Author: Momo Chan

After the crash, dying, I didn’t call my wife—the chief of surgery. I waited calmly for the ambulance. In my last life, she answered first, rushed to save me with a top medical team. Later, I learned who was in the other car: her first love, the one who got away. He missed the golden hour for treatment, lost an arm and a leg. Unable to accept it, he jumped from the hospital roof. My wife told me not to feel guilty. But on our wedding night, she drugged me, sliced my tendons, and dragged me to his grave, forcing me to kowtow and apologize. “You were faking! If not for you, Julian would’ve lived!” She ran me over repeatedly until I was pulp. Now, back at the crash, I won’t fight for her. Let her save him this time. 1 My neck was pinned against the seat, unable to move. Blood trickled down from my temple. Gritting my teeth against the pain, I pulled out my phone and deleted every trace of Evelyn Reed. The paramedics from the first ambulance rushed to the other car. After I saw Evelyn get her precious Julian onto a stretcher and into the vehicle, only then did I dial 911 and request another unit. Gasoline was leaking, and the hiss of sparks began to spread. I used every last ounce of strength to free myself, but the car exploded just as I scrambled clear. The emergency room was a chaotic swarm of people. Evelyn came over, gave me a cursory glance, and declared my injuries minor—just some external wounds that needed simple dressing and observation. Nearly every doctor and nurse, following her lead, was focused on saving Julian Cole. It was the Reed family hospital, after all. What Evelyn said was law. The pain in my leg gradually faded, replaced by a terrifying numbness. In my previous life, Evelyn had rushed to me the moment I called, but in doing so, she’d let Julian miss his window for optimal treatment, leaving him disabled. His death became a landmine in our marriage, ready to detonate at the slightest touch. On our wedding night, she’d tricked me into taking an overdose of sedatives, telling me it was to help with the champagne, and then she’d severed my tendons. When I came to, she’d thrown me from her car in front of Julian’s grave, forcing me to kneel and beg for forgiveness. Her eyes were bloodshot as she screamed at me, “Leo Vance, why don’t you just die? Why did you have to provoke him with my reputation, making him rush to clear the air about us? You’re the one who should be dead.” She’d vented her rage by running me over repeatedly, not stopping until I was pulp. I never imagined I would be reborn, right back at the scene of the crash. I didn’t want the regrets of my last life to repeat themselves. So this time, I waited. I let her save Julian first before I called for help. I just never thought she would abuse her authority to pull every available resource to save him, leaving me with nothing. With what little strength I had left, I called out for a doctor, a nurse, anyone. Finally, a young physician approached. “Doctor, help me. I can’t feel my leg.” He didn’t even bother to look at my leg. He just sneered. “Mr. Vance, I know who you are. You’re Dr. Reed’s husband, right? She already said you’re fine. Your external wounds are treated. You just need to be observed.” “Dr. Reed also mentioned you get pretty jealous, that you’ve pulled a lot of stunts to get her attention. Hey, you should give me some tips, man.” After three years with Evelyn, I never imagined this is how she talked about me behind my back. 2 I watched the frantic activity around me, but not a single person came to check on my condition. After what felt like an eternity, a young nurse finally called out, “Dr. Reed, Mr. Vance’s blood pressure and heart rate are dropping fast! You need to come look!” Evelyn came over, pried my eyelids open, shone a penlight in my eyes, and took my blood pressure before giving me a rough shove. “Hey, Leo, that’s enough. I can handle your tantrums on a normal day, but look at where we are. Julian is in emergency surgery. If we’re a minute too late, he could lose his leg. I’ll let the fact that you were stalking and threatening him slide this one time, considering you’re injured.” My mind went blank. In our three years together, forget having the time or energy to stalk someone—I was the one being monitored, even when I went to the bathroom. I closed my eyes, refusing to engage. She pinched my right thigh, hard. “Alright, stop playing dead. Get your IV drip and go home. Don’t cause any more trouble.” My leg was truly numb. But no one believed me. Evelyn then led a procession of medical staff, wheeling Julian towards the ICU, leaving only the young nurse to watch over me. “Head nurse, it’s bad! Mr. Vance’s BP is down to 60 over 40!” “Damn it, it’s crush syndrome! He’s going into shock! Get the crash cart, push one of epi, and call for backup in OR two!” They finally realized the gravity of the situation and started scrambling to save me. Staring up at the shadowless lamp above, I felt a strange, sharp sense of being alive. It was only in this second life that I began to truly understand my relationship with Evelyn. Three years ago, when my younger brother needed a massive sum for his uremia treatment, it was Mr. Reed, Evelyn’s grandfather, who provided the funds. Though my brother passed away in the end, I was eternally grateful to the Reed family. Even when the condition for their generosity was that I marry into their family, I agreed. When I met Evelyn, we hit it off. She was obsessed with medicine, so her grandfather poured all his energy into me, making me the acting CEO of the Reed Corporation. This all changed six months ago when Julian returned from abroad. Evelyn grew distant, often staying out all night. Julian was her first love. Though his family was poor, he had refused to marry into hers. Mr. Reed, admiring his pride, had given him money to study overseas instead. Everyone whispered that the golden couple was finally reunited, a spark ready to ignite a wildfire. They said I’d been wearing a green hat for a while. I didn’t believe it at first. Evelyn even introduced us, and Julian and I got along great, adding each other on social media and lamenting we hadn’t met sooner. But soon after, Julian began to provoke me relentlessly through private messages. When Evelyn claimed she was on duty, Julian would send me a video of them at an amusement park, kissing each other. When Evelyn said she wasn’t feeling well and was on an IV drip, Julian would send a photo of her asleep beside him, her head resting on his shoulder, a blissful smile on her face. And every time, before I could confront her, she would wrap her arms around me, her tone affectionately chiding. “Leo, are you made of wood? Can’t you tell when someone isn’t feeling well?” “Leo, you don’t love me at all. I’m exhausted from my shift, and you’re here accusing me, questioning me.” But she didn’t know that when she worked late, I would wait with a late-night snack to drive her home. When she was sick, I would stay up all night by her side. She was an untouchable goddess, and I was the dirt beneath her feet. I loved her. If she said it, I believed it. Julian grew bolder, even coming to my office to flaunt his position and humiliate me. When I told Evelyn, she would just dismiss it, saying I was being petty for a grown man. She insisted it was all in the past, that they were just old friends catching up, that nothing was happening. She’d accuse me of thinking so little of her, her eyes welling with tears. After Julian jumped, she didn’t cry, didn’t grieve. She just told me to focus on the wedding. I helped her pick her favorite dress, try on the most beautiful makeup, only for her to butcher me like a fish on our wedding night. I realize now that when you truly hate someone, you can be perfectly calm, without a single ripple on the surface. Unfortunately, I was too lost in the joy of my own survival to see it. By the time the fire started, I realized it was all just a beautiful, empty illusion. Under the influence of the anesthetic, I drifted into a deep sleep, and the world around me slowly faded to black. 3 When I woke up, Mr. Reed was sitting beside me, leaning on his cane. I looked around the luxurious VIP room. The walls were stark white, devoid of any color. I felt a dull ache in my leg. As I tried to lift the blanket, Mr. Reed gently pressed my hand down. “Leo, my boy, I’ve failed you. It’s my fault I didn’t rein Evelyn in, and that’s why your condition was delayed. Aiya.” Confused, I tried to lift my leg, but my body wouldn’t respond. I froze. My lower right leg was gone. In the last life, Julian became disabled and jumped from the roof. This time, I was the one who was disabled. Was I supposed to die, too? Surprisingly, I felt no grief, no despair. It was as if it wasn’t my leg that was gone. “Leo, you just focus on healing. Grandfather will hire the best doctors to fit you with a prosthetic. You’ll be just like you were before.” I didn’t respond. The silence grew awkward. Mr. Reed called Evelyn, thoughtfully putting her on speakerphone, hoping she would come see me. “Evie, where are you? Get to the Special Care unit, room 1, right now.” I heard Julian’s laughter from the other end. Evelyn must have been feeding him fruit. “Evie, it’s too sour! No more, no more, haha!” Then, Evelyn’s voice. “Come on, just one more bite. It’s sweet! Hi, Grandfather, what’s up?” Yes, they were so sweet. The only thing sour here was my heart. Mr. Reed’s face hardened. “Evelyn Reed, if you continue to fool around with that shameless creature, I will disown you as my granddaughter.” “Grandfather, I don’t know what kind of spell Leo has put on you. He’s just the man who married in. You’re giving him far too much importance.” Mr. Reed probably regretted putting her on speaker. But it didn’t matter. I’d figured it out. I was just the man who married in. And a man like that should know his place. How could he ever hope to reach the lofty heights of the Reed family’s heiress? “You get over here right now. Leo is seriously injured. If you insist on being stubborn, I’ll cut off all of Julian’s treatment.” Evelyn cared too much about Julian. She came, reluctantly. “Leo, I’ve got to hand it to you. You run to Grandfather with every little thing, don’t you? Didn’t I tell you to go home after your IV? Why are you still in the hospital?” She looked at me with disdain, as if I were a dog. “Evie, apologize to Leo.” “Apologize for what? Grandfather, it was Leo who blew things out of proportion, spreading dirty rumors about Julian and me. That’s why Julian got hurt so badly! If I had been a minute later, he would have lost his leg!” Evelyn glared at me, as if I were the world’s greatest sinner. “Evelyn, I lost a leg in this accident. Do you think that’s enough?” She stared at me. “Leo, you’re still throwing a tantrum. He was hurt badly, so I spent some time with him. What’s the big deal? Can’t you be a little more magnanimous as a man?” Remembering all of Julian’s provocations, I didn’t back down. “How am I not magnanimous, Evelyn? My fiancée has been sleeping with her ex-boyfriend for half a year. The other man has been flaunting it in my face. You tell me, how much more magnanimous am I supposed to be?” “You’re being unreasonable,” she snapped, slamming the door on her way out. Mr. Reed, seeing the tension between us, tried to placate me. “Leo, you’ve always been a sensible boy. I think very highly of you. I was going to entrust the Reed family business to you. Evie has been spoiled since she was a child. I’ll have a good talk with her later, make her apologize. Couples don’t hold grudges overnight. Just humor her a little, and it will be fine.” I looked at this white-haired man, my benefactor, my heart a mix of emotions. “Grandfather, when I was working myself to the bone to manage your business, she still looked down on me. Now that I’m disabled, you expect us to live happily ever after? Do you even believe that yourself? I’ve humored her for three years. If you raise a cat for that long, at least it knows you love it. But her?” “Leo, I know you’re upset about the leg. Don’t worry, I’ll find the best team for your surgery. You two will have a good life together.” I cut him off. “Grandfather, if your grandson had married into a family with a girl like that, would you still advise him to make it work? I’m a person. I have dignity.” “Then what do you want to do?” “The debt of gratitude has been paid. I want to break up.” 4 Half an hour after storming out, Evelyn returned, immediately confronting me. “Leo, I’ve been gone for so long, and you didn’t even come looking for me. Are you trying to end things?” “Yes. I want to end things. I want to break up.” She stared at me in disbelief. “Leo, have you had enough of this drama? Fine. I’ll forgive you this time. Don’t let it happen again.” She held out a peeled orange. I looked at it, feeling sick to my stomach. I swatted the orange from her hand. “Evelyn, I said I want to break up. Did you hear me? And I don’t want Julian’s leftovers.” Now Evelyn was truly furious. She raised her hand to slap me, but I caught her wrist. “Evelyn, when I loved you, I was willing to indulge you, to give in to you. Now that I don’t, you can forget about ever walking all over me again.” “Leo, is it really that serious? You’re demanding a divorce over something so small? Are you really going to give up the fortune Grandfather promised you?” In her eyes, every fight about Julian was just me making a mountain out of a molehill, always ending with me backing down and choosing to believe her. I threw back the covers, my voice calm. “You tell me if it’s serious.” She saw the stump of my leg, wrapped in thick, blood-soaked bandages. Her hand trembled as she reached for the dressing. “How…?” Then, she lifted her chin, her pride returning. “Are you sure you want to break up? It’s just a leg. You can get a prosthetic.” I looked at her exquisite face. A true beauty. I had been blinded by it for so long. At the door, Julian was leaning on his crutches, enjoying the show. “Evelyn, your lover is here. Aren’t you going to invite him in?” She saw him and rushed to his side. Julian didn’t hide the triumphant look in his eyes. Mr. Reed clutched his chest, gasping with rage at the sight. “Mr. Cole,” I said, “now that Evelyn and I are splitting up, you’d better be ready to catch this heaven-sent fortune that’s coming your way.” “I don’t agree,” Evelyn said, always so domineering. “I don’t care. It’s a breakup, not a divorce. I don’t need your consent. The sooner I leave, the sooner I can make room for you two golden lovebirds.” Evelyn started to say something, but Julian cut her off. “Evie, Leo must have misunderstood our relationship again. Don’t be impulsive. You two should talk it out.” Julian was still acting. I couldn’t stand it. I threw my phone at him. “Mr. Cole, why don’t you explain this?” Evelyn picked up the phone. “Leo, I’ve explained this to you so many times, and you still don’t believe me. You actually hired someone to stalk us and take secret photos, threatening to expose us to the media. Julian was rushing to explain things to you when he got into the accident.” She took out her own phone, intending to find proof of my “threats,” but instead, all she found were the countless photos, videos, and humiliating messages that Julian had sent me. I had asked her about these photos before. She’d told me they were just friends, that I shouldn’t overthink it, that I was being small-minded. “Evelyn, I’ve already died once. Being run over by a car, again and again… it hurts. It hurts so much that it was enough to make me forget my love for you. Let’s just let each other go.” Evelyn froze for a few seconds, her eyes wide with shock. She spoke in disbelief. “You’re… you’re reborn, too!”

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I was hit with a sudden, searing case of acute pancreatitis. But when I got to the hospital, the doctor refused to see me. All because my husband was an ER doctor there. He’d given orders that no one was to treat me. Last time, I made one phone call, and he was there in an instant. But in his absence, his one true love got into a car accident. She died at the scene. He blamed me for all of it. On my mother’s birthday, he drugged my entire family. He took a scalpel to me, stabbing me over and over. “Does it hurt? Victoria was in more pain. If it weren’t for you, she never would have been out there in my place.” “You killed Victoria. I’m going to make your whole family join her in death!” I opened my eyes, and I was back. Back on the day I drank myself into pancreatitis for his sake. This time, my husband ran straight to Victoria, without a moment’s hesitation. He thought he’d made the right choice. But in the end, he was the one on his knees, begging me to come back. … The sharp, stabbing pain in my abdomen jolted me awake. Rain was lashing against the window. A glance at the clock confirmed it. I was reborn. Reborn on the day I drank so much that I gave myself acute pancreatitis. It’s an agonizing, life-threatening illness. Realizing the attack had just begun, I grabbed my car keys and drove to the nearest top-tier hospital. At this hour, only the ER was open. The doctor on duty looked up at my name, frowned, and called out, “Aria?” It was none other than my husband’s college roommate and colleague, Dr. Luke Carter. I didn’t have time for pleasantries. Clutching my stomach, I rasped, “Luke, I drank a lot today. I think it’s pancreatitis. You have to admit me, now.” Having lived this once before, I knew the most critical thing was to get admitted and start an IV. But to my shock, Luke tossed my ID aside, his tone hostile. “Can’t do it.” I was floored. “What do you mean?” “Stop pretending. Jason already told me. You’re not sick.” The disdain on Luke’s face was palpable. “You and Jason are married now. You should trust him. Pulling these kinds of cheap tricks is pathetic.” I knew he’d misunderstood. “Luke, I’m not acting. I really have pancreatitis. Run some tests if you don’t believe me.” His frown deepened. “What do you think this hospital is? A playground? Do you think medical resources are for you to waste? Get out of here. Don’t hold up the other patients.” As he spoke, a line of five or six people had formed behind me. Hearing his words, they started to murmur, their glares like daggers. “If you’re faking, you shouldn’t be in line.” “What is wrong with young people these days? Too much money and nowhere to spend it?” I knew it was pointless. Luke wasn’t going to help me. Amidst the chorus of accusations, I clutched my stomach and stumbled out. Just as I reached the door, Luke’s voice stopped me. “Aria, you know about the incident with Jason and that patient a few days ago, right? Our department head is transferring out. That position was supposed to be his.” His face was a mask of cold warning. “If you want what’s best for Jason, stop embarrassing him here.” I wanted to argue, to defend myself. But another wave of excruciating pain sent a cold sweat down my back. For a pancreatitis patient, every minute without treatment is another minute closer to death. I didn’t say a word. I just pushed the door open and left. Luke was usually a gentle person, but he was always hostile towards me. He still believed I was the other woman who had broken up Jason and Victoria. He thought I’d used some underhanded tactic to steal Jason, to tear apart a match made in heaven. Outside the exam room, it felt like someone was taking a knife to my insides. In my last life, the pancreatitis had hit at this exact same time. Then, I had called my husband, Jason, who was on duty. He had come home immediately to take me to the hospital. But because he left, his first love, Victoria, had gone out to pick up a patient in his place. She’d gotten into an accident on the way and died instantly. Later, Jason found out that Victoria, before she died, had slept with the hospital director to get his disciplinary action revoked. The next day, the hospital did indeed drop the complaint against him. And with her dying breaths, Victoria had been calling his name. That day, Jason locked himself in his room and chain-smoked two packs of cigarettes. When he finally emerged, he seemed back to normal. He smiled and talked to me, drove me to and from work, and cooked me dinner. I thought he had moved on. I thought he had finally realized that as a married man, he shouldn’t be grieving his ex-girlfriend so intensely. But on my mother’s birthday, he volunteered to cook. He poisoned every dish. He tied me to a chair and stabbed me over and over with a scalpel. Blood pooled on the floor around me. I begged him to spare my family. But Jason’s eyes were red with rage. “If I spare them, will that bring Victoria back? You deserve to die, Aria. Why did you have to drink so much that day? Did you know Victoria’s car was going to crash?” I wanted to scream that I wasn’t a psychic, that I had no way of knowing what would happen to her. The reason I had drunk so much was because the patient’s family who had complained about Jason was friends with my boss. Jason was up for a promotion to department head, and this complaint would have ruined everything. I couldn’t bear to see his hard work go to waste. I had pulled strings with my boss, arranged a dinner with the family, and drank three bottles of hard liquor before they finally agreed to withdraw the complaint in front of me. Tears streamed down my face as I tried to tell him. But Jason was beyond listening. He shoved the scalpel into my mouth, twisting it violently. “It’s all your fault, you and your damn mouth! If you hadn’t drunk so much, Victoria would still be alive! Your parents are scum for raising a daughter like you! Your whole family can go to hell with her!” My body convulsed with pain, tears mixing with the blood from my open wounds. Finally, when he had tortured me enough, he threw the scalpel aside. He took out a lighter and set the whole house on fire. “Victoria, I’m coming to be with you.” Looking into his love-struck eyes, I realized how foolish I had been. I had known it even as I was drinking myself sick. The reason the usually gentle Jason had gotten into a fight with a patient was because Victoria had been rude to them, and they had insulted her. When Jason found out, he had lost it and beaten the person up. A more violent spasm of pain shattered my thoughts. My stomach hurt so much I could barely stand. Time was life. I couldn’t stay here any longer. I forced myself to the entrance, hoping to catch a cab to another hospital. But the rain was coming down in sheets now, hailstones the size of pigeon eggs hammering against the glass. The sound was terrifying. It was the middle of the night, and with the storm, after ten minutes of waiting on my phone, not a single car had accepted my ride request. I had no choice but to drag myself to the nurses’ station and ask if there were any other doctors on duty. The nurse’s smile vanished the moment she saw my face. She waved me away like a beggar. “No, all the doctors are busy.” “But I saw two doctors in their rooms and no one…” I started, but her cold glare cut me off. I swallowed my words and pleaded, “I’m in a lot of pain. If there are no doctors in the ER, can you call a specialist from one of the wards for a consult?” “No,” she said, her voice laced with disgust. “I told you to stop acting. Dr. Evans already gave instructions. No one is to treat you.” From Luke’s attitude earlier, I knew. Jason must have been reborn, too. That’s why I hadn’t contacted him. But I never thought he would be so cruel, so utterly ruthless as to order the entire hospital not to treat me. Jason was a brilliant doctor, the protégé of the ER department head. If he hadn’t defended Victoria, he would have been the most likely candidate for the next department head. So everyone here listened to him. The pain was getting worse. I bent over, trying to inch my way back to the entrance to try my luck again. But after just a few steps, I heard two nurses laughing. “So that’s Dr. Evans’ little homewrecker. She’s not even that pretty.” “Of course not. I heard she drugged him to get him to prescribe her company’s meds, and he had no choice but to marry her.” “She’s a great actress, though. She really looks like she has pancreatitis.” They weren’t even trying to be quiet. Every word reached my ears. It was only then that I realized how toxic my reputation was in this hospital. Jason and I had indeed met here. I was a pharmaceutical rep, and he was a doctor. At first, I had tried to use him to get my foot in the door. But then, government policies changed, and the market shifted. I lost my job. It was only after that that Jason and I actually started seeing each other. When we met, he and Victoria had already broken up. I never understood why everyone called me the other woman. But I didn’t have time to dwell on that now. This disease progressed rapidly. If I didn’t get treatment soon, I would actually die. I managed to collapse into a chair, my body wracked with tremors. I was hunched over, unable to stand up at all. My entire back was a mess of numbness and pain. A thought, cold and terrifying, crept into my mind. If this continues, am I going to die? Just then, an older woman noticed something was wrong. She gave me a gentle nudge. “Young lady, are you alright?” I looked up. My pale, ghostly face made her jump back. I was completely limp now. I slid from the chair and crumpled to the floor. “Oh my god!” she shrieked. “Doctor! Doctor, help! Someone’s collapsed over here!” Her piercing cry brought Jason and Victoria, who had just walked in, running over with a pile of things, thinking there was an emergency. Until they saw my face. Jason stopped. He dispersed the onlookers and then looked down at me. “Aria, have you had enough?” I looked up at him. He had a smile on his face, the smile of someone who has narrowly escaped disaster. It was just as I thought. Jason had gone to save Victoria. She stood beside him, looking shy and demure. The chemistry between them was so thick it warmed the air. It made sense. Victoria had never gotten over Jason, and he had come to her rescue at a critical moment. Of course their feelings would have deepened. I wanted to spit a sarcastic retort. But in the face of my own mortality, I had to swallow all my pride. I reached out, my fingers brushing the hem of his white coat. “Jason, I have persistent upper abdominal pain, it’s radiating to my back, and I feel nauseous. Please, just admit me.” I thought he would agree. After all, he knew my condition was real. But he just scoffed. “Aria, you’ve memorized your lines well. Too bad no one gets sick by the textbook.” I couldn’t believe it. “You think I’m faking?” “Even if you’re not, you drank yourself into this state on purpose. It’s not serious.” He was dismissive. “Aria, we doctors hate people like you who abuse their bodies. I’m teaching you a lesson this time, so you’ll learn the consequences of not taking care of yourself. But don’t worry, I won’t let you die.” His words plunged me into despair. Jason. I really am seriously ill. I tried to get up, to find some way to save myself. But the pain had sapped all my strength. I lay on the floor like a beached fish. The pain spread from my abdomen to my heart, then through my nerves. Finally, it tore me apart. Jason had been about to leave with Victoria. But my struggling on the floor caught his attention. He turned back, about to approach me.

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My sister took credit for a rescue I performed and was adopted by a wealthy family from the city. I studied hard, got into college, and graduated, eager to reunite with her. But she locked me in a basement and starved me to death. “Only when you’re dead,” she’d said, “will the credit for that rescue truly be mine. Go to your grave with that secret, dear sister.” What she didn’t know was that I had already reconnected with my billionaire biological parents. I never wanted a share of that glory. I opened my eyes and I was back at the moment of the rescue. 1 “Help… help me…” The moment my eyes opened, I saw a middle-aged man struggling in the lake, his body slowly sinking. The familiar scene, my own thin, frail body—I knew I had been reborn. Without a second thought, I plunged into the water, swimming with all my might toward the drowning man. I knew who he was. A wealthy tycoon from the capital, Ashton Stark. He was here sketching and had accidentally fallen into the lake. In my previous life, I was the one who saved him. But while I was gone changing my wet clothes, my sister seized the opportunity to claim my heroic deed as her own. We were both orphans from the same home. To repay the favor, Mr. Stark adopted my sister, Maya, and took her back to the city with him. I hadn’t cared then. I believed an older sister should always yield to the younger one. I let her take the credit and even wrote her many letters after she left, all of which went unanswered, disappearing into a void. It wasn’t until my junior year of college, when I found my real parents, that I went to the city to see her, worried she wasn’t doing well. Instead, I walked straight into my own grave. I still remember the bone-chilling cold of the basement, the utter despair of being trapped with no one to call for help. And outside the iron door, Maya’s cold laughter. “You came looking for me because you wanted to tell Dad the truth about the rescue, didn’t you? Well, too bad! The credit is mine and mine alone!” “As for you, you can take that secret to your grave!” Only in my dying moments did I understand. Maya had never seen me as a sister. She despised me, looked down on me, saw me as a stain on her life that had to be erased. Since I’ve been given a second chance, I’m taking back all my kindness. As for all the evil she did in my last life, I’ll be returning it to her twofold in this one. Right now, I was only twelve. Saving a grown man nearly depleted all my strength; I almost drowned myself. After finally dragging Mr. Stark ashore, I gritted my teeth and performed CPR, pressing on his stomach until he coughed up water. Once I was sure he was breathing, I collapsed beside him, gasping for air. That’s when Maya ran over. Back then, she wasn’t Maya Stark. We both used the director’s surname. I was Chloe Reed, and she was Maya Reed. Maya was two years younger than me. She covered her mouth in feigned shock. “Chloe, you saved someone?!” I was too busy catching my breath to answer her. Her gaze fell on Mr. Stark, sizing him up before she recited the exact same lines as in my past life. “Chloe, your clothes are soaked. You should go back and change. I’ll watch him for you.” She wanted me out of the way so she could take the credit when he woke up. This time, I wouldn’t let her have her way. 2 “Maya,” I said, my voice weak, “I’m too tired to walk back. Could you get me a towel?” “Oh…” Maya was clearly reluctant. She tried to change the subject. “Chloe, who is this man? He’s not dead, is he?” Who he was didn’t matter. What mattered were his expensive clothes and the gold watch on his wrist. I knew what Maya was thinking. Just then, Mr. Stark groaned and began to stir. An idea sparked in Maya’s mind. She rushed to the lake, splashed water all over herself, and then ran back to help Mr. Stark sit up. Her small face was a mask of concern. “Are you alright? You nearly drowned! It’s a good thing I saved you!” I watched her performance with cold detachment. I’d missed this scene in my past life; I had to get a good look this time. She was a natural. Her hair was soaked, her expression flawless. “I wanted to call 911 for you, but your phone is waterlogged, and I don’t have one…” She lowered her head, her voice dropping to a pitiful whisper. “Our orphanage is nearby. Why don’t I take you there to rest for a bit?” I had caught my breath. I got up and helped Mr. Stark from the other side, adding, “Yes, you can change into some dry clothes at the home. You don’t want to catch a cold.” Mr. Stark looked between the two of us. “You two saved me?” Maya gritted her teeth. She desperately wanted all the credit, but I was still here. She had no choice but to nod. “Yes, we pulled you out of the lake together.” “Thank you. You’re my saviors!” Mr. Stark thanked us profusely as we helped him towards the orphanage. On the way, Maya was eager to impress him, fawning over him constantly. She asked if he was tired, offered him a piece of candy, playing the part of the innocent, sweet child to perfection. I remained silent, only offering a kind smile whenever he looked my way. When we reached the orphanage and the director took over, Maya and I both breathed a sigh of relief. But it wasn’t long before the director called us back. I knew the moment had come. The adoption. Since Mr. Stark already had a son, he could only adopt one more child. So the director asked us, who wanted to be adopted? Maya immediately rushed forward and hugged Mr. Stark’s leg. “Mr. Stark, please adopt me! I’ll study hard and be a good girl. More than anything, I want a family!” Mr. Stark looked at me. I lowered my head, my voice filled with sadness. “Then you should adopt Maya, Mr. Stark. She always says the orphanage is a horrible place. This is her chance to leave.” I turned to walk away, but “accidentally” stumbled and fell. The director rushed over to help me up. “Chloe, what’s wrong with your leg?” I whispered, “Mr. Stark is so tall and heavy. I used up all my strength saving him. I haven’t recovered yet.” “Oh, that’s not right!” I feigned panic and quickly added, “I mean, Maya and I saved Mr. Stark together! We swam in the lake and pulled him out together!” The director, always straightforward, blurted out, “Since when does Maya know how to swim?” In that instant, Mr. Stark’s face darkened. In my past life, worried about Maya, I had thoroughly investigated Mr. Stark. I knew he was a kind and upright man who couldn’t stand lies and deceit. Now that her lie was exposed, how could she possibly be adopted? Sure enough, Maya’s face fell. She stared at me, her almost-crying face filled with venom. I just raised an eyebrow at her. It’s just acting, isn’t it? I can do that, too. 3 In the end, Mr. Stark adopted me. But he also promised to sponsor Maya, covering her living and educational expenses, and even offering her a job in the future. It was a happy ending for everyone—except Maya. Soon, Mr. Stark’s assistant arrived at the orphanage to handle the paperwork. It was time for me to leave. The director and the other children came to see me off. Maya, feigning reluctance, clung to my hand. She stared at me, her grip tight. “Sister, I never knew you were this kind of person. Willing to abandon even me just to escape this dump.” I smiled faintly. “I just told the truth, Maya. And I never knew you were the kind of person who would lie about saving someone just to be adopted by a rich man.” “You…” She gritted her teeth and huffed, her fists clenched. “So what if you’re adopted? Mr. Stark is sponsoring me, too. Sooner or later, I’ll come find you!” “You’re just moving to a big city. You probably won’t even be able to adjust. You’ll be sent back in a few days!” “Did you hear me? You…” She was still shouting, but I had already turned my back on her, leaving her with a dismissive wave. The road ahead was long. I was curious to see how she would navigate it this time. I went to the capital with Mr. Stark and changed my name to Chloe Stark. Mr. Stark’s wife had undergone a hysterectomy after a difficult birth, so they only had one son, a year younger than me, named Leo Stark. On my first day at the Stark’s, Leo threw a snake on my bed. But I just grabbed the snake and threw it right back in his face. After that, Leo never dared to mess with me again. He obediently called me “sister.” Now, I had the perfect conditions I never had in my past life. I transferred to a top junior high school, had a private driver, and caring adoptive parents. I was like a newly sprouted sapling, greedily absorbing nutrients and growing. In my past life, I hadn’t found my biological parents until my junior year of college. At this point, they were still abroad, so I wasn’t in a hurry to reconnect. With the memories of my past life and the hard work of this one, I quickly became the top student in my school, a position I maintained until high school graduation. My adoptive parents adored me, and even Leo genuinely accepted me as his sister. I remembered my adoptive mother divorcing my father during my high school years in my past life, but in this life, they were exceptionally loving. Our family of four lived a peaceful and warm life. After the college entrance exams, I chose a local top university and visited my family regularly. Life was orderly and on track. Until the summer before my sophomore year. I went home to visit my parents for the weekend and saw a long-unseen figure in the living room. Maya was wearing a delicate slip dress, her face lightly made up. She greeted me with a provocative tone. “Sister, long time no see.”

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The day Damian Thorne and I finalized our divorce, I was three months pregnant. Divorce papers in one hand, his long-lost love in the other, he sneered at me. “Claire, you really think I can’t live without you? Let me tell you something—you don’t control me.” I saw the woman on his arm, Sienna, shift uncomfortably. I offered him a soft, almost pitying smile. “Damian, everything has always come so easily to you. That’s why you never learned to cherish anything. It’s rare to get a second chance with your first love. I hope you find the happiness you’re looking for.” From sixteen to twenty-eight. For twelve long years, I’d catered to his every whim. I was just so, so tired. 1 I collapsed at my desk after pulling an all-nighter. My junior colleague, Lily, rushed me to the hospital. Clutching my lab results, her expression was a tangled mess of emotions. “Claire… you’re pregnant. Three months along.” Tears welled in her eyes, and she threw her arms around me, her voice trembling. “Did something terrible happen to you? Please tell me.” Her dramatic fear made me chuckle. “No, nothing like that,” I said softly. “I’ve actually been married for three years. I’m sorry I never told you.” To all my colleagues and friends, I was single. Some things, I’d simply never felt the need to mention. “You scared me to death!” Lily swatted my shoulder, her pout adorable. “I was worried sick! Marriage is a huge deal, how could you keep it from me?” I smiled. “I may have kept the wedding a secret, but you’re the first to know about the divorce. How’s that for an exclusive?” Lily froze for a second, then burst into tears all over again. She was such a sweet girl, young and full of tears. “Hey, no more crying. I have the day off tomorrow, a rare treat. Let me drive you home.” She clung to me, sobbing dramatically. “I want to see the face of the son of a bitch who broke your heart! How could anyone be cruel to someone as gentle as you?” I dabbed at her cheeks with a tissue, a curious thought popping into my head. “What if… what if I was the one who broke his heart?” “No way!” Lily said, her loyalty fierce and unwavering. “You’re too kind, too beautiful. You speak so softly… The first time I met you, I was afraid to even talk too loud, scared I’d startle you. And for three years, you’ve known I’m bad at staying hydrated, so you bought a little electric kettle just to brew fruit tea for me, every single day.” The more she spoke, the harder she cried. “Forget him! Good riddance to bad rubbish! You’re out with the old and in with the new. Our Claire deserves better! The best!” In the end, I was the one comforting her, patting her back until she finally calmed down enough for me to put her in a cab home. I suppose I’ve always been good at soothing people. I’d had twelve years of practice with Damian. When I got home, the living room lights were on. The man on the sofa shot me a look of pure displeasure. “Three in the morning, Mrs. Thorne. Care to offer an explanation?” I hadn’t seen him in three months. He was a little thinner. The financial news had been full of his latest successful acquisition abroad; Damian’s talent was never in question. I brewed a pot of herbal tea, the fragrant steam filling the air. As I poured him a cup, the tight line of his jaw seemed to relax, ever so slightly. He glanced at me, his words still sharp. “Don’t think you can distract me. You’ve been pulling that trick since we were kids, Claire. Whenever you don’t want to answer a question, you offer tea.” A small, genuine smile touched my lips. He did know me, at least a little. I waited for him to finish his cup, then retrieved the divorce agreement from the drawer and handed it to him. Damian’s handsome brows shot up. He flipped through the pages, a cold laugh escaping him. “How considerate of you. You’re leaving with nothing? The press would have a field day, make it sound like Damian Thorne mistreated his wife.” My voice was even, placid. “In our three years of marriage, I made no financial contributions. You bought the house, the cars, furnished everything. If you’re worried about public opinion, we can agree on a story to tell.” “Oh, thank you so much for your consideration!” he snarled, his face a mask of fury. He snatched a pen, scrawled his name across the signature line, and slammed the document on the floor before storming out of the house. I sat on the sofa, calmly finishing the rest of the tea. An hour later, my phone buzzed. It was a picture from Sienna. Damian, in a plush bathrobe, holding a glass of red wine, lounging languidly on a sofa. I swiped up. Another picture of him, this one from three months ago. He was flushed from wine, his head resting in Sienna’s lap, just like when they were children. Sienna’s text read: Claire, you stole a love that wasn’t yours. It’s time to give it back. I typed my reply, imagining the fury it would ignite. She was always so proud, so easily wounded. Don’t get too comfortable. I am the one he married, the one the Thornes recognize as Mrs. Thorne. As long as we’re not divorced, you’re nothing but the other woman, hiding in the shadows. Stole her love? That wasn’t quite right. The moment I saw Damian Thorne at sixteen, my only thought was how to pluck that magnificent, untouchable flower from the heavens and plant it in my own garden. And now, after twelve years of admiring it, I was done. 2 I was sixteen when I first met Damian Thorne. My parents died in a car crash when I was young, so I lived with my grandfather. When he passed, he left me twenty million dollars and donated the rest of his vast fortune. He’d lived a wild life, driving away his one true love before remarrying. That true love, as it happened, was Damian Thorne’s grandmother. “Claire, I’m giving you one last chance because you’re my niece. Now tell me! Where did you hide the old man’s inheritance?” my uncle snarled, his finger jabbing at my face. “Such a devious little thing!” “I’m going to lose my mind! The old man was worth hundreds of millions, and you expect us to believe he didn’t leave a dime for his own children? That he donated it all?” my aunt shrieked, her face contorted with greed as she lunged at me. I calmly pointed to the security camera on the ceiling. “Touch a single hair on my head, and the footage instantly uploads to every news outlet in the country. ‘Prominent Art Curator Assaults Niece Over Inheritance Dispute.’ You won’t see a cent of Grandpa’s money, and you’ll lose your job. Doesn’t seem worth it, does it?” Her hand froze inches from my face, her eyes burning with a hatred so intense it could have drilled holes through me. “Claire, if it wasn’t for your birthday, your parents would never have been driving on the highway in that storm! You’re a jinx! A curse! You killed your parents, and now you’ve killed him too!” “You’re still as clueless as ever, Auntie,” I said, looking at her with genuine curiosity. “What makes you think words like that could possibly hurt me?” My uncle, lighting a cigarette, cut in. “Fine, let’s put that aside. The twenty million. You keep one, and your aunt and I will split the rest.” I stood up, snatched the cigarette from his hand, and slowly crushed it out in an ashtray. “Don’t smoke. Grandpa hated the smell,” I said with a serene smile. “As for the money, you won’t get a penny. And this house? It’s already been donated to the state as a historic landmark. Don’t come back.” He exploded, enraged that I’d given away a property worth a fortune. I would never forget their faces when I was eight, after my parents died, the ugly greed as they plotted to steal my inheritance. My aunt had the gall to blame me for their accident, conveniently forgetting that it was her drunken phone call, demanding my father detour to pick her up, that forced them onto that treacherous, truck-filled highway. “Damn it! I’m going to teach you some respect on your father’s behalf!” My uncle raised his hand to strike me. That’s when Damian appeared. He lazily caught my uncle’s wrist, the veins on the back of his hand popping as he twisted with surprising force, shoving him to the ground. “Picking on a kid. Real tough,” he scoffed, his brow furrowed in disdain. I discreetly slipped the mini taser I’d been holding back into my pocket and looked up at him. Damian Thorne. He was truly dazzling. Dark hair, stunning eyes, the face of a young prince born to wealth and privilege. Every arch of his brow, every glance, was a breathtaking sight. The bodyguards and lawyers he’d brought with him handled everything. Before he died, my grandfather had warned me that my aunt and uncle were wolves. He feared I wouldn’t be safe in my hometown of Havenwood, so he’d arranged for an old friend in New York to take me in, promising they would treat me well. “Claire,” he’d said, his withered hand stroking my hair, “I know you can take care of yourself, but my old heart still worries. They say the brightest flames burn the fastest, and the deepest loves don’t last. You seem so cool and distant, but you feel things more deeply than anyone.” His voice was gentle, full of love. “Strangers see a quiet, obedient girl, but I know how stubborn you are. Remember in elementary school? That boy who always pulled your hair? You’d cry and tell the teacher, but then you’d turn around and dump a bottle of hair dye on his head, forcing the poor kid to shave it all off.” Tears streamed down my face, but I was smiling. “I could never hide anything from you, Grandpa.” He smiled back. And as he smiled, his eyes closed, and his hand fell from my hair. From that day on, I was alone. Damian came to pick me up. I didn’t say a word the entire flight. It was only when we arrived at the grand Thorne estate in New York that the reality hit me: I no longer had a home. Suddenly, Damian spoke, his voice a little stiff. “Don’t be scared. From now on, this is your home. I’ll be like your brother.” I turned to look at his exquisite face, at the awkward attempt at comfort, and felt a flicker of something new. A seed of a sixteen-year-old girl’s fancy, planted in that moment, destined to be watered and nurtured daily. Who could have known then that twelve years later, I would be the one to rip that beautiful camellia from my heart? That day, Grandma Eleanor, dressed in an elegant cheongsam, came out to greet me personally. I’d seen photos of her, and even in her sixties, she carried herself with the same grace and poise of her youth. “That old rogue, Arthur Sterling, he certainly had a fine granddaughter,” she said, taking my hand and leading me inside. I glanced back at Damian. “Grandpa mentioned you,” I said softly. “I was born three months before you. Technically, you should call me ‘big sister.’” I watched, delighted, as a flush crept up his neck and stained his ears red. He shot me a glare and stomped off. So easy to tease, I thought. I’ll have to do it more often. Years later, Sienna would scream at me, calling me a siren, a temptress who had seduced Damian. I think it was at his eighteenth birthday party. He couldn’t hold his liquor and was passed out on a sofa in a private lounge. He wore a deep velvet suit, the collar open, revealing the elegant line of his collarbone. His usually pale face was flushed with a rosy hue, like a camellia in full, drunken bloom. I approached with a warm towel, my fingers brushing his lips. “Damian,” I whispered, “can I kiss you?” His eyes flew open, his ears turning crimson, but he didn’t pull away. “I’ll take that as a yes,” I murmured, and leaned in. His lips were just as soft as I’d imagined. Two seconds later, Sienna burst in, her face a mask of heartbreak. She shoved me hard, sending me staggering to the floor. “Claire! So it’s true! You’re in love with him! No wonder you’ve been so nice to him all these years.” I hit a decorative shelf on my way down, scraping my arm. “Yes, I love Damian,” I said, clutching my bleeding arm. I looked at Damian, who was still frozen on the sofa, and let tears well in my eyes. “Damian, I’m so sorry. I’ve hurt Sienna. I promise, I’ll never get close to you again.” I fled the room, closing the door behind me and wiping the crocodile tears from my eyes. Sienna and Damian had grown up together, and she’d always acted as if he were her exclusive property. I didn’t care if Damian loved me back; just looking at his face brought me a sense of peace, and that was enough. But Sienna, who pretended to be my friend, had secretly bullied me, even destroying precious things my grandfather had left me. Damian knew about the bullying, but he always tried to smooth things over, never willing to truly punish Sienna. He was drawn to me, I could feel it, but he couldn’t let go of his childhood bond with her. I’ve never had any use for a wavering heart. I was going to break this beautiful, sleeping camellia myself, and make Sienna regret everything. As for Damian? Once a flower is broken, who cares when it withers? 3 After giving Damian the divorce papers, I quit my job to focus on my health. While packing, I found a box of old trophies, gathering dust. If not for these tarnished awards, I might have forgotten the brilliant youth I once had. My grandfather was an internationally renowned watercolorist. I started learning from him at three, showing a natural talent. Many called me a rising star, the heir to his legacy. But now, my right hand can barely hold a paintbrush. The year I graduated high school, at eighteen, Sienna and her friends cornered me in the girls’ bathroom. She shattered my right hand with a baseball bat. For years after, even peeling an apple was a struggle. Damian came to see me, his face etched with exhaustion. “The Thornes and the Vances are at war over this. Sienna is a wreck, she regrets it, she’s in pain every day. Claire, can’t you just let it go? Drop the charges.” I looked up at his beautiful, troubled face, tears blurring my vision. “So this is the price of loving you, Damian? If it were Sienna lying in this hospital bed today, would you be asking her to just let it go?” He was silent for a long time before he finally whispered, “Claire… I’m sorry.” In the end, Sienna was sent abroad, and in everyone’s eyes, the matter was closed. She thrived overseas, living her life as the same proud princess she’d always been. And I, forced to withdraw from the art world, vanished amidst a chorus of ful sighs. I polished each of those trophies until they gleamed, then put them carefully away. At six that evening, Damian picked me up for dinner at the estate. It was a Saturday ritual—if we were in town, we’d have dinner with Grandma Eleanor. As I settled into the passenger seat, I was hit by a wave of perfume. Gardenia. Sienna’s favorite. It hadn’t changed in all these years. I opened the window, letting the crisp, desolate autumn air rush in. At a red light, Damian’s fingers drummed restlessly on the steering wheel, a clear sign of his agitation. I knew he was waiting for me to speak, waiting for me to surrender. He was so used to me placating him. When he was a rebellious teen, racing his car on winding mountain roads, I was the one in the passenger seat, staying with him until he’d had his fill of madness. When his father’s anger left bruises on his back, I was the one who crept into his room late at night to apply ointment and coax him to eat. When he was fighting with his family to start his own company, working himself to the bone, I was the one who brought him every meal. When he threw a tantrum and went drinking, calling me but saying nothing, I was the one who took a cab to the bar in the middle of the night to bring him home. When I was too busy with work to dote on him, he’d contact Sienna just to get a reaction out of me. The perfume in the car today was just another warning shot. A declaration of war. You’re the one who’s desperate for my love, Claire. If you don’t hold on tight, I can leave at any moment. It was a tactic that had never failed him before. Whenever he reached out to Sienna, I would panic and cling to him even tighter. “Damian, we need to find time to get the divorce certificate,” I said, my voice calm and even. “And you can tell Sienna she doesn’t need to send me photos anymore. You’re free.” His brow furrowed into a tight knot. “What did she send you?” I forwarded him the pictures. He scrolled through them, and then his anger flared. “Claire, your tolerance is truly something else. I was in the States for three months, I called you, and you didn’t say a single word about this. I was lying in her lap, and you didn’t care? Do you even have a heart? Do you even love me?” His chest heaved with suppressed emotion. He pulled the car over to the side of the road, got out, and smoked a cigarette in tense silence. When he got back in, he thrust his phone at me. On the screen was a blurry, pixelated photo. His voice was laced with a pain he couldn’t hide. “Claire, what have I been to you all these years? Huh? A replacement? A stand-in for Caleb Thorne?” In the photo, I was young, my hair in a high ponytail, wearing a school uniform, my cheeks flushed. Beside me, a boy with a radiant, sunny smile. His hand, hidden behind his back, was gripping my wrist tightly. In the springtime of my sixteenth year, I had stood shoulder-to-shoulder with a boy, bathed in sunlight, the gentle breeze on our faces.

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Halloween was just around the corner when my two childhood sweethearts, the boys who had cherished me for twenty years, abandoned my grandmother, who suffered from dementia, at a busy intersection teeming with traffic. She never got to see me one last time. Before I could reach her, she was critically injured in a car accident and left this world forever. At that exact moment, a headline blew up online: “The Beaumont Brothers Race for Love! Who Will Win the Fair Maiden’s Heart This Halloween?” It turned out they had ditched my grandmother to fight over the privilege of spending Halloween with my stepsister. The one who lost, Ethan, took his frustration out on me. “This is all your fault! If you hadn’t kept calling me, I would have been the one with Amanda tonight!” The winner, Dylan, issued a stern warning. “You’re an adult now. You need to be more considerate. Don’t you dare call me on Halloween!” After laying my grandmother to rest, I stared at an email sitting in my inbox: “Ms. Claire Preston, please reply to confirm your participation in the Lunar Exploration Initiative. If you accept, you will be given a new identity and will have no contact with the outside world for five years.” I calmly replied to the email: “Confirmed.” 1 I was at the hospital, handling the paperwork to get my grandmother’s deposit refunded, when I heard a familiar voice. “It was just a little cough. You two are so dramatic, dragging me all the way here for a check-up!” The Beaumont brothers, Ethan and Dylan, were carefully flanking my stepsister, Amanda, one on each side. There was a time when I was the person they worried about most. When I was a child, my mother had barely been buried when my father eagerly welcomed Amanda and her mother into our home. Through their calculated schemes, my father’s disappointment in me grew until he finally just sent me away to live with my grandmother. That was when I met the Beaumont brothers, who lived next door. They pitied the young, grieving girl who was bullied by her new family. They became my personal knights, guarding me, showering me with all the affection and care I had lost. They promised they would always be good to me. But the moment Amanda returned to town, all those promises turned to dust. They knew my grandmother was the only family I had left. They knew she had dementia. Yet they still abandoned her, without a second thought, at an intersection flooded with cars. Amanda was the first to see me. A triumphant smile spread across her face. “Claire, what are you doing at the hospital? You’re not… following us, are you? You’re keeping too close a watch on Ethan and Dylan, don’t you think?” I clutched the settlement papers in my hand, my glare fixed on the three of them. Dylan stepped forward, positioning himself in front of Amanda. “Claire, what are you doing here? You told us you were too busy with work to take your grandmother for her check-up, and now you have time to stalk us?” Ethan shook his head, his face a mask of disappointment. “I can’t believe you’d stoop to lying just for attention. Claire, how could you become so disgusting?” The mention of my grandmother sent a fresh wave of pain through my heart. I flew at Dylan in a frenzy. “Shut up! How dare you even mention her name?” “You knew she was sick! You knew, and you still left her on the street all by herself!” Dylan grabbed my wrists, his face dark and furious. “Claire, can you stop being so unreasonable all the time?” “We were doing you a favor, taking your grandmother for her check-up. We just dropped her off at the corner. It was a short walk home from there. She has legs, doesn’t she? What are you being so dramatic for?” Even now, they acted as if they were the ones in the right. My grandmother had treated them like her own grandsons. For more than a decade, they had loved nothing more than to lounge around her house, eating the meals she cooked for them. They had promised they would take care of her. But now, just for a chance to be with Amanda, they had discarded her like trash. I couldn’t bear to imagine how helpless my grandmother must have felt, lost and alone, surrounded by so many strangers, so many cars. “I wish I had never met you!” If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have had any hope. If I hadn’t, I could have been there, watching over my grandmother. A flicker of shock, a hint of panic, crossed Ethan’s face. “It was thoughtless of us not to walk her all the way home, but do you really have to blow this out of proportion? Are you just going to throw away twenty years of friendship over this?” Amanda’s eyes darted between us, and then she spoke in her sickly-sweet voice. “Claire, this is all my fault. I’m the reason you’re all fighting. I’ll just… I’ll stop talking to Ethan and Dylan from now on, okay? Please don’t be mad at them!” With that, she covered her face and ran towards the exit. Ethan and Dylan shot me a hateful glare. “Are you happy now?” they snarled, before chasing after her. A little while later, I saw Amanda’s new social media post. “It’s easy to soothe an angry princess. All it takes is two knights and a ride on the Ferris wheel!” When I was a little girl living with my grandmother, all I ever wanted was to ride a Ferris wheel. Ethan and Dylan had promised they would make my wish come true before I turned twenty-five. But because I was always “too busy with work,” it never happened. Now, here they were, taking Amanda to the one place I had always dreamed of going. Looking at the picture of the three of them, so close and complete that there was no room for a fourth person, I managed a brittle smile. I had six days until my departure. The last day before I left was the anniversary of my mother’s death. I would visit her, and then I could leave without any regrets. From now on, I wouldn’t bother the three of them anymore. 2 Five days until departure. During her lucid moments, my grandmother always talked about wanting to go back and see her old house in the countryside. Now, she could never go back. And I was about to leave for a long time. I decided I would go see it one last time, for her. As I reached the edge of the village, I saw it. A massive bulldozer was mercilessly tearing down a corner of the old house. I rushed forward to stop it, but I tripped on the rubble and fell hard. A searing pain shot through my arm. I’d scraped off a large patch of skin, and the blood mixing with the dirt was a pathetic sight. I struggled to my feet and limped in front of the bulldozer, blocking its path. “This is my house! You can’t just tear it down without my permission!” Amanda emerged from behind a large tree, pinching her nose and fanning the air with her hand. “This dump is an eyesore. Turning it into a rose garden would be much nicer for everyone to look at. Old things are an eyesore. They should be torn down to make way for something beautiful!” Her words were a double-edged sword, and her cruel face merged with the one I remembered from a decade ago. Back then, after my mother died, I was so lost that the only way I could sleep was by clutching her portrait. Amanda had snatched it from me, forced me to crawl on the ground like a dog, and tried to make me eat scraps from the pig trough. In the end, even after I’d debased myself, she broke her promise and threw my mother’s portrait into a septic tank. She had stood before me then, laughing like a demon. “You want it back? Go on, jump in and get it! Things that belonged to dead people are bad luck anyway. Your cursed mother belongs in a cesspool!” I had run to my father for help, only to be met with his cold condemnation. After that, Amanda and her mother became even more vicious. They would beat me for the slightest perceived offense. My arms and back were covered in scars from their curling iron. Going hungry was a regular occurrence. Even now, seeing her, my first instinct was to flinch and hide. The Beaumont brothers followed her out of the house. There was a time when I’d accidentally walked into a lamppost, and Ethan and Dylan had rushed me to the hospital for a full-body scan, terrified that I might have been hurt. Now, they just stood there, hands in their pockets, watching me with cold indifference. My thoughts snapped back to the present. Old wounds and new betrayals made me tremble with rage. I raised my hand to push Amanda away, but before I could touch her, she let out a cry and collapsed to the ground. Ethan and Dylan rushed forward simultaneously. They cradled Amanda in their arms, checking her over for injuries with panicked tenderness. When they saw the red mark on her hand from a small stone, Dylan’s eyes turned red with fury. The usually impulsive Dylan strode forward and kicked me to the ground, his gaze icy. “Amanda is your sister! How can you be so vicious?” “As a member of this family, Amanda has a say in what happens to this old house. Are you trying to claim it all for yourself?” “It’s just a few broken-down shacks! Even the whole property isn’t worth a single one of Amanda’s fingers! Go and apologize to her, or don’t blame me for what happens next!” Ethan, the supposedly calm one, held Amanda in his arms and did nothing to stop Dylan. His eyes were filled with disappointment as he looked at me. “Claire, have we spoiled you so much that you think you can act this way?” An indescribable pain twisted in my chest. They had spent a long time in this house with me once. We had caught fish in the river and picked fruit from the trees. Those were the best memories of my childhood. They had promised they would preserve this old house forever, that they would bring their own children back here one day to experience our childhood. Their “forever” had been so painfully short. There were still photos of my grandmother and me inside the house. I wanted to get them back. But Dylan blocked my path. “You have to apologize to Amanda first. Otherwise, you’re not setting foot in there!” My grandmother was gone. The house was about to be gone. All I wanted was to keep a few photos of her as a memento. Dylan kicked the back of my knees, and I fell to the ground with a thud. Amanda shot me a triumphant look before turning back to the brothers, her expression now one of pitiable fragility. “Ethan, it’s so loud and dirty here. Can we go back now?” The coldness on Ethan’s face melted away, replaced by a gentle warmth. “Of course. Does your hand still hurt? Should we go to the hospital to get it checked?” Dylan rushed to her side as well. “Amanda, once this land is cleared, I’ll find every variety of rose in the world and plant them here for you, okay?” Coddled between the two men like a precious jewel, Amanda shot me a look over her shoulder, her lips silently forming the words: “You lose again, sister.” 3 Against her, it seemed I never won. She always managed to take what was mine with such ease. First, it was my father’s love. Now, it was the affection of the Beaumont brothers. Four days until departure. When I got back to the apartment I rented for my grandmother, I noticed something was wrong. Buddy, the Border Collie who had been her constant companion, was gone. The doors and windows were locked. Buddy was a smart dog; he would never have left with a stranger unless it was someone he knew and trusted. I quickly checked the security footage. Ethan and Dylan had been here before I got back. They had always been good to Buddy, so I should have been relieved. But for some reason, a sense of panic began to creep in. I threw on a coat and took a cab to the brothers’ villa. Before my grandmother got sick, I used to stay there sometimes. They had even designed a room and a walk-in closet just for me. I pressed my finger to the scanner, only to find that my print had been deleted. The password had been changed, too. Sometime during my trip, it had started to rain. I was soaked to the bone in an instant, and the anxiety in my chest grew stronger. Just as I was about to call the police, the door opened. Ethan stepped out, holding an umbrella. “What are you doing here? And soaked like this? Are you playing the wet-look card for sympathy?” I ignored him and tried to push past, but he grabbed my arm. “Amanda’s having a party. Don’t go in there and ruin the mood.” I stepped into the villa and saw that it was filled with people. Snacks and nutshells were scattered everywhere. Even my old bedroom and closet had been ransacked. A guy with bleached-blond hair saw me and swaggered over, slinging an arm around my shoulder. “Whoa, playing the wet t-shirt game? C’mere and let daddy have a feel.” Dylan was lounging on the sofa, carefully peeling an orange for Amanda. He didn’t even glance in my direction. Once, a man had merely whistled at me, and the Beaumont brothers had bankrupted his entire family. Now, this sleazeball was openly harassing me right in front of him, and he did nothing. I never knew a man’s affection could turn to ice so quickly. I shoved the man’s hand off me and marched over to Dylan. “Where’s Buddy? What did you do with him?” Dylan ignored me. Amanda walked up to me, holding a glass of wine. “Drink this, sister, and I’ll tell you.” I was severely allergic to alcohol. When I was little, I’d accidentally eaten a liquor-filled chocolate and broken out in hives all over my body. It had terrified the Beaumont brothers. Ethan returned, carrying a case of wine. “Tell me. Where is Buddy?” I demanded. Amanda filled an entire table with glasses of wine and looked at me, her eyes glinting with challenge. “Sister, maybe one glass wasn’t enough for you. So I’ve poured you a whole table.” “Drink it all, and I’ll tell you where Buddy is.” Drinking that much wine would nearly kill me. I looked up at Ethan and Dylan. “Is this what you want, too?” Dylan was slouched in his chair, a cocky smirk on his face. “Whatever Amanda wants, we want.” Terrified of what might have happened to Buddy, I stepped forward and started drinking. Glass after glass, the fiery liquid burned its way down my throat, making me choke and cough. My vision blurred, but I forced myself to finish the last one. “Can you tell me now?” Ethan and Dylan didn’t look pleased. Their faces were dark and grim. Dylan finally spoke. “Amanda wanted to volunteer at a pet shelter, so we brought Buddy back for her to practice with.” “But the damn animal bit her. So I taught it a lesson and sold it.” My body swayed. My heart felt like it was being crushed. “Dylan, are you even human?” “That was Buddy. He’s been with us for over a decade. How could you do that to him?” Being called out in front of everyone made Dylan’s face flush with anger. “He was just an old dog. What’s he worth? Here’s ten thousand. That’s enough to buy a new one, isn’t it?” He pulled out a wad of cash and threw it in my face. I couldn’t stay there a second longer. My head was spinning as I staggered towards the door. I had to find Buddy. He was my last connection to this world, the only family member who would never betray me.

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My husband found an abandoned baby by the side of the road. I raised the child as my own, pouring my heart and soul into his upbringing. I supported him all the way through his Ph.D., and on the day he returned from his studies abroad, my husband finally laid his cards on the table. “How can you be so stupid?” he mocked. “I treat him better than a real son. Can’t you see why?” I smiled, a cryptic, knowing smile. He asked for a divorce, wanting to take our son and reunite with his lover to become a happy family of three. “I agree,” I said, without a flicker of concern. 1 When Nicholas brought the baby home, he was afraid I wouldn’t accept him. He told me he’d found the infant abandoned by the roadside. I cut him off. “You don’t have to say another word. I’ll treat him as if he were my own.” Nicholas was thrilled. He immediately sent me a ten-thousand-dollar bonus. I accepted it without a change in my expression. To refuse would have aroused his suspicion. After setting the baby down, Nicholas rushed off to a meeting at his company. I called my neighbor, Mrs. Gable, to come and watch the baby for a bit. Then I hurried to the supermarket to buy the best quality formula, stroller, and diapers. Once I had everything, I rushed back, breathless and exhausted. “Claire,” Mrs. Gable said, “you kept this a secret so well! I had no idea you were even pregnant.” “He’s not mine,” I replied. “Nicholas found him.” She laughed. “Look at you, all sweaty. Even a birth mother wouldn’t fuss this much. Found him? Don’t be silly.” I didn’t explain. I just thanked her and busied myself with the baby. I soon realized that formula alone wasn’t enough, so I hired a wet nurse. When Mrs. Gable heard about it, she came over to scold me. “That’s not right, you know. A baby needs his mother’s milk, or he won’t bond with you when he’s older.” I didn’t want to explain, so I just said I wasn’t producing enough milk. Mrs. Gable patiently gave me tips on how to increase my supply, like eating more pig’s trotters for protein. I nodded along, my mind elsewhere. Finally, she left. The baby was asleep. I went to the window and stood there for a long time, watching the willow branches sway in the cold wind. A perfect plan began to form in my mind. 2 The next morning, before Nicholas left for work, his mother burst in, shouting, “Just because you picked up a random child, you’re going to give him the family name? How are we supposed to face our ancestors?” Her gaze fell on me, and her anger flared anew. “What’s the use of a barren hen? If you had married another woman, we would have had grandchildren by now.” Nicholas and I had been married for five years without children. My mother-in-law blamed me. The truth was, the problem wasn’t with me, it was with him. He was the one who didn’t want to have children with me, but he told everyone I was the one who couldn’t conceive. Only I knew the truth. But I never said a word. Whenever his mother started in on me, Nicholas would change the subject. This time was no different. “Mom, I bought you some imported ginseng from overseas. I’ll have Michael deliver it to you when it arrives.” But this time, she wasn’t so easily placated. “Son, I’m not against you raising a foundling, but you have to give me a child of your own blood! I want a blood-relative! Blood! Do you understand?” Stunned by her aggressive tone, Nicholas glanced at me and then pulled his mother into another room. I could just barely hear his hushed voice through the crack in the door. “Don’t worry, Mom. One day, I’ll give you a surprise.” I smiled silently. A surprise? I just hope it doesn’t turn into a shock for you. After some time, the neighbors gradually learned the truth. None of them could understand my actions. “If you want a child so badly, why not have your own? Why raise a foundling like a treasure?” “Maybe she can’t have children?” “Modern medicine is so advanced. If you want a child, you can have one.” “I don’t know what that woman is thinking.” Mrs. Gable came over to talk to me. “So the baby really was found by your husband. Why are you being so foolish? No matter how good you are to him, he’s not your own.” “Sooner or later, his real parents will come looking for him and take him away.” “So, if you want a child, you have to have your own. People use IVF all the time now. The reproductive clinic in the city is very famous. A lot of people who couldn’t conceive went a few times and it worked out.” “I have a relative who works there. I can make a call, and you and your husband can go straight there.” I smiled and shook my head. “Mrs. Gable, thank you for your kindness. But I think this is fine.” She touched my forehead, her eyes looking at me as if I were insane. 3 Later, through Mrs. Gable, the story spread like wildfire. The rumors were ugly. Some said I had lost my mind. Others said I was mentally ill. Still others claimed I was trying to become an internet celebrity, desperate for fame. I didn’t care about any of it. When it came time to name the child, Nicholas was incredibly invested. He left his company in the hands of his assistant and spent three days at home, poring over dictionaries. In the end, he chose the nickname “Leo” and the full name “Leona.” A girl’s name for a baby boy. Every evening when he came home from work, Nicholas would hold the baby, whispering “Leo, Leo.” Sometimes, as he said the name, his gaze would drift to the window, as if he were lost in a trance. I saw it all. I pretended to know nothing, and the plan that had been brewing in my mind for so long became even more refined. Leo grew up day by day under my meticulous care. When it was time for him to start school, I dropped him off and picked him up every day, rain or shine. I had the highest attendance rate of all the parents. Over time, many of the other parents got to know me. When they found out Leo was a foundling, they were all surprised and confused. Especially when Leo turned out to be an excellent student, always at the top of his class. Many parents would say to my face, “It’s one thing if the child isn’t bright, but he’s so smart. His birth parents will definitely come back for him one day, and then all your efforts will have been for nothing.” I never said anything in response, just smiled. I became even more dedicated to the child, taking better and better care of him. One day, Nicholas, who never bought me gifts, surprised me with an expensive silk scarf. He said it was a reward for being so good to Leo. I said, “He’s our child. Why are you being so formal?” He was taken aback for a moment, then quickly nodded. “Right, right, you’re right. We shouldn’t be.” After he said that, he turned away, a smug, mysterious smile spreading across his face. I smiled too, a secret smile. Nicholas, you think I’ve been kept in the dark all this time. You think you’re so clever. But you have no idea that there’s someone even more clever than you. But that someone isn’t me.

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The hair salon was having a huge year-end sale, so on a whim, I bought a membership card. But when I went in for a wash, the shampoo girl not only deliberately ruined my makeup but also insulted me, saying I was dark and ugly without it. Trembling with anger, I demanded to cancel my card. They just sneered, telling me that for the small amount I was paying, I couldn’t expect to be treated like a queen, especially since I wasn’t even getting a color or perm. When I tried to call the police, they snatched my phone. Then they started a vicious rumor, saying my money wasn’t clean and that’s why I was so stingy. They looked so smug, thinking I would just give in. But I just smiled and waved to the security guard at the door. “Call my dad. Tell him to buy this entire street.” “And then, tell these people to get the hell out.” 1 As soon as I walked into the salon, a female employee greeted me with a smile. “Hello, are you here for a color or a perm?” I walked straight to the washing stations. “Just a wash, thanks.” “And could you please be a little careful? I have makeup on today.” The smile on her face froze for a second. She turned on the tap, tested the water temperature with her hand, and then asked tentatively, “It’s almost the new year. Don’t you want a new look?” “And since you came in with makeup on, our senior stylist could design a unique hairstyle just for you!” I was scrolling through my phone, not paying much attention. “I have plans later. I just need a wash.” The employee’s voice faltered. After a long pause, she said, with a distinct chill in her tone, “Oh.” The next second, a stream of scalding water hit my face. I shot up from the chair with a yelp. I stared at her, wide-eyed and incredulous. “What are you doing?!” But the shampoo girl just blinked, her expression one of pure innocence. “What’s wrong, ma’am?” “Is there a problem with the water?” She tested it with her hand again, then looked at me with a mocking sneer. “Oh, I thought pigs weren’t afraid of hot water.” I was completely baffled. Her malice was so blatant that I started to wonder if I had misunderstood. “Did… did you just insult me?” I asked, my voice trembling. “I… I haven’t done anything to you, have I? Is it a crime to be a customer in your salon?” “Don’t you know I just bought a membership card?! I put ten thousand dollars on it!” “You certainly didn’t have this attitude the day I signed up!” She glanced down at her freshly manicured nails, unconcerned. “Oh, you did. So what?” “We cater to high-end clients who come in for color and perms. As for delicate little princesses like you, who have long nails and need to use a membership discount for a simple wash, well, we just don’t have the right kind of service for you.” I was furious. “So what you’re saying is, if I don’t get a color or perm, you can’t even give me a proper hair wash?” She rolled her eyes. “Believe whatever you want.” “And another thing, I noticed it when you came in. You’re all dressed up, but your face is caked in so much foundation! It’s terrifying! If you have enough money for that much makeup, why not take care of your hair? Hah!” Her attitude made me shake with rage. It was winter, and I was bundled up in layers. Now, my hair was soaked, my makeup was ruined, and water was dripping down my neck, making my inner shirt cling uncomfortably to my skin. I was supposed to meet my crush this afternoon! Now, all my plans were ruined. I pulled the membership card from my bag and slammed it on the counter. “The owner! Where’s the owner?!” “I want to cancel my card!” 2 The owner came over when he heard the commotion. But after listening to the whole story, he told me, with a perfectly straight face, “That’s our salon’s policy.” “How about this? If you’d like to enjoy a comfortable hair wash, I can deduct the cost of a color and perm from your card. Our most basic color package is $788. How does that sound?” I was so shocked I was speechless. “Are you even listening to yourself?!” “That’s… that’s basically forcing me to buy something I don’t want!” But the owner just frowned. “How is it forced? If you want a color, we’ll give you a great one. If you don’t, we’ve still given you a good wash. It’s your choice, isn’t it?” “I understand. You saw our year-end promotion, a 30% discount with a membership card, and you thought you could take advantage of us. But if you only get a wash and still get a 30% discount, that’s just a few dollars. How is that any different from robbing us?” “We’re a small business. Please don’t think you can come in here and act like you’re God just because you’re spending a little money.” “We don’t serve gods here!” All the while, the shampoo girl stood there, her back straight, a smug look on her face. I had never encountered such a bizarre salon or such bizarre people. I was so angry I wanted to laugh. “Fine, fine, you don’t serve gods. So can a god get a refund?” The owner’s brow furrowed. “No, you can’t.” I was even more exasperated. “What do you mean, no?!” “Haven’t you ever heard of consumer protection laws?!” He narrowed his eyes, his face darkening. “Miss, I believe we have been trying to communicate with you in a civil manner!” “But why do you insist on being so unreasonable and embarrassing yourself?!” “Don’t talk to me about protection laws! All I know is that when you signed up for our membership card, you signed an agreement! If you want to cancel now, you’re in breach of contract, and the remaining balance on your card is the penalty! We will not refund it!” “Please don’t make things difficult for us small business owners!” I stared at him, my finger pointed at myself, my face a mask of disbelief. “Me?! I’m making things difficult for you?!” “And… and you’re a small business?!” “So the $300 color, $500 perm, and thousand-dollar treatments on your price list… those are all part of a small business, are they?” “Fine! You don’t recognize consumer protection laws? I’ll call the police! Let’s see if they recognize them!” Furious, I pulled out my phone. I’d just dialed the three numbers when my phone was snatched from my hand. It was the shampoo girl. She was holding my unlocked phone, gleefully scrolling through it. She looked me up and down and tsked. “So this is how you make your money.” “No wonder you’re so stingy with it.” 3 My face darkened. “What are you talking about?” I demanded. But she just looked at me with contempt, brazenly holding up my phone for me to see. On the screen was my chat with my dad. She scrolled through the chat history, her voice dripping with disdain. “Tsk, tsk, so many money transfers…” “This guy’s profile picture… he looks at least forty or fifty, right? You have some interesting tastes.” “Oh, but I guess for someone in your line of work, you can’t be too picky.” A vein throbbed in my forehead. I held out my hand. “Give it back,” I said, my voice cold. “Or else…” But she completely ignored my threat. Not only did she not give it back, she passed my phone around to the other customers. They covered their mouths, their eyes full of a salacious amusement, laughing and whispering amongst themselves. “Did you see that?” “I didn’t at first!” “But look at her face now! Why do you think she wears so much makeup?! To seduce old men, of course!” “Hah!” “I thought it was strange from the beginning! We don’t usually get low-end customers who just want a wash. So a little water, and the mask comes off!” “The makeup on our regular, high-paying customers is waterproof, you know! Not like her…” The people around me started to join in, smirking and making fun of me. “Seriously, little girl, if you can’t even afford a color and perm, why pretend to be rich and buy a membership card?” “Yeah! We all know April. She’s great at her job. She’s so thorough, and she even gives a massage. You’re only paying a few bucks, you can’t expect the same service as us!” “Exactly! If you’re that desperate, why not ask your sugar daddy for more money? This is so embarrassing!” “Hey, hey, it’s almost the new year. Her sugar daddy is probably with his own family. It’s normal for a girl to be a little short on cash during the off-season, hahaha!” I watched as the group, led by the shampoo girl, April, huddled together, pointing and commenting on the contents of my phone. One moment they were saying my emojis were childish, the next that my tone was disgusting. I tried to get my phone back, but the male owner blocked my way, his eyes raking over me in a lewd manner. He stroked his chin and chuckled. “So, little girl, this is your line of work?” “You should have said so earlier! If you had, you wouldn’t have needed April. I would have washed your hair myself!” “A nice, long wash!” I was so disgusted my skin crawled. I was about to argue with him when a sudden flash of light blinded me. When the spots cleared from my eyes, I saw April holding my phone. She had just taken a picture of me, my hair dripping wet, my face a mess of smeared makeup. And she was sending it to my C!R!U!S!H! “Aaaah—!” A bloodcurdling scream ripped from my throat. 4 April and her gossiping cronies still hadn’t grasped the severity of the situation. They raised their eyebrows, a mocking smile on their faces. “See, see! She’s panicking! I told you this pretty boy was her latest target!” “He looks like a sweet, innocent college kid. And she, now that she can’t make money over the holidays, is trying to prey on an honest man! Hah, not on my watch!” “Exactly! Look at all the fake pictures she posts online. It’s disgusting! In reality, she’s just a gold-digging tramp! We’re doing him a favor! We’re saving a handsome man from this kind of woman!” I was so angry I couldn’t speak. I tried to grab my phone, but the male owner pinned me down. He held me by the neck and, like a pervert, stroked my wet hair, his voice a lewd purr. “Ma’am, isn’t it uncomfortable with your hair all wet?” “Let me blow-dry it for you. And I’ll give you a treatment, too. With protein and essence… a very, very long treatment. It’s okay if you don’t have money. You can pay in other ways.” I shoved at him, but I couldn’t move him. “You’re just a salon owner! Who do you think you are?!” I screamed. “Even if you don’t give me back my phone, I’ll call the police the second I walk out of here!” But the owner just sniffed my hair like a creep and sneered, “The customers here are all my regulars. What are you?” “Call the police? You have any proof?!” With that, he shoved me back into the chair, his knee pressing between my legs. He squinted at me, his body leaning closer and closer. The faces of the people around me were all alight with the thrill of the spectacle. I struggled, but I was trapped. Just then, through the crowd, I saw him. My bodyguard, who was supposed to pick me up after my hair was done. My eyes lit up. I waved and shouted, “Bill! I’m over here!” He immediately pushed through the crowd and rushed in. The salon owner’s face was a mask of shock. Before he could react, my bodyguard had kicked him off of me and surrounded me protectively. They retrieved my phone and handed it back to me. I took it, but instead of calling the police, I called my dad. The call connected. Looking at the disgusting faces in front of me, I fought back a wave of nausea and said, my voice cold, “Dad, I want to buy a street.”

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I was Eleanor Whitmore, the trueborn daughter of the Duke of Kensington. But when my grandmother fell gravely ill, I willingly retreated to a convent, dedicating three years of prayer and solitude to her recovery. When I finally returned to the grandeur of Kensington Manor, I found that my brother, Alexander, the one who had always cherished me, had a new focus for his affection: Lila, a girl my mother had taken in as her ward. He had thrown a lavish coming-of-age ball in her honor, a spectacle where he declared to all of high society that she was the true daughter of the Duke, and I was merely the adopted one. He even promised her the engagement my mother had arranged for me, his words a venomous whisper: “Look at you, Eleanor. You’re a disgrace, utterly uncivilized. How could someone so coarse ever be worthy of the young Lord Ashton?” In my last life, my weakness was my undoing. I let them break me, let Alexander and Lila torture me until my last breath. But this is not that life. I have been born again, and this time, I will not yield. With a heart of ice, I marched toward Lila, who stood resplendent in a gown of sapphire silk—the very gown my mother had sewn by hand for my debut. I grabbed the delicate fabric and, with a vicious tug, tore it from her body. “What do you think you are?” I snarled, my voice cutting through the stunned silence. “A little street rat, daring to put your hands on something that belongs to the daughter of this house?” 1 The ballroom fell silent. Every eye was on us. Alexander was the first to react. He shoved me aside, his face a mask of fury, and wrapped Lila in his arms, covering her with his own coat. “Eleanor, have you lost your mind?” he roared, his eyes blazing at me. “What are you doing?” He turned to the servants. “How can the House of Kensington have a daughter like this, attacking her own sister? Bring Lady Lila’s gown back to her at once!” I tossed the ruined silk to a trembling maid. “My sister, Alexander?” I asked, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. “Lila is my sister? Tell me, does your conscience not ache when you speak such lies?” Lila clutched Alexander’s arm, her eyes welling with perfectly formed tears. “Alexander, please, don’t be angry with Eleanor for my sake,” she whispered, her voice a delicate tremor. “It’s just a dress. If she wants it, she can have it. After all… she went to the convent to pray for me. I owe her this much.” She paused, letting her words sink in, a masterpiece of manipulation. “If I hadn’t fallen so ill back then, it would have been my duty, as the Duke’s daughter, to go and pray for Grandmother. Mother was so moved by Eleanor’s filial piety that she adopted her. It’s only right that I show her some charity.” Her twisted narrative spread through the crowd like wildfire. The whispers began, sharp and cruel. “So, Eleanor is just the adopted one? No wonder she looks so plain.” “Utterly brazen for a charity case. You’d think she’d show some gratitude.” “Lady Lila is far too kind. A servant like that should be dismissed, not treated like a sister.” Alexander pointed a commanding finger at the maid holding the dress. “Bring that gown here.” Lila’s personal attendant, a stout woman named Mrs. Gable, snatched the dress and presented it to Alexander with a fawning smile. “My Lord, here it is. We must help Lady Lila change back immediately.” I moved so fast she didn’t see me coming. I seized her wrist and my hand cracked across her face in a slap that echoed through the hall. “You are a servant in this house,” I said, my voice dangerously low. “Who gave you the audacity to snatch something from my hands?” Mrs. Gable cradled her cheek, wailing. “Miss Eleanor! Lady Lila has always been the mistress of this house! She treats us with kindness! I’m an old woman, I’ve never been struck in my life! My Lord, you must defend me!” My eyes bored into hers. “You’ve served this family for years, woman. Open your eyes and think very carefully before you speak again. Who is the true lady of this house?” Her bravado vanished. She glanced at my face, then back at Alexander, stammering, “My… my Lord…” 2 Alexander’s expression flickered, but before he could speak, Lila tugged his sleeve. “Brother, today is a happy occasion. Let’s not ruin it over a silly dress. I can simply wear something else.” His anger flared anew. “Absolutely not! Mother designed this gown especially for your debut. It cannot be replaced. The royal decree will be arriving soon—Mother promised she would petition the King to have you named a Countess upon your coming of age!” I stared at the brother who had once doted on me. Everything changed the day Lila, a starving orphan, had collapsed before my mother’s carriage. Mother, ever compassionate, brought her home to be my companion and later adopted her as a ward. From that moment on, Alexander had eyes for only one sister: Lila. He praised her endlessly. Lila was gentle, obedient, and graceful, everything a lady should be. I was a tomboy, too wild, a disappointment. To please her, he orchestrated this grand lie, declaring her the trueborn heir at her debut ball. In my last life, that lie was my death sentence. I was scorned, beaten by my own brother’s command, and thrown into a damp, dark woodshed to “reflect” on my sins. While they feasted and celebrated Lila’s triumph, she crept into the shed and released a viper. By the time Alexander remembered me the next day, my body was already cold. This time, I met his furious gaze without flinching. “That gown was made for me, brother,” I said, my voice steady. “Mother stitched it with her own hands. How can you so blatantly favor Lila, passing off a crow as a phoenix? Do you have no fear of Mother’s wrath when she returns?” Mother had gone to the country estate to bring Grandmother home. A sudden storm had delayed them, causing them to miss my return from the convent—a return she had planned to welcome herself. I had come back alone, not wanting to trouble her. I never imagined I’d walk into this betrayal. Alexander had, of course, timed Lila’s ball perfectly to coincide with Mother’s absence. Lila clutched the gown to her chest, biting her lip. “Sister, I know you want this dress, but… it was a gift from Mother, a symbol of her love. I would give you anything else, but I cannot give you this. I fear it would break her heart.” A sneering voice cut in from the crowd. “Eleanor, have you no shame? They call you a ‘ward’ to be kind. In truth, you’re just a beggar the Duchess picked up off the street. You should be grateful they feed and clothe you, yet you act like a trueborn lady? Have you looked in a mirror? Do you really think you’re worthy of any of this?” I turned to see Penelope Reed, the illegitimate daughter of a high-ranking minister and Lila’s most ardent sycophant. Ever since she’d caught wind that Lila was the “true” Kensington heiress, she’d been stuck to her like a shadow, hoping to ride her coattails into prominence. A cold smile touched my lips. “A beggar, you say? And what are you, Penelope? The product of your father’s back-alley affair, a stain on his name not even worthy of being called a true bastard. If I were you, I wouldn’t dare show my face in public. The Reeds must have hides as thick as castle walls.” Penelope flushed crimson, utterly speechless. Mrs. Gable scurried to Lila’s side. “My Lady, we must hurry and redo your hair. The auspicious hour is almost upon us.” Alexander’s anger softened as he looked at Lila. “Bring the jewels I chose for her,” he commanded. A maid brought forward a velvet tray. Resting upon it was a piece that made my blood run cold: a delicate, golden circlet, studded with more than a dozen fiery sapphires. It was my grandmother’s. I remembered her teasing me as a child, her voice warm with love. “One day, my sweet Eleanor, this will be the centerpiece of your dowry. It was a gift from the Queen herself. It will be the first treasure everyone sees.” And now, Alexander had stolen it for Lila. 3 “That belongs to me,” I choked out. “Grandmother gave it to me. Alexander, how could you give it to someone else?” He ignored me, gently placing the circlet in Lila’s hair. Only then did he turn, his face a mask of cold dismissal. “What is this nonsense? Grandmother said it was for the truest granddaughter of the House of Kensington. That is Lila. Are you going to lie about this, too?” Lila smiled, a faint blush on her cheeks, her eyes dancing with triumph. “Sister, when you have your own debut, I promise I’ll give you a beautiful hairpin. But this… this was Grandmother’s most treasured possession, a gift from the Queen, meant for my wedding day. I’m afraid on this, I cannot yield.” It was the same in my last life. Every time we clashed, she would play the part of the magnanimous, long-suffering victim. It made Alexander pity her gentleness, admire her grace, and despise me all the more for my “crude” and “grasping” nature. My eyes burned with unshed tears. I lunged forward, pushing past the servants who tried to stop me, but Alexander’s hand shot out. The slap was a crack of thunder in the silent room. “How did our family produce someone so greedy, so shameless, so utterly devoid of dignity?” he spat, his face contorted with disgust. “Alexander, please,” I sobbed, the sting on my cheek a pale imitation of the pain in my heart. “I don’t care about anything else, but that was from Grandmother. Give it back to me.” He stepped closer, his voice laced with ice. “Are you going to continue with these lies? This tantrum? Guards! Take her away. Ten lashes with the riding crop. That should be enough to help her reflect on her station.” The guests whispered amongst themselves. “This adopted girl is truly shameless. Does she really think she’s a lady?” “I suppose if you play a role long enough, you start to believe it.” “If I were Lila, I’d have her thrown out on the street. What an embarrassment.” I stared at my brother, the man who had just condemned me to a whipping without a flicker of hesitation, and the last embers of love for him in my heart turned to ash. It was happening all over again. He would do anything to make Lila happy. “What’s all this? The ceremony hasn’t begun?” A smooth, masculine voice drifted from the doorway. Lord Alistair Ashton, the heir to the Viscount of Blackwood, stood there, a vision of aristocratic elegance. My fiancé. Or he was supposed to be. “Lila, my dear, your eyes are red. Who has been upsetting you?” he asked, striding toward her. He reached out as if to wipe a tear, then seemed to think better of it in public. Alexander pointed a trembling, accusatory finger at me. “It’s Eleanor! This wretched girl. She tried to steal Lila’s gown, then her circlet, all while insisting she’s the true daughter. I was just about to have her disciplined.” Alistair’s gaze fell upon me, cool and appraising. I clenched my fists. “Second sister,” he began, his tone dripping with condescension, “perhaps three years of pious austerity in the convent has made you… covetous of such beautiful things. It must be what’s compelling you to tell these fantastic tales. I never imagined the House of Kensington would harbor someone with such vulgar ambitions.” He turned back to Lila. “Your sister has a kind heart and doesn’t hold a grudge, but I do. If you continue to cause Lila distress, know that I, Alistair Ashton, will not be so forgiving.” I almost laughed. Vulgar ambitions? He, the heir of a crumbling house, was threatening me, the true daughter of a Duke? I saw the way Lila looked at him, her eyes soft with adoration. I knew from my past life that they were already secretly in love, their vows pledged in the shadows. Today was meant to be their triumph, the day they cemented her status as both the Kensington heiress and his future bride. I once believed that when my world came crashing down, he would be the one to save me. Instead, he had joined my tormentors, humiliating me before the world. That was a debt I would not forget. Alistair produced a small, exquisitely carved wooden box. “A gift, for you,” he said, his voice a low murmur meant only for Lila. She opened it, and the ladies nearby gasped. Inside lay a delicate silver locket, shaped like two entwined hearts. For an unmarried man to give such a gift was a public declaration of love. “My Lord, he truly adores you! A lover’s locket!” “The wedding can’t be far off now.”

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After my rebirth, I made a solemn vow: I would no longer chase Caleb Vance. When he erected a sign at his birthday party that read, “No dogs or Peyton Reed allowed,” I booked a one-way ticket to Hawaii to put an ocean between us. When he complained that the very scent of me in his house made him sick, I obediently packed my bags and moved out. When he declared that after graduation, he couldn’t stand to breathe the same city’s air as me, I vanished without a trace. And finally, when he said my very existence made his first love, Fiona, “uncomfortable,” I simply nodded and, not long after, posted a picture with a new man. Over and over, I made the opposite choice I had in my past life. Because in that life, I got my wish. I married Caleb Vance. And on our wedding day, his beloved Fiona leaped from a cliff to her supposed death. He called me a murderer. He tormented me, abused me, and in the end, left my body to be swallowed by the sea. This time, all I want is to live. Later, when I was holding my new boyfriend’s hand, Caleb blocked my path, his eyes a startling, bloodshot red. “Peyton,” he rasped, his voice breaking. “Come back with me right now, and I’ll forgive you for this little joke.” 1 “Peyton Reed and dogs are not permitted.” Staring at the familiar, cruel sign, I began to weep with pure, unadulterated joy. My name, Peyton Reed, was being equated with a stray dog, a public humiliation. But no one could possibly understand the elation flooding my soul. Because I was reborn. I had returned to the day of my fiancé Caleb Vance’s birthday. In everyone’s eyes, I was unworthy of him. My family background, my looks—in every conceivable way, I was worlds beneath him. He was the golden heir to the Vance fortune, the prince of Astoria. I was an orphan with no one to my name. A single, foolish childhood promise had bound us together for over two decades. Everyone felt sorry for Caleb. Including him. And so, he had this sign erected, barring the door to me as I stood there in my carefully chosen evening gown. “Peyton, it’s not us. This is Caleb’s decision,” one of his best friends said, his face a cold mask as he relayed the message. “Don’t make this difficult for us. It won’t look good for you.” Flanking him were security guards armed with tasers. All this pomp and circumstance, just to keep me out. Everyone knew the depths of Caleb’s loathing for me. In my last life, I didn’t get into the party either. I waited by the gate like a pathetic dog, from sunup to sundown, until I collapsed from a fever brought on by the freezing night. When Caleb’s parents found out, they disciplined him and pushed our wedding forward. On the day we were married, his one true love, Fiona Young, threw herself from a cliff. In the eyes of Caleb and his loyal clique, I was the murderer. And Caleb avenged his lost love. He subjected me to years of cold silence, of withering neglect, of methodical, soul-crushing abuse. I pleaded for a divorce countless times, but he refused, sneering that he would drag me through hell until I died. I experienced what it was like to be ignored, to be invisible, to be treated as less than human for twenty long years. Finally, my mind shattered. I threw myself into the ocean and let the waves take me. The cruelest joke of all? In my final moments, as my soul clung to the living world, I saw her. I saw Fiona Young return to the country in a blaze of glory and fall into Caleb’s arms. She wasn’t dead. She was thriving, an internationally acclaimed designer. Her tragic, long-delayed romance with Caleb was celebrated by the world. From beginning to end, I was the only fool. This time, I would live for myself. And I would stay far, far away from Caleb Vance. 2 Under a sea of astonished gazes, I turned and walked away without a backward glance. Back at the Vance estate, I stripped off the suffocating gown. Everyone knew I was Caleb’s devoted puppy. When it came to him, I always went a hundred steps beyond what was necessary, planning every detail of his life to perfection. He had mentioned more than once that he was exhausted from work and needed a break. So, I had meticulously arranged a trip to Hawaii, coordinating it with his schedule, all because he’d once said he missed the beaches and the ocean there. Of course, in my previous life, he never went to Hawaii. He chose to go camping with Fiona instead. I was ordered to tag along. When a torrential downpour started, he sent me to find a bracelet Fiona had dropped. I slipped, tumbled down a ravine, and broke my leg. I spent the next two months rotting in a hospital bed. I never wanted to feel that rock-bottom desperation again. Getting away from Caleb was the first step. I quickly packed a suitcase and headed downstairs with my ID and passport. Just then, Caleb stormed in, still dressed in his party suit. The moment he saw me, he let out a cold, mocking laugh, snatched my suitcase, and hurled it to the floor. I frowned. “What are you doing?” “What am I doing? Peyton, what the hell are you doing?” he shot back. “How old are you? Still playing the runaway game? What’s next, a suicide note?” He was breathing heavily, his face a mask of disgust. “Are you that childish, Peyton? Trying to threaten me with suicide again?” I patted the dust off my suitcase and asked, word by word, “Who told you I was going to kill myself?” People like him and Fiona, with hearts of stone, lived long and happy lives. I had fought my way back to the land of the living. Why on earth would I throw it away? Caleb just sneered, his eyes dripping with contempt. Fiona, who had followed him in, spoke softly. “Peyton, dear, if you wanted to come to the party, you should have just talked to Caleb. You two grew up together like brother and sister. He wouldn’t have really kept you out.” She paused, her voice taking on a knowing edge. “Using that kind of threat works once, but twice, and you’re just crying wolf.” Her insinuation hung in the air, and Caleb’s expression grew even more hateful. A jumble of memories assaulted me. I suddenly remembered. In high school, after he and Fiona started dating, he became a different person. Furious, I’d left a dramatic note saying I was going to find a river to jump into. The incident terrified his parents. They forced him to break up with Fiona. From that day on, Caleb despised me. He ignored me, refused to speak to me. When Fiona’s friends isolated and bullied me, he turned a blind eye. I looked him straight in the eye and explained, “You’re overthinking it. I have no intention of killing myself. I’m packing to catch a flight to Hawaii.” He laughed, a short, sharp bark, as if I’d just told the world’s worst joke to save face. Fiona tugged on his sleeve. “Caleb, why don’t we just let her come with us? She looks so pitiful like this.” His brow furrowed, and he looked like he was about to relent. “No, thank you,” I said again. “I’m going to Hawaii.” Caleb’s handsome face twisted. “You hear that? The lady is going to Hawaii!” “Peyton, this is not the time to be unreasonable,” Fiona sighed, stepping forward to take my arm. In a place no one could see, her perfectly manicured nails dug deep into my flesh. The sharp pain made me flinch, and I shoved her away. Fiona crumpled to the ground, clutching her hand as if mortally wounded, her eyes wide with disbelief, her lip trembling. “Peyton… you…” 3 “Peyton, you’re asking for it!” Caleb exploded, shoving me with even greater force. The back of my head cracked against the corner of a stair step, and a wave of dizzying pain washed over me, blacking out my vision. I could hear his voice roaring over me. “Have you gotten addicted to bullying people?! Being in the same house with an ungrateful viper like you taints the very air! It makes me sick!” Fighting through the pain, I cut through his increasingly venomous tirade. “I’ll move out. You can rest easy.” “You’d better mean it.” All of Caleb’s rage seemed to get caught in his throat. He glared at me, a look of pure hatred on his face, before scooping Fiona into his arms and storming away. I touched the back of my head, my fingers coming away sticky with blood. A strange memory surfaced. When I was fifteen, my relationship with Caleb was nowhere near this toxic. Knowing we were destined to be married, to become a real family, I used to follow him everywhere. He was in his rebellious phase, sneaking off to seedy internet cafes to play games, and I’d tag along. One day, he got into a fight over a game. I tried to intervene and got my hand slashed by accident. In that instant, Caleb had transformed into a feral beast, beating a boy much larger than him until he was crying for mercy. The man who once flew into a rage if I so much as scraped a finger would now hurt me, curse me, and wish me dead for someone else, without a second thought. But it didn’t matter anymore. Once his parents returned, our engagement would be over. I looked at a nearby maid, forcing a pained smile. “Can you take me to the hospital? I can pay you.” A young, new maid looked like she was about to help, but an older servant quickly pulled her back. Their hushed whispers still reached my ears. “Are you trying to get fired?” “Don’t you know how much the young master despises Miss Peyton?” “If he saw you helping her, you’d be out on the street!” The young maid, terrified, glanced at me one last time before scurrying away. I shook my head with a bitter smile and crawled over to retrieve my phone with its shattered screen. Caleb’s parents were away on business most of the year, only home for a few days each month. Caleb was the sole master of this house. He’d told me more than once: I wasn’t a Vance, and my problems were my own. So, no one dared to approach me. Every time I came home, any leftovers were already scraped into the trash. The plates on the table were always empty. Thankfully, I was used to it. I managed to get myself to the hospital. The doctor said I had a concussion and needed to stay for observation for two days. After being discharged, I returned to the Vance estate to pack the rest of my things. The maids watched with cold indifference as I struggled alone. That afternoon, I moved everything into a small apartment I’d hastily rented. It was temporary. Once I had my diploma, a job offer, and the engagement was officially broken, I could leave this place and everyone in it behind for good. On my third day away from the estate, Caleb called. He sounded drunk. “Where are you?” “VIP room A12. Get over here.” I was in the middle of writing my resume, and the interruption was irritating. “Caleb, is there something you need?” The line went silent. Even the boisterous background noise seemed to quiet down. I said “hello” again. When there was no answer, I prepared to hang up. Suddenly, he spoke again. “Peyton, where did you go?” I started typing again, setting the phone on speaker beside me. “Didn’t you say that living in the same house with me made the air feel disgusting?” I said casually. “So I moved out. Don’t worry, I’m not coming back.” The man’s breathing grew heavier, then he let out a sudden, cold laugh. “Peyton, when did you become so obedient? Weren’t you the one who used to cling to me relentlessly?” “Since you’re so damn obedient now, if I told you to leave this city, to get the hell out of my sight, would you do it?!” “Peyton, I don’t care what game you’re playing, but if you keep targeting Fiona, I swear I’ll make you regret it.” My mouse was acting up, and I was focused on the screen. It took me a moment to process what he’d said. Caleb’s mocking voice came through the phone again. “What, nothing to say? Aren’t you tired of these pathetic little games? Apologize to Fiona, and I’ll allow you to crawl back here.” I spoke slowly and clearly. “Fine. I promise you, Caleb. I’ll leave.” And with that, before he could react, I hung up.

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I am a lady’s maid in a world obsessed with perfect pairings. In my last life, my mistress, Lady Arabella, forced me into a marriage with her fiancé’s valet, all “for my own good.” She’d said it with a bashful smile. “My horse is a match for the Viscount’s horse, my dog for his dog… so it’s only right that my maid should be paired with his valet. It will show the world how perfectly matched the Viscount and I are.” The man was a philandering brute who beat me when he was drunk. I was trapped in a living hell. But when I pleaded with my mistress for help, she turned a blind eye. When I finally escaped, she personally dragged me back to that monster’s side. “You are such an embarrassment to me,” she said, her voice like ice. “If you weren’t so defiant, a good man like Sterling would never have laid a hand on you.” In the end, six months pregnant, I was beaten to death. … When I opened my eyes again, I was back in that same moment. Lady Arabella was holding my hand, her face beaming with warmth. “Aurora,” she said, “I have found you the most wonderful match. When you marry Sterling, you can continue to serve me for the rest of our lives.” “You’ve been with me since we were children. I’ve always thought of you as a sister. I am to marry Viscount Langley, so it is only fitting that my handmaidens marry his retainers. It’s a match made in heaven, isn’t it?” My heart seized. A dull ache spread through my chest, and I had to fight to keep my body from trembling. I was reborn. It was the exact same scene as before. Last time, seeing her so delighted, I couldn’t bear to disappoint her and agreed. But my marriage was hell on earth. Sterling was indeed a loyal valet to his master, but he was a degenerate in his private life. Though he kept no mistresses openly, he had a legion of “confidantes” scattered across the city. When he drank, his personality twisted, and he would beat me until I was black and blue. I suffered two miscarriages at his hands. And my mistress, the one who had sworn to be my champion if I ever faced any trouble, ignored my desperate cries for help. “Aurora, you are too headstrong,” she would lecture. “How can a man like Sterling ever love a woman like that? What man doesn’t have a few dalliances? You must learn to be soft, gentle, and submissive if you want to keep his heart.” She had found her perfect match. She and the Viscount were a picture of marital bliss, their love the talk of the town. Meanwhile, I was drowning, tormented daily. With her tacit approval, Sterling grew ever more brazen. The beatings became more frequent, and he would often withhold food as punishment. Through it all, she demanded I plaster on a smile and listen to her tales of domestic happiness. I finally escaped, only to be hunted down by her and her men. She personally returned me to Sterling’s clutches. And so, six months pregnant with my third child, I died under a torrent of his enraged blows. This time, I will not be her pawn. I will not repeat the mistakes of my past. Lady Arabella was still chattering excitedly, pulling me down to sit beside her. She dangled a jade pendant from her waist for me to see, her cheeks flushed. “Look, the Viscount and I have a matching everything. The other day, he gave me a parrot and kept one for himself—a perfect male and female pair.” “And this pendant, it’s a set of a dragon and a phoenix. He has one, I have the other. I was just thinking, perhaps I should buy a male dog to send to the Viscount. It would be a perfect match for my little Snowball, and they could have puppies.” Snowball was a tiny female terrier. My mistress had owned her for three years. Ever since she had met her future husband, every mosquito that flew past had to be paired with one from the Viscount’s estate. She once had four personal maids. Chessie was already married off. Two months ago, she dispatched both Artemis and Calliope to marry two of the Viscount’s other men. One was sent to a desolate border post, never to be seen again. The other’s new husband died in battle a month later. She cared nothing for our wishes, obsessed only with creating these “perfect pairs” with the Viscount’s household. Now, the other maids in the manor were terrified at the prospect of being assigned to her service. Though I already knew the answer, I had to try. “My lady,” I began tentatively, “I am already betrothed. My fiancé, Thomas, and I have been promised to each other since childhood.” “My lady… must I marry Sterling?” The blush on her face faded. She frowned at me, her expression one of utter bewilderment. “That Thomas is just the son of the head butler. What future does he have? How could he possibly compare to the personal valet of a Viscount?” “Besides,” she continued, her tone firming, “I have four maids, and the Viscount has four valets. It’s a perfect set. It is fate. In two weeks, when I am married, you will be married alongside me.” I pleaded with her for three days. At first, she tried to persuade me gently, extolling Sterling’s virtues. By the end, her face was a mask of cold resolve. “Aurora, do not be ungrateful. I am offering you this wonderful match because I am fond of you. As for that Thomas, forget him. I have already asked my mother to arrange a marriage for him with one of her second-tier maids. They will be wed quietly and quickly.” Staring at the woman I had served for more than a decade, a chilling numbness spread through my heart. If she could be so cruel, then I would be ruthless. I had already sacrificed myself for her once in my past life, fulfilling my duty as a servant. This life was for me and me alone. I went to her elder sister, Lady Cordelia. Viscount Langley had originally been Cordelia’s fiancé. But after Cordelia’s mother died, her stepmother—Arabella’s mother—had schemed to swap the betrothals, leaving Cordelia engaged to the Viscount’s younger brother, a notorious rake. While the Viscount was brilliant and respected, his brother was a wastrel. In my last life, Cordelia’s marriage had been miserable. She died in childbirth after delivering a frail baby girl. “My lady,” I said to Cordelia, “I can help you marry the Viscount. On the wedding day, with the help of your maids, we can switch the bridal carriages. Once the deed is done, no one can say a thing. Besides, you were the one who was supposed to marry the Viscount in the first place. This is simply setting things right.” Now that Arabella had married off her other maids, I was the only one she trusted. I knew I could arrange the switch. Cordelia had been living under her stepmother’s thumb for years, simmering with resentment over the stolen betrothal. She considered my proposal for only a day before agreeing. In exchange, she promised to grant me my freedom. We began our preparations for the double wedding in two weeks. On the surface, I continued to serve Arabella as diligently as ever. One day, she sent me to a remote courtyard to pick peach blossoms. “My lady,” I said, confused, “we have peach trees in our own garden. Why must I go to that deserted courtyard?” Her eyes darted away for a second. “Just do as you’re told. The blossoms in this garden are for viewing. No one sees the ones in the old yard, so go pick them for me.” I went as ordered. The courtyard was overgrown and desolate. “Aurora.” A man in a fine green livery stepped out from behind a crumbling wall. It was Sterling. A sly smile played on his lips as his eyes raked over my body. My blood ran cold. My hand clenched into a fist as the horrific memories of my past life flooded back. “Sterling,” I said, my voice sharp. “What are you doing here? Who allowed you into the private courtyards of the manor?” “Why, your future mistress, of course,” he said, his voice smooth as oil. He lunged forward and grabbed my wrist, his smile turning lecherous. “Aurora, we’re to be married soon. Surely you won’t deny me a kiss…” He pulled me into a forceful embrace. Panic seized me. I dropped my basket and struggled wildly. “Let go of me! Get off!” Picking flowers was just a pretense. Arabella had arranged a private meeting for us. A chill shot up from the soles of my feet, freezing me to the core. She was so cruel. Though I was just a maid, I came from a respectable family. I would not endure such humiliation. In my struggle, I bit his arm, hard. Sterling yelped in pain and released me. Then, his face twisted in anger, and he slapped me across the face. “You bitch! How dare you bite me!” Crack. The blow stunned me for a moment. I stumbled back, nearly falling. My cheek was already swelling, hot and painful. I didn’t hesitate. I turned and fled. When Arabella saw me return with a bright red handprint on my face, she frowned, setting down her teacup with a clatter. “What happened? Sterling told me you bit him for no reason. Do you have any idea what a wonderful opportunity I created for you? Why are you so unappreciative?” The questions I wanted to scream died in my throat. All that remained was a profound, icy coldness. The answer was perfectly clear. She had never truly respected me. She didn’t see this as a humiliation, as an assault on my dignity. “My lady,” I said, my voice eerily calm, “Sterling tried to force himself on me. That is why I bit him. And I must ask you not to do such things again. It is improper for a man to be allowed into the inner courtyards. If word got out, my reputation would be ruined, but more importantly, it could damage yours.” Her face flushed with anger and embarrassment. “When two people are in love, isn’t it normal to get carried away? Why must you be so difficult?” She flicked her sleeve in frustration and stormed out. “Fine! I wash my hands of this! No good deed goes unpunished.” The entire manor was abuzz with festive preparations for the two weddings. I was busier than anyone. The wedding gown, the handkerchiefs, the slippers for the in-laws—all the things the bride was supposed to make herself were handed to me. “We are like sisters,” she’d said sweetly. “It doesn’t matter who does it. I trust you more than anyone.” With so little time, I was serving her during the day and sewing late into the night, getting less than an hour of sleep. My eyes were raw and sore. She checked my progress daily, allowing no rest. One day, to my surprise, Thomas came to find me.

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