Author: Momo Chan

It was my son Bobby’s third birthday, and my mother-in-law, a few glasses of wine in, wouldn’t stop fussing over him. She pinched Bobby’s chubby cheeks, her words slurring as she spoke to my husband, Mark. “This boy… it’s uncanny.” “He has your eyebrows, your eyes… but his nose, his mouth…” She paused, squinting at my sister, Chloe, who was sitting beside me, quietly peeling an apple. “His nose and mouth,” she declared loudly, “they’re the spitting image of Chloe!” The air in the room instantly froze. The only sound was the cheerful din of cartoons playing on the TV. Chloe’s hand jerked, the paring knife slicing into her finger. Mark’s face went rigid, the color draining from it in an instant. He shot up from his seat, his voice sharp. “Mom! You’re drunk, stop talking nonsense!” I sat on the sofa, watching the scene unfold, and smiled. “She’s not wrong, though.” I tilted my head, my gaze shifting between my ashen-faced sister and my panicked husband. “I’ve always wondered why Bobby looks so much like his aunt.” 1 Mark’s reaction was more violent than I’d anticipated. He practically dove across the room to snatch Bobby from his mother’s arms, as if terrified I might look at our son for a second longer. “Don’t listen to her, Grace. She’s getting old, her eyes are playing tricks on her.” He kept his back to me, his voice strained. He didn’t dare meet my gaze. Chloe scrambled to her feet, forcing a smile that was more painful than a grimace. “Grace, she was just kidding. Kids change every day, you can’t really tell who they look like.” Can’t you? The seed of a doubt I had buried three years ago, a terrible thought I never dared to examine, burst into venomous bloom. I had carried Bobby for ten months. I had nearly died giving birth to him. He was my son. But from the day he was born, he never looked like me. Everyone said he just took after his father. And I had lied to myself, believing them. But as he grew, as his features sharpened, the shadow of Chloe on his small face became impossible to ignore. The same almond-shaped eyes. The same dimple in the same spot when he smiled. Even the way his lips pouted slightly in his sleep was a perfect mirror of my sister. I had told myself it was just the magic of shared blood. We were sisters, after all. But today, my mother-in-law’s drunken words had ripped away the comforting lie I’d wrapped myself in. “Alright, everyone, calm down.” I stood up calmly, pulled a tissue from the coffee table, and walked over to Chloe. I took her hand, which was still bleeding, and gently pressed the tissue against the cut. “You have to be more careful.” My voice was soft, but my eyes were fixed on her pale, stricken face. She couldn’t look at me. “I… I’m fine, Grace,” she stammered. Mark stood frozen, clutching our son. I smiled and turned to him. “Dinner’s ready. Why don’t you take Bobby to wash his hands?” My voice was so normal, so utterly untroubled, it was as if the last five minutes had been a hallucination. Mark looked like a man granted a pardon. He fled to the bathroom with the child. The atmosphere at the dinner table was suffocating. My mother-in-law, apparently realizing her mistake, ate with her head down, silent. I was the only one who acted as if nothing had happened. I served Bobby his favorite vegetables, ladled soup for Mark, and even made cheerful conversation with Chloe about her job. The calmer I was, the more haunted they looked. The meal was an exercise in torture. Afterward, Mark insisted on doing the dishes, and Chloe announced she had an urgent work matter, hastily getting ready to leave. “Wait a second.” I called out to her. She froze in the entryway, her body stiff. I went to the fridge, took out a container of fresh cherries I’d bought that afternoon, and poured them into a large bag for her. “Here, for the road. I know they’re your favorite.” Her hand trembled as she took the bag. She wouldn’t look up. “Thanks, Grace.” “Don’t be silly.” I reached out and smoothed a stray strand of her hair, blown messy by the wind. I leaned in close, my lips next to her ear, and whispered in a voice only she could hear: “Chloe, next time you come over, don’t wear that perfume.” “Bobby’s allergic to it. Did you forget?” A violent tremor shot through her body. Her pupils dilated in sheer terror. I stepped back, patting her shoulder with a serene smile. “Drive safe.” The moment the door clicked shut, the smile vanished from my face. The sound of running water came from the kitchen. Mark was at the sink, his broad back turned to me. A back that had once been my greatest source of comfort. I watched him for a moment, then spoke. “Mark.” He stopped moving. “Do you remember when I was in labor with Bobby? I was hemorrhaging. The doctors told you I might not make it.” He didn’t turn around. His voice was muffled. “I remember.” “I was lying in that hospital bed, thinking I was going to die. I held your hand. Do you remember what I said to you?” His shoulders began to tremble. I continued, my voice flat and empty. “I said, if I die, you have to raise Bobby well. He’s our son. I’m giving my life for him…” “Stop it!” He spun around, his face a mask of anguish, his eyes bloodshot. “You weren’t going to die! We were going to be fine, our family!” I looked at him and, suddenly, I laughed. “Mark,” I asked, each word deliberate and sharp, “is there something you’ve been hiding from me?” 2 Mark’s eyes darted away. He slammed the faucet off, and the sudden, total silence in the kitchen was deafening. “What are you talking about now?” He moved toward me, reaching for my hand. I pulled away. His hand hung awkwardly in the air. He forced a weary smile. “Look, I know what Mom said upset you, but it was just drunk talk. You and Chloe are sisters. Is it really so strange that Bobby looks a little like his aunt?” He was trying to soothe me with logic, to reason away the horror. Before today, I might have believed him. But now, his words were just noise. “Is it?” I stared directly into his eyes. “Then let me ask you this. Why did you transfer twenty thousand dollars to Chloe last month?” The blood drained from his face. “How did you know about that?” he blurted out. I gave a cold, humorless laugh. We were married. His bank account was linked to my phone. I got a notification for every large transaction. I’d never paid them any mind before because I trusted him. But in the instant my mother-in-law had spoken those words, every overlooked detail, every strange inconsistency from the past three years had replayed in my mind like a horror film. The notification was one of them. His excuse at the time had been that Chloe had gotten scammed by a boyfriend and was caught up in some bad online loans. As her brother-in-law, he had to help. I believed him. I’d even called Chloe, full of sympathy. She had cried and told me it was all sorted out, that the money was paid back. Looking back, it was a truly masterful performance. “It’s not what you think!” Mark said, stepping forward, desperate to explain. “That money was really—” “To pay off her debts, right?” I finished for him. He nodded vigorously, clinging to the explanation like a lifeline. “Yes! That’s exactly it! It’s not easy for a young woman out there on her own. I didn’t go into detail because I didn’t want you to worry.” Such a good brother-in-law. Such a thoughtful husband. I watched his frantic attempts to lie, a sheet of ice forming around my heart. “Mark, we’ve been married for five years.” My voice was eerily calm. “When did you start lying to me?” He froze. “I didn’t…” “You did,” I cut him off. “When you lie, you can’t even look me in the eye.” He fell silent, his head hanging in defeat. I took a deep breath, swallowing the bitter taste in my throat. “I won’t ask about the money again.” His head snapped up, a flicker of hope in his eyes. “I only have one condition,” I said. “From now on, I want Chloe to visit us less.” The relief on his face curdled into a subtle panic. “Why? She’s your sister…” “Precisely because she is my sister,” I said, my voice clear and cold, “I don’t want any unnecessary misunderstandings to come between us.” I held his gaze. “Can you promise me that?” He opened his mouth to argue, but under my glacial stare, he finally, painfully, nodded. “…Okay.” That night, we slept in separate rooms for the first time in our marriage. I lay in Bobby’s room, holding my son’s warm little body, and stared into the darkness all night. My mind raced, replaying memory after memory. I remembered when Chloe first graduated from college and lived with us for six months. During that time, Mark was kinder to her than he was to me. He’d make her a separate sandwich in the morning; he’d watch her favorite cheesy dramas with her at night. I thought he was just treating my sister as his own. I remembered the last trimester of my pregnancy, when I was huge, miserable, and short-tempered. It was Chloe who was by my side every day, massaging my swollen feet, taking walks with me, showing more patience than Bobby’s own father. The day I gave birth, she waited outside the delivery room, crying harder than anyone. After Bobby was born, she was at our house constantly, burying him in mountains of toys and clothes. Everyone told me how lucky I was to have such a wonderful sister. I had believed them. I had felt so blessed. Now, those warm memories were a thousand tiny knives, twisting in my heart. When did it start? During those six months she lived with us? Or even earlier? The little sister I had cherished and protected her whole life. The husband I had sworn to love for eternity. How could they? How dared they? The next morning, I got up and made breakfast as if nothing was wrong. Mark emerged from the study with dark circles under his eyes. He sat at the table, cautiously watching me. “Grace… are you still angry?” I pushed a glass of milk toward him and smiled. “No. I thought about it. Mom was right. We’re all family, it’s normal to look alike.” He visibly relaxed. “I’m so glad you feel that way.” I nodded, sipping my oatmeal and mentioning casually, “By the way, Bobby’s hair is getting a little long. I was thinking of taking him for a haircut. He has that little birthmark on the back of his head, and the barber always seems to nick it. I want to find someone more careful.” As I spoke, I reached over and gently plucked a few strands of hair from Bobby’s head. “Look at this,” I said, holding them up. “So dark and thick. Just like yours.” I rolled the small cluster of hairs between my fingertips. Then, as he watched, I carefully placed them into a small, transparent Ziploc bag. 3 The instant I looked up, the color drained from Mark’s face, leaving it the color of ash. He stared at the tiny bag in my hand, his eyes wide with a terror he couldn’t hide. “What… what are you doing with his hair?” he stammered, his voice trembling. “Just a keepsake.” I slipped the bag into my purse, my tone as light and breezy as if I were discussing the weather. “Bobby’s turning three soon. I want to save things from each stage of his life. His first tooth, a lock of hair, his first pair of shoes. It will be a precious memory for him when he’s older, don’t you think?” The excuse was flawless. I almost believed it myself. The bloodshot veins in Mark’s eyes seemed to pulse. I didn’t look at him again. I took Bobby’s hand. “Say bye to Daddy, sweetie. Mommy’s taking you for a haircut.” “Bye-bye, Daddy!” Bobby chirped, waving his little hand. Mark remained frozen in place. As the front door clicked shut behind me, I thought I heard the sound of a choked, ragged gasp. I didn’t go to a barbershop. I took Bobby straight to the largest genetic testing center in the city. In the taxi, I held my son, my palms slick with cold sweat. Bobby was quiet, content to sit in my lap and play with his fingers, occasionally looking up to give me a sweet, trusting smile. I looked at his face—Chloe’s face—and my heart felt like it was being crushed by an invisible hand. The pain was suffocating. The center was quiet. I calmly filled out the forms, paid the fee, and submitted the samples. In addition to Bobby’s hair, I submitted another sample: a few long strands of hair I had found on the sofa last week after Chloe had visited. On a strange impulse, I had saved them. Looking back, it seems fate was already sending me signs. The lab technician took the two samples and asked, in a routine, professional voice, “And what type of relationship analysis will this be?” I looked at her and took a deep, steadying breath. “Maternity.” The technician paused, her eyes flicking up to meet mine with a flash of curiosity. But she said nothing, simply ticking the corresponding box on the form. “Very well. The results will be ready in seven business days. We can mail them to you, or you can pick them up in person.” “I’ll pick them up.” 4 As I stepped out of the testing center, the world tilted violently. I had to brace myself against the wall to keep from falling. What was I doing? I was entertaining the possibility that my husband and my own sister had betrayed me in the most grotesque way imaginable. I was questioning whether the son I had nearly died for was even mine. If… if the results confirmed my fears, what would I do? I couldn’t let myself think about it. The next week was a blur of hollow motions. Mark and I maintained a fragile peace. He became unnervingly attentive, taking over all the housework, cooking elaborate meals, coming home from work on time every single day. He even left his phone unlocked for me to check at will. The more he tried, the colder I felt. This wasn’t atonement. This was the frantic scrambling of a guilty conscience. Chloe didn’t visit, and she barely called. My mother called once to ask if we had fought. I laughed and said no, we were just busy with work. My mom sighed. “Chloe has always been so close to you. You need to take good care of her.” Take care of her? Yes. For over twenty years, I had cared for her like she was the most precious thing in the world. And how had she repaid me? On the seventh day, I got the call from the center. I locked myself in my room, steeling myself for what felt like an eternity before I finally found the courage to leave the house. When I arrived at the center, Mark was standing at the entrance. He looked like a ghost—gaunt, ashen, with dark, hollowed-out eyes. The moment he saw me, he stumbled forward and grabbed my arm. “Grace, let’s just go home, please?” His voice was a raw, pleading rasp. “We don’t have to look. We can tear it up, pretend this never happened… We can go back to how things were…” I looked at him and felt a sudden, hysterical urge to laugh. “Mark,” I asked quietly, “what are you so afraid of?” He flinched as if I’d struck him. His grip on my arm went slack. I ignored him and walked inside. The report was in a manila envelope. It was thin, but it felt as heavy as a gravestone. I didn’t open it there. I walked past Mark, who didn’t even dare to try and stop me, and went home. I locked myself in the bedroom. Mark pounded on the door, his voice shifting from pleading, to shouting, to finally, a broken whimper. I heard none of it. I slid down with my back against the door, my fingers trembling as I tore open the seal. I stared at the single line at the bottom of the page for a long, long time, until the words burned themselves onto the back of my eyes. [Regarding Sample A (Chloe) and Sample B (Bobby)]: [Support for a biological mother-child relationship is found.] [Probability of maternity: 99.9999%]

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Jack was insatiable in bed, so I did the only thing I could: I broke his heart and ended it. The next second, a rear-end collision wiped my memory clean. Gone was the memory of Jack’s relentless stamina, of being pushed to my limits night after night. Gone was the vow I’d made to myself: I’d rather date a boring, vanilla guy than ever get back with Jack. Later, when friends and family came to visit me in the hospital, Jack was among them. The moment he walked into the room, I gripped my best friend’s arm, my heart hammering against my ribs. “Oh, crap,” I whispered. “That one’s definitely my type.” 1 When I woke up in the hospital, my mind was a perfect, pristine blank. It took ten minutes of questioning the woman at my bedside—who claimed to be my best friend—to learn that a car accident had landed me here. She pointed at her own chest, her expression a mask of disbelief. “It’s me, Anna! Your best friend! You seriously don’t remember me?” I shook my head. I didn’t even remember my own name, let alone hers. The doctor assured us my health was fine and suggested Anna fill me in on my past. He said the memories might just click back into place one day. Anna, ever the woman of action, immediately pulled a chair up to my bed. “Okay, so: You’re Lillian Hayes. Your parents are scientists—super busy, as you’ve probably guessed, since they haven’t rushed here yet. “We’ve been best friends since high school. Oh, and you have a boyfriend. His name is Jack Vance. I’ve already called him.” Jack Vance. I rolled the name over in my mind, but it sparked nothing. Not a single flicker of recognition. By the time night fell, this Jack Anna had told me about still hadn’t shown up. “What the hell is Jack’s deal?” Anna grumbled, pacing the small room. “You were in a car crash! I mean, yeah, it wasn’t life-threatening, but he’s your boyfriend. He should at least come see you, right?” She threw her hands up. “He always acted so completely obsessed with you before!” Her words meant nothing to me. With no memories, I had no basis for judgment. My phone had been totaled in the wreck, so I couldn’t even try to contact him myself. For the next few days, Anna was my rock, my sole caretaker at the hospital. Through her stories, I started piecing together a mosaic of my past self. I learned that Jack and I had been together for three years, and our relationship had always been passionate. “You have no idea, Lily,” she said, her eyes wide. “The guy was like a human octopus, completely touch-starved. He was always all over you. All our friends were sick of your PDA. “I remember this one time you hid out at my place for days just to get a break, and when Jack finally found you, his eyes were bloodshot…” Seeing my spirits dip, Anna quickly tried to reassure me. “Hey, don’t worry. I’m sure he’s just tied up with something important. I’ll give him another call and see what’s up.” But I’d overheard her call to him yesterday. I had heard Jack’s voice, cold and sharp through the speaker. “Lillian and I are over. Her life has nothing to do with me anymore. Please tell her to stop trying to contact me.” Anna was probably just trying to protect my feelings by not telling me. 2 I had no idea why Jack and I would have broken up. Even my closest friend didn’t seem to know. But hey, there are plenty of fish in the sea. I decided not to dwell on it. The day before I was discharged, a group of friends and family arranged to visit. As a crowd of unfamiliar faces drifted toward my bed, all I could do was offer a weak smile and a nod. I didn’t recognize a single one of them. Then, a man appeared at the back of the group, a man whose good looks weren’t just about vibe or style. He was the kind of handsome that would stop you in your tracks, even in a plain white shirt. It was a raw, undeniable beauty that pulled your gaze and held it captive. I dug my nails into Anna’s arm. “I’m screwed,” I breathed. “I really, really like that one.” Anna shot me a look that was a complicated mix of pity and exasperation. “Well, that proves it. You’ve definitely lost your memory.” I blinked, confused. “What do you mean?” She sighed, a heavy, world-weary sound. “That’s Jack.” My world crumbled. Sure, there were plenty of men out there, but my heart had just zeroed in on him and him alone. Jack was here, but he didn’t approach me, didn’t say a single word. He hung back, a silent, brooding statue. My frustration simmered. When he stepped out to take a call, I slipped out of bed and followed him. From down the hallway, I could faintly hear him talking about something taking too long, mentioning medication as a solution… I waited until he hung up, then rushed over, forcing a bright smile. “Hi! Anna told me you’re my boyfriend?” Jack’s gaze locked onto mine, his eyes cold. “Wrong,” he corrected flatly. “Ex-boyfriend.” “Haha.” The laugh was dry and brittle in my throat. “No way. If you were my ex, why would you even be here at the hospital?” At that, a flicker of pure derision crossed his face. “What kind of game are you playing now, Lily?” “Huh?” What was he talking about? “You must have heard,” I said, my voice softer. “I don’t have any of my old memories.” I took a small step closer. “But I feel like… if I had a boyfriend who looked like you, I probably wouldn’t break up with him unless it was for a really good reason.” I mumbled the last part, unsure if he even heard me. Gaining a bit of courage, I reached for his hand. “So… can we get back together?” The next second, he jerked his hand away as if my touch had burned him. He let out a short, harsh laugh. “Lillian, what kind of man do you take me for?” He turned to leave. I scrambled to block his path. “Then at least tell me why we broke up!” My question seemed to ignite something in him. He looked even angrier, his jaw clenching so tight I could see the muscles flex. For a long moment, he just glared, a storm brewing in his eyes, but not a single word escaped his lips. 3 A terrible thought began to form in my mind. Jack had refused to see me after the accident. He only showed up, putting on this show of concern, after he heard I had amnesia. My voice was tight with suspicion. “It was because I found out you were cheating, wasn’t it? That’s why I broke up with you.” Jack froze for a second, then laughed. It wasn’t a sound of amusement; it was the sound of something breaking. He ground out the words through clenched teeth. “I wish it were that simple.” “What?” Could it be… that I was the one who cheated? Looking at the raw, barely-contained fury on his face, the flicker of hatred in his eyes, a wave of guilt washed over me. “Uh… sorry. My mistake. Never mind.” I scurried back to my room. The next day, Anna helped me check out of the hospital. In the car, she finally spoke, her voice hesitant. “So, uh… Jack called me last night. He said you should come by and pick up your things when you have time.” So he was really eager to cut all ties. It seemed more and more likely that I was the one at fault. I had to ask. “Anna, was I getting close to any other guys recently? Besides Jack?” Anna thought for a moment, then her face lit up with recognition. “Well, there was your senior from college, Leo.” I didn’t dare ask any more questions. 4 That evening, when I went to Jack’s apartment to pack my things, he was sitting on the sofa, a dark cloud hanging over him. But even with that grim expression, his handsome face was still enough to make my head spin. Does anyone understand this specific kind of despair? Finally finding your perfect type, only to wake up and discover he’s already your ex-boyfriend? I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I threw myself at him, wrapping my arms around his neck and bursting into tears. “I’m so sorry! I was wrong!” I sobbed into his shoulder. “Jack, please forgive me, okay? I’ll never do it again! “I swear, no other man out there is half as good as you. Please, let’s not be broken up, okay?” I lifted my tear-streaked face to look at him. His expression was a mask of strained control. He stared into my eyes for a long, searching moment, as if trying to decipher if my words were real or just another performance. I sniffled pathetically, tightening my arms around him. “Jack, just give me one more chance, please? I promise, I’ll only love you from now on.” But before he could answer, the front door, which had been left ajar, swung open. A beautiful woman in a white dress stood in the doorway. “Jack,” she said, her voice soft. My eyes shot to Jack, and I caught the flash of panic in his gaze. My heart plummeted into an icy abyss. It looked like Jack had already moved on. So what did that make me? A desperate, pathetic fool. Shame washed over me in a hot wave, and I scrambled off his lap. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know…” My voice was a choked whisper. “I’m so sorry to bother you. I won’t come back again.” With that, I covered my face and fled. It wasn’t until I was downstairs that I remembered what I’d come for. My stuff was still up there. I glanced up at his window. Two silhouettes stood close together. As I watched, their shadows drew closer, finally melting into one. The sight was a dagger to my eyes. I wrenched my gaze away. Forget the stuff. Did I really want to humiliate myself any further? I climbed back into Anna’s car, sobbing. Seeing me empty-handed and my eyes swollen shut, Anna assumed Jack had been cruel to me. She started rolling up her sleeves, ready for battle. “That’s it, he’s gone too far! You’re broken up, does he really need to be such a jerk about it?” I grabbed her arm. “No, it’s not like that. He didn’t do anything to me.” “Then what is it? Just tell me!” Anna’s patience was wearing thin. I wiped my face, resigned to the truth. “It’s me,” I said quietly. “I think I’m still in love with him. Seeing him with his new girlfriend… it just really hurt.” Anna’s jaw dropped. “What? You just broke up and he already has a replacement? Are you sure he wasn’t cheating on you the whole time?” “That’s what I thought at first,” I mumbled. “But with my memory gone, I have no way of knowing the real reason we broke up.” All I knew was that my mind, and my heart, were a complete mess. 5 Seeing me mope around for days, Anna dragged me to a bar to lift my spirits. I ordered a round of shots, ready to drink myself into oblivion, but Anna snatched the glass from my hand. “Not so fast,” she said with a mysterious grin. “Someone else is coming.” The person she was talking about was a mild-mannered guy with glasses. I stared at him for a long moment, but his face drew a complete blank. Anna slapped her forehead. “God, my brain! I keep forgetting about the amnesia.” She gestured to him. “Lily, this is Leo, your senior from college. He helped us out a ton back in the day.” I quickly stood up to greet him. “Leo, I’m so sorry, I really don’t remember.” Leo took my hand, his smile warm and reassuring. “I heard about your accident. Don’t worry about it, of course I understand.” But not long after we sat down, I started to notice Leo’s gaze lingering on me a little too often. A knot of anxiety tightened in my stomach. Oh God, did I already have something going on with him? But even with amnesia, I was still me. And looking at Leo, I felt… nothing. Absolutely nothing. Surely the old me wouldn’t have been that clueless, right? As my mind spiraled, Anna nudged me with her elbow. “Well, look who it is.” I followed her gaze. Jack and a group of his friends were walking into the bar. The woman in the white dress was with him. My mood instantly soured. Anna, ever the loyal best friend, read my mind. Her expression shifted to one of disgust. “Wow, he’s not even trying to hide it anymore. What a pig.” She leaned in, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Hey, bestie. You feel like getting a little revenge? Rattle his cage a bit?” I slumped onto the table, my head in my arms. “How? He obviously doesn’t care about me anymore.” “You don’t know that until you try.” A wicked smile spread across her face. She grabbed my hand and Leo’s and pulled us toward the dance floor. Leo seemed to understand her plan perfectly, staying close to me, his body a warm shield against the crowd. I tried to escape a few times, but Anna held me firm. “You wanted to know if he still has feelings for you, right?” she whispered in my ear. “If he does, seeing you this close to another guy will drive him insane.” So I stayed. I forced myself to dance, feeling awkward and exposed, but Jack’s group never once glanced in our direction. A wave of defeat washed over me. In that moment, I knew. He really, truly didn’t care anymore. The spark of hope I’d been clinging to died out. I excused myself to go to the restroom and left the dance floor. 6 I splashed cold water on my face, the shock of it clearing my head slightly. As I stared at my reflection, a bitter laugh escaped my lips. I was such an idiot. I decided then and there: I was done with Jack Vance. But as I walked out of the restroom, a hand shot out, grabbing my arm and shoving me into a dark corner by the wall. I opened my mouth to scream, but a familiar voice cut through the air from above me. “Stay away from Leo.” I looked up. Jack. His face was a thundercloud, his eyes blazing with a barely suppressed rage. What was his problem? One minute he’s ignoring me, the next he’s cornering me and giving me warnings? Was he afraid his new girlfriend would see and get jealous? A surge of anger propelled my words. “Why should I? Leo is a perfect gentleman. He’s kind and considerate. I like him. What business is it of yours?” Jack’s gaze lingered on my face for a moment before he let me go. He pulled out his phone, swiped a few times, and then held the screen up for me to see. “Leo. Kicked out of college for his ‘chaotic private life.’ Juggled multiple girls at once. The one who exposed him was pregnant with his child, and he bullied her into dropping out.” He lowered the phone. “This stuff isn’t just online. You could ask any of our old classmates, and they’d tell you the same thing. You wouldn’t be singing his praises if you knew the truth.” How could this be? The articles on his screen confirmed everything he said. I bit my lip, shame and humiliation burning my cheeks. But I didn’t want to lose. I wanted to win. “And what about you?” I shot back. “Ditching your new girlfriend to come lecture your ex? How does that make you any different from him?” Jack looked at me as if I were a complete stranger. He took a half-step back. “Lillian,” he said, his voice laced with a new kind of coldness. “I shouldn’t have bothered.” My eyes stung with unshed tears, but my voice remained hard. “Who asked you to? Keep your pity for yourself. Since you’ve chosen someone else, you should be treating her right, not breaking her heart.” His face was a mask of disappointment. “So, you’re still going to be with him?” “Whether I am or not,” I declared, “has nothing to do with you.” 7 “Jack.” As the tension between us crackled in the air, the woman from that night appeared. She walked right up to Jack and gently offered him a tissue. “You’ve got some sweat on your temple. Here, wipe it off.” Jack snapped back to reality and took the tissue. Standing together, they looked so perfectly matched. A handsome couple. Looking closer, they even resembled each other a bit. I lowered my head. No wonder he chose her. Her emotional intelligence alone was something I could probably never hope to achieve. Jack didn’t look at me again. He put his arm around the woman and started to lead her away. But then, she stopped and turned to walk toward me. In the few seconds it took for her to cross the distance, my mind raced through half a dozen dramatic confrontation scenarios. I’d heard about people like this—they seem nice on the surface, but they’re masters of passive aggression. Fearing I was no match for her, I clenched my fists, ready to bolt. But her first words were, “I think we’ve met a few times before, but you don’t seem to recognize me?” So they did know each other before. He worked fast. Jack was a real piece of work. “Sorry,” I said, my tone dripping with sarcasm. “I have face blindness. I don’t really remember people I haven’t seen much.” The woman simply nodded. “My name is Isabelle,” she said politely. “I hope you’ll remember me next time we meet.” That was it. I broke. How could she be so… so damn graceful? I was supposed to be her rival! I had lost. Utterly and completely. I ran. I fled from the bar like a coward. “Waaahhh…” I clung to Anna, crying so hard I could barely breathe. She hovered over me, completely helpless. “Lily, you have to tell me what’s wrong! How am I supposed to comfort you if I don’t know what happened?” I couldn’t speak. I just wailed. There was no way I was telling her about my total and complete humiliation. Anna, out of ideas, suggested that Leo take me home and try to console me. At the mention of his name, something clicked. I immediately refused. I wiped my tears and forced a cheerful tone. “Suddenly, I feel much better!” Leo, to his credit, didn’t press the issue. He just smiled his gentle smile. “Alright then. You two be careful. Call me when you get home.”

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1 The day I found out my mother was having an affair with my piano teacher, my father was eerily calm. All he said was that he wanted to hear me play one last piece. But as the final note faded into silence, he leaped from the roof of our three-story home. I watched him fall. I saw his body shatter against the flagstones, his blood staining the white roses in the garden a sickening crimson. From that moment on, the piano became my deepest, darkest nightmare. That’s why, on my wedding day, I told my wife, Aurora, “If you ever want to divorce me, just play a song on the piano.” Back then, she was just an unknown cover artist. She wrapped her arms around me, her embrace tight and fierce. “Don’t worry,” she whispered. “There will never be a piano in our house.” Five years later, Aurora was a sensation—a chart-topping singer-songwriter. When a top-tier luxury brand offered her a massive endorsement deal that required her to play piano in their commercial, she refused without a moment’s hesitation. Watching the press conference, seeing the unwavering resolve in her eyes, I thought to myself, this is what true love looks like. A year after that, I came home early, clutching the sheet music for a new song I’d just finished for her. But as I walked up the driveway, I heard it. A melody, flowing from the open windows of our mansion. The sound of a piano. I found Aurora seated at a grand piano I had never seen before. A young man in a crisp white suit stood behind her, his arms wrapped around her as their fingers danced and intertwined across the black and white keys. When she saw me, Aurora’s expression didn’t change. She just gestured casually. “Ethan, this is Leo. He’s your half-brother. He came to connect with family.” I stared at her, and a slow, cold smile spread across my face. “My father only had one son.” In that instant, I knew. Our marriage was over. 2 I sat before my father’s grave for three hours, the silence broken only by the wind whispering through the cypress trees. The sky was a heavy, oppressive grey, a cruel echo of the day he left me. In my head, a phantom concerto played on a loop. The piano. It used to be my world. Ten years ago today, my mother ran off with my piano teacher. And my father, my quiet, gentle father, ended his life to the soundtrack of my playing. After that, the piano became a ghost that haunted my every waking moment. A nightmare I could never escape. I’ve always believed I was the one who killed him. If I had never learned to play, if I hadn’t touched the keys that day… maybe he would still be here. And now, ten years later, my own wife had invited the son of that monster into my home, sat him down at a piano, and let him tear open my oldest, deepest wound. The most bitter irony? The piece they were playing was a melody I recognized—a variation of the breakout hit I wrote for Aurora, the song that launched her into stardom. The ladder I had painstakingly built for her, plank by painful plank, had just become the blade she plunged into my back. Finally, I stood up to leave, my joints stiff and cold. As I walked away from my father’s final resting place, my phone rang. It was Aurora. “It’s late. Why aren’t you home?” she asked, her tone flat. I said nothing. The old me, the Ethan of yesterday, would have been bursting with excitement. I would have told her the new song was my best work yet, that it would solidify her legacy, take her to heights she’d only dreamed of. But now, the words felt like ash in my mouth. Silence stretched between us. When I didn’t answer, her voice sharpened, climbing a few degrees. “Did you hear me? I’m talking to you.” “I’m at the cemetery,” I said, my voice hollow. A pause on her end. Then, with a sigh of impatience, she said, “You’re not seriously upset about me playing the piano with Leo, are you? It’s been ten years, Ethan. Don’t you think it’s time to let it go?” I wanted to scream, to rage, but a vicious cramp suddenly twisted my gut, so intense that the phone slipped from my grasp and clattered onto the pavement. Aurora must have heard the thud, because her tone shifted instantly. “Is it your stomach? Are you having an attack?” she asked, a flicker of concern in her voice. “Stay right where you are. I’m coming to take you to the hospital.” All those years, locked away in my studio, pouring my soul into her music… I’d forgotten to eat, to sleep, to take care of myself. The relentless pace had shredded my health, leaving me with a severe stomach condition. My hands trembling, I fumbled in my bag for my medication. I dry-swallowed the pills, and after a few moments, the razor-sharp pain began to dull. I pushed myself to my feet and started walking again. Just then, a sleek black car—Aurora’s car—screamed past me. It didn’t even slow down. A moment later, my phone buzzed with a text. [Leo twisted his ankle. It looks bad. Rushing him to the ER.] [Take your meds. I’ll come back for you as soon as I can.] I stared at the screen, my face a blank mask. I wasn’t surprised. Of course. Leo would never miss a chance to monopolize her attention. And Aurora… she knew his little games. She understood his manipulations perfectly. But she enjoyed them. She thrived on being needed, on being the center of his world. Because she didn’t give a damn about mine. Fine. It didn’t matter anymore. Because from this moment on, I didn’t give a damn about hers either. I scrolled through my contacts until I found my lawyer’s number. “I’m getting a divorce,” I said, my voice steady and cold. “And I want you to immediately terminate all free-use licenses of my songs for Aurora Vance. Effective immediately.” She was the star of the label, the queen of the charts. I was the chief songwriter, the ghost in the machine. She glittered in the spotlight; I toiled in the shadows. For ten years, I had taken a nobody from a dimly lit club and molded her into a superstar. But somewhere along the way, the love we shared had faded into nothing. 3 Aurora didn’t come home that night. She didn’t call, either. Naturally, I didn’t ask. The next morning, I heard a key turn in the lock. She walked in, looking exhausted, dark circles smudged under her eyes. “Leo’s ankle was sprained pretty badly. He couldn’t manage on his own, so I stayed with him at the hospital,” she explained, her voice weary. “It got too late, so I just crashed on a cot in his room.” “Oh,” I said, my eyes not leaving the divorce agreement my lawyer had emailed over. It didn’t matter. Soon, we wouldn’t be husband and wife. She could have all the freedom she wanted. Her life would no longer have anything to do with me. My indifference seemed to throw her off. She paused, a flicker of surprise on her face, as if she wanted to say something more. After a moment’s hesitation, she pulled a single ticket from her pocket. “You always said you wanted to see one of my concerts live,” she said, holding it out. “It’s the day after tomorrow. Eight p.m.” In the ten years we’d been together, I had written hundreds of her hits. She performed hundreds of shows a year. But not once had she ever invited me. She used to apologize, her eyes filled with a carefully practiced regret. “Ethan, I’m so sorry. I just can’t. My career is at such a critical point. Half my fanbase thinks of me as their girlfriend. If news got out that I was married… it would destroy everything.” And I understood. I accepted the life of a shadow. I learned to date in a mask and a baseball cap. I learned to walk in the opposite direction when the movie credits rolled, leaving her to face the world alone so I could slip away unnoticed. But then Leo came along. And suddenly, there he was, sitting in the front-row VIP section, basking in the spotlight. I watched from a pirated stream as Aurora sang the songs I wrote, her smile directed only at him. I saw her take his hand and pull him onto the stage. The camera flashes I had hidden from for a decade exploded, capturing them together. Aurora Vance, the star who famously had zero scandals, was finally in the gossip columns. Not with her husband, but with Leo. That’s when I finally understood. The rules were never for the one she loved. They were only for me. The one she didn’t. My gaze flickered over the ticket. It was for her one-thousandth concert, a landmark event. All her oldest fans would be there. It was meant to be the most important night of her career. When I made no move to take it, she froze. She opened her mouth, then closed it again. “Let’s have dinner tonight,” she said finally, her voice softer. “After all, it’s our tenth anniversary.” I nodded. No reason to refuse. It seemed fitting. A perfect day to put a final, decisive end to a decade of my life. 4 I arrived at the restaurant on time, the freshly printed divorce papers tucked safely in my briefcase. When I pushed open the door to our private room, I saw him. Leo. Sitting right next to Aurora. I turned to leave, but she grabbed my wrist. “Don’t go,” she pleaded. “Leo is a good person. He genuinely wants to make things right with you. He just wants you to let go of the past.” A tremor ran through me. My nails dug into my palms, the pain a welcome distraction. Let it go? She wanted me to forgive them? The father and son duo who had destroyed my world? Forgive the man who drove my own father to his death? Never. Not in this life. If he truly meant no harm, then why did he help shatter a marriage? Why did he back my father into a corner with no way out? And why, why did he and my mother move so quickly to build their new life while my father’s body was barely cold in the ground? Suppressing a wave of violent rage, I pulled the divorce agreement from my briefcase and threw it in her face. The papers fluttered down onto the table between us. “Sign it,” I bit out. The words “DIVORCE AGREEMENT” stared up at her. Her face paled, then hardened. “Ethan, what is the meaning of this?” What could it possibly mean? It means we’re done. Beside her, Leo shot her a nervous glance, his voice trembling pitifully. “Sister Aurora… it seems brother still won’t forgive me. Maybe… maybe I should just leave. I don’t want to be the cause of any trouble between you two.” He sniffled, his eyes growing red-rimmed. “I know. In his heart, I’ll always be a sinner. He won’t even give me a chance to atone.” That was all it took. Aurora immediately sprang to his defense. “The sins of the past have nothing to do with him! He’s just a kid, Ethan. Why do you have to cling to it so obsessively?” He’s just a kid? And what was I? When my father died right before my eyes, wasn’t I just a kid, too? “Think whatever you want,” I said, my voice devoid of emotion. “Just sign the papers.” Seeing my resolve, her expression turned to ice. She glared at me, then snatched a pen and scrawled her name across the signature line. “Fine,” she snapped, shoving the document back at me. “If you want to play hard to get, I’ll play along.” As I walked out of the room, I could hear her voice, soft and soothing, comforting Leo as he began to sob. Once, that sound would have ripped my heart out. Now, all I felt was a profound, liberating sense of relief. My lawyer called a moment later. “The copyright reclamation agreement is drafted. We’ll serve it to her representatives the day after tomorrow.” The thought of Aurora receiving that notice on the day of her one-thousandth concert, her crowning achievement… I couldn’t help it. I started to laugh.

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The day before Valentine’s, my fiancée—who feared water—announced she was taking swimming lessons. I knew instantly: she’d fallen for the instructor downstairs. I went to one class, then gave her an ultimatum: call off the wedding or cut ties with him. Vivian stormed out and didn’t return all night. The next day, she came back exhausted and aching, but swore I was the only one from then on. At our wedding, as the officiant said, “You may kiss the bride,” she shoved me away. “I can’t kiss someone I don’t love,” she choked out. “I can’t lie to my heart.” In a flash of white silk, she ran from the altar straight into the weeping instructor’s arms in the crowd. The room erupted. Cameras flashed like a supernova. I became the city’s laughingstock overnight. The top trending video was their passionate kiss at my wedding. My heart turned to ash. Since you chose to betray me again, don’t blame me for burning your world down. … Watching her run, the last ember of hope inside me died. I swept my arm across the champagne tower, sending a cascade of crystal and glass shattering to the floor. My voice was a blade of ice. “If you walk out that door right now, my family, the Blackwoods, and yours, the Crosses—from this day on, it’s war.” Vivian faltered, her eyes instantly welling with tears. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice carrying across the stunned silence. “But I can’t betray my heart. I’ll make it up to you someday.” Within thirty minutes, the headlines were everywhere: Heiress Vivian Cross Abandons Wedding for True Love. The internet comments were brutal. 【LOL, is this guy for real? Sounds like a villain from a cheap romance novel! Getting dumped is exactly what he deserves!】 【If he’s this arrogant in public, imagine what a monster he is in private. Someone should investigate the Blackwood family!】 【Go Vivian! Women shouldn’t be sacrificed for family alliances!】 In a flash, the Blackwood name became a joke. And Vivian, the architect of my humiliation, was hailed by the media as a modern heroine, bravely chasing her heart. I scrolled through the screen, my face a mask of stone. Then I saw her latest post, an “apology statement.” 【While this decision has deeply hurt Donovan, I simply cannot accept a marriage without love, to spend the rest of my life in a numb stupor… The fault is all mine. I beg you all not to direct your anger at him.】 The accompanying photo was of her, eyes swollen from crying. What truly stung was the cheap silver ring on her finger. It wasn’t the one I’d given her. Then, Dylan, the instructor, poured gasoline on the fire: 【Vivian feels terrible, she’s lost so much weight over this. You can’t force love. I hope we can all still be friends.】 A laugh, raw and furious, tore from my throat. If she had been honest with me before the wedding, I would have let her go. I would have given her my blessing. But she hadn’t. She chose this moment, in front of the whole city, to grind my family’s dignity into the dust. And now she thought she could use public opinion to force my forgiveness? Never. “Get on the phone now,” I snapped to my assistant. “Pull all Blackwood investments from Cross Industries. Terminate every single partnership.” “Then, use every resource we have to fund their direct competitors.” “If the Cross family isn’t bankrupt by the end of the year, I’ll change my name.” Sweat beaded on my assistant’s forehead. “Mr. Blackwood,” he ventured cautiously, “the public opinion is catastrophic for us right now. If we make a move like this, it could backfire…” “Backfire?” I cut him off, my voice sharp as broken glass. “A backstabbing parasite who repays kindness with betrayal doesn’t deserve to be taught a lesson?” “We’ll make an example of the Cross family. Let’s see who dares to challenge the Blackwoods after this.” I rubbed my throbbing temples as memories assaulted me. Years ago, when Vivian’s grandfather died suddenly, his illegitimate son had swooped in, poised to seize the family fortune. Vivian had knelt in a torrential downpour for a day and a night, begging for my help. “Mr. Blackwood, if you save my family, I’ll do anything you ask for the rest of my life!” In a moment of weakness, I had proposed a marriage alliance. She had agreed without hesitation. After our engagement, I kept my promise. I not only helped her reclaim her company and sent the illegitimate son to prison, but I personally mentored her, transforming Cross Industries from a small local business into a corporate titan. But slowly, things began to change. She started resisting my touch, rejecting my advice, yearning for some so-called “pure love.” Then Dylan, the swimming instructor, appeared. And she poured every ounce of her passion and affection onto him. I had given her one last chance, just two weeks ago. “Vivian,” I’d warned her. “If you still want this wedding to happen, you need to remember your boundaries.” She had just laughed it off. “We’re just a student and a teacher. You’re the one with the dirty mind, seeing filth everywhere.” “Honestly, Donovan, are you so guilty about your own cheating that you have to project it onto me?” My voice had dropped, turning cold. “If you cross the line, I will take back everything I’ve given you.” She had flinched then, her tone finally softening. “You’ve misunderstood. There’s nothing between Dylan and me. I won’t see him again.” For a moment, I actually believed her. I thought we could go back. But in the end, she betrayed my final shred of trust. And for that, there would be no mercy. The next morning, Vivian burst into my office with a swarm of reporters. The moment she was through the door, the waterworks began. “Donovan,” she sobbed, “I’ve already apologized publicly… please, I’m begging you, let me go. Let my family go…” She held out a document with a trembling hand. It was a termination of our engagement contract, but with one unbelievable clause: all Blackwood investments and partnerships were to remain in place. She had trampled my family’s honor, dragged me through the mud with a media circus, and now she had the audacity to demand we continue funding her? Did I really look that weak? “Vivian,” I asked, my voice dangerously calm. “You humiliate my family, you play the victim online, and you still expect my money and resources after you walk away?” “Do you take me for a fool?” With a dramatic cry, she threw herself to the floor and began banging her head against the marble, her tears mixing with the blood trickling from her forehead. “Donovan, it’s all my fault! Please don’t take it out on my parents…” she wailed. “You can hit me, you can scream at me, I won’t say a word!” Dylan, the instructor, rushed forward and pulled her up, shielding her behind him. He leaned in close to me, his voice a low, venomous hiss. “Don’t push it, Blackwood. I have a thousand ways I can make you get on your knees and beg Vivian to forgive you.” “Some people, you just can’t afford to cross.” I met his gaze, unblinking. “I’d like to see who dares to touch the Blackwood family.” A muscle twitched in Dylan’s jaw. He raised his fist to strike, but Vivian suddenly lunged forward, grabbing my legs, smearing blood and tears on my custom-made shoes. “Donovan, I couldn’t control my heart! I fell in love with Dylan!” she cried. “Do whatever you want to me, but please, don’t hurt an innocent man…” My eyes lifted, scanning the flashing cameras. My heart felt like it was being pierced by a thousand needles. Finally, one word escaped my lips, laced with utter contempt. “Get. Out.” Vivian stumbled backward as if I’d struck her. Dylan caught her, then spun around and slapped me hard across the face. “You dare push her?!” A searing sting erupted on my cheek. I licked the corner of my mouth and laughed, a sound devoid of all humor. Dylan’s voice was as cold as a snake’s. “The Blackwood Corporation is finished.” “All those years you forced her to run the company, to entertain clients, you made a fortune off her back! Her debt to you is paid!” “She’s a human being, not your personal ATM!” My gaze, sharp as a surgeon’s scalpel, cut to Vivian. “Mentoring you, bringing you into the world of business—in your eyes, that was just using you for money?” “Putting your parents in the best care facility in the country—was that just a way to control you?” “Vivian, where is your conscience?” Her eyes were red, but she couldn’t meet my gaze. A bitter, broken laugh escaped me, tears burning my eyes. “Vivian, you don’t have a heart.” She threw herself at my feet again. “Donovan, I’ll repay your kindness, I swear… Just please, let us be happy…” Her hand trembled as she placed it on her flat stomach. “The baby is innocent. He can’t grow up without a father…” The words hit me like a physical blow. I staggered back, my legs threatening to give out. They had a child. Of course, they had a child. That night, Vivian went live online, “exposing” me to the world. She cried so hard she could barely breathe. “For a business deal, he forced me to wear those kinds of clothes to please a client… When I refused, he… he burned me with a cigarette…” Dylan held her protectively, his eyes blazing with fury. “Donovan Blackwood! Are you trying to kill her? Is that what you want?!” Vivian frantically tried to cover his mouth. “Donovan, I’m sorry, Dylan is just upset, he didn’t mean to be disrespectful. But if you don’t end this engagement… I don’t think I can go on living…” Dylan pushed her hand away, his voice cracking with emotion. “You won’t let her go because you’re afraid you’ll lose your cash cow, aren’t you? You’re nothing but a parasite, sucking the life out of a woman!” Vivian then shoved him aside and, facing the camera, began slamming her head on the floor again. “Donovan, he’s just worried about me, please, don’t destroy us…” The comment section was a waterfall of hatred. 【DONOVAN BLACKWOOD MUST DIE! SCUM! VAMPIRE!】 【RUN, VIVIAN! WE SUPPORT YOU!】 【So the great CEO is just a coward who hides behind a woman!】 Finally, Vivian announced through her sobs that she and Dylan would be getting married abroad next month. “I need to live for myself, just this once.” The livestream ended, but the storm was just beginning. Blackwood stock plummeted. Partners fled. I was public enemy number one. I stared at the pathetic, tear-streaked face on the screen, a cold, absurd emptiness filling me. Hatred, like a thorny vine, wrapped itself around my heart and squeezed. I pressed the intercom, my voice devoid of all warmth. “Tell every executive to be in the main conference room. Immediately.” The room was full. I threw a thick stack of documents onto the table. “Vivian Cross is in severe breach of contract and has maliciously damaged the Blackwood reputation. File the lawsuit immediately.” “At the same time, freeze all assets of the Cross family.” When we’d formed our partnership, I had included ironclad penalty clauses. I could lift her to the heavens, and I could just as easily smash her back to earth. “And release these bank statements to the press.” For the past six months, Vivian had been embezzling funds, setting up shell companies, and evading taxes. The total was nearly thirty million dollars. And almost every cent of it had been funneled to Dylan. Our CFO glanced at the first page and audibly gasped. “Finally,” I said, my voice dropping. “Publish the termination agreement she tried to force on me. In full.” If she had the gall to demand such terms, she could bear the consequences. “I want everyone to see who the real parasite is.”

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When I came back to life, the first thing I did was order fifty pounds of ground meat and gather my family to make ravioli. I did this because, in my last life, my stepmother, Brenda, had an affair and got pregnant by another man. To hide her betrayal from my father, she orchestrated a public spectacle. She went to a chaotic Black Friday sale, intentionally got into the scrum for a discounted coffee machine, and let herself be knocked to the ground, inducing a miscarriage. When she came home, she collapsed into my father’s arms, sobbing. “It was Mia,” she cried. “She’s so cheap, she insisted we go fight for that stupid sale. If she hadn’t dragged me there, I wouldn’t have fallen. I wouldn’t have lost our son…” I tried to explain, but my own fiancé, Caleb, stepped forward to drive the nail into my coffin. “Mia, I am so disappointed in you,” he said, his face a mask of disgust. “I’ve tolerated your cheapness—scamming free meals, shoplifting snacks from the bulk bins—but this? Forcing your stepmother into a dangerous crowd just to save a few bucks, causing her to lose a child? I can’t do this anymore. The engagement is off.” My father exploded. He chased me through the house, his rage a storm of slaps and curses. Afterward, he had me committed to a corrupt psychiatric facility upstate. I was locked away, mistreated, and left to die from a septic infection after a botched medical procedure. It was only after I died that I learned the truth. Caleb had been sleeping with my stepmother all along. Our engagement was just a convenient cover for their affair. When I opened my eyes again, I was back. Back on the morning of the day Brenda went to the Black Friday sale. 1 I was curled up in bed, tears soaking my pillow, when the phone rang. I answered it instinctively. It was Brenda. “Morning, sweetie,” she chirped. “It’s Christmas Eve, so I’m going to do a little shopping, treat myself. I won’t be home to cook today, so you can handle the housework and make dinner for your dad and grandparents, okay?” She said it not as a request, but as a statement of fact, giving me no room to refuse. “And don’t tell your dad where I am. You know how he hovers. A girl needs her breathing room.” Her voice was syrupy sweet. “You’re such a good girl, Mia. You’re my little helper. I’ll bring you back something nice!” Then she hung up. I tried calling her back—five, six times. Every call went straight to voicemail. She’d already blocked my number. The repeated dial tone shocked me back to the present, and a cold sweat broke out across my skin. I was back. I had been given a second chance. In my last life, Brenda had married my father thinking he was wealthy. She was sorely disappointed to find out he was just a retired tradesman with no pension. All the nice things he’d shown off during their courtship—the car, the apartment—were actually mine. She felt trapped, but she stayed, her resentment simmering just beneath the surface. Last time, on Christmas Eve, she had made the same call. I’d agreed to her request, but then got called into the office to handle a crisis. I worked all day, only getting home late for dinner. I walked into a house thick with a terrifying silence. My father stood in the living room, his face a thundercloud, while Brenda wept at his side. “Mia, it’s all your fault,” she’d sobbed. “If you hadn’t been so cheap, if you hadn’t dragged me to that horrible sale, I wouldn’t have been pushed. I wouldn’t have lost the baby.” I was floored. “What are you talking about? I was at work all day. I have timestamps, emails…” Before I could pull out my phone, Caleb snatched it from my hand, threw it to the floor, and stomped on it. “I can’t believe you,” he’d spat. “I’m done. We’re done.” His betrayal was all the proof my father needed. He saw the loss of his unborn son as the ultimate failure, and I was the one to blame. He dragged me out of the house that night. I now knew the child she’d lost wasn’t my father’s. It was Caleb’s. They’d been careless, and this elaborate, cruel performance was their way of erasing the evidence. Brilliant, really. Utterly monstrous, but brilliant. This time, things would be different. A cold smile touched my lips. I wasn’t going anywhere. I ordered fifty pounds of ground meat for delivery. Then I sent a text to my boss. Family emergency. Requesting to work from home for the holiday. I was the backbone of my company. My boss trusted me implicitly. The reply came back in minutes: Approved. Take care of things. With my alibi established, I got up and took a long, hot shower. By the time I was sitting at the breakfast table, the doorbell rang. The butcher delivered the meat. My father and grandparents stared at the massive containers in disbelief. “Where on earth did all this come from?” my grandmother asked. I passed the buck to my boss. “A client defaulted on a payment, so they paid the company in product. They’re a meat distributor.” I shrugged. “So, instead of a cash bonus this year, my boss just gave us all a share of the meat. Said we should all go home and make ravioli for Christmas.” “Fifty pounds?” my grandma gasped. “We’ll be making ravioli until New Year’s!” “Well, there go my plans for chess with the guys,” my grandfather sighed. I turned to my father. “Dad, we can’t let all this meat go to waste. Grandma and Grandpa are in. You’re not going to sit this out, are you? Go wash your hands.” Muttering curses about my boss under his breath, my father rolled up his sleeves and started chopping onions and garlic, soon sweating with the effort. On Christmas Eve, while other families were decorating trees and wrapping presents, ours was an assembly line of misery. My father, the strongest among us, chopped, mixed, and kneaded dough until he was panting like a dog. By noon, everyone was starving. My father remembered his absent wife. “It’s twelve-thirty. Where’s your stepmother? Why isn’t she here making lunch?” I feigned innocence. “I don’t know. I tried calling her this morning, but I think she blocked me.” I put on a worried expression. “Do you think she’s mad at me? Maybe you should try calling her, Dad.” He frowned and dialed Brenda’s number. He tried three times. No answer. His temper flared. “Did you two have a fight? Why isn’t she answering my calls?” He glared at me. “You’re twenty-five years old, Mia. Stop acting like a child and provoking your mother.” I put on my best wounded expression and played the call recording from that morning. “Dad, you’re blaming me again. But this time, you’re the reason she’s not home.” The whole family listened as Brenda’s cheerful voice filled the room, ending with the line about needing “breathing room” from my hovering father. His face went dark. He lit a cigarette and smoked it down to the filter in silence. While my grandparents tried to soothe him, I ordered four large pizzas. “Mom’s not here and we’re busy,” I said brightly. “Let’s just get takeout.” My grandparents praised me for being so thoughtful. My father just sat there, stewing in a black mood that lasted the rest of the day. By evening, all fifty pounds of meat had been turned into countless trays of ravioli. Our hands were cramping. My dad went out for another pack of cigarettes while my grandparents started boiling the water for dinner. I sat on the sofa, scrolling through my phone, and allowed myself a small, satisfied smile. I hadn’t left the house. I had been with my family all day. There was no way Brenda could pin her “miscarriage” on me this time. Just as I thought that, the front door burst open. Caleb was supporting a pale, weeping Brenda. The moment she saw me, she let out a wail. “Mia! You monster! After I treated you like my own daughter, how could you do this to me?” Before I could even speak, Caleb joined in. “I can’t believe your cruelty, Mia. You are a heartless snake. I am so disappointed in you. We are through!” I looked at them, my face a mask of pure confusion. “What are you talking about? Brenda, you were pregnant? When did this happen? Why didn’t I know?” My feigned ignorance only made Brenda cry harder. “So this is how it is! All those times you were sweet to me, it was all an act! You’ve hated me all along!” She pointed a shaking finger at me. “I told you the good news last night, and what do you do? You drag me to that sale this morning, you push me into that crowd, and you get me trampled!” Her voice rose to a hysterical shriek. “I barely survived, and you stand there acting like you know nothing? How could you be so cruel?” Our old house was in a tight-knit courtyard community. On Christmas Eve, the shared yard was full of neighbors building snowmen and lighting firecrackers. Hearing the commotion, they all started to gather at our doorway. Brenda, ever the performer, made sure to stand right on the threshold, her voice carrying across the entire courtyard. The neighbors began to murmur, their eyes turning on me. “I can’t believe it. Mia seems so sweet, but she intentionally caused her stepmother to have a miscarriage?” “You never know what’s in a person’s heart. We watched her grow up, and this is what she becomes?” One woman shook her head. “I’m telling my son to stay away from her. Who knows what she’s capable of.” The murmurs grew into a chorus of condemnation. I felt tears welling in my eyes. But this time, they weren’t tears of helplessness. They were tears of pure, unadulterated excitement. The show was about to begin. Seeing my tears, Brenda thought she had me cornered. She doubled down, regaling the neighbors with more fabricated details of my cruelty. Caleb, meanwhile, grabbed me by the shoulders and tried to force me to my knees. “Children are meant to respect their parents! You will get on your knees and you will apologize to Brenda for the child you murdered!” He tightened his grip. “As your fiancé, it’s my job to teach you some discipline!” He shoved my head down, forcing me to bow again and again until my forehead was scraped and bleeding. “That’s not enough,” he declared. “An apology can’t bring back a child. You need to compensate her.” He looked at me, his eyes cold and greedy. “Give Brenda your year-end bonus so she can buy supplements. And sign over your new apartment to her, so she has a quiet place to recover. That is the only way to show you are truly sorry.” I almost laughed out loud. It was so absurd, so brazen. And suddenly, it all made sense. This wasn’t just about covering up their affair. It was about getting rid of me and taking everything I had. No wonder Caleb had suddenly started pursuing me so intensely, right after Brenda realized my father wasn’t her ticket to a life of luxury. I looked up at Caleb and spit directly in his face. “You want my bonus and my apartment for a bastard child you knocked up? In your dreams.” They were both stunned, then furious. “Caleb, don’t,” Brenda sobbed, playing the victim. “She’s never liked me. It’s no use.” She turned dramatically. “A stepmother is never welcome. The world hates me, my own family tries to kill me… I might as well be dead!” She made a show of running towards a tree as if to bash her head against it. Caleb rushed to stop her. “Don’t worry, Brenda. I’ve already called Frank. He’s on his way. He’ll make this right.”

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The first person I saw after stepping off the plane at JFK was a ghost from a past I had buried seven years ago: my ex-fiancé’s sister. She cornered me by the baggage claim, her arms crossed. “It’s been seven years, Elara. Don’t you think it’s time you apologized to my brother?” Her brother, Julian Vance, was the man I almost married. Seven years ago, at our engagement party, in front of everyone we knew, he had shattered my world. He’d publicly called off our wedding, accusing me of carrying another man’s child. He wished me a long and happy life with my “lover” before taking his young assistant’s hand and walking out, leaving me in the ruins. But there was no lover. There never had been. The wound he’d carved into my soul had been so deep I’d fled New York that very night. And now, his sister, Jessica, stood before me, suggesting I should be the one to crawl back and beg for a second chance. A dry laugh escaped my lips. “Apologize? For what? My daughter is already in kindergarten. The time for reconciliation is long past.” 1 Jessica’s perfectly made-up face stared back at me in disbelief. “What did you say? You… you’re married?” Her voice was a stuttered whisper, as if she couldn’t process the words. “And a child? A… a four-year-old?” I gave a curt nod, having no desire to get dragged back into the Vance family drama. I tried to step around her, but she grabbed my arm, her grip surprisingly strong. “You’re joking, Elara. This has to be a joke!” Her voice climbed to a shrill pitch, drawing stares from fellow travelers. “You would never marry someone else! You couldn’t possibly give up on Julian!” She leaned in, her voice dripping with a venomous pity. “Everyone in our circle knew you lived and breathed for him. A shadow. You threw away that incredible career opportunity, a job anyone would kill for, all for him. How could you possibly marry another man?” Her eyes widened with a sudden, crazed realization. “And the child! She’s not four! She’s seven! She has to be Julian’s daughter!” I felt a familiar headache begin to throb at my temples. I couldn’t believe she was dredging up my past devotion as proof of her insane theory. It was true, I had loved Julian. I’d loved him so much that everyone saw me as an extension of him, not as his partner. But that was a lifetime ago. “Why would I lie to you?” I asked, my voice flat. “And as for Julian’s child… I took care of that seven years ago.” The implication of my words seemed to ignite her. Her grip tightened, her nails digging into my skin. “Impossible! Tell me, who is your husband? Is he as handsome as Julian? As tall? I bet he’s not even six feet.” The questions came in a torrent, each one a thinly veiled insult. “What does he do? Where does he work? Does he even clear six figures a year?” Her words were laced with a hostile certainty that by leaving her brother, I had doomed myself to a life of mediocrity. I had no interest in wasting my breath on a woman so blinded by a cult-like devotion to her brother. “Jessica,” I said calmly, “this has nothing to do with you or your family anymore.” I began to pry her fingers off my arm, one by one. She wouldn’t let go. “Is that it, Elara? Did you marry some lesser man just to spite my brother? Do you have any idea what he’s been through? He nearly destroyed himself looking for you!” She puffed out her chest, a triumphant gleam in her eye. “He runs Vance Corporation now! He’s powerful, handsome, and rich. Women dream of being with him! And you, you foolish girl, threw him away out of stubborn pride!” By the end of her speech, she was practically beaming, as if the world contained no other man of value. As if I were a blind fool for not wanting him back. She lifted her chin, looking down her nose at me. “It’s not too late to apologize. We Vances aren’t completely unreasonable.” The sheer audacity made me want to laugh, but all I felt was a wave of nausea. 2 Seven years ago, I stood on a stage in a pristine white dress, my hand outstretched, ready to begin the rest of my life. Instead, Julian, my groom-to-be, took the microphone and shattered it. He threw the diamond ring that was meant for my finger to the floor. “I gave you so many chances to be honest with me, Elara, but you kept lying!” I was bewildered. “Lying about what?” “Ladies and gentlemen,” he announced to the stunned crowd, “I regret to inform you that the wedding is off. It seems Ms. Hayes here has found comfort in another man’s arms. The child she is carrying is not mine!” With that, he flung a stack of photographs at my face. They scattered across the floor at my feet—intimate, compromising pictures of me in bed with a man I had never seen before. A gasp rippled through the guests. Julian’s parents wore masks of fury, while my own parents’ faces burned with shame. “Those aren’t real!” I pleaded, my voice trembling. “I don’t know that man!” But Julian’s eyes were cold steel. “The Vances have a legacy to protect. I will not marry a woman with a divided heart, and I certainly won’t raise another man’s bastard child!” He turned, took his young assistant’s hand, and walked off the stage. The groom was gone. The wedding was over. My parents, after slapping me hard across the face, rushed after the Vances, leaving me alone amidst the scattered lies, the target of a hundred pairs of judging eyes. The day before I left New York for good, Julian’s mother requested a meeting. She surveyed me from across a small café table, her expression unreadable. “Julian’s behavior was in poor taste,” she began, her tone measured. “This was a private matter that should have been handled discreetly, not turned into a public spectacle.” She paused, taking a sip of her tea. “And yes, we know the photos were doctored. Julian is a good boy, but he can be naive. He was manipulated. His father and I have taken him to task for his outburst.” Her tone shifted, becoming sharp as glass. “However, the damage to his reputation is done. You know Julian is the sole heir to the Vance Corporation. He cannot afford the slightest hint of scandal. He needs a partner who supports him, who is unimpeachable.” I understood her meaning perfectly and said nothing. She slid a bank card across the table. “This is three million dollars. Get rid of the baby.” I stared at the card. “What does he think?” I managed to ask. A small, thin smile touched her lips. “My son? Did you see his assistant at the party? Melissa Monroe. A Cambridge PhD. She will be Julian’s future wife. As you know, our family has traditional values. We cannot have a daughter-in-law with your… history.” But I knew. It wasn’t about my manufactured history. It was about securing a powerful alliance. Even if it meant sacrificing their own grandchild. 3 “Elara, are you even listening to me?” Jessica’s angry voice pulled me from the memory. “My brother is a huge success, and he’s still obsessed with you. All you have to do is say you’re sorry, and you can have it all back.” I looked at her, this woman so lost in her own self-serving fantasy, and felt nothing but pity. “No, thank you,” I said, my voice clear and steady. “I’m very happy now. And I don’t need your brother’s forgiveness.” With that, I turned and walked toward the taxi stand. “You’ll regret this, Elara!” she screamed after me. “Without my brother, you’re nothing! You’ll be stuck with that poor, pathetic husband of yours for the rest of your life!” I didn’t look back. Everyone once thought I couldn’t live without Julian Vance. But the world keeps spinning, with or without any single person in it. Soon, I arrived at the preschool. Across the street, I saw my daughter, Lily, laughing as she and her friends played with a jump rope. Her smile was pure sunshine. A warmth spread through my chest, and I started to cross toward her. Suddenly, I was slammed against a brick wall. “Elara, I can’t believe you’d stoop to such a childish game just to get back at me.” I looked up. The man pinning me to the wall was impossibly handsome, dressed in a tailored suit that looked like it had just come from a boardroom. It was my ex-fiancé, Julian. Seeing him after seven years was disorienting. We’d grown up together, our houses separated only by a quiet suburban street. We were inseparable. He’d transformed himself from a slacker to a top student just to get into the same university as me, even turning down a scholarship to study abroad. Everyone said he was crazy about me. And I, in turn, had given up a lucrative career to support his. When his work became all-consuming, I was the one who brought him home-cooked meals, who listened to his frustrations, who made sure he never had to worry about a thing. Slowly, in the eyes of others, I went from his girlfriend to his devoted follower. We used to laugh it off. Then Melissa Monroe appeared. His new assistant. Capable, gentle, beautiful. At first, I paid her no mind. Julian had always been surrounded by impressive women, but his eyes had only ever been for me. Until they weren’t. Their private messages became more frequent. One afternoon, I left my phone at his office by mistake. When I went back to get it, I heard Melissa’s voice from inside his office. “Julian,” she was saying, holding my phone, “Elara’s phone is here. I accidentally saw a new message… from someone saved as ‘My Darling’.” She looked up and saw me, then had the audacity to feign embarrassment. “Oh, Elara, I am so sorry! I wasn’t trying to snoop, I was just curious.” Julian’s face went dark. “She’s a female friend,” I explained. “She uses a male profile for her work.” I even played a voice note from our chat to prove it. But as the clear, feminine voice filled the room, Julian just stared at me, his face an unreadable mask. After that, a wall of ice grew between us. My attempts to talk were always brushed aside with the excuse of “work.” Meanwhile, Melissa was always there, offering him comfort and support. The day before our engagement party, she sent me a photo: Julian, asleep beside her, dark circles of exhaustion under his eyes. Melissa’s expression in the photo was one of smug triumph. A voice message followed. “Julian’s been under so much stress with work lately,” she cooed. “Try not to upset him.” My mind reeled, but I told myself he was just exhausted from work, that he’d had too much to drink. I spent right up until the ceremony trying to bridge the gap between us, unwilling to let a misunderstanding destroy a twenty-year history. I never imagined he would use a stranger’s lies to publicly humiliate me, to abandon me on what should have been the happiest day of my life. And now, here he was, his eyes bloodshot with a terrifying intensity. “You run off with my daughter for seven years, Elara, and you have nothing to say for yourself?” “Mr. Vance,” I said, my voice cold, “the child you’re referring to is gone.” “Enough, Elara!” he snarled, his composure cracking. “Not only did you cheat on me with some lowlife, you took my mother’s money and left me, and now you’re trying to make my daughter call another man ‘daddy’!” Before I could react, he lunged past me and snatched Lily. “What are you doing?!” I screamed, my blood running cold. He ignored me, turning to my terrified, sobbing daughter. “Shh, don’t cry,” he crooned. “Daddy’s taking you home.” Lily’s cries intensified into heart-wrenching wails. “You’re not my daddy! I want my mommy!” She struggled in his arms, her face turning red as she gasped for air. A spear of panic pierced my heart. “Julian, give her back to me!” I lunged for her, but he shoved me hard, sending me stumbling to the pavement. He looked down at me, his face twisted with rage. “You ran away with my child. Why should I give her back to you now?” Ignoring the scrape on my knee, I scrambled up and charged toward him again. This time, an arm shot out and grabbed me. It was Jessica. She sneered, her eyes filled with contempt. “I’ve seen your type before, Elara. Using a child to claw your way back into wealth. You’re just playing hard to get.” She tightened her grip. “I’m telling you, you are not taking a Vance child anywhere today!” As she spoke, Julian moved toward his car, still holding my screaming daughter. Just as he reached for the door handle, he glanced back at me. “If you want your daughter back, divorce that nobody. No daughter of mine will call another man father.” In that same instant, a black Rolls-Royce appeared out of nowhere, speeding directly toward Julian’s car. My heart leaped into my throat. Julian froze, his legs visibly buckling. His grip on Lily slackened for just a second, and it was all she needed. She wriggled free, stumbling toward me, crying “Mommy!” as I rushed to scoop her into my arms and shield her with my body. The Rolls-Royce screeched to a halt, its bumper less than an inch from Julian’s car. The driver had incredible skill. Julian, recovering from the shock, immediately tried to approach us again. He plastered a sickeningly sweet smile on his face. “Come here, sweetheart,” he coaxed. “Daddy will take you to Disneyland. We’ll go to the aquarium restaurant and see the dolphins.” It was a pathetic attempt. What he didn’t know was that these things were not extravagant treats for my daughter; they were part of her normal life. More importantly, my husband and I had drilled stranger safety into her from the moment she could talk. Even if she’d never been to Disneyland, she would never go with him. His plan was doomed. Seeing that his false kindness wasn’t working, the mask fell away. He lunged for us. I shut my eyes, clutching Lily tightly as she let out a terrified shriek. But the impact never came. I opened my eyes. A man stood between us and Julian, his hand clamped firmly on Julian’s arm, stopping him cold. The man was tall and impeccably dressed, with a face so handsome it seemed carved from marble. It was my husband, Adrian Hale.

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We were about to graduate from college when my girlfriend, Serena, suddenly broke up with me. She gave me a villa, a Bentley, and eighteen million dollars, saying it was for my four years of companionship. I was completely lost. I wanted to know why. But her voice was cold. “Liam, for people from my kind of family, love and marriage are two separate things. I have to go back for an arranged marriage now. Do you understand?” My girlfriend was engaged, but her fiancé wasn’t me. When I rushed to the engagement party, I saw Serena on the stage. She was wearing a haute couture gown and dazzling jewelry, looking impossibly beautiful and elegant. The man standing opposite her, however, was maybe five-foot-three, overweight, and his face was covered in oily, glistening pimples that looked ready to burst. My girlfriend was going to marry a man like that? Thinking back to last night, it felt like a lifetime ago. I had just gotten back to the villa from my internship when Serena pushed me onto the bed. She leaned down, her lips on mine, and whispered in a husky voice, “Tonight, treat me like I’m not human.” And then, she devoured me. But when I woke up, she was gone. Her phone number was disconnected. Her social media accounts—all of them—were deleted. It was as if she had vanished from my world without a trace, leaving me completely blindsided. Then, her lawyer showed up. He arrived at noon. He said Serena had specifically instructed him to come at noon, so as not to disturb my rest. Then he handed me a document. I read it, completely bewildered. It was a gift deed. It stated that Serena was voluntarily giving me the villa, the Bentley, and eighteen million dollars in cash as a thank-you gift for our four years together in college. So, she had dumped me out of the blue and was now treating me like some boy toy, throwing money at me to make me go away? But I didn’t need her money. I’d told her that when we first got together. She had just smiled confidently and said, “No matter how rich you are, you’re not as rich as me.” I didn’t argue. I was in love with her. But why break up, just like that? Last night, she had been so passionate, so fierce. She had spent the whole night telling me she loved me. How could this be happening? I forced myself to calm down and used my family’s resources to find out what was going on. And that’s how I ended up at her engagement party. I could tell Serena wasn’t happy. Was she being forced into this? “Kiss her! Kiss her!” someone in the crowd yelled. I saw the man reach for Serena’s hand. She recoiled instinctively, pulling away. The man’s face darkened. His thick lips moved, spraying saliva as he spoke. “Have you already forgotten what you promised me?” Serena’s face went pale, but she took a step forward. She was being threatened. I pushed through the crowd and shouted, “Serena, if you’re in trouble, tell me! Don’t do this to yourself!” Every head in the room turned to look at me. When Serena saw me, a flash of joy crossed her cold eyes, but it was instantly replaced by a glacial frost. “Who the hell is this guy?” the man demanded, glaring at me. “You’re calling my fiancée’s name like you know her.” I was about to declare who I was when Serena cut me off. Her beautiful brows furrowed. “He’s just some pathetic dog who follows me around. Have security throw him out. Ignore him.” A pathetic dog? I could feel the contempt in every stare directed at me. Who ever respects a desperate follower? But that wasn’t me. Serena and I met at a club fair. I had just finished playing basketball and was starving, so I swiped some snacks from my roommate. He gave me some grief and jokingly told me to call him “daddy.” It was just dorm-room banter, so I did it. Serena, who happened to overhear, stepped in to defend me. She said you shouldn’t bully people just because they’re poor, but then she also told me off for stealing. She had that take-charge, justice-warrior personality. So, I played the part of the poor, pitiful guy. I followed her around everywhere, and before long, we were together. The whole campus knew she was “keeping” me. People would whisper about her and her boy toy. Worried it would embarrass her, I told her my family was actually loaded. She just shrugged it off. Our four years together weren’t some epic romance, but our love was deep and sweet. We almost never fought. That’s why I couldn’t accept her sudden departure. I had to know why. I stared at her on the stage and started walking toward her. Before I could say a word, the short man stepped in front of me. He was so short he had to crane his neck to look up at me. “You’ve got some nerve coming up here.” He jumped, trying to slap me. I stepped back, dodging the blow, and looked at Serena. “You broke up with me to marry this… thing?” “What are you talking about?” Serena strode forward and slapped me across the face. I had dodged the man’s attack. But I didn’t dodge hers. She was wearing high heels, and I was afraid she would fall. She was about to marry someone else, and I was still worried about her. How pathetic was I? I touched my stinging cheek, my eyes filled with pain. “So, you’re Serena’s college boyfriend?” the man sneered, stepping closer. “A kept man, trying to act tough in front of me? Do you know who I am? I’m Cole Miller. The Millers are the richest family in this city.” I ignored him, my eyes still on Serena. “Leaving without a word. That’s not fair to me.” “Fair?” she retorted. “The villa, the car, the money… I gave you everything. What more do you want? Stop making a scene, Liam. We’re over.” Her brows were knitted together. “You know how it is for people from my kind of family. Love and marriage are separate. Thank you for the last four years, but my husband can only be Cole Miller. Do you understand?” “I’m only asking you one thing,” I said, my gaze unwavering. “Do you love me?” I knew all about arranged marriages between wealthy families. My own parents were a product of one. But they were lucky; they had grown up together, childhood sweethearts whose love story was a natural progression. As for me… I was supposed to have an arranged marriage too, but I didn’t have to. My family’s standing in New York was so secure, we didn’t need alliances to maintain it. “Love?” she scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous, Liam. I’ve known since I was a child that I would have an arranged marriage. I don’t believe in love. I was with you because you were good-looking and poor enough to be easily controlled.” A sarcastic smile played on her lips. “There. You have your answer. Now go.” So, what I thought was a deep, sweet love was just an illusion. In her eyes, I was just a handsome, obedient boy toy. How laughable. I nodded. If that’s how it was, then so be it. My heart ached, but I could let go. I came here to win her back. If I couldn’t, I would walk away. I looked at her, a bitter smile on my face. “Alright then. I wish you happiness.” With that, I turned to leave the stage. Serena’s hand clenched, but she looked away, refusing to meet my eyes. But Cole Miller blocked my path, a sneer on his face. “Since you’re here, you might as well stay for the ceremony. If you leave, you’re disrespecting me, the Miller family, and the entire city!” “That’s a bold claim,” I said with a laugh. I’d heard lines like that before. New York is a big city; not everyone knows who I am. It’s inevitable that some people will try to act tough in front of me. But after I put a few of them in their place, the talk died down. Cole didn’t catch the disdain in my voice. He clapped his hands. Suddenly, a group of men in black suits emerged, surrounding the stage. “Kid, if I’m not happy today, you’re not walking out of here,” Cole said. Serena rushed over, glaring at me. “Get out of here! I don’t want to see you again!” “Did I say you could speak?” Cole’s face turned cold. “You think I’m a fool? You think I can’t see you’re protecting him?” Protecting me? I looked deeply at Serena and saw the worry in her eyes. Maybe what she said earlier was a lie. But she shook her head. “I just don’t want anything to do with my past. And besides, it’s our engagement party. What does it look like if my ex-boyfriend is here? It’s embarrassing for you.” Her tone softened. “Cole, I’m thinking of you.” Cole’s expression eased slightly, but he still said, “I’m not afraid of being embarrassed. In this city, I am God!” He pointed at me. “Go sit down and watch the ceremony.” I nodded, a half-smile playing on my lips as I glanced at Serena, and walked off the stage. The moment I stepped down, four men in black suits surrounded me. They led me to a corner table and sat me down. They were making sure I couldn’t escape. From the stage, Cole called out to me, “You just sit there and watch, kid. You’re not leaving until I say so.” “If you don’t let me leave now,” I said with a faint smile, “when you want me to leave, I might not want to.” “Shut up!” Serena snapped. I just smiled and said nothing. They wanted to play this game. They shouldn’t blame me for what happened next. Cole added, “I hear you’re from New York. That’s great. Some important people from the city are coming later, all from the upper crust. I’ll introduce you. It’ll be a real eye-opener for you.” “Well, thank you in advance,” I said, unable to suppress another laugh. Just then, a group of young, arrogant-looking people walked over. Cole’s friends, no doubt. “Kid, you must have a death wish.” “You really think Serena can protect you?” “Let me tell you, even if you hadn’t shown up today, Cole wasn’t going to let you off the hook. You think he’d let the man who slept with his fiancée for four years live?” “I’ve got my phone here. Should I call the cops for you?” They laughed openly. I kept my head down, fiddling with my phone, not bothering to engage with them. But one thing was clear: Serena was trying to protect me. The engagement ceremony soon ended. Next was the reception, a time for guests to eat, drink, and network. Cole led Serena from table to table, accepting fawning compliments from everyone. I had taken a moment to look up the Miller family. They were indeed the richest in the city, but they were new money, with no real heritage. They had risen to prominence because of connections in New York, which allowed them to secure major projects in the city. But they had never managed to break into the city’s old-money society. So, the guests here today were either dependent on the Millers or were Serena’s family and friends. Serena’s family, on the other hand, was old money, but they had fallen on hard times. The marriage was a mutually beneficial arrangement. The Millers wanted a ticket into high society. Marrying a woman from an established family was their way in. Serena’s family wanted money to restore their former glory. I had seen countless marriages like this growing up. It was nothing new. It was a tale as old as time. Marriage, after all, has always been a strategic move. Just then, a young girl, maybe sixteen or seventeen, sat down next to me. She had a sweet, pretty face with a hint of baby fat, and she looked a lot like Serena. “I’m Sophie, your ex-girlfriend’s sister.” “Don’t say a word. Just come with me.” She looked adorable, but her voice was ice-cold. She grabbed my hand. But I didn’t move. “Did your sister send you?” “What do you think?” she said, frowning. “Let’s go, now, or you won’t be able to leave!” At that moment, several men in black suits closed in on us.

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I’ve always lived in my brother Sebastian’s shadow. The day I learned he was the fake young master switched at birth, he texted me: 【Hey, your new brother’s coming. Stick with me—we’ll give him a warm welcome.】 When he arrived, Mom pushed me forward and told me to call him “brother.” The boy wore faded clothes, his expression dark and gloomy. I was about to say something sarcastic when comments flashed before my eyes: 【The sidekicks are teaming up to bully him again.】 【The protagonist’s suffered enough. Now he has to deal with these two?】 【Don’t worry—the male lead becomes the most powerful. He’ll bankrupt them with a snap, leaving them digging through trash.】 Oh hell no. I hugged my new brother and said sweetly, “Brother, welcome home.” Instantly, light returned to his gloomy eyes. 1 My brother and I were the envy of everyone, raised in the lap of luxury, coddled by our parents since birth. Our family was wealthy, and every year, we’d throw huge birthday parties at our villa. My brother, Sebastian Wynter, was especially popular. He was handsome, a straight-A student, played the piano, and had a cool, rebellious charm. He was the kid every parent wished they had. And I was his loyal sidekick. When he had a crush on the prettiest girl in school, I was the one delivering his love letters. When he skipped class to play video games, I was his alibi. When he was too lazy to do his homework, I’d stay up all night doing it for him. Because I was the adopted daughter of the Wynter family. When I was little, Sebastian used to tease me, saying that if I didn’t listen to him, he’d have our parents send me back to the orphanage. I cried my eyes out. From that day on, I unknowingly developed a people-pleasing personality. I was always trailing after Sebastian, calling him “brother” this and “brother” that. Until today. Sebastian had asked me, yet again, to buy breakfast for the school beauty. I was halfway there when he texted me: 【Hey, sweetie, have you delivered the breakfast yet?】 I was out of breath and exhausted. 【It’s not that fast! Do you know how far the cafeteria is? I’m not doing this for you next time.】 He laughed. 【You say that every time, but you always do it.】 【I spent all my allowance on a gift for her, so I’ll owe you for this one. Oh, and can you get her breakfast tomorrow too? Thanks.】 【By the way, your new brother is coming home today. You need to be on my side. When he gets here, we’ll team up and put him in his place.】 Sure enough, when I got home, I saw my mother with a strange boy. He stood in the darkest corner of the foyer. His black hair was so long it nearly covered his eyes, his head bowed so no one could read his expression. He wore a faded school uniform, his face was gaunt, and his eyes held a darkness that didn’t belong to someone his age. His hands were covered in calluses. When I saw his face clearly, I froze. Sebastian was considered handsome, but this boy… he was even more striking. He looked just like Mrs. Wynter, with sharp, defined features—a classic, intense beauty that seemed to exist on a different plane from everyone else. I never knew someone could look both broken and regal at the same time. His name was Leo Wynter. He was the son who had been switched at birth, Mrs. Wynter’s biological child. Which meant Sebastian had been living the life of luxury that rightfully belonged to him for seventeen years. But even with Leo home, Mrs. Wynter gently patted Sebastian’s hand and comforted him. “Don’t worry, darling. You’ll always be the most important child in this family.” I watched them carefully. My mother’s attitude would determine my own. I decided to stick with Sebastian. Leo, who had clearly suffered, had the eyes of a wolf. He said nothing, simply staring at our mother until she grew visibly uncomfortable. Only then did she go to him. “I’m so sorry, my child. You’ve suffered so much all these years.” Sebastian saw this and let out a short, mocking laugh. “Mom, it looks like you’re a real family now. Since you’re reunited, should I just leave?” Our mother panicked. She immediately pushed Leo away and rushed to Sebastian’s side. “Don’t be silly. You will always be my most precious son.” Out of her line of sight, Sebastian shot a triumphant smirk at Leo. Leo remained cold and impassive, as if it didn’t matter whether our mother loved him or not. But I was the only one who noticed the flicker of loneliness in his eyes. Mrs. Wynter said to him, “Leo, don’t hold this against him. He’s a victim in this too.” Suddenly, the comments appeared again: 【I can’t. The biggest beneficiary of this whole mess, and he’s the victim?】 【Sebastian got seventeen years of a perfect life, while Leo was stuck with that abusive lowlife, working day and night and getting beaten for it.】 【Yeah, I’d love to be that kind of ‘victim.’】 Leo stayed silent. Feeling a bit guilty, our mother pulled me over to him. “Come on, Chloe, sweetie. Say hello to your brother.” Sebastian pinched my arm and shot me a look. When my brother wanted to bully someone, I was always his first soldier. I took a deep breath, looked at Leo, tilted my chin up, and said with a sneer, “So, you’re my brother?” The comments popped up again: 【Ugh, I can’t watch.】 【The female sidekick is about to tell him she only has one brother and that he should crawl back to whatever hole he came from. This is what shatters his last hope for this family, leaving him with nothing but hate.】 【For real, the protagonist has been through hell. He finally gets home and has to be tormented by these two selfish monsters.】 【It’s okay. He might be pitiful now, but in the future, he becomes the most powerful character in the book. He’ll bankrupt these two with a snap of his fingers, leaving them broke and forced to eat out of trash cans.】 Bankrupt? Eating out of trash cans? Not on my watch. I’d spent years pleasing Sebastian, investing so much emotional labor, all for a comfortable life. No, I had to fix this. I changed my tune immediately. I stepped forward, opened my arms, and gave him a hug. “This brother is handsome. I like this brother,” I chirped. “My name is Chloe. Welcome home.” The boy froze. For the first time, a different expression crossed his cold, stoic face. As I held him, I could feel his stiffness, his uncertainty. And then, a hand, so carefully placed on my back. I smiled and took his hand, pulling him toward the dining room. “Brother, you’re too thin.” “We can’t have that. Dinner’s almost ready. You have to eat a lot.” The comments were dumbfounded: 【What’s going on? The sidekick isn’t bullying him?】 【She must be planning something worse. She’s Sebastian’s accomplice. She helped him bully Leo countless times.】 2 At the dinner table, our mother subconsciously had the maid place all the best dishes in front of Sebastian and me. All Leo had in front of him were the sautéed vegetables I hated. Realizing her mistake, she quickly put a piece of sweet and sour fish on his plate. “Leo, this is delicious. You should have some.” Leo glanced at it. “I don’t eat fish. I’m allergic to seafood.” After a moment of awkward silence, our mother moved the fish to Sebastian’s plate. “Sebastian, you’ve been working so hard at school. Eat up.” Sebastian grinned. “Thanks, Mom. This is my favorite. Can you make it again tomorrow?” “Oh, and Mom, can we have a big seafood feast tomorrow?” He looked at me, head down, shoveling rice into my mouth. “My sister was just telling me she’s craving seafood. Right, sweetie?” The comments popped up again: 【This guy is so disgusting and manipulative, knowing full well the protagonist is allergic.】 【So this is his game. I can’t wait to see these two go bankrupt and end up on the streets.】 My appetite vanished. My survival instincts kicked into high gear. I wiped my mouth with a napkin. “Actually, I’m really craving sweet and sour pork, cola chicken wings, spicy tofu, and mushroom chicken stew.” I shook our mother’s arm playfully. “Mom, can we have those, please?” She fell for it, as always, tapping my nose with a smile. “Of course, you little foodie. I’ll have the chef make them for you tomorrow.” Sebastian’s face darkened when he saw me defending Leo. I kept my head down and ate, pretending not to notice. For my entire life, I had catered to his every whim. It was practically instinct. So, saying no to him felt strange. I felt a pang of guilt, a sense of having done something wrong. But I wasn’t going to take the fall for him. After dinner, our mother showed Leo to his room. It was next to mine. I thought the night would pass peacefully. But the comments appeared again: 【I can’t believe it. The fake brother is going to pour water on the protagonist’s blanket. So vile.】 【It’s early spring, the nights are still cold. How is he supposed to sleep?】 【It’s fine. Thinking about how these two evil siblings will end up with nowhere to sleep, fighting with beggars for a spot under a bridge in the rain, makes it all better.】 The comments might have felt better, but my heart was racing. I jumped out of bed, grabbed a new comforter, and padded barefoot to his door, knocking softly. Leo opened it. His gaze lingered on me for a moment. The moonlight traced the sharp line of his jaw, making him look even more striking. I was mesmerized for a second. I quickly held up the comforter. “Brother, I heard your blanket got wet. You can have mine.” He was clearly stunned. He stared at me for a long moment before speaking, his voice raspy and low. “Why are you being so nice to me?” I gave him a big smile. “Because you’re my brother. We’re family.” He seemed struck by those words, repeating them like a question. “Family?” I nodded. “I’m very capable. I’ll take care of you, and I’ll protect you.” He suddenly smiled. “I’m the older brother. I should be the one taking care of and protecting my little sister.” Hearing that made my heart flutter. Because in our house, I had always been the one taking care of Sebastian. I rubbed my nose. “What are your favorite foods, brother? I’ll write them down for the chef.” A corner of his mouth lifted. “You don’t have to. The things you mentioned today… I like all of them.” I grinned. “I knew it. Who doesn’t love cola chicken wings?” Hearing that, for the first time, Leo actually laughed. I stared. He was so beautiful when he smiled. 3 The next morning, Sebastian left for school without me. I knew he was angry. And I felt a little hurt. I had spent my whole life trying to please him, and the one time I didn’t do what he wanted, he gave me the cold shoulder. A text from Jessica, the school beauty, popped up on my phone: 【Chloe, for breakfast today I’m craving the braised noodles with green peppers and pork from the first cafeteria. It’s so far, though. Could you please get it for me?】 Ever since Sebastian started making me her personal delivery girl, she had gotten comfortable, even starting to place specific orders. I wanted to reply, Get it yourself. But after a moment, I deleted the message and typed: 【Okay.】 The truth was, I couldn’t stand Jessica. On the first day of school, our teacher asked us to introduce ourselves. The moment I opened my mouth, she burst out laughing. “Oh my god, are you doing that on purpose? Your voice is giving me goosebumps. It’s so funny. We’re in high school now, you don’t have to act all cutesy.” The entire class laughed with her. My face burned with shame. I wished the ground would swallow me whole. I’m from the South, and my voice is naturally a bit higher pitched. Sebastian kicked his desk. “Alright, that’s enough.” Jessica pouted. “So defensive. Can’t even take a joke. She’s so sensitive.” Sebastian patted my head. “Don’t worry about it, Chloe.” I looked down, feeling a sense of security from the warmth of his hand. But… But then, Sebastian… Why did you fall for her? 4 Even though Sebastian used to threaten to send me back to the orphanage, my years of coddling and weakness had softened him. He had started treating me well. I have hypoglycemia and often forgot to carry candy with me. I’d get dizzy after the third period. After he found out, he always made sure to have a few pieces of candy in his pocket. Whenever I forgot mine, he’d walk over, unwrap an orange candy, and pop it in my mouth, smiling. “You dummy. Always forgetting. You’re such a pain.” Lately, I hadn’t been forgetting my candy. But I’d pretend I did. Because I loved those moments of weakness when my brother would dote on me. But then Jessica started hanging around him, chirping, “Sebastian, do you have a sister complex? It’s so embarrassing. You’re always hovering around her. You’re going to turn her into a spoiled princess.” Sebastian would tell her to shut up, but his ears would turn red. After that, he never carried candy for me again. Soon, his pockets were filled not with orange candies, but with the small hair ties Jessica was always losing. All his patience was reserved for her. He’d smile while helping her with her homework, listening to her whine. He’d meticulously note her likes and dislikes in a notebook. He’d prepare a gift for her for every holiday. He asked me to deliver his love letters to her. He asked me to bring her breakfast. I think, perhaps, he forgot that I hated her. And to keep my brother from hating me, I could only try to please Jessica, pretend I didn’t dislike her, and try to get closer to her. But lately, I felt like I couldn’t keep up the act anymore. The sweetness of the orange candy was long gone. All that was left was a bitter taste in my mouth. 5 The first cafeteria was so far away. It took me forever to get Jessica her breakfast. She took it with a cheerful smile. “I’m so sorry to trouble you all the time.” Sebastian said casually, “It’s fine, don’t worry about it. She’s loved running errands for people since she was a kid. My sister is your sister. If you ever need anything, just ask her.” I should have been used to hearing things like that. But thinking about what Leo had said last night, I felt a knot in my stomach. He said a brother should take care of and protect his sister. Maybe my brother was just different. The bell rang, and Leo walked into the classroom. My father had placed him in our class. He wore a clean, crisp new uniform, his bangs trimmed to reveal his handsome eyes. He didn’t look as gloomy as he had yesterday. Honestly, just standing there, he was so good-looking that every strand of his hair seemed to glow. Someone like him should have been incredibly popular at school. But Sebastian had already gone around first thing in the morning, telling everyone not to sit with him. So when the teacher asked who would be his desk partner, no one spoke up. The light in Leo’s eyes began to dim. Just as the teacher was about to assign someone, I raised my hand. “Brother, over here!” Leo froze for a second, then his head snapped up, his eyes wide. The comments were confused: 【Isn’t this sister supposed to be the evil sidekick? Why does she seem so sweet? Like a good kid.】 【It’s got to be an act. She’s been a great actress since she was little. Protagonist, please don’t fall for it!】 A classmate leaned over. “Chloe, is he your brother too?” Sebastian scoffed. “Hardly. We’re not even related.” He shot me a warning look. Leo ignored him and walked straight to the empty seat beside me. He turned his head and whispered, “Thanks.” Seeing his profile up close, I couldn’t help but say, “Your eyelashes are so long.” He seemed taken aback by the blunt compliment. His Adam’s apple bobbed. When he looked away, the tips of his ears had turned a faint shade of red. It was kind of cute. A strange, ticklish feeling spread through my chest. I bit my lip to hide a smile. Sebastian watched me, a wave of irritation rising within him. After class, he pulled me into an empty hallway. “Chloe, what did I do wrong? Why are you fighting me on everything now?” He leaned in closer. “You got a new brother, so you don’t like me anymore?” I said quietly, “I just don’t want to make enemies.” He raised an eyebrow. “You coward. So what if you make an enemy of him? You think he’d dare bully you? I’m here. I’ll protect you.” I lowered my eyes. “No,” I whispered. “You can’t protect me.” I couldn’t tell him about the future the comments had described. And besides… He had never really protected me. Sebastian frowned, annoyed. “Who says I can’t protect you?” Just then, the bell for the next class rang, saving me. It was gym class. First up was the 800-meter run. My hypoglycemia kicked in. Halfway through, my vision went black, my legs gave out, and I collapsed onto the track. My classmates gasped and rushed over. I’d torn my pants. Blood was seeping from the gash on my knee. Hiss. I sucked in a breath, the pain so sharp I couldn’t stand. Sebastian immediately crouched down. “Get on. I’ll carry you to the nurse’s office.” Jessica glanced at my knee and muttered, “Is that really necessary? It’s just a little scrape. Why are you being so dramatic?” “Sebastian, you’re going to turn her into a spoiled princess.” Sebastian hesitated. There it was again. Always. I couldn’t take it anymore. “But you have him buy you breakfast every day with his own money, you have him carry the hair ties you always lose, you whine for gifts from him for every holiday, and you practically sit in his lap whenever you need help with a problem. Does that mean you don’t have a princess complex?”

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A guy from the client’s team posted a project proposal in the group chat with a major flaw. I was going to message him privately, just a friendly heads-up. I sent him a contact request. He ignored it twice. Then he changed his profile picture to a matching couple’s avatar. My assistant showed me a different group chat. The same guy was telling everyone I was hitting on him. “I thought I dropped enough hints, but she just won’t let go. She should really take a look in the mirror.” “I have a girlfriend, for God’s sake. Why is she so desperate? It’s pathetic.” “That ugly duckling must’ve had a meltdown last night. Went silent, probably too ashamed to reply, huh?” 1 The company was launching a massive, eighty-million-dollar project. Linda Mason was the official lead, but I was in the main project group to keep an eye on things. The chat was a chaotic sea of over a hundred people. The client was a young, dynamic agency called Apex Innovations. One of their project guys, Ken Kane, dropped a file in the chat. I opened it and gave it a quick scan. The unit of measurement for the material data was wrong. He’d written “kilograms” instead of “tons.” An easy fix—just move the decimal point—but a potentially catastrophic oversight. If it went unnoticed, procurement, construction, and cost analysis would all be based on that faulty number. All hell would break loose. Apex had a decent reputation; they were usually on the ball. Everyone makes mistakes. I felt a pang of sympathy and decided to give him a quiet heads-up. I found Ken Kane’s icon in the project group, tapped on it, and sent a contact request. A day passed. The request vanished into the digital ether. Linda was the public face of this project, and I didn’t want to step on her toes or disrespect her authority. That’s why I hadn’t revealed my senior role in the group chat. My display name was just my name: Monica. I tapped on Ken’s icon again and sent another request. This time, I added a note: “Work-related. Need to verify some data in the file.” Crystal clear, right? Another day went by. Still nothing. I checked his profile again, and his picture had changed. Yesterday, it was a cartoon boy holding a coffee cup. Today, it was a cutesy, chibi-style couple’s avatar. A boy and a girl in matching, ridiculously cheerful striped shirts, standing in front of a giant red heart. My stomach dropped. No, it couldn’t be… Did this guy think I was adding him to hit on him? And did he scramble to change his avatar to a couple’s one just to stake his claim? I shook my head, trying to banish the thought. That was absurd. No sane person’s mind works that way. It had to be a coincidence. He was just due for a new profile pic. My assistant, Alex, knocked and entered, a strange look on his face. “Ms. Vance…” He held out his phone, showing me a screenshot of a group chat. The group name was “Apex Spill the Tea,” clearly their agency’s private gossip channel. The conversation was buzzing. An ID named “Ken (Design God)”—with that same cartoon couple as his avatar—was lighting up the chat. “LMAO, you guys, that Monica chick from the client side just tried adding me again. This time she’s pretending it’s about ‘work-related communication.’” “Seriously, I can smell a woman’s agenda from a mile away.” “Haven’t I made it obvious enough? I put up the couple’s avatar and everything, and she’s still coming after me. How desperate can you get?” “I have a girlfriend! This is next-level pathetic. She’s so full of herself, it’s unreal!” 2 A flood of replies followed, all cheering him on. “Hahaha, Ken, you’re irresistible!” “For real, she should get a mirror.” “The ugly duckling trying to become a swan.” Alex swiped down, showing me more. “Ken’s girlfriend is a goddess. That chick can’t even compare.” “Totally! She’s gorgeous and so sweet!” “You know it,” chimed in “Ken (Design God)” again. “My girl just bought me the latest designer watch yesterday!” And then: “Some people can only drool over my profile picture, I guess. Hehe.” Alex cleared his throat awkwardly. “Ms. Vance, I’m sure he doesn’t know who you are. It’s just a misunderstanding.” I stared at the screen, the words stinging like tiny needles. “Tomorrow afternoon,” I said, my voice even, “schedule a meeting with Patricia Vance from Apex. Linda and I will go over there.” Alex nodded quickly. “Right away, Ms. Vance.” He practically fled my office, phone in hand. I leaned back in my chair, my fingers drumming a silent, restless rhythm on the desk. Interesting. In all my life, no one had ever called me an ugly duckling. A few moments after Alex left, my phone lit up. A notification: “Ken (Design) has accepted your contact request.” He accepts it now? I looked at the cartoon couple on his profile, a cold smile touching my lips. I didn’t message him. I didn’t want to waste a single word on him. With someone whose logic was this warped, any communication would just be twisted into new material for his “she’s harassing me” narrative. My phone pinged again. A message from him. “Ms. Monica, hello. First of all, thank you for your interest.” “However, I must state in no uncertain terms: there is no possibility of anything between us beyond necessary professional communication.” “I must insist that you maintain a professional distance. This is a matter of respect, not just for me, but for my girlfriend.” “Relationships require boundaries. I hope you can understand and act accordingly.” “Furthermore, I am being officially promoted to Project Lead of the design department tomorrow.” “I am passionate about my work and intend to devote all my energy to it.” “Frankly, I have neither the time nor the inclination to deal with unnecessary personal entanglements.” “I’ve said my piece. Please conduct yourself with dignity. Regards, Ken Kane.” I stared at this long, self-righteous, and utterly delusional “declaration.” My thumb hovered over the keyboard, typing and deleting, typing and deleting. In the end, I sent nothing. Argue with him? That would be like wrestling with a pig in mud. I flipped my phone face down on the desk. Out of sight, out of mind. 3 The next afternoon, Linda and I pulled up in front of the Apex Innovations building right on time. As expected, their CEO, Patricia Vance, was waiting at the lobby entrance with a small entourage. The moment our car stopped, Patricia practically jogged over, her face a mask of enthusiastic, nervous smiles. “Ms. Vance! Ms. Mason! Welcome, welcome! You honor us with your presence!” She personally opened my car door, her posture deferential. After a few pleasantries, Patricia led us toward the elevators. “We have the conference room all set up. This way, please.” The elevator whisked us to the fifth floor. As the doors opened, we could faintly hear the sound of boisterous male laughter drifting from a large conference room at the end of the hall. It was loud and unrestrained. Patricia’s expression tightened. She picked up her pace. “These guys,” she muttered under her breath, “I told them we had important clients visiting today.” She shot us an apologetic smile. “I’ll have them quiet down immediately.” We reached the conference room. The heavy, frosted glass door was closed. The laughter inside was even clearer now, completely unguarded. “Haha, Ken, what happened next? Did she ever text you back? That Monica girl?” an excited voice asked. My heart sank. It was Ken’s voice, dripping with undisguised mockery. “Text back? You think she’d dare?” “She probably saw my message and had a total meltdown.” “Not a peep out of her since last night.” “Tsk, I’ve seen her type before. I called her out on her pathetic little crush, and now she’s too ashamed to show her face.” “What a coward!” The room erupted in laughter. “Hahaha, coward! That’s the perfect word for it, Ken!” “Seriously, who does she think she is, making a move on our Ken?” “Our Ken is about to be a Project Lead!” “Damn right! The guy’s a genius.” “He’s handsome, talented, and his girlfriend is gorgeous and spoils him rotten.” “Some ugly ducklings will never even touch the feather of a swan like his girlfriend!” Ken’s voice adopted a tone of smug “humility.” “Ah, come on, guys. My girlfriend’s alright, I guess.” “She insisted on taking me to that new French place last night, the one that’s like five hundred bucks a plate. So stuffy.” “I told her we could just grab a burger, but she wouldn’t hear of it.” “Oh, and now she’s saying that once my promotion is official, she’s taking me on a celebratory trip to Europe.” “So annoying. Like I have the time for that. Honestly!” Patricia’s face had gone completely pale, a sheen of sweat on her forehead. She raised her hand to push the door open. My hand stopped her. I motioned for her to be silent. Linda, standing beside me, looked tense. Patricia stared at my cold profile, swallowed hard, and didn’t dare to breathe. 4 I gave Patricia a slight nod, signaling she could proceed. As if granted a pardon, she took a sharp breath and shoved the heavy glass door open. It slammed against the wall with a loud thwack. The conference room fell instantly silent. Three or four young men were gathered around the table, half-empty coffee cups scattered before them. Ken was sitting near the head of the table, one leg casually crossed over the other, a Starbucks cup in hand. He was sharply dressed today in well-fitting slacks that accentuated his build. The gleeful, smug expression on his face instantly morphed into a standard, sycophantic corporate smile the second he saw Patricia. “Patricia!” He was the first to stand, his voice oozing with a desire to please. The other men scrambled to their feet, plastering smiles on their faces. “Hi, Patricia.” “Glad you could make it, Patricia.” Patricia’s face was a thundercloud. She shot a death glare at Ken and his friends before stepping aside. “Ms. Vance, Ms. Mason, please, come in.” She forced a smile and gestured for us to enter. Linda and I walked in. Ken’s eyes flicked over Linda with familiar deference, then landed on me. The warmth in his gaze instantly vanished. Linda cleared her throat, trying to diffuse the tension. “Patricia, and this is…?” I cut her off, my gaze fixed calmly on Ken. “Hello. I’m Monica.” I stated my name. My voice wasn’t loud, but in the unnervingly quiet room, it was perfectly clear. The smile on Ken’s face faltered. A flicker of confusion crossed his eyes, as if the name sounded vaguely familiar. But just as quickly, the confusion was replaced by a thick wave of annoyance and contempt. He looked me up and down, his eyes scanning me like he was appraising a piece of cheap merchandise. A scornful smirk played on his lips. “Oh?” he drawled. “So it’s you. Ms. Monica.” “Well, well, you’ve got some nerve, don’t you?” “Following our CEO all the way to the office?” “What’s the matter? Did my message last night hit a little too close to home? You came here to corner me?” He let out a short, derisive laugh. “Was I not clear enough on the chat yesterday? Do you need me to repeat myself in front of everyone?” “I told you to keep your distance!” “Do you not understand English?” The air was thick with a dead silence. The other guys darted their eyes between me and Ken, their faces alight with the thrill of watching a drama unfold. Patricia’s lips trembled. “Ken, shut your mouth!” “Patricia!” Ken’s voice shot up, cutting her off. He looked like a man deeply wronged. He pointed a finger at me, the tip nearly touching my face. “You see this? Yesterday, I was trying to be nice, trying to let her down easy and save her some dignity.” “And what does she do? She shows up at my workplace today to harass me!” “Is this even legal? Is there no decency left?” “Patricia, you have to do something about this. I can’t work under these conditions!” His voice cracked with emotion. The performance was truly spectacular. 5 Patricia’s face was as white as a sheet, cold sweat pouring down her temples. I raised my hand and gently pushed his jabbing finger away from my eye. “Everyone else, out.” My eyes flicked to the other men. Patricia, as if receiving a royal decree, immediately barked at them. “You heard her! Get out! Now! Immediately!” The men flinched, hastily grabbing their phones and coffee cups, and scurried out of the room, hugging the wall as they went. As they passed me, their eyes were filled with undisguised contempt and schadenfreude. They clearly thought I was kicking them out to get Ken alone, to pursue him. The stupidity was breathtaking. Ken remained standing, watching his colleagues leave. The feigned look of victimhood vanished, replaced by an expression of smug victory. He even shot a wink toward the door, the corner of his mouth curled high as he mouthed a silent taunt. “See? Told you the ugly duckling wouldn’t give up. Had to get me alone.” Linda coughed awkwardly. “Patricia, Ms. Vance is…” Patricia finally snapped. “Ken, shut up! Do you have any idea who you’re talking to?” Ken jutted out his chin, defiant. “Of course I do, Patricia! It’s Monica! The woman who’s been harassing me!” “I made it perfectly clear last night. I told her I have a girlfriend. Even if you were trying to set us up, I would never agree to it.” “Work is work, and my personal life is my personal life. You’re the boss, but you can’t interfere with that.” He turned back to me. “If you keep this up, I’ll post about your disgusting behavior in the main project chat. We’ll let everyone from both companies be the judge!” My expression remained flat. What on earth was he even talking about? How had he constructed this elaborate fantasy from a simple contact request? Patricia’s voice rose to a full-blown roar. “Are you blind? This is Ms. Monica Vance from corporate headquarters! The head of the entire project!” “The eighty-million-dollar deal was approved because she gave it the green light! Who the hell do you think you are, talking to her like that?” “She’s worth millions, one of the most eligible women in the city! A-list actors and heirs of fortunes are lining up to ask her out! You think she’d be interested in you?” “And you dare accuse her of harassment? You must be out of your goddamn mind!”

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I lost a game of Truth or Dare and my punishment was to go out, grab a random stranger, and tell them, “I’m the killer.” I picked a guy who looked the most aloof, the least likely to get involved. Steeling myself, I walked up and said, “I did it… I’m the killer.” The aloof, handsome guy stared at me for two seconds, then slowly pulled out a walkie-talkie. “Suspect has confessed. Fall back.” Me: Wait, what?? 1 Huh? That’s not how this was supposed to go. Before my brain could even process what was happening, the handsome guy had a hand on my shoulder, steering me to the side. “Get in the car.” Oh crap, I’ve really done it now. Reality hit, and I started to struggle. “No, wait, officer! It was a dare! I’m not a killer!” The handsome cop didn’t seem convinced. His grip on my arm just tightened. “Get in the car.” I could hear the ice in his voice, so I didn’t dare fight back. I let him lead me, muttering under my breath, “I’m really not a killer. My friends are right around the corner, they can vouch for me! I’m sorry, I’ll never play a stupid game like this again, just let me go!” He ignored me, pulling me toward a black, unmarked car in a few quick strides. The door swung open and he shoved me inside, speaking into his walkie-talkie as he scanned the area. “Suspect is in the vehicle.” I sprawled across the back seat, on the verge of tears. “Officer, I’m really—” “Shh.” The handsome cop gave me a sharp silencing gesture. “Play along. Now that you’re in the car, the real suspect will let their guard down.” I froze, then it clicked. I scooted further into the car, making room for him as he slid in beside me. We sat in silence for what felt like an eternity. I couldn’t take it anymore. “You’re really an undercover cop, right?” I whispered. “You’re not, like, a human trafficker?” He glanced at me. “A little late to be asking, don’t you think?” Before I could panic, he added, “But yes, I’m a cop. You can relax about that. And…” He looked me up and down, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You do fit the criminal profile we have for our suspect.” “There has to be a ‘but’ in that sentence, right?” I pleaded. A small smile touched his lips. “But…” Before he could finish, the walkie-talkie crackled to life. “Target is on the move!” His expression changed in an instant. He threw the door open and sprinted out, his voice trailing behind him. “But I know you’re not the killer.” “Because at the time of the murder, you were with me.” 2 What the hell? I’ve been in a room with a cop before? I have absolutely no memory of that! And with a face like his—sharp brows, striking eyes—there’s no way I would have forgotten! As I was racking my brain, the car door opened again. The handsome cop gestured for me to get out. I peeked out and saw a few other people. A couple of young men were holding a woman, trying to get her into another car. Her build was pretty similar to mine. Seeing me, one of them signaled to the handsome cop. “Noah! Make sure you get the young lady home safe!” The cop, Noah, nodded, then raised an eyebrow at me. “Are you getting out? Or were you hoping for that cup of tea at the station?” “…Did you arrest her for murder?” I asked, my inner gossip columnist taking over. A girl who looked so frail and unassuming, a killer? Noah’s face was all business. “I can’t disclose case details to civilians.” I pouted, then another thought struck me. “You said you were with me at the time of the murder. That’s related to me, right?” He didn’t deny it. “Three days ago, in the afternoon. You were at the gym, right? You were on the stair climber, and I was a few machines behind you.” Right, that did happen. But he wasn’t finished. “Same day, that evening. You went to a bar, right?” I was stunned. “You were there too? How could you even remember my face in that chaos?” His voice was flat. “You had too much to drink. You felt faint and short of breath when you left the bar, so you sat on the steps outside to recover.” Also true. That also happened. His tone shifted slightly. “The people around you thought you were having an asthma attack and told you to control your breathing, to press on your chest and regulate your breaths.” Very true. That’s exactly what happened. Noah let out a breath, a crack finally appearing in his calm facade. “Now, let me ask you this. Do you remember whose chest you were pressing on?” 3 I have a tendency to black out when I drink. My last memory of that night at the bar was my hand landing on something… soft. I remember being pleased at the time, thinking all those papaya smoothies were finally paying off and my cup size had gone up. But now… Did I grope this handsome cop’s chest that night?! Seeing Noah’s face darken, I rushed to apologize. “I’m so sorry! I-I was really drunk…” He stared at me for a few seconds, his jaw clenched, then forced the words out through his teeth. “I just have one question for you—” “Is my chest really that flat?” There was a hint of desperation in his voice. “I’ve been working out for three months! You’re telling me I haven’t gained any muscle at all?!” He sounded so genuinely devastated that I felt like a criminal. “No, no, no!” I waved my hands frantically. “I was drunk, I was slurring my words! What I meant to say was, why isn’t my chest flat anymore!” “Your chest is amazing! It’s firm, it’s sculpted, it’s… impressive! It feels great, unforgettable, makes you want to touch it again and again.” Noah was silent for a few seconds, a vein throbbing at his temple. “I understand the sentiment, but can you please take your hand off my chest now?” Oops. Didn’t even realize. I snatched my hand back, laughing nervously. “Force of habit, force of habit.” He shot me a sideways glance. “Where do you live? I’ll take you home.” My friends were still waiting for me at the board game cafe nearby, but… I looked at the handsome man in front of me and gave him a sweet smile and an address. “That would be wonderful, Officer Noah.” My place wasn’t far, just a regular apartment complex, but Noah’s expression remained complicated the whole way. The car pulled up to the entrance of my complex. I was about to unbuckle my seatbelt and thank him when he reached out and put a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t get out just yet. I’ll walk you in.” I blinked. Oh? This boy wants to spend a little more time with me, does he? 4 Noah saw my expression and his face twitched. He looked like he wanted to say something, but held back. “Which building, which unit?” I pointed ahead with a smirk. “Building 5, unit 3.” His expression relaxed slightly. “Okay.” He drove into the complex and stopped in front of the building. This time, he didn’t stop me from unbuckling. “Feeling better now?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. He paused. “What?” “I’m not an idiot,” I said with a huff. “You wouldn’t just randomly be this nice and walk me all the way in. You wanted to know exactly where I live, right?” A genuine smile touched his lips. “You’re pretty sharp.” Seeing him in a good mood, I decided to press my luck. “So why did you want to know? Does that murder case you mentioned have something to do with this complex?” Oh god, I hope this doesn’t affect property values! This time, he didn’t hide it. “The victim did live in this complex. But in a building far from yours.” That was a relief. I nodded and prepared to get out. “Hey.” Noah suddenly spoke, pulling out his phone. “Can I get your number? In case anything comes up and we need your cooperation.” I didn’t refuse, and we exchanged contacts. “What’s your name?” he asked. I smiled. “Amy.” He raised an eyebrow. “Alright, Ms. Amy. Please keep your phone on.” I grunted in agreement, got out of the car, and walked into the building. Through the stairwell window, I watched Noah’s car turn around and drive away. Only when it was completely out of sight did I slip back out of the building and head towards the back, to Building 9. If he was going to play games with me, I wasn’t going to tell him the truth either. Just as I was silently congratulating myself on my cleverness, I heard footsteps. A figure emerged from behind the corner of the building, blocking my path. “Ms. Amy.” It was Noah, still in his black clothes. He was smiling, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “You’re not being very honest, are you?” 5 So, I ended up having that cup of tea at the station after all. In the interrogation room, I was on the verge of tears. “I really have nothing to do with the murder! He’s a grown man, and he wanted to walk me home, all the way to my unit number! Of course I was going to be cautious!” A woman living alone has to be careful, you know! Noah looked frustrated. “I’m a police officer!” As if that explained everything! Another female officer tried to soothe me. “Don’t worry, Ms. Amy. Noah is just eager to solve the case. He doesn’t mean any harm. And we didn’t bring you here because we think you’re the killer.” Noah added from the side, “It’s just too much of a coincidence.” I didn’t get it. What did he mean? He sighed. “Your real address is Building 9, right? The victim of the murder, she also lived in your building.” I gasped. My property values! “Which unit was it?” I asked urgently. “The person wasn’t killed in the apartment, were they? I haven’t seen any police cars around our complex lately!” This time, Noah was forthcoming. “The resident of 302, Ms. Miller. She wasn’t killed in her apartment. She was struck on the head with a heavy object near her workplace.” “Mrs. Miller is dead?!” I exclaimed. He raised an eyebrow. “You knew her well?” I nodded, then shook my head. “Not well, but we’d chat sometimes. She lived alone and was struggling financially. I felt sorry for her, so I’d help her out now and then.” “Struggling financially?” Noah asked. “But from what I understand, the rent and property values in your complex aren’t cheap. How could she afford to live there if she had no money?” I shrugged. I had no idea. It was dark by the time I left the interrogation room. Noah offered to drive me home. “Is Officer Noah going to want to know my apartment number this time, too?” I asked sarcastically. He held back a smile. “Still holding a grudge?” “Of course not,” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “You’re the police.” He sighed. “I was out of line today. I’m sorry.” His apology sounded sincere, so I dropped the attitude, muttering, “Just don’t let it happen again.” He actually laughed. “Most people would be happy to never have to deal with the police again. You’re already thinking about a next time?” I rested my chin on my hand and turned to look at him, a playful smile on my face. “Maybe it’s because this particular police officer is especially handsome.” “And…” My gaze drifted down to his chest. “Especially… well-endowed.” “Makes me want to get my hands on him.” 6 Noah sentenced me to write an 800-word apology for harassing a public official. Seriously?! Is there no justice in this world! I just have a thing for guys with nice pecs! But he wouldn’t listen to my excuses and demanded I send it to him by Friday. I sulked for a while, then finally managed to squeeze out 800 words and send it to him just before the end of the workday on Friday. He replied almost instantly: 【Did you use even a single brain cell to write this?】 Hey! Who’s he calling brainless! I furiously typed back: 【Sir, I’m admitting my mistake with such a good attitude. The least you could do is praise me, not mock me!】 The next second, my phone buzzed. It was a call from Noah. His voice was lazy, with a hint of a smile. “Alright, I’ll praise you. You’re a good girl.” I huffed. “That’s it? You think a few nice words are enough?” He chuckled. “Not enough?” “If it’s not enough—” He drew out the words. “Then come on down. I’ll praise you properly.” Noah was here? I was surprised. I hurried downstairs and, sure enough, there was his black car. The door was open, and he was sitting in the driver’s seat, a cigarette dangling from his lips, his face obscured by the smoke. I didn’t make a sound, just watched him from the entrance of my building. He was already handsome, but with the cigarette, he had a lazy, arrogant air about him that was surprisingly attractive. I couldn’t help but pull out my phone and sneak a picture. Click. His head snapped up, his gaze sharp and piercing. “Come out.” I rubbed my nose and walked out, my phone in my hand. “Sorry, forgot to turn the sound off.” When he saw it was me, he relaxed, stood up, and stubbed out his cigarette. He came over and ruffled my hair, venting his frustration. “You scared me. I thought the killer was hiding here, waiting to ambush me.” I blinked. “What do you mean? The person who killed Mrs. Miller? Didn’t you guys catch them?” He smoothed my hair back down. “Means we didn’t catch the real killer.” “The woman we caught was just a thief. She was the first one to find Mrs. Miller’s body, so she stole all her valuables. But she didn’t kill her.” A chill went down my spine. So there was still a killer on the loose? And that killer was likely still hanging around Mrs. Miller’s home? Why? Just as I was wondering, I heard a faint sound from above. “Look out!” The next second, Noah lunged, grabbing my shoulders and shoving me into the building entrance. Crash! A loud thud exploded behind me. When I turned, the spot where I’d been standing was covered in the shattered remains of a flowerpot. “Are you okay?!” Noah asked urgently. “Are you hurt anywhere?” I struggled out of his arms. “I’m fine, I’m not hurt.” He let out a breath of relief, then his head snapped up. 7 I followed his gaze up into the dark stairwell, but it was too dim to see anything. “You think someone’s up there?” I whispered. “You think that pot was thrown on purpose?” He grunted in affirmation, his brow furrowed. He clearly wanted to go up and check, but he was worried about leaving me alone. “I’ll go with you.” I slipped out of his embrace, my voice calm. “I have a circular saw at home. I can bring it with me. And…” He looked at me. “And what?” I glanced up at the floors above us. “This has happened before in our complex. It wasn’t on purpose. Some of the residents put flowerpots and other things on their balconies, and they fall off when it’s windy or if they’re not secured properly.” Noah frowned. “What is the property management doing? Why haven’t they stopped such a dangerous practice?” “It’s mostly the elderly residents,” I said with a sigh. “How can you manage them? If you say too much, they’ll just lie on the ground and complain of heart trouble.” He shook his head. “Unbelievable.” “Anyway, I didn’t see anyone in the stairwell when I came down. Even if there is a killer, why would they throw a pot at me?” I glanced at him. “Throwing it at you, I could understand. Throwing it at me is just a waste of a perfectly good flowerpot.” He looked amused. “How do you know it wasn’t aimed at me? We were standing less than two feet apart.” He had a point. I scratched my head and hid behind him. “Okay, let’s go. Let’s go check it out.” Our building wasn’t a high-rise, only seven floors. I lived on the top floor, and I hadn’t seen anyone on my way down. Noah led me up the stairs, but we didn’t see anyone. I threw my hands up. “See? I told you.” He was still frowning. “Maybe they’re hiding. I don’t believe in coincidences.” “Where could they hide?” I asked. “We don’t have an elevator. There’s only this one staircase. How could they hide?” He stroked his chin, thinking, then his eyes lit up. “I know a place. A place someone could hide.” “And… a place that’s easily overlooked.” The place he was talking about was Mrs. Miller’s apartment. Standing in front of 302, I blinked. “Hide… in here?” He gestured for me to step back. “Yeah. No one’s been living here since she died. The police finished their investigation and left. It’s an empty apartment.” He jangled a set of keys in his hand. “The property manager gave us these so we could get in and investigate. But who knows who else has a key.” That was true. If Mrs. Miller’s murder wasn’t a crime of passion, it was likely the killer was someone she knew. Someone who might have a key to her apartment. He gestured for me to move further away. I took a few more steps down to the landing. Only then did he insert the key and press down on the handle. With a soft click, the door opened a crack. And his expression changed. “What’s wrong?” I asked, peeking around the corner. His face was tense. “The door was open.” “It wasn’t locked.” 8 I was stunned. “Maybe the police who were here before forgot to lock it?” He frowned. “No, they wouldn’t make a rookie mistake like that. And the property manager was with them. The door would have been locked.” He carefully pushed the door open. The living room was right inside, bright and sunny. A quick scan revealed no one was there. “Turn on your saw and stand guard by the door.” He pulled out his baton and instructed me, “If someone comes out, don’t try to stop them. Just protect yourself.” I nodded and flipped the switch. The buzz of the saw filled the air, vibrating up my arm. He took a deep breath and stepped inside. The apartment wasn’t large, about 800 square feet. It took him less than three minutes to search the whole place. He came out and shook his head. “No one.” “Maybe they slipped out while we were on the sixth or seventh floor,” I guessed. The doors in our complex had just been serviced, so they opened and closed quietly. It would be hard to hear from two floors down. He looked frustrated, pulling out his phone. “I’ll tell my backup not to come up. They can search the area around the complex first.” I nodded, my eyes scanning the apartment. The layout was simple, and a thin layer of dust had settled on the furniture. My gaze fell on the dining table. It wasn’t really a dining table, more like a small altar with an incense burner and several framed photos. One of the photos immediately caught my eye. It was a profile shot of a young woman, clearly taken without her knowledge. A large red ‘X’ had been drawn across her face. It was unsettling. Who was she? A young Mrs. Miller? She didn’t look like her. Just as I was wondering, Noah came over and pulled me back. “Let’s go.” I jumped, and the saw lurched forward, nearly hitting him below the belt. “Hey!” He dodged, a mix of anger and amusement on his face. “Are you trying to make me the last of my line?” I quickly turned off the saw, laughing nervously. “Of course not. We can’t waste a handsome man’s genes.” He pinched my cheek. “And how would we not waste them?” I scratched my chin. This conversation was taking a turn. Seeing my silence, he huffed and turned to leave. “All talk, no action.” Hey! Who’s he calling all talk? I immediately went after him, about to clap him on the shoulder, when I froze. “Noah… I think you’re bleeding!” 9 He grunted in confusion, then moved his shoulder and winced. “A piece of the pot must have gotten me. I was wondering why it hurt.” I was speechless. How thick-skinned do you have to be to not notice that for so long! “Come on, come on,” I pushed him downstairs. “Who knows how deep it is? What if it hit a nerve?” He wasn’t worried. “If it was that bad, I’d be rolling on the floor by now.” And he was right. When we got downstairs and he took off his shirt, the wound wasn’t deep at all. He could get the shard out with a pair of tweezers. I held his shirt, nervously wringing the fabric. “Does it need stitches?” He waved his hand. “The wound isn’t even as big as my finger. Stitches would just be embarrassing.” “It’s not about being embarrassed, it’s about whether it hurts,” I grumbled. He tilted his head and smiled, poking my cheek. “Lighten up. Why so serious?” “You got hurt saving me,” I mumbled. “How could I laugh? I’m not that heartless.” He chuckled. “It’s not that serious. I get hurt saving people all the time. I’m used to it.” I knew he was trying to make me feel better, but I wasn’t listening. My entire focus was on his chest, which was suddenly very close. He’d taken his shirt off to clean the wound, and now a half-naked, well-built, handsome man was standing right in front of me, his pecs practically bouncing with every movement. Oh god, I think I’m getting lightheaded. “Amy?” He waved a hand in front of my face. “Are you listening?” “…Huh?” My eyes didn’t move from the two points dancing before me. “Amy…” His voice changed, a complex mix of emotions. “You’re bleeding, too.” “From your nose.” 10 Oh crap! It’s definitely because of the hot, dry weather lately! It has nothing to do with his chest! I quickly tilted my head back to wipe my nose, but he grabbed the back of my neck. “Don’t tilt your head back! Lean forward!” He pinched the bridge of my nose and called for another officer to get an ice pack. I tried to stop him, my voice muffled. “I’m fine! Don’t bother anyone!” “Don’t move,” he said, trying to scare me. “You want the blood to go down into your stomach?” “It’s not that dramatic,” I muttered, but I stood still as he placed a cold water bottle on the bridge of my nose. “Amy, you’re hopeless,” he teased. “A little nosebleed and you’re out for the count?” I glared at him. “You say one more word and I’ll bite your nipples!” A nearby officer snickered. Noah’s face darkened. The bleeding stopped soon enough, and Noah got dressed after bandaging his shoulder. I looked at him. “Do I still get my reward?” He shot me a look. “You were just about to bite me, and you still want a reward?” I thought for a moment. “Oh, that’s fine. That can be the reward.” He was speechless for a second, then he pinched my cheek. “You’re a handful.” I scratched my chin, saying nothing. While we were getting patched up, the other officers had finished searching the area. They hadn’t found anyone suspicious. “So the flowerpot was just an accident?” I wondered. “But what about Mrs. Miller’s door being unlocked? Was that an accident too?” “We can’t be sure yet,” he said, his hand moving to the back of my neck, guiding me forward. “Let’s go.” “Where are we going?” His eyes met mine, a faint smile in them. “Don’t you want your reward?” My eyes lit up, and I forgot about everything else. “Let’s go!” He drove out of the complex and to a commercial street, stopping in front of a restaurant. I looked at it, my enthusiasm waning. “The reward is dinner?” He narrowed his eyes, a playful smile on his face. “What did you think the reward was, Ms. Amy?” 11 I laughed nervously. “Nothing… Dinner is great. I love dinner.” He pointed a finger at me, about to speak, when someone behind him called out. “Noah?” He turned, surprised. “Mr. Peterson? What are you doing here?” I looked over. It was a man in his sixties, with a friendly face. “Just passing by,” he said, then his eyes fell on me, a mischievous glint in them. “Well, well… when did you get a girlfriend?” Noah glanced at me, and seeing I wasn’t offended, he turned back to the old man. “You’re as nosy as ever, sir. It’s not like that.” Mr. Peterson wasn’t easily fooled. “Not like that? Then why did you just glance at her?” Noah sighed and introduced us. “This is Mr. Peterson. He used to be in our tech department. He just retired.” “Mr. Peterson,” I said politely. He smiled. “Yes, you seem like a nice girl.” Noah scoffed at that. I secretly stepped on his foot and said to Mr. Peterson, “Are you here for dinner too? Would you like to join us?” He waved his hand. “I won’t interrupt you two lovebirds. It’s just…” He hesitated. “I heard about that recent murder case. The crime scene isn’t far from here, is it?” Noah paused, confused. “It is. Why do you ask?” “I heard about it when I was at the station finishing up some paperwork,” he said with a sigh. “And the victim, this Ms. Miller… I knew her.” Noah and I both froze. “You knew her?” He nodded. “Her son was in the same middle school as my daughter. They had a good life, but then…” Then what? That’s the important part! Seeing our eager expressions, he looked surprised. “You don’t know? You didn’t find out during your investigation?” He seemed to realize something. “Right. I heard she took the money and disappeared.” “What happened? Please don’t keep us in suspense!” Noah urged. “Her son was in an accident in his last year of middle school,” he explained. “I think he was hit by a car. The driver paid them a large sum of money to keep it quiet, and after that, she and her husband disappeared.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394280”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel