Author: Momo Chan

It was at a game of Truth or Dare when someone asked Ethan, “If you could do it all over again, would you choose Leah or Jennifer?” Ethan downed a glass of liquor, a wistful look in his eyes. “Back then, I was too broke,” he said, his voice laced with regret. “A girl like Jennifer would have only suffered with me.” And so, he chose me. But things were different now. He had money, power, and status. He could protect Jennifer, shelter her from the world. He could even kneel on one knee and let her use his leg as a stepping stone. As for me? He just didn’t understand. “I’ve already made you Mrs. Cranston,” he’d say. “What more could you possibly want?” 1 Today is my birthday. Ethan asked me what my wish was. I tossed my earrings onto the nightstand and half-heartedly blew out the candles. Then, I clasped my hands together with exaggerated reverence and said with deadpan sincerity, “I wish we could get a divorce as soon as possible.” The words hung in the air, freezing him in place. The faint smile on his face slowly dissolved. After a long moment, he sighed and rubbed his temples, a picture of weary frustration. “Are you still angry?” he asked. “I rushed back, didn’t I?” “Don’t keep throwing the word ‘divorce’ around. I might actually start to believe you mean it.” I looked at him. The exhaustion was etched onto his face. A week of gallivanting around Scandinavia with Jennifer must have been tiring, followed by a nine-hour flight. He hadn’t even stopped, driving straight to our home at The Grandview to pick me up. He’d had a cake delivered and asked our housekeeper to buy fresh ingredients. The moment he walked through the door, he started cooking me an elaborate meal. He was still in his travel clothes, all for the sake of celebrating my birthday. In previous years, a gesture like this would have made me melt. I would have felt like the luckiest woman in the world. But this year was different. I felt nothing. If anything, I was annoyed. I met his gaze, my expression blank. “Divorce. Divorce. Divorce. Is that clear enough? I can keep saying it if you need me to. I’m begging you to take me seriously.” His face turned to ice. His jaw tightened, the muscles flexing in sharp relief. He kicked a chair, the legs screeching against the floor. “That’s enough, Leah.” “How long are you going to keep this up? Do you find this amusing?” He took a few deep breaths, trying to rein in his temper. “I didn’t miss your birthday. I came back to be with you. You can drop the act.” “I’m going to go take a shower,” he said, turning his back on me. “You need to cool down.” He went upstairs without a second glance. I stared at the sickeningly sweet buttercream cake and the still-steaming dishes on the table, genuinely baffled. Why on earth did he think him rushing back to celebrate my birthday was so important to me? My friends had planned a perfect night for me: fireworks, fine wine, and handsome men. It was supposed to be a flawless celebration. Then Ethan showed up and ruined everything. He had been the perfect gentleman, his voice laced with a deep affection as he took my hand. He smiled at my friends and said, “May I borrow Leah for the rest of the night?” Then he had whisked me away, his grip firm. I didn’t struggle. I didn’t protest. I even kept a smile plastered on my face. Not because I was happy, but because I’m used to keeping up appearances. It’s second nature to be civil, even when you’re screaming on the inside. 2 While Ethan showered upstairs, I sat on the sofa and lit a cigarette. The phone rang as I was starting my second. Jennifer’s name flashed on the screen. I watched it ring for a full thirty seconds, making no move to answer. I crushed the butt of my cigarette into the ashtray and poured myself a glass of wine. The phone rang again. Still Jennifer. This time, I answered and put it on speaker. Jennifer’s imperious, demanding voice filled the room. “Where’s Ethan? Put him on the phone.” I said nothing, downing the red wine in one gulp. “Leah, I know you’re there. Answer me.” “Get Ethan on the phone. I need to talk to him.” “Ugh, do you think I’d be calling you if his phone wasn’t turned off? This is so annoying!” Her voice was thick with barely suppressed anger. A cold smile touched my lips. “He’s in the shower.” “Is there something you need?” Jennifer fell silent. A few seconds later, she spoke again, her voice dripping with acid. “You two really don’t waste any time, do you?” “Is there anything you do besides screwing each other?” “Disgusting.” Her words made me chuckle. “What we do in our bed is perfectly legal. What’s it to you?” “Or is he supposed to stay celibate for you?” “What the hell are you talking about?” Jennifer shrieked, her composure cracking. “I wouldn’t stoop to sleeping with him. He might be a prize to you, but to me, Ethan Cranston is nothing.” She said it with a certain amount of conviction. I couldn’t be bothered to argue. “What do you want? If you’re not going to say, I’m hanging up.” “The code!” she said, her voice urgent. “What’s the code to the house? It’s this long string of numbers, I can never remember it. It’s so irritating.” 3 24563. The code. It was the passcode for every property we owned, the lock screen on Ethan’s phone. It had never changed. I had asked him once what the six digits meant. “Nothing,” he’d said dismissively. “Just a random number.” For a time, I believed him. Then one day, I picked up his phone and typed the numbers into the old T9 keypad. The letters that appeared spelled out: C-H-L-O-E. I said nothing. I ended the call and tossed the phone aside. As I was pouring myself another glass of wine, Ethan came downstairs, a towel wrapped around his waist. He was drying his hair when I handed him a folder. “What’s this?” “The divorce papers. Sign them.” Ethan shot me a cold look and started to walk past me toward the liquor cabinet. I swept my arm across the dining table. Plates, glasses, and food went crashing to the floor. The sound was deafening in the dead of night. Ethan’s fury finally erupted. He stalked toward me. “What the hell is wrong with you? Is this all because I was a few hours late for your birthday?” I laughed in his face. “Don’t flatter yourself. You’re not that important.” “You can sign these papers calmly, or we can burn everything to the ground, and then you can sign them. Your choice.” His face was a mask of rage. He threw the towel on the floor. “You’re being irrational.” He turned to go back upstairs, but my voice stopped him. “Jennifer called just now.” “She said she couldn’t reach you. She doesn’t know the code to her place and can’t get in.” Ethan froze. “Why didn’t you say so earlier?” “Did you give her the code?” “Why would I do that?” I asked, my voice glacial. His brow furrowed. He started to rush upstairs to change. But I was faster. I lunged forward and planted my foot squarely in the middle of his back. As he stumbled, I dropped down, pinning him with my knee and twisting his arms behind him in one smooth motion. He grunted in pain and roared, “Leah, what are you doing?” I leaned over him, slapping the folder against his cheek. “Sign the papers.” “If you don’t, you’re not leaving this house.” “Your precious little princess can freeze outside all night for all I care.” This time, Ethan was silent for a long, long time. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and defeated. “You know what I can’t stand about you? The way you always, always resort to violence.” 4 My relationship with Ethan is… complicated. In our poorest years, we lived in the same building, one floor apart, and never exchanged a single word. My mother was a beautiful woman who had me at nineteen and spent the rest of her life drifting from one man to another. My grandmother, determined I wouldn’t follow the same path, raised me like a boy. She even had me learn self-defense from the man downstairs. He was a boxing coach, a mountain of muscle, but he had a son who was perpetually frail, a boy he treated like a delicate porcelain doll. That was Ethan and his father. As kids, I was the one who protected Ethan. He was my little sidekick, and I was his shield. That lasted for ten years, until my grandmother passed away, and then his father was killed. We were just kids, left all alone in the world. We should have clung to each other for warmth. But for some reason I never understood, he started to push me away. I wasn’t a fool. I felt the cold shoulder, so I stopped trying. He was smart and handsome, but his cold demeanor and weak constitution kept him isolated. In high school, when boys are full of testosterone and cruelty, he became a target. I overheard some of the basketball players one day. “That pretty boy, he’s so annoying. We should break one of his fingers.” Ethan’s fingers. Those were the fingers he used to study, to write, to build a new life for himself. I followed them after school. I used the techniques Ethan’s father had taught me, and I taught them a lesson. I got a few cuts and bruises myself, but it didn’t matter. I’m tough. I can take a punch. When I was heading upstairs, my bag slung over my shoulder, Ethan was waiting for me in the shadows. He pulled me into his apartment and expertly cleaned my wounds. It was the first time I’d been inside since his father died. His dad had been killed trying to stop a mugging. He could have easily handled the attackers, but one of them had a knife. The person he saved moved away overnight, disappearing without a trace. The attacker went to prison, but there was no money for compensation. At the funeral, Ethan knelt before the grave, his face blank. He said his father was a fool who got what he deserved for overestimating his own strength. He said the thing he hated most was people who used violence to solve their problems. From that day on, he stopped speaking to me. But that afternoon, as he gently bandaged my hand, his head bowed low, he spoke. His voice was soft, almost a whisper. “Leah, don’t fight anymore. Especially not for me.” 5 It had been a long time since Ethan had looked so defeated. He scrawled his name at the bottom of the document, threw the divorce papers on the floor, got dressed, and stormed out. I, on the other hand, had the best night’s sleep I’d had in ages. The next morning, I called a moving company. Ethan returned just as the movers were carrying a massive oil painting out the door. “What are you doing? Who told you to touch that?” He jumped out of his car and ran over, his face dark. The movers exchanged nervous glances. I walked out of the house. “I did. Is there a problem?” Ethan took a deep breath. “What are you trying to pull now?” “Isn’t that my painting?” Jennifer appeared, getting out of the passenger seat. “Ethan, you bought it for me? You should have told me! You’re so annoying.” Despite her words, her eyes were sparkling as she gazed at the canvas. Ethan stiffened, his eyes darting toward me. I offered a serene smile. “Actually, I’m the one who bought it.” “I must have been blind back then,” I continued, my voice dripping with scorn. “Spent almost thirty thousand dollars on this thing. The more I look at it now, the more it disgusts me.” It was during the toughest period of Ethan’s startup. He was working around the clock, but he still made time to take me to an art exhibit. I didn’t know much about art, but I saw him standing in front of that painting for a long time, looking at it with a deep, wistful longing. So I saved every penny I earned over the next year and bought it for him as a birthday present. We moved many times after that, each house bigger than the last, but that painting always came with us. I thought he cherished it because it was a gift from me. Then he went to Hong Kong and brought Jennifer back. One day, she was painting in the garden, and I saw her signature. It was identical to the one on the oil painting. Do you know what it feels like to have your entire world shatter into a million pieces? It’s hard to describe. I just remember crouching on the floor for a long time, my face pale, the taste of rust in my mouth from clenching my jaw. 6 My words clearly hit a nerve with Jennifer. She lunged forward. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Ethan grabbed her arm, holding her back. Jennifer looked at him, incredulous. “You’re protecting her?” She yanked her arm free, her eyes red with fury, and spun around as if to run off. Ethan held on, but his voice softened. “Jennifer, stop. Go wait in the car. I’ll take you to meet Director Evans in a bit.” She pouted and shot me a glare, but she did as she was told. Ethan opened his mouth to speak. I looked at him with a half-smile. “Jennifer might not get it, but I do. You pretend to hold her back, but you’re really protecting her.” “But you don’t have to worry,” I added. “I won’t touch her. It’s not worth compromising myself for her sake.” For a moment, Ethan’s expression was rigid. But he was a master of composure, and he recovered quickly. “Don’t let your imagination run wild.” “With Jennifer… I’m just helping her out for old times’ sake.” “You don’t need to project your own dirty thoughts onto us.” Hypocrite. It was the only word that came to mind. I laughed coldly. “Is it that you don’t want to?” “No. It’s that you don’t deserve to.” Jennifer was a princess. When Ethan and I were living on five dollars a day, she wore hair clips that cost ten thousand dollars. We should have never even crossed paths with someone like her. But that year, she transferred to our high school for a semester. The arrogant, golden princess took one look at Ethan and decided she wanted him. “Hey, can I sit next to you?” “No.” “Can you help me with my homework?” “I don’t have time.” “Ethan, I like you.” “I don’t like you.” After being rejected repeatedly, the princess’s frustration turned to cruelty. She started targeting him. Spilling milk on his exam papers. Pouring a bowl of soup over his head. Mocking him for not being able to afford new shoes. Falsely accusing him of stealing her pen. Ethan told me to stay out of it, that he could handle it. But his grades were slipping. I took matters into my own hands. I found Jennifer and warned her to leave him alone, or she’d have to deal with me. Ethan was furious. He forced me to apologize to her and then carried her home on his back when she feigned an injury. “We can’t afford to make an enemy of her, Leah,” he told me later. “We just have to endure it. Endure it until we don’t have to answer to anyone.” I always thought he hated her. But people are complicated. There’s no such thing as pure love or pure hate. It’s always a tangled mess. 7 Ethan ignored the movers and went inside to grab some files. As he left, he tossed one last comment over his shoulder. “Do whatever you want.” So I did. I threw out the painting, the wedding photos, the master bedroom mattress, and even his entire wardrobe. A final truck hauled away the last of my belongings, and I was gone. That night, I slept on a makeshift bed on the floor of my new, still-unfurnished apartment. I stared at the ceiling until dawn before finally drifting off. When I woke up, I was in a properly made bed. I wasn’t surprised. I knew I hadn’t sleepwalked, and no burglar had broken in. Only one person could have found me here: Ethan. Sure enough, when I walked out of the bedroom, he was in the kitchen, cooking noodles. Ethan was a fast learner. In the years when we couldn’t afford takeout, he taught himself to cook. He could make anything taste good. I was the complete opposite. He never understood it. “Can’t you just follow the recipe? Why do you always have to improvise?” And I never understood him. “It’s just one green onion. What’s the big deal if we leave it out? Do you really have to go all the way to the store for it?” Those chaotic, messy days were full of life. But looking back, they feel like another lifetime. “You’re up? Brush your teeth, wash your face. Breakfast is ready.” I didn’t move. “The deed to this place is in my name. Don’t come here again.” The hand stirring the noodles froze. He turned off the stove, switched off the extractor fan, and turned to face me. “I can promise you,” he said, his voice low, “that Jennifer is not a threat to our marriage. You will always be Mrs. Cranston. What are you still not satisfied with?”

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Five years. That’s how long it had been since we’d torn our lives apart. In that time, Ethan Hayes had become a titan, his name synonymous with success. So, when the host of a live televised interview announced a special segment—dialing a random number from his phone—I never imagined my screen would light up. But it did. And I froze. On the television, I saw Ethan’s gaze fall on the selected number. The blood drained from his face, his composure cracking for a fraction of a second. The host, blissfully unaware, prattled on as the phone rang and rang, unanswered. A wave of relief washed over Ethan’s features. He thought he was safe. But in that moment, a reckless impulse took hold of me. I answered. “Long time no see, Mr. Hayes.” On screen, Ethan’s expression morphed into a mask of cold fury. The host stammered, quickly fabricating an excuse to end the call. 1 The line went dead. I tossed my phone aside and stared at the row of empty prescription bottles lined up on the counter. A silent monument to a battle already lost. That’s right. I was dying. The same year Ethan and I divorced, I was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. The doctors gave me five years, tops. So I vanished from Crestwood City, erasing myself from the world he inhabited. He must have assumed I was already gone, a ghost from a life he’d successfully buried. This call, this proof that I was still breathing, must have been a bitter disappointment. I swept the empty bottles into the trash and walked to the balcony, wrapping my thin arms around myself. Sunlight washed over me, but all I felt was a profound, soul-deep chill. The doctor’s latest verdict echoed in my mind. Three months. That’s all I had left. 2 I never expected to see her at the hospital pharmacy. Tiffany Cole, the woman Ethan cherished, the treasure he kept locked in the palm of his hand. I tried to hurry past, a ghost in the bustling hallway, but her voice snagged me. “Elara? It is you, isn’t it?” I froze for a heartbeat, my back still to her. I pulled my face mask up higher, my only thought to run. But it was too late. She was already standing in front of me. Sighing, I lowered the mask, mustering a weak, shoulder-shrugging smile. “Miss Cole. Fancy seeing you here.” Her eyes widened in shock as she took in my gaunt face. “It really is you.” Her gaze darted instinctively to the large paper bag of medications in my hand. “Are you sick? Why do you need so much medicine?” The bag was opaque; she couldn’t see the labels. But I didn’t believe for a second that Ethan hadn’t told her. He adored her. I was the obstacle, the painful memory between them. Telling her I was dying of cancer would have been a relief, a gift. I had no desire to linger. I took a step to leave, but she moved to block my path, her face a whirlwind of a thousand unasked questions. “Excuse me, Miss Cole.” “Can we just talk for a minute?” I ignored her, sidestepping her and walking away. I’d only taken a few steps when a soft thud echoed behind me. I turned. My breath hitched in my throat. “Miss Cole!” “Ma’am!” Two bodyguards rushed forward, kneeling to help the woman who had collapsed on the polished floor. I stood rooted to the spot, my eyes drawn to the tall, imposing figure striding down the hall. The air crackled around him, thick with an authority that suffocated everything else. “Mr. Hayes, Miss Cole has fainted,” one of the bodyguards reported, looking up. “Get her back to her room. Now,” the man—Ethan—commanded, his voice sharp as broken glass. The bodyguards hastily lifted Tiffany and carried her off. Suddenly, the corridor was empty, save for the two of us. I felt like all the air had been vacuumed from my lungs. No one could command a space like Ethan Hayes. “I didn’t touch her,” I said, my voice thin. “She fainted on her own.” His eyes, cold and dark, narrowed on me. “She’s been perfectly fine. Then she runs into you, and suddenly she collapses out of nowhere?” “She has a heart condition, doesn’t she? Isn’t fainting a possibility?” That struck a nerve. The wrong one. “Five years,” he hissed, his voice a low, dangerous growl. “And you’re still alive. I have to admit, I’m surprised. You’re more resilient than I gave you credit for.” My hands clenched into fists at my sides, nails digging into my palms. “My doctor just told me I’m set to live a long and healthy life. Sorry to disappoint you, Mr. Hayes.” I turned my back on him and walked away, not daring to look back. His voice followed me, a chilling promise. “Elara. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll disappear from Crestwood. I’ll pretend today never happened.” A sliver of ice traced its way down my spine. 3 By the time I returned home from a late grocery run, evening had settled over the city. A small cluster of neighbors was gathered by my apartment door, their hushed whispers ceasing as I approached. A knot of dread tightened in my stomach. I broke into a run. The door was ajar. Inside, my world had been annihilated. Everything—furniture, dishes, memories—was smashed, shattered, and destroyed. The bag of groceries slipped from my numb fingers, scattering across the floor. I bit down on my lip, hard, tasting blood. Drawing a shaky breath, I stepped into the kitchen. The refrigerator door hung open, and on the floor, amid a sea of broken glass, lay the shattered vials of my insulin. For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. The world tilted, and my knees gave out, sending me down into the glittering shards. A presence behind me made me look up. A man in a dark suit stood in the doorway. “Miss Flynn,” he said, his tone devoid of emotion. “Mr. Hayes asked me to remind you that you were the one who broke the agreement by returning to Crestwood.” He paused. “This is just a warning.” He turned to leave. My eyes, burning and red, fixed on his back. “Give him a message for me,” I choked out, my voice raw. “Tell him to bring whatever he’s got. Roots run deep. I’ll die in this city, right where I belong.” 4 Three days later, I found myself at Crestwood’s most prestigious cemetery, picking out a prime plot with a view. The agent was drawing up the contract when a flash of movement caught my eye. A small, injured cat tumbled from the top of the stone wall, landing in a heap near the foundation. I walked over and gently scooped it into my arms. Its tiny body trembled. “Shh, it’s okay,” I whispered. “As soon as I’m done here, I’ll take you to a vet.” “Mr. Hayes, our director is waiting for you upstairs.” My head snapped up. My gaze collided with Ethan’s. His eyes narrowed, a flicker of confusion in them. “What is she doing here?” he asked the manager guiding him. The manager, eager to please, answered immediately. “This young lady is here to purchase a plot, sir. She’s just chosen one.” “Don’t—” The word died in my throat, too late. A slow, cruel smirk spread across Ethan’s lips. “Is that so? In that case, I’m afraid there are no plots left to sell her.” He didn’t even look at me. “Cancel that contract. I’ll speak to your boss personally.” I clutched the small cat to my chest, a hollow ache spreading through me. “Ethan,” I called out, my voice shaking. “When I die, I have to be buried somewhere.” He paused on the stairs, just for a moment. “Miss Flynn,” he said, without turning around. “How you’re buried is no concern of mine.” My vision blurred. A symptom of the advanced cancer—temporary blindness. It usually passed quickly. “Don’t you feel any guilt, stealing a grave from a dying woman?” “No,” he answered, sharp and final, before continuing up the stairs and out of sight. As I walked out of the cemetery, the world was a hazy, indistinct blur. A man followed me out. He was one of the groundskeepers. “Miss,” he said quietly. “I know a place. They still sell plots there.” 5 Three hours later, I stood on a small hill on the outskirts of Crestwood, looking down at a simple, rectangular hole dug into the earth. It was remote, but the afternoon sun poured into the pit, making the soil itself seem warm and inviting. “This is my family’s land,” the groundskeeper explained. “We do traditional burials out here. Just dig a hole, and fill it back in.” He hesitated. “It’s not fancy, I know. But it’s cheap.” “How much?” “How about three hundred dollars?” I transferred him fifteen hundred. The extra was for a promise: that when the time came, he would be the one to cover me with that warm earth. He agreed instantly. 6 The pages of my calendar dwindled, one by one. Looking at the remaining balance in my bank account—money my parents had left me long ago—I decided on one last act of defiance. I took a cab to the most exclusive club downtown. I booked the largest private suite and ordered a half-dozen male models, all sharp jaws and broad shoulders. If I was going to die unloved, why not have a little fun first? I don’t know how long he’d been standing there, watching us play our drinking games, a silent, judgmental shadow in the open doorway. It was Ethan. One look at his thunderous face, and the half-bottle of champagne I’d consumed might as well have been water. His lips twisted into a sneer as he took in the scene. His assistant, Leo, stood just behind him, phone raised, recording everything. “Having fun, Miss Flynn?” he drawled, his voice dripping with contempt. “Finally showing your true colors, are we?” A sharp pain lanced through my chest. That tone—always so distant, so mocking. The undisguised pleasure he took in finding my breaking point. But what was I even doing? Still letting his cold indifference hurt me? I was a fool. I forced a breezy smile. “Absolutely! It’s a blast. Care to join us, Mr. Hayes?” He recoiled as if I’d offered him poison. “No, thank you. This isn’t my scene,” he said, his voice clipped. “Enjoy yourself.” He turned and strode away. Over his shoulder, I heard him instruct his assistant. “Send that to my grandmother. Let her see the ‘gentle and well-mannered’ daughter-in-law she was always so fond of.” 7 The party was over. I dismissed everyone but one of the young men, asking him to wait with me in the suite. The lights were dim, and I sat wrapped in the shadows, my mind a complete blank. “Achoo!” The air conditioning was blasting, and I hugged myself, shivering. Only I knew that in the darkness, tears were streaming down my face. The man I loved—the man I still loved, God help me—hated me to his very core. I eventually led the young model out of the club, right as Ethan and his entourage were preparing to leave. Their laughter died as they saw us. Ethan was the last to look over, his face an unreadable mask. “Taking him home with you?” he asked, his voice flat. I lifted my chin, tightening my grip on the young man’s hand. “Yes. I’m quite pleased with him.” I expected another sarcastic jab, another cruel remark. Instead, he just stared at me, his eyes dark and intense. I held my breath, then led the model to a waiting car and disappeared into the night. 8 When I woke up, the first thing I saw was the harsh, sterile white of a hospital ceiling. The sun was blinding. I tried to pull the sheet over my head, but a hand yanked it back down. “Hiding now, are we?” a nurse scolded. “Didn’t think about this when you were out drinking, did you? Forgetting you’re a patient?” I managed a weak, guilty smile. “Lesson learned. I’ll never do it again.” Days ago, not long after leaving the club, I had started vomiting blood. The terrified taxi driver had diverted straight to the ER. 9 After days of lying in bed, I felt strong enough to walk. I decided to stretch my legs, wandering the quiet hospital floors. As I passed a VIP suite, I heard voices and paused. “Ethan, can’t I go home yet? I’m so bored of this place.” It was Tiffany. “The doctor said you’re still a bit anemic. Just a couple more days of observation.” Ethan’s voice was gentle, soothing. Tiffany pouted. “Everyone’s a little anemic. It’s not a big deal.” My feet felt glued to the floor. Through the crack in the door, I saw Ethan reach out and gently stroke her hair. “Be good. Trust me. Just two more days.” She stuck her tongue out playfully. “Okay. By the way… is Elara really… dying?” “Yes,” he confirmed. “I had someone look into her case file. A month, maybe a little more. That’s it.” I watched his face, searching for any flicker of emotion. But there was nothing. He was a man of immense self-control, a fortress of secrets, but as he spoke of my death, his expression was placid. His breathing was even. My life, my death—it truly meant nothing to him. “But she really loved you,” Tiffany said softly. “I heard Alex and the guys talking about it. Once, they were playing a game, and they joked that you needed a liver transplant. Without a second of hesitation, she said she’d give you half of hers.” She looked down. “When they asked me, I hesitated. I was scared it would hurt.” Tears welled in her eyes. Ethan sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her into his arms. “Silly girl,” he murmured. “I love you. You don’t have to do anything for me. If it ever came to that, I’d be the one making the sacrifice for you.” I turned and walked away, my legs carrying me to the end of another, deserted corridor. The world outside the window was bathed in the hazy, melancholic light of dusk. All these years, the doomed connection between us… it was as simple as this: I loved Ethan Hayes. And he didn’t love me. My love hadn’t just been unrequited; it had curdled, transforming his indifference into a deep, abiding hatred. A hatred so profound, he was now patiently waiting for me to die. 10 Sunlight broke through the clouds. I was packing my small bag, determined to leave. “What do you think you’re doing?” I turned to face the young nurse, Nurse Miller. I shrugged. “Going home. This bed is killing my back.” Her eyes widened in disbelief. She snatched the bag from my hand and threw it back onto the bed. “Go home? Are you insane? Look at yourself! You’re in no condition to be discharged.” She put her hands on her hips. “Don’t you know? The Grim Reaper can come for you at 3 AM, but a hospital can keep him waiting a few extra days. You go home, and he can take you whenever he damn well pleases.” We stared each other down for a long moment. Finally, my strength gave out. I sank to the floor, hot tears splashing onto the linoleum. “But I don’t want to live any longer, Nurse Miller,” I whispered, my hand clutching the hem of her scrubs. “Please, just let me go.” She looked stunned. “But… what about your family? You have to think of them.” I shook my head. “I’ve been an orphan since I was a little girl.” She gasped. “Then… isn’t there anyone in this world you care about?” I shook my head again. “Not anymore.” This time, it was her eyes that filled with tears. “No wonder,” she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. “You were unconscious for days. Not a single visitor came.” She knelt beside me and wrapped me in a tight, fierce hug. Then, she told me she would handle my discharge papers. As dusk fell, I walked out of the hospital. Ethan and Tiffany remained inside, the hospital walls separating us into two different worlds. This time, as I left, it felt different. I felt lighter. Like I had finally, truly let something go. 11 The calendar on my wall had only one month left. I booked a flight. A final trip. I never could have anticipated the cruel twist of fate. As the plane was about to take off, the last passenger to board was Ethan Hayes. And his seat was right next to mine. I stared in disbelief. After the hospital, I thought I’d never have to see him again. He noticed me at the same time. As he stowed his luggage in the overhead bin, I quickly put on an eye mask, shutting out the world. He was annoyed by my presence, and I had no desire to see him, let alone invite more humiliation. The first-class seats were spacious, designed for sleeping. I feigned sleep for almost the entire flight, my hair probably a tangled mess against the headrest. Beside me, I could hear the quiet, steady tapping of a keyboard. He was working. Only when the pilot announced our final descent did I sit up and remove the mask. I accepted a small snack from the flight attendant, needing the energy. “Where are you headed?” I looked up, surprised. He was talking to me. I took a sip of milk. “Isn’t everyone on this plane going to Veridia?” His expression tightened. “I mean, where in Veridia?” “Are you concerned about me?” I asked, a hint of disbelief in my voice. He gave me a look that screamed, Are you an idiot? Just then, the plane touched down. Of course he wasn’t concerned. He was terrified we’d run into each other again. I stood up and grabbed my bag from the bin. “It’s a big state, Ethan,” I said, not answering his question. “We won’t see each other again.” I was the first one off the plane. I’m done loving you. 12 Three days later, we ran into each other in the lobby of the Grand Veridian Hotel. Apparently, great minds—or at least, people with money—thought alike. A part of me knew our paths were fated to cross one last time. “Elara.” I had already walked past him, but his voice stopped me in my tracks. I took a deep breath before turning around. “Is there a problem? There are plenty of other hotels in this city, Mr. Hayes. You’re free to change yours.” “Judging by your attitude, I take it you’ve finally come to your senses.” I wasn’t expecting that. “I have,” I said, the words feeling surprisingly true. “I’ve let it go. I wish you and Miss Cole a lifetime of happiness.” “Thank you,” he replied, his tone even. “And I hope your remaining days are… peaceful.” My hand clenched into a fist. “They will be.” I was about to walk away for good. “Mr. Hayes, I have the laptop. We can head to the meeting now.” Ethan’s assistant, Leo, had just joined us. It happened in a flash. A man with a knife burst from the crowd, shoving past me, his eyes fixed on the man behind me. “Ethan, look out!” The warning barely left my lips before the man was on him. But I had already moved, throwing myself between them. A searing, white-hot pain exploded in my abdomen. “Get the hell off him!” “You crazy bitch!” The world devolved into a chaotic blur of shouting and motion. I felt a strange disconnect, as if the blood pouring from my body wasn’t mine. But I refused to let go, my fingers a vise grip on the attacker’s arm. So much blood. It hurt… my grip was slipping… Then Ethan was there, a blur of controlled violence. He kicked the attacker to the ground, sent the knife skittering across the marble floor, and his eyes—his eyes landed on me. For the first time, I saw them widen with an emotion I couldn’t name. It looked like terror. “Elara.” He’d never said my name with such softness. He dropped to his knees, catching me as my legs gave out. Leo was pinning the attacker down, shouting into his phone. “This… Miss Flynn?” Ethan roared, a sound of pure primal fury. “What are you staring at? Call an ambulance!” I tried to speak, but only blood gurgled from my lips. I clamped my mouth shut. “Don’t talk,” he commanded, his voice shaking as he gently wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth. “We’re almost at the hospital. Just hold on.”

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Five years after my death, the Port City police finally dug up my bones. Inside my mouth, they found a custom-made microchip and a miniature transmitter. Everyone on the force knew what that meant. It meant that five years ago, I wasn’t the shame of the PCPD, and I certainly wasn’t a traitor. It meant that even while being tortured beyond human endurance, I never stopped trying to transmit intelligence on the drug cartel. My wife became a wreck, my brother swore vengeance on my killer, and the rage from it all landed my mentor in the ICU. But me? Floating as a soul in the air, I could only laugh. The killer? Wasn’t it the man standing right beside my wife? Her childhood friend, Jakie Kinnear? 1 Five years ago, I was silenced by a conspiracy between Jakie and the drug traffickers. He used my ID to hack into the system and leak the entire list of undercover officers, leading to the brutal retaliation and murder of over a hundred of our own. When my wife, Cathy, led the SWAT team to bust down the door, they found him covered in blood, sobbing. He told them I had sold out my colleagues for profit and had even tried to kill him to cover my tracks. He claimed that if backup hadn’t arrived when it did, forcing me to flee, he would have been killed on the spot. The staged crime scene, the internal system logs showing my access credentials, and a massive wire transfer that appeared in my mother’s medical account—it all corroborated the story Jakie spun. My betrayal was a fact. My wife’s love for me curdled into a bottomless hatred. My mentor publicly disowned me. My own brother, who once idolized me, took out a newspaper ad to sever all ties. Abandoned by everyone I loved, I became the ultimate disgrace of the Port City Police Department. Until five years later, when they finally busted a major drug ring. While searching the dog kennel the traffickers used to hide their product, they unearthed the skeletal remains of a man, buried for five years. They unearthed me. They were about to pack up when a K-9 suddenly started barking furiously at an old oak tree in the corner of the yard. I floated in the air, watching the German Shepherd tear at the ground, dirt flying. The officer in charge was my brother, Mark. The last time I saw him, he was just a rookie with a hot head. Now, he was leading his own team. Seeing the dog’s frantic behavior, Mark frowned and raised a hand. “Dig.” Several officers immediately grabbed shovels and surrounded the spot. The first shovelful turned up nothing but dark soil and tangled roots. They dug deeper and deeper, but still, there was nothing. Just as they were about to give up, a shovel struck something hard with a dull thud. “Got something!” They cleared the dirt away, layer by layer. But instead of the drugs they expected, they found a skeleton, curled into a fetal position, with horrifying scraps of tissue still clinging to it. Mark knelt, his brow furrowed so tightly it looked painful. “Get the M.E. and forensics down here,” he ordered, his eyes never leaving the remains. He didn’t recognize me. He couldn’t see that this grotesque collection of bones was the brother he once worshipped. I suppose it made sense. Five years underground is more than enough time for insects and decay to strip away familiar flesh, leaving only this. Mark pulled on a pair of gloves and gently brushed his fingers over the crisscrossing knife marks and canine bite marks etched into the bone. The medical examiner arrived quickly. He knelt and examined the skeleton, his voice calm and clinical. “Time of death is estimated at five to six years ago. Multiple sharp-force injuries and canine bite marks are present. The victim suffered prolonged torture before death.” He pointed to the deep cuts on the larger bones. “The wounds are numerous and widespread, suggesting a retaliatory motive.” “Retaliatory?” a young officer nearby murmured. “Five to six years ago… in a drug lord’s kennel… You don’t think this is connected to that botched operation, do you?” “When the undercover list was leaked, a lot of our guys were targeted. Many of them just disappeared. This could be one of them,” another officer added, before spitting on the ground. “All because of that traitor, Alex Chen. Sold out his own for money, got so many good cops killed. He’s the goddamn shame of the PCPD.” Alex Chen. The shame of the PCPD. Mark’s hands clenched into fists, his knuckles turning white. “Shut up!” an older officer who had been there five years ago snapped, elbowing the younger cop. He then forced a strained smile. “Mark, the kid’s new, doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Don’t take it to heart.” But Mark just let out a cold, bitter laugh, his eyes sharp. “He’s not wrong. Traitors to the badge deserve to be nailed to a cross.” He stood up, his voice like ice. “And one day, I’ll be the one to drag that bastard Alex Chen back here myself.” I hovered in place, my soul feeling like it was being torn in two. The traitor they were talking about… the one who sold out his friends, his badge, his soul… was me? My thoughts spiraled into chaos. How could this be? I died protecting that evidence. How could I possibly be a traitor? Just then, the M.E. leaned in closer, noticing something odd. “Strange. The jaw is clenched shut. It looks like there’s something in his mouth.” Every head snapped in his direction. The M.E., wearing latex gloves, carefully tried to pry open the mandible. But after five years, the bone was fused tight. “It’s locked too tight. Forcing it here could cause damage,” he said grimly. “We’ll have to take it back to the lab for a full examination to see what’s inside.” I was still drowning in confusion, the weight of the injustice and rage a poison dissolving my very essence. Just as the overwhelming emotions threatened to extinguish me completely, an irresistible force pulled me away. When I came to my senses, I was floating down the brightly lit hallway of the city precinct, trailing helplessly behind a tall, sharp figure. It was my wife, Cathy. She wore a crisp uniform, the insignia on her shoulder indicating she was now a Captain. Five years had stripped away the last traces of her youth, leaving behind a sharper, more defined silhouette. But a permanent weariness clung to her like a shadow, a gloom that sunlight could never seem to pierce. “Captain,” the M.E.’s voice cut through my haze. “We have the preliminary results. TOD is five years. Multiple sharp-force injuries and animal bite marks. We can confidently say it was a torture-murder, retaliatory in nature.” “DNA is still being processed. But if the victim turns out to be one of ours…” The M.E. paused, his voice dropping low. “Then there’s a high probability he was a victim of that failed sting operation five years ago.” Cathy’s hand, hanging by her side, curled into a fist so tight her nails dug into her palm. Her jaw clenched, suppressing a wave of emotion. “Cathy?” A gentle male voice interrupted. Jakie Kinnear, dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, walked up and slid a comforting arm around her shoulders. She didn’t flinch or even look at him, as if the touch was a well-worn habit. My heart sank like a stone. Jakie nodded at the M.E., then turned to Cathy, his voice soft. “Don’t overthink it. You’ve been working around the clock to take down this crew. You need to go home and rest.” He paused, his tone becoming more intimate. “Besides, Lily misses you. You can’t leave her with the Captain forever. A girl needs her mother.” After a moment of silence, Cathy finally nodded. Watching her, I felt like I’d been struck by lightning. A horrifying suspicion exploded in my mind. My soul followed them back to the home that was once so familiar to me. The door had barely opened when a little girl with pigtails came bouncing towards them, shouting cheerfully, “Daddy! Mommy!” The icy mask on Cathy’s face melted instantly. She swooped down and lifted the girl into her arms, her voice softer than I’d ever heard it. “Was Lily a good girl at school today?” Jakie followed, smiling as he pinched the girl’s cheek. “Good? Her teacher said she was stealing blocks from the other kids again. She’s a little rascal, not a proper young lady at all.” Just then, our old mentor, Captain Chen, emerged from the kitchen carrying a pot of soup. “Perfect timing. Wash up, dinner’s ready.” He wiped his hands and picked up his phone. “I’d better call Mark. That kid’s probably trying to live on instant noodles again.” The call connected. “Get over here and eat!” the Captain barked into the phone. “Alright, alright, I know you. Hold on, I’ll have Jakie bring some over.” Mark’s voice came through the speaker, laced with a smile. “Thanks, Captain! You’re the best! Tell Jakie I said thanks, too!” “You little punk,” the Captain chuckled, hanging up. He turned to Jakie as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Jakie, would you mind running this over to Mark? Once he gets buried in a case file, he forgets to eat.” “Of course,” Jakie said, taking the insulated container. “Happy to.” The exchange was so seamless, so routine, as if it had happened a thousand times before. I floated in the air, numbly watching the perfect picture of domestic harmony below. The man who orchestrated my murder had taken my place, enjoying the affection and the titles that were once mine. And my wife, my brother, my mentor… they had all accepted it. A searing pain ripped through the core of my soul, a pain so intense it felt like my consciousness was being ground to dust. Captain Chen was still talking to Mark on the phone, his voice filled with concern. “Solving cases is important, but your health comes first. You can’t be like Alex…” My name. It fell into the room like a shard of ice, shattering the warmth. All conversation stopped. In the suffocating silence, the little girl blinked her big eyes. “Mommy, who’s Alex? Why did everyone stop talking?” Cathy’s arms tightened around the child, her face draining of all color. Jakie’s smile froze on his lips. Sensing the shift, the girl fell silent. The Captain cleared his throat, a flicker of regret in his eyes. “Look at me, getting old and senile. No reason to bring him up… my fault, my fault.” Mark’s voice, deliberately light, piped in from the phone. “That’s right, Captain! You’re getting old. Eat more, talk less!” Jakie forced a pained smile. “Captain, Mark, it’s okay. You don’t have to do that.” “Before… everything happened, Alex was a good cop. He did a lot of good. It’s natural that it’s hard for everyone to accept. I understand…” Clang! Cathy slammed her spoon back into her bowl. The sharp sound of ceramic hitting ceramic echoed in the silent room. Her face was a dark storm cloud, her voice dripping with undisguised disgust. “Enough! Don’t say that name. It dirties your mouth.” The fragile peace shattered again. A flicker of triumph, almost imperceptible, crossed Jakie’s face, but he continued to play the peacemaker. “Cathy, don’t be like that. The Captain and Mark are here, and besides…” “She’s right!” Mark’s voice cut through the phone, sharp as a razor. “After what he did, I stopped considering him my brother. As far as I’m concerned, Jakie, you’re the only brother I have.” The Captain’s face hardened, his tone unyielding. “To sell out your brothers in arms for money… he is a permanent stain on this department’s history!” “If I had known, I never would have taken him on as my student! I wish I had never met him!” I floated, and I listened. Every word was a white-hot poker, twisting and stabbing at a soul that no longer had flesh. The pain was a thousand times worse than any torture Jakie and the traffickers had inflicted upon my body. My revered mentor, my own flesh and blood, the woman who was my entire world… Their words hurt more than anything. After this united front of condemnation, the suffocating tension finally broke. The air in the room seemed to warm again, filled with the camaraderie of a shared enemy. The Captain went back to lecturing Mark about eating properly. Jakie smiled and got ready to leave with the food. Cathy’s icy expression softened as she picked up her spoon again. Lily, sensing the storm had passed, started humming softly to herself. They sat together under the warm lights, the aroma of food filling the air, a perfect, happy family. And I, Alex Chen, had been erased by the people I loved most. Replaced. Forgotten. Like a ghost who had never existed at all. … I first met Cathy seven years ago. She wasn’t a Captain then, just a fiery young detective working a stolen goods case. I was a cybersecurity specialist, a white-hat hacker on loan to her unit. The case was at a standstill. All conventional methods had failed. In a briefing, I proposed a radical plan: use hacking techniques to trace their online sales network from the inside out. But it required someone to go undercover to an offline meeting point. Everyone thought I was insane. The risks were too high, the chance of success too low. Only Cathy. Her eyes lit up. She stood without hesitation, her voice clear and firm. “I think it’ll work. I’ll go undercover. What do you need me to do?” The fire in her eyes that day burned itself into my heart. The operation was a success, and our relationship blossomed with every case we worked side-by-side. She remembered I only drank sugar-free cola when I was coding, that I needed a cup of extra-strong coffee to function after an all-nighter. Everyone said I was the luckiest man alive to have found a wife so capable and caring. I thought so too. We got married. We were happy. I thought we would walk this path together until we were old and gray. Then Jakie showed up. He was Cathy’s childhood friend, the boy next door. He returned from overseas with a fancy title—Network Security Expert—and was assigned as her partner. At first, for Cathy’s sake, I tried to be friendly. But then, Jakie would call, complaining he was lonely or stressed, and she would drop everything—including the dinner we were in the middle of making—to go drinking with him. Jakie would claim an old injury was acting up, and she would leave me sitting alone in a restaurant full of our relatives to drive him to the hospital. The final straw was our anniversary trip, a vacation we had planned for months. One call from Jakie, a simple, “Cathy, I’m feeling down,” was all it took for her to cancel our flights. As I stood there, abandoned again, I finally realized the painful truth: whenever Jakie was around, I would never be Cathy’s priority. Her warmth, her focus—it was never exclusively mine. The resentment and anger I’d suppressed for so long finally erupted, and we started fighting constantly. Every time, she would look at me with that same exhausted, uncomprehending expression. “Alex, you weren’t always this petty.” “Jakie’s new here, he’s having a hard time adjusting. What’s wrong with me helping him?” “I spend my days chasing leads, my nerves are shot. It’s not like your job, sitting comfortably in front of a computer! I don’t come home to listen to this nonsense!” “If there was something between us, it would have happened long before you! Can’t you just be rational for once and stop imagining things?” Her words were like needles of ice, piercing the softest parts of my heart. Not fatal, but a constant, dull ache. I was so tired. During our last fight, I looked her in the eye and said, for the first time, “Cathy, let’s separate.” I never expected the backlash. Our colleagues said I was being paranoid, stressed out from work. My mentor slammed his fist on the table and called me a fool for throwing away a woman like Cathy. My brother called, confused. “Bro, you’ll never find another woman like her. Stop being stubborn!” Even Cathy grabbed my hand, her eyes red, her voice trembling. “Alex, what do you want from me? Please, don’t say that. Anything but that.” I felt trapped, surrounded by a chorus of pleas and accusations. Just as I was about to suffocate from the isolation, Jakie approached me. He wore a perfect, apologetic smile. He offered to join my ongoing investigation into the dark web drug cartel as a “technical consultant.” He swore to me, his tone almost pleading, “Alex, I know you have the wrong idea about me. After this operation is over, after we help you take this organization down, I’ll request a transfer. I’ll disappear from your lives forever, I promise.” I almost laughed in his face. I had already discovered he was far less competent than his reputation suggested. I turned him down flat. But somehow, he always knew our next move. Every time we were close to a breakthrough, he would conveniently appear, disrupting our progress with some seemingly plausible excuse—an “urgent” piece of intel that turned out to be useless, or a supposed “security breach” that required us to halt operations. The investigation dragged on. The pressure from our superiors mounted. I was backed into a corner. For the sake of finally bringing down that poison-peddling cartel, I gritted my teeth, swallowed my pride, and agreed to let him join the team. I thought I was trading a compromise for the greater good. Instead, I traded it for a one-way ticket to hell.

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My best friend, Lila, and I married brothers. A year later, we were both pregnant. Then came the bombshell: the hospital diagnosed her unborn son with Supermale Syndrome. The internet exploded, begging her to terminate. She refused. Her son grew up a prodigy, a sweet, brilliant boy who made a mockery of all the online hate. My son? He was born a monster. He bled me dry, destroyed my family, and when I finally cut him off, he stabbed me eighteen times for the deed to my house. As I lay dying, Lila smirked, thanking me for raising her perfect boy. They’d swapped our sons at birth. Now, my eyes snap open. I’m back. Back on the day of the diagnosis. 1 I’ve been reborn on the day my best friend’s son was diagnosed with Supermale Syndrome. Lila and I are in the back of my husband’s car. She’s beaming, holding up her prenatal report, ready to post it online and show off. “My son has an extra male chromosome. You know what that means? He’s going to be the manliest of men.” She’d just finished typing out her caption when I reached over and stopped her. Lila shot me an irritated look. “Clara, what are you doing? Are you jealous my son is special?” I took a deep breath, keeping my voice gentle. “Lila, are you crazy? We’re influencers now, remember? Your baby’s genetics are incredible, but what if you post this and it stirs up a storm of jealousy? People get nuts online. What if some creep gets obsessed, finds us, and tries something? We’d never see it coming.” My words hit their mark. Lila’s expression shifted, and she grabbed my hand. “Clara, you’re so right. Thank you for looking out for me. You’re my best friend, truly. I knew marrying into the same family meant we’d always have each other’s backs.” I fought the urge to recoil, gently pulling my hand away. A wave of relief washed over me as she put her phone away, abandoning her plan to brag about her “supermale” baby. Over the past year, Lila and I had built a decent following online. The gimmick of two best friends marrying two brothers was a hit. We shared snippets of our daily lives, and our channel, with its hundred-thousand-plus followers, became a source of envy for many. In my last life, when she posted that video, she was met with a tidal wave of ridicule. The entire internet pleaded with her to abort the child. But our mother-in-law, Martha, encouraged her, and Lila defiantly announced to the world that her son would be smarter and more devoted than any normal child. The internet waited, hungry for drama. But the joke was on them. Lila’s son was born and he was… perfect. He was a gentle, obedient child, a straight-A student who topped his class with seemingly no effort. He became a living, breathing “I told you so” to the entire internet. Riding the wave of this narrative—”The Genius Son with Supermale Syndrome”—Lila became a viral sensation, raking in tens of thousands a month. And me? My son was born a monster. The lies started at five. In kindergarten, he slipped razor blades into a little girl’s lunch, nearly slicing her tongue off. My husband, Adam, and I paid her family over twenty thousand dollars. When he started elementary school, he became the ringleader of a vicious bullying campaign. His grades were abysmal. We bounced between six different schools in six years, paying out over a hundred and fifty thousand dollars in settlements for the kids he intentionally hurt. Our savings were wiped out. Even then, we didn’t give up on him. I quit my job, dedicating every waking moment to guiding him, trying to nurture some seed of goodness within him. It was useless. After a few desperate, harsh punishments, he seemed to straighten up. We allowed ourselves a sliver of hope, thinking maybe, just maybe, we were turning a corner. Then he raped a four-year-old girl. And killed her. He came home afterward as if nothing had happened, cool and calm, until the police knocked on our door. Adam and I felt our hair turn grey overnight. In that moment, I wanted him locked away forever. I wanted him to get the death penalty, to give that little girl’s family some semblance of justice. We decided to sell our house to pay the damages. But before we could, the girl’s family took their own revenge. They broke into our home and killed Adam. I was on the phone with 911 when my son, who had snuck back into the house, attacked me. Eighteen stabs. As my life bled out onto the floor, I saw him run into Lila’s arms, crying, “Mommy.” Lila looked down at me, a triumphant smile playing on her lips. “Thank you, Clara,” she said, her voice dripping with mock sincerity, “for taking such good care of my son all these years.” That’s when I understood. She had switched our babies in the hospital nursery. And Martha, our mother-in-law, who always pretended to treat us equally, helped them cover it all up. She fed the media a story, painting Adam and me as abusive parents, claiming our cruelty had twisted the boy’s already fragile nature. After our deaths, we were vilified online. People even started to pity the monster who killed us. Then Lila stepped forward, the benevolent savior. She made a public statement, her voice thick with fake emotion, promising to take in the “troubled boy” and ensure he never harmed anyone again. The internet lauded her as a saint. Her follower count skyrocketed. I hated them. The rage was a fire in my soul, a screaming, endless inferno. Perhaps God, or whatever force governs the universe, felt that fire. Because it sent me back. I looked at Lila, her face aglow with smug satisfaction, and offered a faint smile. “Exactly. So let’s just keep this quiet until the babies are born.” I wasn’t a saint. I wasn’t going to save the world from this unborn terror. No, I was going to let Lila reap what she sowed. I was going to watch as her precious son tore her life apart, piece by bloody piece. 2 We arrived home shortly after. The moment we walked through the door, Martha rushed to greet us, her voice loud and grating. “What did the doctor say? Two grandsons, I hope?” I frowned. I knew I was having a boy, but I would have loved a girl just as much. Martha’s blatant preference for sons always rubbed me the wrong way. Lila, however, proudly handed the prenatal report to Martha. “I don’t know about Clara—she was too embarrassed to say—but I’ve got a guaranteed boy in here. And not just any boy. He’s a supermale!” Martha looked confused. “A supermale? What’s that?” “It’s exactly what it sounds like,” Lila puffed out her chest. “More male than the average male. The ultimate man, the alpha of alphas!” Martha’s face split into a wide, greedy grin. She stared at Lila’s stomach as if it were solid gold. Then her eyes drifted to me, and her expression soured. “Hmph. Too embarrassed to say. Must not be my precious grandson, then.” I didn’t bother to correct her. She took my silence as confirmation and stomped off to the kitchen. Lila’s eyes glinted as she turned to “comfort” me. “It’s okay, Clara. We’re best friends, remember? My son is your son too. When he grows up to be successful, he’ll take care of his favorite aunt.” In my past life, those words would have moved me to tears. Now, I just gave her a weak smile, not missing the flicker of calculation in her eyes. I knew exactly what she was thinking. Adam and I had worked hard, saved up, and managed to put a down payment on a house in a good school district. Lila was already planning on how that house would one day belong to her son. It wasn’t until after I died in my past life, when Lila eagerly transferred the deed to her name, that I finally understood the depth of her scheming. She’d sent that monster to kill me because she was afraid I’d sell the house to compensate the little girl’s family. A cold smirk touched my lips. In this life, her plans were destined to go up in flames. 3 Adam dropped us off and headed back to work. He wouldn’t be home until dinner. With both Lila and I pregnant, Martha had taken over all the cooking. Before she started, Echo, Martha’s youngest daughter and our sister-in-law, came to ask what we wanted to eat. I never cared much for Echo. She was moody and difficult, and after a few failed attempts to be friendly, I’d given up. Besides, in my last life, she was one of the people who testified to the media that I’d abused the boy. Oddly enough, she and Lila got along famously. “I’m in the mood for something spicy,” I said casually. Echo immediately turned to Lila. Their conversation was perfectly audible from the living room. Lila wanted sour. So I quickly added, “Could you make ours separately? I really can’t stomach anything sour right now.” Without even looking at me, Echo mumbled, “Got it,” and disappeared into the kitchen to relay the message. Martha bustled around for a while, and by the time Adam got home, dinner was ready. As she placed the last dish on the table, my face was darker than the bottom of a burnt pot. Before me sat a spread of sour cabbage fish, pickled green beans, and a pitcher of plum juice. The only non-sour dish was a plate of steamed vegetables… sprinkled liberally with green onions. In the year I had lived with this family, everyone knew I detested green onions. The smell alone was enough to make me gag. This wasn’t an oversight. This was a message. Adam noticed I hadn’t picked up my chopsticks. “What’s wrong?” I said nothing, but a smug smile flashed across Lila’s face. She took a large bite of the fish, sighing in satisfaction. “Mom, this is delicious! Thank you! Clara, why aren’t you eating? Is Mom’s cooking not to your taste?” The smile on Martha’s face vanished, replaced by a scowl. “I slave away all day, cleaning and cooking for you two, and this is the thanks I get? Lila’s the only one who appreciates it. If you don’t want to eat, then someone else can do the cooking from now on!” Echo, picking at her food, chimed in with a sneer. “You should be grateful you have food to eat at all. So picky. If you don’t like it, go call your own mother to cook for you. Such a drama queen.” The passive-aggressive remarks sent a jolt of fury through me. Adam saw the storm brewing in my eyes and was about to intervene, but I shot to my feet. The sudden movement startled everyone at the table. “I have lived in this house for a year,” I began, my voice dangerously calm. “I have said countless times that I hate green onions, yet you put them in everything. Fine. I can order my own food. But since I got pregnant, you’ve insisted that takeout is unhealthy and that I have to eat what you make.” My voice rose. “I told you before dinner I wanted spicy. Forget spicy, the one dish that isn’t sour is covered in the one thing you know I can’t eat. Are you trying to force me to eat sour? And after all that, you have the nerve to call me a drama queen? What, did I marry into this family just to be treated like I don’t exist?” I’d always been the quiet, agreeable one. “Sweet” was the word people used to describe me. For the past year, I had swallowed every minor injustice, every little slight, just to keep the peace. But not anymore. I’d already died once. I was done being quiet. No one, not a single person at that table, had expected this from me. Humiliated by my public defiance, Martha’s face turned beet red. Her voice boomed like a foghorn. “So now I’m wrong for cooking for you? It’s food, isn’t it? You kids have it too easy! When I was your age, we were lucky to have wild vegetables, and we ate every last scrap! This nonsense about not eating onions or sour food… who do you think you are, a princess?” I laughed, a sharp, bitter sound. “Did you like eating wild vegetables, or did you just have no other choice? My parents spoiled me rotten. They cooked whatever I wanted. Your past hardships have absolutely nothing to do with me, so don’t you dare try to lecture me. My husband and I pay for the groceries in this house. So yes, I think I’m entitled to a spicy meal!” At the mention of money, Martha flinched. “So what if your husband is successful?” she muttered, her confidence wavering. “I worked my fingers to the bone to raise him. He owes me that much!” Lila’s husband, Jake, who had recently been laid off and was unemployed, stared grimly at his plate. My husband, Adam, feeling for his brother, had been covering all the household expenses. I turned my gaze on them. “Show me the law that says a man has to support his entire extended family. Are you all so comfortable living off us for free?” My words hit their targets. Not just Jake, but Echo too, looked deeply uncomfortable. Adam grabbed my arm, hissing, “Groceries don’t cost that much. Drop it.” I let out another cold laugh. Honestly, as long as his family wasn’t involved, Adam was a decent husband. But his fierce, almost blind loyalty to them was the reason I had endured so much from his mother in my past life. Well, I was done enduring. I looked my husband dead in the eye and spoke, each word a shard of ice. “If you dare side with them today, Adam, tomorrow we are getting divorced.”

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At seven years old, my parents were taken from me in a carefully orchestrated car crash. My older brother, steeling his heart against my desperate cries, sent me to an orphanage. He told me, “Aurora, it’s too dangerous to be with me. Once I’ve taken care of everything, I’ll come back and bring you home.” What my brother didn’t know was that he had sent me to a place of nightmares, a corrupt orphanage where I struggled to survive, where I often wished for death. But the thought of my brother, alone and grieving, was the only thing that kept me going. I couldn’t bear to cause him more pain. On my eighteenth birthday, he finally came for me, bringing his adopted sister, Cici, with him. He held Cici’s hand, his face etched with guilt as he looked at me. “Aurora, Cici has been through so much with me, wandering from place to place. She hasn’t had a stable, comfortable life like you have these past years. Please, be more understanding with her.” I smiled and nodded, but inside, a single thought echoed: My brother has someone to keep him company now. I can finally die in peace. Later, my brother would weep until his voice was gone at my hospital bedside, begging me to just look at him. But by then, I could no longer open my eyes. 1 The year I turned eighteen, I finally received the news I had been waiting for: my brother was coming to take me home. I was so excited I couldn’t sleep a wink. The next morning, I stood in front of the mirror for what felt like hours, scrutinizing every detail of my appearance. The clothes I wore were new and beautiful, without a single hole or patch—a luxury I had never known. The director, a woman with a fleshy, cruel face, waddled over, her smile never reaching her eyes. She placed a heavy hand on my shoulder. “Our little Aurora is so pretty.” My body began to tremble reflexively, my pupils constricting. I instinctively moved to curl into a ball and cover my head. Her grip tightened on my wrist, a drilling pain shooting up my arm, stopping my movement. “You know what to say and what not to say, don’t you, Aurora? You know the consequences…” I nodded, my heart pounding with terror. Only then did she release me, humming a cheerful tune as she turned and left. I bit my lip, the joy I’d felt in my new clothes completely gone. I was standing at the orphanage gates before seven in the morning, craning my neck in anticipation. My brother had said he would be there at eight. But the clock ticked past nine, and there was still no sign of him. A look of smug satisfaction spread across the director’s face. “Just as I expected. The brother you’ve been dreaming of all these years doesn’t seem to care about you that much, does he?” I was terrified of the director, but on this one subject, my stubbornness was absolute. “You’re wrong. My brother loves me more than anyone. He’ll come.” The sun grew hotter. Just as the clock was about to strike noon, a fleet of sleek, black cars pulled up to the orphanage. The door of the second car opened, and a man stepped out. He had sharp features, a cold expression, and a tiny, crimson mole just beside his lips. His face was both familiar and strange, but my gut told me this was him—my brother, Matt, whom I hadn’t seen in a decade. My only family in the entire world. My legs moved on their own, first in a brisk walk, then breaking into a run. “Matt…” The smile had barely bloomed on my face when I saw the man, who had looked so aloof a moment ago, bend down. His expression softened into one of doting affection as he reached into the back seat and helped a young woman out. She seemed to be pouting. He gently stroked her hair, a helpless, loving smile on his face. The scene was so warm, so perfect. “…Matt?” I stared, frozen, at the tender moment. The hopeful lilt in my voice fell flat. I was rooted to the spot, unsure whether to step forward or retreat. The girl who was now clinging to my brother’s arm was beautiful, dressed in clothes that looked like they were made of sunshine. A butterfly clip sparkled in her hair, and gold-leaf earrings danced in the breeze. She was a princess from one of the fairytales my brother used to tell me. I looked down at myself, a wave of shame washing over me. I felt like an ugly duckling who had stolen a princess’s dress. “Aurora?” A magnetic, beautiful voice called my name. I snapped my head up and saw my brother’s eyes, now red-rimmed, fixed on me. As if confirming it was really me, his voice trembled as he said my name again. “Aurora.” A lump formed in my throat, and my eyes began to sting. All my complicated thoughts vanished. “Matt,” I whispered. The next second, I was pulled into a powerful embrace. I heard my brother’s choked voice in my ear. “Aurora. My Aurora. I’ve finally found you.” I couldn’t hold back any longer. I clung to him and wept. “I… I missed you so, so much, Matt…” In that moment, my heart was overflowing with a bittersweet mix of joy and sorrow. I thought, Thank God for my brother. Thank God he remembers me. Thank God I didn’t give up all those times the abuse pushed me to the brink of death. A clear, feminine voice cut through our embrace. “Alright, alright! Let her go, Matt. You’re going to squeeze the life out of her. It’s embarrassing!” The girl pried at my brother’s arms, and I was released from his warm hug. Her gaze fell on me, her eyes filled with a practiced guilt. “I’m so sorry, Aurora. We were supposed to be here at eight, but my stomach started hurting on the way. Matt got so worried he insisted we go to the hospital. That’s why we’re so late.” A small smile played on her lips. “When I was little, I had a fever that almost killed me. Ever since then, he gets paranoid whenever I feel even a little sick. He acts like such a baby, it’s ridiculous.” My brother looked flustered at her teasing. He awkwardly ran a hand through his hair, then turned and gently flicked her forehead. “Hey, you’re not supposed to make fun of your big brother.” She giggled, covering her mouth like a cat who had just stolen a treat. My brother’s attention was completely captured by her. When he finally remembered me, he gave me an awkward glance. Then, he took the girl’s hand, his expression softening with affection. “Aurora, this is Cici. She’s our sister. Cici has been through so much hardship with me. She hasn’t had a stable, comfortable life like you have these past years. You need to be more understanding with her.” Sister? I stared blankly at Cici. Sensing my confusion, Matt explained gently, “Cici is my adopted sister. I met her about a month after you went to the orphanage. Her gambler father had beaten her half to death. When I saw her, I thought of you…” He didn’t finish the sentence, but I understood. A month after sending me away, he found Cici, and in her, he saw me. And so, he allowed another sister to stay by his side, to be his constant companion, to never be separated from him. If he could have a sister with him, why didn’t he come back for me? I wanted to scream, to demand an answer. But seeing the happy, doting look on his face, the words died in my throat. I forced my stiff lips into a smile. “That’s good. It’s good that you had someone with you, Matt.” When we got into the car, Cici pulled Matt into the back seat. I was about to follow, but the driver stepped in front of me, shutting the rear door. He looked at me with a hard expression, as if he were defending some sacred principle. “Miss, please take the front seat. Miss Cici isn’t comfortable with strangers in the back seat with her and Mr. Lee.” I froze, my eyes searching for my brother, but the heavily tinted windows were like a black mirror, reflecting nothing, sealing the inside world from the out. I lowered my gaze and turned towards the passenger door. “Thank you,” I said softly. The driver glanced at me. “We’ve watched Miss Cici grow up. She’s suffered a lot following the young master. We all feel for her. After all, those hardships… they were meant for someone else.” I understood his meaning perfectly. The suffering Cici endured was meant for me. I should be grateful. I shouldn’t dare to have a single negative thought. Matt wanted to throw a welcome party for me, but Cici’s mood had been sour for days. That afternoon, I followed an online tutorial and, after several failed attempts, managed to make a strawberry cream cake. It used to be my favorite. Matt had said Cici was a lot like me, so I thought she must love sweet cake too. Maybe it would cheer her up. I wanted to tell her that I wouldn’t be with Matt for much longer. I had only held on for so long because I was afraid he would be lonely without any family. Now that he had her, I could let go. I just… I just hadn’t seen my brother in so long. I wanted to look at him a little longer. I had no intention of taking her place. That evening, I carried the carefully prepared cake towards Cici’s room. The housekeeper had given me a room on the first floor. Matt and Cici both lived on the second. The housekeeper had explained that the second floor was their private space, off-limits to outsiders. So, she had naturally prepared a guest room for me on the ground floor. At the time, I told myself it was fine. We hadn’t seen each other in years. It was normal that he wouldn’t want me invading his territory. But now, in the dead of night, my thoughts drifted back to the brother I knew before I was nine. In the spring, he would share the wishing tree he had planted with me. In the summer, he would place a birthday crown on my head and tell me his only birthday wish was to make all of mine come true. He was the best brother in the world. He never set boundaries with me. The light from the study was warm and inviting. I heard familiar yet distant voices. I stopped, peering through the partially open door. I saw Matt and Cici. He was comforting her, his expression full of remorse. “I know throwing a welcome party for Aurora has upset you. But she is my sister, after all. And I promised her I would come back for her.” The person being comforted had the courage to be petulant. “I know I have no right to be jealous, but you’ve been so busy with her lately, you’ve barely paid any attention to me… Before she came back, you only had eyes for me.” Cici looked so pitiful, her voice so wounded, that Matt relented. I knew how he was. He could never resist anyone he had taken under his protection. It used to be me. Now, it was Cici. “Alright, alright. I’ll take you out tomorrow, just the two of us. How’s that?” “Just you and me. No one else.” Matt couldn’t help but laugh. He reached out and stroked her hair. “Okay, I get it, you little jealous thing.” A drop of cream slid from the top of the cake in my hands, like a teardrop. I looked down, confused. Does cake cry, too? There was a sound from the study. Like a startled rat in a sewer, I spun around, desperate to hide. But before I could escape, my brother’s voice called out behind me. “Aurora?” I froze, my feet glued to the floor. I turned back, forcing a practiced smile. “Matt. I made a cake for Cici.” His gaze shifted from my face to the cake in my hands. His brow furrowed, and his tone became sharp. “Cici is allergic to strawberries. How many times have I said it? No strawberries are allowed in this house.” I swayed, the world blurring around me. Matt’s tall figure became a hazy outline. “If Aurora likes them, then when I grow up, I’ll build a whole house made of strawberries just for her.” A nine-year-old boy, full of grand promises for his beloved little sister. Ten years later, the same person said, “Cici is allergic. No strawberries in this house.” I hung my head, ashamed, not wanting him to see the tears welling in my eyes. “I-I didn’t know. I’m sorry, Matt. I’ll… I’ll eat it. I won’t let it go to waste…” I reached out, grabbed a handful of cake, and shoved it into my mouth. The cloying sweetness of the cream mixed with the tartness of the strawberries, creating the most bitter taste in the world. I stuffed another piece into my mouth, and another, the bile rising in my throat. But just as I had learned to do at the orphanage, I looked up at him with a bright, placating smile. “See, Matt? I’m eating it all. Please don’t be angry…” As I reached for another piece, my hand was slapped away, hard. The back of my hand, where it was struck, immediately turned red. The familiar scene, the pain that was etched into my bones, triggered my defense mechanism. I instinctively covered my head and dropped to my knees, begging for forgiveness. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. Please don’t hit me… Please, have mercy… don’t hit me…” “Aurora… Aurora… calm down. What’s wrong?” A voice pulled me back from the hazy fog of terror. The expected blows never came. The overwhelming fear began to recede. My face was a mess of tears and snot. My clothes were sticky with white cream and red strawberry juice. I was still on my knees, a pathetic, broken figure. In the doorway of the study stood Cici, her eyes wide with a mixture of shock and horror. The warm light bathed her in a golden glow, making her look like a pristine princess in a castle. A wave of shame and self-loathing, more intense than anything I had ever felt, washed over me. I shoved the person holding me away and scrambled to my feet, running blindly down the hall. I heard my brother calling my name, but I couldn’t bear to look back. His childish voice seemed to echo in my ears. “My sister… I’m going to raise her to be the most beautiful and happiest princess in the world.” He had kept his promise, after all. In the past ten years, he had raised Cici very, very well. I hid in my room, in the pitch-black darkness that reminded me of the basement where I was often locked away. My wrist was raw and bloody from where I had been gnawing on it, but I felt no pain. All I could see was the scene from moments ago. Matt knew now. He had seen me break. Would he be disappointed? Disgusted? Would he abandon me again, just like he did ten years ago? The more I thought, the harder I bit down. My eyes scanned the room, and in the faint moonlight, I saw the fruit knife on the nightstand. I had always been afraid that if I died, my brother would be sad. But now… a version of me that caused him so much trouble would be better off dead. If I died, Cici wouldn’t be upset anymore. The people around him wouldn’t have to keep warning me away from her. And Matt wouldn’t have to be bothered with any of it. I pressed the sharp blade against my wrist. Blood began to seep out. Suddenly, the door was kicked open. The knife was snatched from my hand. Blood dripped onto the floor. Not just mine, but my brother’s too. My heart stopped. A suffocating feeling gripped my chest. I scrambled to grab the knife from his hand, my voice frantic with disbelief. “Matt, you’re hurt! Let me see, please…” But he held the knife in a death grip. No matter how hard I pulled, he wouldn’t let go. Tears streamed down my face. I looked up and met his gaze. It was so cold it froze me to the spot. “Aurora Lee, you’ve got some nerve now, haven’t you? Daring to hurt yourself?” The familiar words sent a jolt of déjà vu through me. When I was six, I was being mischievous and fell, chipping my front tooth. The dentist said no candy while it healed. But I couldn’t resist. I snuck two caramels during the day. That night, the toothache was so bad I cried my eyes out. Matt held me, his heart aching for me, but he was so angry. He had used the exact same words then, his face set in a stern expression. “Aurora Lee, you’ve got some nerve now, haven’t you? Daring to sneak candy behind my back!” My wrist was gently lifted, pulling me back to the present. The knife was thrown to the floor with a clatter. Matt brought in the first-aid kit and began to bandage my wound in silence. I tried to smile, to tell him that this kind of pain was nothing to me now. But my mouth felt like it was glued shut. I couldn’t smile. I couldn’t speak. A single, crystalline tear fell from my eye, landing on the gauze and spreading into a dark, wet patch. I panicked, trying to comfort him through my own confusion. “Matt, don’t cry. I’m… I’m fine. It doesn’t hurt. It really doesn’t…” The next moment, I was pulled into a warm embrace. “How could it not hurt?” he whispered, his voice breaking. “You used to be so afraid of pain…” I looked at my grieving brother and blinked. But Matt, I thought, I’m used to it now. The person who needed your comfort was the seven-year-old girl who was beaten for the first time. The eighteen-year-old version is already so broken, comfort can’t fix her. Matt didn’t say anything else, just held me silently. My rigid body slowly began to relax in his arms. I closed my eyes, savoring this fleeting moment of warmth. I’ll live a little longer, I thought greedily. Just this once. I knew I had to say a proper goodbye before I left. And there was the orphanage. I was gone, but there were other children still suffering there. I wanted them to have a chance at happiness, a life that wasn’t like mine. I took a breath, full of a fragile hope. “Matt, I…” Before I could finish, the frantic voice of the housekeeper came from the doorway. “Young Master, Miss Cici was frightened. She has a slight fever and is having nightmares. You…” Matt shot to his feet, knocking the first-aid kit to the floor. Its contents scattered everywhere. My unfinished sentence lay shattered among them. He paused at the door for a second but didn’t look back. “You get some rest,” he said quickly. “I’ll spend time with you later. I need to check on Cici. Her situation is more urgent.” I watched his back as he left, and in a daze, I was transported back to that rainy night ten years ago, when he had walked away and left me behind. Someone once said that once a crack forms, it can never be truly repaired. Once a lie begins, it never ends. In that moment, ten years ago, my brother had shown me his back for the first time. And it seemed that ever since, all he had ever shown me was his back. Cici’s illness lingered, and the welcome party was postponed again and again. Matt looked at me with guilt in his eyes. “Aurora, just a little longer. Cici can’t handle any stress right now.” I nodded obediently. “It’s okay, Matt. Cici’s health is more important.” Cici was sick for over a month. She only started to feel better a few days before her birthday. And so, my welcome party was transformed into her birthday party. “Aurora,” Matt said, “this is Cici’s birthday. It wouldn’t be right to introduce you then. Just wait a little longer. I’ll introduce you to everyone soon.” I didn’t want to make things difficult for him. I smiled, pretending not to care. “It’s fine, Matt. Just having you bring me home is enough to make me happy. As for the party, let’s just cancel it. It’s not fair to Cici. She suffered so much with you all these years.” I could see the relief wash over his face. He reached out and patted my head, his eyes full of pity. “You’re right. Cici is different from you. I couldn’t give her a stable, happy environment. I dragged her into my troubles.” I lowered my head, the bitter sting of tears rushing to my eyes. I still didn’t understand. Why could he take Cici with him, but not me? At least with him, I wouldn’t have been beaten every day. I wouldn’t have had to wash clothes in freezing water in the dead of winter until my hands were covered in sores. I wouldn’t have had to wear thick winter clothes in the sweltering heat and be sent out onto the streets to beg like a fool, stripped of all my dignity. Everyone said I had lived a comfortable life for ten years. Everyone pitied the wealthy Cici for being kidnapped once. Maybe the director was right. Maybe my life was worthless, so my suffering didn’t count as suffering. I remembered what the director had said to me on my sixteenth birthday. “It’s amazing how different two lives can be. Both are sisters. One is a pampered princess, showered with riches. The other is a timid, worthless creature that anyone can step on.” At the time, I was trembling too much to think about her words, terrified of the beating that was sure to follow. But she had been in a talkative mood. She showed me a photo from a birthday party. In it, a man whose face was hidden was placing a crown on a little princess’s head. The scene was lavish, opulent, filled with the kind of doting love I didn’t dare to even dream of. Just looking at it felt like being burned. I thought, That girl is so lucky. But it’s okay. I have my brother. If he were here, he would do even more for me. The thought of him made me smile. The director’s eyes were full of scorn. “Different. So very different… hahaha…” I didn’t understand her words then. But now, I understood everything. I looked up at my brother, who was rushing off to share the good news with Cici, and my vision blurred with tears again. It really was different. Her sixteenth birthday party, and my eighteenth homecoming party. Matt, are you still my Matt? But then I thought, maybe this is for the best. If he doesn’t care, then when I die, he won’t be sad. When I cut my wrist again, my brother slapped me across the face. “Aurora Lee, what in the world do you want?”

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At ten, I begged my brother to come home for my birthday. He died in a plane crash on the way back. His body was never found. From then on, I became a painful reminder to my parents of their loss. They blamed me. Every year on the crash anniversary, they forced me to kneel at his empty grave in repentance. I knelt for eight years. Just when I thought I’d spend my life atoning, I was stalked and murdered on my eighteenth birthday. Dying, I texted my mother for help. Her reply pierced my heart: “More lies to avoid atoning for what you did to your brother. If you hadn’t forced him to come, he’d still be alive! This is the price you deserve.” The call ended without mercy. I stared at the dark screen, and my will to live vanished. She was right. What right did a monster like me have to live? But then, eight years after he was supposed dead, my brother returned—with his pregnant wife. When they learned what happened to me, their world collapsed. 1 On my tenth birthday, I made a fatal mistake. I killed my own brother. I grew up in a happy home. I had loving parents and a brilliant older brother, Benjamin. I was the center of their universe. But all of it shattered with a single phone call. It was my birthday, and I called Benjamin, pleading with him to come home to celebrate with me. He never made it. The plane went down. There were no survivors, no bodies to bury. From that moment on, my parents hated me. They said it to my face, more times than I can count. “Why did you have to make him come back? Why wasn’t it you who died?” In a way, I did die in that crash. The guilt, the regret, the constant accusations from my own parents—it all dragged me down into an abyss. I spent years asking myself the same questions over and over. Why did I make that call? Why did I kill him? Why did God take him away? If only I hadn’t called him. Maybe he would still be alive. But there are no “if onlys” in this world. And no one was there to give me an answer. From the age of ten, my life had only one purpose: atonement. Every year, on the anniversary of Benjamin’s death—which was also my birthday—my parents would drive me to the cemetery. They’d make me kneel before his empty grave and repent. I did this for eight years. Just when I thought my life couldn’t get any bleaker, I was found by the Rain Killer. And I was murdered. In those last moments, I fought desperately to live. I reached for the taser my father had given me. It was disguised as a cute, white lamb keychain. Years ago, my father’s work had made him some dangerous enemies. My mother and I were kidnapped. To save me, my mother was dragged by the kidnappers’ car for what felt like miles. My father was stabbed in the chest protecting us. The police saved us in the end, but the fear never left him. After that, he gave me the keychain. Inside the little lamb was a high-voltage taser. He taught me how to use it. “I can’t always be there to protect you, Ava,” he’d said. “You have to be able to protect yourself.” But when the killer grabbed me, when I finally managed to flick open the pendant and jam it into his side, nothing happened. It was broken. That was my last chance. Even now, as a spirit, I remember every detail with horrifying clarity. The wrench, the pliers, the axe… one by one, he used them on me. The terror on my face was like a drug to him. The pain was unimaginable. It was so intense I lost control of my body. I never thought the sound of my own bones snapping would be so loud, echoing in my ears. Skin tearing from flesh, my vision turning red. Then, darkness. When I opened my eyes again, I was a ghost. And I was in a police station. Lightning flashed outside the window. My father, in his work scrubs, stood with a look of profound sorrow in his eyes. He was surrounded by a few young forensic techs. On the stainless-steel table in front of them was a bag filled with neatly cut pieces of flesh. It was what Detective Evans and his team had managed to recover from the rain-soaked crime scene. I never imagined they would find me so quickly. Maybe it was the universe’s last act of pity for my miserable life. A homeless man, digging through a dumpster, had found the bag. He thought he’d scored some free meat until he saw a human finger. A torrential downpour had set the stage for a brutal dismemberment case. Outside, the storm raged. Police officers and K-9 units were scouring the city. Detective Evans was furious, his face a mask of rage. The killer’s methods were identical to the Rain Killer’s from eight years ago. “Rob,” he said, his voice tight, “doesn’t this feel familiar? Like the Rain Killer’s work?” My father’s expression hardened. The Rain Killer. A monster who only hunted on stormy nights, who took a sick pleasure in torturing and murdering young women. He had shattered countless families. Years ago, my father had been closing in on him. He’d found the evidence needed for an arrest. But the killer got wind of it and fled. As an act of revenge, he sabotaged the plane my brother was supposed to be on, intending for them both to die in the crash. Neither of their bodies had ever been recovered. So, of course, Evans immediately made the connection. If the killer had survived, he would be back for revenge. He felt a sudden urgency. “Rob, if it’s really him, you need to make sure Maria and Ava don’t leave the house. You have to protect Ava. She’s exactly his type!” But at the mention of my name, the anxiety on my father’s face vanished, replaced by an icy calm. “She should have died a long time ago.” A sharp pain, even in my ghostly form, pierced through me. He was right. I should have. These past eight years were just stolen time. Evans knew the whole story. He wanted to offer some comfort but could only manage a grimace. After Benjamin’s death, my parents had spent three days and three nights searching the mountains where the plane had gone down. In the end, they were found kneeling by the side of the road, their eyes bloodshot, begging the heavens to give them back their son. The pain of losing a child was a wound that would never heal for them. Evans sighed. “Alright, Rob. Let’s not dwell on it. The department is breathing down our necks about this case. It’s high priority.” My father knew his duty. He turned back to his work, carefully removing the pieces of flesh from the bag. Suddenly, he swore under his breath. “Son of a bitch.” He gritted his teeth. “What kind of animal does this?” A younger tech, seeing such a gruesome scene for the first time, had to turn away, his eyes red. But right now, the priority was identifying the victim. After the officers brought back every fragment they could find, my father began the grim task of reassembling the body. I floated beside him, watching for a full day as he pieced together a skinless human form. In a twisted way, I was relieved. I knew how horrific I must look, and I was afraid the shock of recognizing me would be too much for him. And I was relieved that this life, so full of guilt, was finally over. Detective Evans stared at the raw, red corpse on the table. Even after years on the force, his face was pale with disgust. He asked my father if the killer did this to hide evidence or if it was the work of a psychopath. My father’s face was grim. After a long moment, he spoke, his voice hoarse. “He wasn’t trying to hide evidence. Our analysis shows… the victim was flayed alive.” He clenched his fists, trying to maintain his composure. “This was purely for his own sick pleasure. For revenge.” He pointed to my body. “Look here. There are even traces of salt corrosion on the flesh. He tortured her, slicing off her flesh piece by piece while she was still conscious.” My father’s voice broke with a grief he couldn’t contain. “And she was just a kid. Sixteen to twenty years old. What kind of monster would do this?” I floated beside him, almost wanting to applaud. He truly was the best forensic pathologist in the city, able to pinpoint my cause of death with such precision. Evans’s eyes grew colder. “That bastard. That soulless piece of filth.” He was so angry his chest was heaving. “We’re running a search for all missing females between sixteen and twenty in the last few days. Hopefully, we can get an ID soon.” My father, as if remembering something, spoke again. “The bag was missing the right femur. It’s possible the victim had some kind of identifying mark on that bone—a birth defect, an old injury, surgical pins.” He added, “And since the killer used acid on her face, reconstruction will take time.” He sighed and pulled off his gloves. Lying on the table next to his instruments was the little lamb keychain, caked in my blood. He didn’t even recognize the gift he had given me to keep me safe. After finishing his work for the day, my father checked his phone. His face contorted with rage, and he immediately called my mother. “Did you see the text from Ava? That little liar. The nerve of her to say something like that. I swear she does it on purpose, just to provoke us!” He was seething. “Doesn’t she know? If she hadn’t insisted her brother come back, Benjamin wouldn’t have been killed by the Rain Killer! And now she has the gall to claim she’s being followed!” I watched his face, red with fury, and felt a deep sadness. Dad, I wasn’t lying. I really am dead. Why would I use the man who killed my brother to hurt you? I would never do something like that. I was so scared, so helpless. That’s why I reached out to you. But my father couldn’t see me. Neither could my mother. I could hear her on the other end of the line, just as angry. “I saw her text. I ignored it. She’s just trying to get out of her duties, that’s all. That damn girl has no sense of remorse!” I listened to them condemn me, and I covered my ears, a ghost overwhelmed with a grief that had no voice. Just when I thought my death would remain a secret to them, my best friend, Chloe, burst into the station. She told the officer at the desk that I had been missing for two days. But as the officer was about to take down my name, my father stopped him. “Don’t bother. I’m Ava’s father. She’s not missing. She’s just trying to manipulate her mother and me.” The officer looked uncomfortably at Chloe. He knew who my father was. He had no choice but to back down. I watched Chloe leave the station, her shoulders slumped in defeat, tears streaming down her face. I wanted to follow her, to comfort her, but I was bound to my father’s side. I watched him work on my skull. I followed him home. On the dinner table, as always, were all of Benjamin’s favorite dishes: braised fish, spicy crab, fried prawns. My mother remembered every one of his preferences, but she could never be bothered to remember that I was deathly allergic to seafood. Once, my father had asked me why I wasn’t eating. For a fleeting moment, I thought he was finally going to show me some love. I clutched my chopsticks and summoned my courage. “Dad, I’m… I’m allergic to seafood.” My mother slammed her chopsticks down and pointed at me. “What did I do to deserve such an ungrateful child? I slave away in the kitchen to make this beautiful meal, and this is the thanks I get?” I looked to my father for help, to the hero who used to protect me whenever I made Mom angry. But this time, my hero simply placed a large piece of crab in my bowl. “Just eat, Ava. Don’t make your mother angry.” Their eyes were on me, judging me. If I didn’t eat, I would be the villain. So, I ate the entire plate of crab. That night, my throat swelled shut until I could barely breathe. My eyes bulged, blurring my vision. My entire body ached and itched. “Help… me…” My voice was a choked whisper. I stumbled to my bedroom door, trying to open it, but the handle wouldn’t turn. It was locked. Panic seized me. I started banging on the door, trying to make a sound. “Help… please… Dad, Mom… save me… I don’t want to die…” Through the haze of pain, I heard my mother’s voice from the living room. “It’s just an allergic reaction, she’s not going to die. Good thing I locked the door. She’s always playing the victim. It’s disgusting. Benjamin came to me in a dream last night, he said he wants the newest video game console. Let’s go, the mall will close soon.” No! Mom, Dad, don’t leave me! I don’t want to die, please, save me… The front door slammed shut. I was abandoned. Maybe this is it, I thought. Maybe when I’m dead, it won’t hurt anymore. I curled up in a corner, waiting to die. From the street below, I heard the laughter of a father and his daughter. “You silly girl, you know you’re allergic to peanuts, and you still ate them! You almost gave me a heart attack!” “I’m sorry, Daddy! It was an accident! Please don’t tell Mom.” “Your mom already knows. She was so worried she pulled a muscle in her back, but she still made a huge dinner with all your favorite foods. As long as you’re okay, that’s all that matters. Parents can’t stay mad at their kids.” I felt like a sewer rat, hiding in the darkness, greedily listening in on a happiness that wasn’t mine. In that moment, I was filled with a self-loathing so profound I wanted to disappear. I wanted my parents to love me like that, to worry about my allergies, to cook my favorite meals, to fuss over me. But I was the bad child who had killed her brother. I didn’t deserve to be loved. But Mom, Dad… I don’t want to die. I really don’t want to die… I didn’t die that day. In a last-ditch effort, I jumped from my second-story window. Someone found me and took me to the hospital. The doctor said I was lucky; any later and it would have been fatal. The mother of the girl in the next bed peeled an orange for her daughter and said to me, “Thank goodness you’re okay. Your parents must have been so worried!” I watched with envy as she fed her daughter orange slices, one by one. The reflection in the window showed me, alone. I tried to comfort myself, to convince the world. I forced a laugh and said loudly, “Yes, my parents love me very, very much.” Suddenly, the door to my room was thrown open. My parents rushed in, their faces etched with urgency. A wave of raw emotion washed over me. I struggled to sit up, wincing in pain as tears streamed down my face. “Dad… Mom…” I was so scared. I was so scared I was going to die. Can you just hug me? Please? Just once… My mother grabbed the collar of my hospital gown and yanked me out of bed, throwing me to the floor. The IV needle was ripped from my arm, and blood spurted out. “You little bitch!” she screamed. “Playing the victim again! You ate that on purpose and then jumped out the window just to make a scene, didn’t you? You wanted everyone to think your father and I abuse you, to ruin our reputation! Why didn’t you just jump from a higher floor and die?” I curled into a ball, covering my head as she kicked me, again and again. I wasn’t trying to hurt you. I just didn’t want to die… I had survived the fall, but I couldn’t survive their hatred. In the reflection, I saw my father leaning against the wall, watching coldly as my mother clawed at me with her nails. I saw the mother in the next bed holding her frightened daughter, cooing softly to her. The people gathered at the door stared at me with contempt, with disgust, as if I were some kind of evil child. The fragile illusion I had just built—that my parents loved me—was shattered in front of everyone. I was lying. My parents don’t love me. They… they hate me most of all… After that, they cut off my allowance. I applied to live at the school dorm. I ate cheap buns and free soup from the cafeteria. I slept on a thin mattress over a straw mat in a room with fifteen other girls. My scholarships barely covered the boarding fees. As I moved from middle school to high school, the fees increased. I studied day and night, desperate to get a few extra points on every exam to win enough scholarship money to survive. I always believed that if I could just be more exceptional, they would love me again. But when I brought home a report card with near-perfect scores, and a visiting relative praised me, my mother scoffed. “She’s as dumb as a rock. Not half as smart as Benjamin was. How could she possibly get scores like that?” Then, she slapped me across the face. “Tell me,” she hissed. “Who did you cheat off of?” My face burned, and my heart ached with it. I just wanted to disappear. Later, my teacher called to confirm my grades. My mother just glanced at the shredded report card in the trash can and sneered. “What’s so great about these scores? Your brother got perfect scores in every subject. You’re such a disappointment. Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?” My heart was shredded along with that report card. My parents love smart children, like Benjamin. So, I will erase myself and become him. I threw myself into my studies with even more ferocity. Summer, winter, spring, fall—my body was a constant cycle of heat rash, frostbite, and mosquito bites. When I walked out of my final college entrance exam, I felt a flicker of hope. I had finally proven that I was as brilliant as Benjamin. Maybe now… maybe now they’ll start to love me… But I was murdered before the results were even released. I died without ever becoming the brilliant child my parents could love. I watch now as my parents fill Benjamin’s empty bowl at the dinner table, silently placing his favorite foods in it. A ritual they have repeated every day for eight years. But wasn’t I the one who turned them into this? Wasn’t I the one who killed their son? Maybe I really did deserve to die. A knock on the door shattered the silence. A voice from my memories called out. “Mom, Dad, open up! I’m home, and I brought your daughter-in-law with me!”

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The girl at the front desk had a thing for my boyfriend. So she decided to ruin my reputation in front of him. “You know,” she said, her voice dripping with fake concern, “this young lady was here with a different man last night.” “She made a real mess of the sheets when she checked out, too. Refused to pay the cleaning fee.” She put a hand to her mouth, feigning shock. “Oh, my goodness. Did I say something I shouldn’t have?” Her eyes, wide and innocent, darted to my boyfriend, Neo. “I’m so sorry. I just couldn’t stand to see a good man like you being deceived.” I told her to pull the security footage. She claimed the cameras were broken. What she didn’t know was that this five-star hotel… belongs to my family. 1 “Ma’am, how can I help you?” The receptionist was speaking to me, but her eyes were glued to Neo. I glanced at her name tag. Jenna. I actually remembered her, this delicate-looking girl from the front desk. She was the one who checked us in last night when Neo brought me to the hotel. She’d been so flustered by him that she’d knocked over her glass of water. After a clumsy cleanup, she’d dragged out the check-in process for another fifteen minutes, finding any excuse to keep him there. I knew Neo was a head-turner. He was tall and lean, with fair skin and handsome, chiseled features. His eyes were his best feature—warm and expressive, the kind of eyes that could make a lamppost feel cherished. It wasn’t unusual for girls to stare; I’d gotten used to it. A handsome man is a handsome man, after all. But this receptionist? Wasn’t she taking it a little too far? “Hi, I checked out this morning, but I think I left a necklace on the bathroom sink,” I said. Silence. She was still staring at Neo. “Hello? Did you hear me?” 2 Neo and I met in our senior year of college. We were the classic campus couple. Everyone says graduation is breakup season, but not for us. We ended up in different cities for work, joining the ranks of the long-distance crowd, but our bond felt as strong as ever. I was in his city for a business trip, and he’d suggested I stay at his place. But with his parents and grandparents living there, I wasn’t comfortable with it. I didn’t want to face the scrutiny of his entire family before we were even engaged. So, Neo had booked me a room at the only five-star hotel in town, The Celestial. I’d checked out early that morning. It was only after lunch with Neo, as I was getting ready to head home, that I realized my necklace was gone. I waved a hand in front of the receptionist’s face, finally snapping her out of her daze. She blushed and looked away. After a cursory glance at her computer screen, she answered without a hint of hesitation. “Ma’am, housekeeping cleaned your room this morning and reported no forgotten items. Are you sure you didn’t misplace it?” I was taken aback. I remembered it clearly. While I was brushing my hair in front of the mirror this morning, it had gotten tangled. I’d unclasped the necklace and set it on the counter. Just as I was about to put it back on, my phone rang. My client had arrived early for our meeting. I’d grabbed my bag in a rush and hurried out, completely forgetting about the necklace until after the contract was signed. “I’m positive it was on the sink,” I insisted. “Could you please double-check with the cleaning staff?” She didn’t pick up the phone. Instead, her tone became firm, almost accusatory. “We have no record of any lost items. You must be mistaken.” Neo noticed my frown and stepped forward, taking my hand. “Don’t worry, babe. Think carefully. Maybe you dropped it somewhere on the way here?” 3 A prickle of annoyance went through me. What was that supposed to mean? Did he think I was making it up? I was absolutely certain my necklace was on that bathroom sink. It was a diamond necklace my mother had given me for my birthday last month. It was incredibly valuable. “Your hotel lobby and elevators must have security cameras, right?” I said, my voice hardening. “Pull the footage. We can see if I was wearing it when I left this morning.” Neo let out a breath of relief. “Yeah, that’s a great idea,” he said, turning back to Jenna. “Could you please pull up the security footage for us?” The receptionist froze. Her eyes darted around for a second before she bit her lip, her expression turning strangely complicated as she looked at me. “Ma’am,” she began, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “is it possible… your companion took it?” Neo and I both stared at her, confused. His face immediately darkened. “Companion? What companion?” he demanded. Jenna blurted it out. “The man who stayed with this lady last night.” She didn’t stop there. “The lady left first this morning. The gentleman didn’t check out until an hour later. When our housekeeper went to inspect the room, she found… well, stains… all over the bedsheets. It’s against policy, so we had to charge a cleaning fee. The gentleman refused to pay and made quite a scene about it.” Neo looked like he was about to explode. His face flushed a deep crimson, and his voice shot up an octave. “What man? What the hell are you talking about?” 4 I was even angrier than he was. What was wrong with this woman? I’d been up until three in the morning finalizing a contract. What man? What was this crazy story she was spinning? And dirty sheets? Stains? The insinuation was disgusting. My face went cold, and I fixed her with an icy stare. “You realize slander is a crime, right? Now, I want you to repeat that. What man was in my room yesterday?” She recoiled as if I’d struck her, taking two steps back. “Maybe… maybe I remembered wrong,” she stammered. Neo shoved me aside, his teeth clenched as he glared at me. “Sandy, don’t you dare threaten her.” He then turned back to the receptionist, forcing a strained smile. “It’s okay. Take your time. Don’t be afraid.” Jenna lowered her head, deliberately dropping her voice to a near whisper. “I… we’re not allowed to disclose guest privacy. I’m sorry, just… please forget I said anything.” My head was spinning. A hot rush of blood pounded in my temples. Neo was no better. His eyes were bloodshot, his chest heaving with rage. “Sandy, is this why you wouldn’t stay at my place? No wonder you didn’t answer my video call last night. It was because… because…” His voice cracked. “Who was he, Sandy? Who was the man?” He didn’t believe me. Some complete stranger appears out of nowhere, spews a few nonsensical sentences, and just like that, he’s questioning our entire relationship. He’s questioning me. I stared at him, feeling as if a bucket of ice water had been dumped over my head. My heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vise, a dull, aching pain mixed with a bitter sting. In his eyes, was I really that kind of person? The kind who would come to her boyfriend’s city on a business trip only to secretly hook up with another man? And then, the next day, act as if nothing happened, sharing a meal with him without a hint of guilt? 5 My silence seemed to confirm his suspicions. Jenna, seeing her chance, put on a show of consoling Neo. “Sir, please don’t get too upset. Maybe that man was a relative? I did notice he was much older, maybe in his fifties? He was losing a lot of his hair… Perhaps it was her father?” If she kept talking, my blood vessels were going to burst. “Shut your mouth!” I roared, unable to take it anymore. “Spreading rumors is illegal! I’m calling the police right now. Get your manager over here. I want to see that security footage!” The color drained from Neo’s face, shifting from red to a sickly white. He gave me a long, hard look, a bitter, mocking smile twisting his lips. “Sandy, you’re really something else.” He paused. “You know I won’t let you call the cops.” “What? What do you mean, you won’t let me?” His eyes were filled with disappointment, completely devoid of warmth. “My uncle is a cop. He’s in charge of this district. If you call them, there’s a good chance he’ll be the one to show up. Is that what you want? You want everyone to know about this? You might not have any shame, but I do.” I almost laughed out loud from sheer rage. “Neo, you’ve already found me guilty based on a few words from a stranger? You think you can stop me from calling the police? This receptionist slandered me, and I’m missing a valuable necklace. Of course I’m calling them.” 6 Jenna looked deeply wounded, her eyes welling up with tears. “Ma’am, how can you say that? I… I really didn’t slander you. You’re a guest at our hotel, why would I do that? You weren’t even wearing a necklace when you checked in yesterday.” She gasped, covering her mouth as if a shocking thought had just occurred to her. “Oh! That necklace… don’t tell me it was a gift from the gentleman last night?” Neo’s face grew darker and darker. Finally snapping, he grabbed my wrist. “Sandy, stop making a scene! The necklace, the necklace, that’s all you care about! What about me? What am I to you? You’re coming with me, right now!” His grip was like iron, crushing my wrist, and I was sure he was going to break the bone. I cried out in pain as a tidal wave of fury washed over me, threatening to swallow me whole. We’d been together for two years. I thought I knew Neo. He was cheerful, kind, and hardworking. His family background was modest, but he carried himself with a quiet dignity. “Sandy, I’ll work my tail off for you,” he’d promised. “We might not be able to afford a mansion and a sports car right now, but I’ll do everything I can to give you a good life.” “I got my bonus today! Let’s go out for a fancy dinner!” He was a dedicated worker, already a department manager just two years out of college. My plan had been to take him to meet my parents by the end of the year, to finally tell him the truth about my family. 7 Because of a kidnapping incident in my childhood, I’ve always been extremely private about my family’s wealth. Throughout college, I lived modestly—my clothes, my habits, everything was designed to make me seem like an ordinary person. In the two years Neo and I had been dating, I deliberately avoided talking about my family. I’d just vaguely said my parents were small business owners and our situation was average. Seeing my reluctance, Neo, ever the considerate boyfriend, never pushed the topic. The truth is, my father owns a chain of luxury hotels. The very hotel we were standing in was just one of hundreds my family owned. My mother is in real estate. Theirs was an arranged marriage, a union of two powerful families. When they found out about Neo, they hadn’t objected. My father only had one condition: the boy couldn’t know about our wealth. Not until they had a chance to meet him and thoroughly vet his character. I’d beaten my chest and promised them. “Mom, Dad, don’t you worry! Your daughter has impeccable taste. Neo is the best person I’ve ever met. You’re going to love him.” But now? My cheeks burned as if I’d been slapped. “Let go of me!” I wrenched my arm free, meeting his murderous gaze with my own furious glare. “Neo, you believe a complete stranger over me? Is that it? Then we’re done. We’re breaking up.” My voice was cold and steady. “From this moment on, we have nothing to do with each other. If you touch me again, I’ll press charges for assault. Now get out of my way. I’m calling the police.”

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During my most financially desperate year, I overheard a classmate mention an ill heiress nearby. I secretly got tested. As soon as the results arrived, her older brother found me. He made me sign a contract and rushed me into hospitalization. Then live comments flashed before my eyes: 【Don’t sign! He’s your brother.】 【Your real brother.】 【Miles Sterling, you’ll regret this. You’re sending the sister you searched for to surgery.】 I ignored them. I knew the man before me had already learned the truth. He had simply chosen to abandon me. Six days post-surgery, as comments buzzed with excitement, I quietly left the hospital. Everyone anticipated my return—eager to see the lost daughter make the Sterlings pay. 【The big moment is here! Zoe’s happy ending!】 【The brother knows! YES!】 【The groveling arc begins!】 【Time to be the pampered princess and make them suffer!】 【Don’t forgive easily, Zoe!】 I shook my head. They’d be disappointed. I was exiting at the climax. That pampered life everyone expected? I didn’t want it. 1 The first time I met Miles Sterling was at a café near the hospital. The second he learned I was a kidney match for his sister, he contacted me. After confirming the details, he handed me the contract along with a disposable mask. “It’s probably best if you wear a mask outside.” I took it without a word, my eyes scanning the exorbitant penalty fee listed in the contract. After I put the mask on, his gaze lingered on my eyes for a moment. The hand holding the pen paused, then decisively signed his name. Suddenly, the live comments flickered to life. 【Baby, don’t sign it! He’s your brother.】 【Your real brother.】 【Miles Sterling, you are going to regret this. The sister you’ve been searching for is about to be sent to the operating table by your own hand.】 【Wait, I just re-read this part… isn’t this the point where Miles already suspects Zoe’s identity?】 【Definitely. With the mask on, her eyes are a dead ringer for their mom’s. No way he didn’t notice.】 【I bet he made her wear the mask specifically so he could get a better look without being obvious.】 【He’s a total snake. Right now he’s doing whatever it takes for Stella, but once Zoe’s identity is confirmed, he’ll flip and try to be the perfect doting brother.】 My expression didn’t change. I signed the contract and handed it to him. I had to admit, Miles was efficient. He had me admitted to a private room in the hospital almost immediately. I didn’t have to worry about a thing; my only job was to sign the surgical consent form when the time came. During my stay, besides the doctors and nurses, the person I saw most was Miles. Not that we had anything to say to each other. We were strangers, after all. But he didn’t seem to see it that way. He was always finding excuses to wander into my room. “Are you really this free?” I asked, my voice flat as I stared at him on his fifth visit in two days. He had brought lunch. Miles just smiled. “Give it a try. Our cook made it. Hope it’s to your taste.” He added, “You need to rest up and build your strength.” I forced a tight smile. “Thanks, but you don’t have to. I just ordered takeout.” His cheerful expression froze for a split second. He recovered quickly, his voice dropping into a low, persuasive tone. “Takeout is so unhealthy. Nothing beats a soup that’s been simmering for hours, don’t you think, Zoe?” The casual way he used my name reminded me of my sister. She was the only one who called me that. “You can try both when it arrives, if you want. A little taste test. I have complete faith in our cook’s skills.” Just as Miles was about to say more, a soft knock came from the door. A young woman in a patient’s gown peeked her head in. “Miles, I knew I’d find you here.” It was Stella. She entered with a bright smile directed at me. “Hi, you must be the one donating your kidney to me. Thank you so much, Miss Zuo. Is it okay if I call you that?” My gaze fell on her. She was clearly well cared for. “Whatever.” Miles was instantly at her side. “What are you doing down here? Are you feeling alright?” Stella stuck out her tongue playfully. “I’m fine! I just wanted to meet my savior.” She leaned into him slightly. “And the surgery is coming up so fast, Miles. I’m a little scared.” He gently stroked her hair. “I promise you, there’s nothing to worry about. You’ll fall asleep, and when you wake up, it’ll all be over.” “I trust you.” Her eyes swept across my room before she spoke again, her tone hesitant. “Miles, why didn’t you get Miss Zuo a room on our floor? This one isn’t very big. Is she comfortable here?” Before Miles could answer, the comments erupted. 【Kinda weird to tell the person giving you a kidney that you’re scared.】 【Wow, the passive aggression is strong with this one. ‘My floor is so much better than yours.’】 【Stop being so negative. She was just making a suggestion, trying to be nice to the main character.】 【Nice? Can you not read the room? She’s blatantly showing off that her room is better than Zoe’s.】 【Why isn’t Miles answering?】 【He can’t. If they were on the same floor, the rest of the family might run into Zoe. This room was a deliberate choice.】 【Can’t wait for his groveling arc to start.】 Just then, Stella’s phone rang. “Mom? I just came to find Miles… Okay, we’re heading back now.” She turned and gave me a polite smile. “Miss Zuo, my mom’s calling. We’re going to head back. I’ll come visit again when I can.” A gust of wind from the hallway seemed to usher them out. 2 The lunch Miles brought sat untouched on the table. I sat on my bed, staring out the window. The truth was, I’d first heard about Stella’s kidney failure from my roommate, Hannah. I had just gotten back to the dorm, exhausted from my part-time job, when she’d said, “Did you guys hear? That heiress from the business school, Stella Sterling? I think she has kidney disease.” “Seriously?” “For real. And I heard a rumor that her family is looking for a donor match. Money is no object.” “Wait, isn’t it better for a relative to donate?” “Who knows with rich people? What family member would willingly give up a kidney?” Hannah held up five fingers. “I heard a successful match gets at least this much.” “Whoa, five million?” “You bet.” “I still wouldn’t do it. Who knows what losing a kidney does to your body.” “The chances of a stranger being a match are tiny anyway. Don’t even think about it.” I had stopped on my way to the bathroom, my head down. Five million dollars. If I was a match, it would be more than enough to cover my sister’s medical bills. I found a contact and quietly got tested. After the results came in, Miles Sterling contacted me, desperate to get me into the hospital as soon as possible. The comments had screamed at me not to sign, but they didn’t know what I knew. A few days before, I had been getting hot water down the hall when I overheard Hannah on the phone. “Mr. Sterling, I told Zoe about it. About that job interview…” “You don’t need to interview. Just show up for work on Monday.” “Okay, thank you, Mr. Sterling.” The male voice on the other end was identical to Miles’s. That’s when I realized the person who wanted me to hear that rumor was Miles himself. He couldn’t just stand by and watch the sister he’d adored since childhood waste away. In his world, nothing was more important than Stella. And me? I was desperate for money. The cost of my sister’s treatment was a mountain I could never climb, no matter how many jobs I worked. He knew I’d jump at the chance. He understood desperation. And he played it perfectly. 3 That’s why, when the live comments first appeared, I barely reacted. What did a blood connection matter? His scheming had started long before we ever met. From the comments, I’d pieced together the story. When I was three months old, my parents had a huge fight. My mother, in a fit of rage, took me and drove off. After a few hours, exhausted, she pulled over to the side of the road to sleep. When she woke up, I was gone. She spiraled into a deep depression. Six months later, her younger sister gave birth to a baby girl but died from complications. By family agreement, my parents adopted the baby, giving her my mother’s maiden name. That child, Stella, became my mother’s lifeline. My two older brothers came to see her as their real sister. As for me, I was passed from one trafficker to another before being sold. My sister, Mia, was a victim of trafficking too. The difference was, I was just a baby, with no memories. She was four, and she remembered her parents, but she could never find them. When Mia got sick, her biggest fear was leaving me all alone. She dragged me to the police station to give a DNA sample for the national database, just in case. In fact, just before my kidney match results came in, I got a call from the police about a potential familial match from that sample. I’m sure Miles got the same notification. Why else would he have been in such a hurry to get me hospitalized the moment we met? More importantly, I didn’t believe for a second that if the rest of the Sterling family knew the truth, they would let me just walk away. It would be a guilt trip of epic proportions. A daughter they’d raised for twenty years versus one they’d lost for twenty years? Was there ever any question who they’d choose? 4 Miles had actually hired a caretaker for me, but he fired her after only a day. He’d overheard her on the phone, gossiping. “You wouldn’t believe it. This girl in my room is having major surgery, giving up a kidney, and no one is here with her. Just me. The guy who hired me, her employer I guess, barely knows her. It’s so weird. The room is nice, though. Such a shame.” Miles fired her on the spot and left in a hurry. Half an hour later, someone else came to my room. It was Catherine Sterling. Miles and Stella’s mother. The new caretaker trailed behind her. Elegant, with a hint of resolve. That was my first impression. The comments appeared again. 【It’s the mom!】 【She’s going to recognize her, right?】 【Mrs. Sterling is so classy.】 【Even if she doesn’t recognize her, she has to feel some kind of connection, right?】 Catherine’s voice was gentle. “Hello, Zoe. I’m Miles’s mother. I’ve arranged for a new caretaker for you.” She paused. “I just wanted to ask… are you doing this voluntarily? My son can be a bit… intense when it comes to his sister. I was worried he might have pressured you.” I shook my head. “You don’t have to worry. It was my decision. I signed a contract with Mr. Sterling.” Her gaze drifted to my eyes, and for a moment, she seemed lost in thought. Snapping out of it, she glanced around the room. “Are you here alone?” “Yes.” She hesitated. “Do your parents know?” A small smile touched my lips. “My consent is all that matters.” If Mia knew I was having surgery, she’d drag me out of this hospital by the ear. In her eyes, my health was everything. But in my eyes, her life was everything. A heavy silence fell between us. Just as it became unbearable, Stella appeared in the doorway. “Mom, are you visiting Miss Zuo too?” Catherine rushed to her side. “Stella, darling, what are you doing here? Are you feeling alright?” “I’m fine, Mom, don’t worry. I just wanted to see how Miss Zuo was doing, in case she was nervous.” Stella looked at me. “Miss Zuo, are you scared about the surgery? To be honest, I’m getting a little nervous myself.” “Don’t you worry, sweetie,” Catherine soothed her. “Everything is going to be fine.” When she turned back to me, presumably to offer similar words of comfort, I just shrugged. “I’m not scared.” The thought of five million dollars was all the motivation I needed. Fear hadn’t even entered the equation. Stella laughed. “You’re so much braver than I am, Miss Zuo. I should learn from you.” She leaned against her mother’s shoulder. “You don’t think I’m a coward, do you, Mom?” Catherine stroked her hair. “Of course not. In my eyes, you’re the bravest girl in the world.” This scene of mother-daughter affection felt deeply familiar. The comments drifted by. 【Déjà vu. First Miles, now Catherine.】 【Stella really is the family favorite.】 【I’ve noticed the Sterlings only ever visit Zoe in groups.】 【It’s like they need a buffer. Wonder if it’s intentional.】 Before they left, Catherine introduced the new caretaker. I had to hand it to her; the woman was a professional. She took care of everything, leaving me with nothing to worry about. 5 The day before the surgery, my sister called. She was ecstatic. “Zoe, the police think they’ve found your birth parents!” She babbled on for a while before asking if I wanted to meet them. I knew this was what she’d always wanted for me, for me to not be alone. Before I could answer, Miles burst into my room, his voice urgent. “Can we move the surgery to tonight?” I instinctively covered the phone, terrified Mia would overhear. I’d never seen Miles so panicked. On the other end of the line, Mia must have heard his voice. “Zoe, are you busy? Think about it and call me back. If you decide to go, I’ll go with you.” “Okay,” I said quickly. “Take care of yourself, Mia. Get some rest. I’ll be home soon.” After I hung up, I looked at Miles. “Fine.” The comments went into a frenzy. 【NOOOO!】 【I feel so bad for Zoe. Miles does not deserve to be her brother.】 【What’s the rush? Is Stella your only sister?】 【They were so close! If he’d just waited one more day, Zoe and her sister would have agreed to the meeting! Why move it up?】 【I’d bet my last bag of chips Miles knows the truth.】 【Someone in the Sterling family must have gotten the police notification. That’s why Miles is panicking.】 【So the parents are excited their precious daughter has found a donor, huh?】 【I wonder how they’ll feel when they find out that donor is their other daughter, the one their own son sent to the operating table.】 【How did Catherine not feel anything? She literally just met her.】 Hearing my agreement, Miles seemed stunned. He asked, a strange note in his voice, “Why did you agree so easily?” I blinked. “What’s the difference between having surgery today and having it tomorrow?” His eyes darkened. “Just remember to fast until then.” The comments screamed back. 【There’s a HUGE difference!】 【If you’d waited a day, your parents would have known the truth! They never would have let this happen!】 【Liam needs to find out, NOW! I can’t stand seeing Zoe get hurt like this.】 【Okay, unpopular opinion, but she’s not really losing here. She’s getting five million dollars and she’s doing it willingly. Why is everyone acting like she’s some huge victim?】 【They’ll make it up to her when she comes back to the family.】 【Why does everyone assume the long-lost daughter is automatically more important than the one they raised for twenty years? It’s obvious Stella is the priority right now.】 【If she went back now, they’d just guilt-trip her into donating anyway.】 My eyes scanned the comments, a small smile touching my lips as I read the last two. They thought just like I did. Miles quickly confirmed the new time with the doctors. As I was wheeled toward the operating room, I saw a familiar figure standing beside another gurney. It was Miles, surrounded by what I assumed was the rest of the Sterling family. As we passed, my eyes met a woman’s across the hall. It was Catherine. I didn’t have time to read her expression. The doors swung shut, and soon, the anesthesia pulled me under.

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It was the third year of my brother’s cruel obsession with the scholarship girl. And her brother had finally come for him. The man who stepped out of the sleek black luxury sedan was young, with a cold, chiseled face. The live comments scrolling across my vision went wild. 【OMG, RODRIGO… WE’VE BEEN WAITING FOR YOU.】 【You finally made it. Back with a vengeance.】 【These two psycho siblings are about to get what they deserve.】 【I’ve hated them for so long.】 【And so begins the epic revenge arc for our main characters.】 The comments were a victory parade. But as I looked at the man in the severe black suit standing before me, my own expression was… unnatural. Because my brother, Leo, learned his brand of coercive love from me. And three years ago, I was the one who had held this man captive. 1 I never thought I would see Rodrigo Vincent again. I certainly never imagined he was Iris Vincent’s brother. Three years ago, at the university’s opening ceremony, my brother saw student representative Iris Vincent and fell for her, hard. He became completely obsessed. But Iris didn’t like him at all. My brother, Leo, was used to getting his way. He was arrogant, reckless, and spoiled. When Iris rejected him, he used the fact that she was a poor orphan with no one to protect her to force her into a relationship. Of course, I tried to stop his tyrannical behavior. But Leo shut me down with a single sentence. “Phoebe, your little affair with that scholarship kid back in the day was the talk of the town, remember?” He sneered. “You bought him a car, a condo, threw money at him, and even hired guards to make sure he couldn’t escape.” “Mom, Dad, Grandpa, Grandma… they all tried to talk you out of it, but no one could control you.” He muttered under his breath, “I learned everything from you.” 2 As he spoke, something shifted. This was the same Leo who never shed a tear or begged for mercy, even when our father beat him as a child. But now, his eyes were suddenly red. “I’ll listen to you on anything else,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “But not this, Phoebe. I’m really in love with her.” His hair was a stylish, chaotic mess, but the look on his face was one of rare, desperate sincerity. I looked at him and saw a ghost of myself. I, too, had once pursued a hopeless love for a man, so desperately that I resorted to every possible means to keep him. And in the end, I still couldn’t make him stay. He still escaped. Seeing the raw vulnerability on my brother’s face, I turned away. “You can keep her with you,” I said, my back to him. “But you are not to harm her in any other way. If you do, I’ll cut off every single one of your cards.” 3 What happened with Rodrigo Vincent all those years ago had indeed been a massive, ugly scandal. So ugly that to this day, no one dared to even mention his name in my presence. So, at this moment, watching him step out of a black Bugatti, I felt a surreal sense of dislocation, as if I were looking across a chasm of time. He wore a severe black suit, an expensive steel watch gleaming on his wrist. His assistant walked beside him, bowing slightly, guiding his path. He seemed taller, I thought. When I held him captive, it was right after our high school graduation. He was only eighteen then. Poor, thin, always in the same faded, threadbare button-down. He always kept his face turned away from me, a mask of cold indifference. He could go an entire day without meeting my eyes once. 4 “This is Ms. Phoebe Chen,” his assistant said, introducing me. The man’s eyelids fluttered, and he finally deigned to look at me. The instant my gaze met Rodrigo Vincent’s dark, fathomless eyes, a stream of white text scrolled rapidly across my vision— 【FUCK YES! I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS MOMENT.】 【The male lead is finally back.】 【And this time he’s not the beautiful, tragic boy he used to be. He’s a god-tier powerhouse.】 【No more humiliation, no more suffering. From now on, it’s all ruthless, satisfying revenge.】 【These two psycho siblings are the first pieces of cannon fodder he’s going to crush.】 【He’ll stomp them into the ground and rescue his sister. It’ll be easier than squashing two ants.】 【They bullied his sister for years.】 【I can’t WAIT to see them groveling.】 【Go get ‘em, Rodrigo. Make them pay.】 5 I stared at the intensely charged words scrolling past. …Male lead? Was that Rodrigo? For a moment, I wasn’t even surprised. His qualifications were perfect for any protagonist: an impeccably handsome face, a brilliant mind, a stoic and reserved personality. Even his difficult, impoverished background fit the trope. “Ms. Chen?” the assistant prompted again. I snapped back to the present, met with Rodrigo’s cold, impatient glare. I suppressed the turmoil inside me, looked him in the eye, and spoke with calm sincerity. “I will have Iris sent back to you tonight.” 6 His assistant, probably expecting a fight, seemed prepared with a list of arguments and conditions. My straightforward statement left him speechless. His words died in his throat. He glanced at me, bewildered, then instinctively turned to Rodrigo, who hadn’t said a word. Time had certainly left its mark on Rodrigo Vincent. Dressed in black, his expression was unreadable, but every subtle movement radiated a powerful, mature masculinity. He was no longer the thin, trapped boy I had once kept locked away. “And what about the years of harm Leo inflicted on my sister?” Rodrigo finally spoke. His voice was low, with a magnetic timbre. “How do we settle that?” “However you see fit,” I replied instantly. “The Chen family will not protect him.” With that, I picked up my bag and started to leave. “I’ll have Iris returned to you on time tonight.” But his next words stopped me in my tracks. His voice echoed softly in the cavernous lobby. “And you?” he asked. “How do we settle the score for what you did to me?” 7 I never thought Rodrigo would bring it up so openly. It had been nearly five years. Seeing him again tonight, his eyes were full of nothing but coldness and the distance of a stranger. I had almost convinced myself he’d forgotten me. After all, he had despised me so much. After all, he had escaped from me in such a state of desperation. That had to have been the most humiliating period of his life. And yet, he was the one bringing it up. The glass window reflected the sharp, icy silhouette of the man behind me. He was leaning back in his chair, one leg crossed over the other. He wasn’t looking at me, but his words, spoken in a slow, deliberate drawl, had frozen me in place. The live comments probably didn’t know about my history with Rodrigo—that part of the story that deviated from the main plot. So, after he spoke, the screen was flooded with question marks. 【Who is she?】 【What did Rodrigo just say? Did I mishear…?】 【WTF did this cannon fodder bitch do to him?】 【It must have been bad if it needs a reckoning…】 【Cannon fodder needs to learn its place.】 【Wait… I don’t even remember this chick’s name. How is she connected to the male lead?】 8 “Settle it however you want,” I said, turning my head slightly to face him. I had taken advantage of his weakness back then. So now, if he wanted to make me pay, it was only right that I accept it. Besides, the comments made it perfectly clear. He was the hero, back for his revenge. I was just the cannon fodder he was meant to crush. I had no power to fight him. So I stood there, waiting for his retribution. But after I spoke, a frown creased his brow. For the first time, Rodrigo truly looked at me. In the dark pools of his eyes, I saw the reflection of my own impassive profile. “What does that mean?” he asked, the question almost reflexive. “It means that no matter how you decide to settle this, I will cooperate.” I paused, then added, “But please, leave the rest of my family out of it. Just my brother.” My expression faltered for a second. “Back then, everyone tried to stop me. It was my own stubbornness that made me keep you.” A sudden, cold smile touched Rodrigo’s lips. “Phoebe,” he asked, his voice dripping with ice, “what makes you think you’re in any position to negotiate with me?” He was right. I had no position, no leverage. I gave him one last, calm look, then turned to leave again. From behind me, Rodrigo called my name again, his voice sharp, trying to force me to stop. But I didn’t pause this time. As I pressed the down button for the elevator, I thought I saw a flicker of movement in the lobby behind me. Rodrigo Vincent, surging to his feet. 9 I didn’t hesitate. I got in my car and drove straight out of the city, toward the suburbs. Leo was dangerously attached to Iris. He kept her hidden away, guarded her like a hawk. He’d never even introduced her to his closest friends or family. He was terrified she’d run away. He had multiple safe houses, all for her. But no matter how cunning he was, he was still my little brother. I knew all of his hiding spots. That was why I could so confidently promise Rodrigo I’d have Iris back to him tonight. Because I knew that Leo was out of town for the next two days for a competition he couldn’t miss. And Iris wasn’t with him. 10 As I approached the cozy-looking villa in the suburbs, I paused, struck by the garden. The entire yard was filled with flowers. A stone path, illuminated by ground lights, led to the front door. I used my key to unlock the double bolts. Iris, sitting on the living room sofa, turned her head at the sound. Her expression was cool, but I saw a flash of surprise and eager hope in her eyes. The moment she saw it was me, that hope vanished, replaced by a chilling disappointment. Before I could get a better look, she had already turned her head away. I closed the door and got straight to the point. “Pack your important things. You’re leaving with me.” Iris looked at me, confused. “…What are you talking about?” 11 “Your brother is back,” I told her. “He’s here to take you home.” Leo had tormented her for three years. Even the live comments knew she was desperate to escape his grasp. But at my words, Iris’s brow furrowed. There was no joy on her face, only confusion and distress. I heard her whisper, “Why so soon…” I didn’t catch the rest of it. When I leaned in to ask, she hugged her knees and turned away. “He locked all my documents in his safe.” Her posture was defensive. “I don’t know the combination.” She wouldn’t even say his name. “I might know Leo’s password.” But my words didn’t bring her any relief. Instead, the last bit of color drained from her face. “Come on,” I said. “Let’s go upstairs and try.” 12 We stood in front of the safe in the second-floor study. I typed in the date Leo and Iris first met. The safe beeped, signaling an error. I looked back at the silent Iris. “Your birthday?” She bit her lip, frowning, before slowly reciting the numbers. I typed them in one by one. After the sixth digit, there was a soft click. The safe door swung open. It was such a simple password. I looked at Iris, puzzled. “Have you never tried?” I gestured to the safe, which was sitting in plain sight. But there was no surprise on her face. She just lowered her gaze and changed the subject. “Why the rush? Aren’t you afraid of what he’ll do when he comes back and finds me gone?” I pulled her documents out of the safe. “Let’s go,” I said. “His rage is better than his death.” 13 I drove away from the villa with Iris in the back seat. As we were leaving, she stood in the yard for a long time, looking back at the house. “He tormented you for so long. Why would you be reluctant to leave?” I asked her. My question seemed to startle her. Her expression immediately became guarded. She quickly got into the car. A moment later, her muffled voice came from the back. “I’m not.” I watched her in the rearview mirror. Her departure felt both decisive and strangely hesitant. She’d even brought her phone. The screen kept lighting up with an endless stream of messages and notifications. She stared at it, her eyes fixed, but never picked it up. Instead, her fingers gently caressed the thin band of the watch on her wrist. When I stopped the car in front of the downtown skyscraper that now bore the Vincent family name, I turned around and apologized to her sincerely. “I’m sorry,” I said. “For everything my brother did to you these past years.” 14 The moment the words left my mouth, the live comments appeared. 【LMAO, the cannon fodder bitch is apologizing now?】 【Where was she when her psycho brother was torturing Iris for the past two years? Playing dead?】 【She knows the reckoning is here. Now she’s scared.】 【Serves her right.】 【But begging won’t save you, Phoebe.】 【You and your brother are both going down.】 The comments scrolled past, a chorus of gleeful anticipation. Remembering what triggered their appearance, my heart skipped a beat. I instinctively looked out the car window. And there he was. Standing under a streetlamp in front of the building. Rodrigo Vincent. Dressed only in a black shirt, leaning against the lamppost, his gaze fixed on us. He stood in the shadows, his expression obscured, but his stare felt tangible, pinning me in place. There was nothing more to say to Iris. “Your brother is over there, waiting for you,” I urged. Iris got out. The moment her door clicked shut, I drove away, leaving the glittering city block behind me. 15 About ten minutes later, my assistant called, his voice frantic. “I think Leo found out. He didn’t even finish his competition. He’s on his way back tonight. We can’t stop him. No one dares to try.” I glanced at the back seat, at the phone and watch lying there. The phone had been buzzing with messages and calls the entire ride. Its battery finally died, the screen going dark. “Let him come back,” I sighed. “Just stay with him. I’ll meet him at the airport when he lands.” At five o’clock that morning, I met a storm-faced Leo at the arrivals gate. His eyes were bloodshot. The first words out of his mouth were an accusation. “You sent her away?” “You need to understand, Leo. Iris is not your property.” I tried to reason with him. But he was too far gone, lashing out, looking for any way to hurt me back. “Property?” His eyes were wild. “Then what about you?” he roared. “When you locked that scholarship kid up, cut him off from the world, made him disappear from everyone’s lives? Why the hell didn’t you know that he wasn’t your property?”

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At a dinner with both our families, my wife’s protégé didn’t just put a bill on the table. He threw it in my face. He then had the audacity to announce that my wife was going to be his surrogate, and that I was expected to split the twenty-five-thousand-dollar bill for all the expenses, from conception to postpartum care. I looked at my wife, completely floored. Waiting for her to tell me this was some kind of sick joke, to give me any explanation at all. Instead, she took Julian’s hand and looked me dead in the eye. “I agreed to carry Julian’s child. As my husband, splitting the cost is your duty. Stop trying to run from your responsibilities.” And in that instant, everything became brutally clear. My nine-year marriage wasn’t a partnership. It was a punchline. And some people? They just belong in the garbage. … 1 The family dinner had barely started when my wife’s protégé, Julian, slapped a cost estimate sheet onto the table in front of me. He stood up, chest puffed out like a preening rooster, and looked down his nose at me. “Ariel agreed to be my surrogate. The total for her pregnancy, delivery, and postpartum care comes to twenty-five thousand dollars. You’ll be splitting it.” A dead silence fell over the table. My parents, who had just been sharing a toast with my in-laws, froze mid-sip. I stared at my wife, Ariel, stunned. I was desperately hoping she’d tell me this was some kind of sick joke. We were a couple. Married for nine years, and child-free by choice. Now she was going to have a baby for another man, and this was the first I was hearing of it? It felt surreal, impossible. But Ariel wasn’t joking. Her hand was intertwined with Julian’s, their fingers locked together. The look she gave me was cold, brutal. “Nolan,” she said, her voice devoid of warmth, “I’m carrying a child. As my husband, you’re expected to share the costs. Stop trying to shirk your responsibility.” Emboldened by her support, Julian shot me a triumphant smirk and, right in front of me, pressed a kiss to the corner of Ariel’s lips. Then, he produced a printed document. “Regarding Ariel bearing my child,” he announced, “I have three conditions.” “One: From now until the baby is born, you will cater to Ariel’s every need to ensure a smooth delivery.” “Two: After the birth, Ariel will need to be with the child. She’ll stay with me on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. She’ll only be home with you on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. You are not to get jealous.” “Three: My child with Ariel will be her sole heir and inherit all of her assets. To guarantee this, you must go to a hospital and have a vasectomy.” The absurdity of his words finally snapped my parents out of their shock. My mother’s face darkened. “Have you all lost your minds?” she demanded, her voice shaking with rage. She turned to my in-laws. “Aren’t you going to say anything about this?” Julian just scoffed. “My godparents have already given their blessing.” My in-laws had informally adopted him years ago. At his words, they both nodded with cheerful smiles. “Yes, we’re aware of the arrangement,” my father-in-law confirmed. My mother-in-law even tried to reason with me. “Nolan, you know Julian’s father was Ariel’s beloved mentor. His dying wish was for Julian to have a child to carry on the family name. Ariel is just helping him fulfill that wish.” She added, with a tone of patronizing wisdom, “You’re an educated man. Surely you understand the concept of repaying a debt of gratitude?” A bitter laugh escaped my lips. “This sordid affair? You call that repaying a kindness?” Ariel’s expression soured instantly. “Nolan, this is a notification, not a negotiation! Julian is the father of my child. If you speak to him like that again, don’t blame me for what happens next.” I looked at her, a knot of disbelief tightening in my chest. “Ariel, say that again.” She rolled her eyes, her patience clearly gone. “I’m just honoring a debt, Nolan. Can you stop being so dramatic? Besides,” she added, a cruel edge to her voice, “Julian is brilliant, a top graduate from a prestigious family. His genes are far more worthy of being passed on.” “Worthy genes?” I couldn’t help but laugh, the sound raw and humorless. “The kind of genes that teach him how to be a homewrecker?” Julian’s eyes instantly welled with tears. Ariel shot to her feet, positioning herself in front of him like a shield. “Julian comes from a family of academics! What would a country hick like you know about class?” she spat. “And anyway, you wouldn’t have a child with me, so why can’t I have one with someone else?” Her words hit me like a physical blow, and the sheer audacity of it made me see red. Before we were married, it was she who had insisted on being child-free, who swore she would never have kids. To support her, I agreed. For nine years, whenever my parents gently hinted about grandchildren, I shut them down to protect her from the pressure. And now that was her excuse? In that single, blinding moment, I understood. Our nine-year marriage was a fucking joke. If she didn’t want this life anymore, then fine. Neither did I. I shot to my feet and kicked the dining table over. A chaotic mess of shattered plates and vibrant sauces splattered all over Julian and Ariel. Julian screamed. Ariel’s face turned a shade of mottled purple with rage. Before she could utter a word, I swung my hand and slapped her across the face. Then I turned my gaze to Julian. “This trash?” I said, my voice dripping with contempt. “I don’t want her anymore. You want her? She’s all yours.” My eyes locked with Ariel’s. “We’re getting a divorce.” I spoke each word with chilling clarity, then turned and walked away. My parents, their faces grim, rose and followed me, leaving behind a scene of destruction and the stunned, ugly faces of Ariel’s family. Ariel’s body trembled as she shrieked at my back, “Nolan Hamilton! You dare to ask for a divorce? You think that scares me? Fine! We’ll get a divorce! I’ll be perfectly happy without you!” I didn’t look back. With my parents in tow, I strode out of that toxic house, wanting nothing more than to escape a place I couldn’t stand for another second. Without me, Ariel? Your perfect life is about to end. After dropping my parents off, I headed back to the home I shared with Ariel, intending to pack my things. When I arrived, I found everything I owned dumped on the doorstep like a pile of garbage. The lock had been changed. My calls to Ariel went straight to voicemail. I tried a video call. Someone answered. But it wasn’t Ariel. It was Julian. He was wearing my favorite silk robe, lounging on my marriage bed. The robe was open, revealing a chest covered in fresh hickeys. He raised an eyebrow when he saw me, his expression a cocktail of smugness and provocation. “Ariel and I are a little busy trying to make a baby. Something important?” Before I could speak, he casually lifted his hand. On his finger was my wedding ring. My vision blurred for a second. It was the unique, diamond ring I had designed and crafted for Ariel myself. Just a few days ago, she’d told me she was taking it to be professionally cleaned. Instead, she’d given it to him. Even the decorative items on the nightstand had been replaced. Where our photos once stood, there were now framed pictures of him and Ariel—kissing, embracing. Noticing my gaze, Julian grinned. “Sorry about this, Nolan. Ariel said this house is mine now. All the old junk had to go, so I tossed your stuff out.” My hand tightened around my phone, knuckles turning white. I took a deep, steadying breath. “Where’s Ariel?” He blinked innocently. “Ariel? Oh, she’s in the shower.” He let out a theatrical sigh. “You have no idea how insatiable she is. Insisted on another round. So… here I am, waiting.” A wave of nausea churned in my stomach. “Oh, and by the way,” he added, “Ariel said since you’re the one who asked for the divorce, you can just take your junk and get lost. After all, she’s the one who bought this condo.” Before I could retort, the bathroom door opened and Ariel walked into the frame. She was wearing a semi-translucent piece of lingerie, her chest a canvas of red marks. Her eyes were hazy, post-coital. She immediately snuggled up to Julian. “Sweetheart,” Julian said, his voice laced with mock concern, “your husband is watching.” Only then did she seem to notice me. Her face hardened. “You wanted a divorce, remember? What are you doing calling in the middle of the night? This place has nothing to do with you anymore!” The dam of my anger finally broke. “Don’t you forget, Ariel, I paid for this condo! The seed money for your company came from me selling two of my tech patents! Your first big deal was through my network! A few people call you ‘Ms. Hamilton,’ and you actually start believing your own hype? Who the hell do you think you are to kick me out?” Ariel had been on her high horse for so long, she’d forgotten what it felt like to be called out. My words struck a nerve, stripping away her facade. Her face twisted in fury. “Don’t flatter yourself, Nolan! Everything I have, I built myself! It has nothing to do with you! In fact, if it weren’t for me, do you think a guy from the sticks like you would have this life? For nine years, you and your parents have been leeches, sucking me dry. What right do you have to bark at me?” A sharp pain lanced through my chest. I stared at her distorted, enraged face and felt the last vestiges of affection die. “Ariel, every single penny my parents and I have spent in the last nine years, I earned with my own two hands! Without me, do you really think a fraud like you could have ever reached the position you’re in today?” She gritted her teeth. “I’m a top-tier graduate, how dare you talk to me like that? Do you honestly believe the company can’t function without you? Nolan, who do you think you are?” She was practically vibrating with rage. “You want to make a scene? Fine! I’ll give you one! We’ll finalize the divorce tomorrow, and you can process your termination! I’ll show you that the company will do just fine without you!” “If you’re going to be ruthless, Ariel, then don’t blame me for being cruel.” “Your company,” I said with a cold smile, “can go to hell.” I was about to end the call, but she started screaming, her voice a furious roar just before the connection cut. “You think you can survive after leaving me and the company, Nolan? I’ve already put the word out to every major corporation in this city! You won’t find a single job! I’m going to run you out of town!” I hung up and turned away without a second’s hesitation, fighting the urge to storm in there and end both of them. The next day, I drafted the divorce agreement and went to the company to find Ariel. The security guard stopped me at the entrance. I frowned. “I’m the Vice President…” The guard let out a derisive snort. “What Vice President? An email went out this morning. You’ve been fired.” He grinned maliciously. “And Ms. Hamilton gave specific orders: no dogs or Nolan Hamilton allowed on the premises.” My hands clenched into fists, a hot spike of anger piercing my chest. Just then, Ariel and Julian walked out together. “Well, well,” Julian said in a singsong, mocking tone. “If it isn’t our former VP. Why aren’t you going in?” Before I could answer, he gasped in fake surprise, covering his mouth. “Oh, that’s right, I forgot. Ariel fired you. You’re less than nothing now.” The security guard chuckled along with him. Ariel watched, a contemptuous smile playing on her lips. I took a deep breath, ignoring him, my eyes fixed on her. “I’m here to discuss the divorce.” A flicker of triumph crossed Julian’s face. Ariel scoffed and handed me a folder. “I’ve already had the papers drawn up. Sign them.” I took it and opened it. My jaw tightened. “You want me to leave with nothing?” The agreement was crystal clear: I was to be left completely penniless. How dare she? “What did you expect?” Ariel sneered. Julian crossed his arms. “It’s only fair. This is Hamilton Enterprises. Everything you’ve enjoyed came from the Hamilton family. What right do you have to any of Ariel’s assets?” “Come on, if you have any dignity left, just sign it,” Ariel urged. When I didn’t move, she mocked me. “I knew it. You can’t bear to give up this lifestyle. All that tough talk was just an act, wasn’t it? Nolan, if you humbly agree to split my pregnancy costs and get that vasectomy, maybe I’ll consider keeping you around. Otherwise…” “No need. I’ll sign.” I cut her off, pulled out a pen, and scrawled my name across the documents. Ariel’s face fell, a flicker of shock in her eyes. “Nolan, you actually…” “Ariel!” Julian interrupted, grabbing her hand. “Everything he has, everything he’s wearing… it’s all yours, right? That custom-tailored suit, the car he drove here—they’re worth a fortune! Those are your assets. You can’t just let him walk away with them.” My head snapped up, my gaze locking with hers. Ariel hesitated for a moment, then a cruel smirk spread across her face. “Julian’s right. The car and the suit on your back were gifts from me. If you’re leaving with nothing, that means nothing.” She paused, savoring the moment. “But, if you get on your knees right now, apologize to me and Julian, and sign the commitment letter he drafted, I might give you another chance. Otherwise, don’t blame me for humiliating you.” The last bit of warmth in my heart turned to ice. “Fine.” With a cold laugh, I met the mocking and curious stares of the surrounding employees and began to strip off my jacket and trousers. I even kicked off my shoes. Finally, I threw the car keys, hitting her squarely in the face. “Is that good enough for you?” I asked, my voice dangerously calm. “The shirt and underwear are my own. I assume I can keep those?” A red mark bloomed on Ariel’s cheek. She was frozen in shock. I didn’t spare her another glance. With my back straight and my head held high, I turned and walked away as if I didn’t have a care in the world. Ariel, however, was trembling with fury. “Nolan! You insist on defying me, don’t you? Fine! Don’t expect any mercy from me!” For nine years, I had been the one to yield, to compromise. She couldn’t comprehend why, this time, I refused to bow my head. I ignored her, hailed a taxi, and left, enduring the stares of passersby. Since she wanted to be merciless, I no longer had any reason to show her any decency. Using the last of my cash, I took the cab to my parents’ house. They were there, along with my married sister, Sarah. The atmosphere was thick with tension. Seeing my disheveled state, my parents’ expressions grew even darker. My mother’s eyes filled with tears. “What… what happened to you? Was it Ariel?” My dad quickly ushered me inside. “Go get changed before you catch a cold.” Before I could say anything, my sister clicked her tongue in annoyance. “Honestly, Nolan, why do you have to fight with Ariel? Are you happy now that you’ve dragged the whole family down with you?” “Sarah, stop it!” my mom warned, shooting her a sharp look. But my sister was too upset. She stood up, her voice rising. “Am I wrong? Why can’t I say it? If it weren’t for him, would any of this be happening to us?” My mom tried to silence her, but I sensed something was terribly wrong. “What’s happened?” I asked, my voice low. “It’s… it’s nothing…” my mom said, forcing a smile as she tried to push me toward my room. My dad held my sister back. But Sarah broke free. “Mom, Dad, how long are you going to hide it from him? You were both fired today! I lost my job, and my daughter got kicked out of her preschool this morning! This is all his fault! He deserves to know!” I froze. “What?” Tears streamed down my sister’s face, her shoulders shaking. Over my parents’ protests, she told me everything. My parents weren’t the “country hicks” Ariel claimed they were. They were university graduates who had worked hard to build a life in the city and had become respected teachers at a local college. But that morning, both had been dismissed. My sister had been fired by her manager. Even my five-year-old niece was expelled from her preschool after a call from the director. When Sarah had pressed for a reason, she was discreetly told that our family had offended someone powerful. In this city, the only person with that kind of influence and a grudge against me was Ariel. “Nolan, can you just stop this?” my sister sobbed. “You can’t ruin all of our lives just for your pride! Please, just go back to Ariel, apologize, and agree to her terms!” Clearly, my parents had told her about Ariel’s demands. My dad couldn’t take it anymore. “Sarah Hamilton, if you say one more word, you are no longer our daughter! Your brother is the victim here! How can you pressure him like this?” My sister was frantic. “What else can I do? I just got my promotion! It was so hard to get Lily into that preschool, and now it’s all gone! I have a mortgage, a car loan… Lily’s life is just beginning…” My throat felt like it was closing up. I couldn’t breathe. Steeling myself, I pulled out my phone and started calling old business contacts, hoping to find a way out of this mess. I couldn’t let my family suffer because of me. But every person I called treated me like I had the plague. “Nolan, Ms. Hamilton made it clear. Anyone who helps you goes down with you. Our hands are tied.” A contact at the college said, “Mr. Hamilton, we received an anonymous tip claiming your parents had fabricated their credentials and exhibited unethical behavior. We had no choice.” I understood perfectly. Ariel was cutting off every possible escape route, leaving me with no way out. If this continued, it wouldn’t just be me; my entire family would be destroyed. That woman… she was utterly ruthless. Before I could process it all, my phone rang. It was Ariel. The moment I answered, her mocking laughter filled my ear. “So, have you learned your lesson about what happens when you cross me?” she taunted. “Do you see what you are now, Nolan? Without me, you are nothing.” “And without you, I’m still the powerful Ms. Hamilton. Oh, did you hear? I just landed that massive government contract. A nine-figure deal.” I knew which project she was talking about. It was the one I’d spent six months chasing, wining and dining clients until I nearly got a stomach ulcer, pouring my soul into securing it. We were just days away from signing. All my hard work had become her prize. And now, she was gleefully rubbing salt in my deepest wound. I hung up the phone. In the living room, my sister’s suppressed sobs grew louder, each one a dagger in my heart. I knew I couldn’t let this go on. “Don’t worry,” I said, my voice steady and calm as I walked back into the room, now fully dressed. “I’ll fix this. By tomorrow, at the latest.” I strode out of the house, my steps firm, my back straight. Every footfall was a promise to them: the sky hadn’t fallen. Not yet. Standing on the curb waiting for a ride, I took out my phone and made one last call. “Vivian? It’s Nolan. Let’s meet. That patent you wanted? I’m ready to sell.” Ariel thought that by forcing me to leave with nothing, she had taken everything. But she forgot one crucial detail. The core technology for the company’s most valuable projects… the patents were all in my name. And since I was no longer an employee of Hamilton Enterprises, I could sell them to whomever I pleased. She wanted to drive me to ruin? Fine. I would drag her down and expose her for the fraud she was. Ariel, Julian… it’s time to settle the score.

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