Author: Momo Chan

After my 99th blind date with yet another freak, my best friend Chloe and I decided to ditch the men and keep the babies. She chose the sperm of a highly educated PhD, and I chose the sperm of an eight-country mixed-blood donor. After the babies were born, the PhD donor developed low sperm count and wanted to marry Chloe. She agreed. Watching me go to prenatal checkups alone, Chloe hugged her husband and mocked me. “You’re born to be a widow; no one wants to marry you. My husband just started a key national project; his future is limitless!” Unexpectedly, my baby’s father turned out to be a Dubai prince who took me back to be his princess. The heavy jewelry I wore weighed me down. Seeing the yacht I posted on social media, she suddenly came crying to me. “My husband’s project was suddenly suspended for some reason. We can’t even afford milk powder for the baby.” She wanted to reconcile with me and let her child call me godmother. But the moment I stepped into her house, she hacked me to death with a chainsaw. “Why is your life better than mine? Just because you chose better sperm?!” When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day Chloe and I discussed “ditching the father, keeping the baby.” 1 “Sarah, what’s good about getting married! Let’s just have the babies and be the queens of our own lives!” My best friend, Chloe, shook me excitedly. In a trance, I looked around at the familiar laboratory and realized I had been reborn. Because I had encountered weirdos on blind dates so many times, Chloe and I decided to come to a private clinic to select high-quality sperm for IVF. Chloe’s sharp voice continued to ring in my ears, urging me constantly: “Sarah, look, here’s sperm from a PhD graduate from Ivy League schools. The baby will definitely be smart. You should choose this one!” Immediately after, she couldn’t wait to point to the information next to it labeled “Eight-Country Mixed-Blood” and said: “I’m all about looks. I love mixed babies. Sarah, you can’t fight me for this one!” In an instant, I was certain she had been reborn too, wanting to snatch the Dubai prince’s genes first. Chloe put on a facade of looking out for me: “This PhD donor obviously has good genes. You’d be losing out if you didn’t pick him.” Completely different rhetoric from her past life. I looked at her and nodded slowly. The moment I nodded, Chloe’s eyes lit up, her voice urgent and excited. “Then don’t you regret it!” What was there to regret? She was desperately persuading me to choose the sperm of the PhD, Dr. Liam Davis, simply because she wanted to go to Dubai to be a princess and live a life of luxury herself. In her past life, she said she wanted her child to be a high-IQ prodigy and chose Liam’s sperm first. Later, he developed a low sperm count and sought her out for marriage. When they held their wedding, I went to give a gift with my big belly, but she shut me out. Chloe was as arrogant as a peacock, looking me up and down with contempt, finally covering her mouth and snickering. “Ditching the father and keeping the baby—only you live in a fairy tale world. I’m going to rise in status because of my son!” “My husband was selected by the national team to lead an aerospace project! As for you, ‘eight-country mixed-blood’ sounds nice, but ugly truth is it’s just a mutt. Who knows if there’s Black blood in there!” Unexpectedly, a month after the wedding, I received an invitation made of solid gold. A white butler, six-foot-two, personally handed the invitation to me and said in fluent English: “Beautiful lady, the Prince knows you are carrying his child and wants to bring you to Dubai to marry him!” Only then did I know that the sperm I chose belonged to a Dubai prince. And after I went to Dubai, Chloe started frequently complaining about her life on social media. About some female PhD who didn’t know her place and insisted on being a seductress to hook up with her husband. She posted photos and videos of herself staking out the lab every day. Later, there were posts about her beating up the female PhD, who didn’t fight back because she was pregnant, and Chloe smugly thought it was because the other woman felt guilty. It was said that the project fell through because of Chloe’s unreasonable behavior, but she showed no remorse, instead feeling that her husband was incompetent. Mutual friends told me about their frequent quarrels. Later, because everyone knew about Chloe’s temper, no projects dared to approach Liam again, so he remained unemployed at home for a long time. After the child was born, everything required money. Liam had no job, and Chloe was originally aiming for a life of leisure, so she certainly wouldn’t share the household expenses. The couple argued every two days and had a big fight every three days. Liam started staying out all night frequently. Meanwhile, I often posted about royal gatherings, luxury cruises, and the pigeon-egg-sized diamond ring on my finger. So, in this rebirth, she didn’t hesitate to choose the Dubai prince’s sperm and persuade me to choose Liam’s. I pretended to know nothing, asking innocently: “But this eight-country mixed-blood doesn’t even specify where the mix comes from. What if the genes aren’t good?” Seeing that I had already signed, Chloe immediately interrupted me fiercely: “That’s none of your business. My son will definitely be a royal heir in the future. As for you, maybe your child won’t even have money for milk powder!” I couldn’t help but sneer in my heart. 2 Between a promising PhD with a genius son and a violent father-son duo with super-male syndrome (XYY syndrome), any fool knows who to choose! I wonder if Chloe will still be able to smile when she’s locked in a cage with a lion! In my past life, I was indeed taken back to the Dubai royal family. But that man, big and burly, threw me into the room on the spot and forcibly humiliated me. As soon as I resisted, he punched and kicked me. My body was covered in wounds, big and small. Because their women’s clothes covered everything tightly, outsiders couldn’t see. Even sitting on a chair was excruciatingly painful. Because he had the super-male gene, he couldn’t control his temper at all. Those expensive, beautiful, but heavy decorations in the room had all been thrown at my head by him. I often stepped onto the edge of death due to excessive blood loss, only to be healed by their advanced medical technology, over and over again. Even when I was pregnant, he would force himself on me. I had no one to turn to for help. Everyone looked at me like I was a slave. As for that eight-country mixed-blood child. I had already received the prenatal report before going abroad. He was not only a super-male but a super-male chimera, born to be a menace to society. The Dubai royal family didn’t allow me to abort. While still in my womb, he would kick my thin uterus hard, keeping me awake all night. Thinking of this, I couldn’t help but shiver. Confirming the procedure would take place in a few days, Chloe breathed a sigh of relief, repeatedly stroking the signed confirmation form for IVF, her eyes full of schadenfreude. ” ‘Highly educated PhD’ might just sound nice. Be careful you don’t encounter a useless loser who knows nothing. The child might turn out to be a fool too!” I didn’t react to her provocation at all; instead, I smiled kindly at her. “I heard that too much mixing can lead to mental illnesses. Chloe, you have to be careful.” Chloe always struck first, thinking that a rebirth could change her destiny. 3 Actually, she didn’t understand at all. What’s important isn’t the choice, but one’s own ability. Hearing my words, Chloe turned red, stomped her foot in anger, and pointed a trembling finger at me. “Just you wait and see whose child has worse genes!” Half a month after our IVF procedure, Liam was diagnosed with low sperm count, just like in the previous life, and found my home through the donor information. The man wore a well-fitted suit, handsome with bright eyes, smelling pleasantly of cedar. His voice was as gentle and melodious as a mountain spring: “Is this Ms. Sarah Williams?” While I was dazed for a moment, his ears slowly turned red, and he spoke somewhat flusteredly: “It might be a bit sudden, but could you please marry me?” “I won’t interfere with you after marriage…” “Okay, I agree. Shall we go get the license now?” Stunned by my frankness, Liam looked at me at a loss. Chloe’s laughter came from the phone. I was on a voice call with her just now. Chloe knew Liam would come today and couldn’t wait for me to taste the pain she suffered in her past life. “Hahahaha, Sarah, you’re in such a rush to marry! True, with that unmaintained face of yours, you definitely wouldn’t be able to marry if you waited a few more years!” “When you get married, I’ll definitely give you a big red envelope. After all, you won’t have many good days left!” Hearing the sharp, mocking female voice on the phone, Liam frowned subconsciously and retorted softly: “I won’t let you suffer…” But he was interrupted by Chloe. Her words were even meaner. “What good ending can two poor people have? Probably can’t even afford to raise a child, just arguing every day and living on welfare!” I hung up the phone directly, smiled slightly at Liam, my tone very firm. “I believe we won’t become what she said, absolutely not!” 4 We booked an auspicious day, took our household registration books, and got the marriage license. The wedding was set for half a month later. Liam accompanied me to choose the wedding dress and book the banquet, never absent for a moment. Looking at the man in front of me, I felt only relief. Isn’t a considerate, gentle husband who respects women better than a super-male freak? Chloe sent me a lot of provocative messages these days, all saying I married a useless man. But the poverty in her past life was actually all Chloe’s own doing. If that project had proceeded normally, Liam would have become the youngest authoritative expert in the world. His annual salary could easily reach millions. But Chloe’s pathological possessiveness blocked Liam’s future. She insisted on going to the lab to make noise and trouble, making those big shots unwilling to work with Liam. Thinking of this, I spoke very understandingly: “If you have project work to do, I can handle these things alone.” A flash of emotion crossed Liam’s eyes. He suddenly knelt on one knee and took out a ring. The diamond on the ring wasn’t big, but it was my favorite sky blue. Like a clear blue sky without clouds, making one feel happy at a glance. “It was abrupt a few days ago, so I wanted to make it up to you with a proposal.” “Sarah, will you marry me?” I nodded with a smile, raising my hand to let him put the ring that belonged to me on my finger. It couldn’t compare to the pigeon egg in Dubai, but my heart was filled with warmth. There, I would only be a tool for the royal family to show off their wealth. A slap, then a sweet date. For every piece of jewelry, there was a scar on my body. For amusement, they even locked me, eight months pregnant, in a cage with a lioness and poured perfume that felines love on me. So, Chloe, you didn’t want sincere love without a price, you insisted on looking for suffering.

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A video of me scolding a child went viral, and netizens quickly uncovered that the child was none other than the son of Ethan Sterling, the crown prince of New York’s business world. My rival, a young starlet, posted a scathing condemnation: [She looks glamorous on the surface, but I never expected her to abuse children in private! Is she bullying the child because he doesn’t have a mother?] Anti-fans united to boycott me, screaming for me to get out of the entertainment industry. Me: “?” Wait… who said this child doesn’t have a mother? That night, the billionaire prince himself tagged me: [Allow me to introduce everyone to my wife.] 1 Early in the morning, before I had even woken up, my agent, Yolanda, barged in, flustered and panicked: “Sophie, you’re done for!” I was completely confused, but she looked like the sky was falling. “How dare you hit Ethan Sterling’s son?” Me: “???” Yolanda quickly opened her phone and handed it to me. A video titled “Sophie Turner Abuses Child” was trending at the top. In the video, I was pinching the cheek of a three or four-year-old child, my mouth moving as if I were shouting something. The child looked teary-eyed, standing there, afraid to move. Because of the camera angle, my expression, which was actually gentle at the time, looked stern and severe in the video. [Oh my god, is that Sophie Turner? What is she doing!] [Hurting a child? That kid looks so pitiful!] [That’s not just hurting a child; that’s child abuse! I’ve long heard insiders say Sophie is selfish and manic, and likes to hit people to vent her anger! I didn’t expect her to target a child now! Look at that scary expression on her face!] Beneath the video was a pile of rumors and curses aimed at me, though there were some defending me too. Until someone posted a photo. It was a picture of Ethan Sterling holding the hand of a three or four-year-old child at an event. In the photo, the man was in a black suit, his face fair and handsome, his deep dark eyes revealing a distant indifference. The child he was holding looked like he was carved from the same mold! [Oh my god! That kid is Ethan Sterling’s son!] Everyone knows that Ethan Sterling, the crown prince of the business world, has a son whose mother is never seen. But this son has been spoiled by him since childhood; not even a scratch is allowed. Ethan takes this son with him wherever he goes. Once, someone from a rival company tried to “invite” little Leo Sterling over behind Ethan’s back. Although they didn’t succeed, the crown prince was furious and directly acquired all the companies under the rival’s name. This incident caused a sensation in the elite circles. Once this photo came out, the internet went silent for a moment, then erupted into even greater discussion. Those who had spoken up for me before didn’t dare to make a sound. [Sophie is finished! Completely finished this time! Who gave her the guts to abuse Ethan Sterling’s son!] [Sophie deserves it! I’ve disliked her for a long time. She’s probably done for this time!] Meanwhile, some celebrities also jumped in. Among them was my rival, the young starlet Chloe White. Since her debut, she became popular by imitating my style and acting path, earning the nickname “Little Sophie.” But compared to me, she likes to play the innocent white flower online. Chloe posted a tweet: [I didn’t expect some people to look glamorous on the surface but be so cruel at heart. To even commit child abuse… this involves criminal liability, right?] She also tagged some famous lawyers in the comments. Although she didn’t mention my name, everyone knew who she was talking about. For a while, her popularity soared, and the comments section was filled with insults towards me. 2 I am a “black-red” female star in the industry, meaning I have a group of loyal fans but also a massive number of anti-fans. Even the slightest thing about me gets magnified infinitely and quickly climbs the trending searches. Especially now that my name is linked with “child abuse” and “billionaire crown prince.” Yolanda’s phone kept ringing. At first, when I started trending, many brands and partners were watching silently, not making any moves. But once it was revealed that the child was Ethan’s son, they called one after another to terminate contracts. Me: “…” Ethan and I have been secretly married for five years. Leo is my son. What’s wrong with pinching my son’s cheek because I find him cute? That day, I had just finished an event and was rushing to the next one when I saw my son. He pitifully said that Daddy prepared a candlelight dinner and wanted to invite me back to eat together. Three meals a day, Ethan could prepare six! Veins popped on my forehead. I was afraid the child would be photographed by paparazzi—after all, being with me is less safe than being with Ethan. So I said a few words to him and told him to go back quickly. Unexpectedly, I was still photographed, and online it turned into me abusing a child. Yolanda collapsed on the sofa, muttering, “It’s over, it’s over… everything is over.” Seeing her like this, I felt a bit unbearable: “Yolanda, maybe there’s a turning point…” But before I could finish, Yolanda interrupted me, crying with a mournful face: “What turning point? Everyone knows Ethan’s son is untouchable. Why couldn’t you pinch someone else? Pinch me! Why did you have to provoke his son…” I moved my lips, just about to say something to Yolanda, when her phone rang. After Yolanda answered the call and came back, her eyes lit up: “Sophie, a variety show wants you! They offered three times the usual price! Let’s do one last job before retiring!” Me: “…” Looking at Yolanda’s expression, I felt helpless and nodded. 3 This was a travel variety show. The production team, eyeing the heat of me being scolded, invited not only me but also Chloe. The show was livestreamed the entire time. When I arrived, Chloe was facing the camera, explaining the law: “Child abuse is punishable by law. In severe cases, constituting the crime of abuse, one can be sentenced to fixed-term imprisonment of not more than two years…” The livestream comments were full of praise for Chloe’s beauty and kindness. However, upon seeing me, Chloe’s face turned cold immediately. The camera also focused on me, and the comments in the livestream began to roll. [Damn! How does Sophie have the nerve to appear here and participate in the show so blatantly?] [Where are the police! Why haven’t they arrested Sophie yet! She committed a crime!] [Good job, Chloe! Our Chloe is straightforward and hates evil. Seeing Sophie for the first time, you can clearly tell she’s angry!] [That’s child abuse! Even I’m angry watching it! Disgusting Sophie, get out of the entertainment industry!] Chloe walked straight up to me and said, “Sophie, do you have anything to say about your child abuse?” I sneered, “To you, I have nothing to say. If you’re sick, don’t come to me; I’m not a vet.” My reputation online was already ruined, and I had long disliked Chloe, so I wasn’t polite at all. Chloe’s face turned red, seemingly from anger. Netizens in the livestream launched a new round of attacks on me. [Damn! Bitch Sophie, you dare call Chloe sick?!] [Disgusting Sophie! I want to tear your face apart!] [Honestly, I kinda agree with Sophie. Looking at the video alone, she just pinched the kid’s cheek. It doesn’t reach the level of abuse. Netizens talking is one thing, but Chloe, as a public figure, directly labeling Sophie as a child abuser and educating about laws in the livestream, leading the rhythm… she deserves to be scolded.] [Previous commenter, you’re disgusting too. You probably like abusing children as well, right?] There were people speaking up for me in the livestream, but they were quickly drowned out by insults. Chloe sneered, “Sophie, don’t be too willful. This is a society under the rule of law. Everyone must be responsible for what they have done! Brother Ethan won’t let you off!” I keenly caught the two words in Chloe’s mouth— “Brother Ethan.” What the hell is this? Netizens in the livestream were curious too. [Brother Ethan? Does she mean Ethan Sterling?] [Does Goddess Chloe have any relationship with the crown prince? Otherwise, why would she call him Brother Ethan?] [Ahhh, Chloe, tell us! What’s going on!] Chloe saw the scrolling comments. She took a deep breath, a smile on her lips, and said to the camera: “That’s right. I didn’t want to say it originally. But Sophie went too far, bullying my little nephew!” “As his aunt, I really couldn’t stand it anymore, so I had to stand up! I am actually Ethan’s cousin!” Ethan’s cousin? Why didn’t I know that! 4 Chloe’s words undoubtedly caused waves in the livestream. The comments were boiling. [Whoa! Chloe is actually Ethan’s cousin? Hidden so deep, never heard a whisper before!] [Boohoo, I’m crying. My Chloe really comes from a good family, and she’s beautiful and hardworking. She deserves to be famous!] [Sophie is done for now, right? Bullying the young master of the Sterling family, and now his aunt is right here!] [At first, I thought Chloe wanted to ride the wave of popularity, but I didn’t expect she stood up because she couldn’t stand it and wanted to protect her family.] I frowned and voiced my doubt: “How come I didn’t know you are Ethan’s cousin?” Ethan is an only child. Although we are secretly married to the public, I know most of his relatives. I never heard he had a cousin like this. Seeing the number of people in the livestream soaring, the director was also excited. After all, the name “Ethan Sterling” represents popularity and power, but Ethan is unreachable. Now that “Ethan’s cousin” appeared right in front of them, the director definitely had to seize this opportunity! Immediately, the director arranged for the cameraman to give Chloe a close-up and asked: “Chloe, so you hid your identity to join the industry to experience life?” Chloe smiled decently at the camera: “Being an artist is my dream. I didn’t say it before because I didn’t want everyone to misunderstand that my achievements relied on my cousin. I want to prove my strength to everyone.” [Oh my god! I love Chloe so much! She’s really working so hard!] [Told you, being a fan of Goddess Chloe is never a loss!] Chloe’s words hit the trending searches. #ChloeWhiteIsAWealthyHeiress #ChloeWhiteHidesIdentityToChaseDream Several hashtags kept trending, and her follower count skyrocketed. Of course, I learned all this from the staff’s discussions nearby; phones are confiscated during filming. The director struck while the iron was hot: “Chloe, we are going to Cloud City for filming next. I heard Young Master Sterling has a big villa in Cloud City. Could you ask him to lend that villa to our production team for a few days?” “No problem,” Chloe agreed immediately. I narrowed my eyes. Ethan does have a villa in Cloud City. I picked it out back then. The scenery is nice, and it’s large enough to house a production team. That villa is under my name. “Did you ask the owner? You just agreed?” Chloe frowned and looked at me dissatisfied: “My relationship with my cousin has always been good. What’s the problem with me borrowing it for a few days?” A young woman in a white short skirt next to her also linked arms with Chloe: “Chloe, maybe someone is just jealous of you. Let’s ignore her.” This was another female guest participating in the show, named Sarah. There were six people participating in the show. Besides me, Chloe, and Sarah, there were three male guests. The five of them stood together, distancing themselves from me. Off-camera, my agent Yolanda kept signaling me not to argue with them. I squeezed my palm and didn’t speak anymore. I also wanted to see if Chloe could really get into that villa in Cloud City.

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My boyfriend tried to drag me into a suicide pact. Not only did I refuse to die with him, but I also held his head underwater until he drowned. Forty years ago, our love was rejected by society, so he asked me to jump into the river with him. In my past life, Ethan Cole died, but I was saved. I lived a life of guilt and pain, sacrificing everything to support his parents and younger brother. But forty years later, as I lay dying, crippled and in agony… I saw the supposedly dead Ethan Cole alive and well, walking hand-in-hand with an elegant, intellectual woman. “One fake death and you spun in circles for a lifetime. Did a stupid woman like you really think I could love her?” “But thanks anyway. If you hadn’t supported my family, I wouldn’t have had the peace of mind to study for college, nor the chance to live happily ever after with my Bella.” “Oh right, actually, little Timmy isn’t my brother. He’s mine and Bella’s son! We had him long before I met you!” They kissed passionately in front of me, and I breathed my last breath filled with overwhelming hatred. When I opened my eyes again, I was back forty years ago, on the day Ethan dragged me to commit suicide. “May! See you in the next life!” The familiar voice rang in my ears, accompanied by the freezing river water. Before I could even react, the man in front of me jumped in with a splash. Looking at his face, anger instantly flared in my heart. It was Ethan Cole! How did he suddenly become so young? And this river—wasn’t this the river where he dragged me to die forty years ago? Was I reborn? I didn’t have time to think. I walked straight towards him. Since you like playing dead so much, play dead for the rest of your life! As he submerged his head into the water, I whispered in his ear. “Her name is Bella Stone, right?” His body trembled violently, trying to lift his head out of the water, but I had already pressed his head firmly down. I was a rough village woman, uneducated but strong from farm work. Ethan was an intellectual, always buried in books, thin as a rail. He was no match for me. He struggled in the water, his body tensing from the pain of suffocation. “Timmy isn’t your brother at all, he’s your and Bella’s son, isn’t he? Did you take me for a fool?” “Don’t worry, I won’t support your parents or your son. As for your lover, I’ll make her pay!” “And you, just go in peace!” By the end, my tone became frantic and trembling, the joy of revenge filling my entire being. Only when Ethan stopped moving completely did I let go. Before fear could set in, I plunged my head into the water. Even though I choked and felt like collapsing, I couldn’t surface for a moment. I couldn’t let passersby notice anything strange. Only when my consciousness was about to fade did I hear the cry for help from the shore. “Help! Someone jumped into the river!” 2 When I was resuscitated, I was slapped hard across the face. It was Ethan’s mother, Helen, glaring at me with fury. Behind her was a large coffin. “You animal, you killed my son! How cruel can you be!” Then, she and her husband, George, started kicking and punching me. If someone hadn’t stopped them, my weak body might have been beaten to death. “Where is Ethan? How is he?” I pretended to be anxious, asking the obvious. “Ethan is dead! Are you happy now!” Helen spat at me, but she couldn’t hide the smugness in her eyes. It seemed she didn’t know her son was actually dead. “You bitch, how do you have the face to live in this world? Crawl over here and kowtow to Ethan!” Then, Helen and George pinned me down in front of the coffin, smashing my face into the ground as if venting their anger, nearly breaking my nose. Fortunately, the village chief intervened just in time to save my nose. “What is wrong with you young people? Always seeking death. Now look, such a good young man, an intellectual too, gone just like that.” “May, since you survived, you must carry on Ethan’s will. Don’t do anything foolish again!” The village chief said regretfully. Meanwhile, Helen knelt aside, wailing loudly. “My poor son, you’re gone, how will your father, your brother, and I live? May, if you have any conscience, you will be filial to us in Ethan’s place. Hand over all your wages from now on!” “And sell all the valuable things in your house quickly. I remember your mother left you a jade bracelet?” As Helen cried, her greed became unconcealable. Already eyeing my heirloom? I glanced at her coldly, walked straight to the coffin, and opened the lid a crack. Inside, Ethan’s face was gray, lips purple. There was no coming back from that. Since that was the case, I was relieved. Thinking this, I threw myself onto the coffin and wailed heartbreakingly. “Ethan! It’s all my fault! I killed you!” Hearing my words, Helen almost laughed, saying shamelessly: “Don’t think I’ll accept you as a daughter-in-law just because you act like this. You? A stupid village woman, not even fit to be a maid for my Ethan! But, if you are obedient and serve us well, maybe I’ll show mercy and give you a title!” Looking at Helen’s face, I resisted the urge to slap her and nodded tearfully. “Don’t worry, I will. But before Ethan is buried, I have one request.” I looked at the village chief and said firmly. “Ethan only wanted to contribute to the country in his life. His thinking was advanced, he pursued progress, and responded to all calls. So I think we should cremate Ethan!” 3 “Good, good! Truly a young person with new ideas! I’ll arrange it!” the village chief said excitedly. In the 80s, although cremation was becoming common, it was still taboo in our mountain village. So the village chief was gratified by my “big picture” thinking. But Helen wouldn’t have it. They knew their precious son was just tricking me and wasn’t dead! So, they rushed forward to protect the coffin, cursing at me. “You bitch, you have bad intentions! You want to burn him when he’s dead? Ethan, you were confused! How did you fall for such a demon!” I made a wronged face and said pitifully: “I just want to fulfill Ethan’s wish.” The village chief also persuaded: “Exactly. I’ve told you before, burial harms the environment, cremation contributes to society. Ethan would agree in the afterlife.” Helen firmly refused, rolling on the ground throwing a tantrum. “No! I don’t care! No cremation! Whoever burns my son, I’ll burn them!” Seeing this, the village chief had to give up, viewing Helen as just a pitiful, superstitious old woman wanting to keep her son’s body intact. Just then, a graceful figure walked over. “Sister May, I know your intentions are good, but have you considered Ethan’s parents’ feelings? Don’t be so heartless.” I looked closely. Wasn’t this Bella Stone? In my past life, we were just acquaintances in the village. After Ethan’s fake death, she left too. I never thought she and Ethan had a history. She looked just like the woman I saw by Ethan’s deathbed in my past life. She enjoyed all the good days that belonged to me! Thinking of this, anger surged. Suddenly, a small child rushed up, punching and kicking me. “Bitch! Whore! You want to burn my brother! I’ll kill you!” It was Timmy! Foul-mouthed and disrespectful. In my past life, filled with guilt toward their family, I tolerated Timmy’s rudeness, sent him money tirelessly, and cared for him. Since he’s an ungrateful wolf, I don’t need to pretend to be gentle in this life. “Tsk, no manners, needs a beating!” I slapped him hard. 4 The slap stunned Timmy. He stood there covering his face, bewildered. Helen and Bella screamed, rushing to check on Timmy, eyes full of heartache. “You shrew, hitting a child? Are you human?” Helen shouted at me. “A child with such a dirty mouth deserves a beating! Since I’m taking care of him for Ethan, I must discipline him strictly, or what if he grows up to be a hooligan or a rapist?” I said calmly. As expected, Bella trembled with anger and retorted: “Your son will be the rapist! Timmy doesn’t need you to manage him!” She realized her mistake and shut up immediately. I looked at her sideways and asked slowly: “Oh, Sister Bella, why are you, an outsider, so concerned about our family affairs? Timmy doesn’t need me to manage him, meaning you will?” Bella blushed, stammering for a moment before saying: “I… I just can’t stand your shrewish ways. No wonder Ethan disliked you…” “Oh, you know a lot about us. Tsk, you two didn’t…?” I asked with feigned surprise. “You’re spitting blood! A shrew like you, any man would dislike you!” Bella looked uncomfortable, guilt evident in her eyes. “Since that’s the case, I won’t care anymore. Chief, please find a good family to send this child to.” Helen and Bella gasped again. Helen almost blurted out the truth. “Are you crazy? Where are you sending my grand… son?” “Look, you two are old and weak, unable to raise this child. I can’t afford to raise him either. Better to find him a good home, at least he won’t starve.” “Don’t worry, when I make money, I’ll bring Timmy back!” I promised, patting my chest. Bella was trembling with rage, pointing at my nose. “How cruel can you be? Timmy lost his brother, and now you want him to lose his parents too? It’s just raising a child, you can work three jobs!” “Oh? Since you say it so easily, Sister Bella, why don’t you work three jobs to raise him?” I patted her shoulder and laughed. “I… I… this is clearly your responsibility!” Bella raged. The village chief stepped in to smooth things over again. “Bella is still young and needs to marry in the future. How can she drag a child along?” Hearing this, I immediately followed up. “Exactly! I need to marry in the future too. Dragging a child is inconvenient. Let’s do as I said.”

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Me: [Hit me. Let’s gamble.] A flash of white light, and suddenly, I’m the heroine in a dark romance novel. The kind where the male lead torments the girl body and soul, and her only reward is terminal cancer and a tragic death. Me: [And you call this love?] Later, the male lead is kneeling at my feet, sobbing, asking me: “Did you ever actually love me?” I wipe the tears dripping off his chin. “How could I not love you? You’re my ten billion dollars.” 1 If you got a button that, when pressed, gave you ten billion dollars, but the price was getting sent on an adventure inside a trashy, angst-filled romance novel… What would you choose? Obviously, my choice was to smash that button until it broke. … I’ve been the heroine of this dark romance for six months, but the male lead hasn’t even logged on yet. Right now, I’m still just the beloved, spoiled heiress. Once the male lead shows up and we get married, my good life is supposed to end. “Audrey, I heard the eldest Caldwell son is back in the states!” My best friend, Chloe, clutched her phone, her face full of dreamy longing. “Finally, all your waiting is about to pay off.” Yes, everyone thinks that. As soon as Liam Caldwell returns, my suffering is supposed to turn into joy. We’ve been engaged since we were children. Everyone thinks I’ve been waiting for him. It’s as if my life naturally requires a man to be complete. It’s not just Chloe who thinks so; it also includes the personal AI interface bound to my consciousness. That’s right. I’m tied to a Ten Billion Dollar Interface. I only get the money if I complete all the tasks. The Interface was gearing up: [The male lead is about to return. Do you remember the plot I told you?] [We have to get the male lead’s affection score for you to 100. We need him to love you so madly he can’t live without you!] To this, I could only offer silence. according to the book’s plot, I’m supposed to become a silent doormat, allowing the male lead and his poor “one that got away” to bully me. Faced with the other woman’s setups, I’m supposed to be ridiculously noble and never defend myself. The male lead will have a love-hate relationship with me, insanely insulting me for her sake. Then, when I get terminal cancer and die, he’s supposed to insanely insult her. And my biggest revenge on the male lead is to hide my illness, leaving him alone in this world to be sad and spend money wildly. It’s hard to comment on that, honestly. A perfect score in psychological victory. A world where only I get hurt has been achieved. No thanks. The moment I knew the plot, I got a full-body physical. I started sleeping early, waking up early, exercising, and rejecting all bad habits. After all, health is wealth. I don’t believe that a man who doesn’t love me when I’m alive will suddenly have an epiphany when I’m dead. That’s ten billion dollars on the line! I have to seize all the initiative for myself. 2 Just like the Interface said, the male lead, Liam Caldwell, returned to the US. He brought a woman back with him. His “one that got away,” Serena Vance. At my birthday gala, Liam and Serena attended together, completely disregarding the strange looks from others, turning me into the laughingstock of our social circle. Right now, Serena had just stepped out of Liam’s car. In the novel, I should be biting my lip, eyes brimming with tears, enduring everything to gain Liam’s sympathy. But obviously, I have no intention of doing that. Liam and I are a business merger disguised as a marriage. My family’s standing is even a notch or two above his. With this background and leverage, I don’t need to use pity to achieve my goals. Ignoring the inquiring gazes of the guests, I adjusted my shawl, put on a flawless socialite smile, and walked up to Liam. “Liam, long time no see. What gift did you bring me?” “If I’m not satisfied with your gift, I’m going to be very cross with you.” As his fiancée, I can, of course, ask him directly like this. As for Serena standing next to him? I’m sorry, but in this kind of setting, she’s not really qualified to speak. Seeing my composed demeanor, Liam actually looked a bit awkward and subtly put some distance between himself and Serena. “I prepared it for you ages ago, you little troublemaker.” Liam’s gift was a diamond necklace once worn by European royalty, featuring a unique pink diamond in the center. In the original plot, I was so embarrassed by Serena’s presence that I didn’t even give Liam a chance to take out the gift. Later, this necklace became one of Serena’s collectibles. The necklace is innocent. Why should a person give up tangible benefits right in front of their eyes for some vague, ethereal emotions? I swept my hair back and smiled up at Liam. “Put it on for me.” Liam glanced at Serena, hesitating for a moment. My smile didn’t waver. I leaned close to his ear and whispered, “Liam, don’t get emotional. Everyone is watching.” The bond between Liam and me isn’t just sentiment; the deepest connection is actually the corporations owned by our two families. We are a community of interests. Even if Liam doesn’t love me, I have ten thousand ways to make sure he can’t leave me. Trying to please him is the least cost-effective choice. My intimate interaction with Liam made Serena’s face turn pale. Perhaps, in her imagination, I should have been weeping helplessly, watching the two of them being inseparable, becoming the joke of the party. She thought wrong. Compared to romance, there are many more important relationships between people. 3 The Interface was resigned. Artificial Intelligence cannot understand complex human emotions. It nagged me the entire night. Then it discovered that Liam’s affection score for me went from 60 to 65. [Why? Host, what did you do?] I swirled my glass of red wine, looking at Serena sitting in the corner of the banquet hall, looking completely out of place, and laughed softly. [I just reminded Liam that I am not only his fiancée but also his business partner.] I was just telling him that I am not his accessory; we are in an equal partnership. See? How insignificant romance is when measured against value. Compared to showing him my love, I prefer to make him understand my worth. At the end of the hallway, Serena was clinging to Liam, crying softly. “I’m sorry, Liam, I didn’t mean to. I’m just so sad.” “I know we broke up, but I still wanted to see what your fiancée looked like.” “Audrey Sterling is wonderful. If I had a great family background like hers, maybe we wouldn’t have separated.” In the plot, I heard this part and left sadly. But right now, I chose to walk out from behind the door. The flustered person became Liam. He abruptly pushed Serena away, trying to open his mouth to explain the scene. I didn’t question him about the reason. I just glanced disapprovingly at Serena. “Miss Vance, I’ve heard about you.” “You and Liam once had a beautiful romance, but you are separated now, after all. Today is my birthday. As my fiancé’s ex-girlfriend, you shouldn’t have come.” “The guests present are all old friends of my family. The uncles and aunts have also watched Liam grow up. By letting Liam bring you here, did you ever think about how everyone would view him?” “If you were curious about me, there were many ways for us to meet. Why did it have to be like this?” Serena frowned, opening her mouth to explain, but I didn’t give her the chance. I continued addressing Liam. “Liam, handled this poorly. I am very dissatisfied.” “You need to know, my birthday party isn’t just about celebrating a birthday. Today is also the first time since I became an adult that I’m officially introducing you to everyone.” “Do I need to explain to you what an occasion like this means? You’re not a child anymore. I will have Uncle Caldwell give my family an explanation for this.” After saying that, I turned and left directly. Liam tried to call out to stop me, but I held up a hand. “Enough. We have more important things to do today. Some things should be discussed in private.” 4 The Interface still didn’t understand. Its electronic voice was full of confusion about humanity. [Host, didn’t you say you couldn’t use sympathy? Then why did you clarify things with Liam?] [That wasn’t using sympathy.] [The one who did something wrong was Liam, so naturally, the one embarrassed shouldn’t be me. We are a business merger. Whether he loves me or not is irrelevant; what’s important is whether he behaves decently.] Liam acted indecently, but I handled it in a way that perfectly befitted my identity as Miss Sterling. So, naturally, the ones who lost face were him and Serena. With my status, should I really be bickering over whether a man loves me or not? That’s a bit ridiculous. Instead, Liam should be thinking about how to satisfy me. After all, for a marriage partner like him, it’s not like I couldn’t find someone else. The day after the party ended, Liam’s father personally came to our house to apologize. My father and I naturally didn’t make things too difficult for him. After all, what I wanted was the Caldwell family’s attitude. Giving me enough respect on the surface was sufficient. [Host, by doing this, will Liam fall in love with you?] [That’s not important. There are many kinds of love. Compared to being Liam’s wife, I’d rather hold the financial reins over him.] … The plot of a dark romance novel always revolves around the male lead, female lead, and the supporting female character. You can avoid it for a day, but not forever. In a luxury boutique, Serena and I spotted the same handbag. The sales associate looked troubled. “There is only one of this bag left in the store.” Serena’s voice was gentle, but malice hid in her eyes. “Miss Sterling, I saw it first, you know.” She pursed her lips in a smile. “Liam said he wanted to give me a gift. I didn’t expect to run into Miss Sterling here. Do you think this bag suits me?” There was no such scene in the original plot. I suppose my birthday party provoked Serena quite a bit; she’s starting to actively provoke me now. I quietly said to the Interface in my head: [Say, if I slap her right now, what would Liam do?] Interface: [??? Please don’t do that, I’m scared.] Of course, I wouldn’t get physical with Serena. It’s very unnecessary. “It’s just a bag.” I pointed to the bag. “Wrap it up for Miss Vance. Put it on my tab.” The sales associate looked like she’d been granted amnesty and walked quickly to wrap it up. Serena and I stood side-by-side in the store. The rims of her eyes were slightly red, looking like she was being bullied. I smiled and shook my head. “Miss Vance, you aren’t very smart.” She froze. “What do you mean?” “Literally what I said. What benefit is there for you in provoking me? Or do you think I’m going to shamelessly run to Liam and make a scene?” The logic of supporting female characters in these novels is always incomprehensible. Clearly, the goal is to secure the man, yet they insist on making things difficult for the heroine. Sometimes I really don’t know where her malice comes from. “Are you mocking me?” she asked, stiffening her neck. I leaned close to her ear, my voice ambiguous and low. “I’m teaching you, my dear.” Serena sprang away as if electrocuted, frowning. “What do you mean?” I patted her shoulder and stuffed the bag the assistant handed over into her arms. “A gift for you. I hope you’re—” “Happy.”

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“I sent a huge box of gifts to my crush. The next day, I saw his unboxing video. It had ten thousand likes. My heart swelled with anticipation. But then I realized… he was opening a gift from the freshman girl he was mentoring. My smile froze. The message I was about to send—“Just sent a little something your way, the main event is coming later!”—was still sitting in my drafts. Just then, my crush’s roommate sent me a private message. “Hey, Mike gave me the jacket you sent him. Are you sure it’s okay for me to keep it?” 1 Tears welled in my eyes, but I still clung to a sliver of hope. “Did he hate it that much?” A bitter laugh escaped my lips. God, I sounded pathetic. He was Mike’s roommate; he had no obligation to spare my feelings. But to my surprise, this guy, who was usually so quiet, sent me a file. “I recorded this for him.” So, there was an unboxing video for my gifts after all. Holding onto that last shred of fantasy, I opened the video. And then, I fell into a long, heavy silence. 2 I had packed six different gifts into that one box. Mike, who seemed to be in a hurry, tore open the package and immediately tossed aside the top layer of international chocolates I had spent ages collecting. Even the box of Meltykiss I’d mentioned during our flirty chat a few days ago tumbled out, landing next to the trash can. If he’d only opened it, he would have found an Apple Watch inside. I’d even carefully swapped the band for one in his favorite shade of blue. My heart twisted. Suddenly, a calm, cool voice cut through the video, like a detached narrator. “This girl is a real romantic. Chocolates from different countries. I’m guessing she picked one for each month since you two met.” If I didn’t know any better, I would’ve thought Julian was a plant I’d hired. A tiny warmth bloomed in my chest. But in the next second, Mike’s voice, light and dismissive, snuffed it out. “Who hasn’t had chocolate before? All flash, no substance. Just trying to impress herself.” I froze, unable to believe what I was hearing. 3 But Mike was never the most observant guy. It was probably normal for him to miss the little surprises. …Maybe it would get better as he kept unwrapping. I swallowed my disappointment and forced myself to keep watching. I had personally wrapped each gift in gilded, pearlescent paper and hand-drawn little cartoon versions of him with different expressions on them. I even spritzed them with the sweet perfume he’d complimented the first time we met. Mike, of course, didn’t react at all. The video went awkwardly silent for a moment. Julian, noticing the pause, casually remarked, “That’s kinda cute.” Mike immediately shot back, “It’s childish.” But I could hear the smugness in his voice. For a guy as popular as him, he was used to girls fawning over him. The gestures just got more and more elaborate. At first, Mike had been patient, carefully unwrapping the first gift. When he saw it was a set of men’s skincare products, he huffed. “What, does she think I’m some kind of pretty boy?” he muttered. Julian’s voice, flat and almost robotic, chimed in. “That brand… she probably had to get it from a duty-free shop at the airport. It’s always sold out here.” Mike ignored him, his annoyance palpable. He started tearing through the other gifts like a brute, ripping the wrapping paper to shreds. My little cartoons were torn to pieces. Even Julian seemed to wince, telling him to take it easy. Mike paid him no mind. He shook out a piece of clothing, glanced at the logo, and let out a heavy sigh. He was about to toss it aside when another hand, elegant and long-fingered, caught it. The person tried to fold it with one hand. “It’s a niche designer,” he said in a low voice. “Everything’s handmade to order.” Mike seemed to shoot him a look, then chuckled. “Yeah, yeah, we get it, you’re the trust fund kid who got cut off. You know all about this stuff. But normal people can’t recognize it. There’s no status in wearing it. Why not just get something with a big, recognizable logo? I don’t get what she’s trying to prove.” His words were like a bucket of ice water poured over my head, leaving me cold and humiliated. No matter what I sent, he found something to criticize. I was about to close the video. But then, he pulled out an envelope. He knew it was a handwritten letter from me. I’d told him I had something important to say in it. If he just read it, he’d know the iPhone 17 he really wanted was on its way. But Mike just ignored it. Julian asked him why he wasn’t reading it. He made a noise of disgust. “It’s probably just a bunch of sappy nonsense. Not interested.” The video ended there. 4 My heart went completely cold. It was also an unboxing. But the short video I’d just scrolled past was completely different. The caption was playful: “A thank-you from my newest mentee, already accepted into the program ^^” It was obvious Mike had edited it with care. He’d used at least five different background tracks, and there wasn’t a single dull moment. The freshman, Chloe, had also sent a lot of snacks. She’d even printed out their chat history and bound it into a little book. He didn’t call that “all flash, no substance.” Instead, he unwrapped everything patiently, showing each item to the camera. He treated gifts similar to mine as if they were treasures. Then, buried among the smaller items, he pulled out an Arc’teryx jacket. He put it on immediately. A different roommate was filming this time. “Dude, that looks awesome! So much better taste than that girl who’s always chasing you,” he exclaimed. I knew instantly he was talking about me. Mike didn’t deny it. He just let out a quiet, knowing laugh. History repeats itself, I guess. At the end of the video, there was another handwritten letter. Mike, now clad in the new jacket, opened it on the spot and read it with tears streaming down his face. I almost applauded. What an actor. A real performer. Except… unless I was mistaken, that Arc’teryx jacket looked exactly like the one I’d just listed on an online marketplace a few days ago. The one my cousin had gotten tired of wearing. 5 Just then, a message from Mike popped up on my phone. “I think you sent me another package?” “What did you buy this time?” Oh, right. Thanks for the reminder. I immediately contacted the shipping company to intercept the package. I didn’t bother replying to him. Instead, I opened my chat with Julian. “Go ahead and wear it,” I wrote. “Do you like blue? Or should I help you exchange it for a different color?” The “typing” bubble appeared and disappeared for a while. Finally, a message came through. “Are you okay?” I wanted to laugh. “I’m fine.” “By the way, that unboxing video… Mike told you to send it to me, didn’t he?” “And right after you sent it, he gave you the jacket?” The other end went silent. 6 Just as I thought. Mike’s intentions were painfully obvious. He filmed that critical unboxing video to show me how displeased he was with my gifts, hoping I’d take the hint and send him something else—like the new iPhone he’d mentioned a dozen times. Chloe was different. She’d saved up her living expenses for months to buy him that gift. Of course, he had different standards for us. While my mind was wandering, a new message from Julian arrived. “I’m sorry. To be honest, I really do like the jacket.” “But I only sent you the video because I thought it was the right thing to do. Mike’s motive was probably what you guessed. But my reason for sending it was to show you… he’s not worth it.” I paused. He’d better not be playing some kind of double agent game with me. As I was trying to figure out how to reply, a few more messages came in. “What do you even like about Mike?” “His face?” “You know, we actually look a bit alike.” What? What was that supposed to mean? Was everyone in that dorm room trying to score something? 7 But he was right. The first time I saw Mike, I was visiting the campus of my dream grad school before applications were due. Some upperclassmen were trying to recruit me for a club, and I was explaining I wasn’t a student there. Then I looked up and saw him. And I completely forgot how to say no. He looked so much like him. …He looked so much like that person. From the shape of his eyes to the line of his jaw, it was an aristocratically handsome face. When he wasn’t smiling, he looked cool and distant. But Mike smiled a lot. The moment our eyes met, his crinkled into a gentle, warm curve. The moles at the corner of his eye and on the tip of his nose made my head spin. How could nature’s two most perfect finishing touches appear on two different people? He stared right at me. By the time I snapped out of it, my face was burning hot all the way to my ears. It felt like a part of my heart, long dormant and dry, had sprung back to life that day. All I could think was: I have to have him. 8 I got to know Mike gradually after discovering he was a first-year grad student in the very program I was applying to. I’d ask him questions about the coursework, just as an excuse to talk to him more. Once, Mike had to go out of town for a project and told me his replies would be sporadic. He suggested I add his roommate, Julian. He said he’d already given Julian a heads-up, and that his roommate would help me with any questions in the meantime. I was ecstatic. Getting into his inner circle felt like a huge step toward getting into his life. That’s when Julian and I first connected. I even entertained the idea of turning him into my inside man, my wingman. But I quickly realized he had a very serious, almost cold personality. After a while, I barely even asked him academic questions anymore. It was just a pretext, after all. Did I really need the help? Not really. But Julian was still incredibly responsible. He even took the initiative to send me his organized notes. “Study hard,” he wrote. And then, Mike came back. My chat window with Julian went dark. 9 I never thought the same straight-laced guy who told me to “study hard” six months ago would now be sending me vague, suggestive messages like, “You know, we look a bit alike.” It was absurd. But I didn’t want to lump Julian in with the typical conceited guys. So I sent a dismissive reply: “Oh really? Send a pic, let’s see the evidence.” He went silent. I shook my head, knowing I’d called his bluff. But five minutes later, a photo actually appeared. “Sorry, just took this on my way out of the library.” He really sent one. Curiosity piqued, I tapped on the image. Even the thumbnail felt… off, in a subtle way. When I opened the full-sized picture, it became crystal clear. My breath hitched. My phone slipped from my grasp and smacked me right in the face. “

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I was obsessed with this sweet high school romance novel. The male lead was everything—my type, down to the last detail. So, there I was, curled up in bed, squealing “husband” at my phone screen, and then…poof. I was in the book. Not as the main character, of course. I was the side character he wouldn’t spare a single glance for. Heartbreak. Despair. Resignation. Fine. If I couldn’t win the heart of the male lead, I would win the heart of academia. And so, my new life began. I studied with a feverish intensity, my nose buried in a book while I ate, while I walked. Even on the toilet. By some strange twist of fate, I tested into the same advanced class as him. Just when I thought I could fly under the radar, the female lead cornered me. She accused me of trying to steal her man. What? 1 The day I transmigrated into this world, I fell for Liam Kendrick. It wasn’t love at first sight; it was a long-nurtured crush. Back when I was just a reader, I’d clutch my blankets and whisper his name like a prayer. The cool, brilliant, untouchable academic star—he was my ultimate weakness. Seeing him in the flesh? It was almost too much to handle. But reality was a cold shower. Here, in this world, he wasn’t my fictional crush anymore. He was a complete stranger, and I was just a ghost in the halls. All I could do was watch from the sidelines as his epic love story with the female lead, Mia, unfolded. A hollow ache settled in my chest, a constant, dull pressure. Back then, he and Mia weren’t together yet. A legion of girls had crushes on Liam, and a brave few even confessed. Every single one was met with his signature icy rejection. I knew my own quiet admiration was destined for the same fate, so I buried it deep. I was a nobody. A girl with a fractured family, not pretty enough, not confident enough. I didn’t even get the standard transmigrator’s starter pack—no magical system, no cheat codes to grant my every wish. All I had was a burning frustration, which I channeled into my studies. It was partly because it was what a girl my age was supposed to do, and partly because of a tiny, selfish hope. I wanted to get closer to Liam. Just a little. I wasn’t asking for a miracle. Just being able to see him every day would be enough. From that day on, I was the first one to arrive at school and the last to leave, a book always in my hand, even during lunch. After one placement exam, my rank shot up by over two hundred spots, landing me in the honors class—Liam and Mia’s class. On my first day in the new classroom, Mia rushed over. “Ava? Who are you looking for?” In the original story, my character was a certified slacker. She and Mia were frenemies; she’d gossip about people with Mia by day and then lie in bed at night, seething with jealousy over Mia’s effortless radiance. Studying was the last thing on her mind. So, Mia naturally assumed I was lost. “I tested into this class,” I explained quietly. “What?” Her eyes widened. She spun around and ran to the front of the class to check the roster on the teacher’s desk. When she came back, she gave me a slow, deliberate once-over. “Wow. Big improvement.” I managed a shy smile and slipped into my new seat, my head bowed. Liam sat on the other side of the room. Pretending to gaze out the window, I snuck a peek at him from the corner of my eye. Mia was already chattering at him, probably telling him about my surprising arrival. He looked utterly uninterested, but he did flick a brief, indifferent glance in my direction. I held my breath, my gaze snapping back to the notebook on my desk so fast it was almost comical. That was close. Too close. We almost made eye contact. 2 The atmosphere in the honors class was a different world. The intensity was palpable. Here, I wasn’t the weird one for studying during breaks. Everyone did. We’d cluster in small groups, debating complex problems, our voices a low, focused hum. I thrived. My grades stabilized, keeping me near the top of our year. Eventually, I got into the same magnet high school as Liam and Mia. Based on our entrance exam scores, I just barely scraped into the same homeroom as Liam. He was ranked first; I was third from the bottom. Mia, however, was placed in a different class. The original plot needed this separation. Liam was the genius, while Mia was the effortlessly smart and charming girl who could ace tests without ever seeming to try. The author split them up so Mia could meet the second male lead in her new class, sparking a whole new arc of sweet and sour drama. None of that mattered to me. I just kept my head down and studied. For the first two years of high school, Liam and I were just classmates. We never spoke. The only times we were ever in the same frame were when Mia would occasionally stop by to chat with me. Even when we’d pass each other in the halls after school, we were strangers. No nods, no greetings. He genuinely didn’t notice me. I, on the other hand, was a master of deception. My heart would thunder in my chest whenever he was near, but my face remained a perfect, placid mask. Not a single crack. I was getting really good at this. My obsession with studying meant my already-tenuous friendship with Mia faded into almost nothing. By the time we were nearing graduation, she had all but forgotten I existed. Then, senior year started, and she suddenly became friendly again. She insisted I was studying too hard, that I needed to relax. One day, she even roped Liam into her plans, inviting me to hang out with them. Did I want to go? Absolutely not. That time could be better spent tackling a few practice exams. But she was relentless, and I finally caved. I figured I could just bring my review book and study while they had fun. When I arrived at the meeting spot, my mind went blank. An amusement park. According to the novel, this was where they would have their first kiss. This was the moment they’d finally break through that last barrier and officially become a couple. My heart was in turmoil. I went through the motions of the day in a daze, barely registering the rides or the food. As dusk fell, the park lit up in a cascade of dreamlike colors. Mia grabbed Liam’s hand and pulled him toward the fireworks show. I trailed behind them, a forgotten shadow dozens of feet away, jostled by the swelling crowd. There, under a sky exploding with shimmering light, they confessed their feelings. Mia stood on her toes and gave Liam a shy, tender kiss. It was a picture-perfect moment, and I couldn’t bear to watch. I dropped my head, my vision blurring as hot tears fell, one after another, splattering onto the pages of my review book. I fled, a coward escaping a scene not meant for my eyes. I sent Mia a text, lying that I had to get home before my curfew. Of course, she didn’t reply. They had already forgotten I was ever there. As they held hands, their fingers intertwined with a promise of forever, their forgotten third wheel was running home, wiping away tears. I collapsed in my empty apartment and let out a choked, desperate sob. I’m sorry. This time, I just couldn’t pretend anymore. But even as the sobs wracked my body, I forced myself to grab a workbook and start writing, the pen shaking in my hand. A one-sided crush is a special kind of torture, especially for someone like me, who had nothing else. My only superpower, I guess, was having lived a life before this one. I knew the grinding importance of studying. And I knew not to waste myself on a love that was never meant to be. 3 Liam and Mia were officially together. Their ten-year romance, a marathon of love and devotion, was just beginning. They would fight, they would break up, but Liam would never stop loving Mia, and she would always have a place for him in her heart. A beautiful sentiment. For me, it was a death sentence. I wasn’t the only one suffering. The second male lead, Caleb, was about to have his world turned upside down. After they got together, his unrequited love for Mia would drive him to stir up all sorts of trouble. In the book, I was supposed to be one of the people fanning the flames, but frankly, I was more worried about my midterm grades. A wave of relief washed over me when my teacher told me, a proud smile on her face, that I’d placed second in the year. It soothed the ache in my heart, just a little. From third-to-last at the start of the year to second place by midterms. My hard work was finally paying off. In our class, seats were assigned based on rank. Liam was the immovable king, always in the first-place seat. And now, I was assigned to the desk right next to him. My desk mate. His desk mate. This had to be the start of something, right? The kind of trope that sets up a whole story. In reality? Nothing happened. We sat inches apart, but days went by without a single word exchanged. His silence was born of his naturally aloof personality; mine was born of a guilty conscience. I didn’t dare speak. The first and only thing he said to me in a week was a quiet observation. “Ava, your water bottle is leaking.” As I wiped up the puddle, I couldn’t help but correct him on a different matter. “It’s Ava Song…” Haha. He didn’t even remember my last name. We continued on like that, two strangers sharing a desk, until one day Mia stormed into our classroom and started a fight with Liam right in front of me. She demanded to know why he hadn’t told her we were desk mates. Liam just frowned, genuinely confused. “Is that important?” Since the school year began, he’d already had several desk mates thanks to the constant reshuffling after each exam. But for some reason, Mia seemed particularly bothered by me. Her eyes darted between me and him. In the end, she didn’t say another word. She just turned and ran out, tears streaming down her face. I guess I could see her point. I was someone she knew, at least peripherally. If my boyfriend was suddenly sitting next to a girl I was acquainted with and didn’t mention it, I’d probably feel a little slighted, too. After lunch, I decided to find Mia and try to clear the air. “Mia…” I called her name, but she acted like she hadn’t heard me, laughing and joking with her friends. “Oh my god, so I watched that movie you told me about yesterday, and I was literally dying, hahaha…” I stood there awkwardly for a beat before deciding to retreat. This was clearly not the time. We barely talked anymore anyway; bringing up something as trivial as our seating arrangement would probably just make things weirder. And Liam and I were practically strangers. He’d sort it out with her. It wasn’t my problem. Overthinking it was a waste of brainpower, so I let it go. A few days later, however, someone was waiting for me after school. “Ava Song, right?” It was Caleb Vance, the second male lead. I had my earbuds in, listening to a language lesson, and didn’t even hear him call my name. I walked right past him. He let out an indignant squawk, jumped in front of me, and yanked the earbuds out of my ears. “…” I scowled. “Can I help you?” My expression must have been less than friendly, because he flinched before puffing his chest out, trying to look tough. “Listen up!” he snarled. “I don’t like that Kendrick kid, but I’m not gonna let you hurt Mia and mess up their relationship.” That was… a weird way to phrase things. It took me a second to process. “How exactly am I messing up their relationship?” “Don’t play dumb,” Caleb scoffed, crossing his arms. “You’re the one trying to seduce Liam, aren’t you? Hah. All this trouble, and for what? I thought you’d be some supermodel or something, but you’re not even half as pretty as Mia.” I was trying to seduce Liam? That was news to me. “Do you have any proof?” I asked, my voice flat. “Of course I do!” he declared. “The proof is that you’re sitting next to him!” “…You do know seats in our class are assigned by grades, right?” I paused, letting the implication hang in the air. “Oh, wait. Are you suggesting I should have intentionally failed my exam just to avoid sitting next to him?” “That would be for the best.” Caleb didn’t catch the sarcasm, a smug grin spreading across his face. Normally, I wouldn’t waste my breath on someone like him. But his rudeness, combined with the baseless accusations, had officially crossed a line. “Too bad,” I said, my voice dripping with ice. “Unlike you, who had mommy and daddy pull some strings to get in here, I don’t play games with my education.” Caleb was a trust-fund kid. His parents, new money, wanted him to have the prestige of a public magnet school rather than some elite private academy. But the “money can buy anything” mindset was already hardwired into his brain. He could afford to treat life like a game. I couldn’t. Sitting next to Liam was a happy accident. But even if it wasn’t him, I had earned that seat. In fact, I was coming for his seat. Caleb’s face turned purple with rage. He threatened to make me pay. It was exactly like his character in the book—impulsive and hot-headed, but not truly malicious. After all, he was here, warning me not to hurt the girl he loved, even as he was heartbroken that she was with someone else. I didn’t take his threats seriously. Until the next monthly exam. When I was caught for cheating. 4 In the middle of the exam, I was pulled out of my seat. The proctor announced that a student had reported me for bringing a cheat sheet into the exam. Then, like a magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat, he fished a tiny, translucent slip of paper from my pocket. It was covered in minuscule, printed text—a summary of all the key concepts for the test. “Ava, Ava, Ava! I always thought you were such an honest and hardworking student. How could you do something like this!?” “This isn’t just irresponsible to yourself! You’re bringing shame upon your family and our entire class!” “Your grades at the beginning of the year were mediocre. Did you use tricks like this to improve so dramatically?” I stood in the principal’s office, a storm of accusations raining down on me from the disappointed teachers. They questioned my integrity, my character, my past achievements. When I insisted the cheat sheet wasn’t mine, it only made things worse. Denying it was an admission of guilt. I wracked my brain. Before the exam, I’d left my blazer on my chair when I went to the bathroom. That must have been when someone slipped it into my pocket and then reported me. It had to be Caleb, or someone he’d put up to it. The plan was crude, but devastatingly effective. Who would even think to do something so childish in high school? I had no way to prove my innocence. My only defense was to suggest they question the person who reported me. But they cited student privacy, refusing to reveal the name. The verdict was final. I was guilty. A school-wide announcement was made. The Dean of Students was a firm believer in making an example of people. There would be no anonymity. [HONORS CLASS STUDENT AVA SONG (ID# XXXX) CAUGHT CHEATING ON MONTHLY EXAM] The bright red text scrolled across the digital announcement board in the main lobby. Every student who walked into the building saw it. Naturally, I became a pariah. No one wanted me in their group for projects. No one would partner with me in gym class. During after-school cleanup, I was assigned all the outdoor tasks by myself. “Stay away, cheater,” they’d sneer, making exaggerated faces of disgust. It was fine. I wasn’t a real teenager. Their accusations could frame me, but they couldn’t break me. I weathered the storm. When the exam results were posted, my score was nullified. I was moved to a desk in the corner of the classroom, a place of exile. A new girl sat next to Liam. She was brilliant, popular, and had a very public crush on him. She’d bring him water after basketball practice and “accidentally” fall asleep on his shoulder during study hall. Mia, however, seemed completely unbothered, sometimes even linking her arm with Liam’s just to watch the other girl’s eyes well up with tears. Caleb didn’t bother her at all. He would just lean against the back door of our classroom, a triumphant, gloating look on his face as he watched me. He’d mouth the word. Serves. You. Right. … Reading the book, I never realized Caleb was this immature. My public shaming was his victory. But did it really affect me? Not really. I kept studying, kept eating, kept moving forward. During gym, when no one would partner with me, I’d sneak back to the empty classroom to work on practice exams. I was just finishing the last problem on a difficult calculus worksheet when I sensed someone beside me. It was Liam. He had been standing there, watching me, for who knows how long. Not watching me, exactly, but watching my paper. He was holding a basketball under one arm; he must have come back to grab it. He was so close. Close enough for me to catch the clean, fresh scent of his soap. For some reason, neither of us spoke. The classroom was silent, so quiet I could hear the frantic drumming of my own heart. A strange, poignant sadness washed over me. I didn’t want to speak. I didn’t want to move. I wanted time to freeze in this one, perfect moment. But I couldn’t let myself be greedy. Another few seconds, and the fragile atmosphere might shatter into something complicated and awkward. Finally, I broke the silence. “What’s up?” “Hmm…” He paused, his eyes still on my paper. “You made a mistake on this step.” Which one? Can you show me? That’s what I should have said. The desk next to me was empty, a seat no one wanted. If I had just asked, he might have sat down, his voice a low murmur as he explained the complex problem. Instead, the pragmatic, self-protective part of me took over. I calmly picked up my phone and opened a study app. “Oh. I’ll just look it up online.” “Okay.” Liam turned and walked away. As I efficiently uploaded a picture of the problem, a silent tear traced a path down my cheek. Stupid, stubborn pride. I was hopeless.

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I’d stumbled into a private chat group for trust fund heiresses. Their daily routine consisted of bragging about buying new yachts. For fun, I decided to play along with my own brand of surreal humor. I asked the girls to Venmo me $50. Ping! $20,000 has been deposited into your account. The heiress said she’d hit her daily transfer limit and that I should get the rest from her sister. “My sister’s getting engaged,” she typed. “She’s in a great mood, just throwing money around. You should hit her up, catch some of that good luck!” But when I looked at the wedding invitation she posted in the group, the woman in the white dress looked hauntingly familiar. Wasn’t that my girlfriend? The one who shared my tiny, cramped apartment? The same girlfriend who, just last night, was trying to get people to click her discount link to save three dollars on a purchase. 1 Sensing my gaze, Julia Keane turned her head, nuzzling my cheek with the tip of her nose. “Babe, I just need 0.03 more diamonds to unlock the deal!” Her long lashes cast soft shadows over her almond-shaped eyes. Her brows were gentle, her lips soft and sweet. Her face was so delicate, so impossibly pretty, that she even made the knock-off cartoon pajamas she was wearing look like Chanel. My smile felt brittle. “Don’t you have a sister?” I asked, testing the waters. “You could send the link to her. She could help.” “Oh, I totally forgot!” Julia’s eyes lit up. She quickly started forwarding the message, deliberately angling her phone screen away from me. I waited, my own phone silent in my hand, my eyes fixed on the heiress chat group. Sure enough, a second later, the group’s admin—Julia’s sister—posted a link from a discount shopping app. The user “ParisianPrincess” typed, “OMG, my sister is helping out her broke boyfriend again! Can you guys click the link for him? @everyone” “HamptonsHeiress” replied with a facepalm emoji. “Is she still on that stupid dare? A while back, she was trying to get 99 likes on a post just so they could get a hotpot discount. And don’t get me started on that farming game. She had us all feeding her virtual chickens…” “ManhattanMaven” sent a scoffing reply. “She’s surprisingly dedicated to that guy. Last month she asked me to find him an apartment. Downtown Manhattan, $800 a month, south-facing windows. Please. I ended up just giving her one of my places for free.” ParisianPrincess added, “Don’t worry, it’s almost over. My sister’s getting married next week. She said she’s just going to ghost him. Clean break.” Seeing my icon was silent, the admin tagged me. “@FallenHeir, you should click the link for my sister too. And while you’re at it, hit her up for the other $30k she owes you. Hope you get back on your feet soon!” “You got it, boss,” I typed back. This was my burner account. After helping Julia with her discount, I’d added her sister as a contact. She accepted instantly and sent over $30,000. I sent back a simple message: Thanks. Congratulations on the wedding. She replied with a coffee cup emoji. Online, she was dismissive, cold, and utterly indifferent. But here, in our apartment, she rested her cheek against my knee, looking up at me with an expression of pure, trusting dependence. “Babe, I’m thirsty.” 2 I met Julia at a gala hosted by some obscenely wealthy family. I was there working as a server, and I saw her in a maid’s uniform, surrounded by a gaggle of socialites who were teasing her. “Look at the little rich girl! Is your whole outfit worth even a thousand dollars?” “I’d rather not say.” Seeing Julia, her brow furrowed in discomfort, reminded me of my first time at one of these events. I’d mistaken a glass of champagne for mouthwash and spat it onto the table. The host’s face had turned to stone. In the middle of summer, he’d poured a glass of ice water over my head. “Rinse your own mouth out,” he sneered. Having been rained on before, I saw Julia as one of my own. I felt a pang of sympathy. I walked over, took her hand, and pulled her away from the group. “The chef needs you in the kitchen.” The other women gave us a strange look. “You two know each other?” Julia looked at me and nodded. “Yeah. I’ll get back to work.” At that moment, a flicker of a smile crossed her face. I thought it was gratitude. Looking back now, I realize she was just sizing up the prey that had wandered right into her trap. After the party, I gave her a ride home on my moped. She held onto the corner of my jacket as I shared my hard-won wisdom on side hustles. “You gotta join the neighborhood groups online. They’re always posting gigs for tutoring or cleaning. And I heard from a guy that if you hang around the dumpsters in the rich neighborhoods, you can sometimes find designer stuff they just throw out.” Julia gently corrected me. “They don’t use dumpsters. All their trash is sorted and collected by a private service.” I glanced back, impressed, and made a mental note. She clearly had some experience; she wasn’t some naive kid fresh out of school. That night, I treated her to a five-dollar hot dog from a street cart. Julia wrinkled her nose and took the tiniest, most hesitant bite. I thought she was just being frugal, never considering that for a girl like her, it was the equivalent of being fed garbage. We exchanged numbers. She’d send me leads on catering gigs at mansions; I’d send her tips on how to save money. Every job she recommended was with a family that was surprisingly pleasant and respectful. I never once suspected a thing. The day I finally saved up ten thousand dollars, I asked her out to a nice dinner to celebrate. Julia got stuck in traffic, and while I was waiting at the restaurant, my family found me. An acquaintance had told them they’d seen me working in a wealthy neighborhood, supposedly making a fortune. They’d driven all night to track me down. They held me down, took my phone, and transferred every last cent out of my account. They were kind enough to leave me three dollars and sixty cents. When Julia finally arrived, I was squatting by the restaurant entrance. I looked up at her and scratched my head. “Sorry. The money’s gone. How about I take you back to my place and cook you dinner instead?” 3 That was the first time I ever saw Julia truly angry. “Aren’t you going to call the police?!” But it wasn’t that simple. Family matters never are. I’m adopted. My mother couldn’t conceive before she took me in, but when I was five, she gave birth to my sister. From that day on, I became a resource. I got into NYU, but my tuition fund was used to buy my sister designer bags. The day I was supposed to get my diploma, they tricked me into coming home, having already arranged my marriage to line their own pockets and buy my sister’s fiancé a sports car. The first suit I bought with my own paycheck was taken and used as a bed for the family dog. Every time I tried to stand up for myself, my parents would start with the waterworks, calling me an ungrateful monster, clutching their chests and talking about their weak hearts. Even the most righteous judge backs down in the face of shameless hysterics. Now, thousands of miles away in a new city, they had still managed to find me. A bitter taste filled my throat, but looking at Julia, I forced a smile. I didn’t want her to see me like this, so broken. “It’s okay. I’ll just move. I’ve dealt with this for years. Don’t worry about it.” Julia took off her jacket. It was still warm. She draped it over my shoulders, her own warmth seeping into my chilled skin. She took my cold hands in hers, and her voice was laced with an unfamiliar chill. “If you don’t solve a problem, it will never go away.” The next day, I heard my mother’s small business was being audited for tax evasion. My father’s construction site was shut down after an anonymous tip to OSHA about safety violations. My sister was fired after being caught bullying a coworker and then, in a freak accident, was mugged by some street thugs who broke both her legs. Her fiancé left her, and she lost the baby. They were so caught up in their own disasters that they never had the chance to bother me again. They simply vanished from my life. I was on the back of Julia’s moped when I heard the news. She was wobbling, still unsteady with the controls, but her voice was bright with laughter. “I had some of my friends help out. It’s fine, don’t worry.” I wrapped my arms around her. Her back was soft, shielding me from the wind. My eyes stung, and I pressed my face against her shoulder. A selfish thought crept into my mind. “I don’t have any money to pay you back,” I murmured. “How about I offer myself instead?” Julia stiffened for a moment, then answered, her voice muffled. “I’m just afraid you’ll be the one getting the short end of the deal.” Looking back, I realize she was worried about me getting hurt when I found out the truth about her identity. But what’s a poor man’s heart worth, really? I’m more upset about the buy-one-get-one-free milk teas I shared with her, the streaming accounts I let her use. All the little things she never needed, all the gestures born from my own self-deception. 4 After dinner, Julia fell asleep beside me, tucking my hand into the warmth of her arms. She knew I was always cold, my hands and feet like ice since I was a child. Quietly, I opened the heiress chat. The admin, flush with cash from her sister’s generosity, was planning a trip to Iceland to see the Northern Lights. She was giving away her old travel itinerary for Paris. The other heiresses were bored. “Paris is so last season.” The admin immediately tagged me. “@FallenHeir, you want to go to Paris? I have a friend there who also went broke and made a comeback. Maybe you could learn from her! Type 1 to claim.” “111!” I typed back instantly. I confirmed the travel dates with her—right before Julia’s engagement party. Later that night, unable to sleep, I sent a private message to the admin, Julia’s sister. “That boyfriend of your sister’s… you don’t think he’ll try to crash the wedding, do you?” She sent back a laughing emoji. “FallenHeir, you’re new here so you don’t know. My sister lost a dare and had to dress up as a maid at that party. The dumbass boyfriend played the hero and ‘rescued’ her. That’s how they got together.” “A friend of ours dared her to keep up the act for a few months. The prize was a set of antique porcelain my sister’s fiancé really wanted, so she agreed.” My fingers felt cold as they tapped against the screen. “What about the guy? Aren’t you guys going to give him some money or something?” “My sister’s been good enough to him! The guy’s one of those suckers who gives everything to his family. Julia had to get her hands dirty cleaning up his messes. A clean break is more than he deserves! Does he really think a frog can marry a princess?” “And if he gets clingy, she’ll just toss some money at him. Problems of the poor are easy to solve~” Suddenly, the phone was snatched from my hand. I looked up into Julia’s eyes, dark in the dim light of the bedroom. My heart hammered against my ribs. Did she see the tears in my eyes? Would she demand to know what was wrong? Could we finally talk about everything? If she just apologized, just explained, was there still a chance for us? I opened my mouth to ask. But Julia just turned off the screen and wrapped her arms around me, her voice thick with sleep. “Babe, don’t stay up so late. I have to work in the morning.” I lay beside her, wide awake, staring at the ceiling. My mind was already packing my bags for the trip. 5 As soon as the sun was up, Julia left for work. Before she left, she washed my clothes and hung them up to dry in the sun. I’d had a sudden bout of stomach flu last night, and she tucked a bottle of painkillers into my pocket. She gave me her usual kiss at the door and said she’d see me tonight. The moment the door closed, a notification popped up from the heiress chat. The admin had posted: “My sister is on her way to pick out a gift for her fiancé! They are SO perfect together!” What a coincidence. I was also picking out a gift to leave for Julia. The three wool sweaters in the closet were for her. The collection of plushies I thought were cheap knock-offs—all authentic, imported items Julia had bought—were also for her. Even the toilet paper was some fancy imported brand; my skin was too rough to have ever noticed the difference. The dress I’d saved up to buy for her birthday was hers to keep. I wouldn’t be around to celebrate with her this year. I logged her device out of all my shared streaming accounts. Finally, I checked the fridge. There was one carton of yogurt left. I remembered how Julia would take a few sips and then toss it. I’d once snatched it back from her, showing her how to lick the lid clean. “If you don’t lick the lid, you must be a secret millionaire.” A strange expression had flickered across her face. Then, realizing I was joking, she’d laughed and kissed the smudge of yogurt from the corner of my mouth. When she saw all my little habits born of poverty, did she find them charming? Or did she find me pathetic? I decided it didn’t matter anymore. I grabbed my suitcase, walked out of our apartment, and sent Julia one last text. “I’m out of town for work. Won’t be coming home.” Of course, she didn’t reply. A video popped up in the heiress chat. It was Julia, straightening a man’s tie, her smile gentle and elegant. “My sister helping her future husband try on his suit. So sweet,” the caption read. “HamptonsHeiress”: “999!” (for luck) “ManhattanMaven”: “A match made in heaven.” Feeling generous, I added my own comment. “Wishing the happy couple a lifetime of happiness and beautiful twin babies!” Suddenly, a cash prize notification appeared in the chat. It was from Julia. She must have been added to the group at some point. “Thank you all for the well wishes.” No one claimed the money. So I did. Wow. A hundred thousand dollars. Tears sprang to my eyes. I ordered the most expensive coffee on the menu without looking at the price, hailed a cab without checking the fare, and headed straight for the airport. 6 Landed in Paris. The unfamiliar surroundings and the crush of the crowd felt overwhelming. I dragged my suitcase, feeling out of place and clumsy. After a few steps, I saw a sign held high above the crowd. It read: FallenHeir, where are you? The woman holding the sign was dressed in a sleek black trench coat. Her features were sharp and coolly beautiful, and she looked vaguely familiar. She glanced at her watch, a picture of impatient elegance amidst the waiting throng. I ducked my head and walked over, placing my hand on her sign. “Hi.” Her voice was as cool as her expression, but surprisingly loud. “You’re FallenHeir? Let’s go. I’m Elara.” “FallenHeir, have you eaten?” “FallenHeir, where are you staying?” I hurried to catch up with her. “Shh, shh, could you keep it down? I have a name. It’s Leo!” “Right. Got it, Mr. Leo.” She took my suitcase and led the way. A discreet black Maybach was waiting at the curb. As I settled into the plush leather seat, I opened the group chat to let the admin know I’d arrived safely. But the chat was in utter chaos. The admin, ParisianPrincess, was spamming the chat. “HOLY SHIT, MY SISTER RAN AWAY FROM HER OWN ENGAGEMENT PARTY!” “ManhattanMaven” immediately replied: “Spill. Now.” “HamptonsHeiress” was more succinct: “DETAILS.”

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The city’s golden boy, the heir to the Lindenlaub empire, announced he was joining a monastery, leaving me standing alone at the altar. The socialites all placed their bets: I’d be kicked to the curb before the season was over. But to everyone’s shock, my new husband, Jake Lindenlaub, shed his celibate persona and spent our nights tangled in passionate embraces. Just as the world decided I was the siren who had lured the saint from his pedestal, I overheard a conversation between him and his friends. “Your wife is adorable, completely clueless,” one of them drawled. “Three years, seven different guys, and she hasn’t suspected a thing. She actually thinks you’re just a master of variety in the bedroom.” Another laughed. “You’re never home during the day, and she still makes you dinner. Doesn’t question a thing.” Jake Lindenlaub chuckled, tapping the ash from his cigarette. “She’s a small-town girl. Sheltered. She has no idea how we play in the city. Easily impressed.” The man who had been with me just last night corrected him. “Don’t talk about her like that. She’s just… innocent.” My lover from the month before that chimed in. “Yeah, she’s sweet. I had a headache once and she gave me a massage.” Jake’s face darkened. “You guys can stop coming over,” he said, his voice flat. “My mother wants a grandchild.” I glanced down at the flimsy lingerie I was wearing. And sighed. Jake Lindenlaub has seven brothers. I still had one to go. 1 City boys play rough. On our wedding night, the prince of Manhattan’s elite not only insisted the lights be off, but he also blindfolded me with a silk tie. He had dismissed all the servants from the villa. My wedding dress, tiara, and shoes were scattered in a trail from the grand staircase to the master bedroom. Two antique vases were casualties of our chaotic journey. In the pitch-black, I couldn’t see a thing, but my hands found his abs. They were spectacular. “Jake, be gentle…” This one was built like a god. He wrapped an arm around me from behind, covering my mouth with one hand while his own mouth was busy leaving a trail of love bites along my shoulder. The next morning, I single-handedly debunked the rumors of Jake Lindenlaub’s asceticism. I limped so badly I had to skip the formal post-wedding brunch with his mother. In an instant, the news that Jake Lindenlaub had fallen from grace spread like wildfire. I became the talk of the town. My sister called me in a panic from across the ocean. “So? How was it?” I was busy applying concealer to a particularly vicious mark on my shoulder. “Seven rounds. Nothing special.” The truth was, I knew it wasn’t Jake on our wedding night. While he thought I was asleep, he’d taken a call by the bed, his fingers toying with a lock of my hair. “Can’t leave now, she just cried herself to sleep.” “What are you worried about? It’s not like your parents are going to come inspect the sheets.” “She’s a simple one. Didn’t suspect a thing.” After he hung up, I waited a few calculated seconds before “sleepwalking” my way into his arms, my hands exploring freely. I knew this man couldn’t resist a bit of teasing. And since he wasn’t my man, every touch was a bonus. My motto: a good deal is a terrible thing to waste. After six months, I was getting bored. While this brother was away on a business trip, I decided to harass the real Jake with a video call. He picked up on the tenth try. “What is it?” That was the real Jake Lindenlaub. Cold, distant, and perpetually annoyed by my very existence. He had never once set foot in our marital home. I feigned ignorance, my voice a playful purr. “Last night, you said you were going to absolutely wreck me. Why aren’t you home yet?” I was sprawled on the pillows, my eyes red-rimmed. “I feel so… needy. And this floor-to-ceiling window has a perfect view of the city lights. Do you think anyone’s ever watched us?” “I want to play piano on your back again. You’re so good at it.” Jake wasn’t looking at the screen, but I could see the color drain from his face. “Shut up. Don’t talk about that during the day.” See? It was his own kinky idea, but even he felt the phantom weight of cuckold horns when it was said out loud. I wasn’t done. “You promised. If you don’t come back, I’ll just come to your office. I don’t mind an audience. You have thirty minutes.” I had been dying to meet the rest of his brothers. To get rid of me, Jake promised he would be home that night. Of course, he wouldn’t be coming. So, half an hour later, the lights in the villa went out once again. And in walked a sunny, athletic type. For three years, the lingerie in my closet was in a constant cycle of being bought, worn, and torn. 2 Jake was right. I was just a poor girl from a small town. The only reason I married him was a stroke of dumb luck. His mother adored me, his grandparents loved me, and they all said I had a “lucky aura.” They promised me a stake in the family company if I married him. Of course, being ridiculously charming is a skill in itself. I admit it, I’m a professional. At first, I didn’t want to marry him. I just figured a man that wealthy couldn’t possibly be clean. As for all that talk about being a celibate monk? I didn’t buy it for a second. A man’s virginity is the greatest dowry. My sister nearly slapped me. “Are you a virgin?” I shook my head. I’d had four or five boyfriends. “Then what’s with the double standard?! You’re going to sleep with someone eventually, why not sleep with Jake Lindenlaub? He’s rich, he’s gorgeous, his family loves you. Try it out for a few years. If it doesn’t work, you can always get a divorce!” “And if he actually becomes a monk? Even better! Your in-laws love you, your wallet is full, and your husband isn’t even home to annoy you. Only an idiot would turn this down!” “A trust fund is a hell of a lot sexier than a 401(k), isn’t it?” And just like that, a small-town girl hit the jackpot. I endured the judgmental stares of high society, ate six-figure meals that left me hungry, and wore shoes that couldn’t get wet. I watched as seven-figure sums were deposited into my bank account every day. My life, a bleak, desolate wasteland. Oh, the tragedy. I was suffering so much. Was it really too much to ask for him to send a few of his brothers to comfort me? I considered it fair compensation. Jake had seven close friends—a band of brothers. In three years, I had slept with six of them. I was an equal-opportunity lover, giving each man a solid six-month run. Just as I was getting tired of the current one and plotting how to switch to the next, it was my mother-in-law’s birthday. I was summoned back to the family estate. She eyed my flat stomach with a sigh. “Three years and still no news. That boy Jake is really useless.” “He’s just very diligent with protection,” I offered. “You’re still using it?” I nodded solemnly. The city boys might play rough, but they weren’t stupid enough to play with fire. Jake and I were rarely seen together in public. In fact, we had barely ever met. The main hall was crowded, so I took a tray of drinks upstairs, hoping to hide out in Jake’s study. But as I approached the door, I heard a cynical laugh from inside. “That small-town girl is so naive. Three years, and she still hasn’t caught on? Jake, your family picked a real winner for you. So pure.” I knew that voice. It belonged to one of Jake’s brothers. I used to love hearing it whisper in my ear. “The old folks really know what they’re doing. A girl like that… almost makes me want to get one of my own.” There were nine men in the study, lounging in various states of casual arrogance—leaning against walls, sprawled on sofas, perched on desks. It was a sea of long legs and devastatingly handsome faces. “So, who do you guys think is her favorite?” I held my breath, my grip tightening on the tray. Damn, I was good. I assumed they were deciding who was next on the roster. My money was on the youngest of the group, a kid named Noah. He was still in college, all innocent charm and blushing cheeks. He called me “ma’am” and would turn bright red if I so much as smiled at him. I could make him cry in three minutes flat. But then Jake, who had been silent until now, sat up. He tapped the ash from his cigarette, his expression unreadable. “No need. My mother is pushing for a grandchild.” His brother was stunned. “So you’re giving in? I thought you swore off women forever.” “My mother was just diagnosed with a heart condition. She doesn’t have much time left. She wants to see her grandchild.” Damn. What a buzzkill. 3 So, no Noah, and my celibate husband was coming home. A double whammy of disappointment. I stood outside the bedroom, looking pathetic, and checked my phone. A seven-figure deposit notification popped up. A smile instantly bloomed on my face as I walked in. “Darling, I’ve missed you so much!” Jake was impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, his cufflinks sparkling. A pair of gold-rimmed glasses rested on his aristocratic nose, and a string of prayer beads was wrapped around his wrist. He really did look like a saint. He was sitting on the sofa, reading a book. His eyes flicked up, scanning me from head to toe. “Go take a shower.” If I wasn’t mistaken, the book in his hand was mine. The last brother had used it as a coaster. I cursed silently under my breath, grabbed a silk nightgown, and headed for the bathroom. The real Jake was no slouch. He was just as handsome and well-built as the others. This was the first time I’d seen him up close. As he leaned over me, his features were sharp and defined, his lips thin and sensual, his lashes long and dark. The man radiated pure, unadulterated sex appeal. If it weren’t for the fact that, as he pressed down on me, his hands were suddenly snapped into a pair of handcuffs attached to the headboard, I probably wouldn’t have burst out laughing. Now, Jake was half-curled on the bed, his face a thundercloud. “You play these games often?” He clearly had no idea what his brothers had been up to in his villa. As he struggled, the chains on the cuffs tightened. I poked my finger into his cheek, feigning surprise. “Don’t you remember? You bought these for me.” “You don’t need me to unlock them, do you?” I adjusted my robe, batting my eyelashes innocently. “You said you had a surprise for me the other day. I can’t believe it was this. You’re making me blush.” Jake’s face grew even darker. His best friend… …in his marital home… …gave his wife… …a very special gift. A gift that he had now received, and couldn’t get off. “I guess you’re not in the mood to play tonight.” I fought back a wave of hysterical laughter, wiped away a non-existent tear, and climbed over him. “I’ll just sleep in the guest room then. Don’t worry about me. I’m not afraid of sleeping alone. Really.” “Wait!” Jake gritted out. “Do me a favor.” Of course, I didn’t unlock him. I just tossed him his phone. I’d considered keeping it, but if he died and it was blamed on me, my bank account might suffer. All that money, left to the whims of strangers? Unacceptable. Jake called for help. Half an hour later, a luxury car pulled up to the villa. I opened the door. The night wind felt cool against my neck. Leo, the sixth brother, took a deep breath. Last night, in the dark, he had promised to make me cry. Tonight, he was here to unlock his best friend. The phone call between them must have been excruciating. As I was heading up the stairs, I stumbled. Leo’s hand shot out, steadying me by the waist. “Careful, baby.” I regained my balance and shot him a look. “What did you just call me?” He quickly retracted his hand, clearing his throat. “Ma’am.” The man who had spent nights whispering “baby” in my ear now couldn’t even spare me a second glance. The injustice of it all. I didn’t call him out. “Are you a locksmith or something?” “What?” I pushed open the bedroom door. Jake was still trapped on the bed, his face like stone, the chains rattling as he clenched his fists. I pointed at the cold metal on his wrists. “For that.” 4 In the dead silence between the two brothers, my feigned ignorance was a work of art. A poor, sheltered girl from a small town. What would I know? Leo followed the instructions and finally freed Jake. The two best friends stood in stony silence. My phone rang, shattering the tension. I hung up. “I have a client for a manicure. I have to go.” When you have too much money, you start wanting to “experience life.” In other words, you invent hardships for yourself. I had opened a nail salon. Business was slow, but I had a few loyal customers. Jake clearly had things to discuss with Leo. He tossed me his car keys and told me to take his car. As I headed to the garage, I could hear the sounds of a fight breaking out upstairs. “You went too fucking far!” “You’re the one who wanted to be a monk! You’re blaming me?!” Who won, who lost? I couldn’t care less. The sea breeze was refreshing. I sat in my private cabana by the beach, my toolkit open, a rainbow of polish bottles laid out. I held a man’s hand in mine, his fingers long and elegant. I carefully applied a coat of shimmering polish. Seeing a speck of dust, I gently blew it away. The man’s body tensed. “You’re a hard woman to book an appointment with.” I worked on each nail meticulously. “I’m the owner. You’re lucky to get me once a month.” I placed a tiny pink heart sticker on his middle finger. “Like it?” I looked up and met his intense gaze. He was watching me. Suddenly, he covered my eyes with his hand. His lips, warm and soft, pressed against mine. “Sera, I’m a man. I don’t care about the manicure.” This was Ethan, the first brother. The muscular one, lean and powerful but not intimidating. After three minutes, I pushed him away and slapped him. Ouch. My hand stung. “My name is Seraphina.” “I know!” Ethan stared at me for a moment, then took my reddened hand and gently blew on it. “That must have hurt. I remember you don’t like pain.” Dude, it’s a little late for that now. I’m not one to go back for seconds. I made an excuse and left. Ethan followed me. “Jake has always hated women. He swore he was going to be a monk. As his wife, you must have suffered a lot. But I’m different. You were happy with me, weren’t you?” I stopped. Against the light, he looked even more handsome. I could never bring myself to be mean to a handsome man. I took a few more steps and stopped again. From this angle, he wasn’t nearly as attractive. I slapped him again, decisively. “I don’t know what you’re talking about! You’re just a client. I’m a married woman. Please have some respect and stay away from me!” What a joke. I was the victim here. Did he really think I was going to have an honest conversation with him? Not a chance. Ethan tried to soothe my hand again. I snatched it away, turned on my thousand-dollar heels, clutched my forty-thousand-dollar Chanel bag, and stormed off to my million-dollar Ferrari. And came face-to-face with a stone-cold Jake. His fingers were tapping on the steering wheel, a tell-tale sign of his displeasure. “Have you been in contact with him this whole time?” He had just been in a fight with Leo. A fresh bruise on his cheek made his already severe face look even more menacing.

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My husband, Henry, had a terrible temper. He was rarely home, and when he was, he’d storm in like a king, ordering everyone around. It’s why my best friend was always telling me to divorce him. In my last life, I listened. I screamed back at him, and after the final, explosive fight, I packed up my parents, my son, and left. But I never imagined how impossible it would be to support my family alone. When I tried to crawl back to Henry, I found him with her—my best friend. She’d tricked him into becoming her little puppet, and he’d handed over every penny he had. Only then did I realize she’d wanted him all along, plotting to steal him for herself. My world shattered. Driving home in a daze, I was hit by a truck. When I opened my eyes again, I was back in the moment Serena first started poisoning my mind, urging me to leave him. This time, without a second thought, I blocked her number. Then I turned to my husband, who was in the middle of ranting about how my clothes were a disgrace and my taste was garbage, and I smiled sweetly. “You’re right, honey. I’ll go change right now. Whatever you want.” 1 In our two years of marriage, it was the first time I’d ever met his anger with a smile. It actually stunned him into silence for a second. While he was still processing, I’d already slipped out of my t-shirt and jeans and emerged from the walk-in closet in a silk slip dress. The hard lines of Henry’s face softened. “That’s better,” he said, his voice losing its edge. “Don’t wear those ugly things again. They do nothing for you.” Who wears a slip dress to lounge around the house? No one. But Henry liked to see it. If I didn’t do exactly what he wanted, his words turned to daggers. I used to burn with indignation. We’d fallen in love on our own terms, we were both actors in the same industry—why did a marriage certificate suddenly make me his subordinate? I refused to accept it. Every time he criticized my clothes, I fought back, hard. One fight, then another, and another. He’d always end up red-faced with fury, and I’d be left with a bitter taste in my mouth. Afterward, I’d vent to my best friend, Serena. Her advice was always the same. “I’m just saying, Clara,” she’d start, “we live in an age of equality. What man gets to act like a tyrant in his own home these days? Other guys treat their wives like queens, terrified of hurting their feelings. And then there’s Henry. He thinks dropping a little money every month makes him lord of the manor. It’s one thing for you to put up with it, but making your parents walk on eggshells? That’s just cruel. If I were you, I’d divorce him. Find some hot young actor and see how he likes that.” As angry as I was, I always hesitated. “But… I’ve been out of the industry for so long. And Leo is only a year old. If I leave him now, how will I find work?” Serena would cut me off. “Are you kidding me? You’re just as talented as he is, if not more. Besides, I’m still in the business. I can get you auditions. We don’t need a man to survive.” Despite her words, the thought of divorce terrified me. I let things drag on with Henry, stuck in our cycle of fighting and making up. Then came the time he went to shoot a film deep in the mountains and was gone for three months. A nasty flu swept through the city, and everyone in my house—my parents, my son, and me—came down with it. I was burning up, my fever spiking to 103. When I called Henry, I could hear the chaos of the film set in the background. He barely let me get two words out before he exploded. “Clara, for God’s sake, you’re a grown woman! Go to a doctor! Hire a nurse! What do you think I give you all that money for? I’m in the middle of nowhere, I can’t just drop everything and come back. Why are you calling me and adding to my stress?” Listening to the symphony of coughs and cries from the living room, I felt a wave of fear and self-pity wash over me. My voice trembled. “Henry, I just… I needed to hear your voice. I needed some comfort.” “I don’t have time for this!” He took a sharp breath; I could hear a director yelling for him in the distance. He reined in his anger. “Figure it out yourself, Clara. The whole crew, hundreds of people, have been waiting for this snowstorm. We have to shoot. Don’t call me for the next few days. I’ll text you when I’m free.” He hung up. Then, he blocked my number. I stared at the red exclamation point on my screen, my heart fracturing. Just then, Serena called. When I told her what happened, she rushed over and helped me get my parents and Leo to the hospital. After everyone was settled, she sat beside me, sighing dramatically. “See? What did I tell you? That man is useless. Besides throwing money at you, what good is he?” I was numb, unable to speak. A moment later, my phone buzzed with a dozen videos from her—all about how to leave a man who isn’t there for you when you need him most. As I watched, the idea of leaving Henry started to feel less like a threat and more like a promise. What I didn’t know was that Serena had her own agenda. I’d forgotten that without Henry, I’d also be without the $50,000 he deposited into my account every month. The money Serena dismissed as “useless” was what gave me, my parents, and my son a life of comfort and ease. So, when I opened my eyes to this second chance, Henry’s role in my life was redefined. He was no longer my husband. He was my patron, my ATM, my golden goose. If I had to flatter a boss to keep a job, what were a few harsh words from the man who funded my entire life? With that clarity, I forced a smile onto my face. “You must be exhausted, honey,” I said, looking at him. “Let me run a bath for you.” He just nodded, his anger deflating into confusion. 2 In the bathroom, I drew a steaming bath for him, even testing the water with Leo’s little rubber duck to make sure the temperature was perfect. When Henry came in, his eyes were still on me, searching. “Clara.” “Hmm?” “Are you still mad at me? I told you, I had to block you. It was an emergency. You’ve been on set, you know the pressure when hundreds of people are waiting on you.” He spoke quickly, his voice tight. “We drove hours to that remote location just for that one snowstorm. If we missed the shot, the whole production would have been delayed. I couldn’t let that happen. You, of all people, should understand.” He was getting worked up again. In my past life, this would have been my cue to plant my hands on my hips and let him have it. So, your job is more important than your wife and child? Our whole family is in the hospital, and you’re mad that I called you? But now, I understood. Henry was a simple man. Like most men, he wanted a wife to make his life easier, not harder. The thrill of the chase was for dating; marriage was for comfort, for peace, for enjoying the warmth of a home without any effort. I stepped closer and wrapped my arms around his neck, nuzzling him like a cat. “I know,” I whispered. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called. I was panicking and wasn’t thinking about what was happening on your end. You just spent months roughing it in the mountains. You need to relax. Get in the bath. We can talk about it after you’ve rested, okay?” I stroked his cheek. I could feel the tension drain out of him. For once, he didn’t lash out. He let out a long sigh, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. “Clara, if only you were always this understanding.” 3 I knew why he said that. I was eight years younger than him, practically still a kid when we got married. When we were dating, he’d spoiled me rotten, giving me anything I wanted. After I got pregnant, my parents moved in. As their only child, they doted on me, turning me into even more of a princess. Henry used to joke that he felt less like he’d married a wife and more like he’d adopted a daughter. I thought it was a sign of his love. Then I saw him with Serena. She was so subservient to him that when his shoelace came undone, she would drop to her knees and tie it for him. Henry would look at her, his heart melting. “You don’t have to do that. I can get it.” Serena would just smile. “I know. But I want to take care of you. You had it so rough with Clara. Let me be the one to love you now. Let me spoil you.” Her words were like a magic spell. He would pull her into his arms, his voice thick with emotion. “Thank you, baby. I never knew what love was until I met you. Come on, let’s go to the mall. I’ll buy you a new Louis Vuitton.” Serena would feign protest. “Oh, honey, you work so hard for your money. You don’t need to spend it on me.” But she never said no. Instead, she’d kiss him deeply. I watched them like a creep, a ghost from his past, as they strolled hand-in-hand through the luxury boutiques. Henry, who was always so quick to anger with me, was a sea of calm with Serena. If he ever raised his voice, she would gently place a hand on his chest and whisper, “Easy, honey. You’re scaring me when you talk so loud.” And he would instantly soften, docile as a puppy. Watching her masterful performance, I finally understood how naive I’d been. Henry was a catch. Parents deceased, ruggedly handsome, and a titan in the industry. Marrying him had been like winning the lottery. He’d moved my parents into the sprawling mansion he’d bought, and we all lived under his roof. He was gone for months at a time filming, and the $50,000 he sent every month was more than enough for us to live in luxury. On top of that, there were the diamond necklaces, the designer bags, and the million-dollar checks he’d write for my parents at the end of the year. He wasn’t reckless with his fortune, either. He invested in real estate and had set up a massive education fund for our son. He was a perfect man, aside from his foul temper. Why on earth had I ever thought of letting him go? I wanted to slap myself for being so foolish, for ruining my life and the lives of my family. This time, I would take a page out of Serena’s book. I would conquer him with softness. I refused to fail again. 4 The next day, Henry slept in until noon. Just like they always did, my parents kept his breakfast warm in the oven, waiting for him to wake up. I put Leo down for his nap and ate a couple of pastries. My mom sidled up to me, nudging me in the ribs. “Well, look at you. Being a good girl today? Not a single complaint about Henry sleeping in?” In the past, my patience would have worn thin by 10 a.m. I would have stormed into the bedroom, ripped the covers off him, and yelled at him for disrespecting my parents by not eating with the family. This time, I just smiled at her. “He’s exhausted from filming, Mom. Let him sleep. I’m a mother now, I can’t keep acting like a child.” “Oh, honey, come listen to this!” my mom called out to my dad, laughing. “Our daughter says she’s grown up!” Watching my parents chuckle together, a familiar ache bloomed in my chest. In my last life, when I’d insisted on the divorce, we had very little money. To maintain our standard of living, they’d both had to find jobs in their old age. I couldn’t imagine how they managed after I died. And Leo. He was just a baby, left without a mother. The pain was so sharp it brought tears to my eyes. Just then, Henry opened the bedroom door and saw me, my face streaked with tears. Something in his chest clenched. He walked over. “What’s wrong? Who upset you?” I quickly wiped my eyes and shook my head. “No one. I was just thinking how lucky I am, how happy this life is.” Henry stared at me, another flicker of surprise in his eyes. After he showered, he took his seat at the head of the table. I served him a plate of food and a bowl of soup. “Mom was simmering this all morning. Try it.” He took a sip, his face stern. “It’s good. But a bit heavy on the garlic next time.” My mom smiled awkwardly. “Oh, but the pork belly needs garlic to cut the richness.” “Then find another way,” he said dismissively. “The French cook without garlic all the time and their food is incredible. You have to think outside the box, not just stick to the old ways.” There it was, that familiar, overbearing tone. I felt the old anger rising in my throat. I took a deep breath, forcing it down. “Okay, we’ll try a different recipe next time. I hope you still like everything else. The fish is really good.” I placed a piece of fish on his plate. The rest of the meal was tense. Everyone but Henry ate carefully, cautiously. Afterward, he was heading out for a meeting. He grabbed his phone. “Clara, I transferred $500,000 to your account. Go buy something nice for your parents.” He paused at the door. “Director Zhao wants to go over a script with me. I might be home late.” He’d just gotten back last night, and he was already leaving again. He hadn’t even seen Leo. My first instinct was to ask him to stay a little longer, to at least say hello to his son so the boy wouldn’t forget his face. But then I thought better of it. Of course the golden goose had to go out and make more gold. 5 By the time Henry left, it was already evening. With my parents at home watching Leo, I grabbed my purse and headed to the mall. I’d been suffocating for too long. In the six months between the divorce and the car crash in my past life, I hadn’t bought a single new thing for myself. I walked into the designer boutique and bought every single item I’d seen Henry buy for Serena. I was just stepping out, my arms loaded with bags, when I saw her walking toward me. Serena’s eyes flickered over my haul, a flash of envy in their depths. “Clara, why did you block me?” I met her gaze, my voice cool. “I just didn’t feel like talking.” “We’ve been best friends for five years. You can’t just cut me off like that.” “Yes, I can.” “But why? Clara, you at least owe me a reason.” “We’re just too different.” The last thing I needed was someone constantly whispering in my ear, telling me to leave my golden goose. But Serena wouldn’t give up. She grabbed my arm. “I don’t think I’ve done anything to deserve this. Unless… unless it’s because I gave you some advice when you and Henry were fighting. But I was just trying to help you! A man like Henry, what good is he, really?” I let out a short, sharp laugh. “If he’s so useless, why is he so coveted?” Serena’s face paled. “Who… who’s coveting him? Are you saying… he’s cheating on you?” “Oh, I think we both know who I’m talking about.” I was done with her. I turned to walk away. But I had underestimated her shamelessness. Two days later, she showed up at my door, arms full of gifts, acting as if nothing had happened. My parents, unaware of our falling out, welcomed her in with smiles. “Serena, you’re here! Clara and Henry are still asleep. Would you like to wait?” Serena didn’t answer right away. Her eyes scanned the enormous house, lingering for a moment on the new Hermès bag I’d left in the corner. I came down the stairs just in time to catch the envy on her face. “What are you doing here?” She snapped back to the present. “I came to explain.” Before she could continue, Henry came downstairs, dressed in casual loungewear. A faint love bite was still visible on his neck from our fooling around the night before. Serena’s expression soured. “Honestly, Henry, you two are a little much. There are parents and a child in the house. You could at least try to cover that up.” Henry never liked being criticized, especially in public. He shot her a glare. “This is my house. What I wear is none of your business.” Serena realized her mistake. She forced a conciliatory smile. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I just came by because Clara was so upset when her parents were in the hospital. She said some pretty awful things about you, and I was worried about your marriage.” At her words, Henry’s face darkened with rage. “Clara, you talked about me behind my back?” Serena jumped in. “I told her you had your reasons, but she wouldn’t listen. I think she resents you, feels like you think you can just buy her off. She said you’re a terrible husband and a worse father, always busy with work and never there when it counts. She said any random man off the street would be more useful than you.” 6 As Henry’s expression grew stormier, my mom couldn’t stay silent any longer. “Serena, are you here to mediate or to pour gasoline on the fire? Every word out of your mouth is poison.” I gently held her back. “Mom, you and Dad go upstairs. I’ll handle this.” Once they were gone, I turned to Serena. “Serena, did you really come all this way just to tell him that?” She lifted her chin defiantly. “I was worried you couldn’t handle your husband. We’re best friends. I don’t want to see you get hurt.” “Right.” I walked over to Henry and looped my arm through his, my first priority to diffuse his anger. “I’m so sorry, honey,” I said softly. “I had a fever that day, I wasn’t thinking straight. The words just came out.” I looked up at him, my eyes wide and pleading. “You can yell at me, hit me, whatever you want. Just don’t be angry. Please, let’s get you some breakfast before your stomach starts hurting.” Henry’s face was a stone mask, but he didn’t pull away. I led him to the dining table and ladled a bowl of oatmeal for him. “You love the artisanal pickles, let me get you some.” His voice was hard. “No. First, explain what she was talking about.” His hand was hot, his muscles coiled with tension. He was barely holding his anger in check. If I had tried to defend myself out of pride, it would have erupted into a full-blown war. But this time, I just focused on him, my voice trembling with concern. Then I knelt beside his chair, taking his hand and pressing it against my cheek. “Henry, do you know what happened that day? Leo’s fever shot up to 105. He had a febrile seizure. The doctor said if we’d been a few minutes later, it could have been… permanent.” Tears started to well up in my eyes. “My dad was vomiting blood, my mom had an inflammation of the heart… it felt like my whole family was knocking on death’s door. And I was alone. I was trying so hard to hold it all together, and when Serena showed up, it was like she was a lifeline. I just… I broke down. I said things I shouldn’t have.” Fat tears rolled down my cheeks as I rested my head on his knee. “I know I was wrong. I should never have tarnished your reputation like that. Please… punish me. I’ll never do it again. I’m so sorry, Henry, I’m so, so sorry.” I sobbed, my body shaking. Showing weakness, turning on the waterworks… I’m a Juilliard-trained actress, after all. A few tears are nothing. At first, Henry just watched me, his expression cold. But as my crying intensified, my nose turning red, my breath catching in ragged gasps, he finally moved. He let out a deep sigh and pulled me to my feet, wrapping his arms around me. “Okay, okay, stop crying,” he murmured into my hair. “It’s fine. I’m not mad anymore.”

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My daughter has reached that charmingly treacherous age where she doesn’t lie, but she’ll say the most terrifying things with a straight face. From the backseat of the car, she asked her father in all seriousness, “Daddy, when are we going back to that nice nurse’s house for milkshakes?” I watched my husband’s face tighten, then I gently probed for more information. “Was the nurse pretty, sweetie?” My daughter nodded enthusiastically. Then she leaned forward and whispered to her dad, “Is it a secret?” Just as I was deciding on the perfect spot to bury my husband’s body, he rubbed his temples and let out a weary laugh. “Lily, are you trying to tear this family apart?” he said. “I took you to The Nightingale Cafe. It’s a cafe, honey, not a nurse’s house.” My heart, which had been lodged in my throat, settled back into my chest. That night, my daughter snuck into my bed and whispered in my ear. “Mommy, I remembered it wrong. It wasn’t a nurse, and it wasn’t a milkshake.” “It was another lady. She made iced tea for me and Daddy at her house.” “They were in the kitchen making it for two hours. I was so thirsty…” 1 My daughter’s words were a shard of ice, plunging unexpectedly into my heart. I lay rigid in bed, the blood in my veins turning to slush. Beside me, my daughter’s small body was warm, her breathing even. She was fast asleep. But I felt like I’d been plunged into a frozen lake, cold from head to toe. Her words ricocheted around my mind like a stampede, threatening to trample my sanity. My first thought was of Kevin’s high school sweetheart. But I forced myself to calm down, telling myself over and over that my daughter was young, that her memory was unreliable. She’d just confused “The Nightingale Cafe” with a nurse’s house; it was entirely possible she was mixing up iced tea and milkshakes, too. You can’t take a child’s words as gospel. The next morning, I tried again, feigning casualness. “Sweetie, that lady you told me about yesterday, what did she look like? Do you remember?” My daughter, in the middle of stuffing a piece of toast into her mouth, tilted her head and thought very seriously. “Umm… she had long, curly hair. It was a little lighter than your hair, Mommy.” My heart eased slightly. I had seen Kevin’s ex just last week; she had a sharp, stylish bob. But I pressed on. “And did you see Daddy and the lady… do anything?” She shook her head, her voice muffled by the toast. “Nope. They were just in the kitchen. I waited for a long, long, long time before they came out.” “What were they talking about when they came out?” “I couldn’t hear very well. Daddy seemed kind of unhappy, and the lady’s eyes were all red, like she was crying.” The pieces of the story formed a hazy, unsettling picture in my mind, like looking through fogged glass. I couldn’t see anything clearly, but I knew something was wrong. My daughter hadn’t seen any concrete proof. She was just a child, describing what she saw through her own limited understanding. But it was that very uncertainty, the vague and suggestive nature of her account, that felt like a dull knife sawing back and forth across my heart. I decided I had to find out for myself. I started watching Kevin, subtly at first. His phone, his schedule, his credit card statements. His phone was clean. Chat logs were sparse, call histories filled with work colleagues and family. He seemed so certain of my trust that he didn’t even bother to hide anything. Then I checked his credit card statement. A series of strange charges crawled across the page like a line of ants. They were small amounts—a few hundred dollars here and there—tucked between his usual expenses. You wouldn’t notice them unless you were looking closely. But they were frequent, almost weekly. There was a charge from a trendy online women’s boutique, a style I would never wear. There were bills from a high-end sushi restaurant on nights he claimed he was working late at the office, eating takeout with his project team. The most glaring charge was from a boutique hotel on a weekday afternoon. I printed the statement and circled every suspicious transaction in red ink. That evening, Kevin came home early, bringing me a carton of fresh strawberries. He saw me on the sofa, my face a grim mask, the heavily marked paper spread out on the coffee table. He froze. I pushed the statement toward him, my voice dangerously calm. “Kevin. Explain these.” 2 He picked up the paper and went through it, line by line. His brow furrowed slightly, but there was no trace of panic on his face. “This dress was a birthday gift for a client’s wife. Her husband helped us out of a huge jam on the new project; I had to show my appreciation.” “These restaurants were all business dinners.” “See? The dates line up. I was with the clients from the Apex account that night. The receipts are in my car; I can show you tomorrow.” “And the hotel,” he said, pointing to the charge that had twisted my stomach into knots, his tone perfectly reasonable, “our partners from out of town came in. We booked a room for a few hours to have a meeting. It was quieter and more private than a coffee shop.” His explanations were flawless, his logic impeccable. He even offered to produce the receipts to prove it. He looked at me, his eyes filled with a weary sort of patience, not the anger of a man wrongly accused. He didn’t even chastise me for my lack of trust. “Honey, I know I haven’t been spending enough time with you and Lily lately, and it’s making your mind run wild. That’s my fault.” He moved to hug me, but I flinched away. His hands hovered in the air for an awkward moment before he let them drop. “I’ll be more careful from now on,” he said, his voice soft, as if soothing a hysterical child. “I’ll make sure to tell you about these things beforehand so there are no more misunderstandings.” I stared at him, speechless. I felt like a fool who had wound up for a knockout punch, only to sink my fist into a feather pillow. All my anger, my suspicion, my hurt—it was all choked off by his perfect, placid response, leaving a suffocating lump in my chest. I couldn’t find a single crack in his story. I even began to wonder if I was the one who was overthinking things, who was too sensitive. Two days later, my mother-in-law called. She dispensed with the usual pleasantries and got straight to the point. “Maya, Kevin tells me you two have been having some trouble lately.” I gripped the phone, leaning against the cold railing of the balcony, and watched the traffic flow below. “We’re fine, Mom.” “Good,” she said, her tone softening slightly. But her next words were like a soft, sharp blade, twisting in my heart. “Maya, I know it’s hard raising a child, but you have to understand it’s not easy for Kevin, either. A man has it much harder, trying to build a career, all the networking and entertaining he has to do. It’s all for the family. You need to be more understanding, be his support system. Don’t add to his stress, you hear me?” “A happy home needs a woman who can be generous and look past the small things. You know what kind of man Kevin is. Don’t make a mountain out of a molehill.” I listened in silence, not saying a word. Yes, what kind of man was Kevin? To the outside world, he was the perfect family man who adored his wife. To his mother, he was the responsible, dependable son. After I hung up, I felt a profound sense of isolation. My husband, with his patience and reason, had deflected all my accusations, leaving me with no outlet for my rage. I felt like a madwoman, utterly alone. I could see the elephant in the room, clear as day, but everyone around me was insisting there was nothing there, that my eyes were playing tricks on me. That feeling was more suffocating than catching him red-handed. Because my husband… he hadn’t even raised his voice. He had used the gentlest method possible to push me into the deepest abyss. 3 I had to find proof. I secretly planted a tiny, nearly invisible camera in Kevin’s car. For the next few days, I was a voyeur, glued to my phone screen. On the camera, Kevin’s life was painfully normal. Driving to work, picking up our daughter, the occasional trip to the grocery store. It was so normal it was terrifying. Until Friday. After work, he didn’t come straight home. A woman opened the passenger door and got in. My heart stopped. I stared at the screen, my breath catching in my throat. It was her. The woman my daughter had described, the one with the long, curly hair. But their conversation was another punch into a pillow. They talked about work, the stock market, gossip about a mutual friend. They even talked about me; Kevin mentioned casually that I’d been tired from work lately. Their conversation was like that of two old friends catching up—familiar, but with a carefully maintained distance. There wasn’t a single inappropriate word. She was out of the car in less than fifteen minutes. I rewatched the video again and again, searching for a flaw. I found none. But a woman, a woman who had no business being in his car, had appeared. That, in itself, was the biggest flaw of all. That night, after Lily was asleep, I took the phone and played the video for Kevin. “Who is she?” I asked. He watched it, his first reaction a flicker of surprise, then a look of weary resignation settled on his face. He was silent for so long I thought he was inventing a new lie. “She’s an old classmate,” he finally said. “Remember when you were out of town and Lily came down with a fever in the middle of the night? I rushed her to the ER, and it was an absolute zoo, packed like Grand Central Station. I ran into her there. She’s a nurse at that hospital. She called in a favor and got us bumped up the line so Lily could be seen right away. I took her out to dinner once to thank her.” His explanation was so plausible it made me feel like a hysterical shrew. He looked at me, his eyes filled with a disappointment I had never seen before. “Because of one thing our daughter said, a thing you don’t even know is true, you start suspecting me? You put a camera in my car, you treat me like a criminal.” He stood up and began pacing the living room, his voice tight with suppressed fury. “Maya, for years, I have worked my ass off for this family, for our marriage. And how do you repay me? You violate my privacy, you interrogate me like a detective. How are we supposed to live like this?” He stormed into his study and slammed the door. He didn’t sleep in our bedroom that night. The next day, he didn’t come home at all. He said he needed some time to cool off. I fell for it. Then I secretly followed him. He didn’t go to a hotel or any other suspicious place. He went to an upscale apartment complex. I hid behind a hedge like a private eye, feeling sordid and small. A few minutes later, a man came down to meet him. They were carrying beer and cigarettes, and they walked upstairs with their arms slung around each other’s shoulders. He looked exactly like any other good husband, blowing off steam with a buddy after a fight with his wife. I sat on a cold stone bench, staring up at the lighted window, feeling more lost and powerless than ever. Every lead was a dead end. I began to wonder if, as his mother said, I was the one with the problem. Was I the one pushing our family to the brink? 4 Kevin must have known I was following him, but he never said a word. Then, at a party with friends, the conversation turned to marriage. Kevin, holding a glass of wine, sighed with a mixture of humor and sincerity. “You guys are lucky. I don’t know what’s gotten into my wife lately. She’s so on edge, suspicious of everything. It’s like she’s a different person. I guess it’s my fault for being so busy. I haven’t been giving her the security she needs.” His words were thoughtful, taking all the blame on himself, but the way our friends looked at me changed. I sat there, my face burning, my hands and feet cold. I felt like a clown, stripped naked for everyone to stare at. I was being driven mad. A consensus began to form around me. Everyone pitied poor Kevin, such a good man, saddled with a paranoid, unstable wife. I locked myself at home, replaying every detail in my mind, but I couldn’t find a way forward. Was I really crazy? Had I invented an enemy that didn’t exist? That night, after Lily was asleep, I sat on the living room sofa and scrolled through the photos I had secretly taken outside that apartment building. The picture of Kevin and the other man was a little blurry. I stared at it, trying to will some clue into existence. Lily padded over to me, rubbing her eyes, and rested her head on my arm. She glanced at my phone screen and pointed a tiny finger at the blurry figure of the other man. “Mommy,” she said in her sweet, sleepy voice, “why do you have a picture of the Milkshake Man?” “The Milkshake Man?” I was confused. “Who’s that?” Her finger jabbed at the screen. “That man. The last time I was with Daddy, I was so, so thirsty, and he’s the one who came and got me and took me for a yummy milkshake.”

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