Author: Momo Chan

On Christmas Eve, the sixth year of our marriage, the family was having dinner. George’s father, whose dementia was advancing, suddenly spoke up out of the blue: “Did you prepare the savings bond for my grandson?” “I miss him so much. It’s a shame he’s not with us for the holidays this year.” George was an only child, and we had only one daughter, Ruby, who was five. I froze, assuming the old man was just confused again. I laughed gently and explained: “Dad, George and I only have one daughter, Ruby. Where would a grandson come from?” “Right, honey?” George was holding his fork, and he mumbled an unnatural acknowledgement. Before I could process it, I heard his father say again: “It’s the grandson. George took me to see him. He lives right downstairs.” I went still. There was someone living downstairs: a newly moved-in single mother. And she did have a child—a five-year-old boy. After a brief, suffocating silence, I put down my napkin, walked into the kitchen, and pulled a pan of warm rolls out of the oven. Smiling at George, who was just about to stammer out an explanation, I said: “You two go on and eat. I’m going to take a basket of these rolls down to the new neighbor downstairs.” 1 From closing the kitchen door to stepping into the elevator, I took exactly thirty seconds. Thirty seconds later, I was standing outside the apartment of the woman who, according to my father-in-law, housed his five-year-old grandson. Knock. Knock. “Who is it?” The door opened. A woman younger than me, with a low, slightly messy braid, stood in the entryway. She looked pale, trying for a veneer of confused innocence. My gut told me immediately: She was the one. As soon as she saw me, her composure shattered. Her face went a shocking white, and her hands began to shake uncontrollably, as if I were some kind of nightmare she had tried to suppress. “C-can I help you?” A boy ran up behind her. “Mommy, who is it?” “Go back to your room!” The woman shrieked, her voice shaking with panic. Yet, she had the nerve to live one floor below me, separated from my home, my husband, and my daughter by only a thin layer of concrete. “I’m your upstairs neighbor.” I cut straight to the chase, right in front of her child. “I was curious. My father-in-law mentioned that your son is his beloved grandson.” The woman’s hand instantly tightened on the doorknob. Her eyes, filled with dread, darted back to her curious son, before she forced a thin smile and offered her explanation. “Oh, that. It’s because I ran into your… husband when I was picking my son up from kindergarten one day.” She struggled over the word “husband,” and I caught the flicker of deep resentment in her eyes. “He told me your father-in-law is very ill and dreams of having a grandson, so he specially asked me to play a part, just to fulfill the old man’s wish.” “I’m truly sorry if this has caused you any trouble.” It was an impeccably airtight explanation. It not only cleared her name but also subtly threw shade at me for failing to give the old man a grandson. I might have believed her if I hadn’t noticed the framed photo on the wall behind her. It was a picture of a seemingly perfect family of three, standing beneath the twinkling lights of the Rockefeller Center Christmas Tree. The man’s face was blurred, deliberately obscured. The woman, however, was clearly the one standing in front of me. I zeroed in on the photo. The date printed on the corner was January 8th—my daughter Ruby’s fifth birthday. George had told me he had a mandatory, last-minute business trip and couldn’t make it home from the airport. Apparently, his “business trip” was a photo shoot under the most romantic holiday display in New York. I glanced down at the entryway again. In the shoe cabinet, a pair of men’s size 11 Italian leather loafers were tucked intimately beside the woman’s nude stilettos, glaringly close. I remembered clearly: George wore a size 11. My hand, holding the basket of warm rolls, clenched until my knuckles were white. I forced myself to act nonchalant and handed the basket to her. “Happy Holidays,” I said. “Th-thank you.” The woman nervously reached out. A flash of gold on her wrist burned my eyes. It was a gold bangle, identical to the one I was wearing. “That’s a beautiful bangle… is it solid gold?” I stared at her wrist, my heart hammering. Because I knew that the one on my wrist was fake. George’s words echoed back to me: “Sophia, the price of gold is crazy right now. It’s not a smart buy. I’ll get you a gold-plated one for now—a placeholder. When the market dips, I’ll buy you the real one.” He had sounded so sincere. I hadn’t thought twice, happily accepting the cheaper substitute. I’d even posted about it on Instagram: A million dollars is nothing compared to your truth. Thinking of that post, which was still pinned to the top of my profile, my smile nearly cracked. The woman’s face, already pale, went completely ashen. But then, a look of haughty defiance flashed in her eyes. Her chin tilted up slightly, a deliberate challenge. “Of course, it’s real. George took me to the jewelry district himself to pick it out. It’s a full fifty grams of solid gold.” “He said that even though gold is expensive, if I love it, the money is never an issue.” “Unlike some people who settle for a gold-plated token. A woman has to treat herself well, don’t you agree?” I nodded, a soft laugh escaping me. “You’re absolutely right.” “Happy Holidays.” With that, I placed the basket in her trembling hands and turned, walking toward the elevator. I didn’t go back upstairs. I went straight down to the complex’s private garden. From there, I called my father, who was still at his office in Manhattan. He was the CEO of Harrington Global, and George’s direct, though distant, boss. “Dad, I’m changing my mind.” I deleted the Instagram post bragging about George’s devotion. My voice was unnervingly calm. “Cancel the Senior Vice President role you were planning to give George, and cancel the private medical team for his father. Get me the best divorce lawyer in the state. I’m leaving George.” “Yes, he’s cheating.” “And the child is the same age as Ruby.” 2 When I returned to my father’s penthouse, George must have gotten a frantic call from the woman downstairs. He had visibly relaxed. Since I hadn’t made a scene, he clearly assumed his affair was still safely hidden. Just as foolish as I used to be. Using a vague excuse—that my father wanted to see Ruby for a few days—I bundled my daughter up and we left. George didn’t suspect a thing. He walked us to the car downstairs, playing the part of the devoted father perfectly. But I still noticed it. After seeing us off, the elevator stopped on the second floor. Her apartment. “Mommy.” Ruby leaned her soft cheek against mine, confused. “Why did the elevator stop on the second floor? We live on the third floor.” I smiled faintly, touching my forehead to her hair, my voice colder than the winter air. “Because Daddy is going to do something bad. And soon, we won’t need this home anymore.” That evening, after I’d tucked Ruby into bed, my father called me into his study. His tone was heavy, laced with the heartache of knowing his daughter had been betrayed. “I told you the minute I met George that he wasn’t worth it. But you were stubborn and insisted on marrying beneath you.” “Look at the mess he’s made.” I pursed my lips, picking up the folder on the desk and opening it. One hundred twenty pages. Every page was irrefutable evidence of George’s infidelity. 2021. The night before our wedding. While I was in the bridal suite, chatting with my maid of honor, sleepless with excitement for my life with George, he was in a dive bar, meeting a bottle service girl named Brooke. They were “in love at first sight.” From meeting to sleeping together, it took them two hours. He couldn’t even wait for our wedding night to pass. 2022. I was pregnant. I was throwing up constantly from morning sickness, unable to keep anything down. George, claiming to be at a mandatory corporate training seminar, was across town at an OB/GYN, accompanying that girl to her prenatal appointments. 2023. Our daughter’s first birthday. We threw a huge party. George gave her a pair of miniature gold bangles, symbols of luck and safety. Now, the lab report in the file explicitly stated: Gold plated. Silver core. Another lie. And then 2024, 2025, 2026… A huge, frigid void opened up in my chest. It wasn’t just the shock of George cheating. It was the realization that he didn’t even love our daughter. Yet, when she was born, George was the one who personally named her Ruby—meaning precious gem. Trembling, I closed the file. My phone vibrated—a notification from our home security app. I had secretly activated the apartment camera before leaving. On the video feed, the Christmas dinner I had spent all day preparing was still steaming on the table. My father-in-law sat at the head of the table, nervously pulling out the huge gift card he had prepared, slipping it into Brooke’s son’s hand. “Happy Holidays, my good boy.” George had his arm around Brooke, and they were feeding each other, a disgustingly intimate picture of domestic bliss. Suddenly, Brooke glanced at her son, who was absorbed in counting his money, and spoke: “George, my mom is nagging me again to bring you home. She doesn’t know about us. I can’t hide it much longer.” “Since your wife is at her parents’ place, why don’t you host my family for a holiday dinner tomorrow?” “It would stop my relatives from whispering that Cody is… a bastard.” George frowned, hesitating. He finally picked up his phone and sent me a text. Honey, how long are you staying with your dad? Should I bring you some toiletries? My phone screen was split. One side showed my husband and his mistress planning their faux family dinner. The other showed George’s pathetic attempt at a check-in. I didn’t hesitate. I tapped out a response: No need. Dad and I are heading to our summer house tomorrow to see some extended family. Won’t be back for a few days. The message was sent. The next second, I got his reply. Okay, sweetie. You enjoy your time with your dad. Don’t worry about things here. Tell Ruby her daddy loves her. In the concurrent camera feed, George leaned in and gave Brooke a hard, satisfying kiss on the cheek. “Fine. Dinner tomorrow, then!” Brooke smiled. I smiled, too. A holiday dinner, you say? If George was hosting, it wouldn’t be so strange for his lawful wife to attend, would it? 3 The next day, The Peninsula Hotel. My father had called the manager early, arranging for us to be placed in the adjoining private dining room. Through the hidden serving window, I could clearly hear every sound and movement next door. George, true to form, sent a probing text the moment I sat down. Wife, where are you now? Did you see the relatives? Are the roads safe? I knew he was testing me. On the freeway. Traffic jam. Won’t get to the summer house until tonight. I texted back dismissively. The chat showed him typing, followed by a small cat emoji indicating acknowledgement. Stolen from Brooke, I guessed. I frowned in disgust and didn’t reply. At that moment, the party next door started to arrive. Leading the way were George, in a sharp suit, and Brooke, holding the hand of the little boy, who was wearing the same style of gold bangle as my daughter. They looked like an enviably happy family of three. Next came a pair of elderly, distinctly academic-looking parents. Then, three or four other relatives clustered together. Brooke gracefully ushered everyone to their seats, proudly introducing George by her side. “Mom, Dad, this is George. I’ve told you about him. My husband.” “He’s been working overseas, but he made a special effort to come back this year so he could spend the holidays with you.” George nodded with a practiced reserve, and followed up with a greeting. “Hello, Mom and Dad. It’s a pleasure.” In our dining room, Ruby tugged on my hand, her large eyes filled with confusion and fear. “Mommy, who is Daddy calling? Why did that lady say Daddy is her husband?” “And why is that boy wearing the same bangle as me? Daddy said he only gave one to me.” I stroked her head reassuringly, saying nothing. Next door, Brooke’s mother beamed, taking George’s hand. “Good, good. Our Brooke was so secretive about you before. We thought…” “George, her father and I have been teachers all our lives. We value character above all else. Seeing you here today puts my mind at ease.” At these words, Brooke’s face instantly tightened. I knew she felt a prick of guilt. Then, Brooke’s father spoke up, patting George’s shoulder. “George, your mother and I don’t have any grand wishes, just that our daughter finds happiness and doesn’t make any foolish mistakes.” “Seeing you two so happy as a family today, I feel a weight lifted off my shoulders.” As they spoke, both elderly parents’ eyes grew red-rimmed. It was obvious that Brooke’s five years of single motherhood had been a source of immense social pressure for them. “Alright, alright, why are we getting sentimental on Christmas?” Brooke’s aunt chuckled, breaking the heavy atmosphere. “Our little Brooke has always been a good girl. She’d never be like those shameless women out there in society, would she? Brother, Sister-in-law, you worry too much.” “Right, Brooke?” No amount of foundation could hide the awkward flush on Brooke’s face. She nodded stiffly. “Yes, Aunt is right.” “Exactly. Brother, don’t overthink it. You and Sister-in-law have been teachers your whole lives. Of course, you raised a good daughter.” Brooke’s uncle added, laughing. The atmosphere was becoming warmly convivial. Everyone was laughing, except for the hosts. Through the hidden window, I could clearly see that Brooke was gripping George’s hand so tightly her knuckles were white. So terrified, yet she still chose to be the other woman? I gave a small, cold laugh. Slowly, I took Ruby’s hand, stood up, and walked out, stopping at the door of the adjoining private dining room. Inside, Brooke’s relatives were pushing for a wedding. “George, since you’re back in the country and the boy is growing up, when are you two getting married? It would settle my and her father’s hearts.” Brooke’s mother asked expectantly. “Yes, I’ve already prepared the dowry. As long as you and our daughter are happy, we’ll do anything.” Brooke’s father smiled. “Exactly. I think the tenth of next month looks good.” “The fifteenth works, too. They’re both lucky days.” The relatives chatted excitedly, completely missing the fact that George and Brooke’s faces had gone from pale to green. “Wait a moment.” Finally, George couldn’t help but interrupt them. “Brooke and I can’t get married yet. Because…” “Because he’s already married, and his child is five years old. And Brooke is the woman he cheated with.” I pushed the door open, leading my daughter inside. “Honey, tell me I’m wrong?” The expressions on George and Brooke’s faces froze.

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The Ashworth Group’s annual summit. My mother, Victoria Ashworth, stood on the stage, ready to announce the company’s heir. Everyone in the ballroom, from the board members to the press, turned to look at me—her son, the Vice President of seven years. But the next second, she announced that my cousin, Connor, would inherit the mantle and serve as the company’s new Chief Executive Officer. The entire hall erupted in a stunned silence, then a low, confused murmur. I stared at her, shock quickly turning to a trembling rage. “Eight years I’ve run this company, and I’m your son,” I demanded, my voice tight. “Connor just graduated. On what planet does he deserve the CEO position?” My mother’s expression was cold, utterly devoid of warmth. “Because Connor is stronger than you,” she replied. “He will surpass your eight years of accomplishments in one.” I froze. Then, a furious, bitter laugh escaped me, tilting my head back as it echoed through the silence. I knew that wasn’t the real reason. It was her constant need to maintain ‘perfect optics,’ to frame every decision as a sacrifice for the family’s perceived moral integrity. Since she insisted on giving everything that was mine to Connor, time and time again, I would take my core team, start my own empire, and finally stop being her son. … 1 My laughter stunned the entire room. The wide, business-like smile on my mother’s face vanished, replaced by a deep frown. “Did you forget your meds this morning, Ryan? What is this spectacle?” she hissed. “I’ve gone mad, yes,” I countered, dropping the smile and locking eyes with her. “You drove me to it.” “When this company was collapsing, I was the one working under 100-degree heat to land clients, collapsing from heat exhaustion a dozen times to stabilize the situation.” “I designed our breakthrough product, pulled an all-nighter for an entire week, nearly dying on the floor! That product exploded. That’s when we started turning a profit!” Every word I spoke was hard and undeniable. Heads in the crowd nodded in agreement; they all knew the truth of my efforts. Only my mother’s face grew colder. She grit her teeth. “Enough! What is this loud, unseemly shouting? You are embarrassing me!” “I acknowledge you’ve had some accomplishments, but they still don’t measure up to Connor’s. He just returned and already closed the deal with OmniCorp International.” “You,” she finished, a cruel, final twist of the knife, “worked a year and couldn’t seal that agreement.” Hearing that, I felt like I’d been struck by lightning. I was completely blindsided. That deal, the biggest in company history, was my year-long effort—the one that cost me countless red-eye flights and nearly drained my health. My mother had promised to announce the good news at the gala, but instead, she’d just handed the credit to Connor. All to appear fair, all to maintain her perfect, untouchable optics. Connor, stepping in with practiced fake humility, spoke up. “Aunt Victoria, my qualifications aren’t enough. I truly shouldn’t take this CEO spot.” “Let my cousin, Ryan, have it. Please don’t let this ruin your family relationship. I’m happy to serve as his Deputy.” Listen to him. So humble, so magnanimous. It secured him a position, guaranteeing him a comfortable life as the guaranteed runner-up. My mother didn’t even notice the blatant manipulation. She snapped at me again. “Look at Connor, you brat! See how gracious he is! Then look at you—you do nothing but provoke me.” “The CEO position is final. Connor will take it.” “I will fire anyone who objects. Including you.” Her eyes pinned me with a stark, terrifying threat. Beside her, a smug, barely perceptible smirk touched Connor’s lips. The whispers around the room intensified. Some pitied me. Many mocked me. Others were already sucking up to Connor. My heart felt dead. Looking at my mother one last time, I said, “Then let Connor be your son.” “I quit.” The entire hall fell into a perfect, absolute silence. Everyone, including my mother, stared wide-eyed, unable to comprehend that I had just renounced my family. I turned immediately, walking toward the exit. But as I reached the corridor, my mother’s voice followed me. 2 “Ryan.” She grabbed my arm, her manicured nails digging in. “Can you not be an adult for once? Fighting with me in front of all those people? It’s utterly humiliating.” “Connor’s parents died young. We have to take care of him!” “And right now, I have to maintain optics! As soon as I win the Entrepreneur of the Year award, I’ll find a way to get you the CEO spot. Now, come back inside, apologize to everyone, and tell them you’ll gladly be Connor’s Deputy.” I had foolishly thought she was having a change of heart. I had been wrong. This was another brutal blow. “I earned an acceptance to an elite MBA program on my own merit,” I said, my voice raw. “And you revoked my spot and gave it to Connor, who was sleeping through community college.” “You said it was to ‘maintain optics.’” “You said he was poor and lonely and I had to yield.” “You said you’d let me go later.” “But what was the result?” I looked up at her, demanding an answer she couldn’t give. This pattern had repeated my entire life. When I excelled in school, I was pulled out of the best programs. My mother always cited ‘optics.’ But she immediately leveraged her influence to slip the underperforming Connor into the exact spots I had been denied. For years, I wondered if I simply wasn’t good enough, if I hadn’t tried hard enough to earn her approval. Now, I finally understood: no matter how high I climbed, I would never be enough. I would never be worth more than a single word: “Optics.” It was as if I’d ripped a hidden secret from her chest. My mother’s face reddened with rage. “Ryan, if you continue this tantrum, you will never be allowed back in this company!” Her gaze was icy and full of pure threat. “Fine.” This time, I didn’t back down. I turned and walked away. She stood there, frozen. Her mouth opened, as if to yell or plead, but in the end, she said nothing. Stepping out of the hotel, the frigid December air was like my mother’s cold words—bitter, piercing, and sharp enough to cut through my heart. “Mom,” I whispered to the wind. “I have the ability to stand on my own, even without you.” Taking a deep breath, I pulled out my phone and messaged Sasha, a graduate student I knew from the city’s investment circles: Heard you’re loaded and have nowhere to put your cash. Interested in investing in me? [I am!] Sasha replied instantly. [Meet me at the usual spot tonight. We can talk about it. Might even show you the new abs I’ve been working on!] I cracked a small, weary smile. Since she found out I’d broken up with my girlfriend, she loved to tease me. I headed home to pack. The moment I walked through the door, I found my father, Robert Ashworth, already sitting on the sofa. “Dad, I…” Before I could finish, he snatched a throw pillow from the couch and threw it at my face. “Why did you publicly undermine your mother? Why do you constantly target Connor?” “It’s just a CEO position. The name is still Ashworth. Why does it matter who sits there?” He had already heard everything. And as expected, there was no comfort, no warmth. Only a torrent of accusation. I took a slow, deep breath. “It’s all Ashworth. Why does it matter who your son is?” I replied simply. “Let Connor call you Mom and Dad from now on.” I had no energy left for a fight. “You—” My father lunged forward, his open palm cracking against my cheek. “It’s because you are always so childish and disrespectful! That’s why you don’t deserve the CEO position!” I swallowed the metallic taste of blood and suddenly laughed. “Dad.” “I’m childish? I’m disrespectful?” “Tell me, since you brought Connor home, haven’t I given him everything—the best food, the best toys, the best opportunities?” “The private school spot, the MBA program, you gave them all to him. I even took the fall that time he hit someone with the car.” “In college, you kept me deliberately poor for ‘optics,’ giving me a miserable hundred dollars a week for groceries, while Connor got three thousand dollars a week in allowance.” “Did I ever rebel? Have I not been obedient enough?” Faced with my quiet, devastating inventory, my father was struck silent. I didn’t linger. I walked into my room, quickly tossed a few belongings into a duffel bag, and prepared to leave. “What is this? Running away?” my father called out. There was no regret in his voice, only outrage. I didn’t answer. I just walked silently out the front door. His final shout chased me down the driveway: “Ryan Ashworth! So you didn’t get the CEO spot! Don’t be so melodramatic!” “You ungrateful, disrespectful son! If you walk out that door tonight, don’t ever come back! I’ll pretend I never had a son!” 3 I’d heard those words too many times since childhood. But there was a foolish, stubborn hope for kinship, a desire for recognition that always held me back. This time, I slammed the front door behind me. The cold wind outside felt better than the false warmth inside that house. I didn’t have a car. My mother said it was to maintain optics—she didn’t want people to accuse her of spoiling me. My father said Connor didn’t have a driver’s license yet, and they didn’t want him to feel bad. I reached the curb when a high-end luxury sedan screeched to a halt beside me. The window powered down, revealing the stunning face of Sasha. I slid into the passenger seat. “Why are you here? I thought we were meeting at the usual place?” “The whole city knows you disowned your family,” Sasha replied, pulling out into traffic. I blinked, then opened my phone. The news feeds were already buzzing. [Ashworth Group Discards Son, Appoints Nephew to Take Over Family Empire. Major Gala Planned for Tomorrow to Celebrate!] [Breaking: Ryan Ashworth Chooses to Cut Ties with Parents, Reportedly Homeless!] The gossip mill moved fast. Seconds later, I saw texts from my parents: [Without the Ashworth name, who will recognize you? I advise you to think carefully!] [Don’t be so selfish! Come home immediately and apologize to your mother and Connor. Beg their forgiveness. Otherwise, you’ll starve on the streets, and no one will bury you.] I didn’t reply. I just laughed. Starve? No one will recognize my face? We would see. I followed Sasha into a chic, dimly lit cocktail lounge. As I looked up, a familiar silhouette came into view, and my pupils instantly constricted. It was Tara, my childhood sweetheart, my ex-girlfriend. At this very moment, she was nestled in Connor’s arms, a sickeningly sweet smile plastered across her face. “Oh, senior,” Sasha murmured, rolling her eyes. “You’re such a goof. They were hooking up the whole time they were studying abroad.” Boom. My head felt like it had been hit with a wrecking ball. I felt utterly ridiculous. My parents had actually tried to tell me a long time ago to hand Tara over to Connor. Their absurd reason: they worried people would say they used the Ashworth power to pressure her into marrying me. I had refused violently, enduring a brutal, public shaming from my mother—a deliberate cutting of resources and reputation—yet I still wouldn’t let go. Later, Tara went abroad. We stayed long-distance for four years, and I paid for everything. But the day she returned, she broke up with me. Her eyes were red when she said it. “Ryan, the pressure from your parents is too much. They will never approve of us. We have to break up. I don’t want to drag you down.” She blocked me everywhere. I spent months wallowing in a confused, self-flagellating guilt, convinced I hadn’t given her the security she needed. This scene before me was a slap in the face. Tara saw me and her eyes widened in surprise. She quickly dropped her head, but Connor forcibly grabbed her hand and pulled her over. “Cousin Ryan.” Connor smiled, a poisonous, sickly sweet expression. “I’ve been meaning to tell you this for a while, but I didn’t know how to bring it up. Please don’t be mad.” “Tara and I? We’re true love!” A cold fury exploded in my chest. I raised my hand to punch him. But Tara swiftly stepped in front of Connor. “Enough, Ryan!” “Do you have any respect for yourself as an older brother? How dare you try to hit Connor!” 4 I stood there, my arm trembling. “Why… why would you do this?” Tara stayed silent for a few seconds, then replied, “Because you’re a cast-off! Connor is the pride of your aunt and uncle! The future heir of the Ashworth family!” The words hit me like a physical blow. A scythe had just hacked a piece of my heart out. I laughed, the sound hollow. Love. Kinship. Both utterly worthless in the face of cold, hard profit. Sasha started to step forward to argue, but I stopped her, grabbing her arm and turning away. More words were pointless. The only thing left was to prove with success who was stronger, who would shine brighter, and who would have the final laugh. “Cousin.” Connor rushed up behind me. “My corporate celebration dinner is tomorrow! You simply must come.” He handed me an invitation, his mouth curled into a mocking smile. I realized then: this meeting wasn’t accidental. Connor had set this up. Why else would he be carrying an invitation with him? “I’d be delighted.” I took the envelope. I walked out, a cold smile forming on my lips. As we got into Sasha’s car, I turned to her. “I need a favor.” “Don’t worry,” Sasha said, patting her chest. “Everything for tomorrow is already set.” We exchanged a look. No more words were needed. We understood each other completely. The next day, I arrived promptly at the grand hotel where my mother was hosting Connor’s celebration dinner. The guests hadn’t arrived yet. My parents, Connor, and Tara were all standing together, their faces hardening when they saw me. “Hmph.” My mother sneered. “Look how considerate Connor is. He still remembers to invite you, no matter what. And you? All you know is petty jealousy!” “Apologize to your mother and Connor,” my father added, following her lead. “We’ll let yesterday go. This is your last chance to be sensible.” They weren’t even trying to hide their satisfaction with Connor and Tara’s relationship. It seemed their ‘optics’ crusade was just a tool to separate Tara and me so they could secretly push her toward Connor. “Cousin, there are no grudges that last overnight in a family. Just humble yourself,” Connor mocked, his smile wide. Tara, beside him, quickly chimed in. “They were kind enough to offer you the Deputy position, Ryan. It’s a recognition of your limited abilities. You should be grateful.” I met their patronizing statements with a disdainful smile. “Who said I was here to attend the banquet?” My parents frowned, then burst into scornful laughter, thinking I had lost my mind. Just then, a long line of luxury cars began pulling up outside. “Come on,” my mother snapped, pushing past me. “Forget this disrespectful brat. Let’s greet our guests.” She led my father, Connor, and Tara to the entrance. The city’s elite had arrived. But they all stopped at the hotel door and wouldn’t move inside. My mother looked confused. “Everyone, what are you waiting for? Please come in!” No one moved. “They’re waiting for my permission.” I slowly walked to the door, placing myself at the head of the assembled crowd.

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Three years with the man of my dreams, and just as we were starting to talk rings, my body became a prison I shared with my cousin. Now, all I can do is watch her, wearing my skin, as she embraces, kisses, and… well, does everything else with him. In the dead of night, my Adam, who should have been with my cousin—in my body—suddenly knocked and squeezed his way into the room, pulling me into a hug, ready to kiss me senseless. “Celeste…” He mumbled my cousin’s name, and a bucket of icy water was thrown over my heart. I shoved him away. Celeste Wells. That was my cousin’s name. 1 From a young age, I knew I wasn’t as likable as Celeste. My mother would often tap my forehead in frustration, sighing, “Daisy Wells, tell me, why can’t you be more savvy? Looks are one thing, but can’t you at least be clever? Pay attention to Celeste; she’s so sharp.” Celeste was beautiful, effortlessly outgoing, and she had a knack for charming every adult she met. At holiday gatherings, she always walked away with more coveted gifts and more social currency than I did. I, Daisy, was plain, timid, and aside from decent grades, I felt utterly forgettable. The bravest thing I’d ever done was pursue Adam Holloway. I chased him for an entire semester, writing dozens of clumsy notes, inventing elaborate “chance” encounters, bringing him water during his intramural basketball games, and studying beside him in the library. One night, as we were leaving the library, I was fumbling to hand him a Bluetooth earbud, when he suddenly grabbed my wrist. “Daisy Wells,” he asked, his voice low, “are you even trying to chase me?” He looked down at me, his impossibly handsome face inching closer, his breath warm. My heart hammered so hard it felt like it might escape, and my face and ears flamed. “I… I’m a disaster of a pursuer.” Adam just smiled, then lowered his head and kissed me. “Then let me show you how it’s done.” When Adam and I started dating, everyone around us was stunned. One of my less-than-friendly roommates was cuttingly passive-aggressive: “Her? She’s so mousy and dresses like a librarian. I bet she had to pull some major strings to land Adam.” I once asked Adam why, out of everyone, he chose to be with me. We were crammed onto a commuter rail train, and he had me circled in his arms because of the crowd. He answered casually, resting his chin on my head, “Because you’re my girl.” Celeste later told me that a man only resorts to calling you ‘cute’ or ‘my girl’ when he can’t find any real, outward qualities to compliment. That summer, Celeste came to visit me in Newport, and Adam drove with me to the station to pick her up. He walked ahead, dragging her ridiculously large suitcase, while Celeste leaned in to whisper to me, “Oh my God, Sis, your boyfriend is my absolute dream guy.” My stomach dropped. Celeste had always been the one to take things from me—toys, attention, even friendships—and my family always insisted I be the bigger person. She was the gilded shadow I could never escape. If Celeste decided she wanted Adam, I knew I would lose. I had no fight in me against her. Over the next few days, I showed Celeste around, and though Adam offered to join us, I stiffly refused. I forced a brittle smile. “No, that’s okay. I’ll hang out with her. It’s a holiday weekend; the city’s going to be crowded. You know how you hate noisy places.” Adam looked at me, a long, searching look, before he suddenly pulled me close, pressing a hard kiss to my lips. In broad daylight, I glanced around, embarrassed, and quickly pulled away. He gave me a wounded, theatrical look. “Fine. I’ll just drown myself in the lab then. Let me know when my future Mrs. decides to grace me with her presence.” 2 Three years into our relationship, I finally brought Adam home for Christmas break. Celeste’s family lived nearby, and my dad, with the brilliant idea of “letting the youngsters bond,” booked us a group of suites at a thermal resort outside the city. When we arrived, we found out it wasn’t just the three of us. There was a fourth person—a stranger. The guy smiled, extending his hand. “Gale Abbott. I’m a neighbor of Celeste’s.” From the way Gale looked at Celeste, it was clear he was completely gone on her. Later that evening at dinner, he was overly attentive, warning Celeste, “Celeste, you’ve been having those allergies lately. Maybe skip the Spicy Shrimp Scampi?” Celeste accepted his concern with a shrug, but her eyes kept drifting toward Adam. Adam ignored them both, ordering the Scampi anyway. Then, he looked at Celeste (who was in my body) and added coolly, “Daisy loves shrimp. If you have an allergy, just don’t eat it yourself.” That night, I’d had a little too much wine. Lying next to Adam, I asked him again, blearily, “Adam, why do you actually like me?” He was just as tipsy, rolling over to kiss me, his answer dismissive and soft. “Because you’re my girl.” I hesitated, swallowing the real question I wanted to ask. What if you had met Celeste first? But just as he was starting to get serious, I pushed him away, pulling the duvet over my head. “I’m sleepy.” His reply was quiet, a little cold. “All right.” I never could have predicted that I’d wake up as Celeste. The door creaked open early the next morning, and someone slipped in, shutting the door quietly behind them. She smiled, looking down at me. “Sis.” Staring at that familiar, yet now utterly alien face—my face—I used every ounce of willpower I had to stop the horrified scream bubbling in my throat. “Celeste?!” She was wearing my body, and she walked calmly to the edge of the bed and sat down. She cut me off before I could speak. “I wouldn’t try to tell Adam, if I were you. It’s too unbelievable. He’ll think you’ve had a breakdown.” The air rushed out of me, leaving me utterly defeated. She was right. Adam was rational, science-minded. I’d sound insane. Celeste looked at me, a slow, triumphant smile spreading across my lips. “Besides, haven’t you always been jealous of me?” “Consider this a trade. I’ll lend you my body for a few days, and you’ll lend me your Adam for a while.” 3 At breakfast, I watched Celeste, in my own body, perch next to Adam, batting her lashes as she cooed into his ear. “Honey, I need those peeled. I’m too tired.” “Babe, I want a bite of your bagel.” “Darling, I heard they have private couples’ mineral baths here. Should we go try one later?” The scene was a physical assault. My eyes burned. I hunched over my plate, blindly shoveling food into my mouth. Suddenly, a hand reached over, silently placing a fresh napkin in front of me. I looked up. It was Gale. His lips were pressed into a thin line, his expression clearly unhappy. I belatedly realized he liked Celeste. He must think I (Celeste, in this body) was jealous of my own sister—or rather, my own body—and was sulking. That certainly wouldn’t please him. I sucked in a shaky breath, forcing a small smile, and took the napkin from his hand. “Thank you.” But then Adam’s chopsticks reached out, placing a piece of Truffle Parmesan Fries on my plate. I snapped my head up, staring at him. Adam cleared his throat, avoiding eye contact. “You mentioned last night that you can’t eat seafood. I saw you really liked these fries, so I ordered a second batch.” My heart plummeted. I was in Celeste’s body. Celeste’s recent allergy to seafood was something Gale mentioned briefly last night. And the fact that she liked those specific fries was also a new, small detail. He was attentive. He remembered. He was caring—about the wrong person. I pushed back my chair. “I… I’m not feeling great. I’m going back to the suite to rest.” Gale was blocking my path. When I didn’t move, I had to prompt him. “Excuse me? Could you step aside, please?” “I’ll walk you back,” Gale said, standing up and following me. On impulse, I glanced back. I met Adam’s eyes. The look he gave me was purely, openly worried. And it was directed at me—at Celeste’s body. Walking back, I stayed silent, terrified of betraying myself. Gale broke the silence first. “Are you sick? Should I get you something from the pharmacy?” “No… thank you. Just a headache, maybe from not sleeping well. I’m sure a nap will fix it.” I stopped at the door, saying goodbye. He really was a good-looking guy—taller than Celeste, with ink-dark eyes that, for some reason, felt strangely familiar. “Your sister… she seems a little different today.” My heart skipped a beat. I tried to sound natural. “Does she? No, I think she’s just being normal with her boyfriend. That’s what girls in relationships do, right?” I was inwardly panicked. How could he be so perceptive? Gale watched me, a flicker of something knowing in his deep-set eyes. “Not every girl. At least—I don’t care for that kind of attention-seeking.” 4 Back in the suite, I realized I’d left my phone back at the table in my haste. I didn’t know Celeste’s passcode, but thankfully, she used face-ID. Opening her texts, I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of unread messages. A stream of guys—asking her out, flirting, suggesting late-night drives. It was an existence I’d never known. My own phone usually only had messages from Adam and my best friend, Jordan. This overwhelming, exhausting flood of attention was the reality of being a gorgeous, popular girl. I only replied to a few messages from her parents, then tossed the phone aside and fell into a heavy sleep. Somewhere between waking and dreaming, I saw Adam. He was wearing his vintage Michigan State jersey, looking clean and radiant, walking toward me on the court. He grabbed my wrist, pinning me against a concrete wall, leaning in for a kiss. I turned my head, avoiding his mouth, and asked the same question. “Adam, why do you like me?” He smiled tenderly. “Because you’re so beautiful, so fun, and you have such an outgoing personality.” The joy flared for only a second before I looked into the nearby mirror. Staring back was Celeste’s bright, dazzling face. I went instantly cold. It was Celeste’s face! I shot up in bed, gasping for air. I wiped the cold sweat from my forehead, realizing belatedly it was just a nightmare. But the dream was too vivid. It had ripped open the deepest part of my insecurity, exposing it to the light. A knock sounded on the door. I assumed it was Celeste, but when I opened it, I found Gale. “What’s wrong?” I asked, my voice still hoarse. The next second, a warm hand landed on my sweat-damp forehead. “You’re running a slight temperature. Definitely coming down with something.” Gale held up a paper pharmacy bag. “I got you some cold medicine and a cup of soup. You didn’t eat this morning; have the soup first, then the meds.” I looked up at his clear, sky-blue eyes, feeling a strange sense of déjà vu. Gale was truly kind to Celeste—attentive to an almost obsessive degree. Yet, she didn’t want him. She wanted the one man who was already taken. Was this the cliché of wanting only what you couldn’t have? I drank the soup and took the pill. As the headache began to recede, I felt sticky with sweat. I asked Gale, “I feel gross. I’m going to go soak in the thermal pool for a while. Want to join me?” Gale readily agreed. However, as soon as we reached the pool area, I spotted two familiar figures. Celeste, in my body, was aggressively pinning Adam against a stone wall, whispering something up at him. Then, she grabbed his collar, stood on her tiptoes, and kissed him. I froze, staring. The dull, persistent ache in my chest surged, turning into a wave of pain that made me sway. A hand shot out and steadied my shaking body. I turned to see Gale’s eyes fixed on mine. He asked quietly, “You’re in love with him?” I nodded, the movement painful. “But he’s your sister’s boyfriend.” The hand holding me was warm, but his words were like an icy wind, carrying a strange, knowing edge. “Celeste, you’re beautiful, but that’s not a golden ticket. Adam chose Daisy for a reason. That means he genuinely loves her. You can’t just barge in.” I shook my head weakly, biting down hard on my lip to stop the tears. “You don’t understand.” How could I tell him? This illogical, unscientific disaster had led us here. The person Adam was with was me, yet she wasn’t. And I, living in Celeste’s body, could clearly feel the increasingly urgent, almost hungry desire in Adam’s eyes when he looked at me. “Stop crying.” Gale’s voice was suddenly right by my ear, a gentle sigh in his tone. The next second, I was pulled into a warm, solid embrace.

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I had been in a car wreck. A nasty concussion. And it had wiped my fiancé right out of my mind. Not only had I forgotten him, I’d been vicious. I’d told him I only loved my ex-boyfriend and ordered him to get the hell out of my life. When he stood waiting for me, heartbroken, on the street below my apartment, I’d walked downstairs and dumped a bucket of ice water on his head. Then, on the day he was set to marry someone else, I remembered everything. 1 The day the memories returned wasn’t marked by any special occasion. No medicine mix-up, no near-drowning, and certainly not another car crash like the one that had stolen my past in the first place. I was just sitting there, curled up with a book. I wasn’t even reading anything profound, just a line that spoke of a tree and how it wouldn’t be so green if it knew the sorrows of the world. I was thinking, Of course, it’s easier to be the fool, to know nothing, to have no clue… …no clue… Suddenly, my brain detonated. A blinding rush of fragmented scenes flashed behind my eyes. His eyes, red-rimmed, asking if I didn’t want him anymore. His voice, choked, asking if I’d ever regret this. The time he took me to the lake to fly a kite, the string slicing his hand… The tidal wave of memory was immediate and suffocating. My head clogged and throbbed with the sudden influx of a life that wasn’t mine until seconds ago. I grabbed the phone, my fingers flying to the number I knew better than my own name. That number—the one that had always been answered instantly, no matter the hour—was now met with a cold, metallic voice: “We’re sorry, the number you have dialed is currently busy.” I hung up and immediately dialed my oldest friend, Darian. “Darian, where is Cas? Where is he right now?” Darian and I had been friends since we were kids; I knew his family, the Eastons, had corporate ties with Cas’s family, the Blackwoods. He had to know. During my amnesia, my friends had all patiently, sometimes desperately, urged me to give Cas a chance, to at least try to get to know him again, warning that I’d regret it otherwise. But I hadn’t been able to hear them. I’d been too lost in my own fog. The raw panic in my voice was all Darian needed to hear. He understood immediately. “Rory, did you… did you remember?” “Yes, everything. I remember. Tell me where he is. I have to go to him.” I was sobbing, barely able to breathe. His reply was heavy, reluctant. “Maybe… maybe you shouldn’t.” “Why? You know I’ve wanted this, Darian. You always told me I’d regret it,” I cried, the words tearing out of my throat. “Please, just tell me. I need him. I need to see him…” “Rory,” he said, his voice quiet and devastating. “He’s getting married today.” The receiver felt like a bolt of lightning against my ear. When Cas had desperately tried to hold onto me, he’d asked: “Rory, do you remember promising to marry me? You said you wanted pure white bellflowers everywhere, and a dress like a thousand stars. I remember all of it. If you throw me out like this and I marry someone else, won’t you regret it?” The memory of my reply then was a physical stab in my chest now. I had looked him straight in his pleading eyes and said, with icy detachment: “Just let me go, okay? I hope you marry someone quickly and permanently, so you can stop bothering me.” 2 Darian’s voice came back through the phone, sharp with old resentment. “You were so sure, Rory. You told everyone you wouldn’t regret your choices, even if your memory returned.” “I do regret it! I regret it! Is that not allowed?” I wailed, slamming the phone down. I wiped my face and stumbled out the door. Darian’s sleek black car was already idling at the curb. He was always there, no matter how unreasonable, how wild my decisions were. He wouldn’t abandon me. “Darian, I—” I began, shamefaced. He cut me off, his expression unreadable. “I was going anyway. Get in. You won’t stop until you see it for yourself.” Tears welled again. I choked them back and climbed into the passenger seat. He tapped a local address into the GPS—a venue in New Haven, the city where we had gone to college. The silence in the car was thick with unspoken history. Cas’s family estate was in New Haven, and that’s where we’d attended university. He’d transferred into my major, and his student ID number was sequentially right after mine. It had felt like fate. After graduation, when I insisted on moving back to Manhattan to find a job, he hadn’t hesitated for a second. “Rory,” he’d promised, “wherever you go, I go. We’re never separating.” I’d been so touched, my eyes blurring with tears. “You’re the best! I’ll take care of you.” But less than six months later, I’d shattered him into pieces and he’d retreated, devastated, back to New Haven. After he left, Darian would watch me from across a table at a bar, nursing a drink, while I pretended not to care. His gaze was always complex. “Rory, are you really sure you won’t regret this?” “No,” I’d insisted. “What if you remember?” “The doctors said it’s a million-to-one shot. How would I remember? Besides, even if I did, I probably still wouldn’t regret it.” And now I had remembered. And I regretted it. Regretted it so fiercely I wanted to die. Darian dropped me off at the entrance of the Grand Regent Hotel and went to find parking. I stood alone on the pavement. I hadn’t even made it inside the ballroom, but I was already stunned. The scale and lavishness of the wedding went far beyond anything I could have imagined. White bellflowers were everywhere, a sweeping cascade of them from the entrance onward. Pure, dense, and blindingly white. “Wedding must have bellflowers,” his voice echoed in my memory. He always loved bellflowers. He used to tell me: “Rory, you’re just like a bellflower—so pure and beautiful.” He had described our wedding to me countless times. For a flashing, insane moment, I thought I was hallucinating. Could this be my wedding with Cas? Was I still in that hospital bed, trapped in a nightmare, waiting to wake up? My daydream dissolved the moment I saw the enormous welcome sign at the entrance. White florals framed the display, making it solemn and utterly exclusive. “Mr. Caspian Blackwood and Ms. Kendall Lynch. A Match Made in Heaven.” Kendall. Of course, it was her. The girl who had always wanted to be with him had finally won. Below the main announcement, a secondary line was engraved, solidifying the union: “The heir of Blackwood Group and the daughter of Lynch Enterprises: A perfect union of power and pedigree.” The photo of the happy couple, all beaming smiles, was drowned in the white floral sea. They looked sweet, warm, and utterly right. I watched the stream of luxury cars and the distinguished, wealthy guests flowing past me and understood with painful clarity: Even without the recent betrayal, it never would have been me. 3 Kendall was Cas’s childhood friend. The kind who had supposedly been trailing after him for over a decade. She had even transferred to our university the day after Cas did. She was beautiful, savvy, and wealthy, and she wasn’t shy about spending money on people, quickly becoming a kind of social queen. When our class played a charity basketball game, she kitted out the entire men’s team in custom-designed jerseys. For our group retreat, she had a full semi-trailer of high-end gear hauled in to set up the party. No one disliked her. So, when Cas and I first got close, the whispers about me were vicious. “Kendall and Cas are soulmates, a family arrangement. Rory is just the cheap distraction.” “Rory is poor, she’s just latching onto the richest guy she can find.” “Rory’s necklace must be stolen. There’s no way she could afford something like that.” I was poor, but I wasn’t without pride. For a long time, I wouldn’t speak to Cas, wouldn’t allow us to have any interaction, and certainly wouldn’t accept his attention. Eventually, Kendall must have decided I was too beneath her to bother with and stopped trying to actively exclude me. She even started skipping classes. Cas, however, had none of the arrogance of a rich kid. He was hardworking, serious about his studies, and always prepared study guides for everyone before finals. Once, he took me to the university’s quiet lake. He said he wanted to fly a kite for me. He ran across the grass, holding the string, looking a little clumsy but full of vibrant energy. He really was the most infectious, radiant person I’d ever met. I was lost in my own thoughts when he ran back, pulling the kite behind him, and shouted over the wind: “Rory! You’re my kite!” The wind was strong by the water, and his hair blew across his face. He grinned, his teeth straight and dazzling white. He handed the spool to me. Distracted, I missed the catch. The spool tumbled, and the string began to unwind in frantic circles. He scrambled to retrieve it, slowly winding the line back in. He finally came back to me, holding the collected kite and spool. His palm was cut by the taught string, red dots of blood welling up. He just smiled. “No big deal.” In that moment, not falling for him was impossible. Cas assured me that Kendall was just a friend, maybe a family friend, a little sister. He swore he had no interest in her. If he did, he wouldn’t be with me. So, I tried to ignore Kendall’s occasional harassment. I could handle the gossip. But about a year into our relationship, Kendall started actively inserting herself into our lives. More accurately, into his life. She’d drag him to lunch. She’d insist he come shopping with her. She’d always include him in her exclusive parties. Her parties were always in high-end, member-only venues, full of complicated social rituals. I knew she wanted to watch me fumble. She wanted me to feel utterly out of place, to get the message that I didn’t belong. I managed to hold my own, but I was exhausted by it. She was constantly sitting too close to him, insisting they sing duets together, or “accidentally” drinking from his glass. I finally exploded at Cas. He promised he would draw a firm boundary with her. Not long after that, I had the car crash and lost my memory. “Hurry up! The bride’s bouquet! Just finished the custom requests!” I turned to see a frantic wedding coordinator shoving a bouquet into my hands. “Long wait! Ms. Lynch’s changes are done! Get this to her, please!” Then she rushed off. I must have looked like a stunned venue assistant, standing there in my plain clothes. I stared at the bouquet—bellflowers woven together, diamonds subtly set in the arrangement. A bitter laugh caught in my throat. I resigned myself and walked inside. After fumbling through three wrong doors, I pushed open the door to the bridal suite. The room was bright, lit with a glowing, starlight-like luminescence. The woman in the mirror seemed to radiate light. Kendall was wearing a massive dress with an enormous train, tiny water-based diamonds sprinkled everywhere, exposing her beautiful neck and arms. “Cas! I sent you to get the flowers, what took you so long—” She called out happily, then turned and saw me. Her smile froze and her expression immediately turned cold. “You. What are you doing here?” Wordlessly, I extended the bouquet to her. “I just ran into it. Here.” She took the flowers with a look of distaste and immediately grabbed a bottle of floral spray and misted the bouquet. “You can go now,” she dismissed me, waving a manicured hand impatiently. When I didn’t move, her expression changed to a wary probe. “Did you remember?” I nodded once. A flicker of panic crossed her face, quickly replaced by a victorious smile. She patted my shoulder—a gesture of false camaraderie. “We owe you everything. You gave him up. You saved his life.” I didn’t want to say another word. I turned to walk away. The room was too beautiful, she was too beautiful, and her dress was like a thousand stars. The stars Cas had promised me. 4 I was a few steps down the hall when I realized a piece of delicate chiffon fabric was snagged on my shoulder. It must have caught on something in the dressing room. I needed to return it. As I reached the door, I heard Cas’s voice inside. “I waited for half an hour, I didn’t see anyone—wait, you already have it?” Kendall’s voice, smooth and falsely contrite, responded: “Cas, Rory was just here. She brought the bouquet to me. She said she was so happy to see us together, that she hopes we’ll be eternally happy, and that you should never think of her again.” The doorknob rattled, as if someone was preparing to open the door. I was about to slip away when I heard Kendall continue: “She doesn’t want to see you, Cas. She remembered a while ago, but she’s marrying her ex-boyfriend now, and she won’t look back. Think about those messages. She told you herself that he’s the one she loves the most.” Ex-boyfriend…? Chat logs…? Suddenly, everything clicked into place. The fog of my partial recovery cleared with stunning, brutal force. After my accident, I had actually started to like Cas again. He had been so patient. “Rory, I’m sorry I rushed things. It doesn’t matter if you don’t remember. We can start over. You can fall in love with me again. We don’t need the past.” I was just about ready to let go of the past and start a new relationship with him. Until that night, when he took me to a friend’s gathering. When I was in the restroom, Kendall—the only other woman there—cornered me. “Rory, your timing was impeccable,” she’d said, her voice dripping with poison. “Even if Cas was determined to break up with you, he couldn’t just dump a girl in a coma.” Kendall told me Cas’s family had always despised me because I was an orphan with no connections. Cas, under pressure, was planning to end the engagement. The day of the accident, she insisted, we weren’t going to look at wedding venues; he was going to break up with me. The only reason he hadn’t was because breaking an engagement after a life-threatening accident would ruin the Blackwood Group’s reputation. He was only taking care of me until the PR fallout faded. I was reeling. “He never said any of this to me.” “We’re all friends here. I’ve watched you both,” she continued, pushing her advantage. “I even told him to cherish you and ignore the whole ‘perfect match’ business. But you don’t remember anything now. You’re fundamentally incompatible. Did you know Cas can’t eat spicy food? And you’re constantly putting chili in his meals.” I hadn’t known. Since I’d left the hospital, Cas had done all the cooking, and he often made spicy food. I assumed he liked it too. “Do you know you’re supposed to accompany him to corporate functions? Do you understand the language they speak? Have you ever been to those places? Can you afford the clothes? Do you know the constant pressure Cas is under because of you?” I stared blankly as her mouth moved. “If you truly haven’t remembered, just let him go, okay? Dragging him down with your illness is selfish.” Her words resonated with the self-sacrificing part of me. I couldn’t ruin his life. I went home and immediately began to distance myself, preparing to move out. The day I was moving my last boxes, Kendall knocked on my door. Her eyes were red. “Since you’ve made the decision, can you be crueler? Make him give up? This uncertainty is hurting him. Just tell him you love someone else. Like an ex-boyfriend or something.” She said Cas was drunk and waiting downstairs, desperate for an answer. I agreed. I went upstairs, filled a bucket with water, and poured it over his head. When he looked up, stunned, I spoke every word with measured coldness: “I don’t love you. I have someone else I love. Can you please stop bothering me? Just get out of my life.” He was speechless for a long time, then his expression turned to ash. “But… didn’t you two break up?” “It was a misunderstanding.” “So, the messages are real,” he whispered, utterly defeated, pulling himself off the pavement. “I didn’t want to believe it. Fine. I won’t bother you again.” I turned and ran back inside, holding back tears, and forgot to ask the one thing that mattered: How did he know the person I loved was an ex-boyfriend? The truth was, I didn’t have an ex-boyfriend. While I was recovering in the hospital, a guy had requested to follow me online. He claimed to be an ex-boyfriend, said we broke up over a misunderstanding, and just wanted to check on me and be friends. I believed him and accepted. I was struggling to recognize Cas and was constantly lost in my memory loss, so I chatted with this guy occasionally. It was mostly small talk and venting about the pain of losing my past. There was never anything romantic. When I decided to try and start over with Cas, I explained everything to the ‘ex’ and blocked him. How did Cas know about that? The “chat logs” he mentioned—I hadn’t understood them then. But hearing Kendall reference them today, I finally saw the crystal-clear picture. Kendall had told him. That “ex-boyfriend” was a figment of her manipulation, possibly her own online persona or a paid accomplice. She had fabricated the messages, or heavily edited them, and sent them to Cas, claiming I didn’t love him. He hadn’t believed her and came downstairs drunk to confront me. She then pleaded with me to use the ‘new lover’ excuse to reject him. She used my own amnesia, my vulnerability, and the fact that I didn’t recognize her as a threat to make me personally destroy my future with Cas. He gave up. He left. She won.

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I only found out after I died that I was the sacrificial pawn in a “Golden Girl” novel—the scorned side character whose miserable end paved the way for the protagonist’s glorious ascent. My death, apparently, jolted my neglectful, son-obsessed parents into valuing a daughter. It taught my arrogant younger brother compassion—which he then lavished upon the heroine. It made my cold childhood crush regret his callousness—which he then compensated the heroine for. And the heroine, Phoebe, basking in the glow of all this undeserved affection, magnanimously forgave them on my behalf. “She’d want me to be happy, even from the afterlife.” Happier in the afterlife? Bullshit. When I opened my eyes again, I was fifteen. It was the very day my parents brought Phoebe home. 1 “Juniper Wallace, what are you doing just lying there? Get up and make sure your sister’s room is ready!” My mother, Elaine, viciously twisted my ear, yanking me straight off the bed. The blinding pain snapped me back to the present. I wasn’t dead? I stumbled to the mirror. Seeing my own impossibly young, pale face, my eyes welled with tears. My death in the last life hadn’t been sudden. Before it happened, I’d known I was seriously ill. I begged Mom and Dad to take me to the doctor, but they were taking Miles to the amusement park and ignored me. I had to smash the meager savings I’d hoarded from years of recycling cans and bottles just to drag myself, step by agonizing step, to a local clinic. The clinic doctor, seeing how critical my condition was, called an ambulance to the city hospital. But it was too late. I died from severe depression and long-term malnutrition that led to kidney failure. A miracle couldn’t have saved me. Yet, when they first heard the news, there was little emotional tremor. They were almost relieved—one less mouth to feed, one less bill. But slowly, the consequences set in. No one woke up early anymore to make their breakfast. No one came home early to cook dinner and wait for them. The sheets and duvet covers weren’t changed weekly. The laundry wasn’t folded neatly and put away in the drawers. And when my parents were angry, there was no longer a human punching bag. They began to regret how vile they had been to me, how obsessively they prioritized Miles. They started staring at my grainy, unflattering funeral portrait, weeping through the nights. So, they funneled all that belated guilt and debt into Phoebe, the sister they’d shipped off to the country two years earlier. They bought Phoebe the best clothes and fed her the finest food. My cynical younger brother, Miles, suddenly became a doting, reformed older sibling, and from that day on, Phoebe never had to lift a finger. The most monstrous part was Phoebe herself. She had witnessed my entire miserable life, yet she had the audacity to declare to them: “June won’t blame you in the afterlife, Mommy and Daddy. She’d want you to be at peace. After all, we’re family.” My soul had nearly detonated with rage. Phoebe never suffered my pain, so how dare she forgive everyone on my behalf? Later, I learned the truth: I was the book’s expendable character, and Phoebe was the celebrated heroine, designed to build her “Golden Girl” status on the rubble of my life. I remembered protecting Phoebe before I died, taking all the parental abuse and neglect onto myself to shield her from a similar fate. But on the night I died, Phoebe was downstairs. She heard my cries for help but did nothing. She wouldn’t even corroborate my story, knowing our parents thought I was being dramatic. She never said a word. 2 The familiar scene jolted me out of the flashback. I twisted hard, shaking free from my mother’s grip, and stared at Elaine with cold, lethal fury. Perhaps it was the first time she had ever seen that look in my eyes, because she actually flinched and recoiled slightly. But in an instant, my mother recovered, her face contorting. She struck me across the face with a hard slap. “Are you trying to test me, looking at me like that? You need a good beating!” My parents’ obsession with a son was the axis of our lives. I was the firstborn. When Phoebe was born—another girl—they broke. They sent her to a distant relative’s farm when she was two. They got lucky with their next pregnancy: Miles. After he was born, our home was finally filled with celebratory cheer. I always thought Phoebe had it worse, being separated from them so young. But all their resentment was redirected to me. Even before Miles was born, they began calling me a jinx, a failure who couldn’t bring them a son. After Miles arrived, the neglect became habit: daily abuse, incessant criticism, and all the household chores dumped onto my shoulders. In reality, Phoebe was loved by the relatives in the country. She didn’t have pretty dresses, but she had all the unconditional love two old people could give. In that moment of clarity, I realized the only truly pitiful person was me. I held my burning cheek, silent, the hatred in my heart a heavy, unmoving stone. Mom dragged me downstairs. By the front door stood Phoebe, timid and nervous. Her skin was a healthy tan, and her cheeks were plump. I, in contrast, was skin and bone, my collarbone prominent. “Mommy, Daddy, I missed you so much! I thought you didn’t want me anymore.” Phoebe burst into tears and threw herself into their arms. They wouldn’t have even bothered bringing her back if the elderly relative hadn’t passed away. Phoebe recounted a tearful tale of hardship, heavily implying our parents were cruel for abandoning her. Since they were already racked with guilt—and convinced Phoebe was the “lucky charm” who brought them Miles—they showered her with compensatory affection. I was too young to see the cunning spark in Phoebe’s eyes back then. I hadn’t noticed she showed zero grief when her guardian died, or that she never mentioned visiting the surviving relative since she’d been back. I should have known then: Phoebe was a self-serving opportunist, a wolf in sheep’s clothing. After a tearful family reunion huddle, Phoebe acted as if she’d just noticed me, her eyes becoming doe-like and pathetic. “I’m so envious of you, June. You got to stay here with Mommy and Daddy and live a good life. I never even got to see them.” 3 It was the exact same scene, the exact same words as my past life. Back then, ignorant of the truth, I felt an immediate kinship with Phoebe, believing her life had been rough. We were both daughters in this awful house. Fearing she’d suffer as I did, I protected her fiercely, always stepping in front of her. Even when she messed up, I took the blame. And that white-eyed wolf, in return, forgave my abusers on my behalf after I died. Not this time. I won’t be a coward. I won’t beg for a shred of affection that was never mine. I managed a chilling smile. “I’ll admit, I’m a little envious,” I said, my voice sweet as poison. “Looks like Gramps and Grandma fed you well.” Phoebe froze, clearly not expecting me to call attention to her weight. She was speechless. My mother wheeled around, glaring at me. “What is that supposed to mean? Are you blaming us for starving you, you ungrateful wretch? Are you lacking food or clothes in this house?” If this were before, I wouldn’t have dared talk back. I was too afraid, and a sliver of me always hoped that if I just kept quiet, they might still care. I was just waiting to be loved. But I had already died once. They were the reason I didn’t live a full life. I let out a cold, sharp scoff. “You tell me, Mother. Don’t you know the answer already?” Elaine lunged as if to hit me again, but I was already back in my room. I shut the door and ignored the stream of vulgar curses directed at me from the hallway. I was only fifteen; I couldn’t physically leave. But I could claw my way toward a new future. That night, Phoebe knocked on my door. I was finally reading, something I’d never had the time or energy for in the past life, my grades a hopeless mess. Now, let someone else deal with the chaos downstairs. I wasn’t sacrificing my future for them. I didn’t want to answer, but Phoebe was persistent, her soft tapping utterly grating. I yanked the door open in annoyance. Phoebe stood there, wearing one of my new dresses. It was stretched tight across her body, but she clearly loved it. “June,” she said, looking innocent. “Mommy said she didn’t have time to take me shopping, so she let me wear your new dress. You aren’t mad, are you?” It was true. My mother rarely bought me clothes. This dress was bought before the school year, a token meant only to save face. Now, Phoebe had gotten to it first. It was exactly what I expected, and I felt nothing. I had been ignored for so long that I was used to it. An article of clothing was nothing; I’d spent years eating their leftovers. I just couldn’t figure out why Phoebe had bothered to come and gloat. Did she need proof that she was the favored daughter now? This petty Mean Girls routine felt tiresome. 4 I just gave a flat, indifferent grunt: “Oh.” Phoebe’s face visibly clouded over. She clearly wanted me to throw a fit, to fight with her so she could showcase her superior maturity and compliance, proving to Mom and Dad that she was the only daughter worth keeping. But Phoebe had miscalculated. In this house, only Miles was unconditionally cherished. Phoebe and I were merely the failed products. Right now, Phoebe was novel, but I hadn’t died yet, so their regret was still shallow. Phoebe stood frozen for a moment, then immediately burst into fake tears. “June, do you hate me? If you’re upset, I’ll give the dress back right now!” I watched her coldly, and simply held out my hand. Phoebe blinked, confused. “You said you’d give it to me,” I explained flatly. Now it was Phoebe’s turn to feel awkward. She clutched the hem of the dress, unable to take it off, and instead began to sob hysterically. Mom and Dad rushed into my room, drawn by the noise. Seeing Phoebe crying, Elaine didn’t ask a single question; she raised her hand to hit me. “How dare you! You’re the older sister, and she just got here! How could you make her cry?” I darted back, easily dodging my mother’s swing, and fixed her with a hard, level gaze. “Phoebe came in here, wearing my new clothes to provoke me. She said if I was unhappy, she’d give it back. I told her I was unhappy, and she won’t return it. Now she’s crying. What exactly did I do wrong?” My parents were prejudiced, but they weren’t stupid. And now that I had found my voice, I wouldn’t be silenced. Last time, Phoebe often tried to pit us against each other, but I always covered for her. Now, she wouldn’t treat me like a soft target. Phoebe was crying without a scratch on her, and our parents hated unnecessary drama. Mom and Dad looked skeptically at Phoebe. She only cried harder. “June, you misunderstood! I was just worried you’d be angry, but you shouldn’t say such cruel things! You said I was a child they didn’t want! They love me!” Ah, that was her real goal. My parents’ eyes immediately hardened with rage. Sending Phoebe away was the thing they were most ashamed of; the neighborhood had scorned them for it. Phoebe had just ripped off their social fig leaf. Phoebe had some low-level cunning; she’d figured out how to wound our parents just hours after arriving. I calmly reached into my backpack, turned on my voice recorder, and played back the entire conversation—all of Phoebe’s sniffling drama and manipulative lines. I’d bought the recorder with hoarded money to practice my English pronunciation. Now, it served a better purpose. Mom and Dad’s faces went pale. Phoebe panicked and grabbed Elaine’s sleeve. “Mommy, June is scary! She’s recording our own family!” Elaine gently stroked Phoebe’s head. “There, there, darling. Go get some rest.” 5 It was the expected reaction. I hadn’t presented the evidence for justice; I knew they were biased, and I was the least-favored child. If this were my previous life, I would have been heartbroken. But now, it was irrelevant. I knew what I wanted, and their flimsy affection was no longer necessary. On the first day of the school year, I used to wake up before dawn to make breakfast. This time, I left early and bought breakfast with my own savings. From now on, I would eat well and regularly. I wouldn’t waste away from malnutrition. I also applied for on-campus housing. Before, my parents flat-out refused; they needed me for chores. I went to my guidance counselor, Ms. Peterson. Though my grades were weak, she was kind-hearted and guaranteed the deposit for me, even covering the first month herself. I promised her I would study relentlessly, get into a good university, and repay her kindness. She even provided me with a bedding set. My throat burned. A stranger, a person with no blood connection to me, had done this. My parents had only ever treated me like a tool. After that, I stayed on campus, only returning for necessities on weekends. I studied under the desk lamp every night. My grades skyrocketed from the bottom percentiles to the top of the class. Ms. Peterson was delighted. Phoebe, spoiled and enabled by her country relatives, was completely unmotivated. Relying on our parents’ misplaced guilt, she simply slacked off. She was two years younger, but her grades were already abysmal. When it came time for the high school entrance exams, I placed first in the entire district and was accepted into the elite magnet school. Before graduation, Ms. Peterson held my hand and told me to keep pushing. She only wanted me to succeed. I promised her, tears streaming down my face. Returning home afterward, I prepared myself for the inevitable storm. I knew my parents hadn’t dared cause a scene at school; they were waiting for me. The moment I stepped inside, a porcelain mug flew past my head, clipping my forehead. A thin line of blood immediately trickled down my temple. “You ungrateful wretch! You think you can just show up when you feel like it? Why didn’t you just stay dead outside?” 6 My mother looked noticeably haggard. Since I left, she had to take over all the chores. She never considered how exhausting it was for me, a teenager, to handle all of it alone. I casually wiped the blood away. Phoebe walked in from outside, a smug look of schadenfreude on her face. My father, Arthur, sat on the sofa. He never physically hurt me, but his passive indifference was equally chilling. Miles was on his tablet, headphones on, as if the entire household existed merely to serve his entertainment. I placed the acceptance letter from the magnet school on the coffee table. “I’m going to school. I can’t focus here.” Mom froze. She snatched the letter, read it closely, and her expression immediately shifted from thunderous rage to a triumphant smile. I knew the truth: my parents, while prioritizing Miles, were slaves to social image. They neglected me not just because I was a girl, but because my grades made me worthless. If I had tried to ask to board at school before, they would have said no. In their minds, my only value was as a household servant until I was old enough to be married off for a high dowry, which would then be used for Miles. I had to succeed, to prove my value. Since I couldn’t change my gender, I had to change my external worth. “Oh, my June is so smart! Did you really get this score?” I didn’t react to their sudden joy or attention, just nodding numbly. I only wanted to survive; otherwise, I would have walked out and never looked back. Arthur’s perpetually grim face finally cracked a smile. He snatched the letter from Elaine, beaming. “They said my family wouldn’t produce an academic star! I’ll show them! My daughter is going to the best school in the state!” Miles’s grades were pathetic, and Phoebe’s were unmentionable. The atmosphere in the house changed instantly. Miles remained oblivious, but Phoebe’s expression darkened to a storm cloud. Elaine turned to Phoebe. “You finished your semester too, right? Where are your grades?”

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After my father went to prison for embezzling company funds, my mother, a university professor, loved to use me to “prove her integrity” to avoid suspicion. To avoid suspicion, she forced me to hand over the guaranteed graduate school admission spot that belonged to me to the student ranked second in the department. When I participated in an academic competition, just because the judge was an old classmate of hers, she stormed into the venue and forcibly dragged me out to withdraw. Now, with the class fund missing, she acted as if she had caught me red-handed, stripping off my jacket in public to search me. Trembling all over, amidst the mocking gazes of the whole class, I heard her self-righteous voice: “Precisely because she is my daughter, I must not cover for her! Who knows if she learned from her father who’s in prison?” “Take off your clothes! Let everyone see if you are clean!” At that moment, looking at her face full of a sense of justice, I gave up resisting. Mom, since you want to “avoid suspicion,” then this time, I will grant your wish… My jacket was roughly torn off by her, and I stood in the center of the lecture hall podium wearing only a thin shirt. My mom shook my jacket over and over again, even reaching into the sleeves to feel around. There was nothing. Just then, a boy in the front row bent down and yelled. “Professor, the money is here! It’s in the crack of the podium, looks like it was blown in by the wind.” He held up the envelope containing the class fund. The whole class was in an uproar. I looked at my mom. She didn’t have the slightest sense of guilt, but instead let out a long sigh as if relieved of a heavy burden. Then she threw the jacket back at me in front of the whole class. “Good! As long as you didn’t steal it!” “It seems my strict discipline has worked, you didn’t follow your father’s old path.” “What are you standing there for? Why don’t you bow to everyone?” I froze in place, asking in disbelief. “Bow?” She said matter-of-factly, “Yes! Thank the classmates for their supervision, thank everyone for helping you prove your innocence!” “Lily, remember this, precisely because the blood of a criminal flows in your veins, we must be more open and aboveboard than others, more able to withstand scrutiny!” Under her forcing gaze, amidst the strange looks of the whole class. I mechanically bent down and took a bow. At that moment, my dignity was shattered to pieces. After returning home, I collapsed. A high fever came fiercely, my whole body burning like fire. In a daze, I heard my mom talking on the phone in the living room. Her tone was impassioned, showing off. “Mom, you don’t know how scary the scene was today.” “At that time, I thought, even if she is my own daughter, I will absolutely not tolerate it!” “Yes, I stripped her clothes and searched her, so what? A clear conscience needs no defense!” “Now the college leaders all praise me for being selfless, saying I deserve to be a model of teacher ethics.” “Only in this way can we wash away the stain left by that dead ghost, so that when Lily goes out in the future, people won’t poke her in the spine.” I lay in bed, tears flowing from the corners of my eyes into my ears. My throat was smoking dry, and my head was splitting with pain. I struggled to get up, pushed open the bedroom door, and supported myself against the wall to walk to the living room. “Mom… Mom… I feel so sick… Can you take me to the campus hospital… please…” My mom hung up the phone, turned her head, and looked at me scrutinizingly. “Fever?” She walked over, reached out and touched my forehead, then sneered. “Lily, you’re addicted to acting, aren’t you?” “Going to the hospital for this little temperature? Are you trying to escape tomorrow’s final exam?” “Let me tell you, when your dad was on trial, he loved to fake illness. You really don’t learn the good things, but pick up the bad things instantly!” I argued weakly: “I didn’t… I really feel dizzy…” She suddenly became furious, “Still pretending!” Then she rushed into the kitchen, caught a large bowl of cold water, pinched my chin, and forced it into my mouth. “Aren’t you having a fever? Drink some cold water to cool down!” The ice water choked into my windpipe, I coughed violently, and the water spilled all over me. But she didn’t care, pouring until more than half of the bowl of water went down. “Go back to your room! If you don’t get first place in your major tomorrow, see how I deal with you!” She pushed me into the room and locked the door behind her. I slumped behind the door, slapping it desperately, listening to her laughter as she continued to watch TV in the living room. My consciousness gradually blurred. I thought, if I just died like this, would she regret it even a little bit? The next morning. I was splashed awake by a basin of cold water. My mom stood at the door, looking down at me dripping wet, holding a cell phone. The flash blinded me. Her fingers tapped quickly on the screen. A few seconds later, a message popped up simultaneously in the college staff group and the student group. The accompanying picture was a photo of me lying miserably on the ground. The caption: [This is the daughter of a criminal, psychological quality is too poor, faking fainting to escape the exam. Teachers, please punish severely, no need to give me face.] In the end, the aunt next door heard that the commotion was wrong and forced her way in by knocking on the door, and took me to the hospital. The doctor said it was acute pneumonia, and if I had come half a day later, my brain would have been fried. During my hospitalization, my mom didn’t visit me once. She said the medical bills were too expensive, I brought it on myself, and let me reflect on myself. The day I was discharged and returned to school, it happened to be the college’s selection for the poverty grant. This money was a lifesaver for me. After my dad went to prison, the family savings were frozen. Although my mom’s salary was not low, she never gave me living expenses. She said she wanted to raise me poorly to prevent me from turning bad. I even had to squeeze the money to buy sanitary pads from my teeth. I was the most qualified person to apply. The review meeting was held in the large lecture hall. My mom was the department head and had veto power. When it was my turn to state my case on stage, I kept my head down and spoke about the difficulties at home. The audience was silent, and many counselors showed sympathetic looks. Just when I thought it was a sure thing this time, my mom stood up. She strode to the podium and snatched my application form. My mom adjusted her glasses and spoke righteously into the microphone: “I oppose giving the grant to Lily.” Even the dean was stunned: “Professor Smith, Lily’s situation indeed meets the criteria…” My mom interrupted the dean and pointed at my nose, “Meets what criteria?” “She is my daughter, I know best! Is she short of money? She is not! What she lacks is backbone!” “For a child from this kind of family background, if you give her money, she will turn around and buy cosmetics, compare herself with others, and learn bad things! We cannot encourage this kind of unhealthy trend!” She turned around and pointed at the class president, whose family ran a chain of supermarkets. “I think it should be given to the class president. Although his family is well-off, he is excellent in both character and learning, and this money is a kind of honorary recognition for him. As for Lily…” She sneered, “It’s good to be a little poor. Starving is just right. So as to save her from thinking about lust when she is warm and well-fed, and taking the money to do those shady things.” Trembling all over, I pleaded in a low voice. “Mom… I don’t even have money for lunch…” She shouted sternly, “Shut up! Don’t embarrass me here! Get down!” The grant was finally given to the class president. To survive, I started going to the recycling station near the school on weekends to sell scrap paper and plastic bottles. I dug out bottles from the trash cans and crushed them flat. The dozen or so bucks I got in exchange allowed me to buy a few steamed buns. But this humble path to survival was also blocked. That day as I was weighing the items, a few students taught by my mom passed by. They took out their phones and filmed me, laughing and mocking. “Look, the top student in the major is picking up trash!” “Professor Smith is so respectable, how did she give birth to a beggar?” Half an hour later, my mom rode her electric scooter and charged into the recycling station. Her face was ashen. She rushed up, snatched the money from my hand, tore it to pieces, threw it on the ground, and stomped on it a few times. “Lily! Will you not be satisfied until you piss me off to death? I am a dignified university professor, and you’ve thrown away all my face! Picking up trash? Are you trying to tell the whole world that I abuse you?” I cried and went to pick up the torn pieces of paper on the ground: “That’s my food money… I’m hungry…” She grabbed my backpack, which contained my professional books and the only family photo. “You deserve to starve to death!” “Since you like trash so much, then stay with the trash!” She used all her strength to throw my backpack onto the conveyor belt of the running trash compactor. “No!” I screamed and lunged forward, but was held back tightly by her. A huge sound of metal crushing sounded, and a few seconds later, both the books and the photo were turned into ruins. My mom pointed at my nose, spit spraying on my face: “You are born a lowly wretch! Not properly attending a good university, insisting on diving into the trash heap! Just like your dead ghost dad, mud that can’t be plastered on a wall!” I slumped on the ground, looking at the flattened bag. Mom, why do you have to bully me too… Both the bag and the books were gone. I could only borrow books from classmates or copy books in the library. Just when I was most desperate, a newly hired lecturer, Mr. Miller, came to the college. Mr. Miller was very young. He noticed my predicament and talked to me privately. After class that day, he handed me a brand new set of review materials for the grad school entrance exam, as well as a few professional extension books. “Lily, your grades are very good, don’t give up.” “This is lent to you by the teacher, you don’t need to return it. Knowledge can change your destiny, you have to believe in yourself.” That was the first time I had felt kindness in a long while. I covered the books with newspaper and hid them deep in the desk drawer in the study room. I secretly took them out to read every night. However, during a major class on Friday, my mom suddenly rushed into the classroom and flipped my desk over. Books scattered all over the floor, and those new books covered in newspaper slid to her feet. She tore open the book covers and saw the message written by Mr. Miller: [May you be like a sunflower, growing towards the sun.] My mom was so angry her muscles twitched, “Good! Good!” “I was wondering why you’ve been so absent-minded lately, it turns out you’re being slutty! Growing towards the sun? I think you want to have a teacher-student romance, you want to use unspoken rules to climb up!” The whole class exploded, and the students watched this scene with excitement. I hastily explained. “Mom, don’t talk nonsense! That was lent to me by Mr. Miller…” She didn’t listen at all, grabbed the books, and rushed to the podium. “Lent? What male teacher would privately give a female college student books? And write such sappy words?” At this time, Mr. Miller just happened to walk into the classroom. My mom threw the books hard at Mr. Miller’s face, and blood seeped out. Mr. Miller held his forehead in shock. “Professor Smith, what are you doing?” My mom pointed at him and cursed loudly, “What am I doing? I should ask you what you are doing!” “You beast in human clothing! Academic scum! Pervert! My daughter is only twenty, and you seduce her? Exchanging a few lousy books for her body?” “Do you have any shame? I have already called the police! I will also report you to the university party committee for harassing female students!” Mr. Miller was so angry his face turned red: “You… you are simply unreasonable! I just saw she was pitiful…” My mom turned around and yelled to the whole class, “Pitiful? What’s pitiful about her? I think she is a slut!” “Everyone see clearly! This is the consequence of being unchaste! From now on, whoever dares to talk to this male teacher is going against me!” The next day, Mr. Miller was forced to be suspended and left. The whole school was spreading rumors that I was unchaste, seducing the teacher in order to get a guaranteed admission to grad school. Dead mice started appearing in my desk drawer, and a piece of paper with the word “vixen” was stuck to my back. That night, I wrote at the end of my diary. [I miss Dad. Even if he is in prison, he never hit me.] The next day at the all-department assembly, my mom stepped onto the rostrum as the keynote speaker, holding my diary in her hand. “Before announcing this week’s discipline, I want to read a diary entry first. This was written by my daughter Lily. Everyone listen, to what extent the thoughts of this shameless thing have gone bad!” “She actually misses that criminal! Her dad embezzled public funds, a parasite on society! She is not ashamed of it, but misses him instead?” “What does this show? It shows her bones are bad! Her thoughts are completely rotten!” Thousands of pairs of eyes stared at me. I bit my lip hard until I tasted blood. Mom, if this is your so-called “education”, then you have succeeded. You killed your daughter with your own hands. Rumors have a life of their own. Hooligans from outside the school started blocking me on my way back to the dorm, whistling and asking me “how much for one night”. There was even one time, I cried and asked her for help as she was walking out of the school gate, thinking she would at least consider her identity as a mother and drive them away. But she just stopped, glanced at me with disgust, and sneered in front of those hooligans. “Flies don’t bite seamless eggs. If you didn’t wink at them, would they pester you? Don’t embarrass me here!” After saying that, she left without looking back, leaving behind the hooligans’ even more unbridled laughter. Later I found out that my mom complained to her colleagues in the office. “This child has hooks in her eyes, she is born a vixen, I can’t control her either.” When these words spread, I became the recognized “slut”. Wednesday afternoon, physical education elective course. A girl in the class lost a pack of sanitary pads. It was originally a small matter, but a few boys who usually liked to play pranks turned their eyes to my backpack. They stuffed a colorful little box into the side pocket of my bag. It was a box of condoms. Actually, that was confiscated by my mom from other students a few days ago. She didn’t throw it away, but deliberately placed it on the prominent entryway cabinet at home. She was testing me, also fishing. But I didn’t touch it. I didn’t expect this box of things to appear in school, in my bag. When that boy shouted “Lily has condoms in her bag”, I was completely stunned. The next second, my mom rushed into the classroom. She obviously had received the news long ago. She rushed to my seat and grabbed that box. At that moment, I saw the excitement in her eyes. She held the box of condoms high up, showing it to the whole class. “I knew it… I knew it!” “Everyone look! This is your good classmate!”

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Because I didn’t get home on time to present a welcome gift to Elias’s illegitimate daughter. He punished me by making me kneel in the snow and reflect for three hours. Subsequently, I received news that my grandmother had been kicked out of the Dawson family villa and sent to a rental apartment. I just calmly dialed my assistant’s number. “Please print another copy of the M&A agreement for Mr. Sterling.” 01 When the butler reported to Elias that his canary had returned to the country with her daughter. Elias was finalizing the details of our wedding anniversary celebration with me, which was seven days away. Upon hearing the news, he immediately instructed the butler to remove the anniversary decorations. And to decorate the Sterling villa into a dream castle for a little princess. He added ten times the budget to buy gifts, insisting on coaxing the mother and daughter back. After giving his orders, he explained to me lightly: “I just want to compensate the child for the fatherly love she missed all these years. If you don’t make things difficult for them, they won’t shake your position as Mrs. Sterling.” I didn’t speak, thinking about how to successfully secure the M&A agreement for the Sterling Group in the afternoon. The deadline for the valuation adjustment agreement (VAM) I signed with Elias during our arranged marriage is in exactly seven days. Once this M&A deal is completed, I will fulfill the last clause of the agreement. The rest is what Elias owes me. Before I left for work, Elias suddenly stopped me. “They will arrive home at 5 PM. I expect you to be home on time to give my daughter her welcome gift. Don’t play any tricks.” To ensure everything went perfectly, there were many details to finalize for the M&A. Even though I rushed home, disregarding the slippery, snowy roads and nearly getting into an accident, I was still ten minutes late. Looking at the gift I prepared, Elias was very cold. “Luna, giving a show of strength to someone coming to our door for the first time is wrong.” He turned and instructed the butler. “Make her kneel in the snow for three hours to reflect on her mistakes.” Three hours later, I saw the message from my assistant. My grandmother had been kicked out of the Dawson family villa and sent to a rental apartment. I rubbed my freezing, numb knees. Calmly, I dialed my assistant’s number. “Please print another copy of the M&A agreement for Mr. Sterling.” 02 After instructing my assistant to take good care of my grandmother. I entered the house again. A little girl wearing an Elsa princess dress rushed over and squirted water all over my face with a toy water gun. “You big bad witch, why are you in my daddy’s house?” A woman in a white lace nightgown stopped her with a gentle tone. “Mia, you can’t be impolite to others.” She tilted her neck, revealing patches of red hickeys. Even though I had seen her countless times on Elias’s phone screen. Her appearance still made my heart skip a beat for a few seconds. The little girl didn’t stop her actions, instead aiming the water gun at my body. Chloe looked meaningfully at my ruined makeup, a smile playing on her lips. “Mrs. Sterling, the child is just playing Elsa casting a spell, please don’t hold it against her…” Soaked and shivering from the cold, I was about to change my shoes and go find Elias to sign the papers. The little girl, with unknown strength, suddenly pushed the shoe-changing stool away. Stepping on the puddle on the floor, I fell heavily to the ground. My forehead hit exactly on the corner of the shoe-changing stool, and blood immediately gushed out. The nanny tried to reach out and help me. Chloe glared at her, and she retracted her hand, explaining to me in a low voice. “Madam, sir instructed that we should treat Miss Chloe as the hostess of the house…” When Elias arrived upon hearing the noise, the little girl had already started crying. She grabbed Elias with one hand and clutched her chest with the other. “Daddy, this auntie just accidentally fell and is bleeding, I’m so scared…” My pupils dilated. Even though I was mentally prepared, I was still shocked by the little girl’s superb acting skills. Elias frowned at me. “Why are you glaring at Mia? You’re not going to tell me she made you fall, are you?” I gritted my teeth and stood up. “I was careless.” Elias nodded impatiently. “You’re an adult, next time remember not to make a fool of yourself in front of the child and scare her.” Noticing my bleeding forehead. He pursed his lips and told the nanny to get the first aid kit for me. He then hurriedly went upstairs carrying the child. Chloe followed Elias smugly. At the corner, she looked back at me with contempt. Mouthing word by word: “What do you have to compete with me?” 03 After the nanny helped me treat the wound, I went back to my room to pack my personal belongings. When I finished packing, Elias stumbled back in. Two buttons of his shirt were undone, with a smudged lipstick mark on it. He saw the room looked much emptier and sneered. “Are you trying to remind me that I should have bought a gift for you too? Luna, don’t forget your place!” Elias and I had an arranged business marriage since childhood. Later, my parents died in an accident, and my uncle seized all the shares of the Dawson Group. Elias unilaterally announced the cancellation of our engagement and kept a beautiful canary by his side. But Old Mrs. Sterling recognized only me and, before she died, ordered Elias to marry me. Upon learning this, Chloe left the country overnight. Elias, heartbroken over losing his love, forced me to sign a VAM agreement. Within eight years, I had to earn a billion dollars for the Sterling Group, and he would give me 30% controlling shares of the Dawson Group, but I had to divorce him. I didn’t have much affection for Elias. To get the Dawson Group back, I treated my marriage as a business all these years, striving to make everything go his way. But now, the words of apology were on my lips, yet I couldn’t say them. Seeing me not replying for a long time, Elias’s tone softened. “The child just came back, I have to bond with her. When she accepts me, I’ll have them move out.” Smelling the alcohol on his breath, I stepped back, avoiding his hands that were ready to hug me. Elias frowned. “I know you’ve always wanted a child. Chloe had a hard time alone abroad all these years, so I just had a little drink with her. I promise, starting tomorrow, I won’t touch a drop of alcohol, and I’ll give you a healthy baby, okay?” I smiled inwardly. During these years of business marriage, I never thought of bringing a child into such a family. Every day after he fell asleep, I would regularly take a birth control pill. I calmly handed over the documents in my hand. “This is the M&A agreement for the subsidiary, please sign it, Mr. Sterling.” Elias took the pen, scribbled his name, his frown deepening. “Don’t you have anything to ask me?” I opened my mouth, wanting to say something. The little girl appeared at the bedroom door holding a stuffed animal. She pouted. “Daddy, I can’t sleep alone, I’m scared… Can I sleep with you?” Elias looked at me somewhat hesitantly. I had already closed the file. “I’ll go to the study.” Elias breathed a sigh of relief. The little girl cheered and threw herself into Elias’s arms. “The witch is gone, now Daddy is all mine!” Elias paused his movement of hugging her, but still smilingly held her in his arms. “With Daddy here, my little princess has nothing to fear! Tell me, how do you want Daddy to coax you to sleep?” 04 A doodle was stuck on the study door, depicting a witch’s hat and broom drawn in a child’s handwriting. I frowned and ignored it. “Ah—!” Pushing the door open, I was startled. It was crawling with spiders of all sizes… Elias rushed over angrily. “Luna, how long are you going to make a fuss? Mia was just about to fall asleep and you woke her up!” The little girl followed behind him timidly, and before I could speak, tears streamed down her face. “Daddy, I specially decorated this for auntie. Is auntie doing this because she doesn’t like me?” A spider crawled out from the crack of the door, and Elias’s face turned pale. Shortly after we got married, Elias took me back to the Sterling family’s old mansion to pay respects. His cousin’s little nephew accidentally threw a toy spider onto my coat. I was terrified and threw myself into Elias’s arms on the spot. At that time, disregarding his sister-in-law’s dark face, he taught the little nephew a lesson. “If you dare to scare your aunt again, I’ll break your legs!” Afterwards, he teased me: “Is Mrs. Sterling so afraid of spiders?” But after returning home, he ordered the servants to clean every place in the house where bugs might grow. “Apologize to Mia!” Elias’s cold voice pulled my thoughts back. “Mia kindly prepared the room for you. As an elder, have you thought about how sad the child would be with such a reaction?” Chloe came out of another bedroom, looking sleepy. She pulled the child into her arms, her tone carrying a mother’s fierce resolve. “Mrs. Sterling, I know you have issues with me, but the child is innocent. Direct your dissatisfaction at me, don’t target the child.” She rubbed the little girl’s head, her tone gentle. “Mia, Mommy told you long ago that auntie wouldn’t welcome us, but you insisted on following Daddy back. Now you know how sinister people can be, right? Come with Mommy. Even if we live in a rental, it’s better than suffering here!” The little girl pouted and burst into loud wails. Chloe turned to leave. Elias glared at me fiercely. “I said Chloe is also the master of this house. Whoever dares to make them suffer, get out of the Sterling family!” I didn’t want to stay another night in the Sterling house anyway. I just didn’t want my grandmother to see my disheveled state and worry about me. Ignoring Elias’s ugly expression, I went to the nanny’s room. “I’ll leave first thing tomorrow morning.” 05 Early in the morning, I was woken up by a noisy sound. The little girl was clamoring to build a swing in the garden. She gestured, directing the servants where to put the swing. “Put it right where this laurel tree is!” Chloe also helped command the servants. “Didn’t you hear my daughter say to cut down this tree?” A servant looked up at me and explained in a low voice: “But this is Madam’s favorite tree, Sir never lets anyone touch it…” I was born in August when the laurel flowers were in full bloom. My parents named me Luna (Moon) and personally planted a laurel tree at the Dawson family villa, symbolizing purity and wealth. After my uncle seized the Dawson Group, he used underhanded means to sell my parents’ villa. Shortly after we married, Elias somehow heard about this. He spent a fortune to buy back the Dawson family villa. And transplanted the laurel tree to the Sterling family’s garden. He said as long as the laurel tree is there, it’s like my parents are still guarding me. At that time, a trace of warmth suddenly emerged in my heart. Maybe when the VAM agreement ends, I can try to truly accept him, even give him a child… The little girl started crying and shouting. “I don’t care, I want the swing right here!” Chloe looked at me provocatively. “If I remember correctly, Mrs. Sterling seems to have been kicked out by Mr. Sterling last night?” She gently comforted the crying little girl. “Everything Daddy has is yours, no one dares to say no.” I took the suitcase handed to me by the nanny. “Miss Chloe, it doesn’t matter if you haven’t read much and don’t understand basic legal knowledge, but it’s not good to be a bad influence on the child.” I looked at the little girl, mimicking Chloe’s gentle tone. “During the years auntie and your daddy have been married, half of your daddy’s assets belong to auntie, that part isn’t yours.” Chloe’s face looked terrible. The little girl, with tears in her eyes, looked at me in disbelief. “Enough!” Elias’s deep voice came from behind. “Luna, how can you use legal jargon to destroy a child’s innocence?” In the second year of our marriage, Elias was set up, and a sex scandal broke out. The Sterling Group’s stock plummeted, wiping out hundreds of millions in market value. It was me who staked out lawyers for days and hired PR firms to suppress the matter. When I fainted from low blood sugar, he held me in his arms, his heart aching. “It hurts me to see you worrying so much for me. Just stay home and be Mrs. Sterling from now on, okay?” I almost believed it was true. Fortunately, my uncle had taught me a lesson earlier. You can’t completely trust even the closest people. What you hold in your hand is the most real. “Mr. Sterling, I’m just telling the truth. If you feel offended on behalf of your precious daughter, please send me a lawyer’s letter.” I turned and left. As the car started, Elias chased out, his face deadly pale. “Luna, I didn’t mean that…” I ignored him and stepped on the gas pedal.

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I am the top OB-GYN resident at St. Mary’s Hospital. My boyfriend’s mother was in pain, so I personally removed an IUD that had been tormenting her for thirty years. Their repayment? They broke into my condo, trashed the place, and caused a riot at the hospital. They claimed that after removing the device, I implanted a listening bug in her uterus. No matter how I tried to explain the medicine, she wouldn’t listen. She even started livestreaming her delusions to report me: [I’m reporting Chloe Carter! This psycho put a listening device inside me!] Facing their insanity and threats, I could only look at the sky in disbelief: What kind of doctor plants a bug in a patient’s uterus? The paranoia was off the charts. 1 When my boyfriend, Brad Sterling, burst into my apartment at 1 AM dragging his mother, Brenda, behind him, I was completely disoriented. I was yanked out of bed and onto the floor before Brad’s foot connected with my ribs. “Chloe! Are you trying to kill my mother?!” The sharp pain in my abdomen woke me up instantly. Woken up in the dead of night and assaulted for no reason—even with my usually calm temperament, I was furious. “Brad! What the hell is wrong with you?” Brad shoved his mother toward me, his finger jabbing aggressively almost into my eye. “You have the nerve to ask what’s wrong?” “I trusted you enough to bring my mom to you, and this is how you treat her?” “You know exactly what you put inside her uterus!” I froze, unable to believe my ears. Put what inside her uterus? “What are you talking about? There has to be a misunderstanding…” Despite my anger, patient health came first. I immediately tapped into my professional training, reviewing the procedure in my mind. Just a month ago, Brad brought Brenda to the hospital to see me. I removed a very old, embedded IUD from Brenda’s uterus and sent them home. That was it. I never imagined Brad would suspect I planted a foreign object inside his own mother. Relying on my professional ethics, I tried to patiently explain. “I only removed the IUD, Mrs. Sterling. There were no additional procedures…” The next second, my face stung. Brenda slapped me hard. “Still lying? Don’t think I don’t know your game!” “You just want to listen in on our secrets so you can control my son’s life!” “Let me tell you, you sick freak, keep dreaming!” “As long as I’m alive, you’ll never succeed!” I was completely stunned by the slap. I had never been hit in my adult life, let alone by my boyfriend’s mother. Seeing my shock, Brenda sneered. “Still playing dumb? Let’s see how long you can keep this act up!” She began tearing through my apartment, smashing things while screaming maniacally, “Let’s see you eavesdrop on this… let’s see if you dare!” I snapped out of it and yelled for them to stop, but Brad grabbed me, pinning my arms. I was forced to watch helplessly as Brenda destroyed the home I had carefully curated. Expensive ceramics, framed photos, electronics… Brenda smashed everything in sight. When I saw her heading toward the curio cabinet in the center of the living room, I couldn’t contain my rage any longer. “Don’t you dare touch that!” I bit down hard on Brad’s arm holding me. I tasted blood, and Brad yelled in pain, flinging me onto the floor. My back slammed into the corner of a table, sending blinding pain through my body. Ignoring the pain, I scrambled up and rushed toward the cabinet. Inside that cabinet was everything left of my late parents. 2 Seeing my desperation, Brenda’s expression turned vicious. “So worried? I guess this cabinet is important to you, huh?” As she spoke, she opened the glass door and grabbed a trophy, winding up to throw it. “No! Stop!” That trophy was from my parents’ first national medical competition win. It was the witness to the start of their love story. They cherished it their entire lives. I sucked in a cold breath, forcing myself to calm down. “Brenda, please. We can talk about this like adults…” “Talk? Did you think about talking when you planted a bug in me?” Brenda showed no intention of resolving anything. Her face was dark and cruel. “Unless… you get down on your knees and beg. Otherwise, don’t blame me for what happens.” Before I could react, she loosened her grip on the trophy. “Don’t!” I lunged forward, fighting the pain in my back, but the glass award hit the hardwood floor, shattering into pieces. I watched as Brenda casually picked up a framed photo, looking at me threateningly. Brad just stood there, watching his mother humiliate me. “Chloe, this really is your fault. It’s normal for Mom to be upset…” “Baby, just get on your knees and apologize to Mom, take the device out, and we can put this behind us…” I almost laughed out loud at Brad’s shamelessness. “Why should I apologize for something I didn’t do!” The next second, my head snapped to the side from another slap. Brad’s face twisted into a snarl. “Didn’t you hear me tell you to kneel!” Brenda threw the framed photo at me. The sharp corner of the frame sliced my forehead, and blood immediately started trickling down my face. I couldn’t worry about the wound. Seeing my parents’ legacy about to be destroyed, and after a fierce internal struggle, I closed my eyes and dropped heavily to my knees. “Brenda, I’m sorry.” “It’s all my fault. I’m begging you, please stop smashing things…” “But I really didn’t do those things… I really didn’t!” I swallowed the humiliation, thinking this would satisfy them enough to spare my parents’ belongings. I underestimated Brenda. Seeing me on my knees gave her a look of pure sadistic pleasure. Then, she grabbed a heavy vase nearby and hurled it at the cabinet. The glass doors shattered, and my parents’ awards crashed onto the floor. My eyes nearly popped out of my head. “No!” “You said if I begged, you’d leave their things alone!” Brad and Brenda looked down at me with smug satisfaction. “I said I wanted you to kneel and apologize…” Brenda sneered. “But I never said I’d spare your parents’ junk.” Watching her venomous smile, a sharp pain pierced my heart, and tears burst forth. “You… you monster!” “Me? Look at yourself. This is the price for plotting against us!” I ignored their gloating. Without a word, I crouched down. Piece by piece, I solemnly picked up the fragments from the floor. The sharp glass sliced my palms, turning them bloody. I didn’t feel it. Tears mixed with blood, making the cuts sting even more. But I clutched the shards tightly, almost masochistically. As if by holding them tight enough, the items could be restored, and my parents wouldn’t be gone. Ignoring the psychotic mother and son, I gathered everything together and held it reverently in my arms. When I looked up again, my eyes were ice cold. I called 911. 3 Brad, watching coldly from the side, noticed my action immediately. He snatched the phone from my hand and ended the call. “Trying to call the cops? In your dreams!” With a ferocious look, he shoved me back onto the floor. The glass shards embedded deeper into my palms, adding injury to injury. Brad loomed over me. “If you don’t take that thing out today, don’t blame me for forgetting our three years together!” “Hey! Chloe, are you listening to me!” Brad tried to grab me again, but I dodged his outstretched hand, looking at him with utter indifference. “I told you, I didn’t put anything inside your mother. If you don’t believe me, go to a hospital and get a scan. Stop acting crazy in my home.” Even a saint has limits, and I am a living, breathing human being. They had insulted my character, my professional ethics, and destroyed my parents’ memorial. No matter how good my temper was, I was done enduring it. I kicked them out on the spot. “Now, get the hell out of my house!” Brad wanted to keep yelling, but Brenda, a flicker of calculation in her eyes, stopped him. “Son, forget it. I don’t want to affect your relationship because of me…” “Chloe probably put that thing in me because she loves you too much… surely not because she suspected you’d cheat…” “Sigh, I’m old and useless. It doesn’t matter if my body gets violated…” Hearing Brenda’s passive-aggressive incendiary remarks, Brad exploded exactly as planned. “Suspecting me of cheating? Does she have no trust in me at all? We’re done!” “And Mom! Why are you still defending her?” I was too tired to watch their bizarre mother-son performance. I walked to the door and threw it open. “Say whatever you have to say outside. Don’t loiter in my home.” Brad choked on my words, threw out one last threat, and stormed off angrily. I ignored him, focusing entirely on salvaging my parents’ belongings. I knew my relationship with Brad was over. Based solely on his mother’s delusion, he pinned a non-existent crime on me and even destroyed my mother’s legacy. I decided the next time I saw Brad, I would officially break up with him. I just didn’t expect the next time would be so soon. They weren’t done yet. They came to my hospital to cause a scene. 4 I was consulting with a patient when Brad and Brenda aggressively barged into my exam room. Brenda was holding a handmade banner, sitting on the floor throwing a tantrum. The banner was full of slander against me. They ignored everything else, grabbing random patients and shouting. “Everyone, stay away from this quack! She’s a fraud!” “My mom came to her to have an IUD removed, and she turned around and put a listening device in her uterus!” “You dare let her treat you? Do you have a death wish?!” My blood pressure skyrocketed at their antics. Patients and their families inside and outside the clinic looked at them with “Are you insane?” expressions. After all, nobody believes you can just “put a listening device in a uterus.” But Brad and Brenda were committed to the bit. They ripped the network cable out of my computer, deleting all the diagnosis and treatment notes I had just typed. Then, they grabbed a heavy pen holder from the desk and threw it hard at me. It struck my ribs with a dull thud. Flushed with anger at her baseless, blatant lies, ignoring the pain in my side, I stood up abruptly. “What listening device?!” “Brad, haven’t you made enough of a scene? Stop spitting blood!” Hearing this, Brenda escalated, grabbing a nearby person and crying. “Oh my god, the doctor is angry and wants to hit me!” “I was fine before I came here, but ever since her treatment, there are noises inside me every day. She definitely planted a bug!” “My son said she was the best doctor, but she put a bug in my uterus! She must suspect my son is going to cheat on her!” The next second, Brad opened a large thermos he was carrying and splashed red paint all over me. My white coat was instantly ruined, my eyes plastered shut and stinging. The scene was chaos. Brenda tried to rush up and hit me again. Before I could dodge, Brenda was suddenly shoved and stumbled. It was my long-time patient. She didn’t believe a word of Brenda’s story and, seeing me humiliated, stood up for me. She looked at Brad and Brenda with disgust. “A listening device in a uterus? Can’t you at least draft a believable lie?” “Leaving aside if it’s even medically possible, what use would it be to Dr. Carter?” She grabbed my paint-splattered hand and comforted me softly. “Don’t be scared, Dr. Carter!” “I’ve seen plenty of people like them! I’ll call security right now…” Seeing everyone pointing fingers at them and no one taking their side, Brad and Brenda left in a huff. I let out a breath of relief and went to change my clothes amidst looks of sympathy. But the moment I stepped out, the Hospital Chief of Staff, Dr. Albright, appeared at the door. She looked self-righteous, staring at me. “Dr. Carter, two patients have filed complaints that you placed a listening device in one of them…” “Dr. Albright, I didn’t. You know me…” She cut off my explanation. “Enough! Patients are rioting. Can you reflect on yourself for a moment? Why are they targeting you and no one else?!” “I don’t have time to waste here. Come to my office immediately!” With no other choice, I followed the Chief to her office. 5 As soon as we entered, Brenda lunged at me, punching and kicking. My glasses were knocked off my face. While dodging her blows, I bent down to pick them up. A polished leather shoe stepped firmly onto my frames. Brad crushed my glasses beneath his foot. He looked down at me arrogantly, demanding I kneel and apologize to Brenda. “Chloe, I’m trying to keep the peace because of our three years together, but you’re being ungrateful…” “I advise you, while I still have patience, hurry up and kneel to apologize to my mom. Don’t refuse the face I’m giving you!” Dr. Albright also turned on me, threatening to fire me for lacking medical ethics. “Mr. Sterling, rest assured, I have already cancelled Chloe’s nomination for the Harper Fellowship. If she doesn’t handle this well, I will remove her as Chief Resident!” “Dr. Albright! You can’t!” The Chief, usually cordial, suddenly revealed her snobbish side, glaring at me with contempt and humiliation. “I always knew Dr. Carter was manipulative. Who knows if she even got the Chief Resident position legitimately!” “Otherwise, how could a woman become Chief so young?” My eyes turned red with rage at her shameless words. More than a decade of grueling medical training was wiped away in a sentence, reducing me to an opportunistic schemer? Looking at the people in front of me, they all felt like strangers. “Brad, can you please just get your mother a scan before you keep causing trouble?” He looked dead certain, then looked at me with disappointment. “We already got checked. We didn’t bring out the results because we didn’t want to cement your guilt, but you’re ungrateful…” “Since that’s the case, don’t blame us!” With that, Brad started a livestream on his phone. Behind him, Brenda’s face stiffened slightly; clearly, she hadn’t expected Brad to blow this up online. As a minor internet influencer, people flooded into Brad’s stream immediately. [I’m 실명 reporting Chloe Carter, this psycho! She put a listening device in my mom’s uterus!] [An OB-GYN planted a bug inside a patient and won’t admit it!] [Even if she’s my girlfriend, I can’t watch her keep doing wrong!] The chat was instantly enraged, raining curses down on me. [WTF? Planting a bug in a living person’s uterus? This doctor is insane!] [Support for you, bro. Feel bad for your mom. Call the cops and lock her up!] Seeing so much support, Brad gave me another arrogant, charitable look at the camera. “Chloe, I’m livestreaming now. It’s not too late to take out the device and apologize…” “I know since I’m so amazing, being with me makes you anxious, but you can’t harm my mom like this…” I just looked calmly at him and the rigid-faced Brenda, gesturing for him to produce the examination report. Our hospital’s reports have unique coding; it’s impossible to fake one out of thin air. The next second, I was stunned. Brad pulled out a redacted examination report and showed it to the camera. “This is my mom’s report. Viewers, please help get justice for me and my mom!” The report in Brad’s hand indicated: Foreign object present in the uterus. “How is that possible!” 6 I looked up in disbelief. But when I caught Brenda’s expression—a mix of guilt and smugness—I realized she must have tampered with something. In an instant, the online abuse, the real-life spitting, and the verbal attacks felt like a mountain crushing me. [Quack! I can’t believe I booked an expert appointment with her! She’s black-hearted!] [She actually planted a foreign object… who would dare see her now!] Dr. Albright looked utterly disappointed and fired me on the spot. “Dr. Carter, this hospital doesn’t need a doctor with no ethics like you!” “You can get out now.” “Not only that, I will ensure you are blacklisted from the entire industry, to do right by the patients!” Brenda gloated from the side, sneering maliciously. “Wouldn’t it have been better to just kneel and beg earlier? Now look at you, you have nothing.” Brad also lamented to the livestream with feigned heartbreak: “I never expected my girlfriend to be this kind of person…” “I harmed my own mother…” I clutched the report tightly, trying to find any inconsistency. Dr. Albright called hospital security to throw me out immediately. My former colleagues looked on with unbearable pity as they pulled me toward the exit. Was my reputation really going to be destroyed today? Even though I did nothing wrong… Just as I felt total despair, the ultrasound image attached to the report started looking familiar. Suddenly, a lightbulb went on. I struggled violently free from the guards, rushed in front of Dr. Albright, and shouted: “This report is fake! It’s fake!” Everyone looked skeptical, thinking I was just a desperate dog barking at a wall. I pointed directly at Brenda’s lie: “This report isn’t hers!” “This belongs to another patient of mine from a month ago!” I remembered it clearly because patients with legitimate uterine foreign objects were rare, so the case stuck in my memory. I never imagined Brenda would steal someone else’s report to frame me! The crowd burst into an uproar. Ignoring everyone, I made a snap decision and dragged Brenda back into the examination room. This time, the new scan showed: [Cystic echo. Absolutely no foreign objects like a listening device.] Seeing this result, Brad looked at Brenda in shock. “Mom, didn’t you say that report just now was yours? You swore the doctor said there was a bug inside you…” “Now the result is different, how do I explain this to my fans!?” Facing her son’s questioning, a flash of guilt and panic crossed Brenda’s eyes, quickly replaced by malice. She sat down on the floor and started wailing loud enough to wake the dead. “Oh my god! The hospital is definitely faking it! The hospital is faking reports to protect their doctor!” “Causing my son to doubt me… you black-hearted hospital, you’re trying to kill me!” She threw a tantrum regardless of the setting, attracting patients from the hallway, many of whom started filming us with their phones.

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My sister-in-law and I got pregnant around the same time. While her pregnancy was perfectly normal, I was diagnosed with severe malnutrition due to extreme morning sickness. I asked my mom to come stay with me and help out for just one month. She refused repeatedly, even having the nerve to lecture me: “Do you have any common sense? Why would I abandon the grandchild who is going to carry our family’s last name, just to take care of a kid who won’t? People would laugh at me.” Later, when I no longer needed her and used my own money to hire a professional maternity nurse, she threw a massive fit. 1. By my eighth week of pregnancy, my morning sickness was so severe that I dropped ten pounds in a single week. Remembering that my mom had taken care of pregnant relatives before, including some with similar symptoms, I called her, hoping she could stay with me for a month. But when I explained what I needed, she sounded put out. “I don’t have the time! Brittany is pregnant too, I can’t just leave her.” Brittany was my younger brother’s wife. She was currently four months along. Ever since Brittany got pregnant, my mom went to her house every single day to cook organic bone broths, make pregnancy smoothies, and wait on her hand and foot. Brittany was in great shape. She had almost no negative symptoms, her ultrasounds were perfect, and she was still going to the office every day. “Well, could you just come during the day then? You don’t have to stay long, even just around lunchtime would help.” We all lived in the same city, just a fifteen-minute drive apart. “I told you, I don’t have time. I have to go to Brittany’s house to deep clean during the day,” she said, her tone laced with impatience. I looked at my pale, haggard reflection in the mirror and felt a surge of grievance. “Mom, I’m your daughter too. Why can’t you care about me the way you care about Brittany?” Silence hung on the other end of the line. Then, I heard her take a deep breath. When she spoke, her voice was sharp and entirely foreign: “Can you stop being such a brat? Do I have to spell it out for you? Brittany is carrying a Miller. She’s having the baby that will carry on our family name! Your kid is going to be a Davis. Why would I abandon my true legacy to take care of someone else’s? People in our circle would think I’m crazy.” When I didn’t say anything, she added, “Go call your mother-in-law. It’s her job to take care of you anyway. That’s how it works.” If her first words made my heart run cold, her last sentence plunged me into an icy abyss. My grip on my phone tightened. I let out a dark, mocking laugh. “Mom… Ethan is from a blended family. His mother passed away when he was young. Did you… forget?” Of course she forgot. Why would she remember? Back when she was rushing to marry me off, constantly setting me up on blind dates, she only cared that Ethan had a “clean background and a lucrative career in tech.” All she cared about was the massive wedding check she knew his family would write—money she could guilt me into handing over. As for anything else about him, she didn’t care enough to remember. Sure enough, the atmosphere turned awkward, but my mom quickly recovered. “Well, then use your own money to hire a nanny! You and Ethan make six figures, you can easily afford it.” With that, she hung up. I closed my eyes, the room spinning around me. 2. That night, after another violent bout of nausea, I lay awake in bed. Scrolling through Facebook, I saw a post my sister-in-law had made earlier that evening. It was a photo collage of a beautifully set dining table. Roasted chicken, organic salmon, creamy mashed potatoes… all my mom’s signature dishes. The center photo was a selfie of Brittany, my mom, and my brother Kevin. Their heads were pressed together, beaming brightly. Her caption read: [Pregnancy cravings have been tough, but my amazing mother-in-law cooked up a storm for me! So incredibly blessed to have the best MIL in the world!] I stared at the group photo, my stomach churning again. That radiant smile on my mom’s face in the picture… it was a smile she rarely ever showed me. Suddenly, a notification popped down from the top of my screen. Brittany had tagged me in our family group chat: “Hey Sarah, Mom said your morning sickness is acting up? Don’t stress too much! I DM’d you a YouTube video from a top OBGYN, you should watch it. Let’s try not to make Mom run back and forth between us, she’s exhausted enough taking care of me. Just try to be understanding, okay?” Between the lines, her smugness was palpable. I clicked the video she sent. It was just some generic doctor listing basic pregnancy advice. I closed it after five seconds. My brother Kevin chimed in: “Yeah sis, you’ve always been tough, stop whining. Brittany is further along than you, she needs the help more.” When I didn’t reply, my mom sent a message: “Oh, your sister has always been the sensible one. She knows how to look out for her brother’s family.” Sensible… That word was like a needle, piercing the deepest, most vulnerable part of my heart. 3. Kevin and I are three years apart. When I was five, our parents divorced. My dad wanted custody of Kevin, but my mom fought tooth and nail for both of us, just to spite him. She even changed both our last names to her maiden name, Miller. I remember her telling me back then: “It’s just us now. You’re the older sister, so you need to be sensible and help Mommy take care of your little brother.” The winter I was eight, Kevin ran a high fever. My mom carried him on her back through the snow for two miles to get to the ER, staying awake the entire night to watch over him. A few days later, I caught the same fever. She just tossed me a Tylenol and told me to go to sleep. When she saw the hurt in my eyes, she hugged me and sighed, “Your brother is just so difficult. If only he could be as good and quiet as you, Mommy would be so happy.” Hearing that always made me feel like I was winning a prize. When I was seventeen, a girl in my class had to drop out because her parents wouldn’t pay for her college. I cried and asked my mom if that would happen to me. She patted my head and said, “Silly girl. As long as you have the grades, Mommy will always find a way to pay for your school.” That moment of warmth melted away all the years of unfairness. I truly believed my mom loved me. But a few years later, that belief was shattered. I had come home for winter break. The front door was slightly ajar. Just as I was about to push it open, I heard my mom talking on the phone inside: “You don’t get it. The more degrees a girl has, the richer the guy she can land. Plus, if she becomes successful, it’ll take the financial pressure off my precious Kevin in the future.” Letting me get an education wasn’t out of love; it was an investment in my “market value.” The ultimate beneficiary was always going to be my brother. Years later, I started my own interior design firm, and my career took off. Whenever she had the chance, my mom would remind me of how she put me through school. She’d talk about working two jobs and avoiding the doctor when she was sick just to pay my tuition. I knew she wanted gratitude. She wanted a return on her investment. So, when she asked me to cover Kevin’s college tuition, I agreed. When she pressured me to take the generous wedding check my in-laws gave me and use it as a down payment for Kevin’s house, I agreed. When she told me to cover Kevin’s monthly mortgage payments, I agreed. Because I couldn’t deny that she had played a part in my success today. But today… her words on the phone, and the little performance they were putting on in the group chat… The crumbling wall around my heart finally collapsed entirely. Suddenly, everything I had done for them felt so incredibly pointless. With ice-cold fingers, I slowly typed my reply: “No need to come over, Mom. I’ve already hired a private maternity nurse.” The group chat went dead silent for a moment. Then, my mom sent a thumbs-up emoji. Brittany followed up with: “That’s the spirit! Family is all about mutual understanding.” 4. I didn’t bother replying. Just as I exited the app, Ethan called. Ethan was out of state on a consulting trip this week. A few days ago, when I started feeling sick, he suggested hiring a live-in nurse. But I had thought of my mom’s experience and, not wanting a stranger in the house, I suggested having my mom come over instead. Before he left, Ethan had even cleaned out the guest room and left a debit card with $15,000 on it, meant as a generous allowance for my mom and me for the month. I thought it was too much and tried to give it back, knowing I had my own savings. But he insisted, saying it was his way of compensating for not being able to take care of me himself. If my mom had known about that card, she probably wouldn’t have rejected me so quickly. On the phone, Ethan first checked on how I was feeling, then asked if my mom had arrived. I gave him a brief rundown of what happened. Perhaps hearing the exhaustion in my voice, he tried to comfort me. “Brittany is pregnant too, so maybe Mom just really can’t handle both. It’s understandable.” I let out a dry laugh. “No, it’s not the same. Even if Brittany wasn’t pregnant, she still wouldn’t have come.” Ethan went silent for a few seconds before saying softly, “I’ll try to wrap this project up early. Once it’s done, I’m going to ask for a transfer to a non-travel team.” I smiled. “It’s fine. I’ve decided to hire a full-time professional.” “That’s a great idea. Pick someone you feel comfortable with. A colleague of mine actually recommended a high-end agency recently, they’re supposed to be top-tier. I’ll text you their info.” Soon enough, a contact card popped up on my screen. I added the agent. After a brief chat, they sent over their pricing tiers. Their caregivers were rated by stars. I immediately looked at the five-star column. Because I needed full-time, live-in care specialized for high-risk pregnancies, the price was steep. Ethan asked how much it would be. “About four thousand a month.” “Okay, just use the card I left on the counter.” “No,” I replied firmly. “That card is going to be our baby fund from now on. I’m officially done paying Kevin’s mortgage, and I’m cutting my mom’s monthly allowance in half. The money I save from that will easily cover the nurse.” Ethan paused. “But Kevin’s job barely pays three grand a month, and his mortgage is two thousand. If you cut them off, they’re definitely going to come after you.” “Not my problem. I never had any legal or moral obligation to pay for his house in the first place.” Ethan chuckled softly. “Hearing you make this decision actually makes me really happy. Don’t be afraid, Sarah. I will always have your back.” Warmth flooded my chest. Ethan came from a similar background. After his mother passed away, his father quickly remarried and had a new son. The existence of his half-brother turned Ethan into an outcast in his own home. After a few explosive arguments, he simply stopped going back. Maybe it was our shared trauma, or just how perfectly our values aligned, but we fell for each other hard. We got married just a year after meeting. At first, I worried we were rushing, but our life together only got sweeter. He respected my choices and gently helped me untangle the knots my mother had tied in my head. He was right. He was my absolute rock. 5. Once Maria, the maternity nurse, moved in, my life finally had order. Maria was in her early fifties, efficient, and an incredible cook. Every day, she whipped up different nutrient-dense meals tailored to my cravings. She went on walks with me, kept me company, and told me hilarious stories to keep my spirits up. Under her care, my morning sickness faded, and the color returned to my cheeks. During our nightly video calls, Ethan always remarked on how much better I looked. One afternoon, just as Maria brought me a bowl of fresh fruit, my phone rang. It was my brother. “What the hell is going on? I just got an alert that my auto-pay bounced for insufficient funds. Did you forget to transfer the mortgage money?” he demanded, his voice dripping with annoyance. I put down my fork and wiped my mouth. “Oh, forgot to tell you. You’re paying your own mortgage from now on. Mom told me to hire my own help, so I need to keep that money for my nurse.” He froze for a second, then exploded. “Are you fucking kidding me? Those are two completely different things! If you don’t give me the money, how am I supposed to pay?” I walked over to the window, looking out at the clear blue sky. “The house is in your name. The loan is your problem. It has nothing to do with me.” Furious, he yelled, “Sarah, listen to me, don’t push your luck! You’re my older sister, it’s your job to help me with this! You are sending me that money today, or I’m coming over to your house to get it!” I laughed lightly. “You can certainly try. Good luck getting past the security gate at my complex.” I heard the sound of something smashing on the other end, followed by a string of vile, furious curses. I didn’t bother listening. I just hung up. A few minutes later, my mom called. After I declined it three times in a row, she stopped trying. I thought she might show up at my door to scream at me, but instead, a few minutes later, she posted a message in the massive extended family group chat. “Sarah, your sister-in-law is further along in her pregnancy, so I really couldn’t come help you. If you’re mad at me, take it out on me. Please don’t punish your poor brother.” As soon as she dropped that ambiguous, victim-playing message, the relatives swarmed. Uncle Bob: “Linda, what happened?” My Mom: “Sigh… Sarah is throwing a tantrum because I couldn’t be her nurse. She stopped the auto-pay for Kevin’s house. His mortgage is due tomorrow and the poor boy is panicking.” To them, my mom was a tragic, saintly single mother who had raised two kids on her own. Naturally, they all immediately pointed their guns at me. Uncle Bob: “Sarah, I’m going to be straight with you. You’re a married woman now, you shouldn’t be bothering your mother. Your mom’s priority has to be Kevin’s family. Kevin’s kid is a Miller. Why are you acting so spoiled?” Aunt Karen (Bob’s wife): “Exactly! You don’t abandon your own blood to go help a daughter who married out of the family. Your mom did nothing wrong. Stop holding a grudge.” Uncle Bob: “Your mother paid for your college, she fed and clothed you. She’s done more than enough. You wouldn’t have your fancy business without her. Learn some gratitude! Kevin is just starting his life, his job is stressful. If you don’t help him, who will? Stop being so incredibly selfish.” Aunt Karen: “Linda, you spoiled that girl. Now you see what happens. You raised an ingrate.” Looking at this barrage of unhinged entitlement, the familiar nausea twisted in my stomach. I was just aggressively typing out a rebuttal when a breath of fresh air appeared in the chat. It was my cousin, Jessica.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391183”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I cheated on my first sugar daddy, Carter Sterling, and accidentally got pregnant with my second sugar daddy’s child. Just as I was stressing over how to handle the fallout, I discovered Carter had been harboring a secret, forbidden obsession with his own stepsister. Without missing a beat, I decided to play matchmaker and find him a stand-in. I finally tracked down a gorgeous college girl who looked about 70% like Carter’s stepsister. She signed a rock-solid contract with me: as long as she successfully took my place in his bed, she’d split her monthly allowance with me 50/50. Right on cue, Carter fell for her and kicked my “high-maintenance” self to the curb. Looking at the cold, hard numbers multiplying in my bank account every month, I couldn’t help but laugh. If I can’t have a man’s heart, I’ll sure as hell take his money! By the third time I called Carter back from work for some completely trivial, made-up reason, he finally lost his temper. “Serena! Can you stop being such a drama queen?” he snapped, loosening his designer tie. “Do you literally have nothing else to do all day? How are you this bored?” I covered my face, feigning heartbreak. “Carter, you’ve changed. You never used to be like this.” It was true. Back in the day, no matter what ridiculous whim I had, Carter would patiently indulge me. He truly raised me like a spoiled, delicate canary in a gilded cage. Carter looked entirely fed up. “Serena, I’m warning you, dial it back. Don’t push your luck. Remember your place and don’t take a mile when I give you an inch.” He was genuinely angry. Normally, this would be my cue to back down, stroke his ego, and coax him out of his bad mood. But today, I was aiming for a breakup. “Carter Sterling! You don’t love me anymore! I want to break up!” Carter’s tone turned explosive. “Fine! We’re done!” He pointed a harsh finger at me. “Serena, did you seriously think we were in a real relationship? You’re just a plaything. Stop flattering yourself.” His words were incredibly harsh, and because I’ve always been overly emotional, actual tears started rolling down my cheeks. “Pack your bags tomorrow and get out,” he ordered coldly. I choked back a sob. “What about my severance package?” I subconsciously covered my flat stomach. Raising a kid in this economy is expensive. I needed to fleece this billionaire for every penny I could get before I left. Surely Carter wouldn’t be stingy now, right? But he had become stingy. He tossed a premium black card onto the table. “There’s five million in there. Take the money and get the hell out.” Only five million? It used to be at least eight. The moment Carter left, I went into hyper-drive. I packed my bags and immediately called liquidators to sell off all the expensive furniture in the mansion. If it was a gift from Carter—right down to the absurdly expensive memory-foam mattress—I took it or sold it. My bank account ballooned instantly. Just then, my phone rang. It was Daisy. “Hey, did you and Mr. Sterling break up yet?” “Done and done. Just happened.” Daisy let out a massive sigh of relief, her tone light and bouncy. “Don’t worry about a thing! From now on, even if Carter only gives me a single dollar, I’ll make sure fifty cents goes straight to you.” “Good girl,” I replied, feeling like a proud manager. “Remember, memorize all of Carter’s likes and dislikes. More importantly, study his stepsister’s personal style and nail that aesthetic.” “I absolutely will.” Daisy was a hustler. As long as she could live a life of luxury, she was willing to do whatever it took. After hanging up, I single-handedly cleared out the entire walk-in closet until my lower back felt like it was going to snap. Daisy was the new “canary” I had personally scouted for Carter. A month ago, I found out I was pregnant, and the baby definitely wasn’t Carter’s. Around the same time, I accidentally discovered that the person Carter was truly obsessed with was his stepsister, with whom he supposedly had a terrible relationship. His love for her was deeply repressed and intensely hidden. To protect the baby in my belly, I took a massive gamble and personally found Carter a replacement. I scoured the city until I found Daisy, a girl who bore a striking resemblance to his stepsister. Exactly as planned, Carter took an immediate interest in Daisy, and I finally had my out. My belongings filled four massive moving trucks. Looking at all my hard-earned assets, I was so excited I was wiping away tears of joy. The estate butler approached me, looking conflicted. “Miss Serena, why don’t you just apologize to Mr. Sterling? Deep down, he still cares for you.” No thank you. Carter had been cheap with me lately. Even if I pinned my pregnancy on him, the payout wouldn’t be anything astronomical. And even if I didn’t plant Daisy in his life, he would have inevitably grown tired of me anyway. It was better to control the variables myself—plus, this way, I earned a double income. The butler sighed heavily. A second later, his eyes widened. Carter had just walked through the front door, with Daisy clinging to his arm like a shy little bird. Daisy looked at me with feigned unfamiliarity. The butler cleared his throat awkwardly. “Sir, Miss Serena is moving out.” Carter’s tone was icy. “Serena, once we break up, there’s no turning back. Don’t be so stubborn.” Daisy tensed up beside him, terrified that I might actually back out of the deal. I forced my eyes to turn red. “Carter, you moved on a long time ago, didn’t you? Is this woman your new toy?” Carter let out a cynical chuckle. “You were never irreplaceable.” He turned to the staff. “Butler, from this moment on, Daisy lives here. No one is to mention Serena’s name again.” I clenched my fists and covered my face, purely because it was the only way to hide my massive grin. Yes! Finally! Acting utterly devastated, I climbed into the passenger seat of the moving truck, keeping my face buried in my hands. Down below, Carter watched the truck with a complex expression, a fleeting flash of heartache in his eyes. I had never ridden in such a cheap vehicle before. For the past year, I had been chauffeured in luxury SUVs, my feet barely ever touching the pavement. Carter stepped up to the window. “A fired arrow doesn’t turn back. Take care of yourself.” I nodded enthusiastically, silently praying we would never cross paths again. He slipped another bank card through the window. “This is the last time I’m giving you money. Look after yourself.” I genuinely didn’t expect a parting bonus. I suddenly felt a twinge of guilt—just yesterday I was complaining about the five million, so I spitefully sold all his furniture. The mansion behind him was currently an empty shell. The butler probably thought I did it out of petty heartbreak to spite Carter, assuming I didn’t actually need the cash. As the truck driver pulled away, I let out a massive breath of relief. Before I even arrived at my new penthouse, I received a wire transfer notification from Daisy. $500,000. [Message from Daisy: Girl, how did you make Mr. Sterling love you so much? My monthly shopping allowance is a million dollars! I’ve never seen this much money in my entire life. I want to be this rich forever!] I replied with strict managerial advice. [Message to Daisy: Play your part. Do a good job imitating his sister, but NEVER let him realize you are intentionally copying her, or he will flip out.] Daisy was wonderfully obedient. She saved the message and treated it like gospel. Once I got home, I popped a bottle of non-alcoholic champagne and watched the movers organize my treasures. The next morning, I woke up wrapped in Harrison Vance’s arms. Before I was even fully conscious, my face was buried comfortably against his firm chest. “Baby, you finally moved in,” Harrison murmured, kissing the top of my head. “I know, honey. I was just so busy before, but now I get to be with you every single day.” I tilted my head up and kissed his cheek. Harrison was my second sugar daddy, and the biological father of the child currently growing in my womb. A while back, maybe due to the economy, Carter had started cutting back on his lavish spending. Terrified of being left penniless if he dumped me, I decided to establish a backup plan. That’s when I met Harrison. Harrison made us breakfast. While I ate, I checked my phone and collected my daily dividends. Carter was already spoiling Daisy. And Daisy was honest to a fault—the second the funds hit her account, she didn’t rush out to buy designer bags; she wired me my 50% cut. “Baby, who are you texting?” Harrison asked, leaning over. “Just a friend,” I brushed it off casually. Harrison reached out and pinched my cheek playfully. “You seem to have put on a little weight lately. You look cute and soft.” “What’s wrong with a little weight? You always used to tell me I was too skinny.” I hadn’t told Harrison about the pregnancy yet. I was terrified he might drag me to a clinic to take care of “the problem.” I wasn’t about to gamble on the conscience of a billionaire. I planned to wait until I was further along, when the dust had settled, to drop the baby bomb. With this kid, my financial security for the rest of my life was guaranteed. Harrison kissed my nose. “I love you no matter what you look like.” After breakfast, Harrison headed to his corporate office. Barely a minute later, Daisy called me, her voice buzzing with excitement. “Girl! Last night I slept with Carter, and right in my ear, he moaned his stepsister’s name!” “Thank God I pretended to pass out from pleasure, otherwise I wouldn’t have known how to react.” I chuckled. “Next time, just pretend you didn’t hear him, or innocently ask who that is.” Carter would just make up some excuse anyway. He and his stepsister could never actually be together—society, ethics, and their family name strictly forbade it. “Rich people are so messed up,” Daisy gossiped happily. “By the way, he was super pissed when he walked into the empty mansion yesterday. He cursed you out a few times.” “What did he say?” I perked up. How rude of him. Couldn’t we just have an amicable split? Daisy recited his insults verbatim. “He called you a high-maintenance, gold-digging nightmare who was nothing but trouble.” Hearing that, I actually relaxed. That wasn’t really an insult; that was just an accurate description of my brand. When Carter and I first met, he loved my brainless, incredibly straightforward, money-loving personality. He said he could read my mind perfectly, which made him feel safe. Men change so fast. What they love one second, they despise the next. I accepted it easily. Just like when I noticed his spending habits shrinking, I immediately pivoted to a new benefactor. “Don’t worry,” Daisy promised. “I’ll be your perfect inside woman. I’m going to squeeze every dime out of him.” “Don’t be too greedy right out of the gate,” I cautioned. “If he offers, take it, but don’t constantly nag him for things. It looks cheap. The best time to negotiate is when you’re in bed. Strike while the iron is hot.” Daisy absorbed the wisdom, then started showering me with compliments. “You are amazing. No wonder Carter is still so hung up on you.” She went on to praise my face, my body, everything. “Seriously! You’re like an angel. A woman as gorgeous as you… even I’m half in love with you.” “Alright, alright, dial it back,” I laughed, rolling my eyes. “Get back to work.” After hanging up, I sneaked off to a private VIP clinic for an OBGYN checkup. If I could, I’d get an ultrasound every single day just to be safe. Just as I walked out with my sonogram printout, I froze. Carter Sterling was walking right toward me. “Serena? What are you doing here?” His eyes automatically flicked downward toward the medical papers in my hand. I immediately shoved them behind my back. “None of your business. We have nothing to do with each other anymore.” Carter smirked. “Serena, don’t tell me you’re still throwing a tantrum. I spoiled you too much over the years, it made you arrogant.” He leaned in slightly. “I slept with Daisy last night.” He stared at my face, clearly hoping to see a flash of jealousy or regret. He was sorely disappointed. I was completely fine with it. Even before we broke up, knowing he was with another woman wouldn’t have devastated me. My only fear was getting dumped before I secured the bag. “That’s great for you. Wishing you both a lifetime of happiness,” I said brightly. I clutched my medical records tight and tried to sidestep him, but his hand shot out, wrapping like a vice around my wrist. “What is going on with you? Why are you suddenly at a hospital?” I found his line of questioning bizarre. Why did he care? “Just a routine physical,” I brushed him off. I wrenched my arm free and practically sprinted away. The heavy gaze boring into my back was so intense I didn’t dare turn around. I couldn’t let him find out about the baby, or I was dead meat. Getting pregnant after a breakup is one thing; getting pregnant before the breakup means you gave the billionaire a green hat. No man with an ego that big could handle being cheated on. Back in the hospital lobby, Carter’s face darkened. He couldn’t shake the feeling that Serena looked different—she had lost weight in her limbs but seemed protective of her core. He pulled out his phone and made a call. “Look into Serena Blake. Find out exactly why she was at the clinic today and send me her medical records. Now.” When I walked into Harrison’s penthouse, my blood ran cold. There was a strange woman sitting on the velvet sofa. I immediately went on high alert, my face shifting into a polite but guarded mask. “Who are you? What are you doing in my house?” The woman looked me up and down with intense scrutiny. “So you’re the little pet my brother is keeping?” Ah. Harrison’s sister. I let out a mental sigh of relief. As long as it wasn’t some random mistress coming to mark her territory, I was fine. Even if Harrison wanted to cheat, he needed to wait until this baby was born and my check was cashed. “Hi there, I’m Serena Blake,” I said warmly. Maya Vance sneered. “Don’t act so familiar. A woman like you has no right to cross the threshold of the Vance family.” I smiled placidly. “Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it. Your brother is just having some fun with me. It’s just a fling.” Maya looked deeply uncomfortable with my response. She had come prepared for a screaming match, ready to put an arrogant gold-digger in her place. “Good. Glad you know your place!” she said, raising her voice to overcompensate. I just kept smiling. In my line of work, you have to have thick skin. If you have a fragile ego, you won’t survive the sugar bowl. You can’t demand both their money and their respect. A few minutes later, Harrison walked in. Seeing Maya, his brows slammed together. “What are you doing here? Didn’t I tell you never to come to this apartment uninvited?” Maya bristled. “Harrison! Are you just afraid I’ll interrupt your little secret hideaway?” “Glad you understand.” Harrison glanced at me, then immediately started shoving his sister toward the door. “Get out. Do you have nothing better to do with your life?” Maya dug her heels into the floor, grabbing the doorframe. “I’m not leaving! You can’t make me!” I sighed softly. “Harrison, just let her stay. It wouldn’t kill her to stay for dinner.” Harrison relented. Maya scrambled back inside, shooting me a look that said, ‘Smart move, peasant.’ To maintain my persona as the understanding, domestic girlfriend, I volunteered to cook dinner. Harrison was incredibly touched. He kissed my temple. “You’re so sweet. I’ll buy you a present tomorrow.” While I was chopping vegetables in the kitchen, I completely forgot I had left my phone on the living room coffee table. It started to ring. Without thinking twice, Maya picked it up and answered. “Hello? Who is this?” The voice on the other end was cold. “Put Serena on the phone.” Maya frowned. “What do you want? Who are you to her?” Carter’s voice dripped with complex emotion. “I’m her husband. And she’s pregnant with my child.” Maya’s hand violently jerked. In her shock, she accidentally hit “Hang Up” and then, in a blind panic, blocked the number. On the other end of the city, Carter stared at his phone screen. When he realized he was blocked, he let out a sound of pure, unadulterated rage. Back in the penthouse, Harrison walked downstairs and saw his sister looking like she had seen a ghost. “What’s wrong with you?” Maya swallowed hard. “Nothing! Literally nothing!” Harrison frowned. “Look, I know you don’t like Serena, but do not play nasty tricks on her. She’s completely alone in this world. She’s had a hard life.” Yeah, a really hard life. Maya took deep, ragged breaths, her mind spiraling. Serena has a husband?! And a baby?! Is my billionaire brother the other man?! Is Serena a con artist?! Maya genuinely hoped Serena was just a scammer, because the alternative—that the great Harrison Vance was a homewrecker—was too humiliating to bear. Especially since she had just tried to pull rank and intimidate Serena five minutes ago. Soon, I brought the food out to the dining room. Harrison took the plates from me. As I sat down, I noticed Maya staring at me with wide, horrified eyes. “Is something wrong, Miss Vance?” I asked politely, deciding to drop the “sister” act since she hated it. No need to make enemies. Maya glanced at Harrison, shook her head frantically, and stayed dead silent. “If you’re going to eat, eat. If not, leave,” Harrison snapped. Maya practically choked on her anger. She was trying to protect him! She turned her grief into gluttony and inhaled everything on her plate. Not because it was delicious, but because she was stress-eating. After dinner, Harrison nudged his sister with his foot. “Go wash the dishes. Then leave.” Maya glared daggers at him, absolutely furious, but had no choice but to obey. I thought Maya was acting incredibly weird, but it didn’t really matter. She wasn’t the one paying my bills. While Harrison went to his home office to catch up on emails, I sat on the couch with a magazine. Suddenly, Maya slid next to me. “Serena… have you ever been married?” My internal alarms blared. “No. I’ve never been married. Harrison is the only man in my life.” Maya let out a massive sigh of relief, but suspicion still lingered. She grabbed my phone from the table and tossed it into my lap. I looked at the screen. A blocked call from a very familiar number. And a 30-second call duration before the block. “That guy said he was your husband,” Maya whispered fiercely. I kept my face perfectly neutral. “He’s not my husband. He’s my crazy ex. I’m single and I’ve never been married. Harrison knows everything about my past.” Lie. Harrison knew nothing, because he was just my rebound ATM. But Maya bought it completely. She knew her brother wouldn’t stoop to being a mistress. But wait— What about the baby? Before Maya could ask the golden question, Harrison yelled down from upstairs: “Maya! If you don’t leave right now, I’m calling Mom and telling her you skipped three of your college seminars this week!” Maya ground her teeth. Forget it! I’m not helping him anymore! If he ends up wearing a green hat, she decided, she would just point and laugh. She grabbed her purse and stormed out. Once she was gone, I unlocked my phone. Carter had called me five times before Maya blocked him. A heavy knot formed in my stomach. Why was he calling me? It definitely wasn’t to get back together. I opened my chat with Daisy. [Me: Daisy, is Carter with you?] [Daisy: No, why? What’s up?] I sighed. Whatever. I’ll deal with it later. “Serena! Come upstairs, why are you still down there?” Harrison called out. I adjusted my facial expression into a look of pure, adoring devotion and practically skipped up the stairs, throwing myself into his arms. “Honey, you look so handsome when you work. I’m so obsessed with you.” Harrison crashed his lips onto mine, his large hands slipping under the hem of my shirt. The implication was obvious. I quickly pushed against his chest. “Honey, not tonight.” Harrison paused, looking confused. “Why not?” “I’m just a little tired today. Let me give you a massage instead.” Harrison gently rubbed my hands. “Cooking tired you out. I’ll hire a private chef tomorrow.” I breathed a sigh of relief. Dodged another bullet. The next morning, I was rudely awakened by my phone ringing. I was annoyed. Doesn’t anyone know pregnant women need their beauty sleep? “Daisy, what is it?” Daisy’s voice was tight and panicked. “Girl… are you pregnant?” My eyes snapped open. I was wide awake. How did she know? “Girl, is the baby Carter’s? Am I getting fired already? I haven’t even enjoyed the rich life for a full month yet! Do you have any other billionaires you can introduce me to?” Daisy babbled, completely terrified of losing her luxury lifestyle. “The baby isn’t Carter’s. Who told you about this?” Daisy let out a massive gasp of relief. “Oh thank God. The butler told me.” My heart sank. Carter knew. Good news: he thinks the baby is his, which means my actual secret is still relatively safe. I remembered running into him at the VIP clinic. I mentally cursed out the hospital staff. HIPAA violation, much?! Besides, we were broken up! Why was he illegally digging into my medical history? “Daisy, listen to me. Do NOT tell Carter the baby isn’t his.” “Understood!” Daisy promised enthusiastically. “Wishing you a happy, beautiful new life, boss!” She really was the perfect employee. After we hung up, Daisy wired me another $500,000. Her 50% cut. I transferred it straight into a high-yield trust fund for my unborn baby. College tuition? Secured.

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