Author: Momo Chan

I froze—there in the arcade was my husband, Hayden Blackwood, kneeling to tie a pink-haired girl’s shoelaces. The ruthless CEO now cradled her ankle as she kicked impatiently, his face full of submission. His friends laughed. “Damn, Mr. Blackwood looks hot kneeling! Princess Gigi trained him well!” I fled. At home, Hayden winced as I scrubbed off his tattoo: [Gigi’s Dog]—with a streak of pink dye matching her hair. “You’ve heard the rumors,” he said coldly. “I’m pursuing her. Track me again, and you won’t remain Mrs. Blackwood long.” My phone buzzed. A girlish voice chirped: “Aunty, don’t worry—a 37-year-old geezer isn’t my type anyway.” 1 The call ended with a peel of silvery laughter. I finally looked in the bathroom mirror and saw the tear tracks that had carved their way down my face. My assistant sent over the girl’s profile. Gigi Li, 19 years old. A middle-school dropout who smoked, drank, and got into fights. Besides a pretty face, the only thing she had going for her was her family background—a fact I wasn’t sure Hayden was even aware of. “Vivienne, does your husband have a sister? What’s with those pictures from the arcade?” My best friend, Summer, texted me a link. The photo was a crystal-clear shot of Hayden on one knee, tying Gigi’s shoelaces. The comments section had already exploded. [Isn’t that the CEO of Blackwood Industries? I thought he was an only child. How could he suddenly have a sister who hasn’t even graduated college?] [He’s obviously cheating. Mrs. Blackwood is, what, thirty-five? What man doesn’t prefer someone younger? I just didn’t expect Mr. Blackwood’s taste to be so… unique. He passed on all those high-society debutantes for an e-girl.] [Wow. So fifteen years as a model couple can’t compete with a little novelty?] I scrolled mechanically, each comment a needle in my heart. Fifteen years. From meeting in college to a strategic marriage that merged our family empires, everyone said we were a rare case of true love in the world of high society. How ironic it all seemed now. The next morning, just as I had for the past six years, I woke up at six on the dot to make breakfast. Hayden walked into the dining room as I was pouring his coffee. He glanced at the table and then, without warning, swept his arm across it, sending the plate crashing to the floor. Scalding coffee splashed onto the back of my hand. I flinched, my skin instantly turning red, a searing pain shooting straight to my heart. “Ah!” I bit down hard on my lip, my years of training in composure preventing me from crying out again. “Ten years. Every single day, it’s the same thing.” Hayden’s voice was as cold as ice. “Scrambled eggs and toast, black coffee. Even the placement on the plate has never changed.” I stared at my burned hand as he continued. “Look at you. You’re always like this.” “The same boring business suit, the same severe bun. Even your expression looks like it’s been measured and set.” He stepped closer, reaching out to pull my hair free from its bun. “Not a single strand out of place. You’re more of a doll than a person.” My hair fell around my face. I looked up at him. “Isn’t that what a socialite is supposed to be?” “Ha!” He laughed, a short, sharp sound. “That’s why I can’t stand it! Gigi cries, she laughs, she yells when she’s hurt, she jumps for joy when she’s happy. And you? You get burned like that and you don’t even make a sound. Are you a person or a machine?” I slowly knelt, picking up the broken shards of porcelain one by one. In that moment, I decided this sham of a marriage was over. But I needed to end it with dignity, not like this. “Vivienne, can’t you even argue?” I remained calm. “Miss Lee posted a video of you two drinking on her social media yesterday. She was quite impressive, chugging straight from the bottle.” A flicker of pride crossed Hayden’s face. “She’s real.” “Is she?” I honestly thought Hayden had lost his mind. At the charity gala, I had stood in heels for five hours, networking with every guest on his behalf, not even daring to drink too much water, all to maintain our perfect image. When a key partner backed out at the last minute, I led my team through three all-nighters to create a new proposal. The stress gave me stomach cramps so bad I was drenched in cold sweat, but I just popped a painkiller and kept working. And now. He thought some little girl who chugged beers at a club and threw tantrums could fill the role of the lady of the Blackwood estate? Had he been blinded by love, or did he simply believe that Blackwood Industries was now so powerful it no longer needed a composed, capable woman at its helm? 2 I watched him drive away. A moment later, a notification popped up on my phone. Hayden had just liked another post from my alternate account, “Jasmine.” I opened our chat. The last message was from him, sent late last night. Hayden: Sometimes, I feel like talking to you is the only time I’m truly alive. I’d created this account five years ago. We had just gotten married, and Hayden had stumbled upon it by chance. He’d started confiding in “Jasmine,” pouring out his thoughts and frustrations. I shut my phone off and walked into the closet. I looked at my reflection—the bespoke suit, the flawless makeup. This was the Mrs. Blackwood that Hayden needed. Poised, elegant, eternally proper. Hayden thought that in finding Gigi, he had discovered his true self. But he would never know that the person he connected with most deeply had been by his side all along. Just then, a man who had been a silent contact in my phone for years sent me a message, asking to meet. I stared at the name “Leo Lee” for a full ten minutes before typing out a single word: “Okay.” I met Leo at his racing club. Before I could even speak, he pulled out his phone, the screen displaying my “Jasmine” account. “So, Miss Spencer is even more beautiful in person. I have to admit, I’m a fan.” We’d seen each other countless times at galas and business meetings. “Let’s skip the pleasantries. You asked me here for a reason.” He snapped his fingers. “Want to try something really exciting?” Half an hour later, I was strapped into the passenger seat as Leo handled the wheel with one hand. The roar of the wind was almost louder than the engine. I clung to the seat, but as we took the most treacherous curve, a laugh escaped my lips. Leo shot me a surprised glance, then started laughing too. “Now I believe you’re the Jasmine from the internet.” It was late when I got home. The light in the foyer was on. Hayden was standing at the top of the stairs, his eyes fixed on the grease stain on my racing suit. A sarcastic smile twisted his lips. “Trying to be like Gigi now, playing race car driver?” I placed the pack of cigarettes I’d bought on the coffee table. The metal case made a sharp, clean sound. Hayden’s expression changed instantly. “A clumsy imitation.” He used an idiom I’d always hated. I calmly unzipped the racing suit. “If you feel I’m no longer suitable to be your wife, we can discuss a divorce.” He froze, then let out a sharp, derisive laugh. “Vivienne, can you afford the humiliation? Isn’t the title of Mrs. Blackwood what you’ve always dreamed of?” He was right. I had dreamed of it. My father had said the Blackwoods were out of our league, but I had knelt in the rain for three hours until my mother agreed to try and arrange a meeting. The night before our engagement, Hayden’s own mother had warned me that the Blackwood family didn’t need a daughter-in-law; they needed a beautiful, capable ornament who could manage their public life. She had asked me if I could be eternally proper, if I could promise to never embarrass Hayden. Looking back, her careful planning had been utterly destroyed by her own son. “You’re the one who cares about the title,” I said, finally letting a small smile show. “Hayden, you’ve always been the one obsessed with appearances.” Without me, who else in our circle was a more suitable match? Back in my room, a message from Leo was waiting. “Sorry, Vivienne. I just found out about my sister and your husband.” I knew it was a polite excuse. He had asked me out today for two reasons: one, because of “Jasmine,” and two, because of his sister. I replied curtly: “See you at the jewelry gala.” That night, Hayden found “Jasmine” online and immediately started complaining. “My wife is being so unreasonable! She’s trying to get my attention by copying Gigi and going racing!” I let out a cold laugh and deleted the message. The next morning, the kitchen was silent. When Hayden came downstairs, the dining table was bare. No warm milk, no sandwich. “Where’s breakfast?” he asked, frowning. I was sitting on the sofa, reviewing the program for the jewelry gala. I didn’t look up. “Don’t you have hands?” He was taken aback for a moment, then sneered. “Copying Gigi again? How much have you been investigating her? Do you really think acting out like this will get my attention?” The memory of his message to “Jasmine” made my blood boil. The idiot actually thought I would imitate that little punk? I looked up at him, my voice dripping with a sarcasm I had never used with him before. “You’re overthinking it, Mr. Blackwood. I’ve just realized that serving a blind man is incredibly boring.” His face darkened instantly. “Vivienne, have you been getting a little too bold lately?” I couldn’t be bothered to argue. I stood up and headed upstairs. Hayden followed, grabbing my shoulder. “Vivienne, I’m warning you, stay away from Gigi.” I tried to pull away, but his grip was too strong. He shoved me, and I stumbled backward, my foot missing a step. Thump! I tumbled down the stairs. A sharp pain shot through my lower abdomen. I curled into a ball on the floor, a cold sweat instantly soaking my back. 3 Hayden stood at the top of the stairs, a flicker of panic in his eyes that was quickly replaced by cold indifference. “Stop pretending. It was only four steps. Are you trying to act like you’re dying?” I bit my lip, saying nothing, as I felt a warm trickle between my legs. “Hospital… take me to the hospital.” The pain was so intense I could barely form a sentence. Hayden’s expression finally changed. He scooped me up and rushed toward the door, but his phone rang halfway there. “Gigi’s in a holding cell? Okay, I’m on my way.” He dumped me at the hospital entrance, told a nurse, “She took a fall,” and then turned and left. In the emergency room, the doctor took off his mask. “It was a threatened miscarriage. We’ve managed to save the baby, for now.” Lying in the hospital bed, staring at the white ceiling, I started to laugh. Hayden would never know what he had thrown away today. I forced myself to get up and go to the jewelry gala. The suit I had personally ironed for Hayden was now folded neatly under Gigi’s bare legs. She was holding a bowl of spicy noodle soup, the red broth filled with cilantro—the one herb he despised. Love really does make you tolerant. “Vivienne! You must be Hayden’s wife, right?” “Come eat with us!” Gigi waved at me, her pink sequin dress glittering under the lights. I only then noticed that her dress was the exact same shade as Hayden’s tie. As I walked over, the guests around us started whispering. “Why aren’t you angry?” Gigi asked, stirring the noodles in her bowl. “If I were you, I’d have dumped this soup on his head by now.” I smiled. “Why would I be angry?” “Because I’m stealing your husband!” she said, her voice loud enough to make the woman at the next table nearly choke on her wine. “Do you like him?” I asked. Gigi wrinkled her nose. “Of course not. He’s old and boring. Not my type at all.” “Then why accept his gifts? Why wear a dress that matches his tie?” I looked at the red oil stain on Hayden’s cuff. “Why let him tie your shoes in public, and break all his rules for you?” Gigi stopped chewing. She stared at me, dumbfounded, for several seconds. Then, she slammed her chopsticks down and pulled out her phone. “Mr. Blackwood, I’m transferring you the money for everything you’ve given me!” Not long after she sent the voice message, Hayden appeared, tugging at his tie. He looked anxious, his usual cool demeanor completely gone. The moment he saw me sitting next to Gigi, his face hardened. “What did you say to her?” “Vivienne, are you using a little girl to fight your battles for you?” Gigi jumped up, pulling at his hand. “Hey, you’re hurting her!” “Mr. Blackwood, I figured it out myself! It has nothing to do with her!” She took out her phone, her fingers flying across the screen. “The bags, the necklaces, all the other stuff you’ve given me these past two months—I’m cashing it all out and sending it back to you!” Hayden grabbed her arm. “Gigi, you don’t have to do this. I’m serious about you.” “Don’t call me that!” Gigi stood up, her pink hair bouncing. “Do you know how pathetic this is? You have such an amazing wife at home—she’s beautiful and kind—and you’re chasing after me?” Her voice grew louder, echoing through the ballroom. “You had me use your knee as a stepping stool to get into your car, you tied my shoes in public, and now you have me wearing this dress to piss off your wife? Mr. Blackwood, are you some kind of a freak?” The entire room fell silent. Hayden’s face turned a shade of gray. He whipped his head toward me. “Did you teach her to say that?” Before I could answer, Gigi stepped in front of me. “Hey! Who are you yelling at? I told you, I figured it out myself!” 4 “Anyway, you’re not allowed to come near me again. If you do, I’m leaving this place and never coming back!” I thanked Gigi. I hadn’t expected my supposed rival to be quite so… unpredictable. Just then, my phone buzzed in my purse. The hospital’s number flashed on the screen. “Miss Spencer, your aunt collapsed. She’s in emergency surgery right now…” The blood in my veins turned to ice. “I’m on my way.” I hung up and scanned the room for Hayden, but only saw Leo standing nearby. I walked over quickly. “Tell Hayden my aunt is in critical condition and I have to go. Please try to keep things under control here.” With that, I turned and ran for the exit. But at that moment, Gigi was walking toward me with a glass of champagne. We collided hard. The champagne tower next to us came crashing down. Gigi fell into a sea of broken glass. “Ah!” she cried out, her face pale with pain. Shards of glass were embedded in her arm. Hayden appeared out of nowhere and shoved me. “Vivienne! Are you insane?” I stumbled back, my back hitting a wall of people. Gigi tried to stand, but fell back down. Her calf was also bleeding from several deep cuts. Hayden knelt to check her injuries, roaring at me without even looking up. “Apologize! Now!” “I never knew you were such a vicious, cold-hearted woman! She was already planning to cut ties with me, what more do you want?” The ballroom was dead silent. Every eye was on us. “You wanted to leave? Fine. You can go after you finish this bottle as an apology.” I took a deep breath and picked up an unopened bottle of red wine. The harsh liquid burned my throat, but I didn’t spill a drop. After the last swallow, I slammed the empty bottle down on the table, my expression unreadable as I met Hayden’s gaze. “Is that sufficient?” I turned and walked away. Behind me, I heard Leo’s voice. “Hayden, you’re going to regret this.” “Regret what?” Hayden sneered. “Do you know who she is? She’s Jasmine.” The closing doors cut off the rest of his words. I walked briskly to the elevator, my stomach churning, but my steps were steady. Inside the ballroom, Hayden was still reeling from the shock when Gigi suddenly pointed at the floor. “Blood! There’s blood here!” On the polished floor, where I had just been standing, were several drops of crimson. Gigi shoved Hayden hard. “Go after her! She drank all that wine!” Hayden spun around and sprinted for the door, but Gigi called him back. “Wait!” She pointed at the floor again. “The blood… I think it dripped from the hem of her dress…” The three of them froze. “Is she…”

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1 The first day I dropped Lily at preschool, the teacher called: “Your daughter was caught stealing.” I rushed over on my old scooter to find her tied to the flagpole, a “THIEF” sign around her neck. A scream tore from me—until a designer-clad woman kicked my knee, sending me crashing down. She straddled me, yanking my hair. “Trash like you shouldn’t touch what belongs to the Harringtons!” she spat. “That hairclip is worth more than your lives.” I gritted my teeth. “What Harrington treasure is so precious?” The watching parents laughed. “Harrington Capital, you idiot! And this is Jenna Miller—the woman Mr. Harrington swore to protect!” Son of a bitch. Another of my brother-in-law’s mistresses. … I struggled, trying to get to Lily and untie the ropes, but Jenna held me down with vicious strength. Her nails dug into my wrists, the pain so sharp it made my vision blur. The preschool director, a woman with a pinched face, held a megaphone to her lips, her voice booming across the schoolyard. “Let this be a lesson to everyone! This is what happens to thieves!” “Starlight Academy will not tolerate stealing of any kind!” Parents pointed and whispered. Their children, emboldened by the adults, started picking up small stones and throwing them at my daughter. “Thief! Thief!” The childish chants were brutal. Pebbles pelted Lily’s small body. She was shaking, her sobs choked with terror as she pleaded, “I’m not a thief… I didn’t steal anything…” “What proof do you have that my daughter stole anything?” I roared, my voice raw. “That hair clip is hers! It was a birthday present from her father!” Jenna let out a cold, sharp laugh. She reached up and plucked an identical clip from her own daughter’s hair. “Open your damn eyes and look! This is the signature hair clip of the Harrington family’s eldest princess!” She held it high for everyone to see. “It even has her initials engraved on the back! Does your pathetic little knock-off have that?” I froze, finally seeing the subtle difference. My daughter’s clip was a custom-made prototype. Jenna’s daughter was wearing the mass-produced version that was later released to the public. The two girls must have dropped them while playing. Jenna’s daughter had insisted that Lily’s handmade version was hers. After a tantrum, the accusation of theft was born. Fearing the situation was spiraling out of control, I fumbled for my phone and dialed my brother-in-law, Brian. The call connected, but the background was filled with the deafening roar of machinery. “Brian! Get to Starlight Academy, now!” “Come clean up your mess, or I’m calling your wife!” Brian’s voice was muffled and confused. “Elara? I’m in the middle of something! Bad connection.” “Whatever it is, can we talk about it later? I have to go.” He hung up. Jenna and the other parents erupted in derisive laughter. “An actress! Look at her go! Pretending to call a Harrington!” “Who’s next, the President? Think the Secret Service will come save you?” Jenna kicked me hard in the back, sending me sprawling face-first into the dirt. Several of her friends, all decked out in expensive clothes, closed in, their fists and feet a merciless storm against my body. “Look at this pathetic stray! Daring to impersonate a Harrington relative!” “The nerve is just unbelievable!” My jacket was torn, and my scalp screamed in pain as they pulled my hair. 2 Tied to the flagpole, my daughter Lily’s cries were heart-wrenching. “Mommy! Don’t hit my mommy!” I fought like a wild animal, but they held me fast to the ground. My face was shoved into the earth, my mouth filled with the bitter taste of sand and humiliation. Rage and shame burned through me, a fire in my gut. Jenna ordered two school security guards to pin me down, rendering me completely immobile. She then turned to her own pampered daughter. “Sweetheart, Mommy’s going to teach you a lesson,” she cooed. “When you deal with thieves, you have to make sure they never forget.” “You go teach that little thief a lesson. Mommy will take care of the big one, and you can take care of the little one, okay?” Her daughter, a cruel smile on her face, picked up a bottle of black ink, twisted the cap off, and dumped the entire contents over Lily’s head. Lily, still bound, trembled violently. The thick, black liquid streamed down her pale face as her cries turned into hysterical sobs. My vision went red. I thrashed against the guards’ grip. “Stop it! You’ll pay for this! For doing this to a child!” Jenna kicked me in the chest, her laugh cold and sharp. “Pay for it? When you taught her to steal, did you think about the price she would have to pay?” “My price is having Mr. Harrington to protect me. Your price is kneeling here like a dog!” “Trash like you belongs under my heel!” The crowd of parents murmured their approval. Someone even started live-streaming the “righteous” punishment. Vicious comments scrolled across the phone screen: [Serves her right! Like mother, like daughter. The mom should be arrested!] [Look at her face. Not an ounce of remorse. How dare she glare like that?] [Thanks to the Justice Warrior Streamer for showing us what happens to scum.] [How can she still kneel there? I’d have buried myself in a hole by now.] [Streamer, zoom in! I want a good look at that shameless face!] Someone in the crowd yelled, “Film it! Let everyone see what happens to a thief!” Another chimed in, “Yeah! People like this deserve to be socially executed!” The director sidled up to Jenna, fawning over her. “Mrs. Harrington, don’t let this garbage upset you!” “I’ll have her daughter’s enrollment terminated immediately!” “I have connections at every preschool in the city. I’ll make sure this mother and daughter have nowhere to go!” My eyes burned with rage. I stared daggers at the bootlicking sycophant. “You just try it.” CRACK! Jenna’s hand connected with my cheek in a brutal slap. “Did I say you could speak?” I secretly slipped my hand into my pocket, trying to grab my phone to call the police. Jenna’s eyes narrowed. Her stiletto-clad foot stomped down on the back of my hand. She ground her heel in, the sharp point digging into my flesh. With a sickening crack, I heard my own bones break. A scream of pure agony was torn from my throat as a cold sweat drenched my back. The phone, now under her heel, shattered, the screen going black. “Trying to call the police? In your dreams!” “When I’m done with you, I’ll be the one to call them and have you thrown in a cell for a few days.” She lifted her chin smugly, taking the bottle of ink from the director and pouring the rest over my head. The black liquid ran through my hair, staining my white dress. My daughter saw what was happening and her cries became even more frantic. Jenna kept her foot planted on my crushed hand, looking down at me with an air of absolute superiority. “Lick the ink off my shoe. If you do a good enough job, I might consider untying your daughter.” “But it’s just a consideration. It all depends on how well you beg.” 3 The crowd of parents started chanting, their voices a roaring wave. “Lick it! Lick it!” “Teach her a lesson!” “A thief needs to know her place!” For Lily, I closed my eyes. I was trembling. Just as my lips were about to touch the filthy leather, a black Maybach screeched to a halt at the gate. Brian Harrington, my brother-in-law, jumped out, flanked by two assistants and a team of black-suited bodyguards. His face was pale, his forehead beaded with sweat. His eyes darted around the scene, finally landing on me, a pathetic, ink-stained heap on the ground. But he didn’t look at me. Instead, he turned to the parents who were live-streaming, giving his bodyguards a sharp nod. “Hand over the phones.” Terrified, the parents scrambled to comply, not daring to resist. Brian then walked up to the director, his voice quiet but laced with menace. “What happened here today, I don’t want to hear a single word about it outside this school.” The director bobbed her head like a puppet. “Yes, of course, Mr. Harrington! You have my word!” Only after he had contained the situation did he turn to Jenna. He forced a placating smile, reaching out to pat her shoulder in a gesture that looked anything but intimate. “Alright, Jenna, let’s not make a scene. We’ll let the director handle this. Why don’t I have someone take you home?” The triumphant smirk on Jenna’s face vanished, replaced by shock and confusion. She opened her mouth to speak, but Brian quickly clamped a hand over it, muffling her protests. I watched them, a cold knot forming in my stomach. Their interaction was stiff, almost clinical. I chalked it up to them trying to maintain appearances. She was his secret mistress, after all. A relationship not meant for the light of day. Just then, my daughter, still tied to the pole, cried out, her voice hoarse. “Uncle! Uncle, please help me! I’m not a thief!” Brian’s body went rigid, but he didn’t turn around. Lily’s sobs grew more desperate. She pointed to a faint blue ring, drawn with a ballpoint pen, on Brian’s middle finger. “Uncle, why won’t you look at me? Was… was the ring I drew for you yesterday not pretty?” He acted as if he hadn’t heard her, striding over to Jenna. He pulled a black credit card from his pocket and pressed it into her hand. “I’ll handle this. You take your daughter and go home.” His voice was low but held an undeniable urgency. Jenna clutched the card. Though she was clearly unhappy about it, she nodded, grabbed her daughter’s hand, and walked toward the Maybach. Brian finally let out a breath of relief. He barked at his bodyguards, “Quick! Get my niece down from there!” They moved swiftly, undoing the ropes that bound Lily. Her legs gave out, and she collapsed, crawling weakly toward me. And Brian, the moment Lily was free, turned, faced me, and dropped to his knees. “Elara! I’m so sorry! I’m late, I didn’t know it was this urgent!” His head was bowed low, his voice thick with regret and fear. “I’m begging you, please don’t tell my brother. And please, for the love of God, don’t tell Laura!” “Elara, you have to help me cover this up!” Ignoring the searing pain from my shattered hand, I pushed myself up from the ground. Lily crawled to my side, clinging to my leg, her sobs ragged and breathless. I looked at Brian kneeling before me, and a white-hot rage burned through my reason. I raised my good left hand and, with every ounce of strength I had, slapped him across the face. CRACK! “Help you?” I shrieked. “Brian, all the times you’ve messed around on the side, your brother and I have looked the other way! We’ve helped you lie to your wife, Laura!” “But look at this thing you’ve been keeping!” I pointed at the Maybach, its engine still rumbling. “She calls her daughter the ‘Harrington family’s eldest princess’! She tied my daughter to a flagpole! Poured ink on her! Called us thieves!” “She crushed my hand under her heel and ground me into the dirt!” “She shits on my head, and you expect me to wipe your ass?” I was shaking with fury. I slapped him again. 4 “You let her walk all over me! Brian, you’ve really outdone yourself!” “What are we in your eyes, my daughter and I? Just disposable trash? What kind of power have you given her that she dares to act like this?” Brian clutched his stinging cheeks, not daring to argue. He just kept bowing his head, over and over. “Elara, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!” “I didn’t know she was this crazy! I’ll deal with her when I get home, I swear!” Just then, the Maybach, which had just started to pull away, slammed on its brakes. The door flew open, and Jenna stormed out, her face a mask of fury. When she saw Brian on his knees, with me standing over him, her eyes went bloodshot. “You thieving bitch!” “How dare you hit him?” Jenna lunged at me like a feral animal, her hand raised to strike. Two of the bodyguards reacted instantly, grabbing her from either side and holding her fast. Jenna thrashed in their grip, her voice a stream of curses. “Let me go! You useless dogs!” “Can’t you see this psycho is hitting Mr. Harrington?” “I’m going to rip her goddamn mouth off!” The scene had descended into chaos. At that moment, another car, a stately black Lincoln, pulled up to the gate. The door opened, and a woman in a custom-tailored, dark green silk dress stepped out with practiced grace. A string of sandalwood prayer beads was wrapped around her wrist, and a jade pendant hung from her waist. She moved with an effortless, commanding elegance. It was Laura. Brian’s wife. “I saw a live stream that looked a little familiar, so I came to see what was going on.” Her eyes swept over my disheveled form, then to her kneeling husband, and finally to the struggling Jenna. I shot Brian a sarcastic smile. “Well, Brian, your wife is here. Let’s see how you explain this one.” I was ready to watch the fireworks. Brian caught red-handed, the mistress right there in front of everyone. Finally, someone else would deal with her. But what happened next left me completely stunned. Laura walked briskly over to Jenna, her voice low and placating. “Miss Miller, why don’t we find somewhere private to talk? Let’s not make a scene here, okay?” She reached out to help Jenna up, her posture almost deferential. But Jenna looked at her as if she’d never seen her before. She shoved Laura’s hand away in disgust. “Who the hell do you think you are? You think you can touch me?” She looked Laura up and down, then sneered. “Some stray cat off the street thinks she can tell me what to do? Get lost!” Laura stumbled back, caught by her assistant. She instinctively glanced at Brian, who gave her a sharp, almost imperceptible nod. Laura understood immediately. She lunged forward and delivered a series of sharp, ringing slaps across Jenna’s face. “Who do you think you are?” “Daring to use the Harrington name to throw your weight around!” “You’re nothing!” The crisp sound of the slaps silenced the crowd. Jenna, clutching her burning cheek, was completely bewildered. “You hit me? Do you have any idea who I am?” “I don’t give a damn who you are!” Laura slapped her again, so hard that Jenna staggered. “You seduce my husband and then dare to act high and mighty in front of me? Who gave you the nerve?” With that, Laura grabbed a fistful of Jenna’s hair and started dragging her toward the car. But Jenna fought back, and the two women descended into a tangle of flailing limbs and furious shrieks. “You psycho! Who is your husband? When did I ever seduce him?” Jenna screamed as she struggled. “Let go of me! I only had dinner with the man once!” The crowd of parents watched, their jaws on the floor, as a new wave of gossip erupted. “So this Jenna is the mistress? Caught by the real wife?” “I knew it. The real Harringtons would never let their family act so atrociously in public. She’s just some cheap trash.” The jeers and whispers were even louder now than when they had been directed at me and my daughter. Brian scrambled to his feet, rushing to help Laura drag the screaming, kicking Jenna to the car. “Let me go! You two are disgusting!” Just as they were about to shove her inside, a small, desperate cry pierced the chaos. “Daddy! Daddy! They’re hitting my mommy! Help her!” I followed the sound of the voice.

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1 I’d always taken advantage of Tom, my childhood sweetheart—borrowing money, running errands. He spoiled me endlessly. Until our engagement party, when we both “awakened.” Turns out I was cannon fodder in a novel, and he was the male lead destined for the true heroine. I tried to back out, but he dragged me to the courthouse, snarling, “No script matters. I choose you.” We married, built an empire, and the novel’s plot faded… until Julia, a real estate heiress, joined our company. During an office fire, she knocked over a shelf. I shoved Tom out of the way—taking the crushing blow. Blood pooled around me as Julia screamed, “Tom, help me!” He sprinted past my dying body toward her. Of course. The heroine’s name was Julia. Tom’s panicked cries echoed in my ears, each syllable a blade twisting in my heart. Blood was streaming down my face, but I couldn’t feel the pain. My eyes were locked on him. I watched as he wrapped his arms tightly around Julia, his face a mask of terror. “Did you hurt your leg? Julia, don’t be scared, just hang on, I’m getting you to a hospital right now!” The blood kept flowing. My breathing grew ragged. I fought through the agony, my voice a barely-there whisper. “Tom… help… help me…” But the man who was only feet away didn’t seem to see me. He scooped Julia into his arms and scrambled for the stairs. “Someone’s hurt! Call an ambulance!” It wasn’t until he was gone that the cold finally seeped in, a chill so deep it felt like an arrow piercing my soul. In a moment of crisis, my husband had abandoned the wife who had just saved his life, and run off with the woman he truly cared about. People screamed and fled around me, too consumed by their own fear to notice my plight. I was left crumpled in a corner, helpless. The pain in my head intensified. My eyelids grew heavy. I bit my lip until I tasted blood, desperately telling myself to stay awake. Faye, you can’t sleep. You have to hold on… I swallowed the metallic tang rising in my throat and used every last bit of strength to cry out. “Help… help me…” It felt like a gut-wrenching scream, but in reality, it was a faint whimper. My vision blurred. As I teetered on the edge of consciousness, my mind, for some reason, drifted back to our wedding day. In front of all our friends and family, Tom had dropped to one knee, his voice thick with devotion as he pledged his love. He’d held me tight, promising, “I don’t believe in fate. I only know that you are the love of my life.” The memories of our love were so vivid, yet now, he had abandoned me for another woman without a second thought. I didn’t understand. Was ‘fate’ truly this inescapable? Was he being driven by some unseen force to fall hopelessly in love with Julia? My whole body throbbed, and I couldn’t tell if it was my heart or my head that hurt more. Then, the world went black. When I came to, I was in a hospital bed. The familiar voice of my best friend, Olivia, cut through the haze. “Doctor, doctor! She’s awake!” She turned to me, her eyes red-rimmed. “You idiot, how did you get so hurt? You have a giant hole in your head, do you know that?” I was too weak to answer. Just then, our assistant, Leo, rushed in with a young doctor. The doctor had the earnest, clueless look of a fresh-faced intern, his ID badge proclaiming his status in big, bold letters. Olivia was aghast. “An intern? Where’s Dr. Chen?” Leo looked deeply uncomfortable. “Mr. Tyler had the hospital director assemble all the senior doctors for a consultation for Ms. Vance. I tried calling the other attending physicians, but they all said they were busy.” “What?” Olivia was dumbfounded. “Did you tell him Faye was critically injured and needed immediate treatment?” “I did.” Leo’s voice was heavy with apology. “Mr. Tyler said… Ms. Vance took a fall. She’s delicate, and he’s worried about long-term damage, so he wants the specialists to give her a thorough examination.” Leo couldn’t bear to look me in the eye. I felt exposed, a cold dread washing over me. Tom and I were famous in our circle for being the perfect, loving couple, comrades in arms who had conquered the business world side-by-side. Everyone knew he would do anything for me. Once, I was kidnapped. He went alone to the rendezvous point and offered himself in my place. He was beaten bloody, but he shielded me with his own body without hesitation. No one could understand it. The man who would have died for me was now acting as if I didn’t exist. Worse, knowing I was grievously injured, he had deliberately diverted every senior doctor away from me. Only I knew why. Because Tom was in love with Julia. Just like the book foretold, the male lead would always prioritize the heroine’s needs above all else. My heart felt like it was being torn in two. My breath hitched, and the heart monitor began to shriek, its lines spiking erratically. “Her condition is critical,” the young doctor said, his voice sharp with anxiety. “We can’t wait any longer. We have to operate. Now!” I was rushed into the operating room. The sting of antiseptic on my open wound was a searing, white-hot fire. A pained groan escaped my lips. It hurt so much. As he stitched, the young doctor’s voice was a gentle murmur. “Hang in there. It’ll be over soon. You’re going to be okay.” The surgery lasted ten hours. Nurses and doctors moved in and out in a blur. They issued critical condition warnings again and again. I was unconscious through it all. When I next opened my eyes, I was back in a private room. Olivia’s face was etched with worry. “You’re finally awake. How do you feel?” Every inch of me ached. My mouth was dry as dust. My first instinct was to ask if Tom had come to see me, but I stopped myself. There was no point in seeking out more pain. But Olivia saw the question in my eyes. Her voice was laced with fury. “That bastard has been by Julia’s bedside for a day and a night. He hasn’t come to see you once. He’s not human!” Olivia caught herself, her voice softening. “The soundproofing in these VIP rooms is really good. Maybe… maybe he’s hard of hearing and didn’t hear what Leo said. I’ll go find him and get this straightened out!” I spoke, my voice frail. “Don’t bother. It doesn’t matter if he comes or not.” My friend looked at me, her heart breaking. “But, Faye, you were so badly hurt. Your head… it was full of blood. The doctor said if they had operated any later, you might have ended up in a vegetative state…” I lowered my gaze. “Yes. I was lucky.” What happened that day had made one thing crystal clear: Tom and I were over. That shelf didn’t just smash my head; it smashed the rose-tinted glasses I’d been wearing. My love was a bloody, mangled mess on the floor. That afternoon, I was resting in bed with my eyes closed when I overheard two junior assistants whispering outside my door. “I’m so jealous of Ms. Vance. The boss is so handsome, and he’s so in love with her!” “I know, right? She just got a tiny little scrape, and the whole hospital’s best doctors are tending to her. Talk about a fuss!” “That’s not all. This morning, she was craving pastries from that famous downtown bakery, and Mr. Tyler drove over there himself to get them. You know how hard it is to get anything from that place.” “Sigh. Faye’s life is tough. If she weren’t so lucky, she would’ve died in that fire. Mr. Tyler always seemed to adore her, but the second there was trouble, he completely forgot about his own wife. Poor Faye.” Their voices faded as they walked away. I let out a bitter laugh. I had been waiting for Tom to see me. To hear him say, in his own words, that he loved someone else. To hear him ask for a divorce. Or at least, to offer an explanation. An explanation for when the man who had promised me the world had started to stray, and how he had gotten involved with Julia. But I never imagined this. He hadn’t just strayed. He had completely forgotten my existence while running off to buy pastries for his damsel in distress. If that was the case, then I would be the one to let go. I summoned Leo. “Draft a detailed divorce agreement. Tell Tom I want a divorce.” Leo looked stunned, but he nodded. “Right away.” Not long after, I got a call from Tom’s assistant. He greeted me respectfully before relaying Tom’s message. “Ms. Morgan, Mr. Tyler asked me to tell you that Ms. Vance is the daughter of a major client. He was entrusted with her care, and he must prioritize the company’s interests. He hopes you won’t throw a tantrum over him saving someone and to please stop talking about divorce.” “He wanted to explain everything to you in person yesterday, but you weren’t in your office, so he went to handle other business.” “Today, he has to follow up on another partnership, so he needs you to manage things at the company for now. He said that once this is all over, he will apologize to you personally.” I hung up the phone and laughed until tears streamed down my face. He didn’t even know I was injured. He had no idea I’d been critically wounded, that I’d been fighting for my life in this very hospital. And on top of it all, he thought I was playing some childish, jealous game by asking for a divorce. It was so absurd, so utterly ridiculous it was comical. But I couldn’t stop the pain in my chest, or the tears that fell like rain. This time, my heart, which had held on to hope for Tom, finally turned to ash. The doctor said I needed to rest properly, or I’d suffer permanent health problems that could affect my lifespan. And I very much wanted to live a few more years. Fortunately, I had a piece of healing jade, a special stone that was said to promote recovery. But before I could even feel a flicker of relief, Tom’s assistant was back. This time, he was after my jade. “Ms. Morgan, this is difficult for me, but Mr. Tyler’s instructions were clear. Whatever Ms. Vance wants, she gets.” “She’s not well, and she wants that jade to help with her recovery…” So that’s how important Julia was to him. I had nearly died, and I desperately needed this stone to help my body heal. And he, without a moment’s hesitation, was trying to snatch it away from me to give to Julia as a plaything. With his wealth, he could have anything in the world. Why was he so fixated on taking what was mine? My face hardened. “I need this jade to recover,” I said, my voice sharp. “If he wants it, tell him to come and get it himself.” The assistant nodded and left. A few moments later, my door swung open and Julia walked in. She was wearing an oversized hospital gown, which made her look fragile and pitiable. Her words, however, were anything but. “Faye. Tom sent me. Give me the jade. I need it to get better.” I stared at her. “It’s my property. Why should I give it to you?” “Because I’m the one Tom can’t stop thinking about.” She looked at me, her tone dripping with mockery. “I went to a lot of trouble to start that fire. It’s a shame you’re so hard to kill.” A chill went down my spine. The fire… she had set it deliberately. “Aren’t you afraid I’ll call the police?” Julia was unfazed. “Do you have any proof?” “Let me put it this way,” she continued, “The moment I saw Tom, I knew he was the one I’d been waiting for. And he knows it too. He knows I’m the heroine of his life story. He can’t be without me. And with his protection, I can do whatever I want.” I knew she was right, and the words died in my throat. Tom was completely bewitched by her, as if under a spell. For her, he could abandon his colleagues in a fire. For her, he would drive across town just to see her smile. And for her, he would give me up. She glanced at the diamond wedding ring on my finger, a dismissive sneer on her face. “Tom gave you this, didn’t he? What a pity. The main diamond is gone.” “A broken ring for a broken marriage. You and Tom are about finished, aren’t you? I’d advise you to be smart and leave him on your own.” She cast a sidelong glance at me, placing a hand on her still-flat stomach. “Besides, I’m pregnant. It’s Tom’s.” “You’ve been married to him for so long with no baby. I guess your married life isn’t that… harmonious. But that’s normal. After so many years, even the best meal gets boring. No wonder Tom said that holding your hand feels like his left hand holding his right.” She covered her mouth and giggled. I was stunned. They had slept together? She was carrying his child? A thousand tiny needles pricked at my chest. I stared at the triumphant woman before me and said, enunciating every word, “Is being a mistress something to be proud of?” “Everyone in this city knows that I, Faye Morgan, am Tom Tyler’s wife. If I were to let it slip that you’re the homewrecker who destroyed my marriage, what do you think would happen? Don’t you think you and your precious Tom would become social pariahs?” The smile froze on Julia’s face. She glared at me, her bravado faltering. “You wouldn’t dare! Aren’t you afraid of making Tom angry?” I smiled sweetly. “Why don’t you try me?” Julia shot me a hateful look and stormed out. Just as she exited, she ran right into Tom, who was on his way back. Her face crumpled, and she burst into tears. “Tom, I’m so upset! The doctor said that jade would be good for my health. I was just curious, I just wanted to see if it was really that magical, but that person… she wouldn’t even let me look at it! She just yelled at me and threw me out! Waaah! If she didn’t want to show me, that’s fine, but why did she have to yell at me?” Tom’s face darkened instantly. “Who would dare bully you like that? I’ll deal with them!” He took Julia by the arm and stormed toward my room. “How much is the jade worth? Name a price, I’ll pay you double! But you,” his voice boomed through the closed door, “you will apologize to my woman!” “I’d like to see just who is arrogant enough to mess with someone of mine!” He pushed the door open, his arm still around Julia. He took in the sight of me on the bed, the nurse cleaning my wound, and froze—

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On the day I was supposed to get married, my best friend’s mother told everyone I’d been a sugar baby in college. That I’d had an abortion. When I found out, my first instinct was to call the cops. But everyone, everyone, told me to focus on the wedding. To not stoop to the level of a gossiping old hag. Then I learned that someone at her table was live-streaming the reception. The rumor spread like wildfire. My mother-in-law believed it. She forced my husband to divorce me. An anonymous complaint was filed at my job, and I was fired. My parents, unable to show their faces in our small town, disowned me. The blows came one after another, and I fell into a deep depression. I jumped to my death. When I opened my eyes again, I was back. Back on my wedding day. … “Hold on,” I said, stopping the makeup artist’s brush mid-air. I lowered my head and grabbed my phone. It didn’t take long to find the live stream. I clicked the link, and the voices of several middle-aged women filled the room. “So what does the groom’s family do? This is quite the fancy setup.” “I hear they’re in the hotel business. Own a bunch of properties. You have to hand it to Jane, she really knows how to play her cards. She’s pretty, sure, but her real talent is wrapping men around her little finger.” I turned the volume up, and the sound from my phone’s speaker cut through the quiet of the bridal suite, catching the attention of my bridesmaids. One of them leaned in. “Fiona,” she gasped, recognizing a face on the screen. “That’s your mom.” Fiona rushed over, just in time to hear her mother, Rose, continue her tirade. “Honestly, our Fiona is prettier than Jane, but she just doesn’t have those… vixen’s tricks. Jane’s so well-endowed for a reason, you know. All those men… She was a born seductress. Dating boys in elementary school, a rich man’s plaything in college. She’d do anything for money, sleep with anyone. Had a few abortions, too. Oh, what a shame.” Fiona’s face went bone-white. “Jane, don’t listen to her,” she stammered. “She’s just talking nonsense. I’ll go out there right now and make her stop.” But before Fiona could move, I shot up from my chair and stormed toward the door, my wedding dress rustling around me. Fiona grabbed my arm. “Jane, don’t! It’s your wedding day! I’ll handle it. I’ll make sure she doesn’t say another word, I promise.” My other friends chimed in, echoing her plea. The bride couldn’t just march out before the ceremony started, it would look terrible. “Yeah, Jane, just hang in there,” Fiona said, her face a mask of sincerity, as if she truly had my best interests at heart. “You know my mom, her mouth runs faster than her brain. I’ll go give her a piece of my mind. After today, I’ll make her apologize to you personally. Don’t let her ruin your big day.” In my last life, I didn’t find out from a live stream. A relative, disgusted by the gossip, had come to tell me in hushed tones. And I had listened to them. I had endured it. But the next day, before Fiona could drag her mother over for a half-hearted apology, the story was already everywhere. That one rumor cost me my husband, my parents, and my career. It pushed me until I broke. And through it all, Rose never once spoke up to say she’d lied. Reborn, there was no way I was letting it go. After all, I knew which was more important: a wedding, or my life. I ignored Fiona and strode out of the room. When I reached Rose’s table, she was still deep in the sordid details of my supposed abortion. “She was still in college, of course she couldn’t let her parents know. She borrowed money from my Fiona. My girl has such a big heart, she stole from me to help her friend. That’s how I found out. And I know the boy’s mother, too. I checked with her later. Her son really did knock Jane up.” “Aunt Rose, is that really true?” someone asked. “Mom! What the hell are you talking about?!” Fiona’s shriek and my sharp question echoed at the same time. Rose jumped, startled. She turned and saw me, her smile instantly awkward. But she recovered quickly, feigning ignorance. “Jane, honey, what are you doing out here already?” I stared at her, my face a canvas of pure shock. “Aunt Rose, is it true? Did I have an abortion in college? Did you see it with your own eyes?” What had been a quiet murmur at one table suddenly had an audience. My appearance, my raised voice—it drew every eye in the hall. Rose was flustered, suddenly at a loss for words. Fiona looked like she wanted the ground to swallow her whole. She tugged on her mother’s sleeve. “Mom. Apologize.” Rose stood up. “Jane, I’m sorry. You know me, I just talk without thinking.” My eyes widened in mock disbelief. “So you’re saying it’s true?” Before Rose could answer, my parents and my fiancé, Ethan, had rushed over. “Jane, what’s wrong?” my mother asked, taking my arm. “Whatever it is, we can talk about it calmly.” “Mom, Aunt Rose is telling everyone that I was promiscuous in college, that I got pregnant and had an abortion,” I said, my voice trembling with feigned horror. “But I don’t remember any of it! That man… he must have drugged me! It’s the only explanation!” My mother’s face instantly darkened. She glared at Rose. “Rose, what is the meaning of this? Spreading vile rumors at my daughter’s wedding?” Rose forced a laugh. “It was a mistake. I misspoke. I already apologized to Jane.” My mother turned back to me. “Jane, you know your Aunt Rose loves to gossip. She’s already said she’s sorry, just let it go.” My father added from behind me, “That’s right. Look at yourself. All our friends and family are here. No one’s going to believe such a ridiculous lie.” It wasn’t just my parents. Everyone started trying to smooth things over. Seeing the moment about to be swept under the rug, I let tears well in my eyes. “No, no, Aunt Rose told the story with such detail! How could it be fake? If I don’t remember it, it must have happened against my will! That man committed a crime! Aunt Rose, you have to tell me who he is! I’m calling the police!” The word “police” wiped the smile right off Rose’s face. “There’s no one!” she said quickly. “Fine, I made it all up, okay? Jane, it’s your wedding day. It’s my fault, I shouldn’t have said those things. Let’s just… let this be my apology.” She raised her teacup. “I’ll drink to your happiness, and we’ll say no more about it. Just pretend I was lying. Okay?” She drained the cup in one gulp. Then she looked at me. “There. Are we good?” I just stared at her, my expression making it clear that we were not. Rose felt my displeasure. She clearly thought she, the elder, had already given me, the younger, enough face, and was annoyed by my persistence. She started to get up, muttering about how I’d ruined the mood and she should just leave. I shot out a hand and grabbed her arm. “No, Aunt Rose. You can’t just leave.” She looked at me, exasperated. “I’ve apologized! What more do you want? Do you want me to get on my knees and beg?” I narrowed my eyes. “Everyone heard what you said. Since you admit it was a lie, then you need to clear my name. Right now. Get up on that stage and tell everyone that you’re a malicious gossip and everything you just said was a complete fabrication from your own sick mind.” Rose’s face hardened. Apologizing in front of this small group was humiliating enough. Now I was trying to force her onto the stage. Her patience snapped. “Jane, I apologized to give you an out. Don’t you dare think what I said wasn’t true. Let sleeping dogs lie. You should take that advice to heart.” My grip on her arm tightened. “So it is true? Then tell me the man’s name. Otherwise, you made it all up, and I’m suing you for slander.” That did it. Rose was officially provoked. “His name is Nathan! And he was married at the time! Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten that, too.” I froze for a split second. And in that same instant, Fiona’s face drained of all color. Rose didn’t notice her daughter’s strange reaction. She only saw mine and became instantly smug. “Remember now, do you?” Before I could speak, Fiona lurched forward, grabbing her mom’s arm and pulling her toward the exit. “Mom, you’ve gone too far! This is Jane’s wedding! We’re supposed to be friends! How are we ever supposed to face each other after this?” “What are you so afraid of?” Rose snapped back, shaking her off. “I gave the little brat a chance to save face, and she threw it back at me. A friend like that is no friend at all.” Rose had no idea. Fiona wasn’t afraid of our friendship ending. She was terrified of the truth coming out. In my past life, I always wondered how Rose could remember such specific details about a lie. But listening to her now, and seeing Fiona’s reaction, a bold idea began to form in my mind. The moment she said his name—Nathan—I was certain. Someone was a mistress in college. Someone had an abortion. But it wasn’t me. It was her own precious daughter, Fiona. I’d seen Fiona get into Nathan’s car near campus multiple times. I knew they’d been a thing for a while, but I never knew Nathan was married. And I remembered a time when Fiona was terribly weak and pale. When I asked what was wrong, she just said it was a bad period. I was naive back then. I didn’t understand how menstrual cramps could cause that much pain. Seeing them about to escape the reception hall, I blocked Rose’s path again. “You’re not leaving. You have to be my witness.” I insisted I had no memory of any of this, no memory of ever being involved with Nathan. Since she remembered it all so clearly, she could come with me to the police station and give a statement. If she refused, it was proof she was lying. Rose, however, thought I was just playing dumb, trying to bury the past. She stopped trying to leave and squared off with me. “It doesn’t matter if you admit it, it’s still true! And I’ll tell you what, Nathan is having his engagement party in this very hotel, right now. I’ll call him over. Let’s see how you handle that.” I lifted my chin. “Go on then. Get him over here. Let’s confront him together!” Spurred on, Rose wrenched her arm from Fiona’s grasp, pulled out her phone, and made the call. And it was true. Nathan really was in the hotel. A few minutes later, Nathan’s mother arrived. The second she appeared, Rose grabbed her hand. “During your son’s first marriage, did he or did he not get a college girl pregnant? Look, isn’t this her?” I expected Nathan’s mom to deny it, given the public setting. It wasn’t exactly something to be proud of. But to my surprise, she said smugly, “That was years ago, who remembers the details? But yes, there was some little thing who was always chasing after my Nathan.” Then she seemed to remember where she was and covered her mouth with a giggle. “Why did you call me over here to talk about this?” Rose shot me a triumphant smirk. “Did you hear that, Jane? Let’s just leave it at that. It’s your wedding day, so I’ll do you a favor and not air all of your dirty laundry.” With that, the two of them started chatting as if nothing was wrong, discussing Nathan’s second fiancée, the daughter of his boss, and how well his career was going. I cut in. “This lady only said ‘some little thing.’ How do you know that was me?” The entire hall was craning their necks, trying to catch every word. The wedding planner came over and whispered urgently that the ceremony was about to start. My parents, mortified, tried to pull me away. “Jane, what do you think you’re doing? Can’t this wait until after the wedding?” I shook my head like a metronome. “No. I want this settled now. Before my reputation is completely destroyed.” My dad’s voice was tight with anger. “She already gave you an out, didn’t you hear her? Drop it! Do you even want to get married or not?” I looked over at my future husband and mother-in-law. Their faces were as black as thunderclouds. The disgust in their eyes was overflowing. “This is the wonderful daughter-in-law you picked out for me,” my mother-in-law sneered at Ethan. “I told you from the start she was a little fox, but you wouldn’t listen.” Ethan strode over, his voice sharp with displeasure. “Jane, is any of this true? Because if it is, I don’t think we can go through with this wedding.” His mother added from behind him, “How utterly shameless. To make such a huge scene to cover up your own filthy past.” Their words were like daggers. My parents cared only about their own reputation, about getting the wedding over with. My fiancé thought I was embarrassing him. But he and I had met freshman year. We were inseparable for years. He, more than anyone, knew whether or not I’d been pregnant. And yet, in the end, he believed them too.

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My roommate’s cousin was the CEO of a major corporation. We had been in a secret relationship for three years. One day, he told me, “Hey, my cousin’s bringing her boyfriend of three years to meet my parents tonight.” He clapped me on the back. “By the way, when are you gonna bring your girlfriend around for me to meet?” I didn’t know how to answer. I mumbled an excuse and slipped out onto the balcony, dialing his cousin’s number. The call was rejected. I turned around and froze. My girlfriend was standing in the doorway, her arm linked with another man’s. The moment she saw me, the smile vanished from her face. “What are you doing in my house?” 1 The question, sharp and accusatory, hung in the air. Every eye in the room turned to me. Realizing her mistake, Phoebe’s tone softened, but the damage was done. “Charles? What a surprise. I thought you were on a business trip.” Under the curious gaze of her family, I stood frozen for a beat before forcing a bitter smile, playing along with her charade. A sharp pain lanced through my heart. So, this was it. I was the secret she couldn’t bear to let see the light of day. A million questions, a million unspoken words, were screaming in my head, but all my strength had evaporated. Suddenly, none of it seemed to matter anymore. “Just got back,” I said, my voice hollow. “Didn’t have a chance to let you know, Ms. Branson.” My compliance seemed to soothe her, and her expression returned to normal. The dinner was a masterclass in performance art. I played the part of a congenial guest, clinking glasses with Phoebe’s “boyfriend,” Nick, and even exchanging contact information. We pretended to hit it off. I didn’t speak another word to Phoebe for the rest of the evening. After dinner, I went home alone. I sat on the sofa, the image of Phoebe on Nick’s arm branded into my mind. I saw her introducing him to her parents, to her relatives, as her boyfriend. It was everything I had ever wanted. I had dreamed of her taking me home, of her telling her parents that I would spend my life making her happy, that I would never let her suffer. Instead, I was a rat, scurrying in the shadows. I sat there until midnight. Finally, Phoebe came home. The storm of emotions that had been building inside me should have erupted, just as it had so many times before. The familiar cycle: a tense calm, an argument, shouting, excuses, blame, and finally, the cold war of silence. But this time, I felt nothing. The fight had gone out of me. It was all meaningless. Phoebe took off her shoes. Seeing me sitting there in the dark, she spoke first, a rare occurrence. “I only brought Nick to meet my parents because they’ve been pressuring me to get married. I just asked him to play the part for a day, to get them off my back.” “Mm,” I said, acknowledging her explanation. Nothing more. Logically, I knew my reaction was perfectly reasonable. But for some reason, it made her angry. The impatience in her voice was so sharp it made me look up. “Charles, I just explained everything. What is this attitude?” Her words hit me like a physical blow. Without thinking, I shot back, “You asked your assistant to pretend to be your boyfriend? Why didn’t you just take me? I’m your actual boyfriend!” “Because you would have embarrassed me in front of my parents!” The words hung in the air, heavy and final. She threw her handbag at me, turned, and stormed into the bedroom, slamming the door so hard the frame rattled. The bag was a gift from Nick. A discounted Coach bucket bag from an outlet mall, but she carried it everywhere. She would shield it from the rain with her own body. The Chanel classic flap I had bought her, however, was slashed to ribbons and thrown in the trash after Nick declared it was “obviously a fake.” It was so obvious. How had I been so blind? Her first, unfiltered reaction in a moment of anger—that was the truth. She was ashamed of me. Of course she was. I met her in college, a nobody. Because of her, I didn’t go back home after graduation; I went to work at her company. She was the CEO of a multi-billion-dollar corporation. In everyone else’s eyes, I was just a freeloader, riding her coattails. I was an embarrassment. Nick, on the other hand, was her equal, a perfect match who made her look good. It didn’t matter that for three years, I had been devoted to her, that I had catered to her every whim. I could never compete with Nick. It was time to end this ridiculous three-year charade. I took a spare blanket from the closet and spent the night in the study. For the first time in a long time, I slept soundly. The next morning, I got ready and left for work. As I was leaving the apartment complex, I got a call from the dealership. “Mr. Thomas? Your car is ready for pickup.” Last month, Phoebe had lent my car to Nick without asking. When he returned it, he casually mentioned a few scratches. I had wanted to confront him, but Phoebe had defended him, so I had to let it go and just send the car in for repairs. I arrived at the dealership shortly after. The manager handed me my keys with a knowing, conspiratorial smile. He gestured to a gift bag on the passenger seat, emblazoned with the dealership’s logo. “Hey, buddy,” he said, winking. “We put everything back for you. I get it, you’re young. But maybe be a little more discreet next time? Keep your… personal items… out of sight before you bring the car in. It was a bit awkward for the mechanics.” Confused, I opened the bag. Inside was a set of lacy lingerie and a pair of nipple clamps with little bells on them. I knew exactly what that meant. And I knew Phoebe and I had never done anything like that in the car. There was only one possible conclusion. It was her and Nick. 2 There was no questioning, no anger. Not even surprise. I removed the dashcam’s memory card. “Do you buy used cars?” I asked the manager. “We certainly do, sir!” I didn’t haggle. We quickly settled on a price, and I took a taxi to the office. As I sat down at my desk, I overheard a few female colleagues gossiping. “Do you think Ms. Branson is really with that assistant of hers?” “That’s what I’ve been thinking! I heard she personally recruited Nick, offered him a huge salary!” “Of course she did. They were college classmates, you know. I saw them at a bar together just last night!” Even though I knew it was over, a sharp pain still pierced my heart. So that’s how it was. I numbly opened my computer, but the blank document stared back at me. I couldn’t write a single word. “Charles!” Phoebe’s voice came from behind me. “You’re an hour late! I’m marking you as absent for the day.” Before I could argue, she added, “I checked your time card. Exactly one hour. According to company policy…” “Okay.” I nodded, my eyes still fixed on the screen, trying to figure out how to start the damn project proposal. My placid acceptance seemed to surprise her. She lingered by my desk, her shadow falling over my workspace, blocking the light. I looked up, confused. “Is there something else, Ms. Branson?” She crossed her arms, looking down at me, her face a mask of scrutiny. “Charles, don’t you have anything to say for yourself?” I feigned confusion, thinking for a moment. “I was late. That’s a fact. You’re following company policy, which is as it should be. I don’t think I have anything to explain. I don’t have any excuses.” My frankness seemed to disarm her. She glared at me for another moment before turning and walking away. Soon, I was lost in my work, and the hours flew by. When I finally took off my headphones and looked up, the entire office was empty. It was 11:30 at night. I cursed my work buddies under my breath for not telling me they were leaving. The sharp click of high heels approached from behind. Phoebe, having just thrown away her takeout container, sat down in the chair next to me. “Why didn’t you reply to my messages?” I opened my laptop and saw that she had indeed messaged me. “Help me with this. Which of these CPUs, motherboards, and graphics cards are the best? For triple-A gaming.” “And how do I get the RGB lighting in the case to look cool? Is liquid cooling better than air cooling?” She knew I was an expert in this field. It was my bread and butter. A year ago, I had mentioned wanting a new high-end Intel processor. It wasn’t that I was trying to get a gift out of her; it was a time when she was running hot and cold, and I was desperate for some sign that I still mattered to her. Her response then had been sharp and dismissive. “You’re not a college kid anymore, Charles! You’ve been out of school for two years. Stop thinking about video games and focus on your work!” I had tried to explain that for my work, a powerful CPU was more important than a graphics card, but she hadn’t listened. Now, I put together a list of components for her. She was thrilled. After she placed the order, she insisted we leave work together. On the way home, I sat in the back seat, running diagnostics on my laptop. I idly scrolled through my social media feed. The first post was from Nick. A nine-photo grid with the caption: “I just have to mention it, and it happens. This is what it feels like to be loved.” The photos were of the high-end gaming setup Phoebe had just ordered. I liked the post and left a comment. “Wishing you all the best.” A few moments later, Phoebe’s phone buzzed. The car screeched to a halt on the side of the road. She turned and glared at me. “So I bought him a gaming computer. What’s with the passive-aggressive comment on his post?” Her voice was rising. “I’ll buy you one too! I’ll buy you whatever you want, is that it?” I was annoyed. The sudden stop had made me hit a key, interrupting the diagnostic program that was almost finished. Now I had to start over. But I had no energy to fight. I sighed, restarted the program, and said, as calmly as I could, “I wasn’t being passive-aggressive. It was a sincere comment. You don’t have to be so sensitive.” Her face darkened. She reached over and slammed my laptop shut. “Is this because I asked Nick to pretend to be my boyfriend? Are you going to keep throwing a tantrum about this?” she seethed. “Is this fun for you, Charles? You should be thanking him, not leaving snide comments on his posts. Don’t think I’m going to coddle you just because you’re younger than me. If you’re going to act like a child, go home to your parents. Don’t expect me to put up with it! Know your place!” Her voice was laced with a final, threatening edge. “One more stunt like this, and we’re done.” In the past, I would have been begging for her forgiveness. But now, I was just tired. I just wanted to finish my work. The code would have to be completely rewritten if this test failed. I nodded. “Mm. I get it. You can keep driving now.” I don’t know what it was about my calm response that set her off, but she screamed at me. “Get out!” I looked at her for a long moment, then grabbed my laptop and got out of the car. I didn’t want to fight. It wasn’t worth the risk of her getting road rage. The second I was out, she stomped on the gas and sped away. Watching her taillights disappear, I thought about the past. Her moods had always thrown me into a panic, making me question what I had done wrong, how I had upset her. I just wanted her to be happy, but with me, she was a storm of unpredictable emotions. I always assumed it was my fault and rushed to apologize. Not this time. I sat on the curb, my laptop open, trying to salvage my work. I pulled out my phone and called a car to take me to a five-star hotel. I booked the presidential suite.

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The company’s cash flow had seized up. The final project payment, the one I’d promised would be on time, was going to be a month late. I called in Zoe, the girl I’d been sponsoring for years. She was my foreman’s daughter, working as an intern in my office since graduation. I chose my words carefully. “The money isn’t going to come through on schedule. It might be another month. Could you let your dad know? I don’t want him to worry.” But the next day, the crew smashed up my office. “You swore on your life!” they roared. “The project’s done, and now you’re saying you’re broke?” My eyes found Zoe. She was in tears. “All I know is the company has no money right now,” she sobbed. “You can’t pay, and I can’t lie for you. It’s a matter of my character.” 1 My office had been ransacked. I’d just gotten home from a business trip when the call came. By the time I arrived, the place was a disaster zone. The heavy desks and chairs they couldn’t break were violently shoved out of place, creating a chaotic maze. Smaller things—mugs, binders, files—were shattered and strewn across the floor like confetti. Computer monitors were smashed, their screens a spiderweb of cracks, glittering under the fluorescent lights. The moment my staff saw me, it was as if their spine had snapped back into place. They all rushed toward me. “We couldn’t stop them. They beat up all three security guards.” “They smashed my computer! My data…” “A whole week of analysis, gone. Just… gone.” Before I could say a word, they emerged from my personal office. A dark, angry mass of a few dozen men, a thundercloud rolling ominously toward us. They had come straight from the construction site, still wearing their hard hats, their clothes splattered with flecks of concrete. These men had worked for me for three years. In my memory, they were always cheerful, salt-of-the-earth types. Now, their faces were grim masks of fury. Some of them even held shovels, their knuckles white. I couldn’t imagine what could have driven them to such destructive rage. A second later, one of the workers answered my unspoken question. He stomped toward me, his voice a low growl. “So you’re the one who won’t pay?” He lunged, his hand reaching for my arm, but one of my guys moved faster, tackling him to the ground. Pinned, the man still struggled, his eyes locked on mine, desperate to drag an answer out of me. His aggression ignited a fire in my own team. “You think you can touch our boss?” “Just because we haven’t hit back doesn’t mean we won’t!” The men on my side squared up, stepping forward. The two groups stood in a tense standoff, a spark away from exploding into a full-blown brawl. It was only then that the foreman, Mr. Miller, stepped forward. He took a long, noisy drag from his cigarette, the tip glowing like a malevolent eye. “Quiet!” he barked, his voice raw and powerful. The restless crew instantly fell silent. I’d barely spoken to him over the years. My only real memory of him was from a visit to his home last year—a small, worn-down house with a couple of rooms. He’d bowed his head, his gratitude overflowing. “Thank you, Ms. Blackwood. Thank you for sponsoring my daughter all these years. She never would’ve made it to college without you.” Now, he stood tall, the timid man from my memory completely gone. He looked down at me, his gaze cold. “You said you’d pay the second the project was finished. Well, it’s finished. And now you’re saying there’s no money.” He paused, letting the accusation hang in the air. “What is that, if not a lie?” 2 His words were a signal. The rest of the crew joined in, their voices a rising chorus of anger. “Yeah, a damn lie!” “My whole family is counting on that paycheck!” “Liar! Liar! Liar!” But I never said I wouldn’t pay. I said it would be delayed, a month at the most. In that instant, I knew exactly where the problem lay. I forced my voice to remain steady, my anger a tight knot in my stomach. “Get Zoe in here,” I told my assistant. At the mention of his daughter’s name, Miller took another drag of his cigarette, his eyes fixed on me. “Let’s keep this professional. This has nothing to do with Zoe. This is about you refusing to pay us what we’re owed.” Zoe appeared moments later, looking flustered. I held my temper in check. “What, exactly, did you tell your father?” The question was barely out of my mouth before she burst into tears. “I just told him you can’t pay right now! I can’t lie! The company accounts are empty!” My legs almost gave out from the sheer force of my frustration. This was a delicate matter that should have been handled by HR, but I’d trusted her. I thought that coming from her, the news would be easier for the crew to swallow. I had sponsored her for five years. She was the foreman’s daughter. It was the one task I thought was foolproof. And she’d managed to detonate it, twisting my message into a declaration of bankruptcy. She was still crying, and some of the workers who knew her started to comfort her. “Don’t cry, Zoe. We know you’re on our side.” I gripped the edge of a displaced desk, my knuckles white. My voice was a low, dangerous hiss. “What did I tell you, Zoe? I said it would be delayed a month at most. I said I would pay.” She sobbed, her words a messy defense. “But you can’t pay now! I can’t lie about that! It’s a matter of my character!” 3 My hand shot out, grabbing the nearest thing—a glass tumbler. CRASH! It exploded against the wall, and my frayed sanity shattered right along with it. I pointed a trembling finger at Zoe. “Your character? You want the entire company to vouch for your damn character? This was one simple thing, and you couldn’t even do that right! What did I say? And what did you say? I said the money was coming!” Zoe cried harder. “Just tell me! Which part of what I said was wrong?” “Go out there and ask! Find me one construction company that doesn’t have payment delays! I’m late by one month! One month!” A hot wave of anger surged through me. I lunged forward, my hand raised. For years, I had treated her like a little sister. I never imagined she would stab me in the back like this. Before my hand could connect, Miller caught my wrist, his eyes bulging with rage. “You dare lay a hand on my daughter?” I ripped my arm from his grasp and let out a cold, bitter laugh as I looked at the hostile crowd. “The company’s funds are tight right now, but you will be paid. One month, at the latest.” A wave of murmurs rippled through the crew. “So she’s not refusing to pay, just late by a month?” “The last company we worked for, we waited half a year for our money.” “A month? That’s not bad at all…” They were all from Zoe’s hometown. I remembered my first visit to their village three years ago. The villagers had brought me fresh fruit, and I noticed the dirt caked under the nails of the woman who handed them to me. She saw me looking and shyly wiped her hands on her clothes. “I washed them,” she’d said, embarrassed. That single, simple gesture moved me. I decided then and there to help them. The whole village was full of hardworking people with few skills beyond manual labor. I paid for their travel and housing and put them on my payroll immediately. The standard rate for a laborer in Oakridge was three hundred dollars a day. I gave them four hundred. I made sure they had cold water on hot days and hot meals delivered for lunch, personally checking the quality of the food before it was sent out. I never imagined that after all that, a two-week delay would lead them to not just question me, but to demolish my office. Even after I clarified the situation, the tension in the room didn’t dissipate. “It’s a trick,” someone muttered. “She’s planning to skip town.” 4 That single sentence was like a drop of water in a vat of hot oil. The murmuring crew erupted once more. Amid the chaos, someone turned to Zoe. “Zoe, you tell us. We trust you. Is she going to pay or not?” I looked at her, my heart sinking. Between sobs, she answered. “Uncle, the company really can’t pay right now.” A suffocating weight pressed down on my chest. My own staff couldn’t take it anymore. “Zoe, tell them!” my assistant, Mia, snapped. “Has our boss ever been late with your pay before?” These men had been with me for three years. Every single time a project ended, I paid them immediately, faster than anyone else in the business. This was the very first delay, and this was how they reacted. Miller’s gaze hardened as he looked at me, and in that instant, he delivered his verdict. “Sorry, Ms. Blackwood. I’ve got hundreds of men to answer to. I can’t afford the risk.” He threw his cigarette to the ground. “Either you pay us now, or we’ll keep making trouble. We’ll camp out right here, in front of your office. Let’s see you try to do business then.” The world swam, dark spots dancing in my vision. For three years… even a dog, if you fed it every day for three years, wouldn’t bite you if you missed one meal. But these men, over a single delayed payment, were ready to tear me apart. In all of Oakridge, no one treated their crews like I did. They were doing this because I was a woman, and they thought their numbers gave them the power to bully me. I had been up all night dealing with work, skipped breakfast, and walked straight into this mess. I was swaying on my feet, but in that moment of weakness, a cold clarity washed over me. If a dog bites you, you get a new dog. Especially when it comes to laborers, who were a dime a dozen. I steadied myself, my voice clear and firm. “How much? Tell me the number.” “Four and a half million dollars.” Seeing me soften, he quickly added, “Look, it’s hundreds of us, working for over four months straight. Our families depend on this…” “Enough,” I cut him off. I took a step forward, and immediately, a wall of workers closed in around me, as if they were afraid I’d make a run for it. “I’m going to my office to make a phone call.” Only when I was inside did I see the full extent of the damage. Files were dumped on the floor, drawers had been emptied, and important documents were torn to shreds. I walked through the wreckage to my desk. Standing amidst the ruins, I picked up my phone and started making calls. “Mr. Lee, it’s Evelyn. I was wondering if you were free this afternoon…” “Catherine, it’s me. I need to ask you a favor…” “Ben, it’s Evelyn…” Twelve calls. Twelve times I had to swallow my pride, something I hadn’t done since I was a child. Through the glass wall of my office, I could see my employees, all of them looking down, unable to meet my eyes. The workers, on the other hand, stared at me like a pack of wolves, waiting to tear a piece of flesh from my bones. I transferred the money, every last cent. Then I walked out, holding my phone. “It’s all there. Check it.” 5 Miller confirmed the transfer on his phone. He looked up at me, a smirk on his face. “See? You had the money all along. Why make us go through all this trouble?” I changed the subject. “The police are on their way. Let’s calculate the damages. You’ll be paying for them.” They must have anticipated this when they started smashing things. A few of them looked angry, but no one argued. While we waited, Zoe spoke up. “Evelyn… let them go. They have another project lined up. Every second they’re here is a loss for them.” I shot a sideways glance at her. One of the workers, thinking she had a point, started to shuffle toward the door. Mia, seeing the look on my face, brought me a glass of hot water. I took a sip before speaking. “You don’t need to go back to the site.” Miller finally looked at me directly. “What’s that supposed to mean, boss?” “You’re all fired.” Flick. The sound of a lighter. Smoke curled up into the air. Through the haze, Miller’s voice was laced with contempt. “Ms. Blackwood, we’re halfway through the new project. It’s not right to fire us now.” Zoe looked at me, her voice pleading. “Evelyn, they’ve been with you for three years.” I held the warm glass in my hands and looked at her. “So have you. You’re a big girl now. Pack your things and be out of my house by tonight.” She fell silent. In the dead quiet, Miller threw his half-smoked cigarette to the ground, where it landed on a pile of shredded paper. A small wisp of smoke began to rise. I poured the hot water from my glass onto it. The water hissed, extinguishing the glowing ember and the threat of a fire. I looked at the man. “Get out.” 6 They left. All of them. That night, I worked frantically to hire a new crew. The extra hundred dollars a day I offered meant I found one quickly. The new foreman gave me his word there would be no trouble. By the time I finished, the sky was already turning a pale gray. The apartment was still a mess. I realized Zoe hadn’t come back to pack at all. The next morning, she was waiting for me at the office, a resignation letter in hand. She was wearing a brand-new outfit, the designer logo loud and conspicuous. My eyes fell on the handbag she was carrying. It was bright purple crocodile skin, an ostentatious piece that screamed old money, not the taste of a young woman. I recognized it. It cost close to sixty thousand dollars. In Oakridge, there was only one prominent single man old enough to appreciate a bag like that, and he was a widower who had remained single for years. All the other men in that circle had kids her age. I had sponsored her for five years, watched her grow from a timid girl into a young woman. My voice was harder than I intended when I asked, “Where did you get the bag?” She stammered, “Evelyn… that’s none of your business, is it?” None of my business? I was the one who drove her to college for her first semester. I bought gifts for her roommates so she wouldn’t feel left out. I had guided her through every major decision she’d ever made. And now, it was none of my business. My face hardened. “Where. Did. You. Get it.” Cornered, she finally broke. “My boyfriend gave it to me.” I pointed a finger at her. “He gives you a gift like this, and you have any idea what you’re expected to give him in return?” She looked at me, genuinely confused by my anger. “Return? What do I have to return? He gave it to me because he likes me.” It was never that simple. Teenagers giving each other milk tea, I could believe that was innocent. A sixty-thousand-dollar handbag? There were always strings attached. She continued, her voice gaining a defiant edge. “Evelyn, you sponsored me all this time so I could make something of myself, right? So I could make money? Well, I have. This bag, this outfit… do you have any idea how much they cost?” Was that why I sponsored her? I sponsored her because she had stood before me with tears in her eyes and said, “I have good grades. I just want a chance to learn.” Now, she was proudly showing off her new clothes, a smug look on her face. “Do you know how much this dress costs? It’s more than I would have made in years working for you.” I grabbed the cup of coffee off my desk and, without a word, poured it over her head. The hot liquid streamed down her face, dripping onto her expensive dress. It wasn’t enough. I snatched a pen from my desk, grabbed the purple bag from her, and started scribbling furiously all over the exotic leather. “What are you doing?” she shrieked, trying to wrestle it away from me. Black ink smeared across her arms, but she ignored the stains on her skin, frantically trying to wipe the marks off the bag. “What is wrong with you?” I ignored her, threw the ruined pen on the floor, and walked back to my desk. I took out my checkbook and wrote out a check. My head was throbbing. I pressed my fingers to my temple and held up the check. She immediately fell silent. The sharp click of her heels on the floor echoed in the quiet office. My hand was suddenly empty. She had snatched the check and placed the ruined handbag on my desk. “Evelyn,” she said, her voice laced with a bitter triumph, “you must really look down on me right now, don’t you?” I kept my head in my hands, saying nothing. “Everyone has different goals in life,” she continued. “I don’t think I’ve done anything wrong.” She didn’t think she’d done anything wrong. “Zoe,” I called out as she turned to leave. I pushed myself up and walked toward her. A storm of anger had been brewing inside me since the moment I saw my trashed office. I raised my hand. CRACK. The sound of my palm striking her cheek echoed through the office. She clutched her face, the door wide open. No one dared to look our way. Everyone knew how much I had valued Zoe, how I had personally mentored her, desperate for her to learn the ropes and stand on her own two feet. I couldn’t understand how she had become this person. Zoe held her cheek, a cold smile spreading across her lips. “Evelyn, every penny you ever gave me, I will wire it back to your account. This isn’t over. You just wait.” She walked out, head held high. Mia peeked her head around the corner. “Boss? Are you okay?” I dragged myself back to my desk. The defaced purple handbag sat there, a monument to my failure. I reached out, picked it up, and hurled it into the trash can. As it hit the bottom with a dull thud, the world went black, and I collapsed. 7 When I opened my eyes, Mia was sitting by my hospital bed. She looked like she was bursting to say something. “Spit it out,” I said. She was young and impulsive. Someone else in the room tried to shush her, but it was too late. The words tumbled out. “The new crew got into a fight with Mr. Miller’s crew.” A nurse came in to check on me. “Let’s not talk about work right now,” she said kindly, changing my IV bag. “You need to rest. Eat on time, sleep on time. All these late nights will catch up to you when you’re older.” I nodded obediently. As soon as she left, I turned back to Mia. “The reason.” The others in the room tried to signal her to stop. “Boss, you need to rest. It’s a small thing.” But this was why I’d hired her. She was smart, bold, and fresh out of college, unafraid to say what needed to be said. She pressed her lips together, trying to hold it in, but failed. “Our water truck was on its way to the new site, and it had to pass by the place where Miller’s crew is working now. They blocked the road and ambushed it. The driver was scared, so he stopped, and they just… stole all the water. The whole shipment. Our new foreman took some guys to get it back, and they beat them up. Our guys have to work this afternoon, so they just bought some antiseptic and went straight to the site. The new foreman said it’s not a big deal and he didn’t want to bother you, but it is! That was thousands of dollars worth of water!” She was talking a mile a minute, her voice thick with righteous anger. I understood. Before I could respond, there was a knock on the door. It swung open before I could answer. “Ms. Blackwood! We came to see you!” It was a few of the old workers, carrying a fruit basket. Miller was with them. I would have welcomed a visit, but the moment he sat down, his words dripped with sarcasm. “Thank you, Ms. Blackwood. Thank you so much.” His voice was full of mock gratitude. “Thank you for letting us go. We’re making eight hundred a day now! You have no idea how happy the guys are.” He was practically beaming. “The new boss, he’s a young guy. Generous, open-handed. Not a penny-pincher like you. We’re building a villa for him. A real villa!” His men snickered. Miller continued, “And since leaving you, my Zoe’s found herself a wonderful boyfriend. We’ve all landed on our feet. We really have you to thank for all this.” His words were laced with poison, but I ignored them. After the laughter died down, the worker who had first tried to grab me in the office spoke up, his tone suddenly serious. “Now that we’ve had our fun, let’s talk business.” All eyes turned to him. He stared at me. “We worked for you for three years. Turns out, the real rate for this work is eight hundred a day. You were paying us half. We can’t even imagine how much you pocketed.” He paused, then delivered the real punchline. “We’re here to get paid.” My staff exploded. “Get paid? For what?” “Go ask around! See what the real rate is! We gave you everything, paid time off for bad weather… we were practically a charity!” “A couple of days building a villa has fried your brain!” Miller ignored them, flicking ash from his cigarette. His face was a grim mask. “We’re here to get paid. You owe us for the three years of work you shorted us. You pay us the difference, and we walk away.” “Eight hundred a day,” he repeated, his voice low and menacing. “You do the math. We’ll wait.”

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My wife’s young assistant suddenly dropped a bombshell on social media, a cryptic post about how he couldn’t continue their “vague, messy relationship” any longer. My wife, Miranda, who was usually so cool and composed, burst into our home in a full-blown panic. “Leo’s making a huge scene this time,” she pleaded, her eyes wide with urgency. “We need to get a sham divorce, just for show. You can go stay at your parents’ place for a few days, and as soon as this blows over, we’ll get remarried. I promise.” Her hands gripped my arms. “Don’t worry, Ethan. It’s just for show. You are, and always will be, my only real husband.” Looking at her desperate face, I nodded. But she had no idea. She didn’t know that she and I were bound together by the System. The moment we divorced, I would be erased from this world, never to be seen by her again. … After I agreed, Miranda dragged me straight to the courthouse. I remember once asking her for a snack from the pantry, and it took her five minutes to begrudgingly get it for me. Now, she was moving at lightning speed to end our marriage. Standing in the sterile hallway of the courthouse, she squeezed my hand tightly. “Ethan, you have to believe me. Just give me seven days. I only need seven days to calm him down, and then we’ll get married again, okay?” Her voice was a desperate whisper. “Once I get him sorted out, I’ll give you anything you want. Anything.” I just nodded, my emotions numb. A wide, relieved smile spread across her face as she pulled out a pile of “divorce gifts”—a collection of things I used to love, now laid out before me like a cheap consolation prize. I didn’t even glance at them. They were nothing more than a bribe, a tool she was using to discard me so she could be with her new boy toy. I didn’t take them. I just turned and walked out of the courthouse. She’d always had a string of young, handsome men on the side, even after we were married. Her assistants changed like the seasons, each one a prettier, younger version of the last. I’d argued with her about it. I’d begged her. She would always placate me with sweet words and empty promises, then go right back to her old ways. Eventually, I just gave up. It was her nature, and I couldn’t change it. I told myself it was fine, as long as she still considered me, Ethan, to be her husband. But this new assistant, Leo, was different. This time, I think she had actually fallen for him. She would spend a fortune just to make him smile. She’d cancel our plans to go on lavish trips with him, leaving me at home alone. She’d ignore my calls if she thought it might upset him. And now, just to appease him, she was convincing me to get a fake divorce so she could throw him the wedding of the century. Her heart had left me a long time ago. As we walked out of the courthouse together, I saw Leo waiting by the entrance, practically bouncing on his heels. When he saw Miranda, he ran to her. “Mira! You’re finally out! I’ve been waiting forever. Let’s go!” he chirped, before turning to me with a saccharine-sweet bow, completely ignoring the fury on Miranda’s face. “Thank you, Ethan. Your sacrifice gave me this chance. I’ll take good care of Mira now, you can rest assured!” Before he could say another smug word, Miranda’s hand whipped out and cracked across his face. “Shut up!” she hissed. “Didn’t I tell you to wait in the car? Don’t you dare pull a stunt like this again, or you’re gone. You understand me?” Leo clutched his cheek, his expression a mask of wounded pride. “Mira! You’re divorced now! Why are you still protecting him like this?” Miranda shoved him back, her hand pressing against his face. “I warned you about this. Don’t make me say it again.” Sensing the depth of her rage, Leo finally backed off and walked away, his shoulders slumped, his retreat punctuated by a choked sob. Miranda took a half-step toward him, her hand outstretched as if to comfort him, before she caught herself and pulled back. She stepped in front of me, putting on a show of defending my honor. She had once promised me that no matter what she did on the side, she would never, ever let it affect me or our home. Now, that line had been crossed. And she was panicking. When she looked back at me, her face was a mess of anxiety. “Ethan, I’m so sorry. I had no idea he was going to be here,” she said, her voice small and careful. “I guess I’ve been spoiling him too much lately, he’s gotten bold. I’ll deal with him.” I just shook my head, signaling that it didn’t matter. I’d seen and endured far worse. This was nothing. “He’s already here,” I said, my voice flat. “You should go be with him. I don’t need you to take care of me.” “I’ll grab a cab now. I need to pack my things and find a new place.” Miranda blinked, then quickly recovered. “Of course. Ethan, wherever you want to go, just let me know. I’ll pay for everything. Just go, have some fun.” I nodded without a word and kept walking. The moment I stepped out of the courthouse grounds, a mechanical voice echoed in my mind. “Subject: Ethan McCollum. System has detected the termination of your marital bond with Miranda Thorne. Mission is now concluded.” “In seven days, you will exit this world by way of a terminal illness.” Eight years ago, I was just a guy reading a novel on my couch when I was inexplicably pulled into this world. I was bound to a “Companion System” and placed by Miranda’s side. The System’s mission was simple: stay with Miranda for eight years, or help her achieve great success and a full ‘Happiness Index.’ Within the first few years, with my help, her company had become a billion-dollar enterprise and her Happiness Index had maxed out. But even though my mission was technically complete, I didn’t leave. In those eight years, I had genuinely fallen in love with her. I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving. The System told me that if I just completed the full eight-year term, I could stay with her forever. I thought that was my future. I would stay by her side until the day I died. But here we were, just seven days shy of the eight-year mark, and she had just divorced me. On the day my eight years were up, I would be sent back to my original world. With seven days left to live, I checked into a hotel. On the way, I saw them everywhere. On billboards, on bus stop ads, on the news tickers. Gushing articles and sweet photos of Miranda Thorne and Leo Vance, preparing for their fairy-tale wedding. I saw a picture of them—her in a wedding gown, him in a tuxedo—and it all clicked. The rush to divorce me, the desperation. It was all to prepare a surprise wedding for her boy toy. I suddenly remembered when I first arrived in this world. The System had directed me to her, and the moment she saw me, it was like she’d been struck by lightning. She fell for me, hard. She swore that day that I would be the love of her life, that she would do anything to be with me. And for a while, she did. She cared for me in a way that was all-consuming. Her presence was in every detail of my life. I truly felt like I was the center of her universe. When her wealthy parents forbade her from marrying a no-name like me, she went on a hunger strike for three days until they finally relented. At our wedding, she held my hand and vowed before God and everyone, “I, Miranda Thorne, will love Ethan McCollum for the rest of my life. Forever and always.” She didn’t keep her promise. Back in my hotel room, I lay down on the bed. Before I could even process my thoughts, a sudden, coppery taste filled my mouth, and I coughed, spattering blood across the clean white sheets. It seems the illness the System had planned for my final seven days was going to be a rough one. At the hospital, the doctors were baffled. They couldn’t find anything wrong with me. They just gave me some painkillers and sent me home. I couldn’t help but wonder what the look on Miranda’s face would be when I finally died. Of course, before that happened, there was one last thing I had to do. I had to see her parents, my in-laws, and tell them to be well, not to grieve for me. In this strange, foreign world, they were the only ones who had ever treated me like family. Since I was dying, it was only right that they knew. I hadn’t even reached their front door when I saw her through the window. Miranda was there, shielding Leo behind her as she faced her parents. “Mom, Dad, Ethan is busy! I brought my assistant to visit you, there’s no need to throw his gifts on the floor!” she was shouting. Her father pointed a trembling finger at her, his voice booming with rage. “You disgraceful girl! I’ve told you, I only acknowledge one son-in-law, and that is Ethan McCollum!” “Get this damn Leo out of my house! Get him out now!” Her mother clutched her chest, her face pale. “Your father is right! Take him and leave, now!” Her voice cracked. “Mira, Ethan has never, ever done anything to wrong you.” A sliver of warmth spread through my chest. It was true, they had once fought tooth and nail to keep me from marrying their daughter. It took Miranda’s hunger strike to change their minds. But after we were married, I had made a real effort. I visited often, cooked for them, and looked after their health. Over time, they had come to see me as their own son. “I already talked to Ethan about this,” Miranda argued, her voice rising. “He’s fine with it.” “I’m not asking you to accept Leo! I just brought him here to say hello! Do you have to be so rude?” “Leo, we’re leaving!” she fumed, her face flushed with anger, and started dragging him toward the door. The scene was an almost perfect mirror of how she had once fought for me. Only now, the man at her side was different.

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1 My husband was a pathologically frugal man. I once spent fifty dollars on Black Friday, and he beat me so badly my spleen ruptured. He said we had everything we needed at home, so spending money frivolously was a sin. The beating, he claimed, was what I deserved. But that fifty dollars was for his own underwear and socks. I called 911. He cursed and screamed, chasing the paramedics away, yelling that since I didn’t have a job, I could just lie in bed for a few days and get over it. I died that night. He turned around and sued the hospital, claiming their negligence and refusal to treat me was the cause of my death. He extorted a huge sum from them, used the money to marry a new woman, and took her on a lavish European vacation. When I woke up, reborn, I was staring at a newly opened package on the coffee table. Outside, I heard a key turn in the lock. Trevor was home. … The sound of the deadbolt sliding back sent a tremor through my hands. I knew, the second Trevor walked through that door and saw the package, I would be met with fists like iron. I scrambled into the bedroom, shoved the cardboard box deep into the closet, and frantically pulled his favorite Hermès pants over it, creating a messy pile. Trevor burst in, his voice booming with false cheer. “Lina, honey! Come look what I found at the market! Your dinner is all set!” I took the grimy plastic bag from his hand. Inside was a collection of wilted lettuce, bruised spinach, and yellowed cabbage leaves, along with a piece of fatty, discolored off-cut meat. Trevor’s route home from the office took him past the farmers’ market. Every evening, he would scavenge the vegetables others had thrown away. That was my food for the day. He ate his lunch and dinner at the company cafeteria, only eating breakfast at home. He placed another bag on the counter, this one containing fresh bread and milk, and stored it neatly in the fridge. I clenched my fists, my eyes locked on his back, my mind racing, trying to figure out how to escape. This time, I would not be his lamb to the slaughter. He turned and saw me staring at the refrigerator, misinterpreting my gaze completely. His voice sharpened into a warning. “Don’t even think about touching my bread and milk. I have to work. I need to eat fresh food.” He sneered. “You don’t work. As long as you’re not starving, it doesn’t matter what you eat.” But before our marriage, I had a better job than him, a higher salary. After I got pregnant, he begged me to quit, saying the baby was more important than money. When I came home, his mother was a constant, passive-aggressive presence, shaming me for not earning a living, for spending her son’s money. She even forced me to collect cans and bottles to “contribute.” The stress and exhaustion led to a miscarriage. When I told him I wanted to go back to work, he confiscated my ID and bank cards, forcing me into the role of a full-time housewife. And so began my life of eating rotten leaves. I took the disgusting bag into the kitchen. I glanced over my shoulder; Trevor had gone into the bedroom. I immediately tossed the rotten vegetables into the trash and made a break for the door. I was shoving my feet into my sneakers when I heard the closet door slide open in the bedroom. A jolt of pure terror shot through me. I fumbled with my laces, my fingers clumsy with fear. Just as I got my shoes on, Trevor stormed out of the bedroom, his face a mask of fury. 2 He saw me trying to leave and yanked me back by the arm. “I told you to find my new Hermès pants! Are you deaf?” A man with a three-thousand-dollar monthly salary who wore Hermès. If my mother didn’t slip us cash every few weeks, he wouldn’t be able to afford boxer shorts. He hadn’t mentioned the package, so he hadn’t found it yet. I had to get out, get to my parents’ house where I would be safe. “They’re in the closet, just look for them yourself,” I said, trying to keep my voice from shaking. “My mom just called. She has ten thousand dollars in cash for me. I’ll just go pick it up and come right back.” The mention of my mother’s money instantly softened his expression. “Your mother knows her place,” he said with a smirk. “If it wasn’t for her money, I would’ve kicked a poor, ugly thing like you to the curb years ago.” I nodded placatingly, turning to open the door. But he grabbed me again. “Find my pants first. Your first priority is always, always, to serve me.” Trevor shoved me back towards the bedroom. Standing in front of the closet, my limbs began to tremble. I couldn’t bear to think of the horror that would unfold if he found that package. He looked at me, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. “What are you so afraid of?” His voice suddenly rose to a shout. “You’re not hiding a man in here, are you?!” I flinched, my whole body shaking. I was terrified of him beating me senseless, but he saw it as guilt. “Lina Reed, you dare cheat on me? I’ll find your lover, strip you both naked, and parade you through the neighborhood!” He began tearing the apartment apart like a madman. A small part of me relaxed. As long as he didn’t search the closet, he wouldn’t find the package. He ransacked the living room, the kitchen, the bathroom. Finally, he stormed back into the bedroom and flung open the closet door. His eyes landed on the lumpy pile of clothes in the corner. He reached for it. My heart leaped into my throat. The package was right at the bottom. 3 I lunged in front of him, scattering the pile of clothes, pressing one hand down hard on the hidden package while my other hand snatched out the Hermès pants. “Here! I found them.” He saw the wrinkled state of the pants and threw them in my face. “Do you have any idea how much these cost, you worthless bitch? You could work your whole miserable life and never afford pants like these.” “I’ll iron them for you,” I said quickly, grabbing the pants from the floor. He shoved me towards the living room. “Hurry up. I have an important party to go to.” While I ironed his precious pants, he searched the apartment twice more. The moment I finished, he threw me to the floor, his face contorted with rage. “Tell me! Where is he hiding?” My hands shaking, I held out my phone. “You can check my phone. There’s no one else. I’ve been here, waiting for you, like a good wife.” My voice quavered. “You were so angry when you came in… you scare me. That’s why I was trembling.” A smug, satisfied smile spread across his face, and he let me go. I knew he loved it when I was afraid of him. It made him feel powerful, like he had me completely under his thumb. He sat on the sofa and meticulously went through every app on my phone, finding nothing. With a roar of frustration, he slammed my phone down on the table and started tearing at his own hair. “Lina, I know your whole family looks down on me! So what if you were beautiful and successful? Look at you now! I’ve turned you into a useless, pathetic housewife!” His words hit me like a physical blow. “You’d better behave,” he snarled, “or I’ll make sure you die a very painful death.” I was stunned. When we got married, I knew he was insecure about his finances, so I’d specifically told my parents not to ask for a bride price or dowry. So, naturally, he gave nothing. But he demanded I bring a house to the marriage. I had one, a condo I’d bought with my own money, so it became our marital home. The moment I got pregnant, he knelt before me, begging me to quit my high-paying job. I refused, telling him his salary wasn’t enough to support a family. He threatened to kill himself, screaming that money could be earned anytime, but our child’s health was paramount. So I quit. And I still lost the baby. And that was the beginning of my miserable new life. 4 I never imagined it. This wasn’t just control. This was a calculated, premeditated campaign of revenge. He didn’t want to build a life with me; he wanted to destroy mine to make himself feel superior. I picked myself up off the floor and smoothed my hair, forcing a placating tone. “I’ve never looked down on you, Trevor. I love you. I believe you’ll be a great success one day.” He looked at me as if I were an idiot. I knew in that moment, he was gloating, proud that he could abuse me like this and still have me worship him. “You just wait here,” I said. “I’ll go to my mom’s, get the money, and I’ll bring back some ribs for you.” That finally satisfied him. As I was leaving, he called out, “Tell your mom you need thirty thousand. I want to buy an LV belt.” I nodded obediently and quickly shut the door behind me. I looked back at the cage that had imprisoned me for three years, then turned without hesitation and sprinted for the elevator. It was on the ground floor. I lived on the nineteenth. “Come on, come on, faster,” I whispered. The elevator reached the fifth floor and stopped. I glanced back at our apartment door. A wave of anxiety washed over me. I decided to take the stairs. I couldn’t risk another accident, another chance for him to kill me. Just then, our front door flew open. Trevor stood there, holding the package, his face purple with rage. “Lina! You eat my food, you live in my house, you don’t earn a single cent, and you have the audacity to shop on Black Friday? What is this trash you bought?!” The elevator started moving again, rising quickly. Tears of desperation welled in my eyes. Please, please, hurry. I couldn’t go through the torture of my last life again. But a second later, he was on me, just like before, grabbing a fistful of my hair.

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1 My agent handed me the invitation—a christening, for Lilia Reed’s daughter. My heart gave a little tremor, but I kept my voice steady. “Send a gift for me. Two thousand bucks should be fine.” That night, the news that the industry’s golden couple had a new baby shot to the top of the trending topics. Even Lilia, who notoriously shied away from the public eye, went live to celebrate. A fan asked her to compare the feeling of winning her first award with becoming a mother for the first time. She smiled, reaching for the gleaming trophy on the shelf behind her. Her hand slipped. The award tumbled from the shelf, shattering on the floor. And from the broken base, a small, platinum ring—hidden for three years—rolled out across the polished hardwood. She froze. Then, holding her breath, she knelt and carefully pulled a small, folded piece of paper from the wreckage of the trophy’s base. She unfolded it. The camera zoomed in, and my handwriting filled the screen. “I’ve taken care of everything. Marry me.” I never thought the joy I’d failed to even speak aloud would be revealed to the world in such a ridiculous, public spectacle three years later. The live chat exploded. [OMG, that is the most romantic thing I have EVER seen! Are Marcus and Lilia just living in a rom-com 24/7?] [Uh, you’re missing the point. That’s not what this is. If I remember right, she was still with Leo Vance when she won that award…] [Wait, so you’re telling me LEO was about to propose right before they broke up?! He never said a word, even when their split got so nasty… my heart can’t take this.] … On screen, Lilia remained frozen for a long, silent moment. It wasn’t until her husband, Marcus Ewing, called from the other room— “Honey, the baby won’t stop crying, can you come help?”—that she seemed to wake from her trance. She scrambled to her feet, stumbled toward the camera, and abruptly ended the live stream. The internet, however, was far from finished. A flood of comments washed over my social media, demanding to know if it was true. My old fan pages, dedicated to the tragic romance of Leo and Lilia, roared back to life. Clips of our sweetest moments from old reality shows were edited together and pushed to the top of the trending hashtags. But whether it was true or not… what did it matter anymore? There’s nothing more painful than the bitter taste of expired sugar. When I first started dating Lilia, I was already an Emmy-winning actor at the top of my game. She was a nobody, a bit player hustling for auditions. I saw her talent, and I was willing to pull every string I had in the industry to help her. The day she was nominated for her first Phoenix Award, I finalized the last details for our wedding. I begged the award show organizers to let me have her trophy for just an hour before the ceremony. I carefully pried open its base and, with a heart hammering against my ribs, tucked the ring and the note inside. I could already picture the look of pure shock and joy on her face when she discovered it. But that night, I waited until the early hours of the morning, only for her to come home drunk, leaning on Marcus Ewing’s arm. It was the first time she had ever brought another man to our home. My world swung violently between euphoric anticipation and crushing disappointment. Rage and betrayal clawed at my chest, and my voice trembled when I asked her what the hell was going on. She just rubbed her temples, her voice thick with exhaustion. “Whatever you say, Leo.” A pause. “Let’s just end this.” … I didn’t reply to any of the comments, just kept my focus on the script for my upcoming shoot. Later, as I turned off the light to sleep, my phone chimed. A message from her. My heart gave that same, stupid little tremor. My fingertip trembled as I opened the notification. [Are you awake?] [Were you… trying to propose to me?] It was the first message she’d sent me in three years. The last one, still sitting right above it, read: [Can you please just stop bothering me?] Funny. Who was bothering whom now? The buzz around me and Lilia grew louder, forcing Marcus to go live himself. On camera, he flashed a sunny, confident smile. 2 “So, about that note,” he began. “That was me. Sorry to keep you all guessing for so long. It’s just a little inside joke between my wife and me.” He beamed. “Lilia loves me, and I love her. We’re very happy.” The comments poured in. [I knew it! No wonder she paid millions to break her old contracts just to be with him!] [That wedding was legendary! My OTP forever!] [Wait… am I the only one who thinks that doesn’t look like his handwriting at all?] … The flood of supportive comments quickly buried the dissenting one. Marcus smoothed his hair. “And I have some more good news for you all. My paternity leave is officially over. I’m back! My new movie starts shooting tomorrow.” I paused. A knot of dread tightened in my stomach. The next day, when I arrived on set, that dread was confirmed. Marcus was there, laughing and shaking hands with the crew. Lilia stood silently behind him. Good for them. The handsome star and his beautiful wife. A perfect match. I found an empty corner to sit in. A friend texted, asking how the first day back was going. It hit me then. I’d been out of the game for three years. After Lilia left, I was shattered. Work was impossible. I became a man possessed, haunting the cafes and bars she used to frequent, praying for a glimpse of her. I tortured myself with excuses—maybe he was just giving her a ride home, maybe I’d misunderstood. The bridal shop called to say my custom tuxedo was ready. The hotel we’d booked six months in advance notified me our date was approaching. The wedding planner sent message after message, asking if the event was still on. I was frantic. Then, one night, as I stood shivering in the biting wind, I saw her. She was walking hand-in-hand with Marcus. She looked up, and her eyes widened in surprise when she saw me. Ignoring the flash of annoyance on her face, I rushed forward. The weeks of pain and confusion overflowed, and my eyes were already red before I could speak. “Izzy, don’t do this. Please. Everything is ready, all that’s left…” The impatience in her eyes was a physical blow. “Leo, just stop.” She tightened her grip on Marcus’s hand. “I’m… in love with Marcus now.” I stared at her, disbelief choking me. A phantom hand clenched around my heart, squeezing until I couldn’t breathe. The last words of my proposal—is you—died in my throat. After that, we began a long, ugly war of words. I leaked the story of her affair to the tabloids, but seeing the public turn on her brought me no joy. I punished myself, scrolling through their social media night after night, the poison of betrayal and jealousy eating me alive. Soon, Marcus joined the fight. While I was busy venting my rage online, convinced I was the righteous, wronged party, I didn’t see what they were doing behind the scenes. They were getting their revenge, too. An avalanche of cancelled contracts, recast roles, and vicious online rumors buried me. The financial penalties were astronomical. I fell into a deep depression. And after three long, gray years of therapy, I emerged as someone new. Someone covered in scars. My friend, Alex, always told me things would get better. He encouraged me to try again, to fight my way back. But after three years away, I discovered with a fresh wave of despair that Hollywood had no memory of me. There was no place left. This new role was a favor Alex had called in. It was a lifeline. Even if it was just a supporting part. I raised my phone and texted him back. 3 “It’s going fine. I’m going to do my best.” He replied instantly. “If you’re not happy, just tell me. You can walk away from this. We don’t need it.” A weak smile touched my lips. Three years had ground all my pride to dust. I wasn’t the untouchable Leo Vance anymore. I had no cards left to play. I put my phone down just as the director called my name. “Leo! You’re up. Get ready.” I scrambled to my feet and met Lilia’s gaze from across the set. For a split second, as our eyes locked, my heart rippled. The air grew thick with a sudden, heavy silence. Marcus was the first to speak, his voice dripping with condescension. “Well, well, if it isn’t the great Leo Vance! And what are you playing, the third male lead?” He smirked at the director. “Casting a former Emmy winner as a supporting character? Bold move, Mark.” The director, Mark, suddenly looked terrified, as if he’d just remembered something crucial. He rushed to apologize. “He’s just… a friend of a friend called in a favor. Mr. Ewing, if his presence makes you uncomfortable, I’ll have him thrown out right now!” I watched the director’s pathetic fawning and lowered my eyes. Marcus snorted with laughter. “What’s he going to do? He’s just some has-been. I could crush him with my little finger.” He turned to Lilia. “What do you think, honey?” Lilia just raised an eyebrow. “He’s a nobody. It doesn’t matter.” Marcus wrapped an arm around her waist, his hand roaming freely as he whispered something in her ear. A blush crept up her neck, and she playfully tapped his shoulder. “Stop it, you. Wait until we get home…” I watched their intimate display, and felt… nothing. I didn’t care anymore. Marcus shot me a dismissive glance and waved me over like a dog. “I brought artisanal gift baskets for the whole crew. Go on, Leo, grab one. I doubt you see stuff like this much anymore.” I didn’t move. I didn’t let him get to me. In the sterile, quiet rooms of the hospital, I had learned to control my emotions. I had taken my medication before coming to set. I ignored him and walked straight to my mark. After a brief chat with the cinematographer, I slipped into character. I started acting when I was fifteen. By twenty, I was a household name. Acting was etched into my bones. With just a little prompting, the muscle memory took over, and the performance flowed out of me, smooth and natural. When I finished my monologue, it was a long moment before the director finally yelled, “Cut.” He mumbled to his assistant, just loud enough for me to hear, “He nailed that entire speech in one take? The kid’s still got it.” During the break, I hid in a stairwell and lit a cigarette, my hand trembling. How could I even describe this feeling?

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My best friend started dating a trust fund kid, and while I felt a pang of envy, I genuinely wished her well. Of course, she didn’t abandon our friendship for romance. She invited me to her boyfriend’s equestrian center. The only catch was I couldn’t bring my own boyfriend. I didn’t quite get it, but I went anyway… 1 “No, darling… Stop, not like this…” Chloe’s hushed, breathless gasps floated from inside the horse stalls. I stood peeking from just outside the semi-open stable partition, my legs instinctively squeezing together. As a powerful stallion in the stall suddenly shook its head, tossing its mane, Chloe’s voice rose into a desperate cry. Ethan Stone, Chloe’s boyfriend, towered over her by at least two heads. The rolled-up sleeves of his shirt revealed smooth, powerful muscles. “Just one more time, baby,” Ethan murmured, his body still tense with unsatisfied energy. But Chloe sounded truly overwhelmed. “No, please, there are people everywhere! Someone might see us… And I genuinely can’t take any more!” Ethan and Chloe had been dating for over six months, and their intimacy had always been a bit… unbalanced. Mainly because Ethan had boundless energy and a definite thrill-seeker’s streak. Chloe had complained to me multiple times that she was practically living on soothing creams, avoiding intimacy whenever possible. I’d always thought she was humble-bragging, trying to sound good. But witnessing Ethan’s raw, untamed power today, I finally understood the monumental difference between people! My own boyfriend, even with a little help, couldn’t match a tenth of Ethan’s intensity. Chloe’s desperate, almost “begging for mercy” expression, I honestly felt a strange urge to experience it myself. But she was my best friend. I had to brutally squash those outrageous thoughts. By the time Chloe and Ethan reappeared, I had changed into a sleek riding outfit. “Mia, you look incredible in that!” Chloe said, propping her chin on her hand, nodding and praising me. She even pulled me over to Ethan. “Isn’t she, Ethan? Absolutely stunning!” My figure was indeed quite defined – a wasp waist and rounded hips. The riding breeches, though form-fitting, hugged my curves perfectly, emphasizing a blend of strength and softness. The overall effect was undeniably alluring. I secretly glanced at Ethan. His eyes unintentionally lingered on my thighs, as if trying to see through the fabric. Remembering his still-unsatisfied expression from just moments ago with Chloe, I subtly bit my lip. Just that look from him had almost made me blush. These breeches were so tight, any visible reaction would be impossible to hide. “Could you help me find a coach, please?” I quickly changed the subject, trying to cover my embarrassment. Ethan also had shares in this equestrian center, so Chloe had insisted on covering all costs for my visit. As an average working-class person, I’d never ridden a horse before. But Chloe just smiled, telling me not to worry – Ethan would teach me himself. “Oh, no, that’s too much trouble,” I stammered, my face flushing instantly as I pictured him teaching me, meaning we’d be pressed together. I shook my head, waving my hands in refusal. Chloe, however, was oblivious. With a generous shove to my rear, she helped me onto the horse. Ethan, with practiced ease, stepped into the stirrup and swung onto the saddle behind me. All I could do was grip the reins, my back stiff and unmoving. I kept repeating to myself: The more Chloe trusts me, the more I must uphold my boundaries! But before my mental defenses were fully in place, Ethan’s firm chest pressed tightly against my back. In one fluid motion, his long, strong arms wrapped around me, enclosing me completely. I could even catch a faint scent of his still-present musk. Bouncing gently on the horse’s back, within a few minutes, I felt a shameful, unfamiliar sensation where my body met the saddle. Ethan didn’t seem to notice my discomfort. He meticulously adjusted my posture, even explaining some quick tips for riding. I wasn’t really listening. His closeness, combined with the vivid image of him with Chloe in the stable, kept replaying in my mind. “Ah!” I gasped, distracted and missing Ethan’s warning that he was about to start. When the horse began to trot, I lost my balance and nearly fell. Fortunately, Ethan caught me, pulling me back until his upper body was even more tightly against mine. “Relax, don’t be so stiff. Loosen your legs.” Ethan’s hand glided over my thigh, sending a jolt of heat through me. Just as I wondered if I was overthinking it, he leaned close to my ear and whispered, “Why are you clenching so tight…?” What… what was that? What kind of suggestive comment was that? I turned, shocked, to look at Ethan. He merely smiled, calm and composed. “The horse’s sides, don’t grip them so hard…” Oh. Right. He meant the horse’s sides. My mind had definitely gone to the wrong place. I released my grip a little, feeling a bit embarrassed. “My riding skills are excellent, no need to be scared. Chloe told you, right?” Ethan’s voice was full of self-assurance. I secretly muttered: She did, actually. But she said you ride her like your personal racehorse! After riding for a while, I started to relax, both physically and emotionally, so I instinctively leaned back. Because my hips were quite pronounced, their curve fit perfectly between Ethan’s legs. I felt a searing heat, as if pierced, and quickly straightened my back, hearing Ethan suppress a groan in my ear. “Engage your core. I’m going to speed up.” Ethan’s tone held an odd, almost suggestive double meaning. “Core?” I hadn’t quite registered it when Ethan nudged the horse’s sides, and we began to gallop around the arena. “Horse riding helps strengthen your core, your boyfriend will benefit from it too.” What did that have to do with my boyfriend? Ah… when I finally pieced it together, I was too mortified to respond. So I simply shut my mouth and focused on riding. As the horse’s back moved up and down, a jolt, like electricity, seemed to shoot from my tailbone. The noisy equestrian center felt as if it had suddenly fallen silent, like we were in a vacuum! Even at the most intense moments with my boyfriend, I’d never experienced anything like this. Yet, with Ethan, even with clothes between us, I felt like I was about to burst into fireworks. Finally, the excruciating riding lesson concluded. My legs were so weak, Chloe thought I was just shaken from my first time on a horse. So she told Ethan to help me dismount. But because my legs were completely jelly, I nearly fell. Ethan had to steady me by cupping my rear. His hand was large, his fingers long, and somehow, he brushed against my sensitive spot. “Ah!” I cried out involuntarily. “What’s wrong?” Chloe immediately asked with concern. “My leg… my leg just cramped up,” I mumbled, making up a quick excuse, hoping to brush it off. That evening, after dinner, Chloe suggested we go to the mountain peak behind the equestrian center to watch the sunset. I didn’t want to be a third wheel, but Chloe sweet-talked and pleaded until I finally agreed to go. “What? We’re riding horses? I’m wearing a skirt!” We drove the SUV to the foot of the mountain, where two horses were waiting in the shade. Chloe said it was fine, the horses would just walk up the mountain, so a skirt was no issue. Ethan had a small pony specifically for Chloe, which only she could ride. And because I was new to riding, for safety, I would share a horse with Ethan. I initially refused flat out, wanting to head straight back to the stables. But Chloe pointed out there was no driver, so I’d have to hike back alone. It was almost sunset, and walking alone through a deserted rural road at night was truly unsettling. I reluctantly got onto the horse. My skirt wasn’t short, but the specific riding posture meant the white fabric barely covered my backside, preventing a full exposure. My bare, pale thighs were fully exposed, a stark contrast against the dark, glossy horsehair. “The mountain path here is tricky. Hold on tight to me.” Ethan held the reins with one hand, and with the other, he gripped the saddle, his fingers brushing against me subtly. As the horse swayed and bumped, I fought to suppress involuntary shivers. Ethan’s breathing grew heavier and heavier. Watching Chloe and her small pony disappear further and further into the distance, a deeply immoral thought sparked within me. Just as I was locked in a battle between my conscience and my desires, Ethan’s hand moved away from the saddle. The receding heat instantly snapped me back to reality. I was secretly relieved that I hadn’t done anything irreversible when suddenly, a low-hanging vine on the narrow mountain path forced me to press my entire upper body onto the horse’s back. But I forgot about this position—front low, back high—which rendered my skirt’s covering function almost useless. A chill swept over me, and only then did I remember that for breathability and a seamless look, I was wearing a thong. But it was too late to adjust myself. Ethan… …pulled me forcefully back against him. I could distinctly feel a warmth, like body heat. The sensation of sitting down again was no longer the cold saddle. For a moment, I forgot who Ethan was, and who I was. In this desolate outdoor spot, only the horses tied nearby and the sound of Ethan’s and my panting filled the air. The sky grew darker and darker. I don’t know how long it lasted, but I only knew it was an experience I’d never had before. Both in terms of duration and intensity, Ethan was truly different. He could go on and on, like a tireless colt. Changing various positions and methods to sustain the session. Our encounter finally ended with Ethan’s complete release. Lying on the grass, Ethan slowly remarked, “You’re something else. You’re the first one who didn’t beg for mercy.” I rolled over, grinning mischievously at him, “Want to go for round two??” Just as Ethan was about to launch his second “attack,” his phone rang. It turned out he’d promised his family he’d be home for dinner. He hadn’t returned, so they were calling to check in. Ethan told me he’d originally expected me to give up quickly, leading to a quick and unsatisfying end, which was why he’d agreed to go home for dinner with his mom. He simply hadn’t anticipated such a long “performance” time. Ethan was reluctant to leave, asking if we could meet again tomorrow. I understood what Ethan meant, but then I suddenly thought of Chloe. I felt uncertain about how I would face her in the days to come.

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