasn’t given up on the male lead.] I couldn’t be bothered to care about the text’s idiotic assumptions. I closed my email and opened the manuscript document for The Dark River. Only the last three chapters were left. My fingertips rested on the keyboard, and I started typing. Two days before the grand “Welcome Home” banquet the Sterling family was throwing for me, Chloe knocked on my door. She handed me a dress. It was completely encrusted with rhinestones and sequins, aggressively bright pink. The fabric was clearly high-quality, and it was definitely expensive. But it was the exact opposite of the minimalist, understated clothes I usually wore. It would look completely ridiculous on me. I didn’t take it. “I already prepared my own dress.” I had told them multiple times I didn’t want a welcome home banquet, but they insisted. Chloe’s eyes immediately turned red. “Does Sister not like it? I just wanted to make sure everyone knows how much the Sterling family values you.” From the sofa in the hallway, my father slammed down his newspaper. “Chloe canceled an important prep meeting for the Booker Prize preliminary rounds just to go pick out that dress for you! You will wear it whether you like it or not! It’s the thought that counts!” I glanced at Chloe. She was also an online author, and she was actually quite famous. But I had skimmed through a few of her books before. The writing was mediocre at best, definitely not matching her massive popularity. Recently, the quality of her work had suddenly skyrocketed, but her writing style had shifted drastically multiple times. It didn’t read like it was written by the same person. I didn’t say anything. I took the dress and nodded. Then, I turned around and texted Harper: [Get me a dress for the banquet.] The day of the banquet arrived. I crouched near the entrance of the hotel, clutching my stomach, my face pale. “My stomach hurts. You guys go in first. I’ll catch my breath and come in a bit.” My father muttered something about me being “too much trouble” and led my mother, Chloe, and Liam into the venue. The moment they were out of sight, I stood straight up. The dress Harper had sent over early this morning was waiting for me in the car. It was a smoky gray silk gown, a limited-edition haute couture piece worn by an Oscar-winning actress on the red carpet last year. The waist was embroidered with silver thread in the shape of a night-blooming cereus. It was from the actress’s own private collection. I changed into the dress and walked into the banquet hall. It was as if someone had hit the mute button on the entire room. Liam was standing near the main table, his champagne flute frozen halfway to his mouth. Chloe’s knuckles turned stark white as she gripped her glass. Someone nearby recognized the dress and whispered in awe: “Isn’t that the haute couture piece Mia Stone wore? It’s limited edition. You can’t buy that even if you have the money.” “The long-lost daughter the Sterling family brought back is actually stunning. An ice queen.” The tips of my ears felt like they were burning. My old social anxiety was threatening to flare up. I gripped the fabric of my dress tightly just to keep my composure, walking steadily deeper into the room, maintaining a detached, elegant expression. Chloe immediately hurried over and linked her arm through mine, smiling with manufactured warmth: “Sister, you’re here! Let me introduce you to some senior members of the Literary Association. They’ll be able to look out for you when you apply for membership.” She led me over to a group of men in sharp suits, pitching her voice to be soft and sugary: “My sister writes little stories on an indie blog. She’s not famous or anything yet, so I hope you gentlemen can give her some pointers.” The board members looked me up and down, smirking dismissively. “Getting into the Association requires real talent. Having a pretty face doesn’t cut it here.” “Exactly. You think you can just scribble a few sentences and get in? Our standards aren’t that low.” I lightly tapped my fingernail against my crystal glass, completely ignoring them. Their conversation quickly shifted to the upcoming election for the Association’s president. Director Davis sighed. “Chloe, your rival’s book, ‘The Crossing,’ has been dominating the bestseller lists for almost a month. If you don’t release a new masterpiece soon, your shot at the presidency is going to be in jeopardy.” Chloe didn’t say anything, but a girl standing next to her answered for her: “Chloe is planning to submit to the Booker Prize preliminaries. Once she wins the gold medal, she won’t have anything to worry about!” The board members all shook their heads. “That competition is impossibly difficult! In this entire country, only Midnight Lantern has ever won the gold medal. Everyone else struggles to even get shortlisted.” “The Association has invited Midnight Lantern to join countless times, and they just ignore us completely. Totally mysterious. We don’t even know if they’re a man or a woman.” I was getting bored listening to them. I told Chloe I was going to the restroom, turned around, and found a secluded, empty corner to sit down. I pulled out my phone, opened my writing app, and continued working on the final chapters of The Dark River. Without me noticing, Liam had walked over and sat down directly across from me. He cut straight to the chase: “Give The Dark River to Chloe. She’s going to use it for the competition.” My fingertips hovered motionless over the screen. It felt like a giant hand was squeezing my heart. A dull, suffocating pain spread through my chest. He knew better than anyone else. I had spent three years agonizing over The Dark River. I was aiming for the Pulitzer. When I was first drafting the outline, he stayed up with me for three consecutive all-nighters, helping me iron out the logic, chapter by chapter. The floating text went wild. [Here we go! Here we go! She’s definitely going to use ‘The Dark River’ as leverage to force the male lead to stay with her!] [I bet she demands an insane amount of money!] I raised my eyes and looked at him. My throat felt like sandpaper, but my voice was completely flat: “No.” With that, I stood up and walked away. My phone vibrated in my hand. I glanced down at the screen. [European College of Literature: Your admission application has been approved. Please submit your registration materials by the 30th of this month.] I stared at that line of text for three full seconds. The corners of my mouth twitched into a small smile. Completely ignoring Liam, whose face had turned dark with fury behind me, I walked straight out of the banquet hall. A few days later, I was at the visa application center filling out forms. A breaking news notification popped up on my phone: #Chloe Sterling’s “The Dark River” Shortlisted for Booker Prize Preliminaries. Joins Midnight Lantern as Leading Voice in Literature# I shot up from my chair. The documents in my hands scattered across the floor. I sprinted out of the visa center, flagged down a taxi, and sped straight to the Sterling estate. The moment I pushed open the door to my room, I was frozen to the spot. My laptop was completely destroyed. The motherboard, the hard drive, the keyboard—everything had been ripped apart and smashed into pieces. The screen was a spiderweb of cracked glass. The hard drive itself was physically bent in half. I stood there, my entire body trembling uncontrollably. For the very first time, the floating text changed its tune. [The male lead really went too far this time… he completely destroyed her computer just for Chloe…] [I was hating on the evil stepsister before, but now I actually feel kind of bad for her.] I pulled out my phone and called Harper. My throat was so tight I could barely speak. “My laptop was destroyed. The source files for The Dark River are all on it. Find me the absolute best data recovery expert on the planet. I don’t care how much it costs.” I hung up the phone, got back in a taxi, and went straight to Starlight Media. The receptionist tried to stop me, but I bypassed her and kicked open the door to the CEO’s office. Liam was sitting in his leather chair. When he saw me, he actually had the nerve to raise an eyebrow. I didn’t waste a single breath. I marched right up to him and slapped him as hard as I could. SMACK— His head whipped to the side. Blood immediately seeped from the corner of his mouth. “Do you have any idea what The Dark River means to me?!” Liam wiped the blood from his mouth. He actually let out a dark, chilling laugh. His eyes were terrifyingly cold. “What’s done is done. I suggest you don’t make a scene. I’ll give you thirty million as compensation. Also—” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk. “Before I smashed the laptop, I completely wiped the hard drive. If you dare to make a fuss about this, I have countless ways to ensure you are blacklisted from the writing community forever.” I stared at him for a long, long time. It was like looking at a complete stranger. I didn’t scream. I didn’t throw a tantrum. I just turned around and walked out. When I got back to the Sterling estate, the living room was incredibly lively. Liam’s parents were sitting on the sofa, holding Chloe’s hands, their faces beaming with joy. “Our Vance family is so honored to be gaining such a talented, accomplished daughter-in-law.” Chloe looked up and saw me. A flash of panic crossed her eyes, but she quickly plastered her sweet, innocent smile back onto her face. I gave a curt nod, treating it as a polite greeting, and walked straight upstairs. The shattered pieces of my laptop were still scattered across my desk. Liam had bought me that laptop. He had told me that since I spent all day staring at a screen typing, using something he gave me would ensure I was always thinking of him. I stared at the spiderweb cracks on the shattered screen for a very long time. Whatever tiny, lingering shred of feeling I had left for him completely turned to ash. The door was pushed open. Chloe leaned against the doorframe, a triumphant, arrogant smirk on her face. “Liam already told me everything. So what if you guys knew each other before? In the end, he still chose me. He said only someone like me is worthy of being the young Mrs. Vance. You’re just cheap trash who belongs in the gutter.” I couldn’t even be bothered to look at her. I started shoving the broken pieces of the laptop into my backpack. As I walked past her toward the door, I paused for a second. “Your little pedestal? You can keep it. I don’t want it.” When I arrived at Harper’s studio, Mia Stone was there too. The Oscar-winning actress who had lent me her dress. She was the lead actress in the very first television adaptation of my work. At the time, she was a total nobody. That show made her an overnight sensation. After that, I specifically requested her for every single adaptation of my books, single-handedly pushing her to A-list status. When she saw me walk in, she immediately handed me a hot milk tea. “Don’t panic. The hacker I hired is the absolute best in the industry. He will definitely get your files back.” In less than half an hour, the hacker handed me a flash drive. “The hard drive was only physically damaged. The source files have been fully recovered. All the revision histories, timestamps, everything is perfectly intact. I even managed to pull the cloud backups of your chat logs.” Mia gripped her phone, grinding her teeth in fury. “I’m going to post this on Twitter right now and expose her! My three hundred million followers will bury her alive!” I shook my head. “No rush. We wait until she wins the gold medal, and then we expose her right as she’s standing on the podium.” Mia blinked in surprise, then smiled. “Looks like you’re pretty confident in your own work.” Harper, standing next to her, raised an eyebrow. “Of course she is. She’s Midnight Lantern.” A week later. The Booker Prize preliminary committee announced the gold medal winner: Chloe Sterling. The internet exploded. But the day of the awards ceremony was also the day I was scheduled to report to the European College of Literature. I packed my bags and gave Harper her instructions. “You go to the ceremony. I’ll use the Midnight Lantern account to drop the evidence online. We hit them from both sides simultaneously.” On the day of the ceremony, I was sitting in the airport departure lounge, watching the live stream on my phone. On screen, Chloe, wearing a diamond-encrusted couture gown, stood on the podium, clutching the gold trophy, crying beautiful, delicate tears. “‘The Dark River’ is something I poured my heart and soul into. I wrote it word by word, agonizing over it for three years… thank you all so much…” In the very next second, Harper stood up in the audience, holding up a flash drive. “I am formally reporting a violation. Chloe Sterling’s submission, ‘The Dark River’, is completely plagiarized from an original creator.” I watched the chaos unfold on the screen. My fingertip tapped ‘Publish’ on the Twitter draft I had prepared in advance. The attachments included the source files, timestamps, the entire revision history, and screenshots of every single conversation I had with Liam discussing the outline of The Dark River. The caption was just four words: I am Midnight Lantern. Send. Right as I tapped the button, the airport intercom chimed: “Passengers for Air France Flight AF3287 to Paris, we are now beginning boarding at Gate 3.” I stood up and grabbed my bag. My phone was vibrating like crazy in my pocket. The Caller ID flashed: Liam Vance.
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