Author: Momo Chan

The day after my stepbrother and I crossed the line, he got into a car accident and lost his memory. When I rushed to the hospital, a strange girl was holding him, comforting him: “It’s okay, baby. Even if you forget me, it just gives you a chance to confess your love to me all over again.” I was furious and about to expose her lie when suddenly, I saw floating comments appear in the air. [Lol, the female side character is still worried about the male lead. Actually, he just got bored after sleeping with her and is faking amnesia to dump her openly.] [This two-faced heroine is so satisfying! From having a crush on the male lead since freshman year to saving him by chance now, pretending to be his girlfriend to get close… shipping them so hard!] [Did anyone notice the female side character can barely walk from the pain? The male lead really showed no mercy.] [Eh, a virgin boy has no control, just treat it as practice to give the heroine a better experience later~] … So, when Caleb Hunt pretended to be confused and asked who I was. I ignored the heroine’s hostile gaze and said calmly: “She’s right. You two are a real couple.” “As for you and me… we are brother and sister.” 1 When I rushed to the hospital, my legs were still trembling uncontrollably. The nurse at the front desk asked me: “Looking for the patient in Bed 37? What is your relationship with him?” I couldn’t help but think of last night. A boy and a girl tasting forbidden fruit for the first time, entangled until 3 AM before falling asleep in each other’s arms, clothes mixed with sweat creating a mess on the floor. I coughed lightly, cheeks flushing. “I’m his girlfriend. How is he? Is he okay?” “Hmm? You’re his girlfriend? Then who is keeping him company in the ward?” The nurse looked suspicious and pointed me in a direction. My brain buzzed. I quickened my pace, sensing something was wrong. Behind me, the nurse muttered. “Did I remember wrong? That handsome guy who got into a car accident… if his girlfriend hadn’t passed by and called the ambulance in time, he wouldn’t have woken up so fast.” “…” The ward door was ajar. The boy I longed for had gauze wrapped around his head, his handsome pale face full of confusion. “Are you… really my girlfriend?” The girl standing in front of him had a fresh face and smiling eyes. It was Lily Vance, the beauty of the neighboring class and the heiress of the wealthy Vance family. “Your name is Caleb Hunt, a high school graduate from Lincoln High. You like sweets, have a kind heart, often feed stray cats at the school gate, and your best sport is basketball…” “Is that all?” Caleb interrupted her mercilessly. “That only proves we know each other. Being a girlfriend is a stretch.” Lily blinked and leaned in closer. At a distance where they could hear each other breathe, the girl’s red lips curled up. “Your ears are sensitive. When you kiss me, you’re urgent and fierce because you like seeing me go weak and breathless.” “Oh, and our first time was on a hotel sofa. You have a beautiful butterfly tattoo on your side waist. I not only kissed it, but also scratched and bit it…” “Stop… stop talking.” Caleb’s ear tips turned red, and he reached out to cover her mouth. “I believe you, okay?” Lily cupped his face and planted a kiss. “It’s okay, baby. Amnesia isn’t a big deal. Just gives you a chance to confess your love to me all over again.” Although Caleb and Lily were both popular figures at Lincoln High, one had high standards, and the other was known for not being interested in girls. They didn’t know each other at all, so how could they be boyfriend and girlfriend? Moreover, the intimate things Lily mentioned were clearly what Caleb and I did. After the college entrance exams, Caleb drank too much at the graduation party and dragged me to a hotel room. I had feelings for him too, so I didn’t refuse. The sofa was narrow, and I had to cling to the boy’s lean waist to keep from falling… Inexperienced and crazy. A fire rose in my heart. I couldn’t watch any longer and pushed the door open. “She’s lying…” Caleb Hunt, my brother in name. Did you forget everything? I was the one who fed stray cats with you. I was the one who brought you water when you played basketball. And I was the one who abandoned all reserve to do intimate things with you. Before I could finish, rows of comments suddenly appeared in mid-air. [Lol, the female side character is still worried about the male lead. Actually, he just got bored after sleeping with her and is faking amnesia to dump her.] [What amnesia? Just a mutual game. Side character, you are just a pawn in our main couple’s play.] [The heroine is so good at this. One ‘baby’ makes me weak, let alone the male lead, who is about to be hooked.] [Did anyone notice the female side character’s walking posture? She’s obviously still in pain. The male lead really showed no mercy.] [Eh, a virgin boy has no control, just treat it as practice to give the heroine a better experience later~] I froze instantly. 2 Five years ago, I met Caleb Hunt for the first time. He followed a woman dressed flamboyantly and moved into my house openly. My mom passed away early. To take care of me, my dad hadn’t remarried all these years. But somehow, his mind was messed up by this mother and son. I didn’t eat at home for a month straight, making it clear I wouldn’t give them a good face. Until I stumbled upon Caleb being punished by his mother, Miranda, kneeling in the living room. The woman had curly hair, red lips, and a floral dress—a very trendy look at the time. But the slaps on Caleb’s face were merciless. “How many times have I told you to find ways to please Zoey (original name: Xie Zhiyu)? The Xie family only has this one daughter. If her dad divorces me because of her, I will never forgive you!” “You little burden. If I didn’t have you, I would have married into a wealthy family long ago.” Miranda raised her voice. “From now on, for every day she doesn’t come back to eat, you starve for a day!” Being in puberty, Caleb grew very tall but didn’t have much meat on him. From a distance, he looked like a thin bamboo pole that would fall with a gust of wind. In the end, I couldn’t bear it and rushed over to shield him. “I hate you, it has nothing to do with your son.” “From now on… I will come home to eat on time.” After getting into the same high school, Caleb silently pursued me for two years. We held hands secretly and kissed under streetlights. Unlike his gentle and somewhat dull personality, Caleb’s kisses were domineering and suffocating. So was the strength of his hugs, as if trying to merge me into his blood and bones. I thought this was love, so I gave my all defenselessly. But the comments told me that this world is a sweet romance novel, and Caleb is the male lead. And I am the vicious stepsister hindering him from being with the heroine. Lily switched to the gentle girlfriend channel in a second. “Zoey, I know you never approved of me and your brother, but we are not kids anymore. Siblings should also keep an appropriate distance.” “Caleb, what do you think?” Caleb’s gaze shifted between the two of us, asking hesitantly: “She… is my sister?” Receiving Lily’s affirmation, he smiled weakly. “Zoey, right? Thanks to your sister-in-law for saving me. You should thank her.” The comments were all cheering. [This two-faced heroine is so satisfying! From having a crush on the male lead since freshman year to saving him by chance now, pretending to be his girlfriend to get close… shipping them so hard!] [The male lead is the real player. Love at first sight with the heroine, knowing better than anyone she’s lying but not exposing her, willingly falling into her sweet trap.] [Next, the female side character should go crazy. According to the plot, she pushes the heroine down hard, loudly clarifies her identity, and calls the male lead a scumbag who slept with his stepsister and won’t admit it.] [Then she gets despised by the male lead. There are others in the ward; doesn’t the male lead need to save face? While apologizing, he becomes more determined to dump the side character.] [Although I feel sorry for the heroine baby, I have to admit that only with the side character constantly acting up can her relationship with the male lead progress further.] The hand I reached out stopped in mid-air. Thinking for a moment, I suppressed my anger. When I spoke again, my voice was hoarse. “Caleb Hunt, do you really have amnesia?” “I hurt my head and don’t remember anything.” Caleb looked apologetic. “Is there… anything wrong with what Lily said?” If the comments were true, then from the moment the car accident happened, Caleb had decided to play this act to the end. Why didn’t I realize his acting skills were so good before? Huge disappointment surged up. It felt like a hole had opened in my chest, the wind from outside blowing in, shockingly cold. “She’s right. You two are a couple.” I took a deep breath, having recovered my calm. “As for you and me, we are indeed siblings, real siblings.” Caleb’s face visibly changed. “What’s wrong?” I asked with a smile. “Are you feeling unwell?” “Do you need me to call a doctor… brother?” Caleb’s eyelashes trembled heavily, his cold white fingers grabbing my sleeve, his voice hoarse. “…What did you call me?” [What’s going on? The female side character should go crazy and make a scene at the hospital, making the male lead disgusted with her.] [Damn, what is the side character doing? Please don’t intervene in our little couple.] [This stepsister has some tricks. Retreating to advance, knowing how to use a man’s guilt. She’s not as stupid as the book says.] [Come on, even if the vicious female side character smartens up, it doesn’t change the fact that she’s vicious. She’s probably holding back a worse move, preparing to deal with the heroine secretly.] 3 I rarely called Caleb “brother” because he hated that identity. He said more than once how much he wished he had met me earlier, so he would have stopped his mom from marrying my dad no matter what. The constraints of worldly ethics forced us into an underground romance. “Sister-in-law, I’ll leave my brother to your care.” My nails dug into my palm, a sharp pain. My brain was clearer than ever. I said in a light tone: “I’m not feeling well and need to go back to catch up on sleep. I have a dinner with some close classmates tonight.” While speaking, I inadvertently pulled aside my collar, revealing dense marks on my neck. A trace of hatred flashed quickly in Lily’s eyes, and she said pointedly: “I heard you were close to a few boys in class. Girls should focus on self-respect and self-love. Like me, I only have your brother.” I turned and left. “I don’t have a boyfriend, so knowing more guys is harmless.” … The dinner that night was at a downtown hotel. Guided by the waiter, I entered the lobby. Just in time to bump into Caleb, gauze wrapped around his head, intimately arm-in-arm with Lily, introducing her to everyone. I could barely maintain the polite smile on my face. Bringing her out to show off before his injury is even healed? Is he so impatient to show off their love? Then what were our days of underground romance? Lily caught a glimpse of me out of the corner of her eye, a gleam flashing in her eyes. “Everyone’s here. While waiting for the food, let’s play Truth or Dare.” The comments were excited. [Here it comes, here it comes! The famous scene where the male and female leads seal their love with a kiss is coming.] [The heroine is a master at this game. She’ll spin the bottle to herself later, and the punishment happens to be—deep kiss a person of the opposite sex present for three minutes.] [Hehehe, after kissing the heroine, the male lead will realize his feelings for the side character are just sibling affection, and his feelings for the heroine are lover’s love and heartbeat.] [Then the side character witnesses the whole thing, heartbroken, gets drunk and falls on the roadside, getting molested by a homeless man. Hahaha deserves it! Just thinking about that scene feels good!] [Kiss quickly, kiss quickly! The heroine’s young uncle is coming to catch them soon. That’s a ruthless character. Later he turns dark and becomes the big villain, almost killing the male lead.] “Let me spin the bottle.” I scanned the comments quickly and pressed down on Lily’s wrist. “I haven’t played this before. Let me try, sister-in-law.” Calling her “sister-in-law” made others tease. “People with partners should go easy on us single dogs.” “Really didn’t expect you two, who seemed unrelated, to be together.” While Lily was shy, I took the bottle and spun it hard. As long as it’s not Lily, I thought. A minute later, the bottle mouth wobbled and pointed at me. Someone cheered, “Dare! Deep kiss a person of the opposite sex present for three minutes! Woohoo~” This was truly unexpected. My gaze swept over the boys’ faces one by one, desperately thinking of a way out. The comments sneered at me. [The side character will definitely choose the male lead. Choosing to be a homewrecker of all things, disgusting.] [Ahhh I’m so mad! If it weren’t for the bitchy side character interfering, the main couple would be kissing passionately by now. Who understands? The moment it pointed to the side character, the heroine baby looked like she was going to shatter.] [The side character’s desire to kiss the male lead is written all over her face. Having evil thoughts about her brother in name, I’m gonna puke.] Caleb looked at me with a hint of hope. “Choose me. A sister kissing her brother is nothing.” Vetoed by Lily with one vote. She blinked her watery almond eyes, acting coquettish and wronged. “I don’t agree. Caleb, only I can kiss you, not even your sister.” “I heard long ago that Zoey is the social butterfly of the class. Nine out of ten boys here have close relationships with her—” Lily smiled at me. “Just pick anyone. It’s the 21st century; a kiss won’t kill you.” I have a cheerful and easygoing personality. Both male and female classmates like to take me along when going out. Being popular actually became Lily’s reason to arrange me. I looked at Caleb, only to see him turn his face away, showing no intention of speaking up for me. A girl spoke up to relieve the situation. “Alright, alright, the content of this dare is indeed a bit too much. Zoey can drink instead of doing the dare.” But Lily was relentless. “Zoey, aren’t you a buzzkill? If everyone breaks the rules like you, what’s the point of playing this game?” The comments were also scolding me. [Exactly, if you can’t afford to play, don’t join!] [Heroine baby is so cool! Dealing with this scheming side character requires being tough, letting her know being a mistress isn’t that easy!] [It’s not like she hasn’t kissed before. Who is the side character pretending to be a chaste woman for?] [Needless to say, it must be the male lead. Schemed to point to herself, but failed to kiss the male lead. The side character must be dying of regret inside, right?] While we were in a stalemate, a knock sounded on the door. The waiter brought in a man in a sharp suit. “Mr. Yan, this is the private room where the young lady is.” Lily stood up like a mouse seeing a cat. “Un… Uncle.” Her attitude was respectful, more like treating a superior than a relative. I sized up this big villain who was said to have almost killed the male lead. Julian Yan, twenty-nine years old. Deep, cold brows and eyes, carrying an aura of authority. “He counts as a person of the opposite sex present, right?” I steeled my heart, and without waiting for an answer, grabbed the man’s tie, forced him to lower his head, and kissed him hard. “I choose him.” 4 Everyone in the room gasped in unison. The comments scrolled wildly. [The side character has lost her mind! Daring to offend the villain, she’ll be dead in minutes.] [Think you’re in a drama? Domineering CEO falls in love with me Mary Sue plot? Keep dreaming.] [Guess the side character is going offline early. Good, good, good, no one will interfere with our little couple anymore.] Julian remained motionless. Neither accepting nor resisting, only his eyes gradually deepened. Until my face burned red, and I apologized to him: “Sorry, I lost a game…” He ignored it, his gaze passing over me to land on Lily. “Passing by after work, your dad asked me to give you a ride.” Lily carefully gauged his expression. “Uncle, I want to play a bit longer, can I?” Julian nodded faintly. “Okay, then I’ll head back first. Be safe.” Lily was overjoyed. “Thank you, Uncle!” As he brushed past Julian, the corner of his mouth hooked into a sneer. “Are all girls who just graduated so impatient like you?” He was insinuating something. I felt like I had been slapped across the face from afar, humiliation sweeping through my body. [Wait, something’s wrong. In the original book, the uncle saw something unusual between the main couple and forced the heroine to go home. The heroine had to sneak out at night to meet the male lead.] [Who can resist daughter’s soft voice acting coquettish? In my opinion, the CP of daughter and uncle is also kinda shippable… really, why can’t female-oriented novel heroines have them all!] [Agree with above. In contrast, the side character is embarrassed enough to want to crawl into a hole hahaha. If the uncle scolds, scold more!] [The side character is just easy. Looking forward to her intimate interaction with the homeless man later, hehe~] [Why do I feel something is wrong? The villain is always unreasonable, why is he so easy to talk to today? And I saw his hand move, seeming to stuff something into the side character’s pocket.] The last comment was quickly drowned out by overwhelming mockery directed at me. Lily was quite proud. “Zoey wants to be my aunt? Too bad my uncle doesn’t like your, uh, overly loose type.” From the moment Caleb saw Julian mock me, his tense body suddenly relaxed. At this moment, his face turned cold. “Your sister-in-law is right. The most important thing for a girl is self-respect and self-love. Besides, he is so much older than you—I will tell Mom and Dad about tonight. Think about how to explain it!” The surrounding classmates looked at their noses and hearts, not wanting to intervene in our family affairs. I downed a drink and retorted. “Why can you fall in love, but I can’t find someone to kiss?” Leaning forward, I whispered in his ear: “I just like guys older than me. Don’t you know this best, brother?” Caleb instantly died down. He pulled up my strap that had accidentally slipped, his fingertips inadvertently brushing over my delicate shoulder and neck. His Adam’s apple moved. “…Sit properly. What do you look like slumping around?” Lily, who witnessed everything, accidentally broke a glass. I did it on purpose. She stole my boyfriend, and I won’t let her have an easy time. In the second half, Lily exchanged a look with a boy, seizing every opportunity to make me drink. By the end, I was drunk and incoherent. Perhaps to prove our pure sibling relationship, Caleb pushed me off him hard. “Lily, I’ll take you home.” Lily was happy but troubled. “What about Zoey? I’ll ask someone free to take her. It’s not safe for a girl to walk alone at night.” “She treated you like that, even forced a kiss on your uncle, yet you still care about her regardless of past grievances.” Caleb was somewhat moved. Then, sweeping a warning glance at the boy behind Lily who was making me drink, he said: “But don’t worry about her. Let her fend for herself. After all, only by learning a lesson can she remember, right?” The boy left resentfully. Even though I was prepared, hearing Caleb’s tone so cold, my heart still ached to the point of suffocation. If I really get assaulted by a homeless man as the comments say… Will he regret leaving me alone? Classmates left in twos and threes. I slowly opened my eyes. The comments were excited as if it were New Year’s. [Ahhh, the main couple finally gonna have their first time!] [The heroine takes advantage of the alcohol to force herself on the male lead. The male lead half-refuses half-accepts… The only pity is that the male lead has already slept with the side character, otherwise I would ship harder.] [Is that the same? The side character is just a tool for venting. The male lead stayed with her in a cheap hotel for a hundred bucks, but with the heroine, it’s a presidential suite.] [The main course begins! Once the male lead tastes the heroine’s goodness, the last bit of guilt for the side character will disappear, discarding her like an old shoe in minutes.] …

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I have a superpower. After killing someone, I can inherit their memories from the last three years. Before my SATs, I killed my genius boyfriend and got into my dream university. 1 When did I first discover this? When I was nine, my parents divorced. I was given to my mom. I loved my mom, but actually, I loved my dad more. I often secretly visited my dad to play with him. But one day, when I went to see him, I caught him kissing a woman. My parents avoided me when I was little; it was my first time seeing a man and a woman kissing. The woman’s lips were so red, red like she wanted to eat someone. I felt very angry. Even at a young age, I understood that Dad had done something wrong, which was why they divorced. Dad was a bad person. I angrily ran into Dad’s car and threw a lot of marbles inside. I wanted them to hurt Dad’s butt, wanted the woman to fall. But the marbles got stuck under the brake pedal, causing brake failure. The woman went into a coma, and Dad died on the spot. The police checked the surveillance and found that I put the marbles in the car. But a nine-year-old child didn’t understand anything and had no criminal liability. Plus, losing my father, I cried my heart out, completely broken. No one blamed me; everyone thought I was pitiful. But while crying, a lot of memories flooded into my mind. I saw the woman’s face in the memories. So Dad had done bad things that early. I saw Mom and Dad arguing, saw Dad secretly taking money from home. I saw the woman and Dad entangled, saw them disgustingly intertwined. I vomited. Mom and the police thought I was crying too hard and my body couldn’t take it. Only I knew, I felt disgusted. At such a young age, I saw two entangled beasts. 2 Unexpectedly, my sadness dissipated quickly. What lingered was disgust. At the same time, I realized my uniqueness. Little me dared not speak, grown-up me didn’t want to speak. As I slowly grew up, I realized what this ability meant. In middle school, I was in the same class as the neighbor’s girl, Zoey. We were very close. We went to school and back together, inseparable even to the bathroom. Teachers jokingly called us Siamese twins. Zoey didn’t have a great personality, but she was very pretty, much prettier than me. I sometimes heard people say, this is the princess and her little follower. I didn’t care much, but Zoey was always very proud. I think this is one of the reasons she had such a good relationship with me. People are always most unwilling to be outshone by those close to them. Zoey liked the feeling of suppressing me, which in a way also showed that she truly treated me as a close person. I was very good to Zoey, so good that she couldn’t leave me. Zoey’s grades were always better than mine, except for English. So I always wrote Zoey’s English homework for her, neatly. For small quizzes, as the English class representative, I helped the teacher grade papers in the office. At these times, I would secretly change a few answers for Zoey and add some points. Until this matter was discovered by the teacher. The English teacher didn’t blame me for changing grades but blamed Zoey instead. The English teacher always disliked the pretty and dressy Zoey, plus her English grades were indeed poor, so the teacher disliked her even more. “All day long, your mind isn’t on studying, but on these crooked ways!” “A girl like you won’t have a future.” Zoey’s eyes turned red instantly. She pushed the desk with a bang and ran out of the classroom. The English teacher snorted disdainfully at first, but seeing Zoey didn’t return for a long time, she got scared something might happen. She lectured for a while, then impatiently asked me to go check on Zoey. I knew where Zoey was. She was in the utility room next to the pantry on the third floor. Every time Zoey encountered something unhappy, she would hide there. I gently opened the door of the utility room, squeezed in, and shrank next to Zoey. Zoey didn’t look at me, and I didn’t look at Zoey. I understood her; she didn’t want me to see her in such a state. After sitting for a while, Zoey spoke. “I don’t like Mrs. Crabtree.” Mrs. Crabtree was our English teacher’s name. “I don’t like Mrs. Crabtree either.” I said, sharing her hatred. Hearing my childish words, she couldn’t help but smile. “Let’s go back.” “Okay.” Zoey and my relationship got better and better. 3 But sometimes I had to admit that learning is a matter of talent. I tried hard, but I really had no talent for studying. Zoey and I stayed together every day, spending almost the same amount of time studying. But Zoey’s grades were getting better and better, steadily rising in all subjects, even English was about to surpass me. Sometimes she would actively offer to tutor me, but I couldn’t understand at all. Mom would often compare me with Zoey. I didn’t want to disappoint Mom. I only had Mom. Seeing my grades not ideal, I was a little anxious. A vague, dark thought also appeared in my brain. What if I killed Zoey? If I killed Zoey, then I would have Zoey’s memories of middle school for these three years. There are many things you shouldn’t think about. Once a thought appears in your brain, it lingers. I had an idea. Just last year, the school installed new air conditioners with very good cooling effects. Many seniors cursed jokingly that the school installed AC as soon as they graduated. Zoey was short and always sat in the first or second row. And I sat in the fifth or sixth row. Summer was approaching, and the school also turned on the AC one after another. I often shouted that it was so hot, then walked to Zoey’s desk during breaks. While talking to Zoey, I would very naturally set the AC to 60 degrees Fahrenheit with high wind. When the class bell rang, I would leave. Sometimes Zoey remembered to adjust it back, sometimes not. So Zoey often blew cold wind for a whole class. A few days ago, I went shopping with Zoey. I said Mom asked me to stock up on some cold medicine and asked if she needed any. “Why buy cold medicine in the summer?” “My mom said I blow AC at home and in the classroom, and sweat outside. The temperature difference indoors is large, easy to catch a cold. She told me to buy some medicine just in case.” Zoey hesitated, thought it made sense, and bought the same medicine as me. Seeing Zoey blowing her nose and saying she had a headache. I knew my chance had come. After school, Zoey and I walked home together as usual. “Let’s go sit on the lawn by the riverbank for a while.” I suggested. 4 We often went there to relax and chat on the way home from school. This wasn’t strange. I pulled Zoey forward, specifically choosing a place captured by the nearby convenience store’s surveillance. I asked Zoey to open her backpack. Zoey opened it and saw two bottles of alcohol inside, looking like high-proof ones. She took the alcohol out of her bag. “Ta-da! My surprise for you!” “We’re about to become high schoolers. Don’t you want to try?” I turned sideways, covering my mouth with my hair. I understood Zoey. She was a girl with a bit of rebellion in her bones. Zoey’s parents were always strict with her. She just didn’t have the chance for deviant things, but she always yearned for them. Zoey held the alcohol and handed one bottle to me. I turned around, making a look of sudden regret and fear. I waved my hand. “Maybe forget it? Zoey, will your parents be angry?” Hearing this, Zoey got even more excited. “It’s okay, just try it!” I made a hesitant expression until Zoey forcefully handed one bottle to me. We talked a lot. We talked about recent exams, about the future, about the annoying English teacher, and about the evening sunset. She apologized to me. She said sometimes she couldn’t help but treat me as a little follower. She said I was her best friend, forever. I said yes. Seeing the time was about right, I patted Zoey’s shoulder and said we should go home. I didn’t drink much alcohol. Several times bringing it to my mouth were actually just light sips. Zoey looked a bit drunk, stumbling when standing up. I asked beforehand. Zoey’s mom had to work overtime recently, and her dad had the night shift. Zoey was alone at home. I looked at Zoey. “Zoey, bye-bye.” “See you tomorrow.” “By the way.” I smiled at her. “You have a bit of a cold today. Remember to take cold medicine when you go back.” Zoey nodded with a smile too. Under the sunset glow, her eyes seemed to hold gentle flames. I calmly returned home, had dinner with Mom, finished homework as usual. Then fell asleep peacefully. The next morning, I had a splitting headache. I found more memories in my brain. I knew I succeeded.

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My husband never comes home, but he wires me $50,000 every month for “pocket money.” No kids, no annoying in-laws to serve—my life is freaking awesome! My best friend and I had a date with some male models. Just as we were about to leave, the housekeeper ran to me in a panic. “Bad news, Madam! Mr. Sterling is bringing the mistress home!” I beamed. “Clean up, make sure everything is perfect.” The housekeeper was shocked. “Madam, she’s a homewrecker!” I immediately corrected her, sternly adjusting her bad attitude: “What homewrecker? That’s the Mistress.” Housekeeper: ? Ethan Sterling: ? 1 In this day and age, husbands like Ethan Sterling who just give money and never come home are rare. As long as the fifty grand hits my account on time, I don’t miss him one bit. Why would I? Are the twenty-something male models not handsome enough? Not fragrant enough? Or is their stamina lacking? They are way too exciting, okay?! “Mrs. Higgins, I’m heading out first. Make sure the mistress is comfortable.” Mrs. Higgins froze: “Madam, where are you going?” To make room for them, of course. I can’t be a third wheel at home. I grabbed my new Chanel bag, turned, and left, not forgetting to wave goodbye. It’s not that I don’t want to serve them. Mainly, I’m afraid of being an eyesore to the VIPs. It is absolutely not because my best friend, Chloe, already booked ten male models that I’m skipping out on welcoming the mistress. I peeked at the housekeeper behind me and trotted quickly to the van parked at the door. My sweethearts, I’m coming! Pushing open the door to see two top-tier models, my mood was through the roof. Chloe pushed a model towards me, a bit confused. “Serena, didn’t you say your husband is coming home today? You still dare to come out and play?” I said while stroking the abs of the guy in front of me. “Go? Why not go? He brought the mistress back. It would be rude of me to hang around in front of them, right?” Oh my, feels so good. Besides, how can a husband be as fun as these boys? The car started, and the clear voice of the boy beside me drifted into my ears. “Sister really knows how to live. The wine has breathed, want a glass?” I happily scratched the boy’s chin, took the red wine from his hand, and drank it all. “Young mouths are sweeter, unlike old men who are hard all over except their mouths.” Several glasses down. I drank too fast. The wind blowing in from the window was cool and refreshing. It blew me dizzy, lying on the boy’s lap. Everything was perfect, like being on cloud nine. Just as I was immersed in it, a sudden phone ring pulled me back to reality. I pouted, what a buzzkill, but still pressed answer. A familiar male voice came from the phone. “Serena Vance, where are you right now?” Because I just drank, I was still dizzy and didn’t check the caller ID. I answered arrogantly, not recognizing who it was for a moment. “Who is this? Sister is having fun.” Silence on the other end. Just as I was about to curse “psycho” and hang up. I heard three words squeezed out through gritted teeth. “Your husband.” Crap, it’s Ethan Sterling! The word “husband” was like a bucket of ice water poured on me, sobering me up completely. I laughed awkwardly: “Hubby, why aren’t you asleep so late?” I glanced at the time and clicked my tongue. Is the mistress bad in bed, or is Ethan bad? It’s only 11 PM, and they’re done? “Where did you go?” I was just about to make up an excuse. Then I heard a female voice from the phone, delicate and weak, sounding pitiful. “Mr. Sterling, can we start now?” “Okay, coming right away.” Ethan seemed to cover the mouthpiece, his voice coming through faintly. Like there was a secret he didn’t want me to hear. But I didn’t want to hear it at all. Even if I’m open-minded, I’m not open enough to listen to my husband moaning with another woman. “So you haven’t started yet. Don’t worry, hubby, I’ll stay at a hotel tonight, won’t disturb you.” Without waiting for a reply, I hung up directly. Chloe turned to look at me. “What, your husband checking on you?” I put down the phone, pinched the model’s lean waist, and spoke lightly. “No, just told me not to go home and disturb them. Forget it, let’s keep playing.” The next day, I deliberately waited until the afternoon to go back. Afraid of going back too early, before they woke up, and ruining their good time. As soon as I entered, I felt a chill in the house. I wanted to call Mrs. Higgins. Looking up, I found my husband, Ethan, sitting on the sofa. His face was gloomy, eyes cold enough to freeze people. “You know to come back?” 2 I suddenly had a bad premonition. Done for. The mistress didn’t satisfy him. He’s taking it out on the wife! Although rolling my eyes internally, I had to keep up appearances. I walked to my husband with a standard eight-tooth smile and sat down obediently. “What’s wrong, hubby?” Ethan’s hand on his leg tapped rhythmically, looking at me lazily. “What, don’t want me here?” I quickly leaned over, hugging his arm coquettishly with a delicate laugh. “How could that be? I wish hubby could come back often to keep me company. I’m very lonely at home by myself.” You can come home, but please don’t come home suddenly! I thought resentfully, but kept smiling on the surface. “Hubby must have worked hard last night. I’ll have Mrs. Higgins make you some soup tonight to replenish.” I massaged his shoulders and arms like a sycophant, taking the chance to check for hickeys under his shirt. None is fine, if there are, pretend not to see. He gives enough allowance anyway. One must be content and always maintain the mindset of “America’s Best Wife.” “Pack up, come with me to the old mansion for dinner today.” I slapped my forehead. I played so hard last night that I forgot today is the day to visit Grandma Sterling. Grandma treats me very well. She was the one who picked me out of many candidates. Otherwise, I would just be an ordinary person, unable to have this carefree life. Although there’s no affection between Ethan and me, I always treat Grandma Sterling as my own. After changing, I saw Ethan leaning against the door frame. His long, bony hands played with a white box. He looked up at me. “Give me your hand.” I was confused but complied. I can’t let my sugar daddy stay angry. Suddenly, I felt something cold on my wrist. Looking down, an exquisitely crafted bracelet was on my wrist. Looks expensive. “Gift from a business partner. Don’t overthink it.” Before I could react, he left the walk-in closet. I chased after him, sweet words pouring out. “Oh, hubby is so good to me, I love you to death.” Ethan didn’t even glance at me. “Be normal.” I rubbed the bracelet, pondering his motive. Is this man feeling guilty for keeping a mistress outside? So he’s compensating me with jewelry? If so, find a few more outside. I don’t mind my closet being filled with expensive jewelry at all. Thinking of this, I beamed. Ethan turned impatiently, seeing me not getting in the car, urged: “Coming or not?” I quickly got in and sat next to him. Silent all the way, but the low pressure around Ethan from the morning was gone. The old mansion is close to where we live. When the car stopped, I opened the door myself. Just about to get off, Ethan grabbed me. “Behave yourself tonight. Grandma is old, can’t handle your antics.” He reminded me for a reason. Last time, I brought Grandma a romance novel. Result: The butler caught Grandma reading under the covers in the middle of the night. The old lady, with presbyopia, held a phone for light in one hand and the book far away in the other. Squinting, reading with difficulty. “Hubby, how can you think of me like that? I’ve always been well-behaved.” I made a shy gesture. Ethan turned his head away, as if I was unsightly. “Let’s hope so.” I rolled my eyes. Only the mistress is good, only the mistress is pleasing to the eye. I turned and ran towards the villa. “Grandma, I’m here.” “Oh, Serena is finally here. You haven’t come to chat with this old lady for a long time.” I hugged Grandma’s arm, acting spoiled. “I’m here now.” Grandma couldn’t wait to pull me to the sofa. “Quick, continue telling me the story about the domineering CEO falling for the mute wife.” Ethan followed us grumpily, glaring at me occasionally. “Grandma, those are nutritious-less things. Read less.” Grandma was unhappy, turning to look at Ethan seriously. “What, at my age, you want Grandma to go to college?” I hid behind Grandma, righteous. These are my bedtime readings. I read them every night. How can he say that? Ethan saw me sticking my tongue out at him from behind Grandma, his expression constipated. I quit while ahead, taking out the prepared novel from my bag. “Grandma, this time I brought another one, called The CEO’s Ruthless Love.” 3 The next second, Ethan hauled me out. “Serena Vance, if you show Grandma these things again, I’ll show you what ‘Ruthless Love’ means!” He emphasized the word “Ruthless.” Grandma’s worried voice came from inside: “Serena, is Ethan bullying you?” Ethan glanced back, gritting his teeth at me. “If you dare talk nonsense, half your allowance is gone.” I cowarded instantly. Who understands? This is my Achilles’ heel. I cleared my throat and shouted back with a smile. “How could that be, Grandma? Hubby treats me the best.” Ethan put me down, glared at me threateningly again, and went inside. During dinner, Grandma kept glancing at Ethan and me. “Grandma, you looking at me like that makes me shy to eat. What do you want to say?” Grandma put down her bowl and chopsticks, sighed, and finally spoke after a while. “I was thinking about Mrs. Shen’s granddaughter next door.” “So cute, always calling me Grandma Lin. Her mouth is so sweet, and she feels so soft…” Ethan and I realized the old lady wants a great-grandchild. I tugged at Ethan, asking what to do. He put down his bowl and held my hand. “Serena is still young. Having children early is bad for her body. In a few years, Serena said she wants to have twins to keep you company.” I looked at him in shock, mouthing to Ethan: “When did I say I wanted twins?” Ethan glared, applying force to my hand, hurting me. “Who told you not to come home yesterday?” I tried to control my twisted expression and pulled my hand back. Thought that was over, didn’t expect it to be waiting for me here. This man is so petty. I gave him and the mistress space, and he’s unhappy. Grandma was grinning from ear to ear. “Good, good. Grandma will try to live a few more years, waiting for our Serena to have twins to keep this old lady company.” On the way back, I ignored Ethan completely. Arriving at the door, I tried to get out, but found the door locked. I turned angrily to Ethan: “Open the door!” Ethan looked at me calmly, no emotion in his deep eyes. “What are you mad about?” In a fit of anger, I blurted out my thoughts. “You told Grandma I wanted twins. Whether we divorce or not is uncertain, and you talk about kids? If you like twins, go find your mistress to have them!” “Serena Vance!” Ethan suppressed his anger, pinning me against the seat. The pressure dropped to freezing point. I cowarded immediately, daring not to speak. “Unless I say divorce, you can never run away in this lifetime.” Click, the door unlocked. Ethan got out and slammed the door. I bit my lip hard, holding back tears. This dog man dared to yell at me! I got out and went inside. Bang, I slammed the bedroom door, not even looking at Ethan. Lying in bed at night thinking about him cutting my allowance. I tossed and turned, then sat up abruptly. “No, is he sick?!” 4 Suddenly, a notification sound. “Zelle received $50,000.” Okay, I’m the one who’s sick. Seeing the zeros in the balance, I lay back down peacefully. Ethan sent a message: I was too fierce today. Business trip tomorrow, one week. My bad mood was cured instantly. Shopping in the morning, ordering male models at night. Life is good. But facts prove one shouldn’t be too arrogant. Because I played too hard this week. I got a fever. “Serena, come out and party. New handsome guys just arrived.” My voice was hoarse, sounding like a duck. “Can’t play. I’m almost cooked.” “Then I’ll send a handsome guy to take care of you?” Clearly, Chloe gets me. But she doesn’t get my husband. “Don’t. I’m just sick, not ready to die.” Although I play wild, I don’t have the guts to bring men home. Chloe hung up sometime, and I slept groggily for who knows how long. Until someone touched my forehead. “Why so hot?” I thought Chloe ignored my advice and sent a guy, so I didn’t open my eyes. Afraid he’d be too handsome to send away. “Handsome, although you’re hot, today really isn’t a good opportunity to make money. If you don’t leave, it won’t be just me dying.” “Wait till I’m better, then I’ll find you, be good.” I pushed him while talking. “Serena Vance, you’re keeping men behind my back?” The chilly voice was too familiar. I sat up in shock. “Hubby?!” My face was red as a monkey’s butt from the fever. He sighed and asked coldly, “Did you take medicine?” I nodded obediently, feeling the fever freeze away. “Rest first. Explain when you’re better.” Good. Death sentence commuted to probation. Opening my eyes the next morning, I saw Ethan coming out of my bathroom. Water not yet dried flowed down his chest to his abs. Have to say, Ethan’s body is better than the bar models’. Plus that handsome face, killing thousands of girls. “Wipe your nosebleed.” I quickly wiped my nose, found nothing. Realized belatedly I was played. “Hubby, why are you here?” I twiddled my fingers, asking guiltily. Don’t panic, play dumb first, maybe he forgot. He walked over, hands propped by my pillow, trapping me on the bed. Close enough to smell his body wash. His hair wasn’t dry, water dripping onto my collarbone, cold. He gently wiped the drop away. This damn man, making my brain dirty early in the morning. “What, didn’t you shout yesterday about finding handsome guys when you’re well? I have to see what kind my little wife likes.” I pondered his words. Why does it sound sour?

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In my freshman year, I got a rich boyfriend. He was perfect in every way, except he wouldn’t let me into his circle. I asked him, “Can we get married after graduation?” He lit a cigarette, smiled, and said nothing. After class that day. I was stopped at the school gate by a gentle lady. She stroked her slightly bulging belly and said softly to me: “Are you the girl who wants to marry Julian Thorne after graduation?” 1 My fingers tightened around the handle of my suitcase, and I bit my lip, staying silent. In fact, I already had a bad premonition. “Don’t be nervous, Hannah. The woman in front of me smiled faintly. “My name is Eleanor Vance, and I am Julian Thorne’s legal wife. “I know you two have been in this relationship for two years, and I know you don’t know about my existence. “Today is my third wedding anniversary with Julian. He said he was working late at the company and would be home late. But the truth is, at 8:30, you two are going to the movies. After the movie, he’ll take you to his house in the suburbs to spend your winter break peacefully, right?” Yes. She was right. In my pocket was a movie ticket. During class just now, I kept looking at that ticket, daydreaming. Fantasizing about cuddling against Julian’s arm in the theater, watching a romantic blockbuster together. Eleanor’s gaze moved down to the ring on my left ring finger. “Did he give you that?” “Cartier Trinity Ring, indeed very beautiful. When I was young, I liked this style too.” Her eyes suddenly turned red, and the corners of her mouth curled up in a bitter smile: “I remember, this is a couple’s ring. He has one too, right?” A feeling of shame with nowhere to hide almost drove me crazy. I hid my left hand back into my sleeve and mumbled: “Yes.” Last Valentine’s Day. For my birthday, Julian booked a western restaurant. During our candlelight dinner, he put this ring on my hand personally. My family was poor. When I learned this ring cost $6,000, I wept with joy. I wished I could give everything to Julian. I was so happy at that time that I didn’t think about why Julian only wore the ring that one night. Thinking about it now. He was afraid Eleanor would find out. I was angry, ashamed, and felt like crying. It was hard to accept. My deeply loved boyfriend was actually a refined beast who cheated on his pregnant wife. It turned out he wouldn’t let me into his circle. Because I was his mistress kept on the side. “Hannah.” Eleanor supported her waist and gasped with some difficulty: “Is it convenient to sit with me for a while in the coffee shop across the street?” I looked at her prominent belly. Realizing that pregnant women can’t stand for long. She must have waited for me at the school gate for a long time; it was already her limit. 2 We picked the most inconspicuous booth in the coffee shop. I took off the ring and returned it to her. Eleanor glanced at it and didn’t take it. “When Julian and I got married, he never gave me a ring. He doesn’t love me, I know. “Take it back. Even if you don’t want to wear it in the future, you can sell it for some money.” Just then. The waiter came over. He asked me: “Ms. Young, the usual three? Matcha latte, classic tiramisu, and a plate of fried snacks?” Before I could answer. She looked at Eleanor sitting opposite me. “And for this lady?” “A glass of room temperature lemon water, no sugar, thank you.” “Okay, Ms. Young, the total is $25. It has been deducted from Mr. Thorne’s card.” My heart skipped a beat. I dared not look up. It happened so suddenly that I forgot there was a membership card Julian got for me in this shop. Eleanor’s eyes were gentle. “It doesn’t matter, I don’t mind. “But you, still can’t quite believe he would do such a thing, right?” Indeed. I had a thick filter for Julian. In my eyes, he was the kind of high-intellect, daddy-style boyfriend described in novels. We met online. For our first offline meeting, Julian drove a Maybach to the school gate to find me. He was gentlemanly and well-spoken. Unlike those foul-mouthed, sloppy boys at school. From the first moment I saw him. I fell in love with him uncontrollably. Which girl wouldn’t dream of a domineering CEO falling in love with her? The dream reflected into reality. I never thought it would be a trap. Under the envious gazes of my classmates. Julian took me to this coffee shop opposite the school for afternoon tea. Before meeting him, my monthly living expenses were only $100. I didn’t dare to dream of stepping into such a place. When Julian said to me, “You’re so thin, you need to eat more,” and then waved his hand to get a recharge card for me to spend freely in the future. At that time, I really felt he was the best person in the world to me. Because my biological mother would only say to me: She would say: “Why do girls eat so much? If you get fat, no man will want you. “Eat less, don’t stretch your stomach. It’s good to shrink your stomach by starving.” But turning around, she would ask my brother Henry: “Did Henry eat enough at school today? Is $20 a day enough? Tell Mom if it’s not enough.” 3 Eleanor stared blankly at the leaves outside the window. Her eyes were beautiful, amber-colored light pupils. “Do you know how I discovered your existence?” I shook my head. “One day Julian came home and suddenly sighed at the dinner table, ‘Kids who haven’t entered society are still the best. Give them a little money for food, and they are grateful. Unlike those cunning people in the workplace, never enough greed.’ “I looked at his chat records with you and had insomnia all night. “I wondered why he didn’t delete the chat records. What if I accidentally found out? Later I figured it out. He doesn’t care if I find out. “My family received favors from Julian. My parents wouldn’t agree to my divorce. And he holds a high position in Seattle; even if I sue him, it’s useless.” She smiled indifferently, as if talking about something unrelated to herself. “By the way, I saw he sent you many red envelopes at the beginning, but you didn’t accept any. “I’m curious, why didn’t you spend his money?” My eyelids trembled, throat dry, unable to speak. Actually, I really had a very naive idea. If I was sure I wanted to spend my life with someone, I would accept his financial contribution to me with peace of mind. Eleanor nodded thoughtfully: “But he knew this, so he manipulated you easily. He knew you were naive and easy to cheat, so he thought it didn’t matter if he just played with you. “Just spend a little money on you, and you are willing to give everything to repay him. In the future, no matter how unreasonable his request is, you won’t refuse him.” “Hannah, guess how much he spent to marry me?” I pursed my lips and tentatively said: “$60,000?” “$600,000. See, in comparison, does his contribution to you seem insignificant?” She curled her lips mockingly: “He was willing to spend so much money to marry me back then, but doesn’t he discard me like worn-out shoes now? “I say these things not for any other meaning, just to tell you he is not as good as you think. “You are still young. You shouldn’t be like me, stuck like this for life.” “By the way.” Eleanor took out her phone and showed me a photo. I took a look, trembling with fear. She took a picture of Julian’s phone album. And in Julian’s album. Hundreds of densely packed explicit photos, with and without faces. And the owner of those photos was invariably me. She asked me: “Did you send these photos to him voluntarily, or did he secretly screenshot them without your knowledge?” My face turned pale. In panic, I accidentally knocked over the matcha latte. 4 Not long after Julian gave me the Cartier diamond ring. He went on a business trip for a whole month. One night when we hadn’t seen each other for more than ten days, he video called me. On the phone, the usually serious man acted coquettish to me for the first time. “Hannah, turn on the camera, let me see you, okay?” I knew I should refuse. But I couldn’t resist his soft persistence. Under his instructions. I turned on the camera. Did bold and shameful actions for him to see. I even obeyed his words and wrote his name on my collarbone with lipstick. His breath deepened, and he said hoarsely: “My baby is so beautiful. “Good girl, wait for me to come back, I brought you a gift.” When I calmed down, I asked him with some fear: “Julian, will you…” He guessed what I was going to ask. He offered to let me remotely control his phone app to see his album. I looked. Indeed, there were no screenshots. “Sorry, shouldn’t have doubted you.” Julian laughed: “Silly girl, it’s good to be wary of scams.” He transferred $100 to me. “Alright, I have to work overtime. You go play with your classmates.” As usual. After 9 PM, Julian would start working overtime. He rarely replied to messages I sent afterwards. The $100 Julian gave me allowed me to show off big time in front of my roommates. My roommates used to say I was poor and stingy. Ever since they knew I was dating Julian, this “boyfriend”. They looked at me differently. “Hannah, how did you get such a good man? I also want a peerless good husband who gives me Cartier and drops gold coins at the drop of a hat.” “Really envy you to death, Hannah. Your boyfriend is highly educated and rich, not a playboy. So busy with work, yet reports to you every day.” The roommates’ praise made me feel even more elated. I was even more proud of having Julian as a boyfriend. After that, whenever he requested to see me, I compromised and agreed without hesitation.

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My junior colleague, desperate to build a “helpful” persona, kicked open the operating room door when a film crew came to the hospital, all for a better shot. “Film in the OR! It’s the most authentic setting.” Startled during surgery, my hand slipped. The operation failed, and the patient hemorrhaged and died on the spot. Afterward, she threw herself into a senior colleague’s arms, sobbing: “I… I was just trying to help. It’s not my fault…” I was blamed for medical malpractice, yet my colleagues only surrounded her to comfort her: “You meant well.” “It’s her own lack of skill. She can’t blame you.” Furious, I shouted: “This is a hospital! Not a studio! You kicked the door open during surgery. What were you thinking?” Overcome with “guilt,” she cried and threatened suicide to atone. To protect her, my senior colleague deleted the surveillance footage of her kicking the door and told the press I was incompetent. I was fired, shunned by the medical community, and eventually killed by the vengeful family of the patient. Reborn, I returned to the day my junior colleague kicked open that door. 1 “Can the family keep it down? Stop wailing!” “You’re disturbing the film crew!” Just like in my past life, my junior colleague Chloe Quinn kicked open the OR door with a bang. Fortunately, this time I was prepared. I gripped the scalpel firmly, cleanly excising the cancerous tissue while carefully avoiding major blood vessels. I calmly directed everyone to continue the surgery. From excision to hemostasis, from suturing to wrapping up. My surgical gown was soaked in blood, looking like I had just crawled out of a sea of blood, but my expression remained calm. The look in everyone’s eyes was one of shock. When the door crashed open, a nurse dropped her hemostats in fright. No one expected me, the lead surgeon, not to even tremble. After the surgery, before I could change. Chloe rushed up to accuse me: “Dr. Foster, you’re covered in blood and still got in the shot. That take is ruined!” “Renting equipment costs five thousand dollars a day. Can’t you be considerate of others?” I didn’t answer. Once the surgery was fully complete, I raised my hand and slapped her hard. Slap— “If you’re sick, go to the psych ward upstairs! Don’t go crazy in my OR!” Her eyes reddened, covering her face pitifully: “Sob… Dr. Foster, why did you hit me?” Her sobbing attracted the attention of colleagues nearby. Seeing people gather, Chloe cried even louder: “I just understood the crew’s hard work and wanted to help.” Frowning, I slapped her other cheek. 2 Chloe’s face swelled up high; she even forgot to cry. I pointed at her and scolded: “As a doctor, instead of stopping outsiders from messing around, you led the charge to kick open the OR door! Are you evil or just stupid?!” Chloe covered her face and wept, choking out: “I just meant well…” “If Dr. Foster thinks I’m wrong, I apologize.” I sneered: “You should apologize to the patient you almost killed!” I hated her act of looking pitiful after doing something wrong. But some people bought it. “Isn’t the patient fine? Is this necessary?” Dr. Harris, a colleague from my year, stepped up to defend her. “Dr. Harris, can you take her punishment for her? If the patient died, would you go to prison for her?” I interrupted Dr. Harris, glaring at him: “This isn’t your place to speak.” “Is it my place then?” Dr. Vaughn, the most senior male doctor in our department and my senior, spoke up. But I gave face to no one: “You shut up too!” “You…” My face darkened: “This is a hospital. Patient safety is the top priority!” “Instead of holding her accountable for kicking open the OR door, you’re here blurring right and wrong. What are your intentions?” “If I had been startled during surgery and my hand slipped, would you still be standing here arguing with me?” “Chloe is the intern under me. My evaluation of her internship is one sentence—she is unfit to be a doctor!” “I will write a truthful report and apply for her disciplinary action.” 3 At this moment, covered in blood with a grim face, I looked terrifying. My colleagues were silent as cicadas in winter, daring not to persuade me further. I walked up to Chloe: “Insulting the patient’s family, kicking the OR door—the patient almost died at your hands!” “Go back and copy the medical handbook a hundred times, write a self-reflection, and reflect properly! Apologize to the patient’s family tomorrow!” “One more incident, and you take off that white coat and leave!” With that, I threw my gloves in her face and turned to leave. “Wait.” Dr. Harris blocked my path, shielding Chloe: “We’re colleagues. Do you have to be so ruthless?” I looked at his face and pointed at the trembling Chloe: “Then why did she have to be so ruthless? Won’t stop until she kills someone?” Chloe’s tears fell like broken beads: “Since Dr. Foster wants to punish me, I admit my mistake.” “Scold me, Dr. Foster, just don’t involve others.” She sniffled and added: “But, can Dr. Foster be lenient?” “If I get disciplined… I won’t get my residency certificate.” Colleagues felt sorry for her and spoke up. “Why be so petty?” “Chloe didn’t mean it.” “Yeah, are you jealous of Chloe’s beauty and using public office to avenge private grudges?” They were always like this. Whenever something happened, they defended Chloe indiscriminately. That’s what emboldened her to do whatever she wanted, ignorant of the consequences. I interrupted them: “A millimeter of difference could lead to a patient dying on the table!” “My ‘pettiness’ is being responsible to the patient! Responsible to the white coat I wear!” “Besides, for kicking the OR door, firing her wouldn’t be excessive! Writing a reflection is letting her off easy!” “Making stupid mistakes but not wanting to take responsibility, wanting to have her cake and eat it too. Did she not graduate kindergarten?” Then I warned Chloe impatiently: “Go write your reflection. If you’re still crying and making a scene after my next surgery, you’ll bear the consequences!” With that, I turned and left. 4 The next surgery lasted over ten hours, ending only the next morning. Post-surgery, I was exhausted. Chloe led a group of people waiting at the OR door. As soon as I came out, she knelt before me with a thud. “Dr. Foster, I really had no ill intentions.” “Isn’t the patient fine?” “Even if it’s my fault, I’ve reflected deeply. Please don’t discipline me.” She was always like this, crying and playing the victim to escape responsibility after causing trouble. But I wouldn’t indulge her: “You don’t need to kneel to me. You should kneel to the patient’s family.” “If you know you’re wrong, you should accept the punishment.” I walked around her back to the office. After a whole night of surgery, my steps were unsteady and my vision dark. Just after changing, before I could rest, a nurse ran over urgently: “Something happened, Dr. Foster! You’re trending!” My eyelid twitched. Thinking of Chloe kneeling, I had a bad feeling. “What trend?” “Look at this… Intern doctor bullied, forced to kneel to senior.” The nurse anxiously handed me her phone. It was the video of Chloe kneeling to me, with nearly a million views. “When reporters went to interview Chloe, they caught her swallowing sleeping pills to commit suicide. She left a suicide note saying she was willing to die to appease Dr. Foster’s anger.” Would someone who really wanted to die cry and whitewash themselves in front of a camera? I downloaded the video to my phone to save as evidence: “Great acting. Much better than those pop idols.” The nurse said, “Dr. Foster, think of something! Maybe go hide for a while!” The office door was suddenly barged open. The Chief of Surgery walked in with a dark face. Looking like he was here to assign blame, clearly prepared. 5 “Dr. Aria Foster! I asked you to mentor the intern, not bully her!” “Hitting people, making them kneel. What do you think this hospital is? The mafia?” Looking at the Chief’s gloomy face, I said calmly: “Chief, do you know why I hit her? She…” Before I could finish, Dr. Harris cut in: “Chief, Chloe has been diligent since her internship started.” “When busy, she goes thirty-plus hours without sleep. Even when I tell her to rest, she refuses to leave her post.” “Because of heart pain from staying up late, she accidentally tripped and hit the OR door. She didn’t want Dr. Foster to misunderstand that she was interfering with the surgery.” “Chief, Dr. Foster treats interns like animals. Chloe is really too pitiful!” I didn’t want to bring up the mentoring issues publicly. But for the same workload, other interns finished in half an hour while Chloe couldn’t do it in five. Can she blame me for working overtime? At this time, Dr. Vaughn also stood up for Chloe. “Chief, it was an unintentional mistake.” “Dr. Foster not only misunderstood her and wanted to discipline her but also used her residency certificate to threaten her to kneel and apologize. It’s too excessive.” The Chief slammed the table, furious. “You’re saying Aria wanted to discipline her and threatened her with her residency certificate?” Dr. Vaughn nodded, looking at me unkindly: “Yes. Chloe has a soft personality and accepts things meekly. She thought it was her fault for upsetting Dr. Foster and swallowed sleeping pills to commit suicide. Fortunately, she was discovered in time, or we would never see her again.” I didn’t know if Dr. Vaughn and Dr. Harris truly couldn’t identify a “green tea” (a seemingly innocent but manipulative girl) or just liked her pitiful act, hence aiding the villain. Listening to them twisting the truth back and forth, I laughed in anger: “There’s surveillance outside the OR. A check will show who’s right or wrong. No need to slander me with such low-level lies…” Slap— The Chief raised his hand and slapped me, cutting off my unfinished words.

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After my boyfriend bought a new car, he suddenly got a “commuter buddy.” He drove her to work and back, rain or shine. This “buddy” also started decorating the car interior like she owned it. She put her favorite air fresheners in the car, threw away the flats I kept in the passenger seat, and replaced them with her size. One stormy day, I waited alone at my office entrance for an hour before my boyfriend leisurely drove up with his “buddy.” The girl sat in the passenger seat, smiling as she apologized to me: “Sorry, sis, I eat slowly and delayed your boyfriend from picking you up. Please don’t be mad.” Before I could speak, my boyfriend affectionately flicked her forehead: “Sarah is very mature, unlike you, needing to be coaxed just to eat. You’re like a child who won’t grow up.” 1 It was storming, lightning and thunder crashing outside. I stood at the entrance of my office building, anxiously waiting for my boyfriend, Ethan, to pick me up. In this extreme weather, Uber and Lyft were impossible to get. Colleagues around me were complaining about wait times of at least half an hour. With my car in the shop for maintenance, I suddenly felt grateful that I had bought a car for Ethan last month. At least in this moment, it was coming in handy. I waited and waited. Colleagues around me left one after another until I was the only one left. Finally, Ethan’s car leisurely approached from the distance. The window rolled down, and Ethan said to me, “Sarah, sorry for the wait.” Saying that, he unlocked the back door for me. “Hop in.” I leaned forward and realized there was already a girl with long hair and a round face sitting in the passenger seat. The rain was getting heavier, so I had to bend down and sit in the back, closing my umbrella as I got in. “Hey, water, water, water,” the girl in the passenger seat turned around, pointing at my closed umbrella, frowning as she reminded me, “Please put the umbrella directly by the door when you close it, otherwise the rain will get everywhere. This car was just bought a month ago, the seats are real leather.” Her tone, as if she were the owner, annoyed me. I’ve always been straightforward, so I looked at her with amusement. “Miss, this is my boyfriend’s car. Even if it gets soaked, it’s our business. What are you worried about?” The girl looked a bit embarrassed. Ethan quickly got in the car and admonished me, “She just cherishes our car and gave a kind reminder. Don’t be so fierce to her.” I looked at him. “So she is?” “Oh, her,” Ethan unbuckled his seatbelt. “I mentioned her to you. My commuter buddy, Zoe. Zoe works at my company and happens to live in our complex. Since it’s on the way, I give her a ride. Just doing a good deed.” Cars behind us were honking like crazy. Ethan was a bit rushed, but his seatbelt wouldn’t click in. Zoe leaned over and thoughtfully helped him buckle it. Only then did she turn sideways, smiling as she apologized to me, “I’m so sorry, Sarah. I shouldn’t have been this late. It’s all my fault for eating slowly and delaying your boyfriend from picking you up. Please don’t be mad.” “What are you thinking?” Ethan controlled the steering wheel with one hand and knocked her forehead with the other. “Sarah is much more mature than you. Unlike a certain ‘Little Chubby Zoe,’ who needs to be coaxed just to eat.” “I just didn’t have an appetite because of my period today,” Zoe retorted, reaching out to ruffle Ethan’s hair. “And I’ve told you so many times, don’t call me that in front of outsiders. I’m not chubby!” 2 Zoe indeed wasn’t fat. Just a bit of baby fat, making her look very naive and cute. When she puffed up her cheeks, Ethan even took the opportunity to pinch her face. The two of them flirted like no one else was there. I zoned out for a moment, savoring Zoe’s word “outsider.” Yes, right now I truly felt like an outsider. Oh no, “clown” would be more accurate. After Ethan got the car, I heard him mention his commuter buddy. “Sarah, no time for breakfast, I’m leaving first. Little Chubby Zoe is waiting for me at the gate.” “Little Chubby is getting off work late today, I’ll wait for her a bit, so I’ll be home late.” “Babe, Little Chubby Zoe from our company praised your sandwiches today, said she wants to taste your cooking again. Can you make an extra portion tomorrow?” Little Chubby, Little Chubby Zoe. I never thought this nickname would belong to a girl. For the past month, Ethan willingly acted as her free chauffeur. Picking up and dropping off Zoe every day, more punctual than Uber. Even in such terrible weather today, knowing I was waiting for him in the cold wind, he waited for Zoe to finish eating in the cafeteria before leisurely driving his commuter buddy to pick up me, his girlfriend. 3 Seeing my silence, Ethan asked with concern, “Sarah, why aren’t you talking?” “Sarah, are you frozen speechless?” Zoe also tilted her head, looking at me innocently. “On the way here, I checked the weather. It’s freezing today, and raining. In such cold weather, please don’t catch a cold, or I’ll feel guilty to death.” As soon as she finished speaking, I sneezed. “Really frozen?” Ethan observed my face through the rearview mirror, nagging incessantly. “You, your health is getting worse and worse. Just a little wind and you’re like this. I tell you to run with me every morning, but you’re never willing.” “I have Vitamin C here.” Zoe quickly took out a box of Vitamin C from her bag and handed it back to me. “Here, Ethan bought this for me. He said it boosts immunity. Sarah, take two quickly.” Ethan was a health nut and did have a habit of morning runs. When we first moved to this complex, Ethan was enthusiastic about asking me to run in the morning, but I refused every time with the excuse of sleeping in. Later, he just gave up. Every change of season, I caught colds easily, so Ethan would often stock up on Vitamin C for me. A few days ago, the vitamins at home ran out. I stared expressionlessly at the exquisitely packaged vitamins Zoe handed me. The Vitamin C Ethan bought for me was always the cheapest generic bottle from the pharmacy, two dollars a pop. I once complained it was too cheap, but he said cheap was enough, and expensive ones were just overpriced scams for fools. But what he bought for Zoe was imported stuff costing nearly a hundred dollars a bottle. Hmm, so my boyfriend is willing to be someone else’s fool? 4 I didn’t take the vitamins, but looked around. My gaze fell on the cushions. I like minimalist style. The solid-colored cushions originally in the car had all been replaced with blue Stitch cushions. I frowned and asked, “Where are the solid-colored cushions I bought?” “Those…” Ethan coughed lightly. “They’re all in the trunk.” Zoe said in surprise, “Huh? Were those cushions bought by you, Sarah? They were so ugly, I thought the dealership gave them away. I just threw them in the trash yesterday.” …Turns out people really laugh when they are speechless. I had been busy with work lately and hadn’t used this car. Until this moment, I didn’t realize the car’s interior had completely changed. In front of the passenger seat that originally belonged to me, Zoe had stuck a cartoon air freshener, emitting a cheap perfume smell. The charm I hung on the rearview mirror was wrapped with a colorful hair tie that didn’t belong to me. Even the nickname of the car system was changed from “Sarah’s Car” to “Ethan & Zoe’s Car.” The interior, changed beyond recognition, displayed the taste of Ethan’s commuter buddy everywhere. And I looked like an outsider hitching a ride. 5 Just then, Zoe looked at the GPS and pouted, complaining, “Traffic jams on rainy days are so annoying, especially detouring to pick someone up. Sitting in the car makes me want to change out of my heels.” Ethan naturally replied, “Then change. Aren’t your flats in the back?” Zoe nodded, pointing behind her seat and saying to me, “Sarah, pass me the flats behind this seat.” Following her direction, I saw a pair of white flats. My face instantly turned colder. “Where are the black flats I originally put here?” “Oh my, were those shoes yours, Sarah?” Zoe was surprised again. “I was wondering when a pair of such big and old-fashioned shoes appeared here. So sorry, Sarah, I accidentally threw those away too. How about I ask Ethan to buy you an identical pair?” Good, very good. I wanted to endure until we got home and then settle accounts with Ethan. But I never expected someone could be this shameless! If I could tolerate this, I’d change my last name to hers! “Change shoes, right?” I snatched two tissues from the box, bent down, and picked up those shoes as if picking up trash. Then I smashed them hard onto Zoe. “Fine, change! Change them!” “Ah—” Zoe screamed. Dodging, her face was scratched by the pointed toe of the shoe. Zoe immediately covered her wound in a panic. “Zoe!” Seeing this, Ethan stopped the car abruptly and leaned over to Zoe anxiously. “Are you hurt? Let me see.” Zoe moved her hand away from her face tearfully. “Ethan, am I disfigured? Boohoo, it hurts.” Seeing the scratch on Zoe’s chin, Ethan turned his head furiously to look at me. “Sarah, what do you want? Zoe just asked you to pass her shoes, why did you go crazy for no reason!” 5 (Continued) Without a word, I grabbed everything within reach and smashed it at Ethan, one after another. “Pass shoes, right? I’ve grown this big and haven’t even passed shoes to my own mother. What is she to deserve me passing her shoes? “I really gave you too much face, letting you two dance around in my car!” I paid for this car for Ethan. Last month, Ethan found a new job. Because he was still on probation, working 996 (9am-9pm, 6 days/week) was very hard. I felt sorry for him, so I paid for a new electric vehicle for him. New EVs have city driving assist and camping modes. Originally, I thought having this car would make his commute easier. And during lunch breaks, he could have a private space to rest. But I never expected he would turn around and find a commuter buddy, not only being inseparable every day but also letting this buddy play the green tea bitch (act innocent but manipulative) in front of me and show off. Seeing I was still relentless, Ethan raised an arm to shield Zoe, raising his voice. “Are you done yet? In the end, we are just commuting together, that’s all. “And I met her on the road twenty days ago. Seeing a little girl looking pitiful, I invited her to commute with me. She didn’t even ask for it!” Hearing this, I stopped and calmly picked up my bag that had fallen by the seat. “Oh, so just commuting together. Then make her get the hell out of the car now. She’s an eyesore.” “It’s raining outside. Do you have to make it difficult for a little girl?” Ethan said calmly. “Starting tomorrow, I promise she won’t be on my commute anymore.” “It’s raining outside, so what?” I chuckled, raising an eyebrow. “This is my car. Do I need to pick a lucky day to make an outsider get the hell out of my car?” Zoe, shielded behind Ethan, seemed angry. “Sarah, I heard from Ethan that you are five or six years older than us, almost thirty. “I don’t know if your menopause came early. “But if it really came early, take your meds. I’m not your punching bag.”

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Upon learning that the aloof senior I had a crush on was raising a zebra finch, I seized the opportunity to DM him. “Hey. Let me see your bird.” “Heard zebra finches are loud, is that true?” It took a long time for him to reply with a cold “Mm.” Just when I thought he didn’t like me and planned to give up, bullet screen comments (danmu) appeared before my eyes: [LMAO, the senior thought our girl wanted to see THAT bird. He finally convinced himself to take a mirror selfie, only to realize she meant the zebra finch. Sky falling moment.] [The senior is silent, only taking pictures of the bird. As for which bird, don’t worry about it for now.] 1 I had a crush on the campus heartthrob, Julian Thorne. But he was cold and unapproachable. I chased him relentlessly for over a year, outlasting wave after wave of competitors, and finally won! The title of “Simp King.” So what? My best friend Kenzie couldn’t stand it anymore and advised me: “If it really doesn’t work, let’s just switch to another handsome guy. Three-legged toads are hard to find, but two-legged men are everywhere!” That being said, Julian was truly handsome. Nearly 6’3″, broad shoulders, narrow waist, and a face that was flawlessly crafted. His brow bone was high, making his eyes look exceptionally deep. Even when he stared at you emotionlessly, you could somehow read a hint of affection in them. The first time I saw him at a competition, I made up my mind to catch him. But a year and a half later, I started to waver. Maybe we were just not meant to be. But before giving up, I wanted to try one last time, unwillingly. Coincidentally, I heard someone gave Julian a zebra finch, so I used it as an excuse to DM him. [Hey. Let me see your bird.] [Heard zebra finches are loud, is that true?] I swear! If he doesn’t reply in one minute! I’ll stop chasing him! Forget it, three minutes. Five minutes is my bottom line. Actually, ten minutes is also— Buzz. My phone vibrated suddenly. Julian finally replied! There’s still hope for us! “Hehe.” I opened my phone with a silly smile, but froze when I saw the content. [Mm.] Yes. Just this one word. Haha. Turns out I’m the clown in the circus. Maybe it really, really is time to say goodbye. I sighed deeply, planning to block Julian and say goodbye to this simp era. Suddenly, a bunch of comments appeared in mid-air. [LMAO, the senior thought our girl wanted to see THAT bird. He finally convinced himself to take a mirror selfie, only to realize she meant the zebra finch. Sky falling moment.] [The senior is silent, only taking pictures of the bird. As for which bird, don’t worry about it for now.] [Our girl missed the pink one just like that, hehe…] … I was dumbfounded. What are these comments? Is this my final fantasy as a simp? But thanks to the comments’ reminder, I belatedly realized how roguish my message to Julian was. But… Julian really took a photo? Tsk. This is getting interesting, folks. Blocking is postponed. I’ll chase a little longer. So, the me who was sad a second ago, happily sent another message to Julian the next second. [Senior, hurry up and send me the bird~] I meant the zebra finch, okay. After a long silence, he sent a bunch of pictures of the zebra finch. From all angles. Except there was a very abrupt photo sandwiched in the middle. It was a man’s mirror selfie. Must be the one the comments mentioned. I turned to look at the pink curtains. Mm. Same color. Strong visual impact. I was completely stunned, but didn’t forget to take a screenshot immediately. We American women have fast hands! Sure enough, the photo was recalled by Julian the next second. The man who was just cold and only sent monosyllables panicked completely. [I sent it by mistake!] [I’m not a pervert!] [Student Mia Wells, you shouldn’t have seen it, right?] I answered honestly: [Sorry, not only did I see it, I saved it too~] Julian went silent. Comments: [The male lead seems to be still there, but actually has been gone for a while.] [Hahaha, laughing so hard the little prince chopped himself into a little princess.] [Sigh, forget it, male lead just give in. You can’t beat her! After all, you two are the main characters of this book, destined to reach the bang-bang-bang stage sooner or later.] [Can we fast forward to the heroine helping the male lead raise the zebra finch, only to find out the finch is the male lead’s avatar, and then pulling feathers in the North Pole?] … Only then did I know that Julian and I were the main characters in a sweet romance novel with a touch of fantasy. Of course, according to international conventions, this is a spicy romance. No need to elaborate on how developed the “traffic” is in there, right? I opened my photo album and watched the saved picture repeatedly. Thinking that I could actually eat a man of Julian’s caliber in the future, the corners of my mouth went up uncontrollably. After admiring, I sent a message to Julian, still wanting more. [Help! I’m known as the pure jade girl in our village, they even built a chastity arch for me. Now every time I open my phone I see this kind of picture, how can I face people in the future! You must marry me.] Honestly, I was just joking, but the man who was just quiet and overwhelmed replied instantly. [Okay.] Me: ? No way, bro, this progress is a bit fast, isn’t it? Comments: [This is different from my first read?] [Male Lead: Been waiting for you to say that.] [No way, I still want to see the plot where our girl doesn’t know the finch is the male lead’s avatar and keeps petting it until the male lead can’t handle it! Author, don’t change the script!] … I swear. I absolutely didn’t do it because I wanted to experience that plot! I did it for the sake of these readers posting comments. So I decided— [Sorry, I was joking.] Julian froze. After a long time, he sent one word. [Oh.] Great, back to being cold. But I’ve already thought of a way to handle him. [As for this photo, how about you treat me to dinner and we chat about its destination in detail?] Yes. I’m threatening Julian. The boy panicked again, as expected. [Okay, what do you want to eat? I’ll make a reservation.] I happily mentioned a BBQ place I’d wanted to try for a long time, missing a comment floating by: [The male lead has wanted to ask our girl out for a long time, finally got his wish.] 2 In the BBQ restaurant, the already aloof Julian became even more silent because of the accidental photo sending. And I, who was wild online, became a bit timid in person, not knowing what to say, only staring blankly at the small red mole at the base of Julian’s middle finger. Mm. His fingers are so long. Comments: [Mia, you’re still looking!!! Wait until the senior holds you, taps that small mole on his finger base and asks if you can eat up to here, then you’ll behave.] [Finger play, huh? Good, good, good, I like to watch!] [Hard to imagine our girl who is so full of memes online having social anxiety in front of her crush.] … Huh? This little red mole has this function?! Worthy of a spicy HE (Happy Ending) sweet romance novel. Making people all shy. I covered my hot face, forcing myself not to imagine that scene. Julian suddenly spoke: “Student Mia, can I trouble you to delete that photo?” His voice was nice, like a clear stream in the mountains, lingering in the ears, tingly and numb, taking away some of the heat. But I wouldn’t agree to him so easily. After all— “If I delete it, what will I watch when I entertain myself at night?” I swear, I originally intended to say this in my heart. But looking up at Julian’s waveless iceberg face, I got a burst of fire. Yes. In the lower abdomen. I wanted to make him blush so badly, and in my excitement, my mouth was faster than my brain. Julian froze, as if he didn’t understand what I meant, his narrow eyes staring straight at me. I didn’t dodge. After a while, pink crept up his ears. He unnaturally avoided my gaze, coughing lightly with one hand clenched into a fist against his lips. “Mia.” Julian called me softly, without the coldness on the phone. I raised my eyebrows, signaling him to speak. He pursed his lips before whispering four words. “That’s not good.” Comments: [You have such a cute male lead entering America.] [Still saying “that’s~ not~ good~”, actually blossoming with joy inside, what a poser.] [Hahaha, our girl is too bold, laughing so hard the little princess sprouted into a little prince!] … I blinked, suppressing the smile amused by the comments, and lowered my head pretending to be disappointed: “Oh… if you don’t like it, I won’t say it in the future…” “I don’t dislike it!” Julian hurriedly denied. Realizing what he said, he paused, put away his emotions, returned to his usual indifferent appearance, and inexplicably changed his words: “It’s fine if you think I don’t like it, as long as… you don’t say it again in the future.” Hearing the sudden loneliness and melancholy in his words, I scratched my head in confusion. Why did we suddenly switch to the “If Melancholy is a Talent” channel? Wasn’t I flirting with him? Fortunately, the comments answered my doubts. [The senior is insecure again, afraid our girl will treat him as a monster after knowing the zebra finch is his avatar, so he dares not respond to her love.] So that’s it. Tsk. Julian really overthought it. I don’t care at all. Especially after seeing that picture, I find it even more interesting. But I didn’t show it. After all, insecurity is the best cosmetic for a handsome guy! 3 I didn’t respond to Julian’s words, just pretended to be sad and kept eating BBQ with my head down. Julian stayed silent at first, but as time passed bit by bit, the atmosphere at the table became more and more oppressive. Finally, after I deliberately sniffled, he spoke. With careful probing. “Do you still want to see the zebra finch?” I looked up at him, my eyes teary because I deliberately hadn’t blinked for a long time: “Did you bring it?” “No, but I’ll be quite busy starting tomorrow and won’t have time to take care of it. Could I trouble you to come over and help me take care of it?” Julian said seriously. But the comments went crazy. [Excuse!!! Obviously he likes our girl too much but is insecure and afraid to approach, so he can only retreat to using the zebra finch avatar to make contact!] [The senior pretends to be busy to cover his lie, making room for our girl and the zebra finch, while he can only stay in the stairwell every day hahaha.] [The senior looks calm, but his hand under the table is shaking the whole time.] … I looked up. Julian was looking at me calmly, waiting for my answer. But if you looked closely, you could see the uncontrollable nervousness in his eyes. “I refuse—” The nervousness in the handsome guy’s eyes turned into sadness. “—Not.” Sadness turned into joy. Julian smiled subconsciously, revealing a very cute little canine tooth. A stark contrast to his usual aloof appearance. I was slightly stunned seeing it. He seemed to realize it too, restraining his smile, and said faintly: “Thank you.” 4 Back in the dorm after dinner, Kenzie leaned in with a gossip face. “How was it? Did you guys kiss?” Me: ? “Not that fast!” Kenzie pouted regretfully. Just as she was about to say something, another roommate, Sarah, spoke first: “Kiss? With whom? Not Julian Thorne, right?” She paused, looked me up and down mockingly, and said rudely: “Keep dreaming, you’re not worthy.” Sarah had also chased Julian, but gave up not long after because she couldn’t stand his coldness, choosing another boy in the same major instead. But she still held inexplicable hostility towards me, always interrupting when Kenzie and I chatted to belittle me. Luckily. Kenzie had strong combat power. “Damn, if you’re blind, go get treated, okay? Our Mia has the face and the body. Not worthy of that dead iceberg Julian? She’s worthy of him eight hundred times over and around the corner! Not worthy? She’s too good for him!” Actually, I wasn’t as good as Kenzie said. Even though I’m the heroine in this novel, the author, like many other creators of female-oriented novels, put a lot of effort into shaping the male lead Julian. I am ordinary, average, so I also felt inferior on the road to pursuing Julian. But whenever I felt inferior, Kenzie would encourage me without hesitation. Not encouraging me to continue chasing love, but encouraging me to be confident. “Everyone has their own shining points. Julian just has an advantage in looks. You have over twenty thousand fans with your drawings, you’re not bad either! Why feel inferior?”

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I spent three years playing the role of the devoted, brainless shadow to Gavin. He hated using protection. Every time, after it was over, he would sit on the edge of the bed with his bare back to me—a canvas of red scratches I’d left behind—and light a cigarette. He’d say, with the air of a man bestowing a great mercy: “What are you worried about? If you get pregnant, we’ll just get married.” A month later, I stared at the two pink lines on the plastic stick. I didn’t tell him. Instead, I ghosted him—a clean, clinical, cliff-edge break. Later, he ran into me at a women’s health clinic. I was leaning against a wall, my hand resting on my baby bump, chatting with another woman in the waiting room. “Don’t let the drama fool you,” I was saying. “I cried like the world was ending when we broke up, but actually having his child? I wouldn’t dare. I know the difference between crying into a pillow and crying over a crying baby. Dating is one thing, but I’ve got someone else in mind for the ’till death do us part’ stuff.” 1 The day I found out I was pregnant, I went to the private lounge where Gavin usually hung out. I was about to push the door open when I heard the guys inside debating which brand of condoms felt the most natural. Someone laughed. “Ask Gavin. He’s got a steady girl; he’s the expert.” There was a pause, and then I heard Gavin’s voice, lazy and dismissive. “Condoms? Never use ’em.” The room went quiet for a beat. “Not once? Aren’t you worried about Mia getting pregnant?” Gavin flicked a lighter. I could practically hear the smoke curling around his words. “It’s fine. She’s a good girl. She always remembers to take the pill afterwards.” The guys erupted. “Man, you’ve got her trained well.” Gavin let out a low, amused huff. “She’s not just ‘good.’ I’ve had her every which way. I know every freckle on her body better than she does.” “But seriously, Gav,” someone pressed, “what if she actually turns up pregnant? What then?” Gavin hesitated, his voice slowing down. “If it happens, it happens. We get married. Mia’s easy to live with. We fit. If I have to settle down, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to do it with her.” Someone teased him. “If I remember right, you used to swap girls like you swap watches. You’re really ready to retire for one girl?” Gavin gave a noncommittal shrug. “Well, she’s not pregnant yet, is she? I’m not losing sleep over the long term. If I get bored, I’ll just find a polite way to end it. She’ll listen. She’s got that people-pleasing streak. Every time we argue, she doesn’t blame me; she immediately wonders what she did wrong and comes crawling back to apologize. Last time, I wanted to try something in the car and she said no. I just threatened to break up, and she folded instantly.” A chorus of whistles followed. “Damn, she’s that easy?” Gavin’s voice softened slightly, but it wasn’t out of love. It was the tone of a collector talking about a fragile antique. “She’s too naive. That’s why I can’t let anyone else have her. She’d get eaten alive out there. She’s a crier. If she were with a real prick, she’d cry herself hoarse. She’s better off with me where I can keep an eye on her.” “Sounds like you’re running a charity, Gav,” someone joked. “But you better watch her. With a face like Mia’s, plenty of guys are waiting for a turn. She looks like a saint but she’s built like a sin. If she were mine, I’d never leave the house.” Gavin’s tone went cold. “Keep dreaming. You wouldn’t stand a chance.” He seemed to drift off then, his voice turning reflective. “But she is… pure. No matter how many times we do it, she cries like it’s the first time. Honestly, the thought of leaving her… I’m not sure I’m ready for that.” The guys started ribbing him about becoming a romantic, but then someone dropped the heavy question. “Seriously though, Gav. If she’s pregnant, do you really settle down? I thought you only started seeing her to spite Sloane. And I heard Sloane just broke up with her guy. She’s working at your firm now, isn’t she? Isn’t this your chance?” This time, Gavin didn’t answer. He just stared at the floor, the cherry of his cigarette glowing bright and then fading in the dark. 2 I looked at the two lines on the test. I hadn’t actually gone to the club to tell him I was pregnant. A friend had called saying he was wasted and needed a ride. But seeing Gavin lose himself in the thought of Sloane… it actually felt like a relief. The truth was, the moment I saw that positive test, I started planning our exit. Everyone knew Gavin only picked me because of Sloane. There’s a specific kind of person in this world—someone who has never known a day of hunger, never felt the sting of a real loss. Their words have this airy, “let them eat cake” quality to them. That was Sloane. She was my college roommate. Every morning, she’d look in the mirror, pump her fists, and whisper, “Good morning, Sloane! You are a ray of sunshine! Today is going to be amazing!” When Gavin chased her in college, it was a circus. Roses, designer bags, jewelry—he threw money at her like it was confetti. She’d mention she liked a certain brand of vintage gold, and the next day, a necklace worth three years of my tuition would be sitting on her desk. Gavin was the sun. When he walked into a lecture hall, phones came out. He didn’t care. He’d just lean against the doorframe in his Arc’teryx jacket, looking like a model, waiting for Sloane. He was perfect, down to the last strand of his dark hair. The first time I saw him, he was confessing his love to her. He had that half-European look—sharp jawline, high bridge of the nose, a smirk that suggested he knew exactly how much he was worth. And he was worth a lot. At the homecoming gala, the Dean sat with Gavin’s father in the VIP section. His elegance wasn’t something he bought; it was in his DNA. Gavin and Sloane were the protagonists of this world. Everything good was destined for them. And me? I was the girl with the dead mother, the gambling addict father, the sick grandmother, and three part-time jobs. I was the “broken beauty” of the campus, the one everyone felt sorry for but no one actually wanted to be. I was a footnote in their story. Sloane once asked me why I worked three jobs. “Because I need the money,” I said, my voice flat. She rolled her eyes. “Just ask your dad. Why are you acting like the world is on your shoulders? It’s so depressing.” How do you explain a life like mine to a girl like her? “My dad is the reason the world is on my shoulders,” I said quietly. Because she had never suffered, she didn’t want the billionaire’s son. She wanted the “real” experience. She fell for a broke athlete with a massive ego who fed her sweet lies and gave her nothing but cheap sentiments. Every Valentine’s Day, he’d pick a fight and break up with her, only to crawl back two days later. She didn’t see the pattern. But I knew money. I knew he was just avoiding the cost of a gift. I tried to warn her once. She looked at me with pity. “Mia, you’re so cynical. Do you think everyone is bad just because… you’ve never been truly loved? Are you just jealous?” I never spoke up again. One afternoon, I walked past Gavin’s Porsche. He was throwing a bouquet of lilies on the ground, his face twisted in a sneer. “You’re dating him and you didn’t tell me? You like playing games that much?” Sloane lifted her chin. “Gavin, you only know how to throw money at things. You don’t know the first thing about love.” I expected him to look hurt. He didn’t. He laughed—a dry, self-deprecating sound. “I don’t need to know,” he said, catching sight of me standing a few feet away. He crooked a finger. “Hey. You. I’ll give you whatever you want. Come love me.” I froze. A long moment passed before I heard my own voice. “Okay.” I thought I was helping Sloane get rid of a nuisance. But her face went pale with rage. “Mia, you’re really that pathetic? You’ll take my leftovers?” I didn’t defend myself. I just knew my grandmother’s hospital bill was due, and my father’s bookie was calling. I needed money. I needed enough money to pull myself out of the mud. 3 Gavin was good to me, in his own way. My father never showed up at campus again—Gavin handled him, though I never asked how. My grandmother was moved to a private suite in the city’s best hospital. Every day, the nurses sent me photos of her smiling in the garden. He made my problems vanish with a swipe of his black card. He made me quit my jobs. He showered me with gifts—handbags, custom jewelry, and when I mentioned I wanted to learn about finance, he hired a private tutor. Because of him, I learned how to read balance sheets and manage investments. I wasn’t just spending his money; I was learning how to make my own. Outside of that, we were a normal couple. We hugged, we kissed, we went to hotels. The first time we were together, I remember the cool line of his shoulder in the moonlight. When he leaned down to kiss me, the silver chain around his neck brushed against his collarbone, swaying with his rhythm. My heart hammered so hard I thought I’d faint. He chuckled against my lips. “Silly girl. Remember to breathe.” Gavin’s appetite was voracious, and I learned to play the part he wanted. He hated condoms, so I took the pills. He wanted excitement, so I followed him to whatever daring location he chose. But he was still a dog. Even with me, the women never stopped. His Instagram was a revolving door of models. At parties, women clung to his arm, and he never brushed them off. Some even called my phone, their voices dripping with provocation. I cried about it once. He looked at me like I was a stranger. “I’m dating you, Mia, I’m not joining a monastery. If you can’t handle it, fine. Let’s break up. I’ll find someone who can.” After that, I became “good.” I stopped asking questions. But I wasn’t as obedient as he thought. I was a woman with needs, and Gavin was rich and incredibly attractive. He was a great choice for a phase of my life. He had charisma. He had saved me when I was at my lowest. I was grateful, and for a while, I genuinely loved him. But that was the problem. He was born at the top of the pyramid. He didn’t know how to love because he had never had to sacrifice for it. He could mimic it, though. When we were in bed and I’d whisper that he was hurting me, he’d cradle my face and kiss me over and over, telling me he loved me. He was a spoiled, beautiful beast. As long as you stroked his fur the right way, he’d stay. But I was twenty-seven now. I couldn’t play forever. I was just waiting for the right moment to walk away. 4 The morning after the club, Gavin called. His voice was thick with sleep. “Mia, bring those files to the office. I need them for the board meeting.” At the office, I ran into Sloane. She was wearing a cheap, faded blazer, clutching a stack of papers. Her hair was pulled back tight, but she couldn’t hide the hollow look in her eyes. A friend had told me her father’s business had collapsed and her “soulmate” athlete had run off with her remaining savings. Now, she was a junior clerk at Gavin’s firm. She didn’t even have the security clearance to see him. She stared at me, her mouth dropping open. “Mia? You look… so different. You used to be…” “Mia, where are my files?” Gavin’s voice cut through the air. He walked up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and resting his chin on my head. It was a gesture of practiced intimacy. Sloane watched him—the man she had rejected, now powerful and untouchable—and her knuckles turned white as she gripped her papers. Gavin never showed affection in the office. I knew exactly why he was doing it now. He was performing for her. The second time I saw her was on our five-year anniversary. Gavin booked a corner table at the most expensive steakhouse in the city. Halfway through dinner, he said, “I asked Sloane to drop by. You don’t mind, do you?” I blinked, startled. He smiled. “Don’t be nervous. I just want her to take some photos of us. She’s got a good eye.” When Sloane arrived, Gavin pulled me close. He took my phone and handed it to her. “Make us look good.” He kept his eyes on me, tucking a stray hair behind my ear, his thumb lingering on my cheek. Sloane’s hands were shaking as she held the phone. The sight seemed to thrill him. He hooked an arm around my waist, pulling me into his chest. “Smile, baby. It’s been five years.” His breath caught the shell of my ear. He looked like he was about to kiss me, but I could feel his focus shifting. He was watching her out of the corner of his eye. “Enough…” Sloane suddenly dropped the phone. Her voice broke, and tears began to stream down her face. “Gavin, I know I was stupid. I know I rejected you. But why do you have to be so cruel? You’re doing this on purpose—being this way with her just to make me watch. Do you enjoy seeing me regret it? We’ve known each other forever… why do you have to hurt me like this?” She was trembling, her eyes wide with misery. Gavin’s body went rigid. His grip on my shoulder tightened until it was painful. Sloane threw my phone onto the floor and ran out of the restaurant. Gavin swore under his breath. “Damn it.” He pushed me aside, grabbed his coat, and chased after her. I knelt down and picked up my phone. The screen was shattered. On our five-year anniversary, Gavin left me standing there alone.

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On the day of our three-year anniversary, my otherwise surgically precise, clean-freak doctor boyfriend, Greg, surprised me by coming home early. He wanted to cook a grand meal for me himself. But when I returned to our apartment, the place was empty. My call went straight to voicemail, and he texted back an apology. Emergency surgery, he explained. He’d been called back to the hospital to scrub in. I ended up microwaving a pathetic frozen lasagna for one. Later that night, after I’d finished eating in the quiet apartment, I saw a new post on Instagram from Summer Fields, one of the resident interns at Greg’s hospital. The photo was close-up: a pair of pale, delicate feet resting on a velvet cushion. Beside them, a set of defined, surgeon’s knuckles held a cotton swab, carefully tending to an injury. I knew those hands. I knew the way they held a scalpel, the way they checked my designs, the way they had intertwined with mine for the last three years. Summer’s caption read: “My mentor says it’ll be a long recovery for this sprained ankle. What will I ever do? Waaah.” I watched the likes and heart emojis pile up, and suddenly, all the tension just left my body, replaced by a profound, weary flatness. I pressed the ‘Like’ button and commented, perfectly calm: “Considering the bedside service, should I start prepping for the bridal shower?” 1 It took less than three minutes for a dedicated ringtone to rip through the silence. Greg Elliott. I answered, laid the phone on the desk, and continued modifying my design draft on the computer. It was a silver filigree pin, its fluid lines inspired by the architectural geometry of a place Greg had once taken me—a memory I now found myself mentally dissecting. “Kendall Blair! What the hell is that supposed to mean?” His voice was strained, pressed through his teeth, barely contained. “Delete that comment, now!” I nudged my mouse, zoomed in on a detail of the pin, and adjusted a curve. “Do you know the entire department is laughing at me? You completely humiliated me! My reputation is shot!” His voice grew louder, thick with the indignation of a man whose control had been publicly challenged. “Why are you being so dramatic?” I stopped working, leaned back in my chair, and looked out at the darkening city sky. The city lights were coming on. Usually, at this hour, I’d be bustling around the kitchen, timing dinner for when his rigorously punctual SUV pulled into the garage. “Can’t you just be a little more mature?” He began his usual lecture. I picked up the phone, held it to my ear, and said softly: “Greg Elliott.” He hesitated. He hadn’t expected me to use his full name, or to sound so utterly devoid of emotion. “I’m tired,” I said. “I’m going to go to bed early.” Then, before he could form a response, I hung up. The phone immediately started ringing again, relentlessly. I didn’t answer. I powered it down, unplugged the charging cord, and tossed it into a drawer. The whole world instantly went quiet, leaving only the sound of my own breathing and the distant hum of traffic outside. On the screen, the unfinished pin design shimmered with a cold, elegant light. I stared at it for a long time, then picked up my stylus and deleted the single, small dewdrop I had originally designed to cling to the silver filigree. No dewdrop. The pin stood alone. It didn’t need any flourish to justify itself. 2 The faint sound of a key turning in the lock came from the front door. He was home. My stylus didn’t stop moving. I was now sketching the fine detail of a ring band. After I’d deleted that metaphorical dewdrop the night before, the entire design had felt like it came alive. The ideas were flowing, unobstructed. Greg walked in, bringing with him the familiar scent of disinfectant and exhaustion. He hung his blazer on the hall rack, his movements precise and methodical. I didn’t turn around. I heard him change his shoes, followed by the long, unbroken sound of running water—he was washing his hands, from wrist to fingertip, over and over, his habitual ritual. Finally, his footsteps stopped right behind me. “About yesterday.” He spoke, his voice carrying the tone of a superior offering a condescending truce. “Summer is just a young resident, fresh out of school. She twisted her ankle. As her mentor, it’s completely normal for me to help with a minor wound dressing.” He said it so casually, as if stating an indisputable medical fact. I simply hummed in acknowledgement, zooming in on the design to check the structure of a prong setting. He clearly hadn’t anticipated that reaction. He paused, then his voice gained a sharp edge of impatience: “Your comment on social media created a huge problem. The whole floor is talking. How am I supposed to manage the residents now? You’ve made me look ridiculous.” My pen slipped, distorting the line. I pressed ‘Undo,’ and started again. “She’s just an intern. She has a fragile personality. Why are you making a fuss over her?” Seeing my continued silence, he raised his voice again, using that tone I knew so well—the impatient, irritated cross-examination. “Can’t you just be mature about this?” I finally put down the pen, swiveled my chair, and faced him. He was wearing an immaculately pressed white shirt. His eyes, behind the gold-rimmed glasses, were heavy with fatigue and a distinct irritation that his schedule had been disrupted. He had probably planned an entire speech: a mixture of calm reassurance, mild chastisement, and ultimately, a path for me to admit my fault, allowing him to be the magnanimous one who Greged forgiveness. It had been our fixed script for three years. Unfortunately, I wasn’t playing the part tonight. “Are you finished?” I asked. He looked stunned, as if I’d spoken in a foreign language. “Because if you are, I need to get back to work.” I gave him a brief nod, a courtesy acknowledgment, then turned my chair back around and picked up my pen. “The deadline is tight.” He just stood there behind me. I could feel his gaze—cold and sharp. The air was so still I could hear the faint hiss of the humidifier misting the room. It was a long time later, after I had drawn the final polishing line on the ring, that he spoke again. His voice was cold, flat, carrying the non-negotiable tone of a physician issuing a command. “Stop drawing.” He said, “The Chair is hosting an important dinner this weekend. You need to prepare to attend with me.” 3 I didn’t even look up at him. I simply rotated the ring on the tablet screen and replied calmly: “I can’t this weekend. I have plans.” The air went silent for about three seconds. In those three seconds, I could perfectly picture the look of sheer disbelief on Greg’s face. “Plans?” he repeated, the word twisted into an absurd interrogation. “With who?” “Phoebe Davies,” I said. “We booked this weeks ago.” “Cancel it.” He clipped the word out, treating it like a mandatory medical order. “You know how important this dinner is for you. The Chair’s wife admires your design work. I went to great lengths to secure you this access.” Oh, he helped me. He made it sound like a selfless act for my career. In the past, I might have felt a rush of grateful tears, but now, I just found it vaguely insulting. This opportunity felt less like a gift and more like a prop—one he’d handed me so I could play the part of the ‘respectable, agreeable girlfriend’ in his elite social circle. I finally raised my head and looked straight at him. “Save your effort for dressing your resident’s wounds. I told you, I have plans with Phoebe. I’m not canceling.” His brows furrowed into a tight knot. The gold-rimmed glasses couldn’t hide the temper that was beginning to boil up behind the lenses. He was used to my compliance, my ‘It’s okay, I understand.’ He was used to the routine where he’d toss me a small reward and I’d gratefully snap it up. “Kendall Blair.” He weighted my full name heavily. “What is with this attitude? You’re going to throw away this kind of opportunity for a pointless night out? Can’t you just be mature for once?” There was that phrase again. I didn’t reply. Just then, his phone rang. Sharp, intrusive. He glanced at the caller ID, his brow instinctively twitching, and walked onto the small balcony to answer. His voice was a low murmur, but I still caught a few key phrases: “Supply closet,” “locked from the outside,” “stay calm.” I kept still, putting on an earring. A few minutes later, he returned, snatching up his car keys. “Summer got locked in the hospital’s supply closet. She has claustrophobia. I have to go deal with this, now.” His words were clipped, an urgent notification that left no room for discussion. I watched him in the mirror, silent. He must have anticipated a breakdown or a fight because he added, impatiently: “The dinner is important. Take a cab and call me when you get there.” The door slammed shut with a sharp CRACK. My phone buzzed. A text message, as concise as a surgical report: Summer emergency. Dinner you drive. G. He hadn’t even bothered with punctuation. I looked at my reflection and slowly, I smiled. I picked up my phone and called Phoebe. “So, what’s the verdict? Are you going to that boring old doctor shindig or not? If you bail, I swear I’ll drive over and cut up that fancy dress of yours!” Phoebe’s voice was loud and excited on the other end. “He left,” I said. “He went to rescue his junior resident. He told me to go by myself.” Silence stretched for three full seconds, then erupted into a thunderous laugh: “Hahaha! Fate, Kenna! The universe is handing you the damn knife! Go! You have to go! Put on the ‘Soliloquy’ and slay the whole damn room! Let him see that you can fly without him as a crutch!” I hung up, walked to my closet, and pulled out the garment bag holding the dress I’d prepared for this evening. The dress was called “The Soliloquy.” A floor-length gown of moon-white silk, sharply tailored, with a scattered belt of tiny, pale blue sapphires tracing a winding star river across the waist. It was my most ambitious work, and originally, my armor to announce my status as “Greg Elliott’s girlfriend.” Now, it was just Kendall Blair’s armor. 4 The moment I walked into the grand ballroom alone, I drew every eye. No one recognized me, but they were all curious about the woman who arrived solo, yet held a self-possession that easily dominated the space. I didn’t gravitate toward a corner. I walked directly to the buffet, poured myself a flute of champagne, and took a slow sip. “Ms. Blair?” a kindly, cultured voice asked. I turned and saw a distinguished gentleman standing with an elegant woman in a cheongsam. I recognized them instantly: Dr. Lee, the hospital’s Chair, and his wife. “Dr. Lee, Mrs. Lee.” I smiled and gave a slight nod. “Where is Greg? Why did you come alone?” Dr. Lee asked. “He had an urgent surgical consult. A doctor’s life, you know—it’s never truly his own.” I dismissed it lightly, my voice devoid of any complaint. Mrs. Lee, however, was focused on my brooch. “That ‘Morning Star’ pin is extraordinary. Did you design it?” “I did,” I said, smiling. “It’s my pleasure.” We fell into an easy conversation that flowed from jewelry design to the latest art exhibitions, from Paris fashion trends to the specific needlework of the embroidery on her dress. Mrs. Lee found me so engaging that she insisted on introducing me to her friend, a prominent gallery owner. I had become the focus of the room. I was no longer anyone’s appendage. I was Kendall Blair, the designer. Just as the atmosphere reached its peak, the heavy ballroom doors swung open. Greg stood in the doorway, looking disheveled. His blazer was crumpled over his arm, his shirt collar was undone, and his face was etched with the fatigue and anxiety of having just dealt with a ‘crisis.’ His eyes instantly found me in the center of the crowd. I was holding a champagne flute, laughing easily with the Chair and his wife. The light hit me, making me look more luminous than he had ever seen me. He stared at me, his eyes wide with a confusion and loss of control I’d never witnessed. He looked like a late, irrelevant supporting actor, while the spotlight of the entire stage was fixed only on me.

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“Did you put this proposal together? Then you present it.” Mr. Thompson, the client, flipped the PowerPoint to slide seventeen, pointing to a diagram of a reverse logistics workflow that had cost me three all-nighters. A two-second silence dropped over the conference room. Beau Miller’s practiced smile evaporated. She glanced at me. I didn’t move. “Uh… well…” she fumbled with the printed handouts in her hand, “This section mainly addresses…” The client cut her off, his voice flat. “Slide seventeen. The reverse algorithm for the distribution nodes—what’s the derivation?” Beau’s face went bone-white. I picked up my water glass and took a slow sip. 1. The story really starts three months earlier. I didn’t know it then, but the sharpest knife in corporate life is often delivered with a smile. It was early March when our firm, Ascend Consulting, landed the big lead. Apex Retail Group, the largest chain retailer on the East Coast, was looking to overhaul its entire omni-channel supply chain. If we signed this deal, it was easily a thirty-million-dollar contract. Mr. Davies, our CEO, was practically glowing when he announced it at the morning meeting. “I’m putting Beau Miller in charge of the account,” he said, looking at the seat next to mine. “Beau’s been with us for two years. It’s time for her to step up and lead.” Beau stood up, composed and charming. “Thank you for the trust, Mr. Davies. I’ll give it everything I have.” I sat beside her, keeping my expression neutral. It was expected. Beau was the CEO’s wife’s niece—it was an open secret in the office. But the next sentence stunned me. “For the technical architecture, Paige, I want you to be the lead writer.” I looked up. “You’ve been in supply chain consulting for five years, Paige Harrington. Your experience is unmatched,” Mr. Davies continued. “This project is critical to the firm. The solution has to be flawless.” Beau’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second. Then, she instantly recovered. “That’s fantastic. Paige is incredibly experienced. I’m eager to learn from you.” “Sure,” I nodded. After the meeting, I returned to my desk. I opened my laptop and created a new folder: Apex Project. I had no idea that this single folder would become the most expensive lesson of my career. — Apex’s requirements were brutal. They needed to integrate online and physical retail, achieving shared inventory, coordinated order fulfillment, and intelligent replenishment. Simple in theory, lethal in execution. I started living at the office. The first week, I visited three of Apex’s warehouses, two fulfillment centers, and interviewed a dozen department heads. Every night, I’d return to the office, transcribe audio, diagram workflows, and write up interview summaries. I dropped eight pounds that week. Beau? She was in charge of “Project Coordination.” Her actual work involved: forwarding my documents to the client, and forwarding the client’s feedback back to me. Occasionally, she’d write a line in her weekly report: “Maintained close communication with client to ensure smooth project progression.” I didn’t say anything. After five years in consulting, I’d seen every variety of corporate bloat. As long as she didn’t interfere with my work, I wasn’t going to rock the boat. — By the third week, the proposal framework was complete. An 87-slide deck, 38 workflow diagrams, and 12 data models. I sent the proposal to Beau, with a courtesy copy to Mr. Davies. “Beau, the initial draft is ready. Review it. We have the internal critique on Wednesday.” Ten minutes later, Beau replied: Got it! So much appreciation, Paige! At the Wednesday internal review, I presented for forty minutes. From current state analysis to pain points, from the solution architecture to the implementation roadmap, from budget breakdown to risk mitigation. When I finished, Mr. Davies nodded. “The proposal is solid. Beau, when can we schedule the client presentation?” Beau said, “I have a good rapport with Mr. Thompson’s executive assistant. I should be able to get us in next week.” “Good.” Mr. Davies looked at me. “Paige, polish the proposal further. Take the details to the absolute limit.” Fine, I thought. I stayed at the office until 2 a.m. that night. I verified every number in the proposal and checked every piece of logic. When I finally sent the final, final version to Beau, I glanced at the clock. 2:47 a.m. Beau’s latest social media post, uploaded at 8 p.m., read: “Grinding keeps me happy! Just another late night for this office warrior. #ConsultingLife” The photo was a flat lay of a Starbucks cup and an open laptop. The screen of the laptop showed the title slide of my proposal. I stared at the post for three seconds. Then I closed the app. — The following Monday, Beau approached me. “Paige, we’re presenting the proposal to the client on Wednesday. I want to familiarize myself with the content beforehand, just so I can introduce it properly.” I sent her the source file. “Thank you!” she smiled brightly. “Don’t worry, Paige. When I present, I’ll make sure to highlight all the incredible work you’ve done.” I told her not to bother; she could just lead it. I hated being in the spotlight anyway; my job was to build the best solution. That was my first mistake. On Wednesday, the presentation day. I was planning to attend. But that morning, Mr. Davies gave me an urgent assignment: revise the technical section of another client’s proposal. It was due that day. “Beau can handle Apex alone. It’s straightforward,” Mr. Davies said. Fine, I said. I spent the day revising the other proposal, working straight through until 4 p.m. Beau returned then. Her face was flushed with excitement. “Paige! We nailed it! The client loved it!” I managed a tight smile. “That’s great.” “Mr. Thompson said our proposal was incredibly professional, clear logic, solid data,” Beau chirped, setting down her bag. “He said right there, in the room, that we were eighty percent certain to get the contract.” “So, follow-up on the next phase—” “Don’t worry, Paige, I’ll take it from here,” Beau cut in. “You did so much heavy lifting up front. Just hand the rest off to me.” I nodded. At the time, I thought: Beau might be light on skill, but her attitude is okay. Later, I realized some people only have a good attitude when they still need you. — By the sixth week, the Apex contract was officially signed. At the signing ceremony, Mr. Davies posted on his professional network: “Thrilled to announce Ascend Consulting’s partnership with Apex Retail Group on their supply chain transformation. Huge congratulations to Project Lead Beau Miller for her hard work and leadership!” The photo was Beau shaking hands with Mr. Thompson. I scrolled past the post while sitting at my desk, drafting the PPT for Phase Two of the proposal. The comments section was full of colleagues praising Beau: “Strong leader,” “Future CEO,” “Power Woman.” Beau replied to all of them: Oh, it was a team effort! I didn’t like the post. I didn’t comment. I told myself that getting credit was irrelevant. After five years in consulting, it was normal for the Project Manager’s name to be on the deck. What I needed was experience, skill, and a strong resume. Reputation, I told myself, was secondary. That was my second mistake. — The seventh week, the shift happened. On Thursday afternoon, I walked toward the break room for water. Passing the small conference room, I heard voices. It was Beau. “…Yes, I was definitely the primary driver for the architecture. Paige just helped with the execution side…” I stopped. “Really? I heard Paige has five years of consulting experience,” the other voice—Janice from Admin—asked. “What’s experience without vision?” Beau scoffed. “She’s a doer, an executor. I set the framework, and she just fills in the content. Do you really think I couldn’t have made an 87-slide deck if I hadn’t slept?” “I guess you’re right…” “Plus, she’s just not a people person. Look at the signing event—she didn’t even like Mr. Davies’s post,” Beau lowered her voice conspiratorially. “Total low emotional intelligence.” I stood outside the door, my hand gripping my water cup tightly. Three seconds later, I turned and walked away. I didn’t go in. I told myself: Let it go. People will talk. I can’t control it. I’ll just focus on my work. That was my third mistake. — The eighth week, the company’s quarterly awards gala. The “Outstanding Employee” award went to Beau Miller. Mr. Davies personally presented the award. “Beau demonstrated exceptional performance on the Apex Project. Her professional presentation and client management skills secured a huge win for the firm.” The applause was deafening. Beau went to the stage, took the mic, and her voice wavered slightly. “Thank you for this recognition, and thank you, Mr. Davies, for believing in me. I truly worked countless late nights on this project. There were times I thought I couldn’t push through…” Someone from the crowd shouted, “Go, Beau!” I sat in the back corner, my face blank. Countless late nights? I checked the memo on my phone. Apex Project, my recorded overtime: 47 sessions. Left the office after midnight: 31 times. All-nighters: 6 times. Beau? I thought back. Her latest departure was around 9 p.m. That night, she posted that she was a “work martyr” with a photo of the office lights. That light was from my desk. 2. Three days after the gala, Mr. Davies called me into his office. “Paige, the firm is setting up a new Consulting Center. We need to standardize and replicate the Apex Project success.” I nodded. “I want Beau to head this center,” Mr. Davies looked at me. “I want you to be her Associate Director, focusing primarily on the technical solutions.” I froze. “Mr. Davies, the Apex proposal—” “I know you wrote the proposal,” he cut me off gently. “But Beau has the client-facing skills and the knack for building relationships. You two are a great pairing.” “Mr. Davies,” I said. “I’ve been with the firm for five years.” “I know.” “Beau has been here for two.” “I know.” Mr. Davies sighed. “Paige, I value your ability, but the corporate ladder isn’t just about raw competence. You’re too quiet. You keep too low a profile. The senior leadership team doesn’t have a strong impression of you.” I was silent. “Look,” he offered. “Start as Associate Director. When the next opportunity comes up, I’ll make sure you get the promotion you deserve.” “Fine,” I said. As I walked out, a voice echoed in my head: Paige, are you too easy to walk over? I ignored it. I went back to work. — Beau changed quickly after she became the Center Director. She started calling me “Paige,” dropping the “Paige” sister. In meetings, she sat at the head of the table; I sat to the side. When assigning work, she’d say, “Paige, I need you to develop this new framework. Deliver it to me by Monday.” To her? My proposals went to her for review, then out the door under the Consulting Center’s name. I swallowed my frustration. But what truly choked me was the pay stub. After her promotion, Beau’s salary went up by $4,000 a month. Mine? A $500 raise. “Paige, as Associate Director, your increase won’t be as high as the Director’s. That’s policy,” the HR rep explained. I stared at my monthly figure: $8,500. Beau’s: $12,500. A $4,000 difference. I had five years. She had two. I wrote the 87 slides. She spent ten minutes copying and pasting. — A month after the Apex contract was signed, the client requested the Phase Two deep-dive proposal. Beau announced in the weekly meeting, “The Phase Two solution is crucial. It dictates the scope of our future engagement. Paige, you’re the lead writer.” Fine, I said. “Also,” she paused. “The client gave some feedback on the Phase One solution that needs optimization. Tweak it while you work on Phase Two.” “What specific feedback?” I asked. “Just… that reverse logistics algorithm. They said it wasn’t clear enough.” I blinked. The reverse logistics algorithm was the intellectual core of the entire proposal. I had spent three all-nighters on those workflow diagrams, built eight data models, and ran four test cycles to finalize it. “Where exactly did the client say it was unclear?” I pressed. Beau’s eyes darted away. “Just… the overall clarity. Just refine it.” I stared at her. She avoided my gaze. After the meeting, I privately reached out to Mark, the client liaison. Mark said, “Paige, we thought the proposal was excellent. No issues with it.” “But Beau said it needed optimization—” “Oh, that.” Mark sounded embarrassed. “Beau proactively told us she wanted to optimize it and asked for input. We just casually mentioned, ‘You could maybe add more detail,’ and she took it from there.” I understood. Beau needed the outcome of this “optimization” to report to Mr. Davies. The proposal didn’t need to be fixed. She needed proof that she was contributing. — That night, I was back at the office until the early hours. I finished the revisions and sent them to Beau. She replied: Received. Thanks. No “Paige,” no emojis, no appreciation. I closed my laptop and looked out the window. The office tower across the street was still brightly lit; other people were still working. I asked myself: Paige, what are you fighting for? You do the work; she gets the credit. You take the stress; she takes the bigger salary. You thought burying yourself in work would make you visible. The truth is, the quieter you are, the more invisible you become. I couldn’t sleep that night. I lay in bed, thinking for hours. I reached a conclusion: I can’t tolerate this anymore. But how to fight back? I hadn’t figured that out yet. — The turning point came in the third month. Mr. Thompson, the Apex CEO, was visiting our office and wanted a detailed briefing on the Phase Two solution. Mr. Davies was treating it as high-stakes. He called a preparation meeting. “Beau, you’ll lead the presentation,” Mr. Davies instructed. “Paige wrote the solution, but you’re the Center Director. The client recognizes you as the lead.” Beau nodded. “Understood, Mr. Davies.” “Paige, be ready to provide support. If Beau can’t answer a question, you supplement.” Fine, I said. The meeting was set for Friday at 10:00 a.m. On Wednesday, I sent the final version of the solution to Beau. “Familiarize yourself with the solution. Ask me questions if you have them.” She replied: Will do. On Thursday, I asked, “How are you feeling about the presentation? Anything you need me to walk you through?” She replied: I’m almost finished reviewing it. I’ve got it. I arrived at the office at 9 a.m. Friday. Beau was already printing copies of the deck. I glanced at the printout. It was my file. “Ready?” I asked. She smiled confidently. “Of course. Your solution is excellent, no real challenges.” I said nothing. At 9:30 a.m., the Apex team arrived. Mr. Thompson, Mr. Kennedy (the Supply Chain Director), Mr. Chen (the IT Director), and two assistants. Mr. Davies personally ushered them into the large conference room. The briefing started precisely at 10:00 a.m. Beau held the laser pointer, facing the screen, and began her pitch. “Good morning, everyone. I’m Beau Miller, the lead for the Phase Two solution…” Her opening was slick. Her voice was pleasant, her expression confident, and she navigated the slides smoothly. By slide eight, I started to sense trouble. Her presentation was only about seventy percent consistent with what I’d written. In several places, she had clearly misremembered details. For instance, the data on slide ten: she said “18% efficiency increase.” The slide said “28%.” The timeline on slide thirteen: she said “eight weeks.” The slide read “six weeks.” Mr. Thompson didn’t interrupt, occasionally glancing down at the hard copy in his hands. Beau pushed through, reaching slide seventeen. The reverse logistics workflow diagram. The part that cost me three all-nighters, twelve revisions, and eight models. The intellectual core of the entire solution. Beau paused when the slide appeared. I watched her brow furrow slightly. Then she said, “This section covers the reverse logistics design…” Mr. Thompson suddenly spoke up. “Hold on.” The room went silent. Mr. Thompson pointed to the diagram on the screen. “I want a detailed understanding of the algorithm behind this specific node.” Beau froze. “Uh… that algorithm is based on… based on the client’s…” Mr. Thompson rephrased the question, his tone clinical. “Slide seventeen, the reverse algorithm for the distribution nodes—what’s the derivation?” Beau’s face went white. She scrambled through the printout, searching page by page. She wouldn’t find it. Because the derivation process for that algorithm was not in the PPT. It was in my source files. In the spreadsheet named Reverse Logistics Model v12.xlsx. In the record of my six all-nighters. The conference room was deathly quiet. Mr. Davies’s face tightened. Beau panicked and looked at me. “Paige, could you supplement here?” I picked up my water glass and took a sip. Then I set it down. “Me?” I said. “But this solution was your work, Beau. You’re the Director.” 3. The air in the conference room seemed to solidify. Beau’s face cycled through a spectrum of colors: white, then red, then a mottled purple. “Paige, what are you doing?” she hissed, keeping her voice low. I didn’t answer. I just looked at her. I had waited three months for this moment. — Mr. Kennedy, Apex’s Supply Chain Director, stepped in. “Ms. Miller, reverse logistics is the heart of this solution. Can you walk us through the core concept?” Beau bit her lip. “That… this part is quite technical. I recommend Paige explain it…” “Then what is your understanding of the solution?” Mr. Thompson asked pointedly. Beau stammered. “My… my understanding is…” She started rambling about “integrated resources,” “collaborative innovation,” and “digital transformation.” Corporate noise. Empty calories. Mr. Thompson’s expression grew colder. I saw Mr. Davies, sitting next to him, start to sweat. “Paige,” Mr. Davies snapped, “explain it.” I didn’t move. “Paige?” I looked at Mr. Davies. “Mr. Davies, this solution is the result of the Consulting Center, led by Beau. I was only the executor.” Beau’s face turned an even paler shade. “Paige, you—” “Beau said it herself,” I said calmly. “She told Janice in the break room that the architecture was her idea, and I just helped with the execution. Right, Beau?” The silence was absolute. I stood up. “Since this solution was directed by Beau, she is the most qualified person to present it. I’m just a doer. I don’t understand the ‘vision.’” I gave Mr. Thompson a slight, respectful nod. “Mr. Thompson, my apologies, but I need to excuse myself.” Then I picked up my bag and walked out of the conference room.

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