Author: Momo Chan

My husband, Lawrence, sent his secretary to “assist” me with a business negotiation at a downtown restaurant. But at the dinner table, she deliberately made things difficult, goading the client into forcing me to drink. I cited a severe alcohol allergy and tried to leave, but she physically blocked my path. “Zoe, you’re just a trophy wife. When you’re told to drink, you drink. Cut the crap.” A small smile touched my lips. I tore the contract in half right there and then, and dialed my husband’s number. “Your secretary seems to think the Vance family doesn’t need me anymore. Is that right?” 01 “You think crying to the big boss is going to help you, you delicate little flower?” Before Lawrence could even speak, the secretary, Wendy, snatched the phone from my hand. “Let me make one thing clear,” she spat, her voice low and menacing. “You’re drinking this tonight, whether you want to or not.” I shot her a look that could freeze fire. “And if I don’t?” “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever been threatened before. Congratulations on being the first.” The line was still open. Lawrence’s voice, tinny and annoyed, came through the speaker. “Zoe, can you stop making a scene? Wendy is doing this for the good of the company. Just listen to her.” I almost laughed out loud. Lawrence’s words were a bitter joke. Since when did I, Zoe Clarke, need a mere secretary telling me how to conduct business? Our client, a Mr. Davis, hadn’t even made his demands yet when Wendy proactively offered him a twenty-percent cut of our profits. Even then, he wasn’t satisfied. He insisted I had to down an entire bottle of top-shelf whiskey before he’d sign. Forget for a moment that my life-threatening allergy to alcohol was common knowledge at the company; the deal itself was rotten to the core. I was about to demand an explanation from Lawrence, but Wendy ended the call. “You heard him,” she said with a triumphant smirk. “Even your husband says to listen to me. What more fight have you got in you?” I slowly lifted my head, my voice devoid of all warmth. “He doesn’t get a say in this.” The moment the words left my mouth, Mr. Davis shot to his feet. “If I’m not mistaken, you must be Mr. Vance’s pretty little wife.” He raked his eyes over me, a sneer playing on his lips. “I can see now that some people just aren’t cut out for business.” “All I asked was for you to have a drink with me, and you tear up the contract?” he continued, his voice rising. “If your husband finds out about this, I bet he’ll divorce you on the spot.” Hearing this, a slow, knowing smile spread across my face. “You and Wendy are in this together, aren’t you, Mr. Davis?” A businessman’s greatest asset is keen observation. From the moment I walked in, I’d noticed the conspiratorial glances they exchanged. Wendy, the Chairman’s secretary, wasn’t fighting for her company’s interests. She was colluding with the other party to corner one of her own. It was becoming clear this whole dinner was a trap, and I was the target. Mr. Davis’s eyes darted away for a second before he regained his composure. “Of course not! I’m just calling it like I see it. Everyone at this table worked their asses off to get where they are. You’re the only one who’s just a pretty face.” His voice dripped with contempt. “As the client, I’m the one with the power here. I tell you to drink, you drink. Understood?” The table erupted in sycophantic laughter. My gaze swept across the room, cold and sharp. “Mr. Davis, I’ll admit I’ve stayed out of the public eye these past few years. But I’m not fond of the term ‘pretty face.’ I suggest you don’t use it again.” My eyes narrowed, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Because if I get angry… none of you will like the consequences.” At that, Wendy shot up from her seat. “Zoe, I’m standing right here! Who the hell do you think you’re trying to fool?” she snapped. “Others might not know your story, but I do! Lawrence told me everything. You only married into the Vance family because of some old promise between your parents. He never, ever wanted you.” I slowly squinted, my eyes fixed on her. “Oh, really? Is that what Lawrence told you?” Wendy nodded, her face alight with malicious glee. “Of course. He’s been wanting to divorce you for ages. You’re the one who’s been clinging to his family like a leech.” Her words hit me like a physical blow. For a moment, I couldn’t tell what was a lie and what was the horrifying truth. But one thing was certain: a mere secretary wouldn’t dare challenge me so openly without someone powerful backing her. I had to get to the bottom of this. I needed to go back to the office and confront Lawrence, face to face. But as I stood up, a heavy hand slammed me back down into my chair. “The party’s not over,” Wendy sneered. “Where do you think you’re going?” 02 I slowly tilted my head back, raising an eyebrow. “Where I go is my business. It’s certainly not for a little secretary to decide.” Wendy let out a short, sharp laugh, her eyes boring into me. “With me here, you’re not going anywhere.” I stared at her, genuinely baffled. Where did this woman get her audacity? “Wendy, consider this your official notice. You’re fired.” My declaration didn’t faze her in the slightest. If anything, it made her bolder. “You? Fire me? Do you even have that authority? You should take a good look at your own position before you start making empty threats.” I shoved her arm away and rose to my feet, my patience worn thin. “You’ve provoked me again and again, Wendy. Do you really think I’m that easy to push around?” The color drained from her face, and in a flash, she grabbed the collar of my dress. “You’re nothing but a dog the Vance family keeps on a leash, you bitch! How dare you raise your voice at me?” she shrieked. “Let me tell you something. No one in the entire Vance Corporation can fire me except Lawrence Vance himself!” If I hadn’t been sober, I would have sworn I was drunk and hearing things. I had never given a damn about the Vance family’s so-called power, and now a secretary was screaming in my face. It seemed my years of living a quiet life had made people forget who I really was. “Wendy, I’m warning you,” I said, my voice dangerously low as I fought to control my fury. “Let go of me right now. If you don’t, no one will be able to save you.” But some people are just too stubborn to listen. Her eyes were bloodshot, fixated on me. “Is that a threat? I’m the Executive Secretary to the Chairman of Vance Corp! Everyone in Auden City shows me respect. Who the hell do you think you are?” Before I could answer, the clients around the table chimed in with their flattery. “She’s right! Everyone in this city knows Vance Corp wouldn’t be where it is today without Wendy’s hard work.” “You’re only here because you married the boss. What’s so special about that?” “Yeah, and she gets mad when you call her a pretty face. Some people…” I finally understood. In their eyes, my position as a director was worth less than that of a secretary. I couldn’t fathom where they found the courage to be so brazen. Wendy basked in their praise, her chin held so high it was a wonder she didn’t trip. “Zoe, if I were you, I’d just drink the damn whiskey. It’ll save you a lot of trouble when you get home.” My gaze was glacial, my tone flat. “Wendy, I’m giving you one last warning. Do not test my limits. The very man you keep hiding behind, your precious Lawrence Vance, only has his position today because of me. The reasons for that are far beyond your comprehension.” I told them this hoping these so-called titans of industry would have the sense to back down. At this point, I was less interested in Wendy’s petty provocations and more focused on unmasking the puppet master behind this whole charade. And if my husband was part of it… well, things were about to get very interesting. I thought back to three years ago. The Vance family was a minor name, teetering on the edge of bankruptcy. One day, Lawrence’s father, Arthur Vance, came to me. His first words were a request for me to marry his son, claiming it was a pact our fathers had made before mine passed away—a childhood betrothal. I’ve always been a dutiful daughter. To honor my father’s last wish, I reluctantly agreed. On the surface, I was Mrs. Vance. In reality, I was the silent architect behind the family’s rise to power. But now, it seemed someone had grown wings and decided they were ready to fly solo, by kicking me out of the nest. Wendy glanced around the room and announced, “Did you all hear that? This little flower is claiming the Vance family rose to power because of her.” She let out a derisive laugh. “That’s the funniest thing I’ve ever heard. The Vances are one of the most powerful families in Auden City, and you’re just a useless housewife who can’t do anything but clean.” She leaned in closer, her voice dripping with venom. “Let’s be honest. The family would probably be doing even better without you. They might have even made it into the big leagues in the Capital by now.” Hearing that, it all clicked into place. This dinner, these “business leaders”—they were all actors in a play she had staged. The goal was to force a divorce between me and Lawrence. Whoever was behind this had to have some serious influence. 03 Despite their relentless provocations, I didn’t lash out. I held back, time and again. These were, after all, influential figures in the business world, and I didn’t want to cause an ugly scene. But my restraint was met only with more derision. “Enough!” I slammed my hands on the table and stood, my eyes sweeping over every person in the room. “It’s clear this deal is dead. So now, I’m giving all of you a choice.” My voice was calm, but it cut through the noise. “The smart ones will get out of my sight right now. Anyone who stays becomes my enemy. And I show no mercy to my enemies.” The room erupted in laughter. “Did you hear her? The little bitch is giving us a choice! That’s rich.” “Zoe, you really think you’re somebody, don’t you?” “Every single person at this table is a millionaire many times over. What are you going to fight us with?” I turned my head slowly, the fire in my chest burning hotter. “Have any of you ever heard the saying, ‘There are always bigger fish in the sea’?” I warned. “I suggest you choose very carefully. You don’t want to live with the regret.” Wendy’s face twisted into a sneer. “What was that? You don’t actually think we’re afraid of you, do you?” She jabbed a finger in my direction. “Don’t think you can throw your weight around just because you’re married to Lawrence Vance. You probably don’t even know, but he’s about to divorce you!” Her words were like a signal. The other businessmen visibly relaxed, their mockery growing louder and more vicious. I looked at their laughing faces, a profound sense of disappointment washing over me. Was this the best Auden City’s business community had to offer? All this, just because I couldn’t drink. They could call me a trophy wife, a delicate flower—I didn’t care. But to be unable to command respect from someone in my own company… was this the price of my quiet life? Because of my unique circumstances, I had spent the last few years at home, avoiding the public eye. On the rare occasions I overheard staff gossiping about me, I would just smile and walk away. I never imagined that my placid demeanor would become the very thing that emboldened them to act so outrageously. Seeing my silence, Wendy seemed to think I had finally broken. She slid a tray of ten shot glasses filled with whiskey in front of me. “Here you go, Zoe. Drink all ten of these, and you can leave,” she said, her voice cloying. “We’ll call it even, and you can go back to being a pretty ornament in your gilded cage. But if you refuse… well, you’re not walking out of this room tonight.” I fought back the urge to scream, my gaze locked on her. “You are truly asking for a death wish. Do you not understand that I am allergic to alcohol?” Wendy glanced at me out of the corner of her eye, her expression one of pure disdain. “A few shots won’t kill you. I’ve laid out my terms. Drink or don’t. The choice is yours.” Her words were so absurd I almost laughed. Not even Lawrence’s father would dare speak to me like that. Where on earth did a mere secretary find such nerve? My curiosity about the power behind her grew. “Wendy, I see there’s no point in talking to you anymore,” I said, my voice turning hard as steel. “Tell the person pulling your strings to come out. What kind of coward hides in the shadows and sends a puppet to do their dirty work? Or are they too afraid to face me themselves?” The second I finished speaking, the suite door swung open. A woman, about my age, walked in with a slow, deliberate grace. “Miss Clarke,” she said, a cool smile on her face. “It seems the rumors of your stupidity were greatly exaggerated.” 04 “Ms. Lowell! What are you doing here?” Wendy’s exclamation was met with a flurry of activity as everyone scrambled to their feet to greet the newcomer, a woman of obvious importance from the Capital. “So, you must be the power behind the secretary,” I said, my voice even. The woman, whom they called Ms. Lowell, ignored the others and sat down directly across from me. “You’re quick,” she acknowledged. “Yes, I’m Wendy’s boss. My name is Victoria Lowell. You can call me Victoria. If the Vance family wants to make it in the Capital, they can’t do it without my support.” Her tone was breathtakingly arrogant, even more so than Wendy’s. I gave her a single, cold glance before looking away. “You’re here for my husband, I presume.” Victoria nodded, a look of faux pity on her face. “Zoe, from what I hear, you’ve been married to Lawrence for three years and you’ve barely even held his hand. What a terrible waste.” A smirk played on her lips. “After today, your husband will belong to my family.” Her words elicited no reaction from me. Instead, a sense of relief washed over me, and I let out a soft laugh. “Oh, is that so? Then I understand.” I waved a dismissive hand. “If you want my husband so badly, you can have him.” My nonchalance clearly surprised her. “Aren’t you even a little bit angry?” “Why would I be angry about this?” I replied with a breezy smile. “In fact, I should thank you, Victoria. If you hadn’t shown up, I wouldn’t have known how to break the news to the family. But I should warn you… it doesn’t matter who you are. Crossing me ends badly for everyone.” Victoria, perhaps unaccustomed to someone being more imperious than she was, flushed with anger. Her face turned a shade of green as she waved a hand dismissively. “Wendy, what are you waiting for? Do it!” Before I could react, Wendy snatched a heavy whiskey bottle from the table and brought it crashing down on my head. The world exploded in a shower of pain and glass. I crumpled to the floor, stunned. Eager to impress her new boss, Wendy lunged at me, her fists and feet a brutal storm of violence. Within moments, my body was a canvas of bruises and cuts. “That’s enough,” Victoria’s voice cut through the haze of pain. “Don’t kill her.” She walked over and crouched down beside me. “You little bitch,” she whispered, her voice a venomous hiss. “Let today’s beating be a lesson to you. Stay out of my sight from now on. If I ever see you again, I’ll show you what real pain is.” I forced myself up, pushing through the agony to meet her gaze. My voice was steady, my dignity intact. “The Lowell family from the Capital… is this all you amount to?” Victoria’s face went black with rage. This time, she grabbed a heavy wooden chair herself, raising it high. Just as she was about to bring it down, the suite door was thrown open again. Everyone in the room turned in unison. “Mr. Vance! You’re here too!”

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1 “Jackson, if you want to divorce Freya, you will forfeit everything—the trust, the shares. You will leave with nothing.” “Fine.” “You will also relinquish all rights to the child and are never to see them again. Can you accept that?” “I accept.” Jackson Vance’s voice was resolute, devoid of emotion. “Mrs. Burrows, the contract has expired. Freya and the boy have someone to look after them now. It’s time for me to go.” Silence lingered on the other end of the line before Freya’s mother sighed, a long, weary sound. “If you’re so determined to leave, then as we agreed, I’ll arrange for you to study music at the Vienna Conservatory. The paperwork will take a week.” “As for the divorce… you can tell Freya yourself.” “Thank you, ma’am.” After hanging up, Jackson quietly pulled out a photograph. In the picture, Freya Burrows’s face was alight with a blissful, radiant smile. Their son, Leo, was beside her, waving a toy in a blur of happy motion. The cruel irony was that the man in the photo with them wasn’t Jackson. It was Freya’s childhood sweetheart, Sebastian Cole. … Sebastian and Freya were heirs to powerful families, inseparable from childhood and each other’s first love. But at twenty, Sebastian went abroad for an arranged marriage with another woman. When Freya found out, she nearly lost her mind, spending her days lost in a haze of tears and grief. Desperate to save her daughter, Mrs. Burrows found Jackson, a brilliant Juilliard student in desperate need of money. For half a million dollars, she bought ten years of his life to pull Freya back from the brink. From that day on, a relentless suitor appeared at Freya’s side. He was not only strikingly handsome but a gifted musician, full of talent and life. When Freya’s spirits fell, he would appear as if from nowhere to play a soothing melody for her. When she was ill, he would keep a sleepless vigil by her bedside, his care absolute. Slowly, she grew accustomed to having this male nurse, this shadow, but she never agreed to his advances. Until one night, at a high-stakes business dinner. A rival heir challenged the table to a drinking contest, with a massive international project on the line. To secure the deal for Freya, Jackson drank himself into the hospital with a bleeding ulcer. That was the first time Freya ever cried for him. “Jackson,” she had whispered at his bedside, “I’ll marry you. I believe we can make this work…” Only later did Jackson learn that day was also the day of Sebastian’s grand wedding, and photos of him kissing his new bride were circulating throughout their entire social circle. The truth didn’t break Jackson’s spirit. Instead, he fulfilled his contract with even more diligence, marrying into the Burrows family. For eight years, he was a devoted husband. He and Freya had their son, Leo, who took the Burrows family name. Jackson thought their quiet life might last forever, but then Sebastian’s family business collapsed. He divorced his wife and returned home. The day he landed, Freya raced to the airport at a hundred and twenty miles an hour. She threw him the most extravagant welcome-home party and gifted him a million-dollar watch and a luxury sports car. Their old flame was quickly rekindled, their contact becoming more and more frequent. To push Jackson out faster, Sebastian deliberately got close to Leo, poisoning the boy’s mind with whispers about his father. Soon, his once-proud son was affectionately calling another man “Dad.” His wife, a woman who had never lifted a finger in the kitchen, began baking Sebastian his favorite pastries from scratch. Jackson understood. There was no place left for him in this home. But none of it mattered anymore. In one week, he would be free from this gilded cage that had held him for a decade. He would finally pursue his own dreams, his music. Jackson drafted the divorce papers and waited quietly for his wife and son to return. Half an hour later, the front door of the villa opened. 2 At the sound, Jackson moved automatically, lining up their slippers by the door and taking their coats, just as he always did. He had timed dinner perfectly, ensuring the food would be hot and ready the moment they walked in. “It’s getting cold out. I made some chicken soup. You and Leo should have some while it’s warm.” “We already ate. I was catching up with Sebastian,” Freya said dismissively, her eyes glued to her phone, her thumbs flying across the screen. Beside her, Leo scowled. “Soup again? I told you I wanted fried chicken!” “Leo, fried chicken isn’t healthy…” “I don’t care! Sebastian bought me fried chicken! You just don’t want to make it for me.” Leo threw the chopsticks Jackson offered him onto the floor. “No wonder everyone says you’re useless! You have no money and no skills! You can’t even make fried chicken!” “You’re not even half the man Sebastian is! Hmph!” The childish, venomous words were like steel needles piercing Jackson’s heart, a cold sickness spreading through him. He couldn’t imagine what poison Sebastian had been feeding the boy to make him so ungrateful. Jackson slowly looked to Freya, but her reaction was even more chilling. “He’s just a child, Jackson. Don’t take it to heart.” She glanced up for a second, her tone flat. “Leo, don’t talk to your father like that.” “I will!” Leo made a face and ran upstairs. “He doesn’t even dare to talk back. He really is a useless loser…” And just like that, everything returned to normal. The vast living room fell into a dead silence, the crystal chandelier hanging precariously above. Jackson sank onto the sofa and sat there for a long time before finally pulling the divorce agreement from beneath the coffee table. Freya was still staring at her phone, but now her frown had smoothed into a look of pure, relaxed contentment. It was obvious she was texting Sebastian. That genuine joy was something he hadn’t seen on her face in their entire marriage. Jackson let out a self-mocking laugh and placed the papers on the table. It didn’t matter. Once she signed, he and Freya would be finished, completely and utterly free. “Freya,” he said, his voice as casual as if he were discussing the weather. “Let’s get a divorce. I’ll leave with nothing.” “Mm-hmm,” she grunted, her eyes fixed on the screen. “Leo will stay with you. We’ll never see each other again. If that’s all good, just sign here.” “Okay.” He was used to her distracted replies; it was the soundtrack to the last decade of his life. But now, with Sebastian back in the picture, she couldn’t even be bothered to pretend. Jackson slid the pen and paper towards her. Without hesitation, she scribbled her name, only to pause at the final stroke. He glanced over and saw her smiling foolishly at her phone. “Freya, did you hear a word I just said?” “Hmm?” She looked up, annoyed, and quickly finished her signature without a second glance at the document. “Isn’t it just about that charity event again? From now on, you can just sign for those things yourself.” With that, she stood up and went to her room, closing the door firmly behind her. Watching her leave, Jackson’s mouth twitched into a bitter line. She hadn’t heard him. She hadn’t cared at all. Ten years of his life, ten years of devotion, and in the end, it amounted to nothing more than his wife’s indifference and his son’s contempt. But it was almost over. Just seven more days, and he would be gone for good. His wife, his son, and this thing they called a home. He didn’t want any of it anymore. 3 The next morning was cold, the first real bite of autumn in the air. When Jackson woke, Freya’s side of the bed was already empty. He fixed himself a quick breakfast and then headed to St. Jude’s Hospital. He walked into the patient room, and the elderly woman lying in bed immediately sat up, her wrinkled face breaking into a joyful smile. “Jackson… what are you doing here?” “Director Miller, I came to say goodbye.” Jackson handed the old woman an envelope containing the final hundred thousand dollars from his contract payout. “I’m going abroad to study music soon. This is the last of the money for the orphanage.” “Oh, you dear boy… more money?” The director was so moved she began to cry. She had found Jackson at five years old and raised him in the orphanage. He had earned a scholarship to Juilliard on his own merit and was on the verge of a brilliant career abroad when a sudden illness left her in desperate need of a half-million-dollar surgery. To repay her kindness, Jackson had sold ten years of his life. The money had paid for her surgery, and the rest had helped rebuild the orphanage. She didn’t know how she could ever thank him. “Please, don’t worry about it, Director. Once I finish my studies, money won’t be an issue anymore.” “You’re right, of course. Going abroad is a wonderful opportunity. I’m so happy for you.” Then, a thought struck her. “But if you go overseas, won’t it be difficult to see your wife and son?” “It’s better if I don’t see them. Less trouble that way,” Jackson said with a hollow laugh. “I… I’m divorced.” The director stared at him for a moment, then pulled him into a tight embrace, stroking his head. “Good,” she murmured. “It’s for the best. You’ve suffered enough all these years. From now on, you have to be good to yourself.” “I will be, Director. I promise.” … After leaving the hospital, Jackson went back to the villa to pack. He had tied up his last loose end. He could leave the Burrows family with a clear conscience. It only took a few hours to pack up his life. He also boxed up everything related to Freya and Leo. The scarf he had knitted to please her, the baby bottles left over from Leo’s infancy… For ten years, he had poured his heart and soul into this family. Even without the contract, he had wanted a warm home to call his own. But it had all been a fantasy. Jackson took one last look at the boxes, then carried them out to the trash cans by the gate. Just then, a Rolls-Royce pulled up to the curb. Leo jumped out of the car first. Seeing Jackson by the trash, he wrinkled his nose in disgust. “What are you doing, digging through the garbage? Have you no shame?” “Is dinner ready yet? I want fried chicken!” Looking at the boy he had raised for six years, Jackson’s heart twisted, but the pain was quickly overshadowed by a surge of cold anger. “If you want fried chicken, go ask your Uncle Sebastian.” “You…” Leo’s face was a mask of shock. It was the first time Jackson had ever spoken to him like that. At that moment, Freya and Sebastian walked up. “Jackson, Sebastian’s house is undergoing some renovations. He’ll need to stay with us for a few days. I trust that’s not a problem?” This was the first time Jackson had seen Sebastian up close. He had a naturally refined, almost delicate beauty that years of marriage hadn’t touched. It was no wonder Freya was still so captivated by him. In contrast, Jackson, who had once been just as young and handsome, was now worn down by years of thankless labor. Leo seized the opportunity. “Hurry up and help Uncle Sebastian with his luggage! Didn’t you hear me, you bad daddy? If you don’t, I won’t like you anymore!” Jackson looked from Freya to Sebastian. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice flat. “I just pulled a muscle in my back. I can’t lift anything.” At his words, a flash of coldness crossed Sebastian’s eyes, but he quickly masked it with a look of pained reluctance. “Oh, then… perhaps we should forget it. It seems Mr. Vance isn’t too happy about this. My apologies…” He turned as if to leave, but Freya grabbed his arm. “Don’t be silly. I’ll help you with your bags. You’re staying here. He won’t have a problem with it.” Jackson watched the scene unfold with a quiet, bitter amusement. “That’s right,” he said. “You can have our room. I won’t have a problem with it at all.” What did it matter anymore? Judging by Freya’s attitude, this house would belong to Sebastian soon enough anyway. 4 Freya immediately rushed to help with the luggage, afraid that if she delayed for even a second, Sebastian would change his mind. Leo, playing the part of the dutiful son, trotted over to grab a smaller bag. The three of them, laughing and talking as they supported each other, looked like a perfect little family returning from vacation. “What are you still standing there for? Go make dinner!” Leo demanded. “I want fried chicken, and Mom and Uncle Sebastian want seafood to… you know, build up their strength.” Treating Jackson like a personal chef had become the norm in this house. For years, he had been their live-in butler, catering not only to Freya’s demanding palate but also designing perfectly balanced, nutritious meals for Leo. They had never had to lift a finger. This time, however, Jackson’s reply was unexpected. “I can’t.” Freya stared at him, stunned. In her memory, this was the first time he had ever refused to do something she asked. Before she could react, Sebastian put on a wounded expression. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come. I’m just an outsider, after all. I don’t deserve to have Mr. Vance cook for me.” He picked up his bags, turned around, and put them back in the trunk, slamming it shut. “This has nothing to do with you,” Freya snapped, her brow furrowing as she shot Jackson a dark look. “You said you didn’t have a problem with this. What game are you playing now?” Jackson’s answer was calm. “There’s no food in the refrigerator. I can’t cook.” He was leaving, so he hadn’t gone grocery shopping. Besides, he had no intention of cooking for them anyway. It was a convenient excuse. After ten years of swallowing his pride, he refused to back down again. At his words, Leo threw a full-blown tantrum on the lawn. “I knew it! You’re the most useless dad in the world! You didn’t even buy groceries! Are you trying to starve us? Waaah!” “You’re not my dad! I want Sebastian to be my dad!” Seeing this, a flicker of triumph crossed Sebastian’s eyes, quickly replaced by a mask of false sincerity. “Leo, you shouldn’t talk to your father like that. It’s very rude.” “I’m sorry, Uncle Sebastian. I’ll be more careful.” “Well, since there’s no food here,” Sebastian said smoothly, “why don’t we go to that steakhouse we passed on the way? I’ll even order you your own plate of fried chicken.” “Yay! Uncle Sebastian, you’re the best!” Leo hugged Sebastian’s leg, and Freya watched them with a doting smile. The scene was sickeningly sweet. The three of them piled into the back seat of the car, and Freya told Jackson to drive so that Sebastian could rest. The entire way, Sebastian played games and chatted with Freya and Leo in the back, their laughter filling the car. They treated Jackson like he was nothing but air. “Mr. Vance,” Sebastian called out, his voice loud enough to make sure he was heard. “Freya and I are just catching up. I hope you don’t mind.” He added, with deliberate condescension, “We wouldn’t want to bore you with things you wouldn’t understand.” Jackson just grunted, his eyes fixed on the road. He didn’t need to know, and he didn’t want to know. None of it mattered to him anymore. … Half an hour later, they were seated at a table. Freya took the menu and began ordering for them. “Sebastian likes the filet, medium-rare, and no black pepper…” After a decade, she still remembered Sebastian’s every preference. Then, for the first time in ten years, she asked Jackson what he wanted. “Jackson, what cut would you like?” “I don’t eat steak,” he replied flatly, surprising her. In ten years of marriage, he knew every detail of her life, but this was the first she had ever learned about his. “You guys enjoy your meal. I’m leaving.” He had brought them here. He had no desire to stay and be tortured further. None of the three of them tried to stop him. They simply watched in silent agreement as he walked out of the restaurant. A few minutes later, Jackson realized he still had the car keys. He turned around and headed back. He hadn’t even reached the door when he heard exclamations from inside. “Isn’t that Ms. Burrows? What a beautiful family you have.” “And this handsome gentleman must be your husband. No wonder you keep him hidden away; you must be afraid someone will steal him!” 5 Although Sebastian had been abroad for years and was largely forgotten in their social circles, his elegant demeanor and refined speech quickly captured the attention of the gossiping crowd. Everyone was charmed by him. “Ms. Burrows and Mr. Cole are such a perfect couple. How long have you been married? Your son is already so big!” Freya blushed slightly but didn’t deny it. Leo, meanwhile, played his part perfectly, calling Sebastian “Dad” over and over again. Watching the scene unfold, Jackson felt a brief stab of pain, but it quickly faded into a calm numbness. What was there to be angry about? He was just a toy Mrs. Burrows had bought to appease her daughter, a tool used to produce a Burrows heir. The contract was ending, the transaction was complete. None of this had anything to do with him anymore. Inside the restaurant, Sebastian caught a glimpse of Jackson through the window. He deliberately speared a piece of steak and held it gently to Freya’s lips. “Freya, thank you so much for helping me move today. You must be exhausted.” “It was nothing. Your business is my business,” she replied with a small smile, opening her mouth to accept the bite. Sebastian leaned in closer, their faces nearly touching, the gesture charged with intimacy. The onlookers started to cheer. “This is so sweet! Am I watching a romance movie?” “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” Leo joined in with a mischievous grin. “Mom, hurry up and kiss! I can’t wait!” “We’re in public! Behave yourself!” Freya’s cheeks were flushed as she whispered a soft reprimand. This only excited Sebastian more. He cupped the back of her head and pressed his lips to hers. She hesitated for a moment, but as he deepened the kiss, she surrendered, slowly closing her eyes to enjoy it. Watching her feigned shyness from outside, Jackson let out a cold, silent laugh. So, the great ice queen CEO wasn’t always so cold and distant. She was just cold and distant to him. He had no desire to be nauseated any further. He handed the keys to a waiter and left without another word. “Ms. Burrows,” the waiter said, approaching their table. “A gentleman just dropped off these car keys for you.” The two of them were still nestled close together, their faces glowing with happiness. At the waiter’s words, Freya’s head snapped towards the door. “What? Was Jackson just here?” Seeing her apparent concern, Sebastian felt a prick of annoyance. He feigned surprise. “Oh no, this is bad. We were just joking around. I hope Mr. Vance didn’t see and get the wrong idea.” “Don’t worry about him, Uncle Sebastian,” Leo piped up, his mouth full. “He’s just our butler.” “Besides, you and Mom used to date. What’s wrong with a little kiss?” “Leo, don’t talk nonsense,” Freya said, her expression shifting as she cut her son off. She quickly gathered her purse and rushed outside. On the cold, empty sidewalk, Freya ran to catch up with Jackson just as he was about to hail a cab. 6 The moment their eyes met, she held her breath, bracing herself for an angry tirade. But they stood there in a long, tense silence, his face as calm and still as a stagnant pool of water. “Don’t misunderstand what happened back there,” she finally said. “Sebastian and I were just joking around. It didn’t mean anything.” When he still didn’t react, a flicker of anger ignited in her. “Are you blaming me? What was I supposed to do with everyone cheering us on?” “I’m not blaming you,” he said, his frankness terrifying. “Is there anything else?” Freya shook her head, stunned into silence as she watched him get into a taxi and drive away. For some reason, a strange, unsettling feeling crept into her heart. When had Jackson become so… tolerant? Sebastian had already followed her out. Without another thought, she went back into the restaurant to finish her meal. … Night fell, and the trio returned to the villa, their laughter echoing in the grand foyer. Freya immediately started preparing bedding and toiletries for Sebastian, but having never done a single chore, she had no idea where anything was. Though she felt a pang of guilt, she ended up calling Jackson to do it. Jackson silently retrieved the items, then returned to his study and shut the door. Sebastian clenched the towel in his hand and sighed dramatically. “It seems Mr. Vance is still hostile towards me. Maybe I should just check into a hotel tomorrow.” “A hotel isn’t as comfortable as a villa,” Freya said, her expression complicated. “He’s been acting a little strange today. Don’t mind him.” Leo immediately grabbed Sebastian’s hand. “Uncle Sebastian, my dad took the study. You can sleep in the master bedroom with us tonight!” “I don’t think that’s a good idea…” “Don’t be silly, you’re our guest! We can’t let you sleep on the sofa!” “Alright, then.” After Sebastian reluctantly accepted the invitation, Jackson’s phone buzzed with a new message less than half an hour later. [Mr. Vance, mind if I borrow your razor?] The message was accompanied by a photo. It showed not only the razor but also Freya and Leo playing a board game with Sebastian on the master bed in the background. [It’s used. If you don’t mind my germs, go ahead.] Jackson replied without a second thought, then switched his phone to silent and fell into a deep sleep. … Two days flew by. Only four days remained until the divorce was finalized. Jackson had already purchased the instruments he would need for his studies and was practicing in his room. But the constant noise from downstairs was a grating distraction. He went down to find Sebastian and Leo roughhousing. “Uncle Sebastian, I want to play cats and fish! Can you get that fishbowl down for me?” “Hold on,” Jackson said, stepping in front of them. “You can’t play with the fish. Pick something else.” Leo had a history with that fishbowl. Every time, he would torture the small fish until they were half-dead, leaving Jackson to clean up the mess. Jackson had tried many times to teach him to respect life, but his efforts were always met with curses and resentment. He was trying to stop it this time to save the fish he had so carefully raised. “You… you just don’t want me to have any fun!” Leo snarled. Sebastian seized the opportunity. “Jackson, how much can a few fish be worth? You shouldn’t crush the boy’s spirit.” “The fish aren’t worth much. I’m just trying to teach him to be kind.” “And how much is ‘kindness’ worth?” Sebastian sneered, poking Jackson in the shoulder. “You’re so kind, but could you even keep your own wife? Your own family?” Sebastian was a man who never let a slight go. He was still fuming from their confrontation the other night and was eager to humiliate Jackson. “I only protect what’s important to me,” Jackson said, calmly placing the fishbowl back on its high shelf. “What you’re talking about isn’t as important as these fish.” “Then you can have them.” “You…?” Sebastian was flushed with anger. “Talk tough all you want. I don’t believe you have no feelings for the woman you’ve been married to for ten years. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll get the hell out of here before I make you.” This time, Jackson didn’t even bother to reply. He simply turned and walked away. A vicious glint appeared in Sebastian’s eyes. He lunged forward and snatched the fishbowl from the shelf. Jackson reacted instantly, his hand shooting out to grab the edge of the bowl. As they struggled, the glass slipped from their grasp and crashed to the floor. CRASH! Shards of glass flew everywhere, the sharp edges instantly slicing through their skin. At that exact moment, Freya was coming down the stairs.

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The board meeting ended, and I checked my phone. My long-dead college group chat was exploding with notifications—all tagging me. “Thomas, Lary’s getting married today and you’re not coming? Who do you think you are?” That’s how I learned Lary, our old class president, was getting married. Today. Everyone was there—except me. “Busy with work,” I replied, a polite excuse for people I barely knew. “Busy with what? That dead-end job? Lucky if you make two grand a month.” “Just admit you’re scared of being embarrassed.” The moment I responded, the attacks poured in. “Afraid I just want your wedding gift?” Lary tagged me. “Wouldn’t want your hundred bucks—probably a week’s pay for you.” His sarcasm was thick. “Besides, the girl you chased and never got? She’s my wife now. No wonder you won’t come.” He added sunglasses emojis. I frowned. “As I recall, I never chased anyone.” “Convenient amnesia?” Lary shot back, posting a wedding photo. “Take a good look.” My breath caught. The bride in white was identical to the woman in the engagement photo on my desk. “Isabella?” 1 I shot upright in my chair. The woman I got engaged to last month was marrying Lary? As my mind reeled, the group chat continued its relentless assault. “Cat got your tongue? Struck dumb? Or are you crying in a corner because you saw your dream girl is now Lary’s wife?” “Shhh! Don’t expose him! Isabella isn’t just the campus queen anymore, she’s the CEO of Apex Holdings!” “That’s right! And she gave Lary a downtown penthouse and a Rolls-Royce as a wedding gift.” I stared, dumbfounded. Just as I was about to type a furious question to Lary, he played the part of the magnanimous hero. “Thomas, I know you haven’t done well for yourself, but we were classmates. If you show up to my wedding, I could probably convince my wife to get you a job as a security guard in the parking garage.” “What do you say? A guard at Apex Holdings has to make at least five grand a month. Way better than your current gig, right?” “Sure,” I typed. Then I shut off my phone. “Honey, I brought you some restorative ginseng chicken soup.” “You’ve been working so much overtime lately. Don’t burn yourself out. Have some soup, it’ll help.” Isabella placed the porcelain tureen on my desk. She noticed my cold stare and looked puzzled. “What’s wrong?” My face was a mask. I glanced at the soup, then shook my head. “It’s nothing. You can go. I have some things to handle.” “Alright, but make sure you rest. Don’t push yourself too hard.” She walked over, leaned in, and brushed a light kiss against my cheek. “Oh, by the way, honey, I need to visit family out of town for a few days. Just some family matters to take care of.” With a brilliant smile, she left my office, pulling the door closed behind her. “CEO of Apex Holdings, huh?” I watched the door shut, my mind sinking into a deep, cold place. I’d known Isabella for three years. We’d made it official a year ago, and gotten engaged just last month. Over the past year, she had cared for me with a devotion that felt absolute. Hot towels and massages when I worked late. My suitcase perfectly packed for business trips. The memories were a collection of exquisitely tender moments. But now, that tureen of soup and our engagement photo on my desk felt like props in a cruel joke, and I was the fool at the center of it. I snatched my phone, scrolling furiously through the chat history until I found the wedding venue Lary had posted. I called my driver. We were going. Even from a block away, the hotel Lary had booked was impossible to miss. A massive, ostentatious banner was stretched across the entrance. “Congratulations to Isabella, CEO of Apex Holdings, on Her Wedding Day!” Beneath it, Lary stood, resplendent in a sharp suit, his hair slicked back, eagerly awaiting his bride. He was surrounded by a fawning crowd of our old classmates. “Lary, my man! You’re the real success story of our class. The CEO of Apex… and you locked her down! You’re a legend!” “Seriously, man, you kept this quiet! You wait until the wedding day to tell us?” “Lary, with your talent, it’s only a matter of time before Apex Holdings is yours. Don’t forget us old friends when you’re at the top!” I even saw our old college advisor, his face beaming, sucking up to Lary. “Lary, from the day you set foot on campus, I knew you were the one to be class president. My eye for talent is never wrong. Look at you now, the most successful of them all!” The chorus of ass-kissing was so thick it made me sick. Lary, however, was soaking it in, his grin so wide it nearly split his face. “Not at all, not at all. It’s all thanks to your guidance, sir.” As Lary lapped up the praise, my car pulled closer. Through the tinted window, watching their pathetic display, my mind drifted back to the first time I met Isabella. We weren’t together then. She was just an intern at the company, completely lost in the cutthroat corporate world. She spent her days being bullied by senior employees, either forcing a smile or getting chewed out. I couldn’t stand to watch it. We were the same age and had gone to the same school, so I stepped in and had her transferred to my office as my secretary. To be honest, her professional skills were lacking, but her attitude was excellent, and she never made any major mistakes. Over time, she grew more competent, and I started entrusting her with more significant parts of the business. I never imagined she’d relay every single detail to Lary. Or that he would use those trade secrets as his own personal bragging rights. The thought sparked a fresh wave of anger, sharp and painful, laced with a profound sadness. “Well, well, if it isn’t Thomas. Had to rent a fancy car just to show up?” “This is Lary’s wedding, man. Who are you trying to impress? Don’t you have any shame?” The moment I stepped out of the Panamera, a couple of Lary’s sycophants broke away from the group, their voices dripping with disdain. Once they started, the others noticed me and joined the chorus of ridicule. “Thomas, seriously. A day’s rental on this thing must be three months’ salary for you. Why bother?” “So what if Lary snagged your dream girl? Do you have to be so petty about it?” “Thomas, we were all classmates, so don’t take this the wrong way, but you picked the wrong audience to flex on. Lary’s wife is the CEO of Apex!” The subtext was clear: I was an idiot who couldn’t read the room. My face hardened. As I was about to speak, Lary pushed through the crowd, his face a smug mask. “Where’d you rent this car? It looks a lot like my wife’s.” He squinted. “Wait a minute… why are the license plates the same?” The realization dawned on him. His expression twisted into a snarl, and his fist flew towards my face. “Thomas, you son of a bitch! You’ve been sleeping with my wife!” 2 “So that’s why Bella was always ‘working late’ and never coming home! It was because of you!” “You’re a real piece of work. You have the nerve to show up at our wedding, in her car, with her driver?” Lary’s rage escalated with every word. His punch had left me stunned, my mind struggling to catch up. This has always been my car, my primary vehicle for business. I often lent it to Isabella for work. When did it become hers? “Lary, man, calm down. Bella doesn’t seem like that kind of person, right? Maybe you’re mistaken?” a few classmates tried to intervene, looking awkward. “Mistaken? I’d recognize this car if it was a pile of burnt scrap metal!” Lary snarled, whipping out his phone and shoving his photo album in everyone’s faces. They were private, intimate photos of him and Isabella. The two of them locked in a passionate kiss in the driver’s seat. Lary holding Isabella in his arms as they posed on the hood of the car. I even saw a few that were far more compromising. The license plate, the specific details of the car—it was undeniable. Isabella had been using my car to carry on an affair with Lary. In an instant, the onlookers were no longer bystanders. They were a mob, and I was their target. “Thomas. Care to explain?” “I knew there was something off about you from the start. I just didn’t realize you were rotten to the core. You’d really stoop so low as to seduce your friend’s wife?” Lary was completely unhinged now, jabbing a finger in my face. “I knew it! That’s why you didn’t want to come to the wedding! You were afraid of being exposed!” “You just couldn’t stand to see me happy, could you? You had to come here and ruin everything!” Even my old college advisor glared at me with disgust. “Thomas, I am ashamed that our school produced someone like you.” The insults rained down on me. Someone raised their phone, recording me while spewing obscenities. I let out a cold, humorless laugh, picking up my glasses which had been knocked to the ground. “Twisting the facts, ignoring the truth. Lary, is this who you really are?” “Go to hell! I’m the one who’s ignoring the truth? You’re sleeping with my wife and you have the nerve to say that? Have you no shame?” he spat. “Fine. You want to act tough? You want to roll up in my wife’s car just to humiliate me?” Lary sneered, then pulled out his keys and carved three words into the hood of my Panamera. “FUCKING SCUMBAG.” The gouged letters seared my eyes and heart. My voice dropped to an icy whisper. “Are you sure you can afford the price of carving those words?” Lary let out a bark of laughter. “Still talking tough? Who the hell do you think you’re fooling?” “You stole my woman! Keying your car is getting off easy!” “You should be thanking me for not tearing that filthy mouth off your face!” With that, he raised his keys and charged at me, a wild look in his eyes, as if he fully intended to rip my lips from my skull. The crowd didn’t stop him. In fact, they closed in around me, forming a human wall to ensure every one of Lary’s blows landed. When he was done hitting me, his rage still wasn’t spent. He grabbed a loose brick from a nearby planter and started smashing my car, shattering windows, denting panels, inside and out. His lackeys, my so-called “old classmates,” eagerly joined in, their cheers mingling with the sound of destruction. “This loser Thomas thinks he can mess with Lary? Our future tycoon? Not on our watch!” After the car was wrecked and the beating was over, my face and clothes were soaked in a mixture of sweat and their spit. The evening wind was sharp, chilling my skin, but it was nothing compared to the ice in my heart. “A car is just a car. It can be replaced,” I said, my voice raspy. “But when the bill comes, I hope you can pay it with the same ferocity you used to smash it.” “Pah!” Lary spat a thick glob of phlegm onto my collar. “Who do you think you are? Talking like the car is actually yours.” As he spoke, his eyes fell on the jade locket I wore around my neck. “The hell is this? You trying to look classy with a piece of jade?” “How much did you pay for this piece of junk at a flea market?” A cold dread seized me. That locket was the last thing my mother left me. Its sentimental value was immeasurable. He couldn’t break it. My instinctive flinch to protect it only spurred him on. He kicked me squarely in the chest, sending me sprawling to the ground. “Whoa, this actually feels… nice. Doesn’t seem like junk after all,” Lary mused, bending down and ripping the locket from my neck. “If you touch that, I swear I will make you regret the day you were born!” I roared, my eyes bloodshot, my fists clenched so tight my knuckles cracked. “Threatening me? You?” Lary rolled his eyes and brought his foot down, crushing the jade locket into dust. “See this?” he said, holding up his hand and waggling a large, ornate ring on his finger. “This ring is what Bella gave me. This is the real deal!” I recognized it instantly. It was the engagement ring I had given Isabella. The air was punched from my lungs. I was speechless. She had given the symbol of my love for her… to him? Though my heart had already hardened against her, this final, cruel twist was a physical blow. I never imagined her feelings for Lary ran so deep. In her eyes, was I nothing more than an ATM? Seeing my look of utter devastation, the crowd around Lary erupted in laughter. “Look at this idiot. He had no idea his girl would drop a million-dollar ring on another man, did he?” “What’s wrong? Your cheap trinket got crushed by the real thing? Upset?” Their taunts shocked me back to a cold, hard clarity. I smiled a chilling, empty smile and pulled out my phone. “Isabella. Get your ass over here. Now.” Before I could even hear her reply, Lary kicked me down again. “Who the fuck do you think you are, calling my wife by her full name?” he seethed. “Acting like you’re the damn CEO of Apex Holdings. ‘Get your ass over here.’ What gives you the right?” His eyes were filled with contempt as he ground the toe of his shoe into my calf. “Bella was just playing with you. Did you really think she liked you? You’re so full of yourself you can’t even see what you are.” He kept ranting, but I just stared at him, my gaze unwavering and cold. “Keep talking. I want to see if you’re still smiling when she gets here.” “Huh? What’s this? A little good luck charm around your neck? Didn’t realize you were so superstitious.” Lary ignored my warning. His eyes lit up as he spotted something else. He crouched down and snatched the small, worn leather pouch from under my shirt. “A worthless life like yours doesn’t deserve this. Let’s just get rid of it.” I lunged, grabbing his wrist with all my strength. “Let. Go.” 3 Seeing the ferocity in my eyes, Lary just laughed. “What is this, the dark ages? Still believe in this hocus-pocus?” He pried my fingers off. “Or wait… did Isabella get this for you?” My teeth ground together, my hand shaking uncontrollably as I held onto his wrist. “The car, the locket, I don’t care. But you do not touch that charm.” I tried to scramble up from the ground, to snatch it back. My mother had gotten that charm for me from a remote mountain shrine. I was only five, struck by a mysterious illness that left me in a coma, unable to eat or drink. We went to every hospital, tried every folk remedy. Nothing worked except to make me vomit blood from all the failed treatments. We spent our life savings seeking help abroad, only for the world’s top specialists to tell my mother to give up on me. Of course, she refused. She heard of a shrine, a place of great power. Carrying me in her arms, she climbed the mountain, bowing her head to the stone path with every single step. It was a long, grueling path. Her forehead was a bloody mess, her knees worn down to the bone. But I, nestled in her arms, felt only warmth. I was her only hope, the only thing that kept her going. I never knew… that my life would be bought with her death. Whether by some miracle or sheer coincidence, as soon as she placed the blessed charm around my neck, I woke up. Overjoyed, she ignored her pain and bowed again and again to the shrine’s keeper, her bloodied forehead leaving a dark red stain on the stone floor. Perhaps the ordeal had drained every last bit of her strength. On the way down the mountain, she was exhausted. She entrusted me to a kind stranger for a moment while she sat to rest by the side of the path. When she tried to stand, a wave of dizziness overcame her, and she stumbled towards the cliff’s edge. In the final moment before she fell, I saw the look in her eyes. It was pure, unconditional love. And no regret. I know the only reason I’m still alive today is because of that charm, a charm my mother bought with her own life. It was the only proof I had that she had loved me. It was my breaking point. My absolute limit. And I would not let anyone destroy it. “You say I can’t touch it? Well, I’m going to do it just to spite you!” Lary’s face twisted into a demonic grin. And right in front of my eyes, he tore the leather pouch in two. Yellowed paper scraps and a tiny, faded black-and-white photograph fluttered down in front of me. My vision blurred with tears. “Lary… Han… sen!” A searing pain ripped through my chest, so intense I could barely breathe, let alone speak. “I will kill you!” A surge of power I didn’t know I possessed shot through me. I launched myself to my feet, knocked Lary to the ground, and brought my fist down on his face with every ounce of strength I had. It was the most satisfying, and most heartbreaking, punch I had ever thrown. Lary lay on the ground, a disgusting mess of blood and snot. “Son of a bitch! You dare touch Lary? Are you fucking insane?” As I raised my fist again, one of Lary’s lackeys kicked me squarely in the back. “Lary’s about to marry the CEO of Apex! His future is set! If you scramble his brains, do you think your worthless life could ever pay for it?” “You pathetic freeloader! You dare hit the real deal? You think we’re just gonna let you?” The whole group swarmed me then, kicking and punching my collapsed body relentlessly. Only when they saw the blood pouring from my nose and mouth, my face a swollen, bruised mess, did they finally stop, laughing. “Pah!” “If we weren’t old classmates, we would’ve killed you today.” Lary, clutching his jaw, was helped to his feet by a crony. He spat a bloody glob of phlegm onto my chest. Our old college advisor finally stepped in, but only to take Lary’s side. “Lary, that’s enough. Why waste your energy on low-life scum like this? It’s not worth it.” She shot me one last look of utter contempt. The pain was a white-hot fog, making it impossible to think. I curled up on the pavement, each breath a ragged, shallow gasp. “I… will make you… pay for this…” Even then, beaten and broken, the hatred in my heart didn’t lessen one bit. “Pfft!” “You? And what army?” Lary scoffed. “I’d love to see what kind of price you think you can make me pay!” The words had barely left his mouth when the roar of engines filled the air. A fleet of a hundred luxury cars, a symphony of raw power, descended upon the street. There wasn’t a single vehicle in the convoy worth less than a quarter of a million dollars. Click. Car doors opened in perfect unison. Figures emerged—tall, powerfully built men in sharp, dark suits, their faces grim and unyielding…

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I was a model, five years in the industry, and I’d been criticized for everything imaginable. Worse, I’d offended the darling of the heir to the Holt Corporation. I was blacklisted, my name dragged through the mud. In the glittering world of fame and fortune, I was taught a harsh lesson. Then, the internet dug up my past: I had once been engaged to that very heir, Jason Holt. The trolls were ecstatic. “No wonder Jason Holt hates her so much. With her background, how could she ever be Mrs. Holt?” “It has to be Miss Miller. She’s sweet, a talented actress, and the perfect future daughter-in-law for the Holts.” I walked out of the hospital. For the first time in a long while, I opened my social media and posted a single line. “An engagement can be broken at any time. I will never marry.” Later, I went to the Arctic to see the aurora. I left one final message. “Saw the northern lights. In this one second, I was happy.” 1 The moment I was diagnosed with bone cancer, my world went numb. Leaning against the hospital corridor, my eyes felt dry and empty, my limbs refusing to move. My manager, Sarah, stood frozen for a long moment before gently pulling my head onto her shoulder. “It’s going to be okay,” she whispered. “Maybe there’ll be a miracle. You can be cured.” I didn’t cry. The world just felt… quiet. Finally, I was the one to break the silence. “Sarah, let’s go over my current contracts. I want to finish everything up early, and then I’ll retire.” My words shattered her composure. She hugged me tightly, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs. The next day, I was trending for all the wrong reasons. “Washed-up model Clara Lynn spotted at hospital, rumored to have had an abortion for a wealthy tycoon.” “Zoom in on the picture. Her eyes are red. The tycoon must not have wanted the baby. She tried to trap him and failed.” “LOL, this is hilarious. The most shameless person in entertainment.” “Three years ago, there were rumors she was beaten up by the tycoon’s wife.” Sarah stormed into my apartment, fuming. “This is absolute garbage.” “That’s it. I’m suing them for defamation. These rumor-mongers need to be held accountable.” But the company’s response was cold. “Sarah, bad press is still press.” It was clear they had no intention of taking down the posts. They’d already branded me as that kind of celebrity. I shook my head, signaling for Sarah to let it go. The online hate… I truly couldn’t feel it anymore. 2 On the set of “The Artisan,” I ran into Jason Holt. And, of course, a young actress named Mia Miller. It was only then that I realized Holt Corporation had invested in the film. Mia, originally cast as the second female lead, had been elevated to co-lead. Sarah was furious. She confronted the producer. “Clara pushed aside all her other work for this film. She spent a year studying with a master carver, who personally requested her for the lead role. Now you’re making the second lead a co-lead? What is the meaning of this?” The producer just shrugged. “Holt Corporation is the investor. My hands are tied.” As the producer walked away, I pulled Sarah back. “Let’s run my lines.” In the break room, I was silently reciting my script when a tall figure walked past the door, followed by a pretty young woman. “Jason,” she said, her voice sweet, “I’m so happy you could be here for the first day of filming.” The man grunted a cool “Mm.” 3 During filming, the director’s standards were sky-high. Mia messed up her lines repeatedly, slowing down the entire production. But no one dared to complain. Even after Jason left, his presence lingered, and no one wanted to cross Mia. We wrapped the last night scene after midnight. Too exhausted to even remove my makeup, I ducked into the bathroom. The sink was filled with blood. My hands trembled. As I came out, I unexpectedly ran into Jason. He glanced at me, his eyes cold. Our gazes met for a brief, charged moment. I clenched my fists. I was about to walk over, to say something, anything. But he had already stubbed out his cigarette and turned away. Five years ago, when we broke up, he’d said, “Clara, if you don’t go abroad with me, we’re over.” Five years ago, he left the country, and I entered the entertainment industry. 4 The next day, Jason hired the best acting coach to tutor Mia on set. Her number of takes decreased dramatically. The filming schedule got back on track, which was a relief for me. My increasingly frail body appreciated the shorter days. But two weeks later, during a scene where I was supposed to be slapped, Mia couldn’t get it right. We spent the entire morning on that one scene. I was slapped more than ten times. And of course, Jason chose that day to visit the set. The director, fuming but helpless, could only patiently demonstrate the correct way to perform the slap over and over. But Mia seemed to have lost her mind that day, unable to learn. Finally, on her last attempt, my nose started to bleed profusely. A flicker of fear crossed her eyes. The next take, she finally got it right. During the lunch break, my head was spinning, and the nosebleed wouldn’t stop. My face was ashen. Sarah, terrified, said she would ask for the afternoon off so I could go to the hospital. I shook my head and told her to close the door. I swallowed a handful of pills, trying to numb the pain that wracked my body. When I seemed a little better, Sarah opened the door to get me some food. Just then, Jason walked past. He glanced in, his brow furrowed at the sight of me wrapped in a thick blanket on a hot summer day, with drops of blood on the floor. Sarah slammed the door shut. “Mr. Holt, you see that?” she snapped. “Acting requires talent. People who can’t act are just here to cause trouble.” “A few slaps and she’s this weak? Then I suggest Miss Lynn quit acting and find a few more sugar daddies.” “You—” Jason turned and walked away. Sarah’s anger still hadn’t subsided. “Mr. Holt, don’t forget, you and Clara still have an engagement.” His footsteps paused. “She’s that filthy. You think I’d marry her?” Crash. The cup in my hand fell to the floor, shattering. Hot water splashed onto my feet. Sarah turned, saw the blood trickling down my leg from a shard of glass, and cried out. “Are you okay, Clara?” As she helped me clean the wound, she continued to rage at the empty doorway. “You don’t want to marry her? In the future, you won’t even have the chance.” The man, as if he’d just heard the funniest joke, was gone. 5 Throughout the shoot, Sarah was constantly on the verge of exploding. The promotional materials released to the public were all edited to show Mia out-acting me, making it look like I couldn’t keep up. That I was unprofessional, constantly delaying the production. I was back on the trending hate list. “So annoying. If you can’t act, just quit. Stop wasting everyone’s time.” “Exactly. I feel so bad for our Mia, having to act opposite someone so unprofessional. What bad luck.” “I was at the set. Clara kept messing up her blocking. Mia had to slap her for the scene, but she kept flinching. They did over ten takes. Mia was so frustrated she was crying by the end.” Sarah turned off her phone, pacing in frustration. “This is insane! They’re twisting everything, completely reversing the truth!” I said nothing, just kept scrolling. Finally, I found a small, quiet voice of support. “Wait, really? I thought Clara’s acting was great. I cried so much watching her as the blind girl in ‘The Last Empress.’” Seeing that comment, my brow finally relaxed. There was no point in getting angry. I tugged on Sarah’s arm. “How can you not be angry? This is clearly Mia’s team, maliciously editing videos to leech off your popularity and build her up.” I shook my head. “When the show airs, everyone will be able to judge for themselves. Don’t worry about it.” “You’re wrong. Her team is powerful. I’m afraid they’ll pull some other stunt.” I fell silent. “Sarah, I just want to finish this film. It’s the most important thing I want to accomplish in my life.” Sarah quieted down. The film was about a master woodcarver, and our family had once been in that business. I wanted to fulfill my parents’ last wish, to bring the traditional art of woodcarving to the big screen for more people to see. 6 As filming neared its end, my body grew thinner. Fortunately, this matched the plot, where my character runs herself ragged trying to get her woodcarving business off the ground. After the final major scene, the director patted my shoulder. “You’ve worked hard, Clara. You were brilliant.” Being praised by the director made me happy. “Thank you, Director.” I headed back to the dressing room to prepare for the next scene. Sarah was also relieved. “This film is finally wrapping up. I was so worried you wouldn’t make it. Thank God.” She clasped her hands together, looking up at the ceiling. Then, she picked up the jade good-luck charm from my dressing table. “No, I should be thanking your aunt. She must be watching over you from heaven.” I smiled and took the jade charm, pressing it to my chest. It was a gift from my mother. Through all the hardest times, it had been my constant companion. But just as I stood up to change my shoes, a sudden force slammed into the dressing table. My jade charm was swept to the floor, shattering into pieces. I froze. Mia stared, wide-eyed. The dressing room fell silent. Everyone knew how much that jade charm meant to me. It was my lucky charm. And now, it was broken. Mia stammered, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to. My foot slipped.” I didn’t speak for a long time. Finally, I knelt and carefully gathered the broken pieces, wrapping them in a handkerchief. Sarah lunged at Mia, but the director came in just then, urging us to hurry. I stopped her. “Let’s film first.” 7 After the final moonlit scene, I sat on the stone steps, silently unwrapping the broken jade pieces. “Mia already wrapped and left. She sure ran off fast.” I didn’t say anything, just stared at the fractured characters for “peace” and “safety.” Just then, my phone lit up. I numbly pulled it out. It was Jason, who hadn’t contacted me in five years. A single, short message. “Don’t cause her any trouble. How much? I’ll pay for it.” I stared at the words, a sharp pain twisting in my chest. Did he know what he was offering to pay for? Did he remember that this was the jade charm my mother, on her deathbed, had taken from her own neck and given to me, as I stood there with him by her side? “My dear, I have nothing left to give you. Wear this charm. It will keep you safe for a lifetime.” The faded memories sharpened, becoming painfully clear. After my mother closed her eyes for the last time, I had clung to her cold body, sobbing uncontrollably. It was Jason who had held me from behind. “Don’t cry, Clara. You still have me.” I traced the two halves of the broken characters. As I did, a warm liquid dripped from my nose, staining them red. After five years, I didn’t reply to his message. I just deleted his contact. 8 The next day, I learned that Mia had already posted on social media the night before, tagging me. “I’m so sorry, Clara. I really didn’t mean to break it. I’ll buy you an identical one. Please don’t be mad at me, everyone. If you have to be mad, please be gentle.” The post was followed by two bowing emojis. I had been in the hospital all night, fighting for my life. When I woke up, I was at the top of the hate list. Mia’s comments section was full of people attacking me. My own account was flooded with trolls. “Mia already apologized and offered to pay. What more do you want?” “Why are you being silent? Do you want her to kneel and beg for your forgiveness?” “Live and let live.” Mia’s comments, on the other hand, were full of comfort. “Don’t be scared, sweetie. It was an accident. It’s not your fault.” “Exactly. Everyone makes mistakes. It’s no big deal.” “Mia is the most sincere apologizer I’ve ever seen.” “LOL, those two bowing emojis are so cute!” “Protect Mia! Don’t let that washed-up model make a big deal out of nothing.” “What’s there to be afraid of? Our Mia is dating the heir to Holt Corporation. No one can bully her.” “Haha, her sugar daddy is probably in his forties.” “Not only is Mr. Holt handsome, he’s worth billions. I heard he’s already introduced Mia to his parents.” I turned off my phone. I couldn’t look anymore. I just stared blankly at the tube feeding blood into my body. Sarah tucked the blanket around me. “Aren’t you going to respond?” She knew that if I didn’t, the company wouldn’t either. I would be subjected to the online abuse for a long time. I just shook my head. “Sarah, I’m so tired.” 9 I was in the hospital for a week. My condition had worsened to the point where I had to stay. I was too weak to even get out of bed. My hair was falling out in clumps. After a week of intensive treatment, I was finally feeling a little better. I was getting ready to leave for a voice-over session when Sarah rushed in. “What’s wrong?” I asked, putting on my jacket. She stared at me for a long moment. “Your past relationship with Jason has been exposed.” My hand trembled as I buttoned my jacket. In the car on the way to the recording studio, I stared at the rampant speculation on social media, my face devoid of expression. It had all started with an anonymous blogger. “Explosive news: Five years ago, Jason Holt and Clara Lynn were engaged.” The post created a storm. Jason had always been a mystery to the media. Even with Mia, there were only one or two photos of them together. His private life was a well-guarded secret. This revelation sent the internet into a frenzy. At first, people were skeptical. But then the blogger released photos of us from college. A photo of me at the Holt family mansion. A photo of me and Jason having dinner with his elders. The doubters fell silent. The conversation shifted. “What is going on?” “Didn’t Clara become a model because she needed money? In these photos, she looks so… poised.” Soon, my family background was unearthed. “Clara is the daughter of the bankrupted Lynn Corporation? Oh my god, after the bankruptcy, her father was killed by debt collectors, and her mother committed suicide and couldn’t be saved.” “I believe it. Clara being the daughter of the Lynn family and being engaged to the Holts makes perfect sense.” My past was laid bare. My hands trembled uncontrollably. Then, just as quickly as they appeared, the posts vanished, as if someone had deliberately suppressed them. I guessed it was the Holt family. I thought that would be the end of it. But the hate comments on my own account continued. “Did you leak this yourself? For attention?” “Stop dreaming. Jason Holt is not for you. He belongs to Mia.” “That’s right. Jason only loves Mia.” “Can you even compare yourself to Mia? You started as a trashy model, you’ve probably been passed around by everyone. Mia isn’t like you. She’s pure, a graduate of a prestigious overseas university.” “Haha, no wonder. She used to have an endorsement deal with Holt Corp, but as soon as Jason took over, he canceled it. He must have been disgusted with her for a long time.” 10 It was evening when I left the recording studio. Sarah was squatting nearby, furiously typing on her phone. “Sarah?” I called out. She looked up, quickly hiding her phone. “What’s going on online now?” I asked. She shook her head. “Nothing. We’re done for the day. Let’s go.” But as she turned, I snatched her phone and looked at the screen. I froze. The trolls had started attacking Sarah. Vicious, hateful comments about her parents, her children. I couldn’t stay silent any longer. I logged into my own account. “An engagement can be broken at any time. I will never marry.” When Sarah saw the post, she gently stroked my hair. Only she knew what “I will never marry” really meant. Faced with the overwhelming hate, she had suggested more than once that we release my medical records. But I had refused. It wouldn’t do any good. With the public so firmly against me, even if I was dying, they would probably just accuse me of faking a terminal illness for sympathy. Perhaps only on the day I actually died would the slander finally, maybe, quiet down. 11 I never expected to get a call from Jason that night. The night was still. Neither of us spoke. I didn’t know what he was doing. I looked at the moon outside the hospital window and broke the silence. “You should release a statement. The engagement is off. We have no relationship.” His breathing on the other end of the line quickened. “Clara, are you sure about this? The Holt family’s official channels haven’t said anything. That means you still have a chance.” “Once they do, there’s no going back for us. Ever.” I suddenly spoke. “Jason, do you want to marry me?” “If you did, I wouldn’t have had to wait until now.” I raised a hand to wipe a tear from the corner of my eye. “It was over for us a long time ago. We just never said goodbye.” “This is the real goodbye. Goodbye to the us we were before we were twenty.” I hung up. The silence in the room was chilling. 12 I never expected Mrs. Holt to summon me. When I left the recording studio, the Holt family’s driver was waiting for me. I got in the car. It had been five years since I’d last seen the elegant and regal Mrs. Holt. She was as noble as ever. I no longer had the same cautious timidity I’d had back then. She poured me a cup of tea, a pleased smile on her face. Just as I was about to speak, the butler announced, “Madam, Miss Miller’s shawl was left here last time.” I looked at the pale pink shawl the butler was holding. “Put it away. She’ll be here later for lunch with Jason.” Mrs. Holt’s words were directed at me, her eyes watching my reaction. I showed none. Just then, there was a sound from the staircase. A sharp, piercing gaze fell upon me. The pain in my body suddenly flared. I put down the velvet box I was holding. “I have something else to do. I should go now. I won’t disturb you.” As I stood to leave, the smell of blood filled my nostrils. I quickly covered my nose and hurried away. “Wait.” “Is there something else?” I froze, my body stiff. The person from the stairs came down and picked up the box from the coffee table. “You’re returning the ring?” “Yes. Things should be returned to their rightful owner.” “Take it. I don’t have a habit of taking back gifts.” It was useless to him, of course. He would just buy a new one. But from my perspective, I had no right to keep it. “I can’t accept it. If you don’t want it back, throw it away.” Footsteps approached from behind. I didn’t dare linger. I ran. By the time I was in a taxi, my palm was slick with blood from my nose.

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At Northgate High, a string of brutal murders shocked the nation. One by one, the students who bullied me turned up dead. And I became the prime suspect. As the detectives strode toward me, their faces grim, I smiled. I had been waiting for this day for a long, long time. 1. The Confrontation In the interrogation room, I stared at the stark, white walls. Detective Miller, the one who’d brought me in, and a female officer, Detective Chen, sat across from me, their expressions severe. “Hannah Evans, correct?” I tore my eyes from the wall, my voice laced with indifference. “Yes.” Miller’s voice suddenly boomed. “Watch your attitude. You’re in here to answer for what you’ve done.” I let a small smile play on my lips and sat up straighter. “Fine. My first question is, on what grounds am I being held?” Miller’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “You really don’t know?” “Was it a surplus of empty rooms at the station? Offering free stays to civic-minded citizens?” “Hannah, if you continue with this attitude, we can charge you with obstruction of justice.” This time, it was Chen who spoke, her voice softer. I gave my cuffed hands a little shake, my apology dripping with sarcasm. “My mistake. I’m a total amateur when it comes to the law. Don’t hold it against me.” The room fell silent for a moment. Miller pulled out his notepad, his gaze fixed on me. “Where were you last night?” “Working.” “That late?” “I have class during the day. No other time.” “You were working the entire night?” “Yes.” “Lies!” Miller slammed his notepad on the table. “You were seen on Boston Road with Laura Peterson at midnight!” I wasn’t fazed. “Oh. So something happened to Laura.” The certainty in my voice made Miller’s gaze sharpen. “How did you know?” I looked him straight in the eye. “Is it that hard to guess? She missed class all morning, and by the afternoon, you’d dragged me in here asking about her.” “Fine. I won’t beat around the bush. Did you kill Laura Peterson?” A normal person would have been terrified. My emotional state, however, remained perfectly stable. “She’s dead? I have an alibi, Detective. That’s called a forced confession.” Chen picked up the thread. “You even know what a forced confession is. You must watch a lot of crime shows.” I smiled. “Just a few TV dramas.” Chen’s tone shifted. “But we never mentioned the time of the incident. How do you know you have an alibi?” I looked at her earnestly. “She was fine when we parted ways. Whatever happened must have been after I left.” “Left?” Miller cut in. “Left where?” I turned back to him. “Left the school. She’s a boarder. I’m a day student.” Miller produced a grainy photograph. “Then why does security footage show you and Laura on Boston Road at midnight?” It was a still from a security camera, showing two blurry figures—me and Laura—at the school gate. I glanced at it and the memory came flooding back. “The school doesn’t allow phones. I’d charged hers the day before and was supposed to sneak it back to her. But security was tight at the gate that day, so I hid it in the bushes. That night, she was afraid I’d tricked her and insisted on coming with me to get it.” Miller scoffed. “So you two were close?” I didn’t want to get into it. “We were okay.” “Is there a single truthful word in your mouth?” Miller’s face darkened. “On March fourth, you filed a police report claiming Laura Peterson was bullying you. While no charges were filed due to your age, the report is on record!” I lifted my gaze, my voice flat. “Then you should also know that her family paid mine fifty thousand dollars to settle the matter.” At that, a flicker of memory made me smile again. “Why would I kill her? If she beat me half to death again, I could just extort another payment from her.” Since Miller had dug into my past, he knew exactly what I meant. Six months ago, I was relentlessly tormented by Laura and her friends. I couldn’t take it anymore and told my parents and the school. Laura’s family had connections at the school. The anonymous complaint I dropped in the tip box one day was in her hands the next. She read my letter aloud in front of me, her voice dripping with mockery. Halfway through, she flew into a rage, rolled the thick stack of paper into a tube, and shoved it violently into my mouth. I gagged, my eyes rolling back. In my struggle, I managed to scratch her. That only made her angrier. She grabbed a broken mop handle from the bathroom and beat me like a rabid dog. I honestly thought I was going to die, but I clenched my teeth and refused to beg. I passed out and was beaten awake, over and over. Thankfully, it was daytime. Laura and her crew locked me in the bathroom and went to lunch. Terrified I would actually die in there, I dragged my broken body out the window. Under the horrified stares of dozens of students, I stumbled to the nearest police station. I was a mess, and there were too many witnesses. The police quickly found Laura, using the DNA under my fingernails to identify her. Laura’s mother, radiating wealth and arrogance, stormed into my hospital room. In front of the police and my parents, she stated her terms bluntly. “My daughter is young. She gets carried away when she’s playing with friends. Young lady, I’ll give you fifty thousand dollars in compensation. How about it?” Even the police advised me that given Laura’s age, a lawsuit would likely go nowhere. My parents were ordinary, timid people. When I’d told them about the bullying before, their only advice was, “Just endure it. They’re powerful people. We can’t afford to make enemies. Once you get to college, it’ll all be over.” Now, faced with Laura’s intimidating mother and the officers’ advice, their resolve crumbled. They pleaded with me. “Let it go. You’re okay now, aren’t you? And if you won’t think about yourself, think about your brother. The family really needs the money.” They practically forced my head down to sign the settlement agreement. Laura’s mother took the signed paper, glanced at my parents greedily counting the cash, and then smiled at me. “You rest up now. Once you’re all healed, maybe you can earn your parents another big payday.” Detective Chen clearly knew this story. Her expression was complicated. “If you took the money, why didn’t you transfer to another school?” A faint smirk touched my lips. “Detective, are you hoping I’ll say it was for revenge?” Chen didn’t answer, just watched me intently. I leaned back against the chair, exhaled, and smiled. “Of course, it was because that money had to be saved for my brother’s education. And his wedding.” Chen was taken aback and said no more. “Then why were your fingerprints all over the crime scene?” “Crime scene?” I thought for a moment. “The sophomore classroom, the school rooftop, the supply closet, or the abandoned toilets on the sports field? I’ve crawled around like a dog in all those places. It wouldn’t be strange to find my fingerprints anywhere.” Miller cut in. “Forget the other places. Tell me what you and Laura were doing at the school before midnight. Day students are allowed to leave at eight.” I almost laughed. “Detective, you should be asking what she was doing to me.” “Fine. Then tell us what she did to you.” “I’d only been back at school for a few days after recovering. Laura couldn’t stand the sight of me. She was always looking for a chance to ‘teach me a lesson.’ That night, before midnight, she was beating me.” The bruises on my face were still visible. I said it lightly, but the others in the room fell silent. “So you killed her?” The two detectives were deliberately illogical, jumping from topic to topic, hoping to catch me off guard with a sudden accusation. I was getting annoyed. “If you have evidence, present it. I have an alibi. There are cameras all the way from the school to my job, and from my job back to the school. Go check them yourselves.” With that, I leaned back in the chair, closed my eyes, and refused to say another word, no matter what they asked. Interrogations are useless without evidence. Right now, they had nothing concrete. As long as I kept my mouth shut, there was nothing they could do. I was held for 24 hours. When they finally let me go, my legs were swollen. I stretched my stiff limbs. Turning back, I offered the two officers at the door a smile. “See you later.” 2. Campus Terror When I returned to school, the news of Laura’s death was still under wraps. Everyone just assumed I’d taken a day off. Walking past the abandoned toilets on the sports field, I saw they were now cordoned off with yellow police tape. I made it back to the classroom just as the break bell rang. The room was buzzing with noise, but the students, as if by some unspoken agreement, all ignored me. I calmly went to my desk, swept the pile of trash they’d left on it into the bin, and cleaned my space just before the next class began. The teacher, entering from the back door as the bell rang, paused when he saw me. A second later, he pretended not to have seen anything, walked to the front, and started his lecture. The thought of Laura being dead sent a thrill through me. My fingertips danced a happy little rhythm on the desk. Time flies when you’re having fun. The bell rang again, signaling the long mid-morning break—twenty minutes of freedom. Students poured out of their seats, heading outside. Suddenly, a loud THUD! The hallway fell silent for a heartbeat. Then, a scream. “Someone jumped!” A chaotic swarm of students rushed to the windows, bodies climbing over each other to get a look. Someone recognized the fallen figure. “Is that Tiffany?” Tiffany, Laura’s twin sister. The second person who had bullied me had just jumped from the roof. She’d jumped from the rooftop, a spot many students used to get some air during the break. There were no cameras up there. Down below, police had already cordoned off the area. A woman was being held back by a group of officers, her cries echoing, wild and grief-stricken. I almost didn’t recognize her as the same immaculately dressed, imperious woman from the hospital. The school’s PA system crackled to life, ordering all students to return to their classrooms and stay put. I thought about it for a moment, then ignored the announcement and headed downstairs. Under the watchful eyes of the police, I walked toward the hysterical woman. An officer, his gaze probing, subtly blocked my path, keeping me from getting too close. I stopped a few feet away and offered my sincere condolences. “Auntie,” I said, my voice clear and carrying, my smile perfectly placed. “You should use your money to piece your daughter back together.” The woman’s sobs choked off. A second later, her hair flying wildly, she lunged at me. “You bitch! It was you! You killed my daughter!” The police scrambled again, this time to shield me. I watched the crazed woman, my expression cold. I met her bloodshot eyes, and a slow, deliberate smile spread across my face. I puckered my lips and made a soft sound. “Pop.” I was back at the police station. Familiar seat. Familiar faces. Miller’s notebook hit the table with a resounding smack. His voice was a furious snarl. “What was the meaning of what you said back at the school?” I looked at him, the picture of innocence. “Detective, didn’t you know? Tiffany landed in pieces. The morticians will have to stitch her back together.” Based on where she fell, she must have jumped from the southeast corner of the roof. It was a known blind spot. A spot where other students had stumbled upon Laura and Tiffany beating me. A spot they now assiduously avoided, not wanting to get involved. Even if someone had seen something, after I had reported the bullying once, the school had held multiple assemblies, strictly forbidding students from discussing school matters with outsiders, especially the police. The students had learned their lesson well. Their mouths were sealed. Just like when they’d seen nothing as my clothes were torn off and I was left in a corner. I was sure that this time, too, Miller and Chen had gotten nothing out of them. So, they were focusing all their energy on me again. The two detectives exchanged a look. Chen spoke first. “You didn’t seem to mention your relationship with Tiffany last time.” I tilted my head. “Did you ask?” “Fine. I’m asking now. What was your relationship with Tiffany Peterson?” “It was okay.” “Hannah!” Miller roared. “Think carefully before you answer.” I lowered my head, my voice quiet. “Detective, as you know, I have the right to remain silent.” Don’t you raise your voice at me. The power to speak, or not, is mine. He must have remembered my previous stonewalling. Miller changed his tactic. “Only by telling us what you know can we clear your name.” This time, I really did laugh. “Innocent until proven guilty. If you can’t find any evidence, my name is already clear. Detective, what do you mean, clear my name?” Tiffany’s death happened during school hours, with too many witnesses. The fallout would be massive. Every person in charge was probably in a full-blown panic. “Besides, didn’t Tiffany jump? What’s the use of arresting me?” “Laura and Tiffany, both dead in a matter of days. You think that’s a coincidence?” I shook my head. “No, I don’t. But you can’t solve a case based on guesswork.” “Fine. You were the person in most recent contact with them. Did you notice anything unusual about them lately?” The irony was thick. The person they bullied the most had somehow become the person closest to them. Unusual? Of course. Unusually vicious. After my incident was “resolved,” the Peterson twins became even more convinced of their parents’ power. Their cruelty escalated. After I reported them and the police reviewed the security footage, they learned how to erase their tracks. Every act of torment took place in a blind spot, where cameras were either nonexistent or conveniently broken. They had sown the wind, and now they were reaping the whirlwind. The police couldn’t even figure out who they had recently crossed. I shook my head again. “No. I spent every day trying to avoid them. Why would I pay attention to them?” “Did they have any other friends they usually hung out with?” What she really wanted to ask was who else participated in the bullying. If the twins’ deaths were related to bullying, identifying other potential victims was a key part of the investigation. I actually didn’t mind talking to Detective Chen. A bit of civic cooperation. “That’s a difficult question for me to answer. After all, a beating victim’s only job is to cover their head. They don’t get the privilege of looking up.” Chen was silent. I saw Miller frown. “But you must know how many people were there.” The people there… I didn’t need to see them. I could hear their voices. I didn’t refuse outright. I looked at Miller and said, with utmost seriousness, “I can. On the condition that they admit to participating in the bullying.”

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The night before our wedding, my fiancée, Ava, was at her bachelorette party, locked in a passionate kiss with the ghost of her past. As if that wasn’t enough of a thrill, they filmed it and blasted it all over their social media. Our friends and family were instantly in an uproar. By the time I saw it the next morning, the post had over 99 comments. Ava put on a show of feigned embarrassment. “I had a bit too much to drink last night… but what’s done is done. Why don’t we just roll with it? Let him take your place and marry me.” She added, with a careless shrug, “Besides, we already have the marriage license. It’s not like one ceremony makes a difference.” The hotel staff standing nearby stared, their jaws on the floor, clearly expecting me to explode. Instead, I just smiled, nodded, and agreed. A triumphant smirk played on Ava’s lips. She commented that I’d finally learned my lesson, that I wasn’t going to make a scene about her and her old flame this time. But what she seemed to have forgotten was that the marriage certificate she’d given me years ago was a complete fake. … The moment I agreed to Ava’s request, she had me strip off my tuxedo. The hotel staff, moving with a surreal efficiency, began replacing the posters of me and Ava with new ones featuring her and Dylan. “Liam,” she said, her voice soft and placating, “Dylan’s parents have been hounding him to get married. Once we’ve put on this show for them, I promise I’ll throw you a wedding even grander than this one. Okay?” I nodded, my eyes catching on the faint, crimson mark blooming on her neck. Ignoring the bewildered and pitying stares from everyone around me, I removed my tux and took a seat at a table reserved for the bride’s family. I had poured my heart and soul into planning this wedding, agonizing over every detail for months. The venue, the catering—everything was top-tier. I never imagined I was just preparing a dowry for another man. I downed a glass of bitter champagne, the irony a sharp taste in my mouth, and turned my gaze to the stage. Ava, radiant in a pristine white gown, her eyes glistening with tears, shared a deep, passionate kiss with Dylan as the crowd roared its approval. Suddenly, the champagne didn’t taste so bitter anymore. Maybe I was just numb. For years, I’d known about Dylan, the unforgettable ex she could never let go of. I had fought it, argued, raged—all to no avail. Each time, Ava would swear she was done with him, that she would never contact him again, only to find her way back into his orbit. Slowly, without me even realizing when it happened, the fight went out of me. I had convinced myself that once we were officially married, she would finally settle down. But here she was, giving away the very wedding I had begged her for, the one she finally, begrudgingly, agreed to. I drained the last of my glass and slipped out of the reception just before the toasts began. My phone rang almost immediately. It was Ava. “Liam, where did you go? The toasts are about to start.” “Dylan was even going to have a drink with you, to thank you.” Thank me? More like mock me. She knew perfectly well that Dylan and I were like oil and water. But she always cared more about his feelings, so she let him provoke me, time and time again. “I have something to take care of, so I left early,” I said. “What could you possibly have to do? You… you’re not angry about the wedding, are you?” I let out a dry laugh. “Yeah, Ava. I’m angry.” Her voice turned sharp, laced with ice. “Why are you like this now? A grown man, acting so petty and jealous all the time.” “You should learn from Dylan. He’s so understanding. He knows I’m your wife, yet he’s willing to risk being laughed at to have this ceremony with me.” There it was again. He was the one being laughed at? The joke was clearly on me. Before I could respond, I heard Dylan’s smug voice in the background. “It’s the least I could do, Ava, babe. I should be thanking you. The minute you heard my parents were on my case, you didn’t hesitate to say you’d do this with me.” “Oh, and thanks, Liam, my man, for putting all this together for us~” Hearing his voice, my hand clenched around my phone. I was no stranger to Ava’s favoritism. At our law firm, she insisted I address her formally as “Ms. Hayes” in front of colleagues. Yet, she let Dylan call her “Ava-baby” for all to hear. Three months ago, on a whim from Dylan, she had transferred a nearly-won case to him—a case I had spent weeks gathering crucial evidence for. Predictably, Dylan, with his stunning incompetence, managed to turn a sure victory into a losing battle. And just as predictably, Ava threw the mess back in my lap. “Liam, you know Dylan just started at the firm. We can’t let one case tarnish his future.” “Besides,” she’d continued, “you were the one handling it from the beginning. Now that it’s about to be lost, it’s only right that you take full responsibility.” “Look, you wanted a wedding, right? I’ll make it up to you. I’ll give you a wedding after this is all over.” I never realized that “wedding” was intended for Dylan all along. When I didn’t respond to Dylan’s jibe, Ava’s patience snapped. “Liam, Dylan is talking to you. What are you doing, just standing there?” “You’re being so childish. Don’t make me yell at you on such a happy day!” A self-deprecating sneer touched my lips. “Right. My mistake. I’m sorry.” Perhaps sensing the bleakness in my tone, Ava’s voice softened slightly. “Fine. It’s not like your immaturity is anything new. We’ll leave it at that. We have to go make the rounds.” “Oh, by the way,” she added, “go home and pack a bag. Move out for a bit. There are going to be wedding night pranks later, and we can’t have Dylan’s parents seeing you there and blowing our cover.” It was time to move out. After all, it wasn’t my home anymore. “Did you hear me? Liam, I…” I cut her off, my voice eerily calm. “Ava, we’re done.” She paused, stunned, then her voice exploded with anger. “What did you just say, Liam? We have a marriage license! We’re husband and wife! What do you mean, ‘we’re done’?” “I’m just pretending to marry Dylan! The certificate is in your hands! Are you really going to be so jealous that you’d say something like that to me?” Hearing that, I lost all will to argue. The years I had invested felt like a cosmic joke. A marriage license? She knew the truth about that piece of paper better than anyone. My silence must have seemed like surrender to her. “Look,” she said, her tone shifting again. “I know you’re just jealous and trying to get a reaction out of me by saying we should break up. But if you ever say that again, I’ll be seriously angry. Just think of this as… a temporary break, okay?” “By the way, there’s a really tricky case in Chicago that needs looking into. Why don’t you head out there and start gathering evidence?” With that, she hung up. But just before the line went dead, I faintly heard her explaining to Dylan, “I haven’t found anyone to take over his current cases yet. Once I do…” A wave of despair washed over me. So that’s all I was to her? A tool? A cash cow? I worked myself to the bone, winning cases, and she took the money I earned to wine and dine Dylan. I remembered a year ago, my old scooter for commuting broke down. I asked her if she could help me get a new one. She bought me a second-hand bicycle, forcing me to pedal through the freezing winter to get to work. “The economy is rough right now, Liam. I don’t have the spare cash. Just make do,” she’d said. I’d arrive at the firm, my nose red and raw from the biting wind, only to see a brand-new Apollo sports car parked out front. It was then I realized the economy wasn’t the problem. The problem was that Ava had used the money I earned to buy Dylan a birthday present, all for the sake of seeing him smile. Shaking my head at the memory, I went home, packed a suitcase, and headed straight for the law firm. “Mr. Evans? Aren’t you and Ms. Hayes at your wedding?” Everyone from the firm was at the ceremony, except for a young female intern. Coincidentally, she was the one I was mentoring. Or maybe it wasn’t a coincidence at all. “You’re mistaken,” I said calmly, pulling out a resignation letter. “That’s Ms. Hayes and Dylan’s wedding. Not mine.” Because Ava had always claimed I was a “partner” in the firm, we’d never signed a formal employment contract. It meant I could walk away whenever I wanted. The irony was staggering—a law firm operating on such legally dubious grounds. The intern stared, then understanding dawned in her eyes, followed by a flash of indignation. “Ms. Hayes has gone too far!” I managed a small smile, told her to keep up the good work, and walked out of the place I had dedicated years of my life to, without a second glance. But leaving didn’t bring the relief I expected. A renowned lawyer, a name in the industry, with only three dollars and sixty-five cents to my name. No one would believe it if I told them. With a heavy sigh, I hesitated, then dialed a number from my college days. When my old friend heard I’d broken up with Ava, she was ecstatic. She immediately offered to drive down overnight, bring me to her firm in Westport, and make me a partner with shares. I told her not to go to such trouble. All I needed was two hundred dollars for a bus ticket. After years of taking the bus on business trips to save money, I was used to it. But her reaction was one of genuine heartache. She immediately transferred two million dollars into my account and told me to book the most expensive first-class flight for the next day. She said she was already on her way to the airport to wait for me. A bitter smile touched my lips, my mood sinking even lower. Such generosity. She was far more generous to me than Ava ever was. I spent the night in a hotel, scrolling through my phone. I saw a video Dylan had posted of the wedding night pranks, of Ava’s unrestrained, joyous laughter. I silently gave it a ‘like.’ The next day, I boarded the first-class flight right on time. Shortly after we landed, as I was walking out of the airport, I heard a familiar voice. It was Dylan, his tone dripping with disbelief. “Liam? You’re supposed to be in Chicago for that case. What are you doing, following us?” “So that’s why you liked our video last night! You were planning this all along, weren’t you!” he sneered. I turned to see Ava and Dylan, wedding rings on their fingers, hands intertwined, looking for all the world like a blissfully happy couple. They really did look perfect together. Seeing me, Ava looked exasperated. She let go of Dylan’s hand and walked toward me. “Liam, we agreed to take a break for a while. I’m taking Dylan on a honeymoon now. It’s the only way to completely convince his parents.” “If you keep following me like this, you’re just going to wear me out. Besides, didn’t I give you a case to work on?” Dylan, scowling, pointed a finger at me. “Liam, I’m already being a good sport about you and Ava having a license together. Can’t you be a bigger person and give us some private space?” “Why are you following us? What’s next, are you going to watch us in bed too?” Seeing Dylan get angry, Ava rushed to soothe him, then turned back to me with a frown. “Alright, Liam, you’ve seen me. Now go home, okay? You know Dylan doesn’t like you.” Then, her eyes narrowed. “Wait a minute. Where did you get the money for a plane ticket? Did you have a secret stash of cash? You’ve got some nerve!” My face remained a calm mask. “First, I wasn’t following you. Second, a friend bought me the ticket.” Ava’s patience wore thin. “Still lying? What friends do you even have in this city?” Dylan chimed in with a smirk. “The money… don’t tell me you took out a loan, Liam?” At that, Ava reacted like a cat whose tail had been stepped on. “That’s so embarrassing! I’ll transfer you the money. Pay it back immediately. Don’t let your personal loans affect the firm’s reputation. Now get lost!” Looking at Ava’s disgusted expression, I found the situation absurdly funny. When I first discovered the marriage certificate was a fake, I didn’t expose her lie. I held onto a sliver of hope that one day, the fake could become real. It wasn’t until she brought Dylan into our firm, until her favoritism became blatant and she spent all her time with him, that I finally understood. A fake is always just a fake. “I’ve transferred the money! Now get out of here, do you hear me?!” I was about to ignore her, but her words grew more vicious. Just as I was about to retort, another voice cut through the air. “Liam! I waited for you all night, my eyes are all swollen. You’re finally here.” “Who are they? Your ex-girlfriend? Didn’t you say you two broke up?” I turned to see Claire, a friend I hadn’t seen in years, striding towards us in a stunning designer dress. A smile finally broke through my grim expression as I walked over to her. Ava froze, her mind reeling, before the reality of the situation hit her. “You came here to see her?” A flicker of derision crossed Dylan’s face. “Oh my god,” he said in a singsong, malicious tone. “Is this the little mistress you’ve been keeping on the side, Liam?” The accusation struck a chord with Ava. She looked at me, her eyes wide with disbelief. “So that’s why you wanted to break up with me! You found someone new!” “Liam, we were together for twelve years, married for ten! And you’ve been with another woman? How could you do this to me?” Dylan, his eyes shining with triumph, piled on. “Liam, how could you betray your pure, sacred love with Ava over something so small? You’re such a disappointment. Ava, babe, let’s go. I feel dirty just breathing the same air as a cheater like him!” I almost laughed out loud. The hypocrisy was breathtaking. Even if I had been cheating—which I hadn’t—what right did they have to judge me? Ava didn’t leave. Instead, she stormed over to Claire and slapped her hard across the face. “You homewrecking bitch! Didn’t you know he has a wife?!” Reacting instantly, I shoved Ava away. “Ava, are you insane?!” Her eyes reddened with tears as she pointed a trembling finger at me. “Liam, you’re yelling at me? You’re pushing me? For her?” “Have you forgotten all the vows you made to me, the promises of forever?!” She had the audacity to bring up promises. I took a deep, steadying breath, bottling up my rage. “First,” I said, my voice cold and level, “I am not cheating. Second, this is Claire. She’s my friend from college. I came to Westport on business with her, and she’s the one who lent me the money and bought the ticket.” Ava let out a cold laugh. “College friend? You expect me to believe that?” “Believe what you want. Claire, let’s go.” I turned to leave with Claire, but Ava blocked my path. “Liam, if you dare walk away right now, I will fire you from the firm. You’ll never work there again!” Before I could answer, Claire, it seemed, had had enough. “That would be perfect,” she said sweetly, “Then Liam can officially become a partner at our firm.” She punctuated the statement by pulling out a prepared partnership agreement. Ava’s eyes flickered with uncertainty. In the next second, she grabbed the collar of my shirt, her voice a furious hiss. “Is what this woman saying true? You’re going to be a partner at her firm?!” “Liam, you’re going to jump ship over one little argument? I don’t approve!” Dylan, a smirk playing on his lips, adopted a sanctimonious tone. “Exactly, Liam. You’re a lawyer. How can you break the law yourself? You’re in breach of contract. You’ll have to pay us a fortune if you leave now.” Claire shot back instantly. “Whatever it costs, our firm will pay it!” A small smile touched my lips. “There’s nothing to pay. I never signed an employment contract with them.” “Ava,” I said, meeting her gaze, “since there’s no contract, I don’t need your approval. In fact, if I wanted to make this a legal issue, you’re the ones who…” My words were cut off by Ava’s choked cry, her eyes filled with a look of profound disappointment. “Liam, I was so wrong about you.” “If you’re so determined to leave,” she said, her voice flat, as if she were sure I wouldn’t dare, “then let’s get a divorce.” It was her favorite tactic, a weapon she’d used against me for years. In the past, I would have begged her not to. Now, I couldn’t, even if I wanted to. You can’t divorce someone you were never married to in the first place. I shook my head. A flicker of relief crossed Ava’s face, but it vanished as I pulled the two fake marriage certificates from my bag. “We were never married. How can we get a divorce?” For a split second, panic flashed in Ava’s eyes. Then, as if a dark thought occurred to her, her expression hardened.

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Movie star Ted Parsons posted on his social media in the middle of the night: “Folks, secretly going to meet my online crush. If it goes well, call me a stud. If it fails, I’m a clown.” The next day, he dropped a photo: a girl in a blue and white floral dress locked in an embrace with a handsome guy with a shock of blond hair. Then, he changed his screen name to [The Other Guy]. The internet exploded. And I looked down at the blue and white floral dress I was wearing, then at my brother’s newly dyed blond hair, and finally at the 99+ unread messages from my online boyfriend on my phone. I exploded, too. 1 I’m a C-list actress, at best. The kind of actress who exists on the very fringes of stardom. My latest drama finally took off, but none of the starlight and riches that came with it landed on me. Instead, I got a lot of rotten eggs and cabbage hurled at me on the street. That’s because I played the villainess—the kind you hate with a fury that makes your teeth ache. The hatred for the character bled over to the actress, and just like that, I became a public punching bag. As I scrolled through the endless wave of online hate, the director, Mr. Evans, looked at me, his face a mask of apology. “Kaley, this must have been so hard on you. Why don’t you take some time off? Go home, lay low for a bit. I’ll make sure you’re compensated, of course. Please, don’t let it get you down.” He was raking in awards for this show, yet he was trying so desperately to look sorry for me. So desperate that the corner of his mouth kept twitching, fighting an upward curl, then forcing itself down, then back up again… a spastic battle on his face. I just stared. Director Evans, please stop smiling. You’re scaring me. 2 “A little compensation?” I rolled my eyes. I remembered how he’d sweet-talked me into this role, promising it would be my ticket to the big time, that I’d be dining on champagne and caviar. And now? “You really think I’m that easy to brush off?” I was on the verge of laughing from sheer frustration. I glanced down as my phone screen lit up. A bank notification. A new deposit… for five million dollars. I shook my head, a sigh escaping my lips. “You know what? Turns out I am.” 3 Back home, I cracked open a fine ’82 Coke. The moment I switched from my work account to my personal one, a video call came in. The contact name read: My 6’4″ Six-Pack Clingy Puppy. I answered, and a low, gravelly voice purred through the speaker at the same time. “Miss me, baby?” His voice was like velvet lined with fishhooks, snagging at my heart. For a second, my mind went adrift. I quickly turned off my own camera. On my screen, however, was a glorious view of six-pack abs. As usual, he wasn’t showing his face. The frame started just below his sharp jawline. Broad shoulders, a narrow waist, a powerful core—his proportions were absolutely perfect. Droplets of water still clung to his chest, tracing slow, tantalizing paths down the grooves of his muscles. My cheeks flushed, my head starting to feel fuzzy. That’s weird. Can you get tipsy from Coca-Cola? “Why so quiet, hmm?” He leaned closer to the camera, his Adam’s apple bobbing. I instinctively reached out, my fingers hitting the cold, hard glass of the screen, which jolted me back to reality. Tsk. Look but don’t touch. So frustrating. “Lower the camera a little. We know each other well enough by now, don’t be shy.” 4 The hand drying his chest with a towel paused. “You sure?” I raised an eyebrow. He wouldn’t actually dare, I thought, so I pushed my luck. “Positive. Absolutely positive.” To my shock, the camera on his end actually started to pan down. Slowly. From his throat to his chest, then lower, and lower still… The deliberate slowness felt like an intimate exploration of his body. My breath hitched. My face was on fire. Just in the nick of time… BAM! I slammed my phone face-down on the table. “STOP! That’s enough! This is not that kind of party!” Silence for a beat, then a soft chuckle from his end. “Scared?” “Yeah, scared I’ll pass out from the sight of something so small.” “Excuse me?” He bit out, his voice tight. “I dare you to open your eyes and look. I guarantee you won’t be disappointed!” Sorry, but my entire personality is built on defiance. “I! REFUSE!” “You’re just chicken,” he scoffed. “Too scared to admit it.” That one sentence lit a fire under me. “Chicken? Are you kidding me? Fine! I’ll look!” Without another word, I snatched the phone off the table. 5 And in the next second, a fluffy white bathrobe, tied securely around his waist and covering him completely, filled my screen. I blinked. “…?!” Seriously, dude? I was halfway to a heart attack, and this is what you show me? “What else were you expecting to see?” Even though I couldn’t see his face, I could picture the smug, mischievous grin he was wearing just from the sound of his voice. Oh, he’s good. He was totally playing me! “Just looking is boring! If you’ve got the guts, come over and let me touch!” I squeezed my fists, genuinely annoyed now. I had to get my dignity back. He let out a soft “tsk.” “If I actually showed up, would you actually have the guts to see me?” “Of course, why wouldn’t I?” “You sure you wouldn’t take one look at me and run for the hills?” “Haha, you’re dreaming. I’d be more likely to push you onto the sofa and… ravage… you… mercilessly!” “…” 6 When I woke up the next morning and saw my chat history with him, my world came crashing down. The black text on the screen seemed to get more and more suggestive the longer I looked, making my face burn red. The worst part was, I was nowhere near ready to meet in person. But last night, in a fit of bravado, I’d thrown down the gauntlet: [Me: See you tomorrow, 5 PM, at the entrance of the Starlight Hotel.] [Me: Whoever bails eats ramen without the flavor packet for the rest of their life!] So, with trembling fingers, I weakly typed out a new message: [Me: You know, I was just thinking… ramen without the flavor packet probably tastes pretty good too.] He replied almost instantly. First, a single question mark. Then, a location pin for the city’s main airport. [My 6’4″ Six-Pack Clingy Puppy: If I don’t see you this afternoon, I’ll hunt you down through the internet, baby. Don’t worry.] Great. My heart was now completely and utterly dead. There was no backing out now. I closed my eyes in resignation. It looked like there was no escaping this time. But just as I was wallowing in my despair, a shriek erupted from outside my door. 7 “Kaley! Kaleeeeyyyy! Open up! I know you’re in there! You had the guts to steal a man, now have the guts to open the door… ” I couldn’t stand that weaselly voice for another second. I shot up and stormed to the door. The moment I flung it open, the person standing there was about to speak. I shoved my slipper into his mouth. Instant, blessed silence. It lasted for all of one second before chaos erupted again. He spat the slipper out, hacking and spitting dramatically onto the floor. “Are you even my sister?! Are you trying to poison me?!” I covered my ears, his whining already giving me a headache. Then I got a good look at his new, eye-searingly blond hair, and my expression soured even more. “What is that look?” Hearing this, my brother, Leo, ran a hand through his hair and winked at me furiously. “What do you think? New style. Hot, right?” “You look like you got electrocuted.” Seeing he couldn’t win a war of words, Leo whipped out his phone and shoved it in my face. Because trending topics about both of us were currently lighting up the internet. #LeoUnlocksNewLook, TotallySlaying!# #DailyQuestion: WhenWillTheVillainessKaleyFinallyGetWrittenOff!# One praising him, one trashing me. What no one in the entertainment world knew was that Leo and I were actually siblings. The reason was simple: we couldn’t stand each other. He was the life of the party on variety shows, while I was a nobody actress stuck in obscurity. The day we entered the industry, we made a pact to pretend we were strangers. 8 I couldn’t be bothered with him. As I went to shut the door, a foot wedged its way into the gap. “Wait!” he yelped, squeezing half his body through. “I just wanted to ask if you saw that bottle of liquor in the fridge.” “No.” But Leo pressed on, unwilling to give up. “It was in a Coke bottle. I mixed some whiskey with Coke. You really didn’t see it?” My head snapped around. I saw the empty Coke bottle from last night sitting on my bedside table. Then I turned back to Leo, a chillingly sweet smile spreading across my face. “Are you saying… that Coke in the fridge… was actually alcohol?” Leo nodded. I grabbed his ear and twisted. He yelped in pain. “Leo, are you an absolute psycho?! Who puts whiskey in a Coke bottle?!” No wonder! No wonder that “Coke” tasted weirder and weirder last night. It wasn’t that my online crush’s flirting had me tipsy. I was genuinely drunk! “This! Is! All! Your! Fault! You’re going to be the death of me!” 9 After I explained the situation, Leo mocked me relentlessly. “I was wondering what the big deal was! So that’s what happened!” A death glare from me cut him off mid-sentence. “I have three hours until the meetup. What am I supposed to do?” He shrank back, looking sheepish. “Hey, you can’t blame it all on me! Besides, you two have been talking for a year. Meeting up was bound to happen. Sooner or later, what’s the difference?” He wasn’t entirely wrong. It’s just… We’d never once shown our faces during our video calls. Even the photos he sent were artsy, atmospheric shots where his face was always cleverly obscured. He wouldn’t even tell me what he did for a living. All I knew was that he traveled a lot for work, flying all over the country. When he was truly busy, he’d be unreachable for half the day. Chatting behind a screen was fine. But the thought of meeting face-to-face? It genuinely terrified me. “But that name, Ted… why does it sound so familiar?” Leo mused, stroking his chin. Suddenly, it clicked. “Wait, isn’t that the name of that new A-list movie star? The one who just won Best Actor?” I waved his comment away. “Just a coincidence.” The man was a movie star, with a face that could launch a thousand ships. He had the looks, the fame, the charisma. Why on earth would someone like that bother with the hassle of online dating? So I paid Leo’s comment no mind. “But what if it is him?” Leo grinned, and before I could react, he’d pulled out a tablet. A picture of Ted Parsons’s chiseled abs was suddenly magnified in front of my eyes. “You’re always on video calls with your online guy, right? Why don’t you take a good, hard look? Compare and contrast?” “…Get out!” 10 In the end, I braced myself and went to the hotel we’d agreed on. As for Leo, I’d dragged him along with me. There’s safety in numbers, after all. My phone had been buzzing nonstop on the way over, all messages from Ted. [My 6’4″ Six-Pack Clingy Puppy: I’m about to meet you, baby! I’m so nervous! I have a huge surprise for you, hehe!] I finally just put my phone on Do Not Disturb, snapped a picture of the hotel entrance to let him know I’d arrived, and told him we’d talk when we met. But the thought of it just made my stomach clench even tighter. Seeing my state, Leo leaned in to comfort me. “It’s okay, Kaley, don’t be scared. He came all this way to see you, which means you’re really important to him. If there’s love, it’s a beautiful romance. If there’s not… well, at worst it’s a police report.” I was speechless. I threw a punch at him. “No one will think you’re a mute if you just shut up!” But my punch hit nothing but air. Leo made a goofy face at me, which only made me angrier. “Get back here!” Thanks to the iron-clad rule of older-sibling dominance, I ended up pinning him to the ground and giving him a proper noogie until he begged for mercy. “Kaley, stop, ow, ow, ow! Your online date is gonna be here any second! You have to maintain your image!” His words snapped me back to reality. I scrambled for my phone. It was already fifteen minutes past our agreed-upon time! “What the hell? Don’t tell me he stood me up!” I unlocked the screen and froze. 99+ messages from [My 6’4″ Six-Pack Clingy Puppy]. Before I could even open them, a breaking news notification popped up, taking over my screen. #BREAKING: Movie Star Ted Parsons’s Online Date Ends in Disaster# #TedParsons: The Other Guy# I blinked. “?!” A terrible, sinking feeling washed over me. 11 Last night, the award-winning actor had posted: [Ted Parsons: Folks, secretly going to meet my online crush. If it goes well, call me a stud. If it fails, I’m a clown.] He’d even specified the time in the comments: 5 PM today. Fans and curious onlookers had been waiting with bated breath, only to see him change his screen name to [The Other Guy]. Then came the paparazzi photo: One second, he’s on his phone, smiling and texting. The next, he looks up and sees a girl in a blue and white floral dress looking all “cozy” with a guy with blond hair. The smile vanishes. The internet exploded. I looked down at the blue and white floral dress I was wearing. At my brother’s newly dyed blond hair. And at the 99+ unread messages on my phone. I exploded, too. So, the guy I’d been dating online for over a year… Was actually the movie star Ted Parsons?! The realization hit me, and the world started to spin.

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1 It happened on game night. The words tumbled out of Sheldon’s mouth, a casual, devastating confession: “It feels so good to be a dad.” The room went dead silent. The cheerful buzz of a moment ago evaporated, replaced by a thick, suffocating tension. Every eye in the room darted not to him, but to me. In their gazes, I saw no shock. Only a pained, unspoken pity. In that instant, I knew. They all knew. I was the only fool left in the dark. My hand trembled as I set down my wine glass, fighting to keep my composure. My voice was barely a whisper, but I forced the question out. “How many months?” Sheldon snapped back to reality as if waking from a dream, scrambling toward me. In his panic, he knocked over a bottle. It shattered, and he stumbled right over the shards, his bare feet instantly slick with blood. He didn’t seem to notice. He wrapped his arms around me, his body shaking. “Penny, the baby was an accident! I swear!” The words pierced my heart like a shard of glass from the bottle he’d just broken. “So it’s true… you cheated,” I breathed, the reality of it suffocating me. I pictured those same arms holding another woman, and a wave of nausea washed over me. I shoved him away, hard, and ran. Sheldon chased me to the door, but his phone rang. He stopped, answering it instantly. Even from a distance, I heard the cloying, sweet voice on the other end. “Sheldon… the baby misses you…” A bitter acid rose in my throat. I fled faster into the cold night. I don’t know how long I ran, the frigid wind a brutal shock against my thin sweater. I finally stumbled into a department store, desperate to buy a coat. A sales associate stared at me, her expression hesitant. “Excuse me… are you Penny Vance?” Before I could answer, a nearby shopper scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Please. It’s just a look-alike. Sheldon Vance worships his wife. You think he’d let the real Penny run around in this weather, freezing in a thin sweater, buying her own coat?” I managed a bitter, hollow laugh. I paid for the coat and walked out in silence. On the massive screen blanketing the side of the building, a replay of Sheldon’s recent TV interview was broadcasting to the entire city square. On camera, his voice was thick with emotion, his eyes glistening. “This year marks a decade with my wife. Ten years ago, when I had nothing, she stood by me. She even… she even lost our first child to save my life…” He choked back a sob, his gaze fixed on the camera as if he were looking right at me. “Penny is the one and only love of my life. In three days, I’m throwing her the wedding of the century, a renewal of our vows, so the whole world can witness how much I adore her.” Passersby stopped to watch, their faces soft with admiration. They praised him, calling him the poster boy for devoted husbands. Yes, everyone thought Sheldon Vance loved me to the bone. Until today, I thought so too. How could a man who loved me so much possibly cheat? I wandered out of the mall like a ghost, my mind numb, and then I saw it. Sheldon’s car, parked by the curb, waiting. I stood there, the wind whipping at me, a war raging in my chest. My feet slowed, a toxic, treacherous hope blooming within me. What was I even hoping for? That he was here for me? That this was all some horrible misunderstanding he could explain away? I hated myself for that flicker of weakness. I didn’t know if I could face him, but I couldn’t run anymore. Taking a deep breath, I started toward the car, each step a crushing weight on my heart. Just then, he got out. He didn’t come to me. He walked briskly to the passenger side and opened the door. A young woman, visibly pregnant, hopped out with a youthful bounce. The snow was thick on the ground, and she grabbed his arm, whining playfully. Without a second thought, Sheldon scooped her halfway into his arms, carefully shielding her designer shoes from the slush. “Thank you, Sheldon. You know how much I hate the cold.” For ten years, Sheldon had been an iceberg to every woman but me. He said it was to make me feel secure, to prove his love was undivided. His warmth, he’d always said, was reserved for me alone. Now, here I was, shivering in a thin coat, while he doted on another woman. I just watched, my stare so intense he finally felt it. His head snapped up. Our eyes met across the snowy street. His first reaction was a flicker of panic, his eyes darting away. The woman in his arms suddenly seemed to be a hot iron he couldn’t drop fast enough. He set her down and rushed toward me. He cupped my face with his hands, his thumbs stroking my frozen cheeks, his expression a mask of pure concern. “Penny, God, you’re freezing.” The worry in his eyes was so real, so familiar, that for a split second, my resolve wavered. But then I saw her, standing behind him. The woman with the swollen belly, one hand cradling it protectively, her head tilted in a look of blatant challenge. She was a living, breathing reminder that my life was a joke. I pulled away from Sheldon’s touch, taking two steps back. It felt like I was using my last ounce of strength to ask the question. “Who is she?” In that moment, I gambled everything—our ten years, our history, my entire heart—on his answer. It was my final, desperate bet. If he just denied it. If he would just look me in the eye and tell me that child wasn’t his, I would have believed him. I would have erased this entire nightmare and taken him back. But a soft, distinct sob carried across the cold air from the other woman. It was the sound of my last hope shattering. A pained look crossed Sheldon’s face. He let out a heavy sigh, and the words that destroyed my world fell from his lips, heavy and clear. “The baby… is mine.” My hand reacted before my mind could, slapping his away. My nails dug into my own palm, drawing blood. “Penny!” He grabbed my hand, prying my fingers open, his face a mess of panic and pain. “Hit me, scream at me, do anything, but please don’t hurt yourself.” He was almost begging. I remained silent, the agony in my chest too vast for words. Seeing my stony expression, he suddenly raised a hand and slapped himself across the face. Twice. Hard. Red welts bloomed instantly on his cheek. That’s when the girl, Emma, rushed forward, placing herself between us, shielding him. Her voice trembled, but her words were firm. “Miss Vanderbilt, my name is Emma. Sheldon and I… we were both victims in this. Please, don’t blame him!” Her eyes were wet with tears, but she stood her ground like a loyal protector. Sheldon’s face hardened. His voice was ice. “Penny is my wife. You will address her as Mrs. Vance.” Emma flinched, but her chin lifted with defiance. “Mrs. Vance, you’re a woman. You should understand. I’m only twenty-two. If it wasn’t for Sheldon’s mother… I would never have wanted to keep this baby!” Her words hung in the air. Sheldon’s gaze, which had been locked on me, flickered involuntarily toward Emma. And in that split second, as his focus shifted from me to her, I knew. It was over. 2 In the end, Sheldon had his executive assistant take Emma home. He drove me. The silence in the car was heavy, suffocating. He finally broke it, telling me the story. It happened last year, at the company gala. A competitor had drugged his drink. Emma, an intern, had “accidentally” wandered into his suite. He paid her a substantial sum for her silence afterward and had never seen her again. He never imagined she would get pregnant. And when his mother found out, she was adamant about keeping the child. I knew his mother’s stubbornness all too well. Shortly after we were married, we were in a horrific car accident. The car plunged into an icy reservoir. In the chaos, Sheldon shielded me with his own body. Shards of glass were embedded in his back, and his legs were pinned by the crushed seat. He fought through the pain to wake me from my unconscious state, urging me to escape first. But how could I leave him? I stayed, holding his head above the frigid water, trying to keep his wounds from being submerged. By the time the rescue team arrived, I had been soaking in that bone-chilling water for what felt like an eternity. Sheldon recovered quickly. I, on the other hand, lost our baby in the aftermath and was told that carrying another to term would be nearly impossible. From that day on, Sheldon’s love for me seemed to deepen into something sacred. He said we had faced death together, that nothing could ever tear us apart. His mother, however, never forgave my inability to give her a grandchild. Now, faced with this unexpected heir, I could easily imagine the lengths she would go to protect him. In the car, Sheldon reached for my hand, his voice thick with guilt. “Penny, it was a terrible mistake, an accident…” I looked him straight in the eye and asked the only question that mattered. “The baby, or me? You have to choose.” He fell silent. His silence was an answer louder than any confession. It was a hammer blow to my heart, an invisible wall slamming down between us. I knew, in that moment, that our marriage was broken beyond repair. I pulled my hand from his grasp and stared out the window at the glittering city lights. Our love had burned brightly for ten years, but like the fading day, its grand finale had finally arrived. When we got home, he gently took my arm. He wouldn’t meet my eyes. “It’s late and you’re cold. Let me make you some soup to warm you up. I don’t want you to get a stomachache.” I said nothing, walking straight to our bedroom and locking the door behind me. A few moments later, a soft knock. “Penny? Please let me in. Just let me hold you. I’m so worried about you.” I pulled the covers over my head and willed the world away. When I woke up the next morning, my gaze fell on the calendar. A huge red circle was drawn around today’s date. My eyes burned with fresh tears. Today was the tenth anniversary of my mother’s death. Before she passed, she’d made me promise that on this day, I would visit her with my husband and children. When I told Sheldon about it years ago, he took it to heart. He’d made this calendar himself, marking the date with that big, bold circle. “Penny,” he’d said, his voice filled with a joy that felt so real, “the fact that you want me to meet your mother means everything to me. I’d move heaven and earth to be there. I’d crawl there if I had to.” Now… I wasn’t so sure. I stared at the closed door. It suddenly swung open. Sheldon stood there, looking haggard, his eyes bloodshot. “You had a key. Why didn’t you come in last night?” I asked, my voice cold. He gently tucked the blanket around me. “You wouldn’t have been able to sleep. I’m fine, I can handle one sleepless night.” A pang of grief hit me, and the words tumbled out. “Do you remember what day it is?” Sheldon looked at me, his expression serious. “Penny, how could I forget? It’s the day we visit your mother. I would forget anything in the world before I forgot this.” We got ready to leave. Just as we were about to walk out the door, his phone rang. His body went rigid. I could see the panic flash in his eyes as he answered. He didn’t put it on speaker, but I heard her cry clearly. “Sheldon! I fell! My stomach—it hurts so much! Help me!” He turned to me, his face a mask of desperation, his eyes pleading. “Penny, I’ll just go check on her. I swear, I’ll be right back. I promise I’ll make it.” He turned and ran. I lifted a hand to wipe my eyes, but the tears wouldn’t stop falling. I went to the cemetery alone. I stayed until dusk, talking to my mother for hours, the silent gravestone a better confidant than my husband had been. When I returned home, I started packing. It was late, past midnight, when Sheldon finally came back. He wrapped me in his arms from behind, burying his face in my hair, murmuring “I’m sorry” over and over again. I let him hold me. I didn’t say a word. In his arms, our world felt cleaved in two. His embrace was warm and familiar, but my heart had never felt so cold, so distant. 3 The next morning, sunlight streamed through the curtains, illuminating an empty space on the bed beside me. Sheldon was gone. A wave of nausea and unease washed over me, and I drove myself to the hospital. When the doctor laid the positive pregnancy test results in front of me, I started to laugh, a broken, hysterical sound that was drowned out by my own tears. The doctor watched me with sympathetic eyes. “Are you a single mother?” she asked gently. “Have you decided if you’ll be keeping the baby? Given your medical history, carrying this pregnancy to term will be extremely difficult.” I couldn’t answer. I left the hospital in a daze and drove to the first apartment Sheldon and I had ever shared—our pre-marital love nest. But when I stepped inside, my blood ran cold. Emma was there. She looked at me, her expression a mix of feigned timidity and blatant provocation. “Well, well. Did you come here to secretly record me, sister? Hoping to get something you can use to drive a wedge between me and Sheldon?” She pulled out a small electronic scanner and insisted on sweeping it over my body. I let out a cold laugh. “You’re the one making threats in the shadows. What right do you have to accuse anyone else?” Once she confirmed I wasn’t wearing a wire, her timid mask dropped. “So what if I am?” she sneered, her voice dripping with contempt. “Your husband still wants me. You’re going to lose, and I’m going to win.” She flung the door open wider, gesturing around the apartment with a triumphant sweep of her arm. “I heard this was your little love nest. So romantic,” she purred. “But Sheldon’s mother said it was the perfect, quiet place for me to rest during my pregnancy, so he let me move in. You’re not mad, are you?” She trailed a hand over a sleek, modern armchair. “He was so worried I might bump into the old furniture and hurt the baby. So he had every single piece replaced. All in my favorite style, of course~” My eyes scanned the room. It was completely unrecognizable. A bitter bile rose in my throat, choking me. Memories flooded back, sharp and painful. The day he proposed, Sheldon had gotten down on one knee right here, in this room, and placed the only key in my hand. “Penny,” he had vowed, “no one else will ever step foot in this apartment. This place holds the memory of our love. It’s our world, just for the two of us.” This place was supposed to be our sanctuary. And he had handed it over to another woman. All the strength drained from my body. I sagged against the doorframe, the world tilting around me. Emma watched me, her eyes gleaming with a sick mixture of jealousy and hatred. I was helpless, drowning in a sea of despair in the very place that was supposed to be my safe harbor. “So how much longer are you going to cling to the title of Mrs. Vance?” Emma taunted, her voice sharp. “Can’t you see how much Sheldon adores me and our child? Can’t you see he’s already chosen us?” Cling? A bitter laugh escaped my lips. I felt hollowed out. Suddenly, my eyes darted to an empty corner of the living room. My mother’s portrait. It was always there. Now, the space was bare. “Where is my mother’s portrait?!” My voice cracked, rising with disbelief and panic. Emma waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, that morbid thing? Sheldon tossed it out, of course.” My glare was so intense that she finally, reluctantly, retrieved the framed photo from a closet. Then, right in front of me, a cruel smirk spread across her face. With a flick of her wrist, she let the frame drop. It hit the hardwood floor with a sickening crash, the glass shattering into a thousand pieces. I stared, frozen in a state of pure, unadulterated rage. But Emma was already collapsing to the floor, clutching her stomach and letting out a theatrical wail of pain. “Aah! My stomach! It hurts!” Her cries were a distant buzz in my ears. I lunged for the floor, desperately trying to gather the shards of my mother’s photo. Just as my fingers touched the broken glass, the door burst open and a furious roar filled the room. “Penny, why would you push her?!” I looked up from the floor, my hands bleeding, to see Sheldon. He hadn’t even looked at me. His eyes were locked on Emma. In a flash, he was scooping her into his arms and rushing out of the apartment. I stared down at my bloody hands, at the wreckage of my mother’s face on the floor. Our ten-year marriage wasn’t just a joke. It was a tragedy. I slowly, mechanically, began to clean up the mess. Soon after, his mother arrived. She stormed in and slapped me, hard, across the face. “You barren hen! If anything happens to my grandson, I will make you pay!” Sheldon, who had returned, quickly stepped between us. He finally rushed to my side, gently unwrapping the clumsy bandages I’d wrapped around my fingers and meticulously disinfecting the cuts. Seeing his mother was about to start another tirade, Sheldon said curtly, “She’s going into labor.” His mother’s face changed instantly, and she hurried out. Once she was gone, Sheldon watched me, his expression cautious. He chose his words carefully. “Penny, I know Emma is young and she upset you, but you shouldn’t have pushed her.” “I pushed her?” The words were incredulous, empty of feeling. “It’s okay, it’s okay. She won’t hold it against you,” he said, and though he didn’t say it outright, his words were a clear defense of her. He had already chosen a side. A profound exhaustion washed over me. I had no energy left to argue, to explain. In the contest between me and Emma, he had already chosen to believe her. Ten years of marriage meant nothing against a woman he’d known for less than a year. I watched him as he carefully tended to my wounds, his focus clearly elsewhere. I remembered the flicker of joy in his eyes when he’d said she was in labor.

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1 I’m a forgotten shrine god, chained to decaying wood and stone. Forced to grant wishes for offerings, my power shackled by mortal desires. For ten days, Rhys came. Ten days of identical prayers for wealth and power through sacred incense. Needing one final wish cycle to ascend, I manifested before him with his ten incense sticks. “Ten wishes,” I whispered like wind through dead leaves, “but if my shrine falls, I vanish.” He snapped the first stick instantly: “Make me a Lord.” I wove fate from my essence, hollowing myself to fulfill it. The second wish surprised me—”Stay with me.” His tenderness persisted even as his power grew. When he wished for eternal love with the third stick, I yielded. Then war brought spoils—including Princess Elena. The fourth stick snapped: “Make her my wife.” “I clawed my way to this height for one reason,” he declared, his voice hard as iron, “to one day have the power to take her back. And now, that day has finally come.” Martha, the kind old housekeeper who cared for me, was aghast. “But what about Lady Lyra?” she pleaded. “She has been with you for five years, my lord. She has been loyal and devoted, asking for nothing, not even a title.” Her worried eyes met mine. Rhys’s face twisted in fury. He had Martha dragged away and beaten for her impertinence. “How dare a servant lecture me! Everything I have done, I have done for Elena! As for that other one… she can crawl back to whatever gutter she came from!” His voice was colder than a winter midnight. The maids fell silent, their hands stilling in their work. I suppose it was true. Before Princess Elena had been brought here as a hostage, he had treasured me. I was his precious secret, a woman to be cherished, one who could not be scolded or wronged. Every day he would beg me to say I loved him. But now that his childhood love was within his grasp, that devotion had vanished like smoke. Martha was old; she couldn’t endure such a brutal punishment. I stepped in front of her, shielding her from the guards. “I’ll do it,” I said to Rhys. “I will get you your princess.” His face lit up with an almost manic joy. He told me to be quick, then turned and strode away, already planning the wedding, eagerly awaiting the arrival of his true love. Days later, I intercepted the Crown Prince’s carriage. His royal guards had blades at my throat in an instant. Accusing me of attempted assassination, they tortured me, driving splinters between my fingers. The agony was a white-hot fire, so intense it stole the breath from my lungs and drained the color from my face. “I can save him!” I gasped. “I can save the Prince!” I knew Prince Kaelan was dying, that the King was frantic, seeking a cure from every corner of the realm. I poured a century of my divine power into him, pulling him back from the brink of death. The King was overjoyed. He summoned me to the throne room at once. “You have saved my son and heir,” he boomed. “Name your reward.” My eyes found Princess Elena, kneeling in a corner of the great hall. My voice was steady. “I ask that you sanction a marriage between Lord Rhys and Princess Elena.” The King agreed without a moment’s hesitation. A trivial hostage in exchange for his son’s life? It was a bargain. Rhys’s wedding was a grand affair. His entire estate was alive with celebration and music. Only my own small wing of the house remained dark and silent. I lay on my bed, wracked with violent coughs, a handkerchief stained crimson clutched in my hand. Saving the Prince had come at a terrible cost. He was meant to die; by twisting his fate, I had invited a backlash upon myself, siphoning away my own life force. A short while later, Martha scurried in to announce that Lord Rhys had arrived. The door flew open. He stood there, his arm wrapped possessively around Elena, his face a mask of cold disgust. Elena spoke first, her voice dripping with false sympathy. “I hear you’ve been pretending to be ill to win Rhys’s pity. I know it’s my fault… I know I’m the wicked one who stole your place.” Her eyes shimmered with tears that never fell. “If you truly cannot bear to have me here, then I will give it all back to you!” “You being here only makes Elena upset,” Rhys said, his voice flat. “It’s time for you to leave. Go back where you belong.” “You were only ever a substitute for her,” he continued, each word a hammer blow. “The fact that you resemble her in some small way was your greatest honor. But the real thing is here now. You need to be gone.” He started to turn away with her, but I found my voice, a sound as thin as a spider’s thread. “If I leave… does that count as my fifth wish?” He stopped dead. He reached into his coat and pulled out the fifth stick of incense. “Yes,” he said. “I wish for you to disappear from my life forever.” He had started carrying the sticks with him, just in case a wish struck him. He then pulled out a sixth and snapped it as well, the sneer in his voice undisguised. “I’m done playing your childish little games. I don’t believe for a second that you have any real power.” His face was cruel. “I only pretended to believe, I only coddled you, because you were a stand-in for Elena. Now that she’s back, you’re obsolete.” I grabbed his sleeve, trying desperately to make him understand. “I am the spirit of the ruined shrine. I am real…” “Enough!” he roared, shaking me off. “How long are you going to keep up this charade? You invented this whole fairy tale just to stay by my side, didn’t you?” No one believed me. No one ever believed in the god of a forgotten place. There was a time when my shrine flourished, when offerings were plentiful. I granted every wish they brought me. 2 When they wished for beauty, I became uglier. When they wished for wealth, my own divine light dimmed. Gradually, I could no longer grant their insatiable desires, and they stopped coming. My shrine fell to ruin, and I faded with it. But now, I was just one mortal’s prayer cycle away from my ascension. I waited a hundred years for someone to come, and then he appeared: Rhys, with his ten sticks of incense and his desperate wish. And so, I became indebted to him for ten wishes. Only by fulfilling them could I be free. I found him that first day, half-dead from poverty and despair on the side of a road. I offered him the ten sticks. “I must collect the wishes of mortals,” I had explained. “For every stick you break, I will grant you one wish.” Even then, on the verge of death, he had snapped the first. “I want to be rich. I want to be a Lord, so that no one can ever look down on me again.” To fulfill his ten wishes, I had to stay by his side. Then, on his birthday, he had looked into my eyes and, with a sincerity that felt real, snapped two sticks at once. “I wish for you to stay with me forever. I wish for us to grow old together.” A god knows nothing of love, nothing of desire. I only knew that this brought me two wishes closer to my goal. So I agreed. For years, we lived as husband and wife in all but name. He never officially married me, but the whole world thought he would. “Lord Rhys is just waiting until his position is secure,” they would whisper. “Then he will make an honorable woman of his love.” I believed them. But it was all a lie. Then, he had snapped two sticks to declare his love for me. Now, he snapped two more to cast me aside for another. I let my hand fall from his sleeve. “You have four sticks of incense left,” I said, my voice hollow. “When you have used them all, I will leave you forever.” He scoffed, pulling Elena closer and shoving me aside as they left. “Just get out of here for now. Elena doesn’t want to see you. As for your damned sticks, we’ll deal with them some other time.” He looked at Elena with an expression of utter devotion. As they passed, Elena paused and sighed dramatically. “Rhys, my love, she must adore you so. To endure such humiliation and still refuse to leave… perhaps you should give her some small title, out of pity.” Rhys was instantly defensive. “I’ll have her thrown out this instant! I swear on my life, Elena, you are the only one I will ever call my wife.” And so I was thrown out into the snow, with nothing but the clothes on my back. Martha was cast out with me, a dismissal contract clutched in her trembling hands. I had ruined her life as well. She used what little savings she had to get us a room at an inn. “My dear girl,” she said, her voice heavy with sorrow, “you have a pure heart. Lord Rhys does not love you. Why do you cling to him?” She looked at me sadly. “It’s time you opened your eyes and saw who else is out there.” She opened the window, and there, standing like a silent sentinel in the falling snow below, was Prince Kaelan. Martha’s heart ached for me; she wanted me to let go of Rhys and find a new life. But I was stubborn, my eyes fixed on the singular, burning desire for my ascension. “I still owe him four wishes,” I insisted. If I failed, I would be trapped in this mortal world forever. My breathing was becoming shallow, my body wracked with a profound exhaustion. Granting Rhys his lordship had already shortened my lifespan. Healing the Prince had aged my mortal form to that of an eighty-year-old woman. A dull, constant pain was my new companion, and I tossed and turned in the cheap bed. Martha, thinking I was lovesick for Rhys, could only sigh. She spoke of returning to her home village, of retiring. I took her hand and used a flicker of my remaining power, transforming my touch into a handful of silver coins that I pressed into her palm. This was my mess to clean up. After she left, I finally allowed myself to cough up the blood I’d been holding back. Using my power in such a weakened state was destroying me from the inside out. In the days that followed, my face grew haggard and my hair began to fall out. Every day, I would drag myself to Rhys’s estate, and every day, I would be turned away. My body grew weaker, and the slightest chill would confine me to bed for days. But I gritted my teeth, waiting. Waiting for him to break the next stick. Finally, I saw his carriage returning, with him and Elena inside. I threw myself in its path, but it didn’t slow. Not for an instant. The impact sent me flying. I landed in a heap, blood spilling from my lips. Rhys started to get out, but someone was faster. Prince Kaelan was there, sweeping me into his arms, calling for his attendants to stanch the bleeding. Rhys stood over us, his face a cold mask. “It’s just another one of her pathetic tricks for attention, Your Highness. Don’t fall for it. She’s a master of manipulation.” But Kaelan ignored him, his eyes fixed only on me. He tried to lift me, to take me away, but I struggled weakly. Four more sticks. I can’t leave yet. Rhys sneered. “You see? She loves me so much she’d rather die at my feet than leave with you.” Kaelan gave me one last, deep look, then turned and walked away into the snow. Pain lanced through my body. I tried to speak, but my throat was clogged with blood. With a blood-soaked hand, I grabbed the hem of Rhys’s fine leather boot. “Four… sticks left…” I rasped. “Just make your wishes and I’ll…” The world went black before I could finish.

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Just because she was worried her sick first love couldn’t handle any hardship, my wife changed our honeymoon tickets and handed me over to his vicious creditors as collateral. “One week, James. A week at most,” she promised, her voice trembling. “As soon as I have the ransom, I’ll come get you. We can go anywhere you want after this. I’ll go with you.” For that one week, they treated me like an animal, torturing me until I was broken. I prayed for her to appear every waking moment. But her? She was casually watching movies with him, enjoying romantic sunrises and scenic sunsets by his side. It wasn’t until the tenth day that she finally showed up with the money, smiling, asking me where I wanted to go for the next leg of our trip. I just stared at her, my face a mask of confusion. “My wife? I’m sorry, miss, but I think you have the wrong person. I’m not married.” 1 “This plane… it’s not going to Paris, is it?” I tore my eyes from the window, my gaze landing coolly on my wife, Leah. The hand she was using to flip through a magazine froze mid-air. She snapped it shut with a practiced nonchalance and tapped me playfully on the forehead. “What a silly thing to say.” “It’s where we first met,” she said, her voice a little too bright. “Where else would we go for our honeymoon?” She took my hand then, lacing her fingers through mine, squeezing so tightly it almost hurt. It felt less like a gesture of affection and more like a desperate attempt to keep me from vanishing into thin air. I didn’t respond to her explanation. I just watched her, my silence a heavy weight between us. She was good at hiding it, but I could feel the tremor of panic in her grip. It wasn’t just her, either. The men sitting around us, burly and stern-faced, kept shooting me sidelong glances. Their eyes were sharp, vigilant, like hunters watching prey they expected to bolt at any moment. I took a deep, steadying breath. “You don’t have to lie to me,” I said, my voice flat. “You swapped the tickets. This is about saving Chuck, isn’t it?” The name hit her like a physical blow. I saw her whole body go rigid. Of course it did. Chuck was her first love, the man she’d dated for four years, the one she’d almost walked down the aisle with. “James, what are you talking about? I don’t understand,” she stammered, trying to rally. “He and I… that was over a long time ago.” I cut through her flimsy facade. “I heard.” “Chuck’s in deep with some very bad people. They’ve got him.” I held her gaze, refusing to let her look away. “He has that heart bypass surgery next week. You’re planning to trade me for him, aren’t you? A placeholder until you can pay his debt.” This time, she didn’t deny it. Her eyes darted away, unable to meet mine. “James, I’m your wife now. Don’t think such crazy things.” She was pleading now. “Chuck… he’s a victim in all this. He’s innocent.” A sharp, cold pain lanced through my chest as I watched her. “His family isn’t innocent, Leah.” “They got rich selling dangerous counterfeit supplements. They ruined lives, destroyed families…” Before I could finish, she leaned in and silenced me with a kiss. It was desperate, salty with the tears that were starting to form in her eyes. “Don’t,” she whispered against my lips, her voice thick and choked. “The Chucks were good to me once. I can’t just watch him die.” She pulled back, her eyes wide and pleading. “Just a small sacrifice, James. That’s all it takes for everyone to be happy… We’re married. For the sake of our marriage, please… help me one last time. Please?” I saw the unyielding determination in her eyes and a bitter laugh escaped my lips. “You’ve changed, Leah.” She didn’t answer. Instead, she just buried her face in my chest, her tears soaking through the fabric of my shirt. I knew then, with a certainty that chilled me to the bone, that she would never be over him. In Leah’s heart, I would always be second best to a man named Chuck. Even if he was a criminal who needed my freedom—our marriage—as a down payment for his salvation. … We didn’t speak for the rest of the flight. What was there to say? We both knew that once the plane landed, our life as husband and wife was effectively over. As the plane descended, my heart sank with it. Sure enough, the moment we stepped out of the jet bridge, a group of men built like brick shithouses surrounded us. The one in charge, a man with a jagged scar bisecting his eyebrow, followed Leah’s gaze to me. His expression was a cocktail of contempt, triumph, and a strange sort of pity. “Willing to trade her own husband to save another man,” he drawled, shaking his head. “Tsk, tsk… now that’s what you call love.” He flicked his wrist, and two of his goons grabbed my arms, their grips like iron clamps. The boss grinned, satisfied, and then shoved a frail figure towards Leah. “Chuck!” Leah cried out, rushing forward to catch him as he stumbled. He looked terrible. His face was ashen, his lips cracked and dry. He was a ghost of the man I’d seen in pictures. Leah wrapped her arms around him, her heart breaking all over her face. “What did they do to you?” she sobbed. “It’s okay. It’s all over now. You’re safe.” Chuck just nodded weakly, his eyes shining with the pure, unadulterated joy of a man pulled back from the brink of hell. I watched them, a hollow, self-mocking laugh bubbling in my throat. The concern she showed him was so real, so effortless. For a second, I lost the will to even struggle against the men holding me. What was I to her, really? A partner to build a life with? Or just a convenient, disposable asset? I had a feeling I’d never get an answer. From across the tarmac, Leah seemed to sense my stare. She bit her lip and finally looked at me. Her eyes were swimming with apology and guilt, but beneath it all was a core of unshakeable resolve. “James, I’m so sorry.” “I promised you Paris, our honeymoon… but I can’t… I can’t just let Chuck die. He needs me.” “Don’t worry,” she said, her voice earnest. “A week. Just give me one week, and I’ll have the money. I swear. And then, wherever you want to go, I’ll take you. Anywhere. Okay?” She stood on her toes, her eyes red and puffy, and tried to kiss me one last time. I turned my head away. Her lips met empty air. “Don’t call me your husband,” I said, my voice cold and dead. “Just go save your precious Chuck.” 2 Leah flinched, but her composure snapped back into place almost immediately. “James, I know I was wrong to hide this from you,” she said, her voice low and urgent. “Please, just trust me this one last time. I swear to you, you are the only husband I will ever have. I will be back on time.” I didn’t offer a single word in response to her vow. She opened her mouth, as if to say more, but closed it again. With one last, deep look, she turned, supporting Chuck’s weight, and hurried away. As they left, I watched their retreating backs, a barren wasteland blooming inside my chest. It was only then that I saw it: Chuck glanced back over his shoulder at me. A faint, cryptic smile played on his lips. It took me a long time to understand that smile. It was the smug grin of a man who had clawed his way out of hell, knowing full well who he’d left behind to take his place. … Day three of Leah’s abandonment. Still no word. Not a text, not a call. Nothing. “Boss, you think this broad is playing us? Three days and not a goddamn peep!” a heavyset brute growled. As if to punctuate his frustration, he snatched a rattan cane from the floor and lashed it across my back. I’d been starved for three days straight. The festering wounds on my body were so deep you could see bone. In the forty-degree heat of the dilapidated warehouse, the cuts had started to rot, a sweet, sickening stench rising from my own flesh. I summoned my last ounce of strength, reaching for a crust of bread someone had dropped on the filthy floor. Before my fingers could touch it, a boot came down, snapping the bones in my right hand with a sickening crunch. The man they called “Scar” grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked my head back. His face, a roadmap of old fights, was etched with impatience and a chilling brutality. “You’d better pray to whatever god you believe in that your little wife isn’t screwing with me,” he snarled, “or else…” He punctuated the threat with a vicious kick to my stomach. A supernova of pain exploded behind my eyes. My stomach heaved, but there was nothing in it to throw up. Only bitter acid dribbled from the corner of my mouth. “Fuck! Disgusting!” Scar spat, stepping back to avoid the mess. He planted his boot on my chest and ground his heel in. “String him up!” Rough hands hauled me to my feet. My arms were wrenched behind my back and tied to a pipe overhead. The rope bit into my skin, a searing, white-hot agony. My head lolled forward, sweat and blood mixing, dripping into my eyes and blurring my vision. “The hell is wrong with you? Are you even her husband?” Scar taunted, his voice dripping with scorn. “It’s been three days! She hasn’t sent a single message, but she’s got time to go gallivanting up some mountain with pretty-boy, watching the fucking sunrise and sunset.” He sneered. “What are you, the pathetic side-piece she dumped?” His words were like shards of glass, piercing my heart, stealing the air from my lungs. He was talking about the picture on my phone. The one Chuck had posted to his social media feed yesterday. A photo of him and Leah, beaming. The caption read: Nothing like a beautiful sunrise to clear your head after getting out of the hospital. In the picture, they looked like they were on a blissful vacation. Another photo showed them at a five-star restaurant, feasting on a lavish meal. They were the ones on a honeymoon. And me? I was here, in this living hell, where every minute was an eternity, unable to get so much as a sip of clean water. And from Leah? Absolute silence. Rage simmered within me, but I was too weak from hunger to even fuel it. All I could do was pray for the seven days to pass quickly. The moment I get out of here, I swear to God, I’m divorcing her. But I had still, foolishly, overestimated my place in her world. The promised week came and went. There was no sign of Leah. Not even a text message. The truth finally crashed down on me. I’d been abandoned. Her promises, her “love,” it was all just a smokescreen to get Chuck out. And I was the pawn she’d sacrificed without a second thought. “Boss, what’s the plan now?” a wiry-looking thug asked nervously. Scar shot a disgusted look in my direction and raked a hand through his greasy hair. “The plan? What do you think the plan is? The bitch played us for fools!” The wiry one made a slicing motion across his throat. “So, we just… off him?” SMACK! Scar slapped him hard across the back of the head. “Off him? Are you a fucking idiot? We kill him, we get nothing!” he roared. “Keep an eye on this piece of shit. I want to see what that bitch’s next move is. But if the money doesn’t show up soon… go find a buyer for his kidneys.” I lay on the cold concrete, their words washing over me, my heart turning to ash. An image of Chuck’s pale face flashed in my mind, that strange, victorious smile he’d given me as he left. So that’s what it was. The smile of a winner. And I was the fool, kept in the dark, played from the very beginning. I thought Leah and I had something real. I thought we were building a future. In the end, it was all just a story I’d told myself. I closed my eyes, a wave of despair pulling me under. I was ready to give up, to just let go. But then, a sudden, jarring sound cut through the silence. My phone was ringing. “Boss, it’s a call!” the wiry thug yelled, snatching up my phone. He glanced at the screen, his eyes widening. “It’s her! It’s Leah!” My heart, which I thought had died, suddenly slammed against my ribs, a frantic, desperate beat. She finally called. I held my breath, every fiber of my being straining to hear her voice. But in the next second, my world plunged into an abyss.

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