Author: Momo Chan

Thunder rattled the windows, and the instant lightning flashed, it froze Ethan’s sharp, almost boyish face in the harsh light. That’s when it hit me again – despite his usual tough-guy act, he was actually six or seven years younger than me. “You’re spacing out,” Ethan murmured, grabbing my shoulders. He buried his face in my neck, nuzzling me like a big puppy, then whispered huskily, “Wife.” I started to tell him not to call me that, but he didn’t give me a chance. Cupping the back of my neck, his lips found mine. He held me tight, almost desperately, pinning my wrists until they ached. A small, blurry moan escaped my throat against my will. It didn’t even sound like me… it was embarrassingly breathy. Ethan felt like a furnace against my skin. Tangled up with him, his heavy breathing ghosted across my ear. The heat made me dizzy, my mind hazy as I let him nuzzle against my chest again, still like that eager puppy. His lean, strong arms snaked under me, lifting my hips off the bed only to press me down again, harder this time. “Could you maybe… ease up a bit?” I turned my head, dodging another sticky kiss. “It hurts…” “No pain, no pain, my bad…” Ethan whispered, his fingertips gently kneading my earlobe as if to soothe me. The pressure lessened slightly. “Bite me if you need to blow off steam.” He’d roughed me up, and my whole body throbbed. Another flash of lightning lit the room. Through half-closed eyes, I saw them again – the intimidating ink covering his arms. The warmth that had started building in my chest suddenly flickered out, leaving me cold. “Let’s get a divorce,” I whispered, still fragile in his arms. A loud clap of thunder followed immediately. Ethan instinctively covered my ears. When the noise faded, he pulled me even closer, his voice rough. “No way.” Hearing him refuse didn’t stir much inside me. Maybe I was too tired, or maybe just a little scared of the man beside me. I didn’t argue. Right now, whether we divorced or not didn’t seem to matter much anymore. “I’m broke,” I said after a moment, gathering my thoughts. “How much?” “Fifty thousand, maybe.” Ethan went quiet for a second, then suddenly rolled off the bed, reaching for something on the floor. He was getting his phone from his pants pocket. A knot of anxiety tightened in my stomach. Was I pushing it too far? It had been almost six months since we got married, and we’d only slept together twice. Both times, I’d asked him for money right after. “Grace,” he said, turning back to me, phone in hand. “I just changed the direct deposit settings for the rent collections. It all goes straight to your account now. You’ll start seeing it hit tomorrow.” I was still processing, just managing a dull “Huh?” “Oh, right, I got you that new SUV today. It’s in the garage,” Ethan added, pulling the comforter higher, making sure my exposed shoulder was covered. “Meant to tell you earlier, but you were just… really enthusiastic tonight—” “Will the rent… cover the fifty thousand?” I cut him off, forcing myself not to get distracted by the sweet talk and expensive gifts. “Probably closer to… a hundred thousand, I think. It’s not a huge amount. If you need more, just ask.” “…Aren’t you going to ask what I need all that money for?” “Why would I? It’s your money, do whatever you want with it. Honestly, it makes me feel better knowing you’ll ask me if you need something.” Ethan was such an idiot. He had no idea that as soon as that rent money hit my account, I was wiring every single cent to Mark – my ex-boyfriend. 2 I married Ethan for the money. It wasn’t exactly a secret. Our families went way back. My dad and Ethan’s dad grew up together in the same old company housing neighborhood. Later, Ethan’s dad got laid off, moved down south, struck gold, and came back to invest heavily in real estate. Suddenly, Ethan’s family were the new money in town. Meanwhile, I was still living with my parents in the old neighborhood, going to school, then getting a regular job. When I was in college, Ethan was just a little kid. Even back then, though, you could tell he was trouble – rebellious, never listened. He barely scraped by in school, always getting into fights. Desperate for extra cash, I’d stupidly agreed to tutor him for a while. That ended with him following me around, calling me “wife.” “Our parents always joked we’d end up together,” he’d declared. “I’m gonna marry you someday.” Can you picture it? Ethan, barely tall enough to see over a counter, like a little sprout, standing there telling me he was going to marry me when he grew up. It felt like a joke. I never thought the punchline would actually land. My dad got sick. Stomach cancer. His and Mom’s life savings wouldn’t even cover the initial treatments. The Li family – Ethan’s family – stepped in with a huge amount of money for the medical bills. They even helped my mom set up a small shop. Honestly, Ethan’s parents never explicitly said I had to marry him. But it was obvious, wasn’t it? Ethan’s dad came to talk to us. Said we didn’t need to worry about paying the money back. Mentioned how much his son liked me. “That old promise our dads made back in the day… maybe it’s time we made good on it, huh?” Once he said that, Ethan and I were practically tied together. Who would’ve thought that me, a modern woman, would end up gritting her teeth and accepting an arranged marriage? And to a kid, basically. Ethan just turned twenty-two. Bleach-blond hair, arms covered in tattoos – he looked exactly like every wannabe tough guy trying too hard. He spent his days collecting rent with a crew of guys who looked just like him. People took one look and crossed the street. There was no way I could ever fall for someone like him. It wasn’t just dislike; I was actually a little afraid of him. When we first got married, I always felt like he was angry, like some kind of gangster. Especially the way he always had a couple of his guys trailing him, sometimes carrying… well, let’s just say they weren’t carrying briefcases. Who wouldn’t be intimidated? After spending more time together, I realized he hadn’t changed much from when he was a kid. Still liked following me around, calling me “wife” or sometimes “sis” in that teasing way. He always put on a stony face for his crew, but with me, he was surprisingly gentle. Even so, I was still wary. Worried that one day he’d snap, fly into a rage, and just… strangle me. Because I had a guilty conscience. 3 After marrying Ethan, I hadn’t completely cut ties with my ex, Mark. Truthfully, our relationship had been falling apart anyway. Even without Ethan showing up, we probably would have broken up eventually. But somehow, Ethan’s presence made it impossible for us to make a clean break. When I tried to end things, Mark wouldn’t let go. Seeing him holding my hand, begging me to stay, I just couldn’t harden my heart completely. After that, we’d chat occasionally, keeping a careful distance. Even though we never crossed any major lines, I was constantly on edge, terrified Ethan would find out. During that time, I lent Mark money a few times. He never paid it back. Then, about two weeks ago, I discovered he actually had a fiancée. The only reason he kept contacting me was for money. For Ethan’s money. When I found out, I felt completely empty, cold. And furious. I hated Mark for destroying the few good memories I had left, for making me live with this constant guilt and anxiety for so long. Once Mark realized he couldn’t win me back, his true colors finally showed. He threatened me. Threatened to use intimate photos he’d taken of me when we were still together, photos I hadn’t even fully known he took. He said if I didn’t give him money, he’d send them to Ethan, my family, my friends. “Grace,” he’d snarled over the phone, “does your husband know you kept talking to me after you got married? If you don’t pay up, I’ll have a nice little chat with him. Let him know exactly what kind of woman he married! What do you think he’ll do then? Break your arm? Your leg?” Mark’s threats worked. No man would stay calm seeing photos like that of his wife. I was scared of Ethan – scared of him knowing I’d emotionally cheated, scared of him knowing about my past and the stupid things I’d done. So, I kept asking Ethan for money to pay Mark off, just to keep him quiet. Because of this, I couldn’t sleep. It felt like there was a ticking time bomb next to me in bed. I knew it would explode eventually. Maybe Ethan would actually kill me. I imagined countless terrible scenarios. But I never, ever imagined that Ethan would be the one to pull me out of this nightmare. He wasn’t going to hurt me at all. He was the one who saved me. 4 Ethan came home early that day, his usual crew trailing behind him. I was used to it, just feeling drained as I turned to head upstairs. “Grace, wait a sec.” Hearing Ethan call my name made my stomach drop. It was like a sixth sense. I knew something was about to happen, something involving Mark. “You guys head out. Mikey, wait for my call later.” After sending his guys away, Ethan just stood there at the bottom of the stairs, watching me. I felt his intense gaze on my back. Slowly, I turned around. And saw that Ethan wasn’t alone. Of course. It was Mark. He was lying on the rug, tied up securely, his mouth covered with duct tape. He couldn’t make a sound. The sight made my legs turn to jelly. I grabbed the banister, barely able to stand. Was this it? Was Ethan finally going to make me pay? My head was buzzing. I don’t even know how I made it down the stairs. On the last step, I stumbled, about to fall, but Ethan caught me firmly. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice deceptively calm. He ripped the tape off Mark’s mouth, then gave him a vicious kick. “You wanna die?” I felt like Ethan’s words weren’t just for Mark. They were for me too. A warning, right? Making an example out of Mark? “…Why are you shaking?” Ethan tilted my chin up, gently wiping the sweat from my forehead with his thumb. “You look more scared than this asshole.” I watched as Ethan pulled a small black USB drive from his pocket. He held it up to Mark. “Are all the pictures on this? You didn’t keep any backups, did you?” Mark nodded frantically. “They’re all there! No backups, I swear, no backups…” The next second, Ethan raised his arm – the one covered in that ferocious tiger tattoo – and swung it towards me. So, this was it. No escaping the punishment. I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing myself. But the expected pain never came. I cracked an eyelid open, peering towards Ethan. He hadn’t hit me. Instead, he’d smashed… the USB drive onto the floor. Staring at the shattered plastic pieces scattered on the rug, Ethan still didn’t look satisfied. He lifted his foot and stomped hard on the small, shiny chip inside, grinding it into the carpet. Mark looked terrified, half-collapsed on the floor, eyes squeezed shut. Ethan crouched down, looking down at the man he’d reduced to a trembling mess. He grabbed a handful of Mark’s hair and delivered several hard slaps across his face. “Scared now?” Ethan gripped Mark’s chin, his voice low and dangerous. “You ever mess with my wife again, I’ll end you.” Mark nodded rapidly, stammering apologies to Ethan. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I messed up…” “Apologizing to me won’t cut it. You need to apologize to my wife.” I looked down at the man I’d actually loved for several years, now groveling at my feet like a stray dog, telling me he was wrong, that he was a piece of garbage, begging me to forgive him. Meanwhile, Ethan was on the phone with Mikey, telling him to come get Mark out of the house, saying he was bad luck. Mikey arrived quickly. After Mark was gone, the room suddenly felt incredibly quiet. “Grace,” Ethan said, pulling me abruptly into his arms. “You don’t have to be scared anymore. No one will ever bully you again.” I asked him, my voice trembling slightly, “…Did you look… at those pictures?” He was silent for a long moment, then whispered softly against my ear, “Yeah. I looked.”

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My next-door neighbor is Liam Reynolds, the national heartthrob. Thanks to his insane track record—six movies and two TV shows in just two years—his house is mostly empty. We’re neighbors, right? So, letting my big orange tabby, Cheeto, hang out in his yard isn’t that big a deal, is it? I swear to God, I didn’t plan it initially! But the fence the builders put up is ridiculously low. Cheeto basically vaults over it like it’s nothing. He can jump it, but can I? I tried, once. Got my butt stuck. It took several security guards to pry me down. Mortifying. After that, His Majesty Cheeto just sunbathed in Liam’s yard during the day and came back to torment me at night. Until one night, the little traitor didn’t come home. Suddenly, I knew exactly how my parents felt when I snuck out to that party back in eighth grade. I can still hear my mom standing at the school gate, pointing right in my face and yelling, “Ava Fang, I don’t know who on earth would ever marry you!” So there I was, standing at Liam’s massive front gate, yelling Cheeto’s name over and over. “Cheeto! Cheeto!” Probably kept it up for five or six minutes, my voice getting hoarse. Nothing. Dead silence. Desperate times. I tentatively gripped the iron bars, put my feet on the lowest rung, and was about to hoist myself up when the gate… just slid open. Slowly. So, technically, I didn’t break in. The gate practically swung me inside! Totally invited. Yeah, let’s go with that. It doesn’t count as trespassing if the gate asks you in, right? I searched the whole yard. No Cheeto. The house lights were dim, like always. My stomach churned. Don’t tell me the little furball actually got inside? The front door was definitely locked. Was I seriously going to have to climb a window? Using the stone fountain base in the yard as a step stool, I carefully reached up and pushed on a second-floor wooden window. Creak. It actually opened! What the heck was going on with this house today? Was it haunted? “Can I help you?” A cool male voice suddenly came from inside the window. I looked up, and there was Liam Reynolds, staring straight at me with an expression of utter disbelief. 2 I knew who he was, obviously. Not just because he was a superstar actor, but because my best friend, Maya, totally stans him. I’d always been a little skeptical when Mike from security claimed Liam lived next door; figured he was just bragging. “Uh… hi,” I managed, feeling like an idiot. “I’m your neighbor.” Liam looked me up and down, a mix of amusement and resignation in his voice. “Well, you have a… unique way of saying hello.” Cheeto, nestled comfortably in his arms, let out a smug little meow, basically saying, The royal audience is over. You may leave. At Liam’s suggestion, we moved our conversation somewhere slightly less precarious – namely, inside his living room instead of me dangling from his window. Liam sat on the couch, wearing a black silk robe that hung open slightly, still holding a now-sleeping Cheeto. Now I finally had a chance to really look at the guy. Deep-set eyes, flawless skin, features so perfect they looked like they were CGI-generated. He seemed entirely focused on petting the cat, so I had to break the awkward silence. “Sooo… selfie?” Liam glanced down at his revealing robe, then back at me with that same look of disbelief. Right. Okay. Maybe a bit forward. “You say this cat is yours, and you’re my neighbor,” Liam said, clearly not buying it yet. “Do you have any proof?” How was I supposed to prove I was me, and Cheeto was my Cheeto? “You can call security! Mike knows me!” “No way,” he countered immediately. “It’s the middle of the night, and you just climbed into my house. How would we explain that if it got out?” He wasn’t trying to give me a hard time, though. After a simple confirmation that seemed to satisfy him, he handed Cheeto back. The cat’s fur is key for scent lock-in. I buried my nose in his orange fluff – classic sea salt and sage. Oh my god! His taste was impeccable. I loved it! As he walked me (and Cheeto) to the front door, he gave me a friendly warning, “Next time you want to drop by, maybe just ring the doorbell?” Next time? There was going to be a next time?! Okay, fine, his main point was probably “use the damn door like a normal person,” but my brain was already buzzing. Who cared about details! 3 I barely slept that night. My mind raced, trying to come up with a plausible excuse to “drop by” again. Every idea felt either too formal or totally unrealistic. The only foolproof method seemed to be… tossing Cheeto back into his yard. So, I spent half the night mentally practicing the perfect, elegant cat-toss technique. The next morning, I was sleeping soundly, Cheeto curled up beside me, until about 9:30 when Maya’s frantic call jolted me awake. “Ava! Wake up! Wake UP! Oh my god, I’m literally going to die!” I couldn’t figure out what crazy drama she was having this early. “What’s wrong, Maya?” I mumbled, still half-asleep. “Liam Reynolds’ house got broken into last night! Did you hear?” Maya sounded both panicked and outraged. Her words snapped me fully awake. Broken into? By… me? Maya didn’t wait for a response. “His agency hasn’t said anything yet, but there’s this video online… you can see this girl sneaking around, climbing his window! It looks like your neighborhood, Ava! Be careful, okay? Lock your doors, don’t let…” My brain went completely blank. Oh crap. They filmed me. Cut to: me sitting numbly on Liam Reynolds’ expensive sofa. Across from me sat Liam himself, his agent, his personal assistant, a crisis PR person, and a few other serious-looking people. Everyone except Liam had their brows furrowed, either yelling into phones or frantically typing, doing damage control on social media. The atmosphere felt like a full-blown interrogation. My skin prickled. Liam must have sensed how freaked out I was. He tried to lighten the mood. “Do we really need to make this so complicated? Can’t we just tell the truth?” His agent looked like she wanted to slam her hand on the table. “My dear boy, a young woman climbs into your window in the middle of the night to find her cat? Who on earth is going to believe that?” Liam leaned back, a sudden glint in his eye. “Then let’s say she’s my girlfriend. We were just… playing a little game. Our ‘thing’.”

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Yesterday, scrolling through my husband’s iCloud photos, I found the bed shots. Him and some woman. At that exact moment, he was downstairs playing the perfect dad, helping our son Leo with his online class. When the lesson ended, I heard him laying on the virtue thick: “Hey buddy, did you really listen to the teacher? That story was great, wasn’t it? It’s all about how a man needs to be loyal and dependable.” I snapped a picture of that touching scene and posted it online. My friends flooded the comments with praise for “Dad of the Year.” Including her. … Leo had back-to-back online classes. He hates them. If someone isn’t watching him like a hawk, he’ll either nod off or start tearing into his mystery toy boxes. Seeing Steve glued to Leo’s side in the study, I figured I had some free time. Put on a face mask, browsed Amazon a bit. Ding-dong. “DoorDash!” That’s weird, I thought. Our housekeeper, Maria, cooked today. I didn’t order anything. Not wanting to disturb the class, I rushed to the door. Took the bag from the delivery guy, mumbled thanks, and quietly shut the door. I ripped open the packaging right there in the hall and almost stormed into the study to start screaming. But seeing Leo actually concentrating stopped me. Staring back at me was a box of Plan B. Steve and I have been together for years, and he’s always the one who takes care of protection. Why the hell would he order Plan B and have it sent here? Did hitting the jackpot – marrying into money and finally making his own – go straight to his head? Does this guy, who clawed his way up from nothing, suddenly think he’s some kind of king? But wait, that made no sense either. I’m on my period right now. He knows that. Besides, we just talked about this. His company’s finally stable, my family actually respects him now, and I was ready to focus more on home. We decided we wanted to try for a second kid. So why would he buy me Plan B? Wouldn’t getting pregnant be a good thing according to our plan? Unless… the pill wasn’t meant for me. A cold shiver ran down my spine. Just then, Steve’s phone buzzed on the coffee table. Normally, I wouldn’t stoop to checking his phone. It’s pathetic. But instinct screamed at me, right now, you need to look. I typed in Leo’s birthday. The phone unlocked. A new text message glared up at me. Bright and blinding. “Where’s that Plan B you ordered?? Still hasn’t shown up. Guess I’ll just risk my body so you can get off!” My vision blurred. I bit my lip so hard it hurt. My eyes started to sting. Another message popped up. “Even if the pill doesn’t come, YOU better.” Short texts, but every word stabbed me. I stumbled back, grabbing the coffee table to steady myself. My stomach churned like I’d swallowed acid. So that’s it. He messed up the delivery address. Sent it home by mistake. This Plan B was supposed to be for cleaning up his mess tonight. With his mistress. I glanced towards the study, at the father and son focused on the screen. The rage burning inside me was enough to march in there and tear him a new one, humiliate him completely. But I had to weigh the consequences. Blowing up now… what would I gain? What would I lose? After a moment, I marked the texts as unread and tossed the phone back where I found it. 2 For years, people have looked at my life and thought I had it all, like luck just followed me around. But even if you’re lucky enough to be born rich, you still need the brains and guts to hold onto it. If I didn’t have my own skills, I’d just be another spoiled brat who blew through her inheritance. I wouldn’t have the life I have today. Staying calm under pressure – that’s rule number one for success. I took the box of Plan B upstairs, quietly. After hiding it under the bed, I logged into Steve’s iCloud account. He never really used it. I set it up for him ages ago when I forgot my own password and needed to save some files I bought on Amazon. I remembered clicking “auto-backup photos” back then. Once I logged in, tucked away in the backed-up photos, were pictures and videos you’d usually have to pay to see. Steve, oh Steve. I supported you all the way, helped you climb the ladder, turn your life around, and this is how you repay me? By making your own private porn collection? Honestly, the girl had a killer body. Flawless skin, curves in all the right places. Everything a guy could want. Even as a woman, I had to admire her dedication to fitness. But she had no damn business sprawling that meticulously maintained body all over my husband. When Leo finished his classes, Steve practically sprinted upstairs. He planted a quick kiss on my forehead, fidgeting. “Honey, honey, I’m so sorry He planted a quick kiss on my forehead, fidgeting. “Honey, honey, I’m so sorry, a client just called, a major client. Gotta run, emergency meeting.” I watched him throw on his most expensive suit, slicking his hair back with gel. Right then, he just seemed utterly disgusting. A greasy middle-aged man, losing his mind the second some young girl beckons. A typical scumbag who starts thinking with his dick the moment he gets a little money. How could I have shared a bed with this person for seven years? I flashed back to when that girl interviewed for a job at my company. I was leading the interview panel that day. Steve popped in for a minute while she was there, just to discuss some business stuff with me. She must have clocked him then, targeted him right from the start. Yes. I knew who the girl was. 3 About a year ago, our company was hiring livestream hosts. She applied. She made quite an impression, mostly because everything she wore was a knockoff, right down to the sliver of sock peeking out – a high-end fake of some luxury brand. My guess was, back then, she hadn’t landed a sugar daddy yet, someone dumb enough to buy her the real deal. Anyone decked out head-to-toe in fakes is obsessed with appearances, desperate to look richer than they are. During the interview, I asked her what her dream was. She was surprisingly honest. Without missing a beat, she said it was having guys – “whales,” she called them – shower her with virtual gifts, like rockets, during her streams. Then I asked her what the key to successful livestream selling was. Her answer? Get users to fall for her face and body first. Turn them into fans, get them hooked, and then they’ll blindly buy whatever she pushes. Needless to say, she didn’t get the job. I wouldn’t let someone with that kind of toxic mindset into my company. Later, she added me on social media, asking about the interview status. I politely turned her down. My friends list was huge, I hadn’t cleaned it up in ages, so she was still lurking there. After Leo was asleep, I curled up in bed and scrolled through her profile, post by post. She’d been very active this past year. Photos of thousand-dollar Kobe beef dinners, ten-thousand-dollar-a-night presidential suites, hundred-thousand-dollar limited-edition handbags – she had it all. And in every single one of these “look how rich I am” photos, there was her posing beautifully… and a man’s hand. Others might not recognize that hand, but I knew it instantly. It was the same hand that held mine as we walked down the aisle. Now, that hand was busy exploring another woman’s body, groping and grabbing. So, the Plan B got sent to the wrong address. But maybe showing up without protection was even better for his little plan? Memories flooded back. Me, screaming in agony in the delivery room. Him, kneeling on the floor for what felt like hours, praying. “God, please, keep my wife and child safe. I’ll go vegan, I’ll do good deeds for the rest of my life, just please…” Us, caught in a downpour while picking up inventory. Him, taking off his jacket to cover me, grabbing everything heavy, shouldering the whole load. Family gatherings. Him, constantly saying how lucky he was, how marrying me changed his life, how he owed everything to his wonderful wife. All those moments made me believe he was a good man, someone I could trust my life with. I never, ever imagined my husband would betray our family, betray me. Well, fine. If he had the balls to do it, I had the brains to make them both pay. Neither of them was getting off easy. 4 The next day, Steve dragged himself home, looking exhausted. Must have been quite the workout last night. A 40-year-old man trying to keep up with a girl barely out of her teens. No wonder he looked drained. He must have figured out the Plan B mix-up. He started beating around the bush, avoiding my eyes. “Honey, Maria’s dinner last night wasn’t great, was it? Maybe we should have just ordered takeout.” I wasn’t in the mood for games. I cut straight to what he really wanted to know. “Maria’s food was fine. Didn’t order anything yesterday, but some Plan B showed up. Must have been a wrong address. I told the delivery guy to take it back.” A flicker of awkwardness crossed Steve’s face, but he recovered quickly. Years in business had made him a master of damage control. He put on an exaggerated look of disgust. “Ugh, Plan B? Seriously? Some guys are so irresponsible. Just use protection, you know? That stuff is terrible for a woman’s body.” I changed the subject. “I’m taking Leo to his piano lesson soon, then meeting a friend. You look wiped out from that ‘client meeting.’ Why don’t you go upstairs and rest?” Without waiting for a reply, I went to change, grabbed Leo, and walked out the door. I really was meeting a friend. The only one who could help me with this. 5 My friend, Sarah, is a headhunter. I told her I needed to hire a new female livestream host – drop-dead gorgeous, amazing body. I mentioned I was willing to pay 50% above the going rate. Sarah dropped everything to meet me. Obviously. A higher salary meant a bigger commission for her. We spent the whole morning interviewing over a dozen candidates. They were pretty, sure, but they all looked the same. Same skinny frame, same sharp nose, same big eyes with heavy makeup. And the moment they opened their mouths, the shallowness poured out. I kept shaking my head, making little ‘tsk’ sounds. Sarah finally sighed. “Okay, boss lady, you gotta give me more specifics. What exactly are you looking for?” I snapped my fingers as if an idea just hit me. “Right! You know, that one girl you sent over before… uh… what was her name… Ashley? Yeah, Ashley. She might work. Can you try to get her back in here?” The whole point of the morning’s charade was to make Sarah believe I was genuinely recruiting, not targeting someone specific. Sarah’s sharp as a tack. If I’d just asked for Ashley outright, she’d smell a rat and start digging. And I couldn’t just call Ashley directly. The trap had to be set perfectly, following all the proper channels.

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“Maya.” My friend Chloe was still looking worriedly at me, perched precariously on two stacked kegs of beer, slurring my words. Tonight was the night I officially ended my one-sided crush. Day 365, exactly. Hard to believe, right? Yours truly actually fell for that sly fox for a whole year. Tonight, I’d even drunk myself stupid over him, losing count somewhere between my fingers and toes. “Chloe, your brother… he’s just a… major… player.” I swayed, raising the plastic cup in my hand, still cursing the man I’d silently adored for a solid year. Of course, in that moment, I had no idea. The very man I was cursing out a thousand times over was sitting at the table right behind us. “Mr. Cole, what’s so funny?” One of his employees, sitting with him, looked puzzled at Ethan Cole’s smiling face. The boss had been grinning like an idiot for the past five minutes. Maybe he’d had too much? “Just listening to someone I like tear me a new one.” Ethan picked up his pint glass as he spoke. “Do I really seem like a fox?” He put the glass back down, asking his employee with surprising seriousness. The sun was practically burning a hole through my blinds, but I was still sprawled out like a starfish on my bed. “Ugh… First day of work.” That’s right. Today was my official entry into the real world, and yesterday, I’d gotten blackout drunk and made a fool of myself over some jerk. “Just my luck.” I dragged myself out of bed, muttering another curse at the guy who clearly toyed with people’s emotions. I opened Instagram, checking if I’d missed any DMs from last night, and saw the 99+ notification bubble on my story views and feed. Whoa, did some major drama go down yesterday? Curiosity piqued, I tapped the notification and saw video after video being shared by practically everyone I knew. “Drunk Woman Climbs on Man, Tries to Rip His Clothes Off at Local Brewery.” In the video, some girl was absolutely wasted, practically straddling a guy, and then dramatically smashed his phone onto the hard concrete floor. “What the actual f—?” “This chick is…” Just as the next insult was forming on my lips, I heard a clear voice in the video say, “Ethan Cole.” … “Holy crap, is that… me?” I sucked in a breath, zooming in on every pixelated detail. My face in the video was mercifully blurred out, but Ethan’s shirt was clearly ripped open at the collar, buttons missing. Ding-dong. Just as I was processing the mortifying image of my drunken alter ego, my doorbell rang. “Who is it?” I shuffled over to the door. “Ethan Cole?” I opened the door, and there he stood – the star of last night’s public humiliation, courtesy of me. He was wearing a hoodie, but I could just make out a reddish-purple mark blooming on his neck. Probably… My doing. I swallowed hard. Oh God… I’m screwed. “The player’s here to collect his dues.” He grinned, looking way too pleased with himself. The next second, he pulled a phone out of his hoodie pocket – an iPhone 13 Pro Max with a screen so shattered, little shards of glass were practically flaking off. “My phone. You smashed it yesterday.” He deliberately waved the mangled wreck in my face. “I… I’ll pay you back!” I tried to sound defiant, but I knew I had zero leverage. It’s just, what, over a grand? Worst case, I’d have to swallow my pride and hit up my parents. “Oh really?” He raised an eyebrow, casually leaning one hand against the doorframe, hip cocked. “And the viral video? My reputation? How do you plan on compensating for those?” 2 “I…” My mouth just opened and closed. Ethan straightened up, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Character defamation, and assault without consent…” “Assault?! Give me a break! I didn’t do anything like that to you!” I cut him off before he could finish. “Didn’t you?” Ethan raised that damn eyebrow again. He looked like the cat that got the cream, absolutely reveling in this. “Maya Bishop, right?” I’d barely stepped into the lobby of my new office building when I ran smack into the HR Director who interviewed me a few weeks ago. “Yes, that’s me.” I managed a tight, awkward smile. I’d finally managed to get rid of Ethan, that smug fox, at my apartment, only to immediately run into this woman who radiated stern high school principal vibes. Ethan Cole is definitely bad luck for me, I thought grimly. “The CEO wants to see you in his office. I’ll take you up.” The woman adjusted her glasses, her tone clipped and slightly annoyed. “The CEO?” Little old me, fresh out of college, getting summoned by the CEO on day one? “Not the Marketing Department…?” I tried to keep my voice pleasant and polite. “Just go when you’re told. Stop asking so many questions.” She gave me a dismissive look, clearly unimpressed. “Okay then.” I swallowed my irritation. This battle-axe… if this wasn’t a professional setting, I’d be tempted to give her a piece of my mind. I followed her through a large open-plan office area. The unfriendly stares from nearby desks finally made me realize something was off. Oh God… did they see the video too?? My steps grew heavier, my anxiety spiking. No way. Am I going to get fired before I even log into my work computer? 3 “Ethan Cole?” The HR Director pushed open the door to the CEO’s office, and I blurted out his name like I’d seen a ghost. So much for making a professional first impression. Ethan was lounging in his chair, still wearing the same hoodie from this morning. He glanced up, sizing me up. “Lorraine, you can go.” He cleared his throat, waving dismissively at the HR Director beside me. The woman, apparently named Lorraine, shot me another dirty look before turning and stalking out of the office. Inside the company, Ethan’s looks apparently won him legions of female admirers. Honestly, who wouldn’t fall for a ridiculously good-looking guy like him? Of course, I never imagined this Ethan Cole, Chloe’s brother, was actually the honest-to-God CEO. “You have three meetings today. You’ll need to take notes on your laptop.” Ethan clicked his mouse, bringing up his schedule, acting as if our conversation this morning never happened. “Me?” I pointed at myself, then glanced back at the closed office door. “I’m just an intern… assigned as the CEO’s Executive Assistant?” “Mm-hmm. Problem?” Ethan looked up, arching an eyebrow. “Not happy about it?” The salary for an EA to the CEO was way higher than a regular assistant gig. Who wouldn’t bow down to the almighty dollar? Me, Maya Bishop… Of course, I was the first one bowing. “Happy! Very happy!” I nodded repeatedly, my smile feeling incredibly fake. Okay, maybe Ethan was capable of acting like a normal human being after all. “Ahem, shouldn’t I have an experienced assistant train me first?” Normally, even an intern assistant position would involve shadowing someone senior to learn the ropes. Especially for the CEO’s assistant. “Little Maya, having me train you shouldn’t be a problem, right?” Ethan rested his chin on his hand, his tone deliberately teasing. I was wrong. So, so wrong. How could I ever treat this calculating fox like a normal person? Fine. Deep breaths. Keep the peace. Besides, he was technically the “victim” of my drunken antics. And… my direct boss. “No problem, no problem at all!” I forced another bright smile and pulled my laptop out of my bag. “Right, since I’ll be personally training you for the next few days, your temporary workspace will be… over there in the corner.” He raised his eyebrows again, a knowing smirk playing on his unfairly handsome face. I followed his gaze to the spot he indicated. A simple, small wooden desk crammed next to a large potted plant. “Are you kidding me?” I pointed, barely managing to hold back the string of curses already queued up in my head. 4 “How is this kidding?” Ethan slowly took off his non-prescription glasses (definitely just for show), steepling his fingers under his chin. The next second, that damned fox! He tugged the collar of his hoodie down again! “Now this is kidding. Oh wait, no, it’s teasing.” The fox even craned his neck, practically daring me to get a good look at the angry, purplish hickey. “Ethan Cole!” I stomped my foot, wanting nothing more than to hurl my laptop straight at his face – the face that probably broke hearts daily. “Don’t think just because you’re letting the other stuff slide—!” I surged forward, ready to grab his non-existent tie, but just as I lunged… The office door opened. “Mr. Cole…” The man poking his head in was balding, looking a bit older than Ethan. His eyes widened as he took in the scene: me with one knee practically planted on Ethan’s stomach (from the lunge), my hand fisted in the collar of his hoodie. Yep, balding guy totally got the wrong idea. The spectacularly wrong idea… “Sorry to interrupt, Mr. Cole… I’ll come back later…” The man retreated faster than seemed physically possible, carefully shutting the door behind him. Oh, fantastic. I could already hear the office gossip: New assistant tries to sleep her way to the top on day one. This was going to be even juicier than the brewery video. “He’s gone. Feel free to continue.” Ethan just smirked, those sharp eyes of his crinkling at the corners with that foxy charm. “Continue what?! I was about to punch you!” I scrambled back, smoothing down my white button-down shirt. What a jinx. My first day, and already caught in two compromising situations. As I meticulously straightened the wrinkled hem of my shirt, Ethan stood up and smoothly cornered me against the wall. “Little Maya, there’ll be plenty of time for you to ‘punch’ me later. No need to rush.” He leaned in close, his dark eyes meeting mine, and for a second, it felt like sparks flew. “You… stop talking like that. It’s creepy.” I glared back, refusing to be flustered. Later that evening, the viral video that had taken over my feed was suddenly gone. Vanished without a trace. Figures. The internet’s attention span is short. I stared at my phone screen, finally breathing a sigh of relief. Okay, note to self: No more binge drinking. Ever. My face can’t handle another round of pixelated internet fame. I’d lived a relatively drama-free life until now, and somehow, this damn fox tripped me up completely. “Sly fox…” I muttered at my phone screen, then went into my photo gallery and deleted every picture I’d saved of him over the past year. This past year, I’d poured everything into liking him. Even people around us knew how I felt about the ‘fox.’ If it hadn’t been for that day I accidentally overheard he liked someone else, I wouldn’t have given up so quickly. Having someone he liked, yet still accepting gifts from other girls… seriously, what a player. The thought made me snort in disgust. Ping. Late at night, my phone chimed. “Who the heck is messaging me this late? So annoying.” I rubbed my eyes, reluctantly grabbing my phone. The screen flared brightly. A single red notification dot next to Ethan Cole’s contact.

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I was doing laundry when I found a pregnancy test report in my husband’s pants pocket. I glanced at it. The name was Jessica Bell, four months pregnant. My husband, Mark Miller, is an OB/GYN. Logically, finding a patient’s report left in his pocket could happen. But my gut screamed something was wrong. The report had a faint perfume smell I didn’t recognize. Clutching the paper, I walked out into the living room. As I passed my mother-in-law’s room, I heard her voice. Her usual booming tone, completely ignoring my presence. “Jessica, honey, you just focus on taking care of yourself, give me a big healthy grandson.” She was on the phone. I couldn’t make out the voice on the other end. “That Sarah is just bad luck, a jinx. Married three years and hasn’t produced a damn thing. A barren hen, trying to end the Miller family line.” Her vicious words kept coming, but I couldn’t really hear them anymore. A cold numbness washed over me, like I’d been hit over the head. I looked down at the name on the report again. Jessica Bell. The letters burned my eyes. When Mark and I first started dating, his mother couldn’t stand me. Said I was too skinny, wouldn’t be good for childbearing. She even brought over some quack herbalist to check my pulse. After the guy left, she pointed at me, furious, yelling that I’d definitely end the Miller line, ruin the family legacy, make them a laughingstock. It was Mark who gently held me, reassuring me. He said having kids was his department; with a professional OB/GYN in the house, what was I worried about? His mom was just superstitious, don’t take her words to heart. Because of Mark’s tenderness, I married him. For three years, I came home from work, immediately hit the grocery store, cooked dinner, did the dishes, served soup – taking perfect care of Mark and his mother. I figured if I worked hard, put in the effort to build our little family, maybe time would soften his mother’s heart. I never imagined my three years of sweat would lead to this. Mark cheated. Had a child with another woman. He knew. His mother knew. I was the only one completely in the dark. I bit my lip hard, trying not to make a sound. Tears welled up, streaming down my face. But I knew this wasn’t the time to blow things up. Besides, a tiny sliver of hope remained. I still wanted to believe in Mark, that he still loved me. I had to wait. 2 That evening, when Mark got home from work, he went straight to his mother’s room, telling me to start warming up dinner. Because of what happened earlier, I crept over and pressed my ear to the door, hearing Mark’s hushed voice. “Mom, I haven’t gotten the money yet. Tell Jessica to just hang tight.” “Mark, Jessica’s starting to show. You need to make a decision soon. I want to be a grandmother already. Sarah, that jinx, can’t have kids anyway, and she’s bad luck. She already caused her father’s death; I’m worried she’ll bring us down too.” His mother, despite her country background, always tried to act sophisticated, usually speaking politely. But when it came to me, she turned into a viper, spitting pure venom. Mark hadn’t answered yet, but I already had my answer. He knew. Not only was he cheating on me, doing this disgusting thing behind my back, but he was also plotting with his mother to keep deceiving me. My last shred of hope vanished. But I still underestimated him. “Mom, I only married her for the money! If her dad wasn’t rich and connected, I wouldn’t be Head of OB/GYN now. Her dad’s gone, yeah, but the money isn’t in hand yet. We’ve waited three years; divorcing now means it was all for nothing. Just be patient a little longer. Okay, I’m heading back out. Can’t let her get suspicious.” Mark’s voice was still soft and gentle, just like his clean-cut, respectable appearance. But now, those gentle tones delivered the coldest, most heartless words imaginable. Each syllable was a knife, slicing my heart to pieces. I trembled with rage, feeling like ants were crawling under my skin, a twisting, pounding pain that almost made me pass out. Hearing him about to come out, I forced myself to pull it together and rushed into the bathroom. I turned on the faucet, burying my face in the sink full of icy water. The biting cold shocked me back to a semblance of calm. Disappointment and helplessness receded, replaced by a surge of hatred. I, Sarah Davis, wasn’t some pushover people could walk all over. If Mark Miller dared to treat me like this, he shouldn’t expect any mercy! I fixed my appearance, plastered on my standard devoted wife smile, and walked out. “Honey, I made a big dinner for you, all your favorites.” I choked back the nausea, gently rubbing his shoulders, whispering sweet nothings near his ear. I had to keep him calm for now. I also poured him a glass of red wine. He seemed to be in a good mood today, and because I’d always been so docile, he wasn’t suspicious at all. I kept pouring, glass after glass, until Mark was drunk. He was much bigger than me, taller too. It was a struggle, but I managed to haul him back to the bedroom and dump him on the bed. “Mark? Honey?” I whispered his name a few times. No response. Carefully, I reached into his pants pocket for his phone. He rolled over, pinning my hand. My heart leaped into my throat; I thought I’d been caught. I steadied myself, gently stroking his arm, murmuring soothing words. After a moment, he settled back into a deep sleep. I gently tried for the phone again. This time, I got it. I held it up to his face. Face ID unlocked it. I opened his messaging app, scrolling through his chats with Jessica Bell, looking at her posts. The further back I scrolled, the more horrified I became. It wasn’t that he’d changed his mind about me. He was a snake from the start. Three years ago, he and Jessica were already together. The moment he saw me, I became their target. So, I was the “other woman” in their relationship? I remembered how Mark had played the hero, rescuing me from some minor trouble, then pursuing me relentlessly. Falling in love, getting married… it was all calculated. He wanted my family’s money. He wanted my dad, who was his direct supervisor at the hospital back then, to help him climb the ladder, secure the Head of OB/GYN position. His little scheme, ticking away like a clock. He’d been planning this from the very beginning, targeting me, targeting my family’s wealth! I hated him. Hated myself for being so blind, fooled by his gentle act, letting a wolf into my life. But it wasn’t too late. I gently slipped the phone back into Mark’s pocket. My knuckles turned white as I clenched my fists, then slowly relaxed. They wanted to use me? I’d make damn sure their plans blew up in their faces, leaving them with nothing. I knew what mattered most to Mark and his venomous mother right now: the baby in Jessica’s belly. 3 Three days later. “Honey, I’m off to work,” I said, grabbing my car keys, pretending to head to the office. In reality, I hid in the underground parking garage, waiting for Mark to take the bait. Sure enough, moments after I supposedly left, he and his mother came out. I quietly tailed them. I watched him go into the apartment complex across the street and soon emerge, supporting a heavily pregnant woman. So, this was Jessica Bell. Definitely young and pretty. Even with the large belly, she wasn’t ungainly; she had a certain mature allure. I watched Mark’s mother grasp the other woman’s hand, her face creased into a thousand wrinkles from smiling so broadly. A picture-perfect happy family. She had never, ever looked at me like that. In three years of marriage, my mother-in-law hadn’t shown me a single shred of kindness. Ice filled my veins. Any lingering hope for Mark, this vile man who used me to get ahead and now plotted to steal my inheritance, vanished. All I felt was disgust. Right now, I just wanted to ruin him completely. They wanted their happy little family of four? Not on my watch! I snapped a few pictures with my phone for evidence, took a deep breath, gathered all my strength, and charged out, slapping Mark hard across the face. Five bright red finger marks instantly appeared on his clean-shaven cheek. He looked pathetic. “Who is SHE?” I pointed at Jessica, yelling loud enough to attract the attention of passersby, drawing an audience for the drama. Mark, stunned by the slap, was about to explode. When he turned and saw it was me, he froze, dumbfounded. His mother saw me hit her precious son and lunged at me, trying to grab my hair. I was ready. I dodged sideways quickly. In the shuffle, her elbow accidentally bumped Jessica. Jessica, already unsteady with her pregnancy, stumbled and fell, her belly hitting a decorative rock on the edge of the walkway. “Mark, my stomach hurts so bad! I’m bleeding!” Jessica clutched her belly. Bright red blood seeped out from under her dress, staining the pavement. “Who are you calling Mark? You shameless homewrecker! You’re disgusting, seducing my husband!” I moved towards her, ready to slap her too. Seeing Jessica bleeding seemed to snap Mark out of it, revealing the snake beneath. His face darkened, and he moved to grab me. By now, a small crowd had gathered. People were pointing at Jessica on the ground, muttering about how shameless mistresses were getting these days, flaunting themselves in public. I took the opportunity to melt back into the crowd. Unable to get to me, and with Jessica and his mother fuming, Mark frantically scooped Jessica up, hailed a cab, and rushed off towards the hospital. Watching that cheating pair leave, I rubbed my stinging palm. There was no satisfaction, only a deep sadness. Who would have thought that I, Sarah Davis, would end up in some trashy soap opera plot, fighting a scumbag husband and his mistress? But there was no turning back now. 4 Mark didn’t come home until the next morning, dragging himself in looking exhausted. “Let’s get a divorce.” I slapped the divorce papers down on the table. Mark looked like he hadn’t slept all night, his face pale, covered in stubble. He suddenly dropped to his knees, crawling towards me, grabbing my feet, sobbing and begging. “Sarah, I know I messed up. I’m an idiot. I’m so sorry.” He started slapping himself across the face, hard. “Trust me, Sarah, please trust me. It was just that one time with her.” “The baby’s almost due, and it was ‘just one time’? Who do you think is stupid, you or me? You think I’m that easy to fool?” This snake was still so good at putting on an act, all fake sincerity. If I didn’t already know his real motives, I might have believed him. “I was drunk on that business trip. I don’t know how, but she ended up in my bed. After it happened, I didn’t dare tell you. Then she found me later, said she was pregnant. We’ve been married so long without kids… I felt bad for you, didn’t want you to go through the pain of pregnancy and childbirth. I thought… I thought I’d let her have the baby, then we could raise it together, like our own.” Mark’s voice grew even softer, his eyes welling up as he looked up at me, playing the devoted husband. He knew I usually fell for this routine. Ha. So he definitely didn’t want a divorce. Plan was to keep me placated until he got the money, then kick me to the curb. Appearances, the mistress, the baby – none of it mattered as much as the money. I sneered inwardly. Pathetic. He wants to act? Fine, I’ll play along. “Then you have to cut off all contact with her. Completely.” I pretended to give in. Mark, thinking I’d softened, let out a visible sigh of relief. He swore up and down, promising he’d break it off completely, that I was the only one he loved. His phone kept vibrating. He ignored it twice, but it rang again persistently. I decided to help his charade along. “Maybe it’s work calling? Since you missed yesterday.” “Right, right,” he agreed quickly. He went out onto the balcony, pretended to take a call, didn’t even bother changing his excuse – claimed there was an emergency meeting at the hospital – and rushed out. I knew exactly where he was going.

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I never thought the next time I’d hear about Mark Hughes would be like this. My best friend forwarded me a photo. There was Mark, looking all gentle and patient, accompanying some woman at a prenatal appointment. The sick joke? The woman in the picture wasn’t me. “Claire, is this Mark? Did something happen between you two?” Jess texted me, but I couldn’t bring myself to reply. A week ago, my period was over ten days late. The pregnancy test showed two solid lines. Mark had gone with me to the clinic. Confirmed: three weeks pregnant. And since that day, I hadn’t seen my boyfriend. Calls went straight to voicemail, texts unanswered. It was like he’d vanished off the face of the earth. I was running around like a headless chicken trying to find him, but nothing. My heart sank, lower and lower. A chilling cold seeped into my bones, an icy ache spreading through me. It felt like a thousand-pound weight was crushing my chest, making it hard to breathe. I took a deep breath, let it out slowly, trying to piece my shattered self back together. We’d been together two years. Met the parents. All our friends knew. This couldn’t be happening. Not like this. I forwarded the picture to Mark. “Who is this woman? How long were you planning to hide this from me?” A moment later, my phone buzzed. Caller ID: “Mark (Older Guy).”

What’s it like being married to someone who doesn’t love you? Evening rush hour. I’m sitting in the passenger seat of my husband’s car, typing out an answer to that exact question on my phone. My fingers fly across the screen as memories from high school flood back. Suddenly, the guy next to me glances over, casually asking, “What are you writing that’s got you so focused? You didn’t even hear me talking to you.” My heart skips a beat. I fumble, quickly closing the app, and force a smile. “Oh, nothing much. Just chatting with a friend.” I turn to him, putting on my most innocent face. Ethan narrows his eyes slightly, clearly not entirely convinced, but lets it go. He sighs deeply, launching back into his rant about his ex-ex-girlfriend—the one who’d been clinging to him for the past six months. “Seriously, this woman is unbelievable. It’s not like I treated her badly when we were together, right? But she’s like Krazy Glue, totally driving me nuts. Now she’s texting me asking why I married you…” I listen intently, like I’m getting the inside scoop on the hottest guy from high school. All I need is a bag of popcorn. Hearing him talk, you might think Ethan was deeply in love with me. Only I know the truth: he married me because he thought I didn’t love him either. Someone who didn’t love him wouldn’t get clingy or jealous, wouldn’t cause him any trouble. What he doesn’t know is that I’ve been crushing on him since seventh grade. I’ve just gotten really good at hiding it. While he’s distracted by traffic, I quickly reply to a particularly intense comment on my post: He’s not bad to me. He gives me plenty for spending money, picks me up from work… he just doesn’t have feelings for me, that’s all. Another commenter earnestly offered to drive a bulldozer over and help me escape. I almost snort with laughter. We get home. Ethan eats a quick bite and then heads back out to the office to work late. I hand him some fruit to take with him, walking him to the door like I always do. “Drive safe.” He nods, opening his umbrella and stepping out into the rain. I watch his car disappear down the street before heading back inside. Lately, I’ve been playing this online game Ethan used to be obsessed with back in high school. When he found out, he just lent me his old account. He was totally nonchalant about it. “That game has a ton of boring starter quests. Just use my account; I haven’t played in ages anyway.” I knew about his reputation back then, and even before we got married, he was upfront about his past – lots of ex-girlfriends, lots of online “friendships.” He’d said if his history bothered me, we shouldn’t get married. So, logging into the game and seeing a friends list full of female avatars wasn’t exactly a shock. It did sting a little, though. Thinking about it, he probably doesn’t even remember half the girls he flirted with using this account. I eventually managed to tease him about it, trying to sound casual. “Wow, you were quite the popular guy back in the day.” He just laughed. “That was a long time ago.” Tonight, like usual, I log into the game. Suddenly, I get an invite from a player with a little kitten avatar. My finger slips while trying to decline, and I accidentally accept, landing right in her private lobby. Thankfully, I hit the exit button fast. All I hear is a tearful “Ethan?” before I’m back on my own screen. But she’s persistent, spamming me with party invites. Fine. I type back: Not him. He sold the account. The girl fires back immediately: You say that on every account… Are you that scared of me? Ugh. Not sure what to do, I screenshot the chat and send it to Ethan. What now? He replies with a string of periods, followed by three words: Delete her. So ruthless. I hesitate. I mean, technically she’s a rival, but she’s still just a girl. I try a gentler approach: Ethan’s married now. You shouldn’t waste your time hanging onto him. There are plenty of other fish in the sea, better ones too. Her response is instant: Who are you to him? She types fast. Girl: Like I care. That’s hilarious. People get divorced all the time, you know? Her audacity leaves me speechless. Okay, no more Mrs. Nice Guy. Me: I’m his wife. Silence from her end. A long silence. I start to think maybe she’s finally given up. Then, a new message pops up. Her: Are you Jessica? … Let me tell you a joke. Jessica is my husband’s “one that got away.” One of them, anyway. 2 It’s totally normal that she doesn’t recognize the name of my husband’s actual wife. Me and Ethan getting married was pure luck. Like, win-the-lottery kind of luck. Dumb luck. It was Memorial Day weekend. My parents, who live out of state, were visiting the family plot at the cemetery, lighting incense for my grandpa and other relatives. Right next to them, my future mother-in-law was doing the same for her family. My mom overheard her muttering to a headstone about how Ethan was almost thirty and still single. One thing led to another, my mom heard her, and the two of them started chatting. They compared notes, realized Ethan and I lived in the same city. Then came the photo exchange. Both moms were thrilled. Before I knew it, they’d orchestrated a blind date for us. It wasn’t until Ethan and I added each other on WeChat—yeah, we still used that sometimes—that we realized we’d gone to the same middle and high school for six years. Now we even worked in the same city. The only part of his life I missed was college. We went out for dinner once. Afterward, Ethan sent me a voice message on WeChat. I can still remember the deep, magnetic quality of his voice. He said, “Let’s be honest. I just need to get married to satisfy my family. I’ve dated a lot of people, and fair warning, I probably won’t fall in love with you. If we get married, the house will be in your name, and you won’t have to worry about chores or anything. If you’re okay with all that, and you’re interested, maybe we could give it a shot.” So, this marriage was basically optional for him. He was willing to marry me purely because he thought I didn’t love him either. His last girlfriend, the one he dated for six months, wanted to talk marriage. He thought she was too dramatic and needy, so he broke up with her. In his eyes, I was different. Anatomically female, sure, but otherwise, just like one of the guys. Loved gaming, kind of oblivious, seemed totally uninterested in romance. I know that the second I show any sign of actually loving him, he’ll file for divorce without hesitation. Ethan often reminds me, “If you meet someone you like, just tell me. Don’t cheat. We can get divorced amicably. Same goes for me.” I’ve heard it so many times my ears are practically calloused. I play along, pretending to be indifferent. “Nah, I’m good. Life’s pretty free right now, it’s great. I’m perfectly happy.” He seems satisfied with the status quo too. Even though he was the backdrop to my entire middle and high school existence. Somehow, we always just missed each other. I was completely insignificant in his world. Fine. Jessica it is, then. Jessica’s name carries more weight than mine, apparently. I type back to the kitten avatar girl: Yeah, that’s me, Jessica. We’ve been married for two years. She finally shuts up. A moment later, I check my friends list – she’s deleted me. Clearly, she knew when to back down. Gaming is my biggest passion, besides Ethan. I get completely absorbed and, oops, it’s suddenly past 1 AM. Just as I shut down the computer, I hear the front door open. Ethan is taking off his shoes in the entryway as I emerge from the study, heading towards the bedroom. Seeing me still awake, he frowns. “Playing games this late? Still not asleep?” I yawn. “Yeah. Going now.” “You haven’t changed into pajamas,” he notes, his expression disapproving. “Haven’t showered either, have you?” I know about his neat-freak tendencies. Caught, I nod awkwardly. The next thing I know, he’s dragging me towards the bathroom. “Get cleaned up before you get into my bed.” Showering with my high school crush… another win for today.

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That night, the moon was hidden, and the wind was kicking up. I downed that stuff—the kind that makes your whole body flush hot—and staked out the path my dream guy always took. It hit me faster than I expected; I was already feeling dizzy. But hey, persistence pays off, right? That had to be him up ahead. Same jacket, same ridiculously handsome profile. A wicked grin spread across my face as I charged forward and tackled him. There was no way he wouldn’t be mine once we crossed that line. Force his hand, make it a done deal. “Hey, Maya—” Whatever he was about to say got cut off when my overheated brain decided planting a kiss on him was the only logical next step. I didn’t really register his voice, just… wait, did my crush get taller? Whatever. No turning back now. Go for it, girl! Opportunity knocks but once. The next morning, I woke up and stared in horror at the handsome head belonging to my long-suffering best guy friend, Ethan. I glanced down at myself. Bra still on. No aches, no pains. Did anything actually happen last night? It felt like… nothing happened? Honestly, I couldn’t remember a single thing, except that my head was pounding. Snapping back to reality, looking at that annoyingly good-looking head, I wanted to cry. I’d ambushed the wrong guy. All that courage I’d scraped together, wasted! Does anyone understand my pain?! Furious, I gave Ethan a light kick. He grunted and rolled over. Okay, good, still asleep. I smacked my forehead. Right, escape! Now’s the time to bail. I scrambled into my clothes, eased the door shut behind me, and mentally whispered, Ethan, please don’t hate me for this. Naturally, I didn’t see the smile spread across the face of the man on the bed as soon as I was gone. 2 I mentally kicked myself over and over again. I picked up the pace. Today was the day Alex—my crush—had invited everyone to tour the Northgate Project. It was a design project Alex had landed two years ago, and the building was finally complete. The client invited our team for a tour and the ribbon-cutting ceremony. Since most of the design group was in Crestview anyway, pretty much everyone was going. Right now, all I felt was immense regret for whatever I thought I was doing last night trying to lure Alex out. Not only did my master plan spectacularly fail, but now I had to drag myself to this ceremony, exhausted and full of dread. And the worst part? Ethan would be there too. When it rains, it pours. That was my life right now. But time waits for no heartbroken idiot. I touched up my makeup and rushed over to Northgate. “Maya, you made it! Come on, we were just waiting for you,” Alex said with a smile, standing by the entrance. My crush, ever the responsible team lead! God, he was perfect! The man I loved! Damn it. But thinking about last night brought a wave of guilt crashing over me. Ugh, Alex, I’m so sorry! “Morning, Alex…” I managed, forcing a smile. “Morning. Hey, you’ve got dark circles. Didn’t sleep well?” It was a normal question, but it sent me into a minor panic. “Were you too excited about seeing Northgate? There’ll be plenty more moments like this. Getting enough sleep is important.” Leave it to Alex to be so thoughtful. He always knew how to smooth things over. I gratefully took the out he offered. “Yeah… yeah, that was it.” He patted my shoulder reassuringly. “Relax.” We walked inside and… oh, crap. The first person I saw was Ethan. He was lounging in a chair, yawning repeatedly. His expression flickered slightly when he saw me. Ethan raised an eyebrow. “Well, look who decided to show up…” I couldn’t meet his eyes. Cold sweat started prickling my skin. In that instant, I was so embarrassed I could have dug a hole to China with my bare hands, or maybe just carved out a Barbie Dreamhouse with my toes. Alex, the things I do for you. Taking advantage of the moment, I snuck a glance at my crush. His face was bathed in the soft morning light, his eyes warm and smiling. Handsome from literally every angle. Definitely the man I loved. Worth it! Sob. “Why are you blushing?” Ethan unfolded his long legs, strolled over, and teased, “Looks like someone had a rough night. Got into some trouble?” Oh god, oh god. I instinctively edged closer to Alex, my face turning the color of a boiled lobster. Ethan’s expression darkened for a split second before his smile returned. “Still blushing? What, did you finally notice how incredibly handsome I am?” He smirked, moving closer. Somebody save me! I didn’t dare answer anything Ethan said, couldn’t even look at him. 3 “Okay everyone, looks like you’re all here? If you’ll follow me this way,” the project manager announced, stepping into the room. I looked at the manager like he was an angel, my savior! I nodded eagerly. Alex nodded to the group. “Let’s go.” The manager wanted to chat with Alex, so I naturally got separated from him. Desperate to avoid Ethan, I grabbed Chloe, the youngest girl on the team—a freshman—and started chatting frantically. She was one of the few people I felt comfortable with. The rest were seniors like me. Thinking about graduation hitting us soon… time really flew. Chloe barely got a few words in before she winked at Ethan over my shoulder. What?! Alarm bells went off in my head. Oh God, give me a break. Ethan immediately caught her drift and ambled over to my side. Figures his brain would work fast now. I instantly turned my head to stare out the window, pretending I hadn’t seen a thing. “Hey, what’s with the cold shoulder?” Ethan tapped my shoulder. I jumped like he’d electrocuted me and put some distance between us. He immediately closed the gap. After a few rounds of this awkward dance, my back was practically against the wall. Trapped, I mumbled without looking up, “Nothing. Why would you think that?” “See? You won’t even look at me,” Ethan said, leaning down, trying to see my face. “Hey!” I yelped, slapping his hand away without thinking. Instantly, all eyes were on us. Alex shot me a questioning look. What’s going on? I shook my head, mortified, and buried my face in my hands. Ethan looked puzzled. “Did you take something weird today?” I didn’t even want to bother answering him. Wait a second. Ethan seemed… normal? Just like his usual annoying self. Could it be… he didn’t remember last night? If that was true… my heart leaped with joy. But I couldn’t be sure. What if he was just messing with me? After mulling it over, I decided silence was the best strategy. Ethan’s voice actually sounded concerned. “Are you actually sick? Whoa, if you are, you’ll have to miss the secret activity tonight.” He winked. “Secret activity? What secret activity?” His words immediately piqued my interest. I looked up sharply. Ethan just shrugged nonchalantly. “You’ll find out tonight.” “And,” he leaned closer, whispering near my ear, “it involves Alex.” His breath tickled my ear. I couldn’t help but rub it, a faint blush creeping up my neck. Ethan chuckled softly beside me, then mercifully left me alone. What was that about, leaving me hanging? Jerk! I desperately wanted to ask Alex, but he was swamped, and so were we. No chance. I guess I’d just have to wait impatiently until the big secret reveal tonight.

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Seriously, out of over 300 million people in the US, you probably couldn’t find someone having worse luck than me. First, I didn’t get into grad school. Then, the guy I chased for three whole years finally became my boyfriend, only to dump me less than three months later to study abroad. Right after that, my own mother, Mrs. Miller, used every trick in the book—threats and bribes—to get me to meet her best friend’s son. Coffee Shop “How old did you say you were?” “Nineteen.” Oh, good grief! I never thought the “accomplished, handsome young man” Mom raved about would turn out to be just a kid! I rubbed my temples, feeling a headache coming on. What do you do when your own mother is completely unreliable? Help needed ASAP, seriously urgent. “What’s wrong? Is there a problem?” “Look, kiddo, do you know how old I am?” “Yeah, twenty-two. They say age is just a number, right? I think it’s perfect.” He adjusted his glasses, flashing this killer smile with two big white teeth. Kinda cocky but charming. I spaced out for a second. “Ahem,” realizing I’d drifted off, I shook my head to clear the thoughts, covering my awkwardness with a cough. “Uh, kiddo, I really don’t think we’re a match. I’m not into younger guys.” “So, what type do you like, then?” Oh my god, oh my god. I didn’t want to swoon, but he was smiling at me. I wanted to control myself, but, but, but… he just had this way about him! Who could resist that? Okay, calm down. I secretly pinched myself. “I like mature, stable guys. Someone who can take care of people. You’re just too young for me, kiddo.” I already had one infuriating younger brother at home; did I really need another one to ruin my peace? Nope, couldn’t let myself be swayed by good looks. Sure, he was handsome, but he was young. Sure, his smile was amazing, but he was young. Sure, his voice was nice, but he was YOUNG! “How do you know I can’t take care of someone? And how do you know I’m not mature and stable enough? Have you tried me out, older girl?” He had a smirk playing on his lips. If I wasn’t mistaken, that was a cold smirk, right? Right? “Chloe? What are you doing here?” That voice. I froze solid. I knew exactly who it was. After hearing it for over three years, it was hard not to recognize. My smile vanished. Honestly, I wasn’t sure what expression was on my face. Anger? Sadness? Disgust? Nausea? This messy mix of feelings peaked when I saw the woman next to him. Mark Davis. The boyfriend I’d chased for three years in college. We were together less than three months before he decided to go abroad, telling me with some twisted sense of righteousness, “I’m worried you’ll fall for someone else while I’m gone, so let’s break up for now. If you still like me when I come back in a few years, we can get back together.” In that moment, I suddenly felt like a joke in Mark’s eyes. No, a joke to the entire English department at Hudson University. Everyone knew how head-over-heels I was for Mark. Everyone knew Mark had ruthlessly dumped his girlfriend right before leaving the country. And the woman beside him, Jessica Bell, was Mark’s childhood friend. She always found ways to trash-talk me in public, saying I wasn’t good enough for Mark. That I didn’t deserve to be his girlfriend. “Chloe?” Suddenly, a handsome face zoomed into my view, startling me so much that the tears welling up in my eyes retreated. I stared blankly at him. “Ex-boyfriend?” he asked. I nodded numbly. His eyes darted around mischievously, then he lowered his voice, “You’ve got three seconds. Be my girlfriend, and I’ll get your back.” The moment I grabbed his hand, I felt like I’d lost my mind. We’d literally broken up yesterday, and today I had a new boyfriend right in front of my ex. But what did it matter? Jerks needed to be put in their place. I turned around gracefully. “Fancy meeting you here. I’m just having coffee with my boyfriend. What about you guys?” “See, Mark? I told you she was easy, didn’t I? You didn’t believe me, but now you see.” The drama queen beside him started her performance, clinging to his arm and putting on a fake sweet act. This kind of insult used to happen all the time. Predictably, Mark would question me about it next. “Chloe, what is really going on?” Yep, there it was. He put on his betrayed, heartbroken, pitiful face. Usually, at this point, I’d frantically explain myself, and only then would his expression soften. But this time, I wasn’t going to. “Ma’am,” before I could even open my mouth, the kiddo jumped in, ready to roast her. “You’re probably getting on in years, maybe your hearing isn’t what it used to be. I suggest you see an ear specialist. Oh, and while you’re at it, maybe get your eyes checked too, since they seem to be just for decoration.” He had somehow moved next to me, stepping forward slightly, one arm around my shoulder, the other hand taking mine. He interlocked our fingers and waved them right in front of Mark and Jessica. “My Chloe already told you, she has a boyfriend now. Don’t go associating any random losers with our Chloe.” He turned slightly to face Mark. “And you… the ex-boyfriend, right? Chloe often says, a good ex-boyfriend should basically be dead. Look, you weren’t great as a boyfriend; now that you’re an ex, you could at least try to be good at that, couldn’t you?” I secretly gave him a thumbs-up. Mark’s face turned livid. He spun around and stormed off, his little follower scurrying after him. 2: Might As Well Give It a Try “Hahahaha, kiddo, you’re absolutely savage! How are you so good at shutting people down? That felt amazing, hahaha…” Suddenly, I felt this huge release, lighter than I had in three whole years. But there was still a knot of something uncomfortable, heavy in my chest. Compared to my roaring laughter, he was completely calm, the earlier aggressive vibe totally gone. He pulled me back down to sit, settling beside me. I was still trying to process his quick changes when he sighed softly, patted my shoulder, and said, “Go ahead and cry if you want to. You can lean on my shoulder for a bit.” That broke me. Tears I didn’t even know were there started streaming down my face. Failing the grad school entrance, getting dumped by my boyfriend… all the stress and hidden emotions I’d suppressed for so long just burst out. “Why are you so annoying?” I glared at him through my tears. He gently turned my head to rest on his shoulder, saying nothing. After pulling myself together in the restroom, he offered to walk me home. On the way, I carefully started, “Um, kiddo… can I, like, take back what I said earlier?” He instantly understood and shot me down firmly, “Nope.” Damn it! I rubbed my temples. What a mess. I must have had a total brain malfunction back there. He suddenly stopped walking. “I’m serious. Even though I’m still in school, I have a steady income every month. You can have my debit card, spend whatever you want. Don’t worry about me not being able to support you, and don’t feel like you need to save my money. I have clear plans for my future, and you’re in every single one of them, so you don’t have to worry about me being immature. As for taking care of someone, I haven’t done it before, but I can learn. Can you give me that chance?” “But… you don’t even like me. Why me?” I was a bit stunned. “How do you know I don’t like you?” he countered. “We just met today! Are you going to tell me it was love at first sight?” He shook his head. “Not exactly. The day you start liking me back, I’ll tell you. For now, can you just give me a chance to be with you? Let’s try things out. If you really feel like you can’t accept me, then you can say you regret it. I won’t stop you.” Seeing the determination in his eyes, somehow, I couldn’t bring myself to say no. Whatever, I thought. Might as well give it a try. When he gets tired of it, I won’t have to deal with rejecting him. He walked behind me all the way home. When we got to my apartment building, I suddenly realized I knew almost nothing about him. I pulled out my phone. “Need your number… boyfriend.” He blinked, then grinned. “Sure.” Kinda dorky, actually cute. “So, may I ask my boyfriend’s name?” “Ethan Shaw. Ethan, like the name. Shaw, like George Bernard.” “I’m Chloe Miller.” “I know.” “Huh? How did you know?” He just smiled without answering. After a moment, he patted my head gently. “Go on up.” Before falling asleep that night, I habitually checked my phone. I saw he’d texted me about ten minutes ago: Goodnight. The next day at noon, heading to class, I was shocked to find him waiting downstairs from my apartment. “What are you doing here?” “Keeping you company in class.” “Oh.” I walked a few steps before it hit me. “Wait, with me? Not just walking me to class?” “Yep.” He repeated it clearly, as if worried I hadn’t heard. “Keeping you company in class.” Just as I expected, the moment he walked into the classroom, there was a commotion. No surprise there – he was ridiculously good-looking and dressed way too cool. Today he wore a blue and white baseball jacket, black casual pants, and still had his glasses on. On the surface, he looked like a good boy, but it couldn’t hide the edgy vibe he gave off. He just had that natural “keep away” aura, especially when he wasn’t smiling, looking like he might pick a fight any second. When the professor came in, he slumped onto the desk and started sleeping. Halfway through the lecture, my phone started buzzing non-stop in my bag pocket. I opened my messenger app to find I’d been added to a group chat, already flooded with 99+ messages. Rolling my eyes, I started scrolling up.

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My fiancé, Alex, after six long years climbing the ladder at his company, finally got promoted from a junior position to department supervisor. At the celebratory dinner, Alex proudly held my hand as we went to toast the Vice President who’d championed him. That’s when I realized the VP who’d been mentoring Alex all this time was a client from my old life. The kind of client who could book me for the entire night for a hefty price tag. 1 I got into the life at eighteen and got out at thirty. Ten years – feels like forever and no time at all. By the time I decided to leave that world behind, I’d managed to scrape together enough for a car, a down payment on a small place, and a little bit in savings. Given my line of work, I didn’t exactly broadcast my modest success. I knew all too well how vicious gossip could be. It could haunt families for generations. The last thing I wanted was for my parents back home to be shamed by the neighbors because of me. So, before I officially “retired,” I lined up a backup plan. No, a future. The classic “solid guy.” His name was Alex Thompson. From the same small town as me. Average looking, a little soft around the middle, not particularly tall – the kind of guy who blends into a crowd. But he was the only person from our town who’d gone to a prestigious university and landed a great job in New York City, even managing to buy an apartment there. Sure, it was a tiny studio, maybe 500 square feet, and he only had the down payment covered, but back in our little corner of the world, that was like reaching the moon. More importantly, he’d been living in NYC for six years. One more year, and he’d have residency, really putting down roots. Besides the NYC stability, what really pushed me towards Alex was seeing what happened to my friend Jenny, who’d gotten out six months before me. She’d been around the block too. She thought she had her escape route planned out – becoming the mistress of some older, moderately wealthy guy. He promised her a house in her hometown and a million dollars if she gave him a son, enough to set her up for life. But before the baby was even born, his wife found out. She showed up, attacked Jenny viciously, and Jenny lost the baby. Worse, the damage meant she could never have kids again. She ended up with nothing. All of us girls at the club heard the story, shared sympathetic sighs, and took it as a hard lesson. So, I pulled out all the stops. I charmed Alex completely. Made him believe I was the only woman for him. Even when his parents argued I wasn’t good enough – wrong background, wrong education, and let’s face it, my looks screamed “trouble” – they figured even if we got married, he couldn’t hold onto me. But Alex didn’t waver. Somehow, he convinced his parents to back down. They set the wedding date for Memorial Day weekend this year. And just a few days ago, he got that promotion. His salary doubled, and his position at the company was more secure than ever. I was starting to genuinely look forward to it – escaping my small-town past, settling down in NYC, starting fresh. But then, that celebration dinner threw a wrench into my carefully constructed, seemingly perfect new life. 2 “Chloe, the VP’s over there. Mr. Henderson. I owe him a lot; he’s looked out for me since I started. This promotion is thanks to him too. Let’s go raise a glass.” That evening, at the department dinner celebrating Alex’s promotion, he pulled me, all dressed up, towards his Vice President. I’d agreed to come mostly because we were getting married soon – seemed like the supportive fiancée thing to do. Plus, I wanted to subtly signal to any hopeful young women in Alex’s department that he was taken. Even a “solid guy” like Alex, especially one who just became a supervisor, could attract attention from newcomers looking for a shortcut up the ladder. “Okay,” I said, getting up gracefully and walking beside Alex towards the circle of people surrounding Mr. Henderson. Even before we reached him, I had a nagging feeling I’d seen this VP somewhere before. Having met countless men over the years, I initially dismissed it as mistaken identity, my memory playing tricks. I didn’t dwell on it. But when Alex and I stopped right in front of him, my blood ran cold. Alex’s Vice President. I had seen him before. Not just seen him – I knew him from the club where I used to work. He’d specifically requested me several times. The all-night kind of request. I never, ever imagined I’d run into a former client like this, in this setting. “Mr. Henderson, thank you so much for your support on our department’s projects. I’d like to propose a toast. This is my fiancée, Chloe Miller.” Alex was so focused on showing his respect that he didn’t notice the color drain from my face. Of course, my years of practice in hiding my true feelings helped immensely. “Alex, my boy, you’re a lucky man. Such a beautiful fiancée,” Mr. Henderson said, his eyes sweeping over me with perfect corporate politeness before landing on the standard compliment. Not a trace of anything inappropriate. The last time I’d dealt with Henderson must have been about a year ago. Back then, I wore the heavy, uniform makeup favored by the club. Maybe he didn’t remember me, or maybe he just didn’t recognize me without the war paint. If he did recognize me, knowing his usual sleazy nature, he wouldn’t be acting this professionally. I tried to reassure myself silently. Focus. Act natural. “You’re too kind, Mr. Henderson. We’d both like to toast you,” Alex suggested respectfully. “Excellent,” Henderson beamed, agreeing readily and clinking glasses. He clinked Alex’s glass, then mine. And in that brief moment, the way his eyes lingered just a fraction too long, the slight pressure as his glass touched mine – I knew. He recognized me. And he already had ideas. 3 “Chloe, what’s wrong? You look pale. Are you feeling okay?” As soon as we were out of Henderson’s direct line of sight, Alex noticed something was off. “No, I’m fine. Just not used to drinking, I guess. I need to use the restroom.” I practically fled. Once inside the ladies’ room, I leaned against the cool tile, forcing myself to breathe, to think. Look, people in my old line of work, even though it’s not something you advertise, generally follow an unwritten code. Outside the club, once the transaction is over, you’re strangers. That goes for us and the clients. It’s an understanding. But Henderson… the reason he made me so nervous, so thrown off, wasn’t just because he was a regular. He was infamous among the girls. The kind of client everyone dreaded. Cheap, demanding, always trying to push boundaries. Always trying to get the most while paying the least. He’d even complain afterwards, trying to get discounts. But we couldn’t refuse clients. And he used to request me specifically. A lot. To save money, he’d tried more than once to bypass the club, suggesting private arrangements. I always shut him down flat. I knew he held a grudge, always looking for a chance to cause trouble for me. It’s just that I’d suddenly disappeared from the scene, gotten out, so he never got the chance. Now, meeting like this, him recognizing me immediately… he wouldn’t let this go easily. Worse, he saw me with Alex. Someone as conniving as him would instantly figure out what I was after with Alex. Alex wasn’t rich, not by NYC standards, and maybe not irreplaceable in the grand scheme of things. But he was the best, most stable option I could realistically find. Plus, he genuinely seemed to love me. We’d been together almost a year, and he happily supported me. Even though my “job” at my boutique barely paid the bills and had flexible hours (meaning I rarely had to go in early or stay late), he never complained. He’d bring me breakfast before he left for work, order lunch delivery for me, come home with groceries and cook dinner. He even did the dishes. Never asked me to lift a finger around the house. A whole year, day in and day out, without a single complaint. He was the definition of a solid, dependable guy. On top of that, Alex was an only child. His parents ran a small business back home, enough to support themselves in retirement. They could even help with childcare when we eventually had kids. Alex and his family represented a future I couldn’t afford to lose. It felt like my one and only chance. So, I absolutely could not let Alex find out about my past. I couldn’t let Henderson scare him away. 4 “Honey, my friend back in Chicago, she’s going through a rough patch with her boyfriend. She’s really down and asked if I could come visit for a few days. My boutique… could you maybe check on it while I’m gone? You don’t have to stress about it, the two girls working there are pretty reliable. I’m just worried something unexpected might pop up and they wouldn’t know how to handle it.” After agonizing over it, I caved. I agreed to meet Henderson privately. I knew exactly what that meeting implied. But for the sake of my future, my carefully planned happiness, I felt I had no choice. To avoid suspicion from Alex, I used my friend in another city as an excuse. “Chicago? For how long? Do you have enough money? Let me Venmo you a thousand, just in case. If you need more, just tell me, I get paid again soon.” Alex, bless his trusting heart, was the same as always. Believed whatever I said, never questioned, just did his best to make sure I was taken care of. Before I could even refuse, the notification popped up on my phone. “$1000 received from Alex Thompson.” “No, honey, really. Business at the shop has been okay lately, I have enough. Besides, payday is still two weeks away for you. Keep your money.” A pang of guilt hit me. I genuinely didn’t want his money this time. Besides, I wasn’t broke. Aside from my secret savings, I had the boutique. Right here in NYC. Okay, working nights wasn’t glamorous, but the kind of men who frequented those places often had serious money. I knew my looks wouldn’t last forever, so while I was still “in demand,” I’d deliberately cultivated relationships with a few successful businessmen. Picked their brains about how things worked. One guy, a clothing wholesaler, went from client to business contact. Online shopping hit my little brick-and-mortar store hard. It wasn’t making me rich, but it paid the bills. Just enough to survive. Which, conveniently, fit perfectly with the backstory I’d crafted for myself – ten years working dead-end retail jobs back home. Nobody in our hometown suspected a thing. “Baby, your money is your money. Keep it for yourself. My money is for taking care of you.” Alex refused when I tried to send it back. “Don’t worry about me. I don’t smoke, I eat at the company cafeteria for lunch and dinner. I just need a few bucks for the subway. You go have fun with your friend. And hey, if she wants to come here to clear her head, just let me know ahead of time, I can crash at the office or find somewhere else to stay.” He’d thought of everything, anticipated potential issues, and had solutions ready. So considerate. “Alex…” Moved by his simple, steady kindness – a stark contrast to the world I came from – I wrapped my arms around him. “Don’t get emotional over little things, Chloe,” he said softly, patting my back. “This is just what you do for someone you love. And I promise, I’m going to work even harder, make more money, so I can provide for you and our future kids. As long as I’m around, you won’t have to worry about a thing.” He spoke with such sincerity. No flowery promises, but it meant more than any fancy words could. “Okay,” I nodded, burying my face in his shoulder. At that moment, whatever my initial reasons, I truly wanted this life with Alex. I would find a way to deal with Henderson, to remove any obstacle standing between us. 5 “Mr. Henderson. Long time no see. Hope you’re well.” Arriving at the hotel room he’d specified, I switched on my old professional persona. Bright smile, warm greeting, perfectly poised, just like back at the club. Even though looking at him made my stomach turn. “Chloe, my dear. It has been too long. I’ve missed you terribly.” Before the words were fully out of my mouth, Henderson lunged towards me, grabbing, just like he used to at the club – pay the money, then immediately try to get his hands on you, afraid of missing a second of what he paid for. Except this time, as he clearly intended, it was supposed to be free. Too bad for him. I was out of the life. And I’d found a man who treated me right. I was determined to be better now. I sidestepped him smoothly, almost instinctively. Besides wanting to protect myself and my future with Alex, I knew that if I let Henderson get what he wanted today, he’d be like gum stuck to my shoe. Impossible to get rid of, ever. “Chloe, what’s this? Think just because you snagged some up-and-comer, you can forget what you are?” Predictably, Henderson’s face changed instantly. The mask dropped, replaced by a sneer. The insults started. “Mr. Henderson, it’s good to see you again,” I began, keeping my smile fixed, professional. “But as you noted, I haven’t worked in that capacity for a long time now. And if I recall correctly, our past interactions were always strictly business. Settled upon completion.” Maintaining composure was rule number one from day one in that business. Besides, my goal today was to solve a problem, not start a fight. “You’re not working, yet you came. So, you have something you want to discuss.” Henderson hadn’t gotten to his position at a Fortune 500 company just by being cheap. He wasn’t stupid. “Mr. Henderson, you have a beautiful family, a successful career. You can afford any companion you desire at those clubs. Surely, you don’t need to waste your time on me. Of course,” I lowered my voice slightly, adopting the deferential tone he clearly craved, “if I somehow offended you in the past, please, tell me now. I sincerely apologize for any past indiscretion on my part. I was young and foolish. I’d like to make amends.” I practically bowed, trying to give him the sense of power he seemed to need. “But right now, Chloe,” he said, eyes glinting with amusement, “I want you.” He looked at me like I was a trapped animal, enjoying my futile struggles. “Mr. Henderson, why risk complications? Why risk upsetting your home life over someone insignificant like me? Surely, this is something money can resolve. No need for unnecessary drama.” I hinted, not too subtly, at buying his silence. “Ah, Chloe. Do you know why, out of all the girls at the club, I always preferred you? Besides that pretty face, you were always the smartest one. But intelligence used wrongly is useless.” “You think my wife,” he scoffed, “is the kind of woman who’d cause a scene over some girl from a club? You think she doesn’t know men have their… diversions? If she couldn’t handle that, she wouldn’t have lasted this long as Mrs. Henderson.” He saw right through my veiled threat about his wife, and he didn’t care. He looked smug, as if he’d anticipated my every move. “But you, Chloe, you’re different. No, wait. Alex is different. Alex is a decent guy, building his life through hard work. A man like that, a successful, driven man? He could never tolerate his wife being… well, being someone like you. Someone available to any man with the right amount of cash.” “If I remember correctly, Alex just bought property in the city. Another year, and he’s fully established. Marry him, and you’re set for life. NYC residency, financial security.” “But,” he leaned in slightly, “if Alex breaks up with you now? You get nothing. You won’t find another guy like him. You’ll end up back looking for sugar daddies, or marrying someone old enough to be your father.” He had it all mapped out, my potential futures laid bare. In his eyes, I was a cornered fox, no match for his cunning. Completely at his mercy. “What do you want?” I finally asked, my voice tight. My options were dwindling fast. Besides, Henderson was right. Society judges women far more harshly than men for the same behavior. A man’s indiscretions are often forgiven. A woman’s past? It can destroy her. “Simple,” he purred, leaning back, confident. “You just be a good girl. Be available when I call. Be as… accommodating… as you were back at the club. Do that, and I guarantee, Alex will never know your little secret. Everything you want from him, you’ll get.” The disgusting pig. He wanted a mistress without paying the price. “I… I need to think about this, Mr. Henderson,” I stammered. Even though it felt like there was only one path left, I couldn’t bring myself to agree immediately. “Fine,” he smirked, clearly sensing victory. “After all, you’re a respectable lady now. Besides your fiancé, I’ll be your only other man.” His tone dripped with smug satisfaction. “But don’t take too long deciding, Chloe. Otherwise, Alex might receive some… interesting information. And then, poof! All your carefully laid plans go up in smoke.”

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