Author: Momo Chan

My parents, both Hollywood legends, were terrified I’d try to ride their coattails. They made me sign an agreement: my career was mine, but their name, their fame, was off-limits. So I clawed my way up from the bottom. During a high-wire stunt for a gritty indie film, a cable snapped. I fell. The world went black. I was hanging on by a thread, my voice a raw, trembling whisper as I begged my agent to get my parents to the hospital, to sign the surgical consent forms. But they ignored my plea. Their words, cold and sharp over the phone, were a final twist of the knife. “Don’t you dare pull a stunt like this to try and force our hand. You’ve been a manipulative child from the day you were born. Did you think we wouldn’t see right through you?” When I clawed my way back from death’s door, the first thing I saw was a post from my brother. A video from his wrap party. He was the center of a cheering crowd, my parents beaming beside him, proudly introducing him to the world as their brilliant son. The caption read: A star on the screen, but always Mom and Dad’s little prince. This time, there was no hysteria. No screaming into a pillow. Instead, I had a declaration of familial severance drawn up. And then, I walked away. 1 The piercing shriek of the heart monitor was a constant scream in the sterile white room. My agent Monica’s sobs were a muffled counterpoint, swallowed by the urgent, clipped voices of doctors and nurses. “We can’t wait any longer. His condition is critical, we need to operate now. Get his family on the phone!” Monica’s choked voice was a distant wave. “I can’t… they’re not picking up.” A nurse’s voice, sharp with urgency. “Use my phone. There’s no more time to waste.” Monica mumbled her thanks, her hands fumbling as she took the phone. Unlike all the other times, the call connected almost instantly. “Yeah, what is it?” The voice was my father’s, irritated and rough. A knot tightened in my chest, a sour, acid-like pain that cut through the physical agony. Monica’s voice was a frantic rush. “Hello, this is Jack’s agent. Am I speaking to his father?” A sharp sigh on the other end. Impatience dripped from every word. “No. Wrong number.” The pain in my chest bloomed, a dark flower of agony so intense it sharpened my fading consciousness. Monica wouldn’t give up. “But… it can’t be. Your contact in his phone is labeled ‘Dad.’” She took a breath, trying to steady herself. “Please, don’t misunderstand. Jack was in an accident on set this afternoon. He needs emergency surgery. We need you to come to the hospital and sign the consent forms.” She held the phone to my lips. I fought against the blinding pain radiating from my shattered tailbone, my blood-smeared hand shaking as I gripped the phone. “Dad…” My voice was a broken thing. “It’s Jack. It hurts… it hurts so much. Can you… can you and Mom please come?” I clung to that phone like it was the last handhold on a cliff face. But the voice on the other end was a blade of ice, sending me plummeting into the abyss. “Don’t you dare pull a stunt like this to try and force our hand. You’ve been a manipulative child from the day you were born. Did you think we wouldn’t see right through you?” Before I could gasp out another word, the line went dead. My heart felt like it was being methodically sliced apart by a razor, a pain so profound it almost eclipsed the fire in my bones. I could feel the pity in the eyes of the people around me. The lead surgeon’s face was grim. “That’s it. No more time. Sarah, go get emergency authorization from the hospital director. Now!” Through a disorienting haze, I was wheeled into the operating room. When I opened my eyes again, it was to the familiar, soulless white of a hospital ceiling. “Jack! You’re awake!” Monica, seeing my eyes flutter open, scrambled to press the call button by the bed. I managed a weak, crooked smile, trying to reassure her. She gripped my hand, her face streaked with tears, asking me again and again if it hurt. I wanted to tell her to stop crying, but my throat was a desert, too raw to make a sound. A nurse rushed in, her face flooding with relief when she saw me. “You’ve cheated death, kid. From here on out, it’s all uphill.” As the nurse went over instructions with Monica, I reached for my phone. A few messages from work colleagues. And, just as I expected, nothing from my parents. Not a single text. Not a missed call. But there on my social media feed was a new post from my brother, Julian. A flood of congratulatory comments from my parents glowed beneath it. He had wrapped his first leading role in a blockbuster last night. They had driven to the set, presented him with a new sports car, and popped champagne. He was their star, their moon, their entire universe. After a sip of water soothed my throat, I urged Monica to go home. “You’ve been here for days, Monica. Go. Get some rest.” She carefully spooned some lukewarm glucose water to my lips. “Don’t you worry about me. You’re the one who matters right now. What are you going to do if I’m not here?” I forced a smile. Even my agent cared more about me than my own blood. On the day I nearly died, my parents had been celebrating their other child. A month later, I was discharged. I turned down Monica’s offer to drive me home, stopping instead at a print shop to pick up a document I’d had prepared. The moment I stepped through the front door of the mansion, something whistled past my ear. A split second later, the sound of glass exploding against the wall behind me. A drop of blood trickled down my cheek. I wiped it away, my gaze finding my family in the living room. Mom and Julian were browsing a catalog of a new fall fashion line. Dad stood by the coffee table, his face a mask of fury. “So, you finally remembered you have a home?” I ignored his rage. “A home? You mean this place?” A month in the hospital. Besides Monica and the nurses, no one had visited. They hadn’t even sent a single text message. In this sprawling, opulent villa, if there was any place I could truly call my own, it was the stuffy, airless storage room in the attic they let me use. Julian, as if only just noticing my presence, widened his eyes, his voice dripping with faux concern. “Jack! How can you talk to Dad like that?” He turned on his actor’s charm, his face a canvas of manufactured guilt. “Where have you been? Do you have any idea how worried we all were?” He paused, his gaze softening into a performance of contrition. “Was it because Mom and Dad were at my wrap party? Because they hung up on you? Is that why you’re angry?” Julian was always the favorite, everywhere he went. The recent illness had given his handsome face a pale, fragile quality that only made him seem more innocent. Mom clutched Julian’s hand protectively, her eyes flashing with anger as she glared at me. “When are you going to grow up and be more like your brother? Why must you always make us worry?” Her voice rose. “Julian has been so sick, and you have the nerve to be jealous? Why couldn’t it have been you who was sick? My sweet, considerate Julian…” A bitter, ironic smile touched my lips. “Worried?” I asked. “Is that what you call not sending a single message for a month? Or is it lounging on the sofa picking out new clothes while your other son has been missing for weeks?” SMACK. The crisp sound of the slap echoed through the vast living room. The hired help and the fashion consultant froze. My father was incandescent with rage. “You ungrateful brat! I never should have been soft on you, never should have let you into this industry. Look at what you’ve become!” I cupped my stinging cheek, a humorless laugh escaping my lips. Soft on me? Forcing me to sign a non-disclosure agreement about our relationship before I could even audition for a community theater play—that was being soft? Then what do you call handing Julian multi-million dollar endorsement deals and lead roles in major films on a silver platter? Philanthropists of the year? I knew my birth was an afterthought, a means to an end for Julian. He had leukemia as a child; I was the miracle bone marrow match. My entire existence was an insurance policy. But for twenty years, I’d endured the needles, the painful extractions, the sterile hospital rooms. Even if they felt no love, couldn’t they spare a little gratitude for the service I’d rendered? Apparently not. I was his personal bone marrow bank. When they needed me: “Jack, honey, this is your brother. You exist because of him. You have to save him.” When they didn’t: “You’re so young, yet so full of schemes. Always trying to compete with your brother for attention. Get out of my sight, I need to take care of him. Stop bothering me.” But God, I was so desperate for their love. I’d take any scrap they’d offer, even if it was just a moment of kindness before another procedure. But a trip to death’s door has a way of clarifying things. I would no longer beg for things that were never meant to be mine. “Dad! It’s all my fault, don’t hit him!” Julian rushed to my side, his voice thick with concern. He cupped my face, but as he did, he deliberately scraped the large, sharp stone of his ring across my cheek. “Jack, your face…” “Ugh! Get off me!” I shoved his hand away. He stumbled back dramatically, collapsing onto the plush carpet with a soft thud. The change in my mother was instantaneous. Her cold indifference vanished, replaced by frantic panic as she scrambled to Julian’s side. “Jack, are you insane?!” My father shoved me aside, rushing to his favored son. “Julian, are you okay? Are you hurt?” Julian shot me a fleeting, fearful glance before turning back to our parents, his voice trembling. “I’m fine, Dad, Mom, please don’t blame Jack. It was my fault, I just lost my balance.” My mother’s eyes were bloodshot with fury. “You ungrateful monster! Your brother was trying to help you, and you attack him?” My father’s face was darker than a thundercloud. “Get over here and kneel down. Apologize to your brother right now, or you will never set foot in this house again.” The cut on my cheek, opened by Julian’s ring, throbbed with every breath. The lines of love and indifference were drawn so clearly it was almost comical. Julian takes a calculated fall onto a soft rug, and it’s a five-alarm fire. I’m bleeding from a deliberate wound he inflicted, and they don’t even see it. I let out a short, sharp laugh. I reached into my jacket and pulled out the document I’d picked up earlier. “In that case, let’s sign the severance agreement.” I held it out, ignoring their stunned, disbelieving expressions. “Once you sever our legal ties, I’ll be out of your hair for good.”

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In the tenth year of our marriage, my husband, Adam, had an affair. He brought his mistress’s two children to me. He said the children were pitiful and needed a father. My own daughter begged him not to leave, but he was unmoved. I didn’t fight him. I took our daughter and left. Fearing she would be mistreated by a stepfather, I never remarried. Years later, my daughter found a good man. My granddaughter was adorable, and I spent my days caring for her. Life was happy and peaceful. On my sixtieth birthday, my daughter and son-in-law said they were swamped with work. My granddaughter had a last-minute tutoring session. They promised to celebrate with me the next day. But that night, I came across a local video on my phone. In a luxurious private room at a hotel— My daughter and her family were standing with Adam. And his mistress’s two children. The six of them were gathered together, singing “Happy Birthday” to the other woman. And my daughter called her, “Mom.” 1 My daughter insisted that my sixtieth birthday had to be a grand celebration. I told her not to spend so much money. “No,” she said. “I’ve seen how hard you’ve worked all these years. This has to be a proper celebration.” Her words warmed my heart. I was deeply touched. All these years, I had raised her alone. I watched her grow up, get married, and have a child of her own. My son-in-law was a good man, treating me like his own mother. My granddaughter was a sweet, lovely child who called me “Grandma” in the most adorable voice. I was happy. The pain of Adam’s betrayal had slowly healed over the years. So, when my daughter brought up the idea of a big party, I was genuinely moved and looked forward to the day. When you get older, you crave the liveliness of family, the feeling of being surrounded by your children and grandchildren. It gives you something to look forward to. On the day of my birthday, I woke up early. I tidied myself up, took my granddaughter, Rebecca, to school, and left breakfast on the table for my daughter and son-in-law before they left for work. My daughter, Eva, had promised they would finish their work in the morning and come home early to start the party. I stayed home, cleaning the house, waiting for them. But I waited and waited. The agreed-upon time came and went, and Eva still wasn’t home. Worried something had happened, I was just about to call her when my phone rang. It was her. “Mom, something important came up at work, for both me and Will. It’s so sudden. We can’t get away. I don’t think we can celebrate your birthday today…” Her voice was full of guilt. I was disappointed, but their careers were more important. I tried to sound cheerful. “It’s okay, dear. Work comes first. You two focus on your jobs. I’ll go pick up Rebecca from…” “Oh!” She cut me off before I could finish. “Mom, it’s your birthday. You should take a break. A friend of mine is passing by the school this afternoon and will pick Rebecca up and bring her to my office. You just stay home and rest.” Thinking of how hard Eva was working, and how young Rebecca was, I protested. “Let me get her. You’re so busy, and she’s at that rambunctious age. She’ll distract you from your work.” At that, Eva sounded agitated, her voice rising. “No, really, it’s on my friend’s way. Mom, don’t worry about it. Just rest at home. I have a meeting soon, so I have to go.” She hung up before I could say another word. Listening to the dial tone, I sighed. Eva had been working so hard lately, she’d lost weight. I went back into the kitchen to stew a chicken for her and Will, to help them regain their strength. The chicken needed to cook for a long time, and I had already finished the housework. So I sat on the sofa, took out my phone, and decided to rest for a bit. When you’re older, you find simple pleasures in things like scrolling through videos. I opened the app, swiped through a few, but nothing caught my eye. Just as I was about to close it, I accidentally tapped on the “Local” feed. And I saw her. I recognized the back of her head instantly. It was my daughter, Eva. 2 The video had been posted half an hour ago. I tapped on it. The scene was a private room in a hotel. My daughter stood at a table, my son-in-law beside her, holding Rebecca’s hand. All three of them were smiling. Eva turned her head slightly, and the camera panned. And then, I saw Adam. If there was one person in this world I hated, it was, without a doubt, Adam. We had fallen in love when we were young. I thought we would have a lifetime of happiness together. But in the tenth year of our marriage, his first love’s husband died in a car accident, leaving her a widow with two young children. Such a pitiful sight. At first, he helped them secretly, behind my back. When I found out, we had a huge fight. His face was red with fury as he called me heartless. Then, he came to me, with his first love’s two children in his arms, and handed me the divorce papers. “Leo and Violet are too young,” he said. “They can’t be without a father.” So he was divorcing me to be with his first love, to become a father to these two children. As he said this, our own daughter, then named Amy, clung to his leg, sobbing, begging her daddy not to leave. But Adam turned and walked away without a second glance. I didn’t prolong the agony. I took most of his assets and left with our daughter. I changed her surname to mine, Wang. From Amy, she became Eva. Fearing she would be mistreated by a stepfather, I never remarried. I devoted my life to her, watching her grow, go to university, fall in love, get married, and then have the adorable Rebecca. And through all of this, Adam never once appeared in our lives. I heard rumors that he and his first love never had children of their own, that they raised her two children as their own, tirelessly and without complaint. Eva had once told me that she hated Adam as much as I did. I thought that she, who had memories of the divorce, would remember my pain and shun them like the plague. But I never imagined they were still in contact. Not only that, in the video, Eva and Adam stood side by side, heads bowed in conversation, with not a trace of hatred between them. Eva was even leading the “Happy Birthday” song. My son-in-law and Rebecca clapped along, and the mistress’s two children, now grown, joined in the singing. And the woman in the center of their circle, the star of the show, was Adam’s first love, Sophia. She was as radiant as ever, dressed in a beautiful gown, still treated like a princess. She and I share the same birthday. And the cruelest joke of all— My daughter, Eva, the light of my life, after the song finished, walked up to Sophia, hugged her, and called her, “Mom.” 3 My phone slipped from my hand and clattered to the floor, the video still playing on a loop. My chest ached, but more than the pain, there was a sense of disbelief. I tried to find an excuse, any reason to make it not true. My daughter, who had been my whole world, who had witnessed her father’s cruelty, who had seen how Sophia played the innocent victim while destroying our family—how could she call that woman… Mom? I sat on the sofa for a long time, numb, until the acrid smell of something burning pulled me back to reality. The chicken soup had boiled dry. I rushed to turn off the stove, my mind in a turmoil. I reached for the pot with my bare hands, searing my fingers. A large red welt immediately appeared. Just as I was about to treat the burn, the doorbell rang. I opened the door to find a delivery man holding a cake. The cake I had ordered for myself. A small one. When you’re old, you tend to get sentimental. After Eva’s call, I had gone online and ordered a small cake. A celebration for one is still a celebration. I placed the cake on the coffee table and stuck a few candles in it. I clasped my hands together and closed my eyes to make a wish. I had had my wishes all planned out. I wish for my precious daughter to have a happy and smooth life. I wish for my son-in-law to love my daughter forever. I wish for my adorable Rebecca to be healthy and smart. Those were the wishes I had intended to make. But now— When I closed my eyes, all I could see was Eva lying to me about working late, then taking her husband and child to celebrate Sophia’s birthday. In the video, Sophia was surrounded by people, her birthday celebration so lively. They looked like a real family. Unlike me, alone and cold, a clown, a joke. The child I had given birth to had become a knife plunged into my heart. The pain was unbearable. Tears, useless and unwelcome, streamed down my face. I wiped them away and made a new wish. “I wish… that for the rest of my days, I will be happy.” That’s right. For so many years, all my wishes had been for my child. Never for myself. And now, I saw how little it was worth. I took a couple of bites of the cake. It was too sweet, cloying. I glanced at the time. It was already eleven at night. Usually, by now, I would have finished all the housework, put the child to bed, and gone to sleep myself. But tonight, I couldn’t sleep. A moment later— I heard a noise at the front door. Eva tiptoed in, but as she passed the entryway, she saw me sitting in the living room. She froze, a flicker of panic in her eyes. My son-in-law and Rebecca followed behind her, chattering about the birthday party until they saw me and fell silent. Rebecca, trying to act innocent, blinked her big eyes, held out her arms to me, and said she missed her grandma and wanted a hug. But as she ran towards me, I didn’t scoop her up with my usual affection. This child, from the moment she was born, I had poured all my love into her, just as I had with Eva. My son-in-law had no parents, and they were both so busy. In this big city, expenses were high. I had taken care of Rebecca so they could work without worry. But she, so young, had also betrayed me, just like her mother. Eva walked towards me, still trying to pretend nothing was wrong. She rubbed her shoulders and complained about how busy her day had been, promising to make it up to me tomorrow. Her eyes fell on the small cake on the coffee table, and she paused. “Mom, you bought yourself a cake?” Maybe it was because my cake was so small, or maybe because the one they had for Sophia was so large, but the guilt in her eyes deepened. I saw no point in beating around the bush. I asked her directly, “Eva, where were you today?” She froze, her eyes searching my face, as if looking for something. In the end, she chose to play dumb. “Mom, what are you talking about? I was at work.” She glanced at Will and Rebecca. Will nodded quickly. “That’s right, Mom. I was swamped today. My back is killing me.” Rebecca, mimicking her father, shook her head like a bobblehead doll. “Grandma, we didn’t go eat cake today, we didn’t—” Children are not very good at lying. The more they talk, the more they reveal. Eva didn’t even have time to cover her mouth. She could only offer a strained smile, her eyes darting around as she tried to come up with another lie. “Mom, don’t misunderstand. Rebecca was getting restless at my office, so I bought her a small piece of cake.” The flimsy lie was a deep disappointment. I took out my phone, found the video, and tossed it in front of her. She froze, her mouth opening and closing as if she wanted to explain. But in the end, she sighed, flopped onto the sofa beside me, and adopted a defiant tone. “Oh, Mom! It’s been so many years! I know you hate Dad, but he and I are related by blood. For your sake, I’ve barely seen him all these years. Isn’t that enough? You’re so old now, what grudges can’t you let go of? Even if you can’t, don’t drag me into it! Have I ever missed one of your birthdays? Aunt… Sophia has the same birthday as you. She never says anything, but I know she wants the family to be together. I figured, since we live together, we can celebrate your birthday any day. So I celebrated with her first, and I’ll make it up to you tomorrow. What’s the big deal? Mom, you’re not a child anymore. Stop throwing tantrums! Will and I are exhausted from work every day. Being with Dad is actually relaxing for me. Can’t you just try to see things from my perspective for once?” Her whining words chilled my already cold heart. “So,” I asked, “you’re blaming me for keeping you from your father?” I looked at Eva. She didn’t resemble Adam at all; she looked more like me. That’s why, when we divorced, Adam had poured all his fatherly love onto Sophia’s two children, especially her daughter, Violet. The first time I saw her, she was only six, but she was the spitting image of Sophia. Adam adored her. Back then, Eva had cried hysterically, curled up in my arms, asking me over and over, “Mommy, why doesn’t Daddy want me? Why is he going to be someone else’s daddy? Doesn’t he love me anymore?” Seeing her cry broke my heart. The child I had carried for ten months, saddled with such an irresponsible father. It was a tragedy. But now, it all seemed like a joke. Eva, oblivious to the change in my tone, started to whine like she always did. “Mom, that’s not what I mean. But think about it, Dad is getting old. No matter what, I have his blood in me. After so many years, shouldn’t the hatred have faded? And Aunt Sophia… she’s actually a very nice person. She only stole Dad away because she was worried Leo and Violet wouldn’t have a father. She even apologized to me and buys me gifts, treats me like her own daughter. Whatever happened in the past, you’re old now. Why do you have to keep clinging to that old baggage?” Her complaints were laughable. The father who had abandoned her without a backward glance, the father she had cried for in the middle of the night, asking me why he didn’t want her. And Sophia, the other woman, who had bought her a few gifts and was now forgiven? I shook her hand off me. “Eva, so in your eyes, my not forgiving Adam and Sophia is me being unreasonable?” She nodded, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Of course it is! I was young then, I’ve forgotten most of the bad stuff. When I close my eyes now, all I remember are the good times with Dad when I was a little girl. We were so happy then. So, Mom, I hope you can forget too. We can be a family again, like before. Aunt Sophia is really nice, you two could probably be like sis… ah!” Before she could finish, I slapped her across the face. She shrieked, jumped to her feet, and clutched her cheek, yelling at me, “Mom, what did you hit me for?! With a temper like yours, it’s no wonder Dad prefers gentle, quiet Sophia!” With that, she ran into her room, crying. My son-in-law and Rebecca followed, trying to comfort her. The door was left ajar. I could vaguely hear their voices. “…getting old and senile…” “…holding a grudge for a lifetime…” “…cranky old woman…” “…so annoying…” And more. These were the words of the daughter I had loved for half my life. In that moment, my heart truly died. I stood up, went to my room, packed my bags, and left the homeowners’ association group chat on my phone. Eva and her husband had worked hard for years, but the housing prices in the capital were astronomical. They were still paying off their mortgage every month. I had felt sorry for them, so I had been supplementing their income with my pension and paying their mortgage, as well as their utilities, groceries, and even Rebecca’s tutoring fees. Now that I was leaving, I would no longer be contributing. Whether they could afford it on their own was no longer my concern. Besides that, I had another property that no one, not even Eva, knew about. I had bought it as a precaution against my son-in-law, in case he turned out to be like Adam. The property was in my name, and I had planned to transfer it to Eva after I was gone. Now, it seemed, that was no longer necessary. That property would be my new home. With a handsome pension every month, I could live quite comfortably on my own. When I left my room, Eva was still crying. The cake was still on the table. Everything was a mess. I dragged my suitcase and left without a second of hesitation.

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My husband’s cousin switched my daughter with her own while I was in a delirium after childbirth. So I waited until she was sleeping soundly, high on her triumph, and I switched them right back. Day after day, she tormented her own child while showering mine with every affection she could muster. I would watch and wipe my tears. What a human tragedy. She deserved it. 1 The day my daughter was born, I was up all night, engrossed in a gothic novel about a changeling. Just as I reached the most thrilling, heart-pounding part, my water broke. I grabbed the arm of my handmaid, Ruby, and said with a tremor in my voice, “Watch my baby! Don’t let anyone switch them!” The labor was brutal. The entire wing of the house was in chaos. The pain was so intense I blacked out, but just before I did, I heard another maid shouting, “Sir! Sir! It’s Miss Lillian, she’s in labor too! You must go to her!” I reached out, grabbing for my husband, Brayton. “Don’t go…” I clung to his sleeve, but he pried my fingers off, one by one. His voice was soft, yet unyielding. “I have to go to Lillian. She’s delicate, not resilient like you are.” The pain consumed me, and I fainted. When I next opened my eyes, Ruby was kneeling by my bed, sobbing. “My lady, they’ve taken the young miss! She’s been switched!” “What?!” I whipped my head around to look at the novel on my bedside table. The story I had just been reading… was now my own. 2 Through her tears, Ruby told me what happened. The baby was born while I was unconscious, but my husband, Brayton, had dismissed all the other maids and the midwife, sending them to Lillian’s side. Only Ruby remained to look after me. Remembering my warning, she’d made a small mark with rouge on our daughter’s heel before going to fetch hot water. When she returned, the mark was gone. The room had been in turmoil, and she hadn’t gotten a clear look at the baby’s face. Without that mark, she would have never known. “Was anyone else in this room?” I asked. “Celeste, Miss Lillian’s personal maid. She came in with a basket, saying she’d brought you some food. She saw I was in a hurry and offered to watch you and the young miss, so I…” Ruby prostrated herself, banging her head on the floor. “I deserve to die, my lady! I am a worthless servant!” “No,” I said, my voice a raw whisper. “You did well. Now, I have a task for you. Do this, and you will have redeemed yourself.” “Yes, yes! I would die for you, my lady!” “Stand guard here. Don’t let anyone in, and don’t let anyone notice that I’m gone.” “My lady, where are you going?” “To get my daughter back.” 3 I picked up the baby girl who had been placed in the cradle. She was dressed in the soft satin I had prepared for my own child, but her face was pale, her breathing shallow as a thread. Her cries were as faint as a kitten’s mewling. This was not my daughter. My daughter had let out a lusty wail the moment she was born, so loud it had pierced through my haze of pain. My daughter had been switched. Luckily, Celeste hadn’t been gone long. “No one should be coming for a while,” I instructed Ruby. “If she dared to switch the babies, she must have made sure the coast was clear.” “My lady, let me go for you!” “I need you here to cover for me. This is something I have to do myself.” I lifted the child and, forcing my weak, postpartum body to move, I followed. The corridors were eerily empty, as if they had been deliberately cleared. I spotted Celeste’s figure in the distance and trailed her silently. She was clearly nervous, clutching the baby and hurrying along without ever looking back. She never noticed me. She went straight to Lillian’s rooms. Outside Lillian’s door sat a shabby, soiled cradle, with flies buzzing around it. She placed my daughter in that filthy basket and went inside. In that split second, I sprinted across the yard and switched the babies back. My own daughter was heavy in my arms, a solid, reassuring weight. I was about to turn and run, but then I heard voices from inside the room. Lillian’s voice was thick with tears. “Brayton, my love, I had no choice. Our daughter is so frail. If she stays with me, she won’t get the care she needs. Lady Clara is so much more capable than I am.” My husband, Brayton, scoffed. “She only got to be my wife because of her family’s status. If she hadn’t stolen your place, our daughter would have been the true heir.” Lillian quickly soothed him. “Don’t be angry, my love. Our daughter can still be raised as the legitimate one. Think of it as my gift to you.” “Don’t worry,” Brayton said. “Clara won’t have any more children. I’ve been putting a drug in her water to make her barren. From now on, her only purpose will be to raise our daughter.” “But won’t she suspect something?” “I’ve told her this child is from your previous marriage, that you came to me for shelter after your divorce. She won’t doubt it. With me here, you have nothing to fear.” “Oh, Brayton,” Lillian sighed. “After everything I’ve been through, I finally see that you are the only true man…” Inside, the lovers murmured sweet nothings, while outside, in the yard, mosquitoes began to land on the infant in the dirty cradle. I clutched my child and slipped away, back to my own rooms, a bone-deep chill seeping into me. 4 When I returned, Ruby was frantically searching the yard for me. Seeing me return with the baby, looking like a ghost, she rushed to my side. She helped me back into bed, covered me with thick blankets, and pressed a cup of hot tea into my hands before turning to care for my daughter. I stared at the steaming tea, the lovers’ conversation echoing in my mind. A wave of nausea washed over me. I pushed the cup away. “Everything from the kitchen today—the water, the tea, the porridge—throw it all out.” Ruby looked at me, confused, but said nothing, simply nodding and taking it away. Still feeling uneasy, I had the servants take every pot and pan from my private kitchen and scrub them clean that very night. Once I was alone, I sat on the bed for a long time, trying to calm my racing heart, before the tears finally came. When I married into the Brayton family, they were so poor they couldn’t afford meat. The entire family scrimped and saved to support Brayton’s studies, but it was never enough. Brayton, a frail scholar, tried working at the docks and broke a rib under the weight of two sacks of grain. The ten silver pieces he got in compensation were what his family lived on, gnawing on the price of his broken bone. Later, he tried copying texts for a bookshop. He knocked over a candle and burned half his face and one of his eyebrows. Though he healed, the shop gave him two silver pieces for his trouble, and his family gnawed on the price of his eyebrow for a few more months. When he was healed again, he couldn’t find work anywhere. He collapsed from hunger on the street, and I was the one who found him. Brayton was refined and eloquent. I fell for him quickly. He immediately came to my family to propose. My father looked down on his family’s poverty, but he couldn’t dissuade me. With my family’s money, Brayton passed his exams, secured a minor official post, and his fortunes finally turned. But his position was new and his salary modest; our household was still supported entirely by my dowry. Just as our lives were getting comfortable, his cousin, Lillian, showed up at our door, heavily pregnant. She knelt and begged him to take her in. They had been betrothed once, but after Brayton’s family fell into ruin, Lillian had married another man. It turned out he was a monster who beat her daily. She’d divorced him and now had nowhere to go but to her cousin. I took her in out of pity. I never imagined she and Brayton would conspire against me. A child from a previous husband? That was a lie. The two of them must have been entangled long before. This child was Brayton’s. But now, I had switched the child back. I was morbidly curious to see what kind of twisted drama they would create.

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My childhood best friend, Julia, could put movie stars to shame. The line of guys trying to win her over could probably stretch from our front door all the way to Paris. One day, I asked her if I could cut in line. She shot me a withering glare and told me I was nuts. “Fine,” I said, a grin spreading across my face. “If I’m nuts, then I’ll be a maniac. From now on, Julia, I’m making it my mission to destroy every chance you have at romance.” 1 From that day forward, whenever a new suitor tried to confess his undying love for Julia, I’d be there to run interference. I’d cup my hands around my mouth and shout, “You know she barely showers, right? Maybe once every ten days! And the athlete’s foot? It’s a full-on fungal jungle down there. The second she takes off her shoes, it’s a biohazard. The smell could knock a buzzard off a garbage truck!” Every time, without fail, Julia would erupt. “Leo, you are so dead!” Julia and I were the textbook definition of childhood sweethearts, practically joined at the hip since birth. She was the kid all the other parents compared theirs to—not just beautiful, but brilliant, too. The line of guys after her was endless. The first thing she did every morning when she got to class was to clean out her desk, tossing the mountain of breakfast offerings from her admirers my way. Thanks to Julia’s popularity, I saved a fortune on breakfast, money I happily spent on my comic book collection. Of course, it wasn’t a one-way street. I earned my keep. I’d often do her chores at home so she could study in peace. Sometimes, I even took her beatings. Her father was an alcoholic with a bitter resentment for not having a son. Her mother, frail and worn down, had only managed to give him one child—a daughter. Having the son he so desperately wanted was an impossibility, a fact he never let them forget. He’d use any excuse to lash out, drunk or sober. The phrase I heard most often was how he’d drawn the worst lot in life, saddled with a useless wife who couldn’t produce an heir and a daughter who was nothing but a drain on his wallet, a source of endless shame. But Julia had a stubborn streak a mile wide. Every time he said it, she’d fire right back. She’d tell him her mom was the best mother in the world, and she wasn’t a “drain on his wallet.” The real failure, the most pathetic man on earth, was the one standing right in front of her, hitting his wife and child. Her defiance always earned her a beating. Her mother would just plead with her to endure it. “Once the liquor wears off, he’ll be fine,” she’d whisper. Julia refused to yield. “You’ve endured it for years, Mom,” she’d sob, wiping tears from her swollen face. “Has he ever stopped? Has he ever gotten better?” One time, her dad pulled off his leather belt and came at her. Without thinking, I lunged forward, wrapping my arms around his legs. “Run, Julia, run!” I screamed. But she just stood there, rooted to the spot. “I’m not running,” she said, her voice trembling with rage. “If you have the guts, then just kill me.” Her dad roared at me to let go or he’d beat me too. But I clung on for dear life. In my world, Julia was someone I had to protect, no matter what. And so, the belt came down, again and again, biting into my back. The leather cracked against my skin, and I howled in pain. It was my parents, bursting in, who finally stopped him. Later, as my mom was dabbing antiseptic on my wounds, she sighed. “You silly boy. When someone’s coming at you with a belt, you’re supposed to run.” “I couldn’t,” I mumbled. “If I ran, what would happen to Julia?” My mom’s expression softened. “You little idiot, I know you like her. Why didn’t you just grab her and run together?” My face flushed crimson. “I don’t like her like that! I just… I couldn’t stand to see her get hurt.” She didn’t scold me for taking a beating for Julia. Instead, her heart ached for her. Whenever Julia came over to study or just hang out, my mom would see the fresh bruises on her arms and legs. “Oh, sweetie,” she’d say, her voice thick with sorrow. “Does it hurt?” Julia would always put on a brave face. “Not at all, Mrs. Gable.” My mom would gently apply ointment to the welts, her own eyes filling with tears. But in the late 90s, in our small town, what could a woman do? The word “divorce” was a sin, a brand of shame no one wanted to bear. 2 Julia had once begged her mom to leave him. Her mother had slapped her for it, the first and only time she ever raised a hand to her daughter. She’d accused Julia of trying to turn her into a shameless, ruined woman. Julia had endured countless beatings from that man without shedding a tear. But that one slap from her mother broke her. After that, she never mentioned divorce again. She never spoke of how pitiful her mother’s life was, or how unlucky she’d been. By the time we got to college, Julia had essentially cut off all contact with her family. She put herself through school with scholarships and part-time jobs, rarely going home even for holidays. My mom, her heart still aching for the girl next door, would always slip me extra cash. “Take care of Julia for me,” she’d say. College changed Julia. The walls she built around herself grew higher, her aura turning cool and distant. Her gaze held a frosty beauty that kept everyone at arm’s length. She was tall and slender, with delicate features that could silence a room. She didn’t have to do anything; her mere presence made everything else fade into the background. On the campus message boards, in the annual poll for “Campus Queen,” she won by a landslide. The number of guys trying to win her over was astronomical. I could have funded my lunch for a week selling her love letters for scrap paper. Everyone knew we were close, and they knew we weren’t a couple, so they all tried to use me to get to her. Until that one day, when I asked her, “Can I cut in line?” She gave me a long, serious look. And then she told me I was nuts. So I went to war. Anyone who asked for her number got the same story: Julia had a nasty case of athlete’s foot and a deep-seated aversion to showering. A real biohazard. Incurable. Whoever ended up with her was in for a lifetime of misery. The campaign was surprisingly effective. The number of suitors dropped dramatically. Julia seemed to enjoy the peace and quiet. But then, a new post appeared on the campus forum. It was a detailed, sob-story account of Julia’s tragic childhood—the alcoholic, abusive father, the constant fighting, the misery. It painted her as a brave, struggling girl putting herself through school against all odds. The post went viral, shooting to the top of the forum’s hot list. My carefully crafted rumors about her hygiene were instantly forgotten. A wave of misguided chivalry swept the campus. The floodgates opened, and the number of guys pursuing her was greater than ever before. They weren’t just admirers now; they were would-be saviors. Her dorm hallway became a permanent staging ground for guys wanting to fetch her water, save her a seat in the library, or just straight up offer her money. Overwhelmed and furious, Julia put a price on my head. She was convinced I had leaked her secrets, and she swore she would make me pay. Julia had always been the queen bee of our neighborhood, the undisputed leader who would ruthlessly crush anyone who crossed her. 3 My entire life had been lived under her reign of terror. So when I heard she had issued a campus-wide manhunt for me, my first instinct was to hide. But I had severely underestimated her influence. I thought I’d be safe in the men’s dorm, but her legion of admirers, eager to curry favor, formed a posse. They dragged me from my room and presented me to her like a captured fugitive, all of them clamoring for credit. She dismissed her followers and grabbed me by the ear, parading me across the campus green. She dragged me to a secluded spot behind the library and ordered me to kneel and confess. “Julia, I swear on my life, you’ve got it wrong,” I pleaded. “I didn’t post that.” She stared at me, her eyes like chips of ice. “And you expect me to believe you, Leo? In this entire university, so far from home, who else knows about my family? It was you. Who else could it be?” “It really wasn’t me.” How could I even begin to explain? She was right. Here, hundreds of miles from our hometown, I was the only one who knew her story. I’d followed her here, secretly applying to the same northern university when I found out where she was going. I remembered my mom’s teasing words before I left. “You’re not fooling anyone, you little idiot. You think you’d move to a frozen wasteland like this if you weren’t crazy about that girl?” “Who else could it be?” Julia pressed. “Did you tell someone else my story?” It was her deepest, most private pain. People had asked, but I had never, ever told a soul. “No, Julia, I swear. I didn’t post it. I’ve never told anyone.” Her expression shifted, a flicker of something old and painful in her eyes. “You think I’d believe you? When we were kids, you’d sell me out for a piece of candy. Why wouldn’t you sell my secrets now for a little attention or a few bucks?” Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. She was talking about hide-and-seek. Julia was a master at it, always finding the most impossible hiding spots. But I knew her habits, and I could always find her. One time, another kid offered me a caramel—her absolute favorite kind—if I revealed her location. She’d been found, lost the game, and fumed at me for half a day, vowing never to speak to me again. What she never knew was that the caramel was for her. I’d saved it, waiting for her anger to cool. I gave it to her later that week, a peace offering. It was a bright, sunny afternoon. We were sitting on a thick branch of an old oak tree. She ate the caramel, her face breaking into a radiant smile. She carefully folded the waxy wrapper and handed it to me. “Here,” she’d said. “You keep this for me.” I had treasured that little piece of paper. Seeing her happy made me happier than any candy could. And now, for her to throw that memory in my face… it hurt more than I could say. “Julia, you really don’t believe me?” I asked, looking up at her. Her eyes suddenly reddened. “Leo, you know how much I hate this. I don’t need anyone’s pity. I never have, and I never will. You’ve really crossed a line this time, Leo.”

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For three years, my wife, Victoria, was a fixture in the headlines. This time, the story was: “Z-LIST ACTOR’S SHAMELESS THEATER FLING WITH MARRIED HEIRESS. HE KNEW.” A reporter ambushed her. “Doesn’t your husband get angry?” She answered with regal disdain. “He’s just the man who married into my money. He’s hardly fit to be seen.” Later, she would kneel in the snow, begging me to come back. “Leo, forgive me! Don’t you love me?” I threw her own words back at her. “I’m just a kept man who isn’t fit to be seen. How could I ever be worthy?” 1 【Riverton Cinema, 10 PM tonight.】 It was a rare weekend off, but one text from Evan, and I was clocking in for my other job. Evan had been coasting on Victoria’s money in the entertainment industry for three years. With mediocre talent and even worse luck, he was firmly cemented as a Z-list actor. But that didn’t matter. What mattered was that Victoria, as part of my marital duties, had forced me to be his assistant. And he, in turn, paid my salary. He was notorious for calling me at all hours. Last New Year’s Eve, on one of the few nights Victoria was actually home, Evan called to demand I bring him cold medicine. Snow was falling in a dizzying white curtain as I delivered both the pills and myself to his doorstep. I was happy. And a little desolate. At the cinema, a cluster of young students were whispering excitedly. “I think I just saw Evan!” “My source says he booked a whole VIP theater for his married rich-lady girlfriend.” “The whole theater? Can you imagine? I bet it gets wild in there.” … I felt the corner of my mouth twitch. These kids were bold. They might actually try to sneak in and walk right into the middle of Victoria and Evan’s… tender moment. In Victoria’s eyes, Evan was a pure, innocent angel with a handsome face and a great body. She wouldn’t mind him getting photographed or dragged through the mud online; she’d just blame me for not doing my job properly. And a furious Evan would dock my pay. So, I slipped past the students and had a word with the theater staff. Leveraging Victoria’s name, I had a few extra security guards posted at the entrance. Once I was sure the fortress was secure, I went inside. The screen was playing a newly released blockbuster, a film Victoria had poured money into just to get Evan a bit part as some eye candy. Yes, eye candy. For all his masculine posturing, the best a pretty boy like him could do with a sugar mama was be a living ornament. In the fifth row, the prime viewing spot, Victoria was tipping Evan’s chin up, giving him a feather-light kiss. I had to admit, Victoria was stunning. Even next to a fresh-faced actor like Evan, her powerful aura was undeniable. I casually snapped a photo. It was, in a way, a beautiful picture. A notification popped up on my phone. It was Evan. 【Are you here yet?】 It seemed he was getting anxious to officially marry into the family fortune. I didn’t reply, continuing my surveillance. Annoyed that his attention was on his phone, Victoria grabbed his chin and pulled him into a more heated kiss. I rolled my eyes. Some things you just can’t unsee. Did he really think that forcing me to watch a live stream of him seducing my wife would make me so heartbroken I’d demand a divorce? The truth was, Victoria was the one who had forced me into this marriage, grinding my dignity into the dust. She wasn’t done torturing me yet. She wouldn’t let me go that easily. Suddenly, the whole charade felt pointless. I replied to Evan: 【Mr. Hayes, my apologies, I’m taking a sick day. Lucy will be there shortly.】 Lucy was Evan’s other assistant, a young girl who looked up to me. Message sent. I turned off my phone, refusing to listen to his inevitable tantrum. Leaving the theater, I walked along the riverbank, hoisting myself up onto the railing to feel the wind on my face. I used to love Victoria. She was a strong, brilliant, formidable woman. For her, it was love at first sight, and she pursued me with a fiery passion that defied convention. Weighed down by my own baggage, I rejected her time and again, but she was relentless. What finally broke through my defenses was the day I came to work with a raging fever, and she forced water and medicine past my lips with her own hands. It’s a shame her devotion had such a short shelf life. But maybe that was for the best. 2 The next morning, my phone’s ringing jolted me awake. It was Lucy. “Leo! It’s all over the internet! There’s a video of Evan with Victoria… they’re saying he’s a homewrecker! The story is blowing up, and I don’t know how to get it off the trending list… But he totally deserves it! God, Leo, you’re incredible. I don’t know how you work for him and stay so calm watching him pull all this crap.” Lucy, bless her righteous young heart, was vehemently cursing out her own boss. I was touched. “Don’t worry, Lucy. I’ll handle it.” After hanging up, I clicked the link she’d sent me. The video was two minutes long, starting with the light kiss I’d witnessed and escalating from there. In the final shot, Victoria’s hand was resting on Evan’s lower back. The implication was obvious. The comments section was brutal. 【The only thing they didn’t do was take their clothes off. And he still pretends to be so innocent, saying his mom won’t let him show his abs. LMAO.】 【CANCEL HIM!】 【Get Evan Hayes out of showbiz!】 … The article also included the picture of me sitting on the riverbank railing, under a salacious headline: “Z-LIST ACTOR’S SHAMELESS THEATER FLING WITH MARRIED HEIRESS. A KNOWING HOMWRECKER, PUSHING THE HUSBAND TO THE BRINK.” Someone had been following me? That was… unsettling. I scrolled through the comments. The top ones were a mix of people trashing Evan and Victoria, and others doing deep dives into Victoria’s family background and Evan’s less-than-honorable climb up the ladder. Me, the “husband on the brink,” was barely mentioned. This leak felt like it was about more than just Evan. Was it one of Victoria’s business rivals? After a moment’s hesitation, I forwarded the article and my suspicions to Victoria. She didn’t reply. She probably didn’t care. I wasn’t in a hurry either. I started drafting a crisis PR statement for Evan. As I was working, a text from Evan himself came through, dripping with provocation: 【Leo, I checked the cinema’s security footage. I saw you there. Jealous watching Victoria all over me? Ha. I thought you were clueless, but it turns out you’re just a coward who can take it. She doesn’t love you. Do yourself a favor, take off the horns, and divorce her!】 My patience, already thin, snapped. I forwarded him the link to the viral article. 【Evan, from where I was sitting, I couldn’t have possibly shot a video that clear.】 3 After a quick shower, I video-called Lucy. We worked until noon before things were finally under control. Throughout the morning, Evan called me repeatedly. I could perfectly picture his pathetic, frantic face. I used the excuse of being busy to ignore his tirades. He didn’t need my comfort. After double-checking the statement we’d issued, I went back to the original viral post, studying it again. Finally, I decided to contact the blogger who broke the story to ask about the video’s source. My private message went unanswered, like a stone dropped into the sea. Whatever. Time for a break. I was coming down with a cold. I quickly boiled some dumplings, ate them, and collapsed into bed to catch up on sleep. I’m a light sleeper. The roar of Victoria’s sports car pulling up to the house woke me. By the time she stormed upstairs and burst through my bedroom door, I was already dressed. “Leo, do you really think that by destroying Evan, I won’t just find another Evan? A new pretty face to replace him?” she snarled. When she was chasing me, she’d fret over the slightest frown on my face, showering me with concern and gifts. And now? Now she looked like she wanted me dead. “I’m not that naive,” I said, my hand in my pocket, secretly turning on my voice recorder. “And I know you. You might like Evan, but you’d never throw away the career you fought so hard for just for him. You’ve been investing in him for years; you expect a return. In this movie, his role is small but charming. It could have been his big break. This scandal affects his marketability, maybe even your company’s stock. That’s why you’re so angry, isn’t it?” Every time she wanted to provoke me, she either shamed me for being the man who married into her money or threw cash at Evan to spite me. She probably didn’t realize that neither of those things could hurt me anymore. All I wanted was a peaceful divorce. Victoria looked slightly taken aback, but she doubled down. “Glad you know your place!” I pressed on with my negotiation. “I couldn’t find the truth you wanted me to find all those years ago. But I’ve been your husband for three years. You’ve had lovers, you’ve ruined my career, and you’ve forced me to be Evan’s glorified gofer. You’ve seen it—my life is a miserable, chaotic mess, and I’m barely making any money. Your anger should be satisfied by now, right? Don’t get me wrong, I’m not asking for your forgiveness. I want to make a deal. If you agree, I will do everything in my power to clean up Evan’s image and help you salvage yours.” Victoria’s voice was ice. “Your terms.” “I want a divorce. Don’t worry, I won’t take any of your assets, we’ll stick to the prenup. Evan has to pay me my outstanding salary, and you will give me a substantial sum for my silence.” She sneered. “You’re dreaming!” Just then, her phone began vibrating violently. Victoria shot me a glare and went out to the balcony to take the call. When she returned, her face was a mask of grudging acceptance. “Fine. I agree.” I clicked the button to save the recording. “Pay the deposit first. Then I’m at your disposal.” To her credit, Victoria was generous. A hundred thousand dollars appeared in my account almost instantly. “Get changed,” she commanded. “Put on a decent suit. You’re coming with me to the office.” “Fine,” I said, playing my part. I took a quick shower and put on my most expensive suit. Victoria’s face was a mask of impatience. “You’re not young and cute like Evan. What’s taking you so long to change a damn shirt?” I grit my teeth and said nothing. Her eyes then fell on the jacket I had just taken off. “Did you go to the river on purpose?” Had she found the recorder? 4 I forced myself to remain calm. “The media is a beast. Why would I risk making things worse? You can check my phone. Evan’s scandal has nothing to do with me.” At my words, Victoria snatched my phone from the nightstand, unlocked it with a practiced flick of her thumb, and began to search it. My password was her birthday. A small performance to maintain the illusion of the devoted, dependent husband. The day we divorce, if I don’t change it, I’m a dog. After two minutes, she tossed the phone back at me. “You’d better not be playing games with me,” she warned. “You know I wouldn’t dare,” I said placatingly. “You’d better be right,” she hissed, her anger simmering again. “If you don’t fix this, I won’t even bother to collect your corpse.” …I swear she has some kind of rage disorder. Honestly, why can’t she just chill out? “Don’t worry,” I said. “I’ll make sure to die far, far away.” Besides, when you’re dead, you’re dead. I couldn’t care less what happens after. I made an excuse to tidy the room, using the opportunity to pocket the voice recorder. “Stop fussing,” Victoria snapped, slapping my arm. “I want to see your plan.” “Right.” I sent her the draft Lucy and I had worked on all morning. Seeing her displeased expression, I explained, “Right now, all we can do is suppress the story. Do you have any public events coming up?” “The Zhao family’s charity gala. In three days.” I nodded. “Should I go with you? I can play my part, follow your lead completely.” “Fine.” Victoria closed the document, her eyes scanning me from head to toe. “Let’s go,” she said, her tone imperious. “Okay.” In the car, I tried contacting the blogger again. Still nothing. Just as we pulled up to her office building, I received an anonymous text. 【Are you sure you want to help Victoria? She’s been unfaithful.】 I instinctively called the number. No answer. Just as I was about to text back, I heard Victoria’s voice, uncharacteristically gentle. “What are you so busy with?” I looked up to see her standing by the luxury car, clearly waiting for me to open her door. The performance had begun. I hurried to open it for her. She gave me a radiant smile. “Thank you, darling.” I played the dutiful husband at her company event, and then she came home with me, watching me work like a hawk. I had no chance to export the audio from the recorder or even think about who sent the anonymous text. Late that night, a call from Evan finally lured her away. Only then did I reply to the number: 【I have to help her.】 The reply was instantaneous: 【I want to see you.】 My guard went up immediately. 【Who are you?】 Could this be the person who had somehow bypassed my security measures and filmed Victoria and Evan in the theater? The person insisted: 【I want to see you.】 5 Lucy had been complaining to me just an hour before that killing the story was proving incredibly difficult. Now I knew why. This person was likely behind it. Still, what was there to fear? I was a grown man. The money was what mattered. So, I asked the mysterious figure: 【Meet now?】 Again, an instant reply: 【The viral post has been deleted.】 I immediately checked my bookmarked link. It was dead. This person was for real. I quickly asked for a meeting place. Half an hour later, I arrived at the designated private room in a high-end club. A young man at the door handed me a blindfold. I put it on without protest. Once I was led inside the room, my eyes quickly adjusted to the blackness behind the blindfold. “Who are you?” I asked into the darkness. “Can you tell?” It was a woman’s voice, melodious and soft. I had assumed it was a man playing games, but my mystery helper was a woman. I have a good memory for voices, and I was certain I’d never heard hers before. “I don’t know you,” I replied. She guided me to a seat. “Then we’ll get acquainted later.” “Why are you helping me?” I asked. She didn’t answer, instead busying herself with making tea. I was baffled but didn’t want to anger her, so I just sat there, numbly compliant. She must have put something in the air, or the tea. I actually fell asleep. When I woke with a start, my first instinct was to tear off the blindfold, but a warm, smooth hand pressed gently on mine. “Don’t.” She was still here. “Sorry, I fell asleep.” “It’s fine.” I sat up straight. “You won’t interfere with me clearing Evan’s name anymore, will you?” “I’ll help you.” “And Victoria’s company?” After a long silence, she said, “I’ll help with that, too.” When the young man helped me remove the blindfold, I realized it was already dawn. I walked to a nearby breakfast spot and ordered crab-filled soup dumplings and a bowl of sweet soy milk. As I ate, I checked the online situation. She worked fast. Searching for Evan’s name no longer brought up any negative keywords. I specifically checked his social media pages; all the hateful comments were gone. Fed and watered, I drove home. Victoria was sitting in the living room, her face taut with anger. The moment she saw me, she sneered, “Leo, which little tramp were you out seeing all night?” The hypocrisy. Did she forget that she was the one who ran off to see Evan in the middle of the night, giving me the window to do my own thing? But she was the client now. I couldn’t provoke her. “I was busy dealing with the online mess,” I explained. “Check for yourself if you don’t believe me. Only a few die-hards are still yelling about Evan, and new trending topics are popping up. Their attention will shift.” This only made her angrier. She snatched a manila envelope from the coffee table and hurled it at me. “Leo, why don’t you explain this!”

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1 In the fifth year of my marriage, I did something incredibly stupid. I sent Simon’s precious little canary packing—all the way out of the country, hoping he would finally come back to me. But when he found out, he said nothing at all. Instead, in the blink of an eye, he brought my family’s business to ruin, forced my father to his knees, and turned my mother’s hair white overnight. And now, here he was, his face a thunderous mask, ready to make me pay. “Kara,” he said, his voice a low growl, “I suppose I was too good to you. It made you forget your place.” “Now, it’s your turn to taste what it’s like to wish you were dead.” … When those words left his lips, I finally lifted my head to look at him. We’d been in love for four years, married for five. We had given each other the best years of our youth. I never imagined it would come to this. My hand drifted to my stomach, where our child had been growing for nearly three months. But it was as if Simon couldn’t see it, his eyes burning with a single, obsessive question. “I’ll give you one last chance. Where is she?” A bitter laugh threatened to escape, but I choked it down. My one act of rebellion had already cost my family everything. “Let my parents go,” I whispered, my voice hoarse. “And I’ll tell you.” Simon nodded slowly. He closed the distance between us, and before I could react, his hand shot out, clamping around my throat. He forced my head back, leaving me no choice but to stare into his eyes. “Don’t push your luck, Kara.” “Finding Mia is just a matter of time. What makes you think you’re in any position to bargain with me?” A violent wave of suffocation seized me. I gagged, my face flushing a deep crimson as the veins in my neck bulged. Panic, cold and sharp, clawed at me. I bit down hard, but through the terror, I managed to rasp out the words. “And that gives you the right… to force my father to his knees?!” “He’s my father!” Simon’s expression remained a blank, chilling mask, his grip unyielding, his strength terrifying. Tears streamed from my eyes, but my gaze was locked on his. His pupils were dark pools of madness. I had no doubt he would kill me right here, right now, for another woman. Just as my vision began to tunnel, he released me, flinging me back against the sofa. I gasped for air, my body trembling with the aftershock of fear. I curled into a ball, and in that single, fractured moment, our past flashed before my eyes—all the love, all the promises. A sob tore from my throat, raw and uncontrollable. I wept for the past we could never get back, for this hopeless, devastating marriage. And most of all, I wept for the pathetic woman I had become. Simon just stood there, watching me, his heart a stone. He didn’t even give me a moment to breathe before he grabbed my chin again, his voice dropping to a sinister whisper. “I’ll ask you one last time. Where did you send my Mia?” He was gone. The moment I gave him the information, he bolted from the room. I saw it clearly—the wave of joyous relief that washed over his face. My husband was truly, utterly mad for another woman. Wiping my tears, I called my parents, telling them to pack. We had to leave tonight. I expected my father to scream at me, to blame me, but instead, his aging voice cracked with unshed tears. “Our dear Kara, you’ve suffered so much. Daddy doesn’t blame you. We’ll just… we’ll leave.” After hanging up, I was swallowed by a tidal wave of guilt and despair. Simon and I had met in college and married right after graduation. His family, the Stantons, were a dynasty. Marrying into their world was something my father could never have dreamed of. He’d worried, of course, that I would be bullied, that with my family’s modest standing, I’d have no one to back me up. But I had promised him, with all the certainty of a girl in love, that Simon adored me. He would never let me suffer. 2 He used to shower me with gifts for every occasion and proudly introduce me to all his friends. Whenever we were apart, he’d text me a hundred times a day saying he missed me, his eyes turning red with jealousy if another man so much as looked my way. “You know, Kara,” he once whispered, “the Stantons are all twisted monsters. You’re the only one who ever taught me what love is.” He was deeply insecure, constantly seeking reassurance of my love. I would hold him for hours, stroking his hair until he finally fell into a peaceful sleep in my arms. I thought we would be like that forever. So when his affection vanished, falling off a cliff without warning, I panicked. Mia was a fresh college graduate. I first heard her name from Simon’s executive assistant, who mentioned it as a joke. “These young girls have no imagination,” she’d laughed. “The whole ‘accidentally spilling coffee on the CEO’ cliché? It’s been done to death.” I dismissed it as office gossip. But it wasn’t long before Mia, against all company policy, became Simon’s personal assistant. He took her horseback riding. When she admitted she didn’t know how, he lifted her into the saddle in front of him, his arms wrapped around her as they ambled along on a single horse. She was clueless about the nuances of the business world, so Simon patiently mentored her, even personally teaching her how to prepare his tea just the way he liked it. Once, a crass business partner made a suggestive joke about her. Simon, always so cool and composed, beat the man so badly he ended up in the hospital. He made no effort to hide it. His infatuation with Mia was an open secret. By the time the stories reached me, they were already attending galas as a couple, kissing amidst the teasing laughter of the crowd. When someone sent me a photo, I confronted him, losing my temper with Simon for the very first time. He just sat there in his leather throne of a chair, watching me silently, his eyes seeming to accuse me of being irrational. “Kara, you’re almost thirty. Why are you competing with a young girl?” “When you were in your early twenties, I doted on you just the same, didn’t I?” In that instant, I felt like I’d been plunged into ice water. I finally understood. Simon’s love was loyal, in its own twisted way. He only loved young women, and I had aged out of the role. I was ready to file for divorce, but then I found out I was pregnant. For my child, for the family I still wanted to believe in, I decided to fight. I asked my father to use his connections to send Mia abroad. The result was a catastrophe. After nine years together, I meant nothing to Simon. I had lost, utterly and completely. My father told me to give him three days. Having made an enemy of the Stantons, there was no place left for us in this country. I used that time to schedule an abortion. If the love was gone, there was no reason to keep Simon’s child. There would be plenty of younger girls to bear his children. But the doctor informed me that the pregnancy was too far along for a simple procedure. It would require an induction, which meant a hospital stay. With only three days left in the city, I had no choice but to put it off. On the way back, I tried to consult with a lawyer about the divorce. But the moment they heard the name Simon Stanton, they all backed away. “Mrs. Stanton,” one of them said apologetically, “Mr. Stanton’s firm has a team of the best lawyers in the country. We… we wouldn’t stand a chance.” I understood. I didn’t push it. After marrying Simon, I had become a full-time homemaker. He said he didn’t want me working, and like a fool, I had listened for five years. Now, my entire social circle was curated by him; I had no one to turn to for help. It didn’t matter. Once he had his precious Mia back, I was sure he’d grant me a divorce easily enough. 3 I started sorting through our things at home. I left anything of value, taking only some seasonal clothes and my personal documents. The pregnancy made me constantly tired, and that evening, I fell asleep on the sofa while packing. The next morning, the sound of the front door opening startled me awake. I shot up from the sofa, my heart pounding. I never expected him to be back so soon. It was Simon. And he was holding a young woman’s hand. It was Mia. She was even more beautiful in person, a delicate flower that photos couldn’t do justice. She clutched several shopping bags from high-end luxury brands, and the diamonds on her stilettos caught the light, nearly blinding me. Clearly, he had already won her back. A cold dread settled in my stomach. I couldn’t believe how quickly he’d returned. My hand instinctively went to my neck, the phantom sensation of his grip returning. I was afraid of him. Truly afraid. I forced myself to my feet. Simon led Mia to stand directly in front of me. He smiled at her, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, then turned to me, his expression instantly cooling. “Kara. Apologize to Mia.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Even after he’d destroyed my family, after he’d tried to strangle me just yesterday—I thought he’d reached the pinnacle of cruelty. But now he wanted me to apologize to his mistress? Seeing my stunned silence, Simon’s fingers dug into my jaw, forcing my head to face Mia. “Didn’t you hear me? I said, apologize to Mia.” He was a businessman. He knew exactly how to shatter a person’s spirit, even if that person was the wife who had loved him for years. Mia, for her part, hadn’t so much as glanced at me since she walked in. She kept her eyes downcast, her lips pressed into a faint pout. She didn’t have to say a word to look like the picture of a wronged, pitiable victim. “Simon, please, you don’t have to do this,” she murmured. “My position is… awkward, I know. It’s only natural for your wife to hate me.” Though her words were placating, I caught a quick, venomous glance she shot in my direction. Then she tugged at Simon’s sleeve, her voice a soft whine. “Simon, I’m a little tired. Can I go rest?” He leaned down and kissed her cheek, his voice dripping with tenderness. “Of course. Go on, get some rest in the bedroom.” Mia’s wide eyes flickered toward me. “But this is your house. Where should I go?” Without a moment’s hesitation, Simon led her toward our master bedroom. The implication was a slap in the face. My entire body was shaking. I clenched my jaw so hard my teeth ached, fighting the urge to scream. I took a deep, ragged breath, watching as he settled her into our room. Only when the door was closed did I finally speak to his back, my voice a raw whisper. “Simon, let’s get a divorce.” “You’ve trampled on my dignity like it’s trash. You’ve destroyed my parents’ life’s work.” I stared at him, my eyes red-rimmed but my voice steady. “This was all my fault. My mistake was being blind enough to fall in love with you in the first place.” At this, he actually raised an eyebrow. He sauntered back over to me, his hands in his pockets, leaning in until his handsome face was inches from mine. His expression was a mix of malice and something else, something I couldn’t quite decipher.

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To make up for it, my parents adopted him. But when I returned home after three years as an exchange student, I found my two older sisters, who had always doted on me, throwing a lavish birthday party for the adopted son, Brian. In front of all the guests, they announced that Brian was the true young master of the Thorne family, and I was merely his backup blood bank. When Brian wanted my room for a painting studio, they threw my belongings into the maid’s quarters. When Brian wanted shares in the company, they took the stock transfer agreement my father had left for me and gave it to him without a second thought. And when Brian decided he fancied my fiancée, the childhood betrothal was transferred from my name to his. In my past life, I was tortured to death. Bound by a foolish notion of family, I never fought back. This time, I’ve been reborn. And I plan on destroying every single one of them. Through the noise of the grand ballroom, I saw Brian, surrounded by a crowd of sycophants. As they were fawning over him, saying how I, the “other” son, wasn’t fit to lick his boots, I strode forward and ripped the watch from his wrist. “This is ‘The One,’” I announced, my voice cutting through the chatter. “A one-of-a-kind timepiece my father bought for me at a record-breaking auction. You’re just some backwoods nobody. Don’t you have any shame, parading around with stolen goods?” The room fell silent. Then, a wave of ridicule erupted. “Is Caleb Thorne sleepwalking? Causing a scene at his own brother’s birthday party.” “He’s just desperate for attention. You can take the boy out of the country, but you can’t take the country out of the boy.” My two sisters, drawn by the commotion, rushed to Brian’s side, shielding him as if I were a wild animal. Brian clutched his wrist, his face a mask of wounded innocence. My eldest sister, Clara, immediately started shouting for the housekeeper to fetch the first-aid kit, as if the faint red mark on Brian’s wrist might vanish if she didn’t act fast enough. My other sister, Giselle, shoved me hard. “Caleb, have you lost your mind? How dare you hurt your brother!” she shrieked. “Dad bought that watch for his real son. Are you his real son? Don’t be so shameless. Give it back.” I clenched my fist around the watch, a cold sneer on my lips. “His real son? If he’s real, what am I, a fake? Giselle, did you get your head slammed in a door? You don’t even recognize your own brother? Let’s see you say that to Dad’s face!” Giselle’s face turned purple with rage. Brian held her back, sighing with theatrical magnanimity. “It’s alright, Giselle. Caleb came from a rough background. He wasn’t raised with manners. Don’t hold it against him. It’s my fault, as his older brother, for not guiding him better.” He continued, his voice dripping with false humility, “If it weren’t for my rare blood type, Mom and Dad wouldn’t have been so worried about my health. They wouldn’t have been forced to bring him here as a foster son. It’s my own body that’s failed me. It’s only right that I should be more patient with him.” I almost laughed out loud. It was the same old act. In my past life, I had been cut to pieces by Brian’s soft, insidious words. He loved to play the victim in a crowd, saying things that seemed thoughtful but were designed to belittle me and polish his own halo. He made everyone believe I was nothing but trash, while he was the chosen one. In reality, he was an idiot who needed the Thorne family to pull strings just to get him into community college. The guests, of course, lapped it up. “Brian is a true credit to his family. So kind and understanding. Not like some people who stick a feather in their cap and think they’re royalty.” “Exactly. A guttersnipe from the middle of nowhere. The Thornes give him a life of luxury and he’s still not satisfied. Now he’s trying to steal from the real young master. The nerve.” Brian shook his head, a look of weary resignation on his face. “It’s alright if I’m wronged a little. Please, don’t blame my brother. He comes from a place of hardship. I can understand his jealousy. I will do my best to guide him onto the right path.” His performance of generosity won him a wave of sympathy. “Young Master Brian, you’re too kind,” someone gushed. “Yes, if you keep spoiling him like this, that ungrateful viper will only take advantage of you.” Clara’s eyes narrowed on the watch in my hand. Her tone was imperious. “Give me the watch.” My eyes were red with fury. “This watch, ‘The One,’ was a gift from my father. To me.” Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “Caleb, we took you in. Not so you could bully my real brother. If you can’t accept your place as a foster child, then get out of this house.” I couldn’t believe it. These words were coming from the sister who had cherished me, protected me, since I was a child. The chill in my heart wasn’t from a single moment, but a slow, creeping frost. I laughed. “It’s not your place to tell me to get out. And no one is taking this watch today.” Giselle exploded. “Are you all blind?” she screeched at the household staff. “You’re just going to stand there and watch this brat steal from the young master? Get it back!” The butler, Harrison, rolled up his sleeves and was the first to move. I’d seen him exchanging glances with Brian earlier. I knew he’d been bought. I grabbed a wine bottle from a nearby table, smashed it on the edge of a dessert cart, and held the jagged neck out in front of me. “I’d like to see you try! Think very carefully about who the real young master of this house is. The people who sign your paychecks are my parents. Anyone who touches me today will be packing their bags tomorrow.” My ferocity stunned them. Many of them had worked for our family for years. They knew me. They hesitated, unsure. But Harrison lunged forward, snatching the watch from my hand and presenting it to Brian with a fawning smile. “Young Master, I’m an old servant of this house. I’ve watched you grow up. No one can impersonate you, and no one can take what is yours. This watch was made for you.” I kicked the back of his knee, hard. He crumpled to the floor. “You’re an employee. Who gave you the right to snatch things from my hand? What, did Brian offer you more money than my parents do?” Harrison’s eyes darted away, his guilt obvious. Brian rushed over to shield him. “Brother, if you’re angry, take it out on me. Why are you bullying Harrison? He’s an old man. He only spoke up because he’s heartbroken seeing you steal my things day after day. I know this watch is a priceless gift from Dad, and I know you’ve been jealous of it for a long time. You’ve even snuck it out of the house to show off. I can forgive all of that. Just promise you won’t bully Harrison anymore. You can have the watch.” He turned away, his expression a perfect blend of resignation and pain. I pointed at my own nose in disbelief. Me? Jealous? I was the heir to a fortune. Jealous of him? Of his backwoods origins? Of his talent for drama? I felt sick to my stomach. The guests, however, were outraged on his behalf. “What an amateur. He lives a life of luxury for a few days and thinks he’s the real heir. Now he’s bullying the staff. If he doesn’t have a mirror, he should take a look at his reflection in a puddle.” “Caleb is a venomous snake. This is like a real-life fable.” “Poor Brian. The true heir, being tormented by a wild dog.” “This was supposed to be a beautiful party. He’s ruined everything.” Clara’s brow was furrowed in disgust. “Have you made enough of a scene? Are you not satisfied until you’ve dragged the Thorne family name through the mud? The reason Dad called this watch ‘The One’ was to declare to the world that Brian is his one and only true son. Have we been too good to you over the years? Have you forgotten what you are?” Giselle added, “We should just send him back to whatever hovel he came from. With our family’s resources, it wouldn’t be hard to find another match for Brian’s blood type.” I looked at the two sisters who had raised me, and a deep, bone-chilling cold washed over me. My parents had spent a fortune finding several children with my rare blood type. They had let me choose which one to bring home as my adopted brother. But Clara and Giselle had looked at the photos and unanimously chosen Brian. At the time, I thought it didn’t matter who it was. Their job was just to be my companion, and to provide blood if I ever needed it. But looking back, their reaction was strange. Two people with completely different personalities, instantly agreeing on one boy. In my last life, they had used my parents’ business trip as an opportunity to throw this same party for Brian. They had publicly declared him the true heir and me the backup blood bank. Humiliated and ostracized, I was then goaded by Brian’s taunts until my sisters forced a bottle of hard liquor down my throat and locked me in the cellar. By the time my parents returned, my body, dead from a severe allergic reaction to the alcohol, was already beginning to rot. In that life, accused by the sisters I adored, I had been too heartbroken to even speak, let alone defend myself. This time, I stood up straight. “You know perfectly well who the real Thorne heir is. You think you can get away with bullying me in front of all these people? Let’s see how you explain this to Mom and Dad when they get back.” My defiance, even after their verbal assault, gave some of the smarter guests pause. “Could it be… Caleb is the real heir?” “You know, he may be dressed simply, but he does resemble Mr. Thorne.”

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I am the sole heir to the Grant family fortune, but I am a woman. Everyone whispered that the three foster sons my father raised to be my potential husbands were the true heirs. They certainly acted like it; they never once gave me the time of day. I tried to get Kian’s attention a hundred times, only to be met with a hundred looks of contempt. I thought he was like that with everyone, until I saw him with my own eyes, kneeling before the chauffeur’s daughter, Jenna, and swearing an oath. “I only agreed to marry her to repay the Grants for raising me,” he vowed. “Once I’m in control of the company, I’ll marry you and give you the world. As long as she doesn’t hurt you, I can even give Cora a few million to disappear abroad.” “You,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, “are the only one I’ll ever call my wife.” On the eve of the annual shareholder meeting, my father asked me to make my choice. I thought of the three of them, of their averted gazes and dismissive smirks. I smiled. “I am the Grant heir, after all,” I said. “My marriage should maximize our family’s interests.” “I choose Alistair Thorne.” My father’s brow furrowed. “Alistair Thorne? He was paralyzed in that car accident five years ago. He’s a paraplegic, and they say he’s… impotent. Are you sure?” … My voice was soft, but my resolve was iron. “In our world, there is no such thing as true love. Since it’s all about business, it only makes sense to choose the most powerful ally. And that is the Thorne family.” My father’s face was grim. “That may be true, but of the three young men I chose for you, you don’t fancy any of them?” My father had loved my mother deeply. But she died of a cerebral hemorrhage the year I was born. He couldn’t bear to remarry, yet he couldn’t bring himself to entrust the entire Grant empire to me, a woman, alone. On the advice of a friend, he adopted three orphaned boys. He’d amended his will long ago: whichever one I chose would co-manage the company with me, a united front against any dissenting board members. My father loved me, but that love didn’t conflict with his firm belief that a woman couldn’t run a corporation of this size on her own. I looked at him. “Alistair may be paralyzed and unable to perform his husbandly duties, but I can have his child through IVF. He is also the sole heir to the Thorne fortune. Instead of choosing an orphan to prop up our family, why not forge an alliance with a powerhouse?” My father nodded slowly. “If those three couldn’t win your heart, then there is no longer a place for them at Grant Industries.” If I had simply told him that Kian didn’t love me and I didn’t want to force it, my father would have dragged Kian before me and demanded to know what right an adopted son had to refuse me. I didn’t want him to use years of kindness as a weapon. I didn’t want to coerce Kian into a miserable, loveless marriage. Besides, the words I’d overheard had frozen my heart solid. A clean break was the greatest mercy I could offer. As I left the office, my father shot a sharp glance at Kian. After respectfully seeing my father off, Kian turned to me, his brow creased in a frown. “What did you tattle to him about this time?” His eyes were full of disgust and impatience, as if I’d committed some heinous crime. Before I could answer, Evan scoffed beside him. “What else? The usual complaints, I’m sure. That we don’t include her, that we don’t worship the ground she walks on.” The third, Leo, chimed in with a sneer. “Honestly, Cora, this isn’t the dark ages. Do you really think a little money makes you a princess everyone has to bow down to?” The three of them stood united, their words like daggers. I was genuinely confused. “None of you want to marry me. Why has not one of you ever said so to my father?” My father, for all his traditional ideas about my future, was not a tyrant. If any of them had said no, he would have given them a generous sum and sent them abroad to live their lives freely. But in the end, they couldn’t let go of the Grant family’s wealth. Leo, always the most hot-tempered, clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Easy for you to say. You know perfectly well we’re nothing more than the Grants’ charity cases. The lap dogs you raised. What right do we have to refuse?” Kian’s face was dark as he looked at me. “If you’re going to choose me, then choose me. Just don’t make things difficult for the other two.” At this, Leo and Evan looked at him with profound gratitude. Seeing Kian’s expression of noble sacrifice, a bitter taste filled my mouth. Before I could say anything, Jenna appeared. The moment she saw me, she flinched and ducked behind Kian as if I were about to strike her. Kian instinctively shielded her. “She hasn’t done anything. Just leave her alone today.” I looked at them, bewildered, only to find all three of my supposed protectors standing guard in front of Jenna, terrified I might hurt her. Five years ago, when Jenna first arrived at our home, she gave me a hairpin. As a welcoming gift, I gave her a ten-thousand-dollar bracelet in return. But when I reached for the box of pastries on the table, Kian slapped my hand away. “That was a memento from Jenna’s mother! You’d steal that from her too?” he’d roared. Confused, I looked at Jenna, expecting her to explain that she had given it to me willingly. Instead, she burst into tears and dropped to her knees. “Miss Grant didn’t steal it! I gave it to her! She’s been very kind to me, she even gave me this bracelet. I’m not upset, really!” She began kowtowing, banging her head on the floor. The sight of it made the three boys see red, reminding them of their own precarious positions as outsiders. They rounded on me. “Just because you’re a Grant doesn’t give you the right to force someone to give you their mother’s dying gift!” “That hairpin might not be worth much, but its sentimental value is something your stupid bracelet can’t compare to! Give it back to her!” “You’re as selfish and tyrannical as ever. You don’t care who you hurt as long as you get what you want.” My face paled. I thought it was all a misunderstanding, something we could clear up later. Swallowing my anger, I held the hairpin out to Jenna. But as she reached for it, she fumbled, and it shattered on the marble floor. She bit her lip, then screamed at me, “If you were just going to destroy it, why did you have to put on such a show?!” Kian, who always saw himself as a champion of the oppressed, turned on me, his voice cold as ice. “Apologize to Jenna right now. Or I’ll call off our engagement.” At that time, I had already confessed my feelings to Kian, told him he was the only one I would ever marry. He used that as leverage, forcing me to bow to Jenna. I was too young then, too afraid of losing him to defend myself. So I lowered my head and apologized through burning tears. And I had been apologizing for five years. Ever since that day, whenever Jenna saw me, she would act like a mouse seeing a cat, either dropping to her knees or bursting into tears. And I had done nothing. My face hardened. I looked at Kian. “If you’re so worried I’m going to hurt her, why don’t you just chain her to your belt?” It was a sarcastic barb, but he took it literally. “Is that a threat? What are you planning to do to her?” Leo slapped his hands together. “I know what this is about! It’s because we gave the ‘Ocean of Stars’ to Jenna for her birthday, isn’t it? You’re just using that as an excuse to bully her!” Evan’s eyes were cold. “You have everything, Cora. Jenna has never even had someone celebrate her birthday. It’s just an aquarium. Why are you making such a big deal out of it?” My blood ran cold. “The Ocean of Stars?” The Ocean of Stars was a private, subterranean aquarium that had been under construction since my birth. Its most stunning feature was a wall of flawless, imperial green jade that, when viewed through the shimmering water, created the illusion of a cosmic nebula. It was set to be completed six months ago. My father had entrusted the final stages to Kian, tasking him with presenting it to me at my birthday gala in one month’s time. And now, my gift had been given to Jenna. My gaze fell on Kian. He was in charge of the project. No one could have entered the unopened aquarium without his permission. He looked away, a flicker of guilt in his eyes before it hardened into anger. “Jenna grew up poor, working her whole life just to get by. She’s never had a chance to properly see the stars. I just wanted to grant her one wish. Besides, the aquarium still belongs to you, doesn’t it? Stop being so unreasonable. Fine. I’ll announce our engagement at your birthday party next month. Are you happy now?” He looked at me as if he were bestowing a great charity. For a moment, I almost thought I was the one who had been adopted. But no one else seemed to see anything wrong. In fact, they all looked at Kian with sympathy. “Why would you make such a sacrifice? Cora is spoiled, cruel, and selfish. Marrying her would be worse than becoming a monk.” “She’s probably over the moon now. She’s finally getting what she’s wanted for years.” “Oh, Kian, please don’t throw away your happiness for my sake!” Jenna sobbed. “I’ll get on my knees, I’ll kowtow to Miss Grant, I’ll be her servant, I’ll do anything…” My throat was dry. “I’m not going to marry you,” I managed to say. Kian raised a skeptical eyebrow. Leo and Evan exchanged a look of alarm, terrified I would choose one of them instead. Being so despised by the three people I had grown up with… I was afraid if I stayed a moment longer, I would break down in tears. I turned to leave, but Jenna grabbed my wrist. Her eyes were red-rimmed as she, once again, fell to her knees before me. “Please, don’t make things hard for Kian. All three of them were taken in by your family. They’re already in a difficult position. If you’re angry because they gave me the Ocean of Stars and you’re going to tell your father, I’m willing to apologize. I’ll beg for your forgiveness.” She started banging her head on the floor again, her forehead quickly turning red and starting to bleed. Kian pulled her up, his heart aching for her, and glared at me. “You say you won’t marry me, but let’s see you stick to that! What kind of game is this, pretending to back off just to torment Jenna?! You’re just trying to find an excuse to tell your father and get her thrown out, aren’t you?” I looked at him, my voice cold. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. But rest assured, I will not be choosing you as my husband.” I thought that would be the end of it, but he grabbed my arm. “If not me, then who? Evan? Leo? Leo wants to study art abroad. Evan craves freedom. Isn’t ruining one of us enough for you? Do you have to destroy their lives too?” Kian took a deep, steadying breath. “If you promise to leave Jenna alone from now on, I will marry you. Just stop this, okay?” His eyes were full of exhaustion, as if I had been tormenting him for years. I looked at him, truly looked at him. “You’ll get your wish,” I said softly. He was afraid I would bully Jenna. He didn’t want to marry me. Once I married Alistair Thorne, all his problems would be solved. I didn’t see Kian again until the day of my birthday gala. He showed up with a grim expression, Evan and Leo trailing behind him, looking equally displeased. I frowned at my assistant. I had specifically told her that since I was announcing my engagement to someone else, there was no need to invite them. She just shook her head frantically, mouthing, I don’t know, they just came on their own. I sighed and decided to ignore them. The other guests, however, were more than happy to greet them. “Mr. Shen, you’re a true prodigy! I hear that project you landed last month is set to make millions. No wonder Miss Grant only has eyes for you.” That was a project I had negotiated. Kian just signed the papers. “Mr. Lu, you may have a temper, but you have a strong sense of justice. Miss Grant will surely be safe with you.” I snorted. Leo was the one who bullied me the most, who looked at me like I was a viper he wanted to crush under his heel. “And Mr. Chen, you’re so handsome and talented. Miss Grant couldn’t go wrong choosing you either. In any case, we look forward to working with you in the future.” The three of them moved through my birthday party as if they were the hosts. I was about to put a stop to the charade when all three of them simultaneously looked down at their phones. Before I could react, Leo’s face contorted with rage. He stormed over to me and slapped me across the face. My head snapped back, the force of the blow nearly sending me to the floor. The entire ballroom fell silent, guests shrinking away from the scene. Kian clenched his fists, stopping Leo from hitting me again, but his own voice was a low growl of fury. “We’re already here, displayed like products for you to choose from. What more do you want? Do you have to drive Jenna to her death?” I was utterly confused. Evan, seeing my expression, sneered. “While we were gone, you had the audacity to have someone kidnap her. I’m telling you, Cora, you won’t get away with this!” And just like that, I understood. Jenna had pulled another one of her stunts. The guests were all my father’s friends or business partners, yet not a single one of them stepped in to stop me from being assaulted. My blood ran cold. They must have been certain the Grant fortune would not fall to me, so they didn’t dare offend the three men they believed would be their future bosses. I clutched my stinging cheek and stared at Leo. “Apologize.” He glanced at my reddening eyes and sneered. “Jenna was nearly violated. You got a little slap. What’s there to cry about?” On cue, Jenna came running in, weeping, her dress torn in a way that suggested the worst. Kian immediately stripped off his suit jacket and wrapped it around her, then turned a look of pure loathing on me. “You are as manipulative and calculating as ever. I would never marry a woman like you!” Evan, usually the quietest of the three, stepped in front of Jenna protectively. “Your mother couldn’t produce a male heir, so your family brought us in as tools. We’ve accepted our fate, but still, you’re not satisfied. Fine. There’s no need to keep up this pretense of peace anymore.” He turned and walked away, showing no regard for the Grant family’s reputation. As he left, Kian threw one last arrogant statement over his shoulder. “I’ll marry you. But you will be nothing more than a figurehead. If you want me to protect the Grant empire, you’d better learn to behave.” I laughed. Had they forgotten? Without me, they never would have been adopted by the Grant family in the first place. As the three of them started to leave, some of the guests finally tried to intervene. But I cut them off, my voice sharp with command. “Let them go!” Jenna shot me a triumphant, provocative glance, as if she had just conquered the world. I stood there, silent, until my assistant whispered frantically, “What do we do now? They’ve all left. Who will you choose?” The guests were murmuring amongst themselves. “A woman has to marry eventually. If the three men who know her best won’t have her, who will?” I wiped a tear from the corner of my eye, then smiled as I raised my wine glass to the crowd. “Honored guests, as you all know, tonight is not only my birthday celebration, but also my engagement party.” A face appeared on the giant screen behind me, handsome and severe. A collective gasp went through the room. “Isn’t that Alistair Thorne, of the Thorne family?!”

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1 The third day my son was missing was the day my rival’s daughter got her new heart. Bianca flaunted it, beaming at me, so sure her daughter was destined for a long and happy life. But all I could see was the memory of her eyes, a venomous glint as she once stared at my son’s chest. I had to know. I had to know who the donor was. I became a woman possessed. My husband, a man who valued his public image above all else, was furious. He thought my frantic questions in the hospital hallway were a public disgrace, hissing that I was a lunatic. But I saw it. Through a crack in the operating room door, I saw the body of the child on the table. And on that small body, I saw the birthmark that belonged only to my son. “I need to see the body! That child is my son!” My hair was a wild mess, my voice a desperate, crazed shout in the sterile hospital corridor. A nurse blocked my path, her tone sharp with impatience. “I’ve already told you, the deceased is a boy named Aiden King. He is not your son.” Her hand was firm on my arm. “And without the family’s consent, you have no right to view the remains. Claire, please, stop making a scene and wasting our time.” Other nurses glared at me, their faces a mixture of anger and pity. “I don’t believe you. That has to be my Leo.” My eyes were locked on the operating room door, every muscle in my body coiled to burst through it. But a large hand clamped down on my arm, yanking me back so hard I slammed against the wall. Dr. Hugo Grant, my husband, stared down at me with pure disgust. “Claire,” he seethed, “what’s the difference between you and a lunatic right now? Leo has only been missing for three days. Stop trying to curse him to death!” “And in those three days, have you, his father, even once asked for an update on his case?” I shot back, my eyes burning. A flicker of annoyance crossed his perfect face. “I’m not a detective. What good would asking do? Are my questions going to bring him back?” He leaned in, his voice dropping to a contemptuous whisper. “This is just another one of your pathetic attempts to get my attention, isn’t it? Fine. You’ve succeeded. I’ll take tomorrow off to be with you.” One of his colleagues chimed in with a sycophantic murmur, “But Dr. Grant, you have a major surgery scheduled for tomorrow! What terrible luck, being married to a woman with no sense of propriety.” The small crowd of doctors and nurses nodded in agreement, their whispers like tiny daggers. My lips twisted into a sorrowful smile. My heart felt like a dead weight in my chest. We were in love once, Hugo and I. He pursued me our senior year of college. We married right after graduation. He told me his work was demanding, that he needed me to manage our home. So I gave up my career and dedicated myself to him. For six years, he climbed the ladder, becoming the youngest Chief of Surgery in the hospital’s history. And then, after a business trip, he came back with them. His childhood sweetheart, Bianca, and her daughter. Bianca’s daughter had a congenital heart defect. I’ll never forget the day she’d “joked” that since my Leo was so frail anyway, why not just donate his heart to her little girl? The look in her eyes that day wasn’t a joke. It was a promise. “Hugo, I’m begging you,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “Please, just let me see the body. He’s my son.” I knew Hugo’s greatest weakness was his reputation. So I did the one thing I knew would horrify him. I fell to my knees and wept. His face paled. “Fine,” he snapped. “One look.” “Absolutely not!” a frail voice cried out. Bianca was there, supporting a weeping old man. “My dear girl,” the man sobbed, looking at me. “My grandson… his face was the thing he was most proud of. The accident… it ruined him. We don’t want anyone to see him looking so… so broken in death.” Hugo’s expression turned to ice. “This is the donor’s grandfather, Claire. That should be proof enough that the boy inside is not our son. This is all in your head.” I bit my lip until I tasted blood. In my head? No. I refused to believe it. I trusted the invisible thread that connected me to my son. I knew he was in that room. Bianca’s face was a mask of tragic tears. “Claire, I know you’re upset. Hugo is my oldest friend, and I know it’s uncomfortable for you that he’s the one performing my daughter’s surgery. I can handle you taking it out on me, I always have.” Her voice rose, filled with manufactured desperation. “But this is a life! A real, living child! The window for a heart transplant is four hours, the sooner the better! You’ve already delayed this for so long! Please, don’t hold this up any longer. Let Hugo do the surgery. I’ll get on my knees and beg you.” And with that, she dropped to the floor before me. The whispers from the staff grew louder, their scorn for me thickening the air. A shrew. A harpy. No wonder Dr. Grant preferred the gentle, understanding Bianca. A year ago, those words would have shattered me. Now, they were meaningless. I’d stopped loving Hugo the day he brought Bianca into our lives. I only stayed for our son. “Let me see the body,” I repeated, my voice flat. “Have you lost your mind? I never knew you could be so petty, so cold-blooded!” Hugo’s patience finally snapped. “When I met you, you were the kindest person I knew. When did you become this… this monster? I’ve told you a thousand times, there is nothing between Bianca and me! She saved my life when we were kids, and I am repaying a debt. She is ten times the woman you are! If I truly loved her, do you think you would have had any place in my life these past few years?” His anger escalated into a full-blown rage. With a guttural roar, he swung, his open palm cracking against my cheek with all his strength. I crumpled to the floor, my face exploding with pain. He didn’t even glance at me. He rushed to Bianca, pulling her tenderly to her feet. “She’s been a housewife for too long,” he murmured to her. “It’s made her paranoid.” Then he looked up and saw my swollen face, the trickle of blood at the corner of my mouth. He froze. A flicker of regret crossed his eyes—not for hitting me, but for being caught. For doing it in public. His pristine image was tarnished. Almost automatically, his expression shifted to one of guilt. He reached for me. “I’m sorry, Claire. I didn’t mean to… I was just so angry. Let’s get you some ice for that.” I stared at him with dead eyes. As he drew near, I lunged, grabbing his right hand and pressing the tip of a fruit knife I’d grabbed from a nearby gift basket against his wrist. “You’re going to sign the divorce papers,” I said, my voice eerily calm. “But first, you’re going to take me to see that body. If you don’t, I’ll ruin that right hand of yours, and you’ll never be a surgeon again.” My face was a mask of desperate ferocity. Today, no one was going to stop me. “Divorce? You want a divorce? Over this?” He looked genuinely stunned. Then he saw the absolute emptiness in my eyes and finally seemed to realize that any love I once had for him was long, long gone. I saw the flicker of hurt in his eyes and almost laughed. He asked when I had become a monster? Perhaps it was during the years of silent, single-handed parenting. Or maybe it was the slow erosion of my soul from his daily neglect and the endless, thankless chores. I hadn’t become a monster. I’d become a ghost. A madwoman. I remembered when we were first married. He was busy, but he insisted on making me oatmeal every morning, saying my stomach was weak and needed care. He did it for six months, until I was better. The first year of our marriage, I was in a car accident. He cried at my bedside, wishing it was his leg that was broken, not mine. “I swore in our vows to be with you until we were old and gray,” he’d said. “I will never abandon you.” I thought I had married for love. When did it all change? It wasn’t until I found his journal that I understood. I was never his first choice. He loved someone else. When I was about to give birth, I saw him carefully picking out baby supplies online. My heart swelled with hope, thinking he was finally embracing fatherhood. Then I saw the shipping address. He sent everything to Bianca. From the very beginning, he was never on our side. Letting him go was the most natural thing in the world. “Dr. Grant, it’s been nearly three hours,” a nurse interrupted, her voice urgent. “If we don’t start the procedure now, the heart’s viability will drop significantly. Even if the surgery is a success, the patient’s recovery will be compromised.” Bianca fell to her knees again, slamming her forehead against the linoleum floor until it was bruised and bloody. “Claire, I’m begging you! Please, let Hugo do the surgery first! My daughter is my life, I can’t lose her! You’re a mother, too. How can you not understand how I feel?” Her pathetic display won the sympathy of the onlookers. The head nurse’s face hardened. “Claire, if you continue this, we will call security!” Even Hugo, still under the threat of my knife, frowned. “Claire, can we please discuss this after the surgery? I know I’ve neglected you. I’ll do better. I promise I’ll spend more time with you.” “No need to call security,” I said, my voice ringing with cold clarity. I looked straight at Bianca, my gaze boring into her as if to expose the darkness in her soul. “I’ve already called the police.” “It only takes a moment to look at a body,” I announced to the room. “So who, exactly, is the one wasting time here? You’re doing everything in your power to stop me from seeing those remains. What unspeakable secret are you trying to hide?” My words seemed to finally penetrate the fog of prejudice. The nurses and doctors exchanged uncertain glances. It was true. Why would Bianca and the old man protest so violently against something that would take only a minute, especially if a child’s life was on the line? Panic flickered in Bianca’s eyes. Just then, two police officers arrived. “Who called in a suspected homicide?” At the word “homicide,” the atmosphere in the hallway shifted. “I did,” I said, turning to the officers. “I believe the child in that operating room is my son, who has been missing for three days. I request a DNA test.” “Officers, that’s my grandson in there!” the old man cried pitifully. A quick check of their system confirmed that the man did, in fact, have a grandson. “Officers, please, you have to help me,” Bianca wept. “Because of her, my daughter’s life-saving surgery can’t begin.” “Ma’am,” one of the officers said sternly to me, “that’s enough. Let the doctor go so he can do his job.” Seizing the opportunity, Hugo wrenched his arm free. He looked at me with an expression of profound disappointment. “Claire, I never imagined you were this far gone. Bianca has done nothing to you, yet you’re willing to let her daughter die. I must have been blind to ever fall for you.” A lunatic? Yes. I smiled a thin, sharp smile. I had been a lunatic since the moment I knew my son was gone. I turned the fruit knife around and pressed it against my own throat. “I am going to see that body,” I told the officers. “Or I will die right here, right now.” I pushed the blade harder. A thin line of blood welled up, tracing a path down my pale skin. Seeing that I was serious, the police finally relented and escorted me into the operating room. 2 I finally stepped inside. There, on the surgical table, was a small, cold body. My heart seized with a pain so sharp it stole my breath. It was him. It was my son. With a trembling hand, I lifted the white sheet. A small, unfamiliar face, half of it destroyed, stared up at me. It wasn’t Leo’s face. Hugo let out a sigh of relief. He turned on me, his voice glacial. “There. You’ve seen him. Are you satisfied? It’s not our son. Now get out so I can do my job!” I shoved his hand away and carefully pulled back the surgical gown. There, on the pale skin of his abdomen, was the distinct, puckered mark of a burn. And next to it, a small, heart-shaped birthmark. A guttural sob ripped from my throat. I looked at Hugo, my voice a broken rasp. “Look at this scar. Look at this birthmark. Now tell me again that this is not our son.” Hugo’s pupils shrank to pinpricks. The color drained from his face as his trembling fingers traced the outline of the burn. He knew that scar. He had been the one to accidentally cause it while taking care of Leo. The body on the table was his son. And moments ago, he had personally harvested his heart.

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1 I was a Nine-Life Lynx, consort to the Celestial Realm’s God of War. In the third year after my death, he finally remembered me. He descended to the mortal world, intending to tear another tail from my body to save his childhood love. The little girl I had once rescued was now an old woman, her hair a cascade of white. She told the God of War that I was already gone. He just scoffed. “If my memory serves, she has two lives left. If you’re going to lie to me, at least make it believable.” He added, his voice dripping with condescension, “Tell her that if she saves Seraphina, she can remain my consort.” Suddenly, his eyes narrowed, fixing on the boy hiding behind the old woman, a boy with a face so strikingly like my own. The child’s expression soured. “Well, well,” Kaelen sneered. “Ten years in the mortal realm and she’s already managed to pop out a child. Since she refuses to show herself, I suppose I’ll have to take it out on her little bastard!” A torrential rain hammered down from the heavens, but where the God of War, Kaelen, stood in his immaculate white robes, not a single drop touched him. He was an island of perfect dryness in the storm. With a brutal tug, he ripped my son from behind Linda. A cruel smirk twisted his lips. “Hah, the resemblance is uncanny. Lyra has done well for herself, hasn’t she? Ten years down here, and she even has a child to show for it.” His voice turned to ice. “When I find out which gutter rat fathered this thing, I will tear him limb from limb!” He extended a finger, tracing a line along my son Finn’s arm. A crimson wound bloomed instantly, weeping blood. Finn let out a piercing wail. As he cried, the gash on his arm slowly began to knit itself closed. “He’s Lyra’s son, all right,” Kaelen declared. “If she won’t crawl out to see me, then I’ll just have to take the tail from her boy instead!” Trembling, Linda threw her cane aside and collapsed to her knees before him. The cold rain soaked her white hair, plastering it to her wrinkled skin. “Lord Kaelen, Lyra… Lyra is truly dead! How can she possibly come to see you?!” Kaelen’s brow furrowed in annoyance. “Dead? Don’t be absurd. She has two lives left! Don’t play these pathetic games with me. She heard Seraphina was injured and now she refuses to help. It’s just one tail. It’s not as if I’m asking for her life!” I floated in the air above them, my heart—or the ghost of it—aching with a familiar pang. It was strange. I’d been dead for three years, yet the pain was still so real. My heart ached for Linda, and for my little Finn. Linda crawled forward on her knees, wrapping her frail arms around Finn. “My lord, I am not lying. Lyra died three years ago.” Kaelen’s laugh was a cold, sharp thing. “So, you choose the hard way.” He seized Finn, lifting him into the air with an invisible force. He then bellowed towards the small cottage, “Lyra, I am giving you one chance. If you don’t get out here right now, I will take it out on your son. They’re both Nine-Life Lynxes. One tail is as good as another!” Suspended in the air, Finn choked on the driving rain, his small hands clawing desperately at nothing. “You’re a bad man! A monster!” Linda scrambled through the mud, clinging to Kaelen’s immaculate boots. “My lord, please, he’s just a child. Let him go, I beg you.” With an indifferent flick of his wrist, Kaelen sent Finn crashing to the ground. The boy coughed, a spray of blood staining the mud. “I will give Lyra one day,” Kaelen announced, his voice booming over the storm. “If she doesn’t appear before me by tomorrow, she can’t blame me for being cruel. And when I’m done, this bastard she had with her lover will be punished alongside her!” He turned, his white robes swirling, and vanished. Linda and Finn clung to each other, their sobs lost in the deluge. “Auntie Linda,” Finn whispered, his body trembling, “who was that? He was so scary.” Linda’s gaze darkened. “He is no one, Finn. No one at all.” 2 I clenched my spectral fists, a bitter sorrow welling within me. Kaelen, you couldn’t even recognize your own son. Her lover? The thought was so bitter it was almost laughable. But then, why would he know? He never cared about me. He never would have guessed Finn was his. Even if he knew, he would probably just pour all his hatred for me onto our son. Linda helped Finn back into the cottage and immediately began to pack. “Finn, we have to go. We can’t stay here anymore.” A wave of relief washed over me. She remembered my words. Before I died, I had begged her: if Kaelen ever came looking for me, she had to run. Run as far as she could. I drifted behind her, wishing I could rest a hand on her shoulder. Linda, I’m so sorry. I’m the one who brought this trouble to you. She clutched the moonstone locket I’d given her, her eyes filled with a deep, aching nostalgia. “Lyra,” she murmured to herself, “you gave me this life. Don’t you worry. I will protect Finn with everything I have.” As I watched her face, shadowed and flickering in the lamplight, my mind drifted back fifty years. I saw her again, a little girl who had fallen from a cliff while gathering herbs for her sick mother. I had been passing by and saved her on a whim, healing her mother as well. Such a small act, yet she had carried the weight of that gratitude her entire life. She always said it was a debt she could never repay. Ten years ago, when Kaelen cast me out of the Celestial Realm and his enemies hunted me, it was Linda who took me in. We had lived as fugitives for a decade. I thought Kaelen had finally forgotten me, had let me be. I never imagined that even in death, he would not grant me peace. Linda packed quickly, and under the cloak of darkness, they slipped out of the yard. She paused, looking back one last time at the home we had shared for ten years, and sighed. Then, without another moment’s hesitation, she turned and led Finn away into the night. The moonstone locket would guide them to a hidden cave within my tomb. It held the last vestiges of my arcane power, enough to shield them from Kaelen’s senses. But it would only last for a week. Still, it should have been enough. Kaelen would never waste more than three days searching for me. But they hadn’t gotten far before he appeared, blocking their path. He stood there, an oppressive aura of power rolling off him in waves, crushing down on them. Linda and Finn collapsed, blood trickling from their lips. I flew at Kaelen, my ghostly fists and feet passing right through him. “Kaelen, you bastard! How can you do this to an old woman and a child?! And you call yourself a god, a savior of the realms!” But he couldn’t feel my blows or hear my screams. I was filled with despair. I knew that for his precious Seraphina, there was nothing he wouldn’t do. He looked down at them, his voice a low growl. “And where do you two think you’re going?” Linda struggled to speak. “I… I was just taking Finn to buy some things.” “Oh? To buy things? With all your belongings packed? It looks to me like you were trying to run!” His voice cracked like a whip. “Fools! I already gave you a chance!” Suddenly, a surge of power erupted from Finn. Lynx claws burst from his fingertips, and he lunged at Kaelen. “You monster! Don’t you hurt Auntie Linda! I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you!” My spectral heart leaped into my throat. “Finn, no!” I shrieked into the void. If Kaelen was angered, he would kill Finn without a second thought. It wouldn’t matter that he was his son. Because he was my son, Kaelen wouldn’t care. Kaelen, caught by surprise, didn’t react in time. Finn’s claws tore a deep gash in his arm. His eyes instantly turned to shards of ice. He grabbed Finn by the throat, lifting him effortlessly. “You’re just like your mother,” he hissed. “A defiant little stray.” Finn glared at him, spitting out the words with all his might. “My mother was the best person in the world! You don’t get to talk about her!” Tears streamed down Linda’s face as she began slamming her head against the rocky ground, over and over, until her forehead was a bloody, pulpy mess. I spun in the air, frantic with helplessness. Kaelen, you animal! A cold, pure hatred bloomed in my chest, a feeling I had never truly known until this moment. Kaelen, I was finally, truly beginning to hate you. 3 “My lord,” Linda choked out, her voice thick with blood and tears. “Please, let him go. I told you, Lyra died three years ago.” Kaelen’s grip on Finn’s neck tightened. “Did she now? Well, if she’s dead, her son’s tail will have to do! I refuse to believe she’d stand by and watch her own child be mutilated!” Finn’s face was turning a deep shade of purple. Linda’s lips trembled as she forced out the words. “My lord… Finn… he’s your son.” My gaze snapped to her. How did she know? I had never told her the truth of Finn’s origins, and she had never asked. Perhaps she saw the faint echo of Kaelen in my son’s features. Kaelen merely arched an eyebrow. “You’ll say anything to save that woman, won’t you?” He clearly didn’t believe it. A sphere of golden flame materialized in his right hand, and he pressed it against Finn’s arm. Finn screamed in agony as the Celestial Fire seared his flesh, the wound burning black and refusing to heal. Kaelen’s bloodline carried the divine power of Celestial Fire. Our lynx regeneration, no matter how potent, was useless against it. The wounds would not begin to mend until the last spark of his fire had been extinguished. Twenty years ago, after Seraphina had framed me, Kaelen had burned me with that same fire for an entire hour. My body was a ruin of charred flesh. It took me five years for the scars to fade. And Finn… Finn was not even ten years old. How could he possibly withstand such a torment? Kaelen sneered. “He can’t even endure my Celestial Fire, and you dare claim he’s my son? It seems ten years of suffering in the mortal realm haven’t changed Lyra’s vicious, deceitful nature one bit!” Finn was too young. The War God’s bloodline hadn’t awakened in him yet. Kaelen, you monster! He shouted into the surrounding darkness. “Lyra, I’ve changed my mind! This is your final chance. If you don’t show yourself, I won’t just take your son’s tail. I will burn him with Celestial Fire for three days and three nights!” Desperate, Linda lunged forward to shield Finn. But she was only a mortal. The moment her skin touched the divine light, her entire hand dissolved into ash. Her shriek of agony echoed through the forest. I wanted to tear Kaelen apart. I was consumed by a rage so profound it felt like it could shatter my very soul. Kaelen, Kaelen, I hate you. I hate that I ever met you, and I hate myself for ever loving you! Kaelen dismissed the flame, but Linda’s arm was gone from the elbow down. Finn, ignoring his own searing pain, crawled to her side. He bit into his own wrist and let his blood drip onto her wound, and only then did the bleeding stop. He turned to Kaelen, his voice raw with a grief beyond his years. “You fiend! Who are you?! Why do you hate my mother so much when she’s already gone?!” He screamed, his small body shaking. “My mother is dead! I am her son! Whatever you want, take it from me! I don’t know what she did to you, but please, I’m begging you, don’t hurt Auntie Linda!” Kaelen’s expression flickered for a moment. He opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it. He likely couldn’t bring himself to admit that I, a “lowly” lynx, had been his consort. He had always seen me as a source of shame. Linda’s face was deathly pale. After a long moment, she managed to catch her breath. Using her one remaining hand, she propped herself up with her cane, struggling to her feet. The fear in her eyes was gone, replaced by a chilling, hollow mockery. She looked straight at Kaelen and laughed. “God of War,” she said, her voice steady. “You wish to see Lyra? Then follow me.” Kaelen, completely oblivious to the change in her demeanor, assumed his display of power had finally broken them. A triumphant smirk touched his lips. “You should have just led me to her from the start. You could have saved yourselves so much pain.” As Linda walked ahead, she laughed again, a soft, broken sound. She murmured, so low I could barely hear her. “Lyra… oh, Lyra. Is this truly the man you once loved so deeply? I grieve for you.” I’m sorry, Linda. I’m so sorry. I wished I could turn back time, back to the day I first met him a century ago. I would have turned and walked away without a second thought. I would have ensured our paths never, ever crossed again. 4 After a short walk, we arrived at my tomb. It was built into the face of a sheer cliff. Linda took out the moonstone locket I had given her. A simple squeeze would shatter it, and the rock face would open. The moment Kaelen saw the locket, his composure faltered. He snatched it from her hand, staring at it for a long moment before speaking, his voice laced with a strange, biting anger. “Hah. She never took this off. Now that she has a new lover, I see she gives away her treasures so freely.” Linda’s eyes flashed with contempt. She snatched the locket back and squeezed, but her strength failed her. Frustrated, she hurled it to the ground, and the moonstone shattered into a thousand glittering fragments. Kaelen roared, grabbing her by the collar of her tunic. “How dare you!” “You wanted to see Lyra, didn’t you?” Linda said, gesturing to the opening that had appeared in the cliff face. “She’s in there.” With a cold snort, Kaelen dragged Finn inside. But the cavern was stark and empty. There was nothing. He realized he’d been tricked. A malevolent energy radiated from him, and the temperature in the cave plummeted. Linda leaned against the wall, shivering violently. I rushed to her, trying to shield her with my ghostly form, but my arms passed right through. A mortal would freeze to death in this cold, especially one as old and frail as she was. But Linda seemed not to notice the chill. She reached out, stroking the cold stone of the cavern wall with an aching tenderness. “Lyra,” she whispered. “It’s been too long.” It had been. My body had become one with the mountain itself. Kaelen flicked his wrist. Finn’s form shimmered and shrank, until he was nothing more than a small lynx kitten, mewling in his grasp. “Fine,” Kaelen snarled. “You’re all as defiant as she is. You think my patience is endless? Then I’ll offer her bastard son to the heavens!” He raised his hand, preparing to rip away Finn’s single, precious tail. “Hah, one tail? You’re a liar, just like your mother! Pathetic little mongrel.” I howled, throwing myself at Kaelen again and again. I knew he couldn’t hear me, but I screamed anyway, begging him to spare my son. I was a Nine-Life Lynx, but giving birth to Finn had nearly destroyed me. Finn was just an ordinary lynx spirit. He only has one life. Kaelen, are you really going to murder your own child?!

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