Author: Momo Chan

After I died, Victoria finally smiled. It was a smile of pure relief, a look I had never seen on her face in my entire life. She held Lily’s portrait tightly against her chest. The resentment and hatred that had etched deep lines between her eyebrows seemed to vanish the exact moment I drew my last breath. “Lily,” Victoria whispered, her voice cracking with a fragile, broken tenderness. “That nuisance is finally gone. Now, it’s just the two of us left in this house. Aren’t you happy?” I floated in the air. My translucent soul was pierced by the warm glow of the living room lights, yet I couldn’t feel a single ounce of warmth. My body was still locked inside the tiny utility closet next to the kitchen, a space less than twenty square feet. My flesh had already grown cold. The skin that had been burning with a high fever just hours ago was now losing the last trace of human temperature. And the reason for my death? It was simply because, at my sister’s memorial dinner, I had asked a single question: “Victoria… can I please have a tiny piece of cake?”

Today would have been Lily’s tenth birthday. It was also the third anniversary of her death. The living room was decorated like a fairytale kingdom. There were streamers, balloons, and a custom eight-tier fondant cake. Standing on top of the cake was a delicate sugar figurine in a princess dress, looking seventy percent like Lily. David had invited many guests. They were all his business partners, and they had brought their children along. Victoria wore an elegant evening gown. Holding a champagne glass, she mingled effortlessly among the guests, a polite but distant smile plastered on her face. None of the guests knew that beneath that perfect smile lay a heart shattered and filled with venomous hatred. As for me, I was like a mismatched ghost at this grand party. I had been ordered to stay in my bedroom and not make a single sound. I pressed my face against the crack of the door, greedily sniffing the sweet, rich scent of buttercream drifting from the living room. I hadn’t eaten a single thing all day. Ever since I was seven, when I handed Lily my favorite nut chocolate—unknowingly triggering her severe nut allergy, which led to fatal anaphylactic shock—all “sweetness” had been stripped from my life. Victoria said Lily loved sweets. She said a murderer like me didn’t deserve to taste anything sweet ever again. All my allowance was confiscated. The housekeeper was strictly instructed never to give me any food containing sugar. My plate always held nothing but bland, unseasoned pasta and boiled broccoli. Sometimes, when the hunger became unbearable, I would sneakily pick up candy wrappers David had thrown in the trash can, licking the residual sweetness left on the plastic over and over again. Tonight, that sweet aroma was like an invisible hand, clawing at my empty stomach. I heard the guests singing the birthday song in the living room. Children giggled, crowding around Victoria as she cut the beautiful cake. Possessed by hunger, I turned the doorknob. The waves of laughter and music instantly drowned me. Everyone was immersed in the joy. No one noticed the extremely skinny girl standing in the corner in a faded, oversized pajama set. My eyes were glued to the cake. Victoria was cutting the largest slice, carefully placing it onto a delicate pink porcelain plate. She carried it over and set it gently in front of Lily’s portrait. “Happy birthday, Lily. Look, I made your favorite strawberry cake,” Victoria’s voice was so soft it could melt. Watching her back, my throat tightened. My feet moved on their own, drawing me closer. Perhaps my gaze was too intense. Victoria suddenly turned around. The moment she saw me, the warmth and tenderness on her face froze. It was instantly replaced by a bone-chilling disgust and hatred. “What are you doing out here? Get back to your room!” she hissed through her teeth, keeping her voice low. The noise of the party seemed to fade into a mute background. My entire world shrank down to her freezing glare. I clutched the hem of my shirt. My lips trembled for a long time before I finally managed a tiny, pathetic whisper. “Victoria… can I… can I please have a small piece of cake? Just a tiny bite…” “SLAP!” A sharp, resounding slap echoed through the room. The pink porcelain plate slipped from her hand, shattering on the hardwood floor. The perfect slice of cake fell into the dirt and ruins, becoming a messy, ruined heap. My cheek burned with a stinging pain. My ears rang violently.

Victoria’s eyes flushed a dangerous red, like a cornered lioness. She grabbed me by my hair, dragging me brutally off the floor, and hauled me toward the utility closet next to the kitchen. “Cake? You think you deserve to eat Lily’s cake? You killed your own sister! Why didn’t you die instead of her?!” Her hysterical screams shattered the harmony of the party. The guests turned to look in shock. David’s face darkened. He quickly stepped forward to stop her. “That’s enough, Victoria! The guests are still here!” “Get off me!” Victoria shoved his hand away. “I’m going to teach this brat a lesson today! She dared to show her face on Lily’s anniversary. She wants me dead, doesn’t she?!” A look of exhaustion and annoyance flashed across David’s face, but in the end, he chose to avoid a scene. He cast a cold, detached glance at me, as if looking at an inconvenient piece of trash. “Maybe locking her inside to reflect is a good idea,” David murmured. He condoned Victoria’s cruelty. The utility closet door slammed shut with a heavy “BANG”, followed by the distinct sound of a key turning in the lock. The world plunged into absolute darkness and silence. I curled up on the cold floor. The stinging pain on my cheek gradually went numb, replaced by a familiar, bone-deep chill. This dark closet had been my most frequent shelter for the past three years. Whenever I upset Victoria, I would be locked in here. Sometimes for hours, sometimes for days. At first, I used to cry. I would bang on the door, screaming for David and Victoria. But later, I realized my cries only brought worse abuse from Victoria and longer lockups. So, I learned to be quiet. I hugged my knees, waiting for the time to pass as I always did. But today, my body felt wrong. Since the afternoon, my head had been heavy and dizzy, my limbs weak. Now, locked in this damp, freezing closet, the chill was creeping up my spine like a thousand icy needles. My forehead burned hotter by the minute. The darkness began to spin. I realized I had a high fever. Using the last of my strength, I raised my hand and tapped weakly on the wooden door. “Victoria… David… I feel sick…” My voice was hoarse and dry, a whisper so faint it barely left my throat. Outside, the party seemed to have ended. I could hear David saying goodbye to the guests, followed by Victoria’s muffled, bitter weeping. Nobody came for me. The fever began to consume my consciousness. A suffocating pressure rushed over me like a tide. In my haze, I thought I saw Lily. She was wearing her beautiful princess dress, holding the nut chocolate I had given her, smiling at me innocently. “Chloe, this chocolate is so good. Let’s share it, half and half, okay?” I shook my head violently, tears pouring down my face. “Don’t eat it… Lily, I’m sorry… I didn’t know you were allergic… I’m so sorry…” This apology, three years late, was something I only dared to whisper in my dreams, during the countless nights I spent locked in this dark room. I wanted to tell her that if I could, I would gladly trade my life for hers. Just like Victoria had cursed me to do, a thousand times… In the final moments of my consciousness, I heard David’s exhausted voice from outside the door. “Victoria, stop crying. Is it really worth torturing a living child for the sake of one who is already gone?” Victoria snapped back sharply, “A living child? David, don’t forget, Chloe killed our Lily! She doesn’t deserve to live!” Ah. My name is Chloe. It had been so, so long since I heard anyone call me by my name. They usually called me “that thing,” “the brat,” or “the murderer.” My body felt lighter and lighter. My soul, like a wisp of smoke, drifted gently out of the closet, leaving my physical shell behind. I was dead. I died during my sister’s tenth birthday party. And my mother, after cursing me one last time, finally smiled with relief.

David finally opened the closet door. It was noon the next day. After the housekeeper finished making lunch, she habitually asked, “Mr. Miller, what about Chloe’s lunch…?” Victoria was arranging a fresh bouquet of flowers. Hearing the name, she didn’t even look up. She sneered, “Let her starve to death. It saves me the headache of looking at her.” David’s brow furrowed slightly. Without a word, he walked over to the utility closet, took out the key, and unlocked the cold brass lock. The moment the door swung open, he froze. Floating right behind him, I clearly saw his pupils contract with terror. Inside the tiny closet, I was curled up in the corner. My body was stiff in an unnatural posture, my face a sickening shade of blue-purple, my lips cracked and dry. I looked like a withered flower, forgotten in a dark corner. “Chloe?” David called out experimentally, his voice trembling with a hint of fear he didn’t even realize he had. He reached out, placing his fingers beneath my nose. There was nothing. Just cold, lifeless stillness. David’s body shook violently. He stumbled back two steps, crashing against the hallway wall. All color drained from his face. From the living room, Victoria seemed to notice his silence. She called out impatiently, “What’s wrong? Is that brat playing dead again?” David’s lips trembled, but he couldn’t make a sound. He suddenly lunged forward, slammed the closet door shut, and locked it again. Then, like a puppet whose strings had been cut, he walked back to the living room. “It’s nothing,” he said, his voice incredibly hoarse. “She’s sleeping.” He didn’t dare tell Victoria. He knew that if Victoria—whose mental health was already extremely fragile—found out I had died this way inside their own home, she would completely lose her mind. For the past three years, he had been walking a tightrope, trying desperately to keep this broken family together. He was both an accomplice and a victim. He turned a blind eye to Victoria’s abuse, yet spent his nights drinking glass after glass of whiskey in front of Lily’s portrait. He loved Lily. And once, he had loved me too. But that love had been completely eroded by daily arguments, his wife’s endless tears, and the constant misery in the house. Now, he just wanted to protect what was left of his marriage. He wanted to protect Victoria, his only remaining family. Even if the price was erasing every single trace of my existence. That afternoon, David claimed he had an urgent matter at the office and rushed out. I followed him. I watched him drive to a hardware store in the suburbs, where he bought a brand-new shovel and several heavy-duty black trash bags. My heart sank. What he was about to do was obvious. That night, after Victoria had taken her sleeping pills and fallen into a deep slumber, David unlocked the utility closet once again. He didn’t turn on the lights. Using only the faint glow of his phone screen, he struggled to stuff my cold, stiff body into the largest black trash bag.

As he pulled the zipper shut, his hands shook violently. I saw a hot tear drop onto the black plastic bag, disappearing instantly into the dark material. Was that a tear? David, are you crying for me? I wanted so badly to ask him, but I was just a silent spirit. Like a thief in the night, he hoisted the “trash bag” onto his shoulder and carried it to the backyard, walking toward the large maple tree. This had been Lily’s favorite spot. She used to love playing on the swing set here. David began to dig, one shovel of dirt at a time. The night was deep and quiet. The only sound was the muffled “thud” of the shovel slicing into the damp earth. His movements were clumsy and strained. Sweat soaked his dress shirt, clinging to his back and outlining his tired, slouched shoulders. He had once been a sharp, successful businessman. But in the last three years, he had aged decades. Finally, a deep pit was ready. He gently lowered the black bag into the earth. But when he raised the shovel to throw the first pile of dirt back in, he stopped. He knelt by the edge of the pit and lit a cigarette. The tiny red ember glowed in the darkness, illuminating his tortured, twisted face. “Chloe,” he finally spoke, his voice incredibly cracked. “Don’t hate me… I had no choice… Victoria… she can’t take any more shock.” “Do this for the family. For me and Victoria. Just… rest in peace. I hope you find peace in your next life, and get a better family next time. Don’t come back to us.” He inhaled the entire cigarette in one long drag, then crushed the butt into the dirt, as if extinguishing the last spark of guilt in his heart. Then, he began to shovel the dirt back in frantically. Shovel after shovel, until the pit was completely filled, burying me and every trace of my existence deep beneath the dark earth. He even transplanted a patch of sod from another part of the yard, patting it down until the grave looked completely invisible. When it was over, he collapsed onto the grass, panting heavily. I floated among the branches of the maple tree, watching him silently. I didn’t feel anger. I didn’t feel hatred. Only a vast, endless sorrow. So, my death really was a relief to them. I was the most unwanted piece in this household. Maybe this was for the best. Now that I was dead, Victoria wouldn’t scream at the sight of me, and David wouldn’t have to choose sides anymore. Was my sin finally paid for?

Over the next few days, a strange, eerie peace settled over the house. A long-lost smile returned to Victoria’s face. She hummed tunes while gardening and happily researched new recipes. She never mentioned my name, as if I had never existed. Only in the dead of night would she hold Lily’s photo album, stroking the pages and whispering, “Lily, look. Without that nuisance here, isn’t our home so much happier?” David, on the other hand, became even more silent. He went to work on time, ate dinner with Victoria, and watched TV. But his mind was always elsewhere. He would often stare blankly out the window for hours. I knew what he was looking at. He was looking at the maple tree in the backyard. The place where my bones were buried. Guilt was like a weed, silently wrapping around his heart in the dark. But this artificial peace was shattered on the third day. The doorbell rang. It was my teacher. She was a gentle woman, and beside Lily, she was the only person who had ever shown me any kindness in this world. She was the one who noticed when I forgot my lunch and would secretly slide a sandwich into my desk. She was the one who saw the bruises on my wrists, pulled me into her office to apply ointment, and gently tried to ask about my home life. But I had been too terrified to say anything. I was afraid that if I spoke, Victoria would lock me in the closet for even longer. “Mr. and Mrs. Miller, hello,” Ms. Gable stood at the door, a polite but worried smile on her face. “I’m here for a home visit. Chloe hasn’t been to school for three days, and my calls went unanswered. I was getting worried.” Hearing my name, the smile on Victoria’s face instantly vanished. She shot Ms. Gable a cold, sharp look. “What could possibly be wrong with her? She’s probably throwing a tantrum and hiding somewhere. Just ignore her.” David quickly stepped forward to smooth things over. “Ms. Gable, I’m so sorry. Chloe… we sent her to her grandmother’s cabin upstate. We’re planning to transfer her to a school up there. It was a rushed decision, so we forgot to notify the school.” It was a lie full of holes. My grandmother had passed away five years ago. Ms. Gable clearly knew this. Her smile faded, and her eyes grew sharp and serious. “Really? Because I spoke with her grandmother—your mother—just yesterday, and she knew nothing about this.” David’s face turned paper-white. “And…” Ms. Gable stared dead into David’s eyes, “some of Chloe’s classmates mentioned that on the night of the party, she was beaten by Mrs. Miller and locked up.” “Is that true, Mr. Miller?”

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My boyfriend, Austin Carter, had a female childhood friend he grew up with. On his birthday, I rushed back from a business trip just to celebrate with him. She looked me up and down, letting out a sharp scoff. “I’ve seen plenty of girls like her. Straight out of some cheap socialite boot camp!” “They target rich guys like you, Austin. She’s probably memorized all your likes and dislikes. This whole relationship? A tailor-made trap!” Hearing this, I smirked. She was only half right. I was indeed a high-society heiress. But Austin? He wasn’t worth the effort of a “tailor-made” trap. I walked over, sat directly opposite her, and sneered, “And which Madame trained you, then? You seem to know an awful lot about that industry.” Hearing this, she grabbed Austin’s arm, whining, “Austin, I told you we shouldn’t have invited her! But you insisted I help you check her out!” Austin glared at me, his eyes cold and stern. “Chloe, that’s out of line!” I couldn’t believe my ears. It wasn’t out of line when she insulted me, but the moment I fought back, I was the bad guy? “Austin, did you leave your brain at home today?” “You asked her to ‘check me out’? What, is there something about me you don’t know that you need her as your consultant?” Austin stood up, his voice dripping with disappointment. “Chloe, stop pretending. Tell me, where did all your designer clothes come from? And that luxury car you drive—the one you swap out every few weeks? Where did you get the money for that?” “You told me your family was in business, ranked in the top three of the city’s wealthiest. But guess what? There’s no one named ‘Sterling’ on that billionaire list!” “Chloe, you’ve disappointed me so much.” With every word he spoke, my fists clenched tighter. But when he mentioned that there was no “Sterling” on the billionaire list, I almost burst out laughing. I took my mother’s last name. Is that a crime? Ashley Vance, his little green-tea bestie, sighed dramatically. “Austin, forget it. It’s good you saw her true colors early. Some gold diggers just don’t know their place.” I raised an eyebrow. “Gold digger?” Austin cleared his throat. “Alright, Chloe. Now that we’ve exposed you, stop acting. Today is my birthday. Don’t make a scene.” “Make a scene? Austin, I cut my business trip short and flew back just to celebrate with you, and you bring this toxic snake to slander me?” “I must have been blind to ever date you. You really think you’re something, don’t you?” Before he could reply, I grabbed my wine glass and splashed the red wine right in his face! “You want a scene? I’ll give you one. And remember—I’m dumping you!” Ashley screamed in horror. “How dare you splash him!” “Oh right, I almost forgot about you!” Before she could react, I swung my arm and delivered a harsh, echoing slap right across her face! Then, I grabbed her jaw, forcing her mouth open, and poured a dirty glass of ashtray water right down her throat! “Clean your mouth out. It reeks, and I wouldn’t want it ruining your precious Austin’s night.” Ignoring her gagging and hysterical screams behind me, I slammed the door and walked out. In my world, Chloe Sterling never wastes time arguing. If I can swing a punch, I do. Otherwise, a loser like Austin would have never gotten a chance with me in the first place. On my drive back, my phone buzzed. It was a text from Austin: “Chloe, you’ve gone too far! Ashley is calling the cops. Just you wait!” I let out a cold laugh. Did he really think I was afraid of the police? What a coincidence. I was going to report them too. Slander has consequences. I spun the steering wheel and drove straight to the police station. As soon as I walked in, I saw Ashley. Her face was swollen, tears welling in her eyes as she hid behind Austin. Seeing me, she whimpered, “Chloe, physical violence is wrong. I only pointed out the truth. You are psycho!” The officer nearby turned to me. “Ms. Sterling, this lady is filing a report against you for assault.” “I did it. I hit her,” I admitted outright. “But…” I paused, pulling out my phone. “…it was with provocation. She defamed me and tried to seduce my boyfriend—well, ex-boyfriend now. That’s why I reacted.” I pressed play, and Ashley’s voice from the VIP room echoed through the station. “She claims I went to a ‘socialite boot camp.’ Unless she can present solid proof, I will be suing her for defamation. Sure, I slapped her. At most, I’ll pay a minor fine for a misdemeanor. But as for her swollen face? Who knows how many times she slapped herself to make it look worse for the cops.” “Why don’t we check the venue’s security cameras?” Ashley’s face paled instantly. “No! That’s… that’s not necessary. We’re all friends here.” She tugged at Austin’s sleeve. “Austin, it’s your birthday. It’s all my fault we ended up at the police station.” Austin’s expression softened immediately. “It’s not your fault, Ashley.” He then looked at me coldly. “Chloe, Ashley is being generous enough not to press charges. Let’s just drop this.”

“Drop this?” I sneered at her. “She might want to drop it, but I don’t! Slander and defamation—I’m taking this to court.” “Then what the hell do you want?” Austin snapped. “A 3,000-word written public apology from her!” Ashley’s eyes flared with anger, but with Austin watching, she had to play the victim. She bit her lower lip, trembling. “Austin… I really didn’t know speaking the truth would get me treated like this.” I scoffed. “You better make sure it’s the truth before you open your mouth. You dragged me down in front of him just to get his attention, didn’t you? What, every woman in the world is a gold digger except you?” Her body went rigid. She quickly deflected, “Austin, your girlfriend is just jealous!” Austin grabbed my wrist. “Enough, Chloe! She was just joking. We’re all friends!” He turned to the officer. “Officer, I’m sorry. My girlfriend is just having a tantrum.” Before I could speak, Austin clamped his hand over my mouth. “That’s enough, Chloe. Stop embarrassing me. Fine, I’ll make her apologize to you!” Ashley immediately bowed to me. “I’m sorry, Ms. Sterling. I just have a big mouth. Please don’t be mad. It’s really bad of us to waste public resources over such a small thing.” I couldn’t take her fake, nauseating act anymore. I swung my studded handbag and whacked Austin right in the face. The sharp metal studs left a bright red scratch across his cheek. He went ballistic. “Chloe! Know your limits!” “Shut your mouth, you bastard!” I turned to the officer. “Officer, Ashley Vance intentionally fabricated and spread rumors to damage my reputation and character. Under state law, that constitutes criminal defamation. Am I correct?” Seeing that I knew my rights, the officer nodded. “Yes. Young lady, the demand for a written apology is very reasonable. Miss, you should write it. Defamation can lead to serious legal consequences.” Ashley looked like she wanted to murder me, but she had no choice. I pointed at Austin. “This is between me and Ashley. I have the receipts. If you say one more word, I’ll have my lawyers charge you as an accomplice!” Austin was shaking with rage. “Chloe, you are completely delusional! Don’t you dare come crawling back to me!” “We are broken up, Austin. Who the hell would crawl back to you?” He was speechless. A calculating gleam flashed in Ashley’s eyes before she quickly masked it with tears. Reluctantly, she sat down and wrote the apology. Once it was done, I took the police report and the signed apology, walked out, and slammed my foot on the gas pedal of my car. Since I had returned early, the expensive birthday gift I had bought for Austin was still in my bag. I immediately listed it on eBay, sold it within minutes, and called my friends out for drinks. When they heard I had broken up with Austin, they all laughed. “Chloe, stop playing!” “Everyone knows you treated him like a prince. Last time we said he was a jerk, you almost fought us. Now you’re broken up?” “Give it two days, and you’ll go crawling back to him once you calm down.” I sighed. I couldn’t believe they saw me as some desperate, lovesick girl. “I’m serious this time.” “Well, Austin is hot,” one of my friends shrugged. “Good looks are rare these days. It’s fine if he has an attitude. But if you really dumped him, please tell me you slept with him first. Otherwise, what a waste!” I shuddered at the thought. “Just thinking about him and his ‘childhood bestie’ makes me want to throw up. Sleep with him? I’d rather not catch an STD.” My best friend burst out laughing. After a long night of drinking and two days of rest, I packed up everything Austin had ever given me and threw it in the trash. Finally, I opened my phone. The first thing that popped up on my feed was a cozy picture of Austin and Ashley together on Instagram. Childhood friends, my foot. They hooked up faster than a microwave meal. I was about to block them, but then I stopped. I’d keep them unblocked—for the free entertainment.

After sorting out my personal life, I headed to the Art Exhibition Center. My business trip had been to organize this very art exhibition, specifically to invite the world-renowned painter, Mr. Raymond, to the city. As the chief director of the project, I was overseeing the entire setup. Today was the grand opening, and visitors were already pouring in. I finally let out a breath of relief. But as I turned around, I ran straight into two very familiar, very annoying faces. Ashley was clinging to Austin’s arm, walking toward me. Talk about a small world. I looked Ashley up and down. In just three days, she had completely upgraded her wardrobe. She was covered in designer logos from head to toe, though all those luxury brands couldn’t hide the cheap, manipulative scent rolling off her. Austin stepped up to me, a smug smirk on his face. “What’s the matter, Chloe? Dumped me and couldn’t wait to find another rich guy, so you sneaked into a high-end place like this?” “Can’t you have some self-respect? Do you really have to be a gold digger?” To him, I was just a girl wearing fake designer clothes. He assumed I was here to hunt for a sugar daddy. I chuckled. “To be fair, I couldn’t ‘dig’ anything out of you anyway. With your net worth, buying me a single bag almost gave you a heart attack. Now that you have a new girlfriend, try not to be so cheap.” His face darkened instantly. “So you admit it! You’re just a gold digger. Everyone attending this exhibition today is from high society. Are you trying to bag a billionaire?” Ashley chimed in, her voice dripping with mock pity. “Ms. Sterling, as a fellow woman, you are an embarrassment to our gender. Trying to stage an ‘accidental meeting’ here is just pathetic.” “Now that you’ve lost Austin, you’ll never find a man as good as him. Do you really think these billionaires are stupid? Why would they ever look at a cheap girl like you?” She raised her voice, deliberately drawing the attention of the surrounding crowd. Austin wrapped his arm around her waist, looking down at me. “Chloe, if you don’t want to ruin your reputation even more, get the hell out of here. It won’t look good when security drags you out.” I almost laughed. “And who are you to tell me to leave?” “Based on the fact that we were invited,” Austin sneered, pulling out an elegant invitation card. “Do you even have one of these?” Ashley smirked. “Yeah, do you? This is an exclusive invitation. Hand-written by the eldest daughter of the Harrison family—the richest family in the city. Do you have one?” Hearing this, I remembered. When we were preparing for the exhibition, I had indeed hand-written a few invitations because my assistant was overwhelmed. Later, I got too tired and stopped. I didn’t expect one of those rare hand-written invitations to end up in his hands. It must have been a mistake by the PR department. The crowd began whispering, looking at Austin with admiration. “To receive a hand-written invitation from Ms. Harrison herself… Mr. Carter must be someone truly special.” “If that girl doesn’t have an invitation, security should throw her out. She’s obviously here with bad intentions.” “She thinks she can get away with anything just because she has a pretty face.” Austin glared at me. “Chloe, get lost! This is a high-end art gallery, not a place for trash like you.” “Just wait until the museum director gets here. Let’s see how tough you act then!” Right on cue, Director Jenkins walked over in a hurry. Seeing the crowd gathered, he frowned, and his eyes landed on me. He froze. Ashley immediately pointed at me. “Director Jenkins! This girl is a gold digger who sneaked in to harass the guests. Please have security throw her out so she doesn’t ruin the experience for everyone else!” Others joined in. “Yes! She looks decent, but her morals are trash!” “How did someone like her even get past the door?” “She’s an eyesore!” I scoffed. “Throw me out? You blind fools wouldn’t know class if it hit you in the face.” The crowd gasped in outrage, demanding the guards remove me. But Director Jenkins stepped forward, his voice booming over the chatter. “Silence! Ms. Sterling is the chief director and organizer of this entire exhibition! Without her, none of you would even be standing here looking at Mr. Raymond’s masterpieces!” The gallery fell into a dead silence. Ashley’s eyes widened in shock, and she shrieked, “I wondered why you were so confident, Chloe! You must be sleeping with the Director and Mr. Raymond!” “Wow, Chloe. You must be really busy serving both of them!” Her eyes were filled with pure jealousy and malice. I smiled coldly. “I am busy. But I always have time to slap a bitch.” “SMACK!” An incredibly loud slap echoed through the entire gallery. Ashley’s scream pierced the air!

Before she could even start cursing, I swung my hand back and delivered another brutal slap. Both of her cheeks instantly turned a violent red. Austin tried to lung at me, but the security guards tackled him to the ground immediately. I pulled out a silk handkerchief, calmly wiping my hands as I looked around the room. My voice was ice-cold. “You people really never learn, do you?” “Ashley, the last time you slandered me, the police made you write a 3,000-word apology. Yet, here you are again. Let me educate you on the law. If someone repeatedly and intentionally defames another person, the court doesn’t allow out-of-court settlements. You’ll be facing real jail time. Still want to keep talking?” Ashley trembled, her mouth hanging open but no words coming out. Director Jenkins was furious. “I have worked for the Harrison Group my entire life, and I have never been so insulted!” “I will not let this slide. You, and you—for accusing me of having an affair with Ms. Sterling, my lawyers will be contacting you. Security, drag them out!” The guards immediately grabbed Austin and Ashley, dragging them toward the exit. Austin screamed like a wild animal. “Chloe! You bitch! How dare you lay a hand on her! Just you wait!” I scoffed. “Wait? You aren’t even worth my time.” I turned back to the guests who had joined in on the insults. “As for the rest of you, I’ve memorized your faces. The Harrison Group’s legal team will be sending you letters shortly.” “And anyone who spoke ill of me today—your companies will never, ever partner with the Harrison Group again.” The crowd gasped, utterly terrified. I nodded to Director Jenkins and turned to leave. Behind me, whispers broke out: “Who is she? How can she be so powerful?” “What is her relationship with the Harrison Group?” “Wait… she looks familiar. Isn’t she the heiress of the Harrison Group?” “But her last name is Sterling!” “You idiot, she took her mother’s maiden name! Helena Sterling!” The regrets and groans behind me were satisfying, but it was already too late. Once outside, Austin and Ashley were nowhere to be seen. I smiled coldly. This was far from over. Later that evening, Mr. Raymond sent me a text asking if I was alright. He had heard about the incident. I apologized profusely and assured him everything was under control. I couldn’t believe those two idiots had brought their drama in front of him. And of course, Ashley wasn’t done. The next day, she tried to start a smear campaign against me on TikTok. She posted a video of herself crying to the camera, claiming she was a victim of bullying. She even hinted that I was a home-wrecker. “I was at the New World Art Center, and I experienced the most humiliating moment of my life. I simply pointed out her true colors, and she had me assaulted and thrown out!” “As a woman, I’ve always believed in female empowerment. I only advised her not to be a gold digger. But what did she do? She seduced my boyfriend, and when I confronted her, she beat me!” “We are both women, yet your actions are an embarrassment to our entire gender!” Using the banner of “female empowerment,” she whipped up a massive wave of outrage online. She painted me as a gold-digger who went to a socialite boot camp, a girl wearing fake luxury items who specifically targeted wealthy men. With Austin backing her up and posting old photos of “their beautiful memories,” the video went viral. They leaked my name, and within hours, my social media was flooded with hate. However, they hadn’t managed to dig up my real identity. To the internet, I was just a nameless high-class escort. I compiled all the screenshots and handed them straight to my family’s lawyers. When my parents saw the news, they were furious. They demanded to handle it, but I told them I wanted to settle this myself. First, I had Ashley’s TikTok account permanently banned. Then, I pulled every single corporate contract and partnership Austin’s company had with the Harrison Group.

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My mother was a liar. When I was eight years old, she told me she was going to the big city to work. She said she was going to save up for my college tuition and would come back once I graduated. “Chloe, sweetheart, you have to be a good girl for Grandma.” I clutched the hem of her jacket, tears streaming down my face. “Mom, please don’t go.” She wiped my tears away. “Don’t be silly. Mom will buy you sweet taffy and pretty floral dresses. Just be good, and I’ll be back before you know it.” Grandma stood at the doorway, wiping her eyes with her apron. But after my mother left, she never came back. There was no sweet taffy, and there were no pretty floral dresses. The only proof that she was still alive was the meager allowance wired to Grandma’s savings account every month. Grandma always said, “Your mother is having a hard time. She’s suffering out there in the city to support us. Don’t resent her.” I didn’t resent her. I just missed her so much. Ten years flew by. I was eighteen, a senior in high school. Grandma was getting old. Her back was bent like the old weeping willow at the edge of our driveway, and her steps were shaky. She would often sit on the porch, staring down the road that led out of our small town, her cloudy eyes filled with endless yearning. “Your mom… she should be coming home soon, right?” She would mutter to herself, sometimes asking me, sometimes asking the wind. I would lay down my study guides, walk over, and gently massage her shoulders. “Yeah. She’ll be back soon.” I whispered the reply, but my heart felt like it was pressed under a cold, waterlogged stone. Ten years. She hadn’t returned even once. Her phone calls had grown fewer and farther between. It went from once a month, to once every three months, and finally, to just a brief call on my birthday every year. “Happy birthday, Chloe. Study hard.” The background noise was always deafening—sometimes sounding like a noisy construction site, other times like a roaring factory assembly line. Her voice was always exhausted, raspy, and heavy with fatigue. She would hang up after just a few hurried sentences. I once asked her, “Mom, when are you coming home?” She would always give a vague answer. “Soon. Just after this busy season… Do you have enough money? Tell me if you need more…” Then came the notification sound of the bank transfer. She seemed to believe that money could make up for everything. Grandma’s health got worse and worse. She coughed violently and could never sleep peacefully at night. I begged her to go to the hospital, but she always shook her head. “It’s just an old ache. Why waste money on that? Your mother works so hard for every dollar…” Every penny she saved went into buying my SAT prep books, fresh groceries, and a warm winter coat. Yet, she herself still wore the old clothes my mother had left behind ten years ago, patching them up over and over again. Under the dim light, I watched Grandma hunching over, using her rough, calloused hands to stitch a tear in my school hoodie. Her fingers looked as dry and cracked as tree bark. My heart ached terribly. I had torn that hoodie earlier that day while helping our neighbor, Mrs. Gable, unload heavy grocery crates. Mrs. Gable had slipped me two warm, homemade blueberry muffins and whispered, “Chloe, don’t push yourself too hard. Your grandma… is relying on you.” I knew. I knew better than anyone. I had been holding this house together for a long time. The money my mother sent was never enough. I spent my weekends working at the local diner, and my summers picking berries on the farm. My hands were covered in layers of calluses. But I never told my mother any of this. She already sounded so tired over the phone. Three months before my final exams, Grandma collapsed. She was coughing up blood. The local clinic doctor looked grim and told me to get her to the county hospital immediately. I was terrified and completely lost. For the first time in my life, I initiated a call to my mother. The phone rang for a long time before someone picked up. The background was loud, filled with the roar of heavy machinery. “Hello? Chloe?” My mother’s voice was breathless, as if she was running. “Mom… Grandma is coughing up blood…” I sobbed into the receiver. There was a sudden silence on the other end, followed by even heavier breathing. “Coughing up blood? Is it bad? Have you seen a doctor?” “The clinic doctor said we need to go to the county hospital… Mom, I’m so scared…” I couldn’t hold it in anymore and burst into tears. My mother’s voice instantly shot up, filled with a panic and sharpness I had never heard before. “Don’t be scared! Chloe, listen to me! Get Grandma to the county hospital right now! I… I’ll wire you the money immediately! Find the best doctor! Use the best medicine! If it’s not enough, just tell me! We have to save her!” She spoke so fast she was almost incoherent. Before I could say anything else, she hung up. A few minutes later, my phone pinged. A massive wire transfer had arrived—far exceeding any amount she had sent in the past ten years.

I froze. A tiny, dark doubt began to creep into my mind. What kind of job could allow her to pull out so much cash in an instant? But Grandma’s condition didn’t give me time to think. I asked Mrs. Gable to watch the house, hired a local driver, and rushed Grandma to the county hospital that very night. Tests, admission, medical bills. The money my mother sent flowed out like water. The doctor said it was severe physical exhaustion, a critical lung infection, and other complications. She needed long-term care and rest. I stayed by Grandma’s bedside, looking at her thin, pale face. Holding her hand, I whispered over and over, “Grandma, you’re going to get better. Mom sent the money. We’re using the best medicine…” Grandma opened her hazy eyes weakly, her voice barely a whisper. “Don’t… don’t tell your mother… don’t make her worry… She has it so hard…” My tears fell onto the back of her hand. Even at a time like this, the only person she cared about was the daughter who hadn’t returned in ten years. Grandma’s condition fluctuated, and she ended up staying in the hospital for over a month. My mother wired money several more times, each amount larger than the last. Whenever I called to update her on Grandma’s health, she would answer in a rush. The background was always a chaotic mess of noise. She would ask a few quick questions, tell me to “use the best medicine” and “don’t save on expenses,” and then hang up. She didn’t even ask how my studies were going. It was as if she believed money could solve everything. A week before my final exams, Grandma’s condition finally stabilized, and she was cleared to recover at home. I brought her back, settled her in, and then locked myself in my room, studying like crazy. I had to get into college. I had to get out of this town. I had to… find my mother myself and get some answers. The day of my final exams, the weather was beautiful. Walking out of the exam room, I felt like I had just survived a brutal battle. When I got home, Grandma was in high spirits and had made me a bowl of pasta. “My Chloe is definitely going to pass,” she smiled, her wrinkles blooming like warm autumn flowers. As I ate the pasta, my heart felt both sweet and incredibly heavy. When it came time to submit my college choices, I didn’t hesitate. Every single college I applied to was in the city my mother’s money orders came from—New York. Based on the blurry address on the wire receipts, that massive, unfamiliar metropolis was my only lead. When the acceptance letters came, I got a full scholarship offer from a top university in New York. Grandma laughed and cried at the same time, clutching my hands. “Good, good… You’ll finally get to see your mother… Tell her not to work so hard. Tell her we are doing just fine at home…” I hugged the acceptance letter, a storm of emotions raging inside me. The night before I left for New York, I was packing my bags. Grandma fumbled around and pulled out a thick cloth pouch. She unwrapped it layer by layer to reveal a stack of crumpled bills—mostly fives, ones, and a handful of quarters. “Take this. The city is expensive… Don’t starve yourself…” She shoved the money into my hand. It was warm with the heat of her palm. I knew this was money she had saved dollar by dollar, quarter by quarter. It felt a thousand times heavier than the massive transfers my mother had sent. My nose stung. I tried to push it back. “Grandma, I have money. Mom sent plenty…” “That’s your mother’s hard-earned money. It’s different… This is from me…” she insisted, her thin, frail hand surprisingly strong. In the end, I took the pouch, but I secretly slid it back under her pillow before I left. The next day, I boarded the Greyhound bus to New York. I watched the farmlands, small towns, and mountains fade away outside the window. I was moving further from the only home I knew, and closer to the mother who lived in a web of lies. I was excited, but I was also terrified. Excited to see her. Terrified that she wouldn’t be the mother I had imagined. New York was massive and overwhelming. The towering skyscrapers and endless traffic made my head spin. Following the blurry address on the wire receipts, I eventually found an old, gritty industrial area. The address pointed to a run-down walk-up apartment building. The stairwell was dark, cluttered with trash, and smelled heavily of mold. I knocked on the rusted iron door. My heart was pounding against my ribs. The door creaked open.

A woman with messy hair, wearing a cheap bathrobe and holding a half-burnt cigarette, poked her head out. She looked at me with annoyance. “Who are you looking for?” I stared at her, frozen. It wasn’t my mother. My heart sank. “Is Sarah living here?” I asked, using my mother’s name. The woman sized me up, her eyes filled with suspicion and judgment. “Sarah? She moved out ages ago! Left without paying months of rent! What are you to her?” She ran away? Left unpaid rent? My brain went completely numb. “Do… do you know where she went?” “How should I know?” The woman blew a cloud of smoke and scoffed. “She didn’t look like she had any money anyway. Working multiple jobs just to act rich. I heard she was trying to put a daughter through college or something.” I couldn’t hear a single word after that. “Multiple jobs,” “acting rich,” “putting a daughter through college”… Those words pierced my ears like sharp needles. What kind of life was my mother actually living? Wasn’t she constantly sending us huge sums of money? How could she have fled from unpaid rent? Where on earth was she? Standing on that unfamiliar street, watching the crowd rush past, I felt utterly lost and helpless for the first time in my life. My mother was gone. In a city of millions, I had lost my only lead. I had no choice but to report to my university first. I started my college life just like any other freshman. Except, there was a heavy boulder weighing down on my chest every single day. I used all my spare time to work. Tutoring, handing out flyers, waiting tables at restaurants. I wanted to earn my own living. I couldn’t take my mother’s money anymore. Not that she had sent any more transfers anyway. I even began to question how she had made those massive sums of money in the first place. But I was too afraid to dig deeper into that thought. Occasionally, I would call Grandma. She would always ask, “Did you see your mother? How is she? Did she gain some weight, or is she skinnier?” Holding the phone, my throat would tighten, and I could only lie. “Yes… I saw her. She’s great… Just very busy with work… She’ll come back with me during the holidays…” The moment I hung up, my tears would fall uncontrollably. “Mom, where are you?” Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. I gradually adjusted to city life and made some new friends. But I never stopped looking for her. I visited job centers, asked employment agencies, and even kept an eye on missing person flyers on the streets. Nothing. She had vanished like a drop of water in the ocean. One weekend during the spring semester, I was working at a high-end restaurant in Manhattan. It was an expensive place, filled with wealthy, well-dressed people. I was carrying a heavy tray, carefully navigating through the tables. And then, I saw her. She was sitting by the window. She wore an elegant emerald green velvet dress, her hair pinned up beautifully, her makeup flawless. She was laughing softly, talking to a distinguished-looking middle-aged man in a tailored suit. The profile of her face was so gentle, so painfully familiar. It felt like a lightning strike. The tray in my hands nearly crashed to the floor. “Mom?” “Is that my mother?” The mother in my memory wore washed-out clothes, had dry, rough skin, and carried an air of permanent exhaustion. The mother who hadn’t come home in ten years because she was supposedly “suffering to make ends meet”? How could this be… She looked so elegant, so poised, as if she had belonged to this wealthy world her entire life. The man sitting with her looked rich and influential. The intimacy between them didn’t look like a casual friendship. A horrible, poisonous thought crawled into my mind. She had lied to Grandma.

She had lied to me. She had lied to everyone. She wasn’t working hard or suffering at all. She was… with a rich man? Living a life of luxury? Is that why she hadn’t come home for ten years? Is that why she neglected us, throwing money at us just to keep us quiet? Those massive wire transfers… were they all from this man? No wonder… No wonder she could suddenly send so much cash… A wave of intense anger and the agonizing sting of betrayal washed over me. Blood rushed to my head, and my vision went dark. I bit my lip so hard I tasted copper. I couldn’t go over there. I couldn’t tear open this ugly truth in a place like this. Stiffening my back, I turned around and practically fled to the kitchen. “What’s wrong? You look pale,” the manager asked with concern. I shook my head, my voice trembling. “I’m… I’m fine. Just felt a bit dizzy.” I asked to leave early. Stepping out of the restaurant, the afternoon sun was blindingly bright, but I felt freezing cold. I walked down the street like a ghost, my mind in complete chaos. The image of her in that emerald green velvet dress and the memory of her walking away in her ragged clothes ten years ago clashed violently in my head, suffocating me. “Mom.” “My dear mother.” “So this is the ‘faraway place’ you worked so hard in. This is your ‘suffering.’” “Then what about Grandma and me?” “What were we to you?” “Just some shameful baggage you left in the countryside?” “Did you send money just to ease your guilty conscience?” Tears blurred my vision. I squatted on the busy sidewalk, buried my face in my knees, and sobbed silently. I didn’t confront her right away. Instead, like a pathetic detective, I started tracking her. I found out the places she frequented: that restaurant, an upscale art gallery, a high-end yoga studio. And… that man’s house, a beautiful, multi-million-dollar brownstone in the heart of the city. She was living a wonderful life. A thousand times, ten thousand times better than mine. She would hold his arm, walking in and out of luxury establishments with a graceful smile on her face. She looked so happy. It was blindingly painful to watch. Every time I followed her, it felt like a slow execution of my heart. My longing for her slowly distorted into hatred and resentment. “Why?” “Why did you abandon us?” “Why did you lie to us?” If you were living such a great life, why didn’t you visit Grandma even once? Grandma missed you so much! If you had so much money, why did you always act so exhausted over the phone? Was it guilt? Or shame? Or did you think we weren’t worthy of being part of your glamorous new life? Countless questions swirled in my head, tightening like a noose until I could barely breathe. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. One evening, I watched her get out of the man’s car and walk alone into a nearby park. Taking a deep breath, I followed her. The park was quiet, the setting sun casting long shadows on the grass. She sat down on a bench, watching some children playing in the distance. In the twilight, her face looked soft, but also… incredibly lonely. I stepped closer, my heart beating so hard it felt like it would burst out of my chest. I stopped right in front of her. Sensing someone’s presence, she looked up. The moment her eyes met mine, her expression froze. Surprise, panic, disbelief, and a trace of… sheer terror? She stood up abruptly, her lips trembling. “Ch… Chloe? Why are you here?”

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I found a Chanel bag left in the breakroom. Being nice, I snapped a quick photo and sent it to the company group chat on Snapchat: “Whose bag is this? I left it at the front desk.” The owner replied in literally two seconds: “Did you go through my bag?! Are you freaking starving for cash? You got caught trying to steal from me, and now you’re acting like a Good Samaritan?” “We need to fire this thief immediately. Our company shouldn’t be keeping parasites!” Forty people in the Snapchat group. Not a single person said a word. I looked at my desk and smiled. My family literally owns this entire conglomerate. I only took this job for the work experience. Since someone is begging for a reality check, I guess I’ll play along. My keyboard clacked rapidly as rows of numbers filled the spreadsheet. A salary of $2,500 a month, barely $2,000 after taxes. That wouldn’t even cover half a tank of gas for my Maybach. My phone on the desk was vibrating like crazy. Brooke Davis was typing like her hands were on fire, spamming the Snapchat group with text after text, every single one loaded with exclamation marks. I could feel the sheer malice radiating through the screen. “Chloe Miller, did you lose your tongue? Too scared to admit you’re a thief?” “Everyone, watch your wallets. This girl has a history of sticky fingers!” “If you’re this broke, don’t come to an office. Go back to your trailer park!” “My bag costs $5,000. That’s more than you make in two months. Jealous much?” I glanced at the screen, my fingers never leaving the keyboard. Jealous of a $5,000 bag? If I picked any random clutch from my walk-in closet at home, it would be enough to buy every single bag in this office. But I didn’t say anything. Not because I was holding back, but because I just couldn’t be bothered. I kept working on my spreadsheet, my fingers moving even faster. Numbers don’t talk back, and they don’t lie. They are a million times more pleasant than Brooke. Finally, someone else in the group chat chimed in. Carter from Marketing added: “No wonder I lost a hundred-dollar bill last week. Don’t tell me it was…” He left the sentence hanging, but the implication was loud and clear. It was a perfect piece of low-key slander, throwing dirt at me while leaving himself an escape route. Vanessa from Finance jumped in even faster, her typing speed matching her accounting skills: “I mean, she only carries those cheap canvas tote bags. Of course she’d lose her mind when she saw a Chanel. I wouldn’t even dare to touch one at the mall, but some people just help themselves.” The new intern, Hailey, probably trying to suck up to the older employees, added: “People from that kind of background just have no morals.” I counted. Six people had spoken up. Three of them had personally received help from my dad’s company. Vanessa’s kid was extremely sick last year, and the Miller Corporate Foundation approved a $10,000 emergency medical grant. She had literally cried and begged at the foundation’s office door, her sobbing echoing through the entire floor. Carter’s younger brother was currently working at Miller Logistics. My dad had personally bypassed the HR screening to slide him in. And Hailey? Her dad was the security chief at one of the Miller-owned shopping centers. Last year, I was the one who signed off on his double-month holiday bonus. Six people. Six ungrateful parasites. I let go of my mouse, leaned back in my chair, and stared at the ceiling for three seconds. There were over forty people in that chat. Not a single one stood up for me. Not even a simple “Maybe we should check the security cameras first.” Well, this is human nature. I’ve seen it all. My dad has been in the business world for thirty years. I grew up listening to his dinner-table stories about how quickly people turn on you. My ears practically had calluses from those tales. But seeing it play out in real life was still pretty entertaining. It was like watching a documentary on wild animals.

At two in the afternoon, I walked into the breakroom with my coffee cup. As soon as I pushed the door open, I saw Brooke standing there. She had her two loyal minions with her, arms crossed, completely blocking the exit. “Chloe Miller!” she yelled, her voice piercing enough to wake the dead. “This isn’t over! I’ve already called the cops! You’re going to jail! A $5,000 bag is grand larceny, honey. Enjoy prison!” I opened my thermos, took a slow sip of my coffee, and looked at her calmly. Her makeup was flawless—Chanel lipstick, Dior foundation, all luxury brands. A standard administrative supervisor making maybe $5,000 a month, yet she was wearing over $10,000 worth of luxury goods. I had never paid attention to those details before. Now, I did. “You called the cops?” I set my thermos down. My voice wasn’t loud, but it was clear enough for everyone outside the door to hear. “Perfect. Let’s have them pull the security footage and see who’s actually lying.” She clearly hadn’t expected that reaction. Usually, when innocent people are accused, they cry, scream, or beg. She had probably prepared a whole script to counter my tears. But I wasn’t playing by her rules. She froze for a split second, then her voice went an octave higher, so loud I felt the coffee cups on the counter vibrate. “Are you still trying to play dumb?! I’ve seen plenty of trailer trash like you! You see luxury and you can’t help yourself! You thief! Have you no shame?!” I laughed. Not a cold sneer, but a genuine laugh. “Brooke,” I tilted my head, looking at her with genuine curiosity. “You do realize this is Miller Enterprises, right?” She scoffed, rolling her eyes so hard I thought they’d get stuck. “Like I give a crap! It’s not like you own it! If you were actually the Miller heiress, then I’d be the CEO’s wife!” “Right. You’re absolutely right,” I said, picking up my coffee and turning around. “Like you give a crap.” Behind me, she exploded into a storm of curses. Some of the slang was so creative I hadn’t even heard it before. She definitely had a colorful life background. I didn’t bother listening. As I stepped out of the breakroom, several colleagues were standing in the hallway, pretending to make phone calls or grab water, but their ears were practically twitching. The moment they saw me, they quickly averted their eyes. I walked past them, catching a whiff of cheap perfume. Back at my desk, my phone buzzed. It was a text from my dad on Snapchat: “I heard you’re having some trouble at the office?” The message was sent five minutes ago. The building management must have tipped him off. This entire skyscraper was crawled with my dad’s eyes and ears—the janitors, the security guards, the receptionist, they all worked for him. I typed back: “Just a minor issue. I’m handling it.” “Don’t let them push you around. Our family doesn’t need to put up with that garbage.” “I know.” After sending that, I added another text: “Dad, have you looked into Brooke Davis?”

The screen went quiet for about thirty seconds. Then Dad replied: “Just did. Quite interesting. Let’s talk at home tonight.” I stared at the words “Quite interesting” for five seconds. Whenever my dad said something was “interesting,” it meant things were about to get messy. At five-thirty, I packed up my things to head home. I shut down my computer, washed my mug, and locked my drawers. I had been doing this routine for three months, and it was pure muscle memory now. A few colleagues were standing by the elevators. When they saw me approaching, they quickly took a step back, as if I carried some kind of plague. I pressed the button for B2. One of them, a girl named Sarah, smirked. “B2 is reserved for executive parking. Did you press the wrong button?” I didn’t answer. Right before the elevator doors slid shut, I heard Sarah whisper to the person next to her, “Is she trying to sneak down there to steal something from the nice cars? Only the executives park on B2.” Then came a chorus of hushed snickers. The doors closed. I leaned against the elevator wall, watching the numbers tick down. B2. The doors slid open. The underground parking garage was dimly lit, smelling of concrete and exhaust fumes. My black Maybach sat quietly in its reserved spot, the license plate bearing my birthday. My chauffeur, George, was already standing by the door in his sharp suit and white gloves. He smiled when he saw me. “Rough day, Miss Miller?” “Got called a thief all afternoon. What do you think?” I climbed into the back, the premium leather seats instantly making me feel at ease. “Who had the nerve? Should I inform your father?” “No need. Just take me home.” George closed the door, walked around to the driver’s seat, and started the engine. The Maybach glided silently out of the parking space and up the ramp. As we cleared the garage, the evening sun flooded the car, forcing me to squint. I dialed my dad’s number. “Dad, is everything set for tomorrow?” My dad’s deep, calm voice came through the speaker with a hint of amusement. “Everything is set. HR, legal, and security are fully coordinated. Tomorrow morning at eight-thirty sharp, the hammer drops.” “And,” I paused, “what did you find out about Brooke?” The line went quiet for a beat. “Apex Corp,” my dad’s voice turned cold, losing its warmth. “Three months before Brooke joined our company, someone from Apex took her out to a very expensive dinner. Shortly after, a hundred thousand dollars was wired to her account.” My fingers tightened, my nails digging into my palm. “A hundred thousand?” “Yes. Wired in two transactions, labeled as ‘consulting fees.’ She’s an admin supervisor. What could she possibly consult on? It was a blatant bribe.” I leaned my head back, staring out the sunroof. Outside, the downtown skyline was gray and overcast. “So today wasn’t just a random tantrum?”

“It was completely premeditated,” Dad’s voice was as cold as marble. “When you picked up that bag, she was watching from around the corner. She left it there on purpose. She stood in the hallway for three minutes waiting for you to go in before she walked away.” Outside, the traffic was heavy. I stared at the red brake lights of the car ahead of us. “How far are they planning to take this?” “Apex promised Brooke half a million dollars, split into four payments. She got the first hundred grand. The rest is contingent on her completely ruining your reputation. Ideally, she wants to force you to quit after making a massive scene, and then take the whole thing viral online.” “Viral?” “Yes. They want to paint a story about the ‘spoiled Miller heiress abusing common workers’ to get it trending. They’ve already lined up several trashy gossip accounts, just waiting for you to snap. The moment you argue back or hit her, they will edit the video to make you look like the villain. I bet they already have the headline written: “Billionaire Heiress Crushes Working-Class Employee Because of Her Family’s Wealth”.” I closed my eyes. What a brilliant plan. If I didn’t fight back, Brooke would brand me a thief. If I did fight back, Apex would drag my family’s name through the mud online. They thought they had me in a corner. “Half a million dollars,” I repeated. “Just to ruin me?” “Just to ruin you,” Dad said. “Because you are my daughter.” I rolled the window down an inch. The cool autumn wind rushed in, blowing my hair across my face. “Dad, why is Apex trying so hard to destroy us?” “They want to force us to sell.” My dad’s voice was flat, as if he were reading a financial report. “Miller Enterprises owns three prime development projects right in the heart of downtown. Apex wanted to build a luxury complex there, but they couldn’t get the land. They tried to buy us out, and I rejected them. Then they sent brokers to negotiate a hostile takeover, and I laughed them out of my office.” “So they want to tank our stock price by ruining our family reputation, forcing us to sell cheap?” “Smart girl.” Dad sounded proud. “The business world is much dirtier than you think, Chloe. They don’t actually need to hurt you physically. They just need to make the public hate us. If our reputation goes down, banks will tighten our credit, partners will back out, and our stock will plunge. That’s when they’ll swoop in and buy us out for pennies.” I rolled the window back up, shutting out the city noise. “So, tomorrow…” “We go ahead as planned,” Dad said, a smirk in his voice. “If Apex wants to play dirty, we’ll show them how it’s done. Our family has plenty of money and time. They can’t afford a war of attrition. We can.” “And Chloe,” Dad added, “when you get to the office tomorrow, don’t explain anything. Let them scream. Let them make the biggest scene possible.” I smiled. “I get it, Dad. Get some rest.” “You too. Lily missed you today. She said her mommy hasn’t colored with her in days.” My chest tightened.

Lily, my three-year-old daughter. Every morning when I left, she was still asleep, and by the time I got home, she was already in bed. For three straight days, the only interaction I had with her was a quick kiss on her forehead before I walked out the door. “I’ll be home early tomorrow, I promise,” I said, my voice a little thick. “Don’t push yourself too hard. She needs her mom.” “I know.” After hanging up, I leaned back and closed my eyes. By the time I reached home, Lily was already asleep. The nanny told me she had waited up for two hours, holding her coloring book on the couch until she couldn’t keep her eyes open. She insisted on waiting for mommy to color the cat with her. I walked softly into her room, watching her sleep with her tiny fist still clutching a crayon. A bit of drool was on her cheek. Her coloring book was lying by her pillow. On the open page, there was a horribly lopsided drawing of a cat, with two words scribbled next to it: “Mommy Cat”. I sat by her bed for five minutes. Then, my phone buzzed again. Brooke was still posting in the Snapchat group, like she was on some kind of upper. “Chloe Miller, you better not show your face tomorrow! If you do, I’ll personally throw you out! This company doesn’t tolerate thieves!” I didn’t reply. I locked my phone, climbed into bed, and closed my eyes. Tomorrow was going to be fun. The next morning at eight-thirty, I was sitting in the Starbucks right below our office building, sipping a latte while watching the security feed on my phone. The Starbucks was owned by a subsidiary of our company. The manager knew me, so he always gave me an extra shot of espresso for free. On the screen, Audrey, our HR Director, was walking through the front lobby with two corporate lawyers, right on time. Upstairs, Marcus, our department manager, was probably sipping his morning tea, thinking about what to get for lunch, when his office door was thrown open. “Come in,” Marcus’s voice carried through the microphone, sounding full of himself. Audrey walked in and dropped a folder onto his desk. “Marcus, this is to inform you that effective immediately, Brooke Davis is terminated. This is a direct order from corporate, signed by Mr. Miller himself.” On screen, Marcus jumped up so fast he knocked his tea over, soaking a stack of files. “What?! Terminated?!” Marcus’s chair banged against the cabinet behind him. “What did she even do?” Audrey pointed at the paperwork, her face completely expressionless. “She committed a severe breach of company policy during her contract—specifically, malicious harassment and defamation of a colleague, causing severe reputational damage to the company. It’s in black and white, right there in the employee handbook she signed.” She pulled a second document from her briefcase. “Additionally, the Legal Department has officially filed a lawsuit against Brooke Davis on behalf of Chloe Miller. This is a copy of the legal notice. Hand it to her when she arrives.” Marcus’s face turned white as a sheet, sweat breaking out on his forehead. “Chloe Miller? She’s just a entry-level clerk. How does she have the corporate Legal Department fighting her battles?!” Audrey leaned in, lowering her voice. “Marcus, let me give you a heads-up. Chloe Miller is the only daughter of Arthur Miller. Our CEO. He personally called me about this. You might want to tread very carefully.”

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My boyfriend had a massive inferiority complex. Every time I tried to initiate things in bed, he rejected me. When I finally reached my limit and was ready to agree to an arranged marriage with someone else, I found his diary. “Vivian’s stepsister told me that since I’m a virgin, I’ll be terrible in bed. She said Vivian won’t like me.” “But do I really have to go sleep with other women to get experience? It feels so disgusting.” The last entry was written in a messy, hurried scrawl. “I don’t want Vivian to have a bad experience. I’m going to find someone to practice with.” I was so angry that I shoved him onto the bed, straddled his waist, and said to him, word by word. “The most important thing for a man is to keep himself clean, got it?” His hands hesitated on my waist, but in the end, he pushed me away, his voice hoarse and muffled. “Not yet.” I was completely out of options. I turned around and texted my arranged marriage match. “I hate dirty men. Are you clean? If you are, we’re getting engaged immediately.”

I closed the diary. I looked up at the man standing not far away. Julian, who usually never talked to other girls, had actually turned his head to talk to the girl next to him. Even though his expression was cold, every time she spoke, he replied. I almost laughed out of sheer anger. So, the only reason Julian Sterling had rejected me so many times was because my stepsister, Tessa, told him he was inexperienced? And he actually planned to find another woman to practice with? I took a deep breath and decided to go talk to him. To be honest, I was very satisfied with Julian in every other aspect. He was gorgeous, had a great body, came from a prestigious family, and was always attentive. My family had originally scouted an arranged marriage partner for me, but because of Julian, I had repeatedly refused to meet that guy. My parents figured that since the Sterling family was also incredibly powerful, they let me have my free will in dating. But I was at the age where marriage was on the table. Julian kept refusing to take the final step with me. I couldn’t help but wonder if he had some medical issue or some deep-seated psychological trauma. But he never talked to me about it. Just when I was about to give up on him, I found this diary. It was fine. This was still salvageable! So what if he was inexperienced? I would teach him myself. Having him shaped by my own hands was exactly what I wanted. I walked over to Julian. He lifted his dark eyes. His fingers twitched slightly before he took my hand and pulled me down to sit beside him. I glanced at the girl next to him. She smiled at me. “What are you guys talking about?” I asked. The girl grinned. “It’s a secret~ You should ask Julian. See if he’s willing to tell you.” I looked at Julian. He said, “Nothing.” Then, he gripped my hand tighter and pulled me even closer to his side. Smelling the faint scent of cedarwood on him, my anger softened slightly. I whispered, “I need to talk to you.” Hearing this, Julian pulled me over to a quieter corner. He was breathtakingly handsome, with a high nose bridge. When he looked down at me, his dark eyes were completely focused and sincere. My aching, angry heart softened even more. I chose my words carefully. “Tessa came back for her break recently. She hasn’t been bothering you, has she?” Julian replied, “No.” I frowned. While I was lost in thought, he rested his chin on my shoulder. Julian whispered, “I love you.” I sighed. “I love you too.” Under the light, I could see the tips of his ears turning red again. Every time we got a little intimate, he would react this way. I stared at him for a long moment. My negative emotions evaporated, and I teased him just like I used to. “Why are you blushing again, babe?” Julian’s Adam’s apple bobbed. He locked his fingers with mine. Whatever, I thought helplessly. I just wouldn’t bring Julian to any family dinners in the future. As long as he and Tessa didn’t meet, his mind couldn’t be poisoned by her, right?

But the very next day. I saw an unexpected figure right next to Julian. He and Tessa were standing together, whispering about something. I didn’t expect them to meet in private. Tessa was smiling, her eyes crinkled, seemingly teasing him. I had clearly told Julian before that I despised my stepsister. She had loved stealing my things since we were kids. But Julian had always been extremely cold to her in the past, making her look foolish multiple times, so I had let my guard down. I stayed silent, quietly taking a few steps closer to them. I heard their voices. Tessa laughed, her tone confident. “You’ll definitely give her a terrible experience, and you’ll completely ruin your perfect image in her mind.” “…” “I know Vivian. She will definitely find you pathetic,” Tessa paused for a moment. “She might even dump you on the spot.” Julian’s tall frame leaned against the wall. He kept his head down, so I couldn’t see his face. “Julian,” Tessa looked at him. “You don’t even know how to talk dirty to Vivian, do you? Ugh, you have zero game. I don’t even know how she’s tolerated you for this long.” Julian still didn’t speak. Tessa said casually, “Vivian must have complained about your kissing skills, right?” His fingers twitched. After a long silence, Julian lifted his head, his voice slightly raspy. “Then what should I do?” “It’s simple,” Tessa said. “Didn’t you get along great with my friend Chloe last night? Keep practicing with her.” My temples throbbed with rage. After what felt like forever. Julian said, “Okay.” “Oh, by the way,” Tessa sighed. “Make sure to keep this from Vivian. Otherwise, our plan is ruined… and more importantly, your relationship with her will be over.” Julian turned to leave, his tone returning to his usual coldness. “I know.”

I sat on the couch, waiting for him. The moment Julian pushed the door open, he saw me. He froze for a second, then sat down next to me. “Why aren’t you asleep yet?” My face was expressionless. “Where were you? Who did you meet today?” He wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me close. His voice was steady. “I went back to my parents’ house. My grandfather’s birthday is coming up, so I went back to discuss the party with my parents.” “That’s it?” “That’s it.” He gently hooked his pinky finger with mine, seemingly confused as to why I was asking. I leaned in close to him. Close enough to feel each other’s breath. Under the dim, warm light, Julian’s eyelashes fluttered. He stared straight at me, his ears flushing red again. “Vivian.” I sniffed the air, making my point clear. “The perfume on you smells exactly like Tessa’s.” He knitted his brows, looking genuinely confused. “What are you talking about?” Then he added, “Maybe I just brushed past someone.” I looked at him, slowly clenching my fists. When we did anything slightly intimate, he got so nervous his ears turned red. Yet now, when he was lying straight to my face, his heart rate didn’t even skip a beat. I couldn’t take it anymore. I shoved him down onto the couch right then and there. “Let’s do it,” I said flatly. As I spoke, I reached to unbutton his shirt. Julian caught my hands. Just like every other time, we ended up in a tense stalemate. My throat felt dry. “Do you not love me?” “How is that possible?” He answered instantly, then pursed his lips. After a long silence, he finally said, “Vivian, I love you. Only you.” I accused him. “If you love me, why won’t you sleep with me?” Julian tightened his grip on my wrists, refusing to let go. I took a deep breath. “What, are you planning on sleeping with another woman…” “No,” he cut me off. Julian whispered, “Don’t accuse me of that, Vivian.” I looked him dead in the eye, repeating my words slowly. “A man’s best quality is his purity, got it?” I thought about it and added, “Everything else can be learned and practiced slowly. I don’t care about that.” His fingers hesitated on my waist. Just when I breathed a sigh of relief, thinking I had successfully convinced him. He still pushed me away, his voice muffled and tight. “It’s not time yet.” Julian stood up and walked toward the bathroom with his long strides. “I’m going to shower.” I was pushed to the side, sitting frozen on the couch. I had been rejected by him countless times. For a long time, I had felt so defeated, deeply doubting my own attractiveness. Listening to the sound of the running water from the bathroom, I suddenly felt incredibly exhausted. I picked up Julian’s phone. I unlocked it and found Tessa in his contacts. I didn’t even know when they had added each other on Snapchat. But their chat history was completely blank. He had intentionally deleted it. I stood up and walked out of the apartment.

Julian and I entered a cold war. Well, not exactly. It was just me giving him the cold shoulder. He still sent me messages every day. Since I usually got embarrassed and acted cold to him after he rejected me in the past, he assumed this was just another one of those times. He tried to coax me like he always did. “Vivian, don’t ignore me.” “I miss you so much, baby.” Then he sent me money via PayPal. I didn’t reply. My mind was a chaotic mess. Until one night. I instinctively drove to an upscale lounge that was under Julian’s family’s company. Remembering I still had an expensive bottle of wine stored there. I went in, planning to open it. As I walked in, I saw someone come out of the most exclusive VIP room at the very back. That room was reserved solely for Julian, me, and our close friends. If I wasn’t there, he wouldn’t usually use it. I walked toward it. The staff there all knew me, so nobody stopped me. I gently pushed the door open, leaving a small crack. Inside, the lights were flashing. It was crowded with guys and girls, very lively. And then I saw Julian. He had a girl sitting on either side of him. He was leaning back against the sofa, his long legs crossed, looking completely bored and detached. The girl on his left, Chloe, Tessa’s friend, said something that made the whole room burst into laughter. Julian still had no reaction. He looked completely out of place in that lively room. Until she took a sip of her cocktail, turned to him with a sweet smile, and whispered something. Then, she grabbed Julian by his collar. He didn’t dodge. Instead, he reached out his hand and wiped a trace of alcohol from the corner of her lips. I took a step back. Suddenly, someone tapped my shoulder. I whipped my head around and met Tessa’s smug eyes. She paused for a second. “Don’t look at me like I’m your worst enemy, Vivian.” I said nothing. She mocked, “Are you angry?” I let out a cold laugh, cutting straight to the point. “Don’t pretend to be innocent. You think I don’t know you set this up?” Tessa was taken aback for a moment, but then she smiled, her voice dripping with deep sarcasm and disdain. “What does this have to do with me? Deep down, you know the truth. Do you really think I can control the great Julian Sterling’s actions?” She took a step closer to me and whispered. “Why don’t you just go in there and tell him you don’t care if he’s bad in bed? Beg him to sleep with you so he stops hanging out with other girls. Wouldn’t that solve everything?” I turned to leave. Tessa grabbed my arm, enjoying my misery. “Did I hit a nerve? Are you embarrassed now? Vivian, don’t you think you’re pathetic?” In the struggle, I shoved her. She shoved me back. The commotion must have been loud. The VIP room door swung open. A broad-shouldered, tall man stood at the door, looking irritated. Behind him, several curious eyes peeked out. “Vivian?” Julian looked surprised, his cold dark eyes softening instantly. He didn’t ask questions. He grabbed my hand and led me directly up to the private lounge upstairs. The moment the door closed. His long arm wrapped around my waist. He pulled me into his arms, pressing me against his warm chest. Then, he planted a kiss on the corner of my lips. Seeing no reaction from me, he parted his lips to gently tease mine. It was a test, an attempt to seduce. I stood completely still. My eyes fell on the slight wrinkles on his collar, the exact spot where that girl had grabbed him. Was this the result of his “practice” over the past few days? A long silence fell. I reached up and touched his ear. His body temperature was normal. His ears weren’t burning red like they used to. This gesture seemed to encourage him. His cool fingertips slipped under the hem of my shirt. The moment he touched my skin. My phone buzzed with a notification. I took a step back, breaking the embrace, and looked down at my phone. My arranged marriage partner had finally replied to the message I sent him half an hour ago. “You’re that blunt?” “I’m clean.” “Then let’s meet up tomorrow?” Dissatisfied, Julian grabbed my wrist, his eyes landing on my screen. “Who is that?” Before he could read the screen, I locked my phone. “No one.” He frowned, staring at me with an obsessive, possessive intensity. I didn’t wait for him to question me. “I have things to do. I’m leaving.” Julian’s voice trembled slightly. “Did I… not satisfy you just now?” My eyes met his. His dark eyes still reflected only me, so focused, so intense. But I felt like something had changed. We could never go back. I reached out and straightened his messy, slightly wrinkled collar. Then I turned and walked away. Without answering his question.

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Everyone could see the glowing countdown timer above my twin sister Clara’s head. Everyone knew she was destined to die the year she turned eighteen. Because of this, Clara was the absolute center of our universe. The TV remote was always hers. The first bite of any delicious meal was always hers. And our parents’ undivided, suffocating love was entirely hers. I knew it wasn’t her fault. But I couldn’t help the bitter envy that grew inside me. Finally, on the eve of her eighteenth birthday, Clara made a wish. She wanted to die in a place closest to the sky. So the family planned a trip to Aspen. Everyone went—except me. Before they left, my parents looked at me as I lay in bed, coughing violently. My mother frowned, her voice cold. “Chloe, watch the house. And do not open the door for anyone!” I rasped out, “Mom, please… can you take me to the hospital? My chest hurts so bad…” My mother pursed her lips and sighed. “Chloe, where would we get the money for your hospital bills? Do you have any idea how expensive this trip to Aspen is?” “But my lungs… they burn…” No one answered me. The only response was the heavy thud of the front door locking from the outside.

The agonizing pain suddenly vanished. When I opened my eyes again, the breathtaking, sacred snow-capped mountains of Aspen stretched out before me. My parents were sitting in the first-class cabin of a plane. Premium meals were laid out on the trays in front of them, but every single plate was pushed toward Clara. My mother coaxed her gently, her voice dripping with warmth. “Clara, sweetheart, which one do you want to try first?” My father pushed a glass of fresh juice forward. “Here, Clara. Have a sip to wet your throat first.” Clara looked at the gourmet food and offered a weak, fragile smile. She whispered, “Mom… Dad… did we leave any food for Chloe before we left?” The smiles on my parents’ faces instantly froze. Clara continued softly, “Chloe was so sick. I’m worried she won’t be able to cook for herself. And… she said last week that she was tired of canned soup.” A pang of sadness hit my chest, but no tears fell. “She’ll eat when she gets hungry enough,” my mother answered dismissively. She scooped up a spoonful of creamy pasta and brought it to Clara’s lips. “Come on, Clara, just eat. It breaks my heart to see you starving yourself.” My father chimed in, “You are just too sweet, Clara. Even at a time like this, you’re still worrying about her. But look at her—does she ever think about you? She knew we didn’t have much money, yet she still threw a fit because she couldn’t come with us.” “She didn’t even stop to think about how much time you have left…” My father sighed, cutting himself off. My mother started dabbing at her eyes with a tissue, and Clara had no choice but to stay quiet. But I noticed Clara’s clenched fingers. They betrayed her anxiety. Clara grew up surrounded by the family’s ultimate devotion. Because of that, she was the only one who truly understood how deeply I was neglected. When we were kids, a neighbor brought over two beautiful dresses, saying there was one for each twin. But my mother took both and gave them to Clara. “Our Clara has so little time left. If she doesn’t experience these things now, she’ll never get the chance.” That night, Clara asked me, “Chloe, do you want the dress?” I nodded. Without a word, Clara spilled permanent blue ink all over one of the dresses. With no other choice, my mother had to let me have the ruined one. But when I looked into Clara’s eyes, I knew. She had done it on purpose. Even though I got the dress, Clara wasn’t happy. She kept apologizing to me. “I’m so sorry, Chloe. I could only give you the dirty one. I always make you suffer…” We were so young, yet we both understood a cruel truth: only the broken, ruined things would ever be passed down to me. The suppressed resentment kept building inside me until it finally exploded when we were ten. On our tenth birthday, Clara and I went down to play in the backyard of our apartment complex. After just a few minutes, Clara got tired and wanted to go back inside. But I hadn’t had enough. I threw a tantrum, demanding to stay out longer. My mother tried to reason with me, but I refused to listen. I couldn’t understand why absolutely everything had to revolve around Clara. In a fit of rage, I shoved Clara hard, sending her crashing to the ground. I screamed through my tears, “I don’t want to go home! I want to play! If you want to go back, go by yourself! Why do I always have to listen to you? Why?!” I can’t remember what was going through my head back then. Maybe it was a sense of unfairness, or maybe it was just pure jealousy. I screamed and rolled on the grass, crying at the top of my lungs. Like any obnoxious, desperate child, I thought throwing a massive tantrum would get me what I wanted. But my mother didn’t back down. She stared at me, her eyes turning bloodshot. She raised her hand high and slapped me across the face. “Chloe Miller! Do you have any idea that your sister only has eighteen years on this earth?! You have a whole lifetime to play! Why do you have to fight her for this single moment? How much time do you think she has left?!” My father stood by, his eyes red and watery. He didn’t stop her. I wailed from the pain of the slap. Clara immediately threw herself over me, shielding me from my mother. She cried, “Mom! I want to play too! We don’t have to go home. Please, don’t hit Chloe!” That night, after my mother applied ointment to my bruised cheek, Clara crept into my room. I turned my head away, refusing to look at her. But then, a warm tear fell onto my shoulder. I turned back and saw her tear-filled eyes. She handed me a fancy mechanical pencil—one I had wanted for months. She whispered, “Chloe… I’m so sorry…” She didn’t know what else to say, and I didn’t know how to answer. An apology like that shouldn’t have come from her. It shouldn’t have come from me, either. It should have come from our goddamn fate. But fate was silent. So Clara had to carry the guilt. Back in the first-class cabin, my mother wiped her tears and put another piece of grilled chicken onto Clara’s plate. “Clara, stop thinking about it. Here, eat.” “You’re such a good girl. But Chloe… she’s just too rebellious.” Rebellious? Was I? I didn’t know. When I was little, I used to cry because of the favoritism. As I grew older, I learned to cry in secret. I wanted to scream back, to tell them that I was good. That I could stay home alone, cook for myself, and comfort myself when I was scared. But even though I spoke, no one heard me. Then, my final memory flashed through my mind. It was the copper taste of blood bubbling up from my lungs. Coughing it up onto the floor. And then, collapsing into complete darkness. Oh. I see. I was already dead.

I watched Clara quietly. The suffocating countdown timer that used to hover over her head was completely gone. When we were kids, that timer was the very first thing I learned to hate. I remember asking Clara what those numbers meant. Clara had bit her lip and told me, “It’s a countdown for me to become a princess. When the time runs out, I’ll turn into a princess.” I had looked at her, confused. “Then why are Mom and Dad always so sad?” Clara stroked my hair, her voice incredibly soft. “Because once I become a princess, I’ll turn into sea foam, just like the Little Mermaid. I won’t be able to see you anymore.” But back then, I refused to accept that. I knew what princesses were. Being a princess meant being happy. It meant having a prince who loved you, countless jewels, and all the expensive raspberry gelato you could eat. Every summer, my mother would buy gourmet raspberry gelato. But it was always reserved solely for Clara. My mother would tell me, “This is too sweet for you, Chloe. Don’t eat it.” “But I love sweet things!” I would argue. But my mother always pretended not to hear. I couldn’t understand it. If Clara was going to become a princess and live in luxury, why did I have to give up my few miserable pieces of happiness to her now? So I ran to my mother and declared, “I have a countdown over my head too!” “When my time runs out, I’m going to turn into a princess!” “I want the raspberry gelato too!” The spoon in my mother’s hand froze. She stared at me, her entire body trembling with rage. She rasped, “What did you just say?” I screamed, “I have a countdown too! I’m going to turn into a princess! When that happens, I’ll leave you guys, and I’ll eat tons of raspberry gelato!” Slap! My mother slapped me hard across the face. She broke down sobbing, “Are you trying to drive me to my grave?!” “Do you really think that countdown is a good thing?!” Clara heard the commotion and rushed over to pull my mother away. But my mother seemed to have lost her mind. She started slapping her own face, screaming. “I’m useless! I’m a terrible mother!” I watched in absolute terror, unable to comprehend why she was reacting this way. Wasn’t becoming a princess a good thing? That night, I overheard my father comforting my mother in their room. “Chloe is still young… she doesn’t understand…” My mother sobbed hoarsely, “But what am I supposed to do? There are only ten years left… In ten years, our Clara will be gone forever…” It was only then that I finally understood. The end of the countdown didn’t mean becoming a princess. It meant leaving this family forever. Clara was actually going to die. Back in first class, Clara finished her meal and drifted off to sleep. My mother bit her lip and turned to my father. “David, how do you think Chloe is doing at home? Does her chest still hurt?” My father sighed. “There’s no signal on the plane. I’ll call her as soon as we land.” My mother said softly, “Let’s call her tomorrow… Today… is Clara’s last day.” My mother turned her head to look out the window, her voice cracking with emotion. “Chloe will understand. She’s about to lose her sister forever.”

The plane landed. My mother took Clara to the duty-free shops to distract her. My father hesitated for a long time before finally pulling out his phone to call me. The call didn’t go through. His brow furrowed slightly, and he tried again. Actually, it was hard to tell if he was genuinely frowning. He frowned so much over the years that a deep crease had permanently etched itself between his brows. He always looked unhappy. The second call went unanswered too. He opened Snapchat and typed: [Chloe, are you awake? Did you eat anything?] I floated right in front of him, waving my ghostly hands. “Dad, I didn’t eat. But I’m not hungry anymore. Please, just come home and check on me.” [Chloe?] He sent another message. But he couldn’t see me, and he couldn’t hear me. Finally, he let out a long sigh and locked his phone. He muttered to himself, “If only I could make more money… If only we could have brought Chloe along too. Well, Chloe still has a long life ahead of her. I’ll bring her next time.” With that, my father stood up. I watched his retreating back and whispered, “Dad, I don’t have a ‘next time’ anymore.” “I only have the past.” My mother and Clara walked out of the duty-free shop. My father immediately took the shopping bags from Clara’s hands. My mother asked, “Did Chloe pick up?” My father pursed his lips. “It didn’t go through.” My mother sighed. “That girl… she’s throwing a tantrum again.” My father led Clara forward, while my mother pulled out her phone and sent me a text: [Did you eat?] Still, no response. She opened her Venmo. She had a little over seven thousand dollars left in her balance. She muttered, “Three thousand for the hotel, two thousand for food, two thousand for Clara’s emergency medical reserve…” Gritting her teeth, she Venmoed me five hundred dollars with a note: [Chloe, stop being mad at me. Take this money and go buy some medicine.] But the money remained unclaimed, and the message went unread. My mother huffed in annoyance, “She’s really getting out of hand!” She shoved her phone back into her purse and walked away with giant strides. I stared at her back and whispered, “Mom, I can’t accept it anymore.”

Clara had an amazing time. Through their eyes, I also got to see sights I had never experienced in my life. We lived in the warm south, and I had never seen real snow. But today, I saw the majestic, snow-capped peaks of the mountains. When they returned to the resort after a day of sightseeing, my mother’s phone suddenly rang. It was the HOA representative from our apartment complex. “Hello, Mrs. Miller. We’ve received several complaints from your neighbors about a terrible odor coming from your unit.” My mother’s eyebrows knitted together tightly. “An odor?” My father muttered, “Could Chloe be doing something stupid just to spite us?” My mother’s face instantly darkened. She opened our chat history. The five hundred dollars she had sent on Venmo had just been automatically returned to her account because it went unclaimed for too long. Tears instantly spilled from my mother’s eyes. “She’s doing this on purpose!” “She chose this exact moment to pull this stunt! She wants to ruin her sister’s very last day! She wants to make sure Clara doesn’t have a single moment of peace!” My mother sobbed louder and louder, and my father rushed to comfort her. The HOA representative on the phone sounded incredibly awkward. “Is there anyone home? We’ve been knocking on your door for hours, but no one is answering.” “Also, several neighbors mentioned that your younger daughter hasn’t been seen leaving the apartment for days.” My mother lost her temper and screamed into the phone, “If she wants to stay inside, let her stay inside! Even if she dies in there, it has nothing to do with me!” I watched her quietly. She couldn’t see me. I let out a soft sigh. “Mom, I actually am dead.” The shouting woke Clara up. She pushed open her bedroom door, her voice groggy. “Mom, what’s wrong? Why are you so angry?” My parents froze. My mother flew across the room and locked Clara in a desperate, crushing hug. “Clara… my Clara… you’re still here…” “Thank God, you’re still here…” She held Clara so tightly, as if she wanted to fuse Clara into her own flesh. Even my father, who always tried to play the tough guy, began to weep silently. The HOA representative, still on the line, asked, “Should we go ahead and open the door then?” My mother snapped, “Open it! I want to see what kind of sick game Chloe is playing!” The representative started a FaceTime video call to show them the entry. They unlocked the door and pushed it open. The moment the camera panned inside, the hysterical relief on my mother’s face vanished. Her mouth hung open, but no sound came out. She could only make raw, choked noises from the back of her throat. “How… how…”

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At our company’s anniversary gala, my husband’s secretary’s dog bit me. In my panic, I threw the dog off me. But my husband, Ethan, yelled at me in front of everyone. “Buster has been with Chloe for two years! How could you be so cruel to him? Do you have any compassion at all?” Chloe held the dog, which was still snarling at me, and sobbed softly. Ethan completely ignored my bleeding arm. He put his arm around Chloe, guided her and the dog, and walked away. That night, Chloe updated her Snapchat Story. It was a picture of a luxury downtown penthouse. [I said I wanted shelter from the storm, so he gave me a home.] The attached photo showed Ethan and her playing with the dog together. If this were the past, I would have caused a massive scene. But this time, I decided to let go. … Ethan and I arrived home one after the other. The moment he walked in, he scolded me. “You scared Buster so badly he won’t stop barking, and Chloe can’t sleep. You’re coming with me to apologize to her.” I held my freshly bandaged arm and said calmly, “Chloe put something on my clothes. That’s why the dog wouldn’t let go of me.” “If anyone is apologizing, it should be her.” Ethan glanced at my clean sleeve, his face darkening. “Stella, are you even trying to make your lies believable anymore?” “Chloe didn’t even talk to you face-to-face during the entire gala. How could she have put anything on you?” On the surface, we hadn’t interacted. But Chloe had followed me into the restroom. Inside, she bragged about the car and penthouse Ethan bought her. When I ignored her, she rushed forward to grab me. During the struggle, she spilled something wet onto my sleeve. I didn’t think much of it at the time. It wasn’t until the dog lunged at me like crazy that I realized what she had done. But even if I explained this a thousand times, Ethan would never believe me. Whatever. I turned around, exhausted, too tired to say another word. Seeing my attitude, Ethan grabbed my wrist. “You must give Chloe an explanation for this!” He was determined to make me apologize. Annoyed, I swung my arm to push him away. Ethan froze. “Stella, you’ve got some attitude now, don’t you?” In the past, I was completely submissive to him. I would never have resisted like this. If he even looked slightly displeased, I would immediately search for my own faults, apologize even when I did nothing wrong, and beg for his forgiveness. Ethan grabbed me again. “Apologize first. We’ll settle our issues when we get back.” He was so strong he was practically dragging me out the door. I struggled with all my might. But as I turned, I accidentally knocked over the heavy wine cabinet. The wine bottles came crashing down. Instantly, my back and left arm were covered in blood. Ethan panicked. “You… you knocked it over yourself.” I was in too much pain to speak. Only then did he gently pull me into his arms. “I’ll take you to the hospital.” I grit my teeth and nodded. When he unlocked the car, a sign in front of the passenger seat caught my eye: [Reserved for Princess Chloe.] It was an acrylic standee featuring a cartoon version of Chloe’s face. Ethan’s expression changed slightly. “Chloe put that there for fun. I forgot to take it off. Just throw it away.” I let out a cold laugh and climbed into the back seat instead. Ethan looked at me with confusion. I knew what he was thinking. Before, I cared so much about Chloe. I couldn’t stand her leaving any trace of herself around Ethan. Whenever I found something, I would start a huge fight. But now, I didn’t even care about Ethan anymore. What did Chloe have to do with me? Ethan opened his mouth as if to say something, but stopped. Sweating from the pain, I urged him, “Just drive.” The car merged onto the highway. As soon as we arrived at the hospital, Ethan’s phone rang. It was Chloe. Ethan’s eyes softened instantly as he answered. I could hear Chloe crying on the other end. “Ethan, Buster is sick again. I’m so scared of losing him. Can you please come and be with me?” Ethan looked at me. I was pale from the blood loss. “We’re already at the hospital. Go get bandaged up yourself, and wait for me here when you’re done. Chloe needs me, I have to go.” He didn’t stay for even a single second. Watching his retreating back, I let out a self-deprecating laugh. The blood was drying on my fingertips. A nurse at the front desk noticed me and quickly led me to get the deep cuts cleaned. Going to the hospital twice in one day left me completely drained. I had just fallen asleep after getting home when Ethan burst in, furious. He ripped the blanket off me, his eyes blazing. “Didn’t I tell you to wait for me at the hospital? Do you know how long I looked for you there?” “I was running around like an idiot while everyone stared. And you didn’t even answer your phone. Do you think you can just do whatever you want now?” ###2 I looked at him coldly. He was always like this. No matter what happened, he would always blame me first. Back when I loved him, I always felt that I wasn’t doing enough. But what did I do wrong? I had waited for him at the hospital for five whole hours. I only took a cab back when I couldn’t bear the pain anymore. During that time, he was the one who didn’t pick up my calls. Besides, it takes twenty minutes to get from the hospital to our house, and twenty minutes from Chloe’s apartment to our house. He hadn’t gone back to the hospital to pick me up at all. Staring into his angry eyes, I felt nothing but a cold stranger’s presence. He used to cherish me so much. When did he start to change? Thinking back, it probably started when Chloe joined the company. A stagnant marriage could never compete with the thrill of someone young and fresh. I lowered my eyes and reminded him, “During our last fight, you blocked me. I’m still on your block list.” Ethan froze. His anger slowly faded. Yet, he didn’t show any embarrassment at having his lie exposed. He calmly handed me a half-opened box of organic tea bags. “You lost a lot of blood. This is raspberry leaf tea. Drink some; it’s good for recovery.” Looking at the opened box, I recalled Chloe’s Snapchat story from earlier. [Who else gets their partner to hand-brew organic tea for them during their period?] The picture showed Ethan busy in the kitchen. But Ethan was a wealthy heir who had never touched a kettle in his life. My periods were always incredibly painful. I once begged him to make me a cup of warm tea. He had scoffed, “How old are you? Still whining about period cramps like a teenager? Grow up.” He had left me writhing in pain to spend the night with Chloe. And only when Chloe didn’t need him anymore did he reluctantly return to my side. I was always left with Chloe’s scraps. Just like this half-opened box of tea. I pulled the blanket back over myself. “I don’t want it. Throw it away.” Ethan flew into a rage. “Chloe was nice enough to let me bring this back for you, and you’re just throwing it away? Stella, stop throwing tantrums!” “Aren’t you just bitter because I’m nice to Chloe? But am I not good to you?” “I took you to the hospital. I brought you tea. Even though you terrified Chloe and Buster, I didn’t even hold you accountable. Why are you never satisfied?” I wanted to laugh. I hadn’t even touched Chloe’s dog. In fact, my arm had been bitten straight through. But he couldn’t see my bleeding wounds; his mind was entirely occupied by Chloe’s tears. Too exhausted to argue, I closed my eyes. Ethan got even angrier. “Chloe was right. You’re just a greedy, foolish woman!” “You throw tantrums over nothing and have zero tolerance. If I really wanted to bring another woman into this house, do you think you’d still be sitting in the position of Mrs. Miller?” “I must have been blind to marry a paranoid, ungrateful psycho like you.” “You can’t even compare to one of Chloe’s fingernails!” His words grew harsher. If this had been the past, even if I only had one breath left, I would have dragged myself up to argue with him, desperate to salvage my image in his eyes. But now, I didn’t take a single word of his to heart. I reached out, put on my AirPods, turned over, and peacefully went to sleep. Ethan let out a few heavy breaths before slamming the door and storming out. The bang shook the house. In the past, every time we fought, he would run straight to Chloe. The moment he left, anxiety would keep me awake all night. I would constantly reflect on myself, looking for any mistake I might have made, then humbly apologize and cry, begging for his forgiveness. But that night, I slept incredibly well. So well that even though Ethan disappeared for five consecutive days, I didn’t feel anything was wrong. For those five days, we had no contact. The next time I saw him was on a mutual friend’s social media. The friend had posted a photo. Both Ethan and Chloe were in it. They were standing close together. Chloe’s head was resting on Ethan’s shoulder, and Ethan’s arm was wrapped around her waist. They looked incredibly intimate. I tapped the “like” button. ###3 Almost the next second, a text from Ethan popped up on Snapchat. [Mark is getting married this Thanksgiving. We’re having a pre-wedding celebration. I’ll pick you up in a bit.] A few seconds later, he sent another one. [It’s mostly a guys’ hangout, and I shouldn’t really bring you, but it’s good for you to get out and socialize. Stop being so shut-in all the time.] A guys’ hangout? Then what was Chloe doing there? I sneered and didn’t reply. A few minutes later, Ethan called. I wanted to decline, but Mark took the phone and begged me to join. Since Mark worked at Ethan’s company and had helped me a lot in the past, I couldn’t say no. I drove myself there. The location was a mountain peak where a group of people was planning to go bungee jumping. Seeing me, Mark called out, “Hey, Stella!” He always called Ethan “boss,” but this warm greeting gave me plenty of respect in front of everyone. Chloe’s face turned sour. She forced a fake smile. “I’m so glad you could make it, Stella.” “You can help Ethan and me take some photos later. These guys have terrible camera skills.” I glanced at her. “My camera skills are great, but I don’t shoot trash.” In the past, our dynamic was always her throwing passive-aggressive jabs, and me taking it out on Ethan. Because I felt Ethan was the one truly responsible. But she wasn’t innocent either. This was the first time I confronted her directly in front of everyone, humiliating her without mercy. Chloe’s face flushed red. Ethan’s eyes darkened with anger. The silence was deafening as everyone stared at each other. Seeing the tension, Mark quickly tried to smooth things over. “Well, taking photos is a small task. We don’t need to waste Stella’s talent on that.” “Everyone knows Stella is our company’s chief designer, right? We can’t waste her skills.” The others immediately chimed in. “I heard that ‘Etoile’ in Paris has reached out to Stella several times. That’s the holy grail for designers, right, Stella?” I nodded. “Yes, we are in talks. If it’s a good fit, I’ll move there.” Mark smiled. “That’s amazing!” He wanted to say more. But Ethan snapped first. He marched over to me and demanded, “Why didn’t I know about this?” “Are you planning to leave my company? Don’t forget, you still work for me. Did I give you permission to resign?” I looked at his angry face with cold detachment. “My career has nothing to do with you.” Ethan’s chest heaved with rage. Fearing Ethan would cause a scene, Mark quickly dragged him away, saying the bungee jumping gear was ready. Chloe followed them, purring, “Don’t be mad, Ethan. Let’s do a tandem jump together.” Ethan looked at me, then at her, and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. Chloe threw a provocative smirk my way. “Stella, you’ll have to jump alone later. Don’t be too scared!” Mark intervened. “Stella is afraid of heights. She can just wait for us up here.” Chloe smirked. “But the best way to conquer fear is to face it.” “Fear of heights can really limit your life. Why doesn’t Stella go first? Once you jump, your phobia will probably disappear.” I took a step back. “No.” Chloe immediately pouted. “Oh… but Stella, I’m only saying this for your own good.” She looked at Ethan with puppy-dog eyes. She might as well have said out loud that I was spitting on her good intentions. Ethan’s displeasure was written all over his face. “Chloe is trying to help you. Just jump once. It’s not going to kill you.” Forcing someone with a severe phobia of heights to bungee jump—how was that any different from trying to kill them? I shook my head firmly. “I said no. If she wants to be helpful, you guys can enjoy it yourselves.” Tears welled up in Chloe’s eyes. “Stella, do you still hate me? But about Buster…” She stopped halfway, easily fueling Ethan’s anger. Thinking about my “rebellion,” Ethan’s face went completely black. “You terrified Chloe and her dog, yet she holds no grudges and still tries to help you. How dare you act so high and mighty?” “Afraid of heights? You didn’t seem afraid when you took flights. Today, I’m going to see if a single jump can actually kill you!” He grabbed my hair, dragged me over, and coldly ordered the instructor to buckle us both into the safety harness. The cold wind blew up from the canyon. My legs immediately turned to jelly. I trembled and begged, “No… Ethan, please, I really can’t…” He ignored my pleas completely and pushed me off the ledge. Suddenly airborne, the terrifying sensation of freefall hit me like a tidal wave. I was too terrified to even scream. Instinctively, I tried to hold onto Ethan for safety, but his face remained cold as he repeatedly pushed my hands away. I felt like the air was tearing me apart. Tears and sweat covered my face. It was only a one-minute jump, but to me, it felt like an eternity. When we finally got back to the platform, I collapsed on the ground like a dying animal, shaking violently, my face whiter than paper. I was soaked in cold sweat, my stomach cramping so hard I wanted to die. I could feel a warm fluid starting to flow between my legs. But Chloe acted as if she was the one who was terrified, crying loudly in Ethan’s arms. Ethan comforted her gently. “Don’t cry. This is what she deserves.” “If we don’t teach her a lesson, she’ll just keep bullying you.” “Don’t worry. If she doesn’t learn, I’ll punish her again.” Then, he walked over to me, looking down at me coldly. “Do you know your place now? Apologize to Chloe immediately, or I’ll push you off again to build your courage.” I didn’t even have the strength to stand up. I could only raise my head slowly, staring at him with bloodshot eyes, and squeezed out a sentence with all my remaining strength. “Ethan… I want a divorce!” In an instant, the surrounding area went dead silent. Ethan looked at me in disbelief. “What did you say?” I wanted to laugh, but my head was spinning violently, as if I were being dragged into a deep abyss. I struggled to crawl up from the ground, but after only a few steps, darkness consumed me, and I fainted. Before I lost consciousness completely, I heard Mark and the others screaming. “Stella fainted!” “Oh my god, there’s so much blood on the ground.” “Don’t just stand there! Call 911!”

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On the very first day we bought our wedding house, Ethan registered my license plate in the community’s security system. Yet, every single time I drove up to the underground garage entrance, the barrier gate refused to lift. It was the ninth time I was locked out in the pouring rain. I pulled my car to the side and called Ethan. He answered, his tone so practiced it sounded like he’d memorized a script. “I’m so sorry, babe. The system upgraded yesterday and cleared your plate. “Just park on the street tonight. I’ll get it re-registered tomorrow.” Last time, he blamed it on a clueless new property manager. The time before that, he claimed the garage database was full and they had to delete some inactive users first. Only later did I find out that Hailey had casually mentioned to him that day: “We shouldn’t register too many cars for the townhome. It might get messy in the future.” And just like that, my car was deleted. As I hung up, a BMW sped past me, splashing dirty water everywhere. The muddy water slammed against my car door, and some of it ruined the hem of my freshly washed white dress. Hailey was sitting in the passenger seat, draped in Ethan’s suit jacket. She didn’t even spare me a glance. The next second, a notification from the community management app popped up on my phone. *“Long-term parking authorization for Mr. Reynolds’ private spot has been granted to Ms. Brooks.”* Cold rainwater seeped into my shoes, making my toes go numb. If this was a world I had to force my way into, then I didn’t want it anymore. … **1** I parked my car in the furthest visitor lot outside the community. The muddy water soaked my shoes. Every step felt like walking on ice. Holding my umbrella, I walked up to the gated entrance. The security guard glanced at me, his face blank. “Visitor registration, please.” I gave him Ethan’s name. The guard tapped on his computer for a moment, his brows furrowing. “Mr. Reynolds doesn’t have any visitors registered for tonight.” I froze. “I’m his fiancée.” A flash of awkwardness crossed the guard’s face, and he tapped the screen again. “According to our system notes, the only registered family member for the Reynolds household is a Ms. Brooks. “You… you are listed as a temporary visitor. I need the homeowner’s confirmation to let you in.” Family member. Temporary visitor. I stood outside the gate as heavy rain poured down the edges of my umbrella. It turned out that in this townhome—where my parents had pitched in $50,000 for the down payment—Hailey was family. And I was just a temporary visitor. The guard called the house. No one picked up. I sent Ethan a couple of Snapchat messages. One, then another. No reply. Instead, our mutual group chat on Snapchat lit up with new notifications. Hailey had posted a photo of a dinner table. It was a lavish spread, with a plate of garlic butter shrimp right in the center. Her caption read: *“Ethan’s mom taught me how to make his favorite garlic butter shrimp tonight. Success on my first try! * A stream of teasing comments immediately followed. *“Are you sure you’re not the actual future daughter-in-law?”* *“Hales feels more like family than the actual girlfriend tbh.”* *“Ethan is a lucky guy.”* Suddenly, someone deleted a message. But I had already seen it. *“Is Chloe here yet? Don’t tell me she got locked out of the garage again lmao.”* This group chat was created ages ago when they used to play poker together. I rarely spoke in it. It had been so long that they probably forgot I was even there. I locked my phone. Just then, someone walked out from the gated community. It was Jackson, one of Ethan’s close friends. He was holding a case of seltzers and stopped in his tracks when he saw me. “Chloe? What are you doing standing out here in the rain?” I forced a smile. “The system says I’m just a visitor.” Jackson’s expression stiffened. He reached out to scan his keycard for me. But just as his hand lifted, he seemed to remember something and lowered his voice. “Actually… maybe you shouldn’t go up tonight. Hailey is there, and Ethan’s mom is in a really good mood. “If you go up… it might get awkward.” I stared at him. “Does she come over often?” Jackson opened his mouth, hesitated, and finally admitted the truth. “Yeah, pretty often. “Ethan’s mom really likes her. Thinks she’s sweet and domestic. We used to joke around, saying she seemed more like Ethan’s wife.” Realizing how that sounded, he quickly added, “I didn’t mean it that way, Chloe.” I nodded. “It’s fine.” My phone buzzed again. Ethan had finally replied. *“My mom wanted Hailey to taste-test the catering menu for our wedding. I’m caught up here right now. Find somewhere to stay dry, and wait for me to finish.”* I looked up at the warmly lit window of the townhouse. Inside, people were eating, laughing, and enjoying the shrimp Hailey had made. And I was standing out in the rain, unable to even pass the security gate. I turned around and walked away. The cold rain on my face felt freezing. **2** When I got to my apartment, I took a long, hot shower. The mud stains on my dress wouldn’t come out, and my knees were bruised red from the biting cold rain. The next morning, Ethan’s phone call woke me up. It rang three times before I finally picked up. Ethan’s voice sounded a bit raspy. “Why did you leave last night?” I didn’t say anything. He sighed. “I asked management about the license plate. Hailey made a mistake when she was registering a temporary car for my mom. “She didn’t do it on purpose.” It was always this excuse. *She didn’t do it on purpose.* I stared at the sunlight piercing through the cracks of the curtains, suddenly feeling exhausted. Ethan’s voice softened. “Let’s have dinner tonight. We still need to finalize the wedding menu. “My mom will be there, too. Don’t make her overthink things.” I wanted to say no. But then I thought about my parents, who had already booked their flights for the wedding. I thought about the $50,000. In the end, I agreed. When I arrived at the restaurant that evening, the private dining room was already packed. Ethan’s mother, Beatrice, sat at the head of the table. Hailey sat on her right, putting food onto Beatrice’s plate. “Try this, Beatrice. It’s light and easy on your stomach.” Beatrice smiled so warmly her eyes wrinkled. “Oh, Hailey, you are always so thoughtful.” When I pushed the door open, everyone looked up at me. Hailey was the first to stand up. “Chloe! You’re finally here. Come, sit.” She pointed to a seat right next to the door. “This spot is perfect for the servers to bring out the food. You can check out the dishes from here.” I looked at Ethan. He was busy pouring water for his mother, refusing to look at me. So, I sat down. Throughout the entire dinner, Hailey acted like the hostess. She picked the menu. She selected the wine. She even weighed in on what color dress Beatrice should wear on the wedding day. “Let’s go with the king crab for the main course. We should make the whole menu seafood-based. What do you think? “Seafood is a bit pricey, but it looks sophisticated. We can’t have the Reynolds family wedding looking cheap.” My mother was severely allergic to seafood. I had told Ethan this three days ago. I looked at Ethan, waiting for him to speak up. But he just smiled and said, “I trust your taste, Hailey.” Beatrice patted Hailey’s hand. “If it weren’t for Hailey helping out, I seriously wouldn’t know what to do.” Hailey looked down, blushing. “Don’t say that, Beatrice. I just want the wedding to be perfect.” Someone laughed and teased, “Honestly, Hales, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were the bride.” The room erupted into laughter. Ethan laughed, too. Only my fork hovered frozen in the air. As if suddenly remembering I was there, Hailey quickly looked over at me. “Chloe, you don’t mind, right? We’ve been joking like this since we were kids.” I set my fork down. “I don’t mind.” Ethan finally looked at me. His eyes held a look of approval, as if praising me for being “reasonable.” Halfway through the dinner, Beatrice suddenly brought up the townhouse. “The remodeling is almost done. The final payment is due in a few days.” She looked at me, her tone incredibly casual. “Chloe, that $50,000 your parents sent… let’s just count that as a contribution toward the joint household expenses.” I looked up. “What do you mean, joint household expenses?” Beatrice’s smile faded a bit. “You two are getting married soon. Why are you keeping score? “Ethan bought the townhouse before the marriage. You contributing a little bit of money is just for your future life together, isn’t it?” My hand clenched tightly around my water glass. “My dad wrote ‘down payment for the house’ in the bank transfer memo.” The room went dead silent. Hailey gently put her forks down, her voice soft and sweet. “Chloe, Beatrice didn’t mean it like that. She’s probably just trying to take the pressure off you. “You don’t need to be so sensitive whenever money is brought up.” Ethan frowned. “Chloe, we are here to finalize the menu today, not to do accounting.” I stared at him. “My parents gave us $50,000. Am I not even allowed to ask for clarification?” Beatrice’s face completely darkened. “You haven’t even married into this family yet, and you’re already calculating everything so coldly.” Hailey quickly poured her some water. “Don’t be upset, Beatrice. Chloe probably just hears her parents talk about money too much.” Those words were more insulting than a slap to my face. She made it sound like my parents were greedy schemers, like my entire family was eyeing the Reynolds’ property. **3** Just as I was about to speak, the server walked in carrying hot soup. Hailey stood up to help take the bowl. Her hand slipped, and the entire bowl of scalding soup spilled directly onto my lap. The burning heat instantly seared through my dress and onto my skin. I gasped in pain. But Ethan’s first instinct was to grab Hailey’s wrist. “Did you get burned?” Hailey’s eyes immediately welled with tears. “I’m fine, I’m fine… I just scared Chloe.” Beatrice frowned at me. “It’s just a little soup, Chloe. You were sitting so far out, no wonder you bumped into Hailey.” I looked down at my soaked dress. The hot soup was dripping down my shins, sticky and disgusting. I was just sitting there, yet somehow I was the one who bumped into her. Nobody asked if I was hurt. They were only worried that Hailey might feel bad. I stood up. “I’m going to the restroom.” The moment the door shut behind me, I heard Hailey’s whimpering voice from inside: “Ethan… is Chloe mad at me?” And Ethan’s low, comforting voice: “No, she’s not that petty.” Standing outside the door, I let out a dry laugh. It turned out that my politeness and maturity had just been their free pass to walk all over me. After cleaning myself up, I didn’t go back to that suffocating room. I walked straight to my car, my knees still throbbing with a dull pain. As soon as I pressed the unlock button, Ethan’s hand reached over my shoulder and yanked the driver’s side door open. “Chloe, Hailey isn’t feeling well. I need to take your car to drive her to the hospital.” Ethan pulled the door wide open. Hailey was standing right behind him. “I’m so sorry, Chloe. Ethan planned on drinking tonight so he didn’t drive. You don’t mind if we borrow your car, right?” Before I could even speak, Ethan had already slid into the driver’s seat. Instinctively, I reached for the passenger door. But Hailey quickly stepped in front of me. “Chloe, can I please sit in the front?” She clutched her stomach, her face pale. “My stomach hurts so bad, and I get motion sickness in the back.” Without waiting for my answer, she pulled open the door and sat inside. Ethan glanced at me. “Just sit in the back, Chloe. You can drive the car back once we get to the hospital. “It’s a good thing you were out here, otherwise I would have had to ask you for the keys.” He didn’t ask why I had left the dinner early. Instead, he was just glad my departure had made things convenient for them. I pulled open the back door and got in. The car started moving. Hailey took out a few interior design mock-ups from her bag and handed them to Ethan. “Your mom said this room has the best lighting. She suggested we don’t turn it into a nursery just yet. “I’ve been taking more design clients lately and need to film content. Can I use it as my temporary studio?” Ethan glanced at the papers. “You can just sort that out with my mom.” Sitting in the back seat, my fingers clenched into tight fists. That room was the one I had planned for my parents. They were flying in for the wedding; they couldn’t just stay in a hotel the entire time. Hailey turned around to look at me, as if she had just remembered my existence. “Chloe, you don’t mind, right? “I’ll only use it occasionally. I won’t get in your way.” I looked her dead in the eye. “You don’t get to make decisions about my townhouse, Hailey.” The car fell dead silent. Ethan’s brows knitted together. “Chloe.” Just one word, but it was loaded with warning. Hailey lowered her head, her voice turning soft and pathetic. “Never mind. I won’t interfere. I don’t want to be a nuisance.” Ethan’s face completely darkened. “Do you have to speak like that?” I looked out the window and didn’t reply. As the car neared the hospital, Hailey suddenly clutched her chest. “Ethan, my stomach is so upset…” Ethan immediately pulled over to the curb. “What’s wrong?” She leaned back against the seat, her breathing shallow. After a few seconds, she suddenly turned her head to look at me. “Is it… is it the smell of the soup on Chloe’s dress? It’s making me so nauseous…” I was stunned. “You were the one who spilled the soup on me.” But Ethan had already gotten out of the car and opened my door. “Get out for a bit, Chloe.” The cold night wind rushed into the car. I stared at him. “This is my car.” He avoided my eyes. “Hailey is really sick right now. Just call an Uber. I’ll bring the car back to you tomorrow.” I didn’t budge. Ethan’s voice turned colder. “Chloe, can you have some empathy for once?” I got out of the car. The door slammed shut in my face. The car sped away into the night. **4** My phone battery was at three percent. Standing by the curb, I was about to call a ride when a notification from Instagram popped up. It was a new post from Hailey. The photo showed a corner of the coffee table in the townhouse, taken yesterday. Next to a coffee mug lay a document. Her caption read: *“Beatrice told me that there’s a place for me in this home, too. 🏠✨”* I clicked on the photo. And zoomed in. The cover of the document revealed a few words: *“Pre-Marital Asset Confirmation Agreement.”* Further down, partially covered by the mug, was a clause: *“The transfer of $50,000 shall be deemed a voluntary gift from Chloe Evans to Ethan Reynolds.”* The moment those words registered, the coldness in my body vanished. All I could hear was the sound of something snapping inside me. I hailed an Uber and gave the driver the address of the townhouse. The driver glanced at my stained dress but didn’t ask questions. When I reached the community gate, the security guard recognized me this time. He hesitated for a second before letting me in. “Ms. Evans… Mrs. Reynolds said earlier that you wouldn’t be coming tonight.” My footsteps paused. “Which Mrs. Reynolds?” The guard blinked. “Mr. Reynolds’ mother.” I nodded and didn’t say another word. The keypad lock passcode hadn’t been changed. When I pushed the door open, the living room lights were on. The coffee table was a complete mess. My parents’ $50,000 transfer receipt had been crumpled into a ball and thrown next to the trash can. Our signed co-ownership agreement was torn in half. The agreement that originally stated: *“Chloe Evans contributes $50,000 toward the down payment, and both parties shall jointly repay the mortgage after marriage.”* Now, the signature section was soaked in water. My name was blurred into an unrecognizable smudge. There was even a faint shoe print on the paper. I knelt down, picking up the torn pieces one by one. My hands were shaking violently. My dad had insisted I keep this agreement. He had told me: “It’s not that I don’t trust Ethan, Chloe. I just don’t want you to be taken advantage of.” At the time, I laughed and told him he was overthinking. Now I realized he was the only sober one. I took photos of the ruined papers, the trash can, and the messy table. The drawer was half-open. Inside lay another document. The cover was identical to the one Hailey had posted on Instagram. *“Pre-Marital Asset Confirmation Agreement.”* I flipped to the last page. Under the signature line, the name “Chloe Evans” was clearly written. But it wasn’t my handwriting. And the clauses inside were even more insulting. *“Chloe Evans voluntarily confirms that the property under Ethan Reynolds’ name has no relation to her.* *The prior transfer of $50,000 was a voluntary gift during the relationship and shall not be refunded.* *After marriage, both parties shall manage their incomes independently, and the marriage shall not alter the property rights.”* I stared at it for a long time. Then, I let out a soft laugh. It turned out they didn’t invite me last night to taste-test a menu. They invited me to test my limits. I called Ethan. It rang for a long time before he finally picked up. His voice was hushed. “I’m at the hospital. Hailey just got hooked up to an IV. Let’s talk tomorrow.” I looked at the forged agreement in my hand. “The pre-marital agreement. Who prepared it?” The other end went dead silent for a couple of seconds. “What agreement?” “The one with my forged signature.” I could hear Hailey softly coughing in the background. Ethan’s tone instantly turned irritated. “Chloe, I told you we’ll talk tomorrow. Do you have to pick a fight tonight?” I closed my eyes. “It’s a forged signature, Ethan.” His voice turned cold. “Who would forge your signature? My mom probably just asked a lawyer to draft a template, and you haven’t even seen it yet. “What kind of crazy theories are you making up now? Is this fun for you?” I clenched my phone. “Our co-ownership agreement was torn to pieces and thrown in the trash.” “The money isn’t lost,” he snapped, his voice even colder. “Aren’t we going to be family after we marry anyway? Why are you being so greedy and calculating? Do you even want to get married?” The call went dead. Standing in the living room, this house felt terrifyingly foreign. My eyes caught a grocery receipt in the trash can. King crab, pineapples, chocolates. All of Hailey’s favorites. And on the very last line: a pregnancy test. Purchase time: two days ago. Member account used: Ethan Reynolds. My eyes lingered on the words “pregnancy test” for what felt like an eternity. My period had just ended two days ago. In the trash, there was also the torn box of the pregnancy test, matching the brand on the receipt. I didn’t cry. I didn’t smash anything. I simply photographed every piece of evidence and uploaded it to my Google Drive. Then, I sent a message to a college friend who was now a practicing attorney. “If someone forges my signature on a legal document, can I sue them?” She replied almost instantly. “Yes. “Don’t touch the evidence. Take photos of the originals, keep them safe, and come to my firm tomorrow.” I set my phone down. I began packing everything that belonged to me. My clothes, my mugs, my slippers, and the security keycard at the entrance that I had been so terrified of losing. Finally, I placed the keycard back on the shoe cabinet. It used to feel like proof that I belonged here. Now, it was just a useless piece of plastic. TThe door clicked shut behind me. The hallway motion lights flickered on, then died out. I never looked back.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “456530”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

Three days before our wedding, my fiancé, Ethan Vance, chartered a yacht for a game of Red and Black. The rules were simple: whoever drew a red card had to jump into the pitch-black night sea. I had almost drowned once as a child, and the dark ocean was my worst nightmare. I instinctively tried to back out, but Ethan pushed me back into my seat. “Don’t worry,” he whispered, his hand firm on my shoulder. “I checked the cards. You won’t get a red one.” My brother, Liam, chimed in, urging me on: “Since when has Ethan ever played with your safety, Evelyn?” But for five consecutive rounds, the only red card landed right in my hand. I was forced to jump into the freezing water five times. The suffocating feeling of near-death pushed me to the brink of a panic attack. As the lifeguard dragged me back to the deck for the fifth time, gasping for air, I heard my brother laugh. “Five jumps, and Evelyn still hasn’t figured out the cards are rigged?” Ethan’s voice was completely nonchalant: “So what if she does? As long as Summer wants to play, Evelyn will keep drawing red.” I trembled violently, my nails digging into my wet palms until they bled. They had rigged every single card to send me to my grave, all just to put a smile on Summer’s face. Well, this time, I’m leaving their table for good. …

I pushed open the deck door and threw the deck of Red and Black cards at Ethan’s feet. “Explain.” Saltwater was still dripping from my hair. Every breath I took burned my throat like fire. The laughter around the table died instantly. Ethan stood up, grabbing my arm to pull me toward the table. “The lifeguards were right there. You weren’t going to drown,” he said, stuffing the red card back into the box. “Don’t turn a harmless game into a pre-wedding scandal.” He reached out to touch my forehead. I flinched away, leaving his hand hanging in the air. I stared at his hand. I suddenly remembered years ago, when I was standing at the edge of a pool, terrified. He had held out his hand just like this and said, *“Evelyn, take my hand. I’ve got you.”* Because I remembered those words, I hadn’t doubted him when the first red card landed in my palm. I bent down, picked up the last red card, and pressed it against Ethan’s chest. “Then tell me, why did the lifeguards wait until I completely submerged every single time before pulling me out?” The onlookers quickly looked away, avoiding my eyes. Summer Ward was sitting in Ethan’s seat. She wore his designer jacket over her shoulders, casually twirling a pristine black card between her fingers. Ethan noticed my gaze and stepped forward, blocking my view of her. “I told them to delay it for a few seconds,” he said, looking at me. “You’ve been terrified of water for years. I thought this would finally cure your phobia. This was my call. Don’t blame Summer for it.” My fingers instinctively touched my bare left wrist. Before I went into the water, Ethan had personally taken off my customized wedding bracelet. He said the saltwater would ruin the clasp. He promised he would put it back on me the moment I came up. Right now, that very bracelet was resting on Summer’s wrist. I reached out to grab it, but Ethan intercepted me, clamping his hand over my wrist. “Summer is easily chilled, and her wrist has been aching,” he said smoothly. “She’s just wearing it temporarily to keep it warm.” “That is my wedding bracelet.” “I know,” his tone was flat, completely dismissive. “Once we’re back on land, I’ll have a new one custom-made for you.” Summer leaned back against the yacht’s railing, shaking her wrist so the initial charms clinked together. “Evelyn, Ethan said that if something is truly important, he’ll always replace it with something better for me.” The two letter charms clinked. One was my initial, ‘E’, and the other was Ethan’s, ‘E’. I had drawn the design myself. It was one of a kind. I lunged forward to yank the bracelet back. Summer didn’t flinch. Instead, she let my momentum pull her, taking a deliberate step backward. The next second, a sharp scream pierced the air. She went over the railing, tumbling straight into the dark sea. Ethan’s face went pale. Without even taking off his wet shirt, he dove straight into the water after her. Liam rushed in front of me, raising his hand as if to strike me. “Did you just push her?!” I grabbed his wrist, forcing the red card into his palm. “Didn’t you guys say that as long as there are lifeguards, nothing can go wrong?” I looked at Summer struggling in the water and slowly let go of Liam’s wrist. “Then let her experience it too.”

When Ethan carried Summer back onto the deck, she was wrapped in my customized bridal shawl. “Evelyn Miller, pushing someone who can’t swim into the ocean? Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” I leaned heavily against the table, coughing up saltwater that dripped onto my bare feet. “I can’t swim either.” “The lifeguards were prepared before you went in!” “She had them too,” I said, glaring at the girl shivering in his arms. “In fact, she had two of them.” Ethan set Summer down on a lounge chair, gently wrapping the shawl tighter around her. Then he stood up, shielding her from me. “She was completely unprepared. It’s not the same.” I pointed to the ice bucket on the table. Now that the red cards had been soaked in water, the tiny scratches carved into their backs had bubbled up, completely visible. “Was I prepared?” A man in a grey designer shirt laughed. “Come on, Evelyn. You’re standing here arguing, which proves Ethan’s plan worked. Summer just wanted to see if the game would help you. Why do you have to be so vindictive?” I picked up the ice bucket and dumped the freezing water and rigged cards right over his expensive shoes. “You jump five times in my place, and then I’ll apologize.” He took a step back, his face darkening. “If you can’t handle a joke, don’t play. Don’t take your insecurities out on everyone else.” Ethan raised a hand, and the man shut up instantly. Ethan pushed a glass of warm water toward me. “Drink this. Don’t catch a cold.” I didn’t touch it. He stared at my pale, ghost-like face for a few seconds. “Apologize to Summer. Let’s end this tonight.” Summer leaned her head against Ethan’s shoulder, coughing softly. The bracelet slid out from under the shawl, its initial charms catching on the silver threads of my bridal wrap. I grabbed the other end of the shawl. “Give it back.” Ethan looked up. “She just fell into the water, and her wrist was scraped by the railing. Let her wear it for now. I’ll buy you a new one tomorrow.” I stared at him. “It’s three days before our wedding, and you’re using my things to comfort her, telling me you’ll buy me a replacement?” One of the guys at the table, clearly drunk, chuckled. “Ethan’s already spent several nights at Summer’s place. Evelyn, throwing a fit over a shawl now makes you look a bit slow, don’t you think?” Liam kicked the man’s chair hard. “Shut up if you’re drunk.” I tapped my phone screen, pulling up the Snapchat location history from his trip to the neighboring city last month. “You told me you went to taste-test the wedding wine. Were you with her?” Summer clutched the hem of Ethan’s shirt, tears welling in her eyes. “I had a high fever that night, Evelyn. Ethan was just taking care of me. The hotel only had one room left. He couldn’t just leave me alone.” “How many nights?” I asked. Ethan didn’t answer. But the guy in the grey shirt laughed again, clearly lacking a filter. “Just three nights. Besides, Ethan came back to you in the end, didn’t he?” “Shut up,” Ethan snapped. The entire deck fell dead silent. I looked at him. “So it’s true.” The night before he left, the wedding vows I had sent him were left on read. When he finally replied ten hours later, he only sent two words: *“Whatever works.”* And during those days, he was staying in a single hotel room with Summer for three nights. Ethan was quiet for a moment before stepping closer to me. “Nothing happened between us,” he said, raising his hand to wipe a drop of water from my chin. “Evelyn, I promised to marry you, and I won’t go back on my word. The position of Mrs. Vance has never belonged to anyone else.” Summer gently tugged his sleeve. Ethan’s hand instantly retreated from my face. I swallowed the bitter taste in my mouth and spoke clearly, word by word: “Ethan, what makes you so confident that I would still want a man who shares a bed with another woman?” Ethan’s eyes darkened with anger. Liam’s face grew cold first. “Evelyn, the alliance between the Vance and Miller families is not a joke. You can be angry, but you cannot use our wedding to throw a tantrum.” Summer lowered her eyes, took off the bracelet, and placed it back into Ethan’s palm. “I shouldn’t have worn it. Don’t let Evelyn misinterpret things because of me.” Ethan looked at the bracelet in his hand, his thumb brushing over the charms. Then, he slid it into his pocket. “I’ll return it to her when she calms down.” The captain walked over. “We’ve entered the return route. According to the schedule, we’ll dock in twenty minutes.” Ethan’s voice was cold. “If she doesn’t apologize, keep the boat out here.” I looked at the “Whatever works” text on my screen and finally understood. He hadn’t missed my wedding vows. He was just absolutely certain that no matter how many times he abandoned me, I would always be right there, waiting for him.

As the yacht approached an abandoned pier near the island, I walked into the control cabin and grabbed the radio. “Turn back. I want to contact my parents.” Ethan caught up to me from behind, grabbing my shoulder. “Evelyn, that’s enough.” He reached over me, pulled the ignition key from the console, and clenched it in his fist. “The invitations are out, the venue is booked, the guests are confirmed, and the registry is set. The wedding is in two days,” he said, looking down at me. “This isn’t something you can just cancel with a temper tantrum.” Summer walked out of the cabin, holding a marine flare gun. She placed the gun on the table, her finger tapping the grip. “Since Evelyn doesn’t trust any of us, why don’t we play another game?” Ethan frowned. “This isn’t a deck of cards, Summer. Don’t mess around with that.” “What are you scared of? They’re just blanks.” Summer turned her gaze to me. “If Evelyn wins, we dock the boat. If she loses, she apologizes to me, and we put tonight behind us.” I stared at her for a few seconds, then let out a cold laugh. “Sure. But I’m only playing against you.” Ethan checked the safety and the barrel, giving Summer a warning look. “Keep it civil. Don’t take it too far.” Summer took the gun, turning her back to us under the pretense of adjusting her sleeves. Her body blocked everyone’s line of sight. When she turned back, she smiled at Ethan. “You checked it yourself, so it should be fine, right?” Summer pulled the trigger first. A loud click. Blank. I pulled it second. Another click. She took the gun back and pulled it a third time. Click. Summer smiled, sliding the gun back to me. “The last chamber is yours, Evelyn.” I didn’t take the gun from her hand. Instead, I grabbed the grip myself and pointed the barrel toward the empty ocean. “Since they’re all blanks, let’s keep going.” The moment my finger squeezed the trigger, Summer suddenly grabbed Ethan’s arm, using the leverage to swing herself forward. At the exact same time, she threw herself directly into Ethan’s chest. *BANG!* A deafening roar shattered the night. The flare shot past her cheek. The intense, burning heat sliced her skin, and the light fixture behind us shattered into pieces. Seeing the blood on her face, Liam lost his mind and lunged at me. *SLAP!* The force of his slap made my ears ring, and my cheek instantly went numb. I turned my face back, tasting copper in my mouth. “I didn’t load that gun.” Liam snarled, “But you’re the one who pulled the trigger!” “Check the security cameras.” Liam ripped the memory card out of the console and slid it into his pocket. “I will have it checked.” I reached out to grab it, but he stepped back. “I’m keeping the evidence until you calm down.” Summer clutched her bleeding cheek, leaning heavily against Liam’s chest. “Ethan, don’t blame Evelyn. She was just jealous. She lost her mind because she loves you too much.” Ethan stared at me. “Apologize.” I grabbed a tissue from the table, slowly wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth, and tossed it into the trash. “What is she to deserve an apology from me?” Ethan closed his eyes. When he opened them, he pointed toward the dark pier outside. “Leave her on the island. We’ll bring her back when she’s ready to apologize.” The boarding ramp slowly retracted behind me. The captain tried to intervene. “Mr. Vance, the storm is hitting in thirty minutes! We can’t leave anyone on this island!” Ethan stood at the stern, watching me through the widening gap of dark water. “She’ll apologize.” The yacht faded into the darkness. I reached for the emergency locator beacon on my life vest and flipped the switch. The light didn’t turn on.

The yacht hovered a few hundred yards away, refusing to leave completely. Ethan’s voice boomed over the megaphone. “Evelyn! Just apologize, and I’ll bring you back right now!” The wind howled, sending massive waves crashing over the concrete pier. I looked down, frantically pressing the button on my locator beacon. Once. Twice. Nothing. I pried open the battery compartment. It was completely empty. The edges of the plastic cover had fresh pry marks on them. “Someone took the batteries,” I whispered. I looked up toward the yacht and yelled into the wind, “Drop the emergency dinghy!” Liam’s voice came through the megaphone, dripping with impatience. “Is a simple ‘I’m sorry’ that hard, Evelyn? Ethan is already giving you a way out!” The captain’s panicked voice drifted over the water. “Mr. Vance, we have to get her back now! The tide is going to submerge the old pier tonight, and the guardhouse on the island is completely abandoned!” Ethan’s expression changed. He reached for the megaphone. But right then, Summer gasped, clutching her throat, and stumbled into his arms. “Ethan… I can’t breathe…” Severe red hives broke out across her neck, and her breathing turned into a ragged wheeze. Ethan panicked. “Get the epi-pen and the first aid kit!” The deck fell into utter chaos as Ethan carried her into the cabin without looking back. A few minutes later, he reappeared at the stern. Summer’s breathing was growing weaker in his arms. “Evelyn, Summer is having a severe allergic reaction! We have to get her to a hospital immediately!” I stood in the freezing seawater, which had already risen past my shoes. “Leave the emergency dinghy for me first!” Ethan gripped the megaphone. “We need to keep the dinghy attached in case we need to transfer her to an ambulance on the way!” “Then give me a satellite phone!” Liam’s voice cut in coldly. “There’s only one on board, and Summer might need it to contact the paramedics!” The storm slammed into the rocks, making the yacht sway violently. I stared at Ethan. “So, you’re really going to leave me here alone in a storm?” Ethan’s knuckles turned white around the megaphone. “Captain, bring us closer to the pier! We’ll grab her first!” But the moment the yacht turned, Summer let out a painful cry, curling her body into a tight ball. “Ethan… save me… please…” Ethan froze. For one agonizing second, he looked at Summer, then looked back at me. Finally, he turned his back to me and shouted to the captain: “Head to the harbor. Now!” The blood in my veins turned to ice. Ethan’s tense voice echoed over the roaring wind. “Evelyn! Get to high ground!” “Two hours!” “Two hours max, I swear I’ll send a rescue boat back for you!” I screamed back, “What if I can’t wait that long?” “Stop throwing a tantrum!” His voice sounded strained. “Just head up the hill! Don’t stay on the pier, and don’t wander off! Find shelter and leave a marker, do you hear me?!” Summer sobbed in his arms. “Ethan, am I going to die?” Ethan immediately looked down to soothe her. “No. I’m here. You’re going to be fine.” The yacht swung around, accelerating into the storm. The lights of the boat grew smaller and smaller. I stood there, frozen, as the icy ocean water climbed past my ankles. It was always like this. On the day we were supposed to get our marriage license, he told me to wait. On the day of my bridal fitting, he told me to wait. He said Summer was sick, that she had no one else but him. Because I was always the mature one. The one who would never cause trouble. Twenty minutes later, the lights on the pier went completely black. I ran through the pouring rain toward the old guardhouse, but the door was wrapped in heavy, rusted chains. Waves were already cresting over the steps. I had no choice but to climb the rocky path up the hill. Sharp branches and broken wood sliced my knees. I fell face-first into the mud, but I forced myself to crawl back up, using the wet stone wall for support. The door of the old weather station was warped and rusted. I threw my shoulder against it three times before it finally gave way. The moment I barricaded the door with a metal pipe, a section of the wooden roof collapsed with a loud crash. In the corner, I spotted an old emergency landline phone. The screen flickered to life. With trembling fingers, I dialed the one number I knew by heart. It rang once and connected. “Evelyn?!” Ethan’s voice was frantic, trembling. “Where are you? I can’t get through to the island’s emergency rescue team! The storm is too bad, but our boat is heading back!” Outside, the waves thundered against the cliffs. I threw my weight against the shaking door. “The roof collapsed. The water is coming in.” “Get out of there! Run to higher ground!” “There is no higher ground!” I looked down at the water swirling around my calves. “Ethan, I think I’m actually going to die here.” He screamed into the receiver, “Tell me exactly where you are! I’m coming back myself, Evelyn! Don’t you dare hang up!” But before I could speak, Summer’s frantic cries pierced the line. “Ethan! My chest hurts so bad… I can’t breathe!” Ethan’s voice instantly muffled as he pulled away. “Where is the doctor?! Get her the oxygen mask!” “Ethan,” I called out, my voice barely a whisper. “Are you actually coming back for me?” There was a two-second silence over the line. “Evelyn, just give me a little more time. Summer really needs me right now.” I let out a soft laugh. My tears mixed with the rising saltwater. “But I don’t have any more time left.” The stone wall behind me suddenly cracked. A torrent of freezing seawater rushed in, the sheer force of it slamming me to the floor. The phone slipped from my wet palm, splashing into the rising water. Ethan’s panicked, distorted voice echoed faintly from the submerged speaker. “Evelyn!” “Evelyn, answer me!” I crawled desperately toward the glowing screen. Just as my fingers brushed the glass, the signal bars dropped to zero. Call disconnected. The next second, the entire wall collapsed. Cold, heavy seawater rushed over my head, dragging me down into the pitch-black drainage channel. Before darkness claimed my vision, I saw a memory from years ago. Ethan was standing poolside, holding his hand out to me. *“Evelyn, don’t be scared. I’ll pull you up.”* But this time, he had reached out for someone else. And I was done waiting.

When the current dragged me into the drainage pipe, I thought I was dead. My back slammed repeatedly against the rough concrete. A piece of debris sliced open my right leg. I clawed at the wet, slippery walls, but there was nothing to hold onto. It wasn’t until my body slammed violently against a metal maintenance ladder that I jolted back to consciousness. I wrapped my arms around the metal rung, forcing my face above the swirling water to gasp for air. The weather station had completely collapsed, blocking the entrance with rubble. The tide was still rising, pushing me deeper into the dark tunnel with every wave. “Ethan…” I whispered his name out of sheer habit, but only the roar of the water answered. He had told me to wait two hours. He had no idea that there weren’t two hours left. I grabbed the heavy metal buckle of my life vest and began slamming it against the rusted lock of the maintenance hatch. My wrist throbbed, my palm split open, but the rusted lock wouldn’t budge. As the water reached my chin, I remembered drawing the first red card. Ethan had held my shoulder, promising me he would never put me in danger. I had believed him. So I jumped. The second time, the third time, the fifth time… I kept waiting for him to tell them to stop the game. Even now, I was still waiting. That realization chilled me deeper than the freezing ocean. I jammed the metal buckle into the gap of the hatch, pressed my foot against the concrete wall, and threw all my weight onto it. With a loud crack, the lock snapped. The heavy metal door swung open, and the rush of water flushed me out into a narrow rocky cave. My shoulder scraped against the jagged rocks, and before I could even take a breath, I was swept into the open air. Suddenly, a bright beam of light sliced through the darkness. The light flashed across the cave entrance twice, and then a heavy rescue rope splashed into the water right in front of me. “Grab it!” A man’s voice roared over the wind. I reached out. For the first time in my life, I didn’t wait for someone to pull me. I wrapped the rope securely around my wrist myself. The rope snapped taut. By the time I was hauled onto the deck of the rescue boat, I couldn’t feel my right leg. I collapsed onto the wet wood, shivering violently. Someone knelt beside me, quickly cutting away my wet life vest. “Evelyn, stay with me. Look at me.” I forced my eyes open. Julian Sterling’s face appeared under the swinging searchlight. He was the deputy commander of the local Coast Guard, and the oldest son of the family that lived next door to mine growing up. “Can you hear me?” I grabbed his sleeve, my throat burning with the taste of blood. “Don’t… don’t tell Ethan.” Julian didn’t ask why. He wrapped me in a thermal emergency blanket and turned to his crew. “Disable our public transponder. Report that we found one female casualty, but keep the identity confidential. Call the hospital and have blood plasma ready.” As the patrol boat sped away from the island, several searchlights cut through the distant fog. A voice roared over a megaphone, calling my name over and over. The wind tore the sound apart, but I still recognized it. It was Ethan. He had finally come back. But as Julian held my wrist, checking my pulse, I didn’t tell him to stop the boat. I closed my eyes, letting the distant lights fade into the storm behind us. When I finally woke up, my mother was sitting by my hospital bed. Seeing my eyes open, she reached out to hug me but stopped, terrified of touching my injuries. She could only clutch the edge of the mattress, crying silently. My father stood by the window, holding a copy of the official rescue log. “The search and rescue teams haven’t officially found you yet,” he said softly. “Ethan has been tearing that island apart for eleven hours.” I looked at my bandaged wrists. “Don’t tell him yet.” My mother’s eyes widened. “Evelyn?” “I want to see how they explain this if they think I’m dead.” My father was silent for a moment before handing me his phone. On the local news, Ethan was standing outside the ruins of the collapsed weather station. He was still wearing the same white shirt from last night, his sleeves stained with dried blood. His face was completely pale, but his eyes were terrifyingly cold. A reporter asked him if they were going to call off the search due to the weather. He only said one sentence. “We don’t stop until we find her. If she’s not off this island, nobody leaves.” I locked the screen. If this had happened in the past, I might have flattered myself into thinking he actually cared. Now, it just felt pathetic. Because when I actually needed him to stay, he had already made his choice. This time, I was going to let him experience what it felt like to wait for someone who was never coming back.

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The pregnancy test in my bag was still warm, fresh from the clinic, when Brenda threw my suitcase out of the front door. Austin stood right next to her. He looked helpless, but he couldn’t even look me in the eye. “You see how it is, Chloe. We’ve been married for three years and still no baby. My mom wants a grandkid, and she’s running out of patience.” “Let’s just get a divorce. I’m not getting any younger. I can’t waste any more time on this.” My hand slipped into my bag, tightly gripping the positive pregnancy report. But in the end, I let go. “Fine. See you at the courthouse tomorrow to sign the papers.” Since your family has a royal empire to inherit… I’ll take my baby and let them inherit someone else’s empire. 0 “Pack your trash and get out. Don’t block the door for the new lady of the house.” Brenda sat on the sofa with her legs crossed, eating pistachios and spitting the shells everywhere. One shell landed right at my feet. I knelt on the floor, packing my clothes. My fingers brushed against a wool scarf in the corner of the closet. Austin had wrapped it around my neck himself on our wedding day. Now, it was buried under a pile of junk, covered in dust. I paused for a second, then left it right where it was. “Hold on,” Brenda said suddenly. I looked back. She was pointing at the mahogany coffee table in the living room. “My son bought that furniture. You’re not taking it.” I let out a cold laugh. “Brenda, I bought that with my own salary.” “So what?” She stood up and walked over to me, looking incredibly smug. “You’ve lived under Austin’s roof for ten years. Everything you ate and wore came from him. What’s wrong with leaving some furniture?” I took a deep breath. Forget it. It was just a piece of wood. Austin walked out of the bedroom, holding a credit card. “There’s thirty thousand dollars in here. Consider it compensation.” He paused. “Just sign the waiver to give up your rights to the house, and we can end this cleanly.” End this cleanly. What a joke. I took the card and threw it straight into the trash can. “No thanks. I can support myself.” Brenda’s face twisted. “What do you mean by that? Are you still trying to sue for our assets?” “I don’t care about your assets.” I zipped up my suitcase and stood up. “I just hope your new girl can actually produce the heir you’re begging for.” With that, I turned around and walked out. Behind me, Brenda spat on the floor. “How dare she! A barren woman has no right to talk about sons!” Dragging my suitcase into the elevator, the moment the doors slid shut, I couldn’t stop my tears from falling. It wasn’t because I missed him. It was because I was finally free. When the elevator reached the lobby, I saw a white Audi parked outside. A young woman in a beige trench coat was leaning against the car. Her hand was resting on her belly, and she was smiling like a rose in full bloom. Hailey. I had seen her pictures before. Last month, Austin left his phone on the sofa, and I accidentally saw their Snapchat messages. “Oh, Mrs. Vance… wait, I should call you… ex-wife now.” She walked up to me, intentionally pushing her belly forward. “Austin told me you agreed to the divorce. I’m really grateful.” I gripped the handle of my suitcase. “Congratulations.” “Thank you.” Her smile grew even wider. “By the way, I’m three months pregnant. Brenda said it’s definitely a boy.” Three months. Which meant they were already sleeping together long before we even talked about divorce. A sudden wave of nausea hit me. It wasn’t morning sickness. It was pure disgust. Seeing me stay silent, Hailey took a step closer and intentionally bumped her shoulder against mine. Instinctively, I protected my stomach and took two steps back. That single movement was caught by a man standing across the street. He wore a long black coat and stood under a maple tree, holding a cigarette. I knew that face very well. Ethan Vance. My college classmate, and my current boss. Seeing me, he stubbed out his cigarette and walked over. Hailey noticed him too. Her eyes lit up, and she quickly fixed her hair, stepping forward to greet him. But Ethan ignored her completely. He walked straight to me. “Give me the suitcase.” He took my bag and guided me toward his car. Hailey stood frozen on the sidewalk, her face turning pale. I got into the passenger seat. The moment the door closed, I finally let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you.” “Don’t mention it.” Ethan started the engine and glanced at me. “Does your stomach hurt?” I froze. “How did you know?” “Your sick leave request was extremely obvious. If I couldn’t figure it out, I shouldn’t be your boss.” He spoke casually, but a warm feeling rushed into my heart. In the last ten years, no one had ever cared about me like this. Once I got to my hotel room and lay down, my phone rang. It was my mother, Karen. “Chloe, your brother Tyler is getting married. Send me thirty thousand dollars right now.” I closed my eyes. “Mom, I got divorced. I don’t have any money.” “Divorced?!” Her voice instantly screamed through the speaker. “Why would you get divorced? Do you have any idea how much effort I put into getting you married to Austin?” “Go back right now! Kneel down and beg Brenda to forgive you!” I didn’t say a word. I hung up the phone. Then, I blocked her number. The phone buzzed again. It was a text from Austin. “Don’t forget. 9 AM tomorrow at the courthouse. Bring your driver’s license and ID.” I looked at the message and sneered. So afraid that I would back out, huh? I replied: “Don’t worry. I’ll be there.” **Chapter 2** 0

The next morning, I arrived at the courthouse. Austin was already waiting. To my surprise, Brenda was there too. She was wearing a flashy red designer dress and holding a large designer handbag. Behind her stood a middle-aged man in glasses. “This is Mr. Davis,” Brenda said, pointing at the man with a smug grin. “He’s a top lawyer. He’s here to make sure you don’t take a single penny from my son.” Looking at her ugly attitude, I just wanted to laugh. Austin walked up to me, looking slightly guilty. “To fulfill my mother’s wish… I’ve had to wrong you.” “I don’t feel wronged at all.” I pulled a document from my bag and slapped it onto his chest. “The asset waiver. I’ve already signed it.” He froze, holding the paper. Brenda snatched it away instantly, scanned it quickly, and her face lit up with joy. “Now that’s more like it.” She turned to the lawyer. “Mr. Davis, take a look. Is there any loophole?” The lawyer checked the paper carefully. “The agreement is perfect. All signatures are valid.” Brenda nodded happily and stuffed the document into her bag, as if she was terrified I would take it back. Watching her, I sneered in my heart. She thought I was giving up millions. She had no idea that what I was taking away was their priceless “family heir.” While we were processing the paperwork, Austin’s phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, and his face instantly turned awkward. I caught a glimpse of the screen. It was a Snapchat message from Hailey, attaching an ultrasound photo. I laughed inwardly. The dates on that ultrasound were completely wrong. According to her timeline, if she was really three months pregnant, the gestational age on the scan shouldn’t look like that. In other words, that baby probably wasn’t even Austin’s. Austin noticed me looking and quickly locked his screen. “I’ll text her back later,” he mumbled. I said nothing and continued filling out my form. The drama was just getting started anyway. Once the paperwork was finalized, the clerk handed us our divorce certificates. I took mine and stuffed it into my bag without even opening it. Austin looked like he wanted to say something, but I had already turned my back on him. Just as I reached the exit, a sudden wave of nausea hit me. I covered my mouth and couldn’t help but gag. Brenda immediately took three steps back in disgust. “We’re already divorced, so stop acting sick. It’s bad luck.” I took a deep breath, forcing down the urge to throw up. Right at that moment, a black Maybach pulled up in front of the steps. The window rolled down, revealing Ethan Vance in the driver’s seat. “Get in. Your prenatal appointment is booked.” The air instantly froze. Brenda’s eyes went wide, and Austin stood frozen in shock. Without hesitating, I pulled open the door and stepped inside. Austin finally snapped out of it and rushed forward, banging on the car window. “What prenatal appointment? Who is pregnant?!” Ethan rolled down the window just an inch, casting a freezing look at him. “None of your business.” He stepped on the gas, and the car sped away. In the rearview mirror, I saw Austin standing frozen on the pavement, his face as pale as a sheet. Brenda’s mouth was wide open, looking like a fish gasping for air. God, that felt good. **Chapter 3** 0

“Water.” Ethan handed me a bottle of warm water. “Drink slowly.” I took the bottle and took small sips. The car was dead quiet, save for the soft hum of the AC. Suddenly, my phone started vibrating like crazy. It was Austin. Call after call, like he had completely lost his mind. I glanced at it and shut my phone off. Ethan glanced at me and said calmly, “Trash like him isn’t worth ruining your mood for.” He paused, then added, “That girl, Hailey. Her past isn’t clean.” I was surprised. “You investigated her?” “Just a casual search.” He kept one hand on the steering wheel, his voice indifferent. “Three ex-boyfriends, two current flings. The child she’s carrying is highly unlikely to be Austin’s.” I couldn’t help but chuckle. I knew that ultrasound looked fishy. “Don’t tell Austin yet.” “Why?” “It’s much more fun to let him find out on his own.” Ethan didn’t say anything, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward. A month later, my morning sickness got incredibly severe. Every morning, the first thing I did was run to the bathroom and throw up until my stomach felt completely empty and tears filled my eyes. But I couldn’t stop working on our corporate projects. I grit my teeth, put on light makeup, and wore a loose blazer to cover my waistline. In the conference room, I successfully secured a five-hundred-thousand-dollar contract. The client shook my hand, showering me with praise. “You’re incredibly talented, Chloe.” I smiled politely, but all I could think about was going down to the convenience store to buy some crackers. At the end of the day, my colleague Sarah came over to gossip. “Chloe, did you know? Your ex-husband is having a miserable time.” I packed my things and asked casually, “What happened?” “His mistress is throwing tantrums every single day.” Sarah lowered her voice. “She’s demanding expensive organic foods, designer bags… your ex’s salary can’t keep up with her spending at all.” “And she keeps claiming the pregnancy is unstable, making him run around like crazy.” “A few days ago, he even posted on his Snapchat story complaining about the stress, saying he’s getting gray hair.” Hearing this, I just wanted to laugh. He deserved it. “Oh, by the way, he’s waiting for you downstairs right now,” Sarah pointed out the window. I walked to the window and looked down. Austin was standing by the entrance, holding a paper bag, looking around anxiously. I pulled back, grabbed my purse, and walked out. As I exited the lobby, Austin saw me and immediately rushed over. “Honey…” He paused, correcting himself, “Chloe.” I looked at him blankly. “Is there a problem?” “I… I bought you some pastries.” He handed the bag to me, offering a pleading smile. “The ones from that bakery you love. I took a thirty-minute detour just to get them.” I didn’t take the bag. “Austin, we’re divorced.” “I know, but…” He scratched his head, looking incredibly embarrassed. “With Hailey… I’ve realized she’s a bit…” He hesitated. I waited for him to finish. But after a long silence, he only managed to squeeze out: “Can you lend me some money?” I laughed out loud. So he was here to beg for money. “No.” I tried to walk past him. He chased after me, blocking my path. “Just five thousand dollars. Or even three thousand. Hailey is pregnant and needs prenatal supplements. My salary isn’t enough.” Looking at him, I felt like I was looking at a complete stranger. When we were married and I got sick, he never even bought me medicine. Now, for Hailey, he had the nerve to beg his ex-wife for cash. I snatched the bag from his hand and threw it straight into the trash can next to us. “Austin, let me make this very clear.” I said every word slowly. “We have absolutely nothing to do with each other anymore.” “Never contact me again, and stay away from my sight, or I will call the police.” I turned to walk away. Behind me, his voice drifted over. “Chloe… did you gain weight?” My footsteps paused. My hand instinctively moved to protect my belly. Right then, Ethan walked out of the office building. He wrapped his arm around my waist, looking at Austin with a freezing glare. “Still not leaving?” Austin stared at us, his eyes dropping to my slightly rounded belly. “You…” “None of your business,” Ethan cut him off coldly. “Stay away from her.” He guided me to his car. The moment the door closed, I saw Austin’s face go completely pale. **Chapter 4** 0

A month later, I received an invitation to an exclusive industry gala. The host was a famous investment firm, and the guests were all high-level executives. Ethan asked me to be his date. “Wear something gorgeous,” he said, not even looking up from his paperwork. I looked down at my stomach. At four months, it was getting harder to hide. “Can I even go looking like this?” “Yes.” He looked up, his eyes serious. “Being pregnant isn’t a crime. What are you afraid of?” On the night of the gala, I wore a loose, elegant black gown. The waistline was designed to drape perfectly, hiding my bump. When Ethan saw me, his eyes lit up. “You look beautiful.” The venue was filled with dazzling lights and elite guests. As I walked in holding Ethan’s arm, we immediately drew a lot of attention. People began whispering. “Is that Mr. Vance’s girlfriend?” “She looks so young.” Suddenly, a familiar, annoying voice sounded behind me. “Oh, look who it is! Chloe?” I turned around and saw Hailey walking toward us in a tight-fitting designer dress. Her belly was quite noticeable now, and she was deliberately pushing it out. Austin was following behind her, looking highly uncomfortable. “Long time no see,” Hailey said, eyeing me up and down. “I heard you’re doing well lately?” I remained silent, looking at her coldly. “But then again, after getting kicked out of the Vance… oh wait, the house, you had to find a new sugar daddy, right?” She then turned her gaze to Ethan. “Mr. Vance, you should be careful. This Ms. Chloe is quite famous for…” She paused, lowering her voice intentionally. “…being defective.” The surrounding guests immediately started whispering. I felt dozens of eyes locking onto me. Hailey looked extremely pleased with herself and continued loudly, “Austin’s mother told me she couldn’t get pregnant even after three years of marriage.” “The doctors said she’s barren. She can never have children in her life.” “That’s why Austin divorced her.” She rubbed her own belly proudly. “After all, a respectable family needs to carry on their legacy.” A few low chuckles broke out from the crowd. To make things worse, Brenda suddenly pushed her way through the guests. “Exactly!” She pointed at me, her voice shrill. “A barren woman like her is a curse to any man who marries her!” I stood there, feeling my face grow hot. Not out of shame. But out of pure rage. Ethan was about to step in, but I held his hand to stop him. I took a deep breath and walked right up to Hailey. “Are you absolutely sure that child in your belly belongs to Austin?” Hailey’s face instantly changed. “What do you mean by that?” “Nothing.” I smiled, then turned my gaze to Austin. “Did you know? That infertility report was fake. Your mother paid off a doctor to forge it.” Austin froze. “What?” “The one who is actually infertile is you.” I spoke slowly and clearly, making sure everyone in the room could hear me. “Low sperm motility. Do you remember your check-up three years ago? The doctor told you it would be nearly impossible for you to get a woman pregnant.” “That’s why your mother panicked. She forced you to find a younger girl to ‘get lucky’ quickly.” The room erupted into gasps. Austin’s face turned completely white. Hailey went absolutely hysterical. “You’re lying!” “Whether I’m lying or not, you know the truth in your heart.” I looked at her rounded belly and smiled meaningfully. “The timeline of your pregnancy doesn’t match up.” “You told everyone you’re four months pregnant now. But when you first met me a month ago, you said you were three months.” “If the timeline is fake, I bet the father is fake too.” Hailey’s face flashed between green and white. Furious, she reached out to push me. I easily stepped aside. She was wearing high heels, lost her balance, and fell straight onto the floor. “Ah! My baby!” she screamed, clutching her stomach. The crowd quickly rushed over to help. Suddenly, a wave of intense nausea hit me, and I couldn’t help but gag loudly. Ethan’s face changed instantly. He supported me immediately. “Call an ambulance!” his voice was filled with panic and urgency. “Save the mother and the baby!” The air in the room completely froze. Everyone was stunned. Austin turned around slowly, his eyes locked onto my belly. His voice was trembling violently. “Ba… baby?” “What baby?” “Whose baby is it?!”

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