Author: Momo Chan

On the day of our engagement dinner, my fiancé eloped with his college junior hand-in-hand in front of New York’s elite, leaving me and our parents to clean up the mess in the ballroom. Later, my fiancé was stripped of his inheritance and got his wish to marry his poor junior, living the life of “freedom” he claimed to have chosen. It wasn’t until six years later, when I returned to New York from Europe, that I ran into him running a street stall outside an elite prep school, with three kids in tow. 1 When I saw Carter again, he was standing outside an expensive Upper East Side prep school, pushing a small cart selling handmade knit toys. As school dismissal approached, the street outside the elite private school was lined with Cadillacs and Range Rovers. He knocked on car windows one by one, pushing his knitted flowers and dolls, a sleeping baby nestled in a carrier on his chest. I sat in the backseat of my Lincoln Navigator going over documents. The driver, an old hand from the Sterling family, recognized the haggard, weather-beaten middle-aged man almost immediately. It was my childhood sweetheart, Carter Blackwood. Carter didn’t recognize the driver. He just focused on shoving a knitted doll toward the car window, pitching desperately, “Sir, please buy one for your child. It’s completely handmade. My kids have loved them since they were little.” The familiar voice made me look up from my tablet, meeting Carter’s obsequious expression. The next second, it was as if someone had grabbed him by the throat. His sales pitch stopped abruptly, his face contorting into an awkward, humiliating grimace. We stared at each other for a moment. Just as he opened his mouth to say something, I calmly returned my gaze to my tablet. The driver, taking the hint, immediately rolled up the partition, cutting off Carter and whatever words he couldn’t get out in time. That night, I was working in the study of my penthouse when my mother knocked and came in for a chat. Unnaturally, she steered the conversation toward Carter. “Serena, I heard from the driver that you ran into Carter today?” I nodded. My mother looked hesitant, taking a long moment before probing cautiously, “Mom heard he’s married and already has a few kids. You…” Hearing this, I chuckled and explained, “Mom, I’m not avoiding dating because of him. I’m just focused on work right now. This lifestyle really isn’t suited for a relationship.” Mom visibly sighed in relief, then playfully scolded, “You and your father are exactly the same when you were young. You only have eyes for work. Your sister is already married, and you haven’t even settled down!” I smiled and coaxed her to go to bed. Returning to the study, I received a text from my old friend Nate. It was a screenshot of his messages with Carter. Carter: “Do you have Serena’s contact info? I need to talk to her about something.” Nate: “I heard he’s been asking everyone he can. Do you think he wants to get back together with you?” I thought about it and replied: “Not talking to him. If he needs something, he can go to the lobby of the Sterling Building and go through the visitor appointment process.” The second time I saw Carter was in front of my company. Haley was with him. Ignoring the stares and whispers of the Wall Street white-collar workers around them, she dragged Carter toward the Sterling Group building, muttering non-stop: “She’s your old flame! Go talk to her and reminisce about the good old days. Worst case scenario, you sleep with her and she gives us a decent job. It’s a great deal!” Carter resisted with his entire body. “Haley, stop dreaming! I’m not going in there!” Haley turned around and slapped him across the face, pointing at his nose and cursing, “I have never seen such a pathetic man! Stop pretending to be so noble! If I hadn’t gotten with you, would I have ended up in this state?! You deserve this!” Haley’s face was twisted in rage, screaming like a drunk on the streets of Brooklyn. She was nothing like the gentle, obedient junior who had once looked up to Carter in my memory. The once-noble heir of an old money family now stood with a swollen cheek, his head bowed, refusing to move an inch, until NYPD officers arrived and took them both away. Only then did he notice me standing securely behind my security detail. He shuddered, lowering his head to dodge my gaze. Was this the love he was willing to throw everything away for? How laughable. I remembered when we were kids at our Hampton summer estate, my mother would read us bedtime stories. The stories always ended with the protagonists living happily ever after. Back then, Carter would say, “Serena and I will be together forever too.” My mother smiled. “Forever means a whole lifetime. Do you know how long a lifetime is?” Carter was stumped. My mother smiled, rubbing our heads. “A lifetime is very long. It takes your whole life to measure it.” Though we didn’t understand the length of a lifetime back then, Carter stubbornly insisted we would be together forever. 2 As we entered our teenage years, Carter stopped talking about marriage all the time, but he still stubbornly wrote in every wishing well and yearbook: “Serena and Carter will be together forever.” Carter was outgoing and got along with everyone at our prep school. I was a late bloomer, and going through his growth spurt, he easily surpassed me in height. Classmates often joked that I was Carter’s “little trophy wife.” Carter didn’t say anything outwardly, but he was secretly anxious. Every lunch period, he would overfeed me, and behind my back, he even hired a Manhattan private doctor to create a detailed workout plan for me. At the time, he would even mutter in his sleep, “Serena, grow taller, grow taller. That way you can wear flats to the senior prom and your feet won’t hurt!” Our freshman year of high school, we weren’t placed in the same AP class. Carter wanted his parents to donate to the board of directors to change his class, but I sternly refused. “Carter, no special privileges,” I said. “It’s just the classroom next door.” Carter looked at me in disappointment, seemingly devastated. We then embarked on a 72-hour cold war. Truth be told, I regretted it on the first day of the class split. Without Carter by my side, I couldn’t get used to it at all. After school, I wanted to apologize, but Carter just glanced at me and sprinted toward the Blackwood family’s Cadillac, not even leaving me exhaust fumes to choke on. After being ignored for three days, I finally climbed into his car before the driver could take off. Carter yelled at me, “What are you doing, what are you doing? Is this your car, why are you getting in?!” I turned a deaf ear and pulled a knitted yarn rose out of my designer bag, holding it out to him. “I was wrong,” I said earnestly. “I need special privileges. I can’t survive in that class without you!” Carter scrunched up his face, feigning seriousness. “You think a fake flower will buy me off? Serena, do I not deserve a real flower?!” I scratched my head. “I tried to pick a rose from my mom’s estate garden yesterday but got caught. She said using someone else’s flowers isn’t sincere, so she taught me how to knit one with yarn. I knitted it all night. Do you not like it?” Carter suddenly burst out laughing. “You’re so dumb, Serena. Mr. Sterling planted those flowers himself, and Mrs. Sterling couldn’t bear to let you ruin them, that’s why she said that! But I like the yarn rose too. You’re forgiven.” Haley was Carter’s junior in college, and a subordinate on his fraternity’s event committee. The first time I met her was in the campus café. I had just returned to the Ivy League after a one-year exchange at the London School of Economics, and Carter’s attitude toward me had grown much colder. When I talked about Europe, he showed little interest. When I brought out his souvenir, it only earned a perfunctory smile. I was never a talkative person, and after my topics were bluntly shut down a few times, we fell into silence. That is, until a pair of hands reached out from behind Carter and covered his eyes. “Guess who~” Half of Carter’s face was covered, but it was obvious his expression came alive. He smiled and dragged out his words, “Hmm—who could it be—this is so hard to guess~” The girl let go, leaning over to his face. “Senior, it’s me!” Carter smiled and pinched her cheek. They playfully roughhoused right in front of me, entirely oblivious to my presence. Their behavior was much more intimate than ours, the actual couple. I cleared my throat lightly. It was as if they finally realized I was there. Carter quickly established a safe distance and introduced us: “Serena, this is Haley, a member of my committee and my junior.” “Haley, this is Serena, she spent the last year on an exchange in London and just got back. She’s my… girlfriend.” His expression remained unchanged, but the word “girlfriend” clearly felt a little awkward on his tongue. I glanced at him without saying much, simply nodding at Haley in greeting. Haley exaggeratedly said, “I’ve heard so much about you,” but her eyes were filled with hostility. Our subsequent date plans were interrupted by sudden student committee work. Carter left with Haley. I watched them walk away, their distance closing in. The little interactions—her hitting him, him poking her—looked intimately flawless. Carter and I hadn’t had childish interactions like that in a long time. When we walked together, we didn’t talk much, and when we did, it was about Wall Street internships or family business. That was when I realized I prided myself on knowing Carter best, but when he and Haley talked about console games, pop music, and Marvel movies, I discovered I actually knew very little about him. I started to reflect, realizing I was too used to having him around and had ignored his changes. I needed to spend time understanding the real him. I’m the type to speak my mind. After mentally drafting my thoughts, I went to his frat house that night to find him. When he saw me, he had a smile on his face. “What’s wrong?” I took his hand and said earnestly, “I’m sorry, Carter. I’ve been a terrible girlfriend.” I poured out all my afternoon reflections. Carter was confused at first, but his expression gradually softened. After patiently listening to me, he chuckled. 3 “Serena, you’re so funny,” he said. “You have no idea how touched I am to hear this. Don’t worry, you are already the best girlfriend in the world.” “I was just a little unaccustomed to seeing you today after so long. I’m not mad at you, don’t overthink it.” He pulled me into a hug, looking down at me tenderly. “Haley and I are just friends. If you think we’re too close, I’ll pay more attention from now on.” “Haley comes from a poor background. It wasn’t easy for her to make it from a small southern town to the Ivy League, so I look out for her a bit more. There’s nothing else to it.” “I love you the most. I’ve been waiting to marry you since we were kids~” … While doing a walkthrough of a mall owned by our family on Fifth Avenue, I was stopped by Haley. She greeted me from a distance, acting as familiar as an old friend. “Serena! Long time no see! Remember me?” Her smile was ingratiating, clearly intending to close the distance and cozy up to me. My security detail quickly blocked her, and my assistant spoke up appropriately: “Apologies, this is Director Sterling’s working hour. She is not accepting non-business interactions.” Haley’s face showed a flash of embarrassment before she laughed dismissively. “Come on, Serena and I go way back. For Carter’s sake, I’m sure she can spare a minute to chat.” I raised an eyebrow. “For whose sake?” Haley immediately took two eager steps forward, only to be blocked by the bodyguards again. She hinted, “Carter, remember? Speaking of which, it’s been a long time since you two saw each other. Why don’t we all catch up?” I sneered at her words. “Of course I remember. Isn’t he your husband? Your beautiful love story was the talk of New York.” “No need to catch up. We aren’t close, and I have absolutely no interest in learning about other people’s marriages.” I glanced at Haley, who was heavily guarded, and mocked, “You should probably keep your distance from me in the future. After all, getting pinned to the ground doesn’t feel great, does it?” Six years ago, after Carter and I reconciled, he actively distanced himself from Haley. Haley had waited for me on my route home to our Long Island estate, just like this. Carter’s birthday was approaching. To clear my schedule to prepare for it, I was running myself ragged between my studies and my internship at the family business. I was incredibly busy, and my mood wasn’t exactly stable. Somehow, Haley managed to bypass the security system of our gated community. She blocked my car and launched into a tirade against my dark expression: “Don’t you think you’re overstepping your bounds? Is Carter not allowed to have female friends?” “Or do you secretly feel you’re not good enough for him, and you’re terrified that once he meets more people, he’ll dump you?” I scoffed. “I’m not good enough for him? Then who is? You?” I looked her up and down with a judging eye. Haley wasn’t angry; instead, she spoke with self-righteous conviction: “You just got lucky being born into a family with trust funds! If I were in your position, I would do way better than you!” “I may not have an old money background, but I have my own two hands. I’ll carve out my own place on Wall Street through sheer hard work.” “Trust fund babies like you, wrapped up in your parents’ pedigree—someday, I’ll step all over you!” I laughed at the sheer absurdity of her speech. Realizing the person in front of me was just an extreme, wealthy-hating clown, I turned to leave. But she relentlessly lunged at me. Then, she was pinned to the ground by my personal bodyguard, who had no concept of being gentle with women. The disparity in strength and size made her cry out in pain. At that moment, Carter’s furious voice rang out: “Serena! What are you doing?!” I turned toward the voice, taking the full brunt of his questioning and anger. He stormed over, pushed the bodyguard away, and helped Haley up, glaring at me. “Serena, when did you learn to act like a vicious Manhattan heiress?! Do you think you can just assault normal people?!” I suppressed my displeasure and explained patiently, “I didn’t. She charged at me first…” “Stop making excuses!” Carter cut me off. “I never knew you were the kind of person to bully the weak. Serena, I am so disappointed in you.” With that, he refused to look at me, helping Haley into his Porsche and driving away. I stood there in silence for a long time, suddenly feeling exhausted. The next day, Carter came to apologize. He said his words were too harsh yesterday, but he was just blinded by panic. That was the first time I asked him, “Carter, do you really still want to be with me?” 4 Carter froze, then firmly stated he wanted to be with me forever. “Serena, my wish has never changed. I’ve made things clear with Haley. She won’t bother you again.” I nodded, silently turning the page on the incident. Carter’s birthday soon arrived. I had rented out his favorite Michelin-starred restaurant and bought premium tickets to the hottest Broadway show. I even changed my car radio to his favorite country music station. But when the day actually came, Carter kept spacing out. When I went to his house that morning, he had just woken up and was eating brunch in his loungewear. He looked surprised to see me, and only remembered what day it was when he saw the flowers in my hands. “I’m sorry!” He clasped his hands together, bowing his head. “Blame me for staying up too late watching Twitch streams last night!” I smiled and sat beside him, saying it was fine. It was his birthday, everything would go at his pace. While he went to wash up, the butler served me an espresso and smiled. “Miss Serena, it’s so kind of you to stay up late watching streams with the young master last night and still wake up on time today. You must be tired.” I froze. I wanted to say I had gone to bed early to prepare for today’s date, but I didn’t want to cause any drama on his birthday. But it felt strange. When Carter finished getting ready, I asked him: “Did you watch the stream alone last night?” Carter paused, then smiled. “I was on a Discord call with my frat brothers. It wasn’t the kind of game you like, so I didn’t invite you.” I nodded. “Any kind is fine. I just wanted to keep you company.” Carter ruffled my hair, smiling sweetly. “Aww, our Miss Serena is so clingy. I know, I’ll definitely invite you next time!” In the car, Carter kept his head down, smiling brightly as he texted someone on iMessage. I asked him, “Who are you texting?” Carter didn’t answer, so I patiently repeated myself. Without looking up, he said, “My friends. They’re wishing me a happy birthday. It’d be rude not to reply.” I gave a soft “mm,” but from the corner of my eye, I saw he had been on the same chat thread for a long time. He was talking to one person. I comforted myself, telling myself not to overthink it, but Haley’s face and their intimate interactions from our first meeting kept popping into my head. I suppressed my churning emotions, telling myself over and over that today was his birthday, our anniversary. His happiness was what mattered most. When we got out of the car, I took the initiative to hold his hand. He startled, put his phone in his pocket, and started focusing on our date. Usually, our dates consisted of browsing luxury boutiques or attending Sotheby’s auctions. This time, based on what I had learned about his hobbies, we stepped into a Dave & Buster’s for the first time. Carter was pleasantly surprised. He dragged me from the very first arcade game at the entrance all the way to the back. I could tell he was genuinely happy, which made me feel satisfied. We used our combined arcade tickets to redeem a life-sized teddy bear. Carter loved it. The date went smoothly. Aside from Carter pulling out his phone to text whenever he had a free second—which kept me on edge—at least he was happy. After dinner, I was just about to pull out the Broadway tickets when Carter received a call. He looked anxious and said there was an emergency with the campus mixer event that he had to handle immediately. His anxious expression didn’t look fake, so I drove him back to campus. He got out of the car and hurried toward the frat house, but then suddenly turned back and knocked on the window. I rolled down the window. He leaned in, kissed me quickly, and said, “Serena, I had a really great time today. Thank you.” In that moment, my heart felt like hydrogen mixing with air and catching fire—a violent, beautiful explosion. I drove away from campus in high spirits, but then I noticed the lonely teddy bear in the back seat. After thinking it over, I decided to wait for Carter at the campus gates. It was our anniversary, after all; I wanted to spend it together until the very last second. So I waited in the car until midnight. What I waited for was the sight of Carter and Haley walking out of the campus gates side by side. They were walking incredibly close. Although they weren’t holding hands, on a wide, empty street, they would subconsciously bump into each other. It was like a flirtatious test, tugging at both their nerves. I suddenly remembered how, back in our high school classroom, we used to sit shoulder-to-shoulder, heads bent close together, pretending to discuss an SAT question, when in reality, we were testing the boundaries between us. I finally understood where the strange feeling in my gut came from. It was familiar. Because we used to have that same flirtatious tension. I got out of the car, pulled the teddy bear from the back seat, and threw it in front of them. The two people, completely absorbed in their own world, finally noticed my presence. Carter’s lingering smile froze on his face. Panic flashed in his eyes as he instinctively stepped away from Haley. “Serena…” he started, but nothing followed.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391420”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

When I was five, I personally dismembered the little parrot my parents gave me. They treated me like a monster and decided to have another kid, hoping for a better outcome. Later, my younger sister was born, and from then on, I had an unshakable little shadow trailing after me. She always called me “big sister” in a sweet voice and shared half of everything she loved with me. With her by my side, I hid my true self and put on the disguise of a well-behaved child. It wasn’t until my sister was rushed to the ICU for emergency resuscitation that I learned she had been severely bullied at school. When the incident blew up, all we got from the bullies were flippant, smirking apologies. “I’m sorry. I’ll do it again next time.” Hehe, since they dared to do it again, I decided there was no need for me to hold back either. 1 When my sister was brought into the hospital, her face was beaten so badly it was deformed. She had countless scars and bruises all over her body, and the bleeding from her lower half wouldn’t stop. The sister who had enthusiastically greeted me just this morning… …was now lying on a stretcher, clinging to life by a thread. “The patient is severely injured. We need to operate immediately. The parents need to sign this right now.” My dad, with his arm around my mom who was on the verge of passing out from crying, silently signed the surgical consent form. From my angle, I could clearly see his hand trembling as he held the pen. “Doctor, will my daughter be okay?” The doctor’s expression was grave. “Her injuries are extensive. Her lower abdomen was penetrated by a wooden stick, and removing it could cause massive hemorrhaging.” “Please… you have to save her.” “I will do absolutely everything in my power.” The surgery lasted for eight agonizing hours before the red light above the operating room finally went off. The doctor came out and pulled down his mask. “The surgery was a success, but the patient is not out of the woods yet. She needs to be monitored in the ICU for a few days.” My sister was wheeled into the Intensive Care Unit. We could only watch through the glass as she lay there, covered in tubes, completely devoid of her usual vibrancy. My dad sat on a bench in the hospital corridor. My mom’s eyes were swollen from crying. My dad smoked a cigarette in silence. The police quickly obtained the results of their investigation. During the third period PE class that morning, school security cameras caught a group of students dragging my sister into a restroom. On her phone, which had its deleted data recovered, they found a video. In the video, my sister was being held up by her arms. The girl leading the group walked up and slapped her hard across the face. My sister’s cheek swelled up instantly. My sister looked at her with red eyes: “Why are you doing this to me?” The lead girl grabbed her hair and slammed her head against the wall. “Why? You have the f**ing nerve to ask why? You act like a slt and try to seduce Tyler every day, do you think I’m blind?!” My sister, dizzy and seeing stars, desperately tried to explain that she hadn’t. But the group wouldn’t let her go. Someone kicked her hard in the stomach. As she hunched over in pain, another foot stomped heavily on her back. With a heavy thud, she was forced to her knees. Crisp, malicious laughter echoed from the video. “B*tch, how dare you try to hook up with Tyler!” “Strip her! Doesn’t she like acting like a sl*t? Let’s give her a reason to!” Panic-stricken, my sister struggled fiercely but couldn’t escape the mob beating her. Soon, her clothes were torn into shreds. She hurriedly tried to cover herself with her arms, but several girls rushed forward and yanked them away. They subjected her to a barrage of punches and kicks. Amidst the shaky camera footage, someone chimed in, “Hey Mia, since she’s so itchy for it, why don’t we help her scratch that itch!” The girl called Mia scoffed lightly, seeming very pleased with the suggestion. A sycophant grabbed a mop from nearby and handed it to Mia. “Hold her down for me.” My sister looked at her in sheer terror. “What are you going to d—” A bloodcurdling scream pierced the air, the phone clattered to the floor, and the video abruptly ended. 2 “How could they…” My mom covered her mouth, sobbing uncontrollably. She simply couldn’t believe her daughter had endured something so horrific. My dad gripped his phone tightly. “Officers, I want to press charges. I want them to rot in prison!” The police officer looked uncomfortable. “I understand how you’re feeling right now, but they are all under twelve years old. We will do our best to help you secure maximum compensation…” “Compensation?! My daughter was beaten half to death by them, will compensation make her better?!” My father, who had always been meek, finally couldn’t hold back his rage. His daughter had been beaten into the ICU, and now they were talking about a settlement? How could he possibly swallow this?! Soon after, I saw them at the police precinct. Because the incident had blown up, the police called us in for a mediation meeting. Six little monsters, roughly my sister’s age, sat there chewing bubblegum, looking completely unfazed. Their parents sat next to them. Instead of apologizing, they immediately started pointing fingers. “Isn’t this just kids messing around? Why make such a big deal out of it and bring us to the police station?” “Are you going to take responsibility for delaying our kids’ studies?” “Exactly! We’re very busy with work. Dragging us here over such a trivial matter, isn’t that going too far?” The homeroom teacher tried to gently persuade them to calm down and talk reasonably, but their voices only grew louder. The officer who brought us in slammed his hand hard on the table, and the room finally quieted down. “We called you here today to discuss the bullying incident involving Emma. You need to apologize and provide compensation.” Although this was just a mediation session, it was still at the police station, and an officer was taking notes. My mom stayed at the hospital with my sister, so I accompanied my dad today. From the moment they walked in, my dad hadn’t said a single word. He just sat there, quietly staring at these people. His eyes were completely devoid of warmth, as if he were looking at a pile of dead objects. Regarding the bullying, the girls admitted to it right then and there. “Yeah, we beat her up, so what? Who told her to act like a b*tch?” I recognized that voice perfectly. The little monsters called her Mia. Her full name was Mia Johnson. The video only caught her side profile; her full face was even more repulsive. She had narrow, slanting eyes and freckles across her cheeks. They say your face reflects your heart, and in her case, it was absolutely true. The other little monsters chimed in, “We just couldn’t stand her trying to seduce Tyler every day, so we taught her a lesson.” The homeroom teacher hastily tried to smooth things over. “If Emma had behavioral issues, you should have come to me. You can’t take matters into your own hands.” Her words practically validated the rumor that my sister was trying to seduce someone. “Telling the teacher or parents is for babies, I can’t be bothered. Since you don’t know how to teach her, we did it for you.” “Besides, she’s such a sl*t, she probably enjoyed it anyway.” My dad had been sitting down, but upon hearing this, he immediately stood up. I pressed my hand down on his, signaling him not to act rashly. Meeting Mia’s provocative gaze, I vaulted across the table, grabbed her by the hair, and slammed her face violently onto the tabletop. Over and over again. Mia howled in pain like a banshee, spewing a long string of profanities. Seeing his daughter being attacked, Mia’s father quickly stepped in to stop me. But an elite guy in a tailored suit like him was no match for a blue-collar worker like my dad. My dad kicked him so hard he flew backward, crumpling to the floor and groaning. Meanwhile, I kept a firm grip on Mia, slapping her face from left to right. “Didn’t you say teachers and parents don’t know how to educate? Today, big sister is going to teach you how to be a decent human being!” Seeing their “boss” getting beaten, the other little animals rushed over to attack me. But they were no match for me, and with my dad blocking them, they couldn’t even get close. Mia was beaten black and blue, her face swollen, and she had lost a front tooth. Her dad scrambled up from the floor, aiming a punch right at my face. My dad moved with lightning speed, catching his arm and dislocating his shoulder! 3 The room was filled with continuous wailing. The parents of the little monsters, realizing they were outmatched, immediately started whining to the police. “Are you just going to stand there and watch our kids get beaten up?!” The video on my sister’s phone had been recovered by the police tech department. Every officer present knew exactly what kind of torture she had endured. Combined with the provocative remarks these little monsters had just made, the police were also harboring anger. Restricted by their uniforms, they couldn’t act on it, so they merely put on a show of lightly pulling me back a couple of times. Even with their numbers, they couldn’t handle the two of us. Only after they were beaten black and blue did the police finally separate us. “Alright, that’s enough. You’re here to mediate, stop fighting.” Mia clutched her face, glaring viciously. “You just wait! When that b*tch comes back to school, I’m going to kill her!” “What nonsense are you spouting?! Apologize right now!” Her dad winced in pain, but by now he could tell that the police were biased towards our family. A shrewd man like him wouldn’t fail to read the room. It was just offering a verbal apology; it wouldn’t cost them anything. Mia reluctantly mumbled a “sorry,” but her eyes remained defiant. It was glaringly obvious she had absolutely no intention of admitting she was wrong. Being under twelve meant that no matter what they did, they wouldn’t face criminal punishment. That was the source of these little monsters’ audacity! But from the very beginning, I had never come here looking for a settlement. I knew the law couldn’t bind them, so I only came to memorize their faces perfectly. I wouldn’t let a single person who bullied my sister off the hook! 4 The other side clamored that we threw the first punch, demanding the police arrest us and throw us in jail. What a joke. I’m a minor too, you know. As for my dad, he was simply fulfilling his duty as a father. He had failed to protect my sister before; there was no way he’d stand by and watch me get bullied now. As the argument escalated, the police stated that the situation could only be classified as a mutual brawl, meaning both sides would be subject to detention. The moment those words were spoken, they instantly fell silent. Although their glares were still full of resentment, they didn’t dare act arrogantly anymore. Finally, the police brought out the mediation agreement and asked us all to review the terms. The content was simple, consisting of only a few clauses. Aside from the other party offering us a formal apology, they were required to cover all of my sister’s hospital expenses, split equally among the parents. Before my dad could even speak, they started complaining. A middle-aged woman put her hands on her hips and yelled, “She beat my kid to a pulp, and I haven’t even asked her for medical bills yet! Why should we pay?!” “Their daughter was beaten into the ICU by your kids! Shouldn’t you pay for the medical bills?!” Even the police couldn’t stand to listen to it anymore. They hadn’t expected the parents of these little monsters to be so utterly unreasonable. Well, there’s a reason they’re little monsters. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. The kids’ behavior was clearly a result of the parents’ negligence. “I don’t care! What they did was just kids roughhousing. What just happened here was a one-sided assault! You’re lucky I’m not making them pay my medical bills!” The middle-aged woman shot me a glare. “Besides, if she hadn’t been acting like a little vixen and seducing boys instead of focusing on her studies, this wouldn’t have happened. Being beaten up now is better than becoming a homewrecker and being despised by everyone later!” I couldn’t hold back anymore. I marched up and slapped her hard across the face! “If I hear you say one more bad word about my sister, I will rip your mouth open.” “She’s hitting me! Police, are you going to do something about this?!” She cried and wailed simultaneously, acting as if she wanted to tear the roof off the precinct. “Enough! You were the one who spoke out of line first!” Since she was in the wrong, the officer’s stern warning instantly silenced her. Seeing that a resolution was impossible today, the police simply told us to leave. The group walked out, muttering curses under their breath. Right before leaving, my dad spoke his first words of the day: “My daughter is still lying in the ICU, yet they get to walk away scot-free. Is this how the law protects us?” 5 The police fell silent. The light in my dad’s eyes dimmed. He opened his mouth, but ultimately said nothing. On the drive back, my dad gripped the steering wheel in silence. I finally asked him, “Are we really just going to let them get away with bullying her?” As if remembering something, his gaze turned significantly colder. “Don’t do anything rash.” Tsk, how could it be called doing something rash? Just teaching some disobedient little animals a lesson. But I had promised my sister I would be a good girl and listen to mom and dad. It seemed I’d have to handle this quietly. Two days later, my sister was finally moved from the ICU to a regular ward. Although she was still wearing an oxygen mask, the doctor said she was breathing on her own. She was just very weak and needed time to recover. My mom stayed by my sister’s side constantly, never leaving for a second. Afraid of delaying my studies, she forced me to go to school. When I arrived at the hospital after school, I found a group of people crowding my sister’s room. “Emma’s parents, what happened has already happened, we need to look towards the future. We’re here today representing the school to visit Emma. We will cover all her future expenses at the school, and she’ll receive a $2,000 scholarship every year.” “Exactly. Considering your family’s financial situation, this is an excellent opportunity.” I recognized the person speaking. It was my sister’s homeroom teacher, the old witch who tried to smooth things over at the police station last time. Judging by the authoritative demeanor of the others, they were undoubtedly school administrators. “Is this how you act as educators?! Ignoring the bullies to protect the school’s reputation, and demanding the victim forgive them?!” My dad was furious. He had thought that even if the law couldn’t help, the school would at least be fair. He never expected to be met with such a ludicrous response. “Emma’s dad, what kind of talk is that? Of course we stand with Emma. We’ve already severely criticized and educated the other girls. Can’t you give them a chance to turn over a new leaf?” My dad laughed out of pure anger. “Turn over a new leaf? Mrs. Chen, did you forget what they said at the police station?! Did that look like remorse to you?!” He grabbed the teacup from the bedside table and violently hurled it at the group of hypocritical snobs. “Get out! All of you, get out!” “Emma’s dad…” “Are you deaf?! Get the hell out of here!” Seeing that soft tactics weren’t working, the homeroom teacher shifted her focus to my mom. Holding a piece of paper, she grabbed my mom’s hand, pressed it onto an ink pad, and tried to force her fingerprint onto the document. My dad lunged forward and slapped the homeroom teacher across the face. “Don’t touch my wife!”

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When our parents divorced, my sister chose to live with our wealthy father. I moved into my mom’s cramped rental apartment. Years later, my dad squandered the family fortune on booze, women, and gambling. Meanwhile, my mom started an influencer agency and became a famous female entrepreneur. My sister’s life was turned upside down, and she came to me crying for help. But when I wasn’t looking, she poisoned my drink. “We have the same parents! Why do you get to live so well while I’m homeless on the streets?!” “It’s my turn to live the good life!” When I opened my eyes again, we were back on the day of the divorce. This time, she beat me to it and threw her arms around our mom: “I want to live with Mom! I don’t care how hard it gets, I’m willing to endure it.” But she didn’t know… Mom was far more terrifying than Dad. 1 My sister, Chloe, always had a sweet mouth and knew exactly how to charm people. She was always the favorite. Because of this, when our parents decided to divorce, they asked her first who she wanted to live with. Dad, Richard Sterling, was a trust-fund baby. His family was incredibly wealthy. Mom was a stay-at-home wife. After the divorce, she’d have nothing and would have to scrape by to survive. So, without a second thought, Chloe obediently threw her arms around Dad. “I love Daddy the most! I can’t live without you. I want to grow up with you.” Dad beamed with joy, lifting Chloe high into the air. “Good girl! You’ll stay with Daddy and be a little princess for the rest of your life!” Chloe smiled sweetly. In a blind spot where our parents couldn’t see, she shot me a smug, triumphant glance. Yes, she had been like this since we were little. Always trying to one-up me. As long as she could “defeat” me, she was perfectly willing to do things that didn’t even benefit her. Dad and Chloe laughed happily together. Mom stood off to the side, looking heartbroken and gloomy. I stayed silent for a moment, then walked over and took Mom’s hand. “Mom, I’m willing to live with you.” She gave me a long, deep look, but said nothing. 2 Years later, through a stroke of luck, Mom’s live-streaming and influencer business took off like wildfire. We moved from the run-down rental into a nice condo. Then from the condo into a luxury mansion. Mom’s secondhand e-bike was replaced with a Mercedes. Then, it was upgraded to a Porsche. One day, Mom was driving me out to run errands. On the road, we happened upon a traffic accident. A man riding a scooter the wrong way down the street had crashed into a luxury car. The owner of the luxury car was screaming curses, while the scooter rider bowed and apologized submissively. His daughter stood off to the side, wailing loudly. Annoyed that she was embarrassing him, the man turned and kicked her. Heartbroken, the girl turned her head—and locked eyes with me through the tinted window of the Porsche. It was my sister, Chloe. And that pathetic, apologizing man on the scooter was our dad! Chloe recognized Mom and me. Her eyes lit up, and she began chasing our car like a madwoman. But Mom simply pressed the gas pedal and drove forward, acting as if nothing had happened. I hesitated before speaking: “Mom, that was Chloe.” Mom replied coldly, “I saw. What, you want to help her?” I didn’t dare make a sound. Mom sneered. “She was so cute when she was little. Now that she’s grown, she’s as ugly as her father. Ungrateful little brat. This is karma.” I completely shut my mouth. Not long after, Chloe managed to find my contact info. She asked me to meet her. In the cafe, she cried a river of tears. “Serena, you have no idea. Dad is—” According to Chloe, Dad was an absolute fool. He was incompetent, yet infinitely greedy. A few years ago, he listened to the nonsense of some “friends” and, ignoring Grandpa’s warnings, invested in a startup. But the company was a pre-planned trap, and tens of millions of dollars vanished into thin air. Grandpa was furious and banished him from the family estate. “I thought Dad would learn his lesson, but all he knew how to do was drink, party, and gamble.” After being kicked out, Dad partied every night. Encouraged by his various girlfriends, he went to underground casinos and threw money around like dirt. Within a few months, his millions in savings were wiped out. He even racked up six million dollars in gambling debt. Grandpa was completely done with him and refused to give him a single cent. Desperate, Dad had to start doing food delivery to make ends meet. But he was a man used to a life of luxury. He used to have a chauffeur everywhere he went; he didn’t even know the traffic laws. Not long after he started delivering, he drove the wrong way and hit a luxury car— Which was exactly the scene I had witnessed a few days prior. In the cafe, Chloe threw herself into my arms, sobbing pitifully. “Serena, I saw Mom driving a Porsche and wearing Chanel. Your bag is Dior. You guys must be living so well.” “Serena, can you go back and talk to Mom? I’m her daughter too. I don’t want to live with Dad anymore. I want to live with her.” “She must miss me, right? During those first few years after the divorce, she used to call me all the time, begging me to come back.” Her eyes were filled with desperate hope. But the moment I thought of Mom, an involuntary shiver ran down my spine. Finally, I said, “It’s best if you don’t live with Mom. But… I can give you a little money.” Chloe’s head snapped up, a flash of pure, venomous resentment darting across her eyes. But just as quickly, a grateful smile spread across her face. “Thank you, Serena. I always knew you treated me the best.” 3 The next day, I transferred fifty thousand dollars to Chloe. She insisted on inviting me to her cramped apartment for a home-cooked meal to thank me. Inside the dingy rental, Chloe handed me a cup of tea. “Serena, I remember you loved Jasmine tea when we were kids. I picked these leaves out just for you. Taste it and tell me what you think.” My guard was down, and I drank it. But soon, the room started spinning. The last thing I saw was Chloe coming at my face with a knife, slashing it open. “Serena Sterling, we have the exact same parents! Why do you get to live in luxury while I sleep on the streets?!” “You have so much money, yet you only give me this pathetic amount, and you won’t even let me go back to Mom! You selfish, greedy bitch!” An endless darkness washed over me. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of our parents’ divorce. Facing Dad’s question. This time, without a second thought, Chloe spun around and hugged Mom. “I can’t live without Mom! I want to live with Mom! I don’t care how hard it gets, I’m not afraid!” Mom, moved to tears, hugged Chloe tightly. Buried in Mom’s embrace, Chloe wore a sly, wicked smile. In a blind spot where no one else could see. Chloe silently mouthed the words to me. Sister, this time, it’s my turn to fly high. So, she had been reborn too. But what she didn’t know was that Mom was far more terrifying than Dad. 4 Chloe marched off happily toward the run-down rental apartment. While I stayed behind in the sprawling Sterling mansion. Dad was just as unreliable as always. Having just finalized his divorce, he was already prepping for a wild night out at the club. On the phone, some mistress’s voice was disgustingly sweet and whiny. But it put Dad in a fantastic mood. He grabbed his coat, ready to head out. Just as he was about to step through the door, I stopped him. I asked, “Dad, who’s going to eat dinner with me?” He replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world, “We have a nanny, don’t we? Have her eat with you.” I bit my lip and said, “I haven’t seen Grandpa in a long time, and I miss him. Dad, can you drop me off at his house?” Dad hesitated for a moment. Seeing this, I added, “I heard Auntie’s son went to see Grandpa a couple of days ago. I don’t know what he said, but Grandpa bought Auntie another new car. Did you know about that, Dad?” Hearing this, Dad’s hesitation vanished instantly. “That family does nothing but leech off my side of the family, spit!” “Serena, I’ll have the driver take you right now. Remember, you have to say good things about me to Grandpa, you hear?” With that, he practically shoved me into the back of a luxury SUV. Grandpa Arthur Sterling lived in a secluded, massive lakefront estate. In his eyes, my mother was a scheming gold-digger. He believed she had used every dirty trick in the book to climb the social ladder and marry my dad, and that she was deeply manipulative and malicious. Because of this, he had always despised Mom, and by extension, he didn’t like Chloe or me. In our past life, after the divorce, Chloe also tried to suck up to Grandpa. But she had always been a spoiled, pampered little princess at home. Her head was empty; her only skills were acting cute and pretending to be innocent. But at Grandpa’s house, none of her little tricks worked. No matter how much she cried or threw tantrums, all she got was his cold indifference. Her situation was the exact opposite of Auntie’s son, Ethan Vance, who was Grandpa’s golden boy. No matter what Ethan said or did, he always earned Grandpa’s praise. Over time, Chloe grew deeply resentful. During a family banquet, she deliberately shattered an antique vase. And she framed Ethan for it. She thought this would send Ethan’s status plummeting. But what she got instead was hidden security camera footage. Ethan’s position remained utterly unshaken. Chloe, however, faced the full wrath of the family’s discipline. Grandpa scolded her, calling her “scheming and vicious, willing to use any dirty trick for personal gain, exactly like your mother.” He strictly forbade Dad from ever bringing her to the estate again. From that day on, Chloe held a deep grudge against Grandpa. On his 80th birthday, Chloe even posted a vicious comic on social media. The comic was a malicious curse, depicting the Grim Reaper using various methods to harvest an old man’s life. Grandpa saw it, of course, but he simply ignored her. Later, when Dad went bankrupt and Chloe’s living conditions plummeted, she finally remembered Grandpa. She knelt at the gates of the estate, begging him to forgive her and take her in. Grandpa didn’t even show his face; the security guards just dragged her away. This time, time had rewound. Chloe had run off to chase the new life of her dreams. And the one standing outside the lakefront estate, about to visit Grandpa, was me. I took a few deep breaths and pressed the doorbell. 5 Even though Dad had called ahead to say I wanted to visit him, Grandpa’s expression in the study remained ice-cold. After I politely greeted him, he showed absolutely no intention of acknowledging me. I didn’t get upset. I simply found a quiet corner and sat down. During the years I lived with my mother in my past life, I endured humiliations a hundred, a thousand times worse than this. This was nothing. In the study, Grandpa was quizzing Ethan on his coursework. Ethan was seventeen this year, academically exceptional, and a genuine prodigy with a deep passion for finance and economics. Grandpa was a self-made billionaire, but sadly, his own children were all mediocre failures. Therefore, he genuinely admired this driven, grounded grandson. He frequently pulled Ethan aside to lecture him on famous domestic and international business case studies. Grandpa’s questions were highly advanced. Ethan managed to answer the first few perfectly. But this current question was different. Ethan sank into a long, contemplative silence. Grandpa wasn’t in a rush; he waited patiently for his answer. I tentatively raised my hand. “Grandpa, may I share my thoughts?” Grandpa glanced at me, his expression full of doubt. “You? You haven’t even finished middle school. What could you possibly say?” “If you can’t sit still, go outside. Stop trying to play these little games.” I didn’t get angry. I just smiled and said, “If my answer displeases you, I’ll go stand in the corner outside as punishment. Is that fair?” Grandpa scoffed. But Ethan interjected, “Grandpa, why not let Serena try?” Grandpa said nothing, which meant tacit approval. I shot Ethan a grateful smile and immediately began: “This particular wave of early entrepreneurs had questionable startup capital. In the early days, they acted as middlemen, helping foreign tech companies break into the domestic market. They relied heavily on information asymmetry to reap massive profits.” Grandpa looked at me in surprise and pressed further: “Then tell me, what was their natural advantage, and what was their fatal flaw?” I thought for a moment and replied, “They established close ties with foreign enterprises early on and adapted quickly to the market—that was their advantage. But those who live by the sword die by the sword. Their fatal flaw was an over-reliance on the first-mover advantage provided by those foreign firms. They never developed their own core competencies. Therefore, once the market matured and became regulated, their competitive edge vanished completely.” Grandpa stared at me fixedly for a long time. His expression was complex. There was doubt. There was scrutiny. The only thing missing was contempt. After a while, he asked, “You’re only fourteen. Where did you hear all of this?” I replied, “There are a lot of books in the city library. I love reading.” But that wasn’t true. Among the “clients” my mother entertained, a large portion were the exact beneficiaries of that middleman era. They had exploited loopholes, amassing wealth through nepotism and information gaps, yet attributed all their success to their own supposed brilliance. And on many drunken afternoons, while groping the young girls in their arms, they couldn’t wait to brag about their past conquests. Thinking of this, I squeezed my eyes shut. When I opened them again, I was still in Grandpa’s solemn, antique study. Not in a dimly lit, pink-tinted bedroom reeking of alcohol and sleaze. Clap, clap, clap. Ethan was clapping softly. He said, “Serena is only fourteen, yet her reading comprehension and critical thinking are incredibly sharp. She deserves praise.” He looked at me, his expression warm and genuine: “I bow to your insight.” I quickly shook my head. “It was just a lucky guess. I don’t know any of the advanced finance and economic concepts you were talking about earlier. I still have so much to learn.” After a brief silence, Ethan asked, “Serena, do you want to study with me?” 6 At Ethan’s suggestion, Grandpa allowed me to audit their sessions. But he was still suspicious of me. He suspected this was just another unorthodox scheme to con money out of him. So, he ordered Ethan to give him regular reports on my behavior. In truth, there was no need for Ethan to monitor me, nor did anyone need to force me to work. I attended classes religiously. Every weekend, I was either practicing the piano or buried in the library. This was the life I had desperately begged for but never received in my past life. How could I not cherish it? Several months passed. In Grandpa’s study, I was no longer just a listener. Often, over a specific scenario Grandpa posed, Ethan and I would debate until we were red in the face. Until Grandpa finally called a halt. I don’t know exactly when it happened. But Grandpa stopped looking at me with guarded eyes. And Ethan stopped giving Grandpa reports on my behavior. Because he complained that keeping an eye on me wasted too much of his time, which was why he had actually lost to me on a recent pop quiz. Grandpa just threw his head back and laughed heartily at that. I pretended not to know any of this and just quietly kept doing my practice tests. At school, my relentless studying yielded rich rewards. I won first place in a state math competition. The teacher said they were going to formally commend me at the upcoming parent-teacher conference. But Dad was as unreliable as ever. He had promised to attend, but half an hour before it started, he called to say he couldn’t make it. “Serena, Daddy has a very important meeting to run. Have the nanny go to the conference for you, okay? Be a good girl.” But I could clearly hear the giggling of several women in the background. I didn’t expose his lie; I just calmly hung up the phone. Then, I took a picture of the honors list posted on the classroom bulletin board and texted it to Grandpa. On the list, my name and Ethan’s name sat firmly at the top of the middle school and high school divisions respectively. Our matching last names gleamed brightly in the sunlight. I added a message: [Grandpa, Dad had an emergency and can’t make it to my conference. But the teachers really want to talk to my guardian about my future academic track. Could you come?] Grandpa came to the school personally. This was a treatment not even Ethan had ever received. My homeroom teacher was terrified, and the Principal rushed over to host him personally. Grandpa sat regally in the center seat of the Principal’s office and asked, “How are my granddaughter’s studies? Is there anything she needs to improve?” He knew the answer already. The homeroom teacher immediately poured on the praise, confirming that I was an absolutely flawless, top-tier student in every possible regard. Only then did Grandpa nod in satisfaction. After the conference, he hesitated for a moment before actually ordering his driver to take us to the mall. He said, “I noticed all the little girls in your class dressing so brightly. Why are you dressed so plainly? Is your father neglecting you?” In the end, he custom-ordered six or seven tailored outfits for me. And bought me several designer bags. Looking at the numbers on the receipts, I felt a rush of panic. “Grandpa, aren’t you worried I’m just after your money anymore?” He let out a booming laugh. “Go ahead and be after it! I’d be more worried if you weren’t!” I froze for a second, then joined in his laughter. Chloe thought that to win Grandpa over, she needed to be cute, provide emotional value, and act like a spoiled, innocent child. But she didn’t understand that Grandpa was a self-made billionaire. He had seen countless sugar-coated bullets and witnessed the darkest depths of human nature. He didn’t need, nor did he respect, flattery and whining from useless people. What an aging patriarch wanted to see more than anything was a vibrant, capable successor. And me? As long as I continuously proved my competence, it was only a matter of time before I became the second Ethan. Grandpa’s golden child.

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Seven years after breaking up with my first love, I took in a college boy who looked just like him. Everyone around me said he was just a substitute, but he would only smile softly and never argue. As time went on, I felt that living like this wasn’t bad at all. I warned my friends: “Don’t call him a stand-in. I’m going to marry him.” That single sentence caused my first love, who was halfway across the world, to book an overnight flight back to the States. Even though we had been apart for years, and he had never once come back for me. 1 When I pulled open the door, the smile froze on my face. A man I had only seen in my dreams for the past seven years stood on my porch. Ethan Vance. My first love. His features were as sharp and deep as ever, his eyes like stars. He looked more mature than before, and even more magnetic. Wrapped in a black windbreaker, he stood as tall and imposing as a tree. I had imagined what we would say to each other if we ever met again countless times, but I never expected him to speak first. He raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?” When we broke up back then, it wasn’t an ugly, screaming fight. It ended through his long, agonizing campaign of the cold shoulder. But I had my pride. On the day of the first snow that new year, I stood alone in the freezing cold and cried until I broke down. Yet, when I opened my phone, I simply typed one calm sentence: “Let’s break up. You’re free.” He replied instantly—something he had almost never done during his months of ignoring me. “Okay.” From that day on, my unforgettable first love came to a full stop. For years, I thought I could never forget him. But it turns out time really does smooth over everything. Seeing him again, the turbulent waves that used to crash in my chest were completely gone. Now, he sat in my living room while I meticulously decorated the house. I hung balloons and string lights. When the cake in the oven was done, I pulled it out and carefully frosted it following a tutorial. A few stray strands of hair fell across my forehead, but I didn’t even bother to brush them away. I had no time to pay attention to his presence. In my peripheral vision, I only saw his fingers slowly curling into tight fists. Today was Liam’s birthday. After a busy afternoon, people slowly started to arrive. They were all my friends. I wanted a full house; I wanted Liam to have a happy day. When my friends saw Ethan sitting on the sofa, those who knew our history froze in their tracks. But after glancing at me, they kept their mouths shut. At five o’clock, the doorbell rang again. I opened the door, and Liam stood there holding a bouquet of flowers, gazing at me with a gentle, loving smile. I pulled him inside as confetti cannons popped from both sides, showering him in color. “Happy Birthday, Liam!” I happily threw my arm around his shoulders and introduced him to all my friends. I went down the line, and when I reached Ethan, my tone paused for a fraction of a second before I spoke as casually as possible: “This is… Ethan Vance. An old high school classmate of mine.” Ethan stared at me. When his brow furrowed, he was actually quite intimidating, his presence overwhelmingly heavy. If I went by my past knowledge of him, I half-expected him to flip the table and storm out. But thankfully, he didn’t. Even when Liam extended a hand to him, Ethan gave me enough face to shake it. I breathed a sigh of relief. Throughout the entire birthday party, I made sure Liam was the center of attention. My friends showered him with relentless praise. After all, ever since I dropped that warning a while back, no one dared to tactlessly call him a substitute again. “He’s so handsome, Chloe. I’m so jealous you have such a gorgeous boyfriend.” “Not just handsome, but he has a great temper too! Unlike that guy you dated years ago, wow, he was a total…” The person realized what they were saying, shot a terrified glance at Ethan, and instantly clamped their mouth shut. … The party’s atmosphere peaked after everyone was full and we started playing Truth or Dare. Liam lost a round and chose ‘Dare.’ The condition: kiss me. Everyone clapped and cheered: “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” “Come on, kiss her! You’re not a real man if you don’t! That’s your girlfriend!” Suddenly, with a loud bang, the front door was slammed shut. Ethan was no longer in his seat. … 2 After the party wrapped up and everyone left, I went upstairs. Liam was sitting at his easel, earnestly studying a canvas. The soft bedroom light spilled over him, highlighting his elegant profile. He didn’t know that he was far more breathtaking than the art he painted. Sneaking up behind him, I suddenly felt playful and reached out to cover his eyes. “Guess who?” Liam needed total concentration when he painted, but he never got mad at me for interrupting him. I could feel the corners of his lips curve upward as he played along: “I don’t know. Who is this?” “I’m your baby,” I said sweetly. I let go. He tilted his head back, smiling up at me, and then pulled me right into his lap. His embrace was broad, soft, yet strong. He enveloped me effortlessly. I buried my face in his chest and took a deep breath. That faint, signature scent that belonged only to Liam always intoxicated me. But then, he suddenly asked: “What’s wrong with you today?” “Huh? Nothing’s wrong.” “I just feel…” His gaze fell on me, thoughtful. “You seem a little off.” I didn’t expect him to be so perceptive. Seeing the man I had longed for for years, no matter how calm I tried to be, I was inevitably affected. But I had no intention of telling him. To my surprise, he asked: “That guy today, the one you said was a high school classmate. I’ve never seen him around you before.” Alarm bells rang in my head. “Oh… he went abroad right after graduation. He just moved back recently…” I thought I was acting perfectly normal, but I couldn’t help the guilty flutter in my chest, silently praying he wouldn’t press further. But he looked at me with a half-smile, effortlessly piercing my disguise. “That was your ex, wasn’t it?” “…How did you know?” “I guessed.” Looking into his eyes, I surrendered. Maybe this was a man’s sixth sense. I raised three fingers, swearing to the heavens, the earth, and my heart. “I admit it, yes, he is.” “But it’s been so long. I have absolutely zero feelings for him anymore.” “Don’t you know who fills my head completely right now?” By the time I finished that last sentence, I couldn’t help but grin cheekily. He gently pinched my cheek. “I know.” He didn’t ask anything else. This was Liam. Always graceful, always knowing exactly where the boundaries were, knowing when to advance and when to retreat. Sometimes I thought it made perfect sense why people secretly called him “Liam the Accommodating.” Otherwise, with so many people coming and going in my life over the years, why was he the only one who stayed? That weekend, I was invited to play golf. It was a standard social event for the upper crust, a place where everyone networked and exchanged market insights between swings. I brought Liam with me. Many people in our circle knew about our relationship. While those elites were gossips, they wouldn’t disrespect me to my face. The caddies picking up the golf balls, however, were a different story. I heard them whispering: “See that pretty boy? He’s sponsored by Ms. Sterling. I heard she drops hundreds of thousands on him every month.” “She treats him so well, even bringing him to play golf. A high-end place like this… he’s dirtying our club’s grass.” “Exactly. A broke kid like him has probably never touched a golf club in his life.” … A spot opened up on the green, so I asked Liam. “Want to give it a try?” He didn’t refuse. He nodded, looking incredibly elegant. He stepped up to the tee, took a ball, gripped the club, and swung. Hole in one. Perfect. People around us turned their heads in surprise. I clapped delightedly, cheering loudly, “Beautiful!” 3 I swiped my card for twenty grand on the spot. The club brought out stacks of cash, and I had them distribute it to everyone present. Whenever someone hit a hole-in-one here, it was tradition to tip out cash to the staff as a celebration. When they reached the caddies who had been whispering, I said coldly: “Skip those guys.” “Their mouths are too filthy. I don’t want them dirtying my money.” Their faces instantly flushed with deep shame. The CEO who invited me laughed and said: “I didn’t expect your… boyfriend to be so skilled.” I waved my hand dismissively. “If it wasn’t for his family’s bad luck back then… sigh, never mind. Let’s just say it wasn’t easy for me to win him over.” I was born into a Manhattan old-money dynasty. With a large extended family, I was groomed from childhood to be the primary heir, which gave me the capital to look down on almost everyone. It was safe to say that, aside from the massive failure I experienced with Ethan Vance, no one had ever rejected me. Just as the cash was being handed out near the edge of the green, a low gasp rippled through the crowd. A tall, remarkably handsome man stood there. I didn’t know when he had arrived. It seemed like he had been watching for a while. His assistant tried to hand him a couple of thousand dollars from my tip pool with an apologetic smile, but he didn’t even look at it. He stepped up to the tee and took a swing. Another hole-in-one. The crowd gasped again. He swiped his card for forty grand. When he turned his head, he saw me happily holding Liam’s hand. “How are you so amazing? As expected of my boyfriend, you make me look so good!” Ethan’s face darkened instantly. I was completely oblivious, continuing to praise Liam. Suddenly, a golf ball shot into my field of vision. It was moving at a terrifying speed, hurtling straight for Liam’s head. It missed by a fraction of an inch, grazing Liam’s temple before slamming heavily into the ground. A golf ball of that density, with that much momentum, could have easily given someone a severe concussion or worse! But Ethan just walked over and said nonchalantly: “My bad. My swing went wide.” “Wide, my ass!” I couldn’t hold back my curses anymore. “Vance, are you out of your f***ing mind?!” He didn’t expect me to react so explosively. He held up his hands in a mocking surrender. “He’s just a little pet you keep around. I heard he’s even my substitute. The real thing is standing right in front of you, and you’re still settling for the knockoff?” Beside me, Liam’s expression didn’t change, but his eyes visibly dimmed. Ethan’s words stomped directly on my biggest landmine. I raised my hand, pointing a trembling finger right at his nose, gritting my teeth. “Let me make this clear. Liam is my boyfriend. He’s not a substitute. You better learn your f***ing place next time, or I swear to God, every time I see you in New York, I will make your life a living hell.” “You know I have the power to do it!” Strictly speaking, the Vance family controlled commerce, while my family controlled politics and infrastructure. His family still had to bow their heads to mine. Ethan’s expression shifted. Slowly, his jaw clenched tight. He looked at me with pure disbelief: “You’re doing this… for him?” But I was already dragging Liam away. 4 Once we were sitting in the car, my heart ached. I held his face, examining it over and over. Even though the ball hadn’t actually hit him, I was still terrified. “Does it hurt?” I asked. He blinked, and a fine mist of tears pooled in his eyes. “Yeah… it hurts.” My heart broke even more. Seeing him looking so pitiful made my rage toward Ethan boil over. “He got kicked in the head by a mule! That idiot, swinging without looking where he’s aiming—why doesn’t he just go die?!” I kept cursing a blue streak until I finally snapped out of it and realized Liam was looking at me, smiling. His gaze was infinitely gentle. For some reason, I froze for a second. “What? Is there something on my face?” His hand gently brushed through my hair, sending a tingling flutter down my spine. “I love it when you get angry for my sake.” “Why?” “It shows you care about me.” I grabbed his hand and poked his palm playfully with my finger. In this intimate atmosphere, I suddenly felt incredibly warm. “Of course I care about you. Hmph.” He let out another soft laugh. I realized I was blushing. The news that I threatened to destroy Ethan Vance at the golf course spread like wildfire. Now, everyone in our social circle was gossiping about “the heiress who waged war for her boy toy.” Even my parents found out. On the phone, my dad shouted furiously: “Do you hear how ridiculous you sound?! You threatened Ethan Vance over a plaything?!” “The relationship we’ve built with the Vance family for years was ruined by your one sentence! Do you know how many people are laughing at us right now?!” “You are going to apologize to Ethan, and then you are cutting off that little boy of yours!” The situation wasn’t actually that dire. I hadn’t truly moved against Ethan; my dad was just angry and lashing out. However, he used this as an excuse to remove me from my position as General Manager, demoting me to an unimportant department. He stripped me of my power. When I found Liam, he had already set everything up. Seeing me, he wrapped a salon cape around my shoulders. The sprays, scissors, and clippers were all laid out perfectly. Today was the day he gave me my regular haircut. He teased me: “I haven’t done this professionally in so long. Aren’t you afraid I’ll ruin your hair?” But I didn’t say a word. Sensing something was wrong, he immediately closed his mouth.

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My older sister, who died in an accident, moved into my body, and we started sharing it. At first, my parents didn’t believe me. Later, they got used to our souls switching back and forth. And then, they hired a hypnotist to erase my existence entirely. 1 I went crazy, smashing everything in the house that wasn’t bolted down. The countless shards covering the floor felt like my soul screaming for help. My mom covered her mouth, her face wet with tears. My dad looked furious, but he didn’t try to stop me. I roared at them, “Why?! This is my body! Why do I have to give it up for her?!” My dad rubbed his temples, seemingly having made up his mind. “We consulted a psychiatrist. You and Chloe can’t go on like this. Neither of you can live a normal life. So, we have to erase one of you. “Your mom and I are in a lot of pain too. You’re our daughter as well. We wouldn’t have made this decision if there was any other way. You have to understand us.” I grabbed a glass next to me and smashed it at my dad’s feet. Shattered glass flew everywhere. My dad instinctively took a step back. He wanted to yell at me, but remembering what he was asking me to do, he bit his tongue. “I have to understand you?! Who’s going to understand me?! You’re in pain, you have no other choice, so why am I the one who has to die?! This is my body. If anyone should disappear, it should be Chloe!” I was suffocating from a mix of rage and despair. I couldn’t understand how my parents, who had doted on me just days ago, now wanted to murder me. Hearing my words, my mom sobbed out loud. My dad frowned, annoyed, and corrected me. “What do you mean ‘die’? Your sister will use your body to live on for you. Whether you agree or not, the decision has been made.” With that, my dad lost his patience. He grabbed my mom and dragged her out of the house. After smashing a few more things, I collapsed to the floor, drained of energy. Three words echoed endlessly in my mind. Why should I? 2 I had an older sister named Chloe. She was three years older than me. I remember when I was six, my parents came home very late, their faces etched with sorrow. Seeing me, my mom broke down completely. She hugged me tight and mumbled through her tears, “Chloe is dead. Maya, you don’t have a sister anymore.” I was confused, but seeing my mom cry made my young self cry too. While sobbing, I pointed at the pile of dolls nearby. “Isn’t Chloe right there?” At first, my parents didn’t believe me and scolded me several times for saying it. Later, I repeated conversations they had secretly in their bedroom. At first, they thought I was eavesdropping. But over time, they realized I wasn’t, and they finally believed me. I really wasn’t lying to them. Chloe had been with me the whole time. She went to her own room to sleep just like before, went to school with me, and told me the things my parents said in their room. She knew she was dead. But when I told other people I could see Chloe, they looked at me like I was an idiot. Some people would even say, “What a tragedy! Only two kids in the family—one’s dead, and the other’s crazy.” Some relatives and classmates even called me a liar looking for attention. On the surface, my classmates still played with me, but I caught them secretly laughing at me more than once. Whenever that happened, Chloe would pounce on them and try to hit them. But Chloe was just a ghost; she couldn’t hurt the living. At most, she could make them sneeze a couple of times. After that, I stopped mentioning Chloe to anyone, except my parents. At home, we lived together just like before. My parents got used to her existence through my words. They couldn’t see her. But whenever they bought me something, they’d buy one for Chloe too. No amount of distance could lessen the deep love they had for their deceased daughter. I became the messenger, relaying Chloe’s thoughts to them. Until I was sixteen. I suddenly couldn’t see her anymore. At the same time, I lost two days of my life. My parents told me Chloe had awakened inside my body. Those two lost days were when Chloe used my body to live. From then on, I often woke up to find that several days had passed. Chloe and I continued to share one body. We would write in a journal to tell each other what happened during the days we “disappeared.” Three years flew by. I just never imagined that in a mere three years, my parents would be willing to sacrifice me for her. 3 Maybe it was my subconscious rejecting my feelings for Chloe, but I could feel her sleeping very deeply inside me. I sighed in relief. But remembering what my parents said yesterday, that relief instantly vanished. After venting my anger yesterday, my mind became incredibly clear. I was never as bold and outgoing as Chloe. My outburst yesterday was my absolute limit. If I hadn’t been terrified out of my mind, I never would have smashed anything. After washing up, I guessed they would be disappointed to see it was still me when I woke up. Suppressing the bitterness in my heart, I opened my bedroom door. Sure enough, the moment my parents saw me, the hope in their eyes turned to disappointment. Even though I was prepared for it, the feeling of being abandoned by my own parents violently tore at my heart. The mess I made yesterday had been cleaned up at some point, and the broken items had been replaced. I forced myself to stay calm and walked downstairs. My dad let out a scoff through his nose and completely ignored me. My mom tried to say something several times, but it only ended in a sigh. My nose stung. Along with my grievances, the air was thick with the scent of flowers. A bouquet of lilies sat dead center on the dining table. There were more on the coffee table in the living room, in the bathroom, and even on the kitchen counter. Everywhere I looked, I saw lilies—Chloe’s favorite flower. My parents were using this to show me who was boss, while also expressing their eager anticipation for Chloe to wake up. I heard the sound of my love for my parents shattering, and the sound of myself nearing a breaking point. Unable to stand the overpowering scent and the suffocating atmosphere, I finally grabbed my bag and ran out. It wasn’t until I was outside the neighborhood that I realized my face was drenched in tears. I took the bus to campus like a robot. I sobbed as I watched the scenery outside the window flash by, just like the last three years of my life. When I got to my classroom, my surprised classmates told me I had switched majors. In that moment, an unprecedented fury burned away the last shred of affection I had for Chloe. 4 My counselor told me I couldn’t switch majors again. My original major had strict requirements. Once you transferred out, you couldn’t transfer back in. I walked to the Business Administration building like a zombie. Listening to technical jargon I didn’t understand at all, surrounded by the chatter of unfamiliar classmates. I felt like I was in another world. I suffered through the classes until the afternoon. It was still bright out, but I had zero desire to go home. I wandered aimlessly around campus. My thoughts were a mess, but one thing was certain. Chloe had been planning to replace me for a long time. No wonder her journal entries had become shorter and shorter; she didn’t want me to know what she was doing. After walking for a long time, my legs ached. I slumped onto a bench by the path, completely lost. On one side, a major I knew nothing about. On the other, a family trying to steal my body. I leaned my head back against the bench, imagining myself enveloped by the sky. When I lowered my gaze, the word “Library” came into view. By the time I walked out of the library carrying a stack of books, the sun had already set. When I got home, my mom had finished cooking. Seeing me with a pile of business books, she looked a bit awkward. From her expression, it wasn’t hard to guess—they definitely knew about the major change. It might have even been their idea. At the dinner table, the food tasted like ash. I only took a few extra bites of the dishes I actually liked. My mom smiled, trying to ease the tension: “Honey, look, Maya really takes after us. She loves fish just as much. Chloe is different; she never ate anything from the water since she was little.” It would have been better if she hadn’t said anything. The atmosphere grew even more awkward. My dad set down his wine glass and said, “I heard you brought home a lot of business books. You must know Chloe changed your major. Just listen to me. Chloe is smart. If she studies this, she can help me with the company. Even if you study it now, you’re just forcing it. It’s useless. Maya, you know what I mean.” I nodded, continuing to shovel a few grains of rice into my mouth. Seeing me so submissive, my parents thought I had agreed. They exclaimed joyfully, “So you’ve thought it through! Good. I’ll contact the hypnotist in the next few days. Then you can finally live a normal life.” I looked up, staring straight into my dad’s eyes. “Will I be normal, or will Chloe be normal?” My dad frowned slightly, but quickly smiled again. “She’s your sister, you share a body. If she’s normal, doesn’t that mean you’re normal?” I nodded again. Under their joyful gaze, I enunciated every word: “Even if I have to burn this body to ashes, I will never let Chloe have it.” It took a second for it to register. My dad threw his wine glass to the floor. He pointed at me, panting heavily, clearly furious. My mom glared at me reproachfully while rubbing my dad’s back to calm him down. I really couldn’t stay in this house anymore. If I stayed with two people constantly plotting to steal my body, I’d definitely go crazy. I quickly packed a bag and moved back to the dorms that very night. 5 Living on campus, I went to classes during the day and devoured books in the library at night. My dad always thought Chloe was exceptionally smart, but he never noticed that I had a near-photographic memory. As long as it was knowledge I wanted to learn, it only took one or two reads for it to stick in my brain. During this time, my mom contacted me several times. At first, she tried to coax me, but later she started calling me ungrateful. I just didn’t get it. All I wanted was to live. We were both their daughters. Just because Chloe died once, they felt guilty and wanted to make it up to her—so they had to sacrifice me to make themselves feel better. Seeing that persuasion was useless, my parents sent a negotiator. Someone I couldn’t refuse. Liam. My childhood friend, and the guy I secretly, hopelessly loved. “Maya, please. Give Chloe back to me, okay?” “What… what do you mean your Chloe?” A chill shot up from the soles of my feet. I could hear my own voice, trembling and weak. Liam didn’t seem to notice my emotional state. “Maya, I’ve actually known about you and Chloe for a long time. I know you definitely won’t agree, so I’m begging you. I really can’t live without her. You’ve gotten to live for so many years, but Chloe had an accident when she was so young. It’s a miracle she survived in your body, but it’s only been three years. What if she suddenly disappears one day? The thought of her disappearing makes me feel like I’m suffocating. So I’m begging you, agree to what your parents want. That way, your body and Chloe’s soul will merge into one. Isn’t that great? Why do you have to be so selfish?” I was so shocked I couldn’t believe my ears. I stood there, frozen. Liam continued, “Maya, we grew up together. I’ve never begged you for anything. But now, I’m begging you. Do you want me to get on my knees?” And with that, Liam actually knelt down. My hands trembled as I reached out to help him up, but he suddenly grabbed me, his eyes bloodshot. “Maya, promise me right now.” His fierce look terrified me. Instinctively, I tried to break free, but his grip was iron-clad. Panicked, I blurted out, “You’re trying to force me to die too! Let me tell you, keep dreaming! I’m not going to die. The one who should be dead is Chloe!” I regretted it the moment the words left my mouth. I shouldn’t have let my anger put me in danger. Sure enough, Liam’s handsome face contorted. He glared at me venomously. “Since that’s how it is, don’t blame me. I absolutely cannot lose Chloe.” The next second, a large, hot hand clamped over my mouth. We had met in a secluded corner of the campus. No matter how hard I struggled, it was unlikely anyone would find us. Eventually, everything faded to black. 6 Liam looked at the unconscious figure in his arms, a fleeting trace of guilt crossing his eyes. “I’m sorry, Maya. If it’s possible, I’ll work like a dog in the next life to repay you.” With that, he quickly carried her out of the campus and got into a car.

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Arthur Sterling got drunk one night and got a girl pregnant. By the time I found out, her belly was already six months along. He told me that if we kept this child, we could go back to the way things were. I shook my head and stubbornly asked him: “Me or this child—who do you choose?” That day, he remained silent for a long time, unable to give me an answer. But after I vanished from his life, he finally felt the crushing weight of regret. 1 Married for five years, I never imagined Arthur and I would end like this. At the hospital entrance, Arthur was carefully helping a young, beautiful girl down the steps. I stood a short distance away, making direct eye contact with him just as his face was full of tender care. His eyes darted away, stiffly avoiding my gaze. The heavily pregnant girl beside him also looked my way, tears instantly welling up in her eyes. After safely helping the girl into a car and giving her a few careful instructions, Arthur finally walked over to me. His steps were calm and composed, entirely devoid of the panic of a man who had just been caught. He reached out and took my hands, which were as cold as ice, wrapping them tightly in his warm palms. “Why are you at the hospital? Are you feeling unwell?” He spoke with deep concern, raising a hand to touch my forehead. I dodged his touch. “Who is she?” Arthur didn’t answer my question. Instead, he pulled me into his embrace, trying to comfort me. “She’s no one important. Let’s go home and I’ll explain everything, okay?” Hearing his gentle, soothing voice in this moment finally caused my tears to fall. I looked up at him stubbornly, demanding an answer. As long as he said it, I would believe him. Arthur let out a soft sigh, then gently wiped the tears from the corners of my eyes. “The child is mine.” The tears froze on my face. I felt as though I had forgotten how to breathe. I bit my lower lip until it turned crimson, breaking free from his embrace and taking several steps back. Only then did a flash of genuine anger cross Arthur’s face. He pulled me back to his side, looking at me with heartache. “Eleanor, you can blame me, but don’t torture yourself.” I couldn’t understand why he would do something so devastating, yet still look at me with such profound love. Amidst our silent standoff, the girl stepped out of the car. “Get back inside!” Arthur ordered coldly, his voice devoid of any warmth. The girl looked at him timidly but didn’t retreat. A hint of determination appeared in her eyes. “Mrs. Sterling, Mr. Sterling and I aren’t what you think. This child was an accident.” She offered a bitter smile. “If I had a choice, I would want this baby gone more than anyone.” My vision was blurred with tears. Though I couldn’t clearly see the expression on Arthur’s face, I knew him well enough to feel that his initial coldness toward her had already faded. “Enough, stop talking!” Jealousy and resentment flooded my heart, and I screamed in a total breakdown. Startled, the girl swayed and nearly fell, but Arthur rushed forward and caught her securely in his arms. I stared blankly at the scene. A wild thought flashed through my mind. I lunged toward them. Just as I was about to collide with her swollen belly, a massive force shoved me away. I fell hard onto the pavement. Lifting my scraped, bleeding palms, I let out a miserable laugh. Arthur stared in utter disbelief at his own outstretched hands, completely stunned by what he had just done. That day, Arthur left the six-month pregnant girl behind and took me home. But I knew in my heart that he and I had no future left. 2 Once we were home, Arthur gave me his explanation. I sat on the bed, motionless for a long time. He stood on the balcony of my room and smoked for the entire night. I knew exactly what he was doing. He was using this self-destructive behavior to make my heart ache for him. When it came to me, he always knew exactly how to exploit my weaknesses. As dawn broke, Arthur turned, walked inside, and sat beside me. “Are you hungry? Tell me what you want, I’ll cook.” I stopped him with a hoarse voice. “Arthur, we need to talk.” His footsteps halted. For a long time, he didn’t turn around. He knew my personality well. He knew I cared deeply about loyalty. I cared a lot. Even if he had too much to drink that night, even if his contact with that girl was an unintentional mistake. I could never forgive him. Knowing this, Arthur had hidden the truth from me. But no one expected that this strange girl, someone he claimed was just a one-night mistake, would get pregnant. And because of a rare medical condition, she couldn’t safely terminate the pregnancy. That was how we ended up here. Arthur walked out. He didn’t dare face the words he knew I was about to say. I knew he loved me. If he didn’t, we wouldn’t have survived years of a marathon romance to finally get married. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have spoiled me to the point where I felt safe enough to throw tantrums and cry over the smallest things. For the next week, Arthur didn’t come home. Yet, every single day, he called our housekeeper to ask about every detail of my life and how I was doing. The housekeeper tried to persuade me: “Ma’am, you and Mr. Sterling are the most loving couple I’ve ever seen. Whatever happened, just talk it out and it will pass. Mr. Sterling… he’s lost so much weight recently.” She had worked for us for years and had never seen us have a single fight. Even Arthur’s mother, who had been displeased with me in our early years, gradually accepted me as her daughter-in-law simply because Arthur and I were so blissfully happy together. My phone rang. It was one of Arthur’s friends. “Eleanor, Arthur is black-out drunk. Could you come pick him up?” “Leave him be!” After hanging up, the heavy knot in my chest only grew tighter. My mind kept replaying the sight of his back as he walked out the door a week ago—his posture seemed to have bent under the weight of it all. In the end, I couldn’t be ruthless enough to just leave him there alone. After a brief internal struggle, I grabbed my car keys and strode out the door. 3 The door to the VIP room was ajar. I stood outside, not stepping in. Arthur was indeed horribly drunk, sprawled carelessly across the sofa with zero regard for his image. Standing directly in front of him was the heavily pregnant girl. Arthur’s friend looked incredibly awkward. “Ms. Dawson, Eleanor refused to come, and Arthur refuses to leave. I had no choice but to call you.” The girl, Chloe Dawson, smiled softly and reached out to support one of Arthur’s arms. He abruptly shoved her away. A few gasps in the room jolted Arthur slightly out of his drunken stupor. He looked at the woman in front of him, a smile forming on his face that looked far worse than crying. “Chloe, it’s all because of you… Eleanor doesn’t want me anymore…” Arthur kept repeating that sentence, looking around frantically for more alcohol. No one could stop him. He grabbed a liquor bottle and started chugging it like his life depended on it. Suddenly, Chloe snatched the bottle from his hand and smashed it violently against the floor. The room instantly fell dead silent. Even Arthur, who had just been throwing a drunken fit, stared at her blankly. “Arthur Sterling, your shouting and screaming is going to scare our child. Get up. I’m tired, and you are taking me home.” Arthur was a man who could practically summon the wind and rain in Chicago’s business world. Aside from me, no one had ever dared to order him around like that. Everyone in the room thought he was going to explode. They held their breath. But in that suffocating atmosphere, Arthur didn’t say a word. He slowly stood up, grabbed his jacket, and silently followed Chloe out the door. I hid in the shadows of the corridor, watching the man and woman walk away. Suddenly, I smiled. But that smile tasted entirely of bitter ash. I trailed their taxi to a high-end luxury apartment complex. I watched with my own eyes as Arthur got out of the car and followed the girl upstairs. A light flicked on in a window high above. I sat in my car and watched that window for the entire night. Arthur never came out. At 7:00 AM, he walked back into the building carrying breakfast bags. I stared at his deeply familiar silhouette. Then, quietly, I drove away alone. 4 I summoned Arthur back home, but I didn’t mention divorce. I looked at the man, who had visibly lost weight, and quickly averted my gaze. “I didn’t pick you up last night. Where did you sleep?” Arthur’s fingers twitched slightly. After a moment, he said: “I slept at the office.” I couldn’t quite describe what I felt in my heart. There wasn’t much sorrow left. Just an overwhelming sense of disappointment. When did Arthur learn to lie to me so effortlessly? The man who once promised to treat me with absolute honesty for the rest of his life had changed. I didn’t expose his lie. For me, it had lost all meaning. “How many months is she?” Arthur paused for a few seconds, as if he couldn’t bear to hurt me. “Almost seven months.” After saying that, he dropped to one knee in front of me and buried his face deeply into my lap. His tears soaked through my skirt. “Ellie, I was wrong. Please don’t throw me away.” In my entire memory of him, Arthur had never cried. Now, he was sobbing uncontrollably. Watching him cry made my heart physically ache. But I knew that, in this moment, I couldn’t afford to be soft-hearted. “Arrange a meeting for me and that girl.” We chose to meet at Chloe’s apartment. Arthur waited outside the door. Chloe gently caressed her lower belly, her eyes brimming with pure anticipation for the child. “That night, the lights were off in the room, and I was genuinely terrified.” “But the next morning, when I saw Mr. Sterling sleeping beside me… for a split second, I actually felt lucky.” Chloe smiled as she spoke. She looked up at me, still maintaining that gentle, innocent facade. “Mrs. Sterling, Arthur and I are going to have a child very soon. Why don’t you just step aside and let us be together?” Without Arthur around, this girl was like a completely different person. Honestly, I wasn’t that surprised. Because the night I went to the bar to find Arthur, I saw Chloe glance toward the door crack. I knew she had seen me watching them that night. She slowly stood up and pushed open a closed door in the apartment. Inside was a beautifully decorated, warm nursery. “Arthur personally picked out everything in here. He decorated this room himself.” “It’s not that he has no expectations for this child.” I really wanted to maintain my last shred of dignity and composure in front of this woman flaunting my husband’s fatherly love. But she still managed to enrage me. So, Arthur did look forward to this child. He wasn’t as indifferent as he claimed. All the strength drained from my body. I leaned heavily against the dining table, accidentally knocking over a glass of water. It shattered with a crisp crash, mirroring the fracturing of my own heart. Hearing the noise, Arthur burst in. What he saw was me swaying unsteadily on my feet, while Chloe lay on the floor crying out in pain. I will never forget that day—the day Arthur’s first choice was no longer me. Chloe shot me a triumphant smirk, convinced she had won the war. As he brushed past me, Arthur hesitated for only a fraction of a second. Ultimately, he bypassed me entirely, scooped Chloe up in his arms, and rushed her to the hospital. 5 When he left, Arthur didn’t even look back at me. I stood rooted to the spot for a long time before slowly digesting the reality that he had abandoned me. I followed them to the hospital. By the time I arrived, Arthur’s parents were already there. It turned out I was the only one kept in the dark. His parents had known about this for a while. Seeing me approach, Arthur’s mother slapped me hard across the face. “If anything happens to my grandson, I will make you pay!” Arthur instantly stepped in front of me, shielding me completely behind his back. Seeing this, his mother grew even more furious. “Arthur, I don’t care if you protect her normally, but right now she’s trying to kill your son!” Arthur laughed, his voice thick with suppressed rebellion. “So what? If the kid dies, he dies.” If his parents hadn’t gone behind his back to help preserve this pregnancy, Ellie wouldn’t be this heartbroken right now. No one knew that when he saw Chloe fall, his very first instinctive reaction was… relief. He deeply regretted the existence of this ‘accident.’ The doctor came out of the room and announced the baby was safe. Arthur’s parents rushed inside to coddle and comfort Chloe. But Chloe kept her pitiful, teary gaze locked on Arthur, who was standing by the door. She dared to scheme against me. Why would I let her get what she wanted? I tilted my face to show Arthur my red, swollen left cheek, ensuring his heart would ache for me. “I don’t want to be here anymore,” I told him. Arthur left with me. As we walked away, I looked back at Chloe lying in the hospital bed and returned her victorious smile with one of my own. At least for now, Arthur’s bias still favored me. Even if it was a bias I no longer wanted. During the days when Arthur believed I was slowly accepting the existence of his child, I was actually preparing for my departure. I packed up my belongings and had my lawyer draft the divorce papers. I was just waiting for the day to leave. Yes, I was going to leave on the exact day Chloe gave birth. Didn’t she want me to step aside so they could be a happy family of three? I was going to grant her that wish.

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I had a secret crush on Liam Vance for ten years, but I never dared to confess my feelings. That was, until I was diagnosed with terminal brain cancer. I tied him up and slept with him, over and over again. His eyes were bloodshot as he struggled against the restraints. “Harper! Let me go if you have the guts.” I thought that if I let him go, he would strangle me in a fit of rage. Instead, he fiercely claimed every inch of my body, day and night, without stopping. “Harper, did you think I was weak? I can’t believe you actually drugged me.” 1 I had a secret crush on Liam Vance for ten years. From my teenage years all the way into adulthood. He lived in the grand estate right next door to mine. I watched him grow from a green, youthful boy into a mature, striking man. I was completely mesmerized by the mature charm radiating from him, but I never dared to say a word. I was terrified that if I confessed and he rejected me, whatever we had would be over forever. That was until ten days ago, when I passed out at work and was rushed to the hospital. The doctor looked at me with deep pity. “Terminal brain cancer. It’s too late. There’s no viable treatment left.” I couldn’t just die like this. I hadn’t traveled the world yet. I hadn’t even slept with Liam… My mind suddenly filled with the dark romance and forced-proximity novels I’d been reading lately. I was going to die anyway. Doing something a little extreme wouldn’t be too much, right? I called Liam and invited him over to my house for dinner. Liam was the CEO of Vance Corporation. He was incredibly busy. But he still promised to come over later that evening. When Liam arrived, he looked travel-worn, dressed in a sleek black overcoat. He brought the chill of the night air in with him. Only then did I realize that when I called him, he had been out of the country. He had flown all day, coming straight home to walk right into my trap. I started to feel a twinge of guilt. I wanted to find an excuse to kick him out, but he walked straight to the dining table and sat down. Without waiting for me to say anything, he made himself at home and started serving himself. I watched as he drank the Tom Yum soup—which I had heavily spiked. He even raised an eyebrow at me while taking a sip. “Haven’t seen you in a while. Your cooking skills have improved.” Of course they had. Because it was takeout from the highest-rated Thai restaurant in the city. Why did I order takeout? The reason was simple: I was afraid my cooking would be too awful, and he wouldn’t eat enough for the drug to take effect. By the time I came back from the kitchen with an extra bowl, he was sitting at the table, his eyes already starting to lose their focus. I bit my lip. “Are you tired? Do you want to lie down?” He nodded slowly. “I’m a little dizzy.” “Then go rest for a bit.” We had known each other for years, and any mutual guardedness had vanished long ago. He obediently followed me into the guest bedroom. 2 Liam fell asleep. I struggled to take off his heavy coat, then stared blankly at the flesh faintly visible beneath his white dress shirt. I pursed my lips, my heart racing, my mouth going dry. But I still couldn’t summon the courage to completely strip him down. I rummaged through my closet and pulled out a pile of silk ties I had bought for him over the years but had never been brave enough to gift him. Today, they finally came in handy. I used the ties to bind his wrists and ankles directly to the bed frame. After expending all my energy to finish the job, I collapsed onto the edge of the bed. I looked up at his handsome, sleeping face. He looked so peaceful right now. But I could easily imagine the absolute fury that would erupt once he woke up. It would probably be just like the time his mother joked that we should just get married—he had been furious then, too. I stared at his face, afraid to even blink. I kept thinking about how, in just a few days, I would never be able to see him again. I wanted to look at him enough to last an eternity. I had been a kind, selfless person for over twenty years. Now, at the very end, I was determined to be selfish. Even if he hated me, it didn’t matter. That way, when I died, he wouldn’t be sad at all. The phone in his coat pocket started ringing incessantly. It was his assistant, Ryan. Without much hesitation, and afraid the noise would wake Liam, I answered it. “Liam is exhausted. He fell asleep right after dinner.” Ryan sensibly hung up the phone. Gradually, my own eyelids grew heavier and heavier. I simply climbed onto the bed, wrapped my arms around Liam’s waist, and fell into a deep sleep. In the middle of the night, I was jolted awake by Liam’s roar. “Harper!” I shot up into a sitting position. The sudden movement made my head spin. My vision went entirely black, and I fell heavily back onto Liam’s chest. “Harper! What the hell are you doing?” What was I doing? I propped myself up on my elbows, looking at him with dazed eyes. “Guess.” Liam’s expression grew even darker. I sat back on my heels, gazing down at him. “Since you’re awake, let’s get down to business.” Liam’s brow furrowed deeply as he tried to yank his arms free from the restraints. I panicked a little. I was terrified that if he actually broke loose, all my efforts would have been for nothing. I squeezed my eyes shut and threw my entire body weight onto him. “Don’t move! Just listen to me!” Liam ground his teeth. “Are you out of your mind?!” I lifted my head slightly. My face was barely four inches from his. “I’m not crazy.” “Then what are you doing?” “I’ve got you tied to a bed. What do you think I want to do?” Liam’s pupils contracted sharply. The disgust on his face was impossible to hide. “Harper! I am Liam Vance!” “Have you lost all your self-respect as a woman?!” I didn’t want to hear him lecture me, so I blindly grabbed something soft from the nightstand and stuffed it into his mouth. Ignoring the flames practically shooting from his eyes, I glared at him fiercely. “Shut up!” Liam tried to break free, but realized it was useless. My heart was hammering against my ribs. “I’m going to kiss you. Don’t interrupt me.” With that, I pulled the makeshift gag from his mouth. Before he could speak, I squeezed my eyes shut and kissed him aggressively. I clumsily tore at his dress shirt. The buttons popped off one by one, rolling away onto the hardwood floor. Like a survivor fleeing an apocalypse, I refused to stop. I just needed to find an outlet. I had a chest full of pent-up emotions. Amidst Liam’s low, muffled groans, I released them bite by bite, kiss by kiss, marking every inch of him. My best friend, Mia Sullivan, once told me that men in bed only ever think with their lower halves. Sure enough, despite my somewhat ruthless actions, Liam didn’t utter a single curse. There were only his continuous, heavy groans. When it was over, Liam’s face was flushed red, looking as though he had suffered the ultimate humiliation. I didn’t want to look at him, so I threw on some clothes and headed to the bathroom to take a shower. Seeing me leaving, Liam called out to me. “Harper!” I turned back to look at him. “What?” His eyes were bloodshot with anger. “Let me go, if you have the guts.” I froze for a second, then let out a nonchalant smile. “I’ll let you go, but not right now.” 3 After my shower, I originally planned to go back to my own bedroom. But I kept thinking about Liam’s eight-pack abs. They had felt so firm. So, I walked back into the guest room. Liam wasn’t asleep. He was staring blankly at the ceiling. Looking exactly like a frog strapped to a dissection table. When he saw me walk in, he cursed through gritted teeth, “Untie me!” I shook my head. “No.” “Do you have no shame at all?!” “What exactly are you getting out of this?” “Didn’t your mother ever teach you anything about self-respect?!” He hit a nerve. He did it on purpose. I pressed my lips together and didn’t answer. I just silently walked up to the bed. I kicked off my slippers, climbed onto the mattress, and straddled him again. He scowled, opening his mouth to yell at me again, but I clamped my hand over his lips. “Shut up and listen.” “I’ve known you for eleven years. I’ve loved you for ten. I thought about giving up, but I just couldn’t accept it.” “I know you don’t like me. People say whoever loves more should take the initiative, so I’m taking it.” “I’m going to have you, and struggling won’t do you any good!” With that, my eyes red and teary, I lowered my head and kissed him again. Liam’s lips were thin and cool, tasting faintly of mint. I was already exhausted, but I could clearly feel a certain change in his body. I lifted my head, looked at his face, and laughed. “Stop pretending to be the aloof, untouched CEO. You’re just a man after all!” Throughout the entire ordeal, the sounds Liam made left my face burning red and left me… immensely satisfied. When I opened my eyes again, Liam was already awake. Fortunately, his expression no longer read “suffering ultimate humiliation.” Seeing me stir, his voice was hoarse. “Untie me.” “No.” Sighing in frustration, he tried a different tactic. “Harper, what exactly is wrong with you? How long do you plan on keeping me tied up?” I counted on my fingers, then held up a number for him. “Seven days.” Liam was completely speechless. “Why on earth?” “No reason,” I said calmly, throwing on my robe and getting out of bed. “I just demand to spend seven full days with you.” I thought Liam would be furious, but instead, he chuckled. “This is illegal imprisonment. You know exactly how much work I have every day, how many people will be looking for me. I just vanished into thin air. Do you really think you can keep me here until day seven?” I stood rooted by the bed, unable to move a single inch. He was right. He was a grown man. If he refused to cooperate, how long could I possibly keep him? “Harper, untie me. I promise I won’t leave.” I hesitated for two seconds, then stubbornly shook my head. “I don’t believe you.” “Harper, I have critical business to handle. You can stay right beside me, but you have to let me out of this room.” Liam thought that making a compromise would guarantee my agreement. But I rejected it without a second thought. I told him with absolute stubbornness, “Until the cops break down my door to find you, you’re staying right here.” Liam realized I was a lost cause. His dark eyes swept over me from head to toe several times. Finally, in a completely unexpected move, he surrendered. “If you keep me tied up like this for seven days, my limbs will sustain permanent nerve damage. Is that what you want?” “No.” “But I don’t have a choice. I can’t physically overpower you, and I can’t stop you from leaving. This is the only way.” “Harper, I swear on my grandmother’s grave. I will not leave this house for seven days.” Grandma Vance. I knew how much she meant to Liam. I also knew she had been genuinely, truly kind to me. When she passed away, Liam and I had hidden in a corner together, holding each other and sobbing. That was the first time I had ever seen Liam cry. “I need your cooperation, or else your front door will likely be bashed in by a SWAT team this afternoon.” Liam’s tone was dead serious. I knew he was telling the truth. The CEO of Vance Corporation goes missing—how could that not be a massive crisis? I wanted to keep him here, but I didn’t want my legacy to be a criminal record after I died. I didn’t need half a brain to know how nasty and sensational the media headlines would be. I caved. I threw his clothes at him, then systematically untied his wrists and ankles. He gritted his teeth, rolling his stiff shoulders and rubbing his wrists, mercilessly criticizing me. “How did I never realize you were a psycho?” I kept my face blank. “There are a lot of things you never realized.” He stared at the messy pile of silk ties I had tossed onto the floor, looking at me in disbelief. “Where did you even get all these ties?” “Whenever I saw one that I thought would suit you, I bought it. I just ended up collecting a lot.” Thankfully, it wasn’t a waste of money. They eventually served their purpose on him. “Why didn’t you ever give them to me?” I let out a bitter scoff. “I don’t make a habit of pressing my warm face against a cold shoulder.” Liam’s expression cooled. “So you decided to just jump straight to forcing yourself on me?” I blushed from the top of my head down to my toes. When I was losing my mind yesterday, I didn’t care about the consequences. Now that I was calm, hearing him say it out loud made me feel incredibly embarrassed. To get a man, I had actually resorted to ropes. But I quickly let it go. I told myself that getting to do this once in my life made it all worth it. 4 Liam kept his word. Once freed, he made no attempt to force his way out of the house. He simply asked for my laptop. “Are you going to email Ryan to come rescue you?” Liam looked at me like I was a complete idiot. “Is there something wrong with your brain? If I wanted to leave, do you think I’d need to call for backup?” My brain wasn’t just “not working well”—it was literally deteriorating. I handed him the laptop. I had already quit my job anyway, so I had no use for it. Liam sat out on the sunroom patio handling his work, while I curled up on the living room sofa, quietly watching him. The angle of the sunlight spilling over him looked perfectly calculated, giving me a fleeting, beautiful illusion of domestic bliss. Even though this “bliss” was something I had shamelessly kidnapped him for. The afternoon sun was warm, and as I watched him, a wave of exhaustion washed over me. I tried my hardest to fight it, but I eventually lost consciousness. When I opened my eyes, Liam was nowhere to be seen. I jumped off the couch, sprinting around barefoot in a sheer panic. Until I violently pushed open the bathroom door. My heart dropped from my throat back into my chest. But my sanity completely abandoned me the second I saw him stepping out of the shower. I lunged at him. I had no technique, just biting and nipping aimlessly, desperate to leave marks on his skin. My heart was thrashing inside my chest like a trapped deer. I used all my strength to cling to him like an octopus, terrified he would peel me off and throw me away. In a daze, I heard Liam let out a helpless sigh, and then a strong arm wrapped around my waist, lifting me up. “You really are a psycho. But I like it.” Liked what? Before I could process his words, he bit down on my neck, and the tables were completely turned. I was starting to believe Mia’s words more and more. To a man, love and lust really were two entirely separate things. Afterwards, as the heavy fog of passion receded, Liam leaned against the headboard, studying me. “Harper, I’m seriously beginning to suspect you’ve been possessed by a demon.” Having known me for so long, it wasn’t surprising he was suspicious. I was acting completely out of character. “Yep,” I nodded solemnly. “A lust demon.” Liam narrowed his eyes. “Why didn’t this lust demon go possess someone else?” I tilted my head, pretending to think. “Probably because you’re the only one around here who’s easy bait.” I grabbed my phone to order delivery, but Liam snatched it out of my hand. “What? You cook for me to trick me into your bed, use me up, and now you’re brushing me off with takeout?” I ignored him. Half an hour later, the delivery guy knocked on my door. Liam stared at the yellow pharmacy bag in my hand, his pupils shrinking violently. When he saw me pull out a tiny box of Plan B, he completely snapped. He lunged forward, grabbing my chin. “Harper! What the hell are you doing? You’re taking that trash?” I managed to force the words out. “Did you want me to have a Vance heir for you?” Rage painted Liam’s face; even the edges of his eyebrows seemed to vibrate with fury. His grip on my jaw tightened. “You have the guts to pull a stunt like this, but you’re afraid of having a kid?” “You’re hurting me!” I wrenched my face away from his grip, knowing he was genuinely livid. So, I spun a lie that sounded reasonable enough. “Of course I want to have a Vance heir. But I just remembered I took a lot of strong antibiotics a few days ago for a cold.” I frowned at him. “What? Did you actually want me to get pregnant so I could blackmail you?” Liam looked away, his voice freezing over. “In your dreams. You greedy woman.” “Liam, you’re not usually like this with me! Yes, I initiated it, but if you really didn’t want to, I couldn’t have forced you!” Liam was furious. I thought he would storm out the front door. Instead, he just walked into the guest room and slammed the door with a loud bang. Hah. He really was keeping his promise. It almost made me feel bad.

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Ethan is five years older than me, but I never called him “brother.” I watched him go through girlfriend after girlfriend. With every single one, I’d politely call them “sister-in-law.” On my twenty-second birthday, I waited all day. Ethan never showed up. I made a wish: to never, ever like him again. After my birthday ended, I went downstairs to throw out the trash and saw a familiar silhouette. It was Ethan’s best friend, Liam. “Liam? What are you doing here?” “Ethan couldn’t get away. He asked me to drop off his present for you.” “Oh. Thanks. Where’s yours?” He smiled. “I brought two. I’ll decide which one to give you after you answer my question.” “Autumn, liking him must be exhausting, right? How about you try someone else? Be my girlfriend.” 1 I stared at Liam in shock. When did he find out I liked Ethan? I thought I had hidden it perfectly. I never showed a hint of jealousy in front of Ethan. “Liam, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He pressed his lips together. He was smiling, but there was a visible tension in his eyes. “Let me rephrase that, then.” “Autumn Miller, I like you.” “I wanted to ask… would you give me a chance? Will you go out with me?” But he was Ethan’s best friend. When I first met Ethan at five years old, Liam was standing right next to him. Thinking about it, I had known Liam for seventeen years, too. I stared at his face, suddenly remembering the wish I had made tonight. Liam chuckled under my intense gaze. “Why are you looking at me like that?” “Do you think I’m causing trouble for you?” I shook my head. It wasn’t trouble, just… surprising. Liam was different from Ethan. In all the time I’d known him, I don’t think I’d ever seen him date anyone. For a brief, confusing period, I had even considered him a romantic rival for Ethan’s attention. Meanwhile, Ethan always had a woman by his side. Thinking of that felt like a needle pricking my heart. After the sharp sting faded, I looked up at him and said: “It just so happens I wished for a boyfriend tonight, and here you are, delivering yourself to my doorstep.” “Liam, you must have been sent by fate.” “So, I’ll go along with the universe. Yes, let’s date!” Liam froze. He clearly hadn’t expected me to actually say yes. He studied me for a moment, then a slow smile broke across his face. He turned and pulled a beautifully wrapped gift box from his car, handing it to me. “This one is for my girlfriend.” 2 I opened it right in front of him. It was a delicate necklace studded with crushed diamonds. It looked incredibly expensive. “Isn’t this a bit too much?” I knew his family was wealthy, but his past birthday gifts had always been on par with Ethan’s. And I always got him something similar for his birthday. Liam stepped closer and gently ruffled my hair. “For you? It’s not expensive.” As he leaned in, a faint scent of cologne drifted into my nose. It was different from Ethan’s. His was cooler, crisper—like bitter lemon packed with ice. I took a subtle step back, creating some distance. Just as I was trying to figure out how to politely decline the gift, Liam’s phone rang. “Liam, did you drop off the gift?” The night was quiet, so Ethan’s voice carried clearly from the receiver. Along with the unmistakable sound of a girl laughing in the background. “Yeah, delivered.” Liam kept his eyes fixed on me as he spoke. I suddenly felt incredibly awkward. I looked away, but my ears were still glued to the conversation. “Good. I tried calling Autumn earlier but she didn’t pick up. Thought she might be mad at me.” Liam let out a low chuckle. “She’s not. She went downstairs to take out the trash and forgot her phone.” “Makes sense. She’s too soft; she never gets mad at me.” “Wait a minute. How do you know she doesn’t have her phone? Is she right there with you? Put her on.” I snapped my head back, terrified Liam would hand me the phone. I had just agreed to be his girlfriend. Talking to Ethan right now… the thought alone made me cringe. To my surprise, Liam turned slightly away, lowering his voice. “It’s not a good time for her. Just tell me what you want to say, I’ll pass it on.” “Just tell her happy birthday, and that she needs to find a boyfriend this year. Every time I take her out to eat, I have to waste breath explaining she’s not my girlfriend so people don’t get the wrong idea.” Ethan’s teasing, flippant tone laid my humiliation bare. I curled my hands into tight fists, my nails digging into my palms. Liam lowered his voice even further and gave a soft, dry laugh. “You won’t have to worry about that anymore.” Ethan paused for two seconds, his tone turning cold. “What do you mean? Is she seeing someone?” Liam stepped forward, using his free hand to grab mine. I froze, instinctively trying to pull away, but he intertwined his fingers tightly with mine. Liam looked down, locking eyes with me, and said into the phone: “Yeah. She’s with me now. She’s my girlfriend. If there’s nothing else, I’m hanging up.” 3 He hung up, but Liam didn’t let go of my hand. “Do you have any plans tomorrow?” I stared at the pavement and mumbled, “No.” “Then I’ll pick you up tomorrow and we’ll go out. It’s getting cold, you should head back up.” I nodded. The second he released my hand, I practically sprinted toward my building. Liam called out from behind me: “Autumn, you aren’t going to back out, right?” I stopped but didn’t dare turn around. “I won’t.” “Good. Because if you do, I’m going to become a very persistent stalker.” My face burned. I walked into the elevator without looking back. Once inside my apartment, I saw several missed calls from Ethan. And a barrage of text messages. [Happy birthday, Autumn.] [I got tied up with work. Liam was passing by your area on a business trip, so I asked him to drop off your gift.] [Are you and him together?] [Since when?!] [Why didn’t you tell me?] [I never even see you two talk. How are you suddenly dating?] [Did he pressure you and you were too scared to say no? Don’t worry, I’ll talk to him for you.] I stared at the messages. My chest felt tight. I couldn’t pinpoint exactly what I was feeling. The thrill of petty revenge? Guilt toward Liam? Or was it lingering resentment and grievance? After deliberating for a long time, I just replied with a simple “Yeah.” Ethan immediately tried to call me. I didn’t want to talk to him. I hit decline. Another text popped up. [Autumn, have you really thought this through?] I have. I’ve thought through the fact that I don’t want to like you anymore. Another message arrived. [Do you even like him?] I didn’t know. The Liam I knew always maintained a polite, distant aura at our gatherings. But with his striking face and cool demeanor, he constantly attracted attention. Tonight, he was the one who confessed to me. Alongside the surprise, I felt a little panicked. Now that I was calm, I realized agreeing to date him had been impulsive. But Liam might not be a bad choice. When I didn’t reply, Ethan called again. I accidentally answered it. “Autumn, are you really with Liam?” Ethan’s voice was laced with panic. So he can panic too? I gave a low “Mhm.” I heard him curse in frustration. “He forced you, didn’t he? That bastard knows you’re basically my sister, and he still made a move!” “Autumn, you don’t need to be afraid of him. I’ll go talk to him—” I cut him off. “I’m not afraid of him. He said he liked me, so I said yes.” And you have never once said you liked me. So, why are you so angry? Ethan’s tirade stopped abruptly. Followed by the sound of something shattering. Then, a woman’s startled scream in the background, asking him what was wrong. Suddenly, all the complicated emotions swirling inside me just… vanished. Ethan could belong to any woman. But he would never belong to me. I should have seen that clearly a long time ago. I looked down at the necklace Liam had given me. I spoke softly into the phone: “Ethan, I thought you would be happy for me.” I used to call him by his full name, Ethan. And he would scold me for being disrespectful. He complained about why I called Liam “Liam” but just called him “Ethan.” But now that I was finally addressing him properly, he was still unhappy. There was rustling on the other end, and Ethan’s voice was strained. “Autumn, wait for me. I’m driving back right now. We’ll talk face to face.” Right as the call ended, a text from Liam arrived. [Autumn, if Ethan comes looking for you, don’t go soft on him, okay?] [Do me a favor. Just date me for a week, at least.] I imagined the expression on Liam’s face as he typed that. Probably a mix of helpless exasperation and a faint, indulgent fondness. I couldn’t help but smile. I typed back a single word: [Okay.] 4 The next morning, around nine, Liam called to ask if I was awake. I was still half-asleep. “What’s up, Liam?” I heard a soft chuckle through the speaker. “You slept and forgot everything already?” The memory of agreeing to our date hit me like a ton of bricks. I shot up in bed. “Ah! I didn’t forget. I’m getting up right now!” Liam’s laugh deepened. “It’s okay, no rush. Just let me know when you’re ready.” After hanging up, my heart was racing. I covered my face, groaning in regret. Every other time I had seen Liam, Ethan had been there. Oh right. Ethan. He said he was coming back to see me today. The more I thought about it, the more chaotic my brain felt. I didn’t know what had possessed him to react so violently to the news of me dating Liam. It wasn’t like he liked me. Why did he care who I was with? Especially when I clearly heard another woman’s voice next to him on the phone last night. I took a deep breath, adjusted my mindset, and muted Ethan’s notifications. I forced myself to stop thinking about him. Since I had agreed to date Liam, I needed to focus on Liam. When I finally got dressed and went downstairs, I saw Liam’s car parked out front. He was leaning casually against the door frame. Wearing a tailored cashmere coat, his posture was relaxed and elegant. His typically stoic face broke into a warm smile the second he saw me. He walked toward me. “Liam, I’m so sorry. I overslept.” He gave a noncommittal hum. “So, how are you going to make it up to me?” I definitely hadn’t expected him to say that. I froze. “Uh… I’ll buy you lunch?” He smiled and reached out to take my hand. “Sure. But I’d rather you agree to another condition.” I had no idea what condition he was going to propose. But showing up late to our very first date was incredibly rude. I braced myself and agreed. “Alright, tell me. As long as it’s something I can do.” “Change how you address me. Stop calling me like we’re just friends.” “Huh? What should I call you then?” “Liam.” (In a more intimate, affectionate tone) After he said it, he looked down at me. His face held a faint, eager anticipation. I repeated his name in my head. But when it came time to say it out loud, it felt like the word was burning my tongue. “L-Liam.” My voice was barely a whisper. But he heard it. The smile on his lips grew wider, and he responded with utmost seriousness. “Yeah. I’m here.” Putting our new “relationship” aside for a second… Liam’s smile was lethally attractive. Especially when you knew he was smiling because of you. It made me incredibly shy. My face flushed, and I quickly changed the subject. “Let’s go eat. I’m starving.” Without another word, Liam took my hand. He seemed to really like intertwining our fingers. He had held my hand the exact same way last night when I agreed to date him. I still wasn’t quite used to it. After lunch, Liam took me to an art exhibition. “Liam, aren’t you here on a business trip? If you’re busy with the company, we don’t have to do this. You can head back.” His family wanted him to take over their corporation. But he had insisted on starting his own business first, before he turned thirty. At past gatherings, he would always just drop in for a bit and leave early. Even while he was there, he was constantly replying to emails and taking calls. In my mind, he was a CEO who worked harder than a pack mule. But during lunch today, he hadn’t checked his phone once. And now he was taking me to an art gallery. To my surprise, Liam casually mentioned that he had finished all his work last night. His time today belonged entirely to me. I blushed, pretending to be unbothered. “Liam, I’m not a kid. You don’t have to babysit me.” “Oh. Well, I am a kid. And I need you to babysit me.” God, my face is on fire.

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I was the glitch in a family of masterpieces. My parents and sister treated my existence like a long-running inside joke. My mother called me her “little eyesore,” and my sister once suggested I start a TikTok channel dedicated to “ugly-girl transformations,” minus the transformation part. Even the relatives couldn’t help themselves during the holidays: “Are you sure she’s yours, Robert? She doesn’t have a single one of your features.” For twenty-three years, I played the part of the family clown because it was easier than being the family disappointment. I worked three jobs, saved every cent, and finally scraped together twenty thousand dollars for the corrective jaw surgery and orthodontics I’d needed since middle school. I went to the clinic to finalize the surgery date, my heart light for the first time in my life. But the receptionist looked at me with a mix of pity and exhaustion. “Ms. Miller, your mother came in this morning. She caused such a scene we couldn’t even open the doors for two hours.” I froze, the blood draining from my face. “She demanded a refund on the grounds that you’re a minor—which we told her you aren’t—but then she started screaming about malpractice and ‘scamming a girl who’s beyond help.’ To get her to leave, the manager processed the refund. The twenty thousand is back in her account.” I called her, my hands shaking so hard I nearly dropped the phone. My mother’s voice was breezy, as if she were discussing the weather. “Oh, Casey, let’s be real. No surgeon can fix what nature messed up. That money was better spent on something that actually appreciates in value. Your sister needed a new bag for her firm’s gala—something that actually matches her face.” The call ended. My reflection stared back at me from the darkened phone screen. The harsh truth finally sank in: in this family, if you weren’t beautiful, you weren’t a daughter. You were just an expense. 1. “Look, Casey, your mom was a nightmare. We just couldn’t handle it,” the receptionist said, her eyes darting away. She looked at me like I was a contagion she might catch if she stayed too close. I couldn’t even process the words. My vision blurred, and the first tear hit the counter with a quiet thud. “Please, don’t start crying here,” she whispered, her voice sharpening with disdain. “She already chased off three of our high-end clients this morning, yelling about how ‘ugly people shouldn’t bother trying.’ We’re the ones who should be crying over lost commissions.” She took two steps back, a clear gesture of social distancing from my misery. I wanted to scream. I wanted to tell her that it was my money, my sweat, my blood. But my parents’ voices, echoes from a thousand childhood dinners, choked me: “Stop making those faces, Casey. When you cry, you look even more hideous.” The shame was a physical weight, dragging my shoulders down. I didn’t fight. I just turned and fled. On the Uber ride home, I opened Instagram. My sister, Madeline, had posted a new photo. Heart-shaped face, doe eyes, skin like filtered silk. She was radiant, the kind of beauty that made the vintage Chanel bag on her arm look like a mere accessory. She was sandwiched between Mom and Dad, all three of them beaming. The caption read: “Twin-check! Can you even tell who’s the mom and who’s the daughter? #FamilyGenes #GalaReady” The comments were a sea of fire emojis and heart-eyes. “God really has favorites,” one read. “That bone structure is elite.” Then, I saw Madeline’s reply to a friend who asked if there were any more of them at home: “You wouldn’t say that if you met my sister. We have one little genetic glitch in the basement! ~” She had attached a “throwback” photo of us from last Christmas. She had her arm around my neck, pulling me into the frame. I looked trapped. My skin was sallow, my jaw was noticeably misaligned—a pronounced underbite—and my eyes were puffed from a secret cry in the bathroom. Standing next to Madeline, I didn’t just look plain. I looked like a cautionary tale. In a family of high bridges and wide eyes, I was the anomaly. Every time we went out, strangers would stop my mother to gush over Madeline. “She’s a doll! She took the best of both of you.” Then their eyes would slide to me, and the smile would falter into a confused, polite grimace. “And… is this the younger one?” My parents’ faces would drop. My dad would let out a dry, forced chuckle. “Yeah, this one? We don’t know who she took after. If I hadn’t been in the delivery room, I’d swear there was a mix-up at the hospital. We just call her the ‘Little Eyesore.’” As a child, I didn’t understand the concept of aesthetics. I just knew that I was the only one kept out of the light. “Don’t eat that, Casey. You’re already an eyesore; being fat will just make it a tragedy.” “You want to take ballet with Madeline? You’d look like a toad hopping around. Let’s not embarrass ourselves.” “That pink dress looks garish on you. Keep it for the house. Don’t go outside and shame me.” They said these things with a smile, like they were doing me a favor by being “honest.” When I was fifteen, I saved up my allowance to buy some drugstore makeup. Madeline caught me trying to cover my acne and contour my jawline. She took photos of me mid-blend, laughing until she cried. “Look at you! You look like a clown in a horror movie. It actually makes it worse!” My mom walked in and swiped the products off the vanity, throwing them into the trash. “Focus on your grades, Casey. You don’t have the face for vanity. Next month’s allowance is cancelled since you want to waste it on trash.” Belittlement, insults, mockery… I had lived in that cold shadow for twenty years. I had worked myself to the bone to save for this surgery, thinking I could finally start my real life. The Uber pulled up to our driveway. I was still crying, but the sorrow was being overtaken by a white-hot, jagged rage. I marched toward the front door, ready to demand my life back. But as I reached the door, I heard laughter coming from the living room. “You guys won’t believe it,” my mother’s voice rang out, bright and amused. “Our little eyesore actually thought she could ‘fix’ herself. She’s been hoarding money for plastic surgery!” 2. The living room was full of people. A few aunts and cousins had stopped by for a pre-holiday drink. My mother was leaning back, wine glass in one hand, gesturing dramatically with the other. “The poor thing. I told her, ‘Honey, even a master sculptor couldn’t find a jawline in that mess.’ Thank God I caught it before she threw twenty thousand dollars down the drain!” An aunt chimed in, “I always wondered why she was being so stingy lately. To think, surgery! It’s so dangerous, moving bones around. She’s already… well, plain. Imagine if they messed up and her face stayed paralyzed? It would be a disaster.” Another aunt, Sarah, tried to play the diplomat. She cleared her throat awkwardly. “Oh, come on, Diana. Casey isn’t… I mean, she’s very… hardworking. She has a very ‘salt of the earth’ look. The kind of girl who’s built for a long, quiet marriage.” The room went silent. Aunt Sarah looked down at her drink, sensing she’d failed to find a genuine compliment. Then, my parents and the other relatives exchanged looks and burst into laughter. “‘Salt of the earth’!” my mom wheezed, slapping her knee. “That’s one way to put it! She’s always been our little comedy act.” I stood in the doorway, the air in my lungs turning to ice. My blood felt like it was rushing backward, pounding against my skull. This was the family ritual. Madeline was the trophy to be polished; I was the punchline to be shared. “How are you so different from the rest of them? Were you a changeling?” the relatives would ask me every Thanksgiving. And my mom would lean in, whispering just loud enough for everyone to hear: “Don’t tease her, she knows. She knows she’s the ‘special’ one. She tries so hard, though. Last week she tried to style her hair like Madeline’s. It was like putting a tiara on a gargoyle.” Every year, my pain was served as an appetizer. I couldn’t take it anymore. I stepped into the room, my voice a raw, jagged edge. “What gives you the right? That was my money. Give it back to me!” Every head turned. The silence was deafening. I felt exposed, like they were stripping me bare with their judgment. The old, familiar inferiority began to coil around my throat, choking me. “Oh, look at that,” my mother said, her smile not wavering. “Our little eyesore is growing a backbone. Don’t be so sensitive, Casey. We’re just talking.” The aunts crowded around me, their eyes sparkling with that fake, performative concern. “So, what were you going to get done, honey? Tell us. You can’t just go doing these things in secret. You’ll get scammed without us to look out for you.” Madeline came down the stairs then, humming a tune. She saw the scene and smirked. “She wanted to get her jaw broken and reset. She thinks if her teeth are straight, she’ll suddenly be a Hadid.” “Surgery for your teeth?” one cousin asked. “But Casey, your teeth are… fine. They’re functional. Your sister, now, she had that slight overlap when she was ten—remember, Diana? You spent a fortune on those specialized Swedish braces. Good thing you did, look at her now.” The conversation immediately pivoted back to Madeline. They circled her like she was a holy relic, praising her smile, her skin, her “perfect” recovery from a minor childhood flaw. I stood there, tears streaming down my face. My voice was a hoarse whisper. “The doctor said… he said my underbite could have been fixed with a simple retainer when I was seven. It would have cost almost nothing back then.” But you never looked at me. You never cared. When Madeline’s teeth were even a fraction of a millimeter out of alignment, it was a family emergency. Countless specialist visits, thousands of dollars. But with me, they just watched as my face grew lopsided, my jaw protruding more every year. They didn’t feel pity. They didn’t feel guilt. They just felt amused. “You’re getting weirder looking every year, Casey.” “Little Eyesore, that nickname really fits you more and more, doesn’t it?” 3. The years of accumulated bitterness finally overflowed. I wiped my face with the back of my hand, but the tears kept coming. The relatives started to look uncomfortable. They shifted in their seats, offering half-hearted, patronizing comforts. “Oh, Casey, you’re not ugly. You’re… unique. Don’t cry. It makes your face all blotchy.” They nudged each other, their eyes full of that cruel, “can you believe this drama?” sparkle. My mother’s patience snapped. She let out a sharp tsk. “What is this performance? Who are you trying to impress with these theatrics? It’s the holidays, for God’s sake. Don’t be embarrassing.” “Why?” I sobbed, my ability to think rationally gone. I just needed to bleed the pain out. “Why do you always call me that? Why have you spent my whole life making sure I knew I was the ‘ugly’ one?” My mom actually laughed. She looked at my dad, then back at me. “Are you serious? Look in a mirror, Casey. Have you no self-awareness? Madeline, go get a mirror. Let’s let her stand next to you and see if she still has questions.” She didn’t stop. She kept twisting the knife. “Look, we’re just being honest. We’re trying to give you a sense of reality so you don’t go out there making a fool of yourself. Look at what you’re wearing—that sweater makes you look lumpy. When you’re… aesthetically challenged… you have to work harder at your style, not just give up. People will laugh at you.” I felt like I couldn’t breathe. My chest was a hollowed-out cavern. “Yes,” I choked out. “I hate you. I hate both of you.” I hate the casual way you crushed me. Since I was a toddler, they treated Madeline like a porcelain doll. If she walked across the room, they’d rave: “Look at Madeline’s posture! She’s like a little swan.” I could be sitting perfectly still, and my father would look at me with a sneer. “Look at her, slouching. With that face, the least she could do is sit up straight so she doesn’t look so… pathetic.” The word “ugly” was my shadow. In high school, while Madeline was the homecoming queen, I was the girl with the cystic acne and the oily hair. My parents didn’t buy me skin treatments; they bought me a lecture. “My god, what is happening to your face? It’s genuinely hard to look at. What are we going to do with you?” “Casey, get some bangs. Cover that forehead.” “Just wear your oversized hoodies. At least they’re neutral.” I listened to them. I believed them. I developed a permanent slouch. I kept my head down. I wore masks long before the pandemic, just to hide. I wanted to disappear. My adolescence wasn’t a time of “firsts” or “memories”; it was a long, dark tunnel of dysmorphia. I assumed every laugh I heard in the hallway was directed at me. I assumed everyone saw the “eyesore” my parents saw. When I went away to college, three states away, I started to breathe. New friends would pull my hair back, or ask why I always wore a mask. “You’re not ugly, Casey. You’re just… tired. Let’s try some tinted moisturizer.” Encouraged, I tried. I grew out the bangs. I learned to use a brow pencil. But even when I felt “pretty,” the ghost of my mother’s voice was there. If a group of girls laughed at a nearby table, I’d spiral. Is my foundation too thick? Can they see my jaw? Are they laughing because the ugly girl is trying too hard? The insecurity was in my marrow. I once worked up the courage to post a selfie on Instagram—heavily filtered, carefully angled. I’d forgotten to block my family. Madeline’s comment was the first one: “Oof, Casey, that makeup isn’t doing what you think it’s doing. Aren’t you afraid people will see you in person and be shocked? #Catfish” My mom’s follow-up: “You’re trying too hard to be ‘glam.’ Makeup just clogs your pores and makes your skin worse. Stick to the basics, honey.” I deleted the photo. I threw away the makeup. When I came home for the summer, my mother didn’t even say hello. She just looked at my plain face and smirked. “Oh, good. You stopped wearing that ‘slutty’ makeup. You finally realized it was a losing battle?” Madeline chimed in, “You need to lose ten pounds before you try wearing a sundress like that again, Casey. Some clothes require a certain… face… to pull them off.” 4. Little Eyesore. The “Glitch.” The “honest” advice that felt like lead weights. I looked at them—my beautiful, perfect parents and my radiant sister. They were a united front of aesthetic superiority. “You call me ‘small-minded’ and ‘antisocial,’” I yelled, my voice cracking. “But you made me this way! You told me my smile was hideous, so I stopped smiling. You told me I moved like a toad, so I stopped dancing. You told me I looked like a joke in a dress, so I stopped trying to be pretty.” Every time I tried to climb out of the hole, they stepped on my fingers. “I hate you! I hate that you did this to me!” The room went dead silent. My mother blinked, a flicker of genuine shock crossing her face, followed quickly by indignation. “You’ve got a lot of nerve,” she hissed, her voice low and dangerous. “We gave you everything. You’ve never wanted for food or a roof. And this is the thanks we get? Because we were ‘honest’ about your looks? A stranger would have been much crueler.” I clenched my fists so hard my nails drew blood. “I didn’t want honesty! I wanted a mother! I wanted someone to tell me I was smart, or kind, or anything other than a disappointment to the family photo album!” “Oh, please,” my mother scoffed. “You’ve had a perfectly fine life. Stop acting like a martyr.” I wanted to laugh. A fine life? Madeline’s closet was a boutique. Mine was a collection of hand-me-downs and clearance-rack neutrals. Madeline had private coaches for everything—piano, dance, tennis. I was told we “couldn’t afford” the extracurriculars I wanted, while Mom bought Madeline a four-thousand-dollar gown for a debutante ball she didn’t even win. I walked to school alone from the age of six because Madeline told my parents, “She’s so weird looking, people will think she’s my maid or something. It’s embarrassing to be seen with her.” I spent twenty years walking in the rain while they picked her up in a warm car. I spent twenty years being the “before” picture in their minds. “You’re biased!” I screamed. “You’re so obsessed with her beauty that you’ve treated me like trash for two decades! Why? Just because of a jawline? Just because I didn’t get your nose?” The relatives began to whisper. My parents were starting to look rattled by the public spectacle. “Go to your room, Casey,” my dad said, his voice a stern rumble. “You’re making a scene.” “No! Give me my money! You stole twenty thousand dollars from me to buy a bag for the daughter you actually like!” Slap. The sound echoed like a gunshot. My mother had swung with everything she had. My head snapped to the side, and my ear began to ring. “I didn’t raise a thief,” she spat, though she was the one who had taken my funds. “I raised a daughter. If you want to act like a stranger, then leave. Get out of my house.” I looked at her. Even in her rage, she was stunning. My father stood behind her, his handsome face set in a mask of cold disappointment. Madeline stood to the side, her arms crossed, looking bored. They were a set. And I was the packing material. “Fine,” I said, my voice finally steadying into something cold and dead. “Keep the money. Consider it the ‘ugly tax’ I’m paying to finally be rid of you. I’m leaving. And you never have to worry about your family photos being ruined by me ever again.”

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The daughter I raised with my own two hands stood in the center of the ballroom at my husband’s sixtieth birthday gala and announced to the three hundred guests: “Starting today, my son’s legal surname has been changed to Miller. He’s officially a Miller now, just like his father!” A tomb-like silence swept through the hall. Beside me, my husband, Arthur, gripped his wine glass so hard his knuckles turned a ghostly white. Our daughter, Mia, seemed utterly oblivious to the atmospheric shift. She leaned into her husband, Nathan Miller, clinging to his arm with a saccharine smile. “Dad, Mom, you aren’t upset, are you? Nathan is an only child. The Miller legacy needs an heir, too.” Nathan—the man I once thought was a humble, steady soul—looked at us with a glint of predatory triumph in his eyes. It wasn’t an explanation; it was a coup. I slowly set my silverware down. The clink of porcelain against the table sounded like a gunshot. “Mia,” I said, my voice as steady as a deep, dark lake. “Are you absolutely sure you’ve thought this through?” She flinched slightly under my gaze but quickly puffed out her chest. “Of course! Mom, it’s the twenty-first century. Does it really matter whose name the kid carries?” [Does it matter? Of course it matters.] [She was telling me that my grandson no longer belonged to our family.] [She was telling everyone in this room that the legacy Arthur had built from nothing—a name that stood for integrity and power—stopped with us. She was declaring us a dead end.] 1 The atmosphere of the gala plummeted from celebratory to sub-zero in the span of a single sentence. Around us, our friends and business associates exchanged looks. The whispers began to swarm like hornets. “Wait, what’s happening? Wasn’t the boy named after Arthur?” “How incredibly disrespectful… to do this in public, on his sixtieth? It’s a slap in the face.” Arthur’s face had gone from a flushed red to a sickly, ashen grey. He was a man who had fought his way to the top of the tech industry, a man defined by his dignity. He had never been humiliated like this, let alone by the daughter he worshipped. His hand trembled, the red wine in his glass rippling dangerously. Mia, however, kept pouring gasoline on the fire. She nudged Nathan playfully. “Oh, Dad, don’t be like that. You’re acting like we committed a crime. Nathan and I talked it over—it’s what’s best for our little family. Besides, I’m still your daughter, and Leo is still your grandson. That never changes.” [Never changes?] [No. Starting tonight, everything changes.] Nathan finally spoke. He adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, the light reflecting off the lenses to hide his calculated expression. He addressed us with a performative respect that didn’t reach his eyes. “Exactly, Arthur, Evelyn. Mia is a Miller now. It’s only natural for our son to carry my family name. We’re all one family, after all. What’s mine is hers.” [One family?] [You live in a house we bought. You work a high-salaried “consultant” job at Arthur’s company where you do nothing. You drive a hundred-thousand-dollar Porsche that I signed for. And now you’re systematically stripping the “Arthur” name away from the next generation to claim the inheritance for your own bloodline?] I saw it clearly now. This wasn’t a discussion. This was an ambush. They had chosen his sixtieth birthday, in front of every influential person we knew, to nail us to the pillar of “the end of the line.” They gambled that we would swallow our pride to save face. They thought that because Mia was our only child, we would eventually roll over. They thought we had no other choice. My fingertips went numb with rage. A dizzying heat rushed to my head. But I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry. I took a slow, deep breath, pushing the tidal wave of emotion back down. And then, I smiled. It was a soft, thin laugh that sliced through the murmurs, silencing the room instantly. Mia and Nathan’s smug expressions faltered. I stood up slowly, raising my glass to the room. “Tonight is about celebrating Arthur’s sixty years of life and legacy,” I said, my voice carrying clearly to the back of the hall. “Thank you all for being here.” I paused, my eyes locking onto theirs. They were starting to look uneasy. “And just now, our daughter and son-in-law announced a ‘joyous’ development. They’ve decided to focus entirely on the Miller legacy. As parents, we are… enlightened by this news.” I leaned into the word enlightened. “Since you two have made such clear plans for your ‘little family’s’ future, it’s only fair that we start making clear plans for our own.” The color drained from Mia’s face. I didn’t look at her. I turned to Arthur. His eyes were a storm of fury and hurt, but beneath it, I saw him catch my drift. I gave him a small, resolute nod. “Arthur, dear? I think it’s time we took back the keys to that new Cayenne we got for Nathan.” The room was so quiet you could hear the air conditioning hum. “Since Leo is a Miller heir now, destined to build the Miller empire, it would be embarrassing for him to be driven around in a car paid for by the family he’s disassociated from. People might think the Millers are struggling if they have to rely on their in-laws for a ride.” I paused for effect. “And we should probably deactivate the business credit cards. A grown man building his own dynasty shouldn’t be using his mother-in-law’s platinum card for his lunches, right?” Nathan’s polished mask shattered. He looked like he’d been stripped naked in public. His face turned a bruised shade of purple. Mia gasped, her voice trembling. “Mom… what… what are you saying?” What am I saying? I’m speaking English, Mia. Keep up. [You wanted the title? Fine. But you don’t get the perks that come with the name you just threw away. If you’re going to stab us in the back, don’t expect us to keep sharpening the knife for you.] I walked around the table until I was standing directly in front of them. Nathan was vibrating with suppressed rage. I held out my hand, my expression perfectly neutral. “The keys, Nathan. Now.” 2 Nathan froze. His hand instinctively went to his pocket, where the heavy fob of the Porsche sat. That car was his trophy. It was his ticket into the country clubs, his proof that he had “arrived.” Taking it back here, in front of everyone, was a social execution. “Mom…” Mia scrambled toward me, grabbing my arm, her voice thick with tears. “What are you doing? It’s just a name! Is it really worth all this? You’re humiliating him!” [Humiliating him? He spent weeks planning this “Red Wedding” of a birthday announcement. He humilated your father in front of his peers. Where was your concern for our dignity then?] I shrugged her hand off coldly. “I’m doing this out of respect for the Miller name,” I said. My eyes were twin needles, sewing Nathan to the floor. “Mr. Miller, do I need to call security to assist you?” “You—!” Nathan’s composure evaporated. The venom in his eyes was naked now. The guests were breathless. This was no longer a party; it was a televised war. I could feel the weight of their stares—some sympathetic, some hungry for the drama. I didn’t care. Reputation is earned, but respect is enforced. If they were bold enough to stage a coup at a birthday party, they would be bold enough to start counting down the days until we died so they could claim the estate. Arthur stood up. He walked over and took my hand, his grip a solid anchor. “My wife is right,” he said, his voice echoing with the authority of a man who had led thousands. “The keys. Give them back.” Nathan’s jaw worked, a vein throbbing in his temple. He looked like a cornered animal. Finally, under the crushing weight of three hundred pairs of eyes, he reached into his pocket. With a jerky, violent motion, he slammed the keys into my palm. I didn’t even flinch. I gripped the keys and turned to the room, giving a polite, shallow bow. “I apologize for the family drama. It seems the celebrations must end early. Arthur and I will make it up to you all soon.” I tucked my arm through Arthur’s, and we walked out of the ballroom without a single look back. Behind us, Mia’s hysterical sobbing and Nathan’s muffled roar of frustration echoed against the gold-leafed ceiling. We didn’t stop. The drive home was a haunting silence. Arthur’s hands were clamped onto the steering wheel, his knuckles white. I could feel the tremors of his heart through the seat. He was holding it in—the betrayal of his only child, the public shaming. I tossed the Porsche keys into the center console and pulled out my phone. “Mr. Higgins? It’s Evelyn. Deactivate every supplementary credit card under Arthur’s account immediately. Yes, all of them. Effective five minutes ago.” I hung up and turned to my husband. “Arthur. Let it out.” The light turned red. The car came to a halt. Arthur slumped over the wheel, his broad shoulders shaking. This man, who was a mountain to the world, let out a low, broken sound—a wounded animal’s cry. I didn’t try to stop him. I just rubbed his back. I knew that the house we had built—the home filled with laughter and memories of a “sweet” daughter—was gone. After a long while, Arthur looked up, his eyes bloodshot. “Evelyn… I failed. I spoiled her until she turned into this.” “We both did,” I corrected him. “We thought giving her everything would teach her gratitude. We forgot that greed is a beast that only gets hungrier the more you feed it.” The light turned green. Arthur shifted the car into gear, but his expression had shifted, too. The grief was still there, but it was being paved over by a cold, hard resolve. “You’re right. If they want to play dirty, they’ve picked the wrong opponents.” He picked up his phone and dialed. “Mr. Whitaker? This is Arthur. I need you at the office tomorrow at 9:00 AM. My wife and I need to restructure everything—assets, trusts, the whole estate. We’re starting over.” [Plan B was officially in motion.] 3 The next morning, before we could even leave for the lawyer’s office, the doorbell started ringing like a fire alarm. I knew exactly who it was. Arthur’s face darkened. He started toward the door, but I blocked his path. “Don’t,” I said. “Let them ring. Let them wear themselves out.” [Opening that door would bring the battlefield into our sanctuary. I wasn’t going to let their hysterics stain my floors.] Through the heavy oak door, Mia’s muffled screams were audible. “Dad! Mom! Open up! You can’t do this to us!” “We made a mistake! Let’s just talk! Please!” That was Nathan, sounding significantly less like a conquering hero this morning. I led Arthur to the breakfast nook. We sat there, sipping coffee and eating toast with practiced nonchalance, as if the circus on our porch didn’t exist. Arthur looked at me, his nerves finally beginning to settle. He took a bite of toast, though I could tell he couldn’t taste it. “Your composure is terrifying,” he managed a weak smile. “It’s not composure, Arthur. It’s the coldness of a heart that’s finally seen the truth.” I took a sip of my latte. “Remember: as of yesterday, we are no longer their parents. We are their creditors. And they owe us a debt they can never repay.” My phone buzzed on the table—a number I didn’t recognize. I hit speaker. “Hello? Is this Mia’s mother?” A sharp, screeching female voice pierced the air. I frowned. “Who is this?” “This is Nathan’s mother! My son and daughter-in-law are standing on your doorstep in the freezing cold! How can you be so heartless? What kind of parents are you?!” Ah, the mother-in-law. The cavalry has arrived. I kept my voice flat. “Mrs. Miller, I think you’re confused. First, this is my home. Who I allow in is my prerogative. Second, they are adults. If they’re cold, they can go to a cafe. Third, and most importantly: your son has been living off my wealth, driving my cars, and occupying a ghost position at my husband’s firm for years. As his mother, you should be embarrassed, not indignant. Where did you get the audacity to call me?” There was a stunned silence on the other end. She clearly hadn’t expected me to bite back. A few seconds later, she shrieked, “How dare you! Nathan is a brilliant man! He’s the father of your grandson! So what if he changed the name? It’s just a name! You have so much money—why are you being so petty? You’re just trying to humiliate us because you’re bitter you don’t have a male heir of your own!” Clang. Arthur slammed his fork onto the table. That last line—”no male heir”—hit him like a poisoned dart. I squeezed his hand and leaned into the phone, my voice dropping an octave. “Mrs. Miller, thank you for the reminder. Whether or not our legacy continues is none of your concern.” “Furthermore, I’m giving you formal notice. Your son has forty-eight hours to vacate the apartment we provide for him. If he’s not out, I’ll have the sheriff’s department handle the eviction.” “And as for his job? He’s fired. Tell him not to bother showing up today. Or ever.” I ended the call and blocked the number. One clean motion. Arthur stared at me. There was shock in his eyes, but mostly, there was a sense of liberated relief. “Evelyn… you really did it.” “I did what we should have done years ago.” I stood up. “Let’s go. Mr. Whitaker is waiting.” We drove out through the garage, never opening the front door. In the rearview mirror, I saw Mia and Nathan chasing the car, their faces twisted in panic. Behind them stood a frumpy, middle-aged woman—presumably the mother—shaking her fist at our departing taillights. I looked away. [This is only the beginning.] At the law firm, Mr. Whitaker listened to our story with a grim expression. “Arthur, Evelyn… are you certain about this? Setting up a living trust, moving all assets into it, and leaving the primary beneficiary… blank?” “Yes,” Arthur said, his voice like iron. “My daughter has proven she isn’t fit to steward a single cent of what I’ve built.” “And the secondary beneficiary?” Whitaker asked. I looked at Arthur. He looked at me. We shared a silent, secret smile. I turned to the lawyer. “Mr. Whitaker, I also need you to contact the best reproductive health clinic in the city. I want an appointment with their head of department for a full evaluation.” Whitaker froze, adjusting his glasses as if he’d misheard. “Evelyn, are you saying…?” “I’m saying,” I said calmly, “that my husband and I are going to have another child.” “A child who will actually carry the name. A child who will be raised to know the value of a legacy.” 4 The silence in Whitaker’s office was absolute, broken only by the faint hum of the HVAC system. He looked at us, his eyes traveling from shock to confusion, and finally to a strange kind of respect. “I understand,” he nodded, asking no further questions. “I’ll set everything in motion. The trust documents will be ready for your signatures by the end of the week.” When we stepped out of the office, the sun was blindingly bright. Arthur took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose, exhaling a breath he seemed to have been holding for decades. “Evelyn… I never imagined we’d end up here.” “Neither did I,” I said, tucking my arm into his. “But now that we are here, we walk forward with our heads held high.” [Better to build a new world from scratch than to drown in the mud of the old one.] By that afternoon, the clinic had already called. They were efficient, which I appreciated. When we returned home, the porch was finally empty. Mia and Nathan must have retreated to lick their wounds. But the house felt different—hollow, echoing with the ghosts of yesterday’s screams. I went straight upstairs to Mia’s old room. It was still the “princess suite” we’d designed for her, filled with expensive gifts we’d brought back from every corner of the globe. Arthur followed me, his eyes dimming as he looked at the childhood mementos. I didn’t hesitate. I pulled several large packing boxes out of the closet. “Clear it out,” I told him. He blinked. “Evelyn… everything?” “Whatever doesn’t belong here needs to go.” I started grabbing designer dresses and handbags from her closet, tossing them into the boxes without looking at the labels. These things were worth a fortune. They were monuments to how much we had adored her. [Now I realize they weren’t gifts of love. They were just kibble for a parasite.] As I cleared her desk, I knocked over a stack of books. A pink leather journal fell to the floor. I picked it up. It wasn’t locked. Driven by a dark curiosity, I opened it. Arthur leaned in over my shoulder. The handwriting was unmistakably Mia’s. The most recent entry was dated two days before the gala. [Nathan’s mom is nagging again. She says Leo is almost three months old and we can’t wait any longer on the name change. She’s right. My parents only have me; everything they own will be mine eventually anyway. If we change it now, it’ll make Nathan and his mom feel secure. He’s an only child, too—he needs to feel like he’s providing a legacy.] [I’m a little worried Dad will be mad, but Nathan says, “What can they really do?” We have their only grandson. They won’t cut us off for real. They’ll throw a tantrum for a few days, and then we’ll bring the baby over, let them hold him, and they’ll melt. Then we can ask for the seed money for Nathan’s new firm. No one will look down on him then.] [Nathan has a plan. He’s going to announce it at the gala. In front of all those people, my parents will have to play along for the sake of their reputation. Nathan is so smart. He really knows how to handle them.] Every word was a serrated blade, sawing through what was left of my heart. It wasn’t a whim. It wasn’t a “misunderstanding.” It was a calculated siege. We weren’t parents to them; we were livestock to be harvested. They wanted our money, our status, and finally, they wanted to erase our name while keeping our gold. [Feeding on the legacy. The phrase turned to ash in my mouth.] Arthur was shaking with such fury he snatched the journal from my hands and ripped it into shreds. “Animals! They’re both animals!” His eyes were bloodshot, like a wounded lion. I didn’t stop him. I just pulled out my phone and took photos of the torn pages before they hit the floor. I sent them to Whitaker. [Mr. Whitaker, can these be used as evidence of “subjective malice” or intent to defraud?] He replied instantly. More than enough. Rest assured, I will handle this. I deleted the photos, tucked my phone away, and went back to packing. My movements were faster now, sharper. The last shred of maternal guilt had evaporated the moment I read those words. [Perfect. Now I don’t have to feel bad about what comes next.] [Mia, Nathan… you didn’t just close the door. You burned the house down yourselves.] 5 The next day, Arthur and I were at the fertility center. The lead specialist was a woman in her fifties, Dr. Chen. She was calm, clinical, and didn’t judge. She reviewed our medical histories and current physicals. “Arthur, Evelyn, based on your labs, you’re both in remarkably good health for your age,” Dr. Chen said, looking at me. “Specifically you, Evelyn. At fifty, your ovarian reserve isn’t completely depleted. That’s rare.” Arthur and I shared a look. A spark of hope ignited in the dark. “What are our chances, Doctor?” Arthur asked, his voice tight. “IVF at this age is a mountain to climb,” Dr. Chen said honestly. “The hormone cycles, the retrieval, the implantation—every step is a gamble. And a geriatric pregnancy carries significant risks. You have to be prepared for a war of attrition.” “We’re ready,” I said, not missing a beat. “Whatever it takes.” [I’d sign a contract with the devil himself for a fresh start. A medical battle is nothing.] Dr. Chen nodded. “Very well. Then we begin immediately. Evelyn, you’ll need to follow a strict regimen. Supplements, diet, no stress. We’ll start the first round of stimulation tomorrow.” The following weeks were a blur of needles and vials. Every day, I injected myself with hormones. I took a pharmacy’s worth of pills. My abdomen turned black and blue from the bruising. I was nauseous, exhausted, and my mood swung like a pendulum. Arthur cancelled every non-essential meeting. He was home every day by four, cooking specialized meals, rubbing my feet, and walking with me in the garden. We spoke less, but we were closer than we had ever been. we were soldiers in a trench, fighting for a common goal. Meanwhile, Mia and Nathan were spiraling. After being barred from our house, they tried the “family guilt” card. They started calling my extended family, my siblings, my cousins—anyone who would listen. “Evelyn, have you lost your mind?” my sister called to berate me. “Mia is your only child! How can you be so cruel over a surname?” “The poor girl is struggling! Nathan lost his job! They have a baby!” I didn’t engage. I gave everyone the same answer: “This is a private matter. If you wish to support them financially, feel free. Otherwise, stay out of it.” Then they tried to use the baby as a weapon. Mia sent me photos and videos of Leo every single day. [Mom, Leo smiled today. He misses his grandma.] [Mom, I’m sorry. Please. Don’t you want to see him?] [Mom, if you keep ignoring me, I don’t know what I’ll do. I might just take Leo and jump off a bridge!] I looked at the photos of that innocent child—a child I once would have died for—and felt a wave of physiological revulsion. [Using your own son as a ransom note. You really are a piece of work, Mia.] I blocked her on everything. But they didn’t stop there. Since Nathan had been fired and the apartment had been seized, they had to move into Nathan’s parents’ cramped, dated house in a mediocre suburb. The transition from luxury to “normalcy” was brutal. When you’re used to spending without thinking, poverty feels like a cage. And the bars were starting to rattle.

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