Author: Momo Chan

1 Only after the System reactivated did I learn that my seemingly simple wife was, in fact, a master of disguise with a hidden empire. The mob boss who had kidnapped me and scarred my face for life? That was her. The wealthiest person in the country, the one who orchestrated my family’s bankruptcy? Also her. And the brilliant surgeon my mother begged for until her dying day, the one who refused to operate? Still her. I was just a pawn in the twisted game she played with the family’s true heir. Before I left this world, I made one final request of the System: “Release all of Amelia Bennett’s secret identities and criminal evidence to the public.” I wanted her to know what it felt like to be played for a fool. I clutched the cold, heavy urn, my heart a numb, hollow space. Soft arms wrapped around my waist from behind. “Nathan,” Amelia whispered, her voice a gentle caress, the perfect imitation of a caring, devoted wife. “If you need to cry, I’m here for you.” How ironic. She was also the one who had promised to perform the life-saving brain surgery on my mother, only to back out the day before, leaving her to die. My mother’s killer. I silently placed the urn on the ground. To my left stood my father’s headstone. After the Chen Corporation’s finances began to crumble, it was Amelia, in her guise as the nation’s richest tycoon, who had delivered the final, fatal blow. My father, overwhelmed by grief and stress, died of a cerebral hemorrhage. “Host,” the System’s voice echoed in my mind, “Amelia’s affection meter is almost full. Are you sure you want to exit this world?” The thought was laughable. When I first entered this world, the System went dormant. I was an adopted son, but I had lived with the Chen family for over twenty years. They were my true parents in every way that mattered. Amelia knew this. She knew how much I loved them, yet she destroyed them without a second thought. How could she possibly love me? “Confirm,” I replied without hesitation. The System sounded regretful. “Exit sequence initiated. T-minus three days.” The sharp sound of clapping cut through the somber air. A man in a garish floral shirt and shorts swaggered over, his hair slicked back. “Good riddance,” he sneered. “A truly wonderful day for a celebration.” Rage ignited within me. “What the hell are you doing, wearing that to my mother’s funeral?” The man, Nicky, let out a derisive snort and ripped the surgical mask from my face. My reflection stared back at him from his sunglasses—a hideous tapestry of crisscrossing scars. “An ugly freak like you shouldn’t be here, shaming her memory. She probably can’t even rest in peace.” The phantom pain of a blade slicing through my flesh returned, a chilling memory. My hands began to tremble. I clenched them into tight fists, refusing to show any weakness. Amelia rose onto her tiptoes and cupped my scarred face in her hands. “Nathan,” she murmured, her eyes soft and full of a gentle light. “In my eyes, you’ll always be the most handsome man in the world.” Her gaze was so tender. A stark contrast to the cold, cruel eyes of the woman who had held the knife to my face. I shoved her away with a guttural roar. “Don’t touch me!” She froze, her hands hovering in the air. Nicky’s face twisted in disgust. “You’re just a thief who stole my place. You have no shame. Getting your face ruined was exactly what you deserved.” I bit down hard on my lip. Nicky’s disappearance as a child had been a tragic accident. My adoptive parents had never stopped looking for him. They had taken me in out of pity, a moment of compassion for an abandoned child. When they finally found him, they had tried to give him everything, to make up for all the lost years. I had moved out of the family home voluntarily, not wanting to make things difficult for them. But Nicky was relentless. The Chen Corporation fell because he had whispered in Amelia’s ear, “Amelia, I hate the Chens. Destroy them for me.” My mother died without her surgery because he had said, “Amelia, that old woman is the reason I suffered for so long. You’re not allowed to save her.” Even Amelia’s kidnapping of me had been at his command. A small, soft hand covered my clenched fist. Amelia’s eyes were gentle. “Nathan, no matter what happens, I will always love you. Let’s go home, okay?” My lips pressed into a thin line. I remembered the System telling me that Nicky had originally wanted to break my arms and legs, to cripple me completely. It was Amelia who had intervened. She had suggested disfiguring my face instead. Was that love? “Amelia, I need to talk to you. Come with me.” With just one sentence from Nicky, she let go of my hand. “Nathan, you go home first. I’ll just be a minute.” 2 Their figures quickly disappeared from view. I let out a self-deprecating laugh and lowered my gaze. “System, make me invisible. I’m following them.” The gates of the estate, wrought from solid gold, were an ostentatious display of wealth that shocked even me, someone who was no stranger to the lavish lifestyles of the rich. “Host,” the System informed me, “this estate was Amelia’s birthday gift to Nicky last year. It’s valued at six hundred million.” I felt a pang of something I couldn’t name. In the high-society circles, everyone knew that the long-lost daughter the Bennetts had found was a beautiful but vapid country girl. If it weren’t for a debt of gratitude my family owed hers, I never would have married her. By a strange twist of fate, she turned out to be my target. On my birthday last year, she had shyly handed me a bouquet of flowers. “Nathan, I bought these with the money I earned from a month of working part-time. I hope you don’t mind.” The flowers, worth maybe three hundred dollars, were nothing compared to the other extravagant gifts I received. But not wanting to hurt her feelings, I, a grown man, held onto that bouquet for the entire party. Now, looking at the exotic plants in this garden, each one worth tens of thousands, that simple bouquet felt like a cruel joke. I walked into the villa, my face a stoic mask. Nicky had Amelia pinned against the sofa, kissing her hungrily. He held the back of her head, his breathing ragged. “Amelia, divorce him. Marry me.” The System clicked its tongue. “Host, do you think she’ll agree?” I smirked. The answer was obvious. They had grown up together in an orphanage. Over the years, Amelia had professed her love for him ninety-nine times. Now that her devotion was finally being returned, how could she possibly refuse? But to my surprise, Amelia hesitated. Her face was still flushed from his kisses. “Nicky, just wait a little longer. Nathan has just lost everything. I’m afraid this would be too much for him.” My heart stopped for a beat. Nicky leaned in, their noses touching. “Amelia, I’m only giving you one chance. If you don’t agree, I’m leaving your company. And I’m marrying Scarlett.” I had almost forgotten. Amelia had started an entire talent agency just for Nicky, paving his way to the top of the entertainment industry. As for Scarlett, she was the CEO of a rival company and one of Nicky’s most ardent admirers. Amelia immediately threw her arms around his neck and kissed him without a second thought. “I won’t let you marry another woman!” He nibbled on her lip. “Then call Nathan right now. Tell him you’re divorcing him tomorrow.” She reluctantly got up and dialed my number. I silently switched my phone to silent mode. Hearing the unanswered ringtone, Amelia frowned. She tapped a few things on her phone, then shot to her feet. “Oh no! Nathan is in this villa!” I frowned. Could she see me? Nicky frowned too. “Amelia, how do you know where he is?” Her expression was grave. “I installed a tracking program on his phone to monitor him.” The System scanned my phone and, sure enough, found a suspicious program. Installation date: our wedding day. “Host, I forgot to mention, Amelia is also a world-class hacker. I’ve already removed the program.” A cold wind seemed to blow through the hollow space in my chest. “What? The signal is gone!” Amelia’s face was a mask of a panic I had never seen before. “Nicky, I have to go home and check on him!” She rushed out, nearly tripping in her high heels. Nicky shouted after her, “Amelia! Don’t forget you promised to divorce him!” I took a deep breath. “System, take me home.” After the Chen family’s bankruptcy, “home” was a tiny apartment, less than five hundred square feet. “Nathan!” Amelia burst through the door, her face frantic. When she saw me sitting quietly on the sofa, she let out a sigh of relief. She turned on the light. 3 “Why are you sitting in the dark? I thought you weren’t here. You didn’t answer your phone. I was so worried.” I managed a faint smile. “We’re bankrupt now. Trying to save on electricity. My phone… I dropped it down a storm drain on the way back from the cemetery. It’s probably broken.” The tension in her body finally dissipated. She sat down next to me, leaning into my arms. “It’s okay. We’ll buy you a new one tomorrow.” I changed the subject. “You called me. Was there something you wanted to talk about?” Her body tensed again. “Nathan… let’s get a divorce tomorrow.” “Okay.” She sat up straight, her eyes wide with disbelief. Her voice was strained. “You’re not going to ask why?” I suddenly wanted to hear what kind of lie she would spin this time. “Why?” I asked, playing along. She hesitated, then stammered, “You know… Mom always felt she owed Nicky… Before she passed, she made me promise to make a home with him.” It was probably the worst acting performance of her life. Her eyes darted around, and a sheen of sweat beaded on her forehead. But I didn’t call her out on it. “I see.” She opened her mouth to say more, but I couldn’t stand the scent of Nicky’s cloying cologne on her any longer. I couldn’t understand what she saw in that greasy, effeminate man. “Is there anything else?” She chewed on her lip for a moment, then lowered her head. “I have to go. I won’t be staying with you tonight.” I wasn’t surprised. Since my family’s downfall, she had been spending every night with him. I was used to the cold, empty nights. The next day, the divorce was finalized quickly. As we walked out of the city hall, Amelia’s eyes were filled with guilt. “Nathan, I’m sorry. If you ever need anything, you can always call me.” I gave a noncommittal nod. “Amelia, let’s go get our license,” Nicky said, draping his arm possessively around her. She instinctively glanced at my face. I smiled. “Don’t forget to take off our wedding rings.” She froze. Nicky smirked, pulled the ring from her finger, and tossed it into a nearby trash can. “You’re right. Garbage should be thrown out as soon as possible.” I ignored his taunt and walked away. On the way home, the System warned me, “Host, Nicky is angry that you ignored him. He’s told Amelia to kidnap and ‘teach you a lesson’ again.” I laughed softly. I had nothing left to lose. A familiar, dull pain exploded at the back of my head. I woke up in the cemetery. My body was weak, probably from being drugged again. Behind me, I felt a familiar, cold presence, like a snake coiling in the dark. “Mr. Chen. We meet again.” She wore a mask and used a voice changer, but I knew. It was Amelia. Who would have thought that the gentle, fragile woman was also the city’s most feared and ruthless mob boss? A cold blade pressed against my neck. This time, my heart didn’t pound with fear. I let out a cold laugh. “Last time it was my face. What is it this time? Are you going to kill me?” My lack of fear seemed to surprise her. After a moment, she chuckled. “Mr. Chen, you’ve angered the wrong person. I brought you here to watch a little show.” She dragged me to my mother’s grave. I watched as she picked up the urn, and my pupils constricted. “What are you doing?” “Nothing much. Just scattering your parents’ ashes.” It was like being struck by lightning. I fought with all my might, but my limbs were useless. I didn’t care about her and Nicky. My heart was already dead to her. But my family… they were the last soft spot in my heart. “Do whatever you want to me!” I screamed, my voice raw. “Just don’t touch their ashes!” She paused, but then she opened the urn.

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1 On the eve of our wedding, my fiancé, Adrian McLynn, fell from a building and died. Everyone expected me, his devoted partner, to follow him in death. But I didn’t shed a single tear. Three years later, I saw him again. Not only was he alive, but he claimed to have amnesia. “So, you’re my former fiancée?” he sneered, looking me up and down. “It’s been a few years. You’ve let yourself go. Tell you what, out of respect for our old relationship, I can set aside one day a week for you. An opportunity to serve me.” I didn’t even bother to look at him. What Adrian didn’t know was that on the night he “died,” I received a video. What he knew even less was that during the three years he spent faking amnesia and traveling the world with another woman, I had gotten married. To his older brother. I stood outside the private room, unnoticed. Inside, someone’s voice cut through the boisterous laughter. “Adrian, it’s been three years. What are you going to do about Katherine?” Adrian’s voice was nonchalant. “Three years have passed, what’s the rush? I’ll deal with it after I marry Nina.” A chorus of snickers followed. “I’m telling you, that Katherine has some nerve. Seeing Adrian again after all this time, she’s probably going to stand there like an idiot.” “I heard she’s had a rough few years. See? Without Adrian, her life is just a pile of shit.” The room was thick with their cruel amusement, their mockery undisguised. I was about to turn and leave when someone spotted me. “Katherine!?” Suddenly, all eyes were on me. The one who had been laughing the loudest now scratched his head awkwardly, trying to smooth things over. “Katherine, uh, Adrian’s alive. We didn’t tell you because… he has amnesia. We didn’t want to shock you.” I shot them a look of disgust. Before I could speak, Adrian gave me a thorough, condescending once-over. “So, you’re my fiancée, huh? You look… pathetic. They tell me your life went downhill fast after I was gone.” He was still the same arrogant man. But the tolerance I once had for him had curdled into a deep, weary revulsion. Seeing my silence, Adrian wasn’t annoyed. He lazily pulled Nina into his arms, his finger tracing circles on her lips. Nina giggled, capturing his hand and shooting me a triumphant, challenging glare. “Katherine, it’s been three years. Look at you. No wonder Adrian forgot you. Who would remember someone like this?” My jaw clenched, my hands balling into fists. Their brazen display was nauseating. Adrian, however, misinterpreted my reaction as jealousy. He looked pleased with himself. “Come on, don’t be so possessive,” he said with a smirk. “If you want to be with me, you’ll have to get used to this arrangement. Don’t worry. I’ll make time for you one day a week.” At his words, the others swarmed me, their voices a mix of pity and condescension. “See, Katherine? Adrian still has a soft spot for you! Even with amnesia, he’s making room for you in his schedule!” “Just play your cards right, keep Adrian and Nina happy, and your life will be a lot better than it is now. Look at yourself. You must be tired of being a charity case. This is your chance!” Nina lounged on the sofa, her long legs draped over the coffee table, her body pressed against Adrian’s. She clicked her tongue. “Sorry, Katherine, but you’ll have to be patient. I’m the one he loves most now.” Adrian let out a smug chuckle. He admired Nina’s freshly manicured nails and spared me a dismissive glance. “What’s she got to be patient about? She’s obsessed with me. She should be grateful I’m giving her one day.” His words struck a raw nerve. The man before me was a stranger. Years ago, he had loved me so fiercely. I remembered a time I had a raging fever, 104 degrees, that wouldn’t break for days. He dropped everything to stay by my side, and then he drove to the old monastery on Mount Sterling, climbed all nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety-nine steps on his knees, praying at each one, to bring me back a charm for my health. When he returned, his forehead was bruised and bleeding, his knees raw and bloody. I was speechless with heartache, calling him a fool. But he had cupped my face in his hands, his touch so tender. “As long as you’re safe and healthy,” he’d whispered, “my life is a small price to pay.” The memories were so vivid, but the man was gone. 2 It was terrifying how much a person could change. I suppressed the turmoil in my heart and met Adrian’s gaze. I held up my hand, flashing my wedding ring, and kept my voice as steady as I could. “You have the wrong person.” “And I’m already married.” The room fell silent. Everyone exchanged confused glances, and then the silence erupted into a roar of laughter. Adrian raised an eyebrow, unconcerned. He glanced at my ring. “Married? To who? A pizza delivery guy?” He sneered. “Look at you. You probably bought that ring at a dollar store. What, you thought this would jog my memory?” He shot up from his seat, lunged forward, and ripped the ring from my finger. I was exhausted from a long week on a demanding project and couldn’t react in time. Nina took the ring and examined it, then burst out laughing. “Adrian, this looks just like that pair of ‘Eternity’s Heart’ rings your brother won at that auction in Paris three years ago.” She looked at me sideways, tossing the ring in her hand. “Don’t tell me the person Katherine married is… your brother, Maxwell?” The room buzzed with renewed amusement. The idea was too absurd. Maxwell McLynn was the current heir to the McLynn empire, a ruthless, decisive man feared throughout the business world—an untouchable ice king. Three years ago, he had suddenly married a mysterious woman and, by all accounts, was utterly devoted to her. The media had been trying for three years to uncover any information about his wife and son, but they had found nothing. “Katherine, you’re not going to tell us you’re the mysterious woman no one’s been able to identify for three years, are you?” Nina tossed the ring into the air again. It caught the light, glinting brightly. “You know, I have to admit, it’s a pretty good fake. Where’d you get it made?” The relentless mockery was getting on my nerves. “Don’t touch my ring. It’s real…” Before I could finish, Adrian’s hand cracked across my face. The sting was sharp and immediate. “Katherine, have you lost your mind? Spreading rumors about my brother? Everyone knows how much he loves my sister-in-law. I haven’t even met her, and you have the audacity to impersonate her? Who do you think you are?!” I licked my dry lips and slowly turned my head to meet his eyes. My glare must have been unnerving because he flinched. Seeing this, Nina jumped to his defense, jabbing a finger at my face. “How could you be so heartless, Katherine? Adrian offered you one day a week! Not only are you ungrateful, but now you’re impersonating his sister-in-law? Everyone in our circle knows that Maxwell’s wife is his one weakness. Are you trying to get him to take his anger out on Adrian? You’re a venomous bitch!” Her words struck me with a strange sense of clarity. Once, Nina had been my rival, constantly trying to one-up me, to turn Adrian against me. Back then, he had never believed her. He had even punished her for her malicious lies. Now, the man who had once been my greatest defender was standing with her. He took her hand and then threw a wad of cash in my face. “Alright, stop the act. For old times’ sake, I’ll let it go. You look like you need it. This should last you a month.” The sharp corner of a bill cut my cheek, drawing a thin line of blood. I ignored it, my eyes locked on Adrian. A flicker of guilt, of panic, crossed his face. I let out a short, cold laugh and bent down. The guilt on his face vanished, replaced by a familiar sneer. “I thought you had more pride than that…” His words died in his throat. As he stared, stunned, I sifted through the pile of red bills and found my ring. He snapped out of his shock and blocked my way as I tried to leave. “What are you still pretending for? Any one of those bills is worth more than a hundred of your pathetic rings!” His expression was a complex mix of emotions, but underneath it all, I saw a flash of anger. I ignored him and slapped his hand away. His hand froze in mid-air, and he ground his teeth. “Fine. You’ve gotten bold. I guess poverty does give you a temper. In three days, Nina and I are getting married. My brother will be back in the country for it, and he’s bringing my mysterious sister-in-law with him. If you have the guts, show up!” 3 At the mention of the wedding, Nina’s eyes lit up. “She probably won’t come,” she chimed in. “She’ll be too scared of being exposed.” I had no desire to engage with them any longer. I turned and strode out, tossing a final comment over my shoulder. “I’ll be there in three days. I hope you’re just as confident then.” Stepping out of the club and into the fresh air, the nausea that had been churning in my stomach finally began to subside. I took out my phone and watched the video again, the one I had received three years ago. On the screen, a man held Nina close, his smile lazy and wild. “Katherine is just so… boring,” he was saying. “I love her, sure, but she can’t give me the excitement I need. This ‘death’ is just a little break. I’ll go back when I’ve had my fun. She’s the type you settle down with. But with a stunt like this, knowing her, she might actually try to kill herself. You guys better keep an eye on her.” The day I received his death certificate, I had considered ending it all. It was his friends who had stopped me, begging me not to do something so foolish. Looking back now, I realized their twisted, tear-stained faces were just masks, hiding their laughter. I put my phone away and looked up at the dim, yellow streetlights. Whether Adrian McLynn was dead or alive, he had ceased to exist for me three years ago. Three days later, I arrived at the wedding. The moment Adrian saw me walk in, the tension in his shoulders visibly eased. I averted my gaze and calmly made my way to a seat, but someone tripped me. I stumbled, crashing into the nine-tiered wedding cake. Icing, decorations, and layers of cake came tumbling down, covering my expensive gown in a sticky, sweet mess. I was a disaster. A wine glass shattered, and a shard of glass sliced my cheek, blood welling up at my temple. The hall erupted in gasps. All eyes were on me. Icing blurred my vision. I struggled to get up, but before I could find my footing, someone shoved me back down. Nina’s furious voice came from above. “Katherine, what the hell is your problem? We were kind enough to invite you, and you don’t even bring a gift. Now you’re deliberately ruining our wedding? You just can’t stand to see us happy, can you?!” The wedding was packed, mostly with people hoping to get a glimpse of Maxwell and his mysterious wife. They were all eager to curry favor with his younger brother. “The nerve of some people! Messing with Adrian McLynn at his own wedding. She’ll get what’s coming to her.” “Hey, look at the ring on her hand. Doesn’t that look like the ‘Eternity’s Heart’ Maxwell paid a fortune for three years ago? How dare she!” “Everyone knows how protective Maxwell is of his wife. To show up here, flaunting a fake like that… she must have a death wish.” Adrian heard the murmurs, and his chest heaved with rage. His eyes looked like they were about to shoot fire. “Katherine, you’re a curse! I must have been blind to ever fall for you. And you’re still wearing that fake ring? Are you waiting for my brother to deal with you personally?!” He strode toward me and brought his foot down hard on my left hand, grinding his heel into my ring finger. A searing pain shot through my hand. My fingers felt like they were on fire, and a thousand tiny knives stabbed at my heart. When I tried to struggle, Nina shouted for the others to hold me down. I was pinned, unable to move. Icing obscured my vision, and I thrashed helplessly. Finally, I screamed, my voice raw with fury, “Maxwell is my husband!” Adrian roared with laughter, as if I’d told the funniest joke in the world. He twisted his foot, the sharp point of his dress shoe threatening to snap my finger in two. “Still trying to pass yourself off as her? Just wait until my brother gets here. Let’s see what you have to say then! He adores my sister-in-law. You’re dead.” Seeing that he was completely unreachable, I felt a wave of despair. I fought against the hands holding me down, but they were too strong. I grit my teeth. When this was over, I wouldn’t let a single one of them off the hook. Adrian pressed down again. I heard a sickening crack. A pained grunt escaped my lips, and then, suddenly, the weight on me was gone. The crowd had released me. They were all scrambling to their feet, smoothing their clothes, their eyes fixed on the entrance. The ballroom doors swung open. And there, like a king entering his court, was Maxwell, holding our son.

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1 I died during a difficult childbirth. When I woke up, I had been reborn fifteen years into the future. On my first day back, I discovered that the precious daughter I had given my life for was being bullied by my husband’s so-called “one that got away,” and her child. And my husband? He had become one of the city’s most enigmatic figures, a recluse cloaked in incense and prayer, detached from the world. So, I grabbed a fistful of his hair, slapped him three times, hard, and asked him coldly, “Is this how you honor my memory?” I forced my eyes open, a dizzying sense of disorientation washing over me. I was standing on the sidewalk next to my old high school. A few pedestrians drifted by, some casting confused glances at my stunned figure. After ten minutes of staring at the sky, I had to accept the impossible truth. Not only had I been reborn, but I had also time-traveled fifteen years into the future. Pulling myself together, I borrowed a phone from a passerby and dialed the number of the man who, before my death, had been my husband: Warren Owen. After a few rings, the call connected. “Hello, who is this?” The familiar male voice, deep and resonant, was the same, yet different. It held a new weight, a magnetic gravity it hadn’t possessed before. A lump formed in my throat. My voice trembled as I spoke, on the verge of tears. “Warren, it’s Sloane. I know this is going to sound insane, but I think I might have… time-traveled? Anyway, I’m at our old high school. Can you just… come get me?” A long, heavy silence stretched from the other end of the line. Just as I was about to say something to break the tension, he let out a short, sharp laugh. It was laced with scorn. “I don’t know how you people got my number, but tell whoever put you up to this to try a more original approach next time. You think mimicking a voice is enough to get my attention? It’s pathetic. Disgusting.” His verbal assault struck me like a physical blow. My fingers went numb, and then a hot rage surged through me. Forgetting where I was, I snapped, my voice sharp and cold. “Warren Owen, have I spoiled you rotten? You can’t even recognize your own wife’s voice? Seems like you’ve wasted the last fifteen years.” The man on the other end choked. I pressed on, my voice dripping with fury. “I don’t care what hole you’ve been hiding in. You have thirty minutes to get your ass over here, or you can go dig your own grave.” I hung up, leaving the phone’s owner staring at me, mouth agape. I managed a weak, apologetic smile and handed it back. She took the phone, hesitating for a moment before asking, “Excuse me… were you talking to… Warren Owen? From Owen Industries? I’m sorry, it was on speaker, and the voice sounded like…” I blinked, then nodded, asking cautiously, “You know him?” She let out a breath of relief and waved a dismissive hand. “Who in this city doesn’t know the prince of the Owen dynasty?” Seeing my curiosity, and assuming I was a friend of his, her inner gossip columnist took over. “After Mrs. Owen died in childbirth, she left him with a daughter. Everyone thought he’d remarry soon, especially after his old flame returned to the country with such a huge splash. But instead, after building Owen Industries into an empire, he just… disappeared. Became a recluse. No one knows where he went, though he sometimes shows up at the annual company gala. But…” “But what?” I prompted. The woman leaned in conspiratorially. “Well, this is just a rumor, but they say he and his old flame are finally getting serious. People are betting he’ll come out of seclusion for her. I mean, she’s Evelyn Croft, the Oscar-winning actress. What man could resist that?” I raised an eyebrow, a cold smile touching my lips. “Looks like I’ve come all this way just in time for a wedding celebration.” Sensing the sudden chill in my demeanor, the woman quickly excused herself and hurried away. Two major shocks in a row. A wave of bitterness and grief washed over me. If Warren and his old flame were truly in love, I wouldn’t stand in their way. I had no right to expect him to mourn me for fifteen years. But my daughter… I hadn’t even met her yet. I had to know if she was okay. Knowing Warren, I had a good idea of where he would have sent her. The best private school in the city—our alma mater. I hailed a cab, and soon, the familiar, imposing gates of the school came into view. 2 Suddenly, a cacophony of jeers and laughter shattered the quiet afternoon. I looked up to see a group of preppy boys, a high-school gang in blazers and loafers, dragging a short-haired girl with a downcast gaze out of the school gates. It was classic bullying. I frowned. This was supposed to be the city’s most elite private academy. How could this be happening here? Something about the girl felt strangely familiar. I found myself following them, an inexplicable pull guiding my steps. The group ducked into a secluded alleyway. At their center stood a pretty, delicate-looking girl with long, flowing hair. But what she did next was anything but delicate. She brutally kicked the short-haired girl in the small of her back. The girl cried out in pain and collapsed to the ground. The long-haired girl sneered. “I heard Uncle Warren got you a huge birthday present. Why don’t you show everyone?” The girl on the ground clutched her backpack tighter, her body trembling. “Not this one!” The leader kicked her again, her pretty face twisted with a viciousness that didn’t belong on someone so young. She spat on the ground next to the girl’s head. “Don’t be a bitch, Sierra Owen.” The name struck my heart like a fist. Sierra. Warren and I had picked it out when I was pregnant. Whether it was a boy or a girl, the name would be Sierra. My gaze snapped to the girl on the ground. Even with her face half-hidden by her hair, I could see her bright, determined eyes. The features, so like my own… it could only be my daughter. Just then, the leader looked down at her cronies. “Grab her bag! And while you’re at it, strip her down. Let’s teach her a lesson about defying me.” My eyes narrowed. The last shred of my reason burned away in a blaze of pure fury. I wanted to tear them all limb from limb. So, Warren, I thought, my blood running cold, this is the life my daughter has been living. I grabbed a heavy wooden plank from a nearby dumpster, stormed into the alley, and shoved my way through the crowd, planting myself in front of Sierra. The long-haired girl jumped back, startled by my appearance. Then, as if triggered, she shrieked, “Who the hell are you? This has nothing to do with you! Get lost before we take you down too!” “Shut up,” I said, my voice dangerously low. “None of you are getting away with this.” A bunch of spoiled brats who hadn’t even been born when I’d single-handedly saved Warren from a team of professional kidnappers. This would be easy. 3 I cracked my knuckles. Luckily, my body still felt like it was in its twenties. Otherwise, this might have been a bit of a workout. A few minutes later, the prep-school thugs were all groaning on the grimy asphalt. I planted my foot on the long-haired girl’s face, grinding it into the pavement. It wasn’t enough. I kicked her hard in the stomach, twice, paying her back for the kicks she’d given my daughter. She coughed up a mouthful of blood and saliva, her body twitching. All her previous arrogance was gone. “My mom…” she sputtered, her words slurred. “My mom won’t let you get away with this! Uncle Warren won’t either!” “Oh? And who’s your mother?” I asked, taking a perverse pleasure in her misery. “Tell me. I’d love to know what kind of bitch raised a little monster like you.” “Her mom… her mom is Evelyn Croft.” Sierra, who had been trembling behind me, finally spoke a full sentence. She tugged timidly at the corner of my jacket. “Miss, you should go. If her mother finds out, you’ll be in danger…” That familiar name again. My heart sank. I was beginning to understand why my daughter’s life had become this. My heart ached. I pulled Sierra into my arms, stroking her soft hair. “It’s okay, sweetheart,” I whispered. “Mommy’s here to protect you.” Sierra’s eyes widened. “Mommy…?” she whispered back. “Are you… my mommy?” A bond between a mother and child often needs no explanation. A single look is enough. In that instant, Sierra seemed to believe that this powerful, beautiful woman standing before her was, impossibly, her mother. I helped her up, and we started to walk out of the dark, damp alley. As we emerged into the light, we ran straight into an unwelcome figure. “Dad… what are you doing here?” Sierra asked timidly. Speak of the devil. I looked up. The man in front of me had barely changed. He was broader, more muscular, and carried himself with a quiet, mature confidence, but it was him. It was as if fifteen years had left nothing more than a speck of dust on him. “Warren,” I said coolly. “Long time no see.” The moment he saw me, his eyes went red. He reached out a trembling hand, as if to touch my face, then snatched it back as if burned. “Sloane…” he stammered, completely at a loss. “It’s really you. You came back.” I felt Sierra’s hand on my arm tighten, and my expression grew colder. Warren flinched under my glare, finally taking in the scene around him. The long-haired girl I’d beaten to a pulp saw him and began crawling toward him like he was her savior, weakly pleading for him to save her, to kill the “vicious woman” who had attacked her. Warren frowned down at her, his voice edged with annoyance. “You again?” I cut him off. “What’s the matter? Are you going to kill me to avenge your precious old flame?” His frown deepened. “What old flame? You know perfectly well I don’t have one.” “I don’t care if you do or not. Warren, you’ve disappointed me more than I can say.” I tried to walk around him, pulling Sierra with me. He grabbed my arm, his grip like iron. His eyes were so red they looked like they might start bleeding. “Don’t you go!” he roared, his voice cracking. “You’re not leaving me again!”

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For the holidays, my mother booked me a flight to visit the underprivileged student she’d been sponsoring for years. It was supposed to be a nice gesture, a chance to spread some holiday cheer. The moment I stepped off the plane, the student and his friends ambushed me, stealing my phone, my wallet, and all my identification. Then they dragged me to a godforsaken compound in the middle of nowhere and threw me in a cell. I wept, begging him to let me go, pleading with him to remember my mother’s kindness. But he just laughed and told me I was my mother’s gift to him. A New Year’s present. I was trapped, hopeless. Then, a commotion outside my cell. The boss of the entire operation was making his New Year’s rounds, inspecting his territory. I caught a glimpse of him through the crack in the door. My heart stopped. It was my father. My father, who had been missing for five years, the man who had loved me more than life itself. 1 “Dad!” I screamed with every ounce of strength I had, just as the door was closing. But the student, whose name was Jack, was faster. He clamped a hand over my mouth while another one of his thugs kicked me square in the chest. A spray of blood erupted from my mouth. I felt something shatter inside me, a wave of agony that stole my breath and my voice. “What the hell are you screaming about?” the thug snarled. “Trying to claim you know the boss? You got a death wish?” My vision swam. Through the haze of pain, I saw my father’s back as he walked away, surrounded by his entourage, completely oblivious to my cry for help. “She’s got a strong set of lungs on her,” Jack said with a cruel smirk. “Let’s starve her for three days. That should quiet her down.” He crouched down, his face inches from mine. “My godmother told me her daughter was a top student, real pretty. Said men fall all over themselves for her. The perfect bait for a honey-trap scam.” I couldn’t process it. These words couldn’t have come from my mother. In the lonely, rain-swept nights after my father disappeared, she would hold me and tell me I was the only thing she had left in this world. How could she give away her only treasure? “No,” I rasped, my voice barely a whisper. “My mom would never do that.” Jack grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanking my head back. “Open your damn eyes and see the truth.” His voice dropped to a possessive growl. “I’m a hell of a lot more important to your mother than you are. Every single night since your deadbeat dad vanished, I’m the one who’s kept her company.” He shoved his phone in my face, forcing me to read his chat history with my mother. She called him ‘baby.’ She asked when he was coming to spend the holidays with her. Jack had replied that he hadn’t met his quota yet; he was one body short and couldn’t leave. And my mother’s reply: Then I’ll just send you my daughter to make up the numbers. Jack’s response: You’re a wicked woman. I like that. I squeezed my eyes shut, a wave of despair washing over me. The woman who had called me her precious daughter, her everything, was this cold, ruthless monster. She had sold her own child, the daughter she’d raised for twenty years, just to please her lover. The betrayal was a pain far sharper than any physical blow. It coiled in my gut, a grief so profound I curled into a ball on the filthy floor and sobbed. My only hope of escape was my father. I had to find a way to see him. Jack was about to leave the reeking, blood-spattered room when I shot out a hand and grabbed his ankle. “Jack, please, just let me see your boss. I’m telling you the truth, I’m his daughter. His name is Silas. My name is Stella!” Jack and the two hulking guards at the door burst into mocking laughter. “You’re really desperate, aren’t you? Yeah, the boss’s name is Silas. But he doesn’t have a daughter. Never has.” How could I prove it? My mind raced. Then, I remembered. The scar on his chin. “My dad has a scar on his chin! He got it saving me when I almost fell off a ski lift!” One of the guards froze. He leaned in and whispered something in Jack’s ear. “Jack, the boss really does have a scar on his chin. You don’t think…?” “Lots of people have scars! I’ve got one!” Jack tilted his head back to show them, then his eyes narrowed with sudden rage. “Stella, are you playing games with us?” He stomped his foot down hard on my hand, grinding it into the concrete floor. The agony was excruciating, a white-hot scream tearing from my throat. 2 One of the guards joined in, kicking me repeatedly in the stomach. “You little bitch, trying to scare us?” “Let’s see how you like being played with!” He produced a long, wicked-looking needle from his pocket. He grabbed my other hand, the one pinned under Jack’s boot, and without hesitation, plunged the needle deep into the soft flesh under my fingernail. A piercing shriek echoed through the corridor. Instinct took over. I flailed, my free hand beating against Jack’s leg. “You dare to hit me? I’ll show you what happens when you fight back!” He lifted his other foot and brought it crashing down on my struggling hand. Jack was a big man, and his full weight came down on the fingers I used to play the piano. Crack. Crack. I heard the sickening snap of bones. The pain was blinding. My body convulsed, drenched in a cold sweat. I was losing consciousness. Suddenly, a sharp knock echoed on the heavy door. “Jack, stop! The boss is making his New Year’s rounds. He doesn’t want to see any blood today. He’s on his way here now.” The voice was… familiar. Jack and the guard tensed. “Jack, we can’t screw this up. The boss is ruthless. If we piss him off, we’re dead.” I could hear footsteps approaching from the hallway. It was my father. He was coming. This was my only chance. The primal urge to survive surged through me. As Jack and the guard opened the door to leave, I scrambled to my feet. I kicked Jack hard in the back, sending him stumbling forward, and scrambled through the gap he’d created. The moment I burst out of the room, the sunlight was so bright it was blinding. I squinted, my eyes barely able to open. Through the sliver of vision, I saw him. My father, not far away, shaking hands with one of his men, a glass of wine in his hand. I summoned every last bit of my strength and screamed, “Dad! Help me!” The next second, my voice was muffled. Jack, clutching his back, had scrambled to his feet. He clamped a hand over my mouth and dragged me back into the dark, hopeless room. “You little shit! You think you can trick me?” “Looks like I didn’t hit you hard enough!” My hands were useless. I could only kick and buck, finally managing to head-butt him hard enough to make his nose bleed. “Dad!” I screamed again. I saw my father turn, his head tilting as if he’d heard something. And then, a heavy object crashed against the back of my head. The world went black. When I woke up, every inch of my body was a landscape of pain. I was covered in a warm, sticky film of my own blood. I was back in the cell. Jack and the guards were gone, probably outside waiting for my father. “Dad!” I cried out, my voice raw. “Come save me! It’s Stella!” I used my elbows to drag myself across the floor to the door and started kicking it with my feet. My hands were broken, useless. But the sound of my foot hitting the metal door was loud, thunderous. He would have to hear it. And he did. The next moment, I heard his voice, a voice I hadn’t heard in five long years, from just outside the door. “What’s going on? Who’s that yelling for their dad?” “It’s nothing, boss,” Jack’s voice answered smoothly. “The new ones are always like this. Crying for their mommy and daddy.” “This one’s just particularly unruly. See? She broke my nose. Went against your ‘no blood’ rule for the new year.” “You go on and greet the others, boss. I’ll go shut her up.” The door flew open, slamming into me and knocking me to the ground. “I told you to shut your goddamn mouth!” Jack dragged me by the hair to a small table in the center of the room. The guard pried my mouth open and forced me to bite down on the corner of the table. Then, the guard’s thick, powerful hand slammed down on the back of my head. Again and again. Blood filled my mouth, dammed up by the table’s edge. I felt my teeth crack, and I swallowed the broken pieces. I couldn’t make a sound anymore, my tongue felt like it had been shredded. 3 Jack spat on my face. “There. Nice and quiet now.” I lay on the floor, a broken, bleeding mess, only able to make soft, whimpering sounds of agony. I couldn’t say his name anymore. “Tie her up. Put a bag over her head. I’m sick of looking at her face.” Just as they finished binding my hands and feet and pulling a black hood over my head, my father’s voice filled the doorway again. “I thought I said no blood on New Year’s. What is all this?” Dad! It’s me! It’s your Stella! But I couldn’t speak. I could only writhe on the floor like a worm as my blood soaked through the hood and dripped onto the concrete. I was so close. So close to the father I had missed for five agonizing years. “It’s the new year,” my father said, his voice cold. “I don’t want to have to kill anyone today. You two, watch yourselves. If I see something like this again, there will be consequences.” “Yes, yes, of course, boss.” He was leaving. Again. We were so close, yet a world apart. I was truly going to die here. “What’s wrong with you two?” the familiar voice from before spoke again. “Didn’t I tell you to stop?” Jack, furious, kicked me again in the stomach. I could only curl into a ball, whimpering. “Sir,” Jack said, his voice full of false deference. “This woman is insane. She keeps insisting the boss is her father.” “I’ve been in this compound for years. The boss has never even had a woman, let alone a grown daughter! She’s just trying to escape.” The man’s voice sharpened with alarm. “Take the hood off her. Now!” Jack hesitated, then ripped the black cloth from my head. “You goddamn idiot!” The man roared, his voice filled with fury. He kicked Jack so hard in the stomach that he crumpled to the floor, unable to get up. “She is the boss’s daughter! That’s Stella!” My vision was a blur of blood and tears. I forced my eyes open, trying to focus on the man standing before me. And my dead heart lurched back to life. It was my father’s best friend. My Uncle John. He had known me since I was a child. He would save me. He had to. A sob broke from my throat. Uncle John, please, help me. But the next words out of his mouth shattered my last sliver of hope. “Shave her head. Now. We can’t let the boss recognize her.” His voice was cold, pragmatic. “If he does, everything we’ve built for years will be destroyed.” Without a word, Jack grabbed a pair of clippers and began shearing off my hair. Uncle John crouched in front of me, studying my face intently. “It’s not enough. You can still tell it’s her. You’ll have to cut up her face.” “But sir,” Jack protested, “we were going to use her for the honey trap.” “Is your life more important, or the money?” John snarled. “Do as I say!” Jack took a blade and began to carve into my face. The sharp steel bit deep into my skin, and hot blood streamed down my ruined cheeks. I was unrecognizable, my breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps. “That should do it,” John said. Then, as if struck by a thought, he grabbed my ankle. His eyes fell on the silver locket tied with a red string. It was a gift from my father on my twelfth birthday. A good luck charm. In the center, he had carved a single star. It was his blessing, his wish that I would live a life of peace and happiness. “Are you trying to get us all killed?” John hissed. “Why didn’t you get rid of this?” He ripped the locket from my ankle and tossed it to a guard. “Be smart about it. Don’t just throw it away in the compound. If the boss finds it, he’ll have your head.” “Yes, sir!” But the guard had barely taken five steps when a chilling voice stopped him in his tracks.

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At eight months pregnant, my husband forced me to care for his childhood sweetheart, Serena, after her miscarriage. When she “accidentally” spilled hot soup on herself and blamed me, he had his men tie me up and shove me into an industrial steamer. “How dare you use our child as a shield to hurt Serena?” he snarled. “You’ll learn a lesson you won’t forget.” I begged him to think of our baby, promising never to compete with Serena again. He sneered. “A little stress makes a stronger child. And don’t worry—I won’t divorce you. I’ll just make you repay Serena’s pain a thousandfold.” He cranked the heat to maximum. The terror sent me into labor. My baby cried inside the steamer, but he thought it was a trick. “Lock it,” he ordered. “No one opens this without my command.” That evening, spoon-feeding Serena, he frowned. “Hasn’t Autumn learned? Who’ll cook for you if she keeps this up?” To his men: “Tell her I’ll spare her—if she kneels, apologizes, and cooks a week’s meals.” The staff exchanged glances. No one spoke. 1 “Mr. Astor… your wife… I don’t think she’s holding on. She hasn’t made a sound for over an hour. We’ve been calling to her, but there’s no response.” “What are you afraid of?” Matthew said dismissively. “I know her better than any of you. She’s a master of theatrics. She knows the baby trick didn’t work, so now she’s playing dead. She won’t learn unless she’s suffered properly. Then she’ll think twice before hurting my Serena again.” The subordinate wiped sweat from his brow, his face pale. “But, sir… we really did hear a baby crying earlier. It only lasted for a few seconds.” “A recording, obviously.” Matthew waved his hand, cutting off any further argument. “Look, it’s a smart appliance. It has an automatic shutoff. It’s designed to detect a person inside and power down. She’s just being stuffy for a bit. She’s not that fragile.” The man fell silent, retreating with a haunted look in his eyes. Matthew had dinner brought up to the master bedroom. There, in our room, Serena was lounging on our bed, wearing my pajamas, smiling sweetly at her phone. “What’s so amusing, Serena?” Matthew’s mood lifted seeing her smile. He sat beside her, tilting her chin up to feed her a mouthful of chicken soup. “You need to get your strength back. That’s all that matters to me.” Serena’s smile faltered for a second before she threw herself into his arms, tears welling up. “My friends… they saw how you treated me and told me to leave you. But then I remember how good you used to be to me, and I just can’t… That’s why I was smiling like an idiot.” Her voice broke with a sob. “Matthew, it’s all my fault. I couldn’t control my feelings for you. That night… when you were drugged… I just wanted to give myself to you, then leave quietly with our baby, never bothering you again, but…” She choked back a sob. “But I lost the baby. If I lose you too, I don’t think I can go on.” She buried her face in his chest. “I know I’m being selfish. I’ll accept any punishment Autumn wants to give me. This little burn is nothing. She could stab me with a knife, and I’d let her! Just please… don’t make me leave you.” Matthew’s heart shattered. He held her tight, gently blowing on the tiny, nail-sized red mark on her thigh. “Serena, you’re too kind. It’s because you love me so much, so humbly, that a venomous shrew like Autumn dares to treat you this way. You have no idea how it broke my heart to see you cry.” He stroked her hair. “You’ve given me everything. You’ve saved me time and time again. You are my savior and my love. I won’t let anyone hurt you. Not even my own wife, carrying my child. She doesn’t have the right to lay a single finger on you.” A flicker of something unreadable crossed Serena’s face. Then, blushing, she squirmed. “Matthew… actually, the burn… it’s not just here. There are other places… I was too embarrassed to let the doctor see.” Desire flared in Matthew’s eyes. He pushed her back onto the bed. “Then let me be your doctor. Let me see just how red my Serena is…” And so, Serena, wearing the matching silk pajamas Matthew had designed for me as a wedding gift, made love to my husband on the bedsheets I had so carefully chosen. At the peak of their passion, Matthew grabbed her leg, and her flailing foot knocked over the picture frame on my bedside table. It was a photo a stranger had taken of us right after we’d signed our marriage license, a snapshot of our happiness. Now, the shattered glass split our faces apart. A broken mirror can’t be made whole. How foolish I’d been to fantasize, just a few months ago, that the birth of our child might bring him back to me. There was no chance of that now. Because I was already dead. It turns out, even ghosts can feel their hearts break. I listened to Serena coo about giving him another baby, and a fresh wave of agony washed over my spectral form. Matthew had been right about one thing. In that crucible of pain, my labor was terrifyingly fast. I had wished for the baby to stay inside me just a little longer, just a moment more, so I could absorb the searing heat for him, to buy him a chance at life. But my son was too good, too compliant. He was born in minutes. With my last ounce of strength, I managed to push the lid of the steamer open a crack. I begged the guards outside. “My baby is born! He’s not crying, he’s barely breathing! Please, have mercy, just get my baby out of here! Take him to a hospital!” They stared at me in horror, their hands moving toward the off switch. But then, Serena’s voice drifted from outside the cafeteria doors. “Matthew, how could she use the baby’s life to manipulate you like that? Does she have any idea her morbid words could become a self-fulfilling prophecy?” Her voice rose in pitch. “She’s so lucky, getting pregnant with your child, carrying it to term… and she doesn’t appreciate it at all. She’s cursing her own baby.” She sobbed into his chest. “She knows how desperately I wanted a child. Is she saying this just to hurt me? To rub salt in my wounds?” Seeing Serena fall apart in his arms, Matthew’s fury reignited. “It seems my punishment wasn’t severe enough! You still have the strength to use our child to torment Serena!” “Get me that iron chain! Lock it down! Make sure she can’t scream another word!” His men hesitated. Enraged, Matthew snatched the chain himself and wound it tightly around the steamer, sealing it shut. For a fleeting moment, he thought he heard the faint, kitten-like cry of an infant from within. He paused, a flicker of doubt in his eyes. But then Serena whispered, “Autumn was always so good at impressions. It reminds me… that night was supposed to be our first time, Matthew. But the next day, she put on a fake voice, pretended to be me, and tricked you into thinking it was her…” Matthew’s face contorted with a disgust so profound it was almost inhuman. “All of you, get out,” he commanded. “Get out before that bitch tricks you into letting her go.” “When Serena’s leg stops hurting, I’ll let her out myself.” He chased all the employees away, leaving me to my screams inside the scalding metal coffin, and locked the cafeteria doors behind him. My baby… he only cried for a few moments. Then, in my arms, his tiny body slowly grew stiff, his skin losing its warmth. I wept until I had no voice left. My body began to break down, my flesh dissolving in the steam and water. At that very moment, Matthew, wanting to make up for the six months Serena had been pregnant and alone, decided to propose. Even without a marriage certificate, he would give her the honor of being his wife. While my body was turning into an unrecognizable slurry, he bought out the top ten trending spots on social media and rented digital billboards in every major city, all of them scrolling his vows of eternal love for Serena. As I took my last breath, he was in a helicopter, showering an entire city with rose petals, descending from the sky to propose to her in a live-streamed spectacle for millions to see. And now, as a ghost, I watched them spend their wedding night in my former bed. Matthew held her tenderly. “I’m sorry, Serena. Autumn tricked me. She claimed she was the one who saved me that night I was drugged. I only married her out of a sense of responsibility. But we are married, and I couldn’t just divorce her and be the kind of man who abandons his duty.” He kissed her forehead. “But don’t worry. She owes you too much. After this, she’ll have learned her lesson. She’ll be docile. She won’t interfere with our life anymore. You just focus on getting better and having our baby. The three of us, plus Autumn and her child… the five of us can live together happily.” A flash of disbelief crossed Serena’s eyes. “What?” “Don’t worry,” he soothed. “Even though she’s my wife, in public, I’m yours. Just think of her as a live-in nanny to cook and clean, and our child will have a playmate.” Hearing this, a look of venomous cunning crossed Serena’s face. She forced a smile. “Okay. Whatever you say. I’ll try to get along with her.” I could only laugh. A bitter, soundless laugh. Even now, he wouldn’t let me go. He actually believed I would tolerate his affair, that I would debase myself to become their maid. I took a deep, spectral breath, watching my invisible tears fall. I knew why he was so certain. I knew why he thought he could hurt me this badly and I would never leave. Because for so long, I had endured everything in silence. A month ago, Matthew’s first love, Serena, had suddenly collapsed on our doorstep. I rushed her to the hospital. But when she woke up, she clung to Matthew, weeping, accusing me of pushing her down the stairs and causing her to miscarry. I tried to explain, to tell him I had only found her and brought her here. Matthew just stared at me with cold, dead eyes. When he wouldn’t listen, I pulled out her medical records to show him—the miscarriage had happened before I even found her. But the moment Serena started crying again, he slapped me so hard I fell to the floor. “Enough! You’ve gone too far! Serena has already forgiven you, why can’t you just admit what you did?!” He had his bodyguards take me home and lock me in my room to “reflect on my actions.” I was naive. I thought if I just waited, his anger would cool, and he would listen to reason. But after two weeks of confinement, the next time I saw him, he looked at me with the pure, unadulterated hatred one reserves for an enemy. At the time, I didn’t understand why. I clung to the hope that once our baby was born, he would change his mind. Now, I finally understood. It was all because of what happened a year ago. A year ago, Matthew’s company was on the brink of collapse. And at that exact moment, Serena had cleaned out his accounts and vanished without a word. Devastated by the double blow, Matthew had become a recluse, locking himself in his room. Frantic, I did everything I could. I chased down leads, took clients out, got blackout drunk night after night until I finally landed a deal big enough to save the company. I burst into his house, got on my knees, and begged him to remember the brilliant, ambitious man he used to be, to give himself one more chance. He was moved. He came with me. We closed the deal. But that night, the client’s mistress took a liking to Matthew. She drugged his drink, planning a one-night stand. I was terrified the client would find out and cancel the deal, but my heart broke seeing Matthew writhing in agony. I lied, claiming we were a couple, and got us a room. He was delirious, pulling me onto the bed with him. We spent the night together. When I woke up, I panicked. I was afraid he wouldn’t be able to handle his business partner becoming his bed partner. Afraid he would push me away. So, I ran. Three months later, I found out I was pregnant. Shyly, nervously, I confessed everything to him. He looked at me with a complicated expression, silent for so long I was sure he was going to reject me. Then, he let out a long breath and, with a small smile, pulled me into his arms. “Autumn,” he’d said. “Maybe you’re the angel heaven sent to save me, to help me start a new life.” I cried and I laughed. Laughed and cried. Crying for how pathetic I was. Laughing at how tragic it all was. And that night, during my two weeks of confinement, had been twisted by Serena into this monstrous lie. She claimed she was the one who had slept with him, then left with his child, and that I was the wicked usurper, passing off a bastard as his. No wonder he looked at me with such revulsion.

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I bought my family’s lives with my divorce. Three souls—my parents and my brother—spared from damnation in exchange for my freedom from the Lord of the Underworld. I thought we’d live out our days in peace. I was wrong. That’s when the real daughter came home. Sylvia, a gifted psychic, declared that our family’s fortune depended on one thing: a posthumous wedding between me and the ancient spirit, Old Man Hemlock. My parents and brother, mesmerized by her promises, turned on me. They performed a vicious ritual, transforming my living body into a human marionette. With a dowry of trillions in soul coins and an escort of a thousand minor ghosts, they shipped me off to the Underworld. They just never expected who would be officiating the ceremony. My ex-husband, the Lord of the Underworld himself. 1 “Don’t be dramatic, Chloe. Don’t you see this is for the best? Marrying you off to Old Man Hemlock is the only way the family can secure its place in the Capital!” “Sylvia is the Void Master’s prized apprentice. You’ve seen her powers. We can’t ignore her vision.” “Old Man Hemlock is an influential figure down there, a gatekeeper of mortal wealth. He specifically requested you, Chloe, with your unique, cold-yin aura. Our hands are tied.” My parents and brother had me bound to a crucifix. My body was a canvas for Sylvia’s dark art, plastered with sigils she’d painted on cursed parchment. Then, following her direction, they inserted a needle and pumped a necrotic mark directly into my heart. Finally, they slit the arteries in my wrists and ankles, draining my veins dry. For forty-nine days, I was left to air-dry, my body slowly hardening, my skin turning taut and pale like treated leather. I was becoming a puppet. My lips were cracked and dry, but I fought, my voice a ragged whisper. “You’re being scammed. Old Man Hemlock is nothing. He’s just a bootlicker for one of the Judge’s clerks, a sycophant with no real power.” My previous marriage to Nyx, the Lord of the Underworld, had meant a brief residency in his realm. I’d never met this Hemlock, but I’d heard the whispers. He was once a weasel, a conniving spirit whose only talent was flattery. I even remembered the Judge complaining about him, unable to pin him down for any real offense, forced to tolerate his presence. Tying the family’s fate to a creature like that was a death sentence. My mother sighed, her eyes a venomous mix of pity and contempt. “We invested so much in you, Chloe. We hoped you’d climb the social ladder, marry into a powerful family, and lift us all up. But you were a disappointment. If it weren’t for Sylvia arranging this match, our family would be destined for ruin.” I shook my head, the movement stiff and jarring. I wanted to scream that Sylvia was the source of their ruin. Her dabbling in forbidden arts had upset the cosmic balance, and to save her own skin, she’d redirected the karmic backlash onto her closest kin. It was I who had defied the Underworld’s laws, trading my marriage and my future with Nyx to save their ungrateful lives. But before I could speak, Sylvia pierced my lips with a needle and red thread, sewing them shut. Pain, white-hot and absolute, shot through me. Tears blurred my vision. She chanted a quick, sharp incantation, and the red thread vanished, leaving my lips sealed as if they had never been parted. No matter how hard I tried, no sound could escape. And then, my mouth moved, but the words weren’t mine. “Mom, Dad, brother… for the future of our family, I am willing to marry Old Man Hemlock. Don’t worry about me. Just focus on building your wealth and living the good life you deserve!” My own eyes widened in horror. For a moment, my family looked just as stunned. Sylvia, standing beside me, simply smirked. “Old Man Hemlock is a man of tradition. He dislikes taking a bride by force. He wants a wife who will bring him happiness,” she explained, her voice dripping with false sweetness. “So, I’m sorry, sister. The role of the marionette suits you perfectly.” She then turned to my family. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure my sister is a most willing and obedient wife. Old Man Hemlock will be very, very comfortable.” Relief washed over their faces. My father couldn’t stop praising Sylvia’s brilliance. My brother beamed, proud to have such a powerful true sister. And my mother took Sylvia’s hands, her eyes filled with adoration. “You’ve worked so hard all these years, learning these difficult arts. Once we’re established, once we’re truly wealthy, we’ll make it all up to you.” Sylvia’s response was a masterclass in feigned humility. “As long as I can be with you, my family, I would do anything.” 2 Sylvia’s goal in turning me into a marionette was simple: total control. She’d already stolen my voice. Now, she was coming for my body. One by one, she pressed silver needles into my limbs. They slid beneath my skin, leaving no mark, drawing no blood. They navigated my desiccated veins, pierced my marrow, and latched onto my nerve endings. The agony was a silent scream that threatened to shatter my soul. And then, it was over. A moment ago, I was a heap on the floor. Now, with a flick of Sylvia’s fingers, I rose to my feet. My expression was serene, my posture graceful. I faced my family not with agony, but with the joyful anticipation of a bride-to-be. “Mom, Dad, brother… thank you for raising me these twenty years. I will repay your kindness. I promise I won’t be a burden to you anymore.” No matter how fiercely my mind rebelled, my body was no longer my own. Seeing me so docile, my family was overjoyed. “Chloe, Old Man Hemlock will be good to you,” my father said with a reassuring nod. “He’s an older man; he’ll know how to dote on you. Just be sure to serve him well,” my mother added. “It’s time for you to grow up, Chloe,” my brother chimed in. “When you get to his estate, don’t be willful.” Sylvia’s fingers danced in the air, and I responded to their silent commands. “Yes. Chloe will be good.” Under Sylvia’s direction, my brother procured my dowry: trillions in soul coins. My parents commissioned the finest artisan of paper effigies, who worked for seven days and seven nights to craft a magnificent eight-bearer palanquin and a bridal gown of fiery red paper. Sylvia, for her part, used her psychic abilities to summon an entourage of a thousand minor spirits to escort me to my doom. April 4th. A day of remembrance for the living, but a most auspicious time in the Underworld, when the gates between realms swing wide open. With Sylvia at my side, I was placed in the palanquin. The procession began, a thousand spirits hauling chests overflowing with soul coins, a macabre parade marching toward the path to the Underworld. The air filled with the discordant wail of horns and the clash of gongs. It was a ghastly celebration. My brother, usually so stingy, had shed his miserly ways. He walked alongside, handing out red envelopes of spirit money to any ghouls or specters we passed, buying good fortune. My parents waved goodbye from the threshold. I couldn’t fight, I couldn’t scream. The only sign of my dissent was the silent tears that streamed down my face. Sylvia noticed and dabbed at them with a handkerchief. “What’s there to cry about?” she cooed. “Your very essence, that cold-yin aura of yours, destines you for a spirit marriage. Old Man Hemlock is a fine catch, all things considered. You’re going to a life of comfort. Left to your own devices, a body like yours would eventually be devoured by some malevolent entity. Really, you should be thanking me for finding you such a perfect match.” Old Man Hemlock. The spirit of a wretched weasel. Not only was his appearance said to be grotesque, but he was rumored to have a penchant for tormenting female ghosts. If I had known this was my fate, I never would have divorced Nyx. Nyx… for all his faults, at least he was devastatingly handsome. To save my family, I had defied the Lord of the Underworld himself. What a fool I’d been. I should have listened to Nyx and let these vipers face their damnation. But it was too late for regrets. “Who dares block the path?” a familiar voice boomed from ahead. My heart seized. Through the swaying curtains of the palanquin, I saw the figure barring our way. Not a man. A ghost. And not just any ghost. It was Gabriel, Nyx’s most trusted right hand, the Judge of the Dead. 3 “Your Excellency! Judge Gabriel!” Sylvia exclaimed, her composure instantly shifting to one of deep reverence. She hurried forward. “My sister’s wedding procession. We meant no offense.” She quickly ordered the spirits to move the palanquin to the side. “Please, Your Excellency, after you.” Gabriel’s brow furrowed slightly. “A bride for the Underworld?” he asked, his voice low and resonant. Sylvia nodded eagerly. “Indeed. A match arranged by a medium in the mortal realm for Old Man Hemlock.” Gabriel’s expression darkened. “A ghost marriage? It’s been years since one of those was sanctioned… Are you certain the bride in that palanquin is a willing participant?” The custom of ghost marriages was ancient, but it had all but ceased three years ago. After his divorce, Lord Nyx had become volatile and unpredictable, and he’d refused to officiate any new unions. The few that had taken place were illicit, secret affairs, conducted far from his sight. But Sylvia was prepared. She produced a black, official-looking document—a marriage certificate, already bearing the Lord of the Underworld’s seal. “As you can see, Your Excellency, the certificate is in order. It only needs the bride and groom’s signatures after the ceremony.” Gabriel took the dark booklet, his eyes narrowing as he read it. “So, it’s that old weasel Hemlock.” Somehow, the pathetic creature had managed to sweet-talk Nyx into granting him a sanctioned certificate. It was baffling. Gabriel handed the document back to Sylvia with a faint, dismissive sniff. “If the Lord himself has approved it, it’s not my place to delay the happy couple. Proceed.” He stepped back, clearing a path on the spectral bridge. A triumphant smile flashed across Sylvia’s face. She thanked the Judge profusely before leading the procession forward across the bridge. Trapped inside the palanquin, I struggled with all my might to make a sound, any sound, to alert Gabriel to my presence. Gabriel, it’s me! Don’t you remember? I’m the former Lady of the Underworld! Gabriel, three years ago, when you broke Lord Nyx’s favorite chalice, I took the blame for you. Don’t you remember? But no matter how frantically I screamed in my mind, my lips remained sealed, my body still. Just as the palanquin was about to pass him, a chilling voice cut through the air, emanating from just behind the Judge. “Wait.” That voice… it struck my heart like a bolt of lightning. Instantly, the entire bridge erupted in a bloom of blood-red spider lilies, their petals unfurling from the spectral mist. The spirit bearers shivered, a wave of primal fear that I felt in my own petrified core. I suddenly remembered that Nyx was utterly incapable of managing his own affairs. Wherever he went, someone had to be at his side. That person used to be me. After our divorce, someone else must have taken my place. Looking at the sea of spider lilies, a flower he grew only for me, I knew who it had to be. His most loyal servant, Judge Gabriel. “Lord Nyx! You’re here as well!” Sylvia’s voice was a choked gasp of shock. Every spirit in the procession, a thousand strong, dropped to their knees, prostrating themselves. The palanquin, abandoned, crashed onto the bed of crimson flowers. “We did not mean to disturb you, my Lord! We beg your forgiveness!” Sylvia bowed her head, yanking my brother down to his knees beside her. My brother, his face a mask of confusion, stared at the impossibly handsome man before him. There was a flicker of familiarity, but he couldn’t place him. Seeing Sylvia’s terror, however, he knew to be cautious. Nyx’s eyes, long and sharp, scanned the scene with an air of bored amusement. “It’s 2025. Are we still doing ghost marriages with this level of tack? This palanquin looks like something out of a bad horror movie.” Gabriel cleared his throat. “A result of mortals watching too many period dramas, I suspect.” Nyx’s gaze drifted lazily until he flicked a finger. The black marriage certificate flew from Sylvia’s hand and into his. He toyed with it for a moment. “Three years,” he mused. “It’s been too quiet around here. Since I’m the one who issued this license, I might as well witness the ceremony. And let it be known: the moratorium is over. Tell all those who have been waiting to get their unions certified.” Gabriel’s eyes widened. “My Lord, you’re sanctioning ghost marriages again?” Nyx scoffed. “If I don’t, the entire order of this realm will fall into chaos.” Gabriel hesitated, then asked quietly, “My Lord… have you moved on?” Nyx’s brow snapped into a frown, and he ignored the question completely. Gabriel, realizing his misstep, fell silent. “Let’s go,” Nyx declared, striding forward. “I could use a drink.” He led the way, with Gabriel a step behind. The spirit bearers scrambled to lift the palanquin, following Sylvia and my brother as they hurried to keep pace. 4 Sylvia, ever the schemer, had already sent a spirit ahead to warn Old Man Hemlock of Nyx’s impending arrival. The procession resumed its clamorous, grotesque celebration. As for me, I stared out at the endless carpet of spider lilies, my vision blurring with unshed tears. Three years ago, because I loved them, Nyx had magically bonded the seeds to his very being. Ever since, wherever the Lord of the Underworld walked, spider lilies bloomed in his wake. “This flower is so morbid,” he’d complained, even as he wove the spell. “Obsessed with death. What’s to like?” I’d sniffed. “I just like them. You wouldn’t understand my sorrow.” He’d pulled me into his arms. “Sorrow? I give you the finest things in this realm. What sorrow could you possibly have?” I miss my home, I’d told him. The Underworld is your home now, he’d replied. And for a time, I had tried. I had tried to make this place my home, to make him my home. But fate, it seemed, had other plans. Soon, the procession arrived at the gates of Old Man Hemlock’s estate. He stood there waiting, a large red flower pinned to his chest, his face stretched into a wide, toothy grin. The moment he saw Nyx, his smile froze. He and his entire staff of ghost servants dropped to their knees. “All hail the eternal Lord Nyx!” Nyx ignored him completely, striding into the main courtyard and settling into the seat of honor. Gabriel followed, issuing a crisp order. “Get on with the ceremony. The Lord is thirsty.” Hemlock scrambled to his feet, ordering servants to bring wine. With Nyx present, the traditional rituals—carrying the bride over a brazier of coals—were forgotten. He just wanted to get this over with and appease the Lord. He hissed at Sylvia to lead me inside to the bridal chamber. My brother, however, was looking displeased. “This Hemlock grovels before a mere Judge,” he muttered to Sylvia. “Is he really powerful enough to help our family?” Sylvia shot him a sharp look. “Are you having second thoughts about marrying Chloe off, brother?” He shook his head. “No, I was just thinking… wouldn’t it have been better to marry her to the Judge? Or better yet, this Lord Nyx? Imagine the power our family would have then!” Sylvia sneered. “Take a good look at our dear sister, brother. Do you honestly think a man like Lord Nyx would even glance her way?” He grumbled under his breath. “Besides,” she added, “the Lord of the Underworld already has a wife.” “A wife? But I heard they divorced years ago.” “They did,” Sylvia confirmed. “But everyone in the Underworld knows he’s never taken another. He’s waiting for her to come back.” My brother chuckled. “Huh. The great Lord is a romantic.” Listening to them, a wave of despair washed over me. Nyx would never wait for me. He hated me. Hidden beneath a red silk veil, I allowed Sylvia to lead me into the courtyard. To appease Nyx, Hemlock wanted to skip straight to the consummation, ordering Sylvia to take me directly to the bridal chamber. But she couldn’t move me. I planted my feet beside Old Man Hemlock, fighting with every ounce of my will against the silver threads that controlled me. I knew, with chilling certainty, that if I didn’t get help now, I would be lost forever. Sylvia’s fingers twitched, her voice a strained whisper. “Sister, what are you doing? We’re going to the bridal chamber!” I clenched my teeth, my whole body trembling with the effort of resisting her. She began muttering incantations, her power pulling against my own desperate struggle. The two forces tore at me, a silent, agonizing war within my own skin. Sweat beaded on my brow, and dark, bruise-like blotches began to appear on my neck. After a minute that felt like an eternity, I lost. My body betrayed me, my feet beginning to move in the direction of the chamber. At the main table, a servant presented wine to Hemlock, who personally carried a cup to Nyx. Nyx sipped it, his expression flat. “This bride of yours, Hemlock. What’s her story?” Hemlock, sweating, offered a half-truth. “A fated connection from the mortal realm, my Lord. A love match, I assure you.” Nyx had long ago forbidden forced ghost marriages. Hemlock wouldn’t dare tell the truth. “Is that so? Then let’s see the license signed before any… festivities… commence.” Hemlock froze. Gabriel smirked coldly. “What’s the matter? Afraid the bride won’t sign?” The old weasel looked panicked until Sylvia shot him a reassuring glance. She took the marriage certificate and a pen, holding them out to me. “Sister, sign your name.” Nyx’s sharp, cat-like eyes were fixed on me. Driven by the silver threads, my hand began to write. The first part of the name appeared. Sy— Nyx raised an eyebrow. “Her name is Sylvia…” My hand continued to move. The rest of the name flowed onto the page. 5 Sylvia. The name on the certificate was Sylvia. “How utterly, painfully common,” Nyx murmured, a hint of disdain in his voice. My eyes burned with tears. How could it be her name? “Why did it write your name?” my brother whispered urgently to Sylvia. She pursed her lips. “I’ll explain later.” He couldn’t possibly know that Sylvia was the one Hemlock had originally wanted. I was just the scapegoat. After Hemlock scrawled his own name on the document, Nyx pressed the unique seal of the Underworld onto it, making the union official. “Thank you, my Lord! All hail the eternal Lord Nyx!” Hemlock and his followers fell to their knees once more. “The marriage is witnessed. You may attend to your… duties.” Nyx placed his cup on the table and rose to leave. “I’m tired.” As he passed me, he paused, his gaze sweeping over my veiled form. Gabriel sighed softly. “She does have a slight resemblance to the former Lady… My Lord, perhaps you’d like to see the bride’s face?” Nyx scoffed. “A passing resemblance is all. Any mortal woman who would willingly marry that weasel holds no interest for me.” “As you say,” Gabriel replied, shaking his head. But as they took a few steps toward the gate, Nyx stopped dead. He turned his head, his eyes landing on my brother, who stood beside Sylvia. “You,” Nyx said, his voice low. “I’ve seen you somewhere before.” My brother swallowed hard, frozen. Sylvia, quick-witted as ever, jumped in. “This is my brother, my Lord. He has a rather common face… You honor him with your notice.” Nyx’s brow furrowed. “Her brother?” A look of dawning horror crossed Gabriel’s face as he, too, seemed to remember something. With a flick of Nyx’s eyes, a gust of wind snatched the red veil from my head, sending it fluttering down to land on the spider lilies. My face, streaked with tears and etched with despair, was revealed to all. “Chloe!” The name was a raw cry torn from his throat. Gabriel stared, his eyes wide. “My Lady!” The crowd murmured in confusion, but Nyx was already moving, appearing before me in a blur of motion, his eyes glowing like embers. “When,” he growled, his voice a dangerous whisper, “did you change your name?” I wanted to explain, to tell him everything, but I couldn’t. I could only let more tears fall, praying he would see that something was terribly wrong. “We had an agreement,” he hissed. “We were never to see each other again in this life. What is the meaning of this?” He demanded an answer I couldn’t give. More accurately, an answer Sylvia couldn’t give. She was too stunned, too slow to react to the catastrophic turn of events. “Oh, that’s right. I almost forgot,” he sneered, his voice dripping with venom. “Today is your wedding day. Your wedding to this… weasel. After throwing me away without a second thought, you choose to marry this thing?” He gritted his teeth, his crimson eyes burning with a rage so intense it felt like it could incinerate my very soul. “Have you lost your mind, or have you just gone blind?” My body trembled, but it was Sylvia’s fear I was feeling. My lips moved, forming her terrified words. “I… I don’t know what you’re talking about, my Lord…” Nyx’s hand shot out, his icy fingers closing around my throat. “You don’t know, or you’re pretending not to know? Are you truly going to marry this pathetic creature today?”

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In my ninth life, after Prince William killed me again, he summoned my soul with incense. He did it because I’d died for him eight times before—but this time, he wanted me to die wearing his beloved consort’s face. “Seraphina,” he murmured, “you can be reborn. It’s not true death. Haven’t you always wanted to go home? I promise, this is the last time. After this, we’ll return to the village and live together.” Tearful, I nodded. But later, as I waited for the face-swapping ritual, I overheard him speaking to a guard: “My lord, you promised the princess we’d return to her village—yet you had me slaughter everyone there. She cherishes that place. Is this wise?” William’s shadowed face was unreadable. “Those villagers refused Elara their beauty rituals. She killed them in anger, and I cleaned up the mess.” He sighed. “Seraphina lost a few relatives. I’ll make it up next life.” But, William, my love… this is my last life. For us, there is no next time. 1 “…While the villagers have been exterminated, the valley is filled with rare and valuable flora. It seems a waste to burn it all,” the guard said, still kneeling. The blood on his sword was still wet, dripping onto the stone floor and creating a crimson path that snaked to William’s feet. In this life, William was the Prince Regent, a man of immense power. He lounged in his carved throne-like chair, his dark hair cascading over his shoulders. His handsome, almost feminine eyes, usually so full of charm, were now pools of icy indifference. He toyed with my soul-incense, a small, carved stick that bound my spirit to the mortal plane, as if listening to a trivial report. He didn’t even look up. “The plants are unimportant. Every person in that village possessed a soul-incense.” His voice was smooth, detached. “As long as the incense exists, they can be reincarnated, generation after generation.” “Elara was concerned the face-swapping ritual would damage her skin. She’d heard of their legendary beauty rituals. But they not only refused her, they insulted her. In a fit of rage, she slaughtered them.” He finally looked at the guard. “But that clan can use their soul-incense to be reborn. They could seek revenge on Elara’s descendants. I cannot allow her future to be threatened.” The guard, still in his blood-soaked tunic, flinched. “But my lord, you promised the princess you would return to the village with her soon. When that time comes…” William smiled, a chilling, humorless expression. “There will be no ‘that time.’ In one month, Seraphina will die in Elara’s place. In the next life, I will simply tell her that after nine generations, her people have moved on, and the village can no longer be found. She trusts me completely. She will never doubt it. As long as you keep your mouth shut.” Eight lifetimes of power had honed William’s presence into something truly formidable. The guard prostrated himself, trembling. “My lord, you have my word. I will never breathe a word of this to the princess.” The next second, the mute assassin who shadowed William’s every move stepped forward. A flash of steel, and the guard’s tongue was sliced from his mouth. In all his lives, William had never trusted words. Only the silent could truly keep a secret. The brutality of it sent me stumbling backward. Before, even in the face of his enemies, William had never shown this side of himself to me. The man before me was a stranger, terrifying and cold. I fled back to my chambers, my body collapsing to the floor. After the initial shock, a wave of profound, bottomless despair washed over me. I had been on my way to ask for my soul-incense back. My people’s soul-incense was a finite legacy. When one of us died, our descendant inherited our stick. If a soul-incense was destroyed, not only would that soul be annihilated, but their entire bloodline—over a hundred people—would be barred from the cycle of reincarnation. This was my last life. My ninth and final turn. I had wanted to send my soul-incense back to my village, to at least preserve my family line. But the secret I had so trustingly shared with William in our first life had become the very tool of my people’s extinction. In our first life, William was a Crown Prince. On a quest for a mythical artifact, he had stumbled upon my hidden village and found me, a girl who had never seen the outside world. He became Emperor, and I, his most cherished consort. For ten years, he built me palaces, hosted lavish banquets in my honor, and laid the world’s treasures at my feet. He would wake in the night, clinging to me, weeping that it was all a dream. But empires fall. Barbarians invaded, and our kingdom crumbled. William fled with me from the capital, a desperate retreat across the country. Finally, cornered, his generals delivered an ultimatum. “The people whisper that a sorceress has bewitched the Emperor, cursing the kingdom. Your Majesty, if you do not execute the sorceress and give the army justice, morale will break. We will never reclaim our home.” The courtyard outside my chambers was filled with kneeling courtiers and commanders. William locked me in my room, his body trembling with rage. “Fools! The barbarian threat has existed since my father’s time! It has nothing to do with you! They lose their own battles, and they want a woman to take the blame? Unacceptable!” He threw the dagger they had given him to the floor, his face streaked with tears. I gently picked it up, pressing it back into his hand along with my soul-incense. “William,” I whispered, “I am of the old blood. I can be reborn with my memories intact. Take this. In the next life, it will help you remember me, and find me again.” And so, in my first life, to save his kingdom, I guided his hand and plunged the blade into my own heart. In my second life, I shielded him on the battlefield, taking a thousand arrows meant for him. In my third life, when he summoned me back, he had a wife. Her name, he said, was Elara, his childhood sweetheart, a marriage arranged by their parents. He claimed there was no love between them, but he could not simply cast her aside. I believed him. Later, when rebels stormed the city, they tied both Elara and me to the city walls. “General William,” the rebel leader had shouted, “choose one. Your wife, or your mistress.” For the first time, William hesitated. And in that moment of hesitation, Elara cut her own ropes and leaped from the wall to her death. After that, William changed. In our fourth life, he found me first, but still spent years frantically searching for Elara’s reincarnation. “Seraphina, I failed her in our last life,” he’d explained. “I just want to make it up to her. Our time together will be long.” I dismissed it as a lingering obsession, a need for closure. In our fifth life, we were married, but he rescued Elara from a life of destitution and brought her into our home. “It’s my fault she suffered,” he’d insisted, ignoring my tears. He made her his second wife, of equal rank to me, and let the entire city laugh at my humiliation. So it went, life after life, until our eighth. He was an Emperor again. He gave Elara a child. It broke my heart, but I said nothing. He had given me the title of Empress, and every honor, yet he spent every night in Elara’s palace. I remained silent, until the day he stripped me of my title and threw me in the dungeon. “Seraphina,” he’d said, his voice cold, “I never knew you were so jealous. I only wanted to give her a child to lean on, before we retired to the countryside together. I never imagined you would be so cruel as to harm it.” “I can’t let you harm anyone else.” Elara had lost the child. And he blamed me, the Empress who never even left her own palace wing. Before I could even defend myself, he sentenced me to death by a thousand cuts, three hundred agonizing slices to make me remember my “crime.” Each time I fainted from the pain, his physicians would revive me with ginseng, keeping me alive for the next cut. When it was over, he came to my broken, hollowed-out body, his sword drawn. “Don’t blame me, Seraphina. Wait for me in the next life.” The sword pierced my heart, ending the torment. I awoke in my ninth life. In this life, William had clawed his way from obscurity to become the Prince Regent, all to secure a comfortable life for Elara in the palace. But Elara, emboldened by his power, had become a tyrant, her cruelty and recklessness infamous. Now, a rebellion was rising, their banner proclaiming the need to “cleanse the court and remove the demon consort.” Elara had to die. And William wanted me to die for her. He had promised the last time was the final time. The memories were a physical pain. My first instinct was to run, to at least save the last hope of my people and give my ancestors a proper burial. But I knew that as long as William held my soul-incense, I couldn’t even leave the palace walls. If I couldn’t escape, then at least I could choose how I died. I would not die for the woman who had destroyed my entire race. My gaze fell on the Whisperbloom flowers in the courtyard, a plant I had brought from my village. The blossoms were poisonous, a powerful paralytic. Eaten in large enough quantities, they caused a painless death in one’s sleep. Compared to the agonies of my past eight deaths, it sounded like a mercy. Without hesitation, I stuffed a handful of the blossoms into my mouth. The paralysis was immediate. I tumbled from my chair, my body hitting the ground, my consciousness fading. But then, frantic footsteps from the courtyard. “Seraphina!” William swept me into his arms, his voice raw as he called my name. Through the haze, I thought I saw a flicker of the old panic in his eyes, the helplessness, the fear. I tried to smile. But his face hardened with anger. “You want to die? Seraphina, your life is mine! How dare you try to take it without my permission?” He summoned the royal physicians, forced me to vomit up every last petal, and then ordered the courtyard stripped of every single Whisperbloom. When I was finally coherent, he stood over me, his eyes filled with a deep, chilling disappointment. “You were never like this before, Seraphina. Are you so consumed with jealousy that you would kill yourself, just to force Elara to her death? When did you become so vicious?” He gripped my face, forcing me down into the bedding. With the entire household of servants just outside, he ripped my clothes. “Is it because I gave Elara a child? Is that what this is about? Fine. I’ll satisfy you. Will that be enough?” I saw the shadows of the servants moving behind the screen, and I burned with shame. But the residual poison had left me too weak to even push him away. The gentle lover of my memories was gone. The bed frame creaked violently, and I saw the servants outside freeze, listening. Two tears traced a path from the corners of my eyes. When he was finished, he looked at my tear-streaked face, paused for a fraction of a second, and then simply covered me with the blanket. “You will stay here and recover. Banish these thoughts of suicide from your mind. I have already announced that you are gravely ill. You will remain in this courtyard and entertain no other foolish ideas.” 2 William placed me under house arrest. Guards patrolled the perimeter day and night. Anything I could possibly use to harm myself was removed. I sat on a bare stone bench in the courtyard, the sun beating down on me, but I felt no warmth. A maidservant, her expression blank, draped a cloak over my shoulders and handed me a hand-warmer. “My lady,” she said, her voice monotone, “it is time for your meal.” After my suicide attempt, my stomach was ruined. Every bite of food was agony, causing me to break out in a cold sweat. But William ordered the servants to watch me, to force me to eat every last morsel prepared by the kitchen. “You’re too thin, Seraphina,” he would say. “You don’t look enough like Elara. Don’t be difficult. Eat more. It’s the only way the disguise will be convincing.” So I became a machine, letting them stuff food into my mouth, swallowing it down, enduring the fire that would burn in my gut until the early hours of the morning. Until one day, the moment the food was placed before me, a wave of nausea hit, and I threw up. The maidservant, thinking I had taken poison again, immediately called for the physician. The physician announced that I was pregnant. One month along. I did the math. It was from the day he had confined me. My hand instinctively went to my stomach. A flicker of life in the barren desert of my heart. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. The last drop of my people’s blood was right here, inside me. But then, uncertainty. If William knew I was pregnant, would he spare me? Would he let me preserve this last hope? After the physician left, I expected William to come. I waited for three days. He never appeared. A servant whispered that he had left the city in search of some rare treasure. I assumed Elara had heard of some new trinket she desired. It was always the way. She wanted, and William provided. But on the morning of the fourth day, a maidservant rushed into my room. “My lady! The Prince Regent has returned with a magnificent night-glowing pearl! He says it is for your birthday! Quickly, let me help you dress!” Her words jolted me. Today was my birthday. A lifetime of rebirths had blurred the passage of time. I had forgotten. But William had remembered. I touched my stomach, a sliver of hope blooming in my chest. He must care for this child. That’s why he had gone to find my favorite gem, the night-glowing pearl, for my birthday. He stood before me, placing the impossibly large, luminous pearl in my hands. He took my hand, his touch gentle. “Seraphina. Do you like it?” I was about to speak when his tone shifted. “I thought you would like this. A final gift, to send you off happily.” I stared at him, confused. He stood up, and Elara walked in from the doorway. “The rebel army is at the city gates,” she said, her voice impatient. “They’re screaming for my death. William, hurry up.”

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When my family went bankrupt, my mother’s best friend took me in. That’s how I ended up entangled with the two sons of the illustrious Hayes family for twenty years. Their devotion and fierce protectiveness were the envy of everyone we knew. But when I finally decided I was ready to settle down and start a family, they both turned me down. The older brother, David, said, “My career comes first. I’m not interested in marriage right now.” The younger one, Ethan, said, “I’m still young. I want to have fun for a few more years. Besides, what we have is just a casual fling. It was never serious.” The very next day, at my birthday party, they both proposed to the housekeeper’s daughter. To entertain her, they forced me—a person with a chronic stomach condition—to drink a glass of high-proof liquor. As I was rushed to the hospital with internal bleeding, they both covered her eyes and laughed, mocking me for being dramatic. That was the day my heart finally died. The day I was discharged, I called my mother. “I’m ready,” I told her. “I’ll marry the heir to the Russell fortune.” 1 The autumn wind cut through my thin hospital gown as I stepped outside. My phone rang. It was David Hayes, the older brother. His tone was sharp, laced with blame. “Audrey, where have you been hiding? Did you think running away would solve anything? Get back here right now and apologize to Mina.” I could hear Ethan, the younger brother, in the background. “It’s your fault Mina is upset! You and your fake illness. She’s so fragile, she’s barely eaten in days because of you!” I glanced at my reflection in the glass door. I was a wraith, so thin and frail it looked like a strong gust of wind could carry me away. My stomach has been weak since I was a child, my health always delicate. For years, those two brothers had fussed over me endlessly. I remember one night, I had a severe attack, and David carried me on his back down twenty flights of stairs because the elevator was out. Ethan once scoured the entire city to find a specific rice cake I loved, just to see me smile. They controlled every meal I ate, every sip I took, personally overseeing my diet. But that was all before Mina, the housekeeper’s daughter, arrived. After she appeared, they tossed twenty years of memories aside like trash. I hung up without a word and dialed my mother’s number. “Mom, I’ve made up my mind. I’ll marry the Russell heir.” There was a long pause on the other end. “Audrey, darling, this is your life. Are you absolutely sure?” When my father passed away and our family business collapsed, my mother sent me to the capital to live with her best friend, while she stayed behind to salvage what was left of our family’s legacy. For twenty years, she worked tirelessly to build a connection with the powerful Russell family, securing a chance for us to rebuild. But more than any business alliance, she cared about my happiness. Even after the Russell matriarch had taken a liking to me, my mother had left the final choice in my hands. I used to believe that true love was worth waiting for, that I would eventually choose between the two Hayes brothers. Now I saw the truth. I was nothing but a diversion for them, a toy to pass the time. I should have left long ago. I opened my phone to book a flight and saw a new post from Mina. It was a picture of her, lounging in my bedroom, flaunting two different diamond rings on her hand. The caption read: True love needs no words. Only desperate old women have to scheme their way to the top. She was wearing the designer suit and crystal heels the Hayes brothers had custom-made for me six months ago as a birthday present. I silently blocked her number. “Mom, I’m serious,” I said, my voice firm. “I want to have a child of my own, soon.” The doctor at the hospital had told me the internal bleeding had taken a serious toll on my body. If I didn’t get pregnant while I was still young, I might never be able to have children. I didn’t have any more time to wait. “Alright,” my mother said, her voice soft with understanding. “I respect your decision. Mrs. Russell has already had your charts read. Next Sunday is an auspicious day for the marriage registration. As soon as you’re back, I’ll arrange everything.” She must have guessed what had happened. Just before hanging up, she added, “Remember to say a proper goodbye to Aunt Caroline.” I looked up at the grey, overcast sky. The doctor said I needed a week to recover. One week. Just enough time to say goodbye to everything. 2 I took a cab back to the villa. The moment I stepped through the door, a jet of cold water hit me full in the face, soaking me to the bone. “Oh, Audrey, I’m so sorry!” Mina cried, holding a garden hose. She didn’t turn off the water until I was completely drenched. “I was watering the flowers. I didn’t see you.” I blinked, trying to clear my vision. My eyes fell on the garden bed. The Mina of the valley flowers I had painstakingly cultivated for years were gone, ripped out. In their place were rows and rows of garish, bright red roses. A gust of cold wind swept through the yard, and a wave of nausea and dizziness washed over my post-surgery body. I swayed, nearly collapsing. David and Ethan exchanged a look of pure contempt, as if mocking me for putting on a show the moment I returned. “Audrey,” David drawled, “I thought you had more backbone than that. I didn’t think you’d ever come back.” “Her own mother doesn’t even want her,” Ethan sneered. “Where else would she go?” A sharp pain lanced through my chest. I remembered the day I first arrived at the Hayes mansion. Ethan had held my hand, trying everything to make me smile. “Don’t be scared, Audrey,” he’d said. “This is your home now.” David had given me the largest and best room in the house. When the three of us moved into this villa for work, he had remembered all my preferences, decorating the master suite just for me. He had declared to everyone that I was, and always would be, the irreplaceable lady of the house. Everything changed the day Mina arrived, under the guise of helping her mother, the housekeeper. She spent her days either clinging to the brothers or “accidentally” breaking my things. At first, I was patient, understanding that she was unaccustomed to our world. But she grew bolder, eventually shattering a jade pendant my father had left me, right in front of my eyes. When I finally confronted her, David pushed me away. “Mina’s had a hard life,” he’d said, his brow furrowed. “You’re a princess who’s had everything handed to you. Why do you have to pick on a simple girl who doesn’t know any better?” “She’s younger than me,” Ethan had added. “You’re the older one. Can’t you just let things go?” Clutching the broken pieces of my father’s pendant, I felt a profound sense of confusion and helplessness for the first time. After that, I was no longer the center of their universe. The housekeeper’s daughter had slowly, methodically, replaced me. She was the new mistress of the villa, and I was being pushed out. Fine. There was nothing left for me here. I went inside, intending to pack, only to find all my belongings thrown in a heap in the hallway. David stood there with his arm around Mina, looking down at me. “Audrey, you need to understand your place,” he said coldly. “You’re nothing but a parasite, living off our family. You have no right to look down on Mina, and you certainly have no right to throw your princess tantrums at her.” “From now on, you’ll live in the maid’s room. Mina will be taking over your responsibilities at the company. I’m transferring you to logistics. You can stay there until you learn some humility.” Ethan then ripped the head off the teddy bear my mother had given me, tossing it to Mina to make her laugh. “Big sister Audrey,” he cooed, his voice laced with menace, “if you make Mina unhappy again, I won’t be so gentle next time.” Big sister Audrey. The way he said it now was a world away from the adoration it once held. The old me would have been heartbroken, unable to sleep for nights. But I was leaving. I had no time or energy to argue. “You’re right,” I said quietly. “I’ll move out as soon as possible. And don’t worry about transferring me. I quit.” David scoffed. “So, you’re determined to be a useless freeloader, living off our family forever.” He sighed. “Fine. For my mother’s sake, I won’t argue with you this time. Just remember your place from now on.” I walked past him, my voice barely a whisper. “There is no ‘from now on.’” This place held so many beautiful memories. But it was never my home. 3 I thought it would take me a long time to pack, but when I looked at my things, there was almost nothing left. Most of my clothes had been chosen by David. “Our Audrey is the most beautiful princess,” he used to say. “She deserves to be dressed beautifully every day.” Now, those clothes were soaked in dirty water, reeking of some foul odor. And I had gone from his princess to a parasite with a princess complex. I pushed the clothes aside and saw photos scattered on the floor. Ethan used to love taking pictures of me, wanting to capture every moment. In every group photo, the two of them would fight to stand closer to me. Now, in those same photos, my face was crossed out with a red marker. I couldn’t bear to look anymore. I swept everything into a trash bag. David and Mina were coming downstairs as I did. A flicker of shock crossed his face. He knew how much I used to treasure those things. But it was quickly replaced by a cold sneer. “You’re quick to waste the Hayes family’s money, aren’t you?” The David I knew would have spent a fortune to make me happy. Now, with Mina by his side, everything I did was wrong. I had lost the right to be willful, and I no longer had the desire to argue. “I’ll pay you back,” I said simply. “The Hayes family doesn’t need your money. Just remember, you are never to bother Mina again.” Mina tugged on David’s sleeve. “David, honey, don’t waste your time on irrelevant people. I still want to go to our secret place and see the stars. Can we go now?” I froze. The “secret place” she mentioned was a rooftop observatory David had built for me when I first came to live with them. His mother, Caroline, was always busy with work, so the task of looking after me had fallen to David, who was six years older. He gave me the best of everything. He called me his moonlight. And so, he designed an eternal starry sky just for me. I remember him looking at me that night, his eyes full of emotion. “Audrey,” he’d said, “remember this. This is your sky. And this is my love, just for you.” We spent twenty years perfecting that starry sky, creating a dreamlike sanctuary. From that day on, the scales of my heart had tipped towards David. But every time I was close to making a choice, Ethan would throw a tantrum, and the moment would pass. Now… they had a new, vibrant red rose. They had long forgotten their pale, faded moonlight. It didn’t matter. I took a deep breath and started to leave. I didn’t want either of them anymore.

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I paid $200,000 to get my mother the best doctor for her chronic heart condition, only to discover that when it was time for her surgery, someone else was on the operating table. And on my official city records, I suddenly had a new mother. I tracked down this imposter. She was completely unapologetic. “Look, I’m already in the hospital bed,” she said. “They’re using all this fancy imported equipment on me. What’s done is done. Why don’t you just accept me as your new mom?” I fought back a tidal wave of fury. Using my legal status as her official guardian, I had this “mother” transferred to a women’s health clinic for a full mastectomy. Then I prepared the lawsuit that would put her and her entire family behind bars. This time, it was her son who went insane. He stormed over to my house, furious. I just shrugged. “She’s listed as my mother on the official documents. What’s my mom got to do with you?” 1 My mom’s heart blockages were a chronic problem. I’d spent years working myself to the bone, saving up a little money, all with one goal: to get her the best doctor and cure this illness for good. I paid $200,000 for a top surgeon and a procedure using state-of-the-art imported technology. But when I arrived at the hospital to handle the admission paperwork, the administrator told me her scheduled surgery slot had already been used. I thought it was a mistake. My mother was right beside me, weak and frail. How could her slot have been used? “According to our system,” the administrator insisted, “the patient registered under your guardianship has already been admitted and is currently occupying the pre-paid room.” I looked at my own mother, her face gaunt and pale from the constant strain on her heart, and I nearly lunged across the desk. I’d paid the full $200,000 upfront to expedite everything. Now they were telling me it was all gone? This had to be some kind of corruption, someone in the hospital stealing my money. “Sir, this is a reputable institution,” the administrator said stiffly. “We would never touch a patient’s funds.” I forced myself to calm down and demanded to see the records. They were right. The records showed my mother’s slot had been taken. The patient was currently in the very room I had booked. I stormed to the cardiac wing and burst into the room. Just as the records showed, a strange old woman was lying in the bed. “Who are you?” I demanded, my voice shaking with rage. “What are you doing in my mother’s bed?” She slowly lifted her heavy-lidded eyes. “This is the bed my son booked for me. What do you mean, your bed?” I dragged the administrator back to the room to sort this out. He checked his tablet, then looked at me. “Sir, the records are correct. Her son completed her admission. Please stop causing a disturbance.” I shoved my payment receipts in his face—the surgeon’s fee, the equipment fee, the room fee. Everything. He glanced at them, then back at the woman in the bed. “Yes, that all seems to be in order. Your mother is right here.” I thought I was going to lose my mind. My real mother was downstairs, exhausted and struggling to breathe. Who the hell was this woman? The administrator was confused now, too. He cross-referenced the files. “Is your mother’s name Martha?” he asked me. I shook my head. “And you are Leo, correct?” I nodded. Yes, I was Leo, but my mother’s name was Diane, not Martha. He threw his hands up. “Our system doesn’t make mistakes, sir. Martha’s admission followed all correct procedures. Whatever personal issues you have, you need to sort them out yourselves and not interfere with our patients.” I was stunned. If the hospital system was correct, that meant this woman, Martha, was legally my mother. Something was terribly, terribly wrong. I turned to the woman in the bed. “What is going on here?” I yelled. She gave me a pitying look. “Son, are you upset that I used your money? Has it affected your mind? We’re in a hospital, you know. Maybe you should see a psychiatrist.” The administrator nodded. “He might have a point.” I wanted to scream. Seeing I was getting nowhere, I went back downstairs, took my real mother home, and drove straight to the city records office. I’d gone there expecting to find a typo. What I found sent a chill down my spine. My official family file had been altered. It wasn’t a typo. It was a complete replacement. On the official record, under the line for “Mother,” it no longer read Diane. It read: Martha. 2 I lost it right there in the records office, screaming at the clerks, demanding to know how this could happen. How could someone just change a legal family record? To their credit, the officers there were patient. They understood my fury but warned me that if I didn’t calm down, they’d have to detain me for disturbing the peace. Realizing they were right, I took a deep breath and apologized. But when I asked how this happened, they could only guess that a new clerk on the night shift must have made a mistake. They said a woman named Martha and her son had come in and, somehow, her details were entered into my file. “Fine,” I said. “Then just change it back.” The lead officer shook his head. “We can’t just alter official records on your word alone. For all we know, the current record is the correct one.” I was speechless. They could make a mistake without any proof, but to correct it, they suddenly needed to follow the letter of the law. It felt like they were deliberately targeting me. I asked for the identity of the person who filed the change, but they cited privacy laws and refused. Fine. If they wouldn’t help me, I’d figure it out myself. When I got home, my mother didn’t know the full extent of the problem yet. Seeing my dark mood, she tried to comfort me. “Son, this illness is a burden on you. I’m an old woman. It doesn’t matter if I get the surgery or not. My time is short. Don’t waste your money.” She thought I’d run into financial trouble. Her selflessness just twisted the knife in my gut. I told her everything and swore that no matter what, I would get her the treatment she deserved. Tears welled in her eyes. My father, who had been listening, slammed his hand on the table, making the dishes rattle. “Son of a bitch! I’ve been on this earth for sixty years, and I have never seen such shameless thievery! Stealing a surgery!” “Dad, don’t worry,” I said, trying to calm him. “I’ll handle this. Mom’s treatment won’t be delayed.” He looked at my determined face and clapped me on the shoulder. “Good boy. The first thing is to find that family and get our money back. Your mother’s health is what matters.” I nodded, my resolve hardening into steel. “Just get the money back,” my mother whispered. “That’s all that matters.” I told them to rest. I would make that family pay for what they did. In blood, if necessary. 3 I immediately called a lawyer friend and explained the situation—the altered records, the stolen surgery slot. I wanted to know what crime they had committed. “It’s tricky,” he said. “From the hospital’s perspective, the procedure was done correctly. The real crime is the records tampering. If you can prove they did that fraudulently, we can get them for felony fraud.” With that, I drove back to the hospital. Martha was propped up in bed, casually eating grapes and spitting the skins onto the floor. When she saw me, she grinned. “Ah, my son is here! Did you bring me a treat?” “I am not your son,” I said through gritted teeth. She sat up, looking surprisingly energetic for someone who’d just had major heart surgery. “The official records say you are. Are you trying to disown your own mother now?” “Cut the crap,” I said, getting straight to the point. “Who is your real son? And how did you change my family records?” The old woman just sat there, a smug, contemptuous look in her eyes. That look sent a jolt of pure rage through me, and I grabbed her by the shoulders. “Tell me! My real mother needs this surgery. How can you be so cruel?” To my shock, she threw her head back and started screaming. “He’s hitting his mother! Help! My son is beating me! Is there no justice in this world?” Leo is being publicly shamed and framed, but he may have just found a crucial lead. Do you wish to continue reading to see how he turns the tables? Her cries instantly drew a crowd of nurses and other patients, who began pointing and whispering. The head nurse rushed over and got in my face. “I don’t care who your mother is! The name on the chart is Martha, and she is under your legal guardianship. You will not cause a scene in my hospital!” “I didn’t touch her!” I yelled, exasperated. “She’s lying!” Martha, adding fuel to the fire, lifted her arm. “Look! He left a bruise!” It was clearly just a smudge of dirt from her own unwashed hands, but the crowd didn’t see that. They saw an old woman being abused by her son. People started taking out their phones to record me. “She’s not my mother!” I shouted desperately. “She’s an imposter!” This only made Martha more dramatic. “I raised a monster,” she wailed, dabbing at her dry eyes with a tissue. “My own son won’t even acknowledge me.” A woman from the next bed chimed in. “It’s true. He never visits. There’s some other man, a stranger, who comes to see her all the time. Tsk, tsk. Poor Martha.” My ears perked up. A stranger who visits her. That had to be her real son. I pushed through the crowd to the woman. “You said a stranger comes to visit her?” “That’s right,” the woman said. “Brings her fruit and things. If you ask me, he acts more like her real son.” “Do you know where he lives?” I pressed. Before she could answer, Martha cut in sharply. “Son, stop bothering people! It’s kind of him to visit, but why are you asking for his address? Are you planning to go threaten him?” The crowd murmured in agreement, their glares intensifying. “This woman is not my mother!” I pleaded one last time. “She stole my mother’s surgery slot, and now my real mom is at home, getting sicker by the day!” Martha’s eyes flashed with anger. “I know you don’t want to pay for my treatment! You’re just angry I spent so much of your money! Fine! I’ll go home! I won’t get any more treatment!” She made a show of trying to climb out of bed, and the nurses rushed to stop her, scolding me for upsetting a sick old woman. I knew I couldn’t win here. I slipped out of the hospital, defeated but with a new plan. 4 On the drive home, I put the pieces together. Her real son visits her at the hospital. All I had to do was wait. Meanwhile, my mom’s condition was deteriorating. She was barely strong enough to speak, and she could only manage a few bites of food. Seeing her frail body and sallow face felt like a knife twisting in my heart. Every day she got worse was because of Martha. If she didn’t get treatment soon, I was going to lose her. I staked out the hospital for three days straight. Finally, one evening, I saw him. A short, grimy-looking man I would later learn was named Caleb. He was carrying a bag of browning, overripe bananas, probably scavenged from a market stall. He had the smug look of someone who thought he’d pulled off the heist of the century, completely oblivious to the fact that he’d committed a serious crime. I crept to the door of Martha’s room and listened. “Mom, has that guy been back?” he whispered. “You don’t think he’ll cause any trouble, do you?” Martha laughed. “Don’t worry, son. He’s a total pushover. We yelled at him, and he ran away with his tail between his legs. You have nothing to worry about.” “Great,” Caleb said. “So after all this, we’ve cleared a good $160,000.” I frowned. The surgery cost $200,000. Why 160? Did it cost them forty thousand to get the records changed? After a few more minutes, Caleb left. I followed him at a distance, all the way back to his home in a run-down apartment complex. I knocked on the door. A stout, hostile woman answered. “Who are you? What do you want?” she snapped. 5 I told her the whole story, pleading with her. I explained that we were just normal working people, that I had saved for years, that it was my parents’ life savings, all for my mother’s surgery. I begged her to understand the mistake they’d made and to return the money. She didn’t listen to a word. She just muttered a curse and tried to slam the door in my face. I jammed my foot in the doorway. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be,” I said, my voice low and dangerous. This woman was clearly not one to back down. Her voice shot up to a piercing shriek, like a boiling kettle. “Get the hell out of here! Don’t you dare cause trouble at my home!” The screaming brought another person out of the back room, a bowl of rice still in his hand. It was Martha’s son, Caleb. They were a couple. “What’s going on?” he asked, seeing me. I used the distraction to shove the door open. “I’m Diane’s son. Your mother stole my mother’s surgery.” The color drained from his face. He dropped his bowl and tried to shove the door closed. “I don’t know you! Get out of my house!” I pushed back with all my strength. “Have you no humanity?” I roared. “My mother is dying because of what you did!” Caleb was clearly terrified, his only goal to get me away from his door. “Go away, or I’ll call the cops for trespassing!” “Go ahead!” I shot back. “Call them! Let’s see who they believe!” He was losing the battle for the door. It was slowly inching open. “I’m not here to make trouble,” I said, trying a different tack. “Just give me the money back. My mother’s life is on the line.” “I don’t have any money!” he yelled, his voice cracking. “And I don’t give a damn if your mother dies!” That was it. That was the line. “Your mother’s life matters, but mine doesn’t?” I bellowed. “You think I don’t know you forged the records? This isn’t the dark ages. Everything is computerized. There’s a digital trail for everything!” As we were locked in our struggle, the woman suddenly disappeared and reappeared with a kitchen knife, swinging it right at my head. I jerked back just in time for the blade to miss my face, but it sliced a deep gash across my shoulder. The woman screamed, her face contorted with rage. “If you ever come back here again, I’ll take your head off!” She was insane. The wound wasn’t life-threatening, but I knew if I stayed, I might not walk away at all. I backed away slowly. Before I left, I looked them both in the eye. “You wanted to play dirty,” I said, my voice cold as ice. “You have no idea who you’re dealing with.”

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1 It all began at the Royal Spring Hunt. That was where Crown Prince Adrian, with a single arrow, struck an orphan girl. She was Lina, the niece of his biological mother—a woman whose name was a dark whisper in the palace, a stain on his royal lineage. Adrian was instantly smitten. He declared on the spot that he would make her his princess. There was just one problem: I was his fiancée. Elara of the great House Stanley. He came to Stanley Manor to break the engagement himself, his voice ringing with self-righteous conviction. “I was the one who tended her wound. We were alone. Her honor is compromised—by my hand. She has no other path now but to marry me.” He looked at me then, a flicker of pity in his eyes. “You are the Queen’s niece. You’ll have your pick of any nobleman in the kingdom. Why would you fight a poor, helpless girl over one man?” A daughter of House Stanley, fighting over a man? He must have been dreaming. The moment word of his intent got out, a royal decree arrived from the palace. I was to remain the undisputed Crown Princess. It was just that the Prince now had someone else in mind for the role. … Prince Adrian stood in our grand hall, his posture regal, but his eyes were fixed on the fragile beauty beside him. “Lina is delicate, and new to the capital,” he announced to my family. “I injured her, and in binding her wounds, I compromised her. If I don’t marry her, how can she possibly face the world? I appeal to your good sense, Lady Elara. A young woman’s reputation is everything. Lina has no future now, except as my wife. If you have any compassion at all, you will agree to end our betrothal.” He had been infatuated with Lina for two whole months, ever since that hunt. He’d said nothing, waiting, deliberately choosing my birthday to unleash this humiliation upon me and my house. With a hall full of guests, we had no choice but to face this storm. My father’s hand trembled as he gripped his wine glass. He abandoned all pretense of courtesy. “Your Highness, have you considered what a cancellation on these grounds will do to Elara? How will her honor be preserved? You were the one who begged the King for this match, a fact known throughout the capital. To come here now and cast it aside… what does that make of House Stanley?” Lina clutched Adrian’s sleeve, her voice a tremulous whisper. “My prince, please, don’t argue with Lord Stanley on my account. I can bear the rumors. Death is a small price to pay. I would never want to be a burden to you.” Adrian wrapped an arm around her. “I won’t let you face the whispers alone,” he murmured, before turning his gaze to me. It was a look of arrogant disdain. “Lady Elara, you come from a noble line. Surely you won’t stoop to fighting Lina for a husband. You have a legion of suitors to choose from. To cling to this engagement now would seem… grasping.” He smirked. “Or perhaps you’re just like all the other women in this city, desperate only for the title of Crown Princess? Since our betrothal, you’ve been so cold. You refused all my invitations—for walks, for tea, for poetry readings. You were clearly unhappy with the match. This is for the best.” House Stanley, one of the founding families of the kingdom, had never suffered such an insult. I was speechless with rage. I simply retrieved the betrothal contract. “Your Highness, here is the writ. From this day forward, we are free of each other. May you find your happiness, and I shall find mine.” I turned to his new love. “And you, Miss Lina, need not weep here in my home. You’ve captured a prince’s heart and are on the verge of securing the most coveted position in the land. Shouldn’t you be celebrating?” Lina swayed, her face turning ashen. “Lady Elara, I know my station is beneath yours. I never meant to steal your fiancé. You don’t have to be so cruel.” Adrian laughed, a short, sharp, mocking sound. “You’re so quick to end it, Lady Elara. Could it be you already have someone else in mind? Perhaps my breaking this off is exactly what you wanted.” He scanned the stunned faces of our guests. “Since it’s your birthday, why not choose a new husband today? I will personally provide a magnificent wedding gift.” With that, he smiled, draped his arm around Lina, and departed, leaving a maelstrom of gossip in his wake. “Is the Prince mad? Breaking his engagement for some cousin who appeared out of thin air?” “But Lady Elara is the Queen’s niece! She is his cousin!” “Haven’t you heard? He shot this other cousin, Lina, at the spring hunt. It was love at first sight, and now he’ll move heaven and earth to marry her.” “Where did she even come from? No one’s ever heard of her. And the royal hunting grounds are heavily guarded. How did she get in?” “They say she’s from his birth mother’s family…” “Hush! The Prince’s origins are forbidden talk. Have you forgotten? His mother was a lowly palace servant.” My birthday celebration was ruined, ending in hushed tones and hasty departures. By morning, the story of how Crown Prince Adrian had jilted a daughter of House Stanley for an orphan girl was the talk of the entire capital. 2 The next day, the Queen summoned me to the palace. She is my father’s sister, my aunt, and she has always cherished me. Though she has reigned as Queen for years, she has no children of her own—a constant, secret sorrow. Adrian’s birth mother was nothing more than a kitchen girl the King had a fleeting encounter with at a summer palace. Her station was so low she was never even granted a formal title. She died not long after Adrian was born. Because of his mother’s disgraceful status, Adrian was scorned by everyone, even the palace eunuchs. He nearly didn’t survive his childhood. It was my aunt, the Queen, beloved by the King and holding absolute power within the palace, who took pity on him. She brought him into her own wing, raising him as her son and ensuring he received the education of a prince. It was only because of her patronage that he, the fourth-born son, was named Crown Prince. “My dearest child,” she said, her grip on my hand tight with sympathy. “I know the injustice you’ve suffered. Adrian is a fool, blind to the blessings he’s been given. I taught him for years, gave him the most precious daughter of our house, and for what? He throws it all away for a pretty face, a ‘cousin’ he’s never even met before!” Her voice was laced with fury. “How can a man with such poor judgment ever rule? All my years of guidance… wasted. It seems the blood of that common girl runs truer in his veins than any of my teachings. He is not of my body, and I see now he will never be truly of my heart.” I rested my head on her lap, seeking her familiar comfort. “Aunt, it is better that the Prince revealed his true nature now than after I was bound to him in the palace. A daughter of House Stanley will not lack for suitors.” The Queen’s expression softened into a smile as she stroked my cheek. “Our Elara is the finest young woman in the kingdom. Do not worry. The position of Crown Princess is yours, and no one else can take it.” The King and Queen’s love story was legendary. They were childhood friends, and his devotion to her had never wavered, even without an heir of their own. Because she had raised Adrian, the King’s affection for her extended to the boy. Despite his ignoble birth, the King had granted him the highest title of all: Crown Prince. The King, too, had heard of the broken engagement and was livid. “Idiot!” he had roared at Adrian. “The greatest houses in the land would kill to have a daughter of Stanley. And you were betrothed to their primary heir, Elara herself! You threw that away for some nobody?” “The Queen arranged this marriage to give you the backing you lack! With House Stanley behind you, your position would have been unassailable. You have single-handedly cast away your greatest asset. You are as dumb as a swine!” The King stormed out, leaving Adrian fuming. Unfazed by his adoptive father’s rage, Adrian had the audacity to bring Lina to the Queen’s chambers to “pay respects.” He knelt before her. “Mother, you have always loved me. I only wish to marry a woman I adore. I am the Crown Prince. Surely, I have the right to choose the woman I love?” The Queen looked down at him, her disappointment a tangible thing. “You and Elara grew up together. I recall you kneeling before me, begging for this betrothal, claiming you cherished her and would stand by her for all your days. Was that a lie? You said you would be one heart, one soul, for a lifetime. Now she is not the woman you love?” “That girl, Lina, has blinded you.” Adrian held his head high, his hand tightly gripping Lina’s. “Mother, Elara is just like every other dull noblewoman. She’s rigid, boring, utterly devoid of life. But Lina… Lina is different! She loves to laugh and play. She can dance in ways the court has never seen and sings folk songs from the countryside. She’s captivating! Mother, if you just got to know her, I know you would love her too!” From behind the screen where I was hidden, a scornful smile touched my lips. Singing folk songs and dancing provocative dances? The taverns and brothels were full of such “captivating” women. The Queen’s voice was ice. “Adrian, do you have any idea what you will lose without the support of House Stanley?” The Prince actually smiled. “I know you mean their political power in the southern territories. But Mother, I am the Crown Prince, the future king. The entire kingdom will be my domain. What do I have to fear?” He brightened further. “I know you are fond of Elara. So, let her be my secondary wife. When I am King, I will make her a Duchess. Surely House Stanley wouldn’t dare object to that?” My fists clenched behind the screen. The insolence of this boy. “A daughter of House Stanley will never be a secondary wife,” the Queen stated, her voice dangerously calm. “Adrian, you are my adopted son, but you are not the King’s only son. Do you truly believe you can hold your position on your own?” “Of course,” the Prince said with unshakeable confidence. “I am the future king.” Lina spoke then, her voice dripping with false humility. “Your Majesty, I know my status is low. If Lady Elara joins the Prince’s household, I promise I will never compete with her. I will treat her as a sister, and we will serve our prince together.” The Queen let out a soft, chilling laugh. “Adrian, be certain of your choice. Once you marry this girl, there is no turning back.” “I am certain,” Adrian declared. “I will never regret it.” “Very well,” the Queen said with a wave of her hand. “You may leave. I will issue the decree in a few days.” His arrogance was boundless, a blatant dismissal of my family, the very foundation of the Queen’s own power. I knew my aunt had made her decision. I said no more, slipping away unnoticed. As I left the Queen’s wing, Adrian was waiting for me, blocking the palace gate. “Elara,” he began, his tone suddenly softer. “I was impulsive yesterday. I’ve thought it over, and I was wrong to act as I did.” “My father, the King, reprimanded me. And I realize, I should not have damaged your reputation so publicly.” “I have asked my mother to decree that I will marry Lina as my primary wife, but I will take you as my princess consort. That title is no insult. This way, we can still be together, and I won’t have broken my promise to you completely. What do you say?” He looked at me with what he must have thought was soulful tenderness, expecting me to nod in grateful acceptance. He was disappointed. I took a step back. “Your Highness, the matter of our betrothal is concluded. There is nothing more to discuss.” He reached for me. “Elara, I know I was wrong. Forgive me, just this once. I can even apologize to you in public, so you can regain face. Please?” I snatched my hand away. “Your Highness, control yourself. You declared our engagement void with your own royal lips. We were to go our separate ways. Have you forgotten already?” He cornered me against the wall, his voice dropping to a low threat. “Elara, you must be sweet and gentle if you want to be cherished by a man. We were betrothed. A woman rejected by the Crown Prince… who in this kingdom will dare marry you now? If word of your defiance spreads, your life will be ruined.” I lifted my chin, staring into the face that bore no resemblance to my noble aunt. “You need not concern yourself with my future, Your Highness. A daughter of House Stanley will not lack for suitors. Even if you screamed yourself hoarse proclaiming me untouchable, the nobles of this realm would still line up at my family’s door.” His face darkened with fury. “Elara, there’s a limit to how much a man will tolerate a woman’s temper. I will inform the King that the wedding will proceed as planned. And once you are my consort, I will take great pleasure in teaching you some manners.” From that day on, Adrian paraded Lina all over the capital. He showered her with gifts, commissioning the finest jewelers and silk weavers to craft a trousseau fit for a queen, since her own family was too poor to provide one. Lina, who had never seen such opulence, was mesmerized by the silks and gems. Adrian would hold her close and proclaim, “I will make every person in this kingdom bow to you. One day, you will be the most revered woman in the land.” He spent lavishly, surrounded by a cloud of sycophants who praised him as a true romantic, a prince who defied the King and Queen for love, who would cast aside a powerful noble house for a humble maiden. It was, they said, a story for the ages. Fed by this adulation, Adrian’s ego swelled. He took Lina’s hand and whispered, “You are the only one I love. You will be my Queen, and all will kneel before you. As for that little wretch from House Stanley, she will be lucky to serve you.” Lina would lean against him, a picture of delicate virtue. “My prince, are you sure you want to give up Lady Elara for me? She is the Queen’s niece, a true high-born lady. She is better suited to be Crown Princess. As long as I have your heart, I would gladly give up the title, just to be near you every day…” “And the Queen… she doesn’t seem to like me. I don’t want you to be in a difficult position.” “Nonsense,” he soothed, stroking her hair. “I am the Crown Prince. Can I not give the woman I love the highest honor? House Stanley, for all its prestige, is still just a subject of the crown. Offering her a secondary position is already a great kindness.” “My mother has no children of her own. She raised me. Who else can she rely on? She will come around, you’ll see.” His voice hardened. “As for Elara Stanley, the King commands, the subject obeys. If I want her as my consort, House Stanley will deliver her to my doorstep.” His circle of fools applauded. “Spoken like a true future king! Such power!” These words, of course, reached the palace with lightning speed. “The King commands, the subject obeys.” Adrian was still only the heir, yet he spoke as if the throne were already his. The current King, still in the prime of his life, did not take kindly to such presumptuous talk. When he heard it, his face contorted with rage, and he swept the entire contents of his desk to the floor in a single, furious motion. When the Queen heard it, she merely smiled, a thin, cold curve of her lips. “Who else can I rely on?” she murmured to her lady-in-waiting. Her attendant replied smoothly, “He seems to have forgotten, Your Majesty, that every prince in this palace calls you ‘Mother.’ They are all your children.” A few days later, my mother hosted a garden party, partly to lift my spirits and partly to discreetly begin the process of finding me a new, more suitable match. As the guests mingled among the blooming roses, a servant’s voice cut through the cheerful chatter. “His Highness, the Crown Prince, has arrived!” Adrian swept into the garden with Lina on his arm, followed by servants carrying more than a dozen lavish gift boxes. He smiled at me, a picture of magnanimity. “A garden party for Elara? How could I not attend? Were you so angry with me that you neglected to send an invitation? No matter. I have come uninvited to make my apologies. Surely you can’t still be cross with me.” Beaming, he stepped forward and plucked a perfect crimson rose, moving to tuck it into my hair. The guests gasped. I recoiled as if struck. “Your Highness. I am merely your subject. I am not worthy of such a gesture. I hear the royal wedding is soon. Allow me to offer my congratulations to you and your future Crown Princess. May you have a long and happy life together.” My words drew a sharp, clear line between us. He faltered for a second, then his smile returned, strained. “Still angry? Very well. It is all my fault. I will offer a formal apology right here. The other day, I consulted the Royal Astrologers. The first day of next month is a most auspicious date. I will inform the King and Queen that you will enter the palace then, ahead of the main ceremony. You will hold a rank equal to Lina’s. And I will swear an oath, right here in front of everyone: besides Lina, no other woman shall ever be placed above you!” The guests exchanged confused, worried glances. The engagement was broken, wasn’t it? Why was the Prince acting as if it was a settled matter that a daughter of Stanley would be his secondary wife? Lina giggled beside him. “It’s true, sister Elara. I convinced the Prince to bring you into the palace first. You won’t have the robes of a Crown Princess, but I went to the royal tailor myself and commissioned a wedding gown for you. It’s absolutely beautiful.” At her signal, a servant brought forth a gown of shimmering silver-rose silk, heavily embroidered with jewels. It was magnificent, opulent… and it was not the pure, deep crimson reserved for a primary royal bride. My mother and the elders of my house turned pale. This was not a gift. It was a calculated, public humiliation, an attempt to grind the honor of House Stanley into the dust. I met Lina’s triumphant gaze and let out a cold, dismissive laugh. “The Prince is to be married. He should find a proper tutor to instruct his future bride on court etiquette—what to say, and more importantly, what not to say. Marriages, since time immemorial, are arranged by the will of the parents and the exchange of contracts. House Stanley has agreed to no such union. Without contract or consent, it is not a marriage, it is a disgrace. Surely, Miss Lina, you understand this?” My voice dropped. “Ah, but perhaps not. You entered the Prince’s residence without a contract yourself, didn’t you?” “Such customs must be learned elsewhere. We of House Stanley do not practice them. This gown, beautiful as it is, I cannot accept. I suggest you take it back and wear it yourself.” Lina’s face flushed a furious red. “How dare you! I am the future Crown Princess! You will show me respect!” I took a step closer, looking down at her. “Has a royal decree named you as such? Does the kingdom know that the Prince has taken a wife? No? Then I suggest you learn some humility, Miss Lina. Before you celebrate a victory that is not yet won, and find yourself with nowhere to hide when it all comes crashing down.” Tears streamed down her face as she threw herself into Adrian’s arms. “My prince, I didn’t mean it like that! I was only trying to be kind and bring her a gift! Why must she be so aggressive? I told her I would be a good sister to her!” She sobbed. “It must be my low birth. I’m not worthy to share a husband with her. My prince, I don’t want to cause you trouble… If I must endure such insults, I would rather not be Crown Princess at all! I would rather be a simple servant, just to be by your side…” Adrian’s face was a thundercloud. “House Stanley calls itself noble, and this is the kind of daughter it produces?” His voice was cold steel. “If you people are so determined to be difficult, then you leave me no choice. I will dispense with the pleasantries. I issue this decree myself, today. Guards! Take Lady Elara back to the palace. We will consummate our union tonight, and tomorrow, you are all invited to drink a toast to Elara, my new princess consort.” “You go too far!” my father roared. The Prince’s guards and handmaidens were already moving towards me, surrounding me. The party guests looked on in horror. Suddenly, a clear, authoritative voice rang out from the gates. “A Royal Decree has arrived!” A smile bloomed on Adrian’s face. “It must be my mother. She has convinced the King to grant my wish.” He turned to me, his eyes gleaming with triumph. “A marriage granted by the King himself. This should satisfy the honor of House Stanley, wouldn’t you agree?” The royal herald stood before the stunned crowd, and all fell to their knees. He unrolled the scroll. “By the Will of Heaven and the Command of the King… To Elara of House Stanley, a woman of noble birth, impeccable virtue, and gentle grace. You are a perfect match for the King’s third son, Prince Kaelan. To forge a bond for a hundred years, you are hereby betrothed to Prince Kaelan as his primary wife and future Duchess. The wedding shall be arranged at the next auspicious date. By Royal Command!”

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