Author: Momo Chan

1 To run away with me, my girlfriend, Sarah, agreed to have a child with her childhood friend, Liam, to carry on his family line. After their first son was born, she told me the baby was too young to be without his mother. She asked me to wait until he was three. Three years passed. Then she said his family wanted a daughter to make the family “complete.” She asked me to wait a little longer. I waited and waited. I watched 1,460 sunrises and sunsets over Mount Rainier. When I finally thought we could leave, I found she had scheduled a vasectomy for me. When I stood before her with the surgical notice and my hiking pack, she clung to Liam and pleaded with me, “His grandparents want a third grandchild. Can you just wait a little longer?” The moment she said it, the world spun, and I fell down the stairs. In my last moments of fading consciousness, I saw Sarah looking down at me, her gaze cold and distant. “This is what you get, Matt, for not knowing your place.” I slowly closed my eyes, my heart finally dead. It was time to leave. Alone. “Well, well, if it isn’t the leech who’s always clinging to Miss Spencer. I heard he’s been trying to worm his way into the family.” “See? Karma’s a bitch. The Spencers gave specific instructions: no holding back during the procedure. Just castrate him.” “Once he’s got nothing down there, let’s see how he bothers Miss Spencer then! Serves him right!” I opened my eyes and tried to sit up, but a sharp, piercing pain shot through my lower body. Hearing me stir, the two nurses by my bed fell silent, but the contempt in their eyes was unconcealed. I was used to these stinging glares. “How long can I stay here?” I asked. The heavier nurse’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “Mr. Hayes, you can be discharged right now. Of course, you can stay as long as you like. We will be happy to serve you.” She then pulled the other nurse away, her mocking voice trailing behind her. “You see that? A grown man with red eyes, about to cry? Who’s he putting on a show for? Is he waiting for Miss Spencer to come? Give me a break. She’s got the handsome Mr. Lawson. Why would she come looking for him? He must be delusional.” I lowered my gaze and lifted the blanket, looking at the bloodstains on my pants. A bitter smile touched my lips. They were mistaken. I wasn’t waiting for Sarah to come. I was trying to hide for a few days. It was her ovulation period. Every month at this time, they would be inseparable, their passion unbridled and on full display. Every time, the sounds of their lovemaking were like daggers, stabbing me over and over. But I couldn’t say a word. Sure enough, ten days later, when I limped through the door, my face pale, they were on the sofa, wrapped in a post-coital kiss. Liam was kissing Sarah’s neck, his eyes meeting mine with a provocative smile. He suddenly bit down harder. Sarah gasped, a mix of protest and pleasure in her voice. “Liam, we’ve been at it all morning. You’re insatiable. The pregnancy test is already positive!” She picked up the test from the table, bouncing with joy. “Two lines! Liam, I’m pregnant with your third child!” 2 Then, she pouted and playfully hit his chest. “Oh no, you were so rough just now. What if you hurt the baby? You’re terrible!” Liam wrapped his arms around her, his hand gently caressing her stomach. “Of course not. Daddy will be gentle from now on. I won’t scare our little one.” Sarah leaned against him, her face radiant with the joy of impending motherhood. It was a stark contrast to the cold, calculating woman who had drugged me and sent me for the procedure. Even though I knew this was coming, my heart still clenched in pain. Sarah finally noticed me standing at the door. She froze, instinctively pulling away from Liam. Her voice was tinged with apology and guilt. “Matt, you heard? We didn’t have a choice. Grandpa said the company is too much for just two children to handle. A third heir is a safer bet.” “Otherwise, we wouldn’t have to bother Liam, who’s already so busy, to make a baby with me.” She gave Liam an apologetic kiss, completely oblivious to my ashen face. Liam deepened the kiss, chuckling as he ran his fingers through her damp hair. “It’s nothing, Sarah. As long as it makes you happy.” As they were about to get lost in each other again, a wave of resentment surged through me. I stood up straight and interrupted them. “Then why isn’t my child good enough?” Sarah’s expression became complicated, her brow furrowed. “Matt, what are you talking about?” I gave a humorless smile and asked again, “Sarah, wouldn’t my child be your child too? Not worthy of being born?” Before she could answer, a toy car came flying from upstairs and hit me on the forehead. An angry, childish voice followed. “Not worthy! Not worthy! You’re a creepy old man! Stop bothering my mommy! You’re not allowed to bully my mommy!” I stumbled back a few steps. Just as I regained my balance, a small boy came running at full speed and knocked me over. It was Sarah and Liam’s three-year-old son. “Creepy old man! How dare you come back! I won’t let you in my house! Get out!” He started punching and kicking at my groin. The area was already a mess of infection and decay from the botched surgery. If I hadn’t gone to a clinic in time, I might have lost everything. There was no way I could withstand a child’s frantic assault. I scrambled to get away, my body trembling with pain. Sarah saw the beads of sweat rolling down my forehead and quickly pulled her son away. “Leo, is that how you talk to your Uncle Matt? Apologize!” But Liam caught her raised hand. He stepped between us, frowning. “Sarah, why are you being so harsh with him? Have you forgotten what you promised me?” “Besides, how much strength can a little kid have…” Liam trailed off, shooting me a disgusted look. The concern on Sarah’s face faded, replaced by disappointment. She turned to me, her voice laced with exasperation. “Matt, you’re a man. It was just a small procedure. How can it still hurt after all this time? Are you really going to hold a grudge against a child?” “Besides, you were the one who said something inappropriate. Don’t say it again.” I bit my trembling lip. 3 Seeing I had no intention of backing down, Sarah’s face grew stern. She pushed me towards the nursery. “Alright, alright, Matt, go take care of the baby.” “You’ve been looking after her since she was born. She’s more attached to you than to me or Liam now. When she cries, no one else can soothe her. It’s exhausting.” I stood up, the pain shooting through me, and met her gaze. “Sarah, I told you, I’m not doing it anymore. I’m not your nanny.” But as if on cue, the family’s old housekeeper, Mrs. Lee, rushed out and shoved Sarah’s newborn daughter into my arms. “Matt? Oh, you’re finally back! Miss Spencer said you had a little procedure. Why stay in the hospital so long? A grown man, so delicate!” She shot me a disdainful glance. “Quick, quick, take her! These old bones of mine are about to fall apart. There, she’s all yours now. Take good care of her.” Then she shooed Sarah and the others out the door. “Miss Spencer, Mr. Lawson, what are you still dawdling for? Did you forget you’re taking Leo to the family dinner tonight? Look at the time, let’s go, let’s go!” I tried to hand the baby back, but Mrs. Lee blocked my way like a brick wall, escorting Sarah out. Her eyebrows were raised high, her expression as fierce as a cornered animal. “You leech, what do you think you’re doing? Back in my day, a man with designs on the young miss would have been crippled and thrown to the pigs! Know your place!” “Pah!” She spat on my face, and the door slammed shut. The only sound was the baby’s piercing cries, which felt like they were about to shatter my heart. I stared blankly at the child in my arms, wondering how my life had come to this. My wandering gaze fell on the photo wall in the living room. I realized that, at some point, the photos of Sarah and me hiking in the mountains had been slowly replaced by family portraits of her, Liam, and their son. There was no trace of me left. Only a single, small photo of a snow-capped mountain remained. It was Mount Rainier, the place where Sarah and I had fallen in love, the place where we were supposed to get married. Just before we were set to leave, her grandparents, disgusted by my humble origins, had insisted she marry Liam Lawson, the heir to the Lawson fortune. Sarah had run away from home. We were already in Seattle, about to head into the mountains. But a call from the ICU pulled her back. When she reappeared before me, she was rail-thin, her eyes swollen from crying. She fell to her knees. “Matt, I’m sorry. My grandparents raised me. I can’t let them die. But I can’t lose you either!” “I made a deal. If I have a son with Liam, they’ll let me go.” “Matt, please, don’t be angry, don’t leave me. Liam is just a means to an end. You’re the one I truly love! Just bear with me for ten months, okay?” The first time, Sarah cried in my arms, clinging to me desperately. At the last moment, she pushed me away and stumbled into Liam’s room. She was back in my room in less than a minute. 4 The second time, she was gone for half an hour. The third time, she stayed the night. The fourth, the fifth… Slowly, she went from insisting I wear a condom to forbidding me from touching her at all, saying she was afraid of “contaminating” the Spencer and Lawson bloodlines. She told me to be patient, that it would all be over after she gave birth. I sat in my room, waiting in bitter silence until dawn, but she never came back. I waited through the first child, the second. I watched 1,460 sunrises and sunsets over Mount Rainier. Sarah and Liam grew closer, more and more like a real married couple. And I, a man who had traveled the world, had become their nanny and childminder. I had fought, I had argued, I had even cried in frustration. Sarah would always soothe me, then go right back to Liam’s side. Now, a third child was on the way. I should have seen it long ago. I should have left. I sat in a daze until late at night. Sarah’s family finally returned, laughing and talking. The moment they opened the door, they froze. Her daughter was on the sofa, having cried herself into a state of exhaustion. The photos on the wall were all torn down, shredded to pieces. “Matt! I told you to take care of our daughter! Why isn’t she making a sound? Are you trying to kill her?” Sarah lunged at me and slapped me across the face, her expression contorted with rage. Liam rushed to pick up the baby and shoved her into my arms. “Matt! Just because you’re sad about losing your chance to have children, it doesn’t give you the right to take it out on my daughter!” “Get back in there and feed her, change her diaper!” But I was unmoved. I even smiled. “I told you, I’m not your nanny anymore. Don’t you understand?” Liam was stunned, then he laughed coldly, his finger practically poking me in the eye. “Sarah, you see? I told you he was holding a grudge! Has it been easy for me these past few years? I’ve put up with the gossip, raised three children with you without any official status, all to make your love story happen!” “And in the end, I’m the bad guy!” Sarah gritted her teeth and slapped me again, her eyes blazing. “Matt, do you have any idea how busy Liam is? Do you know how proud he is? He’s not even my boyfriend, but he’s had three children with me, all for you!” But if she would just open her eyes, she would see that the “busy” man she was talking about was practically glued to her 24/7, and still looked as vibrant as ever. And I was like a candle about to burn out, the dark circles under my eyes reaching down to my mouth, all because I had spent the last three months pulling all-nighters, cleaning up after her daughter. And now, I couldn’t even have children of my own. And what’s more, I was never the one who asked him to have children in the first place. Why was I the one paying the price? My expression was as dead as my heart. Sarah took it as a provocation and grew even angrier. “Can’t you be more understanding? My grandparents were starting to like you because you took such good care of the kids. Our plan was so close to succeeding. What is your problem now?” “Don’t you want to go to Mount Rainier with me anymore?” That threat again. The last flicker of love in my heart finally extinguished. I fought back the tears from the slap and said, my voice filled with a strange sense of release, “No, Sarah. I don’t want to go with you anymore.”

1 After my family went bankrupt, I was forced into a cruel game. If Liam Burwell, the scholarship kid, spent ten thousand dollars on me within a set time, a group of rich kids would pay off my family’s debts. I used every trick in the book to make him fall in love with me. But just as we were two hundred dollars away from the goal, he vanished, leaving behind a single, devastating note. “I’m done with this charade.” The next day, intimate photos of us—photoshopped, but damning—were all over the internet. My reputation was destroyed. Soon after, crushed by debt and shame, my parents took their own lives. Five years later, I was assigned to be his fiancée’s private ski instructor. … My heart hammered against my ribs the moment my eyes met Liam’s. I quickly looked away, grateful for the ski goggles and mask that hid my face. But Liam’s gaze was fixed on me, intense, as if trying to see through the tinted lenses. The beautiful young woman beside him, Kathy, playfully flicked the ID badge hanging around my neck. “Kate Miller.” I had changed my name after my parents died. It was a name Liam wouldn’t know. “Liam, honey,” she cooed, “I remember your ex-girlfriend’s last name was Miller, too.” At the mention of my old self, Liam’s gaze fell, his expression unreadable. Then he reached out and affectionately ruffled Kathy’s hair, not denying it. Kathy, seizing the opportunity, recounted the story of how I, the manipulative gold-digger, had tricked the poor, earnest Liam. “That’s just horrible!” someone in their group exclaimed. “People who play with others’ feelings are the worst.” I glanced at Liam. He must have truly hated me, not even offering a single word to defend my past self. If I could, I would have wished none of it had ever happened. Kathy nudged my arm, her eyes glinting with scorn. “What do you think, Kate?” I just nodded quietly. “Yes. You’re right.” Sensing the tension, another friend tried to lighten the mood. “Well, thanks to her, Liam learned how to handle his rivals so ruthlessly.” A cold, humorless smile touched Liam’s lips. “Don’t even mention her. It’s disgusting.” My feet faltered. A sharp, secret pain lanced through my chest. “Exactly,” Kathy chirped. “She’d better not show her face again. If she does, I’ll definitely teach her a lesson.” The group started to move on. Liam noticed I had fallen behind and walked back to my side. “Miss Miller,” he said, his voice now formal and detached. “Kathy is new to skiing. Please make sure she’s safe. Don’t let her get hurt.” He was looking at Kathy’s retreating back as he spoke, his eyes filled with a profound tenderness. But once we were on the slopes, Kathy ignored my advice. She insisted on going to the advanced trail, and I had no choice but to follow. I saw her lose control, careening toward the edge of the run. I lunged forward, tackling her, using my own body to shield her as we tumbled off the trail and into the deep snow. I landed hard, a blinding pain exploding through me. It felt like every bone in my body had been shattered. I begged her to call for help, but she just brushed the snow off her designer ski suit and stood up. “Miss Miller, as an instructor, crashing off the trail… that doesn’t look very good for your reputation, does it?” I looked up, confused by her words. “Oh, stop pretending,” she sneered, her face twisting with malice. “You’re his ex-girlfriend, aren’t you? Iris Miller.” “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to. You only appeared here to try and seduce Liam again, didn’t you?” I tried to push myself up but collapsed back into the snow, the pain making my lips go white. “You’re mistaken,” I stammered, my voice trembling. “This is just my job.” 2 In the distance, Liam’s voice called out. Kathy flashed her phone at me. The screen showed her chat history with him. [Liam, honey, this instructor is insisting on taking me to the advanced trail. I’m so scared.] She used my shoulder to climb back onto the trail, then ran, sobbing, into the arms of the approaching figure. Liam’s voice was tight with suppressed fury. “Where is she?” Kathy sniffled. “She got scared of taking responsibility… and just abandoned me. She ran away.” Liam’s voice softened with concern. “Don’t worry, Kathy. I’ll make her pay for this.” Their voices faded as they walked away. With the last of my strength, I dialed for the ski patrol. I woke up in the clinic to the resort manager screaming at me over the phone. “They demand a face-to-face apology and compensation for damages, or they’re suing you!” Years of suppressed emotions erupted. “It wasn’t my fault!” I shouted, my voice raw. “Kathy was the one who insisted on going to the advanced trail!” There was a long silence on the other end. He was probably shocked. I had always been submissive, a pushover. But I had my pride. I would not admit to something I didn’t do. “Let them sue,” I said, and hung up. A nurse, seeing I was awake, told me I needed to go settle my bill. Leaning on crutches, I made my way downstairs, only to run into Liam, who was picking up medicine for Kathy. I gave him a cool glance and tried to walk past, but he blocked my path. “Iris, you…” Hearing my real name, the name he used to whisper with such affection, almost brought tears to my eyes. I cut him off. “I’m not giving back the ten thousand dollars.” The subject was a raw nerve. His hand shot out, clamping around my wrist like a vise. “Iris, do you even have a heart?” Five years ago, my family went bankrupt. To pay off the debts, I agreed to a cruel game. A group of rich kids despised Liam for his quiet pride and wanted to see him brought low. Ten thousand dollars was nothing to them, but to Liam, it was his family’s income for an entire year. He worked every spare hour at part-time jobs, just to buy me a bracelet I’d pointed at. I told him a family member was sick, and without a second thought, he transferred his entire tuition for the next semester to me. But the day before the bet was over, he found out. He discovered that my affection was all part of a wager. He confronted me, broken, and I didn’t know how to answer. I just told him I would explain everything the next day. But the next day, he never came. All I received was the jar of paper stars he’d made for me. And I had been planning to tell him that day that my feelings had become real. That I had truly fallen in love with him. “Don’t touch me!” I yanked my arm away. I wanted nothing to do with him now. At the payment window, the cashier informed me I had insufficient funds. My humiliation was on full display. I clutched my phone, numbly scrolling through my contacts, realizing there was no one I could call. Liam watched me, a cruel, mocking smile playing on his lips. “Beg me, Iris. Just say you were wrong, and I’ll give you the money.” 3 My nails dug into my palms. Just as I was about to speak, his phone rang. Kathy’s voice, saccharine and sharp, came through the speaker. “That Kate Miller woman won’t admit to anything. She says she’s not afraid of us suing her.” She paused, then her voice took on a tearful quaver. “She… she even sent me threatening messages. She called me a bitch.” A bitter laugh escaped my lips. When would I have possibly had time to threaten her? But Liam didn’t even bother to verify her claims. He just sentenced me on the spot. I felt like I was looking at a complete stranger. I pulled out the bank card—the one with the ten thousand dollars—and paid the bill. I had kept it all these years, intending to give it back to him one day. It seemed I had been sentimental for nothing. My leg was injured, and I walked slowly. Liam caught up to me easily. I forced a smile, speaking before he could. “Liam, you’re so pathetic, aren’t you? One little wave from me and you’d come crawling back. Did you really think a girl like me would ever be short on cash?” His expression faltered, a flash of anger in his eyes. He thrust a folder at me, scattering papers across the floor. “Don’t flatter yourself, Miss Miller. You forgot your medical report.” The papers lay scattered around my feet. I silently knelt, picking them up one by one. After leaving the hospital, I went back to my small rented apartment. I’d been fired from the resort and was now facing a lawsuit. My budget was so tight I couldn’t even afford a lawyer. To make money, I found a job as a bartender at a high-end cocktail lounge. And in a private room, I saw him again. Liam. He was sitting with the same group of rich kids from all those years ago, laughing and talking as if they were old friends. I kept my head down, trying to blend into the shadows. But then they started reminiscing about our university days. I lost focus for a second, and a drink sloshed onto one of them—Zack. “Watch what you’re doing! Didn’t you see you spilled that on me?” I didn’t speak, just grabbed a napkin and tried to wipe the stain. “Do you know how much this suit costs? Can you even afford to replace it if you ruin it?” He knocked my hand away and tilted my chin up, his eyes widening in recognition. “Iris?” At the sound of my name, every head in the room turned to me. “Well, well, the great Iris Miller. How did you end up working at my family’s bar?” “What, wasn’t the ten grand you scammed off Liam enough?” With a few words, they absolved themselves of any part in the original cruelty. Liam glanced at me, his expression unreadable, then coolly looked away. His silence was permission. It was an endorsement of their mockery. “You didn’t track us down on purpose, did you? Hoping for a handout?” “Hey, we’re old classmates. Here’s ten bucks for your trouble.” “I was always closer to Iris. I’ll give her fifty.” Laughter filled the room as bills were tossed haphazardly onto the table. I finished mixing the last drink and slowly stood up. “Your drinks are ready. If there’s nothing else, I’ll be leaving.” 4 “Who said you could leave?” Liam’s voice cut through the air. He swirled the drink in his hand. “Bring me one of every cocktail on your menu.” I stopped. The eighteen-year-old Iris would have walked out. But I needed the money. I forced a standard, professional smile. “Of course. I hope you’ll be paying your tab, Mr. Burwell.” I mixed and served drink after drink, until my arms ached with exhaustion. At his signal, the others silently drank them down. My phone, sitting on the bar, lit up. I reached for it, but I was too slow. A drunk Zack snatched it, reading the message aloud. “Miss Miller, I’m sorry, but we don’t have any lawyers who can take your case with this budget.” “Iris, darling, can’t even afford a lawyer?” My hand tightened around a glass. I looked up and met Liam’s surprised gaze. Suddenly, I felt a wave of profound, suffocating shame. “Give it back!” “Don’t you guys know? The Millers went bankrupt because her father was having an affair…” They piled on, their vicious, baseless speculation directed at my parents. I couldn’t take it anymore. I grabbed a bottle and smashed it over the speaker’s head. “Shut your mouth!” Liquid dripped from my fingers. My right hand was shaking uncontrollably with fear. The man, his reason gone, lunged at me, his hands closing around my throat. The taste of blood filled my mouth. Suddenly, he was gone. Liam had kicked him square in the chest. He glared down at the man, his voice lethally calm. “What do you think you’re doing?” Sensing his rage, the others scrambled out of the room like rats fleeing a ship. I gasped for air, steadying myself on the table as I stood up amidst the wreckage. “Mr. Burwell, your friend started it. I won’t be paying for a single thing.” Liam let out a short, incredulous laugh. “Is that all you have to say to me? Iris, are you really that desperate for money?” I turned my back to him, wiping away a tear before it could fall. I cleared my throat. “It has nothing to do with you.” It wasn’t until I left the room that I realized my hand was covered in cuts from the shattered glass. I remembered a time when the smallest scratch would have sent Liam into a panic, rushing me to the clinic. I would laugh at him for overreacting, but he would just look down, his expression serious. “Iris,” he had said once, “you’re all I have.” His quietness wasn’t aloofness; it was a deep-seated insecurity. He had spent the first twenty years of his life being abandoned. I was the first person to choose him, to stay. He had wanted to lay the entire world at my feet. So when he found out it was all a lie, his hatred was as fierce as his love had been. Now he was surrounded by love and adoration. I should be happy for him, shouldn’t I? So why couldn’t I smile? I didn’t go to the hospital. I just wrapped the cuts myself. The next day, there was a knock on my door. A man in a sharp suit handed me a business card. He was a lawyer. “I don’t need one, thank you.” 5 I tried to close the door, but he blocked it with his foot. After some pressing, he admitted that Liam had sent him. I pushed him out and said calmly, “Tell him I don’t need his help.” But he refused to leave. Just then, I got a call. The retainer I had paid to another lawyer was being refunded. They didn’t dare offend Mr. Burwell. No lawyer in the city would take Kate Miller’s case. The man outside my door spoke again, his timing perfect. “Miss Miller, rest assured, I will not report any details of our conversations to Mr. Burwell.” With nothing left to lose, I agreed.

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It was my birthday, and my wife, Margaret, was out celebrating. Not with me, of course. She’d taken our son to a party for Leo Vance, a promising protégé from her research lab. I was at home, packing a suitcase and signing the divorce papers that would finally end our charade of a marriage. That’s when I found it, tucked away in a dusty corner of the closet: her old phone. The screen flickered to life, showing a single, unsent draft. A love confession, written to me, from a seventeen-year-old Margaret. I went to delete it without a second thought. Suddenly, new text blinked into existence right below her message. “Who are you?” 1 My eyes widened, and I dropped the phone as if it had burned me. Scrambling for my own phone, I pulled up my message history, scrolling back thirteen years. And there it was, sitting in my inbox just as I remembered it: Margaret’s confession text. Forcing down the wave of panic, I picked the old phone back up. My fingers trembled as I typed. “Who are you trying to confess to?” “Noah Beck.” Seeing my own name sent a jolt through my heart. Was the person on the other end… a seventeen-year-old Margaret? More words appeared, rapid-fire. “Are you a ghost or something? Why are you trying to stop me from sending this?” I took a breath, my mind racing. I typed back. “You don’t need to send it. Because in the future, you’re going to break his heart.” There was a long pause, then a sharp, definitive reply. “Impossible.” Even through the screen, I could picture her perfectly: young, fiery, and full of scorn. The seventeen-year-old Margaret, whose love was a blazing, all-consuming fire, could never imagine the cold, distant woman she would become at thirty. My finger hovered over the keyboard, ready to explain everything, but the front door was thrown open. I shoved the old phone into my pocket and went back to folding my clothes. Margaret stormed in, her eyes scanning the living room frantically. “Noah, have you seen my little box? The small one?” “Noah?” She called my name several times, but I ignored her, focusing on the contents of my suitcase. Finally, she pulled open my bedroom door, just as I was about to walk out. She froze for a second, then her brow furrowed. “You’re packing. Where are you going?” I looked down, avoiding her gaze, and held out the divorce papers. “Margaret,” I said, my voice flat. “Let’s get a divorce.” Her frown deepened. “Is this because of Leo? I told you, if there was anything really going on between us, I would have divorced you myself long ago.” I’d heard the same line at least twenty times. If I hadn’t accidentally seen her phone, I never would have known. The woman I’d shared a bed with for years had been texting her “protégé” Leo every single day for the last five years. They were the “dream team” in the lab, the ones who always ate lunch together in the cafeteria. Everyone knew how close they were. People in their group chat even joked about Leo being her “work husband,” and Margaret would just laugh along. When I confronted her, her eyebrows had shot up in annoyance. “It’s a few jokes, Noah. Do you have to be so dramatic?” I was so tired of hearing it. “You like Leo, don’t you?” I said, my voice devoid of emotion. “Sign the papers, and you can be with him openly.” “Noah Beck! When have I ever said I liked him?” she exploded, snatching the papers from my hand. “And where would you even go after divorcing me? You’re thirty years old! You don’t have a graduate degree. Who’s going to hire you in this market? How the hell are you going to support yourself?” Her words struck me like a sledgehammer. Eight years ago, Margaret and I had both applied for grad school. But that was the year she got pregnant. Her mood swings were intense, and she had cravings at all hours. One night, she wanted strawberries. I went out to find some and got into a car accident, landing me in the hospital for three months. So, that year, only Margaret took the entrance exams. The day she got her acceptance letter, she held me and kissed me for what felt like an eternity. “Noah,” she’d whispered, “you had that accident for me. You gave up your future… I know that. My career is taking off now. Just stay home with the baby, okay? I’ll earn the money. I’ll provide for us.” A lump formed in my throat then, just as it did now. I wanted to argue, but the words wouldn’t come. She ripped the divorce papers to shreds, her furious expression slowly softening. “Noah, I’m going to pretend you were just talking nonsense today. Don’t ever bring this up again.” She turned, then paused. “By the way, where is that box?” I dropped my gaze. “On the cabinet next to the TV.” “Okay.” She found the elegant little box and was about to leave when she stopped at the door. “Wait for me at home. I’ll be back as early as I can to celebrate your birthday.” A bitter, mocking laugh almost escaped my lips. So, she did remember. I’d already found that box yesterday while cleaning. It was a designer watch, the one I’d wanted for ages but never bought because it was far too expensive. My heart had leaped when I opened it, thinking it was a surprise for me. Thinking she was finally trying to make things right. But the card inside read, in her familiar script, “To Leo.” It was all just my own wishful thinking. Her betrayal was the final push I needed. Bzzzt. The old phone in my pocket vibrated. It was a new message, sent from the original number to itself, a trick to create a separate chat log. “Forget it, it’s too late now. I’ll just confess to him next year instead.” I froze, my mind clicking into place. I quickly opened my own phone and found the original confession text from Margaret. The date at the bottom had changed. It no longer said thirteen years ago. It said twelve. A wave of disbelief washed over me. Could the seventeen-year-old Margaret… actually change the present? 2 Another message from her came through. “This way we don’t have to fight over the same text box. So, please, answer me. Who are you?” My eyes darkened. “I am a god,” I typed. “I can see the future.” “I’m a materialist. I don’t believe in gods or ghosts.” Her bluntness made me choke back a laugh. Another message followed immediately. “But I’m willing to listen to your prophecy. What do you know?” If I told her… could it change that day? I raised a hand, my fingers tracing the faint, jagged line on my cheek. It was worth a try. “The day after Noah’s birthday,” I wrote, “a group of bullies will corner him. They’re going to burn his face.” The reply was swift. “Okay. I’ll be watching.” And that was it. Silence. I put the phone away. It was already past midnight. Margaret and our son still weren’t home. Normally, I’d be frantic, calling nonstop, unable to sleep until they walked through the door. Tonight, I just quietly washed up and went to bed. The next morning, the house was still empty. They hadn’t come home at all. I felt nothing. But as I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, I froze. My reflection stared back, and the skin on my cheek—the side that had been marred by a puckered burn scar for thirteen years—was smooth. Perfect. A whole new set of memories flooded my mind, overwhelming and vivid. The day after my seventeenth birthday, the bullies caught me, just like before. But as one of them lunged forward with a lit cigarette, Margaret had appeared out of nowhere, throwing herself in front of me, shielding my face. The past had actually changed. An incredulous laugh escaped me, followed by tears streaming down my face. I fumbled for the old phone. A new message was waiting. “Thank you. I saved him.” Without hesitation, I typed back to the girl who had once been my everything. “Are you willing to save Noah again?” Her reply was instant. “Is he in trouble again? What do I need to do?” “Don’t confess to him. Stay away from him. The farther, the better.” I could almost see her confused, indignant expression. “Why?” “Because if you get together, you will destroy the man he becomes.” She immediately shot back. “Impossible! I love Noah more than anything!” “Today, he scraped his knee, and I ran to the store after class and bought him five different kinds of bandaids.” “That fatso in his class, Duncan, tried to bully him into doing his homework, so I ripped the homework to shreds right in front of him!” “When he has a fever, or a cold, or even a stomachache, my heart feels like it’s going to break!” “There were so many of those thugs today. I’m a girl, and I was terrified, but I still ran in to protect him. I know he’s my entire world. I could never, ever hurt him!” I read her passionate, desperate messages, and the beautiful memories of our youth resurfaced, sharp and painful. The seventeen-year-old Margaret had treated me like a precious treasure. The thirty-year-old Margaret treated me like dirt. The woman who once promised to provide for me now threw it in my face that she was the one supporting me. My gaze fell. “People change.” “Then tell me. Tell me how I hurt him in the future.” My fingers froze over the screen. A thousand moments of cruelty and neglect flashed through my mind, but I didn’t know where to begin. Just then, my phone rang. I answered. “Noah? It’s Amy, from the lab. Margaret’s had a bit too much to drink. She’s at the restaurant where Leo works part-time. Can you come and get her? Your son… he’s here too.” The background was a cacophony of noise, and I could faintly hear the sound of something smashing. A knot of dread tightened in my stomach. “I’m on my way.” As I rushed out the door, Margaret’s question echoed in my head. “Tell me how I hurt him.” I pulled out the old phone, my thumb hovering over the screen. Then I pressed the record button. Alright, Margaret. Get ready to hear what a monster you’ve become. 3 I burst into the restaurant to find Margaret pinning some large man against a table, a furious whirlwind of motion. The scene was chaotic. Chairs were overturned, tables askew, and broken plates littered the floor. As I moved to intervene, her student, Amy, grabbed my arm. “Noah, don’t! You might get hurt.” I frowned. “She never gets violent when she drinks. What happened?” Amy sighed. “A couple of jerks were harassing Leo, trying to force him to drink with them. Margaret just lost it…” Her voice trailed off, and she looked at me guiltily. “Noah, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have… Please don’t be mad.” The seventeen-year-old Margaret would only fight for me. The thirty-year-old Margaret was fighting for another man. I brushed it off. But as my eyes found Margaret again, they widened in horror. Our five-year-old son, Alex, was right beside her, his tiny fists pounding uselessly against the man’s leg. “I’ll get you!” he yelled. “Stop bullying Uncle Leo!” Enraged, the man grabbed a beer bottle from a nearby table and raised it high, ready to bring it down on my son’s head. “NO!” Pure paternal instinct took over. I lunged forward, covering the last few feet in two desperate strides.

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The moment he saw me, the word escaped his lips: “Mom!” But he was still just as eager to learn. My husband, Jason, is one of the nation’s leading pharmaceutical magnates. The day he perfected his new drug, “Lethe Water,” my son, Damian, smiled for the first time in years. “If we give this to Mom, will she finally stop loving us?” My husband nodded, his decision absolute. And so, my son brought the potion to me, tricking me into drinking it. I laughed at the bitter irony and drained the glass. Father and son breathed a sigh of relief. At last, they could be with their idealized first love, Layla, without guilt or consequence. But later, why did they come to me, crying, over and over again? “Do you really not love us at all anymore?” 1 When my son, Damian, held the cup of dark green liquid out to me, I knew. It was time. He and his father were making their move. I didn’t take it. I just watched him, my gaze silent and heavy. For fifteen years, I had never looked at him with such dead stillness. I knew what was in that cup. It was the latest creation from the labs of Vance Pharmaceuticals, my husband Jason’s company. Its name: “Lethe.” A simple, eloquent name for a potion that would sever the drinker’s emotional ties to their most beloved. And I, without a doubt, loved Jason. I loved my son. A fortune teller once told me my heart was a finely-tuned instrument, so sensitive and full of feeling that it would eventually shatter from the vibrations of love and loss. She was right. I walked with Jason for eighteen years, from a cramped basement lab to the gleaming corporate office. Along the way, we had our son, Damian. I walked with him for fifteen years, from a helpless, wailing infant to the sharp, brilliant young man he was today. They were my entire world. My love for them was instinctual, a force that flowed from the very core of my being. But then, when Damian was eight, Jason’s unforgettable first love returned. Layla. She stood there, her dark hair coiled in an elegant bun, a pure white dress draping her slender frame. Her eyes smiled, her lips curved, and she gave a small, gentle wave. “Jules, you silly goose,” she’d said. “You’re not as handsome as you used to be.” And just like that, Jason, a man who had already conquered his world, was conquered himself, undone by a sliver of moonlight from his past. He had once told me he hated her, that she had chosen a future abroad over a future with him. It was I who had pulled him back from the edge of a bridge, I who had stood by him as he clawed his way out of that basement and took his seat at the head of his empire. My son, Damian, fell for her too. He had always been a cold child—brilliant, calm, a perfect reflection of his father. But when Layla ruffled his hair, a blush crept up his cheeks, and he shyly called her “Aunt Layla.” His “Aunt Layla” had stolen both their hearts with effortless grace. They became an inseparable family of three, and I became the outsider, a ghost in my own home. I fought. I screamed. I cried through entire nights, my sanity fraying at the edges. But all they said was, “Stop acting like a madwoman. It’s embarrassing.” Layla never called me a madwoman. Instead, she left a letter, saying she was returning my family to me. A letter she made sure to give directly to Jason. Then, she vanished without a trace. Her departure didn’t save my family. It shattered it completely. Jason clutched that letter, his eyes bloodshot with rage, and called me an unreasonable harpy who had driven Layla away. Damian, his teeth clenched, threw his school backpack at my head and swore he would never call me “Mom” again. From that day on, the life bled out of our home. Jason moved into an apartment at his company headquarters. For seven years, we did not share a bed. For seven years, Damian never spoke a word to me willingly. The word “Mom” never again passed his lips. Until now. Now, he was serving me tea. His face was a mask of eager anticipation, waiting for me to drink the Lethe. 2 The dark green liquid swirled like a miniature vortex in the cup. Damian’s hands weren’t steady. At fifteen, he was still just a boy. A self-mocking smile touched my lips. “What kind of tea is this?” I knew it wasn’t tea. But a part of me, the part with that damned, finely-tuned heart, still clung to a sliver of hope. I was born to torture myself. “It’s just normal tea. Drink it,” Damian mumbled, his eyes darting away, lashes hiding his gaze. He had learned to lie. I looked away, struggling to keep my voice even. “Where’s your father? It’s my birthday. If you’re serving me tea, the least he could do is bring me a cake.” My tone was thick with a sarcasm born from seven birthdays spent in silence. “It’s your birthday today? Oh, right. It is. That’s why I came home early.” Damian glanced up. “Dad will be back soon. He had to take care of something first.” As if on cue, the front door opened. Jason strode in, immaculate in his suit. His usually stern, cold face held a flicker of the same barely concealed anticipation as his son’s. They were both waiting. Waiting for me to drink. Once I did, my so-called “finely-tuned heart” would no longer feel a thing. I wouldn’t be a hysterical harpy anymore. I wouldn’t embarrass them. Jason and Damian could finally stand by Layla’s side, openly, and welcome her as the true matriarch of the family. As for me? I wouldn’t love them anymore, so why would I ever cause a scene again? That was their logic. Their perfect, cold solution. I let out a short, bitter laugh and took the cup. Jason, still by the door, pressed his lips together. He took two steps forward and then stopped. Seeing his empty hands, I asked pointedly, “Did you forget to bring my present?” “What?” His brow furrowed into a familiar frown. It had become his habit when speaking to me, a clear signal of his impatience. “Dad, it’s her birthday,” Damian chimed in, covering for him. “You said you bought a gift, remember?” Jason feigned a moment of realization. “Right, of course. I know it’s your birthday. I bought you that grand piano you always wanted. It’s at the office. I forgot to have it delivered. I’ll bring it tomorrow.” He was a much better liar than his son, his expression a perfect mask of sincerity. I nodded slowly, my gaze dropping to the liquid in the cup. Father and son fell silent. A strange, heavy quiet descended upon the house. They were waiting. 3 But I wouldn’t drink. Not yet. Eighteen years of devotion had finally curdled into a bitter, stubborn resentment. How could I just let it all go? They were still lying to me, right to my face, pretending they remembered my birthday. I would tear down their facade. Glancing from one to the other, I slammed the cup down on the table. “Thanks, but I’m not thirsty.” “You have to drink it, even if you’re not thirsty! It’s from your son!” Jason’s composure finally cracked. He strode over, picked up the cup, and thrust it at me. “Drink it. You’ll break his heart.” Damian nodded eagerly beside him. I wanted to laugh. To throw my head back and howl with derisive laughter. My voice dripped with scorn. “Don’t be in such a rush. I won’t keep you from your precious Layla. She’s waiting for you, isn’t she?” I had known for a while that Layla was back. Why else would Jason have been living at the lab, working day and night to perfect his little potion? The color drained from Jason’s face. His fingers tightened around the cup. He finally understood. I was toying with them. I knew exactly what this was. Damian’s young face went pale, his eyes filled with guilt. I sneered. “Don’t panic. I just want to know one thing. Was this your plan with Layla all along?” This potion had been in development for years. I had been a part of their calculations for a long, long time. They had certainly worked hard to get rid of me. “You… Fine. Since you already know, there’s no point in hiding it.” Jason’s expression shifted in an instant, his emotions locked back down. He was always a man of cold control. Now, it was time to lay the cards on the table. “We started thinking about this seven years ago,” he said, his voice laced with resentment. “You have only yourself to blame. You were unreasonable, a complete harpy!” “And I,” he continued, a martyr, “refuse to abandon the wife of my youth. Our son cannot sever the blood that ties him to you. So, using Lethe to make you… normal… is the best solution for everyone.” Normal? So, loving you was abnormal. “Hahaha! Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant!” I gave him a thumbs-up. Jason had never seen me like this, so brazenly defiant. His composure shattered into rage. “What’s with the sarcasm? It’s come to this. I have nothing more to say. Drink it!” He pointed at the cup, delivering his final ultimatum. Damian, emboldened, echoed him. “Just drink it! Drink it, and I’ll still acknowledge you as my mother. If you don’t, we’re done!” Well, that sounded fantastic. And you know what? I was suddenly a little thirsty. “Down the hatch, then.” I let out one last, derisive chuckle and raised the cup. I had no more questions. I had no more love. It was time. Father and son tensed, their eyes wide, fixed on me, burning with a desperate, hopeful light. I would not disappoint them. I drank it all in one go. Let this water tear my heart to shreds. I… am finally letting you go.

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My parents’ legacy—a pair of heirloom lockets they’d sworn never to part with—suddenly appeared on the auction block at the May Day charity gala. But no matter how high I bid, Adrian Rhames’s childhood sweetheart, Chloe, always went a hundred dollars higher. It was the hundredth time she had so blatantly tried to snatch something of mine away. Adrian, however, was unfazed. “They’re just trinkets, Max. It’s Chloe’s birthday. She likes them, so just let her have them.” A bitter laugh escaped my lips. With newfound resolve, I called the final price, an exorbitant bid that silenced the room. When the auction ended, my parents’ lockets were safely back in my possession. Adrian wasn’t angry; in fact, our marriage, against all odds, seemed to find a new, searing passion. I indulged his every desire, fulfilling the role of a devoted wife. A year later, I was pregnant. And I received an invitation to a private auction. There was only one item for sale: “The Max Geller Collection: 999 Private Moments.” Adrian appeared with Chloe wrapped around his arm, a cruel glint in his eyes. “Chloe wanted something thrilling for her birthday,” he said, his voice laced with amusement. “And since you love outbidding her so much, I figured I’d give you the chance to bid to your heart’s content.” A desolate smile touched my lips. If this was what they wanted, then I would play their game. A pixelated video flickered to life on the massive screen. The setting was all too familiar—it was the master bedroom of my home with Adrian, the sanctuary I had so lovingly built. “Well, well. Mrs. Rhames always looks so prim and proper. Who knew she was such a firecracker in private?” “Now that’s what I call a masterpiece. I hear she’s three months pregnant, too. Adrian Rhames is a lucky man.” The men in the room exchanged lewd smirks and crude remarks. My fists clenched, my nails digging into my palms. I stared at Adrian, my body trembling. “Why?” Ours may have been an arranged marriage, a merger of two powerful families, but we’d built a life on three years of shared history. Despite Chloe’s constant interference, the past year had been filled with genuine affection. I was carrying his child. Adrian pulled Chloe closer, his gaze softening with adoration for her. “Because you always have to compete with Chloe. You make her unhappy.” He gestured to the screen. “You love calling the final price, don’t you? Here are 999 lots. Take your time.” Chloe giggled, a mask of innocence on her face. “Adrian, darling, don’t you think this is a bit much? The Geller family is practically gone. I doubt a pregnant woman like her has the kind of money for this, even if she sold herself.” Laughter erupted around me, and predatory eyes fixed on my body. “Her parents are dead, and Rhames Enterprises absorbed her family’s company. The only ones here who could afford the whole collection are Mr. Rhames and Miss Sterling themselves.” Adrian shot me a look, his eyes stripped of any warmth. “I won’t have Chloe’s eyes sullied by such filth. I won’t be bidding. The rest of you, feel free.” “A generous man, Mr. Rhames!” the crowd cheered. Chloe snuggled into his chest. “Darling, you crushed the Geller family and took over their company for me. Max must be broke now. Should we… help her out?” He kissed her forehead, his voice dripping with love. “Don’t you worry about her, sweetheart. She owes you this.” I stared at the man who had become a stranger. “The downfall of my family’s company… that was your doing?” I whispered, my voice shaking. He sneered, as if the answer was obvious. “The Gellers were an eyesore to Chloe. I was just helping her clear the view.” My breath caught in my throat. My heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vise. It was all a long, calculated revenge, all because I had dared to reclaim my parents’ lockets from his precious Chloe a year ago. Adrian looked down on me, his voice a cold command. “Max, I’ll give you a choice. Call the final price, or… get on your knees and apologize to Chloe. A thousand times.” I took a deep, shuddering breath. “I will not kneel to her.” A flicker of surprise crossed his face, quickly replaced by a scornful laugh. “Max, do you really think you’re in a position to choose?” I turned to the auctioneer, my eyes hard as stone. “Begin.” My humiliation was now on full display. The auctioneer, a smirk playing on his lips, raised his gavel. “Lot number one: The Kitchen. Bidding starts at one million dollars!” A collective gasp swept through the room. “The kitchen! Mr. Rhames has exquisite taste in locations.” “I never thought the high and mighty Max Geller could be so… accommodating. I bid two million!” A wave of nausea washed over me as I watched the screen. It was my birthday. Adrian had baked me a cake, and I, moved to tears by the gesture, had let him lead me into a night of passion right there on the kitchen counter. Adrian watched me from his elevated seat, his eyes filled with derision. His gaze was a knife, carving away at my shattered heart. All eyes were on me. The jeers and whispers threatened to drown me. I sank back into my chair, my voice a threadbare whisper. “I call the final price.” But the attendant didn’t light the signal lamp above my seat. Instead, he leaned in, his tone mocking. “Mrs. Rhames, I’m afraid your accounts have just been frozen.” “What?” Disbelief washed over me. After my family’s company was liquidated, I still had a ten-million-dollar trust fund—the last thing my father had left for me. “Accounts frozen? Then what’s she going to bid with?” “I thought she’d at least snag one or two. Turns out she’s got nothing.” I shot up from my seat, my eyes locking on Adrian, who sat enthroned on the second-floor dais. “You did this!” He shrugged. “Rhames Enterprises owns your family’s liquidated assets. Is it really so strange that an outsider’s access has been… restricted?” Chloe let out a delicate laugh. “Oh, Max, if you’re out of cash, why not humble yourself a bit? I’m sure any of these fine gentlemen would be happy to sponsor a beauty like you if you make it worth their while.” The room erupted in raucous laughter. A greasy-looking older man even reached for me, trying to pull me into his lap. The auctioneer pressed on. “Mrs. Rhames, if you cannot call the final price, we will have to resume the bidding for this lot.” I slapped away the groping hands and, with trembling fingers, dialed my emergency lender. “I need a loan. One hundred million.” The men around me smirked, their interest momentarily lost. The auction proceeded. The auctioneer smiled as he brought down the gavel. “Seat 13 calls the final price! Congratulations to Mrs. Rhames on acquiring ‘The Kitchen’.” “What a shame. I was looking forward to seeing the lady of the Geller manor in action.” “Don’t worry. She’s borrowing from the sharks. Payback is brutal. A hundred million won’t last her long.” “Exactly. There are 999 lots. Let’s see how much she can borrow.” I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. The screen had already switched to the next lot. “Lot number two: The Balcony! Bidding starts at one million!” the auctioneer announced with theatrical flair. The room was buzzing again. “First the kitchen, now the balcony! The man’s an artist!” “I bid three million!” A man beside me leaned in close, his hand brushing my leg. “Mrs. Rhames, why don’t you play with me for a bit?” “Yeah, Adrian Rhames doesn’t want you, but I do. You be a good girl and take care of me, and I’ll buy this next one for you.” “Get away from me,” I hissed, my voice dripping with ice. The man sneered. “After what we’ve seen on screen, you’re still playing the saint?” “Five million!” another shouted. “Ten million! And when I get it, I’ll project it onto the Geller family mausoleum for all to see!” A chill shot through my entire body. Trembling, I raised my paddle. “I… I call the final price.” The gavel fell again, the auctioneer’s smile widening with cruel delight. “Seat 13 calls the final price. Congratulations again, Mrs. Rhames, on your acquisition of ‘The Balcony’!” The gavel fell. Lot three. Lot four. The videos kept coming. And I could only keep raising my paddle, my hand shaking more each time. Calling the final price. Again and again. Until I had acquired 99 lots. “Lot number one hundred: The Rooftop Garden! Bidding starts at one million!” “I call—” “Mrs. Rhames,” the auctioneer interrupted, his smile laced with pity. “Your current balance is no longer sufficient to call the final price.” The men in the audience started whistling and catcalling. “Out of money, are we? Perfect. I’ve always wanted to see how a prestigious family like the Gellers raised a woman who enjoys… alfresco encounters.” “You play with me, and I’ll buy it for you.” I ignored the filth being thrown at me and dialed the lender one last time. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Rhames. You’ve reached your credit limit. We cannot extend you any further loans.” I lowered the phone in despair, my gaze instinctively flying to Adrian on the second-floor dais. He was holding Chloe, but he felt my stare. The last embers of what I once thought was love in his eyes died, replaced by cold contempt. Every eye in the room turned to him. After all, he was the only person left who could afford to buy the remaining 899 lots for me. Adrian simply looked down at me. “Max, my earlier offer still stands.” Kneel and beg? A cold, humorless laugh built in my chest. Chloe stirred in Adrian’s arms, her voice a saccharine whisper, feigning magnanimity. “Darling, Max took care of you for so long. Even if there was no love, there was effort. Why don’t I buy the rest for her?” The crowd murmured in approval. “Miss Sterling is so kind. Even now, she’s willing to help.” “No wonder Mr. Rhames adores her. How could a shameless woman like Max ever compare?” I squeezed my eyes shut, branding the humiliation Adrian was heaping upon me into my soul. I would never forget this. Chloe rose from Adrian’s side and glided towards me. She leaned in, her voice a triumphant hiss. “Listen, you little bitch. Divorce Adrian, get rid of that bastard in your belly, and I’ll give you a billion dollars to buy the rest of these videos. How about it?” “Get lost,” I snarled. Chloe dramatically stumbled backward, as if I had shoved her with all my might. She collapsed to the floor, her body wracked with sobs. “I’m sorry, Max! I… I was only trying to help…” Adrian rushed to her side, scooping her up. Then he turned and slapped me across the face, the sound echoing in the silent room. “Who gave you the right to touch Chloe!” I wiped a trickle of blood from my lip, my gaze locking with his, cold and unyielding. It was the first time I had ever seen him so furious in all the years of our marriage. And it was for another woman. “Continue the auction!” Adrian roared at the auctioneer. “Sell every last one! Let the whole world see the real Max Geller!” But Chloe clung to him, her voice a gentle balm. “Adrian, it’s alright. I’m fine. Max is just having a hard time accepting all this.” She looked at me with pity. “Ultimately, she can’t stand seeing how much you love me. She has every right to hate me.” Adrian cradled her, his gaze on me turning glacial. “Chloe is still defending you, and yet you act with such venom.” It was utterly, laughably absurd. This was the man I had loved for four years. “Adrian Rhames,” I said, my voice clear and steady. “Let’s get a divorce.” “What did you say?” “I said, let’s get a divorce.” I met his gaze, my own unwavering. This marriage was nothing but a tool for his revenge. Now that he had gotten what he wanted, it was time for it to end. He seemed stunned for a moment, then a cold sneer twisted his lips. “What game are you playing now, Max? You think this little act will make me pity you?” “I don’t need your pity. We’re over.” I signed the divorce papers without a moment’s hesitation. As my pen left the paper, Adrian’s expression darkened into a thunderous scowl. Chloe, however, couldn’t hide the triumphant glee in her eyes. She looked down at me as if I were a stray dog kicked to the curb. Minutes later, a notification pinged on my phone. A billion dollars had been deposited into my new account. I looked at the auctioneer. “Continue the auction.” Chloe pressed herself against Adrian’s chest, her expression aggrieved. “Adrian, I’m so sorry, this is all my fault…” “It has nothing to do with you,” he bit out, his usual comforting tone absent. His eyes were fixed on me. “I’d like to see what she has left to bid with now that she’s no longer a Rhames.” Lot #101 appeared on the screen. “Lot one-oh-one, a… multi-person video,” the auctioneer stammered, “starting bid, two million dollars!” The room exploded. The jeers grew louder, more vicious. “The Gellers were such a respected family! I can’t believe their daughter is into this kind of thing! If her father knew, he’d claw his way out of his grave!” “If you have such needs, Mrs. Rhames, you should have called me!” “Five million!” “Ten million!” “I bid twenty million!” The bids escalated, a frenzy of voices clamoring for my deepest shame. The auctioneer looked at me, a sly smile on his face. “Mrs. Rhames? Are you still calling the final price?” Adrian watched from above, a conqueror’s smugness on his face. He was certain I was out of options, that I would have to crawl back and beg him. “Max, my conditions haven’t changed…”

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After the angel-demon war, my sister’s husband returned safely—but mine died in battle. Everyone pitied me. But I knew: The survivor wasn’t my brother-in-law. It was my husband Damon. Identical twins. Equal power. No one suspected. “Celeste,” Damon whispered, “This is for the realm. My brother was the Dragon Prince. His death would start a civil war. And your sister… she’s too fragile. I’m just comforting her—for now.” “When it’s safe,” he vowed, “I’ll return to you.” I believed him—until he sentenced me to death for “conspiring with demons.” As the blades fell, I saw him embrace my sister. Then I woke up. Back to the victory day when Damon first betrayed me. This time, I remarried instantly. He never knew: By abandoning me, he lost his only path to the Dragon Clan. … “Phoebe, Damon… he fell in battle!” The phantom agony of a thousand cuts made my body tremble. When I opened my eyes again, those were the first words I heard. The speaker was the Dragon King. He had only two sons. One was the crown prince, who had married my sister, making her the princess. The other was my husband, Damon. Now, the Dragon King, a man who by all rights should be dead and gone in my memory, sat upon his throne, gazing at the coffin before him, his face a mask of grief. But I couldn’t suppress the wild joy surging through me. I was reborn! Before I could speak, my sister’s voice cut in from beside me. “Little sister, I know you’re heartbroken. If you need to cry, just let it out.” She looked down at me, her expression one of pity, but her perfectly applied makeup was unblemished by tears. I looked up, my gaze passing over her to the man standing at her side. No, that wasn’t my brother-in-law. My brother-in-law was already lying in that coffin. The man before me was my husband, Damon. The man who should have been holding me close was now holding my sister’s hand, their fingers intertwined. He noticed my stare and turned to me, his eyes wide with feigned surprise. I scoffed inwardly. Damon’s acting was as superb as ever. In my past life, though I’d sensed something was wrong, it had taken me a long time to gather the proof I needed to confirm that the man beside my sister was, in fact, Damon. But this time, I saw right through him. A wail of grief tore through the hall. “My son, oh, my son!” The Dragon Queen threw herself onto the coffin, huge tears rolling down her cheeks. She then pointed a trembling finger at me. “It was you! You jinxed him! You, you cursed my son to death!” The Queen and I had never gotten along. She thought I wasn’t demure enough, not graceful enough to be worthy of her son. I had once worried about her disapproval. Damon had sworn to me, “If my mother ever gives you trouble, I will always, always take your side.” Smack! The Queen slapped me hard across the face. Still not satisfied, she raised her hand again. The King, jolted from his grief, quickly ordered the guards to intervene. “That’s enough!” The hall descended into chaos. Through it all, Damon stood silently to one side, holding my sister’s hand. He even seemed worried the commotion might frighten her. He pulled a shimmering aquamarine stone from his pocket and presented it to her like a precious treasure, whispering soothingly, “Serena, my love, I got this just for you.” A bitter laugh escaped my lips. The phoenix clan is born of fire, yet I had always yearned for an aquamarine. In my last life, I had begged Damon to bring one back for me. He promised he would, but it never arrived. So, it wasn’t that he hadn’t found one. It was that the gift was never intended for me. Even though my sister had no need for it. Even though he had once promised to always protect me, yet now stood by and did nothing. Sensing my gaze, my sister, Serena, shifted uncomfortably, moving to block my view of Damon. “Little sister,” she chided, “why are you staring at my husband like that? Father is speaking to you.” The Dragon King spoke, his voice weary. “Phoebe, according to our customs, when one spouse dies in battle, the other must remain a widow for a hundred years.” He sighed. “I will not force you. I only wish to know your plans.” I shook my head. “I choose the second path. I will remarry.” A dead silence fell over the hall. Everyone stared at me in disbelief. Damon was the first to speak. “Absurd! Phoebe, how can you marry another?” Now, the King and my sister also sensed something was amiss. The King, though puzzled, spoke tactfully. “Caelus, this is your sister-in-law’s private matter. The decision should be hers alone.” Damon was silenced, able to do nothing but glower at me. My sister was even more agitated than he was. She took a step forward, her eyes filled with condemnation. “Phoebe, your husband has just died! His body isn’t even cold, and you’re not mourning him, you’re demanding to remarry? If word of this gets out, do you want everyone to think the Phoenix Clan is as heartless and disloyal as you?” The Queen’s glare was venomous. “If Damon hadn’t insisted on marrying you, I would never have allowed a venomous creature like you into this family!” I answered calmly, “If Damon loved me as much as you say, he wouldn’t want me to waste my life away as a widow.” “I will remarry!” I declared again. Damon started to speak, “You—” The King cut him off. “Enough. Since Phoebe’s mind is made up, we will respect her wishes. However, the pact between the Dragon and Phoenix clans stands. You may remarry, Phoebe, but you must choose a suitor from the Dragon Clan.” I turned to face the vast crowd of dragons and called out, my voice ringing through the hall, “Is there anyone here who will marry me?” No one stepped forward. Some looked like they wanted to, but were pulled back by their families. Others met my gaze and shied away as if they’d seen a viper. I felt a wave of despair. Heaven had only given me two paths: widowhood or remarriage. Was my fate truly unchangeable? Damon, seeing my predicament, couldn’t resist a sneer. “Phoebe, no one would dare marry a faithless woman like you. You’d better resign yourself to being a widow.” His voice was laced with smug certainty, and it made my stomach turn. Just then, a figure descended from the sky. “I will!” I looked up to see a man I recognized as Xylos, the Dragon Clan’s legendary Warlord. He had a fearsome reputation as a god of slaughter, yet now he was kneeling on one knee before the King. “Your Majesty, I am willing to marry Phoebe.” Damon’s eyes blazed with fury. “Xylos, what business is this of yours? Let me give you a friendly warning. My brother is barely dead, and Phoebe is already desperate to remarry. Are you sure you want to take a woman like that into your home? Aren’t you afraid she’ll curse you to death too?” Xylos stepped in front of me, his brow furrowed. “Your Highness, Phoebe is your sister-by-law. Instead of protecting her, you’re slandering her.” “I’m speaking the truth,” Damon retorted. Xylos ignored him and turned to me. “Phoebe, will you marry me? I will be loyal to you for all eternity. I will stay by your side. Let the heavens be my witness. If I break this vow, may my soul be annihilated!” My heart trembled. I saw nothing but unwavering resolve in his eyes. I couldn’t help but nod. “Yes.” With things settled, Damon had no more reason to object. Xylos and I performed the bonding ritual on the spot. The King, seeing the matter concluded, waved a tired hand at me. “Go.” He then announced to the assembly, “I am old, and I have lost a son. I no longer have the strength to be king. Three days from now, I will pass the throne to Caelus.” Caelus was my brother-in-law’s name, the name Damon had stolen. I pondered this. In my past life, the King never abdicated, not even up to the day I was executed by Damon. Why was it happening so much earlier this time? Before I could think further, Damon passed by me in the departing crowd. I heard him hiss, “You bitch. You’ll regret this.” That night, I moved from Damon’s palace to Xylos’s domain. The servants’ gossip followed me. “The Warlord is perfect in every way, except for his taste in women.” “The second prince’s body is barely cold, and Phoebe is already remarrying. What kind of woman is she?” “Didn’t the Queen say Phoebe was cursed to bring death to her husbands? I’m truly afraid for the Warlord.” … I listened to the whispers from outside my window with a wry smile. I turned to Xylos and nudged him with my foot, saying self-deprecatingly, “The great Warlord’s reputation, ruined by me.” Xylos frowned. “Don’t say that. Phoebe, give me half a day. I will make sure you never hear them speak ill of you again.” I sighed. “Honestly, I don’t care.” Compared to my last life, where I was a widow to a living man, enduring endless torment only to be publicly executed by a thousand cuts, this was paradise. Xylos provided me with the finest food and clothing, rivaling that of the royal family. I was living in comfort. I was already content. Before we blew out the lamps, I heard him mumble, “A little damage to my reputation is nothing. As long as I can have you, I don’t care about anything else.” I lay awake all night. Not long after, my sister sent for me. She was about to become the next Dragon Queen, and her handmaidens were presenting her with a heavy, ornate ceremonial gown. She eagerly held the crown to her head, turning to ask me, “Phoebe, who do you think looks better in this, me or the old Queen?” I remained silent. She continued, as if talking to herself, “Sometimes, you just have to accept your fate. So what if you were more talented than me? In the end, I’m the one who will be Queen.” She had always been like this, always needing to be one step ahead of me. My gaze fell upon the cluttered table, and I found myself staring at the aquamarine Damon had given her. A spark of insight flashed in my mind. When my sister was young, she had been dragged into the sea by a water spirit during a training exercise. She hated aquamarines. My brother-in-law, always so thoughtful, would have remembered that. After a long pause, I asked, my voice strained, “You really haven’t noticed that he’s not Caelus?” My sister’s hand froze. In that instant, I knew the answer. In my past life, I had never once suspected my sister. In my eyes, despite our lifelong rivalry, Damon was the sole perpetrator. But now, her reaction told me everything. She knew. Tears welled in my eyes. “Serena, are you insane?” I demanded. Smack! She slammed a phoenix hairpin onto the table. “So what if I am?” she retorted. I was stunned. My sister sneered. “Let me tell you the truth. As long as he is the Crown Prince, as long as I can be the future Queen, I don’t care who my husband is.” She glared at me suspiciously. “As for you, you’d better play the part of the grieving widow. If you behave, when I become Queen, I won’t treat you poorly. But if you dare to speak a word of this, I will not spare you.” A chill seeped into my bones. Her words were identical to the ones Damon had spoken in my last life. But in the end, neither of them had spared me. Just then, voices sounded from outside. Damon, the King, and the Queen swept into the room. They all froze when they saw me. Damon frowned, his voice laced with guilt. “Phoebe, what are you doing here?” The Queen’s tone was sharp and sarcastic. “Shouldn’t you be with your new husband? What are you doing in the palace?” Serena squeezed out a few tears, leaning against Damon. “Phoebe didn’t mean any harm. She’s just so distraught over losing her husband, that’s why…” Damon wrapped his arm around her, his voice full of resentment. “Phoebe, none of us wanted to see my brother die on the battlefield. Not only did you refuse to mourn him, you insisted on remarrying, and now you’re taking your anger out on your sister.” “Get out!” he roared. I stared at Damon, and then a slow smile spread across my face. “Fine.” Justice may be slow, but it is coming.

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At the wedding I had meticulously planned myself, my stoic fiancé, my childhood friend, ran off with his assistant, who was also wearing a wedding gown. His younger brother, however, abruptly got into the wedding car with me, dragged me into the city hall despite my panic, and said we were getting married. The elaborate stage set suddenly collapsed, revealing a room full of guests all laughing at me. To make the little assistant smile, the two brothers I’d grown up with, the ones who’d sworn to protect me for life, tore up our fake marriage certificate and showered me with the pieces. The three of them stood on stage, interlocking arms to drink champagne. “The wedding you planned was so tacky. We changed it to a bachelorette party for Mia. You should be grateful.” “The real wedding is on Sunday! Isn’t Mia’s idea such a fun surprise?” They were so sure I couldn’t live without them. But I just calmly picked up my phone. “Let’s schedule the wedding with the heir of the Lucian family for this Sunday.” … An ecstatic reply instantly flooded my screen: “We’ll arrange the wedding design schedule immediately!” Mia pouted, leaning against Philip. “I’m not really the marrying type, you guys. I just wanted to experience what it feels like, and the Song brothers made it happen for me right away!” I didn’t answer. My phone was violently knocked out of my hand by Philip. “Are you deaf? Where are the manners the Song family taught you? Mia is pure-hearted. Do you have to be so petty that you can’t even answer her?” My fiancé, Nathan, stepped in front of me, shielding Mia. He glanced at my phone. “…What schedule? Are you going on a business trip?” I quickly picked up my phone and turned off the screen. “A company project.” The three of them looked like a perfect trio, making my wedding dress, now littered with shredded paper, look utterly ridiculous. Whispers filled the room. “Look at her. Does she still think she’s the bride? This is a party the two young masters of the Song family threw for Miss Mia.” “The moment one brother runs off, she tries to marry the other. Young Master Philip really has her number… so desperate for a man.” The guests were all wealthy socialites we’d grown up with, and their words were laced with malicious contempt. And the two childhood friends who had sworn to protect me for life were now orbiting Mia, their eyes full of adoration. I looked around. The romantic setting I had so carefully designed was completely destroyed. White balloons and roses were splattered with bright red paint reading “Happy Single Life!” This whole humiliating spectacle, with me as the punchline, had been orchestrated by them to showcase their devotion to Mia. I reached up and plucked a piece of paper from my hair, my hand trembling uncontrollably. Mia faltered, her eyes instantly turning red. “Sienna, it’s my fault. I suggested they surprise you with a bachelorette party. I’m so sorry…” Nathan patted her head, his face cold as he admonished me. “Can you stop playing the victim? You’re a wedding planner. You’ve seen every kind of scene there is.” Philip exploded at his brother’s words, grabbing my wrist and yanking me in front of Mia. “Sienna! Mia’s just a naive young girl! How can you pressure her like this? She’s the only one who’d be fooled by your pathetic act! Apologize. Now!” Pain shot up my arm. I steadied myself and calmly removed the ring I had designed. Nathan’s expression changed. He subconsciously covered his own hand. The custom wedding band I’d spent three months creating for him was gone, replaced by one that matched Mia’s. I answered quickly. “You’re right. Let’s all enjoy the bachelorette party today.” They stared at me, shocked. This was the first time I had ever yielded so easily when it came to Mia. I had always fought with them over her. Like the time Mia threw away all my stomach medication, and they commandeered every available ambulance in the area, leaving me to suffer. Before they left, they had looked at me with cold indifference. “Can you stop throwing tantrums and faking illnesses? You target Mia the second she shows up!” Now, I wouldn’t throw any more tantrums. “Let’s break up.” I tossed the ring. Nathan froze, his face darkening. I smiled. “Happy single life, isn’t it?” Philip was the first to lose his composure. “Are you insane? It’s one thing not to accept the surprise Mia planned for you, but marriage is a once-in-a-lifetime event! If you don’t marry into our Song family, who else would want you?!” The heart I thought could no longer feel pain grew another inch colder. I smiled and calmly tossed the shredded paper at Philip. He grabbed my wrist in disbelief, roaring, “How dare you—?!” The pain was sharp and clear. I remembered how, whenever I used to get hurt, they would fuss over me, applying medicine with grave concern, protecting me like a precious treasure. Now, I was no longer the one they wanted to protect. “This was Miss Mia’s idea,” I said flatly. “You should experience it.” Philip was speechless, his face flushing red and pale by turns. He disgustedly threw the paper scraps back at me. “Have you made enough of a scene? Sienna!” Nathan strode over, his brow furrowed. “Our wedding is next week. If you embarrass us in front of this many people again, I’ll cancel it!” The old me would have begged for their forgiveness. My parents had died protecting me, a fact that made my grandmother resent me so much she refused to raise me. So, I was taken in by the Song family, who were close friends of my parents. The insecurity of being an outsider meant that in our childhood friendship, no matter who was angry, I was always the one to bow my head and apologize first. They felt sorry for me and swore to spoil me rotten, to never let me feel upset again. After seventeen years together, the more stable Nathan and I made our relationship official. Philip threw a fit but eventually accepted it, continuing to treat me like a sister. But things had changed. Mrs. Song had gone abroad for long-term medical treatment, and like an old, forgotten toy, I was cast aside, unloved. The wedding I had looked forward to with all my heart had become a joke, just like me. The jeers from the guests grew louder. Someone started chanting. “Dump her! Teach her to know her place!” The two brothers looked down at me, waiting for my apology, for me to beg. There was no warmth in their eyes. I curled my lips into a smile. “Well then, I wish the three of you a hundred years of happiness. Congratulations on your marriage!” The room fell silent. Philip, enraged, raised his hand to strike me. “What’s that supposed to mean? You know how important a girl’s reputation is! Why are you spreading rumors about Mia?! You’re ruining everything!” He knew. He knew this was the wedding I had designed with all my hopes and dreams. Yet, he still humiliated me for someone else. When his eyes met my tear-filled ones, he suddenly froze. I turned and walked away. Philip, flustered, started to follow, but Nathan’s calm voice stopped him. “Let her go! She’s an orphan with no home. Where else could she possibly go without us?” The footsteps paused for a second, but then Philip bolted after me, shouting into the empty hallway. “You really dare to leave?! We would’ve been better off raising a dog!” Tears streamed silently down my face. I heard him curse a few more times before he returned to the party. The noise behind me gradually faded. I walked toward a car waiting by the street. “Let’s go get the marriage certificate now.” After receiving the certificate, I felt a little dazed. I had met Javone at work, rejected his advances, and now, after all this, we were married through a family arrangement. Since we were married, I decided to use the remaining five days to make a clean break with the past. I went home to pack, but my life was too deeply entangled with the Songs. The financial ties were more than I could ever repay. I nervously called Javone. He transferred the money without a second thought. He had only one condition. “Help me plan a grand wedding. The kind that gets broadcast nationwide.” Javone’s laughter was a low, pleasant rumble. As I looked at the dreamy wedding sketches, a tickle of excitement sparked in my heart. He gave me access to top-tier planners I’d never had before, and the venue decorations could be changed at a moment’s notice to match my vision. It felt like he was determined to lift me up. Meanwhile, the Song Corporation had given all their best resources to Mia. I was left with scraps. And my designs were being passed off as hers. Thinking of this, my smile faded. Nathan was right. There was a time I couldn’t have survived without them. But things were different now. Love, I was learning, wasn’t about controlling someone. It was about giving them the freedom and support to be themselves. On the fourth night before the wedding, drifting in a state of exhaustion, I heard a faint rustling outside my door. “I told you she couldn’t leave us. She talked so tough, but she still came crawling back like a dog.” I forced myself to sit up, but Nathan snatched the sketches from my hands. “Our wedding is just around the corner. What’s the point of planning now?” He didn’t know this was the plan for my wedding to Javone. I silently took the sketches back. He frowned, his tone softening. “Mia just wanted to surprise you. We’re getting officially married next week anyway. Don’t be mad, okay?” I knew this whole charade was Mia’s design. Whether it was our three-person anniversary or my birthday, they always brought Mia along to wreck my plans and make her the shining star of the event, while I was left to shrink in a corner, eating a ruined piece of cake. Just like now. They had abandoned me for two days for Mia’s sake, not a single message to check in. I was exhausted. I mumbled a noncommittal reply without looking up. Nathan finally relaxed. Philip, who had been lurking at the door, reluctantly came in. “Sienna, we were too harsh today. The Song family will always welcome you. We’re sorry.” I nodded. Nathan, relieved, produced a gift box. When he opened it, it revealed a pair of worn high heels. The two of them looked at the box like it was a hot potato, their faces panicked. I watched them with a faint, mocking smile. Philip guiltily put the shoes away, muttering, “One of the guests must have left them by mistake. The boxes look so similar, I must have mixed them up.” Nathan, who had sworn never to lie to me, chimed in. “Yeah, you know how some guests like to be comfortable…” I certainly didn’t know any guests who were allowed to ride in their private car. In fact, since Mia’s arrival, the front passenger seat had become her exclusive territory, her bare feet propped up on the cushion where my back used to rest. But I didn’t care anymore. My placid acceptance made them vaguely uneasy. “Sienna, you don’t seem happy. Are you really not angry anymore?” The next second, their expressions turned wary. “If something’s wrong, you tell us. Don’t take it out on Mia.” I shook my head. “I just think I shouldn’t throw tantrums anymore.” They exchanged a look, surprised by this unfamiliar obedience. Just then, their phones rang in unison. They glanced at each other, a flash of excitement in their eyes, and immediately prepared to leave. I lowered my gaze. “Aren’t you going to give me my gift?” They froze. The excitement on their faces curdled into disgust. They threw the box at my face. “Don’t you understand what’s important? How did we never realize what a materialistic woman you are!” When they saw the blood, they panicked for a second but didn’t stop leaving. “Just open it yourself! The first aid kit is in the usual place!” The door slammed shut. The clock struck midnight. Three days left. I spoke softly to the empty room. “Did you know? Today was my birthday.” Finally, they had reached the point where they didn’t even remember my birthday. But that was fine. At least I wouldn’t be a joke to anyone anymore. I booked a flight for the day after tomorrow, Sunday. Early in the morning, under a gloomy, drizzling sky, I went to the cemetery. When I was a child, I had insisted on going to the mountains for my birthday. My parents were buried in a landslide that day. I could never accept that I had been the cause of their deaths. I grew up consumed by guilt and grief. Javone had been the one to comfort me. “They loved you. That’s why they held you above their heads when the landslide came. They wanted you to be happy.” Tears streamed down my face. No one had ever said that to me before. They all said I was the one who killed my parents. Even the two Song brothers avoided the topic. I wanted to speak to my parents alone first, so Javone waited for me outside the cemetery. To my surprise, I saw Nathan and Philip standing in front of their graves. I froze. They hadn’t been to pay their respects in three years, not since Mia arrived. I took a dazed step forward. But the next second, they picked up shovels and started digging up my parents’ graves. I screamed, rushing forward to stop them. “What are you doing?! Those are my parents!” They looked guilty for a moment, but quickly became defiant. “Mia’s pet spider died. A fortune teller said this was an auspicious spot for it. We found a better place for your parents.” “But they are my parents!” Tears streamed down my face as I shrieked in despair. Mia appeared from nowhere, pushing me aside to protect Philip. “You crazy woman! You’re not allowed to hurt Brother Philip!” In the chaos, the urn was knocked over. Both brothers instinctively rushed to Mia, cradling her ankle where a shard had cut her. I scrambled to the broken urn, tears blurring my vision. As children, they had been showered with my parents’ love. And now, for a spider, they were desecrating their graves. Mia let out a cry of pain, but this time, neither of them immediately turned their attention to her. Philip looked at my tear-streaked, devastated face and seemed momentarily flustered. Nathan was the first to kneel, trying to comfort me. “Sienna, what’s done is done…” I raised my hand to slap him.

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My parents called to tell me they were heading to my childhood friend’s house to meet his blind date. My childhood friend, Hugh, was fast asleep beside me. I thought it was a joke. “Hugh,” I whispered, “they said they found you a blind date.” He grunted, pulling me closer into his arms. “Cora, sweetheart, pick out an outfit for me in a bit, would you? And help me with my hair.” When I froze, Hugh cracked open an eye and let out a cynical laugh. “What’s wrong with you? We’re just hookup buddies. You didn’t actually think I was going to marry you, did you?” 1 My mind blanked. All I could do was fumble awkwardly. I couldn’t bring myself to look at Hugh. I pushed him away, snatching my clothes from the floor and pulling them on haphazardly. “Cora, look at me.” Hugh propped his chin on his arm, a playful glint in his eyes. “You didn’t really think we were boyfriend and girlfriend, did you?” The words “hookup buddies” echoed in my head. My hands trembled so badly I couldn’t fasten the clasp on my bra. Hugh threw back the covers, revealing a lean, sculpted torso, and knelt on the edge of the bed. With practiced ease, his fingers found the clasp and secured it. I kept my head down. “Who’s the blind date?” I managed, forcing a bitter laugh. “Please don’t tell me your parents just grabbed some random person from a singles’ mixer.” I glanced at my reflection in the mirror, at the constellation of red marks scattered across my skin. My legs still ached. Hugh, now only in a pair of grey sweatpants, moved behind me and buried his face in the crook of my neck. “It’s Isla.” He arched a brow, those handsome eyes of his crinkling. “You remember, the senior from the art department in college. Isla.” He let out a low whistle. “To be honest, just thinking about seeing her again… I’m actually a little nervous.” My hand, holding a tube of lipstick, froze. Of course, I remembered. Hugh had a massive crush on her, but before he could confess, she’d moved abroad. I thought that was all in the past… Hugh’s eyes were fixed on me. He pursed his lips. “Cora, don’t get any funny ideas. We grew up together, practically in diapers. And yeah, you’re… beautiful, no doubt. But I see you as one of the guys. “You’re my perfect partner—for meals, for road trips, for bed…” His words hit me like a physical blow, a chill spreading through my entire body. I stared at his smiling face and managed a weak curl of my lips. He went on. “Besides, I know everything about you. What you’ll wear on any given day, right down to the matching underwear set. It’s… kind of boring, you know? Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and see you sleeping next to me, and I get this jolt of fear—what if that joke our families always make comes true? What if we actually got married? My whole life would be over before it even started.” He shuddered dramatically, as if the mere thought was terrifying. I dug my nails into my palm, fighting to keep the tears from falling. “I have to go.” I wrapped my coat around myself and fled like a deserter. 2 I thought Hugh and I were dating. We did everything other couples did. We ate together, went on dates, hung out with friends where, during a game of Truth or Dare, we’d casually kiss and say “I love you” without a hint of irony. Hugh would pick me up from work on rainy days. He’d secretly hold my hand under the table at family dinners. I never knew that the six months I thought were a budding romance were just a game of house to him. “Cora?” My mom tapped on the car window, her face etched with concern. I snapped back to reality. I saw my own tear-streaked face in the rearview mirror and quickly wiped it clean before getting out. “Mom!” I threw myself into her arms, hiding my face in her shoulder with a forced laugh. “I missed you.” She was holding a bag of groceries, and she took my arm, breathing a sigh of relief. “Honey, why were you just sitting in the car? You scared me. Didn’t you see that news story about someone…” I nodded along. Suddenly, her tone shifted. “Oh, by the way, Cora… Hugh’s blind date is coming over soon. Your uncle and aunt are taking this very seriously. I hear Hugh has been planning this for a long time. He said he was worried the girl might feel awkward, and having another girl there might help her relax.” She looked at me, her expression pained, hesitating. “I’ve been best friends with his mom for so many years, so when we go over today…” I knew what she was trying to say. “It’s okay, Mom,” I said, forcing a smile. “Just break the ice, say nice things. I get it.” She gave me a look filled with pity. Of course, she understood. A photo of Hugh and me sat on my bedside table. Every gift he’d ever given me was carefully stored away like a treasure. My notebooks were filled with his name, a testament to a love I couldn’t hide. How could she not know? We walked home in silence. As we opened the door, I said suddenly, “Dad’s retiring next month. Let’s move to Florida.” I looked at my mom’s stunned face and tried to sound playful. “You’ve always said you wanted to retire there. I don’t have any big dreams anyway. I can be a dance teacher, stay by your side. That’s all I need.” 3 Sitting in Hugh’s living room with my parents felt different this time. Every other time, we were laughing and fooling around. The last time, we’d used “playing video games” as an excuse to sneak off to his room and kiss. This time… “Oh, Amelia, you have no idea the lengths this boy went to for this girl, Isla,” Hugh’s mom said to mine. “I told him, ‘Just ask her out!’ But no, he had to insist on framing it as ‘dating with the intention of marriage.’ He made his father pull all sorts of strings just to get her to agree to meet today as a blind date.” I looked around the meticulously decorated house, filled with bouquets of roses. The table was laden with fruits and sweets. Even their little dog was wearing a bright red sweater. And there was Hugh, checking his reflection over and over, making sure he was perfect. The bitter irony was that just last night, we were tangled in his sheets, and he was kissing the small birthmark on my waist with such tenderness. The underwear he was wearing right now? I bought it for him. “Ah, it’s such a shame, though…” Hugh’s mom squeezed my mother’s hand wistfully. “We always said we’d be in-laws one day. We even made a childhood pact for them!” She glanced at me. “I truly adore Cora. She’s not just beautiful, she has a wonderful personality, so bright and cheerful…” I kept my eyes down, not daring to respond. I was afraid one wrong move and the tears would start falling. “Mom!” Hugh frowned, clearly displeased. “You said it yourself, that was your generation’s thing. You and Aunt Amelia are close, why don’t you two get married? What does it have to do with me? What century are we living in, still clinging to those old ideas?” He had no regard for the adults’ feelings. Then he turned to me, his tone harsh, as if I’d put his mother up to it. “Cora, where’s the bracelet my mom gave you?” When I didn’t answer, he strode over, grabbed my wrist, and pushed up my sleeve. “The one they gave you as a token for that childhood pact. I’m afraid Isla will get the wrong idea if she sees it…” The words hung in the air. My dad and his, who had been sipping tea, froze. My mom, who had been arranging flowers for him, stopped cold. The atmosphere turned instantly sour. My mom stared at me, the vase and clippers in her hand clattering onto the table. She started to get up, but Hugh’s mom pulled her back down. Then, she stood up herself, placing herself firmly in front of me and giving Hugh a hard shove. “Hugh! What do you think you’re doing? Putting aside the fact that nothing’s even started between you and this Isla… that bracelet? You were the one who got on your knees and begged Cora to wear it when you were seventeen!” It was like a switch flipped in Hugh’s mind. He remembered. He remembered that year when another boy confessed his feelings to me. Panicked, he’d gotten drunk, stolen the jade bracelet from his mother’s jewelry box, and shown up at my house in the middle of the night, crying, pleading, even kneeling, begging me to wear his family heirloom. He tugged at his collar, took a deep breath, and forced a smile at me. “I’m just a little tense. I… it’s not right to take back a gift… you can keep it.” “It’s fine. I’ll give it back. I’ll go home and get it now.” I stood up, cutting him off, my voice steady. “I’ll be quick. I won’t hold things up.” Before anyone could react, I grabbed my bag and walked out. 4 When I returned with the bracelet and was about to knock, a chorus of cheers from inside stopped me— “Welcome—” Hugh’s smile froze the moment he saw me. “What are you doing here?” He clearly hadn’t expected me to come back, let alone to actually return the bracelet. When I held it out to him, his face was a mask of disbelief. He finally took it, pocketed it, and leaned in to whisper in my ear. “Cora, for the sake of our… partnership, don’t you dare cause any trouble today. Isla’s a sensitive girl. Don’t say the wrong thing and upset her.” I didn’t want to even look at him. Isla was a girl, but wasn’t I? I looked at the person I had loved for my entire youth, and a bone-deep chill threatened to swallow me whole. Ten minutes later, Isla arrived, escorted by the matchmaker. The adults chatted amiably. This was why my parents had to be here—to subtly lay out our family’s finances and future prospects for the matchmaker’s benefit. Throughout it all, Hugh sat beside Isla, his every gesture radiating care. At nearly thirty, he was acting like a green, infatuated teenager. I was completely irrelevant, which suited me fine. I was just looking for a chance to slip away. But then, Isla turned her gentle gaze on me. “You must be Cora. I’ve heard so much about you. The goddess of the arts department, wasn’t it?” Startled to be addressed, I waved my hands dismissively. “Oh, no, not at all. That was just everyone fooling around in college.” I hoped the attention would quickly shift away, but Isla persisted. “Not at all! I remember you performed a classical dance at the university ball. The next day, the entire ground floor of your dorm was flooded with flowers for you.” Before I could speak, she tugged playfully at Hugh’s arm. “You two are childhood friends. How did you not end up together? I remember you were inseparable. Everyone thought you’d get married.” Every eye in the room turned to me. I don’t know how to describe it, but this seemingly harmless woman radiated a strange hostility. “Her?” Hugh looked at Isla, handing her a freshly peeled apple. “To you, she might be a girl, a goddess even. But to me, she’s just a tomboy. My best friend, the one I grew up sharing everything with.” A memory seemed to surface, and he chuckled. “You have no idea. When Cora cried as a kid, snot and tears would just stream down her face. If I didn’t wipe it for her, that big glob of snot would’ve gone right into her mouth.” He warmed to his theme. “And when she was fifteen, she fainted during gym class from running and started talking nonsense, flailing her arms around like a maniac…” “I have to go, I have something to do.” I stood up, barely containing my fury, and forced a smile at the adults. “You all enjoy your chat.” Isla looked at Hugh with a troubled expression. “Did I say something wrong to upset your little sister?” Hugh glared at me, as if blaming me for ruining the atmosphere. Before he could speak, I cut him off. “I have a date with my boyfriend tonight. If I don’t leave now, I’ll be late.” 5 “Since when do you have a boyfriend?” I had one foot out the door when Hugh grabbed my arm. “How come I don’t know about this?” My face flushed hot in front of everyone, especially Isla. I wrenched my arm free. “Why do you care if I have a boyfriend or not?” I snapped. “My own parents haven’t even asked. It’s none of your business!” “Hugh!” his father said in a low, stern voice. “Sit down! What kind of behavior is this?” I took the opportunity to bow to the adults. “Goodbye, Uncle, Auntie.” From behind me, Isla’s sweet voice piped up. “Cora is so beautiful, and she’s always performing on stage. She must have plenty of admirers… It’s perfectly normal for her to be dating. I even saw what looked like a hickey under her scarf earlier.”

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The world went black. I woke in the school infirmary, antiseptic stinging my nose. Cause? Collapsed during a jog from exhaustion. Reason? My weight. Ralph arrived first, his handsome face feigning concern. Just as I felt a flicker of warmth, a glitchy pop-up only I could see appeared: 【Sweet, clueless girl. Your brother bound a weight-loss system to you for that scholarship girl.】 【The more you diet, the thinner she gets. Her binge-eating? All transfers to you.】 My hand trembled. The door burst open—Ethan rushed in with my study tablet. The ghostly text flickered again: 【He linked a study system to you too. Every ounce of effort you put in boosts her grades.】 【You went from top of your class to this… because of them.】 The words blurred. I nearly fainted from rage. So, I was their golden goose, and they were plucking me bare? I turned the tablet away, fingers flying across a mindless match-three game. Fine. If this was the game they wanted to play, nobody would enjoy it. 1. “Can’t even jog without passing out? How pathetic are you?” Ralph’s voice was cold as ice, his brows knitted in a severe frown as he looked down at me on the infirmary bed. I used to think he was just tough on the outside, a classic case of a harsh tongue hiding a soft heart. Now, thanks to the phantom pop-ups, I knew the truth. Ralph’s disdain was as real on the inside as it was on the out. “I’ve thought it over,” I said, my voice flat. “I’m done trying to lose weight. It’s useless anyway, so I’m not doing it anymore.” I didn’t look at him, focusing on clearing a new level of the game. He slammed his hand on the table beside my bed, making me jump. “Don’t you dare defy me! Who said you could stop? You think I’m supporting you for nothing?” he snarled. “You’re fat enough as it is, and you’re lazing around here? I bet you’re just faking it. Tonight, no dinner. You’re running laps, as usual!” When I didn’t respond, his temper flared, and he raised a hand as if to strike me. The ever-gentle Ethan stepped between us. “The city-wide finals are coming up, Ralph. Everyone’s cramming. It makes sense for Lisa to shift her focus to studying for a bit,” he said smoothly. “Come on, let’s not distract her. She needs to get back to her practice questions.” I stared at them, using every ounce of my willpower to crush the bitterness and hatred clawing at my throat. These two men. One was my adopted brother, whom my parents treated like their own son, elevating him to the status of a high-society heir. The other was my childhood friend, whose family I’d begged my parents to save from bankruptcy years ago. And yet, for some girl who had appeared out of nowhere, they had joined forces to ruin me. “I never realized,” I said, my voice barely more than a whisper, squeezed from between gritted teeth, “how much you two truly care about me.” My voice was dripping with venom. “Since you’ve been so good to me, I’ll be sure to repay you properly.” Ralph frowned, but Ethan, oblivious, just smiled his gentle smile. “Of course, Lisa. It’s what we should do. But if you really feel you owe us… you could always invest in my family’s latest venture. My parents are a little short on capital right now.” Invest in your ass. I kicked the thin blanket off, grabbed my tablet, and stormed out of the room. 2. Back in the classroom, my eyes immediately found her: Serena Miller. The scholarship student I’d been sponsoring for six years. Today, she was flawless, her face a perfect oval, her skin so pale she practically glowed. She was the center of attention wherever she went. But I remembered the old Serena. The girl with dull skin, short and pudgy, who used to write me letters calling me her role model. When she followed me to this elite high school, I felt sorry for her, all alone in a new city. I invited her to my home, introduced her to my friends. Including Ethan. Slowly, everything changed. I got fatter. My grades plummeted. The people who once surrounded me drifted away, flocking to her side instead. Now, Serena rushed over, her face a mask of concern, though the corners of her lips twitched upward. “Lisa, you’re back! We heard you fainted while dieting. We were all so worried.” She squeezed my hand. “It’s okay to be a little chubby, really. You shouldn’t worry so much about your looks. It’s what’s on the inside that counts.” Before I could even respond, someone else chimed in with a cold laugh. “The inside? As if she has any inner beauty. Her personality is as ugly as her grades. It’s true what they say—your face reflects your soul.” “Serena, you’re just too nice,” another girl added. “She doesn’t even treat you like a friend, and you still waste your kindness on her.” “Lisa’s only trying so hard to lose weight to steal Ethan from you. Too bad Ethan’s not blind. Anyone with eyes can see who the better choice is.” Before, I would have shrunk under their relentless, casual cruelty, too ashamed of my weight and my failing grades to speak up. Not this time. I slammed my hand on a desk. “Who the hell is spreading rumors that I’m doing this for a guy?” I roared, my voice shaking with fury. “I’m the one who’s been bullied this whole time! Don’t push me too far!” “Okay, okay, everyone calm down,” Serena said, stepping forward with her fake magnanimity. “Lisa has the right to pursue who she likes. Every girl in the world is lovely in her own way.” She then turned to me, her tone chiding. “But Lisa, they didn’t mean any harm. Lashing out like that is not the way. It’s not good for class unity.” “Unity?” I felt a vein throb in my forehead. “You didn’t give a damn about unity when you were all ganging up on me, but now that I’m fighting back, you lecture me about it?” Just then, the bell for class rang. I clenched my fists and stalked back to my seat. “What a psycho. What’s her problem today?” As a student passed my desk, they “accidentally” knocked my textbook to the floor. As I bent to pick it up, the person behind them deliberately stomped on it. I flinched back, and a sharp, searing pain shot through my head as it connected with the corner of a desk. The pain was dizzying, followed by a wave of malicious laughter. A boy’s voice cut through the noise, loud enough for me to hear clearly. “That fat pig actually thinks she can fight back. She’s just a joke to us.” 3. This period was Math, typically my weakest subject and one I always poured extra effort into. But after seeing the pop-ups, my perspective had shifted. I refused to pave the way for my own saboteurs. I swiped a novel from my desk mate and, head down, dove into the story. Serena, who had been admiring her reflection in a compact mirror, noticed my uncharacteristic behavior. She grew visibly anxious. “Lisa!” she hissed, waiting for the teacher to turn to the blackboard. “What do you think you’re doing? You’ve always been so diligent. The finals are just around the corner, don’t you want a shot at the guaranteed admission spots?” “One, my grades are in the toilet, so I don’t have a chance. Two, my family’s rich, so I have plenty of backup options. Why should I torture myself?” I shot back with a smirk, flipping the page of my novel with a flourish. Rebelling in plain sight was exhilarating, especially since the teachers had long given up on me, implicitly accepting that I was a lost cause. By the end of the class, I’d devoured nearly a hundred chapters, my eyes welling up from the story’s drama. After school, I marched straight to the commercial street outside campus, settled into a high-end restaurant, and treated myself to a magnificent solo dinner while binging a TV show. When I finally returned to the classroom, full and content, I found a towering stack of Math workbooks on my desk. “Lisa, I know you’ve been under a lot of pressure lately,” Serena said with a smile. “It’s okay. I went and bought you the most comprehensive set of Math practice books on the market.” She patted the stack. “It was only about three hundred and eighty bucks. Don’t forget to add the delivery fee and send it to me, okay?” She turned to go back to her seat and her makeup, but I picked up the entire stack and deposited it right back on her desk. Her jaw dropped. I met her shocked gaze with an icy stare. “I didn’t ask you to buy them. Take them back.” Serena had never seen me like this, defiant and unpredictable. Her hands started to shake. “They cost over three hundred and eighty dollars! I bought them to help you, and you know I don’t have money! You’re just going to refuse them?” “Don’t try to guilt-trip me,” I said, my face a blank mask. “You’re the one who insisted on buying them. It has nothing to do with me.” Serena was speechless for a moment, then she switched tactics, her voice rising in a theatrical, grief-stricken cry. “I did this for you! Look at your grades! I used all the money I had to help you, and this is how you treat me? How am I supposed to live? How can you be so cruel…” The more she spoke, the more she seemed to convince herself of her own victimhood. She collapsed onto her desk, sobbing loudly and clutching her chest as if she couldn’t breathe. The classroom erupted. One of the boys, seeing his goddess in such distress, stormed over, rolling up his sleeves. “Lisa, you’re a heartless bitch! You made Serena this upset, you have to compensate her for emotional damages! You’re covering her living expenses for the rest of the month!” The sheer absurdity of his logic almost made me laugh. “Did I ask her to buy the books? How is it my problem if she can’t afford to eat?” Just then, a voice cut through the chaos. “Serena!” Ethan was standing at the classroom door. He took in the scene, his expression hardening into something terrifying. He rushed past me, shoving me aside, and swept Serena into his arms before striding out of the room. 4. “You’re done for, Lisa! If anything happens to Serena, it’s all on you! We all saw it!” a student shouted after them. The threat was a good reminder. Worried about being framed, I hurried after them to the infirmary. Inside, Serena was lying on a bed with her eyes closed. When she saw me pull out my tablet, she must have assumed I was finally going to study. But instead, I started a new round of my match-three game, my fingers flying across the screen. She couldn’t stand it. “Lisa, will you die if you don’t play that for five minutes? Study! I forbid you from playing anymore!” I just grinned and scooted my chair a little farther away. Serena looked like she was about to explode. “What is wrong with you today? Did you hit your head when you fainted and get a personality transplant? Are you insane?! Ethan! Ethan, what are you doing just standing there?” Ethan was leaning against the wall, his face flushed and breathing heavily, his arms hanging limp at his sides. It took him a moment to recover before he walked over. “Serena,” he said, panting slightly. “You feel… heavier.” Now that he said it, I noticed it too. It wasn’t my imagination. Serena’s face was definitely puffier. Her expression soured instantly. Ethan scrambled to correct himself. “No, no, that’s not what I meant! It’s me. I’ve been slacking off at the gym, too many business dinners with my parents.” The school nurse came in just then, announcing that Serena was fine, likely just a bit of low blood sugar. Seizing the opportunity, Ethan quickly ordered two milk teas and a slice of cake on his phone, saying it was to make up for the scare. I had been silent until then. “Ethan,” I said, my voice dangerously calm. “You shoved me back there. Don’t you think you owe me an apology?” I looked him dead in the eye. “And to think I had my parents looking out for your family’s business. I guess loyalty means nothing to you.” Ethan forced a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “It was an emergency, Lisa. I didn’t mean to knock into you. We’ve been friends for so long, I’m sure you can forgive me, right?” Yes, for years, I had considered him my best friend. There had even been a time when the lines of our friendship blurred with something more, a tender, unspoken affection he was well aware of. “Ethan, you truly have lived up to our long years of friendship.” Just then, the delivery arrived. I snatched one of the milk teas, stabbed a straw into it, and took a long, satisfying gulp. Serena looked like she was about to leap out of bed, desperately trying to get Ethan to stop me. I licked the sweet foam from my lips with a smile and took a large bite of the cake. “Ethan,” I said, my voice deceptively sweet. “We’re such good friends. You don’t mind if I have some of your food, do you?” You two destroyed me. I will make sure neither of you gets a happy ending. As I turned to leave, my smile vanished, replaced by a mask of cold fury. Once outside, I dialed my father’s number. “Dad,” I said, my voice firm. “The Miller family isn’t capable of handling those projects. We shouldn’t be giving them handouts anymore.” I took a deep breath. “I’ve thought it over. You were right. Ethan and I were never meant to be. I don’t want anything to do with him or his family ever again.” My parents were thrilled, their relief palpable even over the phone. A moment later, a notification popped up on my phone: a five-million-dollar transfer into my account. “Buy yourself whatever you want, sweetheart,” my dad said. “Our darling girl,” my mom added, her voice thick with love. “Everything we have is yours. We’d do anything for you, all you have to do is ask. All we want is for you to be happy.” My eyes stung, and I had to fight back tears. I tipped my head back, forcing them to recede. As I did, I caught my reflection in the glass and was stunned— I looked… thinner.

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My sister weighed three hundred pounds, and after she lost the weight, she weighed five pounds, box and all. My three-hundred-pound sister found a weight-loss camp online. They guaranteed they could turn her into a goddess in one month. I discovered the camp was an unlicensed, fly-by-night operation. After I pleaded with her, my sister finally gave up the idea. A month later, all the girls who went to the camp had transformed into slender beauties. The camp announced it was closing its doors. My sister had a complete breakdown. She blamed me for sabotaging her journey to beauty. She soaked all my clothes in industrial-grade pesticide. I died of multiple organ failure. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day my sister wanted to go to the weight-loss camp. 1. I opened my eyes to see my sister, Naomie, sprawled on the couch. She had a chicken leg in one hand and was scrolling through her phone with the other. The rolls of fat on her stomach jiggled with every laugh. “Mom! Mom! Come look, there’s a fitness boot camp here!” she shrieked. “They guarantee they can make me gorgeous in just one month!” My mom emerged from the kitchen with a plate of cupcakes and set them in front of Naomie. “Oh, sweetie, you’re not even fat. Why would you want to put yourself through all that trouble?” Naomie’s face fell. She started yelling at my mom, screaming that she didn’t understand anything, that all she ever did was cook for her, which was why she’d ended up like this. She wailed that because of her weight, the guy she had a crush on had been stolen from her. The camp cost ten thousand dollars for a one-month program. They only accepted women over two hundred pounds and offered a full refund if they didn’t lose weight. Naomie wrapped her arms around my mom, whining and pleading. She argued that even if she didn’t lose weight, there was no financial risk. My mom hesitated, then looked at me. “Raina, what do you think?” I snapped back to reality. In my previous life, my mom had asked me the same question. I’d grabbed my phone and looked up the boot camp Naomie had found. It was a brand-new company with no credentials, no online presence to speak of. Their announcement stated it was a one-time, one-month program. After that, they would suspend operations indefinitely. I knew immediately it was a scam. A classic cash-grab. How could they guarantee someone over two hundred pounds would get thin in a month? Naomie was pushing three hundred. She could barely walk a few steps without needing to rest. I told my mom all of this, urging them not to choose this company. If Naomie really wanted to lose weight, I would find her a legitimate, reputable program. They had reluctantly agreed. I found a top-rated camp for her, but Naomie lasted less than two weeks before complaining about how tired she was and coming home. A month later, the first camp released a video. The girls who had signed up, all over two hundred pounds, had been transformed into stunning beauties. They glowed with health, their cheeks rosy and full of life. The camp simultaneously announced the success of their program and that they were closing their doors, with no date set for reopening. My sister went ballistic. Her hatred for me became absolute. She was convinced I was the sole reason she’d missed her chance. One day, while I was out, she bought a bottle of industrial pesticide and soaked all of my clothes in it. I died in agony from multiple organ failure. And my parents, to protect Naomie, told everyone I had mistaken the pesticide for laundry detergent. They wept, clutching a photo of me at my funeral. “Raina, honey, we’ve already lost you. We can’t lose Naomie too.” “A big sister should always forgive her little sister. She knows she was wrong now. You’d forgive her, right?” “Besides, you can’t blame her entirely. If you had just let her go to that camp in the first place, none of this would have happened.” I pushed the thoughts away, hiding the hatred in my eyes behind a smile. “Naomie wants to lose weight,” I said brightly. “That’s a great thing.” 2. My mom blinked, then asked again, “Raina, you don’t think there’s anything wrong with this boot camp?” I tilted my head, feigning curiosity. “Mom, do you think there’s something wrong with it?” She wiped her hands on her apron and stood up with a smile. “What do I know about these things? You’re the one who went to college. You must know better than me.” The moment the words left her mouth, her face changed. She wrung her apron anxiously. Naomie’s face crumpled, the fat on her body quivering with rage. “Mom! What is that supposed to mean?! You’re looking down on me, aren’t you?! What’s so great about going to college?” “So she’s the college expert, and I don’t know anything, is that it?!” Two fat tears squeezed out of her tiny, puffy eyes. Sobbing, Naomie struggled off the couch and stormed into her room. The floorboards shook with each step. “College” was a forbidden word in our house. Ever since her crush was “stolen,” Naomie had lost all interest in school. She failed her college entrance exams and refused to retake them. Now, she just lay around at home, waiting for my mom to feed her. Naomie believed that if she were thin, there was nothing she couldn’t do. She was convinced that even Ivy League schools would be begging for her to attend. My mom shot me a disapproving look and clicked her tongue. “Why did you have to provoke your sister? She’s already so insecure, and you say something like that?” “And there’s no need for that boot camp anyway,” she continued. “You know how she is. She’ll be back in two or three days.” “You can tell her that at dinner.” She wiped her hands and went back to the kitchen. I watched her go, a cold smile on my face. My mom was always like this. She was afraid of Naomie’s anger, so she always pushed me to be the messenger, the one to break the bad news. The moment Naomie got upset, my mom would swoop in to play the peacemaker, throwing all the blame onto me. That’s why Naomie had always hated me. She was convinced I was deliberately trying to sabotage her. At lunch, Naomie brought up the boot camp again. “Mom, Dad, the deadline to sign up is the day after tomorrow!” she whined. “Hurry up and give me the money! Don’t you want me to get thin?!” My dad kept his head down, silent. My mom was frantically winking and making faces at me. I shoveled a few mouthfuls of rice into my mouth. “Mom, is there something wrong with your eye?” Before my mom could scold me, Naomie’s glare shot toward me like a dagger. My mom carefully chose her words. “Don’t rush, sweetie. We’ll have your sister look up the camp online later.” “It’s not that I don’t want to spend the money, it’s just… I trust your sister’s judgment more.” I quickly refused. “Mom, I don’t know anything about this stuff. If Naomie wants to go, just let her. It could be fun, right, Naomie?” 3. After lunch, my mom dragged me into my room. She demanded to know what I was playing at. I was about to ignore her, but then I saw a fleshy bulge in the crack of the doorway. Naomie was hiding, listening. “What’s wrong, Mom? If you don’t want Naomie to go, you can tell her yourself,” I said innocently. “I think it’s great that she’s motivated. Even if it’s just for fun, what’s the harm? They’ll refund the money anyway.” “So why won’t you let her go?” My mom’s temper flared. She slammed her hand on the table. “Don’t you get it? What kind of willpower does your sister have? Ten thousand dollars for a month, down the drain!” “Fun? A thousand, maybe. But ten thousand?! Are you going to pay for it?!” I pretended to hesitate. “If I had the money, I’d help her out. But I just started working, where am I going to get ten thousand dollars?” Bang. Naomie threw the door open, standing in the doorway, panting for breath. Her eyes were bloodshot, her teeth clenched. “So that’s it! You just don’t want to spend the money! You don’t want me to go!” “I’m so fat now, I might as well just die! I’ll go kill myself! Then you can save your precious money!” she howled, then thundered out of the apartment. My mom shot me a look of pure hatred. “Look what you’ve done.” “Naomie, sweetie, let me explain!” Naomie ran downstairs and collapsed onto the community lawn, wailing. Snot and tears smeared all over her clothes. This was her usual tactic. Whenever she didn’t get her way, she’d go downstairs and cry to the neighborhood gossips. And just like that, every busybody in the complex knew my mom was too cheap to spend ten thousand dollars on her daughter’s weight loss. I bought a soda and watched the show from a distance, thoroughly entertained. The neighborhood ladies surrounded my mom, clucking their tongues and lecturing her. “You really need to pay more attention to your child’s health. Look at little Naomie, she’s so big.” “It’s ten thousand now. If she needs surgery later, who knows how much it’ll cost.” “Exactly. And how is she supposed to find a boyfriend like this? It’s not like you’re short on money. Just let the girl have some fun.” At the mention of not finding a boyfriend, Naomie’s wails grew even louder. “My mom just doesn’t want me to get married! If I were thin, I could have any man I want!” The rolls of fat on her body shook with each sob. It was a ridiculous sight. My mom’s face cycled through shades of red and green. She tried to explain, but she was no match for the gossips. She was thoroughly shamed. She wanted to drag Naomie home to talk, but Naomie refused to move. Defeated, my mom had to give in. Right there, in front of everyone, she transferred the deposit through the website. Only then did Naomie wipe her tears and follow her home. My mom slammed her bedroom door and didn’t come out. Naomie couldn’t have cared less. She was happily browsing online for pretty dresses, already planning where she would go on a date with her dream guy in a month. 4. The next day, the boot camp called and said they needed to register in person. My mom took Naomie first thing in the morning. And she made me come along, to “see if there was anything fishy.” I had to laugh. Even if there was, I wouldn’t say a word. I had no intention of dying a slow, agonizing death in a hospital bed again. That kind of pain was seared into my brain, unforgettable. At the entrance to the camp, we were greeted by several muscular, handsome men. Naomie’s eyes were glued to them. She practically dragged my mom forward, sweating profusely after just a few steps. The director saw Naomie’s size and his eyes lit up. He rushed over as if he’d found a treasure. “This must be your daughter! Come, come, fill out the registration form.” I glanced at the form. It asked for the basics—name, age, ID number—but also for blood type and even date and time of birth. My mom looked confused. Why would a weight-loss camp need all that? The director explained it was part of their new, high-tech approach. Every program was custom-tailored. My mom looked at me. “Raina, you went to college. What do you think?” I shrugged. “I have no idea. Why don’t you call someone and ask?” Naomie was getting antsy. She scribbled down the information on the form. “Mom!” she yelled. “You promised! You can’t go back on your word!” There was also a confidentiality agreement and a refund policy. A full refund was guaranteed if she didn’t lose at least one hundred pounds in a month. Naomie didn’t even read it before signing her name. The director showered Naomie with compliments. He said her features were exquisite, her proportions perfect, her legs long. She would be a true beauty once she lost the weight. He didn’t stop there. He even took a jab at me. “This is your sister, right? I’m a brutally honest person, so please don’t be offended.” “Once you lose the weight, you’ll be much more beautiful than your sister.” “You’ll be the campus queen! Even A-list celebrities won’t compare. Men will be lining up, willing to pay a fortune just to meet you.” Naomie was floating on cloud nine. She shot me a triumphant, smug look. After all that flattery, there was no way my mom was going to make that phone call. Naomie cornered her, demanding she pay the full fee right then and there, threatening to jump off the building if she didn’t. After the payment was made, the director told her to pick a trainer. It turned out the handsome men at the door were all trainers. Naomie was spoiled for choice. She pouted and batted her eyelashes at the director. “It’s so hard to choose! I can’t decide. Can I have two?” The director’s smile twitched, but he was a professional. His expression remained perfectly composed. He made an “exception” and let Naomie have two trainers. As we were leaving, I deliberately lingered for a moment. I noticed the director was saying the exact same thing to every single person who signed up. 5. My mom was so angry when we got home that she refused to eat lunch. Naomie, of course, didn’t care. She hummed a tune as she packed her things. They were moving into the camp for a month. That afternoon, my mom was still fuming and sent me to take Naomie to the camp. When we got there, a few of the trainers started taking Naomie’s measurements. The director pulled me aside, going on and on about how great their program was. I was bored until I saw some live-streaming equipment inside. “What’s this?” The director gave me a mysterious smile and just told me to follow their social media account. He said their training would start tonight. When I got home that evening, my mom was looking at a picture of Naomie and wiping away tears. “My sweet Naomie is so pampered. Will she be able to manage without us? Will she miss her mommy?” I rolled my eyes. “If you miss her so much, why don’t you just go live with her at the camp?” Her eyes lit up, and she actually pulled out her phone. The call was answered by a stream of curses from Naomie. I went back to my room and opened the social media app. The account was already live. Naomie and the other girls were lined up. Above their heads were gift icons. A caption explained that whoever got the most votes would get to start their weight-loss journey first. The stream didn’t have many viewers, but there was a steady flow of votes. Naomie was the biggest, so she had the most votes. When the voting ended, Naomie was the winner. She started her live-streamed workout. I watched for a bit. It was no different from any other fitness stream. Just dancing and exercise. After only five minutes, Naomie was drenched in sweat, panting heavily. She cried out that she needed a break. They were surprisingly humane. They let Naomie rest and brought another girl up to do aerobics. I wondered, how could anyone lose two hundred pounds in a month like this? It was just a normal workout. It was impossible. Five minutes later, Naomie was back on camera. She didn’t say a word. She just diligently danced for half an hour. Even when she was dripping with sweat and so tired she could barely lift her arms, she didn’t ask for a break. This wasn’t Naomie’s style. Maybe they had threatened her, or promised her some incredible reward. But what did that have to do with me? She had brought this on herself. I watched the stream for two days but didn’t see anything else out of the ordinary. It was boring. There was one strange thing, though. The viewers who were sending gifts seemed to be the same few people every time. A week later, I opened the stream again. My eyes widened in disbelief. Was that really my three-hundred-pound sister? She had lost eighty pounds!

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