Author: Momo Chan

My mother was in a car accident. Internal bleeding. They rushed her into surgery. I called my fiancé, Ian, a surgical prodigy, and begged him to operate on her himself. He promised he would. But as the operating room doors swung shut, he turned and walked into a different theater. I knelt on the cold linoleum of the hallway all night, praying for her to pull through. But the only thing that came back out was my mother’s body, covered by a white sheet. A raw, keening sound tore from my throat. I tried to rush to her, to see her one last time, but Ian’s star student, Serena, blocked my path, her grip like iron. Through a tear in the sheet, I saw it—an incision on my mother’s chest that should not have been there. And I knew, in that same moment, that Ian was in another room, transplanting a heart into Serena’s young son. The donor… was my mother. 1 My mother’s face was a pale, waxy grey beneath the sheet. The world swam in and out of focus, a dizzying blackness at the edge of my vision. I struggled against Serena’s hold, but her strength was inhuman. “Let me go! Get off me! I have to see my mom!” I screamed, my voice shredding. “She can’t be dead! Ian told me it was just a routine procedure to stop the bleeding! Why did she die on the table?” My grief echoed down the sterile hallway. Serena didn’t answer my questions. She just shot a look at the orderlies, a silent command to move the gurney faster. My legs gave out from under me. As I crumpled to the floor, my gaze fell on the gurney one last time. Through the blood-soaked sheet, I saw it—a long, brutal incision down the center of her chest, and beneath it, a sunken, hollow space. Her heart was gone. A phantom pain, sharp and searing, lanced through my own chest. It was the same agonizing cramp I’d felt hours earlier, while I was waiting outside the OR. My eyes widened in horror. I lunged forward, trying to rip the sheet away, to see the truth for myself. But before my fingers could touch the fabric, Serena grabbed me by the hair and dragged me back, shouting for security to restrain me. “Miss Hayes, I understand you’re grieving,” Serena said, her voice a cold, flat line. But her eyes held a glint of something else. Something cunning. “But the deceased should be treated with respect. Please don’t disturb the body.” I stared up at her, my own eyes burning red. “Something went wrong with the surgery! I am her next of kin, and I have a right to know what happened! Where is Ian?” A smirk played on her lips. “Dr. Vincent is busy saving lives. He doesn’t have time for you.” I watched, helpless, as they wheeled my mother’s body away. My hands shaking, I pulled out my phone and tried to call Ian. Ninety-nine times. He declined every single call. But his social media feed had a new post. A photo of him in his surgical scrubs, holding the hand of a small boy in a hospital bed. The caption read: A new life begins. Wishing you a long and healthy future. And there, on the chart visible in the corner of the photo, was the patient’s name: Leo. The procedure: Heart Transplant. Leo. Serena’s son, born with a congenital heart defect. The image of that horrific incision on my mother’s chest flashed in my mind. A monstrous truth began to dawn. Leo had been on the transplant list for ten years. How was it possible that a perfect donor match suddenly became available the very moment my mother was wheeled into surgery? With a guttural roar, I launched myself at Serena, my hands closing around her throat. “Where did your son’s heart come from?” I shrieked. “What did you do to my mother?” She clawed at my hands, gasping for air. A second later, I was thrown violently backward. Ian, fresh out of the operating room, shoved me away from her. My head cracked against the wall, and hot blood trickled down my temple, but he didn’t even glance at me. He was too busy fussing over Serena, gently brushing at the red marks on her neck, his eyes filled with a pained tenderness that was meant for me. “Susan! Are you insane?” he yelled. “Serena worked tirelessly to save your mother, and this is how you repay her?” Tears streamed down my face, mixing with the blood, staining the collar of my white blouse. My mom had spent all week sewing it for me by hand. I was supposed to wear it today, for the photo on our marriage license. The first time I ever wore it, and I had lost her forever. “You promised me, Ian!” I sobbed. “You promised you would do her surgery yourself! Why was Serena in that room?” “And don’t you think it’s a little too convenient? My mother shouldn’t have died! You let her die! You murdered her and you stole her heart for Leo!” The raw hatred in my eyes must have startled him, because he flinched. “What are you talking about? Your mother had a splenectomy! What does that have to do with her heart? How dare you drag Leo into this!” Serena, now safely nestled in Ian’s arms, had shed her defiant sneer. Her face was a mask of tear-streaked vulnerability. “Dr. Vincent, she had lost too much blood. She was already gone by the time she reached the OR. I did everything I could, but I couldn’t save her. It’s all my fault.” She looked at me, her voice trembling. “If Susan won’t believe me, then… then I’ll pay for it with my own life.” 2 Ian pulled her closer, shielding her as if I were the monster. He turned his gaze on me, his eyes filled with disgust and accusation, as if I were a raving lunatic. “Susan, every surgery has risks. It would have been the same even if I had been the one operating! Your mother’s life mattered, but what about Leo’s? Does his life not matter? I only have two hands! I can’t be in two places at once! Besides, Leo’s transplant was a far more critical procedure. Your mother’s surgery was simple. Of course it had to make way for Leo’s!” A cold, bitter laugh escaped my lips. So, in the eyes of this supposedly noble doctor, some lives were worth more than others. A simple “make way” was all it took to sign my mother’s death warrant. I should have seen it. Serena had named her son Leo. Ian Leo. It was a shrine to her obsession, and even though the boy wasn’t his, it was enough to buy Ian’s loyalty. “How could you say that?” I whispered, horrified. “She wasn’t just my mother, Ian, she was your benefactor! She paid for your entire education! And now her heart has been ripped out of her chest, and you stand there and defend this… this butchery? Or is there something else going on between you and your star student?” His face went rigid. He was an orphan. My mother had sponsored him from the time he was a child until he’d earned his doctorate. But he was deeply insecure about his past, and hated any mention of the charity that had saved him. At the same time, he had always shown a special, almost paternal indulgence towards Serena, who came from a similarly difficult background. “That’s enough, Susan! You’re hysterical! I won’t listen to this filth!” he snapped. “My relationship with Serena is purely professional! You have no right to slander us! If you keep this up, I’ll have you committed!” “Serena is a brilliant surgeon whom I trained myself! I trust her skills completely! What happened to your mother was a tragic accident! You need to accept it!” Hiding behind Ian, Serena shot me a look of pure, triumphant malice. “Susan, I am so, so sorry,” she said, her voice dripping with false sympathy. “But no matter what I did wrong, you can’t accuse me and Dr. Vincent of… that. I’ve told you, you’re mistaken. My conscience is clear, about your mother, and about my relationship with my mentor.” Blinded by rage, I lunged at her again. To protect Serena, Ian kicked me, hard, in the stomach. “I’ll say it one more time, Susan! No doctor would touch your mother’s heart without authorization! You’re the one who’s lost her mind!” A blinding, searing pain exploded in my abdomen. A warm gush of blood soaked through my jeans. The world tilted on its axis, and I collapsed into darkness. The last thing I heard was Ian’s voice, suddenly laced with panic. “Susan? Susan, what’s wrong?” When I woke up, I had miscarried. The baby I never even knew existed was gone. Maybe it didn’t want a father like him. Ian was at my bedside, his eyes filled with guilt. “Susan, how are you feeling? I’m so sorry. I… I didn’t know you were pregnant. Don’t be sad, we can have other children…” I shook my head, my voice a dead whisper. “No. We won’t.” I was done with him. I would make him and Serena pay for what they had done, in blood. But he didn’t understand. He just pulled out a death certificate and a pen, trying to press them into my hand. “Susan, I’ve had my team look into it. Leo’s transplant procedure was completely by the book. I trust Serena, but I’ll keep investigating, just to prove to you that you’re wrong. You have to let this go. People die, Susan. You have to wake up. Your mother wouldn’t want to see you like this, deluding yourself, turning into some crazy woman.” I shook my head violently, shoving his hand away. “You’re the one who’s deluded! I won’t sign it! This was murder! I demand an autopsy! I’m going to find out the truth!” He sighed, and in an instant, the guilt in his eyes hardened into something cruel. He grabbed my wrist, his grip like a vise. “If you won’t come back to reality on your own,” he said, his voice dangerously low, “then I’ll have to help you.” 3 I felt the bones in my wrist crack under the pressure, but he didn’t let go. He forced my hand down, scribbling a signature onto the form. “You’re a murderer, Ian! Both of you! You’ll burn for this!” I shrieked. “You say I’m lying, that I’m crazy? Then have the guts to come with me. Let’s go lift that sheet together and see what’s underneath!” His patience finally snapped. He threw a folder onto my face. “Susan, I have been trying to be gentle with you, for the sake of your mother, for the sake of our baby, but you refuse to listen! Open your eyes and read! That is the official organ donation consent form for Leo’s donor! See for yourself if the name on it is your mother’s!” I snatched the paper, my eyes scanning the page over and over. The donor’s name was not my mother’s. But it was impossible. I couldn’t have been wrong. The image of her empty, blood-filled chest was burned into my mind. It had haunted me even in my unconscious state. “No… it can’t be…” The door opened and Serena walked in. She knelt dramatically by my bedside. “Susan, you can blame me all you want, but my child is innocent! You have the legal documents right in front of you. Why won’t you believe it? You were almost a mother yourself! My Leo is only ten years old! How can you be so cruel as to use him as an excuse to slander me?” Ian pulled her to her feet. “She’s a madwoman, Serena. Don’t waste your breath trying to explain.” I ignored them, grabbing Ian’s arm, my grip desperate. “You say I’m lying? Then come with me. Let’s go look at my mother’s body. Right now.” He hesitated. He sat on the edge of my bed and gently touched my swollen wrist, a flicker of remorse in his eyes. His touch was soft, but his next words plunged me into an abyss of ice. “Susan, you can’t see her anymore.” “I’ve already signed the papers. I had her sent for cremation.” My head spun, a roar filling my ears. The pain in my chest was so intense I couldn’t breathe. “You bastard!” I gasped. “That’s my mother! You had no right to make that decision!” Ian was silent. It was Serena who spoke, her voice laced with a sickening innocence. “Susan, I was the one who suggested it. I was worried you were too emotionally unstable to face the body. I only asked Dr. Vincent to sign because I was thinking of you. Was that so wrong?” I whipped my head around to face her, wanting to tear her apart. I lunged forward and slapped her across the face with all my strength. A red handprint instantly bloomed on her cheek. “Who gave you the right to touch my mother?” I screamed. “Who the hell do you think you are?” Ian pulled Serena behind him, and then, without a word, he slapped me back, hard. I clutched my stinging cheek, staring at him in disbelief. The man who had once knelt before my mother and sworn to love and protect me for the rest of his life, had just struck me for her killer. “Susan! Serena was only trying to help you! How can you be so ungrateful?” he snarled. “Apologize to her. Right now. If you don’t, this wedding is off. It’s not like we ever made it to the courthouse anyway.” Tears blurred my vision. A desolate, arctic wind swept through my heart. This was the man my mother had sacrificed for, scrimping and saving for years, never buying herself a new dress so that he could have the best education. This was the man I had given my entire heart to, my complete and utter trust. I was a blind fool. And my foolishness had cost my mother her life. I looked at Ian, all the warmth draining from my eyes. “You don’t have to threaten me with marriage. I will not marry my mother’s murderer.” “And you don’t get to call this off, Ian. I’m ending it. We’re done.” I ripped the engagement ring—the one he had so carefully chosen for me—off my finger and threw it straight at his face. When it clattered to the floor, I stomped on it, again and again. He stared at me, dumbfounded, as if he couldn’t comprehend that the woman who had followed him so devotedly for years could be capable of such finality. He reached for my hand, but I shoved him away. Ignoring the pain in my body, I ran. All I wanted was to get my mother’s ashes and take her home. I walked all the way home from the crematorium, clutching the urn, feeling the warmth of her remains slowly turn to a chilling cold. My tears had run dry. But when I opened the front door to our apartment, a fresh wave of rage seized me, so violent it made my entire body tremble.

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Three days after we got our marriage license, I logged into the HR system to schedule our honeymoon leave for my wife, Katerina. Only to find that her fifteen days of vacation time were already marked as ‘taken.’ I froze, my mind reeling. We were together every day. When could she possibly have taken a honeymoon? I immediately dialed her number. “Your vacation days… they’re gone?” Her voice on the other end was impossibly gentle. “Oh, that. It wouldn’t look good for me to take a vacation right after my promotion to VP. I just had HR cancel the days. Why? Is something wrong?” “No, nothing,” I said, forcing a laugh. After hanging up, I pulled up her employee profile in the system. My eyes locked onto the name listed in the ‘Spouse’ field. Then, I took the stairs, heading straight for the workstation of the man listed there: an intern named Caleb Finn. 1 I slammed into Caleb at the fifth-floor landing. The paper gift bag in his hand burst open, sending packages of specialty chocolates scattering across the floor. They were from Silver Creek. When he looked up and saw it was me, his expression was brazen. He bent down, picked up a box, and offered it to me. “Hey, Marcos. My wife and I brought these back from our honeymoon in Silver Creek. You should try some.” The words “Silver Creek” were like a needle to the heart. Katerina had held my hand so many times, whispering, “As soon as this project is over, we’ll go to Silver Creek. We’ll see the fields of wildflowers beneath the snowy peaks and eat the local rosewater pastries.” She’d been saying that for eight years. From the late nights we spent as nobodies, grinding away in obscurity, to her confident stride as a top executive, she had never once made good on that promise. The last time it came up was as we were leaving the courthouse, license in hand. She’d muttered vaguely, “What’s so great about Silver Creek, anyway?” It turned out she’d already seen the snow-capped mountains and wildflower fields. With another man. My throat felt thick, my breath catching in my chest. “Do you know that Katerina and I are married?” I asked, my voice raspy. Caleb just smirked. “Yeah, I know.” I stared into his eyes, desperately searching for a flicker of innocence. He was young. Maybe he was just a naive intern, manipulated by Katerina’s power. I was already calculating in my head: if he agreed to walk away, I could pull some strings, get him a better position at a top-tier firm. But his next words shattered that delusion. “She told me it was a sham marriage.” My hands trembled as I pulled the marriage certificate from my bag, holding it up for him to see. “This has the county’s official seal. How could it possibly be a sham?” He slapped the red booklet out of my hand, scoffing. “That’s hilarious. Katerina mentioned you were a little unstable, always fantasizing that she’s your wife. Guess she wasn’t exaggerating.” He deliberately stepped on the certificate, grinding his shoe onto our photo, leaving a dirty black scuff mark. “She went to the courthouse with you out of pity,” he sneered. “Part of her new duties as VP—caring for mentally ill subordinates.” He turned and walked away, leaving my pride crushed on the floor beneath his footprint. The strength drained out of me. I sank to my knees, unable to stand. I was the sole heir to a multi-billion-dollar fortune, playing the part of an ordinary employee so Katerina wouldn’t feel insecure. Eight years. We’d held hands in secret in the breakroom, shared a bowl of cheap ramen on late nights, planned our future in a tiny rented apartment. Behind the scenes, I was the one rewriting her proposals, begging my father to grant her unprecedented promotions, and calling in favors from my wealthy friends to secure her investments. I had carried her through the hardest times, and just when we finally got married, my life with her was dismissed as a delusion? I desperately tried to wipe the scuff mark off the photo with my sleeve, but the stain seemed to have melded with the paper, only growing darker the more I rubbed. Clenching my jaw, I called my father’s executive assistant. “Mr. Harrison, I need you to check the official marital status of Katerina Vance.” I staggered back to my desk, feeling hollowed out. A moment later, his reply came through. “Mr. Shaw, the county records confirm you and Ms. Vance are legally married.” “However, it appears Ms. Vance instructed someone in HR to list Mr. Finn as her spouse in the company’s internal system.” “In a divorce, she could claim the system entry was a clerical error, while still legally being married to you. This would position her to claim half of your personal assets.” My fists tightened. Every bit of her success, every piece of her shining armor—I had given it all to her. If she dared to betray me, I would be the one to personally drag her down from the heavens and into the mud. … Mr. Harrison sent over Caleb’s complete file. Katerina had personally interviewed him. She’d offered a third-year college student an intern’s salary of a hundred thousand dollars a month. While other interns started at the bottom, Caleb was immediately appointed as the VP’s personal assistant on the 60th floor. His registered home address was a luxury condo across the street from the office—a condo Katerina had purchased, claiming it was a place to rest during her lunch breaks. The papers trembled in my hands. I had let Katerina use me as a stepping stone to reach the sky, only for her to let another man reap the rewards. Before I could confront her, she called me, her tone accusatory. “Honey, were you looking through my files in the HR system?” The perks of being a boss. She had spies reporting my every move. “Even if we’re close, I am a Vice President now. It’s not appropriate for a junior employee like you to be snooping around my profile. Besides, trust is the most important thing in a relationship.” I bit back the rage boiling inside me, listening coldly as she continued her charade. For eight years, I had been her workhorse—pulling all-nighters to perfect her plans, chasing down clients, shielding her from difficult situations. All she had to do was offer me a smile. When I collapsed with a fever from overwork, she’d stayed by my side all night, cooling my forehead with a damp cloth. When I once mentioned off-handedly that I loved the artisanal croissants from a little bakery in the South End, she woke up early for three straight weeks to buy them for me. Those small moments of tenderness had wrapped around my heart like vines, convincing me the love in her eyes was real. I never questioned her late nights, her business dinners, her long trips. It was all a lie. A carefully constructed performance to trick me into paving her way to the top. I sent her the screenshot. “You didn’t want me looking at your profile because you were afraid I’d find out your husband is listed as Caleb Finn?” There was a brief silence. Then, she explained, “He’s just an intern with no connections. Having my name in his file protects him from a lot of office politics and bullying…” And what about the years of condescension and scorn I endured while hiding my identity for her sake? I couldn’t listen anymore. I hung up on her. Whether as her lover or her subordinate, it was the first time I had ever ended her call. A second later, the internal office line rang. It was Katerina, her voice now dripping with authority. “Marcos Shaw. My office. Now.” I was ready for a fight. But the moment I opened the door, she threw herself into my arms. I gripped her shoulders, pushing her back. “Katerina,” I asked, my voice hoarse, “why are you giving him special treatment?” She caressed my cheek, her tone as sweet as honey. “He’s a recent graduate, struggling to find his footing. I’m just giving him a bit of a safety net. Don’t overthink it.” “Don’t overthink it?” I shoved her away. “What about everything I’ve done for you? Does none of that matter?” Her gaze was so full of love it made my head spin. “Of course it matters. You’re so jealous your lips have gone pale. It breaks my heart to see you like this.” She turned, picked up a glass of water, and held it to my lips. “Here, drink some of this. Calm down.” I turned my head away, sulking. “I’m not thirsty. I have to go prepare for the project presentation.” Seeing my defiance, she took a large gulp of the water herself. Then, before I could react, she pressed her lips to mine. The warm water, laced with her scent, forced its way down my throat. I swallowed reflexively, choking. A wave of dizziness hit me. The lights in the office began to spin. The last thing I saw was the dark, unreadable expression on Katerina’s face as it blurred into nothing… … In the main conference room, the board of directors, the investors, and the suppliers were all waiting for my presentation. But I was unconscious, knocked out by the water Katerina had given me. When I finally woke up, I bolted towards the conference room, my heart pounding with dread. I was too late. The Chairman, my father, was furious. “Marcos Shaw! How dare you be late for a meeting of this importance!” Katerina stepped forward, playing the part of the peacemaker. “Chairman Vance, please don’t be angry. Marcos has been working so hard he must have accidentally overslept.” “Luckily,” she added with a bright smile, “our new intern, Caleb Finn, was able to step in. His presentation was absolutely brilliant!” The blood rushed to my head. I stared in disbelief at the projector screen. It was displaying my sketches—the ones I’d spent a month on-site at the construction yard to create. And in the bottom-right corner, in bold letters, was Caleb’s name. She hadn’t just stolen my work. She had drugged me to clear the path for him. The executives shook their heads, walking past me with looks of disappointment. Once the room was empty, Caleb rushed to Katerina, wrapping her in a tight hug and planting a kiss on her cheek. “Katerina, thank you!” She pinched his chin affectionately. “For what? I told you I’d help you rise to the top.” “Why?” I trembled with rage. “That was my work! My blood, sweat, and tears!” She shot me a cold look. “You’ve been here for years and you’re still a junior associate. It was time to give Caleb a chance to prove himself.” I lunged forward, intending to go straight to the Chairman and expose everything, but Katerina grabbed me, her grip like steel. In the struggle, my elbow struck her arm. She hissed in pain. Caleb immediately pulled up her sleeve. A fresh, bloody gash was weeping on her forearm. His eyes reddened as he touched the wound. “You even drugged yourself… and you cut your own arm to stay awake, just for me!” Katerina simply wiped a tear from his eye. “I’d do anything for you.” My stomach churned. I turned and fled to the elevator. Katerina chased after me, slamming the emergency stop button just as the doors closed. The elevator jolted violently, plunging us into darkness. “I have claustrophobia! Let me out!” I screamed, hammering on the doors, my nails splintering against the steel. “You need to calm down,” her voice came from the darkness. “Stop bullying a young man who’s just trying to get by.” I begged her, pleaded with her, but she just made a call, telling the maintenance crew they could leave for the day, severing my last shred of hope. When they finally rescued me the next morning, I was a wreck. A crust of dried blood and tears was caked on my forehead where I’d hit it against the wall. My throat was raw, and my eyes stung and watered at the slightest exposure to light. My colleagues looked at me with pity as they handed me my termination letter. Violating company policy by accessing a superior’s private information. Unexcused absence from a critical meeting. Maliciously leaving work before the end of the day… I demanded to see Katerina, but was told she had taken Caleb to a resort for a “site inspection”—a celebration of his early promotion. As for me, I was given one hour to clear out my desk and get off the property. I didn’t go back to the small apartment filled with our memories. I hailed a cab and went straight to a gated mansion in the city’s most exclusive neighborhood. The Chairman—my father—who had been so disappointed in me yesterday, was now a storm of shock and paternal fury, calling the family doctor to treat my injuries. “That vile woman must have a death wish!” he roared. “How dare she lay a hand on my son!” My mother was wiping away tears. “This is all your fault, Arthur! Insisting he learn the business from the ground up. Look what it’s done to him…” Seeing the two people he loved most in distress, my father’s anger found its target. “That bastard! I’ll fire her immediately! And that intern she’s protecting can go with her!” Firing them was too easy. I wanted to be the one to watch her fall. “Dad,” I said, my voice steady. “I want to come back to the company. As your successor.” He would have given me the moon if I’d asked for it. Of course he agreed. The next day, Katerina was informed that her site inspection was cut short. She was to return to headquarters immediately to meet the new, incoming CEO. When she rushed into the executive suite, flustered and annoyed, the large leather chair swiveled around to reveal my face. “Marcos? What are you doing here?”

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It was my company’s IPO celebration. My wife Isabella left the party early and didn’t return. At dawn, she stumbled in drunk, reeking of alcohol, with a vivid red mark on her neck. She hugged me, muttering her first love Paul’s name. Just then, Paul—Hollywood’s biggest star—posted cryptically online: 【We all need to take care of ourselves, so well that regret can no longer disturb us.】 The internet exploded. My wife publicly replied: 【Pretending, so well, that I’ve already forgotten you.】 Chaos followed. Furious fans flooded our company’s accounts, calling me a homewrecker. Rumors spread at work; partners pulled deals. My anxious assistant paced around. I sipped my coffee calmly. “Why panic?” “Send the security footage from last night’s garage to a hundred gossip blogs. Say the ‘wronged husband’ filmed it himself.” “And don’t blur the license plate. Let the whole city see that Lamborghini.” 1 The moment the video dropped, it seized every entertainment headline. 【Hollywood Star Paul Hale Exposed in Cheating Scandal】 【Tech Mogul’s Wife’s Affair with A-List Actor】 【Ethan Hawke Films The Whole Thing】 The three hashtags shot to the top of the trending charts, the heat around them refusing to die down. The street below my office was a swarming mass of reporters. My assistant, Mr. Evans, rushed in, his voice trembling. “Mr. Hawke, your wife… and Mrs. Hale, your mother-in-law, have both called.” I scrolled through the trending topics, my face a mask of indifference. Evans swallowed hard. “They want you to make a public statement clarifying that the man in the car… was you.” A cold laugh escaped my lips. “And why would I do that?” “She abandons me to spend the night with another man, and I’m supposed to cover for her? To drag my own name through the mud?” “Maybe you should book them an appointment with a neurologist. Only a brain-dead fool would think of using their husband as a shield for their affair!” The words had barely left my mouth when the office door was kicked open with a thunderous crack. Isabella stormed in, her eyes bloodshot with rage. She pointed a trembling finger at my face, her voice a raw scream. “Ethan, what the hell is wrong with you? Are you insane? Spreading these lies about your own wife online!” She slammed her phone down on my desk. The security footage was still playing on the screen. “Paul wasn’t feeling well, and I was just giving him a ride home! It was nothing like the sordid fantasy you’ve cooked up in your head!” “So we stayed in the car for an extra hour, what’s the big deal? Why are you making a mountain out of a molehill?” “Now Paul’s new movie is being shelved, and his endorsement deals are being canceled!” “You are going to delete that video and issue an apology right now. Then you’re going to sue every single person who reported on it!” My gaze turned to ice. “If nothing happened, then where did that kiss mark on your neck come from?” “If nothing happened, why did you spend the entire night clinging to me, crying out Paul’s name?” She froze for a second, her fury shifting to disbelief. “I was drunk! I wasn’t in my right mind!” “And who doesn’t have a passionate, unforgettable love from their past? Everyone does!” “Was it really necessary to plaster this all over the internet? To ruin us both just to make a point?” “I’m with you now! What more do you want from me?” I flipped my tablet face down on the table, my eyes like shards of ice when I looked up. “Isabella, you’re the one who destroyed your own future. And you’re the one who destroyed our marriage.” “And another thing. Do you really think a pathetic excuse like ‘I wasn’t in my right mind’ erases the disgusting thing you did?” “A woman like you, with no self-control, deserves to be publicly shamed, again and again.” “Don’t you dare wrap your infidelity in the pretty packaging of ‘unforgettable love.’ You make me sick.” Isabella’s chest heaved with rage. She kicked the coffee table over with a crash, the veins on her forehead bulging. “Ethan!” She snatched a heavy glass ashtray from the floor, her hand stopping just inches from my face. I didn’t flinch. I smiled. “Go on. Smash it. Tomorrow’s headline will be ‘Heiress of the Hale Corporation Attacks Husband in Violent Rage.’” “I guarantee you, it will be even more popular than your little tryst with Paul.” Her body went rigid, and her hand fell, trembling, to her side. A short while later, Isabella’s mother—the executive CEO of the Hale Corporation—called me herself. Her voice dripped with condescension. “Ethan, I’m giving you one last chance.” “You have five minutes to delete that video. Then, you will use the official Nexus Corp account to release a statement, telling everyone that you were the man in the car.” “The Hale family will not tolerate a scandal of this magnitude.” I leaned back on the sofa, swirling the wine in my glass. “Mrs. Hale, I’m not the one who caused a scandal. Your precious daughter is.” “After what she did, the fact that I didn’t halt my own company’s IPO is a kindness I’m already regretting.” The line went dead silent. Then, through gritted teeth, she asked, “What is it you want?” “Money? Resources? Shares in the Hale Corporation?” “Name your price. Just make this right with the media.” I took a sip of red wine. “I don’t want anything.” “I just want Isabella to pay for what she’s done.” Mrs. Hale laughed, a sound devoid of humor. “Pay? Ethan, are you sure you want to openly challenge the Hale family?” “Let me make one thing clear. Without us, you are nothing.” “You have ten minutes. If you haven’t done as I said by then, don’t blame me for being ruthless.” 2 The line went dead. Mr. Evans looked at me, his face etched with worry. “Sir, Mrs. Hale… she has a certain amount of influence.” “The projects we’ve been negotiating recently all rely on technology from the Hale Corporation. We can’t afford to—” “It’s fine.” I cut him off, my voice cold as I swiped through my phone. “I’m actually curious to see what they’ll try next.” Time ticked by. I didn’t call a single press conference. Instead, a photo surfaced online, posted by Paul’s agent. It showed him lying in a hospital bed, tears streaming down his face. The caption read: 【Thank you all for your concern. Please don’t attack anyone. This is all my fault.】 In the picture, Paul was dressed in a hospital gown, an oxygen mask over his face, his eyes red and swollen with tears. Simultaneously, the news that Paul had attempted to take his own life by overdosing shot to the top of the trending charts. Public opinion turned on a dime. My company’s social media was bombarded by his fans, a torrent of vicious curses aimed directly at me. 【He’s a monster! He’s trying to bully Paul to death!】 【Ethan Hawke needs to die! Give Isabella back to Paul!】 【We support Paul! The one who isn’t loved is the real victim!】 My phone rang again. It was Isabella, her voice seething with a hatred she couldn’t hide. “Paul tried to kill himself. Are you happy now, Ethan?” “If anything happens to him, I swear to God, I will drag you down to hell with me!” The sheer absurdity of it was staggering. “Isabella, stop blaming me for everything.” “Did I force him to swallow those pills? Did I force him to become your mistress?” “If you love him so much, why don’t you just go die with him?” “Oh, and by the way, tell Paul that next time he tries a stunt like this, he should use something stronger than a handful of vitamins.” “It’s one thing for you to be an idiot, but don’t assume the rest of the world is too.” I slammed the phone down. But my actions had thoroughly enraged Mrs. Hale. That afternoon, our company’s overseas expansion plans hit a wall. One after another, our partners sent termination letters. Not only that, but investors began pulling out of our new projects, citing “high risk due to the misconduct of Nexus Corp’s executive management.” Mr. Evans put down the phone with a heavy sigh. “Sir, another contract terminated.” “They’re trying to burn us to the ground.” In the span of a single day, I went from the celebrated CEO of a newly public company to a man drowning in astronomical debt. A message from Isabella popped up. 【This is what you get for crossing the Hale family, Ethan.】 【Apologize now if you know what’s good for you. Don’t make us get nasty.】 【The divorce papers are in the mail. Don’t even think about fighting it.】 I let out a soft laugh. And replied with a single word: 【Pathetic.】 Isabella, apparently shocked that I still refused to bow, stormed into my office with her entourage in tow. “Ethan, get the hell out!” “This is my company now. You have no right to be here!” I remained seated on the sofa, watching her with detached amusement. “Have you lost your mind, Isabella?” “I made you a general manager at my company, and suddenly you think you own the place?” “Why don’t you go check who the majority shareholder is?” “This place has absolutely nothing to do with you, or the Hale family.” She stood frozen, dumbfounded. She had assumed that the shares I’d given her when we married, combined with her own clandestine acquisitions, would have secured her the top spot. But I had been prepared for this. Standing behind her, Paul’s lower lip trembled, his eyes welling up with tears. “Isabella, maybe we should just go.” “If we make him angrier, who knows what other lies he’ll spread about me online…” He blinked, and a fat tear rolled down his cheek. The sight of it sent a pang of protectiveness through Isabella. She spun back to me, her eyes blazing. “Don’t get too comfortable, Ethan!” she roared. “Every ounce of pain Paul has suffered, I will repay to you, tenfold!” “You just wait! One day, I will run you out of this city! I’ll have you blacklisted from the entire industry!” I smirked, giving her a lazy nod. “Alright. I’ll be waiting.” 3 My gaze shifted to Paul. “By the way, Mr. Hale, next time you fake an overdose, you might want to bring a toxicology report from the hospital.” “Falsifying medical records is a serious crime, you know.” Paul’s face went white, the blood draining from his lips. Isabella shoved him behind her, her embarrassment turning to fury. “That’s enough, Ethan! You will not threaten him again!” Seeing her stand there, a righteous defender of her lover, was so laughable I could barely contain it. “Isabella, you’re the one who turned him into a homewrecker.” “You love him, but you couldn’t stand that he had no power, no status. You couldn’t give him a legitimate title, but you were more than happy to use my family’s resources to claw your way up…” “You’re the one who dragged him into this scandal! It was your insatiable greed, your need to have everything, that did this!” Isabella’s fists clenched, her chest heaving. She grabbed Paul by the arm and stormed out, slamming the door behind her. In the days that followed, the Hale family launched an all-out assault. My personal information was leaked online. Photoshopped images of me in a coffin circulated widely. My company’s internal network was repeatedly hacked by anonymous attackers. Mr. Evans reported it to the police, but each report only triggered a fresh wave of retaliation. Meanwhile, Isabella brought Paul as her date to the Hale Corporation’s annual gala, declaring her love for him in front of the entire media. “Paul,” she said, her voice ringing with emotion, “let’s get married.” The world cheered for their “epic love story.” And I was cast as the villain, a sick, twisted man. When Mrs. Hale called again, her voice was dripping with smug triumph. “Ethan, I warned you. The Hale family is not to be trifled with.” “However, if you publicly admit that you maliciously fabricated this entire story, and then get on your knees and beg me…” “I might consider letting you off the hook.” I toyed with a teacup, then lowered my voice. “Mrs. Hale, your memory must be failing in your old age. You seem to have forgotten my last name.” My father, though long retired, was a man whose word was still law in this city. My mother had founded a world-leading research institute, with connections spanning the globe. I hadn’t used my family’s power because I still held some small sentiment for the marriage we once had. I didn’t want to be utterly ruthless. But now, I could see they weren’t worthy of such sentiment. Isabella’s voice came through the line. “You’ve seen what my mother can do. If you don’t clear this up, we will crush you completely.” “I’m going to teach you the true meaning of regret.” A small, cold smile touched my lips. “We’ll see about that.” I was dying to see how a pathetic, second-rate dynasty like the Hales planned to go up against the Hawke family of New York.

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The moment the second pink line appeared on the test, a jolt of pure joy shot through me. I didn’t even wait to catch my breath before racing to the office to tell Richard. But I froze outside his oak-paneled door, his voice, sharp and cold, slicing through the wood. He was on the phone with his personal physician. “Pregnant? How the hell is that possible? I’ve never missed a single dose of her birth control. With her fragile health, what right does she have to carry my child? God, don’t let her give me something… defective.” A pause. My blood ran cold. “Listen, at her next check-up, you tell her the embryo isn’t viable. Tell her she needs to terminate. And send me Scarlett’s ultrasound schedule. I want to be there for her.” The chill of the brass doorknob seeped through my palm, a venomous cold that shot straight to my core, shattering my heart into a million icy shards. And yet, months later, after I finally did lose the baby and fled the country to escape him, Richard Cross followed me across the ocean and knelt in the rain, begging me to love him again. 1 I drove home in a daze, a ghost behind the wheel, his cruel words echoing in the hollow space where my heart used to be. It was impossible to reconcile that man with the Richard who, just last night, had rested his head on my stomach, whispering with a soft sigh why our baby hadn’t come yet. When we first got married, Richard had been eager for a child, but I was the one who hesitated. My health had always been delicate, and I was terrified of passing my frailties on. I wanted to wait, to spend a couple of years getting my strength back. When I told him, he’d wrapped me in his arms, his voice a warm murmur against my hair. “It’s okay, Thea. We can wait. Your health comes first.” So I spent two years focusing on my body, and when I finally felt stronger, more ready, Richard never brought it up again. We were intimate, never using protection, and I just assumed we were leaving it up to fate. But month after month, year after year, nothing happened. The emptiness in my womb started to feel like a personal failing. I began to think something was wrong with me. Richard would always be there to soothe my anxieties. “Don’t worry, T,” he’d say. “It will happen when it happens. We can’t rush it.” I was so lost in my own self-blame that I never saw the glint of satisfaction in his eyes. Thinking of it now, my vision blurred, tears spilling over and tracing cold paths down my cheeks. Suddenly, a deafening CRUNCH of metal on metal threw me forward. My first thought was that I’d been rear-ended. Before I could even unbuckle my seatbelt, a woman emerged from the car behind me. She was stunning, all sharp angles and flawless makeup, a femme fatale in a designer dress. She stalked toward my car, her face a mask of fury. She pounded on my window with a manicured fist, demanding I get out. “What is wrong with you? The light was green! Are you blind? My husband just bought me this car! Of all the cursed luck to run into an idiot like you today!” My already frayed nerves snapped. A moment ago, I would have gotten out, ready to apologize and exchange insurance information. Now, I just scowled and rolled the window down an inch. “Ma’am, you hit me. The light may have been green, but that doesn’t give you the right to plow into my bumper.” “Oh, please!” she sneered. “If you weren’t daydreaming, I wouldn’t have hit you! Let me tell you something, my husband is the CEO of Cross Corp. So if you know what’s good for you, you’ll get out of this car, get on your knees, and pay for the damages before I make you wish you’d never been born!” The name ‘Cross Corp’ hit me like a physical blow. My head snapped up, my eyes locking onto hers. She saw my reaction and let out a triumphant, ugly laugh. “Oh, so you have heard of my husband? Good. That makes this easier. Get out and beg for my forgiveness right now. Because when he gets here, this is going to get a whole lot worse for you.” And then it clicked. Scarlett. This had to be the Scarlett from the phone call. I studied her properly for the first time—the killer curves, the fiercely beautiful face. We were polar opposites. Richard’s words came back to me: I want to be there for her. She was pregnant, too. A fresh wave of agony ripped through me as I thought about how he cherished her child while despising mine. My voice was ice. “Why don’t you call him? I’m dying to see what he can do to me when he gets here.” Scarlett froze, clearly thrown by my sudden shift in attitude. “Fine! You just wait!” she shrieked, turning away to furiously dial her phone. A dark, twisted part of me actually hoped he would come. I wanted to see the look on his face when he had to explain who this woman was. But Richard never showed. Instead, the police did, their sirens cutting through the gridlock our two cars had created. In the end, we were both found equally at fault and told to handle our own repairs. As we were leaving, Scarlett shot me a look of pure venom. “This isn’t over. I will make you pay for this.” I just smiled a thin, humorless smile, and watched her face contort in rage as I hit the gas and drove away. Back home, I collapsed onto the sofa, drained and exhausted. My hand instinctively went to my belly, to the tiny, secret life inside, and the tears started to fall again, silent and relentless. Just then, the front door opened, and Richard was there. He saw the tears on my face and was at my side in an instant. He knelt before me, his touch gentle as he wiped my cheeks with his thumbs, his voice laced with concern. “Thea? What’s wrong? Why are you crying? Did I do something?” His anxious expression, the way he looked at me… he seemed like a man desperately in love. If I hadn’t heard that phone call with my own ears, I would have been completely fooled by his masterful performance. “I’m pregnant,” I said, my voice flat, my eyes fixed on his, searching for a crack in the facade. Just as I expected. A flicker of sheer panic crossed his eyes before he masked it with a performance of pure ecstasy. “Oh my God! Thea, that’s… that’s wonderful!” He pulled me into a fierce hug. “We’re finally having a baby!” He pulled back, his face beaming. “I’m calling the Cross Memorial Hospital right now. I’ll get you the best doctor, a whole team to look after you until the baby is born.” Watching him lie so effortlessly, I felt a wave of nausea so profound I thought I might be sick. I shoved him away, hard. He stumbled back, a look of genuine confusion on his face. “What is it? Thea, aren’t you happy?” “I’m thrilled,” I replied, my voice a monotone. “But I’m tired.” Seeing my exhaustion, he took my hand, his expression softening into one of deep sympathy. “Of course, you must be. I’m sorry. It must be tough on your body. I’ll make sure to spend more time with you from now on.” I laughed silently, a bitter, hollow sound in my own mind. I didn’t have the energy to fight him anymore. I just nodded and went to our bedroom, closing the door behind me. Let’s see how long you can keep this act up, Richard. 2 A few minutes later, the mattress dipped beside me. Richard’s arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me close. He nuzzled my neck, his voice a low murmur. “Thea, do you want a boy or a girl? I hope it’s a girl. A little girl, as beautiful and unique as you. I’d be the luckiest man in the world to have two of you in my life.” He kept whispering, musing about names, but his sweet words were a wall of noise I couldn’t let in. All I could see was Scarlett’s furious, beautiful face. When I didn’t respond, he seemed to lose interest. Just then, his phone buzzed on the nightstand. He slipped out of bed and took the call on the balcony. Even through the glass, I could hear his tone—low, careful, placating. He was cooing at her, promising a new car, designer bags, anything she wanted. But she was clearly not having it. He was practically begging, his voice dripping with a pathetic desperation I’d never heard from him before. “Just listen to me!” “Of course I love you! I love you and the baby.” “She’s just… acting strange today. I need to stay here with her.” “Okay, okay! Fine! I’m coming. I’m on my way right now, alright?” He ended the call and came back inside. I kept my eyes closed, feigning sleep. I felt his gaze linger on me for a moment before he quietly left the room. The second I heard the front door click shut, my eyes flew open. I listened for the sound of his car pulling out of the driveway, then scrambled out of bed, grabbed my keys, and raced to the garage. I followed him to a lavish, gated community on the other side of town. I owned a condo in the same development, a wedding gift from my parents, so getting past security was no problem. The route he took felt sickeningly familiar. He finally pulled up to a stunning yellow villa at the end of a quiet cul-de-sac. He was keeping her here. Cross Corp had been an investor in this development. Richard had told me he was designing this specific house, a one-of-a-kind villa, just for me. A gift. And he had given it to me. He just let someone else live in it. The front door swung open, and Scarlett, clad in a slinky slip dress, launched herself into his arms. They kissed right there on the doorstep, a desperate, hungry kiss that seemed to go on forever. The sight was a dagger to my heart. I sat in my car, choking on silent sobs, the years I’d spent with Richard flashing before my eyes. I realized with a sickening lurch that I had never really known him at all. I was crying so hard I didn’t notice the man tapping on my passenger-side window. “Thea? Is that really you?” I hastily wiped my eyes and stared at the stranger. “It’s me! Leo! Leo Carter. I lived next door to you when we were kids.” When my confused expression didn’t change, he puffed out his cheeks. “You know! The little chubby kid who used to follow you around begging for candy!” Suddenly, the image of a small, round-faced boy materialized in my mind, perfectly overlaying the handsome face of the man in front of me. He took my stunned silence as an invitation, opening the passenger door and sliding in. His gaze followed mine to the villa across the street. “You like that place? Don’t even think about it, it’s been occupied for years. It was already taken when I bought my place here.” He continued, oblivious to the storm raging inside me. “That was about, what, four or five years ago? I saw it when I first moved in and thought of you immediately. It just seemed like your style. But when I asked the property manager, they said it wasn’t for sale. It was reserved by the developer’s CEO for his wife.” He shook his head. “I’ve seen the woman who lives there a few times, though. She doesn’t fit the house at all. No idea what the CEO was thinking.” Four or five years ago. We weren’t even married yet. They’d been together that whole time. The air in the car suddenly felt thick, unbreathable. My vision tunneled, the world went black, and I knew nothing more. When I came to, the sterile white ceiling of a hospital room swam into view. Leo was asleep in a chair beside the bed, and he jolD awake when I stirred, immediately calling for a doctor. “You’re finally awake,” he said, relief washing over his face. “You brought me here?” I asked, my voice a faint whisper. “Yeah. You just passed out cold. Scared the hell out of me. The doctor said you’re in the early stages of pregnancy. Your blood pressure is unstable, and the fainting spell was probably caused by extreme emotional distress. While you were out, I used your phone to call your husband. He should be here by now.” At the mention of Richard, my gaze dropped, a shadow falling over my heart. Speak of the devil. “Thea! What happened?” Richard burst into the room, his face a mask of panic. He rushed to my side, grabbing my hand, his eyes red and wet. “Why did you collapse? I nearly had a heart attack when I got the call!” 3 I pulled my hand from his grasp without a word, turning my face to the wall. I couldn’t bear to watch his performance. My rejection left an awkward silence hanging in the air. Leo, standing behind him, broke the tension, explaining what the doctor had told him. Only then did Richard seem to notice there was another person in the room. “You’re the one who brought my wife to the hospital?” he asked, his tone shifting from worried husband to imperious CEO. He pulled a checkbook from his jacket, scribbled a number, and tore it out, holding it out to Leo. “Thank you for your help, but we don’t require your assistance any longer. This is for your trouble. You can go now.” Leo glanced at the check, then at me, a look of pity in his eyes. He didn’t take it. “No, thank you. Thea and I are old friends. I was just helping her out.” He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly at Richard. “It’s just… you look awfully familiar, sir.” Richard’s eyes hardened, his posture becoming defensive. “I wasn’t aware my wife had any friends. You should take the money. It’s best to keep things clean.” The air crackled with a strange, unspoken hostility between them. Just as I was about to intervene, a nurse came in and asked for the family member to step outside for a moment. Richard shot Leo one last dismissive look, shoved the check into his hand, and followed the nurse out. With Richard gone, Leo placed the check on the bedside table. He hesitated, looking like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. I saw his struggle and made it easy for him. “You’ve seen him before, haven’t you? At the villa.” Leo’s face fell, and he gave a grim nod. “I understand now why you were crying earlier.” “Do something for me,” I said, cutting straight to the point. “Anything.” “Go to the Lefford Private Clinic. Find a doctor named Evelyn Reed. Ask her what these are.” I reached into my purse and pulled out the bottle of ‘vitamins’ I had been taking for years. Leo took the bottle, squinting at the plain white pills inside. “Okay. I’ll go right now.” My expression was stone. “Whatever you find out, you tell no one but me. Promise me.” He nodded, his face serious, and left without another word. He was barely gone when Richard returned, his expression utterly devastated. He looked like his world had just ended. “Thea,” he began, his voice choked with emotion. “The doctor… he said our baby has a severe developmental defect. The heartbeat has stopped. It’s a threatened miscarriage, and… and they said the only option is to terminate the pregnancy as soon as possible. For your own health.” He buried his face in his hands, a grown man, sobbing uncontrollably. A wave of revulsion washed over me. I stared blankly at the ceiling, waiting for his performance to end. When his sobs subsided, I asked, my voice empty, “Are you sure?” He was too lost in his act to notice my coldness. “Thea, I know how much this baby means to you. I know how hard this is to accept, but we have to. For your sake. We have to do the procedure.” He took my hand again. “We can have other children. Lots of them.” Without hesitation, I took the consent form and signed my name. Then I turned over, pulling the covers over my head. Richard must have mistaken my silence for grief. He patted my shoulder, his voice thick with false sympathy. “Don’t be so sad, Thea. It just wasn’t meant to be.” Then he eagerly took the signed form and rushed out to make the arrangements. The moment he was gone, I threw back the covers, packed my few belongings, and walked out of that hospital without looking back. I went home, grabbed the deed to the villa, and drove straight to the gated community, demanding the property manager accompany me to evict the unauthorized tenant. When the door opened, Scarlett’s eyes widened in surprise, which quickly morphed into a contemptuous sneer. “What are you doing here? I haven’t even gotten around to dealing with you, and you have the nerve to show up at my door?” The property manager, aware of her relationship with the CEO, tried to be diplomatic. “Miss Peters, I’m afraid we have to ask you to pack your things and vacate the premises. The owner of this property is returning.” “What?!” Scarlett’s smug superiority vanished. “Do you have any idea who I am? I’m Mrs. Richard Cross! How dare you try to kick me out? This house belongs to Richard! Who is this other owner?” The manager was sweating now. “The deed is in this lady’s name, ma’am. She is Mrs. Cross.” Scarlett’s head snapped toward me, her face twisting into an ugly mask of disbelief and hatred. “So it’s you! You’re the barren old hen who can’t even lay an egg!” she spat, her voice dripping with venom.

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My husband is hopelessly in love—with his little girlfriend. Lately, she’s been giving him the silent treatment, and he’s been a nervous wreck, a fresh crop of stress sores blooming at the corner of his mouth. I cover my mouth to hide a smile. It’s a good thing my own little boyfriend would never do that to me. Until Valentine’s Day. The boy’s handsome face is tight with tension. “I don’t care. I’m tired of being your dirty little secret.” “If you don’t make it official, I’m going to volunteer for a relief mission in Africa. I’ll let the sun ruin my face, so you’ll never see this face you love so much again.” I’m hopelessly in love, too. And I’m a sucker for a pretty face. Panicked, I march to my husband and lay my cards on the table. “We need to get a divorce, now. If we don’t, the boy I’m keeping is going to get ugly.” The man, who rarely shows any emotion, suddenly crushes the teacup in his hand, his voice raspy. “You swore you’d love me for a lifetime.” “Jennifer,” he chokes out, “how could you fall out of love so fast?” 1 On Valentine’s afternoon, the streets are teeming with couples. I find Adrian on the city’s luxury shopping avenue. He’s leaning down, murmuring to a crying girl, his voice softer than I’ve heard it in years. “Don’t cry, okay? It was my fault. I won’t do it again.” “Come on, sweetheart. You’ll smudge your makeup.” After a bit more coaxing, the pretty girl finally cracks a smile and says playfully, “If you make me mad again, I’m really going to ignore you. You can’t keep treating me like this, Adrian.” They hug, then start kissing, right there on the street. It’s a passionate, lingering kiss. If you were close enough, you could probably hear the wet smacking sounds. A few passersby turn to stare. Even on Valentine’s Day, a full-on public make-out session is a bit much. I cover my face and quietly back away. If only the man wasn’t my husband of five years. I’d be munching on popcorn, watching to see how long they’d keep it up, how big of a crowd they’d attract. But the man is Adrian. My childhood friend, the man I dated for three years and have been married to for five. 2 I have the divorce papers in my purse. But they’re so engrossed, I figure it’s probably not a good time to interrupt. What if he gets mad and drags out the divorce? The man waiting for me at home wouldn’t get his divorce certificate, and then he’d be crying and taking it out on me in bed all night. Just as I’m about to slip away, the girl, Skylar, spots me. She gives Adrian a little push. Her wide, watery eyes are full of challenge, her voice sickly sweet. “Ma’am, are you stalking me and my Adrian?” “You have no shame. Adrian loves me, but you’re still clinging to your title as his wife and won’t let go.” I frown. Are all mistresses this self-righteous now? When Skylar first came into the picture, my marriage with Adrian wasn’t completely broken. When I heard he was spoiling some new girl, I threw a fit. I screamed, I yelled, I smashed things in our house. Then, I collapsed and begged him to come home. I swallowed all my pride, promising to forgive him if he just broke it off with her and came back to me. Remembering her past provocations, my first instinct is to fire back a sarcastic comment. But then I think of the divorce papers in my bag, and the beautiful boy waiting for me at home. I force a pleasant smile. “Actually, I’m here to talk to Mr. Thorne about our divorce.” I pull the papers from my purse and hand them to him. “Here. The assets will be divided according to our prenup. My lawyer will be in touch.” “I’ve already signed. Just let me know when you’re free, and we can go get the certificate.” Skylar’s face lights up with unconcealed joy. She tugs on his sleeve, her voice a purr. “Adrian…” But for some reason, Adrian’s pleasant expression darkens. “A divorce? Is this some new trick to get me to come home?” “It’s Valentine’s Day. Skylar is young, I have to be with her. Jennifer, be a good girl. I’ll come home and see you tomorrow.” Skylar looks triumphant, leaning intimately against him and mouthing the words, “Old hag. I told you your husband loves me.” How pathetic. I, the wife, am being treated like the secret mistress. “No, thank you,” I say, my voice cold. “From now on, you don’t have to come home at all.” I toss the divorce papers at his face and walk away. 3 I drive back to the apartment I share with Philip. He’s in the kitchen, cooking. The scent of my favorite braised pork belly fills the air. My gloomy mood vanishes instantly. I skip into the kitchen. “Philip, I talked to Adrian about the divorce today. Don’t worry, we’ll be divorced soon.” Then I see him. And I have to swallow. Philip is a boxer, and he’s in perfect shape. A chiseled eight-pack, sharp V-lines. He’s ruggedly handsome, with a wild edge. And right now, he’s shirtless, wearing the small pink apron I bought him, his abs flexing with each breath as he meticulously chops vegetables. He looks like a perfect, domesticated house-husband. My brain is screaming. Whose domestic god is this? I want to press my face against his chest, kiss him, bite him. “You’re finally home, my lady?” His captivating eyes crinkle with a smile. He expertly flips a fish in the pan, then turns off the heat. “Dinner will be ready in a minute.” Suddenly, I’m not that hungry anymore. I put on my most virtuous expression. “Let’s not eat just yet.” A playful glint appears in his eyes. His voice drops to a husky murmur. “Want to eat me first?” … It was Valentine’s Day. But I spent the entire night in bed. It isn’t until the sky begins to lighten the next day that I finally get to eat my braised pork belly, my back aching. Something glitters around my neck. I look down. It’s the new serpent necklace from Bulgari. A piece that costs a fortune. Philip doesn’t come from money. When I first met him, he was fighting in illegal underground matches. I don’t know how long he had to save up to buy me a multi-million dollar necklace. He sees me looking at him, and his ears turn red. He keeps feeding me spoonfuls of fish soup, his actions steady despite his blush. His warm breath tickles my ear as he says, his voice full of sincerity, “I know it’s not much. It’s not good enough for you.” “Jennifer, I’ll work harder. I’ll buy you a better Valentine’s gift next year.” I hadn’t received a Valentine’s gift since my falling out with Adrian. A warmth spreads through my chest. I throw my arms around him. “I believe in you.” 4 The divorce proceedings are officially underway. But every time I send the papers, his secretary sends them back. He doesn’t believe I’m serious. And why would he? I used to be crazy about him. We were childhood sweethearts. My parents were always busy, so they’d leave me at his house for him to look after. When kids bullied me, he was the one who stood up for me. When I was so sick I was about to pass out, he was the one who climbed over my fence in the middle of the night to take me to the hospital. When I got my first period and was crying in the bathroom, not knowing what to do, he was the one who, red-faced, went to buy me pads and taught me how to use them. I fell for him, hard. At our high school graduation party, I got drunk and confessed my feelings. He gently stroked my head. “That’s my line,” he’d said. “Jennifer, I’ve liked you for a long time, too.” After three years of dating, we got married. I thought we’d be happy forever. Then I found out he was seeing other women. I saw him with a new intern from his company, kissing her in a private room at a club. I was standing right outside the door. I heard him, drunk, complaining to his friends: “You guys have no idea. Jennifer and I have known each other for over twenty years. Sex with her is like my left hand touching my right. I have to take a pill just to get it up for her.” “I never should have rushed into marrying her. The thought of going home to her makes me want to puke from boredom.” Adrian had many lovers. Skylar was just the one who stuck around the longest. Everyone said he was serious about her. He showered her with gifts, took her to exclusive parties, and introduced her to his friends as his “girl.” When she came to our house to taunt me, he immediately defended her and blamed me. I was a mess, crying my eyes out. The man who used to comfort me at the slightest frown now just sat there, smoking, watching me have a complete breakdown and destroy our home. When I was finally exhausted, he took a drag from his cigarette and said with a smirk, “Quite the crier, aren’t you?” “Jennifer, I’m just tired of our relationship. But I still see you as a sister. If you need a man, I don’t mind if you find someone on the side. Just don’t you dare touch Skylar. If you do, I’ll really be done with you.” I sat on the floor, surrounded by the wreckage, and realized I didn’t recognize the man in front of me. But even then, I didn’t agree to a divorce. Everyone in our social circle said I was pathetic, so in love with him I’d tolerate anything. Now, I truly regret not taking him up on his offer. 5 The divorce papers are returned again. I have no choice but to go to his office and confront him. But I’m stopped at the entrance by Skylar and her entourage. She’s holding a sign that reads: NO DOGS OR JENNIFER THORNE ALLOWED. The people around her start to snicker. “So that’s Adrian’s wife? She’s not all that. Not nearly as sweet as Skylar.” “If it wasn’t for her being his childhood friend, Skylar would be the one with the ring…” Skylar, basking in the attention, holds her head high. “Old hag, aren’t you going to leave? You’re not welcome here.” I look at them like they’re a bunch of idiots. If they know I’m his childhood friend, they should also know that my family is just as powerful as his. I’ve never bothered with Skylar before because I felt the problem in my marriage was with Adrian. But my restraint has clearly made her bold. I raise my hand to slap her, but Adrian appears out of nowhere and catches my wrist. “Jennifer, she’s young and doesn’t know any better. Let it go.” He looks at me with disapproval. “Are you really going to hit her? When did you become so vicious?” If I back down now, the story of how Jennifer Thorne was barred from her husband’s company by his mistress will be all over the elite circles. I’ll be a laughingstock. He’s so concerned with protecting Skylar, he hasn’t given a single thought to my own predicament. A dull ache starts in my chest. I clench my fists, my nails digging into my palms. “I’m here to talk about the divorce…” “I’m not signing,” he cuts me off. “Jennifer, stop this, okay? Skylar is no threat to you. I’m just… keeping her around.” 6 I look at Skylar. Spoiled by Adrian, her eyes immediately fill with tears. She reaches for his hand. “Honey…” He shakes her off. For all his philandering, he knows Skylar is not wife material. And he knows his family adores me. He reaches out to stroke my hair. “Look, I know you’re doing all this to get me to come home. I’ll come home tonight. Just be good and stop making a scene.” I step back, avoiding his touch. The last bit of pain in my heart dissipates. He clearly hasn’t been back to our marital home in the last six months, or he would have noticed that all my things are gone. Moved to my apartment with Philip. I take a deep breath. Just as he thinks I’m about to back down, I slap him, hard, across the face. The sound is crisp and loud. A red handprint blooms on his handsome face. Skylar, her eyes wide with horror, screams at me, “You old bitch! How dare you hit my husband? You’re just jealous that he loves me! A venomous shrew like you doesn’t deserve to be loved!” I slap her too, my face impassive. In the stunned silence, I pull the divorce papers from my bag again. “How many more of these do I have to send before you’ll sign?” “And don’t act so high and mighty, you impotent old man. You think I still love you? That’s hilarious. You’re old, and you’ve got a thick skin.” Adrian is two years older than me. If Skylar thinks I’m an old hag, what does that make him? A fossil? Adrian’s face is a thundercloud. But when he sees the clear disgust in my eyes, he starts to tremble. The color drains from his face. “You really want a divorce? This isn’t just a tactic to get me home?” “What else would it be?” Before I leave, I say, my voice low and dangerous, “You know my family is not to be trifled with. If you don’t sign, bed photos of you and every single one of your little girlfriends will be trending online by tomorrow.” 7 Back at our apartment, Philip is at his desk, typing away. But the moment I walk in, he senses my mood. He drops what he’s doing and pulls me into his arms. “What’s wrong, my lady? Who upset you? I’ll go beat them up tomorrow.” Philip is usually a man of few words. Even in bed, I’m the one doing most of the talking. But now, seeing my pout, he’s in a fluster, trying to think of jokes to cheer me up. When that doesn’t work, he lifts me, red-faced, and sets me on his lap. “Look, baby, a bouncy castle,” he says, flexing his abs. I actually laugh. Seeing that it’s working, he gently lays me on the sofa, takes off his shirt, and ties a black silk scarf around his eyes. The afternoon sun streams in, glinting off his bronze skin. He looks like a Greek god. He makes his pecs dance. “Look, baby. They can dance for you.” “…” I have to admit, the view has significantly improved my mood. Without hesitation, I tug at the waistband of his gray sweatpants. He gets the message and eagerly gets to work. As I’m reaching my peak, I hear him panting in my ear, whispering that he loves me, his voice a low, sexy growl, full of adoration. 8 Young men have stamina. I got home at two, and by the time we were done, it was dark outside. Philip cleaned me up, tucked me into bed, and even adjusted the air conditioning to the perfect temperature before he left the room. But I can’t sleep. Skylar’s words echo in my mind. A venomous shrew like you doesn’t deserve to be loved. Before, I would have brushed it off. But I’ve just been through a failed marriage. My husband of five years, my childhood sweetheart, cheated on me and complained to his friends that I was boring and frigid. I get out of bed and walk to the living room. Philip is in the kitchen again, chopping vegetables. Ever since we got together, he’s been determined to fatten me up. Adrian used to pinch the soft flesh on my stomach, his eyes full of disgust. “Jennifer, you haven’t even had kids, and your stomach is already flabby. Your waist is so thick. Looking at you just kills my libido.” His words had humiliated me. I wasn’t fat. I’m 5’5″ and weigh 118 pounds. But after his comments, I started dieting, starving myself until I was anemic and weak, until I ended up in the hospital with low blood sugar. It was only later that I found out he was seeing a model at the time. She had a tiny waist, so he found fault with mine. Philip has never been like that. When I told him I was worried about gaining weight, he cupped my face in his hands, his eyes serious. “Why would you need to lose weight? You’re not fat at all. You’re so thin, you need to eat more to be healthy.” “Adrian said I was fat…” I’d mumbled. “Then why didn’t you tell him he was small?” he’d muttered under his breath. “He’s probably insecure, so he has to insult you. What a pathetic asshole.” As I enter the kitchen, Philip’s sharp eyes spot me. He frowns. “Baby, why aren’t you wearing slippers? You’ll catch a cold.” He quickly washes his hands and lifts me into his arms. But I have something to ask him. “Philip,” I begin hesitantly. “Do you think… I’m a bad person? That I don’t deserve to be loved?” In the quiet kitchen, I can hear my own anxious heartbeat. He looks at me, stunned. “How could you not deserve to be loved?” he blurts out. “You’re amazing.” The cooking fumes must be getting to me, because my eyes start to water. Philip is still talking, his voice a soothing murmur in my ear. “Don’t listen to those people. You deserve to be loved more than anyone. Adrian cheated because he’s blind and a piece of trash. He doesn’t know how to appreciate what he has.” A weight lifts from my chest. He’s right. Why am I letting two awful people make me doubt myself? I signal for him to put me down, then grab his apron and pull him down for a kiss. “Baby, again? Aren’t you hungry? Maybe we should eat first.” Little Philip is already at attention, but he’s trying to hold back, his eyes red with effort. I stroke his face. “I’m not hungry. I’d rather eat you.” Neither of us notices the phone in the living room, ringing off the hook. All the calls are from Adrian.

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My parents’ 19th attempt at a business failed. They were scammed out of two hundred thousand dollars. The night before school started, my mother brought me a glass of warm milk. I drank it, stunned by the rare show of affection. The last thing I heard before I passed out was my mother’s choked whisper: “Penny, Mom and Dad have to go.” “Your sister is too little. We can’t leave her all by herself.” “You be a good girl and stay here. As soon as we make enough money, we’ll come back for you…” When I opened my eyes, my parents and my sister were gone. 1 The room was pitch-black. I stood on a stool, stretching to reach the light switch. I flicked it again and again, but nothing happened. Then I remembered what Mom had said. We didn’t have money to pay the electric bill. My lip trembled. I felt around on the floor for my slippers and carefully put them on. Then, I pushed open the storage closet door and called out, my voice small and wavering, “Mommy? Mommy?” No one was in my parents’ room. Not in the living room. Not in the kitchen. And not in my sister Rosie’s sweet-smelling bedroom. A wave of panic washed over me. I scurried back to my own room like a frightened mouse. Back to the tiny little storage closet. My sister’s room had a big, beautiful princess bed. But Mom said I thrashed around in my sleep and she was afraid I’d fall off. So, instead of a bed, they just laid a threadbare blanket on the floor for me. I curled up on the blanket, my ears pricked, listening for any sound from outside. Maybe… maybe Mom and Dad just took Rosie to the morning market? They did that a lot. They would take Rosie out to play, out to eat, out to the park. They said Rosie was still little, so she didn’t need a ticket. I was too big; my ticket would cost extra. They said they used to take me to the park all the time when I was Rosie’s age. I felt a pang of regret. Why couldn’t I remember any of it? I wanted so badly to know what it was like to go to the park with Mom and Dad… I balled up my little fist and tapped it against my head. It’s okay, Penny. They just took Rosie out to play. They’ll be back soon. 2 I drifted off to sleep, curled on the floor. When I woke up again, the living room was bright with daylight. My stomach rumbled loudly. But Mom and Dad had forgotten to leave me breakfast. I stared at the big refrigerator, swallowing hard. I couldn’t open it. The fridge was for Dad’s beer, Mom’s face masks, and Rosie’s expensive imported fruit. There was no food in there for me. I patted my empty tummy, stood on my tiptoes, and filled a cup with water from the tap. I gulped it down. But that only made me feel hungrier. I wandered around the apartment. I still had the five-dollar bill I’d found on the street in my little backpack. I wanted to go outside. There was a bakery at the entrance of our complex. Five dollars could buy a lot of bread rolls. But I didn’t have a key. If I left, I’d never be able to get back in. 3 The lady next door started cooking. I stood on a stool on the balcony, greedily inhaling the scent of food wafting through the air. Today she was making barbecue ribs and my favorite—shrimp! Well, I’d never actually eaten shrimp, but I’d seen Mom make them for Rosie. They were bigger than my hand, with bright red shells. They looked so delicious. The cooking smells faded. I swallowed again and climbed down from the stool, disappointed. Suddenly, I spotted something under the living room curtains. A package of rice crackers! The ones Rosie had thrown away! I scampered over and snatched them up. It was a whole bag! The seal was broken and the crackers inside were a little soft, but I treasured them, eating every last one, bite by bite. Outside, the sky slowly began to darken. When were Mom and Dad coming home? Would they bring me leftovers from the restaurant? 4 Night fell completely. The power was still out. The apartment was dark, stuffy, and hot. No electricity meant no fan. Besides, Mom always said I was a kid and didn’t feel the heat, and that fans were dangerous anyway. I was never allowed to turn one on when she wasn’t home. I fanned myself furiously with a plastic advertisement fan Mom had brought back from the town square. Sweat poured out of me like rain. I fumbled my way to the bathroom and smacked my forehead on the edge of the sink. The pain brought tears to my eyes. Mommy, Daddy, where are you? Crying, I found my little washcloth, turned on the tap just a little, and wet it. I greedily pressed the cool cloth to my face. The relief on my burning skin was instant. The tiles below the sink were so cool. I lay down, pressing as much of my body as I could against them, and drifted into a hazy sleep. A sharp, urgent knocking at the door startled me awake. “Daddy! Mommy!” They must have forgotten their keys! That’s why they didn’t come home all night! I scrambled up and stumbled to the door. When I opened it, my parents weren’t there. Just a few men in black shirts with thick gold chains around their necks. One of them, a big man with a dragon tattoo on his arm, grabbed me by the shoulders and lifted me up. “Kid, where are your folks?” 5 I burst into tears, shaking my head frantically. “I don’t know! They took my sister out to play!” “Mommy said I have to be a good girl and wait at home. She said they’ll come back for me after they make a lot of money…” A skinny man crouched down, his eyes crinkling into a smile I didn’t understand. “They’re not coming back for you, kid…” “Your mommy and daddy don’t want you anymore.” I froze, tears welling in my eyes. The big man carried me inside and tossed me onto the sofa. The men in black shirts stormed through my parents’ room, Rosie’s room, and finally, my little storage closet. The skinny man spat on the floor in disgust. “They took everything valuable. All that’s left is this worthless brat!” “Hey boss, what if we sell the kid?” 6 The big man with the dragon tattoo slapped the skinny man hard across the face. “I told you, we’re professional collectors, not damn kidnappers!” “Ask the kid if she has any other relatives. We’ll drop her off with them and seize the apartment.” A bald man knelt in front of me. “Kid, where do your grandparents live?” I shook my head. The bald man clicked his tongue. “Any other family? Aunts? Uncles?” I kept shaking my head. The skinny man sneered. “What, is she stupid or something? Why else would her parents ditch her when they ran?” I glared at him. “I’m not stupid! And my mommy and daddy said they would come back for me!” The skinny man laughed, a cruel, mocking sound. He leaned in close, his eyes glinting. “You don’t get it, do you, kid? Your parents owe us a lot of money.” “They took your sister and skipped town yesterday!” “See? I was right. Your mommy and daddy really don’t want you anymore.” The bald man shoved him aside. “Kid, that guy’s right,” he said impatiently. “Your parents owe us money, and they took off with your sister. You get what ‘took off’ means? It means they abandoned you! Now think hard. Any relatives? Our boss is a nice guy; he’ll give you a free ride to their place. Otherwise, when we clear this place out, you’ll be sleeping on the street.” I sobbed, shaking my head. “I-I don’t know any relatives! Please, don’t kick me out!” “Mommy said to wait for her here! She promised she’d come back for me…” But tears and begging were useless. The skinny man grabbed me by the arms, lifted me up, and tossed me into the elevator. When it reached the ground floor, he dragged me out like a sack of potatoes and dumped me outside the building’s main entrance. I tried to run back inside, but the glass doors wouldn’t open. I remembered how Mom and Dad always had to scan their phones to get in. I didn’t have a phone. I was locked out. 7 I crouched by the door and cried for a long, long time. The sun was scorching, and I hadn’t eaten in over a day. My stomach ached with a sharp, stabbing pain. Suddenly, the bald man came out. He was carrying a big plastic bag. “Kid, you really don’t have any other family?” I shook my head, dazed. I didn’t know if we had relatives. I grew up in the mountains with my grandma. After she died, my parents brought me to the city and locked me away in that boxy apartment. The farthest I’d ever been was the bakery at the entrance of the complex. The bald man sighed and set the bag down in front of me. “See that security guard over there?” he asked, pointing. “Go ask him to call 911 for you. The police will take you somewhere you can get a hot meal.” He paused, a strange look on his face. “It’s a pretty good place. I grew up in one, too.” A place with food? That sounded wonderful. I grabbed the bag and stumbled towards the security booth. But when the guard with the little mustache heard my parents were gone, he reached out and pinched my bottom. In that instant, I remembered the old man who lived next door back home. He used to promise me candy and lure me into his house, where his stubble would scratch my face. Grandma saw him one day and chased him with a kitchen knife, screaming curses. That night, she scrubbed me in a big tub for what felt like hours, her voice rough. “Penny, from now on, if anyone tries to kiss you or touch you, you bite them! Bite them hard! You hear me?” I snapped back to the present. In the cramped, closet-like security booth, the guard was lifting up my little dress. 8 I opened my mouth and bit down as hard as I could. He howled in pain and let go. I shoved the door open and ran. I ran until my lungs burned. It was only then that I realized the plastic bag the bald man had given me was gone. The sun beat down relentlessly. I’d lost a shoe, and the black asphalt seared the sole of my bare foot. I saw a stray cat lounging in the shade of a bush. It looked so cool there. “Kitty, can I stay at your house for a little while?” The orange cat tilted its head, as if to ask, Don’t you have a home of your own? Tears streamed down my face. “I-I used to,” I sobbed. “But not anymore.” The men in black shirts said my parents owed a lot of money, and the apartment had to be used to pay the debt. I didn’t know what that meant, but the bald man had said our home belonged to them now. Seeing me crying like a mess, the orange cat disdainfully climbed a tree. I sat down in the shade, and soon, mosquitoes swarmed me. I’d swat one away, and another would land. I was hot, tired, and covered in itchy bites. I don’t know when I fell asleep. 9 As evening fell, people came out to walk their dogs and take out their trash. I saw bags filled with leftovers—half-eaten bread rolls and discarded crusts! I scrambled over and grabbed half a roll and two pieces of crust. Then I saw it: half an apple in the bin. The other half was still good! I had always wanted to eat an apple, but Mom only ever bought two. One for Rosie, and one for her and Dad to share. I’d secretly gnawed on the core once. It was so sweet! The bread was a little stale, but I wolfed it down, alternating bites of bread and apple. The food from the trash was so good, even better than Rosie’s old crackers. But a little while later, my stomach started to hurt. A lot. I looked everywhere, but I couldn’t find a bathroom. I squatted behind some bushes and carefully pulled down my underwear. Suddenly, a cleaning lady charged at me, waving her broom. “Whose kid is this? Old enough to know better and still pooping in public! Are you an idiot?” She grabbed my arm and yanked me to my feet. I didn’t have time to pull my clothes back up, and my underwear fell into the messy puddle on the ground. Tears streamed down my face. The lady threw me to the ground, pinching her nose and pointing at me with her broom. “Which building do you live in? Go get your parents! Public defecation is a fifty-dollar fine!” I clutched my dress, sobbing. “M-my parents are gone. The uncles took our apartment. I-I don’t have a home…” Her eyes widened. “Well, what do you know. An unwanted little stray! And you dare make a mess here? You’re going to eat it!” I struggled, but she was too strong. She grabbed my neck and started shoving my face towards the mess. I screamed. Suddenly, a familiar voice cut through my terror. “Kid? Why didn’t you go to the police station?” It was the bald man!

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I stumbled upon an old forum post from ten years ago. The title read: What should I do if my daughter keeps calling my husband ‘Daddy’? I chuckled. It was so absurd, so clueless. The comment section was mostly filled with people mocking the original poster. But then she got defensive. “She’s only eight years old. I never taught her to call him that.” “This child is so manipulative. She’s always clinging to my husband.” “She already knows how to seduce men at such a young age. I knew I should have had a son.” Reading closer, something felt wrong. The poster’s avatar was a picture of my cat. And ten years ago, I was exactly eight years old. 1 The phone felt hot in my palm. The post was like a rope, tying a past I had deliberately ignored to the present. A few days ago, my mom killed the cat I’d had for ten years. It happened the day before my dad was due back from a business trip. There was no violence, no struggle. Just an overdose of sleeping pills mixed into his cat food. Afterward, she clutched his cold, stiff body and cried harder than I did. To every neighbor who came to offer condolences, she’d say: “It’s all my fault I didn’t take better care of Mochi. You know how much Richard adored that cat…” No one suspected a thing. My mother looked utterly heartbroken, as if she’d lost a child. Only I knew. She was lying. Mochi wasn’t my dad’s favorite cat. He was mine. The last time Dad was home, he sat on the sofa with Mochi in his lap. “Our Lynn has always had good taste, even as a little girl,” he’d said. “Even the cat she picked is such a cuddle bug.” And for that sentence, Mochi had to die. Yes, it was that bizarre. Just like the dress Dad gave me for my 16th birthday. The next day, it was “accidentally” ruined in the wash with bleach. Just like the camera Dad bought me for my 18th birthday. Less than a week later, it “accidentally” fell from the balcony. Everything my father gave me, anything that carried a trace of his love for me, never lasted long. I used to think they were accidents. Until I found that post. Until Mochi died. Then, I finally understood. None of it was an accident. It was my mother’s long, silent war against me. The day Dad came home, the atmosphere in the house was heavy. He looked at the empty cat bed, and his eyes grew red. My mother immediately nestled into his arms. “Richard, I’m so sorry. I didn’t take good care of him…” He patted her back, comforting her. “It’s not your fault. He was getting old. Don’t be sad, look at you, your eyes are all swollen from crying.” I stood to the side, feeling like a complete outsider. At the dinner table, trying to cheer my mom up, Dad announced some good news. “My birthday is next month, and the company gave me a week off. I booked us tickets to the Florida Keys. The three of us are going to have a real vacation!” My mother’s eyes lit up. “Really? Oh, Richard, you’re the best!” She planted an excited kiss on his cheek. He smiled back, then turned to me. “Lynn, are you happy? Haven’t you always wanted to see the ocean?” Before I could answer, my mother cut in, her tone cloying but natural. “Oh, honey, Lynn needs to be focused on her studies. A trip like this will just distract her.” She paused, then added in a voice full of false wisdom, “Be a good girl, Lynn. Let Mom go with Dad this time, okay? Think of it as your birthday gift to him.” See? There she was again. Speaking the cruelest words in the gentlest voice. The air in the room froze. Dad shot me an awkward glance. I put down my chopsticks. “Mom’s right,” I said softly. “I won’t go. You two have fun.” With that, I fled to my room. The moment I closed the door, I heard my mother’s voice turn syrupy and sweet again. “See? Our Lynn is so understanding. Honey, we’re going to have such a wonderful time. We can even pretend it’s… a second honeymoon.” I leaned against the door, a chill seeping into my bones. This was the last straw. 2 After graduation, I applied to a university far from home. The farther, the better. The day my acceptance letter arrived, my dad was ecstatic. He called all our relatives and friends to plan a huge graduation party for me. The day of the party, the house was buzzing with excitement. I wore a new dress and accepted everyone’s congratulations. Dad, having had a little to drink, was beaming. “This is my daughter!” he announced to the room. “The greatest pride of my life!” In that moment, I almost forgot all the unpleasantness of the past. But my mother would never miss an opportunity to wound me. Halfway through the party, she suddenly picked up the microphone. “Thank you all for coming to celebrate our daughter.” Her gaze drifted around the room, finally settling on my father. “But the thing that makes me happiest today isn’t that my daughter got into a good college.” “It’s that I finally get to have my husband back. All to myself.” Her voice carried clearly to every corner of the room. A hush fell over the living room. Everyone stared at her, stunned. She paid them no mind, continuing to gaze lovingly at my dad. “Richard, you always said she was your little ray of sunshine. But what about me? Don’t I need some of that warmth?” Her eyes welled with tears, her voice thick with emotion. “Now she’s all grown up and ready to fly away. Isn’t it time… you finally looked back at me?” Dad stood frozen, completely at a loss. The relatives’ eyes darted between the three of us. Pity. Sympathy. Morbid curiosity. Standing in the center of the crowd in my brand-new dress, I felt naked, stripped bare in front of everyone. My mother had won again. With just a few sentences, she had turned my graduation party into her public trial. In her eyes, I wasn’t the daughter of the house. I was the biggest obstacle on her path to my father’s undivided affection. 3 The party ended in a cloud of awkwardness. I locked myself in my room. Through the door, I could hear the relatives’ hasty goodbyes and my mother’s pathetic sobs. She was crying again. Any time my dad showed the slightest preference for me, she would cry. Her tears were a weapon, expertly wielded to make him feel guilty and to paint me as the ungrateful villain. Sure enough, a knock came at my door. “Lynn, open up. Let’s talk.” His voice was weary. I didn’t move. “Your mother… she just loves me so much, she’s insecure. Don’t take it to heart.” There it was again. That same excuse. For as long as I could remember, it had been the catch-all justification for all of her twisted behavior. She’d lock me out of the house because she loved my dad so much and I was interrupting their time together. She’d rip up my award certificates because they had a picture of me with a male teacher, and she loved my dad so much she was afraid I’d learn bad habits and break his heart. Her actions were suffocating. “Dad,” I said through the door. “Do you really think that’s love?” Silence. After a long moment, I heard him sigh. His footsteps faded down the hall. He had chosen to run away from it again. That night, I thought about a lot of things. When I had a high fever as a child, he carried me to three different hospitals. When we got back, my mother didn’t say a word of concern. She just stared at his sweat-soaked shirt and said coldly, “You carried her all that way, and you don’t even think to hug me first when you get home.” When I got my first period in middle school, I was scared and confused. He awkwardly boiled me some hot tea with ginger. My mother saw and scoffed, “Such a big fuss over a little girl’s business. What’s she going to be like when she’s older?” I realized I remembered it all. I just hadn’t wanted to think about it, hadn’t dared to look too closely, hadn’t wanted to believe it. 4 On the day I left for college, Dad insisted on driving me. Mom came along too. At the entrance to the dorm, I took the suitcase from him. “You should head back.” He looked at me, his mouth opening and closing as if he wanted to say more. In the end, he just patted my shoulder. “Take care of yourself. If you need money, just call me.” I nodded and turned to leave without a backward glance. But I could feel it—a piercing, triumphant gaze on my back. It was from my mother. College was like a shield, temporarily protecting me from the oppressive atmosphere at home. I threw myself into my studies, joined clubs, and earned scholarships, filling every waking moment. I rarely called home. Dad was always the one to call, asking how I was. In the background, I could always hear my mother’s voice, just loud enough to be heard. “What’s there to talk about? A daughter’s not yours to keep. She’ll belong to someone else soon enough.” “Tell her not to waste money. That cashmere sweater I wanted you to buy me, I still haven’t gotten it.” Dad would awkwardly cut her off and hang up. I’d hold the phone, feeling nothing. Distance brings clarity. Using the university’s library resources, I devoured books on psychology. Paranoid, histrionic, borderline personality disorders… I was like a detective, searching for a key to unlock the mystery of my mother in those cold, academic terms. Then, one day, I found it. The entries for pathological possessiveness and erotomania. The text described individuals who were incapable of processing platonic relationships, especially familial ones. They view any same-sex family member or friend as a potential rival for their partner’s affection. A jolt went through me. Every word was a perfect description of my mother. It wasn’t that she didn’t love me. She was simply incapable of loving me as a mother. In her eyes, I was another woman competing for her man. The realization sent a wave of physical revulsion through me. I decided I had to do something. I couldn’t just sit back and let her destroy my life, and what little was left of my love for my family. 5 I won first place in the university photography competition. The prize was five thousand dollars. Without telling a soul, I used the money to buy my dad a watch he’d been talking about for ages. I mailed it home, along with a copy of my award certificate. On the package, I wrote only my father’s name. It was my first test. It worked. Three days after the package arrived, my mother called. Her voice was sharp, dripping with an acidity she couldn’t contain. “Well, Lynn, look at you. So successful now you can just buy your father’s affection?” “Mom, that was my scholarship money.” “Scholarship money?” she sneered. “Who knows where that money really came from! A girl on her own… you’d better not be learning any bad habits out there!” Her words were vicious and cruel. The old me would have been in tears or screaming back at her. But now, I just replied calmly, “Mom, I also sent a copy of the photo to Mrs. Peterson. She was one of the judges. She said she’d love to visit soon and see this ‘talented and dutiful daughter’ for herself.” The other end of the line went silent. Mrs. Peterson was my dad’s oldest and closest friend. And she was the person my mother was most wary of. My mother couldn’t cover this up. She couldn’t destroy the watch or claim I’d gotten it through illicit means. “You…” she sputtered, speechless with rage. “Lynn, you’ve really grown up, haven’t you? You’ve learned how to plot against your own mother!” “I just wanted to make my dad happy.” That evening, Dad called me. His voice was filled with a joy and pride he couldn’t hide. “Lynn, I got the watch! It’s beautiful! This is the first gift you’ve ever bought me with your own money!” “I’m glad you like it, Dad.” “Like it? I love it!” He rambled on for a bit, then asked cautiously, “Did… did you talk to your mom?” “Yes, I did.” “She… she didn’t say anything, did she?” I could picture his conflicted expression. My heart sank a little. “Dad,” I began carefully. “If one day, you found out Mom had done some things that were very hard for you to accept, what would you do?” There was a long silence on the other end of the line.

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At forty-seven, my husband Arthur was on death’s door, and he chose that moment to confess. He told me that the daughter we had raised, Aubrey, was not my child. She was his sister-in-law’s. He had switched our babies while I was lost in a postpartum haze, moments after giving birth. But his sister-in-law’s child… at six years old, she’d had a raging fever. They didn’t get her to the hospital in time. The fever had damaged her brain. The look on my face must have been horrifying. Arthur wept, begging for my forgiveness. He swore that if there was a next life, he would marry me again and spend an eternity atoning for what he’d done. He had schemed against me for my entire life, and he still dared to imagine a next one? Only the weak pin their hopes on fairy tales of rebirth and second chances for revenge. I’m the type to settle a score then and there. Besides, had he really been so blind all these years? Didn’t he ever notice that the child bore no resemblance to him, or to his precious sister-in-law? 1 After Arthur got the lab results from the hospital, he came home and locked himself in his study. He didn’t come out all afternoon. I knew he was taking it hard, so I left him alone. Not long after, the doorbell rang. I opened it to find Arthur’s sister-in-law, Helen, standing on the porch. Behind her stood her daughter, Sophie—the poor girl whose mind had been frozen in time by that fever years ago. Helen’s brow was furrowed. The first words out of her mouth were, “Is Aubrey home yet?” Aubrey is my daughter. She’s twenty-two and still in college. I shook my head. “Not yet.” Then, my curiosity piqued, “Why? Is something wrong?” Helen ignored me, pushing past me into the living room as if she owned the place. I gently guided Sophie, who was lingering by the door, inside. When I turned around, Helen was sitting on the sofa, arms crossed, watching us. “You know, Nina,” she said, her eyes cold despite the smirk playing on her lips, “from this angle, you and Sophie actually look a bit alike.” I didn’t respond. It wasn’t the first time she’d said that. We weren’t related by blood. How could her daughter possibly look like me? I had just sat down across from her when she pressed on impatiently, “Arthur is in this state, and you’re still planning on keeping it from Aubrey?” Arthur had only received his diagnosis two hours ago. How did Helen already know everything? Before I could answer, the study door opened. Arthur, who had been hiding in there since he got home, finally emerged. His eyes landed on Helen, and his lips trembled, but the word “Helen” never quite escaped. The report confirmed it: late-stage lung cancer. It had already spread. He’d missed the window for effective treatment. He only had a few months left. They stared at each other for a long moment before Helen spoke. “Arthur, I still think we shouldn’t hide this from Aubrey. She’s your daughter, after all. Don’t you agree?” She put a sharp, deliberate emphasis on the words “your daughter.” Arthur was silent for a while before finally nodding. “You’re right. We shouldn’t hide it from her.” The two of them went back and forth, their glances loaded with unspoken meaning, treating me as if I were invisible. I pretended not to notice. I hadn’t cared when I was young; why would I get worked up over a dying man now? Arthur didn’t have much family left. His parents and his older brother were long gone. Besides me and Aubrey, there was only Helen and his niece, Sophie. Just as Arthur was about to call Aubrey, I stepped in. “Aubrey’s summer break starts in two weeks. It can wait a few more days.” Arthur thought for a moment and nodded, putting his phone away. Helen’s face darkened. She shot me a sideways glance. “You’re quite the controlling mother, aren’t you?” I offered a thin smile. “What parent doesn’t want what’s best for their child?” “True enough,” she said, her tone dripping with insinuation. “A pity about my poor, simple-minded girl. No matter how much I plan for her future, it’s useless.” Sophie sat beside me, blissfully unaware, her head bowed as she played with her fingers. The contrast between her innocence and her mother’s calculated bitterness was stark. Helen’s words were a joke. What had she ever planned for Sophie? The girl was in her twenties with a buzz cut, dressed in clothes that hung off her frame, her skin tanned to leather. She looked nothing like a young woman should. Arthur walked over and sat on the same sofa as Helen, leaving an empty space between them. Since everyone was here, I asked him, “What kind of treatment are you considering?” Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose, his face a mask of despair. “I haven’t decided yet.” He looked terrible. The diagnosis seemed to have drained the very life force from him. Helen was scrolling on her phone, pretending not to hear. Doctors are always ambiguous, probably to keep patients from losing hope. They don’t say it’s incurable, but they don’t promise a cure, either. They create an illusion: with the right treatment, there’s a chance. Arthur was clinging to that illusion. He’d saved up a decent amount from his business over the years; paying for treatment wouldn’t be an issue. It was at this point that Helen suddenly chimed in. “I think you should go for palliative care. That way, you won’t suffer so much.” Arthur’s face turned ashen. In his mind, palliative care was the same as giving up. He usually deferred to Helen, but this was his life on the line. No matter how bravely a man talks about death, when it’s staring him in the face, the fear of the unknown takes over. That fear magnifies, breeding a ferocious will to live. Helen announced she would be staying with us, claiming I couldn’t possibly manage Arthur on my own and that she, as his sister-in-law, needed to help. Arthur said nothing, just looked at me as if seeking my permission. I did have my own job to worry about. I had been planning on hiring a nurse. With Helen offering herself up, I had no reason to refuse. “That would be a great help, Helen. Thank you.” She waved a dismissive hand. “We’re family. No need for formalities.” And she certainly wasn’t formal. That evening, she lay on the sofa with a face mask on, binge-watching a TV series, and had the nerve to order me around. “God, I can’t remember the last time the little dummy had a bath,” she said. “Nina, be a dear and wash her for me, would you?” Sophie was engrossed in the television, giggling uncontrollably at a Tom and Jerry chase scene. I remembered her as a bright, adorable little girl, before the fever. Looking at her now, I could only think that having a mother like Helen was a cruel twist of fate. Sophie and Aubrey were born on the same day, with Aubrey being just three hours older. Sophie didn’t want her cartoon to end and struggled when I tried to lead her away. Helen shot her a venomous glare and barked, “Go take a bath!” I felt Sophie’s whole body flinch. She dropped to the floor, curled into a ball with her hands over her head, and let out a piercing scream. It was a classic trauma response, the reaction of a child who has been hit too many times. The noise brought Arthur out of his room. He glanced at Sophie, still screaming on the floor, then at Helen, his voice laced with annoyance. “Why are you yelling at her?” Helen snorted. “I regret not strangling her at birth.” As she said it, she kept darting her eyes toward me. I stood by, a cold observer. Sophie was her only child. How she chose to treat her was her business. I had no right to interfere. When Arthur’s friends heard he was sick, they started visiting in droves. It was too crowded to eat at home, so I booked a private room at a nearby hotel. These were men Arthur had worked with for years. Mindful of his condition, they kept the conversation light, reminiscing about good times and telling jokes to keep his spirits up. During the dinner, I noticed a man named Mark who seemed to know Helen. They exchanged loaded glances several times, a silent conversation passing between them. I didn’t know Mark well; he’d only started doing business with Arthur a few years ago. Their friendship wasn’t deep, and even Arthur seemed surprised to see him there. I watched them, my expression carefully neutral. At one point, Helen excused herself. A moment later, Mark also got up, mumbling something about the restroom, and followed her out. Others had left the table throughout the evening, so their dual departure didn’t raise any suspicion. They returned nearly twenty minutes later, one after the other. Mark was in a noticeably better mood, suddenly more talkative. Then, whether by accident or design, he brought up the topic of assets and inheritance. A heavy silence fell over the table. The smile vanished from Arthur’s face, and the hand holding his chopsticks began to tremble. The friend sitting next to Mark gave him a playful punch, trying to salvage the mood. “What are you talking about that for? Our Arthur is tough as nails. He’ll pull through.” A chorus of agreement followed, and the atmosphere began to lift. But then Helen cut in. “He’s not wrong, though. Arthur, even if not for yourself, you have to think about the child, don’t you?” When she said “yourself,” her gaze flickered over to me, dripping with malice. Arthur and I put down our chopsticks at the same time. The meal was over.

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After the filming for the “Family Swap” reality show ended, I died in the third month of living with my biological parents again. In the final moments, as my consciousness faded, I didn’t hear the heart-wrenching sobs I’d imagined, nor did I see my family wracked with guilt. Instead, I watched my mother pull the person who killed me into her arms, whispering words of comfort. I watched my father’s brow furrow in disgust as he cursed me under his breath. Only my sister, Ella, knelt by my body and let out a soft sigh. “It’s better that you’re dead. Now, Mom and Dad won’t have to be in such a difficult position anymore.” So, this was it. No one would grieve for me. A bitter laugh escaped my lips as my last attachments dissolved with my shattered soul. A blinding white light flashed, and when I opened my eyes again, I was back on the first day my parents came to take me home. 1 Almost instinctively, I took a step back, avoiding my mother’s embrace. Her hands froze awkwardly in mid-air, her face falling. “Rina, you…” I knew what she wanted to ask. Did you miss me this past year? Are you okay? But my mind was still reeling from the shock of being reborn, my body reacting purely on the conditioned fear from my past life. Once the reality of it all settled in, I took several more deliberate steps back, putting a clear distance between us. My parents stood there, stunned. Seeing my desperate avoidance, their expressions soured. “Rina, you’ve only been gone a year. How can you be such a stranger to your own parents?” “Is it because we want to adopt Ciara? Are you unhappy about that?” I shook my head, my voice flat. “No.” In my last life, I had thrown myself into their arms, overwhelmed with longing. When I heard they wanted to adopt Ciara, I threw a jealous tantrum. Ciara saw it all and, in a fit of manufactured despair, threatened to run away into a blizzard. My parents, hearts aching for her, spent the entire day consoling her, leaving me, their newly returned daughter, completely alone. To appease her further, they threw a lavish adoption ceremony the very next day, officially announcing to the media that Ciara was their new daughter. That was the day my suffering truly began. This life, I refused to make the same mistakes. I wanted nothing to do with a love built on lies and manipulation. Seeing that I wasn’t upset, my parents visibly relaxed. They were afraid—afraid I’d compete with Ciara for their affection, and even more afraid that Ciara would be hurt. I let out a silent, self-mocking laugh and walked towards the guest room. As I turned, I came face-to-face with Ciara. She looked at me with wide, pleading eyes, tears already welling up. “Rina, I’m only staying because I can’t bear to leave Mom, Dad, and Ella. Please don’t be angry with them. If you’re unhappy, I can leave right now.” Ciara was a year younger than me. The first time I met her, in my past life, my first instinct was that I, as the older sister, should be generous. When we swapped places for the show, I had thoughtfully left her all my favorite toys and clothes and even told my parents to take good care of her. When the year-long show ended, we were supposed to return to our own lives, our own homes. I could never understand it. I was back, so why were they so reluctant to let Ciara leave? This time, faced with her performance, I just smiled faintly. “I’m not angry. Whether Mom and Dad adopt you or ask you to leave, I don’t have an opinion. As long as they’re happy.” My words were so mature, so flawless, that even my parents were taken aback. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught the flicker of surprise in Ciara’s. My reaction clearly wasn’t what she’d hoped for. Last time, my hysterics had successfully turned my parents and sister against me, making them pity her even more. Step by step, I had walked right into the traps she set, deeper and deeper into the abyss. Ciara bit her lip, about to say something else, but the sound of the front door opening cut her off. “You don’t have the right to be angry anyway.” My own sister, Ella, was home. She wrapped an arm around a “distraught” Ciara, her gaze landing on me with open contempt. “Ciara took your place this past year, caring for Mom and Dad, being a daughter to them. She’s already part of this family. You’d better not start trouble the second you walk in the door.” Ella had never liked me much. When other little sisters were happily holding their big sister’s hand, I could only watch mine from the crack in her bedroom door. That’s why I had volunteered for her first big project—the reality show she created. I had hoped it would finally win me a little of her affection. And it had. Ella was thrilled—because she seemed to adore the new “sister” she got in the exchange. … That first night back, I slept alone in the cold, cluttered guest room. The only difference was that this time, I had chosen it myself. My parents didn’t object. They exchanged a look and then eagerly helped me with my luggage, carefully avoiding any mention of me moving back into my old room, as if terrified I might ask. “Ciara’s gotten used to that room,” my mother explained with a strained smile, not a hint of guilt in her voice. “It wouldn’t be right to ask her to move out now. You’ll just have to make do with the guest room for a while.” As if it were perfectly normal for the adopted daughter of one year to have the master bedroom, while the biological daughter was relegated to storage. Last time, when I demanded my room back, Ella had slapped me across the face. “You just got here and you’re already trying to take things from Ciara! Her life has been so hard. Can’t you show her a little kindness?” “As long as I’m here,” she’d snarled, “you will not bully Ciara.” The slap had filled my mouth with the taste of blood, shattering the last of my fragile hope. Even in this new life, the memory made my chest ache. That night, I huddled in the cramped guest room, clutching my luggage, and shivered through the long, cold night. My room, which had become Ciara’s a year ago, was no longer mine. This time, I knew my place. I didn’t fight. I didn’t ask for anything. Just as they wanted. … Just like last time, three days after I came home, the guaranteed admission slot my parents had pulled strings to get became available. There was only one spot. It became their biggest dilemma: give it to me, or to Ciara? Last time, they came to me and said that Ciara had suffered so much in her life and her health was too fragile to handle the stress of the final exams. They wanted to give the spot to her. I cried and refused. They pretended to agree, but then secretly filled out the paperwork with Ciara’s name on it anyway. I didn’t understand then that some things, whether I was willing to give them up or not, were no longer mine to begin with. This time, when they came in, I was sitting at the desk, reading. They exchanged an awkward glance, neither wanting to be the first to speak. I knew why they were here. I saved them the trouble. “Is something wrong?” “Rina,” my mother began, hesitating, a flicker of guilt in her eyes. “We managed to get a guaranteed admission slot to a top university. It was supposed to be for you.” She paused, nudging my father with her elbow. He cleared his throat and picked up where she left off. “But, as you know, Ciara’s health isn’t the best, and the pressure of the exams is immense. So… we were hoping you would let Ciara have it. Would that be okay?” It was phrased as a question, but the decision had already been made. I played my part. I looked my mother in the eye and nodded. “Okay. Give it to her.” They were both stunned. The long speeches they had prepared died on their lips. They never expected me to agree so easily. My mother let out a long, relieved sigh. “That’s my girl. So understanding.” … At dinner that night, there were extra dishes on the table, a clear sign of their good mood. But not a single one was a dish I liked. My mother smiled, piling food onto Ciara’s plate. “Ciara, your sister Rina is giving you the admission slot. Now you can just relax and wait for university to start.” Ella looked up, a flash of disbelief in her eyes. She, too, seemed shocked by my compliance. “Oh, no, I couldn’t!” Ciara said, shaking her head as tears immediately welled in her eyes. “It’s an honor enough that Rina let me stay. How could I take her spot?” It was her favorite trick. I was used to it. I just kept my head down and ate. Across the table, Ella snorted. “Mom and Dad got this opportunity. It doesn’t have Rina’s name on it. They can give it to whoever they want. She doesn’t have a say in it anyway.” Her tone was as cold and dismissive as ever. My mother shot Ella a warning look, then gave me an awkward smile. “Rina, your sister is just joking. Don’t take it to heart.” I shook my head. “I know.” Perhaps finally feeling a pang of guilt, my father put down his chopsticks. “This was unfair to you,” he said, his voice tentative. “If there’s anything you want, just ask. We’ll do our best to make it up to you.” I thought for a moment, then pointed a finger towards the corner guest room. “That room’s window is too small. It’s too dark for studying…” Before I could finish, a pair of chopsticks came flying at my face, followed by Ella’s furious roar. “Rina, I knew you were up to no good! That room is Ciara’s now! You think you can push your luck and steal it from her? Not a chance!” She slammed her hands on the table and stood up, glaring as if she wanted to tear me apart. My parents, after a brief moment of shock, frowned, their minds already made up. I calmly pulled a piece of paper from my pocket. A dormitory application form. “You misunderstood.” “I just want to move into the school dorms. I need a parent’s signature.” Silence. The rest of the dinner was tense. My parents were shocked by my request, but neither of them said a word against it. Forcing Ciara out of my old room was unthinkable; me moving out was the perfect solution. In my last life, I would have been screaming, crying, demanding to know why they were so biased. But this time, I was quiet. I didn’t even make them feel awkward. I was the one offering the solution. They were happy. And so was I. My mother sighed, making a half-hearted attempt to persuade me. “Rina, it’s tough for a girl to live in a dorm. It’s not like we don’t have other rooms…” “If you don’t like your current room, I can redecorate another one for you, make it bright and spacious.” I knew better. Last time, the fight over a bedroom had been a long, ugly war that I lost spectacularly. She had our parents and our sister. I had no one. This life, I had no desire to compete with Ciara for scraps of affection. My only goal was to build myself up, love myself, and escape this so-called “home” as soon as possible. “No, thank you. I want to live at school. Please let me.” Seeing my resolve, my mother tried again, but my father cut her off. “Let her be. If Rina wants to live in the dorm, let her. She’s grown up now. She can take care of herself. She doesn’t need us hovering over her.” A bitter laugh almost escaped me. I was barely seventeen, and he had already decided I didn’t need much care. Yet, in my last life, he drove Ciara to and from school every single day, doting on her without fail. How did they know I didn’t need to be taken care of? They just didn’t want to. My heart was already scarred and numb, but in that moment, a familiar ache returned.

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Three days before my wedding, I discovered Eric had changed our venue from my grandmother’s estate to a Spanish castle—Chloe’s favorite place. I rushed to confront him but overheard him complaining: “Thank God Chloe has taste. Otherwise, I’d be a laughingstock.” His friend asked, “But you promised her grandmother’s place. Won’t she call it off?” Eric scoffed: “Her family’s bankrupt. Marrying me is her only way out. She can’t afford to gamble.” He smirked, “The planner already called her. She’s probably rebooking her flight right now.” Anger and betrayal twisted inside me. I bit my lip and walked away. Three days later, the castle wedding proceeded. I didn’t rebook my flight. I didn’t show up. Instead, in my grandmother’s garden, I exchanged rings with another man. To this day, Eric doesn’t understand: I didn’t marry him for a way out—but for a love that lasted ten years. When the dream ended, I simply made another choice. 1 Not long after I left the Levine Corporation building, Eric sent me the address of the Spanish castle along with a photo. It was a stunning shot of the castle’s facade—ivory limestone walls, a gilded dome, the very picture of opulence. But front and center in the photo, a striking figure in a flowing red dress with a cascade of auburn curls, was Chloe. My finger hovered over her beaming face for a moment, and a wave of absurdity washed over me. I was the bride. This was supposed to be our wedding venue. Yet the star of the photo he sent was his childhood friend, the one he always insisted was “just a friend, don’t overthink it.” After that, silence. I knew Eric. He figured the wedding planner had already broken the news, so he was just nudging things along, sending the address so I wouldn’t book a flight to the wrong country. A stone had settled in my stomach. I couldn’t wrap my head around it. He had promised me we’d have the ceremony at my grandmother’s estate. Why would he change everything, without a second thought, just because Chloe liked a castle? It was dark by the time I got home. As I approached the door, I heard Eric snapping at the housekeeper. “Ava isn’t a toddler. Does she really expect me to worry if she’s a little late?” “But sir,” the housekeeper said nervously, “Ms. Quinn left right after the call from the wedding planner this morning. I was worried she might…” Eric laughed, a harsh, cutting sound. “She left to sort out her visa and change her flights. Getting the entire Quinn clan rerouted isn’t a simple task.” He sounded so sure of himself. “Don’t worry. Ava has been dreaming of marrying me for years. She’d be lost without me. I could move the venue to Antarctica and she’d crawl her way there, let alone to a castle hand-picked by Chloe.” The housekeeper fell silent, but Eric kept muttering to himself. “Chloe hasn’t texted back in five minutes… I should go check on her.” He hurried out of the house just as I was slipping away. It was the Levine family villa, after all. Not my home. He’d asked me to move in to make wedding preparations easier. At first, it was perfect. We were honey-sweet, just like any other engaged couple. Then Chloe came home, nursing a broken heart, and Eric announced he had to go comfort her. That “comforting” had now stretched into four months. Anytime Chloe felt down, he would drop everything—drop me—and run to her side. I chose the wedding dress alone. I designed the layout for the ceremony in my grandmother’s garden alone. He had no part in it. Whenever I dared to complain, he’d look up from his phone, his face a mask of irritation from being interrupted while texting her. “You only want to marry me to save your family’s business, right?” he’d say. “I’ve already agreed to that. What more do you want?” Then his phone would ring—Chloe, of course—and he’d walk out, a smile already on his face, leaving my words to vanish into the air. “You were the one who proposed to me,” I’d whisper to the empty room. “I said yes because I loved you…” In that moment, I went from a woman giddy with the joy of her upcoming wedding to a lonely spectator in my own life. And now, even the choice of where I would get married had nothing to do with me. I spent that night at a friend’s place. Eric never once tried to contact me. The next day, after finishing the handover at my job, I walked into the villa to the sound of Chloe’s cheerful laughter. “During the vows, you have to have flower petals floating down from both sides,” she was saying, her eyes sparkling. “It’s so much more romantic that way.” Eric sat beside her, his gaze soft and full of adoration, following her every move. “Whatever you want.” It was a look of devotion he had never given me. When she saw me, Chloe waved me over. “Ava, you’re here! I have the most amazing idea for the wedding!” From the corner of my eye, I saw Eric frown at me. “Where have you been? Chloe’s been working on this wedding for four months, and you’ve barely lifted a finger.” He didn’t stop there. “It’s for the best, I guess. Chloe’s taste is far better than yours. That rustic theme you came up with was so embarrassing. I almost became a joke in my circle.” That feeling of being an outsider washed over me again, cold and sharp. “I’m tired,” I said, my voice flat. “I’m going to rest.” Ignoring the deep furrow in Eric’s brow, I walked straight to the guest room. As I closed the door, a message popped up on my phone, one I had ignored many times before. “Just say the word, and I’ll crash that wedding, even if it costs me everything.” From outside the door, I could hear Chloe describing her dream of a flower-filled castle wedding, punctuated by Eric’s endless, patient refrains of “Whatever you want.” I gave a bitter smile and typed a reply. “You don’t have to crash it. You’ll be the groom.” Eric, if you were destined for a castle, then I would go south, back home. I would set you free. And in doing so, I would finally set myself free. 2 I tossed and turned all night. Every time I closed my eyes, I was flooded with memories of the last ten years with Eric, of a love I thought was boundless. He used to be my staunchest defender. No matter who said I wasn’t good enough for him, he would stand by my side, unyielding. My grandmother, in her final days, had taken his hand and told him she was entrusting me to him. His gaze had been a fire, and he’d nodded solemnly. “Grandma, don’t worry. I love Ava more than I love myself. I will never let her suffer.” “I promise you,” he’d sworn, “we’ll get married right here in your garden, so you can see her walk down the aisle with your own eyes.” Those vows felt like granite then, unbreakable and eternal. But I had forgotten that even stone can be worn away by water, that time erodes even the most sacred of promises. The day before the wedding, I found a long purple dress laid out in the living room. It had a sweeping train and a giant, blood-red flower blooming on the chest. Chloe rushed over, beaming. “Ava, look! I designed this wedding dress for you myself.” “Eric said you liked a rustic, countryside style, so I did a lot of research on village weddings to get it just right!” Even though I had already made my decision, the sight of this so-called “wedding dress” made me cringe. “In my hometown, the bride wears a wedding dress,” I said coolly. “Not a bridesmaid’s gown.” Chloe’s smile faltered, and she took a step back. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Ava. I didn’t mean to overstep.” “I just thought… I thought you would like it… I’ll get rid of it right now!” She grabbed a pair of scissors and moved toward the dress, but Eric, emerging from his study, snatched them from her hand. “How many times have I told you not to be careless with scissors? What if you hurt yourself?” Tears welled in Chloe’s eyes, her voice trembling. “Eric, did I do something wrong? Ava is so angry with me…” Before I could explain, Eric turned on me, his face dark. “Chloe spent four months designing this for you. She pulled all-nighters talking to the seamstress. Is this how you repay her?” “If it weren’t for her, you wouldn’t even have a dress to wear.” “Apologize!” he commanded. I met his furious gaze, and the situation struck me as utterly ridiculous. When I had tried to discuss the dress with him weeks ago, he’d told me not to bother him while he was taking Chloe to Bali to cheer her up. Yes, Chloe was so very important. When Chloe was sad about her breakup, he stayed up all night talking to her. On my birthday, he booked out a theater for Chloe so she could watch a romance movie. When I was burning up with a fever from overwork, he told me to “drink more water” before rushing Chloe to a private clinic for a tiny scratch on her arm. This was my wedding. I had done everything I was supposed to do. But because Chloe had inserted herself, the narrative had become “she did everything for me.” Eric’s relatives all saw me as lazy and ungrateful. They all despised me. The truth was, my real wedding dress and his suit were hanging in the closet of my guest room right now. He hadn’t even bothered to look at them, yet here he was, demanding I apologize to her. The disappointment settled deeper, and my expression hardened. Eric sneered. “You’re not going to apologize? Fine. Then the wedding is off. We’ll get married when you decide to say you’re sorry to Chloe!” Suddenly, my clenched fists relaxed. I looked at him, my voice clear and steady. “Fine.” With that, I went to my room to pack. Noah had told me the bougainvillea at my grandmother’s house was in full bloom. I wanted to see it again. Grandma and I had planted it together before my parents moved me to the city. In the living room, Eric was comforting Chloe, but a flicker of irritation crossed his face. He glanced at the guest room door and, turning away from her, discreetly texted his assistant. The reply came quickly: “Mr. Levine, Ms. Quinn does have a record of a flight change with LevineAir, but I don’t have the clearance to see the final flight information. You’ll have to check it yourself.” The tension in his face eased. He replied with a simple, “No need.” As I finished packing, a text from Eric came through. “If you’re going to be my wife, you need to work on that temper. Chloe was only trying to help. How could you hurt her feelings like that?” “Anyway, there’s a family dinner this afternoon. I’ll take Chloe over first, and I’ll send a driver for you.” “When you get there, just apologize to Chloe, and we can move past this. We’re getting married tomorrow. Let’s not ruin the mood.” A Levine family dinner, and he was escorting Chloe. When the driver knocked, I took one last look at my luggage. Fine. Eric had proposed to me in public. It was only fitting that I call it off in public, too. 3 When I arrived at the old Levine estate, Chloe was the center of attention, surrounded by admiring relatives. “Ava, over here!” She spotted me and glided over in her stilettos. I noticed she had changed into a stunning red evening gown. It was identical to the reception dress I had chosen for myself. I instinctively bit my lip. Just then, Eric came down the stairs. His eyes landed on Chloe, and they lit up with genuine wonder. “Chloe, you look beautiful!” She blushed. “Eric, stop it. Ava’s right here.” She turned to me, her expression a perfect mask of contrition. “Ava, please don’t be upset. I feel so terrible about causing that fight between you two this morning.” Eric couldn’t take his eyes off her, the sparkle in them undeniable. He didn’t even glance at me as he gently brushed an eyelash from under her eye. The gesture sent a ripple of laughter through the room. Eric’s father sighed wistfully. “Chloe and our Eric always did make a better pair, didn’t they?” I looked down at my own simple sea-green dress. I was no goddess, but Eric used to tell me I was beautiful all the time, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear with such care. Chloe was now chiding his father playfully. “Uncle, please don’t say things like that in front of Ava. You’ll hurt her feelings.” Eric’s parents just chuckled. Finally, Eric deigned to look at me, his face clouded with annoyance. “My parents watched Chloe grow up. Can’t you be a little less petty? It was just a compliment.” “No wonder my mother always says a good upbringing is everything,” he continued, his voice dripping with disdain. “You grew up with your grandmother in the countryside and didn’t move to the city until you were eighteen. You really don’t have any class at all.” My brow furrowed. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Eric, you know how much my grandmother loved you. Aren’t you afraid of hurting her by saying that?” He looked momentarily guilty, but with his family watching, his expression hardened again. “The point is, Chloe and I are just friends who grew up together. Don’t let your petty female jealousy upset her.” It always came back to Chloe. A profound weariness washed over me. The weight of the past few months, of our entire history, felt like a mountain crushing my chest. After a long moment, I finally spoke. “I came here today because I wanted to tell you…” “Eric!” Chloe interrupted loudly. “My best friend wants to come to Spain too! Are there any empty seats on the flight?” Eric nodded immediately. “Of course. I’ll arrange it.” His assistant hesitated. “Sir, wasn’t the last seat reserved for Ms. Quinn…?” “Oh, then never mind,” Chloe said, her voice laced with disappointment. “I don’t want to upset Ava…” Eric couldn’t stand to see her sad. “Ava can take another flight,” he said decisively. “Chloe’s friend doesn’t know anyone. She has to fly with us.” Chloe beamed, grabbing his arm and swinging it playfully. “Eric, I knew you were the best!” The contemptuous glances in the room shifted back to me. “Eric chartered two private jets just for the wedding, and now the bride isn’t even on one of them.” “So what? To save her family, Ava would walk there if she had to.” The whispers of ridicule surrounded me, but Eric, his eyes only for Chloe, didn’t hear me, didn’t see me. I was, and always had been, just a spectator. Sighing internally, I turned to leave. I would cancel the engagement later. But as I did, my eyes caught a glint of gold around Chloe’s neck. A necklace. Dangling from it was a diamond, cut in the shape of a plum blossom. My world exploded. “Where did you get that diamond?!”

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