Author: Momo Chan

Some trust-fund kid strolled into the amusement park and, not wanting to wait in line, offered to buy my best friend and me out of our spots near the front. When Mia heard the offer, she exploded. “Money can’t buy you everything! We may be poor, but we have dignity. You want our spots? Dream on!” She grabbed my arm, her voice a fierce whisper. “Leah, we worked hard for this day out. You’re not just going to give up our spots, right? We have to have some self-respect.” Her words almost convinced me to tell the guy to get lost. But then, a series of comments scrolled across my vision, like some kind of augmented reality feed: 【The main character is so naive. Last time, after she refused the rich heir, her ‘best friend’ immediately added him on social media behind her back, sold him the spots, and pocketed fifty grand.】 【Later, when the MC’s parents got sick and she needed money, that same ‘friend’ not only refused to lend her a dime but pretended she didn’t even know her. The MC ended up dying on the streets. A total tragedy.】 I froze, staring at the phantom text. Fifty grand? Just for giving up a spot in line? You should have led with that. 1 “We’ve been waiting since six this morning,” Mia hissed in my ear, a frantic buzz of indignation. “We stood in this line for over an hour. These rich jerks just love to humiliate people. Don’t you dare say yes.” My head was spinning, the phantom comments still scrolling through my vision. 【Come on, MC, don’t be an idiot. That’s fifty thousand dollars. Don’t listen to your trash friend and throw that away for ‘dignity’.】 Crude, but true. All I could see were dollar signs. Fifty. Thousand. Dollars. I graduated a little over a year ago. My salary is barely four grand a month. It would take me years to save that much money. Decision made. I walked over to the guy, who was starting to look impatient. “No problem, sir. Fifty thousand, you said? I’m actually getting tired of waiting anyway. The spot’s all yours.” “Your Venmo.” He pulled out his phone, flashing the screen at me. For a second, I thought it was a phone number, not a bank balance. “Leah, what are you doing?!” Mia shrieked, stomping her foot. “Have you no self-respect? Selling out for a little cash!” I ignored her, pulling out my own phone. 【What’s happening? Did the main character just get a brain? This isn’t how it’s supposed to go.】 【No, this is perfect. The male lead likes people who know how to adapt. Arguing with him gets you nowhere. He was in a bad mood today and just came to the park to unwind, and the original MC just made things worse by being difficult.】 A soft ding from my phone confirmed the transfer. $50,000.00 received. A jolt went through me, making the hair on my arms stand up. My family has never seen this much money in one place. I just earned it by standing around for an hour. Somebody pinch me. Or slap me. This feels too easy; I’m almost suspicious. “Sir,” I said, a brilliant idea striking me. “Since you’ve been so generous, let me make your day even better. What other rides do you want to hit? I’ll go save you a spot. No charge, it’s on the house.” The comments had mentioned he was in a bad mood. A guy like him wouldn’t just ride one roller coaster. He’d want the full VIP experience to blow off steam. He looked up, a flicker of what looked like approval in his eyes. He probably wasn’t used to people being this accommodating. “Alright,” he said. “Give me your number. I’ll text you the rides I want to go on. Share your location so I can find you.” “No way!” Mia lunged forward and snatched my phone. Her eyes were blazing. “Leah, have you lost your mind? You’re just going to let this rich asshole treat you like his personal servant?” My friendly demeanor vanished. “Give me back my phone, Mia. This is my business, not yours.” I held out my hand. Then, I turned back to the man. “What should I call you, sir?” “Reid. Share your location. I don’t want you taking the money and running.” The lights of the waiting area were dim, but his eyes seemed to glitter. I quickly looked away and started heading out of the line. Mia shouted my name a few times, but I didn’t look back. I practically sprinted, afraid she’d slow me down and I’d miss getting to the next ride in time. 2 Reid texted me his next target: the pirate ship. I pulled up the park map and hurried over. On the way, I passed a convenience store and ducked inside, grabbing a bottle of ice-cold water and a small, portable fan. “Leah, come with me right now. Stop this.” Mia had found me, and she grabbed my arm, trying to drag me out of the store. She was putting on her best ‘I’m so worried about you’ act. “What you’re doing… it’s no different from what those girls on the street do. You’re selling yourself.” I rolled my eyes so hard I felt a muscle pull. “Don’t be so dramatic. How is this any different from my office job? I sell my time and energy to my boss there, too, and he pays me a hell of a lot less.” “I’ll transfer you five hundred dollars,” I said, pulling away from her. “Get a cab and go home. If you still want to hang out, we can do it another time. Today’s not going to work.” “Five hundred?! He gave you fifty thousand!” she blurted out. And there it was. She wasn’t mad for my sake. She was mad because she wasn’t getting a cut. “Take it or leave it.” I pushed past her and headed for the door. The next second, she crumpled to the floor with a dramatic cry. “Ow, ow, ow! My leg! I think my old injury is acting up! Leah, you have to take me to the hospital, I can’t get up!” My first instinct was to rush over and check on her. But then, the comments flared to life again. 【She’s faking it. Don’t fall for it, MC. Her leg is perfectly fine.】 【The MC is too kind. Her so-called ‘best friend’ lied and said she broke her leg in a car crash while buying her a birthday present. The truth is, she wiped out on her boyfriend’s motorcycle and was too scared to tell her parents, so she used the MC as a cover story.】 What? I stared at the text, my brain screeching to a halt. Two years ago, on my birthday, Mia called me from the hospital, hysterical. She’d been in a car accident, she said, and had broken her leg. I rushed over, paid her medical bills, and felt wracked with guilt when she told me it happened while she was on her way to buy my birthday gift. I ended up canceling my own birthday plans to take care of her. It was all a lie? She was the one who had been playing me for a fool all along. “Leah, hurry up and help me! I can’t move!” Mia wailed from the floor. I turned to the store clerk. “I don’t really know her,” I said calmly. “She seems to be hurt. Could you please call an ambulance for her?” The clerk and a few other well-meaning customers immediately rushed to Mia’s side, surrounding her. With so many people watching, she couldn’t exactly jump up and say she was fine. She had no choice but to commit to the act. I slipped out the back door and made a beeline for the pirate ship. 3 By the time I was near the front of the line, Reid showed up. I handed him the cold water and switched on the mini-fan, aiming a pleasant breeze at his face. He visibly relaxed, his mood improving. With a grand wave of his hand, he sent another ten thousand dollars to my account. Once he seemed rested, I was off again, heading to the next attraction on his list. Luckily, I’d done my research before coming, planning out not just the best rides, but the best restaurants in the park too. By the end of the day, Reid was fed, thrilled, and actually smiling. As for me, I was exhausted, but my bank account had never been healthier. The final ride was the Ferris wheel. It was getting dark, and the park’s fireworks show was about to start. The top of the Ferris wheel was the best spot for photos, and the line was already massive. I skipped dinner to race over and secure a prime spot for my golden goose. Reid strolled over after a leisurely meal. As I was about to give him the spot, he tossed a takeout bag at me. “You’ve worked hard all day. Eat something.” I looked at the logo on the bag and felt a genuine pang of gratitude. I hadn’t eaten partly because I wanted to hold his spot, but mostly because the park food was ridiculously expensive. I had a pack of ramen in my backpack, and I was planning on finding some hot water for it later. But now, the boss was treating me. I grinned like a fool and started to step away to find a bench. “Eat here,” Reid said, stopping me. “You’re coming on with me.” I frowned. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. I only saved one spot.” He made an impatient sound and turned to the guy behind him in line. “Hey, buddy. A thousand bucks to let my friend have your spot.” The guy’s eyes lit up, and he agreed instantly. Hang on. Did anyone ask for my opinion? I wasn’t dying to ride the Ferris wheel. And getting into a small, private cabin with a guy I’d known for less than a day sounded… awkward. Reid seemed to read my mind. He gave me a light tap on the back of the head. “Don’t overthink it. Who’s going to take my picture if I go up alone?” Right. Sure. The bullet comments, however, had other ideas. 【Such a tsundere. He’s totally falling for her. She’s been a one-woman support crew all day—food when he’s hungry, drinks when he’s thirsty, disposable slippers when his feet hurt, and she even had bug spray when a mosquito bit him. Who wouldn’t fall for a girl like that?】 I kept my head down, ignoring them. I’d packed all that stuff for myself. Reid just got lucky. Besides, I treated my old boss at the office with the same level of service. Reid was just another client. And who in their right mind falls for their boss? 4 By the time we left the park, the sky was pitch black. I figured a guy like Reid drove himself, so I was about to say my goodbyes and head for the subway when a fleet of black cars pulled up to the curb. Even a broke girl like me could tell from the logos that they were obscenely expensive. A sharply dressed middle-aged woman stepped out of the lead car. She radiated power. “Did you have a good time, son? Let’s go home.” “How did you know I was here?” Reid’s voice was tight. “Did you have me followed again?” I hung back, trying to make myself invisible. This was family drama, and I wanted no part of it. The last train was leaving soon. “Young lady, wait a moment!” The woman—his mother, I presumed—spotted my escape attempt and called out to me. 【Quick, MC, go say hi! In the original story, the ‘best friend’ got her ticket into high society by sucking up to his mom!】 【Forget it. The MC is a total introvert. She sees a stranger and her first instinct is to bolt. Too bad. Mrs. Vance was so happy to see Reid enjoying himself, she was about to offer her a job as his personal companion. The pay is way better than her office job.】 The idea of marrying into a rich family held zero interest for me, but the word “job” made my ears perk up. I might be an introvert, but for the right price, I can be whatever you need me to be. I immediately shifted into work mode. “Yes, ma’am? How can I help you?” “I hear you spent the whole day with Reid. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen him this happy. Would you be willing to… continue spending time with him?” The wording was a little strange, but I went with it. “If Mr. Vance needs me, I’m available. I know all the best spots, not just amusement parks, but all sorts of attractions.” “That’s wonderful! I can’t stand seeing him cooped up at home playing video games all day. It would be a relief to know you’re getting him out of the house.” Reid, for his part, seemed to agree that I’d done a good job and didn’t object. Before I knew it, one of his mother’s assistants was taking down my information to draw up a contract for a “full-time companion,” complete with salary and benefits. Mrs. Vance even had one of the cars drive me home so I wouldn’t have to take the subway. My life was getting ridiculously, wonderfully better. The next morning, I quit my job. Then I took my parents to the hospital for a full set of check-ups—better to catch any problems early. Mrs. Vance had a car delivered to me, so I wouldn’t have to drag Reid around on public transport. And since I had a driver’s license, she gave me a second salary to act as his chauffeur. The bullet comments were having a field day, shipping me and Reid hard. 【Look at the way he looks at her! He’s totally in love. So sweet. This timeline is so much better.】 【Uh, does no one remember he has a childhood sweetheart? In his heart, she’s always going to be number one.】 A childhood sweetheart? I mentally shrugged. What does that have to do with me? I’m just here to do a job. A few days later, I drove to Reid’s house to pick him up for a hike. As I got out of the car, a stunningly beautiful woman blocked my path. “So you’re the ‘companion’ my aunt hired for Reid?” I was about to get a better look at her face when the comments started flying. 【Whoa, why is the childhood sweetheart back now?】 【She’s known him for fifteen years. Our MC has known him for fifteen days. The match is already decided.】 A friend of the boss is half a boss. I put on my most professional smile. “Hello. I’m Reid’s companion. My name is Leah.” She shot me a dismissive look. “You’re fired. Don’t come back.” Excuse me? Who did she think she was, trying to cut off my income stream just like that? My smile vanished. “I’m afraid that’s not your decision to make. I have a contract with Mr. Vance. If you want to fire me, you’ll have to go through the proper channels.” With that, I sidestepped her and walked toward the villa. “Didn’t you hear me? This isn’t a place you can just walk into! Get out!” She lunged at me, shoving me hard. I stumbled back, catching myself on the doorframe just before I fell. “Sienna, what the hell are you doing?!” Reid had come out just in time to see it. “Reid! This woman is deceiving you! She’s a gold digger who’s been targeting you from the start! You and your mother have both been fooled!” Sienna held up a stack of printed-out screenshots. They were supposedly chat logs, showing that I had spotted Reid and his expensive car at the park and had been plotting to seduce him the entire time. I saw the familiar profile picture and my heart sank.

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I was the fake daughter of a wealthy family. I had taken the real son’s place. On the day the real son came home, he coldly demanded my parents throw me out. But the moment he saw me, he dropped to his knees. He looked up at me, tears streaming down his face, wailing like a teakettle. “Baby, I’ve finally found you!” My entire family exchanged baffled glances. My body went rigid. This real son… why did he look exactly like the ex-boyfriend I’d dumped? 1. I was in the middle of purchasing a $600,000 diamond brooch, planning to show it off to my parents, when my grandfather called to tell me I wasn’t their biological child. The news hit me like a ton of bricks. My brain shut down. “So… the real son is already at the house?” Grandpa sighed, his voice laced with pity. “I’ve met the boy. He’s a cunning, manipulative little snake. With your simple mind, you won’t be able to win against him.” Leave it to Grandpa to be so brutally honest. I hung up and floored it, racing home. Our housekeeper, Mrs. Gable, opened the door, her expression hesitant as she tried to block my way. “Miss, why are you back so early?” I could hear the cheerful chatter from the living room, punctuated by my mother’s delighted laughter. A cold knot formed in my stomach. As a family of old money and political influence, bloodlines were everything. For the past twenty years, as the family’s only daughter, I’d been groomed to be the heir. They had even arranged a marriage for me to further solidify our family’s standing. But now… Ding! A text message popped up on my phone. [Sloane, let’s meet tomorrow. We need to talk about calling off the engagement.] It was from my fiancé, Bryan Croft, a man I barely ever spoke to. I sighed and typed back a quick “Okay.” I hadn’t even stepped through the door, and the engagement was already being called off. Just as I was about to go inside, I heard the real son’s voice. 2. “Blood is thicker than water, after all,” he said, his voice low and steady, with an undercurrent of cold indifference that was somehow familiar. “It’s only right that she returns to her biological parents. Don’t you agree, Mom, Dad?” My parents hesitated. “But Sloane… she’s been with us for over twenty years…” The real son spoke again. “You’ll get used to it. She has to leave sooner or later, doesn’t she? Or would you rather keep her in the dark and have her resent you in the end?” Grandpa was right. He was a silver-tongued devil, cutting them down with soft words. In just a few sentences, he had completely dismantled my parents’ defenses. “As for her room,” he continued, “we could turn it into a storage room. Out of sight, out of mind.” That was it. I couldn’t stand it anymore. I pushed past the housekeeper and stormed in, my jaw clenched. “Mom, Dad. Do we have a guest?” They saw me and instinctively avoided my gaze, guilt written all over their faces. Finally, my mother steeled herself and took my hand. “Sloane, darling… there’s something we have to tell you. You’re not our biological daughter.” My father quickly pulled the real son to his feet. “This is your brother, Rhys. Why don’t you two get to know each other?” Rhys? My eyelid twitched. A terrible premonition washed over me. The young man slowly turned around, revealing a face so handsome it was etched into my memory forever. I froze, feeling as if I’d been struck by lightning. Wasn’t this the billionaire ex-boyfriend from my study abroad program? The one who had desperately wanted to marry me, the one I had mercilessly dumped? The moment he saw me, Rhys’s aggressive demeanor vanished. His eyes, at first filled with surprise, now shone with an ecstatic joy. They seemed to be glowing with an almost predatory green light. 3. My relationship with Rhys had started with a simple case of lust at first sight. I was on a research program abroad. He was a rising star in the city’s business world, known for his complete disinterest in women. To get his attention, I got a job at his company as his personal assistant. That’s when I realized it wasn’t that Rhys wasn’t interested in women. He was a cold, robotic workaholic with no life outside the office. I tried everything. I wore my sexiest, tightest skirts, used every trick in the book, but his eyes remained glued to his complex financial reports. Finally, one night as I was driving him home, I couldn’t take it anymore. “Boss,” I asked, “don’t you ever want a life outside of work? A nightlife?” Rhys finally deigned to look at me. “For example?” My heart leaped. “Street racing! There’s a race on the west side of the city. Want to go?” Before the “no” could even leave his lips, I slammed my foot on the gas and we were flying. At the track, cars zipped past, a blur of color and sound. Everyone was high on the adrenaline. I stepped out of the car in my pink mini-skirt and impossibly high heels and met Rhys’s gaze. “So, boss? What do you think?” He got out of the car with his usual reserve and draped his jacket over my shoulders. “Not bad.” His words were cool, but his eyes were blazing. The rest happened naturally. We spent our weekends at the races, kissing in fields of roses. Everything was perfect. Until he got down on one knee with a ring and a contract transferring his entire company to my name. That’s when I realized I’d played my hand too well. This ridiculously handsome man was a hopeless romantic. It was just a bit of fun, why did he have to get so serious? Panicked, I told him I was “bored of him,” bought a plane ticket, and flew back home that very night. Back in the present, I stared at Rhys, a storm of complicated emotions swirling inside me. If I had known he was my parents’ biological son, I would have never, ever messed with him. 4. Rhys’s gaze was fixed on me, intense and unwavering. My lip twitched, and I took an involuntary step back. Honestly, I’d rather deal with a stranger than my ex-boyfriend. I decided to play the part of the understanding, mature adult. “Mom, Dad, my brother is right,” I said. “I should probably move out for a while. It’ll give you all a chance to bond.” My mother and Rhys spoke at the same time. “No!” Rhys’s voice was urgent as he rushed forward and grabbed my hand. “Baby, hotels are so dirty these days, and it’s not safe out there. You have so many allergies! What would I do if something happened to you?” He rattled on, leaving my parents completely bewildered. I shot him a furious glare, and he finally calmed down. He cleared his throat with a practiced composure and gestured for my mother to speak. She opened her mouth, only to find that Rhys had already said everything she wanted to say. After a long pause, she managed, “Yes! It’s much more comfortable at home.” I couldn’t resist a sarcastic jab. “Oh, really? I can’t exactly sleep in the storage room, can I?” Rhys’s eyes widened. He looked utterly devastated, as if he might shatter into a million pieces. “Baby, that’s not what I meant, I…” He quickly changed his tune. “I’m the one who wants to sleep in the storage room! It’s small and cozy, and it makes me feel safe. I love it.” My parents were speechless. Was he delirious? As the awkward silence stretched on, Mrs. Gable, ever the pragmatist, grabbed Rhys’s luggage and started up the stairs. “I’ll go get the storage room ready for the young master right now!” I sighed and called after her. “Mrs. Gable, just prepare the third bedroom upstairs.” It was the sunniest, most spacious room in the house. The one Rhys would have always preferred. 5. Sure enough, the moment Rhys heard it was my suggestion, his face lit up. He snatched his bags from Mrs. Gable and practically skipped up the stairs. My parents both let out a sigh of relief. They sat me down on the sofa. My mother explained that she and my biological mother had given birth on the same day and had been placed in the same recovery room. A nurse had mixed up the babies. She also mentioned that my biological parents were not well-off. “Sloane,” she said, “Rhys has had a difficult life. He’s seen very little of the world. Please, be patient with him.” I was stunned. Wait, who was poor? His net worth overseas was in the billions! Then it hit me. Rhys, with his perpetual poker face, was a master manipulator in the world of high finance. He knew how to play people, how to say the right things to get what he wanted. I used to call him the “ice prince snake” behind his back. He was playing the part of the poor, long-lost son to win my parents’ sympathy and get rid of the fake daughter as quickly as possible. He just never imagined that I was that fake daughter. 6. That night, I lay in bed, Rhys’s face haunting my thoughts. Suddenly, my door creaked open. Rhys tiptoed in, holding a washboard, and knelt on it in front of me with a thud. My eye twitched. I got up to pull him to his feet. “What are you doing?” The once cool and composed man was now sobbing like a child. “Baby, I was wrong. I’m so sorry. Please, don’t leave me again. I don’t want the inheritance. I’d do anything for you!” I sighed in exasperation. A year had passed, and he was still the same dramatic mess. I covered his mouth to muffle the sound. “Are you really my parents’ son?” He took the opportunity to clasp my hand. “Yes.” But when I asked about my biological parents, his eyes darted away. All he would say was, “Baby, your parents are street vendors, but they’re not as simple as they seem.” He refused to elaborate further. Annoyed, I pushed him out of the room. A man and a woman alone in a bedroom late at night? It was improper. Rhys left reluctantly, looking back every few steps. He was gone, but I couldn’t sleep a wink. 7. The next day, I drove to the restaurant where I was supposed to meet Bryan. The first thing out of his mouth was that he wanted to cancel the engagement. I agreed without hesitation. It was just a business arrangement; there were no feelings involved. My easy agreement seemed to wound his pride. He looked at me with pity. “Sloane, there’s no need to be heartbroken. Given my status, you’re simply not in my league anymore.” I didn’t have the energy to argue. I stood up to leave. “However,” Bryan added, “my mother said she wouldn’t mind if you were my mistress.” What the—! I stumbled, banging my knee on the table. “Your mother… your mother… she’s quite… open-minded, isn’t she?” Bryan ran a hand through his hair, a greasy, self-satisfied smirk on his face. Before he could continue, a glass of water was thrown in his face. Rhys stood beside me, his face a mask of cold fury. “Get lost,” he snarled. Then, he turned to me, his expression softening as he gently rubbed my knee, murmuring “baby, baby” under his breath. Bryan completely lost it. “Sloane, you cheating bitch! You’re engaged to me, and you have a lover on the side! Just you wait, I’ll tell your parents! I heard the real son wants you out of the house anyway!” Rhys’s eyes widened. He grabbed the pitcher of water from the table and dumped the entire contents on Bryan’s head. “You’re talking nonsense!” he roared. He then looked at me, his eyes wide with panic. “I’m not! I don’t! He’s lying!” Bryan’s face was green with rage. He pointed a trembling finger at us. “Lover… just you wait!” 8. “Baby, your fiancé is an idiot. You should choose me instead.” On the drive home, Rhys wouldn’t stop comparing himself to Bryan. I leaned back in my seat, my eyes closed, occasionally offering a noncommittal “mm-hmm.” My phone had been blowing up with dozens of messages. [Miss Prescott, what’s it like being a fake heiress?] [Wow, the fake heiress has a lover on the side? Classy.] It was obvious Bryan was spreading malicious rumors. The Prescott and Croft families moved in the same circles. A little bit of gossip could spread like wildfire. Exasperated, I turned off my phone and asked Rhys, “Your official welcoming ceremony is this Friday, right?” Rhys nodded, winking at me. “I’m planning a surprise for you at the party, baby.” A surprise? Knowing him, it was more likely to be a disaster. My parents were taking Rhys’s welcoming ceremony very seriously. They had invited all the big names from the city’s elite, determined to pave the way for his success. At the party, I was dressed in a beautiful evening gown, trying to be inconspicuous as I ate my cake. Now that my status as the “fake” daughter was known, people were politely avoiding me. Rhys, however, stuck by my side, dutifully fetching me food. Bryan walked over, a sneer on his face when he saw us together. “Sloane, it’s the Prescott heir’s welcoming party. Aren’t you ashamed to bring your lover here?” His voice was loud, drawing the attention of the surrounding guests. Rhys calmly wiped a bit of cake from the corner of my mouth. “He’s not my lover. He’s my perfectly legitimate husband.” A collective gasp went through the crowd. Bryan’s face turned a deep shade of red. “You’re engaged to me, and you’re cheating on me in public! Just you wait! When the real Prescott heir comes out, I’ll have him throw both of you out!” Rhys just gave him a polite nod, then muttered “idiot” under his breath. Suddenly, there was a stir in the crowd. My parents were making their way towards us. “Rhys, Sloane, come over here!” We walked over to them. The onlookers were starting to look confused. My father beamed, gesturing to Rhys. “This is my son, Rhys Prescott! And this is my daughter, Sloane Prescott!” The crowd was stunned. Bryan looked like he was about to have a stroke. He pointed at us, his face a mask of disbelief. After his announcement, my father handed the microphone to Rhys. Rhys introduced himself with his usual cool demeanor, then his expression softened. “In front of everyone here, I’d like to announce a decision I’ve made. I am giving up my position as the heir to the Prescott family.” The hall fell silent. The only son was renouncing his claim? Who would inherit the family fortune now? All eyes turned to me. My parents were stunned. I was stunned. I tugged on his sleeve and whispered, “Are you crazy? The Prescott name is crucial for your business expansion here.” Rhys just shrugged. “I was only planning to expand my business here to find you anyway.” I was speechless. My parents, ever the optimists, were already tearing up, gushing about how strong the bond between us siblings was. The crowd, however, just thought we were flirting. My father’s expression was complicated, but he quickly accepted the situation. He clapped Rhys on the shoulder and turned to me. “From now on, the future of the Prescott family is in your hands, Sloane!” I cursed Rhys a thousand times in my head. I had finally managed to unload all that responsibility onto him so I could be free, and now it was all back on my plate. And in the crowd, my ex-fiancé, Bryan, had lost all his arrogance. He was looking at me with a new, calculating glint in his eyes.

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My new aroma diffuser was acting up. The mist it puffed out had a faint, milky scent. I complained about it offhandedly, and my husband, Taylor, replied without thinking, “Did you forget to use distilled water? That brand is finicky; it only works with distilled water.” I froze. I’d bought the diffuser in secret, without telling him. How could he know its quirks so precisely? That weekend, I told him I had to work late. Using the GPS tracker in his car, I found my way to a high-end, luxury postnatal care center. I pushed open the door to one of the VIP suites. There, lying in bed, was my own sister, Sara. And on her nightstand was an identical aroma diffuser, puffing out the same milky-scented mist. And my husband, Taylor, was holding a newborn baby, expertly burping it, his eyes filled with a tenderness I’d never seen. 1. “Taylor,” I said, my voice conversational as I leaned against the doorframe of the VIP suite. “You look like a natural holding a baby.” Taylor’s body went rigid. The tiny, wrinkled infant in his arms seemed to sense his tension and let out a soft whimper. In the bed, Sara’s face drained of all color. “Soph… Sophia. What are you doing here?” I ignored her, my gaze locked on Taylor. He turned slowly, forcing a smile that was more painful than a grimace. “Honey… you have to let me explain.” “Explain what?” I walked into the room, the sharp click of my heels echoing on the polished floor. “Explain why you’re here, holding a newborn? Or explain why the mother of this child is my dear sister?” I walked to the bedside and looked at the diffuser on the nightstand, a perfect match to the one in our home. White mist curled into the air, carrying that cloyingly sweet, familiar scent. “Or maybe,” I continued, my voice dangerously soft, “you can explain to me how you know so much about this particular brand of diffuser.” Taylor’s lips trembled, but no words came out. Sara struggled to sit up, tears already streaming down her face like broken pearls. “Sophia, it’s not his fault! It’s all my fault!” she sobbed. “I… I love him! I couldn’t help myself!” She cried so beautifully, a portrait of tragic love. What a classic line. Her words seemed to give Taylor courage. He finally found his voice. “Sophia, it’s come to this. I don’t want to hide it from you anymore. I love Sara. We’re in love. This baby is the proof of our love.” I looked at him, and then I laughed. “In love?” I said. “Taylor, you drive the car I bought you, you live in the house I paid for in full, and you draw a handsome salary from my company. And now, you’re standing here, holding the child you had with my sister, telling me you’re in love? Your capacity for love is truly boundless.” My calmness seemed to enrage him. “What would you know about it?” he snarled. “You’re always so high and mighty! Have you ever once cared about me? All you care about is your work, your company! Sara is different. She’s gentle, she’s considerate. She gives a man the respect and admiration he needs! She’s the one who can give me a real home!” I nodded, the smile on my face widening. “Well said. So that’s your excuse for betraying me and knocking up my sister? Taylor, you’re not just a scumbag. You’re a stupid one.” 2. At that, Sara’s sobs grew louder. “Sophia! Don’t talk to him like that! We’re truly in love! Please, I’m begging you, just let us be together!” Let them be together? The sheer shamelessness of it was almost comical. “Sara, how exactly do you propose I do that? Should I hand over my husband, my house, and my money, and then wish you two a long and happy life together? Did you mistake me for a saint?” Taylor carefully placed the baby in the bassinet and stood before me. The panic in his eyes was gone, replaced by the brazen confidence of a man with nothing left to lose. “Sophia, let’s talk,” he said. “Now that you know, there’s no point in making a scene. It’ll just make things uglier for everyone.” “A scene?” I raised an eyebrow. “Am I making a scene? I just came to visit my sister after she’s given birth, and to meet the man she’s so ‘deeply in love’ with.” Taylor’s face darkened. “Sara just had a baby. She’s weak. Don’t upset her. Just name your price. Whatever compensation you want, I’ll give it to you if I can.” I glanced around the opulent VIP suite, which cost tens of thousands a month. I noted the Patek Philippe on Sara’s wrist; I’d seen the six-figure receipt for it. “Compensation? What could you possibly offer me? Taylor, the clothes on your back, the watch on your wrist—which of those did I not give you? Are you planning to compensate me with my own money?” He was speechless. From the bed, Sara piped up. “Sophia, is money really that important? You already have so much. Why can’t you share a little bit of your happiness with me? I was always sick as a child, so Mom and Dad always doted on me more. You’re used to it, aren’t you? This time… just let me have this one. Can’t you?” She said it so naturally, so matter-of-factly. As if it was my birthright to yield to her, to hand over everything I had. Then Taylor spoke, and his words were like a bucket of ice water poured over my head. “Sophia, Sara’s right. Just take pity on us. The child is innocent. If you agree to a divorce and voluntarily waive your claim to our marital assets, I’ll be willing to let this go. We can still be family.” Let this go? Did I hear him correctly? He was the one who cheated, and now he was offering to forgive me? “Taylor, did a horse kick you in the head?” He seemed taken aback by my response. “Sophia, don’t push it! Do you think I’m still the same broke loser I was three years ago? I’ve worked at your company for three years! I’ve earned my keep! Half of those assets are legally mine anyway! I’m only asking you to give up your half. That’s the most generous offer you’re going to get!” I looked at this shameless pair and suddenly felt that getting angry at them was a waste of my life. I took out my phone and calmly made a call. “Dad, Mom. I need you to come to Metropolis General right away. Your wonderful daughter just gave me a nephew.” 3. My parents arrived quickly. When they burst through the door and saw a weakened Sara in the bed and Taylor standing beside her, my mother’s tears started instantly. She rushed over and grabbed Sara’s hand. “Sara! My poor, foolish girl! How could you be so reckless!” My father glared at Taylor, his lips trembling with rage. “Taylor! You animal! How did our family ever wrong you?” Taylor hung his head, adopting the posture of a man ready to accept any punishment. Sara began to sob. “Dad, Mom, I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault. I love him. I truly can’t live without him. Blame me, don’t blame him.” She coughed weakly between sobs, looking as if she might faint at any moment. My mother’s heart immediately went out to her. She turned and glared at me. “Sophia! What are you just standing there for? Look at the state your sister is in! Are you trying to kill her with stress?” I watched this farce with cold eyes. “Mom, let’s be clear. I’m the one who was cheated on, not her. What does she have to be upset about? She’s the winner here.” “You!” my mother sputtered, pointing at me. “How can you talk to your sister like that? She’s your own flesh and blood! Can’t you just give in to her for once? The baby is already here, what more do you want?” My father sighed, his tone softening. “Sophia, your mother is right. What’s done is done. We need to find a solution. Taylor made a mistake, but for the baby’s sake…” I cut him off. “Dad, are you asking me to be the fool who pays for all of this? To accept my husband’s and my sister’s betrayal, and then raise their child? All because Sara has been weak and whiny since she was a child, so the entire world has to bow to her every whim?” A flicker of embarrassment crossed my father’s face. “That’s not what I meant…” “Then what did you mean?” Just then, Taylor spoke up. “Dad, Mom, don’t blame Sophia. This is mostly my fault.” With a thud, he dropped to his knees before my parents. “I’m not human! I betrayed your trust, and I betrayed Sophia! But my feelings for Sara are real! I beg you, please, let us be together!” That one move completely turned the tide. My mother rushed to help him up. “Oh, you silly boy, get up! The floor is cold!” She wiped her tears and looked at me, her eyes pleading. “Sophia, look, Taylor is already so remorseful. Men… they all have their moments of weakness. Can’t you just forgive him this one time? For the sake of a happy, peaceful family?” A happy family? I looked at the three of them—Taylor, Sara, and my mother—and the irony was suffocating. In their eyes, I was the outsider. Taylor and Sara exchanged a quick, triumphant glance. They knew they had won. As long as my biased parents were on their side, I could never win against them. Looking at them, the last shred of hope I had for this family withered and died. 4. Seeing that my parents were now firmly in his camp, Taylor grew bolder. He cleared his throat and revealed their true objective. “Dad, Mom, Sara and I have talked about this. We’re not asking for much. We just hope that Sophia, for the baby’s sake, can help us out.” My mother immediately took the bait. “How? Just tell us! We’ll do whatever we can!” “Sophia holds thirty percent of the company’s shares in her name, right?” Taylor’s eyes glinted with greed. “We were hoping… she could transfer those shares to the baby’s name. As a… gift for her nephew.” “What?” Even my father was shocked. “Thirty percent? Taylor, are you insane? That’s nearly half the company’s assets!” “Dad, how is that insane?” Sara said, her voice frail. “I’m thinking of Sophia’s well-being. It must be so exhausting for a woman to run such a big company all by herself. If Taylor manages the shares for her, she’ll have so much more free time to enjoy her life.” “Exactly, Dad,” Taylor chimed in. “And this is for the good of the family. I’ll run the company well. I guarantee I’ll take it to the next level!” They were a well-rehearsed duo, acting as if my shares were already theirs. My mother was actually hesitating, as if seriously considering their proposal. “Sophia, what do you think…” I looked at the faces of the people who were supposed to be my family—their greed, their bias, their foolishness all on clear display. And I laughed. Not a cold smirk or a scornful chuckle, but a genuine, heartfelt, liberating laugh. They were all stunned into silence. “What are you laughing at?” Taylor frowned. I stopped laughing and glanced at the time on my phone. Then I looked up at them and began to count down slowly. “Three.” “Two.” “One.” As the word left my lips, the suite door was thrown open. Several uniformed police officers and my lawyer, Miles Vance, strode into the room.

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The day I returned to my birth parents, the fake heiress held a knife to her throat. “I’m a person, not your puppet! Stop controlling me! Do you need me dead to be happy?” she screamed. “Force me into marriage again, and I’ll make you front-page news!” She spun dramatically, pausing near me. “Now that your real daughter’s back, go suck the life out of her!” Furious, my father slammed a leather document on the table: The Beaumont Legacy Agreement. “To be our daughter,” he growled, “sign this lifetime contract.” My hands shook as I read it: I. Tai Chi with Grandpa at 6 AM. Reward: $10,000/session. II. Never speak to unsavory people near parents. Reward: $1M/day. III. Compliment your brother 10 times daily. Reward: $10,000/each. Isabelle laughed from the doorway. “You actually want this puppet life—” I snatched a pen and signed boldly. “Ten compliments? How about a hundred? I’ll even throw some in for Mom, Dad, and Grandpa!” 1 “Are you insane? That’s an indenture contract! Once you sign it, you’ll never be able to leave the Beaumont family!” Isabelle whirled back around, shocked by my sycophantic tone. “I’ve already lived twenty years in this suffocating prison,” she declared. “And you people won’t even spare your own flesh and blood, who just got here? Are you monsters?!” With that, she snatched the papers from my hand and ripped them to shreds with a vicious shrrriiip. My heart sank. Judging by her tortured expression, you’d think her life for the past eighteen years had been worse than mine—and I’d spent them scrounging through trash cans. My father slammed his fist on the table with a deafening crack. My mother looked at Isabelle, her face etched with pain. “You wear Chanel, you’re driven in a Rolls-Royce, you dine on foie gras and lobster, and your monthly allowance is five million dollars. I want you to look me in the eye and tell me that your life is ‘suffocating’.” Isabelle rolled her eyes, retorting without a shred of gratitude, “Did I ask for any of that? You forced it all on me. Do you really think I’ve been happy all these years?” Grandfather struck the marble floor with his cane. “Get out! If you insist on leaving with this gutter rat, then from this day on, the Beaumont family no longer has a daughter named Isabelle!” The “gutter rat” in question, a boy named Leo, clenched his fists, his eyes burning with humiliation. “What’s that supposed to mean? You think you’re better than me?” My brother let out a cold snort. That only enraged Leo further, but before he could launch into some cliché speech about the poor rising up against the rich, the security guards arrived and began escorting him out. Isabelle threw herself in front of him. “What are you doing? Leo can go wherever he wants! This is a violation of his personal freedom!” “Isabelle, let’s go,” Leo said, grabbing her arm. “One day, they’ll regret what they did today!” As he pulled her away, she made one last appeal to me. “Aren’t you coming? Are you really going to sell your freedom for a little bit of dirty money? To become a pawn in their marriage games?” All eyes in the room turned to me. Terrified my new sugar daddies might misunderstand, I immediately declared my allegiance. “Isabelle, you have no idea what you’re talking about. This family raised you with everything you could ever want, and you throw it back in their faces. If anyone’s suffocating here, it’s Mom, Dad, my brother, and Grandpa!” Isabelle trembled with rage, pointing a finger at my nose. “I try to help you, and this is the thanks I get.” “Aurora Beaumont! You’ll regret not listening to me!” 2 I watched her leave with a blank expression, but inside, I was mourning the one million dollars she’d just torn to pieces. My mother dabbed the corner of her eye and slipped a lustrous jade bracelet from her own wrist. “My dear child,” she said softly. “We were just so frightened by Isabelle’s behavior. We never truly intended to force you to sign anything.” She placed the heavy, cool bracelet on my wrist. “This is a welcome home gift from your mother. Please, keep it.” My father waved his hand dismissively and handed me a black card. “Take it. Spend what you want. Just don’t end up like that ungrateful brat.” My brother produced a stack of property deeds and several sets of luxury car keys. Not to be outdone, Grandfather had the butler bring out a prepared portfolio of stock transfer agreements. I stared at the mountain of wealth in my hands, and my eyes began to well up. They were completely caught off guard by my reaction, and panic flickered across their faces. Mother immediately turned on Father. “This is all your fault! Did you have to shove a contract in her face? Look, you’ve scared our daughter to tears!” Father shot her a wounded look but wisely kept his mouth shut. My brother asked nervously, “Do you… do you feel suffocated too?” I quickly shook my head, wiping my eyes. “No, it’s not Dad’s fault. I just… I never imagined you would all be so kind to me…” The tears started falling again. All those years I was lost, I had grown used to fighting. Fighting for a bite of meat. Fighting for a new set of underwear. Fighting for the chance to learn. I had never dreamed that there were things in this world you didn’t have to fight for, things your family would simply place in your hands. And Isabelle… she had enjoyed the life that should have been mine for twenty years, and now she had the audacity to claim she had suffered in my place. Fine. Let’s just see how long her precious “freedom” lasts. 3 Perhaps because I grew up starved for affection, any small kindness shown to me made me want to repay it tenfold. I decided to use the money I had saved over the years to buy them all gifts. But in my excitement, I accidentally sent a link for an online group buy to the family group chat. Oh, god. They’re going to think I’m so tacky. I was about to retract the message, but in the next second, my bank account balance exploded with new zeroes. Grandfather: [My dear granddaughter wants to start a business? Here’s a hundred million to practice with.] The others immediately followed suit, wiring me staggering amounts of money. My jaw dropped. They were definitely my real family. Still, I transferred the money back, trying to explain my embarrassing mistake. That only made them send even more. Mother: [Such a good girl. Definitely our blood. That other one… we raised her for twenty years and never saw a dime back.] She then sent a video. I opened it to see my father, bundled up in his blankets, sobbing his eyes out. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. These were my people. I settled in quickly. I no longer had to worry about where my next meal was coming from or fight with anyone over scraps. I was like a sponge, soaking up all the knowledge my family and the tutors they hired could provide. My only job was to learn. They paved the way for everything else. Mother personally coached me in etiquette and social graces. Father cultivated my taste in the finer things. In just one month, I transformed from an ugly duckling into a swan. Isabelle, who had somehow gotten my number, kept trying to convince me to leave. When she learned that the family was pouring all their resources into my education, she just scoffed. [So naive. You think they’re doing this for your own good? They’re just fattening you up for slaughter, getting a better price for you on the marriage market!] I ignored her, but the family found out about the messages. Terrified I would misunderstand, Mother called an emergency family meeting. Father tripped over himself to explain. Grandfather was ready to call off the engagement on the spot. My brother insisted that my opinion was the only one that mattered. But I knew this marriage was about more than just me; it was a long-term strategic alliance between two powerful families. More importantly, I trusted my family. They weren’t the monsters Isabelle made them out to be. “I’m willing,” I said, my voice clear and steady. “I trust Mom and Dad’s judgment.” My compliance only seemed to deepen their guilt. And as a result, my dowry grew even larger. 4 Before the wedding, my brother took me to a high-end jeweler to add to my dowry. An endless sea of glittering gems was laid out before me, all for the choosing. Even after a month of immersion in this new world, my eyes instinctively darted to the price tags. So. Many. Zeros. The old me couldn’t have afforded a single one of these even if I collected plastic bottles for three hundred years. Just then, Isabelle’s shrill voice cut through the quiet elegance of the boutique. “What do you mean I can’t just take it? I always used to!” The sales associate maintained her professional smile with visible effort. “Miss Beaumont, previously your purchases were billed directly to the Beaumont estate. However, Mr. Beaumont personally called last week to cancel the account.” “Your total comes to one hundred and fifty-six thousand dollars. Will that be cash or card?” Isabelle froze. To make matters worse, she was surrounded by the very same socialites she used to compete with. “Well, well, look how the mighty have fallen.” “I heard she gave up her position as the Beaumont heiress voluntarily. I bet she’s regretting it now.” Isabelle’s face flushed a deep, humiliated crimson. To save face, she turned to Leo, her voice a desperate whine. “Honey, I haven’t been able to dress up at all since I left with you. Won’t you buy this for me?” Leo glanced at the price tag, and his face paled. He forced a smile and patted her head. “Sweetheart, you don’t need to dress up. You’re the most beautiful woman in the world to me. These are just useless rocks. They’re not worth the price. Only an idiot would buy them!” Isabelle’s face fell, a look of confusion in her eyes. “$156,000 is a lot? I never used to look at prices when I shopped.” The more she thought about it, the more she wanted it. As if to prove to her old friends that she was still doing just fine, she planted herself in front of the counter and refused to move. Then, she spotted us. Her eyes lit up. “Brother! What are you doing here?” She latched onto his arm, reverting to her old habits. “Brother, they’re all laughing at me! I want this! Pay for it!” My brother coolly detached her hand from his arm. “Isabelle, you are no longer my sister. Aurora is my only sister.” She stared at him, stunned. She couldn’t seem to comprehend that the brother who had doted on her for twenty years could say something so cold. Leo pulled Isabelle to his side. “Ignore him. Who does he think he is with all his money? We don’t need him.” Isabelle pouted. “But I want it~” Unable to reason with her, Leo pulled out his phone, took a picture of the necklace, and ordered a cheap knock-off from an app. “There. Happy now?” “That’s not the same! Forget it, my brother adores me. He’ll buy it!” She turned back to my brother. “Brother, I’m being the bigger person and talking to you, and you’re still mad? If you keep this up, I’ll really disown you! Now, hurry up and pay for this, or I’ll never speak to you again!” My brother just laughed. “We’ve already severed ties. What you want has nothing to do with me.” Isabelle glared at him, her face a mask of disbelief. “You’re really going to be this cruel? Are you using this to try and force me to come home? Well, I won’t give in!” “Think whatever you want.” My brother walked past her and turned to me, his voice warm again. “Aurora, if you can’t decide, we’ll just have the staff pack up all of them.” I maintained a graceful smile, but inside I was screaming. AAAAAAAH! THIS IS INSANE! 5 My fiancé, the crown prince of the city’s elite circle, Damian Sterling, was a workaholic. His startup had just gone public, and he was so busy he didn’t even have time to meet his own wife-to-be. I didn’t mind one bit. Not only was he drop-dead gorgeous, but he was more than willing to flex his financial muscle. My walk-in closet was overflowing with priceless jewelry, designer clothes, and handbags. I secretly hoped he would work overtime every day. Somehow, news of our unconventional romance leaked and went viral. The internet was buzzing with envy over our “fairytale” love story. Naturally, Isabelle found out. She called me immediately, her voice dripping with pity. “Aurora, this is all my fault. My selfish decision to run away has condemned you to this fate. Don’t worry, I will save you!” Her nonsensical declaration left me so baffled that I immediately went online and ordered several spiritual cleansing kits. But she was relentless, haunting me right up until my wedding day. On the day of my wedding, Isabelle was also getting married. I have no idea where she got the money, but she rented a small hall right next to our grand ballroom. Across the corridor, I saw her in a wedding dress that was yellowing with age. I stood in my custom-made haute couture gown. She showed no signs of shame, only looking at me with pity, as if she was certain my life was a living hell. Just as Damian and I were about to exchange rings, she burst into the room, a strange man in tow. “Stop this wedding!” The dreamy music screeched to a halt. All heads turned to her. Isabelle pointed an accusatory finger at my parents. “This wedding is nothing but a business transaction! They are sacrificing their own daughter’s happiness for profit!” “They only brought Aurora back because I refused to be their pawn! All they care about is money, not family!” She turned to me, her voice ringing with passion. “Aurora, we women deserve to be free! To marry the person we love!” As she spoke, she managed to squeeze out a few tears for dramatic effect. Our guests were too high-class to gossip openly, but the damage was done. We were a laughingstock. Grandfather clutched his chest, sinking into his chair. My parents’ faces were ashen. Before they could speak, Isabelle pushed a red-haired punk in front of me. “You and your boyfriend deserve to be happy together. Don’t worry about me. Go, run away and find your true love!” Wait, since when was this guy my boyfriend? I looked at her self-sacrificing expression, as if this pock-faced redhead, who was shorter than me even with lifts in his shoes, was some kind of prize. “Let’s go, Aurora,” the redhead said, reaching for me with a hand covered in some unidentifiable grime. “I’ll take care of you from now on.” “Who are you? Do I know you?” I said, desperate to distance myself from him before my billionaire husband got the wrong idea. But Isabelle seemed deaf, lost in her own heroic fantasy. “Aurora, you don’t have to pretend to be strong anymore. This is all my fault. I am willing to take your place in this gilded cage!” She ripped the million-dollar pearls from my veil, sending them scattering across the floor like marbles. She snatched the microphone from the officiant. “Everyone here is a witness!” she declared. “Damian Sterling, all you want is the Beaumont family’s shipping port shares, right? It doesn’t matter who you marry!” She took a deep breath, as if steeling herself for a great sacrifice. “Fine, Damian Sterling, you win!” she shouted. “I agree to marry you!”

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1 At eighteen, my father’s gambling debts got me sold on a black market in a city of sin. I was bought by a trust-fund brat with a gambling addiction. When his chips ran out, he’d use one of us girls as collateral. But when someone pointed at me, he pulled me back. “Not this one. I’m keeping her.” His greasy hands gripped my chin as he dragged me toward a suite, tearing my dress. Just as I felt hell closing in, a cold voice cut through: “I’ll take her.” The kid turned to argue but froze at the gun against his forehead. “Two choices: leave her and your debt is cleared, or die.” Sweating, he released me and fled like a rat. My savior was Lian Lynn—owner of Elysium Club and the shadow empire behind it, the uncrowned king of this city. For ten years, I became his sharpest blade. By day, he trained me in combat and finance; by night, he was an insatiable presence in my bed, sometimes showing a flicker of tenderness. Until this morning. He watched me as the sun rose, his voice cold: “Next Monday, go to Elysium’s presidential suite. Drug George Williamson. Take care of him.” He continued, “I’m bringing Celeste. Once she sees what George is capable of, she’ll finally agree to our engagement.” My heart plummeted. Lian dressed with slow, deliberate movements, his immaculate suit erasing every trace of the previous night’s madness. It was a barrier, sealing away the fragile warmth we’d shared. He straightened his tie, his voice as cool and cruel as a winter morning. “Celeste can’t stand filth. She has a zero-tolerance policy for anything dirty.” “Only by seeing the man she loves debase himself will she give up on him completely and come back to me.” Celeste Bancroft. The sole heiress to the Bancroft fortune and the woman Lian had worshipped from afar for over a decade. The one he could never have. But Celeste only had eyes for Lian’s mortal enemy, George Williamson. Lian had made George’s life a living hell in the business world because of it. Once, when Celeste found out, she stormed into a Lynn family gala and slapped Lian across the face in front of everyone. He hadn’t gotten angry. He’d simply gone to the casino to drown his sorrows. That was the night he’d stumbled upon me, moments from being assaulted, and played the part of the hero. Over the years, he showered me with gifts. Any new designer dress or piece of jewelry Celeste was seen with, he would buy two—one for her, one for me. At a charity gala last year, some spoiled heir had dared to touch my chin. Lian broke the man’s arm on the spot and had him thrown out. His grandfather, the old patriarch, was furious and invoked the family’s harsh disciplinary code. Lian was whipped until his eyes were rimmed red, but he shielded me with his own body the entire time. “The next person who touches my woman,” he’d growled, “I’ll burn their entire family to the ground.” From that day on, everyone knew. Aria Stellan was the apple of Lian Lynn’s eye. Sometimes, his men would jokingly call me “Ma’am.” He’d hear them but never correct them, offering only a silent, sidelong glance. After a while, even I started to believe the illusion. That maybe I was different to him. That maybe, if things continued this way, one day… But in this single moment, the fantasy shattered. I was nothing more than a tainted tool, used to provoke the woman he truly loved. A sharp, cold pain seized my heart, jolting me back to reality. I took the small packet of powder he offered me, my face a mask of indifference. “Understood.” Lian’s hands paused on his cufflinks. He reached out to touch my hair. “If you really don’t want to do this, I can find someone else…” I subtly shifted away from his touch. “I can do it.” His hand hovered in the air for a moment. He studied my face, then gave a nonchalant nod. He picked up a comb and began to expertly smooth my long hair, his fingers occasionally brushing the nape of my neck with a familiar, electrifying touch. “Remember,” his voice was a low murmur, mingling with the soft rasp of the comb through my hair, “it’s all an act. Don’t let any other man actually take advantage of you.” When he was finished, he turned me by the shoulders to face him, his eyes meeting mine. His tone was like a king bestowing a gift. “When this is done, you can ask for anything you want.” I looked at his handsome face and managed a faint smile. “Alright. Thank you, Mentor.” I had called him Mentor since the day he took me in. After we became intimate, the title had slowly faded from my vocabulary. Saying it now felt like stepping back into a distant past. As I was about to leave, he called my name. “Aria.” I turned. His expression was unreadable. “Are you in love with someone? Is it Jax?” Jax was his most trusted personal aide. My heart sank. He didn’t wait for my answer. “That kid has been stealing glances at you lately. If you feel the same way, just tell me. Your mentor will prepare a generous dowry for you. I won’t let you be wronged.” Ten years of devotion, and this was the chasm that still lay between us. Worlds apart. I swallowed the lump in my throat and looked down, forcing a smile. “Okay.” Perhaps it was guilt. The next day, Lian personally fastened a limited-edition diamond necklace, freshly delivered, around my neck. Then, he drove me to the airport to pick up Celeste, who was returning from her trip abroad early. Celeste emerged from the terminal looking utterly distraught and threw herself into Lian’s arms. “George won’t answer my calls! How could he do this to me?” Her eyes swept over me, landing on the necklace. Without a word, she reached out and violently yanked it from my neck. The sharp clasp slashed my skin. A hot sting followed, and beads of blood welled up on the surface. In the past, Lian would have lost his mind if anyone had so much as touched a hair on my head. Now, he merely glanced at my bleeding neck before wrapping an arm around Celeste, pulling her into a protective embrace. His voice was softer than I’d ever heard it. “You still have me, don’t you?” Celeste shoved him away. “You can’t help me! I want George!” Lian didn’t seem fazed by her rejection. He simply smiled. “Chasing a man requires brains, Celeste. Throwing yourself at him just makes you look cheap.” His gaze shifted to me. “George collects antique watches. Your eye for them is impeccable. Go to my vault, pick out a rare piece, and send it to him in Miss Bancroft’s name.” For the first time, Celeste actually looked at me, her eyes raking over my body with unconcealed scorn. “So this is the little mistress you keep?” She scoffed. “That necklace was released yesterday, and it’s on her neck today. You’re so generous, Lian.” Lian raised an eyebrow. “If you like it, it’s yours.” Celeste’s face twisted in disgust. She threw the necklace to the ground and ground the diamonds under her high heel. “It’s filthy. Who wants something she’s worn?” Lian just ruffled her hair. “She’s not a mistress. She’s just an employee. Someone to handle my dirty work.” He looked back at Celeste. “From now on, if you have any problems, feel free to use her however you see fit.” Hearing this, the very same men who used to call me “Ma’am” with a mix of fear and respect now looked at me with pity, and a flicker of contempt they didn’t bother to hide. I realized then that the illusion of his affection, the pedestal he had put me on, had just been shattered into a million irreparable pieces. … I arrived at George Williamson’s penthouse office with an priceless antique watch in hand. His bodyguards tried to stop me, but I put them on the floor in a matter of seconds. Unlike Lian’s domineering and aggressive aura, George was something else entirely. He looked more like a cool, refined scholar, with eyes that were sharp but serene. There was no trace of the bloodthirsty monster from the rumors. When he saw it was me, his features softened, and a hint of a smile touched his lips. “Well, well. Did Lian send you to cause trouble again, little bird?” I recited my lines mechanically. “Mr. Williamson, Miss Bancroft just returned from her trip…” I placed the gift box on his desk. “This is a token of her affection.” He put down his pen, rose from his chair, and walked to a safe in the corner of the room, retrieving a small velvet box. “Is that a return gift for Miss Bancroft?” I asked, reaching to take it. But instead, he opened it to reveal a string of lustrous, warm pearls. “For you.” He walked over and, without asking, fastened the necklace around my neck. His cool fingertips brushed against the cut on my skin. “There. That should cover it.” I froze for a second. After he returned to his desk, I steadied myself and got to the point. “Mr. Williamson, about the gala at Elysium next Monday… you will be attending, won’t you?” He looked up, his gaze deep and penetrating. “I will.” He paused, then added, “But I’d rather see you.” My heart leaped into my throat. I hastily lowered my head, muttered, “I’ll see myself out,” and fled his office. When I returned to Lian’s office, he stood up the moment I walked in. “What took you so long? He didn’t give you a hard time, did he?” His eyes fell to the pearl necklace around my neck, and his expression instantly turned to ice. “What is that?” I looked down. “Mr. Williamson gave it to me—” Before I could finish, Lian lunged forward and ripped the necklace from my neck. Pearls scattered across the floor, rolling in every direction. The wound on my skin stung anew. “Name his price. I’ll pay him back tenfold!” Lian’s voice was dangerously low. “My people don’t wear gifts from other men.” I stared at him, a profound confusion washing over me. Wasn’t this what he wanted? For me to get close to George, to seduce him? When I got back to the villa, all of my belongings had been removed from my bedroom and piled in a corner of the living room. Lian’s tone was flat. “Celeste is staying for a few days. I don’t want her to get the wrong idea seeing your things, so I had them packed for you.” He handed me a key card. “You can stay in the penthouse suite at the Elysium Hotel. It’s quiet there.” I took the card and silently began stuffing my scattered possessions into a suitcase. He stood behind me, watching for a while, before crouching down and wrapping his arms around me from behind. His warm breath ghosted over my ear, carrying a familiar, suggestive heat. My body went rigid. Without turning, I said softly, “Mentor, Miss Bancroft should be back soon.” He froze. After a long moment, he let me go and stood up. His voice returned to its usual calm, though it was laced with a barely perceptible thread of irritation. “George Williamson is a devious bastard. Remember, it’s just an act. Don’t let him actually touch you.” … The gala on Monday was a glittering affair, the air thick with champagne and whispers. I found George easily. When he saw me, the corner of his mouth curved into a smile that held more genuine warmth than the ones he gave to others. His eyes dropped to my bare neck. “Where’s the necklace?” I looked away. “I forgot to wear it…” He reached out, his fingers gently tracing the still-healing cut on my skin. The touch was cool, and I flinched involuntarily. The moment was perfect. I held out the doctored glass of wine. He took it, his eyes seeming to see right through me. “You really want me to drink this?” A tremor went through me. I suppressed my panic and nodded. He didn’t hesitate again. He tilted his head back and drained the glass. The drug worked fast. His eyes grew hazy, his skin flushed, and his breathing became heavy. He draped an arm around my shoulders, his voice a low rasp. “I’m feeling a little dizzy. Help me upstairs.” I did as I was told, guiding him through the sea of curious, suggestive gazes toward the presidential suite on the top floor. By the time I laid him on the bed, he was losing control, his breath coming in hot pants. I looked at his face, flushed with drug-induced desire, and suddenly felt lost. In that moment of hesitation, his eyes flew open. They were no longer hazy but churning with a terrifying intensity. He yanked me down onto the bed, trapping me in his scorching embrace. In that instant, I saw the ruthless predator the rumors had always described. I struggled instinctively, but he held me fast. “Aria…” His kiss crashed down on me, demanding and possessive, fiercer and more consuming than anything I had ever known with Lian. He felt like he was trying to devour me whole. But strangely, while his grip was iron-strong, his movements held a certain restraint, as if he were terrified of hurting me. This tenderness hidden within the storm of his passion was more unnerving than pure brutality. I thought of Lian’s command. Of Celeste’s disgusted glare. Of the fact that I was nothing more than a disposable tool. So be it. This would be my final payment for the ten years of shelter Lian had given me. After this, we would be even. My body, which had been coiled tight with tension, finally went limp. I closed my eyes, letting myself be swept away, sinking into the unfamiliar tide. Consciousness ebbed and flowed. I don’t know how much time passed before the storm subsided. The man beside me, seemingly still not fully lucid, gently kissed the corner of my eye with a rare, dependent vulnerability. And then— BANG! The suite door was kicked open from the outside.

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My CEO husband loved bringing his friends home for dinner. He said it made our house feel more like a home. As they surveyed the feast I’d prepared, one of his buddies grinned. “You’ve got a good one, boss. A real first lady. Classy.” I kept my expression neutral, offering a lighthearted jab in return. “Oh? Does that mean there’s a less classy second lady somewhere?” The men froze, a flash of panic in their eyes. But my husband, Joseph Anders, just laughed and slung an arm around my shoulders. “Don’t listen to these idiots. Besides you, who else in this world could possibly be my wife?” I smiled back at his flawless performance. Then, as I turned to leave the room, I dialed a number. “Henry,” I said quietly, “Joseph is cheating. It’s time to burn him to the ground.” 1 My brother was silent for a long three seconds. “Ava, are you sure? Joseph wouldn’t…” I twisted the wedding band off my finger, the diamond digging into my palm. “For ten years, every single one of his cufflinks has been custom-made for him in Italy by my design.” “Today, he’s wearing a cheap plastic flower,” I said, my voice flat. “Does that sound like a mistake to you?” “You know I don’t tolerate betrayal. Release everything you have on him. And get me the best divorce lawyer you can find.” “Done,” Henry said, his voice tight with fury. Thirty minutes later, an encrypted file appeared on my phone. The first photo was of a young woman in a crisp white shirt, smiling radiantly as she clung to a man’s arm. On the wrist peeking out from the cuff was a wolf’s head tattoo—an exact match to Joseph’s. I didn’t hesitate. I drove straight to his office. A few minutes later, a young woman with long, straight black hair and wearing a simple white dress hurried out to meet me. Her name tag read Kayla Summers. The moment she saw me, the color drained from her face. She instinctively hid her hands behind her back. But not before I saw it: the bespoke Swiss watch on her wrist. Last year, for my birthday, a charge had appeared on our shared account from a jeweler in Switzerland. A three-hundred-thousand-dollar watch, and a five-thousand-dollar necklace. The necklace was nestled safely in my jewelry box at home. The watch was on her wrist. A humorless laugh escaped my lips. “Your husband has remarkably similar taste to mine, Miss Summers. Even down to the design of a custom-made watch.” Kayla trembled, her lips parting and closing several times before she stammered, “Oh… I guess… men just have similar tastes.” Her knuckles were white where she gripped the fabric of her dress. “Alright, you can drop the act,” I said, my voice sharp. “You’re the ‘second lady’ they were talking about, aren’t you?” My directness made her flinch. She looked like she was about to fall apart. “You’ve misunderstood! Mr. Anders just… he had a low blood sugar episode, and I helped him. That’s all. His friends were just joking. They said I was very attentive. I’m so sorry for the misunderstanding.” She punctuated her apology with a dramatic, ninety-degree bow. She played the part of the innocent, wronged victim perfectly. If I hadn’t already seen the evidence of her calculated seduction, I might have even believed her. Two weeks ago, she had posted a video online. A man, seen from the back, was swiping a credit card at a Porsche dealership. Her caption read: A man’s love is wherever his money is. At that exact moment, I had been at home, delirious with a fever so high I’d passed out. I’d called Joseph, begging him to take me to the hospital. He’d sounded panicked for a second, but then his voice became strained, as if he were trying to suppress something. “Honey, I’ll have the housekeeper take you. I’m in the middle of something urgent here.” An hour later, I was being treated for pneumonia in the emergency room. Meanwhile, she posted a photo of herself reclining in a new car, a man’s chiseled, six-pack abs in the foreground, dotted with tell-tale red marks. Her caption: This new car and you will forever bear my mark. When Joseph finally arrived at the hospital, his shirt was still unbuttoned. He had rushed to my bedside, his eyes red. At the time, in my naivety, I thought he was worried about me. Now I knew it was just the guilt of a man fresh from his lover’s bed. A wave of nausea washed over me. This was the woman he had betrayed me for. I couldn’t stand to look at her pathetic, doe-eyed expression any longer. I turned and walked away. But as soon as I got to my car, my phone rang. It was Joseph. The moment I answered, his voice was laced with anxiety. “What were you doing at the office?” 2 “Why?” I started the car, my voice calm. “I was just in the area for a meeting. Is there something you were afraid I’d see?” He clearly hadn’t expected that. His breath hitched. After a few seconds of silence, his tone softened into the familiar, cajoling purr he always used to win me over. “Honey, what are you talking about? I have nothing to hide. The office is just a mess, that’s all. If I’d known you were coming, I would have had it cleaned up.” He added, with a convincing laugh, “Besides, you know I would never betray you. You can check anything you want.” I paused. So, Kayla hadn’t told him I’d confronted her. I scrolled through the evidence my brother had sent as he continued his performance. Three gigabytes of files, a detailed chronicle of his affair. Last Valentine’s Day, he had claimed to be on a business trip overseas where he couldn’t call. In reality, he and Kayla were in the Arctic, watching the Northern Lights. When my father was on his deathbed, I had called Joseph thirty times. He hadn’t answered a single one. He was at Kayla’s birthday party. “I believe you,” I said smoothly. “But what about the watch?” He seemed relieved that I’d brought it up. He lowered his voice, creating an illusion of intimacy. “Oh, that. I had a dizzy spell at the office, and Kayla happened to be there. She took me to the hospital.” He paused for effect. “She stayed with me all night. The watch was just a thank-you gift. I must have forgotten to mention it.” Forgotten. Right. He must have also forgotten to mention the three nights they’d spent in the penthouse suite of the hotel attached to the hospital. I suppressed a bitter laugh. “She is attentive, isn’t she? She even washed and ironed the black shirt you were wearing that day and had it sent back the next morning.” There was a distinct pause on his end, a missed beat in his breathing, before he chuckled again. “Yeah, she’s a thoughtful girl. You see? You’re always so suspicious. You know you’re the only one for me.” His voice was a silken whisper. “As soon as this project is over, I’ll take you to the Maldives. Just the two of us. How does that sound?” His tenderness had once been my weakness. Now, it just made my stomach turn. “Sounds wonderful,” I said, my voice as flat and distant as the city lights blurring past my window. “But you should focus on your work for now. Don’t let me distract you.” “Nothing is more important than you,” he insisted, his tone thick with a desperate sincerity that only made my heart grow colder. It wasn’t just the betrayal that hurt. It was the fact that they had been playing me for a fool for so long, right under my nose. My grip on the steering wheel tightened. I fought the urge to drive straight to him and expose everything. Not yet. I wanted to hear him admit it himself. Then, I would ruin them both. After a few more empty promises, I hung up. A moment later, Kayla’s social media pinged with a new post. It was a video of her in an elaborate, diamond-encrusted wedding gown, a triumphant smile lighting up her face. Her caption read: Another mistress tried to cause trouble today, but my man put her in her place. He’s finally going to make me his wife to make up for it! The video continued. I mentioned I wanted a castle wedding, so he bought me a whole castle! The camera panned casually over a deed of ownership. And all these vineyards! He wants me to manage them! Can you believe it? Little old me! But he promised he’d come with me to establish my authority, so people won’t take advantage of me! I saw my own name, written in elegant French script, on the deed in the video. My blood went from cold to boiling in a second. Those vineyards were a coming-of-age gift from my brother. And Joseph was using them to impress his mistress. Fine. They wanted to establish her authority? Let’s see how they managed that with the true owner of the vineyards standing right in front of them. 3 I was on a flight to France that night. At the vineyard, the old groundskeeper was surprised to see me. “Madame! What brings you here? Weren’t you lending the estate to Monsieur for a party today? He had the entire staff cleared out.” A fresh wave of rage washed over me. Before I could answer, my phone rang. It was Joseph. “Honey, I’m in a multinational conference call. I’ll fly back to you as soon as I’m done.” Before I could reply, I heard a sickly-sweet female voice in the background. “Joseph, darling, does this look good on me?” The line went muffled as he moved away. “Gotta go. Meeting’s starting.” At that moment, the ornate gates of the vineyard swung open. A procession of luxury cars pulled up to the fountain. I watched as a crowd of strangers, none of whom I recognized, were seated at elegantly dressed tables. I found an inconspicuous spot in the back. Once everyone was settled, Kayla made her grand entrance in a fiery red designer gown, the very picture of a smug victor. “For those of you who don’t know me,” she announced, her voice ringing with false modesty, “I am Kayla Summers, the new owner of this estate.” “Mr. Anders has made it clear that from now on, the wine, the castle, even every single grape in this vineyard, belongs to me!” “To celebrate, all wine is 70% off for tonight only. A little welcome gift from me to you.” 70% off? How generous of her. The cheapest bottle of wine produced here cost over a hundred thousand dollars. Some were rare vintages that even the British royal family had to negotiate for. The groundskeeper, who had known me since I was a child, was practically vibrating with fury. “When did this estate become hers?! And that man… he’s cheating on you, Madame! Does he have a death wish?” I put a restraining hand on his arm as he started to march forward. Not yet. I had to wait for Joseph to publicly acknowledge her. Then, I would bring them both down. Just then, the gates opened again. Joseph strode in, looking impeccable in a custom suit. Kayla immediately ran to him, linking her arm through his. “Darling, I told you this brand looks the best on you.” I saw Joseph flinch, just for a second, but he quickly smoothed over his expression. My own anger surged. The founder of that particular brand was our family’s mortal enemy. They had orchestrated the hostile takeover that had led to my father’s stress-induced heart attack. Joseph knew this. And yet, here he was, publicly slapping me in the face. I was about to stand up when Joseph’s friends surrounded them. “Joseph, your girl is a real firecracker! So full of life!” “Kayla, a hundred-million-dollar vineyard! You won’t find a better man anywhere in the world!” “So, this estate is officially the Summers Vineyard now! How are you going to thank our boy?” Kayla blushed, basking in the attention. Just then, the estate manager, who was serving wine, looked at them in confusion. “What do you mean, it belongs to her? Didn’t you just borrow it from Madame Anders?” A ripple of whispers went through the crowd. “What’s going on?” “I thought this place belonged to Joseph’s wife. But I thought her last name was Beaumont?” “Wait, her name is Summers? Is she some kind of imposter?” The manager’s face was now a mask of fury. “Monsieur! How could you do this behind Madame’s back?” He pulled out his phone, about to call me. In a flash, Joseph’s bodyguards swarmed him, forcing him to his knees. Joseph’s gaze swept over the crowd, cold and menacing. “Gag him. Let him learn the price of speaking out of turn.” His voice was quiet, but it carried the chilling authority of a man used to being obeyed. The hall fell silent. Joseph didn’t even glance at the struggling manager, his fingers casually tracing Kayla’s cheek. “Kayla is the real Mrs. Anders,” he announced. “Ava Beaumont was nothing more than a servant in my house.” A servant? I almost laughed out loud. Had he really forgotten who had lifted him from the gutter and placed him on his throne? Without me, he’d still be a street rat, begging for scraps. I had fought beside him for ten years. I had taken two bullets for him. I had used my brother’s influence to pave his way. I had clawed my way back from the brink of death, thinking only of how to secure his future. And now, I was just a “servant.” No one dared to challenge him. The guests quickly fell into line. “I see! How generous of you, Mr. Anders, to let a maid use your family name to swindle people.” Someone even turned to Kayla with a word of advice. “Mrs. Anders, you should be careful. A servant like that might try to seduce your husband.” “So deceitful! She should be thrown to the sharks!” Kayla’s triumphant smile was impossible to hide. The manager, his face pale with shock, was still struggling as they dragged him away. “I want to see Miss Beaumont! She is the real Mrs. Anders!” The guests looked on with contempt. “Such a scheming maid, even managed to fool the staff.” “A snake like that… you can’t keep her around, Mr. Anders.” Joseph’s cold eyes scanned the room. His voice was a blade. “I will say this one more time. I have only one wife, and her name is Kayla Summers. If any of you ever disrespect her again, you will have me to answer to.” The silence was absolute. Until I started to clap. The slow, deliberate sound made every head turn in my direction. I pulled off my cap, my eyes locking onto theirs. “Well then,” I said, my voice ringing out in the silent hall. “If she’s Mrs. Anders, then who am I?” The smiles on Joseph and Kayla’s faces froze.

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For seven years, I was married to arms dealer Marcus Thorne. My artist’s hands learned to assemble guns and follow him through hell. In our seventh year, he became obsessed with a woman given to him as a business gift—pure, innocent, unlike anything in his bloody world. He built her a sanctuary away from his darkness. It all shattered when I found my status listed as “divorced” in public records. When I confronted him, Marcus calmly cleaned his gun. “Serena is choosing me. Name your price.” Enraged, I slapped Serena at their wedding. That night, my sick mother was strapped to an armored vehicle. “You shouldn’t have touched her,” Marcus said coldly. “This is your lesson.” I begged on the wet pavement, but the engine roared. My mother’s blood sprayed my face. Pain seized me—then blackness. I awoke back to the day I discovered the divorce. This time, I didn’t confront him. I booked a flight immediately. My only thought: take my mother and disappear where Marcus could never find us. … “Ma’am, the system shows your current marital status as divorced.” The clerk’s robotic voice yanked me back to the present. My eyes were wide with terror, the phantom scent of my mother’s blood still clinging to the inside of my nose. “When?” I asked, my voice a raw whisper. “August 29th.” The date hit me like a sledgehammer. August 29th. Our seventh wedding anniversary. That day, I’d filled our home with flowers and candles, cooked his favorite meal. I waited until the candles melted into puddles of wax and the roses drooped, but Marcus never came home. He’d been busy divorcing me. I clutched my papers and turned to leave, but a familiar black Bentley was parked at the entrance. In my previous life, I had charged at that car, screaming questions at him. To keep Serena from discovering our relationship, Marcus had smashed the butt of his gun into my jaw, fracturing it. The memory sent a jolt of fear through me. I ducked into the shadows of a nearby alcove. A moment later, the car door opened. Marcus Thorne, the imperious king of his own dark world, opened the passenger door like a chauffeur. He took off his trench coat and draped it gently over the woman’s shoulders, his movements impossibly tender. Serena, dressed in a simple white dress, looked serene and pure, like a jade statue of a goddess standing in the morning light. Marcus took her hand. “Are you sure you want to marry me, Mr. Thorne?” she asked, her voice soft and uncertain. “Of course. I’ve been dreaming of this day. I’m the one who made you break your vows. It’s my responsibility to take care of you.” Serena’s delicate fingers drifted to her slightly rounded belly. “But I was just an ordinary woman from a cloister. I’m not worthy of someone like you. I’m not worthy of carrying your child. Maybe I should…” A possessive kiss cut her off. It was a long time before he pulled away. He cupped her face, his eyes overflowing with adoration. “Serena, no one in this world is more worthy of me than you. And only you are worthy to bear my children.” A sharp, stabbing pain shot through my own abdomen. I pressed my hand against it, tears blurring my vision. I waited until they had disappeared into the building before I stumbled away, my mind set. I took a cab to the hospital and scheduled an abortion. Lying on the examination table, the doctor looked at my ultrasound with a sigh. “Miss Hayes, your uterine wall is naturally thin. This might be the only child you’ll ever be able to have.” I stared at the ceiling, my voice as still and dead as a stagnant pond. “I’m divorced. This child shouldn’t exist.” The cold liquid of the anesthesia entered my veins, and my consciousness began to fade. In the haze, I saw Marcus, his ear pressed against my belly, listening for the baby’s kicks, laughing as he promised to teach our child how to customize a firearm. I saw him poring over books, searching for the perfect, auspicious name. I saw him holding me, promising to leave the blood and violence behind, to be a good father, to live a quiet life with me… And then, the final image burned itself into my mind: his face as he told Serena, “Only you are worthy to bear my children.” Two hours later, pale and drained, I walked into my mother’s hospital room. She was still in a coma, on a ventilator, but she was alive. Whole. Last time, I had gotten her killed. This time, I wouldn’t be so foolish. I used a private channel to arrange for her transfer to a secure facility. I went to the immigration office and filed the paperwork. In three days, when everything was finalized, I would be gone from Marcus’s world forever. As I stood in the rain, a sense of relief, lighter than any I’d felt in years, washed over me. I took a step forward, and three men in masks and hats lunged out of the downpour. Before I could react, the iron pipes in their hands whistled through the air. Pain exploded across my back, and I collapsed to my knees, the rain instantly turning red around me. I didn’t have to guess. They were Marcus’s enemies. I reached for my phone to call for help, but a pipe shattered it in my hand. Then the blows rained down, a merciless storm of metal on bone. Just then, the familiar Bentley glided past the end of the alley. It was Marcus’s car. “Marcus!” I screamed, using every last bit of my strength, struggling to get his attention. The car slowed. My heart hammered against my ribs. He saw me! But a second later, the Bentley accelerated, pulling away without a moment’s hesitation. Through the rain-streaked window, I saw Marcus raise a hand to cover Serena’s eyes. Of course. He couldn’t let his pure, innocent snow-white dove see such a bloody scene. The strength to call out again vanished. Agony ripped through me. Black spots danced in my vision, and the world faded into the coppery smell of my own blood. … When I opened my eyes, it was to the sterile white ceiling of a hospital room. The door was ajar. I heard the voice of Marcus’s right-hand man. “Boss, what if she finds out about Miss Serena? If she starts digging, I don’t think we can keep it hidden.” Marcus stubbed out his cigar. His voice was cold. “That’s not your concern. Your only job is to protect Serena.” “She’s too… clean. She’s not like us.” “Amelia knows every dirty trick in the book. Serena is too simple; she wouldn’t stand a chance against her.” “If you have to, use her mother. That old woman is her only weakness. She’ll do anything to protect her.” My fingers clenched the bedsheet. I bit down on my lip, hard, the taste of blood flooding my mouth. Years ago, when he had proposed, he had knelt on one knee and promised, “Amelia, from now on, I’m here. No one will ever hurt you again.” The same protective instinct, the same promise. Just a different woman. The woman he once shielded was now the dangerous, dirty-tricks-playing villain of his story. Footsteps approached. I squeezed my eyes shut, and when I opened them again, they were a mask of indifference. “You’re awake.” Marcus walked to my bedside and tossed a file onto the sheets. “I had my men look into it. It was the Southeast Asian syndicate.” “This is a truce agreement. Sign it, and they’ve agreed to give up their share of the South American arms market.” Our eyes met. I couldn’t speak. I had nearly been beaten to death by his enemies, and he had turned it into a business negotiation. “Marcus,” I finally managed, my voice a raw croak, “when did you decide to make this deal?” Was it the moment he saw me being attacked? Or had he known they were coming for me all along? He frowned, irritated by my question. I knew better than to press. The answer didn’t matter anymore. As if to appease me, he stayed in my room for the next two days, working from a laptop. But his phone never left his hand. Occasionally, he would smile at the screen, a soft, gentle smile that was once reserved only for me. I suddenly remembered the day we first met, seven years ago. He had been hunted by his rivals, bleeding out on the doorstep of my art studio. He was like a dying wolf, his eyes fierce but hiding a deep vulnerability. I should have called the police. But when our eyes met, some strange impulse made me drag him inside. I hadn’t known then that I was dragging myself into hell. Later, after my family went bankrupt, my father sold me to the largest black market in Southeast Asia. The man who bought me was a sadist. He tortured me until I was barely recognizable. It was Marcus who found me, who saved me. That was the second time we met. And it was then I understood that in this world, kindness was the most useless currency. From that day on, I went from a promising young artist to the infamous “Gun Doll” of the underworld. I assembled his guns, dismantled his bombs, my hands stained with blood that would never wash away. I thought we were partners, standing shoulder to shoulder. But he saw me as tainted, swallowed by the darkness, no longer as pure as the innocent woman he now craved. I looked at my hands. They were meant to hold brushes, to capture mountains and rivers. Now all they knew was the cold, hard steel of a gun. I thought of Serena’s clear, innocent eyes, and a bitter irony washed over me. All my love, all my devotion, had become a joke. After I was discharged, Marcus used his business as an excuse and disappeared. The day before I was scheduled to leave the country, I went to a local temple. I wanted to pray for the child I had lost. At the entrance, I saw Serena. She was tending to an injured stray cat, her simple white dress making her seem even more ethereal. She was clumsy with the antiseptic, and the cat struggled, smearing the medicine everywhere. I walked over and took the cotton swab from her hand. “There are still tiny bits of gravel in the wound. The medicine will only make it hurt more if you don’t clean it out first.” This was the first time we had been alone together since I learned of her existence. She didn’t know who I was. She put her palms together in a gesture of thanks. “Thank you.” I managed a tight smile, my heart surprisingly calm. When I told her I was there for a lost child, her eyes immediately filled with tears. She knelt before the altar, her hands pressed together in prayer. “May the Buddha guide the soul of that unborn child to a peaceful rebirth, and may he grant this mother health and peace.” I stood there, a strange sense of pity welling up inside me. I wanted to warn her that Marcus’s tenderness was a poison, that getting close to him meant being dragged into the abyss. But looking at her devout profile, the words died in my throat. If she knew who I was, she would surely break things off with him. And then, all of Marcus’s rage would be directed at me. The image of my mother’s brutal death flashed in my mind, and a cold dread washed over me. I made an excuse and slipped away. From a secluded corner, I checked the live feed from my mother’s new facility. Seeing a nurse pushing her wheelchair through a garden, I breathed a small sigh of relief. My mother was my only weakness. This time, I would not let her get caught in the crossfire. When I stepped back out, the cold barrel of a gun was pressed against the back of my head. I froze. Across the courtyard, Serena was slumped over, unconscious. I cursed my luck. A second later, the butt of the gun slammed into my neck. …

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Bad news: I got hit by a car. Good news: It was a luxury car. I was just pulling out my phone to Google how much I could squeeze out of this when a text bubble popped into my vision, distracting me from my impending windfall. [The heroine and the hero have finally met! The hero will definitely be captivated by her noble spirit when she refuses to take his money.] Refuse his money? In his dreams. I was thinking a hundred grand, maybe two.

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On my wedding day, my bride, Tessa, hid the rings for “fun,” refusing to come out until I found them. My groomsmen and I searched frantically, sweating and nearly dismantling furniture—but nothing. As panic set in, her best friend Ryan stepped forward, smugly revealing the ring on his finger. “Here it is! Don’t worry, I’ll take it off for you.” I laughed bitterly. “You expect me to wear your ring at my own wedding?” Tessa defended him: “It’s just a ring, Leo. Stop making a scene.” Her impatience was the final blow. “The wedding’s off,” I said firmly. She stared in disbelief. “You’re canceling over this?” I nodded. “I am.” 1 “Come on, ladies, don’t make this hard on us! Just tell us where the rings are! I’ll get on my knees and beg if I have to!” one of my groomsmen pleaded with the bridesmaids. “Yeah! We’ll pay! Name your price!” My heart warmed seeing my friends go to such lengths, practically begging to get the ceremony back on track. Tessa finally relented from inside the room. “Alright, alright, we’re running out of time. Give them the rings.” Every eye in the hallway turned to the three bridesmaids. But they just stood there, unmoving. A beat later, they all spoke at once. “I didn’t hide it.” “I don’t know where it is.” The atmosphere shifted. A strange tension filled the air. Tessa’s voice sharpened from behind the door. “Check again. Don’t tell me you lost it.” But even after scouring every inch of the room, the rings were nowhere to be found. Someone whispered, “Maybe someone’s playing a prank and hid them somewhere else?” That was all it took. Without another word, everyone fanned out, searching the entire house. We turned the place upside down, but there was no sign of the rings. We were officially going to be late. One of Tessa’s friends suggested, “Tessa, the guests are waiting. Why don’t we just head to the venue? I can have a new set of rings delivered. We can just get through the ceremony for now.” Tessa didn’t answer. Her gaze, through the crack in the door, was on me, waiting for my decision. I frowned, a knot of irritation tightening in my stomach. But this was an accident. No one could have predicted it. After a moment’s hesitation, I gave a curt nod. “I guess that’s our only option.” But just as I said it, Ryan stepped out from the corner he’d been lurking in. He theatrically pulled up his sleeve, a mocking, playful glint in his eye. “The ring’s right here! Told you you wouldn’t find it.” He was oblivious to the fact that his words had just sucked all the air out of the room. Everyone stared at his hand, their faces a mask of shock. One of the bridesmaids finally pieced it together. “Oh, I remember now! I was about to hide it in the wardrobe, but Ryan said he had a better spot. Then someone knocked on the door, and I got distracted. I didn’t see where he put it.” “I’m so sorry, Tessa,” she added, glaring at him. “I never thought he would mess around with something this important.” She then turned on him, her voice sharp. “Ryan! Why would you wear the groom’s wedding ring?” Ryan gave her an innocent look, as if he couldn’t detect the accusation in her tone. He turned to me. “Bro, I was just trying to help Tessa test you. I’ll take it off for you right now. I promise you won’t be late.” Looking at his face, I didn’t need to guess. I knew this was deliberate. It all made sense now. Ryan was usually an attention-seeking pest, but today he had been unnervingly quiet, practically invisible. He had been waiting for this moment. A humorless laugh escaped my lips. “So, you’re suggesting that at my own wedding, I should wear a ring that you’ve been wearing?” My words left him speechless. He looked at Tessa, his expression twisting into one of a wounded puppy. “Tessa, I was just trying to help. I wanted to see if Leo was really worthy of you. I thought you’d be happy that I found such a good hiding spot.” He added, with a shrug, “Besides, I’ve never been married. How was I supposed to know you can’t wear someone else’s wedding ring?” Even if it wasn’t a wedding ring, you don’t just wear someone else’s jewelry, I thought, a feeling of disgust washing over me. “You may not have experience with marriage,” I said cuttingly, “but do you have any sense of boundaries?” Then again, if he had any boundaries, he wouldn’t be constantly inserting himself into my life. But what truly shocked me was that Tessa, in that moment, took his side. “It’s just a ring,” she said, her tone defensive. “Do you have to be so harsh?” I looked at her, at the frown on her face, at the complicated, unreadable emotion in her eyes. And just like that, the fire in my chest was extinguished. It wasn’t that I wasn’t angry anymore. It was that, suddenly, it didn’t seem worth it. Tessa, oblivious to the shift inside me, said impatiently, “I’ll have a new ring sent over right now. Are you happy?” The way she said it made it sound like I was the one being unreasonable. I pulled at the corner of my mouth. “Forget it,” I said quietly. “The wedding’s off.” 2 The room fell silent. Everyone stared at me, stunned by my sudden declaration. Tessa let out a sharp laugh. “Are you kidding me, Leo?” “It’s just a ring. It’s not dirty, it’s not broken. Someone else just wore it for a few minutes. And you’re going to cancel our wedding over that? Are you seriously making such a big deal out of nothing?” The person who had sabotaged our wedding was Ryan. But in her eyes, I was the one being petty and irrational. Tessa and I had been together for a year. But before that, she had spent three years chasing me. She had been clumsy but determined, always showing up exactly when I needed her, doing everything she could to win me over. Even a man with a heart of stone would have been moved. The day we finally got together, she was as happy as a child with a new toy. She had held me, crying and laughing, and sworn, “I, Tessa, will only ever love Leo!” And she had meant it. For a while, her world had revolved around me. My feelings were her priority. So, even though we hadn’t been together long, when she proposed, I said yes. But then, during the wedding planning, this “male best friend” had appeared. And Tessa had changed. Dates, dinners—it didn’t matter. One phone call from Ryan, and she would drop everything and run to him. When I got angry, she would brush it off. “Ryan doesn’t know anyone else here. I’m just looking out for him. It’ll get better.” The change was so drastic it threw me off balance. We started fighting constantly. More than once, I wondered if we should even get married. I couldn’t make up my mind, right up until the night before the wedding. But in that moment, standing there, the answer was suddenly crystal clear. I was not going to marry Tessa. Seeing my silence, she must have thought I was having second thoughts. “Alright, stop this nonsense,” she said, her tone condescending. “If you keep this up, we’ll really miss the ceremony. It’s just a ring, once…” I cut her off, my patience gone. I answered her earlier question. “I am.” Tessa froze, finally realizing I wasn’t joking. It was Ryan who broke the silence, his voice thick with fake tears. “Leo, if you’re angry, blame me. Don’t take it out on Tessa. She didn’t do anything wrong.” Then, he actually dropped to his knees in front of me. “Bro, you can do whatever you want to me, but you can’t just cancel the wedding. Tessa has put so much into this. Have you even thought about her feelings? And what about the guests? It’s not right…” He was pretending to plead with me, but every word was an accusation. But I’m stubborn. Once I’ve made a decision, I don’t back down. I was about to speak when Tessa pulled Ryan to his feet. Her face was a cold mask. “Leo, I’m giving you one last chance. If you don’t want to be utterly humiliated, you will walk down that aisle with me right now. Otherwise, you can figure out how to explain this to our parents and all our guests.” A threat. But I’m not the kind of person who responds to threats. I smiled. “Fine by me.” Tessa’s face contorted in anger. “Fine,” she hissed. “Fine. Fine.” She turned to her friends. “Let’s go.” Seeing that we were serious, they tried to intervene, but Tessa cut them off. “He’s the one who wanted to cancel. If he comes crawling back, I might not even take him!” Her words were for them, but they were aimed at me. I just smirked and said nothing. After they had gone, my best man asked, “Bro, what now? She’s right. The guests are all waiting. She just left you to clean up this mess.” I laughed. If Tessa thought this would make me regret my decision, she was sorely mistaken. “So what if I don’t have a bride? I’ll just get a new one.” I pulled out my phone and made a call. 3 She picked up right away, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Well, well. You have time to call me on your wedding day? Don’t tell me the bride ran off.” I swear, my friend Chloe has a sixth sense for disaster. She’s always right. I cleared my throat. “So… you want to come to my wedding?” A dry laugh. “Leo, have you forgotten what I said?” Of course, I hadn’t. Chloe had sworn that if I married Tessa, she wouldn’t show up even if I begged her. And true to her word, she was nowhere to be seen today. “Okay, I’m begging,” I said. “I’m short one bride. Can you help me out?” The line went silent. For a second, I thought she had hung up. Then, she said one word: “Wait.” After she hung up, I called the jeweler to have a new set of rings delivered, then turned to my groomsmen. “Let’s go.” But when we got downstairs, one of them said, “Bro, they’re gone! They took all the wedding cars. What do we do now?” Just then, my phone buzzed. A text from Tessa. “If you want to cancel the wedding, then don’t bother showing up at all!” I had to laugh. So that was her game. Well, I was definitely going to that wedding now. Cars? I had a garage full of them. But I hadn’t anticipated just how low Tessa would go. The moment I got into my car, my phone exploded with messages from both our parents. “Son, Tessa said you want to cancel the wedding. What’s going on?” “Leo, I don’t normally get involved in your arguments with Tessa, but on a day like this, you can’t be serious.” “Listen to me. Go get Tessa, patch things up, and get married. You can deal with the rest later.” Then there were the texts from friends, gossiping and asking for details. I glanced at them briefly, then replied to my mom. “The wedding is still on. If Tessa won’t come, I’ll marry someone else.”

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My wedding was just around the corner. I was scrolling through Pinterest, looking for wedding planning ideas, when a post caught my eye. It was a photo of a couple at the altar, their backs to the camera. The caption beneath it read: “The man I love has already pretended to marry me.” “So, no matter who he marries in the future, I’ll wish him well.” The moment I saw the groom’s familiar silhouette, my nine-year relationship shattered into a million pieces, lost in the digital ether. 1 When I found the post, I was supposed to be looking at venue decorations. My chat with my fiancé, Liam, was still open, our last exchange just five minutes old. I’d excitedly sent him a link to a wedding photographer’s portfolio. He’d replied: “Whatever you like, babe. I’m happy if you’re happy.” The smile was still on my lips when the photo filled my screen. The man in the tuxedo was tall and broad-shouldered. I knew that back better than my own. I didn’t need to see his face. It was Liam. My gaze shifted to the woman beside him. She was breathtaking in a mermaid-style gown that hugged her curves perfectly. She had her arm looped through his. They stood before the priest, a perfect couple, exchanging vows in a solemn, sacred ceremony. There were no guests, but the sanctity of the moment was palpable. The comment section was flooded with people gushing about how perfect they looked together. The top comment was a rallying cry: “You two are meant to be! Girl, why are you letting him marry someone else? Go get your man!” The blogger’s profile picture was a cat. I clicked on her page. It was completely blank, except for that one post. Using my burner account, “Momo,” I left a comment, my fingers moving as if guided by some unseen force. “Dying to hear the story behind this.” 2 Liam called a little later, asking to take me out for dinner. I pretended nothing was wrong. When I got in his car, he took one hand off the steering wheel and reached for mine. His brows furrowed when he felt my icy skin. “Your hands are freezing,” he said, his voice laced with concern. “Are you on your period? Are your cramps bad?” I gently pulled my hand from his grasp. “No,” I said, my voice flat. He turned up the heat and redirected the vents on my side away from me. A few moments later, his hand was back on mine. This time, a satisfied smile touched his lips. “There. That’s better.” My nails dug into my palms. We had been together for nine years. For nine years, he had treated me like I was the most precious thing in the world. The slightest frown from me and he’d be fussing, trying to figure out what was wrong. He even tracked my cycle more accurately than I did. His friends always joked that I had him completely wrapped around my finger. Liam, whose world supposedly revolved around me. And yet, right before our wedding, he had walked into a church with another woman and made the sacred vows that were meant for us. Who was she? And who was it that he truly wanted to marry? 3 We were in a private room at a Japanese restaurant. The image of him with that other woman was burned into my mind. While we waited for our food, I tried to sound casual. “What do you think about getting married at that old chapel on the West Side in Charleston? It’s supposed to be beautiful. I saw a lot of pictures of it online.” It was beautiful. A century-old church, grand and majestic, with stained-glass windows that stretched to a vaulted ceiling. To stand there would be like stepping into a dream. That’s why the photo, paired with her caption, had gone viral overnight. His hand, which had been pouring me tea, paused. “Charleston’s a bit far, don’t you think? If you want a church wedding, we can find a nice one here.” It was the first time since we started planning the wedding that he had ever said no to one of my ideas. Beneath the table, I twisted the hem of my shirt in my hands. Before we had even finished our meal, my Pinterest notifications had hit 99+. My comment had over five hundred likes and had been pushed to the top. The blogger had finally replied. “Okay, I’ll post our story tonight.” 4 I closed the app and looked up at him. He was staring at his phone, a soft, happy smile on his face. My heart seized. On pure instinct, I lunged across the table and snatched the phone from his hand. He was watching the video from his proposal a year ago. A flicker of surprise crossed his face, quickly replaced by an amused grin. “What’s this? We’re about to get married, and you’re already doing surprise inspections?” His passcode was my birthday. My fingerprint was saved in his phone. He left it lying around when he showered. He was so open, so transparent, that I’d never had a reason to doubt him. He was calm now because he was certain there was nothing incriminating on that phone for me to find. I forced a laugh. “I just wanted to watch the video again.” “Silly,” he said gently. “You have a copy on your phone, remember? You said you wanted to show it to our kids when we’re old.” The promise of growing old together still echoed in my ears, but a chasm had just opened up in our relationship. 5 I watched the video anyway. The one he’d personally edited for the proposal. It was a montage of our nine years together. Our high school graduation photo, where he’d switched places with a classmate to stand behind me. I remembered that day perfectly. He had leaned down, his voice uncharacteristically nervous for someone so confident, and asked if I wanted to be his girlfriend. “Don’t turn around,” he’d said. “I’m afraid you’ll say no.” The summer wind had brushed against our young faces. The photographer had counted down, “Three, two, one, say cheese!” And at the exact moment the shutter clicked, with my back still to him, I had said yes. We both went to college in the same state, but our campuses were two hours apart. He made the four-hour round trip constantly, just to see me for a few minutes. After we finished our master’s degrees, he proposed. In front of all our friends and family, he had kissed me and said he’d been waiting for that day for eight years. I tried to watch with a cold heart, but by the end, my eyes were wet. Nine years was a long time. We had both loved so fiercely, so completely. All this time, I thought his journey had been as single-minded as mine. But now, standing at the threshold of marriage, I realized his path had taken a detour. The thought was a dull, throbbing ache in my chest. In the tapestry of our shared memories, when had he found the space to weave in someone else? Seeing my tears, he wrapped his hand around mine. “You’re such a crybaby. You cry every time you watch this.” “I’m not letting you watch it anymore.” My hand trembled in his. I was afraid. Afraid of the truth that was about to be revealed. Afraid that nine years of my life were about to go up in flames. 6 When we got home, he went to his study to work. I sat in the living room, my hands shaking as I opened the Pinterest app. She had kept her promise. A new post had appeared. “A seventeen-year-old’s crush, finally fulfilled at twenty-nine.” I read her long, rambling story, word by word. The pieces started to fall into place. It was Sienna Vance. A girl from the class next to ours in high school who’d had a massive crush on Liam. During our freshman year of college, Sienna, who was going to school in Charleston, had come all the way to our campus to confess her feelings to Liam. He had been completely blindsided. He’d gently turned her down, telling her he had a girlfriend. He had told me about it at the time. What I never knew was that the story didn’t end there. Her crush hadn’t just lingered. It had blossomed. 7 The turning point came last year, when Liam did a year-long fellowship at a prestigious hospital in Charleston. By some cruel twist of fate, Sienna worked at that same hospital. They were colleagues in the same department. He had never mentioned this to me. One day, after being berated by a patient’s family, she was crying in her office. Liam saw her, pulled up a chair, and started telling her jokes to cheer her up. Through her tears, Sienna had leaned in and kissed him. In her post, she wrote: “He closed his eyes. He opened his mouth. And in that moment, my long-dormant crush bloomed in the dust.” A wave of nausea churned in my stomach. I dug my nails into my palms and forced myself to keep reading. They had laid out the ground rules from the start. He had a girlfriend. They were serious. He was going to marry me when he came back. She didn’t ask for anything more. All she wanted was one year with him. “We made a pact,” she wrote. “A one-year love affair. When the year was up, I would walk away without a fight.” 8 And so, their affair began. This is how she described their life together: “I never thought I would one day be living with the man I had crushed on for so long. We cooked together, watched movies together. We hugged, we kissed, we did everything a couple does.” “He seems so refined and composed, but when he lets go, he covers every inch of me with his touch, in every room of our apartment.” “I finally felt like he wasn’t just a distant dream anymore. He was right there, beside me, tangible.” “Whenever he called her, I would quietly leave the room so I wouldn’t disturb them. Hearing him say sweet things to her always hurt. But later, in the heat of the moment, he would whisper the same words in my ear, and then nothing else mattered.” When the year was up, he ended it. She had only one request. She wanted a fake wedding in that beautiful old church, a perfect, final chapter to their story. She promised she would cherish that year in her heart and never bother him again. He agreed. She wrote that after the ceremony, they had made love all night. Her words were a physical weight, crushing me. “That night, it was our last. We knew there was no tomorrow for us, so we loved each other until the sun came up.” “For the first time ever, he didn’t answer her call. He just wanted me one more time.” “That was my real wedding night.” 9 I sat on the sofa, my entire body trembling. I couldn’t stop replaying that year in my head. Every text he sent, every call he made from their love nest. The same mouth that kissed her day and night telling me he missed me, that he loved me. Every day that I thought our relationship was solid, he was living a double life. No wonder. No wonder he never wanted me to visit. He always said he didn’t want me to tire myself out with the travel. Instead, he would surprise me with sudden visits. All that thoughtful consideration was just a cover. And she, shameless and selfish, had reveled in their secret, sordid affair. They were disgusting. Both of them. I grabbed the pair of matching mugs from the coffee table, raised them high, and smashed them onto the floor. Shards of ceramic scattered everywhere. A perfect metaphor for my nine years. A bloody, mangled corpse. The noise startled Liam. The study door flew open, and he rushed over, his face etched with concern. He grabbed my hands, inspecting them carefully. “What happened? Are you hurt?” I snatched my hand back and slapped him across the face, hard. “Liam, we’re done.” “I don’t want a second-hand, cheating bastard.”

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