Author: Momo Chan

My husband cheated on me. And my dog was the one who helped me find out. … I have a dog named Ghost. One day, when Ethan came home, Ghost rushed up and started sniffing obsessively at Ethan’s coat, circling him again and again. I even laughed and said, “What’s got you so worked up? Smell another dog on him?” Ethan just chuckled and told me I was imagining things. But then, for the next several days, Ghost did the same thing every time Ethan walked in. My gut told me. Something wasn’t right. Even when I finally learned the truth, I couldn’t believe it. He didn’t just have one affair going on; he had multiple partners. One of them had even had his child aborted after getting pregnant. His reaction to all this? He wanted “peaceful coexistence.” He even had the audacity to tell me: “I’m just doing what a lot of guys dream about doing. Lighten up, Rach. All men are like this.” Yeah, right. If I let him get away with this, I’d be betraying every ounce of self-respect I have. … I married Ethan back then mostly because he was incredibly good-looking. You hear people say, find a handsome boyfriend, so even when you fight, looking at his face makes it harder to stay mad. That was honestly my thinking when I decided I wanted a guy like that. But I met a few guys, and none of them clicked. Then, a chance encounter brought me to Ethan. It was a company trade show. I was head of PR, overseeing our booth, making sure everything went smoothly with our partners. I’d been so busy I barely ate all day. My blood sugar crashed, and I started to sway. Suddenly, someone caught me, steadying me and pressing a piece of candy into my hand. “Skipped breakfast rushing here, huh? Have some sugar, take it easy.” It was Ethan. I fell for him, right then and there. At the company dinner that night, he coincidentally ended up sitting next to me. “Eating something that spicy on an empty stomach will wreck you. You’ll regret it tomorrow,” he said, stopping my hand just as I was about to dive into the spicy Szechuan dish. Chatting after that felt completely natural. We talked a lot about work collaborations. He was articulate, and I really admired his perspectives on the industry. We exchanged numbers – well, added each other on social media. After that, he asked me out a few times. He was so thoughtful. He’d always make reservations, pull out my chair, specifically ask if I was feeling okay having cold drinks, and serve me food. He remembered everything I liked. When he started pursuing me seriously, it felt like a dream. Because I was five years older than him, and honestly, I was overweight. I asked him why he chose me. He looked at me intensely. “Love is just… one of those mysterious things. I just like you.” “You don’t think I’m fat?” He leaned in close, whispering so his warm breath tickled my ear, “Not at all. I love curvy girls. More to hold onto.” Nobody can easily refuse a confession from a young, handsome guy like that. I certainly couldn’t. I was completely swept off my feet. During our relationship, I definitely made my girlfriends jealous. But they all said Ethan seemed too good to be true. “No guy is that considerate. He knows exactly how to handle women, like he’s been trained.” “Either he has a sister he totally dotes on, or he’s got a ton of experience with women.” “Bullshit! No way!” I argued with my friends. “He just loves me! That’s what love looks like! Besides, what could he possibly want from me? Aren’t I the one who’s lucky to have him and his good looks?” “Alright, alright. Fine. A girl drunk on love… whatever, sis, I’m not jealous!” My friends couldn’t win the argument, so they let it go, muttering that we wouldn’t last. But we did last. And even more, he was the one who proposed. Yes, on our one-year anniversary, he asked me to marry him. 2 It was Christmas Day. Snow was falling everywhere, looking like something out of a movie, when he got down on one knee. “Rachel, marry me.” Maybe it was the beauty of the snow, but I couldn’t resist. I threw myself into his arms, hugging his neck tightly. I saw my own reflection in his eyes. “Yes!” Ethan came from a rural part of Appalachia. His family had three boys, his father passed away early, and his mother raised them all on her own. It was clearly a tough upbringing. Me? I was from New York City, born and bred. My parents were business owners, I was an only child, and life had always been comfortable. My parents didn’t approve of the marriage. But I was stubborn, head over heels in love. I cried, threw tantrums, pretended to go on a hunger strike – I pulled out every dramatic trick in the book. My mom eventually caved. My dad still wasn’t happy. But he stopped actively trying to prevent it. … On February 14th, 2019 – Valentine’s Day – we got married. He hadn’t been working long and couldn’t afford a place in the city yet. I didn’t care. I was overjoyed to marry him. On our wedding night, wrapped in his arms, he whispered promises in my ear. “Rachel, believe in me. I swear I’ll give you a good life. I’ll make your parents proud.” I hugged him tighter and nodded. “I believe you.” I felt like I’d found the greatest happiness imaginable. Life after the wedding was good. I was basically waited on hand and foot. We rented a small apartment, about 600 square feet, one bedroom. We both worked hard on our careers, side-by-side. Our companies even collaborated, and I used every connection and resource I had to help him build his network quickly. He didn’t disappoint. He climbed the ladder, getting promoted steadily, doing well at his company. His colleagues seemed to really like him. Ghost came into our lives because one of those colleagues was moving and couldn’t take the dog. So, I took him in. 3 Ethan and I made a deal. Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays, I’d walk the dog. Tuesdays, Thursdays, Saturdays, he would. Of course, most of the time, I ended up doing it. Because Ethan’s job got more and more demanding. He got promoted again, which meant more overtime, often not getting home until after 10 PM. By then, Ghost was desperate to go out. Even if I had overtime, I could usually finish it at home. So I often got home on time, walked Ghost, and then logged back onto my computer to finish my work. I thought, we’re both working hard for our future, for a better life together. And so, life went on. Six months later, I found out I was pregnant. My mother came to visit when she heard the news. She took one look at our small rental and frowned. “You’re living in a place this small? You can barely manage yourselves, and you got a dog?” I hugged her arm, trying to charm her. “Mom, it’s just temporary! Bigger places are a pain to clean. A one-bedroom is perfect right now, isn’t it?” “And the dog was just fate, we had to keep him.” Mom sighed and poked my forehead gently. I knew, compared to my parents’ house, this place was tiny. But Ethan and I were both still building our careers, and he was saving up for a down payment. We couldn’t afford to rent anything much bigger. Even my dad started to soften up a bit. Parents always love their children, in the end. They bought me a condo outright. The day we got the keys, Ethan held me close, his voice low with emotion. “I’m sorry, Rach. I haven’t worked hard enough. I couldn’t buy you a place here myself.” “Trust me, just give me three more years. I’ll buy you an even bigger place.” He held me tight and kissed me deeply. What’s that saying? “Women are auditory creatures; they’re more easily moved by sweet words and promises than by silent actions.” Of course, I didn’t blame him. I hugged him back affectionately, comforting him, saying it had only been a year, we had time. “Besides,” I added, “it’s just the two of us now, soon to be three. What do we need a huge house for? It’d feel empty and spooky. I’d be scared.” “Rachel, you’re the best.” He hugged me even tighter, kissing me repeatedly, full of tenderness. “Once the baby’s born, you should stop working so hard. Let me take care of you.” I sniffled, my eyes stinging. Let me take care of you… Such beautiful words. … After our daughter, Sophie, was born, despite really not wanting to, I had to put my career on hold. For the first year, there was just no way to work. The baby needed feeding every two or three hours during the day, and my body wasn’t recovering particularly well. I simply didn’t have the energy for anything beyond the baby. That’s the reality of raising a child yourself, the reality of motherhood. And I didn’t want to burden my parents. During this time, Ethan got promoted again, to a management position. His work and corporate entertaining got even more intense. He often came home smelling of alcohol. But he was still thoughtful towards me. He’d often bring home things I liked – sometimes cake, sometimes a bouquet of flowers. He’d hug me and say, “You’re working so hard, honey.” Just like before. Except, we rarely had time just for the two of us anymore. Occasionally, if the mood struck, it would inevitably be interrupted by the baby crying. After a while, he stopped initiating intimacy altogether. I never used to think being a stay-at-home mom was that difficult. But once I was actually in that position, I realized how incredibly hard it is. Every single day, I was exhausted. Not just physically tired, but mentally drained too. There were endless little things, from morning till night, revolving around the baby. And then there was Ghost, constantly needing attention. Not taking him out was impossible. If I didn’t take him out, he’d chew the furniture and bark nonstop. So I started asking Ethan to help walk Ghost. He’d agree, but then immediately say he needed to research some stocks and disappear into the bedroom with his laptop. This went on for months, leaving me completely worn out. Until one day, all my pent-up frustration finally exploded. 4 That day, I specifically reminded Ethan to walk the dog. He casually agreed before I went to put Sophie down for her nap. Just as I got her settled and came out, I saw that Ghost had knocked over the kitchen trash can. Garbage – nasty bits of everything – was strewn all over the floor. He’d unrolled the toilet paper from the bathroom, trailing a long white ribbon all the way into the living room. The sofa cushions were pulled onto the floor, and Ghost, having stepped in water in the bathroom, had left muddy paw prints all over the white cushions. The cushions I had just washed yesterday! “Ethan!!!” Furious, I grabbed the dirty cushion and stormed into the bedroom. The computer screen he claimed he was using to “check the market” was displaying a video game. That night was chaos. In the heat of the argument, I yanked the plug from the wall. I don’t even remember everything I yelled. Finally, Ethan stormed out, face dark with anger, and walked the dog. He didn’t come back until almost midnight. I was already asleep. When I woke up the next morning, he was gone. When Ethan came home that evening, he brought me my favorite little cake, just like usual. Everything seemed back to normal. Except for Ghost. Starting that day, he seemed less insistent on going out constantly. When I was tending to Sophie, he’d curl up beside her, his round eyes watching the soft, white little bundle. “Ghost, this is Sophie. She’s your little owner now. You have to protect her, understand?” “Woof~” I have no idea if he understood, but I chose to believe he did. And so, the days passed. I treated Ghost better and better, doing my best for him. His food got more expensive, and every day I took the baby and the dog out for a walk together. Ghost bypassed Ethan entirely and became my dearest companion.

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Three years into my marriage with Michael, my periods just… stopped. Then, this woman shows up at my door, makeup caked on, hand possessively on her belly, chin tilted up like she owned the place. She shoves a stack of divorce papers at me like she’s doing me a favor. “Mike told me he’s gonna marry me. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll get your stuff and get out!” Two months later, in court. I clutched the divorce decree, a tight smile on my face as I looked at Michael and Jessica. “Excuse me, but could you please get your trash off my property as soon as possible?” Rewind a bit. For the first two years I was married to Michael, getting pregnant was my full-time job, on top of my actual job. Chinese herbs, Western medicine, fertility clinics – you name it, I tried it. Nothing worked. God wasn’t listening, or maybe just didn’t care. Then came year three, and boom – menopause, basically. At the doctor’s office, staring at the lab report, the number practically screamed at me: AMH 0.5. The room spun. It felt like my world was ending. Michael’s mom is… well, let’s just say she’s from a small town with very traditional values. Carrying on the family name is everything to her. Michael’s her only son, the golden child who clawed his way out of poverty, got a college degree, and landed a decent government job here in the city. She poured everything into him. He was her everything. Now, Michael had the respectable job, the nice wife, the house in the suburbs… everything except a kid. His mom never let us forget it. Little comments here and there, getting louder over time, about needing a grandchild. Honestly, I hadn’t planned on rushing into kids, but Michael couldn’t handle his mom’s constant nagging, so we started trying. Me? I’m an OB/GYN. I bring dozens of babies into the world every week. I know better than anyone what a huge responsibility a child is. It’s not a whim; it’s a lifetime commitment of love and care. So, we decided. We tried. And tried. Nothing. His mom always acted like it was my fault, giving me the cold shoulder whenever she visited. Michael, to his credit back then, would try to smooth things over. He’d comfort me in private, buy me little gifts, cook dinner sometimes. I appreciated it. It made swallowing handfuls of fertility drugs a little easier. Turns out, his mom was right all along. It was me. 2 That night, I got home and tried to keep it together. I placed the lab report on the kitchen table, my hands shaking slightly. “What’s this?” Michael asked, looking confused. “My test results.” The words “test results” were like a trigger for his mom. She practically lunged across the table and snatched the paper before Michael could even reach for it. “AMH 0.5? What the hell does that mean?” Michael’s face paled. He’d been to enough doctor’s appointments with me to pick up some of the jargon. “It means her egg count is practically zero! She can barely get pregnant!” His mom’s voice screeched, confirming his fear. “That’s right,” I said, forcing myself to sound calm, though the lump in my throat threatened to choke me. “I can’t have children.” “I knew it!” She jabbed a finger towards my face. “My Michael is perfectly healthy! How could he not have kids by now? It’s because of you, you cursed luck!” Her voice dripped with venom. “Honestly, even a rock in a warm bed could probably hatch something after three years! What’s wrong with your womb?” “I told him you were damaged goods! See? Damaged!” Her words were getting nastier, more personal. Michael finally stepped in. “Mom! That’s enough. Sarah feels bad enough already!” I grew up comfortably middle-class, maybe not rich, but definitely sheltered by loving parents. I’d never had anyone talk to me like that, so raw and cruel. Tears welled up despite my best efforts. “What are you doing? Getting too big for your britches now?” she snapped back at Michael. “Forgot who starved and scraped so you could go to college?” She always held that over his head, convinced I’d turned him against her. “I told you not to marry her from the start! And now look! Can’t even give me a grandchild!” “Bottom line, you have to divorce her! Our family name means something back home! Marrying a woman who can’t have kids? How can I show my face? Do you want our family line to just… end with you?” Her furious rant silenced Michael. He knew exactly how much she’d sacrificed for him, collecting cans, working odd jobs, anything to keep him in school. That guilt was a powerful weapon. “Sarah,” Michael turned and took my hand. His felt clammy. “Mom’s just upset. I’m not going to divorce you. Don’t worry.” I squeezed his hand back, clinging to that shred of hope, my eyes probably showing more love than he deserved. 3 The next few weeks were a blur of internet searches and consultations with colleagues at the hospital. I desperately looked for any way to boost my AMH levels, but it was hopeless. There was only one path left: IVF. In Vitro Fertilization. Problem was, we’d just bought the house, sinking every penny we had into the down payment and taking on a massive $400,000 mortgage. IVF wasn’t cheap. There were different levels, different protocols. I wanted the best chance, the most expensive option – tens of thousands of dollars. I didn’t want my issue to compromise the health of our potential child. I just wanted a healthy baby. I talked it over with Michael. Between my salary and his government job, we brought in about $15,000 a month, but after the $5,000 mortgage payment and other bills, there was no way we could afford a huge IVF bill upfront. I suggested we ask his mom for a loan. I knew Michael sent her money every month; I just pretended not to notice. Who wouldn’t help out their own mother? When we brought it up, she hit the roof. “Absolutely not! I forbid it!” “Mom, Sarah just wants us to have a baby, give you that grandchild you want,” Michael tried to reason. “Ha! Don’t kid yourself. She’s just after the money you’ve been giving me!” She glared at me, suspicion etched on her face. She didn’t have a pension, just a small fixed income, so Michael’s monthly contribution was her lifeline. “Mom, that’s not true, I really just—” My defense sounded weak even to my own ears. “Michael, if you have any respect left for me, you’ll divorce her!” So, the loan idea died right there. And slowly, things started to shift with Michael. He was still acting gentle, but his words started carrying a subtle sting, constantly reminding me of my infertility. “Look, it is a fact you can’t conceive. Mom didn’t say anything untrue, she was just… blunt about it. You need to be more understanding.” “I still love you, you know. Whether you can have kids or not.” “Kids aren’t the most important thing. Having you is enough for me.” “We’ll save up slowly. We can wait a few more years for kids. Don’t put pressure on yourself.” “You’re overthinking things. I’m only saying this stuff for your own good.” 4 I started shutting down, growing quiet, anxious, and easily irritated. I kept wondering what terrible thing I must have done in a past life to deserve this. Michael started coming home later and later. “Work,” he’d say. “Trying to get that promotion to supervisor, gotta put in the hours, make a good impression.” My own shifts at the hospital, often overnight, meant we barely saw each other anyway. Our communication dwindled to almost nothing. I couldn’t even remember the last time we’d actually been intimate. One night, a colleague covered my shift, so I got off early. It was around 11 PM when I got home. The living room was dark, but I heard the shower running in the master bathroom, and muffled sounds of Michael talking. A small smile touched my lips. I decided to surprise him. I quietly changed into the silky black lingerie I’d bought a while back, hoping to reignite something. Tiptoeing to the bathroom door, I reached for the handle. That’s when I heard it, a sentence that froze the blood in my veins. “My wife? Please, that barren woman can’t hold a candle to you!” Michael’s voice was slick, sleazy, unrecognizable. My hand hovered over the doorknob, unable to push it down. “Stop hiding! It’s not like I haven’t seen it all before!” “Come on, move the phone down a little lower!” “Oh, Mikey, you’re making me blush~” A simpering female voice came through the phone speaker, loud enough for me to hear over the running water. I couldn’t believe it. My quiet, dependable husband was video-calling another woman while she showered? “Yeah, yeah! Right there!” The conversation that followed… I can’t even repeat it. It was disgusting. Listening to his low groans from inside the bathroom, I knew exactly what was happening. All strength drained from my body. I slumped against the wall, sliding down to the cold tile floor outside the door. The water kept running. I don’t know how long I sat there. “Mikey,” the woman’s voice purred, sounding weak but satisfied. “When are you finally gonna divorce your wife?” “It’s gonna take a little more time,” Michael replied, still slightly breathless. “What do you mean!” Her voice sharpened with annoyance. “You keep saying that! Wait, wait, wait! I’m tired of waiting!” “I already told you, Jess,” Michael explained patiently, “if I divorce her now, she gets half the house. Give me a little longer. I promise I’ll get her to sign a property agreement, make her give up her claim willingly.” “Really?” “Jess, would I lie to you? You know how crazy I am about you. I want to marry you as soon as possible.” Then, his voice dropped, filled with contempt. “Besides… a woman who can’t even have kids thinks she deserves half my property? Dream on! If I wasn’t trying to trick her into signing that agreement, I’d have kicked her out months ago!”

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“Thud—” I hit the ground hard after falling from the rooftop. Falling right alongside me was the husband who tricked me, ruined me, and wanted me dead. I thought dying together was the end for us. I never expected that when I opened my eyes again, I’d been reborn. And so had he! 01 I was standing on the edge of the rooftop. The wind whipped around me. Below me, a dizzying drop. Behind me, Mark’s hand rested on my shoulder. He said, “Piper, didn’t you say you loved me? If you love me, you should just jump. Save me the trouble, right?” Every word out of his mouth made me sicker. God, I was so stupid. Fooled by the sweet nothings whispered by the devil behind me. He stole my family’s company, got my parents killed, and still, it wasn’t enough. He wanted my life too! I wouldn’t stand for it— Absolutely not!!! I turned my head, my smile dripping with sarcasm. “Mark, can’t even bring yourself to do the killing? I finally see it. You’re just a coward, pathetic as dirt!” Instantly, his eyes blazed with hatred. The second he lost his cool, unable to think straight, I grabbed the hand he used to push me. And dragged him down to hell with me! As Mark screamed, a triumphant smile spread across my face. I felt my body plummet, the wind slicing past my cheeks like knives. “CRUNCH—” In the last moment of my life, I even heard the sound of my own bones shattering. Damn, that hurt! But thinking about the bastard lying dead next to me? That felt good. If only… 02 “Piper!” Someone tapped sharply on the desk. I jolted awake. My deskmate, Jessica, whispered, “The professor’s asking you a question!” A question? I was practically pavement pizza, how could anyone ask me a question? I looked up, confused, right into the professor’s scowling face. “Ms. Sterling, I was talking about advertising design. How do you say ‘poster’ and ‘advertisement’ in, well, English?” This felt familiar… Wasn’t this a required course from my senior year? I was reborn!! I remembered my answer back then: “I love my country, I refuse to learn some foreign devil’s language!” It had made the old professor absolutely livid. As I drifted in memory, a note slid across the desk. The first thing I noticed were the long, slender fingers holding it, then the messy scrawl on the paper – a couple of English words. The handwriting was atrocious. I couldn’t even make it out. But that didn’t stop me from answering fluently. After all, I’d been working at Sterling Corp, the family business, practically running the place as CEO eventually. A few basic words weren’t going to trip me up. The professor seemed stunned. Did he honestly think I wouldn’t know? “Sit down!” Though clearly annoyed, he waved me down, sticking to his word. “You actually knew that?” Jessica stared at me, bewildered. I smirked. “Why shouldn’t I?” “What’s the point of learning this stuff?” Jessica scoffed. “You’re just going to inherit the family business anyway…” I ignored her. I hadn’t forgotten how badly Mark wanted me dead in my past life, and this friend here was egging him on the whole time. Besides, in my past life, she was the one constantly feeding me that whole “rich kids don’t need to try” garbage. That’s why I ended up so useless, letting Mark dictate everything. Thinking about how stupid I’d been made my blood boil. Jessica asked if I wanted to grab dinner. I shut her down flat. I’d paid for enough of her meals last time around. This life, I wasn’t playing the sucker. 03 After class, a tall figure blocked my path. His handsome face made me do a double-take before I realized – it was him, the one who passed me the note in class: Ethan Graystone! That hadn’t happened in my past life. And wasn’t he a Finance major? What was he doing in an Art major’s required English course? Still, seeing him again made me ridiculously happy. “Dinner tonight?” he asked. “Sure!” He seemed surprised I agreed so quickly. “Really? You’ll come?” “Yeah, really!” Why wouldn’t I? The Graystone Group was just as big as Sterling Corp. Ethan and I had known each other since we were kids. If something were to happen to my dad’s company in the future, Graystone could at least help out. “Okay, I’ll call The Willow Creek Inn, get us a table.” Ethan’s eyes lit up. The Willow Creek Inn? In my past life, the car crash that killed Ethan happened right near there. “Wait!” I grabbed his arm suddenly, blurting out, “What’s today’s date?” “May 18th. Thesis defense is next week. You asked me to look over your paper, remember?” Ethan answered automatically. My head spun. Memories flooded back. Ethan died in that car crash today in my past life! My hand gripping his started to shake. “Don’t go there.” “What?” Ethan looked completely lost. “But you just said yes.” “Don’t go!” I insisted through gritted teeth. You’ll die! “So… reschedule?” Ethan asked, still confused. “No rescheduling either.” “Piper Sterling, what do you want?” Ethan actually had incredible patience. How had I never noticed before? I was being totally flaky, and he didn’t even seem mad. “How about… my place? I can cook for you,” I suggested after a moment. Going to my apartment felt like the safest bet. 04 My parents bought me a huge penthouse apartment in the city, with its own private elevator entrance, right after I got into N.U. What can I say? My family’s loaded. And yeah, they spoiled me rotten growing up. That’s probably why I was so clueless about how nasty people could be. As I was thinking, Ethan suddenly asked, “Piper, you’re not planning to poison me, are you?” I looked up. He was squinting at me suspiciously. “We’ve known each other for twenty years. I’ve never heard about you knowing how to cook.” I gave an awkward laugh. “Learned from our housekeeper. You coming or not? Your loss if you don’t.” Ethan quickly nodded. “I’m coming!” Just then, Jessica ran over. “Piper, aren’t you coming clubbing tonight?” Ha. So she couldn’t freeload dinner off me, now she’s trying something else. Annoyed, I put on a sweet smile. “Jess, I’d love to, but you’re such a good student, you don’t need to study. I’m different. If I don’t hit the books, I might not even graduate.” I laid it on thick, playing the innocent card perfectly. Jessica seemed thrown off. She stammered, “It’s okay, Piper, I can help you study.” Before I could reply, Ethan cut in coldly, “Help her study? Please. You’re top of the class, and Piper, who hangs out with you all the time, is barely passing? Sounds more like someone’s using ‘studying’ as an excuse to make Piper look bad by comparison.” I always knew Ethan had a sharp tongue. We went to the same elementary and middle schools; he made me cry more times than I could count. And just like that, Jessica’s eyes welled up. She looked genuinely hurt. “Hey, don’t cry, makes it look like I’m bullying you,” Ethan continued, relentless. “Everything I said was true. Aren’t you number one? Isn’t Piper near the bottom?!” Me: “…” I kind of felt like I was being manipulated here! Because of Ethan’s words, the people gathering around started giving Jessica weird looks. Ethan grabbed my hand. “If you need tutoring, ask me,” he said with a grin. “You don’t need Miss Innocent here. Let’s go, time for that home-cooked meal.” Seeing Ethan grab my hand, Jessica, red-eyed, forgot her damsel-in-distress act. She leaned close to my ear, whispering just loud enough for Ethan to hear, “Are you really going to get with Graystone? Didn’t you say you’d never marry for connections?” I scoffed internally. Last time, I listened to way too much of her crap like that. That’s why I always turned Ethan down. And while I was out partying, he died in that crash. Since I got a do-over, I wasn’t letting that happen again. Besides, Ethan’s face was visibly darkening. I squeezed his hand tighter and smiled up at him. “Actually, I think Ethan and I are equals, both well-off. Better to join forces, a power couple, than marry some charity case, right?” Jessica froze, speechless, unable to reply. I was already pulling Ethan away. Once we were in the car, I heard the man beside me say cheerfully, “About time you ditched her. Glad you’re finally wising up!” Huh? I glanced at him, but his eyes were closed, like he hadn’t said anything. A thought suddenly popped into my head: If he hadn’t died so young last time, would my future have been different?

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When I got diagnosed with cancer, my classmates laughed like I was already dead. When I got bit by a zombie, they grabbed makeshift weapons and told me to get lost. When I turned out to be the only person bitten who didn’t turn, suddenly they were all on their knees, begging me— Begging me to save their lives. 01 My name is Sarah. I’m 20. Just your average, unremarkable college sophomore. Except I just found out I have cancer. Stage four. About a month after my diagnosis, the zombie virus hit campus like a bomb. One minute, it was your typical sunny, energetic college green; the next, everyone was scrambling, desperate to escape the walking dead. Me? The sick girl? I basically just gave up, letting the panicked crowd shove me along until I ended up crammed into a storage room. There were already a bunch of people hiding inside. Before I could even get my bearings, someone shrieked: “Sarah! She’s been bitten!” Instantly, every eye in the room locked onto me. I glanced down. Sure enough, a clear bite mark on my wrist. Oh yeah, I remembered now. In the chaos outside, I saw Jessica, a girl from my class, about to get dragged away by a zombie. I yanked her back, out of stupid instinct, and got chomped in the process. And the person screaming about me being bitten? Jessica, of course. “Sarah, you’re bitten. Just get out of here,” Tiffany, the campus queen bee who always hated me for beating her in academics, stepped up, acting like she was in charge of who lived and died. The ridiculous part? No one disagreed. All fifteen or so of them just stared at me, pure terror in their eyes, like I was about to foam at the mouth and take a chunk out of them. Then the fear turned to anger. Jessica piled on, “Sarah, you’ve got cancer anyway, you’re gonna die soon. Don’t drag us down with you.” Tiffany added, her voice dripping venom, “Yeah, just get lost.” Suddenly, the whole storage room was echoing the same sentiment. “Get out!” It felt just like after my diagnosis. Tiffany, still bitter I’d won first place in the talent show she thought was hers, cornered me with her little clique. She’d sneered, “Sarah, what did you do to deserve this? Getting a death sentence so young? Serves you right!” Her followers chorused: “Serves you right!” Then, like now, I felt… nothing. Calm. I grew up an orphan, no parents. Always been quiet, maybe a little aloof. “Offending” the popular girl meant I got shoved around a lot. Facing actual death now, their petty high school drama meant absolutely nothing. I looked one last time at Jessica. My voice was steady. “I got bitten saving you.” Jessica rolled her eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean, Sarah? Guilt trip me? I didn’t ask you to save me.” “Fine,” I said. With that, I turned sharply and walked out. As the door slammed behind me, I heard the distinct click of a lock. I let out a small, cold chuckle. “Serves them right.” The next second, Jessica’s bloodcurdling scream ripped through the air, followed by a chorus of horrifying shrieks from inside the storage room. Jessica noticed my bite, sure. But I guess she didn’t notice someone else in that room had been bitten too. 02 The storage room door was rattling like crazy. I just pursed my lips, feeling zero sympathy, and turned down a side path. I made my way to the campus convenience store. Figured I should load up on real food before I turned, instead of craving… well, you know. I grabbed a double chocolate muffin and was about to take a bite when the world spun, and everything went black. When I came to, maybe half an hour had passed. Using a metal shelf as a makeshift mirror, I checked myself out. Didn’t look like I’d turned. Weird. Just then, a zombie, smeared head-to-toe in blood, lurched around the end of the aisle. It spotted me, let out a guttural roar, and charged. Its roar attracted others. Suddenly, the store was filling up. The first one was almost on me. Even though I was dying anyway, I didn’t fancy getting torn apart by zombies. Instinctively, I kicked out. The next thing I knew, the zombie flew backward like a broken kite, crashing into a display rack. More growls behind me. I spun, tried a few more kicks. In seconds, a whole group of them were embedded in the drywall, twitching uselessly. Okay, so maybe I had changed. Where else would I get the power to take down zombies bare-handed like some kind of superhero?! The dead bodies were kind of ruining my appetite, though. I dragged them outside and tossed them near the dumpsters. Just as I was about to head back in for my muffin, I heard a desperate yell for help from down the street. I squinted. A familiar figure sprinted into view. He was wearing track pants, four or five zombies clawing at his back, his incredibly handsome face pale with terror. My brow furrowed hard. Jake? What was he doing here? He was in my classes, but he’d dropped out right after I got my diagnosis. Why was he back on campus? While I was spacing out, he let out a yelp and tripped, face-planting onto the pavement. Jake! That was my crush! I was obsessed with his perfect face. A surge of protective anger shot through me. I moved faster than I ever thought possible, launching myself forward. A flurry of kicks sent the zombies daring to mess with my crush’s face flying. Then, I hauled Jake up and booked it. Yeah, hauled him. Like a sack of potatoes over my shoulder. I don’t know if zombies have a thing for good looks, or maybe they were after Jake’s brain—all the professors raved about how smart he was. More and more zombies were heading our way, drawn to Jake—or maybe me carrying him. I wasn’t worried about getting bitten again, but Jake couldn’t get hurt. Panicked, I somehow managed to sprint all the way back to the convenience store carrying him. I set him down gently. My heart was hammering, totally embarrassed and flustered, but I couldn’t let him see that. Play it cool. I calmly handed him a bottle of water. He seemed shell-shocked, probably hadn’t even registered that I’d just carried him like some kind of cavewoman. He took the water silently, unscrewed the cap, and gulped down half the bottle. Jake was my ultimate crush, the guy I’d been secretly obsessed with forever. People say when you’re dying, you make a bucket list. Mine basically had one item: Spend time with Jake before I die. And here we were. Apocalypse. Convenience store. Me and Jake. Thump-thump-thump— My heart was going crazy. Trying to cover my excitement, I asked, “Jake, didn’t you drop out? What are you doing back here?” He choked on his water, coughed a few times, then explained, “Yeah, I dropped out. Got chased back onto campus by accident.” He looked up, his eyes full of gratitude. “Sarah, thanks for saving me.” He’d been running for a while when I found him. I felt a flicker of worry. “Are you okay? Did they get you? Did you get bitten?” He thought for a second. Just as my anxiety spiked, he said, “No. I’m okay.” I breathed a sigh of relief. I turned to grab him some food from the shelves. He followed right behind me, practically stepping on my heels, like he was terrified I’d abandon him. I stopped in front of a rack of chips. Facing away from him, I said quietly, “Don’t worry. I won’t ditch you.” Couldn’t even if I wanted to, I thought. I’ve been crushing on you since freshman orientation. The words felt like a confession. My face flushed. I thought I heard him murmur behind me, “Good. I owe you one. I’ll pay you back.” 03 The convenience store had a small employee break room in the back. Jake used the sink to wash his face and came out, hair still damp. I turned my head and froze. He was standing in the doorway, shirtless. Perfect V-taper, clearly defined abs, smooth lines… A few drops of water trickled enticingly down his neck, tracing a path over his muscles and disappearing below the waistband of his track pants… My face instantly felt like it was on fire. I whipped my head away. My voice came out huskier than I intended. “Put a shirt on.” I heard a hint of disappointment in Jake’s voice from the doorway. “Aw, and here I thought you might like the view. Did it just for you, you know.” “…” This was how he planned to “pay me back”? Giving me a free show?! Despite myself, my heart hammered, and my cheeks burned. I muttered something about needing to change too and ducked into the break room. Hauling Jake around earlier had made me sweat buckets, and my bite wound seemed to be throbbing more. As I peeled off my shirt, I winced. Pain shot up my arm. I reached for the gauze I’d wrapped around it earlier and accidentally knocked over a glass tumbler. The shattering sound was deafening in the quiet room. Almost instantly, the door flew open. I stared, shocked, at Jake standing there, his face etched with worry. It took me a half-second to remember I was standing there in just my bra. “Get out!” Mortified and furious, I spun around, hugging myself, feeling like a boiled lobster. “Didn’t see anything! Sorry, sorry!” Jake stammered apologies, backing out clumsily and kicking over a mop bucket in the process. The door clicked shut. I glanced back to make sure it was closed before finally letting out a shaky breath. When I finished changing and opened the door, I stopped dead. He was still standing right there. “Why are you still here?” Remembering the shirtless incident, my face started heating up again. Jake looked at me, his expression serious. He reached a hand toward my left arm. I instinctively covered my sleeve, wary. “What are you doing?” “You’re hurt. Let me see.” I tried to pull my arm back, narrowing my eyes. “You just said you didn’t see anything.” Jake’s hand froze for a second, guilt flashing across his face. But even so, he persisted, determined to see my arm. I couldn’t fight him off; he managed to grab my wrist. “Ow!” The struggle jostled my freshly bandaged wound, and I sucked in a sharp breath. Jake’s expression darkened. He shot me a glare, then carefully, gently rolled up my sleeve. “How did this happen? Does it hurt?” His eyes fixed on the messy bandage job, his tone low and serious. His hand held mine firmly; I couldn’t pull away. “Just scratched myself, it’s nothing.” “Nothing? It’s bleeding through the gauze, Sarah! That’s not ‘nothing’!” “Jake! Let go of me! I told you, I’m fine!” He started pulling me back toward the break room. It was ironic. He was the one terrified of zombies, chased across campus. I was the one who could kick them through walls. Yet, he dragged me along, and I couldn’t seem to resist at all. He found a first-aid kit under the sink and, without another word, grabbed scissors to cut off my makeshift bandage. I didn’t want him to see the actual bite mark. I struggled desperately. “Don’t move!” Jake barked, looking up, his deep eyes filled with frustration. The bandage came away, bit by bit. I watched him nervously, my fingers curling slightly. When the wound was fully exposed, his expression changed, just as I’d feared. I pressed my lips together, about to yank my hand back, but instead, he picked up tweezers, dabbed cotton with antiseptic, and started cleaning the wound. His movements were efficient, precise. He even tied the new bandage with a surprisingly cute little bow. Jake stood up, looking down at me intently. “A zombie bite. Why didn’t you tell me?” “It happened a while ago. I’m fine.” My heart was pounding. I was terrified he’d react like the others – yell at me, run away. I started to explain, that I was bitten but didn’t turn, that I somehow got powers instead. But his expression held no fear, no disgust. Just concern. He asked softly, “Does it hurt?” After everything – the near-death, the honesty – The distance between people seemed to shrink. A warmth spread through my chest. “Doesn’t hurt.”

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I was lying in a pool of my own blood, watching my husband walk away with the woman he loved. Before I died, all I could think was how fast his legs carried him away. They deserved to be broken. I didn’t expect my chance to come so quickly. When I opened my eyes again, I was back nine years earlier. My future husband, the golden boy himself, Julian Croft, heir to the political dynasty, was lying unconscious at the bottom of a cliff. Those legs of his… yeah, they needed breaking. 01 In my last life’s timeline, Julian was ambushed during a high-profile political retreat, went off a cliff, horse and all. I was the one who found him, carried him for a day and a night, and saved his life. Right now, he was just lying there silently among the rocks, waiting for me to lean down. And I did. Even injured and out cold, my Julian was still the most devastatingly handsome man alive. So, naturally, being obsessed with him, I did the sensible thing and cleanly severed his Achilles tendons. The pain made him convulse, and as the smell of blood spread, Julian struggled his eyes open. I looked down at him. “Julian, honey, are you okay?” I can only imagine how tender my voice sounded, how full of pity my expression was. After all, from now on, he wasn’t running anywhere. He looked so helpless. How could I possibly be harsh with him? Julian looked surprised to see me. But the second he tried to move, he broke out in a cold sweat, the pain hitting him hard. Sharp as he was, he instantly located the source of his agony. Just as I expected, realizing his legs were ruined, Julian couldn’t handle it. He completely broke down. Because crippled legs meant the power, the presidency his family groomed him for, the prize he’d schemed his whole life for, was out of reach. I held him, stopping him from pounding on his useless legs. “Julian, hurting yourself like this? Isn’t that just playing into the hands of whoever set you up?” “Besides, you still have me. Even if you’re crippled, even if you never reach the Oval Office, I won’t leave you.” My dear Julian always had a suspicious mind. Sure enough, the wheels started turning. He gritted his teeth. “Whoever did this to me… they’ll pay!” I could almost hear him mentally cycling through his brothers, his rivals, wondering who planned the attack specifically to cripple him, to take him out of the running for good. After all, power could pass to any number of heirs, but not usually to a cripple. “Don’t worry, Julian. You’re not alone. Me and the Sterling family, we’ll stand behind you,” I whispered soothingly, like comforting a precious jewel. And he always knew how to make the choice most beneficial to himself. Like right now, clinging to me tightly, like I was his last hope. He cried in my arms, and the feeling was just… exquisite. Because he needed me so desperately. I thought, maybe I should build him a golden cage. Something fitting for his stature, something to protect him from the harsh realities outside. Just like last time, I carried him on my back, searching for a way out. Only difference was, last time he was unconscious and couldn’t walk. This time, he’d never walk properly again. He was awake the whole way, saw every bit of effort I put in. He even managed to wipe the sweat from my brow, gently asking how I was holding up. See? He could be so considerate. It had been a long time since I’d seen that side of him. Back then, he needed my family’s influence, so he deliberately got close, seduced me with sweet nothings, promises of forever, just the two of us. All that disappeared the moment he secured his position, using the Sterling clout to solidify his power base. But now? Oh, I was thrilled. Ecstatic that he’d be this gentle, this dependent, forever. 02 Following the paths I remembered from last time, I avoided the areas where ambushers might still be lurking and finally hit the main road just before dark. Soon enough, we ran into the Sterling family’s search party – or rather, our private security team. My second brother, Rick, looking sharp and imposing even on horseback, galloped towards me, his face tight with worry. He clearly didn’t even register the injured political heir I was carrying. I gave my brother, who I hadn’t seen in what felt like ages, a brilliant smile, then promptly collapsed into his arms. Seeing me “pass out,” Rick was instantly concerned. He just barked orders to his men – “Get Mr. Croft back to his residence, now!” – then carried me into one of the waiting SUVs. The vehicle swayed gently as we headed back to the Sterling estate. I opened my eyes halfway there. Rick’s expression didn’t change; he obviously knew I was faking it from the start. But he didn’t call me out, just gave me a stern lecture. “Don’t play games with your life, Scarlett. What happens to him is none of your damn business. If anything happened to you, Dad would fall apart.” I knew he was talking about me ignoring everyone’s warnings and chasing the attackers right off Blue Ridge Cliff after Julian. “I know what I’m doing, Rick,” I purred, leaning back against the plush leather seat. That was one thing I prided myself on: I’d trained in various forms of combat since I was a kid, and I had a natural talent for it. Even Rick, a former Special Forces guy, couldn’t beat me anymore. A fall from Blue Ridge wouldn’t kill me, and it meant I could find the unconscious Julian quickly. Rick hated it when I got cocky. He snorted. “If you’re so capable, why fake fainting?” I settled deeper into the seat, answering seriously, “Sometimes, out of sight, out of mind is best. If I hadn’t, I don’t think I could have stood handing Julian over to someone else.” Julian Croft. My golden boy. Such a nice name, such a handsome face. He should belong to me. How could I let anyone else touch what was mine? But the timing wasn’t right yet. I had to be patient. Rick went quiet. When we got back to the Sterling estate, Dad and my older brother were waiting, fussing over me. My father, Arthur Sterling, a man of immense power and influence, actually had tears in his eyes, pulling me close, calling me his “dear girl.” See? Power, influence, the adoration of my father and brothers. Growing up, every debutante and young heir practically tripped over themselves to suck up to me. And yet, Julian used my family’s clout, got what he wanted, and then expected me to step aside for his “true love.” Thinking of Julian, I dismissed the household staff, poured Dad and my brothers a stiff drink – whiskey, neat – and got serious. “Dad, Rick, Older Brother, there’s something I need to tell you.” Seeing my solemn expression, they straightened up. “Mom didn’t die in some random accident or mugging years ago. The old man, President Croft himself, feared your power, Dad. He tried to arrange an ‘accident’ for you, but Mom got caught in the crossfire instead.” This was intel Julian himself had revealed in our past life, a calculated move to gain my family’s absolute trust. My father and brothers are brilliant, ruthless men. Between them, they controlled levers of power – political, financial, even some darker, private networks – that amounted to a chokehold on the country’s establishment. That’s precisely why Julian was so desperate for Sterling backing back then. And why, once he felt secure, he orchestrated that “accident” during my trip down south, leaving me surrounded by his hired guns on a cold, dark pier, bleeding out into the water. He walked away with his precious Isabelle Moon, while my blood washed away, my body dumped like trash. I admit, I’d been arrogant. I never thought Julian would stoop to poisoning me himself, a slow-acting toxin delivered through touch, clouding my judgment just enough for his goons to get the drop on me. Old Man Croft killed Mom. Julian killed me. Do the math. The Sterlings and the Crofts? No way we could ever coexist. The moment the words left my mouth, Dad crushed the heavy crystal tumbler in his hand. My brothers’ chests were heaving, fury radiating off them. Growing up, my father and brothers never questioned my word. If I said it, they believed it. After a long, tense silence, Dad pulled out the small, worn locket he always carried – the one with Mom’s picture inside. He asked in a low, dangerous voice, “What do you want to do, Scarlett?” He clutched Mom’s locket tightly. I looked at my father, thought of my mother, looked at my brothers, and suddenly burst out laughing. “They all want the top spot, don’t they? Fine. Then let this country be run by a Sterling!” My own laughter echoed, cold and terrifying. But I didn’t care. From the moment Old Man Croft targeted our family, the Crofts and Sterlings were destined to clash. Besides, if everything belonged to my family, Julian wouldn’t have any room left for wandering thoughts… or wandering eyes. Oh, right. My name is Scarlett Sterling. My dad is Arthur Sterling. Dad and my brothers quite like our surname. Makes sense it should be the name everyone in power answers to, don’t you think? 03 Dinner that night was quiet, the few household staff serving us moved like ghosts. I could see how scared they were of us. It’s simple, really. Our whole family is… intense. A little messed up. From my father and brothers down to me, we share a certain morbid intensity. Prime example: Mom died seven years ago, but Dad still carries a tiny, ornate urn with some of her ashes everywhere he goes. We still set a place for her at the dinner table, complete with her favorite china and silverware. Early on, Dad even… consumed some of her ashes. To be one with her, he said. The staff turned green back then, absolutely horrified. But us three kids? We were thrilled. We all loved Mom, and she loved us fiercely. A family, together, whole… what could possibly be wrong with that? Tonight, digging into the hot, delicious food, I looked towards Mom’s empty place setting and said brightly, “Mom, don’t you worry. You’ll have a properly respectful son-in-law paying his respects soon.” I’d only just dropped the bombshell on Mom’s memory, and by the next day, news that Julian Croft, the heir apparent, was permanently crippled was spreading like wildfire through the political circles and gossip columns. When I arrived at Julian’s residence – a luxurious wing of the Croft compound – the staff were practically walking on eggshells. Seeing me was like spotting a lifeboat. “Miss Sterling, thank God you’re here.” “Mr. Croft hasn’t touched a bite all day. We don’t know what to do.” Martin, Julian’s personal aide, looked genuinely worried. But as he spoke, his eyes kept flickering past me, towards the hallway. I knew who he was really hoping to see: Julian’s supposed true love, Isabelle Moon, daughter of Secretary Moon. In our past life, whenever Julian and Isabelle had their secret trysts, Martin was the one arranging things, covering for them, playing lookout. Such a loyal little lapdog. I just smiled at him, a slow, knowing smile, until Martin trailed off uncomfortably. Then I clapped him on the shoulder. “Martin,” I said sweetly, “I feel so much better knowing Julian has you looking after him.” Ignoring the confusion on his face, I swept into Julian’s private suite. My eyes immediately met his dark, hostile gaze. A nurse stood nearby holding a bowl of medication, trying fruitlessly to coax him into taking it. He refused, just kept staring at me, clearly trying to drive me away with his miserable state. I paid it no mind. I took the bowl, blew gently on the liquid, and held the spoon to his lips. “Julian, you need to take this so you can heal. You don’t want to be stuck in bed forever, do you?” That hit a nerve. Julian turned his head away, his voice flat with despair. “Just go, Scarlett. My legs… they’re not getting better. Stay away from me. You can still find someone… suitable.” “Don’t talk like that.” I gripped his chin, forcing him to meet my eyes. “And you should know by now, once you’ve caught my attention, you’re never getting rid of me.” It was the truth. He started this. He pursued me. Everything he’d done, every promise he’d made, was set in stone in my mind. There was no going back. “Now, be a good boy and drink your medicine. Once you’re stronger, we’ll go talk to your father about setting a wedding date.” Julian couldn’t fight me. Or maybe he’d just put on enough of a show. He took the bowl and gulped the medicine down in one go. The medication or the emotional toll exhausted him. After he fell asleep, I left his suite. On my way out of the compound, I ran into Ethan Croft, the second son. Ethan Croft. Julian’s most viable competitor for the family’s political legacy. “Scarlett. You’ve seen Julian? What did the doctors say? Is he… doing alright?” He approached me smoothly, adjusting his perfectly knotted tie, offering a smile as warm and inviting as a spring day. No doubt about it, Ethan was classically handsome, well-built, with a polished, sophisticated air. But compared to Julian? He still fell short. So I just offered a polite, cool nod. “Good evening, Ethan.” “The doctors have his condition under control.” “Well, in that case, I won’t disturb him.” Ethan’s expression turned somber, and he sighed. “My brother has always been so proud. He probably doesn’t want many visitors right now.” I smiled faintly, watching his subtle attempt to poison my perception. Ethan quickly changed the subject. “Since you’re heading out, let me give you a ride home, Scarlett.” “That would be kind of you, Ethan.” I didn’t refuse. The whole drive, I watched Ethan’s not-so-subtle attempts to impress me, dropping hints about his own ambitions, his connections. This had been going on for years. Ever since I was a teenager, before my debutante ball, he’d been making quiet overtures. But back then, I was supposedly “head over heels” for Julian, so Ethan kept his approaches discreet. Now, with Julian sidelined? Ethan was openly trying to win me, and my family’s backing, over to his side. He even dropped heavy hints that, with him, I could eventually become the First Lady, the matriarch of the next generation. Hilarious. Been there, done that, got the T-shirt. It’s an exhausting job, really.

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My girlfriend worked at a club downtown. I thought she was the most precious thing in the world, but then she turned around and crawled into bed with my best friend since childhood. And she told me, her whole goal in working at that club… was always him! I thought she was trying to land a rich guy, but the truth was… 01 My buddy Leo hit me up, wanting to go to this club he knew. Said it was crawling with gorgeous women. Me, single since basically birth, hesitated for like half a second before saying yes. Leo was a regular there. The second we walked in, a hostess rushed over, practically fawning over him. “Leo, my man! The Velvet Lounge again tonight?” Leo didn’t say anything, just raised his eyebrows. The hostess got the message immediately and slipped away to get things ready. Compared to Leo, who navigated the club like he owned the place, I probably looked like a total newbie. Which, yeah, I was. It was my first time in a place like this. The multi-colored lights flashing everywhere, the dance floor packed with beautiful women… I felt my heart pounding in my throat, adrenaline surging. I felt a little out of place, but also kind of excited about what might happen next. Leo saw me standing there awkwardly and threw an arm around my shoulder with a laugh. “Dude, relax! This is basically my spot. Don’t be so uptight. Let loose. Anything happens, I got your back!” Hearing that, I managed a smile and nodded. Leo and I were different, even though we grew up together. Our lives had taken completely different paths. I went the straight-and-narrow route: four-year college degree, then landed a job at a well-known public company right after graduation. I was doing okay, pulling down a six-figure salary. He, on the other hand, dropped out of junior high and started running the streets. His biggest advantage? He hit the genetic lottery. Good old dad. His father was one of the wealthiest businessmen in our area, owned a huge cosmetics company. Leo was born late in their lives, so they treated him like gold. No matter how much of a screw-up Leo was, someone always cleaned up his messes. He wanted to be a street guy? His dad threw money and connections around until he was some kind of big shot with his own crew to boss around. Seeing Leo live so freely, I couldn’t help but feel a little envious. Seriously, comparing yourself to others will just make you miserable. They say all roads lead to Rome, but Leo was practically born there. Guys like me, from regular backgrounds, we could bust our asses our whole lives and probably never reach the level he started at. “Come on, man, what are you still standing there for? Let’s go have some real fun,” Leo’s voice pulled me back. He gave a little whistle my way, then stuffed his hands in his pockets and swaggered into the VIP section. I hurried to keep up. Before I even got settled on the plush sofa, a line of ridiculously hot girls came in. They all wore the same tight little uniforms, but each had a different number pinned to her chest. Seeing them lined up like that, ready to be picked, felt weirdly like browsing produce at a farmer’s market or something. Leo didn’t waste any time. He pointed out two girls with heavy makeup who looked sharp, like they knew how to work a room. He pulled them down, one on each side, without a hint of awkwardness. While Leo was getting cozy with his choices, I noticed one girl standing off to the side. She also had heavy makeup, but she looked really young. Her face fell when Leo didn’t pick her, and she clenched her fists so hard I could almost hear her knuckles crack. She looked genuinely pissed. What’s her deal? I thought to myself. She’s that upset just because Leo didn’t choose her? I couldn’t help but let out a small, surprised chuckle. Just then, Leo turned to me. “Jake, you gotta pick one too. Got a few more buddies coming later. Let’s get this party started, warm things up.” “Huh? Me? Pick one?” Happiness, or maybe just shock, hit me so suddenly my face flushed bright red. After shuffling awkwardly for a moment, I pointed to the innocent-looking one who’d been giving Leo the eye. But she didn’t seem thrilled to be chosen by me. Her face screamed reluctance. Leo noticed and got annoyed. He stepped over and pinched her cheek, his eyes suddenly cold. “Aren’t you all here for the same thing? Drop the innocent act. If you disrespect my boy tonight, I’ll make you seriously regret it.” The girl didn’t say a word, just kept staring at Leo. Her face was blank; I couldn’t guess what she was thinking. “Hey, hey, come on,” I quickly jumped in to smooth things over. “We’re just here to have fun, right? Don’t scare the poor girl.” “This is my best friend, practically my brother,” Leo said, letting go of her face but keeping his voice icy. “You better show him some respect.” His tone was calm, but the words left no room for argument. But hearing how close Leo and I apparently were, the girl’s expression instantly relaxed. She even managed a smile. “Oh, Leo, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it. I’ll take really good care of your friend.” Leo nodded, satisfied. Then he leaned close to my ear and whispered, “Nice eye, Jake. Trust my experience, that one looks brand new. You’re gonna have some fun tonight.” I just smiled without saying anything back. Leo really was an expert when it came to women. To put it mildly, he was the king of players, totally wild. But he wasn’t infallible. One time, things got really bad, led to two deaths, apparently. His dad spent a fortune cleaning up that mess. Leo didn’t seem to learn much from it, though. It wasn’t long before he was right back to playing the field. Watching him now, looking kind of sleazy as he poured drinks down the throats of the two girls beside him, I pursed my lips. I felt a bit awkward, a bit out of my element. “Hey, drink some water.” The girl I’d picked noticed my discomfort. She held out a glass of water, smiling. I took the glass from her, looking straight at her for a few moments. From the way she’d reacted to Leo, it was pretty clear her real interest wasn’t me. It was him. Even though she was sitting next to me now, her eyes kept darting over to Leo. Makes sense, I guess. Leo, the bad boy, had this magnetic charm. Plenty of young girls threw themselves at him. I took a small sip of water. Suddenly, I got this jolt of recognition. There was something familiar about her face, her eyes… like I’d seen her somewhere before. 02 I mentioned it, asked if we’d met before. She just shook her head, looking blank. Said she’d just arrived from some rural town way out in the sticks with a friend from back home. Tonight was her first time actually working the floor. “Oh,” I said, and let it drop. I turned back to drinking with Leo’s buddies who had shown up. One thing about Leo, say what you will, he was loyal to his friends. Even though we were in totally different places in life now, he’d helped me out a few times when I was really down. So yeah, I considered him a solid friend. After maybe a dozen shots of hard liquor, I was starting to feel pretty dizzy. Leo looked at me with a mischievous grin. “A night like this is priceless, Jake. Wanna tap out early?” I tried to shake my head no, but my body wasn’t listening. I stumbled and basically fell right into the lap of the girl I’d picked. When I woke up, it was the next morning. I opened my eyes, my head absolutely pounding. The girl lying next to me stirred, woken up by my movement. She wasn’t wearing anything. She looked at me, suddenly shy. “You’re awake? Last night, we…” I wasn’t exactly inexperienced. Seeing the tell-tale red stain on the white sheets, I knew exactly what had happened last night. “What? You expect me to take responsibility or something?” My tone wasn’t exactly friendly right then. Okay, so it was her first time, but she was still a club girl. That whole scene was murky, full of hidden depths. People there definitely weren’t as innocent as they might look on the surface. The last thing I needed was to get tangled up with someone complicated, someone who might try to shake me down for money later. “I… I… I didn’t mean that…” she stammered. “It was my choice. All of it. I just wanted to ask… since it was my first time… could you maybe give me a little extra money?” The girl lowered her head, biting her lip hard. She looked incredibly small and vulnerable, like she was about to burst into tears. “Okay, okay, I get it. You didn’t mean anything by it,” I said, softening a little. Seeing her like that tugged at something in me. I asked her if she wanted to leave the club life, told her I could help her find a regular job. She shook her head. She said she had reasons, unavoidable circumstances, for working there. Her name was Ashley, she told me. She grew up in some super remote, dirt-poor mountain area. She had four older brothers and one older sister. Because they were so poor, none of her brothers could afford to get married even though they were old enough. Her parents were worried sick. Originally, her parents wanted to basically trade her – marry her off and use the dowry money to get wives for her brothers. But with four brothers needing wives, even selling her off multiple times wouldn’t be enough. So, the only option was for her to go out and earn money to send back home. “I came here with a friend from my village,” she explained. “She’s been working here a long time. You can tell it pays really well. Her family built a three or four-story house back home, and both her brothers got married.” As she talked about this, Ashley’s eyes, which seemed so untouched by the world, started to shine. She looked hopeful, excited, her cheeks flushing pink. “Uh… so, do you actually know what working at a club like this involves?” Seeing her naivety, a pang of sympathy hit me. I frowned, my brow furrowing. She actually reached out and smoothed my forehead with her hand. “I know. It’s just sleeping with people, right? Look, last night, I successfully gave away my first time, didn’t I?” “Don’t feel sorry for me,” she continued. “I didn’t even finish elementary school before I had to quit and help my parents in the fields. I know a girl like me can’t find a good job in the city.” “Working here, the money’s fast and it’s good. What’s wrong with that? It’s just my body, right? They can have it. My life isn’t worth much anyway. I’m not afraid.” Ashley said it all so matter-of-factly. Hearing her put it like that, I suddenly felt like maybe I was the one being narrow-minded. What’s that saying? If I don’t have morals, you can’t guilt-trip me. Ashley’s blunt honesty kind of shut me down. All the preachy, concerned advice I wanted to give just wouldn’t come out. I got her contact info – added her on a messaging app – and sent her a decent chunk of money. “This is for you. Don’t rush to send it all home. Make sure you eat well, take care of yourself. Things are expensive in the city, don’t let yourself go without.” Ashley accepted the money instantly and even sent back a “Thanks, Boss!” sticker with a smiley face. Seeing her light up at the sight of the money, so obviously happy, a crazy thought popped into my head. She was new to this scene, didn’t know anything, and she’d given her virginity – something girls supposedly treasure – to me. I didn’t want this blank slate to get covered in all sorts of ugly colors. So, I just blurted it out, “How about you be my girlfriend? Quit the club. I’ll take care of you.” Ashley looked hesitant, opening her mouth like she wanted to say something. But maybe because she’d just taken my money, she didn’t actually refuse. Her eyes darted around for a second, then she asked me something totally out of the blue, “What’s your relationship with Leo?” I didn’t suspect anything, so I didn’t hold back. I told her straight up that Leo and I were childhood best friends, super tight. If I asked him for anything, he’d move mountains to help me out. Hearing this, Ashley’s eyes lit up again. She readily agreed to be my girlfriend. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t quite right, but I couldn’t put my finger on exactly what it was. 03 Ashley had that innocent, girl-next-door vibe. She actually looked a lot like a famous actress known for her sweet, angelic image. Her personality was great too – really gentle and considerate. Aside from not having much education, she was pretty much the perfect kept woman, a little songbird in a gilded cage. So, we fell hard and fast, settling into this blissful, passionate life together. She took care of the apartment, cooking and cleaning like some kind of domestic goddess while I went out and made the money to support us both. Sometimes, I’d see her tending to plants on the balcony, looking so peaceful and content, and I’d actually think about marrying her, keeping her safe forever. We clicked in almost every way, but I always sensed this invisible barrier between us, something I couldn’t quite define. She was good to me, almost too good, in a way that felt… performed. Like she was deliberately trying to please me to get something in return. We were happy together for a while. The only slightly weird thing was how she’d occasionally ask questions about Leo. Nothing major, just little things. Once, I teased her about it. “What? You still got a thing for Leo?” “That’s ridiculous! How could I possibly like him?” she shot back defensively. “If you keep talking nonsense, I’m gonna have to get rough with you,” she added, playfully raising a small fist like she was going to punch my arm. I laughed it off and then asked the question that, looking back now, I regret more than anything. “Haha, yeah, I guess you’re right. With a great guy like me around, who’d still be thinking about him?” “He asked me to grab dinner this weekend. Wanna come along?” She pretended to hesitate for a second, then nodded yes. At the time, I figured that our first meeting at the club was also her first time seeing Leo. I assumed she was just struck by this guy who oozed bad-boy charm. I never imagined that her being with me was never about me. It was always about using me to get to Leo. Even when I walked in on them together, caught them red-handed, my mind couldn’t process it. I refused to believe it. A wave of dizziness washed over me; I almost passed out right there. When the hell did they start hooking up behind my back? 04 Thinking back, it finally clicked. They must have started sneaking around right after that dinner party. I remember that night, Ashley and I went together. Before we left, she spent ages getting ready, putting on makeup, picking out the perfect outfit. Seeing her looking even more beautiful than usual, I just felt proud, happy to show her off. No sense of danger at all. Having a girlfriend that stunning turned heads everywhere we went. Nothing seemed obviously wrong that night, just a casual dinner between friends. But if I really strained to find suspicious details… maybe it was how nervous and clumsy Ashley got when Leo showed up. She dropped and broke like, three glasses in a row. And later, when we’d all had a fair bit to drink, Ashley excused herself to go to the restroom. Leo followed her out almost immediately. They were both gone for a good half hour before they came back to the table separately. After Ashley returned, she wouldn’t meet Leo’s eyes for the rest of the night, and her face was flushed really red. At the time, I just assumed she’d had too much wine. Now I know better. It’s entirely possible that back then, thanks to me playing matchmaker without even knowing it, they hit it off and snuck off to the bathroom to do god knows what! Love is a blinding light, alright. Blinding me with how badly I was being played. I never thought Ashley could be that kind of person! No, wait. That’s wrong. I was the one who thought too highly of her, projecting some kind of idealized image onto her. She worked in a nightclub. How pure could she really be? I was the clown all along. Just fooling myself. Catching them in the act, I was furious. I lunged at Leo and just started wailing on him, punching him hard. He didn’t even seem mad, just kept that stupid grin on his face. “Dude, chill out, okay? It’s just a woman.” “Bros before hos, right? Friends are forever, girls are like clothes. So I tried on one of your shirts, big deal. Don’t let some chick ruin our friendship, man. Not worth it.” Seeing him act so casual about it, like it was nothing, snapped me back to reality. I realized I couldn’t associate with scum like this anymore, someone with such a warped sense of morality. That incident from a few years back, the one that cost lives, clearly hadn’t taught him a damn thing. After his dad bailed him out, he probably felt invincible, like he could do whatever he wanted without consequences. How could I have been friends with someone like this for so many years? That was my mistake. I own that. As for Ashley, after I caught them, we had a massive blowout fight. I demanded to know when she started hooking up with Leo, and why him? She was surprisingly honest. Said Leo was always her Plan A. He was the one she wanted from the start. She admitted she’d used my phone ages ago to send his contact info to herself and had been secretly talking to him ever since. That dinner party was just her opportunity to finally make her move on him. And me? I was just a tool, a stepping stone to get closer to Leo. The ultimate sucker, the biggest backup plan ever! “Don’t even ask me why I chose him,” she spat. “Aren’t you just embarrassing yourself?” “Because Leo’s family has money! He can give me a better life.” “I told you from the beginning, I have huge family responsibilities! I wasn’t lucky like you, an only child. I have to make serious money to buy houses and wives for my brothers!” “Honestly? Leo was my target from day one. I did a lot of prep work for it. Getting stuck with you was just bad luck, totally derailed my plans!” I watched Ashley pack her bags, ranting about how useless I was. Words formed in my throat, but I swallowed them down. I just stood there and watched her storm out. Could I blame her? Maybe. Mostly, I just hated her. Hated her and Leo both. Wished that pair of cheating dogs would get into a fatal car accident or meet some other miserable end! But even then, I never imagined that Ashley’s karma would arrive so quickly. 05 Some time after Ashley and I broke up, I went to the hospital for a routine check-up and ran into her completely by chance. She looked so different it took me a moment to even recognize her. I couldn’t connect the worn-out, almost old-looking woman standing before me with the innocent, fresh-faced beauty I remembered. Seeing the crumpled lab slip in her hand, I had a pretty good idea of what was going on, but I asked anyway, just to twist the knife a little. “How come Leo isn’t here with you?” I pretended to be concerned, but really, I was mocking her. So, this was the life you wanted, Ashley? Doesn’t look quite as glamorous as you probably imagined. “He… he’s busy, I guess,” she forced a pale smile. “This baby… he doesn’t want it.” I didn’t say anything else. But she started talking anyway, whether I wanted to hear it or not, pouring out everything that had happened since she left me. She said that because our friendship fell apart due to her, Leo was furious and took it all out on her. He blamed her, saying if she hadn’t tempted him, he and I would still be tight, wouldn’t have had that falling out. Despite Leo’s explosive temper, she hadn’t thought about leaving. Instead, she used every trick in the book, stopping at nothing to manipulate her way into marrying him, into becoming part of the family. We all knew what kind of person Leo was. So, it wasn’t exactly shocking to hear that after the wedding, he treated her horribly. Domestic violence was routine. Forcing her to get rid of pregnancies was routine. Bringing other women home to spend the night was even more routine. “Seriously?” I sneered, disgusted by this materialistic woman. “He treats you like that, and you still won’t leave? Just because he has money?” Risking your entire life for stuff you can’t take with you when you die – was it really worth it? “I have my reasons… things I have to do…” “Ugh, when you find out, you’ll understand,” Ashley sighed. She dropped that cryptic line, then hunched over, clutching her stomach, and walked away. Watching her lonely figure retreat down the hallway, I felt a mix of confusing emotions. What kind of spell had Leo cast on her? What made her willingly jump into this pit of fire and refuse to climb out, even when it was killing her? 06 I hated her, I really did. But seeing her life in such shambles, a flicker of pity sparked in me. Memories of the sweet times we shared started playing on repeat in my head. But I knew, deep down, there was absolutely no going back for us. Meeting her, loving her… it felt like a dream. Now the dream was over, and it was time to get back to my real life, the path I was supposed to be on. Time flew by, and suddenly I was hitting thirty. Pressured by my parents, I started going on arranged dates, meeting women through introductions. I eventually found someone whose background and life goals seemed compatible with mine. We clicked well enough, set a date, and planned the wedding. Looking at my gentle, well-mannered fiancée, I could already picture our future life together. We’d be respectful, polite, build a stable, quiet existence. But sometimes, late at night, when the house was silent, I’d find myself missing that other woman – the one with the innocent face but the spirit of a wildcat. Images of her, her smile, the way she moved, still flickered in the back of my mind. I wondered how she was doing, if she’d found any happiness after all. One morning after we got married, my wife was scrolling through her phone at the breakfast table and gasped. “Oh my god, this is horrifying!” “What’s so shocking you have to yell about it? Just eat your breakfast,” I grumbled without looking up, annoyed she was glued to her phone during a meal, making a scene. “I know, sorry, but this news story is just… wow. This woman, she poisoned her entire family-in-law! And then… she castrated her husband…” My wife trailed off, clapping a hand over her mouth, looking genuinely shaken and scared. “It’s a big world, lots of crazy stuff happens. Calm down,” I said, finishing the last of my orange juice and pushing my chair back, ready to leave for work. But what my wife said next froze me in place. Still looking at the news on her phone, she shook her head. “It’s such a waste, though. After killing them all, she turned herself in. Look at her picture – even without makeup, she’s really pretty. With a little effort, she’d be absolutely gorgeous. Why would someone throw their life away like this?” “Oh, right, her name is Ashley.”

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I retired in the summer of 2022. As a cop, I’ve handled more cases than I can count, but if you ask me which one sticks out the most, it’d have to be the summer of 2000. I got a call about a new case. At first, I thought it was a prank call. I mean, in all my years on the force, I’d never gotten a report about a dead pig. But duty calls. I took a rookie, Jake Miller, with me out to the slaughterhouse on the edge of town. It wasn’t until I got there that I realized how messed up this whole thing was. 1 It was July, scorching hot. The smell of the slaughterhouse, intensified by the heat, was unbelievable. The moment we stepped inside, Jake clamped his hand over his nose. Less than a minute later, he muttered, “Can’t do it,” turned around, and bolted outside. Honestly, I could barely stand it myself. Back then, the facilities were basic. Two huge concrete pools dominated the center of the floor. They filled them with water in the morning and didn’t change it all day. By now, the water was thick and red, reeking of grease and something else… something foul that crawled up your nostrils and punched the back of your brain. Above the pools, two rows of steel pipes ran along each side, studded with dozens of rusty hooks. On the far side, carcasses hung, freshly slaughtered today. The muscles were still twitching, spasming. “Who called this in?” My eyes swept the area, my gaze hard. The feeling that this was a prank grew stronger. Cell phones were becoming more common. Some kid probably got hold of their parents’ phone, heard the pigs squealing in here, got scared, and dialed 911. We’d been pranked plenty of times. “I did.” A few seconds later, a faint voice came from deeper inside. Sounded like a grown man. I walked further in, the glaring red of the floor making my eyes ache. The concrete floor wasn’t even, pitted and uneven. Blood pooled in the depressions, covered with a layer of pinkish foam. The thick metallic tang of blood hit me hard. Even after years as a cop, it was almost too much. Innards were scattered everywhere, especially the intestines, spilling their contents, mixing with the blood. The stench made you want to gag. You couldn’t stand it for more than a second. “What’s going on here?” Why wasn’t this… thing… hanging on a hook like the others? Why was it just dumped on the floor in pieces? I forced myself to look calm as I turned to the owner standing behind me, my eyes sharp, trying to read him. “Officer, I don’t even know how to answer that. This ain’t no pig!” The owner sounded genuinely baffled, almost offended, looking at me with wide, confused eyes. His answer threw me. If it wasn’t a pig, what was it? Its head was lying right there, on top of a pile of actual pig heads, dripping blood. Clearly just chopped off. The ears, the snout… weren’t they pig parts? I watched the owner, wary. Something was definitely wrong here. Seeing my disbelief, the owner got agitated, gesturing wildly at the mess on the floor, his voice urgent. “I been slaughtering pigs for fifteen years, Officer! Don’t you think I know a pig when I see one? Those ain’t pig bones.” He raised his voice, loud enough for Jake to hear from outside. Jake poked his head back in, saw the scene, almost gagged again, but managed to hold it together this time. “Take a look! Does that look human to you?” Despite my own unease, I wasn’t a medical examiner. I’d heard pigs and humans had similar structures, but looking at this… mess… I couldn’t tell a damn thing. Jake, though, the rookie, was fresh out of the academy, top of his class. He’d even taken some forensic science courses. Not an expert, but he knew his way around human bones better than I did. He picked up one of the trotters, examined it closely, then stared hard at the pile of heads for a long moment. Finally, he looked at me. “Boss,” he said, his voice low but certain. “I’m sure of it. This is a person.” 2 What? A person? But it looked exactly like a pig! Even cut in half, how could a human torso be that… fat? And the limbs… so thick and short, you couldn’t make out fingers or toes. How could that possibly be human? But Jake, despite his lack of street experience, had a reputation from his training. Supposedly, he’d impressed some big names in forensics. His specialty was spotting human bone fragments mixed in with other remains, fast. So, I didn’t doubt his conclusion. I immediately radioed HQ. This just became a homicide investigation. The slaughterhouse owner was now our prime suspect. But he swore up and down the delivery came from a pig farm, same as always. He hadn’t even looked closely; just moved them down the line. This… victim… was the last one. It had struggled violently, refusing to cooperate, so they left it for the end. Of course, it struggled. It wasn’t a pig. It had a human brain. Why would it walk willingly onto the kill floor? “The victim’s tongue was cut out,” Jake reported grimly, his eyes blazing with anger. “And the limbs… they were surgically altered. Excess parts removed to match pig proportions, then pig trotters were sewn on. As for the head…” Jake sighed heavily. “It’s mostly filler material. Where they couldn’t fill it, they grafted pig tissue, just like the limbs.” He paused, his voice trembling with rage. “And all of this… all of this was done while the victim was still alive.” Hearing that, I stared at the butchered remains on the floor. I couldn’t even begin to imagine the agony someone would endure going through that while conscious. My hands clenched into fists. I swore to myself I’d catch the monster responsible, and fast. HQ sent a team out right away. Their reaction, when they learned the remains were human, was the same as mine: shock and disgust. Back at the precinct, the Captain made this case top priority. The Medical Examiner confirmed Jake’s initial findings. The victim was female, approximately 25 years old. In the prime of her life. How could something like this happen? “Anyone report a missing person matching that description recently?” The answer kept coming back negative. Based on the slaughterhouse owner’s statement, we focused on the delivery driver. His name was Gary. His regular job was hauling pigs from the farm to the slaughterhouse. He’d been working with the owner for years, considered reliable. “You think maybe the driver wanted to kill someone and used this method?” Jake frowned, looking over the initial report. I stayed silent, not jumping to conclusions. I just told them to bring Gary in for questioning. This case was full of holes. It felt like something too elaborate for one person to pull off alone. Soon, Gary was brought in. Facing me, he looked terrified. “I don’t know anything about that, Officer! Honest to God, I don’t know!” Gary blurted out before I even asked a question, desperate to proclaim his innocence. Jake, taking notes beside me, shot me a look. We both turned to Gary simultaneously. “How did you know it was a person,” I asked quietly, “and not a pig?” 3 Seeing no way out, Gary finally spilled the beans. “Look, it was just like any other day,” he started, his voice shaky. “I drove out to the farm around five AM to pick up the load. But I’d been up late the night before, kinda drowsy on the road. After I left the farm, I pulled over for a quick nap.” He paused, rubbing his face as if reliving it. “Next thing I know, I wake up, and there’s this… pig… right in front of my truck. Figured it must’ve jumped out, so I got out to wrangle it back in.” Gary explained that a full-grown hog weighs a couple hundred pounds easy. He had an old shoulder injury, no way he could lift it alone. Luckily, it was getting light out, and some traffic started appearing on the road. He tried flagging someone down. Took a while, but eventually, a guy stopped to help. Even with two of them, Gary said, it was a real struggle getting that modified ‘pig’ back onto the truck. So, unknowingly, the two of them had just sent a tortured human being to their death. Afterward, Gary couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. For a pig that size, it felt way too light. He remembered thinking the fat looked weird, almost fake, bulging in strange places. And there were stitches all over its body. Who stitches up a pig? But at the time, he couldn’t imagine what else it could be. The other guy had called it a pig too. Despite the weirdness, the ears and trotters looked real enough. Those were definitely pig parts. It wasn’t until he heard the news about something gruesome found at the slaughterhouse that his suspicions clicked into place. “So why didn’t you come to us right away?” I pressed. Withholding information is obstruction. Gary looked down at his hands, shamefaced. “I ain’t never been in trouble with the law before. Heard about what happened… just didn’t want no part of it.” It made sense, in a way. Most ordinary folks just want to keep their heads down, stay out of trouble. Something like this? You want to be as far away from it as possible. Gary was just a regular guy. Ever since the slaughterhouse opened up near his town, driving that truck was his life. Simple routine. Besides, he clearly didn’t have the means or the know-how to turn a person into… that. After a short interview, we let him go home. I ran a tired hand over my face, turning my attention back to the computer screen, pulling up traffic cam footage. But the slaughterhouse and the farm were both out in the sticks. Gary took the outer loops, bypass roads. The only cameras were at major intersections with traffic lights. We watched footage all day. Nothing. “Boss, we found the victim’s family!” Just as my frustration peaked, Jake burst in with some potentially good news. “They reported their daughter missing about a month ago,” Jake continued, then hesitated. “But… their reactions are kinda strange.” At first, I figured it was just parents overwhelmed by grief. But I never expected the kind of conflict we walked into. “She’s dead, so she’s dead! Why do you insist on coming down here to identify her?” the father snapped, glaring at the weeping woman beside him, showing her no courtesy right in front of us. The woman, however, reacted exactly as you’d expect a grieving mother to. “Officer, please, can I just see my daughter? Just one look, I’m begging you,” she sobbed, her cries like little daggers twisting in my gut. But I couldn’t agree. No mother should see her child like that. I signaled a female officer to take her aside, try to comfort her, while I focused on the cold-hearted father. His name was George Vance. “Mr. Vance,” I began, pouring him a glass of water. “Why do you feel this way about your daughter?” I needed to hear his side of the story, learn about the victim. Her name was Denise Vance.

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To celebrate my divorce, my best friend hooked me up with a young ‘puppy’ type. I definitely enjoyed myself, but the next day, paranoia kicked in, and I went to the clinic for a check-up. And guess what? The attending physician was my freaking ex-husband. 01 I’m 25 years old, newly divorced. When my friends heard the news, they cooked up a massive “surprise” for me. And just like that, this 25-year-old divorcee officially became… well, let’s just say I crossed a line I hadn’t crossed before. 2 Daylight. The guy who’d been in my bed was gone. Rubbing my temples, I called my best friend, Alex. Her voice came through the phone, giggling. “So, Chloe? How was it?” How it was wasn’t the point! “Who was the guy last night?” It was pitch black; I didn’t get a good look at him. “Oh, you know him.” “Who?” “Remember how you made that big declaration? That after the divorce, you’d find some cute young guy to soothe your soul? So, we contacted that guy you’ve been chatting with forever. The one you said was hitting on you online for like a year? The one you were thinking about meeting IRL but kept chickening out on… that ‘puppy’…” BOOM. My brain felt like it exploded. 3 Who doesn’t love unwinding with video games these days? Especially someone like me, whose real life felt like a dumpster fire, desperate for a digital escape? Right before my ex and I officially split, I got seriously hooked on this popular online shooter game. That’s when I met him… the online ‘puppy.’ He started out as a Bronze rank player. I figured he was a total newbie. But after a few matches, he completely carried me. From then on, before the divorce, whenever I logged on, I’d beg him to play with me. The night I signed the divorce papers with my ex, Ben, I got wasted. I vaguely remember crying and venting to the ‘puppy’ through my headset. I called Ben an asshole, said he wasn’t even a real man! This ‘puppy’ guy was great in every way, except he never showed his face, never wanted to voice chat. All I knew from his profile was that he was only 20. I’d never actually heard his voice speak clearly. But that night, I heard him say, in this incredibly low, husky, controlled voice, “Chloe… maybe we should try…” 4 Ben and I also met online, way back in the AOL Instant Messenger days. We dated online for five years before finally meeting up IRL. Two dates later, we were married. So, when the ‘puppy’ confessed his feelings, my drunken brain sobered up instantly. So that’s what his silence was hiding – this massive curveball. Little punk, hitting on anyone he could find. After my experience with Ben, I was terrified! I took a deep breath, tapped my headset mic, and yelled, “Hello? Hello? What did you say? My connection’s breaking up, this stupid internet…” Then, I pretended my game crashed and bailed! But from that day forward, the ‘puppy’ launched a full-on charm offensive. He still didn’t talk much, but he texted constantly. Sometimes, after a gaming session, we’d chat on messenger. He’d send tons of those secretly intense emojis and gifs – you know, the little animated guy bumping against another one, or the kitten stretching its paws out asking for a hug… And occasionally, late at night— When all the grown-up animals and people start feeling restless—he’d send those husky, raspy voice messages— “Chloe? Wanna meet up?” My reply: “Thanks, but no thanks!” 5 Alex’s voice snapped me back to reality. I was practically crying into the phone, feeling utterly miserable. “Uh… Chloe… you… you okay?” Alex asked hesitantly. I managed a bitter laugh. “Thanks to you geniuses, I’m just peachy. Look, I gotta go.” Before she could say another word, I hung up. Because of Ben’s profession (he’s a doctor), I’ve always been super careful about my health. I scrambled out of bed, needing to clean myself up and get to a clinic ASAP for a check-up. 6 Half an hour later, I was at Northwestern Memorial Hospital. Don’t ask why this specific hospital; it’s just the closest one to my apartment. I skulked towards the OB/GYN clinic, deliberately checking the doctors’ schedule posted by the door. Phew, his name wasn’t on it. Soon, it was my turn. The female doctor looked new; she didn’t recognize me. Head down, she called out, “Chloe Miller…” “I’ll take this one.” A hand reached past me, grabbing the chart. Then, a tall figure brushed past my side. I froze, every muscle tense. The female doctor gently pushed me into the chair. “This is Dr. Carter, he’s the best doctor in our department. Please don’t feel uncomfortable just because he’s male.” Beneath my mask, I forced a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. Ben Carter. Like I didn’t know if he was a good doctor or not? My ex-husband! Quickly, the female doctor left the room. Ben sat down at the computer, typing away, and asked without looking up, “What seems to be the problem?” “…” When I didn’t answer, he continued, “I know you hate me, Chloe. But right now, we’re just doctor and patient.” This time, he looked up. His eyes were cold, distant – his standard treating-a-stranger look. Right. Ex-husband = Stranger. Okay, no need to act like I was caught having an affair. I stated calmly, “It hurts. Down there.” I kept it brief. And damn it, he understood immediately. He snapped his head back to look at me, his gaze intense, complicated, unreadable. Then, just as quickly, his expression smoothed over. “Okay. Pants off, lie down on the exam table, legs apart.” This… Knowing his ex-wife just slept with someone else, this was his reaction? Couldn’t he at least show a little annoyance? Make me squirm a bit?! Intent on provoking him, I complied, saying as I climbed onto the table, “Yeah, things got a little… wild yesterday. You should probably take a look.” But I underestimated Ben’s self-control. He actually picked up the instruments and walked towards me, replying calmly, “Alright.” Alright, my ass! 7 “Wait!” I suddenly yelled. Ben paused, frowning at me. “It looks swollen. I need to examine it more closely.” This whole situation felt surreal. Before we were married, when Ben was chasing me, he was horny as hell, always trying to get me into a hotel room. Back then, I was playing coy, thinking we’d be married soon, let him wait. But then, after the wedding – after all that supposed pent-up frustration – he barely touched me for the entire year we were married! 365 days! It made no sense! Thinking about the cold shoulder treatment I endured back then just made me want nothing to do with him now. I shoved his hand away, jumped off the exam table, and blurted out some bullshit excuse, “Oh! I just remembered I have a date with my boyfriend. Gotta go.” With that, I bolted out of the clinic, practically flying out of the hospital. I was catching my breath, squatting by the curb, when my phone buzzed. I pulled it out. Speak of the devil. My “boyfriend” had sent me a voice message on messenger. He said: “Hey Chloe, just call me anytime you need me, okay?” 8 “Need you like I need a hole in the head…” I started typing that into the chatbox, then instinctively glanced over my shoulder. My ex-husband just happened to be walking past with a few colleagues, and he casually glanced at my phone screen. Ha! I quickly deleted the text and switched to voice message instead. “Okay, baby! I’ll hit you up tonight. Sheraton, downtown. Don’t be late!” After sending it, I flagged down a cab like some triumphant peacock. The second I got in the car, I scrambled to retract the message, but he’d already read it. Not only read it, he replied instantly. “Okay Chloe, waiting for you! ” My mind just fried! Desperate to explain, I tried calling him via the app. It rang once, then he disconnected. WTF?? Tried again. He hung up again! Wasn’t even giving me a chance to backtrack?! As I was about to try a third time, he sent a picture first. You know the kind. The unsolicited transformation pic. Everything below the neck was visible – six-pack abs, V-line… crystal clear. Thump thump thump— Damn it. I was kind of tempted. I had to admit, the thing I liked most about my ex was his body. This ‘puppy’ was even more eye-candy than Ben. Gulp. I literally heard myself swallow. Then the ‘puppy’ sent another voice message— “Chloe, let me be your boyfriend. Please? Don’t look for other guys, okay?”

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Six months ago, my wife vanished without a trace. Six months later, I watched her get bought by another man, like some kind of toy. It all started with that trip she took. 1. My wife’s name was Sarah. Twenty-nine years old, with looks and a figure that could give some B-list actresses a run for their money. The kind of drop-dead gorgeous woman who turns every head on the street, twice. That day, Sarah said a girlfriend had invited her on a trip, and she’d be back in a couple of days. I didn’t ask where she was going, just told her to be safe. I even Venmo’d her five hundred bucks. But three days later, her phone went straight to voicemail. Then, nothing. Complete radio silence. I rushed down to the police station to file a missing person report. The officer told me the last place her phone pinged was at LAX. Based on my description of the situation, the cops guessed Sarah might have ended up somewhere south of the border, maybe Mexico, maybe further. Hearing “south of the border” immediately brought to mind all those horror stories you see online – cartel kidnappings, organ harvesting, human trafficking, electric shocks, women being abused… terrifying stuff. That day, practically choking back tears, I begged the police to do whatever it took to bring her back. But they told me they could only do their best. After all, nobody knew for sure if she’d really gone down there. A month later, a video clip from my buddy Nate confirmed the police’s hunch. Sarah was definitely somewhere bad, caught up in something dangerous. It felt like I’d been plunged into ice water. My wife, always so careful, so cautious – how could she end up in a place like that? The video was maybe twenty seconds long. Through the shaky camera work, you could tell it was a big casino. At least twenty gambling tables visible. Gamblers totally engrossed in their games. And there was Sarah, wearing a skimpy black bikini, bunny ears perched on her head. Smiling the whole time as she dealt cards at one of the tables. Seeing that, one term immediately jumped into my head: casino bunny dealer. Sarah hated gambling with a passion. How the hell did she end up dealing cards in some shady casino down south? No, impossible, this isn’t real, I thought. But it was unmistakably Sarah. What made my blood boil, though, was seeing guys openly groping her. Shoving cash into her bikini top. Slapping her ass. Filthy grins plastered on their faces. My fists clenched so hard my knuckles turned white. I was shaking with rage. 2 After watching the video, the first thing I did was track down Nate. Nate used to have a serious gambling problem, but he cleaned up his act and now runs a local poker room. He told me he saw the video circulating in some online group. Recognizing Sarah as the dealer, he forwarded it to me immediately. Nate said the casino she was in was one of the biggest, most notorious operations down there – the “Golden Paradise.” He told me that place didn’t just make money off gambling. They had plenty of other shady, illegal ways to turn a profit. Things like running phone scams, even black market organ trading, were supposedly routine. But the quickest, safest money-maker for them was selling women. Those scum categorized the women they lured or trafficked into four types for sale. Exactly what those categories were, Nate didn’t know. Nate’s words reminded me of a picture Sarah posted on her Instagram three days before she disappeared – a selfie with her “girlfriend.” Damn it. It had to be that bitch who tricked Sarah into going down there. That absolute piece of trash. Don’t let me ever find her. “Nate, man, I know you’ve got connections. You gotta help me figure something out. Anything to get Sarah back. I’ll do whatever it takes. I’m begging you, man.” “Luke, don’t be like that. You and Sarah helped me out a ton back when I was deep in my gambling mess. But… look, once someone ends up at the ‘Golden Paradise,’ they almost never make it out alive. And once those guys have someone, even the cops have a hard time getting them out quickly.” “So there’s really no other way?” I sank to the floor, completely hopeless. After a long silence, Nate pulled me up. “It’s not completely hopeless, Luke. For Sarah… are you willing to take a gamble?” “Yes. Anything to save Sarah. Whatever it takes. Even my life,” I said, my voice firm. Nate nodded, handed me a cigarette, and told me to wait a second. He pulled out his phone and made several calls. He was speaking in rapid-fire Spanish, using terms I didn’t understand – casino lingo, probably. I knew Nate was trying to reach someone for me. Someone who could get my wife out. 3 After a lot of effort and calling in favors, Nate finally managed to connect me with someone. The “connection” was a guy named Donnie. Nate told me Donnie was probably the only person who could help rescue Sarah. Because the “Golden Paradise” had an unwritten rule. Gamblers who won big could trade their chips for any of the women currently “for sale.” Including the female dealers. Hiring someone to gamble for me – that was the plan, the only plan, to save my wife. My heart was pounding with anxiety when Nate arranged for me to meet Donnie. Seeing him, I was taken aback. The Donnie Nate had described turned out to be a young guy, maybe twenty-five or twenty-six. Casual clothes, canvas sneakers, a standard buzz cut. A crescent-shaped scar curled near the corner of his eye. He looked almost bookish, not at all like a seasoned gambler who’d spent years in casinos. Could a guy this young really rescue my wife from that hellhole? I couldn’t help but doubt it. But Nate swore Donnie was the best gambler he knew. I showed Donnie the video of Sarah. He just muttered two words, “Serves her right,” and got up to leave. Seeing that, I dropped to my knees right there. But the guy didn’t even glance back at me. Nate quickly followed him out, pleading with Donnie to help. Five minutes later, Nate came back to the booth, looking dejected. I knew Donnie had refused. But then, surprisingly, Donnie came back. This time, his eyes seemed a little softer. “Going to the ‘Golden Paradise’ requires at least a hundred grand just to get in the door. You got that?” “No.” Donnie turned to leave again. “But I can sell my house! Donnie, give me three days.” “Three days?” Donnie shook his head. “Those guys are unpredictable, ruthless. Three days from now, I can’t guarantee your wife will still be alive. Don’t let the dealer job fool you. Tomorrow, she could be moved somewhere else.” “Somewhere… somewhere else?!” A cold sweat broke out on my back. I quickly changed my tune. “No, one day! I can get the money together by tomorrow.” “Okay. Tomorrow, 1 PM, at the airport.” As he was leaving, the young man added one more thing. “I gotta tell you upfront. At the table, I’ve got a ninety percent chance of winning. But whether I can actually save your wife, whether she’s even still alive… that’s up to fate.” With that, Donnie left without looking back. What had this young guy been through? His eyes were sharp as knives, and he talked like someone much older. I didn’t have time to dwell on Donnie’s backstory. Back home, I immediately took out a second mortgage on the house. I hit up everyone I knew, borrowed from Nate, my sister, and my brother-in-law. Finally, I scraped together one hundred fifty thousand dollars for the gambling stake. It was everything I had. But to save Sarah, I had to bet it all. Whether we’d win or not, was entirely up to chance now. 4 The next day, I met Donnie at the airport with the $150,000 cash. We first flew down to San Diego, then caught another flight across the border to Tijuana, landing in the infamous “City of Sin.” By the time we got there, it was already 4 PM. The rickety taxi Donnie had arranged beforehand was already waiting. After a bumpy ride lasting over an hour, Donnie and I finally arrived at the casino where Sarah was being held – the “Golden Paradise.” Getting out of the cab, Donnie actually told me to give the driver a thousand bucks. I wasn’t thrilled about it, but I did it anyway. It was now 6 PM. Donnie told me the “Golden Paradise” event where you could trade chips for women didn’t start until 8 PM. So we had two hours to kill, but resting was the last thing on my mind. I just wanted to find Sarah as fast as possible and get her the hell out of there. At the entrance of the “Golden Paradise,” Donnie made a call, speaking Spanish. Soon, four tough-looking guys covered in tattoos came out of the casino. Two of them looked like security, each holding a shotgun, faces grim. They were respectful towards Donnie, but eyed me with suspicion. Not until Donnie said something to them in Spanish did their expressions soften slightly. The shotguns they held were lowered a bit. Then, two of them patted Donnie and me down. After confirming we weren’t carrying any weapons, a bleach-blond guy spoke to me in heavily accented English, “Friend, welcome to ‘Golden Paradise.’ Good luck tonight. Please.” I nodded, forced a smile, and mumbled, “Thanks.” Then, we followed them inside. It was my first time ever in a real casino, and the scene definitely blew me away. The main floor was packed – poker, blackjack, roulette, baccarat, pai gow, slot machines, everything imaginable. Donnie first had someone get us two rooms, then exchanged all our cash for chips. After that, Donnie told me to give each of the four goons ten thousand dollars worth of chips as a tip. Adding the taxi fare and the room cost, we’d already blown through almost fifty grand. This was money I’d scraped together through hell and high water. I started to suspect Donnie might be playing me. Donnie seemed to read my mind. He leaned back on the bed in his room, eyes closed. “You gotta spend money to make money, Luke. If you want to save your wife, this cash has to be spent.” I nodded, pretending to understand. But deep down, I was questioning if this young guy really had the skills. I glanced at the clock on the wall. Just past 7 PM. Still an hour until the “event” started. Every second felt like torture. I just wished time would speed up.

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After the wedding, my billionaire husband insisted on sleeping with 99 different starlets every year. At a gala, Chad accidentally shattered a wine glass and demanded that I, eight months pregnant, get on my knees and clean it up for the “it” girl. As the live stream camera focused on me, my water suddenly broke in front of a million viewers. The “it” girl shrieked and jumped back, “Get a shot of her skirt! That’s so gross!” That night, I hemorrhaged in a nearby restroom and delivered a stillborn baby. Meanwhile, back in the ballroom, my husband was toasting champagne with Brittany, his flavor of the week. I wrapped the dead infant in a napkin and handed it to my mother-in-law. My voice was calm. “I did what you wanted. I delivered the first heir to the Lancaster fortune. Now, can I leave?” 1. My mother-in-law wept, cradling the lifeless bundle. “Honey, is there really no turning back? Chad’s just blind and stupid, but he’s not a bad person, can’t you…” A notification popped up on my phone. It was a live stream of Chad down on one knee, proposing to Brittany, the “it” girl. Fireworks exploded as he sincerely kissed her dress. Brittany, teary-eyed, flashed a diamond ring the size of a pigeon’s egg, already sporting a new designer gown. “Who said Chad was secretly married? This is the proposal! Call me Mrs. Lancaster from now on,” she cooed. The internet went wild. Brittany, overwhelmed by the “Mrs. Lancaster” comments, blushed and hid behind Chad. The comments got bolder. “We need to see Chad and his ‘Mrs.’ kiss!” Chad acted as if I didn’t exist. He pulled Brittany in for a sloppy kiss right in front of the camera. My mother-in-law choked. She thought I’d freak out and grabbed my wrist. “Honey, I’m done. I never should have forced Chad to marry you. Leave. Be free.” But I wasn’t angry. All my life force had drained away when I delivered that stillborn. “Maybe wait until after the funeral…” Looking at the cold little body in my mother-in-law’s arms, my heart ached. Once the baby was buried, Chad’s cruelty would never hurt me again! I agreed. My mother-in-law immediately called Chad. “Mom, I knew you’d call. The proposal was just for Brittany. Is Hope giving you trouble again? Can’t she just leave me alone…” “Chad, you need to come home in three days, or you’ll regret it.” A woman moaned in the background, and Chad laughed. “Are you going to drug me again at the old house? Can Hope handle it with her baby bump?” “Get back here for your son’s funeral! Hope had a miscarriage!” The line went silent for a second. Then, the moaning started again. “Oh, she can just get in line. She can have another one,” he said casually. My mother-in-law slammed the phone down. “Honey, leave after the funeral.” Chapter 2 Chad, unable to reach my mother-in-law, surprisingly came home. “I heard about the miscarriage. How are you? You’re young. You can have another one.” I clenched my fists, my knuckles turning white. This was the first time in five years he had offered to give me a child. I would have been thrilled before, but now, I didn’t want it. I said coldly, “No thanks. I don’t want to have your baby.” Chad’s anger exploded. “Hope, I just offered you a kid! Isn’t that enough? Who do you think you are?” He shoved me onto the couch, ripping at my shirt. “You’ve always wanted a baby, right? Here, I’ll give you one. You’ll be happy now!” I pushed him off, slapping him. “Chad, I don’t want you anymore!” You! I don’t want you! The baby, I don’t want it! This “Mrs. Lancaster” title! I don’t want it either! Chad sneered, “Don’t want it! You think I believe that? You just wanted to trap me with a kid. Don’t pretend you don’t care. If you don’t want to, plenty of other women do!” He brought Brittany home to provoke me. Unlike his other flings, Brittany was pregnant. I was drinking a medicinal broth when Chad walked in. “Brittany’s pregnant. She’s moving in. You have experience, so take care of her.” I laughed. Experience? Eight months of a stillbirth experience? Seeing my lack of reaction, Chad frowned and ordered the butler to prepare a room for Brittany. Brittany pinched her nose at my soup spoon and threw it on the floor. “Oh, is Hope so weak she can’t hold a spoon? I’m afraid you’ll never be able to carry a baby.” She wasn’t the first to insult me. The other women had taunted me the same way. I used to beat them to a pulp. But I felt nothing now. Brittany, ignored, felt like a fool. When Chad returned, she grabbed my wrist and shoved the bowl onto the floor. Then, she screamed and fell. “Hope! I just wanted a sip of your soup. Are you trying to kill Chad’s baby?” The usual act. I used to cry and explain that it wasn’t me. But now, I calmly ladled another bowl and poured it over her head. If she wanted to eat, then she could eat. Brittany shrieked, covered in broth. Chad grabbed me, throwing the bowl. “Hope, are you jealous that she can have my baby? What’s wrong with you?” The broken shards sliced my wrist, and blood gushed out. I fell onto the glass. Chad picked up Brittany, yelling at me. “Apologize to Brittany!” The blood ran down my arm and dripped on the floor. Apologize? I picked up a shard and plunged it into the wound, staring at Chad as I slowly widened the cut. Chad hated my seemingly obedient but defiant attitude. He sneered. “Trying to make me feel sorry for you? You’re overdoing it. One cut on your right wrist isn’t enough. Want a few on your left?” I laughed and said “Okay.” Then, I pulled up my sleeve, revealing my prosthetic arm. Brittany gasped, and Chad frowned, his eyes wide. “Why do you have a prosthetic arm?” My left arm had been crushed five years ago saving Chad. He had panicked, finding the best doctors to fit me with a lifelike prosthetic. But the night I was forced to marry him, he had looked at my arm with disgust. “Using your arm to guilt me. Now you’re Mrs. Lancaster. Don’t let me see that metal thing again!” I wore long sleeves whenever I saw Chad. He had forgotten that I had lost an arm. I thought he would feel guilty. Instead, he scoffed. “You finally brought out the prosthetic to guilt me? Want me to feel bad and treat you better? Fine. You win.” Looking at his smirk, I laughed. Yes, I was winning. I’d be free in three days. Chapter 3 Chad took Brittany to the hospital. I went to my room to pack. I realized that nothing held a shared memory of Chad and me. I opened a basket and took out a baby shoe. The thread was a gift from him. That was all. No love, no wedding. The wedding photos were fake. The pregnancy was the result of being drugged. Five years of misery. I needed to end it. “What cute baby shoes!” Brittany appeared behind me, snatching the shoe. Chad stood there, glancing at me indifferently. “Worthless. She bought them for the baby.” Like always, Chad dismissed me. “She was sent here to have my baby.” I used to cry and wait for Chad to love me again. But I was done. Chad continued. “If you like it, our baby can wear it.” Brittany threw the shoe down and clutched her stomach. “Chad, my stomach hurts. The baby’s things are bad luck. We can’t keep it here!” He glared at the shoe. “Burn it.” I tried to stop him. I watched as Chad threw the shoe into the fire. The love was gone. It was just a shoe. I went to get my passport expedited. When I returned, Chad saw it. “Why do you need a passport?” I was startled. “To take my mom on vacation.” He looked surprised, then scoffed. “The funeral’s in two days, and you’re going on vacation.” “You’re heartless!” I was a heartless fool. I burned myself for love, but Chad didn’t care. That night, Chad came to my room and threw a black card at me. He said he was sorry and that he shouldn’t have hurt me. Then, he pushed me onto the bed. “Come on! Brittany’s pregnant, so I’ll satisfy your baby fever.” I felt sick. I slapped him. “Don’t touch me! I don’t want your baby! Get out!” Chad paused, studying me. I glared back. “Get out!” Chad laughed, wiping the blood from his mouth. “Other women sleep with me for free. Now I’m offering you a black card, and you’re complaining. You’re expensive!” He pinned my hands. “Chad, you’re cheap. I think you’re disgusting. I don’t want your kids!” Chad grabbed my chin. “I gave you two chances! Other women line up to sleep with me and have my babies!” “Don’t regret it! You weren’t meant to be a mother!” Chad slammed my arm into the bed. I wiped my mouth. “Chad! I won’t regret it! I hope you do!” I packed my bags. Two days. Chad, I will be free! Chapter 4 I made it to the funeral. I placed flowers on the grave. Chad walked in with Brittany, then she pulled Chad away so we could be alone. I knew she was up to no good. But I was leaving soon. Brittany whispered, “You’re finally going to be famous!” She swallowed pills and slapped herself, pretending to fall. Blood stained her dress. Reporters rushed in, live streaming. “Why?! Why did you hurt my baby?!” “How can you be so proud? Even if you love my husband, you can’t force me to have an abortion. Please don’t hurt my baby…” Brittany screamed. “Is it because Chad rejected you?” “Did you force her to have an abortion? Are you going to jail?” She had paid them off. I didn’t understand why she would sacrifice her child to hurt me. Chad tied me up and made me kneel in front of Brittany’s bed. “You’re evil. You forced Brittany to have an abortion. She’s a star. You ruined her life!” “She’s kind, but I’m not. Kneel and apologize!” Apologize? I laughed. “She wants me to explain?” Brittany was pale and weak. “I just want a sincere apology. Is the mother of the Lancaster heir not worth your repentance?” Chad squeezed my jaw. “Think before you speak, or you won’t leave this room!” “If I apologize, I can leave?” “Yes, if Brittany forgives you.” I nodded. “Don’t touch me. I’m apologizing.” I knelt. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Lancaster. I loved Chad and schemed to break you up. But you and Chad are meant to be, and a mistress can never break that.” “I’m sorry, Mrs. Lancaster. I was jealous and poisoned you. I killed the Lancaster heir. I’m a murderer!” I banged my head on the floor. Brittany smiled. Chad frowned at the blood. “Stop it!” “Want me to regret this?” He started to pull me up, but I continued banging my head on the floor. She ordered Chad to move the patient to another room She did not want me to escape her, [Pricing Point Here] Chapter 5 “What?” “Hope, she died from banging her head on the floor!” Chad laughed. “You can’t die from hitting your head. She’s trying to scare me. I’ll go see her.” Seeing that Chad didn’t believe him, the guard fell silent. Chad saw my body being wheeled into the morgue. He lost it, barging into the morgue and screaming at them to not touch me. The nurse called my mother-in-law. She arrived and slapped him. “Why can’t she die? You tortured her. Let her be free! Chad, I’m in charge of the funeral. You can’t see her again!” Chad returned to the room and saw my blood. He vomited blood. He curled up on the floor, crying. “Hope, I’m sorry. Hope, please come back.” “I’ll bang my head a million times. Please come back, I was wrong…” The guards couldn’t move him. Reporters snapped photos of him crying. “Chad, isn’t Hope a mistress? Why are you crying?” “Mrs. Lancaster lost the baby. Are you suing Hope?” Chad snapped. He punched a reporter and yelled, “Hope isn’t a mistress! She’s my wife, Mrs. Lancaster!” The internet exploded. #Chad and Hope Married for Five Years. The Mistress is the Real Mrs. Lancaster. #Real Wife’s Miscarriage. Mistress Pregnant. Stealing the Identity. #Brittany Fakes Pregnancy. Everyone knew the truth. Chad was drunk, remembering our first meeting. I grew up in Chad’s orphanage. The children were raised to be servants. I was skilled, so I was sent to work for Chad. I lost my arm saving him. We fell in love in the mountains, hiding from kidnappers. My mother-in-law wanted Chad to marry me. But someone accused me of colluding with the kidnappers. Chad believed it. He canceled the wedding and tore up the marriage certificate. My mother-in-law forced him to marry me. He was a victim, saying, “Hope, do you think I didn’t see the greed? Do you think I did not see you with the kidnappers?I am not going to give you a penny of my fortune!” “Beg me for a baby, or you’ll be a widow forever!” My dream wedding became a tomb. I wanted a divorce, but my mother-in-law refused. I had to have a baby. So, I tried to sleep with Chad. He hated me and wouldn’t come home. My mother-in-law drugged Chad, and I got pregnant. In the third month, I gave Chad the pregnancy test. He choked me and forced me to swallow an abortion pill. “I said you could only have a baby if I wanted you to!” My mother-in-law saved me, whipping him. Chad cried. “Hope’s baby must have been cute…” The baby was dead. He had killed it. I had given birth in a bathroom and was left for dead, he was with Brittany. “Hope must have been in pain, and I was with another woman. I should have been with her. I’ll die with her!” Chad saw evidence that Brittany had faked the pregnancy and paid off the reporters. He kidnapped Brittany and made her apologize. She died from banging her head on the floor. Her death was hidden. Chad wasn’t allowed to attend my funeral. So, on the same day, he had a wedding. He held my photo, admitting I was his wife. He had cheated on me many times, and Brittany was just one of them. He had forced me to apologize. He was hated, and the Lancaster’s stock plummeted. Someone sent him a photo from the orphanage. The woman’s face looked just like mine. Chad offered a million for information about me. He was crazy. “Hope, you’re not dead. I’ll find you!”

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