Author: Momo Chan

On the very first day the “real” heiress, Chloe Miller, returned to the family, she threw all my belongings out of my bedroom. “I am Mom and Dad’s biological daughter. You’re just a fake. You can pack your bags and get out.” “Oh, by the way, before you leave, I need you to refund all the money you’ve spent in our house for the past twenty years. Let’s call it $500,000 a year. That’s ten million dollars total. Just wire it directly to my account.” I silently handed her a QR code for the “Family Reunion Queue.” “Understood, Miss Miller. But before we get to that, you need to scan this, join the queue, and wait for your identity verification.” Chloe slapped the QR code out of my hand. “Evelyn Vance! Who the hell do you think you are?! How dare you block me from reuniting with my family?!” I sighed helplessly, trying to explain. “I’m not blocking you. You just need to wait in line.” But Chloe, desperate to claim her billionaire status, refused to listen. “You think I need to wait in line?! Just wait until I find Mom and Dad! You’re going to be kicked out on the street, you imposter!” However, what Chloe didn’t know was that before her, exactly 499 other people had shown up claiming to be the long-lost daughter. My parents were so overwhelmed they had long since delegated the entire “Family Reunion” department to me. … Chloe ambushed my mother by the elevator just as she finished a board meeting. “Mom!” She dropped to her knees right there in the lobby. “I’m your real, biological daughter!” My mother didn’t even bat an eyelid. Her assistant, Mark, immediately stepped forward. “Miss, if you are here for a family reunion, please make an appointment online.” Tears streamed down Chloe’s face on command. “Mom! Look at me! I’ve suffered so much all these years…” My mother finally looked up. She glanced at her Rolex. “Thirty-six seconds. You started crying five seconds slower than the girl last month. You didn’t break the record, kid.” Chloe was dumbfounded. “What?” My mother pulled out her iPad and swiped a few times. “Applicant YM-37. Chloe Miller, twenty-two years old. Lives in a low-income housing complex on the East Side. Parents deceased. Finished college on financial aid.” Chloe’s face paled. “You… you investigated me?” My mother patted her shoulder. “Kid, your acting isn’t bad, but your lines are too cliché. I recommend you go watch Season 2 of The Crown. Their dramatic monologues are much better written than yours.” With that, she stepped into the elevator and left. At 3:00 PM, my dad went to inspect one of the Vance department stores. Chloe showed up again. This time, she changed her strategy. “Dad!” She held up a photograph. “Look, I looked exactly like you when I was a kid!” My dad took the photo and inspected it. “Nice Photoshop,” he said. “But next time, remember to make the ears a little smaller. Nobody in the Vance family has ears that big.” Chloe panicked. “This is a real picture of me as a baby!” “Kid, last year we had someone bring in a highly sophisticated AI deepfake video claiming to be my daughter.” My dad sighed. “Their tech was way more professional than yours.” He handed the photo back to her. “Go find Evelyn. She handles this department.” Chloe stomped her foot in frustration. “Dad! How can you be so heartless?!” My dad didn’t even look back. “Call me Mr. Vance.” At 8:00 PM, my grandmother’s private jet landed. Chloe had been squatting in the VIP arrivals lounge all afternoon. “Grandma!” She literally threw herself onto the floor. “I am your real granddaughter!” Grandma Vance had just gotten off a transatlantic flight and was still severely jet-lagged. She squinted at her. “What number is this one for the year?” Her bodyguard replied, “Fifty-seven, Ma’am.” Grandma nodded. “Do you have an appointment?” Chloe was stunned. “N-No…” “Then I can’t help you.” Grandma waved her hand dismissively. “Last year, a girl camped out at the airport for three days before we made an exception and squeezed her in.” She gestured for her bodyguard to help Chloe up and shoved a business card into her hand. “This is my granddaughter’s contact info. Make an appointment with her first.” Chloe looked down at the business card. It read: Evelyn Vance – Director of True Heiress Verification Project. Her face turned a sickly shade of green. The next day, Chloe stormed into our family estate. “I want a DNA test!” She slammed her hands on the table. “Right here! Right now!” My parents exchanged a look, both looking a bit exhausted. “Kid,” my mom said, “It’s not that we don’t want to…” “You’re guilty, aren’t you?!” Chloe sneered. “You’re afraid the test will prove I’m the real one!” My dad rubbed his temples. “Last year, I had blood drawn thirty times. It’s only the beginning of the year, and I’ve already had blood drawn fifteen times. My doctor told me if I give any more blood, I’m going to become severely anemic.” Chloe choked on her words. I walked over, carrying a cup of tea. “Actually, there’s another way.” “What way?” She looked at me suspiciously. “We can use hair or nail clippings,” I said. “The technology is very advanced now; we don’t strictly need a blood draw.” Chloe’s eyes lit up. “Then let’s do it right now!” I smiled. “Sure, but you still have to wait in line.” “Wait in what line?!” “My parents only have a limited quota of hair and nail clippings to give out each month, and this month’s quota is already maxed out. There are over two hundred samples ahead of yours waiting for lab results. The earliest we can get to yours is next month.” Chloe exploded. “Evelyn Vance! You’re doing this on purpose!” I shrugged. “Just following protocol.” Chloe couldn’t wait a single second. She paid a scalper twenty thousand dollars to buy an expedited VIP queue ticket. Then, she was escorted to the third floor, into the “Heirloom Authentication Room.” She strutted in, chest puffed out like a proud peacock. “I have an heirloom!” She pulled out half of a jade pendant. “The nurse at the hospital gave this to me back then! It’s one of a kind!” The authentication clerk, Sarah, took the pendant and scanned the barcode on Chloe’s VIP ticket. “Applicant YM-37, Chloe Miller. Heirloom Category: Jade Pendant.” Sarah read from her screen, “Currently, there are 287 jade pendants registered in our database.” Chloe’s smile froze. “How many?” “287.” Sarah pulled up the data visualizer. “Among them, 143 are half-pendants, and 144 are complete pendants.” Chloe flipped out. “That’s impossible!” Sarah smiled politely. “In the beginning, it was just two halves that could fit together. Later, people started bringing in quarter-pieces.” She clicked open a web browser. “Now there’s even a ‘Jade Pendant Fragment Puzzle’ service on Amazon. Only $9.99, free shipping.” Chloe looked like she was going to be sick. I spoke to her through the intercom from the surveillance room. “Miss Miller, your pendant is a standard mass-produced model. Retail value is about thirty-eight bucks at the flea market.” Chloe looked up, searching for the camera. “Evelyn! You set me up!” I laughed. “It’s called market research.” Chloe refused to give up. “I have a birthmark!” She aggressively pulled her collar down. “A butterfly shape on my left shoulder! One of a kind!” Sarah sighed and opened another database. “Out of the 500 ‘heiresses’ who applied this year, 108 claimed to have a butterfly-shaped birthmark.” Chloe’s eyes widened. “How many?!” “108.” Sarah zoomed in on the pie chart. “76 on the left shoulder, 32 on the right shoulder.” Chloe panicked. “My birthmark is different! It has a unique shape!” Sarah nodded. “Yes, Applicants #43, #87, and #201 said the exact same thing.” She clicked open a photo gallery. “Number 43’s butterfly has polka dots. Number 87’s has tiger stripes. Number 201’s is a 3D optical illusion.” Chloe’s lips trembled. “Impossible…” I delivered the final blow over the intercom. “Miss Miller, maybe you should try getting a tattoo? Tattoos are accepted as heirlooms now too.” Furious, Chloe grabbed the teacup off the table and smashed it on the floor. “That’ll be a damage fee,” Sarah immediately printed an invoice. “Custom imported porcelain. Two hundred and eighty dollars.” Chloe still wasn’t dead yet. “I look exactly like Mrs. Vance when she was young!” She pointed at a vintage family portrait on the wall. “Look!” Sarah sighed heavily and turned on the projector. “Please observe this ‘heiress.’” A photo of a girl appeared on the massive screen. She didn’t just look like my mom. She looked like my dad, and she even looked like my grandma. “We call her the ‘Family Portrait Chimera,’” Sarah said. “She won the ‘Most Resembling the Vance Family’ award last year.” Chloe stayed quiet for three days. But I knew she wasn’t just sitting around twiddling her thumbs. Sure enough, she showed up at the Vance Family’s quarterly gala. Halfway through the banquet, Chloe suddenly let out a piercing scream. “My necklace is missing!” She covered her face and sobbed loudly. “That was the birthday present my adoptive mother gave me! Sob!” The entire ballroom went dead silent. Everyone turned to look at her. Chloe sniffled and hiccuped. “It was just here a minute ago…” Her gaze swept across the room and landed perfectly on me. “Miss Vance,” she said timidly. “You went to the restroom just now, didn’t you?” I raised an eyebrow. “I did.” “Then…” She hesitated dramatically. “Could I please look inside your purse?” The crowd erupted in shocked murmurs. My mother frowned. “Young lady, what are you implying?” Tears streamed down Chloe’s face perfectly on cue. “Mom, I don’t mean anything by it! I just want to find it…” I laughed. “Sure.” I handed her my purse. “Look all you want.” Chloe took the purse and pretended to rummage through it. Then, she “accidentally” dumped the entire contents onto the floor. Clatter— Lipstick, keys, and my phone scattered across the marble. And sitting right in the middle was a diamond necklace. “I found it!” Chloe gasped in shock. “This is it!” She snatched the necklace up, looking at me with tear-filled, betrayed eyes. “Miss Vance… why would you…” I cut her off. “Miss Miller. Do you know why the Vance family banquet hall is equipped with 128 high-definition security cameras?” Chloe froze. “What?” I pulled out my phone and cast the security feed to the massive screens around the room. The footage clearly showed Chloe sneaking up behind me and slipping the necklace into my open purse. “Over the past three years,” I scrolled through the incident database, “exactly 47 ‘heiresses’ have tried this exact trick.” My assistant chimed in through the PA system: “This is the 48th time. Can we please get some new material?” I bent down and picked up the necklace. “Also… I bought this necklace last week at Cartier. I still have the receipt.” I looked at her. “Where’s yours?” Chloe’s face turned green. “Is this how the Vance family treats its biological daughter?!” Grandma Vance let out a cold laugh. “The last person who said that to me is currently serving three to five in federal prison.” Chloe fled the ballroom in absolute humiliation. The next day, Twitter exploded. #VanceHeiressSecretMidnightRendezvousWithRivalCEO# The post included a blurry photo of me helping a man into a car. The angle was incredibly deceptive; it looked exactly like we were kissing. I checked the account that posted it. A notorious paparazzi blog. I clicked into the comments. “Here we go again. Which number is this one for the year?” “The last guy who spread rumors about her got sued for five million dollars.” “Sis, delete the post. The Vance family’s cease-and-desist letters arrive faster than Amazon Prime.” I posted a tweet of my own: “Thank you, Miss Miller, for helping me promote our new clean energy project, and for helping me break my personal record for ‘Fastest Defamation Lawsuit Filed.’” Attached was a photo of the filed court documents. Chloe panicked and immediately deleted her post and deactivated her account. On the third day, Chloe somehow managed to forge a security pass and infiltrated the corporate headquarters. She walked into my office carrying a cup of coffee. “Miss Vance,” she said, looking down submissively. “I’m so sorry about yesterday…” I didn’t take the cup. “Put it on the desk.” She set the coffee down but didn’t leave. “Did you need something else?” I asked. She bit her lip. “Can you ever forgive me?” I smiled. “You can leave now.” She turned to leave, clearly unwilling. I picked up the coffee, sniffed it, and pressed a button under my desk. “Miss Miller is suspected of attempted poisoning,” I said into the intercom. “Please escort her to security for questioning.” Chloe exploded. “You’re making baseless accusations!” I pointed at the coffee mug. “Did you know that all the mugs in the Vance executive suites are custom-engineered?” She froze. “The bottom of the mug has a built-in chemical detection sensor.” I showed her the notification on my phone. “It can identify common drugs and toxins.” The screen read: Laxative compounds detected. Incident #23 of the fiscal year. Chloe went ghost pale. “Y-You’re lying!” Security guards burst into the room. “You have no right to arrest me!” she shrieked. I pulled out a thick binder of legal files. “Based on this,” I said calmly. “Over the past five years, exactly 89 people have tried to drug me. Every single one of them went to jail.” As the guards dragged her away, she was still screaming: “Evelyn Vance! Just you wait! I’ll be back!”

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Arthur was known in our circle as the perfect husband, obsessively devoted to his wife. He personally created an “Evelyn Manual” for me, detailing every single one of my preferences and allergies with obsessive precision. No contact with strawberries, zero exposure to pollen, and the warm water I drank every morning had to be exactly 107 degrees Fahrenheit. Even more insane, he required every employee at his company to memorize it. I used to deeply believe that I was living a life of fairy-tale happiness that others could only dream of. Until the night of our fourth wedding anniversary. He spent the entire evening busy in the kitchen, finally bringing out my favorite blueberry mousse. I took the first bite, and an agonizing, prickling itch instantly clawed at my throat. Five minutes later, hives had spread all over my body. As the ambulance wailed outside, Arthur held my hand, his face deathly pale. “Impossible. I made it myself. I checked the recipe three times…” But through the dizzying haze of suffocation, I could distinctly taste it—hidden beneath the blueberry aroma was the unmistakable flavor of strawberry. He didn’t care about my fatal allergy anymore. … When the light above the emergency room doors finally clicked off, I still had a breathing tube down my throat. Before the anesthesia fully wore off, my hearing returned. Through the crack in the door, the nurses’ hushed conversation hit my eardrums, word by word: “Mrs. Vance is so lucky. Ten minutes later and she’d be gone.” “No kidding. Mr. Vance was so frantic his eyes were totally bloodshot… But hey, do you remember that Miss Chloe from the VIP maternity ward last month?” “Oh yeah, the one Mr. Vance accompanied, right? We were just saying how incredibly attentive he was to his ‘sister.’ He didn’t miss a single prenatal appointment. He was even more meticulous with her than with his own wife.” “Sister, my ass,” a voice whispered, dropping an octave. “My cousin works at the County Clerk’s office. She said that massive estate in the hills on the West Side was transferred to Chloe’s name three months ago.” Footsteps approached. I closed my eyes. Arthur sat on the edge of my bed. He grabbed my hand, his voice hoarse. “Evie… I’m so sorry…” I’m so sorry. Those three words acted like a key, violently unlocking the floodgates of my memories. I had gone into anaphylactic shock from strawberries three times before. The worst time, they had to perform an emergency tracheotomy. Arthur had knelt outside the ICU that day, swearing on his life that he would never let a single strawberry product within a hundred-yard radius of me again. He even put it in bold print on the first page of his corporate employee handbook: Strawberry products are strictly prohibited. Violators will be terminated. And now, strawberries had somehow made their way into the anniversary dessert he personally made for me. It wasn’t carelessness. It was a change in habit. He was no longer hyper-vigilant and terrified of the word “strawberry.” Because someone else wasn’t allergic. In fact, she loved them. If it hadn’t been for the nurses’ gossip just now, my heart probably would have softened. Just like the past twenty years—every time he made that face, I would forgive him. But now, my heart felt like it was being crushed by a massive, invisible fist. The pain made my entire body curl up. The heart monitor started blaring. My heart rate was spiking. “Doctor!” Arthur shot up, his voice panicked. In the chaos, the screen of the phone resting on his bedside table lit up. A new notification popped up: [Artie, I miss you.] Sender: Chloe. In that fraction of a second, all the sound in the room faded away. Only those four words remained, searing into my heart like a red-hot branding iron. Searing it until this heart would never beat for him again. My heart rate gradually stabilized. Arthur let out a long sigh of relief and tucked the blankets around me. “Sleep. I’ll stay right here with you.” The night grew deep. I looked at his sleeping profile. This face used to be the absolute religion of my youth. At six, he got a scar fighting a bully for me. At twelve, he blushed furiously while buying pads for me. At eighteen, he changed his college applications just to stay with me. At twenty-four, at our wedding, he knelt in front of my mother’s grave and swore: “I will protect Evelyn with my life.” Now, he had split his life in half and given the other piece away. Given it to Chloe. The product of my father’s infidelity. The same girl who, fifteen years ago, handed me strawberry juice disguised as strawberry ice cream. The girl who stood outside the ICU glass window, smiling as she watched me hover between life and death. The most laughable part was that her triumphant return was entirely orchestrated by Arthur. He probably thought I was his caged bird now, unable to fly away. Just like he was absolutely certain that my family’s corporation, Sterling Group, couldn’t survive without the Vance family, and that I couldn’t survive without him. My phone vibrated. It was an encrypted message from my family’s head butler, Uncle Ray: “Miss, the property deed has been verified. The West Side estate was transferred to Chloe three months ago. The payment account is directly linked to Mr. Vance.” I knew it. In that moment, my heart plummeted into a glacier. Strangely, I didn’t feel any pain—just a freezing, absolute numbness. “Keep tracking the cash flow. I need every single transfer record. Don’t miss a cent.” “Also,” I paused, typing, “contact Attorney Lee. Tell him to prepare to execute the emergency corporate structuring plan my mother left behind. But tell him to hold off until I give the final order.” “Understood.” On the third day after I was discharged, I drove to the West Side estate. The security guard at the gate stopped me. “Who are you here to see?” “Arthur Vance.” I rolled down the window. “I am his wife.” The guard’s expression turned incredibly awkward before he finally let me through. In my rearview mirror, I saw the guards huddling together, whispering. See? Everyone knew. In this marriage, the biggest fool of all was me. I parked the car and stood outside the massive floor-to-ceiling windows of the villa. I watched as Arthur gently fed a bright red strawberry into Chloe’s mouth. I suddenly remembered when I was twenty. I was hospitalized again due to allergic complications. Arthur sat by my bed, repeatedly stroking the IV needle marks on my hand, his eyes bloodshot. “Evie, I swear I will never let another strawberry get near you.” His heartbreak was genuine back then. But the plate of bright red strawberries sitting on the coffee table right now was also genuine. Arthur noticed me. His movement paused for just a second. Then, he stood up and walked toward the front door. There was no panic on his face—only the distinct annoyance of being interrupted. “Evie,” his tone was flat, even carrying a hint of reprimand. “How did you find this place?” “Explain.” My voice was raspy. “Chloe moved back to the States to start her career. She needed a place to stay.” He lit a cigarette. “You know how unreliable your father is…” “Fifteen years ago, she almost murdered me,” I cut him off. Arthur blew out a puff of smoke, obscuring his expression. “Evie,” he frowned. “How long ago was that? Chloe was only ten. She didn’t know any better.” “And now?” I pointed inside the house. “She knew perfectly well I was allergic, yet she intentionally bought strawberry jam and swapped it with the blueberry. Is that ‘not knowing any better,’ or is that trying to murder me a second time?” “Evelyn,” his voice turned cold. “Chloe just grabbed the wrong jar. Do you really have to be this aggressive?” Aggressive… In the past, he would say other people were malicious. Now, I was the one being “too petty.” Chloe pushed the front door open and walked out. Her loose loungewear couldn’t hide the slight curve of her pregnant belly. She was holding half a strawberry, the red juice seeping through her fingers. “Sister, please don’t be mad at Arthur. It was my fault…” The sight of that bright red juice made my stomach churn violently. And Arthur just stood there, watching. He didn’t stop her. He didn’t immediately neutralize the threat like he had a million times before. Instead, he subtly shifted his body, stepping slightly in front of her, shielding her. That tiny, subconscious movement… …shattered the last pathetic shred of hope I had left. My fingernails dug so deeply into my palms that the sharp pain helped me maintain my composure. “Monday’s board meeting,” my voice was unnervingly steady. “I want your three proxy votes.” Arthur visibly let out a sigh of relief. A knowing, arrogant smirk touched his lips. “Of course. Didn’t we agree on that ages ago?” “I’m talking about a permanent proxy transfer,” I continued. “And this estate. Sign it over to my name tomorrow.” Chloe’s face instantly went pale, but Arthur just laughed and shook his head. “Evie, stop acting out. What’s mine is yours.” He was giving me an “out,” absolutely certain that the Sterling Group desperately needed the Vance family’s backing. He was certain that twenty years of history meant I could never leave him. Every word he spoke was a reminder: Evelyn, you don’t have the leverage to burn this bridge. Chloe gently tugged at the hem of his shirt, her voice soft and whiny: “Artie, I don’t need the house. Just please don’t be mad at her…” “See how understanding Chloe is?” Arthur looked at me, his eyes filled with disappointment. “Evelyn, you never used to be like this.” Used to be. The Evelyn of the past believed in love. The Evelyn of today didn’t. “The three votes. The estate,” I repeated, even offering a small smile. “Or, I revoke the corporate backing for your clean energy licensing renewal.” I watched his smile instantly freeze. I enunciated every word: “Those connections belong to my mother’s estate. I gave them to you, and I can take them back.” Without waiting for his reaction, I turned and walked away. As I got into my car, a text from Arthur popped up: “Let’s talk. You know I love you.” I stared at those three words, remembering how he had just shielded Chloe with his body. I dialed a number. “Take the evidence of Chloe’s father embezzling corporate funds and send it anonymously to the FBI’s financial crimes division. I want it done today.” In the rearview mirror, Arthur’s figure sprinting out of the house grew smaller and smaller. “And take the evidence of Arthur transferring marital assets and committing adultery… package it up, and send it directly to his mother.” The lights at the charity gala were blinding. When Arthur brazenly walked in with Chloe on his arm, the entire ballroom fell dead silent for a fraction of a second. The smooth, jade bracelet on Chloe’s wrist stabbed my eyes. It was the heirloom bracelet my mother had personally placed on my wrist right before she died. Arthur walked straight toward me, his tone entirely casual. “Jewelry is meant to be worn.” He noticed me glaring dead at the jade bracelet and frowned slightly. “Besides, you’re the older sister. You should be more magnanimous.” Older sister… I remembered the vow he made kneeling at my mother’s grave. He swore he would never let any filth touch anything I cared about. Now, he was personally hand-delivering the absolute worst kind of filth right to my face. “Take it off,” my voice was as cold as dry ice. Arthur grabbed my arm. “It’s just a bracelet.” He lowered his voice, his breath brushing against my ear. “Evelyn, you’ve been spoiled by power for too long. You can’t handle the slightest bit of compromise. That’s a bad trait.” He raised his hand, seemingly wanting to caress my cheek, but stopped mid-air. “I’m helping you grow.” Grow… Using my dead mother’s heirloom, my husband’s betrayal, and an illegitimate sister’s provocation… to help me grow. At that moment, Chloe started taking the bracelet off, but her movements were exaggeratedly slow, like a scene playing out in slow motion. “Sister, please don’t be mad. I’ll give it back to you right now…” Her fingers trembled, her eyes reddened. She looked like a terrified, bullied victim. But her eyes were smiling. Fifteen years ago, standing outside the ICU glass window, that was the exact same smile she wore while she watched me fight for my life. As she spoke, the jade bracelet slipped from her wrist, tracing a perfect arc through the air. I saw Arthur instinctively reach out to catch it. And I saw the microscopic, deliberate flick of Chloe’s fingertips right before the bracelet fell. SMASH! It felt like my heart violently seized in sync with the sound of the shattering jade. Something inside me shattered right along with it. After a moment of silence, Arthur bent down and picked up the largest shard. He glanced at it casually and tossed it back onto the floor. “It’s fine that it broke.” He wrapped his arm around Chloe’s trembling shoulders. “I’ll buy you a new one tomorrow.” Then, he looked at me. “You terrified Chloe. Apologize.” The eyes of the entire ballroom were locked on us. He was waiting for me to lose control. He was waiting for me to scream. He wanted me to act like a hysterical, unhinged wife and physically attack Chloe in front of everyone. Because then, he could perfectly justify his narrative: “See? Evelyn is just too spoiled.” It was his twisted way of proving he still possessed absolute control over me. I took a deep breath, swallowing the metallic taste of blood rising in my throat. Then, I heard my own voice. It was terrifyingly calm. “I am sorry.” A flash of absolute shock, mixed with an imperceptible trace of anxiety, crossed Arthur’s eyes. He clearly hadn’t expected me to bow my head so peacefully. But the anxiety vanished in a second. Very quickly, his eyes returned to the arrogant composure of a man in control. I followed his gaze toward the auction stage, and my breath caught. It was my mother’s vintage violin. He had actually put it up for auction. My private accounts only had five million dollars in liquid cash right now—the initial funding for my new project. And Arthur, knowing exactly where my vulnerability lay, bid the price up to six million, brutally crushing my dignity. Bang. The gavel fell. Amidst the applause, Chloe stood up and raised her champagne glass toward me, her smile sickeningly sweet. Arthur turned his head and gave me a faint smile. “Chloe wants to learn the violin. Mrs. Sterling’s violin going to a daughter of the Sterling family is perfectly fitting.” The guests around us exchanged sly, knowing looks. So, CEO Vance has finally gotten sick of his domineering wife and is elevating the gentle, sweet illegitimate daughter to take her place. After the gala, Arthur forced me into his car. “Next week’s board meeting,” he lit a cigarette. “I’ll vote ‘yes’ with my three proxy votes. But my condition is… you have to publicly acknowledge Chloe’s child as a legitimate heir to the Sterling bloodline, and eventually add the child to the family trust.” I turned to look at him. “And if I don’t?” Arthur laughed. It was the laugh of a man holding all the cards. “You won’t,” he said. “You care too much about the Sterling Group. You care too much about the empire your mother built. Evelyn, you’re too emotional.” The car pulled up to the estate. He leaned over and unbuckled my seatbelt. “Think about it carefully. I want your answer before the board meeting on Monday.” I got out of the car and walked through the front gates without looking back. The moment the heavy doors clicked shut behind me, I called Uncle Ray. “Initiate Plan B,” I said. “Deliver all the evidence to the District Attorney’s office first thing tomorrow morning.” …

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When I was twenty, I surrendered myself to my worst enemy, trading my body to beg him for mercy, just so he would spare my mother. But my mother still died. She died in a horrific multi-car pileup. When they pulled her from the wreckage, half her head was gone. Dragging my exhausted, aching body, I stormed into his corporate boardroom and screamed hysterically: “Arthur! I gave you everything you wanted! Why did you still have her killed?!” The only response I got was a vicious, stinging slap across the face. Arthur Vance didn’t even look up at me. His voice was ice cold. “When my mother jumped off that balcony right in front of me, I wanted to ask why, too.” “I wanted to ask why your mother, Evelyn, was such a cheap whore that she had to seduce my father. Why she had to drive my mother to her death.” “Chloe, the karma is just beginning. You’re crying way too early.” Using the 99 intimate photos he took of me that night, he blackmailed me into marrying him. Then, he publicly, extravagantly dropped millions courting his childhood sweetheart, a wealthy heiress, shocking the entire city. He forced me to hand-fold 999 origami roses for her, until my fingers were sliced open and dripping blood. He forced me to deliver condoms to them in the middle of a torrential downpour, leaving me with pneumonia that landed me in the hospital. Arthur’s goal was simple: he wanted me to watch him fall in love with and pamper someone else, until I wished I was dead. What he didn’t know was that after six years of mutual torture, I really was dying. And by now, there were only three photos left to delete. … After my final round of chemotherapy failed and I spent seven days in a coma, I never expected to find Arthur waiting outside my cheap apartment. He shoved me violently against the door, absolutely furious. “Chloe, when Audrey asked you for those things, why didn’t you give them to her?!” “Don’t think for a second I won’t actually leak those photos!” The photos. Those sickening, degrading photos that never should have been taken. If he leaked them, I would truly be ruined. A familiar wave of panic finally pierced through my chemo-addled brain, giving me a moment of clarity. I struggled to lift my head. “I’ll give them to her. What exactly does she want?” I vaguely remembered that before I went in for chemo, Arthur had sent me a barrage of voice memos. But back then, my entire soul was consumed by praying to survive, so I hadn’t bothered to listen to a word he said. Opening the chat log now, there were hundreds of unread voice messages. In the short audio clips, Audrey was throwing a tantrum, and Arthur was coaxing her. “Arthur, why did you write her love letters, make her a snow globe, and give her all this stuff?” “I don’t care, they’re mine! Make her give them to me!” So Audrey wanted our matching couple items. …The gloves, the mugs, the engraved pens. Back when Arthur loved me the most, he insisted on buying everything in matching pink and blue sets. Those items, and the memories attached to them, felt so distant it was like they belonged to a past century. My eyes involuntarily began to sting, but Arthur pinched my chin, forcing me to look at him. His expression was full of mockery: “What, Chloe? Can’t bear to part with them?” The last time I refused to give my mother’s jade bracelet to Audrey, Arthur had my mother’s grave dug up. If I hadn’t gotten there in time, I wouldn’t have even been able to save her urn. I shook my head frantically. “No, no! I’ll get them for you right now.” With that, I leaned heavily against the doorframe, struggling to unlock the door, and forced my exhausted body inside. The voice memos were still playing. “The things Audrey asked for—bring them to my office by 6:00 AM tomorrow.” “Where the hell are you?” “Chloe, you’ve got some nerve ignoring my messages for days. Get out here right now!” … “Audrey and I are getting engaged tomorrow. If you don’t show up, you know the consequences.” Engaged? My heart skipped a beat. The snow globe in my hand slipped and crashed onto the floor. It rolled right to Arthur’s feet. He bent down, picked it up, and studied my pale face. “What? I’ve been with Audrey for six years, am I not allowed to get engaged?” “Or did you actually think I married you because I still had feelings for you? Pathetic.” Arthur turned the snow globe over. Seeing the childishly carved “Arthur & Chloe” on the bottom, he let out a cold sneer. “You don’t deserve this.” He grabbed a box cutter from the desk and viciously gouged the names out. As the plastic shavings hit me, I bit my lip, tasting bitterness. Of course I didn’t deserve it. It was common knowledge that Arthur hated me and didn’t love me. No one knew about our six-year marriage. To everyone else, I was just a delusional gold-digger trying to latch onto someone out of my league. They didn’t know I had wanted to end things peacefully and leave a long time ago. During the most painful times, I had even threatened to kill myself. But Arthur had printed out all 99 intimate photos and threw them in my face: “Go ahead and die, Chloe. If you do, I’ll release every single one of these.” “I’ll let the whole world know that the older whore gave birth to a younger whore. She seduced the father, and you seduced the son.” “I’ll let everyone see what a cheap slut you are. I’ll make your mother the most despised sinner on the planet!” I had no choice. No matter how wrong my mother was, I wanted her to rest in peace. And I didn’t want to become the subject of vulgar gossip. So, for six long years, I lived by his rules: one act of torture, one apology, one deleted photo. Now, there were only three photos left. Arthur was about to marry the woman he loved. It was finally going to be over. Thinking of this, I wearily packed the things I had gathered into a bag and offered a forced, eager smile. “What else do you need me to do to delete the last three photos?” Arthur stared at me. Then he turned his head and saw my mother’s portrait hanging on the wall. His face instantly darkened. A bad feeling washed over me. I twisted my body to run. But he grabbed my ankle and threw me onto the couch. I struggled in panic. “Arthur, are you crazy?! My mother is right there!” Arthur was brutal, devoid of any emotion except pure contempt: “The daughter of a whore who climbed into her best friend’s husband’s bed thinks she deserves dignity?” I stopped struggling. In an instant, my mind flashed back to the day Arthur confessed his love to me when we were eighteen. I was so happy. But when I pushed open my front door, I saw my mother and his father rolling around in bed. And out on the balcony, Arthur’s mother, her face deathly pale, turned around and jumped off. Arthur screamed like a madman—a sound of absolute despair and hatred. Just like now. He gripped my waist tightly, looking like he wanted to break me into pieces. I pulled a throw pillow over my face, blocking out my vision. “Arthur. We can do this. Two photos.” Arthur went at it the entire night. When I refused to look, he forced me to face the wall. I desperately tilted my head back, watching the ceiling light sway back and forth. The smoke from the incense hastily placed in front of the dirt-covered urn obscured my mother’s portrait. But for some reason, I felt like she was smiling a very bitter smile. A long time ago, I asked her: why Arthur’s mother? If Arthur’s mother hadn’t kindly taken us in when we were homeless, we would have frozen to death on the streets that winter night. My mother cried and told me that Arthur’s mother was dying of an illness. She was terrified we would be kicked out and homeless again. She said she had no other choice. But after Arthur’s mother jumped, his father died of a sudden heart attack. Rival families swooped in, seized the Vance Corporation, broke Arthur’s leg, forced him to crawl between their legs, and called him trash. My mother finally realized she was wrong. So, this selfish, self-serving woman worked three jobs, sold her blood, and even sold a kidney to put Arthur through college. I dropped out of school and took his place at business dinners, drinking myself sick and forcing smiles to win clients. But Arthur would just punch his leg—the one that ached whenever it rained—his eyes bloodshot: “I had a perfect family, and you two destroyed it.” “You think acting like good people for a few years wipes the slate clean? Keep dreaming!” After he reclaimed the Vance Corporation, he systematically hunted down and destroyed everyone who had ever humiliated him. I had no choice. To let him vent his rage, I let him degrade me in bed. But my mother still died. I spent every penny I had investigating her death, only to find out it really was just an accident. It took away my only justification to hate Arthur. But loving him was just too exhausting. When it was finally over, the sky was already growing light. My entire body ached and I was freezing. I curled up tightly on the couch and drifted off, dreaming again of the snowy night he and his mother came to pick us up. He gently cupped my face and told me not to cry. His hands were so warm, too warm to be a dream. I opened my eyes. The warmth on my face instantly vanished, leaving only the cold tracks of undried tears. Arthur stood in front of me, his body hidden in the shadows. I froze for a second, then grabbed his sleeve, my voice hoarse: “Two photos. Delete them.” He ignored me, turning his back with a cold expression to leave. I panicked, but my body gave out. I pitched forward and smashed my head hard against the floor. Blood gushed out. I wiped at it frantically, my voice growing desperate: “Arthur! Delete them! Did you hear me?!” As my consciousness began to blur, his icy voice drifted in and out: “Chloe, you’re really going to defend that whore of a mother to the end?” “Fine. Come work as a server at my engagement party. I’ll give you what you want and delete them all.” The first word that floated into my mind was cruel. Today was technically our ten-year anniversary. But my body couldn’t wait any longer. “Okay.” As soon as I arrived at the banquet hall, Arthur’s secretary tossed me a server’s uniform. When I hurried out after changing, Arthur was still there. He stared at my face, his gaze strange. The fall earlier had left a massive, dark bruise across the center of my face. I had to pack on powder to cover it up, but the gray over the sickly pale skin just made me look terrifying. I tried to add blush, but it just made my face look like a grotesque mix of white and red—more suited for a funeral than a party. I didn’t know what to do, so I just forced a smile. He threw a slice of cake at me and sneered, “You look like a ghost with that makeup. Eat this quickly, don’t pretend to faint and gross people out later.” The cloying, sweet smell hit my nose. My instinct was to throw up, but Arthur just stood there watching me. I forced it down with a deep frown. Only then did he leave with a dark expression. I struggled to carry trays around the banquet hall. My stomach was churning violently. My steps felt light and floaty. I had to set the tray down and rush toward the restroom. But someone suddenly blocked my path. “Chloe, I thought you were so capable.” It was Audrey. She swirled her champagne and leaned close to my ear: “Arthur still loves me more. I hired someone to break his leg, and he still wants to marry me.” “You treat him so well, yet he wishes you were dead.” My entire body went rigid. I used to think Arthur would hate Audrey too. After all, when the Vance family fell, the Audrey’s family were the ones who humiliated him the most. But instead, Arthur held her in the palm of his hand and spoiled her endlessly. I was bitter about it, but he told me it was because Audrey was smart. At the final, critical moment of his corporate takeover, Audrey betrayed her own father and begged Arthur for peace. And I wasn’t smart. Stomach acid surged up my throat repeatedly. I didn’t have the energy to deal with Audrey. I struggled to speak. “Excuse me. Move.” Audrey provocatively swished her dress. “Don’t leave yet. Take a good look at my dress.” I couldn’t control it anymore. I vomited violently. Most of what came up splattered directly onto her pristine white dress. Oh god. I frantically tried to wipe it off. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.” But my vision was blurred. I missed my mark and accidentally yanked the tablecloth, sending everything crashing to the floor in a chaotic mess. A large hand suddenly grabbed my collar and yanked me backward. “Chloe, did you forget what I warned you about?” I wanted to explain, but I couldn’t stop dry heaving. Arthur stared at me with pure, unadulterated darkness in his eyes. I looked back. Audrey stood frozen behind me, looking furious. I couldn’t help but glance at her dress again. I recognized it. It was the design Arthur had drawn for me when he was 18. Back then, I told him I wanted to embroider a snowflake on the lapel of his suit. Arthur had one on his suit right now. Only now, the snowflake on her dress was covered in my vomit, looking filthy. I reached out with a trembling hand to wipe it, but he shoved me away violently. “Playing the victim won’t work on me. This is your own stubborn fault.” “Pick it all up with your bare hands!” I crashed to the floor. My hands were sliced open by the sharp, broken glass. Arthur put his arm around the crying Audrey and strode away. The other guests all walked away in disgust. I vaguely heard someone say they were moving to a different hall, leaving only a few guards to watch me clean. If I moved too slowly, they would kick me. The Wedding March played from somewhere far away. Or maybe it was close. I was in a daze. I don’t know how much time passed, but suddenly someone was standing in front of me, using the tip of their shoe to tilt my forehead up. “Chloe, do you regret it now?” I opened my eyes blankly. Regret what? Regret not cutting ties with my mother? But Arthur, that woman you hate so much… she gave birth to me, she raised me. She saved me from a man who beat and molested me. Even when we were at a dead end, she gave me the last half of her steamed bun. What do you want me to do? What could I have done? I didn’t answer. I just felt incredibly tired. The surrounding area got noisy again, but Audrey’s voice pierced through: “Really? Arthur, the land you bought me in the slum district has already started demolition?” When I stumbled out of the apartment in a daze this morning, I thought I saw a red “Demolish” spray-painted on the wall downstairs. I jolted completely awake. “What land?” “Arthur! Which block in the slums?!” By the time I rushed back, half the neighborhood had already been reduced to rubble by the excavators. My mother’s ashes were still inside the apartment. The machines roared. I charged forward like a lunatic, grabbing someone’s walkie-talkie. I was violently thrown to the ground. Blood and tears mixed on my face as I gritted my teeth and forced myself back up. “Stop the demolition! Stop! I live here! I haven’t moved out yet!” A pair of dress shoes suddenly appeared in front of me. I looked up blankly. It was Arthur, who was supposed to be at his engagement party. He looked down at me with cold indifference. I frantically grabbed his pant leg, begging: “Arthur, you know my mother’s ashes are still in there.” “I’m begging you, just stop it for ten minutes. Let me go in and grab it, please?” But the heavy, unreadable darkness in his eyes sobered me up completely. I froze, tears pooling in my eyes. “…Arthur, you did this on purpose?” A demolition project this massive… the only reason the landlord wouldn’t notify me was if Arthur ordered him not to. I was in a coma in the hospital for seven days. The exact day I woke up, he ordered me away so I wouldn’t be home. He did all of this just to completely obliterate the very last trace of my mother’s existence in this world. My voice was hoarse. “…Why? Why are you doing this?”

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As the holidays approached, our company held its annual awards banquet. Everyone else received a hefty year-end bonus, but me? The top sales rep? I just got a piece of paper. To be exact, it was a contract transferring the title of “Corporate CEO & Legal Figurehead” to my name. My boss, Richard Vance, patted my shoulder, his face plastered with a hypocritical smile. “Ethan, I’ve always seen immense potential in you!” “Keep up the hard work in the new year, and I guarantee you’ll take home more money than anyone else by the end of it.” “Come on, sign this document. From today on, you are the official face of the company. You’ll even get a cut of the equity dividends at the end of the year. No other employee gets this kind of VIP treatment!” I stared at him coldly, forcibly suppressing the urge to introduce the sole of my shoe to his doughy face. If I hadn’t secretly overheard his conversation earlier, I might have actually fallen for his bullshit! The company’s financial black hole was getting bigger by the day. Handing me the CEO title right now? He was clearly setting me up to be his scapegoat. Since you want to play dirty, Richard, don’t blame me for playing dirtier. 1 In the executive office, Richard leaned back in his plush leather chair, a cigar clamped between his teeth, smiling amiably at me. “Ethan, your contributions to the company this year have been massive. It’s obvious to everyone.” “So, the board has decided to give you the ultimate reward.” “Once you become the legal CEO, you’ll be part of the executive inner circle. From now on, any major company decisions will have to go through you first…” Richard talked a big game, trying to dazzle me with a pie-in-the-sky pitch. I really, really wanted to expose him right to his face and slap my resignation letter across his desk. Just yesterday, I returned to the office after meeting a client. I was planning to go straight to Richard’s office to give him a progress report, but my stomach acted up, so I hit the restroom first. While in a stall, I overheard Richard talking on his phone near the sinks. He spoke with dripping contempt: “Ethan is just a dog I keep on a leash!” “I tell him to jump, he asks how high. As long as I throw him a bone and stroke his ego, he’ll work himself to death for me like a rented mule.” “He’s no ‘top sales rep.’ He just knows a few buzzwords and has a slick tongue. He flirts with the clients, and they hand him the contracts. Even without him, I could send a monkey in a suit to close those deals.” “Ethan doesn’t even have a college degree. His education is a joke. If he wasn’t so easy to manipulate, and if he didn’t constantly refuse to ask for a raise, I’d never hire trash like him!” “Our financial loopholes are about to blow up in our faces. At the next board meeting, those investors are definitely going to demand an audit. It’s going to be a disaster.” “So, I’m going to transfer the legal CEO title to Ethan. Before I do that, I’ll have him hand all his active client accounts over to you…” Hearing those words, I was so furious smoke practically blew out of my ears. I almost lost it and beat him to a pulp right there in the bathroom. But ultimately, reason prevailed. Even if I beat the crap out of him, what would it accomplish? If I laid a finger on him, Richard would call the cops, press charges, and extort me for a massive settlement. It wasn’t worth it. Richard coughed lightly, pulling me from my thoughts, and smiled his fake smile. “Ethan, what are you waiting for? Hurry up and sign!” “Once you sign and the paperwork is filed, I’m hosting a dinner at The Capital Grille tonight. The whole executive team is getting together…” Before he could finish, I said flatly, “Mr. Vance, I am incredibly grateful for your high regard.” “However, my education is limited, and my contributions are negligible. I’ve been with the company for less than three years. I absolutely cannot shoulder the immense responsibility of being the CEO. You should find someone more qualified.” Hearing my refusal, Richard’s face darkened slightly. At that moment, his executive assistant, Chloe Miller, spoke up. She gave me a saccharine, fake look. “Ethan, Mr. Vance is showing you incredible appreciation. Don’t throw away a golden opportunity like this!” “You don’t even have a college degree. In any other corporate firm, they wouldn’t even look at your resume.” “Mr. Vance not only hired you but mentored you. And now he’s elevating you to the executive suite! Do you have absolutely no gratitude for everything he’s done for you?” “Mr. Vance believes in you. If you refuse, aren’t you just slapping him in the face?” “Ethan, opportunities like this don’t come around every day. If you miss this, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.” I sneered internally, but kept my face completely neutral. “I know I can’t handle the burden of being the legal representative. With my low education and lack of seniority, I’m perfectly happy just being a regular employee.” “You, on the other hand, Chloe, have an excellent degree. Plus, you’re Mr. Vance’s sister-in-law. You are the perfect candidate for the CEO position.” “Keep the wealth in the family. Let’s leave the CEO title for Miss Miller!” Hearing this, Chloe glared at me viciously and snapped, “Ethan, don’t be an ungrateful prick!” “You…” Before she could finish, I cut her off, feigning complete innocence. “Chloe, why are you getting so defensive?” “Recommending you for the CEO role is a huge compliment!” “Could it be that you don’t want to be a top executive?” “Or is there something… wrong… with the CEO position?” Chloe was furious. Just as she opened her mouth to yell, Richard slammed his hand on the desk, his face cold. “Enough! Both of you, quiet down!” “Ethan, do you really not want the CEO position?” “If you take it, I can promise you a 5% equity stake in the company…” I shook my head decisively. “I think being a regular employee is great. I’m a man with low ambitions. I just don’t have that kind of drive.” Richard’s gaze turned dark and venomous. He was clearly pissed. However, he didn’t blow up immediately. He said coldly, “We’ll discuss the CEO position later. Starting today, Ethan, I need you to hand over all your active client accounts to Chloe.” “And any projects you haven’t closed yet? Transfer those to her as well.” “Alright, you’re dismissed. Get out.” Just as I stepped out of the office, I heard a loud crash from inside. Sounded like Richard had smashed his favorite custom coffee mug against the wall. A cold smirk curled on my lips. You’re mad already? The real show hasn’t even started yet! 2 I had zero complaints about handing over my clients and pending projects to Chloe. But when the rest of the office found out, the way they looked at me instantly changed. They instinctively distanced themselves, whispering among themselves with thinly veiled schadenfreude. “Is Ethan an idiot? Can’t he see the boss is completely phasing him out?” “I always hated that guy. He didn’t even graduate college, why the hell does he get to sit at the same level as us Ivy League grads?” “The most annoying part is that his sales numbers are higher than ours. All he does is kiss ass and drink with clients, right?” “Good riddance. A parasite like him should have been fired ages ago.” “At the awards banquet, everyone got a fat bonus except him, and he didn’t even complain. What a pathetic, brainless corporate slave!” I wasn’t exactly popular in the office. It wasn’t because I was arrogant or aloof. When I first joined, I genuinely tried to build good relationships with my coworkers. But they all looked down on me. The main reason? My lack of a fancy degree. Back then, Richard saw that I was a smooth talker and had helped him close a massive deal, so he reluctantly brought me on board. At the time, I was incredibly grateful. I worked like a madman. Even though I had the lowest base salary, my workload was the heaviest in the entire company. No matter how others viewed me, I put my head down and crushed my quotas, just to repay Richard for giving me a chance. My first year, I brought in $10 million in contracts, accounting for 30% of the company’s total revenue. My second year, I closed $25 million, making up 50% of the revenue. By my third year, 80% of the company’s total sales volume was signed by me. And my salary? It remained frozen at the exact same entry-level rate I started with. Even the fresh college grads they hired last year had a higher base salary than I did. Originally, I planned to ask Richard for a raise after the awards banquet. Now? There was absolutely no need. The debt of gratitude I owed him had been paid off tenfold a long time ago. But Richard wanted to squeeze the very last drop of value out of me, and then kick me into the abyss to take the fall for his crimes. That wasn’t just bad business; it was pure evil. Over the next few days, I clocked in and out normally, completely ignoring the bizarre, mocking stares from my coworkers. Until the day before the winter holidays. The moment I walked into the office, the atmosphere felt different. My coworkers looked at me like I was a clown, their eyes brimming with malicious joy. I had just sat down at my desk when Richard walked out of his office. He was holding a thick stack of red bonus envelopes, handing them out one by one. The staff was grinning ear to ear. Richard cleared his throat and smiled warmly. “Everyone worked hard this year. I hope we can keep up the momentum next year and hit new revenue records.” “Today is the last workday before the holidays. You can all clock out early this afternoon. Remember to be back in the office on the 8th. I’ll have kickoff bonuses waiting for you.” The office erupted in cheers, aggressively showering Richard with flattery. Richard glanced at me, a fake, plastic smile on his face. “Ethan, there’s no bonus for you. Don’t take it personally.” “Given your sub-par performance during your last few contract negotiations, the clients had some complaints. It negatively impacted the company’s reputation. Honestly, you should be thankful I’m not docking your pay.” “This holiday, don’t bother going back to your hometown. Stay here and man the office.” “And don’t even think about holiday overtime pay. Consider it your unpaid contribution to the company to make up for the reputational damage you caused.” After Richard finished, the mockery on my coworkers’ faces grew even more intense. I had already handed all my clients and projects over to Chloe, so Richard didn’t even bother pretending to be nice anymore. His stance was crystal clear: as long as I refused to sign the CEO transfer paperwork, he was going to make my life a living hell. My response was simple. I pulled out the resignation letter I had already prepared and dropped it on my desk. “Find someone else to man the office. I quit.” 3 My resignation went through flawlessly. Richard signed off on it right then and there. After I packed up my box and walked out the glass doors, Chloe stood in the executive office, looking confused. “Richard, didn’t you say we had to force Ethan to take the CEO title?” “Why did you approve his resignation so easily?” “Do you have a new scapegoat lined up?” Richard smiled confidently. “Relax. Ethan isn’t escaping my grasp.” “He is the absolute perfect fall guy. Think about it: over the last few years, he signed the vast majority of our contracts. His name is all over our biggest projects.” “As long as we force him to become the legal CEO, when the company’s finances explode in six months, we can pin 100% of the blame on him.” “I’ve already forged evidence showing him taking kickbacks and embezzling company funds. When the time comes, I’ll leak it, and Ethan will become public enemy number one.” “Your job right now is to keep his old clients happy. Squeeze as many advance payments out of them as possible.” “That way, in six months when the company goes bankrupt and Ethan goes to federal prison, we can take the cash and disappear to a tropical island.” Chloe sat on Richard’s lap, her voice sickeningly sweet. “Richard, what about my sister?” Richard let out a disgusted snort. “When she goes bankrupt, you think I’m going to stay with that ugly old hag?” “Besides, she’s not even your biological sister, and you’ve always hated her anyway. This is the perfect chance to get your revenge!” Chloe’s smile grew wider. She wrapped her arms around Richard’s neck. “If she hadn’t suddenly been ‘found’ and brought back to the Sterling family, all the Sterling wealth would have been mine.” “She grew up in the country. Her looks, her body, her education—she’s inferior to me in every way. But just because I’m the adopted daughter, she inherited everything. It’s not fair.” “She funded this entire company. Once we tank it, she’ll lose everything.” Richard laughed arrogantly. “When the financials blow up in six months, right before we leave, I’ll clean out our joint bank accounts and empty the house. She’ll be just as broke and destitute as that loser Ethan!” Chloe kissed Richard hard, her eyes gleaming with excitement. “Let’s put that aside for now. How are you going to force Ethan to willingly become the scapegoat?” Richard smiled evilly. “Ethan’s family is poor. His parents are old, but they’re still working minimum wage jobs just to survive.” “If his parents were to have a little… accident… and couldn’t work anymore? And suddenly needed a massive amount of cash for medical bills? Do you think Ethan would come begging to me?” “When that happens, I’ll have him completely by the balls!” Just as Richard and Chloe were getting handsy in the office, a frantic knocking echoed on the door. “What is it?!” Richard barked angrily. His trusted assistant’s panicked voice came through the wood. “Boss, your wife is here! She’s already in the lobby!” 4 Richard and Chloe scrambled to fix their clothes, both looking visibly panicked. Chloe stammered, “Richard, why is my sister here?!” “Didn’t she leave all the company operations to you?!” Richard ran a stressed hand through his hair. “How the hell should I know what that old hag is plotting!” “Why didn’t she call ahead?!” “Do you think she’s here to audit the books?!” “Pull yourself together. Don’t act suspicious.” The moment they stepped out of the office, a sharply dressed woman in her mid-thirties strode into the bullpen. It was Richard’s wife, Victoria Sterling. The employees all greeted her with immense caution and respect. The veterans knew exactly who held the real power. It wasn’t Richard; it was the formidable Victoria, who could crush Richard with a single thought. Richard slapped on a look of sheer joy and rushed over. “Honey! What are you doing here? I thought you were out shopping and playing bridge with your friends!” Chloe also plastered on a bright smile, adopting a playful tone. “Victoria! Were you worried Richard was messing around behind your back? Don’t worry, I’m keeping a close eye on him for you!” Victoria completely ignored Chloe. She looked at Richard and asked flatly, “Where is our top sales rep? The guy named Ethan. Is he here?” Hearing this, the employees exchanged bizarre looks. After all, I had just quit an hour ago. The owner’s wife suddenly showing up specifically looking for me was incredibly strange. Chloe asked cautiously, “Victoria, why are you looking for Ethan?” Victoria glanced at Chloe, then turned back to Richard. “Ethan’s parents were in a severe car accident. They’re in the hospital.” “He’s our top performer. It’s only right that we go show our support.” “I was shopping nearby when I heard the news, so I came straight here. I was going to take Ethan to the hospital to see them.” Chloe was just about to blurt out that I had quit, but Richard desperately shot her a warning glare. He quickly turned to Victoria, his face a mask of sycophantic concern. “Honey, I just heard the news too! I was just getting ready to head to the hospital!” “Ethan came in this morning throwing a massive tantrum, screaming about resigning. I have no idea what got into him. I tried to talk him out of it for an hour, but he wouldn’t listen. I had no choice but to approve it.” “He probably got the call and rushed straight to the hospital. Let’s head over there right now. We can check on his parents, and while we’re at it, we can try to convince him to come back to the company.” Victoria gave Richard a long, unreadable look. She didn’t say a word, and simply turned to leave. Richard and Chloe followed closely behind. Half an hour later, they arrived at the hospital room. When they saw the people standing outside the door, both Richard and Chloe froze. The people standing there were the primary investors and board members of the company! Richard looked at them in complete shock, instinctively asking, “What are you guys doing here?” The board members completely ignored Richard and Chloe, respectfully greeting Victoria instead. Victoria looked at Richard and said flatly, “I asked them to come!” “I’m going to announce something right in front of them!” Richard and Chloe’s hearts plummeted into their stomachs. “Announce what?” A cold sneer crept onto Victoria’s lips. “You’ll find out in a minute.” “Let’s go inside and check on Ethan’s parents first.” Without waiting for their response, Victoria pushed open the door to the hospital room. When they saw what was inside, Richard and Chloe’s faces contorted in absolute, paralyzing terror.

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In my past life, I married an old man for money, but I ended up kicking the bucket before him. When I opened my eyes again, I was reincarnated as a billionaire heiress in Manhattan. Looking at the incredibly handsome, dirt-poor college student standing in front of me, I decided it was my turn to experience the thrill of keeping a sugar baby. I loaded up his campus dining card, paid his tuition, and bought him anything he looked at for more than two seconds. But the way he looked at me was always icy and distant, like an untamed, feral puppy. That was, until the day I accidentally found a hidden diary in the back of his desk drawer. Flipping to the last page, I saw a very familiar handwriting: “I’m sorry.” “This time, let me be the one who leaves first.” !!!!!!! Wait… Old man?! 1 When my chauffeur pulled up to the university gates in my Bugatti, Liam was setting up a small folding table, selling hand-drawn calligraphy prints for the holidays. He was 6’1″, with messy, dark hair falling perfectly into his eyes, and striking, delicate features. He looked like he belonged on the cover of a GQ magazine, completely out of place on a dusty sidewalk. He caught my eye immediately. I squinted. Suddenly, I had an overwhelming urge to sponsor this college boy. After all, in this life, I really wanted to see what it was like to have my own kept man. Seemingly sensing my gaze, Liam looked up. His detached, world-weary eyes met mine. “Large prints are fifteen dollars. Small ones are eight.” I reached out and picked up one of the prints. “Your handwriting is really nice.” I looked up at him. “How much to write my name?” His grip on his calligraphy pen tightened, his face deadly serious. “Not for sale.” Fine, not for sale. Then why are your ears turning red? The corners of my mouth curled up. No rush. We have plenty of time to negotiate this business deal. 2 Liam wasn’t just gorgeous; he was also top of his class. Because he was broke, besides selling prints on the street, I found out he also worked as a private tutor. “What’s your hourly rate?” “Eighty dollars an hour.” “Deal.” I blinked at him, looking the picture of sincerity. “I’m Chloe. Let’s exchange numbers so we can schedule sessions.” He frowned, hesitated for a moment, and then reluctantly pulled up his contact info for me to scan. After adding him, I pretended to casually ask: “By the way… do you tutor any other students from our school?” His finger, swiping on his phone screen, paused. “No. Just you.” Just me! What a godsend! “Hey Liam, off-topic question.” “Yeah?” “Would your girlfriend mind… that you’re tutoring a girl?” He finally turned his head to look at me. “I don’t have a girlfriend.” I fought hard to suppress my rising smile. No girlfriend? Perfect. That means you’re completely available to be sponsored by me. “Liam, have you ever considered an annual retainer?” I leaned in slightly closer to him. “Name your price.” He kept a straight face and said, “I’m not for sale.” Wow, that sounds familiar. Very much my vibe from my past life. 3 In my past life, I had a sick mother, a gambling-addicted father, and a younger brother in school. To keep my family afloat, I worked five jobs simultaneously. But in the end, I still couldn’t pay off the massive debts my deadbeat dad owed to loan sharks. I was dragged into a dark alley by the collectors. I thought my life was over right then and there. Unexpectedly, a Bugatti suddenly pulled up to the mouth of the alley. An older man wearing a bespoke, high-end suit stepped out of the car. You could tell that in his youth, he must have been devastatingly handsome. He asked me if I was willing to be his kept woman. He would pay off all my father’s debts. He would guarantee my entire family a life free of financial worry. “I’m not for sale.” As I recall, I said the exact same thing to him back then that Liam just said to me. The older man just smiled and didn’t say anything, but he still solved my problem with the loan sharks. Not only that, he quietly took care of my mother’s medical bills, my brother’s tuition, and even paid to have our leaky, rundown house repaired. He would occasionally drop by to see how I was doing, but he never brought up the “kept woman” arrangement again. During casual conversation, I learned he had never married. He had always held a torch for his “first love,” and I just happened to look 90% like her. Maybe I was moved by everything he had done for me. Or maybe when you’re truly destitute, your principles are like wet paper—they tear at the slightest touch. I actually ended up being the one to propose we get married. After we got married, he treated me with immense respect, practically worshiping the ground I walked on. We maintained a strictly platonic relationship. Once, I was wearing a lace nightgown and accidentally tripped into his arms. His arms instantly tensed, and his breathing grew heavy, but he immediately steadied me and took a step back. Living with him for five years, it wasn’t that I didn’t develop any feelings for him. But the massive age gap was a chasm we could never cross. I never expected that I would die in a car crash before he did… When I opened my eyes again, I was a billionaire heiress in Manhattan. This time, it was my turn to enjoy life! 4 I scheduled my tutoring session with Liam for the evening. I specifically took a shower beforehand. My hair was half-wet, draped over my shoulders. I changed into a silk slip dress. Liam rang the doorbell right on time. “Good evening, Liam.” His gaze slid off me instantly. He followed my housekeeper straight into the study. “Liam, I don’t know this word,” I pushed my notebook toward him. “Can you translate it for me?” “Sensitive. It means easily affected or emotionally reactive.” “Oh.” I rested my chin on my hand, poking his elbow with the tip of my pen as I continued: “What about this one?” “Seduce. To entice or tempt.” I swung my legs, my toes “accidentally” brushing lightly against his calf. “How do you say ‘moth to a flame’?” “Like a moth to a flame!!!” He violently yanked his leg back, leaning so far backward he almost tipped his chair over. “Chloe, sit properly.” I completely ignored him and pulled my chair even closer. “I can hear you better this way.” “Chloe,” his tone was dead serious, “do you know… this is very dangerous.” “How dangerous?” I feigned innocence. “More dangerous than Calculus and the LSATs?” He stared at me, then suddenly reached out, grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair, and threw it directly over my head… “Put it on.” I sat there, stunned inside his jacket for two seconds. It smelled like his clean laundry detergent. “Liam, you’re so mean.” He ignored me and continued writing out the math equations. Watching him sit there—refusing to play the victim, refusing to sell his body, purely selling his brainpower—I suddenly felt a wave of dizziness. …What is going on here? I’m the one paying him! Why does it feel like I’m the one who doesn’t dare step out of line? My desperate attempt to seduce him just now didn’t look like a sugar mommy… It looked like… a sugar baby!!! Chloe, what the hell is wrong with you?! In this life, you’re supposed to be the one holding the purse strings! 5 A sugar mommy needs to act like a sugar mommy. New semester. I swiped Liam’s student ID card, went to the cafeteria kiosk, and dumped five thousand dollars onto his meal plan. I was afraid if I put any more, he’d be too embarrassed to accept it. When I found him in the library that afternoon, he was wearing headphones, deep in his coursework. I pulled out the chair across from him and slid the card over. “Liam! You don’t have to survive on $3 ramen cups this semester!” He picked up the card, looked at me, and furrowed his brow. “What is this?” He slid the card back to me. “I don’t need this.” “What do you mean you don’t need it?” I flashed a fawning smile. “You tutored me, and my grades went way up. This is your bonus!” “You already paid me for the tutoring sessions.” His tone was hard, and he pushed the card closer to me. “I’ll withdraw the cash and return it to you.” Back and forth. That card slid across the table multiple times. Watching Liam’s absolute, unwavering determination to resist capitalist corruption, I suddenly felt the urge to tease him again. I leaned forward, resting my chin on my hands, and asked softly with a sly smile: “If you don’t want money… do you want a different kind of bonus?” He looked up at me, a hint of confusion in his eyes. “For example…” I intentionally dragged out the word, my eyes dropping to his perfectly shaped lips. “…A kiss?” Cough! Cough!! Liam blushed furiously from his cheeks all the way down his neck. He frantically grabbed his water bottle, trying to look calm as he took a gulp. “What… what are you talking about?!” “Oh, you don’t want that?” I pretended to have a sudden realization. “Then I guess cash is more practical, right, Liam?” He took a deep breath, snatched the card from my hand in one swift motion. “Just this once. Never again.” 6 Never again? Once a door opens, it stays open. After observing him, I realized that Liam’s washed-out white button-down, whose collar was starting to sag, and his faded jeans were no longer worthy of a face that could be on a billboard. So, the next time he came to my apartment to tutor me, I placed a designer shopping bag right on top of his textbooks. “What is this now?” His tone was calm, but heavily guarded. “Your battle armor, Liam!” “Uh… my horoscope said that if you wear this, it’ll boost my academic luck!” Liam stared at me. His expression practically screamed, Keep making up bullshit, I’m listening. I kept a straight face and pushed the bag closer to him. “Seriously! Go to the bathroom and try it on!” He didn’t move, just stared at me in silence. I sighed and made a move to stand up. “If you’re too lazy to do it… should I help you change?” “My customer service is top-tier. I’ll even start by unbuttoning your shirt…” Before I could finish, Liam shot up from his chair like a rocket, snatched the bag, and took long, rapid strides toward the bathroom. I laid my head on the desk, my shoulders shaking with silent laughter. Gotcha. Now I know exactly how to handle you. About ten minutes later, he came back out. My eyes instantly lit up. The cream-colored cashmere turtleneck softened the usual cold, aloof aura around his eyes, adding a layer of gentle warmth. Help me. This isn’t a nerd… He looks like the male lead walking straight out of a winter K-drama! “…Are you done staring?” Liam awkwardly tugged at the hem of the sweater. “Nope.” I looked at him, my eyes sparkling. “Liam, wearing this… you look illegally handsome!” He pressed his lips together, refusing to take the bait. “Let’s get back to the math problems.” “Wait! Your collar isn’t folded right.” I reached out, my fingertips pretending to accidentally brush against the skin of his neck. He abruptly stepped back, his face flushing with embarrassment and annoyance: “…Chloe.” I knew exactly what he meant. I silently pulled my hand back, but my eyes were still glued to him. He was gorgeous, but he was also genuinely freezing cold. This wasn’t a sugar baby. This was an unapproachable ice prince! 7 I was just trying to figure out how to melt this iceberg when I bumped into Liam at the library… sitting next to another girl. An advanced calculus textbook was open in front of them. They were sitting quite close. Liam had his head turned, listening to her, occasionally nodding. Sunlight, books, a boy and a girl whispering about schoolwork… Why did this picture look so damn harmonious?! The level of interaction between them had already vastly surpassed his usual “Not for sale,” “I don’t need it,” and “Put your clothes on” routine with me! And this girl didn’t even have to pay him an hourly rate! The boba tea in my hand suddenly tasted bitter. I was jealous. I was pissed. I, Chloe the Sugar Mommy, had been feeding this guy for weeks. I loaded his meal card, bought his clothes, and gave him all the compliments in the world. And the iceberg barely melted for me, but someone else was enjoying the shade?! Now I finally understand why sugar daddies always get so obsessed with a single target. The feeling of having something right in front of you but being unable to eat it is agonizing. In my past life, I died young. In this life, I somehow managed to be born into unimaginable wealth, and who knows how long I’ll live. I decided to cherish my limited lifespan and take a different approach. Hanging myself on one tree wasn’t my style. Especially a tree that was trying to grow branches toward someone else! I refuse to believe Liam is the only handsome, broke college student on this campus!

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In the fifth year after I legally severed ties with my family, I waited on a familiar table of guests at the restaurant where I worked. As I carried their pre-ordered cake into the private dining room, the family of three suddenly froze. I didn’t blink. I sang “Happy Birthday,” placed the cake on the table, and politely closed the door behind me. But a moment later, the daughter chased me out into the hallway, holding out a slice of cake on a small plate. “Mom told me to bring this to you. Today is your birthday too.” “In all the years you’ve been gone, Mom and Dad talk about you every single day. They’re getting older. Just come home, okay?” The young woman’s eyes actually welled up with tears as she spoke. I remained perfectly polite, utterly detached, and gave a slight shake of my head. The next second, the slice of cake was smashed forcefully against my chest. An older woman stormed out of the room, screaming: “What did we ever do to mistreat you?! Why do you hate us this much?!” I quietly looked at the young woman standing in front of me—my identical twin sister. I thought about it for a second. Probably because her name was “Hope.” And my name was “Blight.” 1 The commotion in the hallway was loud. When my parents rushed out of the private room, their eyes instinctively locked onto Hope first. “Hope, sweetie, are you okay? Don’t be upset, baby.” My mother, always the emotional one, wrapped her arms around Hope, who was trembling with manufactured anger. My mother’s eyes were red. I quietly pulled some paper towels from an apron pocket and began wiping the frosting off my uniform. Out of habit, I didn’t say a word. The man, who had initially swallowed his reprimand, suddenly exploded when he saw my passive reaction. “Blight, this is your mother and your sister! What kind of attitude is that?! You disappear without a word for five years, and the first time we see you, you decide to throw a tantrum and show us up?!” Hearing that name again after five years—the name I despised from the absolute bottom of my soul—still made my stomach physically churn. My breath hitched for a second. When I looked up again, I flashed a perfect, corporate customer-service smile. “I apologize, sir. My name is Maya.” “If you don’t need anything else from me, I’m going to step away to clean my uniform, so I don’t ruin your appetite.” Five years of grinding through the real world had taught me not to act on impulse. After delivering my lines smoothly, I turned and walked away. Behind me, the three of them stood frozen in place, as if they’d been struck by lightning. They probably never imagined that the hysterical, scorched-earth daughter who had severed ties with them would ever become so polished and detached. … By the time I finished my shift and cleaned up, it was late at night. Just as I walked up to the bus stop, a car slowly pulled up to the curb right in front of me. The window rolled down, revealing my mother’s cautious face. “It’s too late. Let me give you a ride.” Seemingly afraid I would refuse, she quickly added, “It’s just Mom. Just let Mom give you a ride, okay?” The flickering streetlights reflected in her eager eyes. The sight of it almost made me laugh. My mother, a renowned child psychologist, was always so confident. She honestly believed that if she just showed up, she could win me back. I had seen this exact tactic when I was a child. But I wasn’t a child anymore. “No need. My roommate is on her way to pick me up.” Clearly not expecting a rejection, she looked stunned for a moment, but stubbornly refused to drive away. I knew she probably thought I was just making up an excuse. But I had no desire to explain anything to her. There was no point. 2 When my mother first got pregnant, she had a strong feeling she was having a girl. She picked out the name “Hope” very early on. She was at the absolute peak of her career. As a child psychologist, she had seen her fair share of broken, unhappy families, so she was absolutely determined to give her child a life filled with hope and light. Unfortunately, she had identical twin girls. The delivery was horrific; she suffered a massive hemorrhage and nearly died. Lying in her hospital bed, weak and exhausted, her eyes burned with an astonishing level of resentment. “Name one Hope, and name the other one Blight. She’s just an unwanted extra anyway. If it wasn’t for her, I wouldn’t have almost died!” And so, the second-born twin—me—was burdened with the sin of nearly killing my mother before I even opened my eyes. For the next few years, I was always the forgotten one. For a busy professional like my mother, taking care of one child was already exhausting. When it came to the “extra” child, she just did the bare minimum to keep me alive. Because of this, Hope constantly used our identical faces to her advantage, eating my portions of food without anyone ever noticing. One night, I was so hungry my stomach cramped. I sneaked into the kitchen. I knew there was half a cup of yogurt left in the fridge from what Hope had been eating. Earlier that day, after she finished my portion of yogurt, she was too full to finish her own. She whined to my mother to put it in the fridge so she could eat it tomorrow. “Mommy, this is my yogurt. You can’t give it to Blight,” she had insisted repeatedly. I stared at my mother, desperately wanting to expose the lie. But the moment I opened my mouth, I was impatiently cut off: “Blight, I told you, you and your sister get one cup each! You are not allowed to steal from your sister!” But I was so incredibly hungry. I was so hungry I couldn’t sleep. I’ll just take a tiny taste. Nobody will notice, I thought. I held the yogurt cup, dipped my finger in, and licked it. It tasted amazing. But the very next second, I was caught by Hope, who had followed me. The house lit up as she started screaming and crying. I stared at the yogurt that had spilled all over the floor from the shock, completely terrified and lost. “Blight! You’re learning how to steal at this age?! Didn’t I tell you this belonged to your sister?! Are you that much of a glutton?!” My mother hugged a sobbing, hiccuping Hope and screamed at me. Hope kept going: “Actually, my sister always steals my snacks…” Lie. She was the one who constantly stole my snacks! “And at lunch, my sister didn’t like the steak you made, Mommy. I said I would eat it, but she just threw it in the trash and said she’d rather throw it away than give it to me…” Lie. I didn’t throw that steak away on purpose. She didn’t like it, but she refused to let me eat it. My mother stroked a rambling Hope’s hair, her eyes filled with nothing but heartbreak for her. I panicked. “No, Mommy, it’s not true! It’s not what she said!” I wanted to defend myself, but I was terrible with words. All I could do was repeat, “It wasn’t me,” and “I didn’t steal it,” over and over again. “I didn’t pick the wrong name for you. You really do live up to your name. You’re a blight, rotten right down to the root. Blight, how did I ever give birth to a bad seed like you?!” Beep! The sound of a horn pulled me out of my memories. My roommate pulled up on her electric scooter. Just as I was about to climb onto the back seat, my mother actually stepped out of her car. “Blight… are you really choosing to ride on that piece of junk instead of getting in my car? It’s freezing tonight. Why do you insist on making yourself suffer like this?” She reached out to grab my arm. My response was to ruthlessly slap her hand away. “Mrs. Miller,” I still addressed her formally. “Isn’t everything I am today entirely your doing?” 3 Years of neglect and false accusations molded me into someone extremely sensitive and quick to anger. I was the absolute polar opposite of Hope, who had excellent grades, a sunny personality, and was the textbook example of my mother’s perfect parenting. “Mr. Miller, Mrs. Miller, we asked you to come in today regarding a bullying incident involving Blight. She put an allergen into a classmate’s water bottle. The student is currently in the hospital.” “The school has a zero-tolerance policy for bullying. We have decided to expel Blight.” Before arriving at the principal’s office, I had absolutely no idea what was going on. Sure, my grades were terrible, I hated talking to people, and I looked like someone you didn’t want to mess with. But I strictly lived by the rule: If you don’t mess with me, I won’t mess with you. I barely even knew the classmate they were talking about. I immediately knew it was Hope. She used our identical faces to do something horrible and pinned it on me. Half of my terrible reputation was a direct result of her actions. If it were the usual petty gossip, I wouldn’t have bothered explaining. But I didn’t want to be expelled. “Hope brought mangoes from home this morning. I didn’t put them in the bottle.” I stared intensely at the two people sitting in front of me—the people I biologically belonged to, but refused to acknowledge as parents. It wasn’t until the words left my mouth that I realized my palms were sweating profusely from anxiety. I forced my chin up, confronting them. “It wasn’t me. Hope did it. She was jealous because that girl took the number one rank in the grade from her last week.” Their faces were dark. My father was the first to let out a cold snort. “Look at the wonderful daughter you raised! You call yourself a child psychologist, and you can’t even teach your own child!” With that, he turned and walked out, completely washing his hands of the situation, just like he always did. My mother despised anyone using her proud career as a weapon against her. She spun around and delivered a vicious slap, snapping my head to the side. She pointed a shaking finger at me, screaming that I was a “failure.” “Hope has always had perfect grades! Why would she be jealous of anyone?! Blight, you are truly beyond saving. You actually tried to drag your sister down with you!” I was forcibly expelled. Locked in the house all day, I eventually developed severe bipolar disorder. Most days, I just lay in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, letting time waste away. Forgetting to eat for an entire day was normal. My family treated me like I was invisible. They only checked in to make sure I was still breathing. To them, it was better that I didn’t have the energy to cause trouble. One day, I turned on the TV, and by pure coincidence, an interview with my mother was playing. The interviewer asked, “What is your perspective on the increasingly severe mental health issues among teenagers in modern society?” On TV, my mother looked infinitely kinder and more approachable than she ever did with me. She smiled and said, “A child’s psychological issues mostly stem from parental neglect. We need to start with the parents, building bridges of communication…” “With a mother like you, your child must be incredibly outstanding,” the interviewer marveled. She nodded in agreement. “Yes, I have an incredibly outstanding daughter. Her name is—” “Hope.” 4 I smashed the TV. But to them, I was just “throwing another tantrum.” My mother couldn’t even be bothered to look at me. I stood barefoot amidst the shattered glass and plastic, the soles of my feet sliced open and bleeding. From that day on, I started acting out with a vengeance. Since my mother refused to acknowledge me as her daughter, I was going to violently prove my existence. I stopped coming home at night. I stopped going to school. I learned how to smoke, how to drink, and how to waste my days in internet cafes. I was willing to destroy myself if it meant inflicting damage on them. Even though it brought me zero pleasure, I still used every ounce of my energy to torture them. I went back to the internet cafe. Sitting in front of the computer, I started staring into space again. I didn’t actually want to use the computer; it was just a habit to sit there for two hours. It was enough time for my clothes to soak up the smell of stale cigarette smoke, just so I could go home and piss off my mother. But that day, I met Julian. The only light I would ever have in the first half of my life. When I saw him sneaking into the internet cafe, trying to hide his face, I couldn’t believe it. After all, this was “delinquent behavior” according to my mother. I never imagined Julian—the genius math Olympiad champion—would ever set foot in a place like this. Logically, a complete academic failure like me shouldn’t have ever had the chance to meet Julian. But ironically, he was the object of Hope’s intense jealousy and admiration. Hope was ranked number one in our grade, but that was only because Julian was fully focused on national competitions and didn’t take the regular school exams. She absolutely hated it when people said that if Julian came back to regular classes, she would have to step down from the throne. Over time, I had constructed an image of an untouchable genius based on her complaints. He was completely different from the clumsy guy sitting next to me, who couldn’t even figure out where the power button on the PC tower was. I leaned over and pressed the power button for him. “Thanks.” He smiled sheepishly. After that, I always saw Julian in the exact same seat on Friday afternoons. As time went on, we got to know each other. He told me his family was incredibly strict. He only had two short hours of free time on Friday afternoons. “I actually hate the math competitions. It’s incredibly dry and boring, and studying for it is exhausting. But my parents exhaust themselves trying to push me to the top, so all I can do is sneak out to relax for a bit.” “Maya, please keep my secret.” I hadn’t told him my real name. The word “Blight” was too ugly. I didn’t want to hear it coming from his mouth. I had wondered countless times why my mother couldn’t have named me something normal, like Maya. That way, I could be Maya, and that other person could be Blight. Julian and I always played co-op games together. He would tell me all the school gossip, even though I had been expelled a long time ago. Sometimes, he would bring me snacks—cake, chocolate… The first time I drank the yogurt he brought me, I cried. “What’s wrong? Does it taste bad? I won’t bring it next time,” he panicked, clumsily trying to wipe my tears, looking completely devastated. I let myself enjoy the feeling of being cared for. With tears shining in my eyes, I smiled and replied: “This is the first time I’ve ever had yogurt. It’s so good, it’s so good I could cry!” We became best friends who talked about everything. The distance between us closed rapidly. My mental health issues were finally under control, and everything seemed to be moving in a positive direction. We were in the noisy internet cafe, in the middle of a co-op match, when the guy next to us raged at his game and violently threw his water cup across the desk. I was sitting right next to him and jumped out of my skin. When I regained my senses, I realized Julian had instinctively pulled me into his arms, shielding me. Wrapped in a tight embrace, I looked up, just as he looked down. “Are you okay? Did it scare you?” I shook my head. Our breaths tangled together, and my face instantly flushed burning red. Julian froze for a second, then awkwardly pulled away. We went back to our game, but neither of us could focus. Suddenly, my pinky finger was hooked by his. I turned my head and met Julian’s youthful, slightly nervous face. “Maya, let’s go out,” he said. I felt like I had been hit by a truck made of pure joy. My face turned bright red, and I had no idea what to do. Julian, however, immediately regretted his delivery. “Oh man, I should have prepared a proper, formal confession for you.” I still remember telling him it didn’t matter, that he could just give me one later. But later, in the dead of night, waking up from nightmares, I would always cry and whisper: “Don’t be with me.” I’ll ruin you.

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When my ex-husband, Arthur Vance, finally tracked me down, I was in the middle of picking out a cemetery plot for my late husband. The one I really wanted was too expensive, but I was terrified that buying a cheaper one would be doing him a disservice. Just as I was agonizing over the decision, Arthur asked me if I wanted to remarry him. The rejection that was on the tip of my tongue mutated into a very cautious question: “If we remarry… will my allowance still be fifty thousand a month?” Arthur looked at me, completely taken aback. After all, the woman I used to be treated money like dirt. He nodded, his eyes showing a flash of heartache I couldn’t quite understand. “Yes. As long as you play the role of an obedient, well-behaved wife.” I agreed without a second of hesitation. And I learned exactly how to be a good wife. I stopped checking his phone. I stopped demanding he remember our anniversaries. I stopped caring when he refused to set boundaries with his female “best friends.” But eventually, he screamed at me like a madman: “I just wanted you to listen to me! I didn’t want you to stop loving me!” … 1 When Arthur Vance found me, I was looking at cemetery plots for my late husband, Liam. I was even wearing a small white camellia pinned to my hair in mourning. Thinking about how Liam had drained his entire life savings to pay for my medical treatments, and how he had ultimately died saving me during the earthquake… my eyes couldn’t help but well up with tears. We were supposed to be on our honeymoon right now… Just as I was sinking into my grief, Arthur sat down directly across from me. His eyes critically scanned my outfit. The woman who once wore exclusively haute couture was now sitting in front of him wearing a stretched-out hoodie and faded, washed-out jeans. I looked so pathetic there wasn’t a single trace of my former wealthy life left. He frowned deeply. “You left me just to live like this?” I froze for a second before finally recognizing him. My ex-husband. We had been divorced for five years. Seeing me stay silent, Arthur assumed I was just overwhelmed with joy. He said flatly: “As long as you apologize and admit you were wrong, we can remarry. How about it?” I originally wanted to tell him to go to hell, but then I remembered the plot I had just been looking at cost seven figures. Even if I delivered DoorDash for the rest of my life, I might never be able to afford it. Thinking of that, I asked him carefully, “If we remarry… will my allowance still be fifty thousand a month?” Arthur stared at me in silence. Deep in his eyes, there was a flash of heartache I didn’t quite understand. He said, “As long as you’re a good, obedient girl, I’ll give you a hundred thousand. But if you act like you used to—throwing tantrums, acting crazy, and being constantly paranoid—then I’ll…” Before he could finish his threat, I immediately raised my hand in a pledge. “I understand. I will be obedient.” Arthur looked surprised. “Have you really thought this through? You used to be… you were never this easy to talk to.” I offered a helpless smile. “Like you said, Mr. Vance. That was how I used to be.” Used to be. I used to be the woman he held in the palm of his hand. I was Mrs. Vance, the envy of New York’s elite circle, and the most celebrated genius architect in the industry. Whether I relied on him or on myself, I could have lived an incredible life. But now? My reputation was completely destroyed. His childhood sweetheart had issued an industry-wide “blacklist” against me, making it impossible for me to find a decent job anywhere in the city. If I hadn’t met Liam, I probably would have just been a rotting corpse at the bottom of a cliff. Where was my former pride supposed to come from? Arthur’s expression shifted slightly. He frowned. “What did you just call me? Mr. Vance?” Looking at me sitting across from him—acting perfectly obedient, yet radiating a cold, impenetrable distance—Arthur felt like his heart had been submerged in water. It felt damp. Suffocating… Terrified he would get angry and take away my hundred thousand dollars, I quickly explained, “Did you forget? You were the one who forbade me from calling you ‘husband’.” Arthur’s face instantly went a shade paler. He remembered. He remembered that our marriage had been a secret. I was the Chief Architect at his firm. Publicly, everyone thought I was just a highly valued employee. And to make sure no one found out, he strictly forbade me from ever calling him “husband” at work. So, for years, I only ever called him “Mr. Vance.” Arthur looked annoyed. He rubbed his temples. “That was when you were at the company. We had to keep it professional. You don’t have to do that anymore.” A dense, prickling pain spread across my chest. Yeah. I don’t have to do that anymore. Because the career I was so fiercely proud of had been completely annihilated by him. I never had to play the role of his employee again. Unable to handle my silence, Arthur stood up irritably. “Come home with me.” I stood up obediently and followed him to his Cullinan. The moment I opened the door, I froze. The entire interior was customized in baby pink, and the dashboard was plastered with photo booth pictures of Arthur and Chloe. Chloe was his childhood sweetheart. She was also the spark that ignited our divorce. Noticing me staring blankly at the photos, Arthur panicked slightly and rushed to explain. “Chloe hurt her leg recently. My mom insisted she stay at our house so it’d be easier for me to drive her to and from work.” “You know how she is. She’s innocent, always has her head in the clouds, and likes this kind of childish stuff, so…” Before he could finish justifying it, I smiled and cut him off. “It’s pretty cute.” Arthur looked at my perfectly calm, unbothered face. “You don’t mind?” I shook my head, smiling. “Why would I mind? You two grew up together, you’re practically siblings.” “If something was going to happen between you two, it would have happened years ago. I never would have stood a chance.” 2 I thought saying that would make Arthur happy, but his face actually darkened by several shades. I had no idea why he was getting mad. Those were the exact words he used to say to me whenever I got jealous. Unfortunately, back then, I never believed in purely platonic friendships between men and women. So even when he said that, I still demanded he keep his distance from Chloe. He agreed to my face, but behind my back, he and Chloe were practically inseparable. Until the day I caught them at a gala. I lost my mind, screaming and hitting him. And the result? I was the one who suffered the brutal consequences. Did he forget all of that? Whatever. I didn’t care enough to manage his moods. I just looked down at my phone, calculating how long it would take me to save up enough for the cemetery plot. Arthur felt an absurd sense of unreality. He never expected that after just five years, I would completely, effortlessly accept his relationship with Chloe. But… this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Wasn’t I supposed to scream at him for crossing the line? Looking at my calm profile, Arthur comforted himself: It must be because she doesn’t want to lose me again. She’s too scared to get angry. At that moment, I remembered that a photo of Liam was still at my old apartment. I asked Arthur if we could swing by there first. Arthur refused immediately, looking deeply disgusted. “Do you honestly think my mansion has room for your garbage?” “Just call your landlord, tell them you’re breaking the lease, and have them throw it all away.” I opened my mouth, originally wanting to tell him that I wasn’t renting, that I owned the place. But on second thought, I just nodded submissively. That tiny, three-hundred-square-foot studio was the only inheritance Liam left me. There was no need for outsiders to know about it. The rest of the drive was silent. Half an hour later, I was standing in front of the house that used to be my marital home. In the front yard, the sycamore tree I had planted myself was thriving, looking lush and vibrant after five years of weathering the elements. I was a bit surprised. I distinctly remembered that on the day I left, Arthur swore he was going to rip this tree out by its roots. I didn’t expect it to still be standing here five years later. Arthur walked up beside me, looking incredibly unnatural as he offered, “I hired a Feng Shui master. He said this sycamore tree is good for my fortune, so I didn’t dig it up.” I nodded, wondering why he felt the need to explain that to me. I wasn’t narcissistic enough to think he kept the tree because he was still in love with me. Honestly, I was still waiting for him to tell me the real reason he wanted to remarry me. Very quickly, I got my answer. He wanted to remarry me… for his little childhood sweetheart. The front door opened from the inside. I saw Chloe, looking pale and fragile, being supported by a maid. She smiled brightly. “Arthur! You’re back!” I had already figured out on the drive over that she was living here, so I gave her a perfectly natural nod. “Long time no see, Chloe.” Chloe clearly didn’t expect me to be so calm. Her face wore its usual fake, saccharine smile as she greeted me affectionately, “Evelyn! It’s been so long.” “I told Arthur my birthday wish was for you two to get back together, and I can’t believe he actually went out and found you!” “It looks like Arthur really is my personal Santa Claus. He makes all my wishes come true.” If this were the old me, hearing those words would have shattered me. So the only reason I was brought back was because it was another woman’s birthday wish. But now? Not only was I not depressed, I looked at her with genuine, profound gratitude. “Thank you so much, Chloe. Mr. Vance told me you hurt your leg? Don’t worry, I will take excellent care of you.” This time, Chloe’s mask completely cracked. She stared at me in shock, forgetting to even deliver her next line. Arthur also stared at me in disbelief, trying to find some trace of sarcasm or fakeness in my eyes, only to realize I was being 100% sincere. The bizarre, suffocating feeling in his chest grew stronger. He quickly tried to explain, “Chloe is just joking with you. You’re my wife. If I want to remarry you, obviously it’s because I’ve thought about it from every angle.” I smiled and flattered him smoothly. “You are the CEO of the Vance Group. Any decision you make is obviously the result of deep, strategic thinking.” “Chloe’s wish was just a reference point. I get it. I totally understand.” I didn’t expect that even after I said that, Arthur still wouldn’t be satisfied. His face was dark as he glared at me, his eyes hiding a deep, probing confusion I didn’t understand. I looked back at him, blinking innocently. Ultimately, defeated by the clear, untroubled look in my eyes, he turned and stormed into the living room in a huff. I followed closely behind, but as I reached the doorway, Chloe blocked my path. Chloe leaned in and whispered in my ear, “Five years away, and your manipulation skills have definitely leveled up.” “Too bad that in the face of absolute favoritism, your little ‘playing hard to get’ routine isn’t going to work.” “Let me tell you the truth. Arthur only brought you back because I can’t get pregnant. He wants you to carry a baby for me, so I can officially marry into the Vance family without any pushback.” My heart skipped a beat. Have a baby? I couldn’t help but slowly rest my hand over my lower abdomen. Once upon a time, there was a baby growing there too. But tragically… it was murdered by its own father. 3 The look of absolute disgust on Arthur’s face that day was burned into my memory with crystal clarity. He had said: “A malicious, venomous woman like you has absolutely no right to bear my child.” I never imagined that five years later, he would actually want me to have a baby for him. But… I couldn’t have kids anymore either. If Arthur found out, would he throw me out on the street? Then what about the cemetery plot…? Thinking of this, I made a silent vow. I absolutely could not let Arthur find out. Just then, Chloe suddenly screamed and stumbled backward, her eyes turning red. “Evelyn, if you don’t like me, you can just say it… why did you stomp on my foot?!” The maid standing next to her immediately chimed in, pointing a self-righteous finger at me. “Madam, Miss Chloe already has an injured leg. With you stomping on her like that, she’s going to be in agony for days.” “You are truly…” Faced with these two dramatic actresses, I raised an eyebrow in genuine surprise, then immediately bowed my head and apologized. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to.” I was well accustomed to Chloe’s two-faced performances. In the past, I used to constantly complain to Arthur about her, calling her a manipulative snake. Unfortunately, Arthur never believed me. He said I was insane with jealousy, maliciously twisting the actions of an innocent little girl. Even though this “little girl” was exactly one month older than me. Because of that, I had no intention of trying to explain myself to Arthur. I just offered a prompt, sincere apology. A short distance away, Arthur’s face darkened. Seeing him look over, I assumed he was going to reprimand me just like he used to. I immediately took the initiative: “I know it wasn’t on purpose, but I acknowledge that I hurt Chloe.” “I accept my punishment. I will go to the attic right now.” Having said that, I turned and started walking toward the stairs. The attic had a confinement room. It was a “reflection room” Arthur specifically had built for me. Every time I “hurt” Chloe or disobeyed him, he would lock me in there to reflect on my actions. For twenty-four hours. No food. No water. In the beginning, I used to fight back and struggle. But eventually, I suffered a miscarriage while locked in that pitch-black room, and it gave me severe claustrophobia. After that, the mere threat of it reduced me to a sobbing, begging mess on my knees. Thankfully, I wasn’t afraid of the dark anymore. During that earthquake, I was trapped in a tiny, pitch-black space propped open by Liam’s body. It was completely dark, and we were covered in blood. But as his life slowly slipped away, I felt the most profound, intense love I had ever known. He pulled me out of my final psychological shadow. It was just that this time, the price had been far too high. Without realizing it, my eyes began to sting and turn red. When Arthur grabbed my wrist, this was the scene he saw—my head bowed submissively, my eyes holding absolutely zero resentment, only a trace of raw vulnerability. I looked like a fawn that had been abandoned by its mother in the wilderness. A sharp pain pierced Arthur’s heart. The inexplicable rage that had just flared up in his chest was instantly extinguished. He asked, a mix of helplessness and confusion in his voice, “When did I say I was sending you to the confinement room?” I looked up, genuinely shocked and flattered. “Huh? I really don’t have to go?” My reaction instantly stung Arthur’s eyes. He actually felt a surge of regret for how he had treated me in the past. He explained awkwardly, “When I locked you in there before, it was because you were immature. You made mistakes and were too stubborn to admit them, so I wanted to teach you a lesson.” “Now, it wasn’t on purpose, and your attitude in apologizing was excellent. There’s no need for punishment.” As he spoke, he looked over at Chloe standing nearby and smiled warmly. “Besides, Chloe is so kindhearted, how could she possibly want you punished over such a minor accident?” Chloe’s mask almost ripped right off her face. She stared at me with an unfamiliar, deeply unsettled gaze. The corners of her mouth twitched into a stiff smile as she nodded. “Yeah, Evelyn. If you go to the attic, it’ll make me look like I’m being aggressive and demanding.” I shook my head, quickly explaining, “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just so used to…” Chloe instantly switched to playing the victim. “I knew it! Evelyn still blames me. It was my fault back then, I was immature and didn’t know boundaries, and it caused a rift between you two.” “Evelyn, I’m so sorry. I formally apologize to you.” Arthur looked at me suspiciously. I knew exactly what he was thinking—he was wondering if I was trying to stir up drama again. I had just managed to dodge a punishment; there was no way I was letting Chloe trap me in another narrative. I put on my most sincere, earnest face. “How could you say that? I let go of all that a long time ago.” “Oh, by the way! Don’t you love my steamed sea bass?” “I’ll go to the farmer’s market right now, buy the freshest fish, and make it for you.” “But once you eat my fish, you’re not allowed to bring up the past anymore, okay?” My response effectively killed Chloe’s performance. She stood there awkwardly, watching me turn and run toward the front door. Before she even had a chance to speak, she watched Arthur walk right past her and chase me out the door. 4 Arthur grabbed my wrist, his brow furrowed. “I brought you back to be the lady of the house, not to be a servant.” I shook my head, looking completely unbothered. “It’s fine! I used to cook for Chloe all the time anyway.” Arthur opened his mouth, but it felt like a cork had been shoved down his throat. He couldn’t utter a single sound. He remembered a few years ago when Chloe had been pushed down the stairs. To make me “atone” for my sins, he forced me to act as Chloe’s personal maid for three months. Chloe was an incredibly picky eater, and I was never a good cook. The meals I brought her were repeatedly knocked to the floor, and I was forced to remake them from scratch. Back then, my hands were covered in burn blisters, but he never once felt an ounce of pity for me. After those three months, I firmly asked for a divorce. He blamed me for being unrepentant, and in a fit of rage, signed the papers. And that was the beginning of our five-year separation. Arthur sighed heavily. “You’re still blaming me for that, aren’t you? You’re saying this on purpose to remind me that I bullied you for Chloe’s sake.” “But honey, you were the one in the wrong back then. If I didn’t give the Miller family a proper explanation, the corporate partnership between our families would have been jeopardized…” “I’m not just your husband, I’m the CEO of a multi-billion dollar corporation.” I didn’t expect that just volunteering to cook a meal would trigger another one of Arthur’s endless, self-justifying lectures. I had zero interest in hearing what he had to say. All I wanted to know was if he was going to drive me to the market, because the good one was pretty far away. When I made my request, I saw Arthur’s face turn incredibly bitter. It almost looked like… sadness. I had no idea what was wrong with him. I just rushed him, “Hurry up! If we get there late, all the fresh fish will be sold out.” Arthur got into the car with a dark expression. He drove me to the supermarket, quietly watched me buy groceries, and quietly drove me back home. Once we got back, he immediately jumped into a video conference call. Chloe sat closely by his side like a little bird, occasionally feeding him pieces of fruit. Meanwhile, I was in the kitchen prepping dinner, my mind racing: How the hell am I going to get Arthur to pay me my allowance? The cemetery sales rep had just texted me. Someone else was looking at that specific plot. I needed to pay the deposit immediately. … An hour later, the three of us were sitting at the dining table. I placed a tender piece of fish into Chloe’s bowl and asked, “Is it good?” Chloe raised an eyebrow in approval, immediately defaulting to treating me like a servant just like she used to. “The fish is decent. Tomorrow I want chicken stew with glass noodles, sea snails, and Australian lobster.” I immediately whipped out my phone, typing as I spoke: “No problem. Um… Mr. Vance, do you have time to take me grocery shopping tomorrow? If not, could you transfer some money to me?” “Otherwise, I don’t have any money to buy groceries.” Arthur stared at me in absolute shock. Then, he pulled out his phone and started transferring the money, while simultaneously telling Chloe: “Chloe, Evelyn isn’t a chef. If you want something specific, just tell Mrs. Higgins to make it.” Chloe’s face instantly turned an ugly shade of pale. She put down her chopsticks and looked like she was about to burst into tears. “I understand. I’m intruding on you two.” Saying that, she stood up to leave. “I think it’s better if I just go back to my own house. Otherwise, what happens if I say the wrong thing again?” As she turned, she suddenly fell to the floor. Her knee hit the hardwood with a loud, heavy thud. Just hearing the sound, you knew it had to hurt. Seeing this, Arthur rushed over and scooped her up into his arms. Her eyes were red as she tried to push him away. “Let me go, I don’t want you to hold me.” “Since Evelyn is back, everything I say is wrong, and everything I do makes you unhappy.” “It’s better if I just go home.” Arthur patiently coaxed her. “What are you talking about? I didn’t mean anything by it.” His gaze dropped to her knee, his voice filled with heartache. “Your knee… I’m taking you to the hospital right now.” He carried Chloe and practically sprinted toward the front door. As he reached the exit, he suddenly turned back, only to see me sitting at the table, casually eating my dinner as if nothing had happened. He swallowed whatever explanation he was about to give and said coldly, “Wait here. Don’t go anywhere.” I replied obediently, “Okay.” The exact second they left, I immediately wired an $80,000 deposit to the cemetery sales rep. Arthur didn’t come home for the next few days. I was thrilled to have the peace and quiet. One afternoon, while I was enjoying some tea, the butler suddenly led a group of people into the house. He said Mr. Vance had sent them to deliver clothes, bags, and shoes. It was the latest season’s collections from all the major luxury brands, and I could pick whatever I wanted. I selected several classic, high-value bags and some staple clothing items, already calculating how much I could sell them for on luxury resale sites in a few weeks. That night, I went to sleep early. In my dreams, I saw Liam. He was standing in a field of wildflowers, smiling and waving at me. I ran over, threw my arms around him, and said excitedly, “Liam! I made a hundred thousand dollars today! Aren’t I amazing?” He hugged me, his eyes full of tenderness. “Don’t force yourself to suffer just for me.” I shook my head. I didn’t feel like I was suffering at all. Besides, compared to everything he did for me, the little bit of acting I was doing was absolutely nothing. Suddenly, I felt something cold and wet on my skin, accompanied by heavy, low panting. It violently shredded my dream to pieces. I opened my eyes in extreme annoyance and saw Arthur pinned on top of me, passionately biting my earlobe. A wave of intense nausea surged up my throat. I completely lost control, violently shoved him off me, and sprinted to the bathroom to vomit.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391296”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I was simultaneously moonlighting as a sugar baby for two billionaire brothers. The older brother preferred sultry and seductive, so I showed up in lace lingerie and a bunny tail. The younger brother preferred innocent and pure, so I catered to his tastes with oversized white dress shirts and black thigh-highs. Because of my top-tier professional skills, I had never been caught. Until one day, I got sloppy, and a paparazzo managed to snap a few photos. The hashtag “Vance Brothers Suspected of Sharing the Same Kept Woman” skyrocketed to the top of the trending charts. When the younger brother came storming up to the front door, absolutely furious, I was currently sitting on his older brother’s lap, acting cute and trying to coax him for a new bag. 1 The other girls in my sugar baby networking group felt incredibly sorry for me. They knew I was the kept woman of Liam Vance, the second son of the Vance family, but that Liam never, ever touched me physically. “Chloe is so gorgeous, why did she have to end up with a prude like Liam Vance?” “I heard Liam is saving himself for his first love, so he refuses to touch Chloe.” “Poor Chloe, living like a widow at such a young age. How is she supposed to survive this?” As I listened to them gossip, I grabbed two tissues and dabbed at nonexistent tears. It was true; Liam never laid a finger on me. He paid me $10,000 a month, and his only requirements were that I eat dinner with him, go for drives, and chat. This kind of lifestyle was honestly comfortable as hell. Because I had so much free time, I decided to take on another gig and found myself a second sugar daddy. Since moonlighting like this was a severe violation of professional ethics, I could only do it secretly. I didn’t dare let the other girls know. Right now, Harper was hugging me sympathetically. “Chloe, being deprived for so long is bad for your health. Why don’t you find a new sponsor?” “What about Arthur Vance, the older brother? He controls billions in assets, he’s unmarried, single, and super hot. Why don’t you go try your luck with him?” “Give it a rest,” another girl nearby chimed in to warn me. “I heard Arthur Vance already has a kept woman. She’s just incredibly mysterious; nobody knows who she is yet.” “Don’t go wading into those muddy waters.” I took a massive gulp of my drink, not daring to say a single word. Right at that moment, my phone buzzed. It was a text from Arthur Vance. “Wait for me at the penthouse tonight.” I obediently replied with an “Okay.” To tell you the truth, that mysterious sugar baby Arthur Vance was keeping… was also me. 2 Arthur was completely different from his younger brother. He was wild and unrestrained. His entire body seemed to radiate an endless, inexhaustible physical energy, and he absolutely loved tormenting me in bed. After walking into the penthouse, I took off my black trench coat, revealing the sexy fox lingerie set underneath. I even specifically accessorized with a fluffy pair of animal ears on a headband. Arthur was clearly very receptive to this. His Adam’s apple bobbed a few times, his eyes instantly darkened, and even his breathing grew heavier. He unbuttoned his dress shirt with one hand, slowly pulled off his leather belt, and waved me over. “Come here. Sit.” I obediently sat on his lap, hugging his arm and acting spoiled. “I made this headband myself. Do you like it?” His scorching hot palm pressed tightly against my short skirt, his voice raspy: “I love it.” I took the opportunity to wrap my arms around his neck, using my softest, sweetest voice: “I saw a new limited-edition bag yesterday.” “Mhm. Buy it.” Arthur’s tone was dismissive, but the grip of his hand was strong. He squeezed my waist rhythmically, his fingertips slowly tracing circles on my skin. As our lips tangled together, he roughly yanked off my fox tail. He tilted my chin up, leaned close to my ear, and whispered: “Is my little fox illiterate?” “What?” I looked at him, confused, and blinked. The corner of his mouth curled into a smirk, and his hand moved to the zipper of my skirt: “I want to do a full investigation of my little fox’s academic credentials. Does that sound good?” In a haze of scorching, suffocating heat, Arthur held me on his lap. He was in a great mood today. Seeing how turned on he was, I took the chance to ask: “I want to buy a condo downtown.” “I’ll buy you one tomorrow.” He glared at me in dissatisfaction, increasing the pressure of his hands, making me let out a soft whimper of pain. “Little gold digger, stop thinking about money and focus on me,” he reminded me in a hoarse voice. Honestly, I didn’t want to be this money-hungry either. Arthur was incredibly good to me. Whether it was material things or emotional affection, he thoroughly satisfied me. I was dangerously close to actually falling in love with him. But that was the day I discovered the truth about this world. It turned out that the world I was living in was actually a smutty romance novel. The two Vance brothers were the male leads, and their shared “first love” was the female lead. And I was just the temporary female side character acting as a placeholder after the first love left. When the first love returned to the States, the two brothers would fight over her, getting violently jealous. Because the first love hated me, the brothers would find various ways to imprison me, torture me, and eventually lock me in a psychiatric ward until I went insane. The story ended with the three of them living shamelessly and happily ever after together. As for the minor side character, me? I died a miserable, tragic death in the dead of winter. Once I learned the truth, I immediately snapped out of my romantic delusions and focused entirely on grabbing as much cash as possible. The first love wasn’t due back in the country for another year anyway. I’d just work a little harder, hold down two jobs, and once I saved enough money, I’d run away. Right now, the tension in the room was skyrocketing, but my phone started ringing at the absolute worst possible time. Ring after ring, like a grim reaper demanding my soul. Arthur released his grip in annoyance, signaling me to deal with it quickly. I was just about to silence it when I saw a massive wall of texts from Harper. “Chloe, you absolute bitch! How could you hide this from me for so long?!” “We’re both sugar babies! What gives you the right to work two jobs and make double the money?!” “And here I was feeling sorry for you! Turns out you’re living better than any of us!” I slowly typed a single “?”. She replied immediately: “Stop playing dumb! I know Arthur Vance’s mysterious kept woman is YOU.” Arthur was sitting right next to me, his shirt already off, waiting for me. I didn’t have the time to ask her how she found out. I could only beg her: “Keep it a secret for me! I’ll explain everything later!” “Too late. Everyone knows.” A terrible premonition suddenly washed over me. My heart jumped into my throat. The next second, she forwarded me a trending topic from Twitter. The hashtag glaring back at me was: “Vance Brothers Suspected of Sharing the Same Kept Woman.” 3 My hand was trembling violently as I clicked on the link. There were two photos attached. The first one showed me eating dinner with Liam. He was feeding me a bite of food, wiping my mouth, and looking at me with eyes so full of affection you could pull strings from them. The second one was far more explicit. It was me and Arthur making out on an outdoor balcony. I was dressed in my little bunny outfit at the time. Those goddamn, unethical paparazzi! Invading my privacy and completely ruining my hustle! Harper was still messaging me: “Do the brothers know about this yet?” “No,” I replied honestly. Harper: “Are you insane?! I highly advise you to run for your life immediately.” “Arthur might not have seen the news yet, but my guy told me Liam definitely knows.” At the exact same moment, Liam sent me a text message. It contained just one simple word: “Excellent.” I shuddered in terror, tears almost springing to my eyes. Liam looked gentle and easygoing on the surface, but when he got angry, he was absolutely terrifying. Beside me, Arthur was getting impatient. With a long arm, he scooped me back into his embrace. “Are you done dealing with that? If you’re done, it’s my time now.” He grabbed my hand, guiding it from his thick pecs down his torso, letting me feel his rock-hard eight-pack abs, stopping right at his V-line. “Chloe, help me take this off,” he coaxed me in a raspy, seductive voice. But in a life-or-death crisis, who the hell has the mood for this?! I gritted my teeth and pulled my hand back. “Arthur, not tonight.” “I just got a message. My little sister is sick with a high fever. I have to go back and take care of her.” I pushed him away, grabbed my black trench coat off the rack, and threw it on. “Next time. We’ll do it next time.” Arthur gave me a look, forcibly suppressed his physical urges, and grabbed his car keys. “I’ll drive you.” “No need,” I was just about to refuse when the doorbell suddenly rang. From outside the door came Liam’s voice. It was impossible to tell if he was happy or angry. “Arthur, are you home?” 4 The moment I heard Liam’s voice, I was so terrified I dove behind the sofa. Arthur opened the door. Liam’s tone was freezing cold, cutting straight to the chase: “Arthur, do you know Chloe?” “I do. You can call her your sister-in-law.” Arthur crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. “What, you know her too?” The corners of Liam’s mouth curled into a mocking smirk. “I do. You can call her your sister-in-law.” The room suddenly fell dead silent. So silent my heart was literally quivering in my chest. Arthur looked baffled. “What the hell are you talking about?” “Haven’t you checked the trending news?” Liam quickly tapped his phone screen a few times and shoved it in front of Arthur’s face. “To put it simply, the sugar baby I’m keeping and the sugar baby you’re keeping… are the exact same person.” The air in the room froze solid once again. I have no idea what they said to each other after that. I stealthily crept toward the back door of the penthouse and escaped. I needed to get as far away from these two psychopaths as quickly as possible. Once I was out the door, I sprinted down the street, my mind racing as I calculated my future. Even though the promised designer bag and the condo vanished today, the savings I had hoarded over the past year still amounted to a few million dollars. It was enough to cover living expenses for me and the girls at the orphanage for the next few years. It was just a shame. I really wanted to hoard a little more. Seeing that I was getting further and further away from the penthouse, and no one was chasing me, I finally relaxed. I viciously kicked a pebble on the side of the road. “Those two idiots! If they had just been more careful, they wouldn’t have dragged me down with them!” Just as the words left my mouth, my neck suddenly felt cold. An icy hand hooked its fingers under my necklace. Liam appeared right in front of me. He stepped toward me, forcing me to back up several steps until my back hit a streetlamp pole. His tone was cold and thin, carrying a trace of cruel amusement. “Chloe. My brother is easy to fool, and I’m easy to appease. Is playing both of us brothers at the same time really fun for you?” I tried to run in the other direction. But over there, Arthur—wearing a white dress shirt, his neck bearing the red scratch marks I had just left on him—was walking toward me step by step. His expression was dark and unreadable. He looked down, rolling up his shirt sleeves, and quietly blocked my only escape route. “Chloe, I highly suggest you explain exactly what the hell is going on here.” With nowhere left to run, I leaned weakly against the streetlamp. My palms were sweating from pure terror, but I forced my face to remain perfectly calm. “I was just working two jobs, wasn’t I?” “When you guys hired me, neither of you said I couldn’t freelance on the side.” Liam looked like he was about to laugh from sheer rage. He reached out to grab my wrist. “Do I really need to spell that out for you?! Isn’t that just basic professional ethics?!” But he never got to touch me. Arthur’s lips were pressed tightly together. He intercepted Liam’s hand and gave me a long, deep look. His gaze was so freezing and intense I didn’t dare meet his eyes. I just dropped my head, staring at our long shadows cast by the streetlamp. Liam was about to say something else when his phone suddenly rang. It was the first love, Mia. The street was completely silent, and the voice on the other end of the line was crystal clear in my ears. “Liam, I’m back in the States. I just landed.” “I tried calling Arthur too, but he’s not answering. Could you do me a favor and let him know?” Oh, wow. The first love returned a whole year earlier than she did in the original plot. Liam was completely absorbed in the phone call. Seeing my chance, I bolted away from him. He was too busy talking on the phone; by the time he realized he wanted to chase me, it was too late. As for the other guy, I quickly glanced back over my shoulder. He was still standing in the exact same spot, his head tilted slightly, his right hand slowly tracing the red scratch mark on his neck. The streetlamp cast a thin shadow beneath his eyelashes, making his already complex expression look even darker and more unpredictable. From the looks of it, he had absolutely no intention of chasing me. Makes sense. The first love is back. Who has the time or energy to deal with a fake replacement? I figured as long as I avoided running into Mia and causing any conflicts, I probably wouldn’t end up with the horrific, tragic ending written in the original book. By the time I got back to the orphanage, it was 10:00 PM. The younger girls had all gone to sleep. I put the cash I had withdrawn into a thick envelope and handed it to the orphanage director, who was like a mother to me. This was a private orphanage that took in abandoned baby girls. Some had severe illnesses, some came from destitute families, and some were simply dumped here because they were born girls. For as long as I can remember, I had lived at this orphanage. The director was my mother, and the mother of all the children here. Two years ago, she was diagnosed with a severe heart condition and needed emergency surgery. The surgery cost was astronomical. I emptied out all my savings, but it still wasn’t enough. Driven to a dead end, that was when Liam Vance found me. 5 At the time, Liam stared at my face for a long while, smiling a very gentle, polite smile. “Chloe, you look exactly like the girl I love.” “I have a business proposition for you. Are you interested?” The so-called “proposition” was for me to accompany him for meals and chat with him. He would pay me $10,000 a month, with a minimum contract of one year. I had absolutely no reason to refuse. That very day, his secretary handed me a comprehensive checklist. It detailed all of Mia’s daily habits, her dietary restrictions, and her fashion style. The secretary strictly ordered me to memorize the list. I understood. Since I was playing a body double, I had to mimic the original perfectly. But during my very first dinner with Liam, I made a mistake. He had ordered a massive spread of food. During the meal, I picked up pieces of the assorted shrimp stir-fry a total of four times. Liam’s expression slowly turned sour. He lifted my chin, pointing a long, elegant finger at the plate of shrimp, and said softly, “Chloe, your acting was bad today.” “No matter how much she likes a dish, she would never, ever eat from it more than three times in a single meal.” His tone was airy and light. “You acted out of character this time. I’m going to have to dock your pay.” Three thousand dollars, gone just like that. My heart was practically bleeding. Later, the orphanage director suffered severe organ rejection after the surgery and needed expensive anti-rejection medication. It was another massive expense. I explained the situation to Liam and begged him for an advance on my salary. He smiled so hard his eyes curved into crescents, but his words were bone-chillingly cold. “Chloe, pushing your luck is a terrible habit. She would never do something like that.” He refused to give me the money, but I desperately needed it. So, when Arthur Vance offered me $100,000 a month, I nodded enthusiastically and agreed instantly. In front of Arthur, there weren’t nearly as many rules and restrictions. He never mentioned Mia, and I pretended I didn’t know she existed. Right now, looking at the heavy envelope, the orphanage director refused to take it. “Chloe, the money you’ve given the orphanage over the years is more than enough. You even paid for my surgery! I absolutely cannot accept this money.” I forced the envelope into her palm. “You have so many girls to take care of, please just keep it. Don’t worry about me. I have plenty of savings of my own.” “Also, Mom, I’m leaving.” I gently hugged the director. “I’m moving to Chicago. I won’t be back for a few years.” In New York, the Vance brothers could easily ruin my life with a snap of their fingers. It was best if I got as far away as possible. I booked a flight leaving in three days. During these two days, neither of the Vance brothers reached out to me, but Harper brought them up. “The original first love really is treated differently than fake body doubles like us.” “Did you see the fireworks over the Hudson River last night? They went on for over an hour, cost millions of dollars. I heard Arthur did it specifically to celebrate Mia moving back to the States.” I suddenly remembered a conversation I had with Arthur not too long ago. I was lying exhausted against his chest. He was idly playing with my hair and asked me in a raspy voice, “Chloe, besides money, is there anything else you like?” I thought about it and answered, “Fireworks. The kind that light up half the sky.” He didn’t seem entirely satisfied with that answer. He buried his face in the crook of my neck, and after a long time, mumbled, “Okay. Next time, I’ll put on a fireworks show over the Hudson River just for you.” It’s true what they say. Men are liars. He put on the fireworks show, alright, but it absolutely wasn’t for me. “Chloe, are you listening?” On the other end of the line, Harper was still blabbering away. “Tonight, Liam is throwing a massive, ridiculously expensive welcome-home banquet for Mia.” “Whatever she gets, you deserve too! Since you’re moving to Chicago, your girls are throwing you a massive farewell party right now!” Harper sent me an address. Thinking that I wouldn’t see her for a few years, I decided to go have one last get-together with her. But when I arrived, something felt wrong. Wasn’t this farewell party a little too high-end? Weren’t there a few too many people here? Amidst the clinking glasses and chatter, I spotted Mia wearing a blue, diamond-encrusted evening gown. Standing on either side of her were Liam and Arthur. All three of them turned and looked directly at me. My footsteps halted. I looked down and pulled out my phone. Exactly one second ago, Harper had sent me a text. “I sent you the wrong banquet hall name! The one in the front is Liam’s welcome party for Mia. Whatever you do, DO NOT go in there! It’ll be so awkward!” She sent a new location pin. “Come here. The girls are all waiting for you.” “Don’t be jealous of her fireworks show. I bought you sparklers!” I cursed Harper a thousand times in my head. I knew she was flaky, but I didn’t know she was this flaky. I kept my head down, planning to back out of the room pretending nothing had happened, when Mia walked toward me. “Are you Chloe?” She held a wine glass, looking at me with a sweet, assessing smile.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391295”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My acting is as trash as dog shit. No director was willing to hire me, so I had to pay out of my own pocket just to get a role. Juggling acting and side hustles, I was constantly operating at a loss. Until my agent booked me a reality TV show. The original plan was just for me to show my face and build a little presence. I never expected that I would instantly blow up on the trending charts. None of the celebrity guests on the show knew how to cook. I raised my hand and said: “I know a little bit about cooking.” So, using whatever ingredients were on hand, I whipped up an eight-course feast. The sweetheart ingenue’s makeup melted off. I raised my hand and said: “I know a little bit about makeup.” After I worked my magic, she was so thrilled she wanted to hire me as her personal makeup artist. In the middle of the night, a water pipe burst in the house the production team provided. I raised my hand and said: “I know a little bit about plumbing.” That very night, I skyrocketed to the top of the trending charts. The top comment read: Of the 360 trades in the world, sister, why don’t you just pick a different one?! 1 Other actors get paid to work. I had to pay to get acting gigs. This all started with my very first audition. I was auditioning for the role of a blind person. My performance was so breathtakingly realistic that it scared the director out of his chair. He personally escorted me out on the spot: “Ma’am, I asked you to play a blind person, not a zombie from The Walking Dead!” From that day on, my reputation preceded me. Within a hundred-mile radius of Hollywood, not a single casting director dared to hire me. My agent deeply regretted her choices, particularly the choice to sign me so early. But, out of professional obligation, she still tried her best to get me work. Even though they were all just extra roles and bit parts. As a result, my reputation only grew. When I played a corpse, I actually fell asleep, and when I was supposed to have a post-mortem twitch, I didn’t move a muscle. The director almost had a heart attack from stress. When I played a background maid, my voice was louder than the lead actress’s. When I played a lackey, I tripped the female lead while trying to walk menacingly. Not only did I lose the role, but I had to fork over my entire month’s salary to cover the medical bills and ruined costumes. Given all of the above, I truly couldn’t get a single role anymore. Left with no other options, I had to get creative. Not only did I work for free, but I actively paid money to get cast. For a single bit part with three lines, I had to network through eighteen different connections. I even had to bribe the casting director’s dog with premium organic dog treats. This went on for three years. I was still stuck at square one. My acting was still garbage, and I was still only booking tiny extra roles. Even the savings I had built up from working odd jobs before entering the industry were almost gone. With no other choice, I had to pick up side hustles between acting gigs just to survive. In my spare time, I did DoorDash deliveries. The only problem was, occasionally, I’d accidentally deliver food to a set I was working on, which was a little awkward. But doing food delivery just didn’t pay enough. So, I started looking into maintenance work. Things like being a locksmith or fixing toilets. Low stress, high pay. Or I’d go work as a line cook at restaurants that were too busy and needed an extra hand tossing the wok. Over the past three years, I juggled acting and odd jobs. Of the 360 recognized trades in the world, I’ve probably dabbled in every single one. 2 When my agent called me, I was in the middle of changing a lock cylinder for a young woman who lived alone. I had just popped the old cylinder out when my phone rang. My agent, Maggie’s, voice sounded incredibly excited. “Stella, I got you a fantastic gig!” “It’s a live-streamed reality show! It’s packed with A-listers, and the buzz is already massive. You are going to ride some serious coattails on this one!” “To get you on this show, I literally begged every single connection I have. I bought three different producers dinner. I’m deducting all those expenses from your paycheck, by the way.” What?! Deducting it from my paycheck? Wait a minute, do I even have a paycheck? I let out a bitter laugh. “Maggie, I’ve been operating at a loss for years. There’s literally nothing left to deduct from me. Why don’t you just dock my credit score instead?” However, my agent didn’t share my pessimism. She lowered her voice conspiratorially. “Listen, there are two massive pop idols, an Oscar-winning actress, and two ‘sweetheart’ ingenues. The drama and trending potential are going to be off the charts! Just standing in the background will get you more exposure than you’ve had in your entire life. Your popularity is going to skyrocket! You’ll have so many scripts thrown at you, you won’t even have time to read them all!” Hearing her say that, I started floating a little. If that happened, did that mean I could finally get some more significant roles? I’d settle for the evil step-sister! Or even the female lead’s quirky best friend! Anything was better than my current status of only ever having three lines! So, I immediately promised: “Don’t worry, Maggie! I will perform my heart out on this reality show. I will fight for every second of screen time and ride this wave to the top!” After finishing the lock installation for the young woman, I rushed home without stopping. I stayed up all night compiling dossiers on all the other guests on the show. I didn’t realize until I looked them up, but the lineup was terrifying. They were all currently trending, highly talked-about celebrities. The kind of people who could sneeze and end up on the front page of TMZ. The day the production company announced the cast lineup, the post surpassed a million retweets in half an hour. I was absolutely dumbfounded. Looking at the comments underneath, it was even more spectacular. The top comments were entirely fan bases cheering for their idols. Obviously, none of them were cheering for me. The only few comments that mentioned me went something like this: “Who is that girl at the end? Stella? Never heard of her. Is she a regular civilian?” “The producers are getting creative, bringing in an average Joe.” “Wow, I want to go! This Stella girl is so lucky.” Meanwhile, I, Stella “The Civilian”, was crying a river of tears in my heart. 3 The day of the reality show recording. To make a good impression on the crew, I arrived on set extremely early. I spent my time bringing coffee and kissing up to all the production staff. Not long after, the other guests began to arrive one by one. I practically tripped over myself rushing to help them carry their luggage. Mainly to steal some screen time. And to build up some goodwill. The live-stream comments noted: [This civilian girl really knows how to play the networking game.] Of course I do! I’ve spent the last three years in the industry doing nothing but networking! Just as I was helping the ‘sweetheart’ ingenue, Daisy, lift her suitcase, the Oscar-winning actress next to her, Serena, suddenly let out a shriek. “Ah! My zipper is broken!” Serena had brought a simple duffel bag today to save hassle, but the zipper had derailed after only two pulls. She frustratedly ran a hand through her hair. “I wonder if there’s a tailor or repair shop nearby.” I gently set Daisy’s suitcase on the ground. Dusting off my hands, I walked over to Serena. “Let me take a look.” The three people gathered around automatically stepped aside to give me room. Serena frowned. “You know how to fix zippers?” I picked up the bag, inspected it carefully, and confirmed it was a minor issue. I turned back and replied, “I know a little bit about it. Do you mind if I use my teeth?” After getting a bewildered but affirmative nod from Serena, I clamped my teeth down on the zipper track until I bit open a large enough gap on the derailed side. Then, I fed the bottom teeth of the zipper back into the slider. Once I confirmed it was pulled all the way to the bottom, I bit down again, clamping the gap I had just created firmly shut. After finishing, I zipped the bag up and down a few times to ensure it was smooth, then handed it back to Serena. “All done.” Serena took the bag, looking completely incredulous. “That’s it?” I waved my hand casually. “Minor issue.” Except it was a little hard on the molars. The live stream went wild: [Learned something new today.] [Looks like the civilian they hired is actually a seamstress.] [It’s alright, isn’t that just a basic life hack?] [Civilian Stella actually has some skills.] [Civilian sister, I’m a little worried about your dental health.] Thank you. My teeth are feeling a little breezy right now. 4 The room assignments were sorted out. I was sharing a room with the sweetheart, Daisy. The Oscar winner, Serena, had her own room. The two pop idols were sharing a room. By the time we unpacked, it was already high noon. Unsurprisingly, everyone’s stomachs were growling. Naturally, ordering Uber Eats was strictly forbidden. According to the rules of the show, we had to use the ingredients provided on-site, and we had to prepare a total of eight dishes. I took inventory of the vegetables on the counter. Eggs, eggplant, cabbage, pork belly… Okay, making eight dishes wouldn’t be a problem. So, I looked excitedly at the others. “Let’s each make one dish! What does everyone know how to cook?” Daisy was the first to raise her hand. “I know how to make boiled eggs.” Girl, I don’t think that counts as a dish. The comments: [Aww~ Our Daisy is so cute~] Serena also raised her hand. “I know how to make steamed eggs.” Sister, I don’t think that counts as a dish either. The comments: [Wow~ Our Serena is so amazing~] Next to them, the pop idol, Mason, raised his hand: “I know how to make scrambled eggs.” I was sweating profusely. Why is everyone obsessed with eggs?! Holding onto a final shred of hope, I asked, “Does anyone here know how to actually cook a meal?” The group nodded in perfect, silent unison. No. I rubbed my temples, feeling a headache coming on. We were out of time. If we didn’t cook soon, everyone was going to starve and turn into actual zombies. I took a deep breath and started issuing commands. “Serena, help me chop the eggplant. Daisy, julienne the potatoes. You two handsome guys, prep the cabbage leaves and dice the pork belly…” Once everyone had chopped and washed all the ingredients, I smoothly fired up the stove and started cooking. High heat, aggressive stir-frying, occasional wok-tossing. So skilled it was almost heartbreaking. The others watched, completely dumbfounded. “Stella, you actually know how to cook like a chef?!” I offered a modest smile. “I know a little bit about culinary arts.” The comments: [Those wok tosses do not look amateur.] [I bet the civilian sister’s real job is a chef!] [The guy above me, the answer is already on the board and you’re still guessing.] After a grueling forty minutes, the final dish was brought to the table. It was a full-blown feast, a perfect balance of meat and vegetables. Braised pork ribs, spicy chicken stew, chili pork stir-fry, tomato and egg stir-fry, braised eggplant, hot and sour shredded potatoes, braised pork belly, and a steamed egg custard. Eight dishes. Absolute perfection. Everyone couldn’t stop praising the food as they ate. “Stella, you’re amazing! This is so delicious!” Of course it is. If it tasted bad, they docked my pay. “You’re literally at the level of an executive chef.” Because I am a professional. Back when I was slinging woks at the restaurant, I could crack an egg with one hand. My cooking was so good it brought in a ton of repeat customers for the owner. 5 Everyone was eating, drinking, laughing, and chatting. Only Daisy, sitting next to me, seemed down. She kept checking herself in a compact mirror. I put a piece of braised pork belly into her bowl. “Daisy, why aren’t you eating?” Daisy pulled a long face. “My makeup is ruined.” While I was cooking earlier, Daisy had been my dedicated sous-chef, constantly running back and forth handing me things. After being smoked out by the grease and cooking fumes for half an hour, her makeup had completely melted off. Even though she had a great natural base and didn’t look bad, she definitely wasn’t looking her best. The comments were filled with sympathy: [Aww, our poor Daisy. She doesn’t know how to do anything, but she was helping out the whole time, and she didn’t even have time to touch up her makeup.] [Oh no. Daisy cares about her appearance more than anything. She probably doesn’t even want to look up at the camera.] [This show doesn’t allow outside assistants. I wonder if Daisy even brought her makeup bag.] I asked, “Daisy, did you bring any makeup with you?” Daisy pulled a cushion puff and a lip tint out of her pocket. “I left in such a hurry, I only brought these two.” I nodded. “That’s enough. That’s plenty.” Daisy looked completely lost. “Huh?” Five minutes later, Daisy was staring at herself in the mirror, absolutely thrilled. “Stella, you’re incredible! How did you achieve a full-face makeup look using only a puff and a lip tint?!” I smiled and replied, “I used the puff to heavily set the center of your face, which creates a highlighting effect. Then I used the lip tint for blush and to lower the outer corner of your eyes. But the main reason it looks so good is because you have a great base to work with. Otherwise, even the most skilled hands couldn’t paint a masterpiece.” Back in the day, to make extra cash, I ran around to countless different gig locations. At my peak, I did makeup for 58 people in a single day. They called me the “Hustling MUA.” Daisy was floating on air from the compliment. “Stella, why don’t you come be my personal makeup artist? The pay is highly lucrative!” It sounded incredibly tempting, but I still waved my hand. “I just know a little bit about it. I still have my main career.” Even though my main career lost me money, I truly loved it. The live comments exploded: [To the person guessing chef earlier, still wanna bet? I’m guessing Civilian Stella’s job is a makeup artist.] [Are you stupid? Didn’t she just say she has a main career? She’s not a makeup artist!] [Seeing how skilled she is, it really doesn’t look amateur. What the hell does she actually do?!] That night, the hashtag “What Exactly is Stella’s Job?” skyrocketed to the top of the trending charts. 6 That evening, we all went back to our respective rooms. I was lying in bed scrolling on my phone, and the second I saw the trending hashtag with my name on it, I sat bolt upright. I rubbed my eyes. Holy monkey, am I seeing things?! I, Stella, actually made it onto the trending charts?! I was ecstatic. I was losing my mind. Everyone must have been blown away by my charm today. After all, a gorgeous girl who can cook, carry luggage, and is a master of social networking? Who wouldn’t love that? Let’s see how everyone is praising me. I happily clicked on the hashtag. A massive headline immediately caught my eye: What Exactly is Stella’s Job? My smile froze on my face. What is my job? I’ve been acting for three years, and you’re asking me what my job is?! Okay, fine, I admit it. The dramas I’ve been in are all super niche indie stuff, or I was just an extra. It’s understandable if people don’t know. But wasn’t it written right there in the guest introductions below the show’s description?! Stella, Actress! Is that not clear enough?! I frantically clicked on the official cast introductions for our reality show. Stella, Civilian. Me: “?” Don’t mess with me. Wait, when the show first premiered, I explicitly remember it saying “Actress”! I planned to demand an explanation from the producers tomorrow. However, by the next day, I had completely forgotten about it. Because today’s challenge was brutal. Setting up a street stall. Everyone had to choose a street vending stall they liked and sell products. As long as a customer approached, we had to serve them, and we would be graded on our performance. The two handsome pop idols chose the easiest option: grilling hot dogs. Serena chose something slightly easier: applying phone screen protectors. The only thing left was the slightly more difficult option: making street crepes. Everyone looked at me. “Stella, we’re counting on you.” I rubbed my forehead and forced a bitter smile. Street crepes. I actually did know a little bit about that. 7 I was planning to show off my skills. But after waiting for half an hour, not a single customer showed up. Bored out of my mind, I looked around. Figuring I’d go steal some screen time at the other stalls, my eyes landed on Serena’s booth. A young woman was standing in front of the stall, looking quite unhappy. She kept rushing Serena: “Are you done yet? I’ve been waiting for almost twenty minutes.” Serena was sweating profusely from nervousness. “I’m so sorry, this is my first time applying a tempered glass protector. I’ll be done in just a second.” I walked over. “Serena, what’s wrong?” The customer spoke up: “I just need a screen protector applied. She’s gone through five or six of them and still can’t get it right. I’m in a rush.” I took the phone from Serena and whispered, “Serena, you grabbed the wrong model size. Let me handle it.” Serena sighed helplessly: “I’ve been looking through this pile of protectors for half an hour, I can’t find the exact model match.” I carefully inspected the pile. Indeed, there wasn’t an exact model match. But phone screens are mostly similar; there should be another model that fits well enough. I rummaged through the pile and finally found one. The old, cracked screen protector hadn’t even been removed from the customer’s phone yet. Serena probably thought the new one was supposed to be applied directly over it. I picked at the corner of the phone screen, slowly and carefully lifting it up until the old protector separated from the screen. Then, I peeled the entire sheet of cracked glass off. I tossed the broken protector into the trash can. I pulled out an alcohol prep pad and meticulously began wiping the phone screen. The comments: [Stella knows how to apply screen protectors too?!] [She looks so focused, it doesn’t look like she’s faking it.] [So Stella’s actual job is running a phone repair kiosk?] [Highly likely. An amateur wouldn’t have that much patience.] I wiped the screen until there wasn’t a single speck of dust or fine hair left. Then, I slowly peeled back one corner of the new tempered glass protector, pulled the backing off halfway, and carefully aligned it with the phone screen. I gently lowered it, smoothly pulling the rest of the backing off, waiting for the glass protector to slowly adhere to the screen. Once everything was done, the three of us let out a long sigh of relief. The live stream comments also let out a sigh of relief: [Phew, it’s finally applied. We four are amazing.] [No wonder I can never apply screen protectors right. Turns out I just don’t have enough patience.] [Case closed. Stella is absolutely a phone kiosk worker. If she’s not, I swear I’ll eat a shoe on live stream.] [The guy above me is getting bold with these bets.] After sending the customer off, Serena looked at me, her eyes filled with amazement. “I never expected you to know how to apply screen protectors too.” I waved my hand casually. “I know a little bit about it. I’m used to applying them for myself.” In reality, there was a period of time where I constantly set up a stall under an overpass selling phone cases. Naturally, I had to apply screen protectors too. Because of my absolute patience, rigorous attention to detail, and excellent technique, I attracted a massive crowd. At my absolute peak, I applied 140 tempered glass screen protectors in a single day. My hands were practically smoking by the end of it.

During my heaviest year, I literally sat on the school bully until he cried. The harder he cried, the more riled up I got. I threw a leg over him, pinned him down, and gave him a few good twists. Something felt… uncomfortable against me. Ever since that day, the moment he saw me, he’d run faster than the speed of light. Three years later at a college reunion, my former classmates were joking around: “Chloe is so skinny now, she couldn’t squish Liam until he cried even if she tried!” Liam, sitting across the table, leaned forward slightly and crossed his legs. My entire body flushed hot, and my face turned as red as a tomato all the way down to my neck. 1 I had honestly forgotten what Liam even looked like. For all of high school, he ran the opposite direction the second he saw me. And he was fast. So fast that my memory of his face was completely blurry. On the very first day of high school, my desk neighbor warned me. Liam Vance was the grandson of the richest man in the city. He was a complete menace. If you saw him walking down the hall, you took a detour. My mom had also warned me that going to a city high school meant I needed to keep my head down and absolutely avoid offending anyone. I kept that firmly in mind. Then, one day, I saw him cornered on the edge of the athletic field. It was one against five. Five upperclassmen had him surrounded. He saw me from afar and yelled out. “Chloe!” I squinted, took a few steps closer to see clearly. Once I realized it was him, I turned around and walked the other way without looking back. Shortly after, I heard his screams of agony. Back in the classroom, I was worried something really bad had happened to him. So I told the whole class, and then I told our homeroom teacher. By the time the teacher led the whole class out to find him, his clothes were torn, one side of his face was swollen like a balloon, and he had a black eye like a panda. It was the first time I had ever seen him up close. The swooning girls in my class always said Liam was tall, handsome, and had striking, almost mixed-race features. But right now? He looked like the guy who collected scrap metal back in my hometown. I couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. And my eyes met his. He stood up, hissed in pain, pointed a finger at me and said, “You just wait, you’re dead.” The homeroom teacher immediately kicked him right in the butt, making him yelp in pain. The very next evening, right after I walked out of the cafeteria, he and his little posse blocked my path. I hid the fried chicken drumstick I was holding behind my back and swallowed hard. I had just taken my first bite. I hadn’t even swallowed yet. If the chicken got cold, it wouldn’t taste good anymore. Because of that, I completely forgot my desk neighbor’s and my mom’s warnings. I sounded incredibly irritable. “Are you annoying or what? Just because I didn’t help you? If I had helped you fight and won, wouldn’t you have looked even more pathetic?” The lackeys behind him looked down, clearly embarrassed that I had hit the nail on the head. He stiffened his neck and yelled at me: “Fatty Chloe! You’re as fat as a pig and you’re still eating chicken!” That’s it? So childish. I pushed past him to walk away, but he grabbed my arm. I jerked my arm away, and accidentally dropped my chicken drumstick on the ground. It’s fine, I thought. I can pick it up, wash it off, peel the breading off, and still eat it. But then he stepped forward and stomped on my chicken. He even twisted his ankle back and forth to grind it in. My gaze slowly traveled upward until it locked onto his face. Anger erupted in me like a volcano. I let out a roar and tackled him to the ground. He already had one arm in a cast from yesterday, and his other arm was no match for my substantial weight. I planted my butt squarely on top of him. “Give me back my chicken! You owe me my chicken! I only get to eat chicken once a year! Waaah…” Liam’s face turned beet red, and two streams of tears slid from the corners of his eyes. A crowd started forming. Someone yelled, “Go get a teacher!” Hearing that, his lackeys scattered and ran for their lives. The harder Liam cried, the more worked up I got. I threw a leg over him, pinning him down like I was riding a horse, and gave him a few good twists. Just like what he did to my chicken drumstick. For some reason, though… something felt uncomfortable against me. Eventually, some classmates pulled me off him. I mourned that chicken drumstick for a whole month. I was so grief-stricken and angry that I studied until I ranked number one in our grade on the monthly exams. Only then did I emerge from my depression. 2 From that day on, whenever Liam saw me, he’d bolt without a trace. Liam’s admission to our school wasn’t through normal channels. His mom was on the school board. I heard his middle school test scores were so low he wouldn’t have even qualified for the worst high school in the city. Students like me, who had been on the low-income financial aid list since childhood, hated people like him the most. Especially since he destroyed my chicken drumstick. But there was nothing I could do to him. In fact, I was terrified of him. I was afraid he would complain to his mom and get my financial aid revoked. Or just make up an excuse to get me expelled. For an entire semester, I waited for my homeroom teacher to tell me to pack my bags. Every night I had nightmares about being chased by a vicious dog. The dead dog would run right up to my face, bare its fangs, give an evil laugh, and its face would morph into Liam’s. It wasn’t until after the final exams that the homeroom teacher announced he had some news. Inside the stuffy, enclosed classroom, a cold sweat ran down my spine. I was already planning how to break the news to my mom. At worst, I’d just go work in the mines with her. The teacher calling my name pulled me back to reality. “Chloe, the school has established a new scholarship. Since you ranked first in your grade, you’ve been awarded eight thousand dollars.” That wasn’t just a scholarship; that was life-saving money. Not only did I have money for living expenses, but my mom wouldn’t have to risk getting black lung disease working in the mines just to make a few hundred extra dollars a month. The teacher also praised Liam. His grades had shot up from dead last to the middle of the pack. My desk neighbor whispered that Liam had a crush on a girl, the most popular girl in our grade, Mia. Mia consistently ranked in the top ten, and she had publicly stated she would never date a guy with worse grades than hers. Liam’s desk was piled high with New Year’s cards from girls. He shoved all of them into his desk drawer. The only one he carefully placed into his backpack was the one from Mia. After that, he completely settled down and stopped causing trouble. Occasionally, when we crossed paths, I didn’t even have to hide from him, and he never called me “Fatty Chloe” again. Actually, wait. He just completely refused to even look at me. By the time we graduated high school, he had become the “cold and aloof heartthrob” all the underclassmen obsessed over. He rejected countless girls, supposedly just waiting for Mia to say yes. After graduation, my only interaction with him was when we picked up our diplomas. The homeroom teacher told me Liam’s mother had asked him to pass on a message. “She says thank you to the pretty, chubby girl in your class. Her sitting on Liam finally knocked some sense into him.” I scratched my head and smiled. His mom was pretty funny. When I turned around, Liam happened to be standing right outside the office door. Our eyes met; he immediately looked away, and I looked down at the floor. We walked past each other, and I never saw him again. 3 I honestly hadn’t planned on attending this college reunion. Heading into my senior year of college, I was juggling part-time jobs and frantically applying for internships. I was completely overwhelmed. My old high school desk neighbor, Sarah, urged me: “You should come! It’s good networking for the future.” “Plus, Liam is the one organizing it this time.” “Remember him? The guy you sat on until he cried?” I rubbed my forehead and cut her off: “Can we please not bring that up? I’ll go, I’ll go, I’ll go.” Standing in a quiet corner, holding my phone, my face was burning red. It was only much later that I finally understood why it felt so… uncomfortable that day. On the day of the reunion, to show how little I cared, I didn’t wear any makeup. I specifically wore a faded, washed-out tracksuit and carried a canvas tote bag from a cheap grocery store. Sure enough, when I arrived, I was the most shabbily dressed person there. In stark contrast, Liam, who was pushing 6’2″, stood out effortlessly in the crowd. He had broad shoulders and a strong back, and the top two buttons of his crisp white dress shirt were casually undone. It made me think of that chicken drumstick from years ago, and I involuntarily swallowed hard. As soon as I walked in, Sarah dragged me right over to Liam. “Boss Vance, remember her? Chloe!” A wave of good-natured laughter rippled through the group around us. “Chloe is so skinny now, she couldn’t squish Liam until he cried even if she tried!” Hearing that, Liam’s expression became slightly unnatural. He leaned forward slightly and crossed his legs. My entire body flushed hot, and my face turned as red as a tomato all the way down to my neck. I fanned my face frantically with my hands. “It’s so hot in here! I’m gonna go step outside for some air.” “If you’re hot, just take your jacket off!” Sarah, with lightning speed, reached over and yanked the zipper of my track jacket down. I had bought this jacket back when I hadn’t lost the weight yet, so it hung on me like a massive potato sack. With her pull, the jacket easily slid off my shoulders. Revealing my upper body, dressed only in a thin camisole, directly facing Liam. He lowered his gaze, taking in my entire chest area without missing a detail. I panicked and frantically pulled the jacket back up over my shoulders. Sarah wouldn’t shut up. “Wow, the parts that weren’t supposed to shrink didn’t shrink at all!” “If you sat on someone now, you’d still make them cry, just for a different reason!” While nervously adjusting my collar, I snuck a peek at Liam. The tips of his ears were bright red. 4 It wasn’t until Liam spoke up that we realized he came with an agenda. “I started a tech company back in our hometown, and we’re currently hiring.” “The pay and benefits are excellent, and we provide housing and meals. If anyone is interested, please send me your resume.” Sarah nudged me in the ribs. She handed me her phone, showing the profile of Liam’s company. “Doesn’t this perfectly align with your major?” I felt conflicted. I had hoped to never cross paths with Liam again in my entire life. I had never told anyone, but I had actually seen him at a gay bar where I was working part-time. It wasn’t that I was judging him, it just made me feel weird whenever I thought about it. But I really wanted to go back to my hometown. My mom, worried about me working so much while in school, had secretly gone back to working in the mines and ended up getting a lung disease. I wanted to go back so I could take care of her and keep an eye on her. Our hometown was a traditional industrial city; tech startups like his could be counted on one hand. And the existing ones were usually just neglected branch offices with no real career prospects. The salary listed on Liam’s job posting made my heart race. That night, I tossed and turned, and the dreams started again. In my dream, a giant white dog came running toward me, wagging its tail, and tackled me to the ground. It licked me all over until I was giggling uncontrollably. Then the big dog lifted its head, and its face morphed into Liam’s. I woke up covered in a cold sweat. He’s haunting me. Suddenly, my phone rang with an unknown number. “Ms. Davis, we are calling from Vance Tech. We would like to invite you for an interview next week.” It was Liam’s company. But I hadn’t even submitted a resume. Then, my mom’s attending physician texted me, saying they were scheduling her surgery for next week. I simply said “Okay” into the phone. Since I was heading back to my hometown anyway, I might as well check it out. On the day of the interview, Liam wasn’t there. I had a great conversation with the Chief Technology Officer. I didn’t even have to do an internship period; I was hired full-time immediately. And there was no pay cut during the probationary period. I always knew I was a good student, but I didn’t realize I was that good. It would be rude to refuse such an offer. However, because the time for my mom’s surgery was suddenly moved up, I had to delay my start date by a day. First thing in the morning on my first day, I ran into Liam in the elevator. I respectfully greeted him: “Good morning, Boss.” His Adam’s apple bobbed a few times, but he didn’t say a word. The elevator chimed. Just as the doors opened a crack, I lifted my foot to step out. Through the gap, I saw a pair of long, gorgeous legs waiting outside. The elevator doors opened fully. It was Mia. She completely ignored me and threw herself directly into Liam’s arms. “Liam! You said at the meeting yesterday you weren’t coming into the office today!” “Something came up.” I stepped out of the elevator and turned around. Liam had his hands up in surrender, letting Mia hang off his neck, smiling at her with pure indulgence. 5 The moment I sat down at my desk, my manager called me into his office. “Mr. Vance’s executive assistant position hasn’t been filled yet. You have a great academic background, so I need you to fill in for a while.” “Is that really appropriate—?” “What I mean is, won’t Mia mind?” “Mia—? Oh, you mean the boss’s wife. Why would she mind?” “Mr. Vance is giving you an incredible compensation package, show a little tact.” The boss’s wife. Makes sense. But my chest felt inexplicably tight. My butt hadn’t even warmed my new desk chair yet. I grumbled under my breath as I packed up my things and headed upstairs. Right outside Liam’s office was the executive assistant’s desk. Since I was here, I figured I should go say hi to the boss first. I pushed the door open. He was facing the door and I startled him. He frowned and asked me why I didn’t knock. Behind him, facing away from me, Mia was leaning over, her arms propped up on his desk. That posture. My face instantly burned bright red. “Sorry to interrupt.” I backed up a few steps and closed the door for them. A few seconds later, Mia walked out, giving me a playful, assessing look. She took a few steps forward, rubbed her lower back, and let out a soft sigh. From inside the office, Liam yelled “Come in,” making me jump. He was leaning back in his office chair, rubbing his temples with one hand. “I yelled a little too loud just now. Don’t take it personally.” My mom always said: if someone respects you an inch, you respect them a mile. I cleared my throat. “Not at all, Boss, you’re too polite. You can yell at me if you want, you can even hit me if you want.” He looked up, suppressing a smile at the corner of his mouth. “I can hit you?” “Sure.” His lips parted, a half-smile playing on his face. “Girls should learn how to protect themselves.” “I’m very good at protecting myself! You should worry about protecting yourself. Did you forget what happened when we fought, I—” Why do I have a mouth?! He closed his eyes and waved his hand. “Get out.” Back at my desk, I buried my head in organizing documents. Liam suddenly opened his door and threw a uniform at me. “Change into this. You’re coming on a business trip with me.” Change, sure. I’ll change right now. A white button-down shirt, a fitted blazer, a pencil skirt, and black tights. My body proportions—my chest and waist measurements—make buying clothes incredibly difficult. But this uniform fit like it was custom-tailored for me. I looked at myself in the mirror and gave a very serious, professional salute. Walking out of the restroom, I practically crashed into Liam. He must be sick or something. His ears were always bleeding red. 6 It was my first time flying, and it was in First Class. I asked Liam: “Next time, could you book me in Economy and just pay me the difference in cash?” He turned away and completely ignored me. The plane hit sudden turbulence, and I let out a yelp. Before the sound even faded, I was already pulled into his chest. His Adam’s apple bobbed right next to my ear, and his voice drifted down from above me. “Coward.” I looked up and met his eyes. His gaze was hazy. He slowly lowered his head, and it looked like he was about to kiss me. I swallowed hard and struggled to say: “I have boundaries.” He let go of me, sat back in his seat, and turned his face away. My heart was pounding, my palms were sweaty. He didn’t look at me again until we got off the plane. Well, what could I do? He was the boss, and I was terrified of getting fired. I helped him with his luggage, I told him jokes. I even kept dropping hints. “Mia is so beautiful, it’s hard to find anyone prettier than her, right?” “Whoever gets to marry Mia is incredibly lucky. Anyone who doesn’t cherish her deserves to be impotent for life.” His expression finally cracked. He gave me a very strange look. “You really like her?” “Of course I do!” “Is that why you worked at that kind of place?” “What kind of place?” “Mr. Vance!” A voice called out, interrupting our conversation. A guy holding a pick-up sign ran over. He had sharp eyebrows and bright eyes, easily as handsome as Liam. “My name is Ryan. I graduated from City High too.” “Technically, that makes you two my underclassmen.” I sweetly called out, “Nice to meet you, Ryan!” Liam glared at me. I pouted. You’re the vendor here, why are you acting so arrogant? How are you going to close this deal? These rich trust fund kids really don’t understand how the real world works. I continued turning on the charm for Ryan. “Ryan, your company is notoriously hard to get into, you must be amazing at what you do!” “We are so honored to have this opportunity to visit. Next time you come to our city, I’ll bring you some local specialties!” Liam’s face grew darker and darker. Does he even want to do business or what?

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