Author: Momo Chan

I was born unique, a medical marvel with two hearts beating inside my chest. It was the only reason my parents ever smiled at me. Because my older brother, Julian, was born with a failing heart. My parents had me for one purpose: to be a spare parts factory for their favorite son. Later, I met Sarah. We got married. She pulled me out of the abyss, away from a family that only saw me as an organ donor. I thought she was different. I thought she loved me for me. But when Julian’s condition worsened, she became obsessed. She begged, then demanded, that I donate one of my hearts to save him. What she didn’t know was that I only had one heart left. The other one… was already beating inside her chest. 1 “It’s just one heart, Ethan. How can you be so selfish?” “Weren’t you born for this? To save your brother?” Sarah gripped my hand, her nails digging into my skin. “But I want to live too, Sarah. Without a heart, I die.” Sarah’s face went rigid for a second, then she scoffed. “You have two hearts. Give one to Julian, and you still have one left. You’ll live.” “But Julian is different. Without your heart, he dies today.” She ignored my struggles, pushing me toward the prep room. I tried to explain, desperate and helpless. “I only have one heart left, Sarah!” “Didn’t you read my medical file?” Sarah didn’t listen. She didn’t want to hear it. “Who knows what you did to dodge this? You probably bribed the lab techs to fake the report.” She thought I paid someone off to change the X-rays. “No, Sarah! When I was a kid, I had surgery. I already donated one!” “Enough, Ethan! Just save your brother! Why are you being so stubborn?” She cut me off, her voice shrill. “I’m not lying! My other heart… it’s in you!” Sarah dragged me toward Julian’s operating theater, deaf to my words. 2 The other doctors in the prep room froze. Someone whispered. “Trying to use pick-up lines now? That’s sick.” “Your brother is dying, and you’re hitting on your sister-in-law with creepy metaphors?” Only our families knew Sarah and I were married. Her colleagues didn’t know me. Since Sarah handled everything for Julian’s hospitalization, everyone assumed Julian was her husband. And Sarah… she never corrected them. “Exactly. Won’t save his own brother but has time to flirt with his sister-in-law.” “What a waste of space.” Hearing their vile comments, I wanted to scream the truth. “Actually, I am her—” Sarah stormed out of the prep room and grabbed my arm. “You are donating that heart today.” “Julian is already under. You’re next.” She slapped a stack of papers on the gurney. “I already signed the consent forms as your next of kin. Get on the table.” Inside the OR, I saw Julian. He looked pale, fragile, eliciting sympathy from everyone in the room. “Don’t worry, Julian. Dr. Miller will make sure you live a long life.” Julian didn’t correct them when they called Sarah “Dr. Miller” instead of his sister-in-law. He just smiled weakly. “It’s all my fault… making my little brother sacrifice so much for me.” His voice was full of self-blame, but his eyes, locked on mine, were full of mockery. The medical staff melted. What a saint of a brother. And me? The villain. Sarah comforted Julian, then ignored my violent thrashing and forced me onto the operating table. She ordered the anesthesiologist to knock me out immediately. As the drugs took hold, my struggles ceased. Sarah stroked my cheek, her touch cold. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you survive.” Her mentor had performed heart transplants before. She was confident she could keep me alive with one heart. “Once Julian recovers, the whole family will finally accept you. And I’ll be right by your side.” 3 Sarah and her team moved with practiced efficiency. After what felt like an eternity, Sarah removed a heart from my chest. She didn’t even pause to look at the empty cavity. She took my heart and rushed into the adjacent OR where Julian lay waiting. My chest was open. My body lay alone on the cold table. The shrill alarm of the heart monitor startled the junior resident left to close up. “Wait… he flatlined? I thought he had two hearts?” Sarah’s colleague frowned. “Dr. Miller said that as a joke, and you believed it?” “Honestly, good riddance. The guy was a creep. Refusing to save Dr. Miller’s husband and hitting on her? Disgusting.” Another nurse chimed in. “So what do we do?” “He’s dead. Call the morgue. If no one claims him, let the city handle it.” They covered my face and walked away. In the next room, Sarah was focused. It was her first transplant as lead surgeon, but she was confident. Hours later, the surgery was declared a success. Sarah followed Julian to the ICU. After settling him in, she finally remembered me. She started toward my OR but bumped into the colleague who had been in the room with me. “Where is Ethan?” she asked. The colleague shrugged. “Didn’t he go back to his room?” “Don’t worry, the nurses will keep an eye on him.” Sarah didn’t catch the odd tone. She assumed I was recovering. She went back to her office to catch up on paperwork. A day later, Julian woke up. Sarah was by his side instantly. “Julian! You’re awake.” Julian saw Sarah and started crying tears of joy. 4 Sarah hugged him. “Don’t worry. The surgery was perfect.” “Your heart is strong now.” Julian touched his chest. The disease that had haunted him for years was gone. He held Sarah, sobbing uncontrollably. Sarah rubbed his back. “Careful, keep your heart rate down.” A nurse walked by and smiled. “Dr. Miller is so good to her husband.” Sarah froze. She remembered I was somewhere in the hospital. She opened her mouth to explain. “You misunderstand, he isn’t…” Julian clutched his chest, wincing, effectively cutting her off. Sarah turned back to him. “I told you not to cry. You need to rest.” Seeing Julian so weak made her think of me. She hadn’t seen me since the surgery. “Julian, rest now. I need to go check on Ethan.” She stood up, but Julian grabbed her wrist. “I did this surgery without telling Mom and Dad. I’m scared. If you leave, I might not recover well.” Sarah looked at his pale face and softened. She reasoned that her colleagues would look after me. I was fine. “Okay. I’ll stay a few more days.” Julian watched her sit back down, then closed his eyes with a smirk. In the hospital morgue, an orderly looked at my body tag. “Two days and no claim. What do we do?” His partner was sweeping the floor. “Stop staring. Bag him and tag him. Let’s go home.” They shoved my body into a black bag. “Look at that chest. Died ugly. Probably wasn’t a good guy.” “Good guy, bad guy… they all burn the same.” “True. Shame though, he was young.”

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Over the course of our three-year marriage, my wife hypnotized me three times. The first time, her childhood sweetheart was running against me for a seat on the board of directors. My wife personally orchestrated the “accident” that crushed my hands, turning me into a cripple. The second time, her sweetheart needed liquidity for a failing venture. She liquidated my luxury cars and our villa, taking out massive loans in my name, drowning me in debt. The third time, he was critically injured in a car crash. She ruthlessly authorized the harvesting of our son’s corneas and liver while he was still barely alive, transplanting them into him. Every single time, I fought back. I screamed for a divorce. I tried to cut her out of my life. But every time, she would hold me, weeping, claiming she would go insane without me. And then, to keep me by her side as if nothing had happened, she forcibly hypnotized me, erasing my memories of her betrayal. It wasn’t until the day of my son’s funeral that I accidentally stumbled upon the whole truth. “Ms. Davis, this is the fourth session. Another induction could cause irreversible damage to Mr. Sterling’s frontal lobe. He could end up cognitively impaired, permanently. Are you sure you want to proceed?” “He has to forget what happened today! If he remembers, he’ll leave me. I can’t let him pose a threat to Caleb!” The doctor sighed heavily. “Why must you trample on a man’s heart like this?” “I have no choice. He happens to possess exactly what Caleb needs. For Caleb’s happiness, I’m willing to be the villain.” Hearing this conversation through the thin door, I felt the blood in my veins turn to ice. My fists clenched at my sides, but I kept my eyes squeezed shut, feigning unconsciousness. I had only wanted to find my missing wife during our son’s funeral. Instead, I stumbled into a five-star hotel suite where she was throwing a lavish birthday party for Caleb Vance, her childhood sweetheart. Before I could confront them, I was knocked out cold. I woke up here, listening to the doctor and my wife. The doctor’s voice rose in agitation. “But, Ms. Davis… back then, his hand injury was treatable. You paid the hospital to intentionally botch the surgery. He lives in chronic, excruciating pain every day.” “You lied to him, told him he was a gambling addict who lost everything. You told him there was no money for a ten-dollar painkiller shot, yet you drained his accounts to throw this meaningless party for Caleb Vance! Do you hate him that much?” Claire Davis shook her head calmly. “How could I hate him?” “It’s all for Caleb. His biggest dream is to lead the company. I’m just the woman quietly supporting him from the shadows.” “As for Ethan… blame his brilliance. He shone too bright; he blocked Caleb’s path. I need him broken and dependent to feel at ease.” The doctor opened his mouth to argue, but Claire cut him off coldly. “Enough. Watch your mouth. If you leak a single word to Ethan, I will ruin you.” “Now, wipe his memory. Make him believe he caused a scene today. He needs to feel guilty so he’ll stay by my side and never leave.” I felt Claire’s hand gently caress my cheek. Once, that touch brought me warmth. Now, I felt nothing but disgust. Years ago, when the Davis family business went bankrupt, I was the one who secretly injected a billion dollars to help her rise from the ashes. When Caleb Vance was disowned by his family for being the black sheep, I was the one who took him into my company, mentoring him all the way to the executive level. Back then, Caleb knelt before me, swearing he would repay my kindness with his life. Back then, Claire confessed her love to me, saying she had always adored me. I never imagined that Claire would steal my fortune for him, gaslighting me into believing I was a degenerate gambler who lost it all. She even committed to the bit, moving me into a cramped, moldy apartment in the slums, living a life of performative poverty. And when Caleb crashed his car, she gutted our son to save him. While my son died screaming in pain, Claire was busy feeding Caleb soup and wiping his brow. I had fought her. I had demanded to leave. But every time, she used hypnosis to reset me. I had forgotten three times. I nearly lost myself a fourth. When the session ended and I “woke up,” I saw Claire looking at me with red-rimmed eyes. She hugged me, sobbing theatrically. “Ethan, thank God! You’re finally awake.” “You were so grief-stricken over Leo’s death that you started a brawl at the hospital. When I saw your head bleeding, I thought I’d lost my mind. If you left me too, I really wouldn’t survive!” The concern in her eyes looked so genuine. It made me sick. Claire didn’t notice the coldness in my gaze. She pulled a plastic container out of a cheap grocery bag, presenting it like a treasure. “Ethan, you must be starving. Look what I brought you. I’m working cleaning shifts at the hotel now, and I managed to sneak out some leftovers. It’s top-tier wagyu steak.” Since the “bankruptcy,” Claire always cried about how every cent she earned went to my “gambling debts.” I loved her so much that I starved myself, living on scraps so she wouldn’t worry. But today, at the hotel, I saw Caleb’s party. Abalone, lobster, caviar—flowing like water. This steak wasn’t leftovers; it was trash. I had seen Caleb stomp on this very container, spit in it, and order the waiter to mix in raw bloody water. He called it “dog food.” I felt bile rise in my throat. I pushed her hand away. Claire didn’t get angry. Instead, she grabbed my hand, her eyes widening in shock. “Your hand… it moved?” “Oh my god, Ethan! You’re finally healing!” “You always said you wanted a divorce because you were a ‘useless cripple’ who didn’t want to burden me. Now you can’t say that anymore!” She excitedly grabbed a hot water bottle to warm my hand, massaging it tenderly. She acted like a devoted wife overjoyed by her husband’s recovery. But I knew better. I forced a smile and pulled away. “Don’t you have another shift? Go. Don’t be late.” She paused, surprised by my dismissal, but after checking my face for suspicion, she kissed my cheek. “Wait for me at home!” Shortly after she left, I walked out too. Before I was knocked out, I had been holding my son’s urn. It was gone. I had to find it. But I barely made it down the block before the world spun. I woke up screaming. Someone had smashed a steel pipe directly onto my wrist. The pain was blinding, white-hot agony radiating through my entire body. In the dim light, I couldn’t see the attacker’s face, only heard him speaking in a thick accent into a phone. “Ms. Davis, the hand is taken care of. Guaranteed he won’t lift it again.” “We were discreet. He didn’t see us.” Claire’s cold voice drifted from the speaker. “You promised that last time, yet he recovered in three years. Are you sure it’s permanent this time? I want zero chance of recovery.” The thug confirmed it. Claire laughed, a chilling sound. “Good. Double payment is on the way.” “I drugged his water. Just leave him there, barely breathing. I’ll come ‘find’ him after I handle things with Caleb. I’ll cry a bit, play the victim, and he’ll never suspect me.” My heart shattered. I was already broken, yet she needed to destroy me completely for Caleb. But she miscalculated. I had only taken a sip of that water. The thug hung up and raised the pipe for a finishing blow. I grabbed a loose chain from the floor and swung it with everything I had left, choking him out. Adrenaline masking the pain, I stumbled out of the room. I realized I was in the basement of the Davis Corporation building. I dragged myself toward the exit, but froze when I saw two figures in the garden. Claire was leaning against Caleb, her head buried in his chest. “Caleb, your arms are so warm. I wish I could stay like this forever.” “I’m in such agony. I want to divorce Ethan every day, but I’m terrified that if I let him go, I’ll lose control over him. He could threaten you.” “Since he saved your life once, I just swallow my pride and take care of that invalid.” Caleb didn’t push her away. He held her waist. “You’ve suffered, Claire. I know what you’ve done for me.” “But I have ambitions. I need to secure this deal with the massive conglomerate coming to town. Rumor has it the CEO hates Ethan Sterling. Do you think… if I handed Ethan over to him to torture, it might seal the deal? I just don’t know if you could bear it…” Claire didn’t hesitate. “Of course I can. Just tell me when. If you hadn’t given me that billion dollars when my family went under, I wouldn’t be here today.” She paused. “Just… leave him alive, barely.” “Soft spot?” “No. His blood type and marrow match yours. If you ever have an accident, he’s your spare parts bank.” I laughed silently, a cold, bitter sound. So, Claire thought the billion dollars came from Caleb. No wonder she worshipped him. I pulled out my phone and dialed a number I hadn’t touched in five years. “Dad. I’m done being rebellious. I was wrong.” “I’ll agree to your terms. I’m divorcing Claire. Send the chopper.” I hung up and turned to leave. But as I exited the building, I ran straight into Caleb. He crossed his arms, looking at me with pure sneering contempt. “Enjoying eavesdropping? Look at you. The once-great Ethan Sterling, now a beggar reeking of blood. Did you not enjoy the ‘special meal’ I prepared for you?” My clothes were bloodstained, my body broken. My wrist throbbed with a pulse of its own. I didn’t want to waste breath on this parasite. I moved to pass him. Caleb pulled a small box from his pocket and shook it. “Looking for this?” The urn. It was so small in his hand. “Hard to believe a six-year-old boy fits in such a tiny box,” Caleb mused. “Just days ago, he was calling me ‘Uncle.’ Too bad Claire had to gut him like a fish.” “She said his only value was being my organ farm. And now that he’s dead, you’re next. Hereditary duty, I suppose.” He laughed, tears forming in his eyes. Rage, pure and primal, exploded in my chest. I lunged at him. “Give him back! That’s my son!” But I was weak. He sidestepped me effortlessly. “I can’t just give it to you. Claire wanted to throw it in the trash; I saved it. You should be thanking me.” Suddenly, bodyguards materialized, kicking the back of my knees. I collapsed. They dragged me into the company lobby. Former colleagues and employees stopped to stare. “Is that Ethan Sterling? He looks half-dead.” “I heard he gambled away his fortune and killed his own kid. He’s been dragging Ms. Davis down for years.” “Probably here to beg Mr. Vance for money. Pathetic.” The scorn was palpable. Caleb smirked. “You want the ashes? Crawl through my legs. You have five seconds.” “Five. Four. Three…” I gritted my teeth, preparing to humiliate myself for Leo. But Caleb laughed, opened the lid, and dumped the ashes into a potted plant next to him. The white dust drifted down, landing on the dark soil. Caleb ground his expensive leather shoe into the dirt, mixing my son’s remains with mud. “Oops.” I snapped. I roared, surging upward with strength I didn’t know I had, and punched him squarely in the jaw. “He died for you! You soulless monster!” Caleb barely stumbled. He touched his face and laughed. “Was that a tickle? You really are a cripple.” “No wonder your wife says you can’t satisfy her. Yesterday, she was screaming my name so loud the neighbors probably complained.” He leaned in, his voice a venomous whisper. “You know, when you were kidnapped and tortured years ago? We watched the livestream. She wanted to help at first, but I pulled her onto the couch… and eventually, your screams just made her more excited.” I shook with fury. The trauma of those days flooded back. Caleb grabbed my injured hand and punched himself in the face with it. “See? That’s a punch!” “Caleb!” Claire screamed, rushing over. She shoved me back, shielding him. Then she slapped me across the face. “Ethan Sterling! Stay away from him! If you hurt a hair on his head, I will destroy you!” I laughed, wiping blood from my lip. “Destroy me? Haven’t you already done that?” Panic flickered in her eyes. “You’re delusional!” Caleb held her back, playing the saint. “Claire, don’t. He saved my life once. Let this punch be the repayment. We are bigger than this.” He led her away. They looked like a power couple. I didn’t chase them. I went home to pack.

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“You’re polluting the air just by existing in this house.” That’s what my stepbrother, Declan, told me this morning. Feeling wronged, I went crying to my online boyfriend: “Got yelled at again. Need comfort ASAP.” The very next second, Declan’s phone buzzed on the coffee table. His lock screen lit up. A message from [KingBaby]. “Got yelled at again. Need comfort ASAP.” Me: !!! 1 I stared at the notification, frozen. Coincidence? It had to be. To verify, I sent a crying sticker to my online boyfriend. Buzz. Declan’s phone vibrated again. The screen showed [KingBaby] sending a sobbing cartoon bear. I turned to stone. My stepbrother—the guy who looks at me like I’m a cockroach, the guy who criticizes my breathing—is the same clingy, golden-retriever boyfriend who calls me “Baby” online? “No way.” I refused to believe something this absurd. I reached out to tap his screen, wanting to check the profile picture. Slap. My hand was swatted away before I could touch the glass. “Didn’t your mother teach you not to touch other people’s property?” Declan glared at me with pure disgust. “Then again, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Trash attracts trash.” Ever since my mom and I moved into the Sterling mansion, he hasn’t stopped with the insults. To Declan, this “reunion of first loves” after twenty years was a joke. He saw it as an insult to his late mother. Plus, my mom has terminal cancer. She doesn’t have much time left, yet she agreed to marry his dad. In his eyes, we are just gold diggers here for the inheritance. Mom does have a motive. On her hospital bed, she held my hand tightly. “Riley, promise me. Don’t fight with your brother or your stepfather. When I’m gone, the Sterling family can protect you.” If I refused, she would cough up blood from stress. So I promised. I endure everything. Thinking of this, I lowered my head. “Sorry. Your phone kept buzzing. I thought it might be an emergency, so I was bringing it to you.” Declan looked at me suspiciously, then unlocked his phone. The moment he saw the messages, the storm clouds on his face vanished. A smile—one I’d never seen directed at me—broke through, impossible to suppress. His thumbs flew across the screen. A second later, my phone in my pocket vibrated. [Baby, don’t cry! Your brother sounds like a total piece of trash. When we meet, I’ll punch his teeth in for you!] Me: … 2 Declan typed fast and furious. My pocket wouldn’t stop vibrating. I frantically switched it to silent. Declan sneered, looking up. “Getting blown up this late? Which debt collector is it this time?” Wow. The irony. You’re literally roasting yourself. I felt guilty, so I didn’t answer. He took my silence for defiance. “Did you two borrow more money? Is my dad’s fortune not enough for you leeches?” I forced a smile. “No. Just a classmate.” Before moving here, Mom and I lived paycheck to paycheck. When she got sick, the surgery bills piled up. We borrowed money. I worked part-time and paid the installments on time. The lenders were decent. But after we moved into the Sterling estate, the lenders found out. They showed up at the front gates, screaming and making a scene. It was chaos. Through my tears, I had looked up to the second-floor balcony and seen Declan there, smoking a cigarette, watching the show with a smirk. He had tipped them off. “I’m going to my room,” I said. Afraid I’d blow my cover, I ran upstairs. As soon as I closed my door, another message from Declan popped up. [Baby, why aren’t you replying? Are you still mad?] [Sticker: Sad puppy wagging tail] In reality, he shreds my dignity. Online, he’s a whimpering puppy. My feelings were complicated. I ignored him. Declan immediately transferred $5,000 via the app. Note: [Buy yourself some snacks. Please stop being mad.] Thinking of Declan’s cold, hateful eyes downstairs, I immediately hit ‘Refund’. [I don’t want money. I’m just tired and going to sleep.] Declan: [Okay 🙁 Goodnight, baby. Sad Puppy.jpg] The next morning, I was woken up by a vibration. Declan was being horny at 7 AM. [Baby! Up yet? Guess what I’m doing?] [I’m in the shower ;)] I was still half-asleep and forgot that my boyfriend was actually Satan himself. I replied out of habit: [Show me.] Next second, he obediently sent three photos. Wet abs. Water droplets running down a sharp V-line. A towel hanging dangerously low, leaving very little to the imagination. It was… objectively hot. Declan tempted me: [Want to touch?] I wiped invisible drool. [Duh. I want to eat you up.] [Hehe. Baby, let’s meet up then.] I jolted awake. Shit! Riley, you useless traitor! How could you lust after Declan?! Panicked, I ignored him for the rest of the day. He started spiraling for attention. [Are you mad because I asked to meet?] [If it’s too soon, I can wait. Just don’t ignore me.] [Baby, I just felt dizzy. I almost fainted at the gym.] [Care about me, please? My chest hurts.] … I rolled my eyes. Declan is 6’3″, built like a linebacker, and hits the gym daily. I once saw him take down a creep who was filming up a girl’s skirt with one hand. He is not fragile. Thinking of his fist, I knew I had to end this. I typed: [There’s something I’ve been hiding from you. I have to come clean. I’m a dude.] Declan: [?] [Are you joking, baby?] [No joke. That’s why I never wanted to meet.] The chat went silent. The “typing” bubble disappeared. Finally. He’s scared off. I was just celebrating my victory when Declan sent two messages that made my jaw drop. [As long as it’s you, I don’t care if you’re a guy.] [But… can I be on the bottom?] What the hell?! Declan, you’re way too committed! 3 That evening after class, I got a text from the pottery studio. [Ms. Riley, the custom couple’s mugs you sculpted last week have been fired and mailed to your home.] It was the gift I had made for my online boyfriend—Declan. Disaster. The mugs had our couple nicknames carved into them! I rushed home, heart pounding. But when I found the package in the living room, the contents were shattered. Declan was standing there, holding a shard of ceramic. “How much? I’ll pay you for it.” “No need.” I breathed a sigh of relief, grabbing the box of debris. It wasn’t like I could give it to him now anyway. Declan scoffed. “Dating someone? Does he know you’re a manipulative liar?” “If he likes you, he must be blind and stupid.” I was half-angry, half-amused. I turned back on the stairs. “Aren’t you afraid that every curse you say about my boyfriend will eventually bounce back onto you?” Declan raised an eyebrow. “Please. He’s nothing compared to my ‘KingBaby’.” “Oh. Well, I hope you two live happily ever after. Never break up.” I went to my room. Maybe my words made him paranoid. At dinner, halfway through his steak, Declan suddenly spoke up. “Dad, would you care if your future daughter-in-law was a man?” Cough! Cough! I choked on my water. “What?” Arthur, my stepfather, froze. He looked confused. Declan stayed calm. “Can you accept that your son is gay?” “I’m in love. And the person is a guy.” Holy crap. Declan didn’t just come out of the closet; he kicked the door off its hinges. Arthur was shocked. A massive argument erupted. Neither backed down. The war ended with a sharp slap across Declan’s face. I never expected my little lie to cause World War III. What shocked me more was that Declan texted me about it immediately. [Baby, don’t worry about gender. I came out to my family.] [They agreed.] Agreed?! He just got slapped! Thinking of the red handprint on his face, I felt a pang of guilt. I grabbed an ice pack and went to his room. Declan glared at me. “I don’t need your fake sympathy.” “You misunderstood.” I tossed the ice pack into his trash can. “I came to laugh at you.” Declan turned green with rage. The next day, Arthur looked like a ghost. Dark circles, stumbling walk. He’s a good man. Even with his busy schedule, he visits my mom at the hospital every day. He treats me like his own daughter. I never had a dad, and Arthur filled that void. If he finds out I’m “dating” his son, it might kill him. I made a decision. I texted Declan: [Let’s break up. I met someone else.] Declan instantly sent a 60-second voice memo. Probably pure profanity. I didn’t listen. I blocked him. For the next ten days, Declan was a walking zombie. He rejected all his friends’ party invites. He slept all day, drank half the wine cellar at night. Every day, he’d corner me with a gloomy stare. “Riley. Did you break up with your boyfriend yet?” seeing his misery, I nodded. “Yeah. Dumped him.” Satisfied, he’d slump back onto the sofa, unlit cigarette in his mouth, laughing bitterly. “Love is disgusting. Who needs it?” Then he’d secretly wipe his eyes. I thought the drama would fade. But then the Dean called me into his office. “Chloe told me you know the author ‘Solitude’.” Chloe is my best friend. And a massive blabbermouth. I had only told her I was a superfan of ‘Solitude’ and that we chatted online. Thankfully, I never told her that ‘Solitude’ is my online boyfriend—or that he is Declan Sterling. The Dean smiled. “Solitude has a huge following. We need exposure for admissions. He’s an alumnus. We want him to give a guest lecture.” “But he’s very private. We can’t reach him.” I wanted to refuse. The Dean leaned in. “If you pull this off, the university will write you a recommendation letter for any internship you want.” A recommendation from the Dean? That’s golden. I caved. I unblocked Declan. Sent a simple: [You there?] Given his mood lately, I expected abuse. Instead, Declan sent a sticker of a puppy wagging its tail so hard it was flying. [Baby! Is the grass not greener on the other side?] I grit my teeth. [Actually, I’m messaging you as a student representative from Sterling University. We want to discuss a work opportunity.] Declan didn’t reply. Ten minutes later: [What is it?] I explained the guest lecture request professionally. Declan: [I’ll do it. On one condition.] [We meet.] 4 I agreed to meet him on the day of the lecture. My plan? Hire a guy to pretend to be “Halo”—someone Declan would absolutely hate. Shatter his filter. But God has a twisted sense of humor. On the day, the hired actor called me. “Sorry, Riley. Car accident. Can’t make it.” I panicked. Declan texted: [Baby, I’m at the campus. Meet me?] Stalling, I typed: [Napping. Meet at the fountain square after the lecture!] I sprinted to Chloe’s dorm. No time to find another guy. I dragged Chloe out of bed, explaining the tangled mess while shoving clothes into her hands. She blinked sleepily. “That’s… messy.” “Just be a toxic nightmare. If you scare him off, I’ll buy your lunch for the whole semester.” Chloe saluted. “Say no more. I excel at being a red flag.” When we met Declan, Chloe’s eyes widened. “Riley, you eat good!” Declan is objectively gorgeous. Today, he was dressed up. Glasses, a soft sweater—he looked like a refined, intellectual gentleman, not the arrogant jerk I lived with. Declan was surprised to see me next to her. He frowned, then looked at Chloe with a gentle gaze. “Halo?” “That’s me!” Chloe chirped. Declan beamed. He handed her flowers and a gift bag, bending down to look her in the eyes. “Finally. You lied about being a boy? You’re adorable.” Chloe blushed. Declan had booked a fancy restaurant. Chloe, remembering her mission, grabbed my arm. “Riley is my bestie. If we eat, she comes too. You don’t mind, right?” Declan: “Of course not.” Then he shot me a look that screamed Get lost. I smiled and linked arms with Chloe. Dinner was excruciating. I was the brightest third wheel in history. Declan treated me like air. But with Chloe? He was terrified of upsetting her. Chloe acted her heart out. She demanded expensive wine, talked about wanting a rich husband, said she hates kids, loves clubbing, and wants an open relationship. Declan, the love-sick puppy, agreed to everything. Until she mentioned other men. His face went dark. “Baby,” he said, voice low. “Can’t your leash just hold me?” I almost choked on my pasta. Halfway through, I escaped to the bathroom. When I came out, Declan blocked my path. “Riley.” His eyes were cold. “There’s a limit to being shameless. When are you leaving? Ruining other people’s dates… is that a family tradition?” He looked at me like he wanted to snap my neck. I lowered my eyes. “I’m leaving now.” I went back, grabbed my bag, and whispered to Chloe, “I’m heading out.” Chloe texted me under the table: [Don’t go far. I’ll dump him in 30 mins, then we go get drinks!] [Okay. Be careful.] It was late. Most shops were closing. I sat on a bench around the corner, shivering in the wind. Thirty minutes passed. My phone buzzed. It was our housekeeper. [Ms. Riley, I accidentally broke your custom mugs the other day. Mr. Declan hired a master restorer. They just arrived. Look.] She sent a photo. The mugs were fixed with kintsugi—gold lacquer filling the cracks. It was beautiful. But the photo was high-res. The carved nicknames were clearly visible. Halo & KingBaby. Wait. The housekeeper sent this to me… [I sent the photo to Mr. Declan too, to show him the work is done.] Fuck. My blood ran cold. Just then, my phone vibrated. A text from Declan. [Come back. Chloe is in trouble!] Panic. I didn’t think, I just sprinted back to the restaurant. Chloe saw me burst in, panting. She started making frantic faces at me. Run! I looked at the table. Declan wasn’t there. I realized too late. It was a trap. I turned to flee, but slammed into a wall of solid chest. A voice, trembling with suppressed emotion, came from above my head. “Riley.” Goosebumps exploded all over my skin. I turned my head stiffly. Under the streetlights, Declan’s eyes were red. He wore an expression that was halfway between crying and laughing. A terrifying, broken look. “…So, it was you.”

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When we signed the prenup, Caleb Sterling told me he didn’t know how to love. He said he was broken. So, for five years of marriage, he gave me only sex and desire. It was a marriage of convenience between two powerful families. I knew I couldn’t be greedy. I thought what we had was enough. Until the night of our fifth anniversary. I broke his one bedroom rule. For the first time, I secretly pulled off the blindfold he always made me wear. That was when I saw the tattoo inked into the hollow of his hip. It was a name. In that moment, I realized the truth. Caleb wasn’t incapable of love. He was just hiding his love, saving it all for my adoptive sister. We had a massive fight. We screamed things we couldn’t take back, wishing the other would just disappear. Ironically, the universe listened. We both drove off in a rage, the car skidded, and we went over a cliff. As we lay dying in the wreckage, Caleb looked at me, his face covered in blood, and begged: “Scarlett, if there is a next life… let’s not be married, okay?” I stared at him, laughing hysterically through the pain, dying like a madwoman. When I opened my eyes again, I was back in the Sterling family living room. Caleb was kneeling on the floor, his back straight, pleading with his parents. “Mom, Dad, I can’t marry Scarlett. The one I love is Chloe.” I froze. But relief quickly washed over me. Perfect. Because this time, I didn’t want to choose him either. 1 “Are you absolutely sure you want to marry Ethan?” Mrs. Sterling looked at me with pity. I calmly exchanged the engagement contracts with her, verifying that the name on the document was indeed Ethan Sterling, not Caleb. I smiled gently. “I’m sure, Mrs. Sterling.” She tried to warn me one last time, her voice trembling. “The best specialists all say Ethan won’t live past thirty. You… Scarlett, even if Caleb refuses the marriage, you don’t have to choose a dying man just to stay in the family.” In my past life, Ethan did die at thirty. I remembered Mrs. Sterling fainting from grief, and Mr. Sterling aging ten years overnight. Everyone mourned the loss of a genius. Ethan was brilliant, running the Sterling empire from behind the scenes despite his frail body. Underneath that weak exterior beat the strongest heart I had ever known. Before he died in that timeline, I went to see him one last time. I heard him whispering to his assistant, drifting in and out of consciousness. “I love Scarlett.” “She doesn’t need to know what I did for her. I just want her to be happy.” He believed that not all love needed to be spoken, and not all devotion required a reward. For years, no one knew—except his assistant. His love was buried so deep that I never noticed it, not until the moment he took his last breath, leaving the world full of regrets. So, even if it was just for that one sentence—”I love Scarlett”—I wanted to save him. I wouldn’t let him die with regrets this time. I looked up, smiling radiantly, and patted Mrs. Sterling’s hand. “Don’t worry,” I said softly. “Ethan is going to live a long, long life.” 2 After Mrs. Sterling left, my mother pulled me aside. “Are you doing this just to spite Caleb?” She knew how much I loved Caleb. We were childhood sweethearts. Since I was a teenager, no other boy existed in my world. I thought he felt the same. I never imagined it was all one-sided delusion. When we married in my past life, Caleb had warned me: “I grew up in a shark tank. I don’t know how to love. But everything else I can give, I will give to you.” For five years, we were the golden couple of New York society. Rich, beautiful, seemingly perfect. To maintain that illusion, I taught him how to love me. I tolerated his coldness. I even indulged his specific… preferences. Before we slept together, Caleb would always hand me a silk blindfold or use his tie to cover my eyes. He would whisper, “Scarlett, your eyes are too beautiful. If I look into them, I might lose control and hurt you.” Every time, I would blush, thinking it was romantic. On the rare occasions he forgot the blindfold, I would try to look at him, eager to see passion in his eyes. But he would just turn me around, insisting on positions where we didn’t face each other, kissing my back apologetically. I thought it was just a quirk. Until that fifth anniversary. I took off the blindfold. I saw the name Chloe tattooed intimately on his hip. Humiliation and betrayal crashed over me like a tidal wave. I went crazy. I smashed everything in the bedroom. I threw a heavy crystal ashtray at his head. I cursed him to hell. But this time? I felt nothing. I didn’t want to smash anything. I just wanted to be far away from him. Thinking back, Caleb treated me well enough. He just didn’t love me. 3 The engagement party was set for next month. Mrs. Sterling handled everything. She told me I could back out at any time. I texted back: “That wouldn’t be fair to Ethan.” He was just sick, not unlovable. I messaged my team at the research institute: Prepare the lab. I need full access to the experimental antibacterial protocols. In my last life, after Ethan’s heart transplant, I locked myself in the lab developing a new drug to prevent rejection and infection. By the time it was approved for production, he had already passed away from complications. This time, I would be ready. Suddenly, my phone buzzed. A text from Caleb. Come to The Obsidian Club. We need to talk. I declined immediately. The first thing Caleb did after his “rebirth” was come to my house, cancel our engagement, and publicly confess his love to my adopted sister, Chloe. To make Chloe happy, he spent a fortune on a private fireworks show over the Hudson River. They were trending #1 on social media. Everyone called them a fairytale match. Paparazzi caught them walking on the beach in the Hamptons. When Chloe got “tired,” Caleb knelt in the sand, massaged her ankle, and gave her a piggyback ride. His movements were practiced, gentle, adoring. Comments read: Caleb Sterling is absolutely obsessed with her. He was spending every waking moment making up for his “regrets” from the last life, treating Chloe like a princess. I didn’t object. As long as he left me alone. But in the end, I went to The Obsidian Club anyway. Not for Caleb. I wanted to see Ethan. His assistant had called me. “Ms. Jiang… Scarlett. Mr. Ethan is discussing a deal at Obsidian. If it’s urgent…” I frowned. “He’s sick and he’s at a club drinking? Is he trying to speed up the process?” The assistant went silent. I heard a faint, suppressed cough in the background. The assistant quickly gave me the room number and hung up. 4 Unexpectedly, Caleb knew I would come. He had people watching the entrance. The moment I stepped inside, two security guards flanked me and forcibly “escorted” me to Caleb’s VIP suite. They shoved me inside. I stumbled and fell to my knees on the cold marble floor. The feeling of humiliation was familiar. I clenched my fists and looked up. “Caleb, are you insane?” The room was dimly lit. Caleb bit down on a cigarette, lit it, and exhaled a cloud of smoke. “I didn’t want to do this, Scarlett.” “But you wouldn’t cooperate. You wouldn’t cancel the engagement with the family. So don’t blame me for playing dirty.” My mind went blank. The wedding was canceled. Did he not know? I tried to stand up to explain, but Caleb was already in front of me. He held a glass of amber liquid, his other hand gripping my jaw. “Don’t blame me. I just want to live the life I choose. If you’re… compromised… the family won’t force me to marry you anymore.” I stared at him, my heart turning to ice. Ten years of friendship. Five years of marriage. It all meant nothing to him. “So you’re going to drug me and toss me into some random man’s bed?” Caleb paused. His lips pressed into a thin line. For a second, he hesitated. Then he forced the liquid into my mouth. “The family is pushing for the wedding. I can’t wait anymore.” “I found a guy. Good family. He’ll take responsibility. He’ll marry you.” “Caleb, you are sick! You’re actually crazy!” I struggled, but the guards held me down. The alcohol burned my throat. I coughed violently, liquid spilling onto my white shirt, sticking to my skin. “Be a good girl, Scarlett.” His voice was terrifyingly soft. He wiped the wine from the corner of my mouth. The guards released me. I gasped for air, tears of rage stinging my eyes. “Caleb,” I rasped, laughing bitterly. “I am not going to marry you. I never was.” He smirked. “Really? I know you, Scarlett. I know how much you love me. You’d never walk away.” He was so confident. So arrogant. Suddenly, Chloe appeared at the door. She clutched her dress, staring at me with wide eyes. “Sister? Caleb? What are you…” Caleb stiffened. The cruel smirk vanished. “Chloe… why are you here?” “Who brought you? This place is filthy. You shouldn’t be here.” He rushed to her, his voice transforming into pure honey. He shielded her eyes, acting like a devout believer protecting his goddess. It was a look I had never received. Love and indifference really were black and white. I watched them, a sour taste rising in my throat. Humans are strange. In our past life, after I married Caleb, Chloe went abroad and never came back. If he loved her so much, why didn’t he chase her then? A plane ticket cost nothing to a Sterling. He was a coward. Caleb ushered Chloe out to take her home, leaving me alone in the room with the guards and the creeping effects of the drug.

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I turned myself in to security exactly twenty minutes before I pushed my husband into the ocean. The security officer looked bewildered. “Ma’am, are you saying you’re going to commit a murder?” I nodded, checking my watch. “It is currently 5:05 PM. In twenty minutes, my husband will go overboard by my hand. You need to arrest me. Now.” “Is this a joke? I’ve never had a killer confess before the crime.” He rolled his eyes and turned back to his monitor. Desperate, I grabbed a heavy crystal sculpture from the atrium display and smashed it onto the marble floor. Crash. As the handcuffs clicked around my wrists, I finally exhaled. In my past life, my husband was pushed off a cruise ship by the “love of his life.” He drowned, his body lost to the dark waters. Before I could even process his death, the police arrested me. The ship’s surveillance footage clearly showed me pushing him over the railing. But when it happened, I was in my cabin with my stepfather. I had an alibi. I begged my stepfather to testify for me. Instead, he told the police that my company was bankrupt and I had planned to kill my husband for the insurance money. I was convicted of first-degree murder and sentenced to lethal injection. Until the moment I died, I couldn’t understand why the entire world was convinced I did it. Then I opened my eyes. I was back on the ship, twenty minutes before my husband was supposed to die. 1 “Excuse me? You said you’re going to kill someone?” I tapped the face of my watch frantically. “Yes! It’s 5:05 PM. In twenty minutes, I’m going to push my husband, Chase, into the Atlantic. You have to lock me up!” The air in the grand atrium seemed to freeze. The security guard looked me up and down like I belonged in a straitjacket. “Lady, are you high? Or just off your meds?” “I’m not lying! Detain me now, and in twenty minutes you’ll see I’m telling the truth!” The guard frowned, his disdain obvious. “Look, if this is some kinky roleplay you and your husband are into, keep me out of it. Don’t disturb the other guests.” He started to walk away. Panic surged through me. I grabbed a large, expensive ceramic vase from a pedestal and hurled it at the floor. Smash! The sound of shattering pottery echoed through the hall. Tourists screamed and scattered. “Are you crazy?!” the guard shouted. He reached for me, but I started grabbing anything I could reach—ashtrays, decorative plates—throwing them like a maniac. “What is security doing? Grab her!” “We paid thousands for a luxury cruise, not to watch a mental breakdown!” The crowd’s anger boiled over. Finally, the Head of Security arrived with backup. They tackled me to the ground, twisting my arms behind my back and slapping on the cuffs. “I’ve never seen anything like it,” the young guard told his boss, panting. “She walked up, said she was gonna kill someone, and when I didn’t arrest her, she started destroying the lobby.” The cold steel against my skin made me feel safer than I had in years. “Take her to the brig. Keep an eye on her. Don’t let her move.” The brig—a glorified holding cell—was empty and quiet. I closed my eyes and counted the seconds. In my last life, this was a family trip. Chase’s “best friend,” Harper, had begged to come along. I had refused at first. But Chase insisted. He said Harper was getting married soon and moving to Europe; this was her final send-off. I reluctantly agreed. I didn’t know that while they were watching the sunset on the deck, they would argue, and Harper would shove him overboard. I had tried to get the crew to save him, but the sun had set, and the waves were too rough. By morning, he was gone. Before I could even mourn, the authorities came for me. “We have probable cause to detain you for the death of Chase Miller.” I was shocked. “Harper pushed him! I saw it from the balcony! You have the wrong person!” But they showed me the footage. It was me in the video. I looked to my stepfather, Richard, for help. He just shook his head. “Sierra, you have to pay for your crimes.” I couldn’t believe he was lying. I was with him when Chase fell. It was all a lie. A setup. “Sierra Vance, just confess. Everyone on deck saw you do it.” One person can lie. But a whole deck of witnesses? A security camera? I went to my execution screaming that it was Harper. Now, I sat in the brig, waiting. 2 Tick. Tock. Suddenly, a dull thud vibrated through the hull, barely audible over the engine’s hum. Screams erupted from the deck above. I knew it. Chase had gone over. Moments later, heavy boots pounded down the hallway. The young guard kicked the door open. He froze when he saw me sitting exactly where he left me. “How… you’re still here?” Before he could finish, a mob of tourists pushed past him. “That’s her! She’s the killer! I saw her push him!” “Don’t let her escape! We all saw it!” A guy in a flashy shirt was holding up a phone, live-streaming the whole thing. “Yo, chat! We caught the killer! She’s right here! Like the stream if you want to see justice served!” I turned away from the camera, rattling my handcuffs against the metal pipe I was tethered to. “What’s going on? I’ve been chained here for twenty minutes.” The mob paused, confused, looking at my restraints. “Ask the guard,” I said loudly. “I caused a scene in the lobby. He arrested me. He has the key.” The young guard, looking terrified but honest, nodded. “Yeah… I locked her up twenty minutes ago. The key has been in my pocket the whole time. She couldn’t have been on the deck.” In my last life, I was too busy trying to save Chase to notice the trap closing around me. This time, I had the ultimate alibi. The crowd murmured. “Wait, did we get the wrong person?” “I saw her in the lobby earlier, she was smashing vases. It took three guys to take her down.” “Move, let us through! We need to find the real killer!” The streamer looked disappointed. “False alarm, guys?” Just then, Harper pushed through the crowd, her face twisted in grief and rage. “Sierra! You heartless monster! Chase wanted a divorce, so you decided to kill him?!” “Everyone listen! The man in the water is her husband! She killed him because she couldn’t handle rejection!” Harper sobbed theatrically. “Poor Chase… he was willing to give her everything just to be free, but she wouldn’t let him go!” The crowd’s mood swung instantly. “It was her husband? That’s messed up.” “If they were getting divorced, she definitely had a motive.” “Look at her face, she looks guilty as hell!” I tried to speak, but the streamer guy saw his view count dropping and decided to spice things up. He kicked me in the ribs. I was chained to the pipe and couldn’t dodge. I curled up on the floor, groaning. The chat on his screen went wild. User123: Kick her again! Justice for the husband! AlphaMale88: Typical toxic ex. She needs to be taught a lesson. Encouraged, the mob surged forward. I took a few hits, my hair pulled, my face scratched. “Enough!” The Head of Security slammed his baton against the doorframe. “Back off! This is a holding cell, not a fight club. Back off or you all go in the brig!” The crowd retreated. I pulled myself up, wiping blood from my lip. “I didn’t kill anyone,” I said, my voice cold. “If you don’t believe me, check the security tapes in this room.” 3 The young guard scrambled to the console. He pulled up the footage. It showed me sitting there, handcuffed, the entire time. The crowd went silent. Harper’s eyes darted around nervously. “You can’t just check this room! Check the deck! The crime scene!” The Head of Security pulled up the deck feed. On the screen, Chase and I were standing in a secluded corner of the deck. We were arguing. Suddenly, the “Sierra” on the screen screamed, shoved Chase violently over the rail, and ran away. The video ended. My mind raced. The woman on the screen looked exactly like me. Same height, same build, same clothes. But it was Harper who was watching the sunset with him. How did she turn into me? The internet chat was confused too. SimpSlayer: Wait, how can she be in two places at once? CSI_Miami_Fan: Is she a twin? Or is that a deepfake? LawyerUp: If she has an alibi in custody, the video evidence is compromised. Reasonable doubt. “It’s the same person!” Harper shrieked, pointing at the screen. “Look closely! It’s Sierra!” “When one spouse dies, the other is always the prime suspect!” “She probably bribed these guards to create an alibi! Don’t let her trick you!” Before I could defend myself, my stepfather, Richard, burst into the room. Slap! His hand connected hard with my cheek. “Sierra! I didn’t raise you to be a murderer!” “I told you I would fix the company’s debt! You didn’t have to kill Chase for the insurance money!” Richard threw a stack of documents onto the floor. The streamer zoomed in. CryptoKing: Holy sht! Two life insurance policies! Twenty million dollars!* TradWife4Life: She did it for the money. Disgusting. Harper smirked through her fake tears. “Witnesses, video evidence, and motive. It’s over, Sierra. You’re going to rot in prison.” “A life for a life!” the mob chanted. “A life for a life!” Even the young guard looked at me with disgust now. Suddenly, my phone rang. The guard looked at his boss, who nodded. He uncuffed one of my hands so I could answer. “Are you going to order a hit on us too?” Harper sneered. I ignored her. It was my assistant. I listened to the report, and a smile spread across my face. Richard wiped his fake tears. “Sierra, admit it. I can’t protect you anymore. I will demand the police prosecute you to the fullest extent of the law!” If I hadn’t lived through this before, I would have been heartbroken by his betrayal. I laughed, a dry, hollow sound. “Dad. You loved Chase so much. Is it because he’s actually your biological son?” Richard froze. “You crazy bitch, what are you saying?” “I raised you! I treated you like my own! You ungrateful brat!” I looked straight into the streamer’s camera lens. “Stop acting. I know everything. Chase is your illegitimate son. You brought him into the company, you set us up, and you helped him drain my accounts.” “Isn’t that right… Chase?” 4 The room went dead silent. ConspiracyTheory101: Wait, is the victim… not dead? OceanLover: If he fell into the ocean at night, he’s shark food. She’s bluffing. Harper stepped forward. “Chase is gone! You pushed him! How dare you disrespect the dead!” Richard clutched his chest. “You are accusing me of… this is insane! I would never hurt my own daughter!” “Daughter?” I scoffed. “If I was your daughter, would you be so eager to see me executed? You just want me out of the way so you and your son can enjoy the payout.” “We can do a DNA test right now. There must be Chase’s hair in the cabin. Let’s see who his real father is.” The crowd murmured. Richard’s reaction was too suspicious. Richard gritted his teeth. “I raised you! That’s more than blood! And now you treat me like a dog!” Harper jumped in. “Richard is a saint! You’re the monster! You killed his son!” I laughed. “No, Harper. You killed him.” “Or tried to.” “You weren’t in your room like you planned. You got greedy.” Harper turned pale. “I… I was in my room!” “Really? Because I have proof you weren’t.” I lunged at her. The crowd screamed and scattered. Harper shrieked and dodged, but the man in black standing behind her—her “bodyguard”—wasn’t fast enough. I tackled him. His cap flew off. His mask slipped. The face beneath was scarred, horrific. But I recognized the eyes.

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In my past life, my husband was pushed into the sea and drowned by the woman he always loved. While I was still in shock, trying to handle his funeral arrangements, the police arrested me. The surveillance footage showed me pushing him overboard. But at that exact moment, I was in my cabin with my stepfather, discussing business. I had a perfect alibi. I asked my stepfather to testify for me. Instead, he told the police my company was facing financial ruin and I had planned to kill my husband for the insurance money. Was this man really my father? The result, of course, was a conviction for murder and a death sentence. Until my final breath, I couldn’t understand why everyone said I killed him. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the ship, just before my husband fell. I went straight to security. I told them I was going to murder my husband soon and that they needed to arrest me immediately. They thought I was crazy and ignored me. Desperate, I started smashing things and acting like a lunatic until they finally detained me. Only then could I breathe a sigh of relief. 1 “Excuse me? You said you’re going to kill someone?” I tapped the face of my watch frantically. “Yes! It’s 5:05 PM. In twenty minutes, my husband, Chase, is going to go overboard by my hand. You need to arrest me. Now.” The air in the grand atrium seemed to freeze. The security officer looked me up and down like I belonged in a straitjacket. “I’ve never had a killer confess before the crime. Are you high? Or just off your meds?” “I’m not lying! Detain me now, and in twenty minutes you’ll see I’m telling the truth!” The officer frowned, his disdain obvious. “Look, ma’am, if this is some kind of roleplay you and your husband are into, fine. But don’t disturb our work.” He started to walk away. Panic surged through me. I grabbed a large ceramic vase from a pedestal and hurled it at the floor. Smash! The sound of shattering pottery echoed through the hall. Tourists screamed and turned to stare. “Are you crazy?!” the young officer shouted. He reached for me, but I started grabbing anything I could reach—ashtrays, decorative plates—throwing them like a maniac. “What is security doing? Grab her!” “We paid thousands for a luxury cruise, not to watch a mental breakdown!” The crowd’s anger boiled over. I acted like a woman possessed, smashing everything in the lobby until the Head of Security arrived with backup. They tackled me to the ground, twisting my arms behind my back and slapping on the cuffs. “I’ve never seen anything like it,” the young officer told his boss, panting. “She walked up, said she was gonna kill someone, and when I didn’t arrest her, she started destroying the lobby.” The cold steel against my skin made me feel safer than I had in years. “Take her to the brig. Watch her. Don’t let her cause any more trouble.” The brig was empty. I closed my eyes and counted the seconds. In my last life, this was a family trip. Chase’s “one that got away,” Sarah, had begged to come along. I had refused at first. But Chase insisted. He said Sarah was getting married soon and moving to Europe; this was her final send-off. I reluctantly agreed. I didn’t know that while they were watching the sunset on the deck, they would argue, and Sarah would shove him overboard. I had tried to get the crew to save him, but the sun had set, and the waves were too rough. By morning, he was gone. Before I could even mourn, the authorities came for me. “We have probable cause to detain you for the death of Chase Miller.” I was shocked. “Sarah pushed him! I saw it from the balcony! You have the wrong person!” But they showed me the footage. It was me in the video. I looked to my stepfather, Richard, for help. He just shook his head. “Chloe, you have to pay for your crimes.” I couldn’t believe he was lying. I was with him when Chase fell. It was all a lie. “Chloe Vance, just confess. Everyone on deck saw you do it.” One person can lie. But a whole deck of witnesses? A security camera? I went to my execution screaming that it was Sarah. Now, I sat in the brig, waiting. 2 Tick. Tock. Suddenly, a dull thud vibrated through the hull, barely audible over the engine’s hum. Screams erupted from the deck above. I knew it. Chase had gone over. Moments later, heavy boots pounded down the hallway. The young officer kicked the door open. He froze when he saw me. “How… you’re still here?” Before he could finish, a mob of tourists pushed past him. “That’s her! She’s the killer! I saw her push him!” “Don’t let her escape! We all saw it!” A guy in a flashy shirt was holding up a phone, live-streaming. “Yo, chat! We caught the killer! Like and subscribe to see justice served!” I turned away from the camera, rattling my handcuffs against the pipe I was tethered to. “What’s going on? I’ve been chained here the whole time.” The mob paused, confused, looking at my restraints. “Ask the guard,” I said loudly. “I caused a scene in the lobby. He arrested me. He has the key.” The young officer nodded slowly. “Yeah… I locked her up twenty minutes ago. The key has been in my pocket. She couldn’t have been on deck.” In my last life, I was too busy trying to save Chase to notice the trap closing. This time, I had the ultimate alibi. The crowd murmured. “Did we get the wrong person?” “I saw her smashing vases earlier. It took three guys to take her down.” “Move, let us through! We need to find the real killer!” The streamer looked disappointed. “False alarm, guys?” Just then, Sarah pushed through the crowd, her face twisted in grief and rage. “Chloe! You heartless monster! Chase wanted a divorce, so you killed him?!” “Everyone! The man in the water is her husband! She killed him!” Sarah sobbed theatrically. “Poor Chase… he was willing to give up everything to be free of you, but you wouldn’t let him go!” The crowd’s mood swung instantly. “It was her husband? That’s sick.” “If they were divorcing, she definitely had a motive.” “Look at her face, she looks guilty as hell!” I tried to speak, but the streamer guy kicked me hard in the ribs. I was chained and couldn’t dodge. I curled up on the floor, groaning. The chat on his screen went wild. User123: Kick her again! Justice for Chase! AlphaMale88: Typical toxic ex. She needs a lesson. Encouraged, the mob surged forward. I took hits, my hair pulled, my face scratched. “Enough!” The Head of Security slammed his baton against the doorframe. “Back off! This is a holding cell, not a octagon. Back off or you all go in the brig!” The crowd retreated. I pulled myself up, wiping blood from my lip. “I didn’t kill anyone,” I said, my voice cold. “If you don’t believe me, check the security tapes in this room.” 3 The young officer scrambled to the console. He pulled up the footage. It showed me sitting there, handcuffed, the entire time. The crowd went silent. Sarah’s eyes darted around nervously. “You can’t just check this room! Check the deck! The crime scene!” The Head of Security pulled up the deck feed. On the screen, Chase and I were standing in a secluded corner of the deck. We were arguing. Suddenly, the “Chloe” on the screen screamed, shoved Chase violently over the rail, and ran away. The video ended. My mind raced. The woman on the screen looked exactly like me. Same height, same build. But it was Sarah who was with him. How did she turn into me? The internet chat was confused too. SimpSlayer: Wait, how can she be in two places at once? CSI_Miami_Fan: Is she a twin? Or is that a deepfake? LawyerUp: If she has an alibi in custody, the video evidence is compromised. Reasonable doubt. “It’s the same person!” Sarah shrieked, pointing at the screen. “Look closely! It’s Chloe!” “When one spouse dies, the other is always the prime suspect!” “She probably bribed these guards! Don’t let her trick you!” Before I could defend myself, my stepfather, Richard, burst into the room. Slap! His hand connected hard with my cheek. “Chloe! I didn’t raise you to be a murderer!” “I told you I would fix the company’s debt! You didn’t have to kill Chase for the insurance money!” Richard threw a stack of documents onto the floor. The streamer zoomed in. CryptoKing: Holy sht! Two life insurance policies! Twenty million dollars!* TradWife4Life: She did it for the money. Disgusting. Sarah smirked through her fake tears. “Witnesses, video evidence, and motive. It’s over, Chloe. You’re going to rot in prison.” “A life for a life!” the mob chanted. Even the young officer looked at me with disgust now. Suddenly, my phone rang. The guard looked at his boss, who nodded. He uncuffed one of my hands so I could answer. “Are you going to order a hit on us too?” Sarah sneered. I ignored her. It was my assistant. I listened to the report, and a smile spread across my face. Richard wiped his fake tears. “Chloe, admit it. I can’t protect you anymore. I demand the police prosecute you to the fullest!” If I hadn’t lived through this before, I would have been heartbroken by his betrayal. I laughed, a dry, hollow sound. “Dad. You loved Chase so much. Is it because he’s actually your biological son?” Richard froze. “You crazy bitch, what are you saying?” “I raised you! I treated you like my own! And this is the thanks I get?” I looked straight into the streamer’s camera lens. “Stop acting. I know everything. Chase is your illegitimate son.” “Isn’t that right… Chase?” 4 The room went dead silent. ConspiracyTheory101: Wait, is the victim… not dead? OceanLover: If he fell into the ocean at night, he’s shark food. She’s bluffing. Sarah stepped forward. “Chase is gone! How dare you disrespect the dead!” Richard clutched his chest. “You are accusing me of… this is insane! I would never hurt my own daughter!” “Daughter?” I scoffed. “If I was your daughter, would you be so eager to see me executed? You just want me out of the way so you and your son can enjoy the payout.” “We can do a DNA test right now. Let’s see who his real father is.” The crowd murmured. Richard’s reaction was too suspicious. Richard gritted his teeth. “I raised you! That’s more than blood! And now you treat me like a dog!” Sarah jumped in. “Richard is a saint! You’re the monster! You killed his son!” I laughed. “No, Sarah. You killed him.” “Or tried to.” “You weren’t in your room like you planned. You got greedy.” Sarah turned pale. “I… I was in my room!” “Really? Because I have proof you weren’t.” I lunged at her. The crowd screamed and scattered. Sarah shrieked and dodged, but the man in black standing behind her—her “bodyguard”—wasn’t fast enough. I tackled him. His cap flew off. His mask slipped. The face beneath was scarred, horrific. But I recognized the eyes.

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My granddaughter was brutally assaulted by her classmates. But instead of apologizing, the bully’s parents were incredibly arrogant. I went to the school, but the school was too afraid to intervene. I went to the police, but they told me to let it go. With nowhere left to turn, I took out the two Distinguished Service Crosses left behind by my son and daughter-in-law, and I collapsed in front of the military base gates. Six years ago, when the General delivered these medals to my home, he said something I never forgot. He said my son and his wife gave their lives for this country. That they were heroes. That they were the pride of the nation. Now, I want to ask him one question: Why is it that when a hero’s daughter is humiliated and abused, no one cares? 1 Because my granddaughter, Lily, is an orphan, she became the perfect target for the school bully. She was dragged into a bathroom and beaten for seven hours. Now, she lies in the ICU, fighting for her life. But Bella, the ringleader of the bullies, showed no fear. “I don’t care if you sue me. I know the law. I’m a minor. Worst case scenario, I get a slap on the wrist and some community service. I won’t go to prison.” She chewed her gum loudly, looking bored. There was not a shred of remorse in her eyes. The bully’s father was even more dismissive. “Look, old lady, you’re dragging this out because you want a payout, right?” “I can give you money. But you have to sign this settlement agreement. It states that your granddaughter’s injuries were accidental, caused by a fall, and have nothing to do with my daughter!” He pulled a stack of cash—ten thousand dollars—from his designer bag and threw it in my face. He smirked. “Your grandkid takes a beating, and you walk away with ten grand. You hit the jackpot, Grandma.” I stood there, hunched over, trembling as I looked through the glass at my granddaughter. She was covered in wires and tubes. Under the hospital gown, her body was a map of agony. Burns, cuts, bruises—layer upon layer. I couldn’t imagine the despair she felt during those seven hours. She is a human being. But to these people, her pain was just a number on a check. My heart felt like it was being shredded. I grabbed the edge of his expensive suit jacket, my voice shaking. “No. I want justice. You have to answer for this!” Bella’s father looked disgusted. He shoved me away violently. I lost my balance and hit the cold hospital floor hard. Crash. The bottle of blood pressure pills in my pocket shattered. My crumpled dollar bills scattered across the floor. And with them, two heavy, cross-shaped medals fell with a metallic clatter. I scrambled to pick them up, but his polished leather shoe stepped right on them. He sneered. “You crazy old hag. If you don’t like it, sue me. But let me tell you, the Chief Judge is my cousin. Good luck with that.” The school principal, standing nearby, signaled for them to leave, urging them not to “agitate the victim’s family.” Father and daughter walked away, laughing. I carefully picked up the medals, now smudged with dirt from his shoe. I looked at my unconscious Lily, and the tears I had been holding back finally broke free. 2 The principal helped me up, putting on a mask of fake sympathy. “Eleanor, look. The Thorne family has money and power. You’re an old woman living on a pension and recycling cans. How can you fight them? Just sign the paper, take the money, and let it go.” “If you keep making a scene, it will only damage the school’s reputation. What will the other parents think?” I was shocked. His first thought was the school’s Yelp review, not justice for a child. This man was an educator. My granddaughter was put in the hospital by a sadistic bully, and he was talking about reputation? This was assault. This was a crime! “Money? You think this ends with money?” I cried. “Shouldn’t the abuser be punished?” Seeing that I wouldn’t budge, the principal lost his patience. “They are willing to pay! What more do you want? Do you want to ruin a young girl’s future?” He pulled a file from his briefcase and threw it onto my lap. “If you don’t sign the settlement, Lily can’t attend our school anymore. We have a zero-tolerance policy for drama.” I couldn’t believe it. To protect the bully, the principal was expelling the victim. He laughed coldly. “Like Mr. Thorne said, his family runs the legal circles here. You won’t win a lawsuit. And the school isn’t going to offend a major donor for a charity case like Lily.” Clutching Lily’s file, I leaned against the cold hospital wall. A suffocating darkness pressed down on my chest. We didn’t do anything wrong. Why are we the ones being punished? 3 After composing myself, I went back into the room. When Lily woke up, she curled into a ball under the sheets, refusing to come out. Seeing her trembling form, my heart broke all over again. I gently pulled the blanket back and hugged her. She buried her face in my chest, sobbing. “Grandma, it hurts… everything hurts…” “Bella and her friends… they said I have no mom and dad, so I deserve to be beaten. But I do have parents, right?” “Mom and Dad said they would come back when I turned ten. I’m fifteen now. Why aren’t they back? Did I do something wrong? Do they hate me?” “Is it because I stole that candy when I was little?” “Grandma, please tell them I’m sorry. I won’t eat candy anymore. I’ll be good…” “I miss them so much… If they were here, nobody would dare hurt me…” Her innocent cries were like knives stabbing my soul. I clutched the medals in my pocket, the sharp edges digging into my palm. Six years ago, when the military officers gave me these medals, I hid them. I never let Lily see them. If she saw them, she would know the truth: that “missing in action” was a lie. That they were never coming home. I bit my lip, forcing the tears back. Oh, my sweet child. How can I tell you that your heroes are gone forever? “Grandma, you said bad kids get punished. I didn’t do anything. Why did they hurt me?” I stroked her hair, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Lily, you are a good girl. They are the bad ones.” “And bad people will get punished. I promise.” Lily looked at me with tear-filled eyes, desperate for hope. Once she fell asleep, I rode my rusty tricycle to the police station. But the officer’s response sent me plunging into despair. Mr. Thorne was the wealthiest developer in the city. His family had deep ties to local government. The police looked at my faded clothes and my hands, calloused from years of hard labor. The officer sighed heavily, pulled a twenty-dollar bill from his wallet, and pressed it into my hand. He looked at me with pity. “Ma’am, I’m sorry. We can’t do much without hard evidence, and there were no cameras in that bathroom. His cousin is the District Attorney. Even the state senator knows him. You should just… try to move on.” Even the police were helpless. I walked out of the station, feeling like the sky was collapsing on me. Just then, my phone buzzed. I opened the message, and my blood ran cold. It was a video. A video of Lily being tortured. 4 In the video, Lily was cornered in the bathroom stall. A group of girls took turns slapping her face. My granddaughter was curled in the corner, crying helplessly. “Look at her,” a voice sneered. “No daddy, no mommy. She was born to be our punching bag.” The camera zoomed in on Lily’s terrified face. My hands shook so hard I almost dropped the phone. I couldn’t watch anymore. A text message from Bella’s father popped up below the video: [Mr. Thorne]: Enjoy the show, old woman? If you don’t sign that paper, I’ll post this everywhere. I’ll make your granddaughter a viral joke. Then, he sent another photo. A picture of a skinned rabbit. Lily was born in the Year of the Rabbit. It was her favorite animal. I shook with rage. “How can you be so cruel? Do you have no conscience?” I texted back. [Mr. Thorne]: Conscience? Conscience doesn’t pay the bills. I own the court. My daughter could end someone, and she wouldn’t see a jail cell. Your granddaughter is going to live in fear forever. When I tried to reply, I got a notification: You have been blocked. I spent the next day calling every law firm in the city. Every lawyer gave me the same answer: “We can’t take this case. It’s a conflict of interest.” Or simply, “We don’t want trouble with Thorne.” Was there really no justice for Lily? Lily’s mental state was deteriorating. She couldn’t sleep. When she did, she woke up screaming. She told me she was afraid to close her eyes because she saw Bella’s face. I held her as she shook. “Grandma,” she whispered. “I dreamed of Mom and Dad.” “I dreamed we were at Disney World. But then… they got a call. They said the country needed to ‘borrow’ them for a while. They said they’d be back when the mission was over.” “Grandma… when does the mission end? When will the country give them back to me?” “If I could just have them for one day… just one day…” “Why don’t the bad guys get punished, Grandma?” I patted her back, unable to speak. The feeling of powerlessness was drowning me.

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During the Christmas shopping rush, my husband, Mark, threw a fit. “You buy way too much stuff every time you go visit your parents!” he snapped. “I make more money than you, but you spend way more. This isn’t fair. From now on, we’re splitting everything 50/50. We’re going Dutch.” I didn’t hesitate. “Deal.” But I laid down three ground rules. “From now on, we sleep in separate rooms. You take care of your parents, I take care of mine. And if you want me to cook or clean, you have to pay a service fee.” One year later, Mark—now living paycheck to paycheck—knelt before me, begging to cancel the agreement. I smiled and handed him the divorce papers. “I think it’s better if we split… permanently.” Chapter 1: The Calculator My husband, Mark, stared at the pile of Christmas gifts stacked against the wall, his brow furrowed. “Do you really need to buy this much for your folks?” His interrogating tone rubbed me the wrong way, but I patiently explained, “I bought two of everything. One set for my family, one set for yours.” In our three years of marriage, I had never played favorites. I always treated both sides equally. But even with me being perfectly fair, Mark wasn’t satisfied. He looked at me with a sneer. “I make $6,000 a month. You only take home about $4,000. Why should the stuff for your family cost the same as the stuff for mine?” “Why do we have to average out the surplus of what I earn? You earn less but spend more. Is that fair?” I felt a lump form in my throat. It was just Christmas gifts. Did he really need to make it a class war? Did we have to rank our families based on income? Seeing my silence, Mark kept going. “My mom has mentioned this a few times. I didn’t care before, but looking at it now, you really are insensible about money.” “So, to be fair and impartial, from now on, we split all expenses 50/50. You spend your money however you want, and I won’t ask questions.” I looked at Mark in disbelief. This was the man I’d slept next to for three years? It seemed he’d held a grudge about our finances for a long time. My mother-in-law had probably been poisoning his ear behind my back, too. I didn’t hesitate. I agreed immediately. “Fine. 50/50 it is. But we’d better set some ground rules so there’s no confusion.” Mark didn’t expect me to agree so quickly. His face lit up. He nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, yes. Clear rules are best. Otherwise, my family will feel cheated.” Cheated? Over daily expenses? I calmly listed the details. “Starting today, we sleep in separate rooms. Rent and utilities are split down the middle. You are responsible for your parents, I am responsible for mine.” “You wash your own boxers and socks; I’m done doing them. If you need me to do laundry or cook, you have to pay me a separate service fee.” “If I cook, the standard is $20 per person per meal. If I do all the housekeeping, you need to pay me $1,500 a month.” I threw out a few numbers, and Mark jumped up. “Fifteen hundred?! For a little housework?” I leaned back on the sofa and gave him a cool look. “If you hire a maid, it’s at least $2,500 a month. You’re free to choose. I can keep my own room clean; I won’t touch the rest of the house.” “If you want to save money, that’s fine. You can wash the dishes, sweep, and mop every day, and dust the furniture once a week…” Before I could finish, Mark interrupted impatiently. “Fine! I’ll pay! Happy now?” I smirked. If I didn’t make him bleed a little cash, he’d really think I was free labor. I pointed to the wall. “I bought those gifts with my salary. You need to go buy your own gifts for your side of the family.” Chapter 2: The Empty-Handed Visit On Christmas Eve, we showed up at my in-laws’ house empty-handed. Mark walked in and immediately sat on the couch to scroll through TikTok. I did the exact same thing. My mother-in-law’s face dropped instantly. “You two are getting ruder by the day. Coming home for Christmas without a single gift? Do you think you’re a princess?” In the past, I would have taken over the kitchen immediately. I would have bought the groceries early in the morning, cooked the entire feast, while the three of them sat and waited to be served. Now, the kitchen was cold and empty. Were they still counting on me? My father-in-law, who had a short temper, started shouting. “Sarah! Look at you! What kind of daughter-in-law acts like this? You don’t even know basic manners anymore?” “We thought you were decent before, but I guess you were just faking it. Now you won’t even keep up appearances?” Watching them jump around in anger actually made me feel great. I used to give them my heart and soul, and I never got a ‘thank you.’ Instead, my mother-in-law would nitpick everything I bought. “These gifts aren’t practical. You don’t know how to run a household! Mark works so hard for his money, seeing you spend it like water hurts my heart!” “Look at this dust. You clean worse than a cheap maid. I don’t know what Mark saw in you.” See? If I do it, I get criticized. So, I might as well do nothing. When they ran out of insults, I spoke up calmly. “Mom, Dad, don’t look at me. Mark proposed we live a 50/50 lifestyle. We agreed: whoever’s parents they are, that person takes care of them. Gifts included.” “We also agreed that my labor isn’t free. So, for tonight’s Christmas dinner, how much is your family planning to invest?” Last year, to ensure my parents had a good holiday, I booked a table at a five-star hotel. It was supposed to be a happy joint family gathering. But my in-laws ruined it. They spent the whole meal bragging about how capable their son was, hinting that I was mooching off Mark. They called me wasteful for booking such an expensive dinner. My mom had fought to pay the bill ages ago—they didn’t need to be so dramatic. The most annoying part was the pressure to have kids. “Sarah, you make so little money and work so much overtime. Is it worth it? This family relies on Mark anyway.” “Since you don’t earn much, you should just focus on your health, have a baby, and stay home to serve the boys.” They looked down on me because my salary was lower than Mark’s. I have hands, I have feet, and I like my job. Why should I sacrifice that? What made it worse was Mark’s attitude. He agreed with them! “Yeah, I cover the mortgage and most of the bills. Does your job really matter?” He made a decent salary, but he acted like he was Elon Musk. Hearing that I wanted to charge for cooking Christmas dinner, my in-laws exploded. My mother-in-law, specifically, started spitting venom. Mark, looking embarrassed, whispered to me, “Just cook first. I’ll give you the money later. Do we have to make everyone miserable today?” I sat on the sofa, unmoved. “We have a deal. Payment first, then work. No credit.” My mother-in-law was about to scream, but my cold glare stopped her. “You guys always say I spend too much. Why don’t you go to the market and see how much holiday groceries actually cost?” “Since we’re going 50/50, you should pay for the ingredients, too.” You care about saving face? Let’s see how long you can keep it up. Chapter 3: The Expensive Grocery Run Usually, Mark’s grandparents, his uncle, and his uncle’s whole family would come over for Christmas dinner. I deliberately didn’t mention buying groceries today. I was waiting for this moment of chaos. Otherwise, they’d just sit there and enjoy the fruits of my labor. My mother-in-law shrieked. “There are ten people coming to eat! How much will that cost?! It’s already afternoon; the markets are closing!” Panicked? Good. I shrugged. “I thought Mark told you. We’re splitting finances. House matters on this side aren’t my problem.” I’d never seen parents like this—just waiting comfortably for their kids to serve them. Whenever we visited, they prepared nothing. Meanwhile, my parents would cook a feast of my favorite dishes and send me home with bags of leftovers. The contrast was chilling. My mother-in-law was pacing like a cat on a hot tin roof. I just played Candy Crush. If I hadn’t seen Mark’s texts to his mom two days ago, I might not have been this cruel. Mark: [Mom, done! Sarah and I are totally separate now. No more worrying about her wasting my money!] MIL: [Oh, finally! I told you that woman was just after your cash. She was probably secretly buying expensive stuff for her parents behind your back!] Mark: [Exactly. Thanks for the heads up, Mom. I didn’t realize how much she was taking advantage of me!] MIL: [With her salary? Why should her family get the same gifts as ours? They don’t deserve it!] Reading those texts made my blood boil. It was time to prep dinner, and there wasn’t even a head of lettuce in the house. Mark couldn’t take it anymore. He dragged me out the door. The regular markets were empty. We had to go to Whole Foods—the only place still open. I didn’t care. I grabbed whatever I wanted and threw it in the cart. King crab, organic ribeye, imported cheeses. Every time I tossed something in, Mark’s face got paler. “Do we need this much? This is too expensive! Can’t we get cheaper cuts?” Oh, now that it’s your money, it hurts? In previous years, I spent over a thousand dollars just on groceries, not counting the imported fruit. Who felt sorry for me then? I stopped the cart and looked at him. “Dinner for ten people. Do you want to serve them hot dogs and beans? I don’t care. It’s not my reputation on the line.” Whole Foods isn’t cheap. Two organic cucumbers cost ten bucks. When I used to buy lobster and grouper, they never complained about the price. My father-in-law even called me stingy for not buying enough. Mark gritted his teeth and let me shop. At the checkout, I grabbed a pack of holiday money envelopes. “Don’t forget the cash gifts for your parents and grandparents. I usually give $500 per person.” “Oh, and for your cousin’s kid? I usually give $100. You figure it out.” Mark looked like he was attending his own funeral. Chapter 4: The Service Fee On the drive back, I told him the cooking fee was $100. Mark’s hand jerked, swerving the car. I said calmly, “Hiring a private chef for a holiday meal is usually $300 minimum. I’m giving you the family discount.” Mark was stuck. Everyone knew his mom’s cooking was hazardous to human health. He gritted his teeth and Venmo’d me $100. I accepted the transfer and went to cook. After dinner, the whole family moved to the living room to watch the football game. I started to follow them, but Mark grabbed me. “Dishwashing is $15 a load. I’ll transfer it now!” I stopped his hand. “$15 is the price for two people on a Tuesday. Look at this mess. Pots, pans, plates for ten people.” “$50. Or do it yourself.” Mark turned purple. He hissed at me in the corner. “Sarah! All you care about is money now? You’re a daughter-in-law of this family. Shouldn’t you do chores?” Oh, now I’m family when there’s scrubbing to do? I glanced at him. “You proposed the 50/50 split. You agreed to keep things clear. What, can’t handle it?” “Why do you have to be so petty?” he argued. “It’s just dishes!” “It’s your house,” I shot back. “Why don’t you do it? Do I owe you labor?” I wasn’t going to be stupid anymore. Mark took home $6,000. His mortgage (his pre-marital asset) was $2,000. He gave me $500 for household expenses and kept the remaining $3,500. I paid for utilities, internet, groceries, cooking, and cleaning. I subsidized both sets of parents. I bought the gifts. When you did the math, I was funding his lifestyle while he built equity. And they still thought I was the leech? Mark didn’t want to lose face in front of his relatives, so he resentfully transferred the $50. Halfway through the game, the grandparents were getting tired. My mother-in-law shot me a look. “Sarah, everyone’s leaving. Get the gifts!” Mark’s cousin’s kid ran over, hands out. “Auntie Sarah, where’s my Christmas money?” Looking at their expectant faces, I realized how idiotic I had been in the past. I used to curate gifts for everyone. I spent thousands. And I got labeled “wasteful.” Let them spend their own money. I patted the kid’s head. “From now on, Uncle Mark is in charge of gifts and money. Go ask him.”

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I am Blair Sterling, the beautiful, wealthy, and fierce daughter of a billionaire tycoon. I am also the villainess in a trashy romance novel. That day, I was enthusiastically bullying the innocent “white lotus” heroine, ready to slap her face, when I suddenly saw her brother running towards us. The slap I had aimed at her face morphed mid-air into a gentle caress. “My dear little sister, I’m your future sister-in-law!” “As long as you help me catch your brother, my black card is yours to swipe~” If I had known her brother was such a breathtaking beauty, who would care about some childhood sweetheart fiancé! 1 I am the rich, gorgeous, and slightly terrifying Blair Sterling. My childhood fiancé fell for a poor, innocent scholarship student named Summer. Consumed by jealousy, I tricked Summer into a deserted corner of the campus to teach her a lesson. Just as I raised my hand to strike, I glimpsed a figure sprinting towards us from the distance. The boy’s face crashed into my vision. Simultaneously, a sharp pain pierced my brain. A flood of memories drowned my mind. Dimly lit rooms, tangled sheets. The air thick and humid with heat. Entwined shadows on the wall under the warm glow of a lamp. In countless R-rated scenes, the protagonist’s face overlapped perfectly with the boy running towards me. It was terrifyingly clear. My raised hand froze in mid-air for a few seconds. Then, it landed gently on Summer’s cheek. Summer, who had squeezed her eyes shut and braced for impact, slowly opened them. After a moment of confusion, she looked at me with stubborn hatred. “Blair Sterling, if you dare to hit me, I’ll call the police! Others might be afraid of your family’s power, but I’m not!” My vicious expression instantly melted into one of tender affection. I stroked Summer’s smooth cheek. Smiling, I said, “Misunderstanding, total misunderstanding.” “Sister, I’m your future sister-in-law~” “I was just about to kiss you, why would I hit you?” “I would never do something so barbaric.” I quickly signaled the two lackeys holding Summer to let her go and get lost. Summer looked at me, completely flabbergasted. She couldn’t believe her ears. “What are you talking about?” I looked at her with sincere eyes. “I like your brother. I only blocked you here to see him.” “Let go of my sister!” Caleb rushed up, shoving me away forcefully. I took the opportunity to stumble, falling straight into his arms. My hands wrapped around the boy’s lean, muscular waist. Caleb was caught off guard by my sudden embrace. He scolded coldly, “Let go!” I held on for dear life, pressing my whole body against him. I looked up with a sweet smile. “If I let her go, I can’t let you go.” Under my burning gaze, Caleb’s ears turned red. He looked away uncomfortably and pushed me away with force. He pushed too hard, and I landed on my butt on the concrete. He checked on his sister, asking with concern, “Are you okay?” Summer was still dazed. Clearly, she hadn’t processed my sudden confession. “No, I’m fine.” “She… this must be a misunderstanding.” I pretended to be injured, clutching my leg and wailing. I squeezed out two crocodile tears and looked at Caleb pitifully. “It hurts.” I tried to stand up, then fell back down. Caleb’s face was cold. He hesitated for a moment, then crouched in front of me, offering his back. “Get on. I’ll carry you to the nurse’s office.” I climbed onto his back, wrapping my arms around his neck. I buried my face in the crook of his neck, secretly inhaling his scent. A smile of pure satisfaction spread across my face. Summer, watching my little act with her jaw on the floor, looked like her brain was short-circuiting. I grinned and put a finger to my lips, signaling her to keep quiet. Nineteen-year-old Caleb was cold and reserved. Top student, good temper, a perfect gentleman. But I knew that beneath that calm exterior lay a hidden madness and obsession. Caleb silently carried me towards the nurse’s office. Summer watched us, wanting to say something but stopping herself. He frowned, clearly conflicted. I stared at Caleb’s profile, recalling the memories flooding my brain. My heart felt sour yet nostalgic. I couldn’t help but press my lips behind his ear, gently kissing his skin. The person carrying me went rigid. He abruptly let go, dropping me. Flustered and angry, he shouted, “What are you doing?!” I instinctively stood up, forgetting my lie about the leg pain. Caleb stared at my perfectly functional legs, his face darkening. His voice was icy. “Is lying fun for you?” “Or is playing people just a game?” Crap. He’s genuinely angry. I walked up to Caleb, trying to appease him. “I was wrong, don’t be mad.” Then, under Caleb’s shocked gaze, I stood on my tiptoes and kissed him on the lips. He pushed me away violently. His handsome face was flushed red. His voice trembled with anger. “Are you crazy?!” I sat on the ground, looking wronged. “I was apologizing to you.” “Who taught you to apologize like that?!” My future Caleb, of course! 2 I was reborn. In my past life, because my fiancé fell for Summer, I became consumed by jealousy. I bullied her relentlessly, trying everything to destroy their relationship. When I found out my fiancé broke off our engagement, my jealousy burned away my reason. I planned to drug his drink. I wanted to cook the rice so he’d have to take responsibility. But by a twist of fate, the person who drank the drugged wine was Caleb. In the dim room, the usually cold man turned into a savage beast. Ignoring my curses and pleas, he ravaged me. I tried to run away crying, but he dragged me back again and again. Finally, I fell unconscious. Even in my sleep, I found no peace. In my dream, I was on a small boat, drifting in endless darkness, rocking with the waves until dawn. When I woke up, I didn’t dare make a sound. I could only grit my teeth and swallow the humiliation. Later, I found an opportunity to capture Caleb and lock him in my villa’s basement. To beat him and vent my anger. In the basement, Caleb’s hands were chained. His body was covered in whip marks. “You dog! Who allowed you to look at me like that!” Caleb had a spine of steel. No matter how I beat or scolded him, he maintained that indifferent face. His eyes were as black as the abyss, unsettling. He smirked, “I’m a dog, but you were still ridden by me.” I trembled with rage. I slapped Caleb hard across the face. He puffed out his cheek, looking calm. My hand was red and stinging. I hurt myself hitting him. Furious, I drugged him and left him in the basement. Watching Caleb suffer on the monitor was the only thing that made me feel better. The boy’s black hair was soaked with sweat. His eyes were bloodshot, crazy like a trapped beast. The chains clanked as he pulled at them. Finally, he suddenly looked up, staring straight at me through the camera. That look terrified me. My heart skipped a beat. Then Caleb went still. I watched for a while, feeling uneasy. I didn’t want to kill him, just teach him a lesson. I rushed to the basement to check on him. He was unresponsive, burning up with fever, completely passed out. Afraid he might die, I quickly unlocked his chains. Suddenly, Caleb, who was feigning unconsciousness, grabbed me. The beast revealed his fangs and claws, pinning me down and devouring me. I cried and apologized, shaking with fear, fainting in the suffocation and chaos. Caleb used me up and ran away. Not long after, I fell from being a billionaire heiress to a penniless nobody. My father died suddenly, and his illegitimate son appeared out of nowhere with a will, inheriting everything. I was kicked out of the Sterling family with a paternity test stating I wasn’t my father’s child. Years later, Caleb transformed from a poor boy into a business tycoon. He found me selling trinkets on the street. Like I had imprisoned him, he locked me in his estate as a canary. From struggling at first to completely giving up later, I accepted it. He was handsome, rich, and good in bed. I treated it as a free ride. Not a loss. He kept me for over a decade until he died in a shipwreck. When the lawyer read his will, I was shocked to find he left me an inheritance large enough to live lavishly for the rest of my life. The villa we lived in was also under my name. Six months after Caleb died, I missed him so much I couldn’t sleep. For over ten years, his imprisonment seemed like revenge, but he treated me well. Aside from not letting me leave, he gave me the best of everything. I was the only one by his side. Because of me, he fought with his sister and barely spoke to her. I still lived in that villa, often staying in his study reading, because that was where he used to be. There, I accidentally found a familiar diamond hair clip. Freshman year of college, I went to a bar district looking for someone and got dragged into an alley by a drunk. A boy saved me. To thank him, I casually gave him this hair clip. I didn’t know that boy was Caleb. It was dark, and I was too scared to notice his face. I threw the gift and ran. Caleb had kept this clip in an exquisite white box. Once, I saw it and asked, “What’s that? You’re staring at it so intensely.” He looked at me, his tone flat. “A gift from someone I like.” I mocked him, “Unrequited love, huh?” He looked at me deeply and said nothing. So, the person he liked was me. This repressed man, such a tough mouth. I developed severe insomnia. Only by hugging Caleb’s clothes and smelling his scent could I sleep. I belatedly realized my own heart. I loved Caleb. I didn’t cry when I heard of his death. I didn’t cry at his funeral. But in the deep nights without him, I cried countless times. If I could do it all over again, I wanted to date him properly. 3 Caleb, flustered and angry after being tricked and kissed, turned to leave. I tragically discovered that this time, I really had twisted my ankle. “Caleb!” “My foot really hurts!” “It’s true this time, look, it’s swollen.” Summer looked and confirmed, “Brother, her ankle is swollen.” Caleb stopped walking away. He came back, looked at my ankle, and without a word, piggybacked me. He warned, “Touch me again, and I’ll throw you into the lake.” I nodded obediently. … After that, my attitude towards Summer did a 180. “Sister” this, “sister” that. “Blair Sterling, I don’t know you well, stop calling me that!” I forcibly dragged Summer shopping. Clothes, bags, makeup, skincare, jewelry—I bought a pile. When parting, I stuffed all the bags into her hands. Smiling, I said, “Just a little meeting gift from your sister-in-law.” “Help me chase your brother, and I’ll take care of you for life.” Summer was conflicted. She tried to return the items. Painfully, she said, “I won’t betray my brother!” I pulled out VIP tickets to her idol’s concert. Her eyes lit up, and her last bit of hesitation vanished. “You are my real sister-in-law!” Having bribed Summer, I got all of Caleb’s part-time job addresses. Whenever I was free, I went to find him. Impatiently, he asked, “What do you want?” “I’m chasing you, isn’t it obvious?” Caleb looked at me coldly. “You see this? I’m poor and busy. I don’t have time for your love games.” Caleb worked at a bar on weekend nights. When he saw me, his face instantly darkened. He grabbed my hand and dragged me out. Sternly, he said, “Go back!” Of course, I didn’t go back. “Agree to be my boyfriend, and I’ll listen to you.” He silently suppressed his anger. Leaving a “Suit yourself,” he ignored me. But I knew he was secretly watching me, even asking colleagues to keep an eye on me. I went to the bathroom, and when I came back, Caleb was gone. Just as I was looking for him, the bar lights dimmed. The music stopped. Then the crowd screamed. Pink and purple lights lit up the center stage. Five boys in black pants and white shirts, eyes covered with black silk scarves, sat facing chair backs. Straddling the chairs, they moved their bodies slowly to the sexy music. I recognized Caleb, second from the left, immediately. I was shocked. The aloof and proud Caleb was dancing seductively for money. My eyes were glued only to him. Watching his hand glide up his long neck, gently rubbing. Then slowly sliding down. Finally, casually unbuttoning the top two buttons of his white shirt. Revealing exquisite, pale collarbones. This stimulating scene made me blush and my heart race. As the music peaked, the lead dancer ripped open all his buttons. His lean, muscular waist was fully exposed. The audience screamed deafeningly. I was just glad the four backup dancers didn’t need to strip. Otherwise, I might have rushed onto the stage to dress Caleb. I never knew he could dance. Or that he was this financially desperate at this time. After the dance, there was a game. Those chosen by the spotlight could feed the lead dancer a lollipop mouth-to-mouth. Five people were chosen. I was the last lucky one. From being chosen to walking to the stage, I felt Caleb’s gaze following me. Just as the lead dancer bent down to feed me the lollipop, Caleb suddenly appeared next to him. He pulled me over. One hand cupped the back of my head, feeding the lollipop he was holding in his mouth to mine. I instinctively opened my mouth. The sweet and sour candy spread in my mouth. Through the lace on his eyes, our gazes met amidst the screaming crowd. My heartbeat was like thunder. I was dizzy with sweetness.

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In my past life, I was abused to death. Because I saved my mother in a car accident, I became a high-level paraplegic. My whole family despised me, and my mother would always hold my cousin’s hand and say, “This is my real daughter.” When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of the car accident. “Mom, this time, it’s your turn to pay the debt.” 1 “The brakes failed! Run!” A scream rang in my ears, and I looked ahead in disbelief. An eighteen-wheeler, brakes gone, was careening down the road straight at my mother. My mother had twisted her ankle and couldn’t run. This scene was so familiar. I instantly realized I had been reborn, back to the day of the car accident when I was sixteen. The truck was hurtling towards my mother. She panicked and turned to me for help. “Bella, help Mom! Quick!” In my past life, this was the moment I didn’t hesitate to rush out and pull my mother to safety. Later, my mother was unharmed. But I was in the hospital for a long time, finally ending up a high-level paraplegic, bedridden for life. My mother took care of me for a few days, then got bored and dumped me on a nanny, never asking about me again. Seeing that my family didn’t care about me, the nanny abused me daily. Finally, I died with hatred in my heart. My mother didn’t even come to see me on my deathbed, saying my smell was disgusting. But I was disgusting because I saved her. Coming back to my senses, I looked at everything in front of me, tears welling in my eyes. I didn’t expect that I would have a chance to start over. “Bella… help me, quick!” The truck was close. My mother asked for my help again, her eyes pleading. I just curled my lips at her, withdrew my gaze, and hurriedly retreated to a safer place. After a loud bang, I quietly watched my mother being crushed by the truck and said calmly, “Mom, this time it’s your turn to be the burden.” 2 My mother was sent to the hospital for emergency treatment, and the final result was the same as mine in my previous life: high-level paraplegia. She couldn’t accept the reality and lay in the hospital bed howling all day long. “Why do I have no feeling in my lower body? Ah…” With disheveled hair, she looked like a madwoman. I walked up and said calmly, “Mom, you just can’t walk, you’re still alive, right? It’s embarrassing to shout like this, pay attention to the impact.” My light words made my mother even crazier. She picked up the cup at hand and threw it at me: “You have the nerve to say that! Why didn’t you save me? You are too vicious, I don’t have a daughter like you.” I nimbly dodged the cup and added, “Mom, you are morally kidnapping me by saying that.” She was mad with anger and cursed me frantically: “You vicious thing, has your conscience been eaten by a dog? I am your mother!” Watching her frantic look, I almost laughed out loud. Now she knows she is my mother? But I clearly remember that in my previous life, I just shed a few more tears, and she impatiently said that my shouting was embarrassing, and that if she had known I would morally kidnap her, she would rather I didn’t save her. Later, until I was discharged from the hospital, she didn’t come to see me again, saying that I should learn to face reality and no one owed me anything. Why is it that the same experience is unacceptable when it’s her turn? I thought she was so strong, but it turned out she was just good at talking. Just then, my dad came back from a business trip. He was heartbroken and cried bitterly while holding my mother. He told my mother to rest assured that he would never leave her. My mother believed it and even lamented that she had married a good husband. But she was too naive. In my past life, my dad cared about me for a while. But when the guilt faded, he, like my mother, ignored me. Later, my mother brought my cousin Ashley home. He forgot about me even more, treating my cousin as his own daughter, and even drove me to the basement when my cousin mocked me for smelling too bad. If he was so heartless to his own daughter related by blood, how could he be good to a wife not related by blood? 3 After my mother became paralyzed, she yelled at us all day long and always suspected that my dad had changed his heart and had a woman outside. We ignored her, and she began to curse us with foul language. “You two heartless things, is this how you treat me? You will be struck by lightning. Bella, you little bitch, if you weren’t greedy for life and afraid of death, would I be paralyzed? Treating your own mother like this, you will go to hell.” I picked my ears and pretended not to hear. She had nowhere to vent her anger and was anxious to vomit blood. And my dad’s attitude was indeed as I expected. At first, he comforted her patiently, but over time he revealed his true form and became impatient, pointing at her and scolding loudly: “Shut up, Bella and I don’t owe you anything. You insisted on going shopping, and now that something has happened, it’s your own fault.” Then he found a reliable nanny to take care of her and hid far away himself. I wasn’t willing to do that. I specifically dismissed the competent nanny and went to the agency for a long time before I finally found the nanny, Mrs. Zhang, who had abused me in my previous life. Originally, she was unwilling to take care of paralyzed patients because she was used to being lazy and gluttonous, and was often fired by employers for this reason. But because I gave too much money, she couldn’t refuse. Mrs. Zhang looked like an honest person on the surface. But only I knew how mentally perverted she was behind the scenes. If I showed the slightest dissatisfaction with her care, I would get a beating from her. I wanted to complain about her crimes to my mother, but every time I told her, she accused me of being difficult to serve and making trouble out of nothing. In that case, let her feel whether I was making trouble out of nothing. 4 At the same time, I began to lament in my dad’s ear all day long. “Other kids have mothers to accompany them, but my mother can only lie in bed, and her body smells bad. I feel so ashamed.” I told my dad what my mother said in my previous life, and specifically didn’t close the bedroom door, deliberately letting my mother hear it. Immediately, cursing came from the bedroom: “You two heartless dogs, I haven’t died yet, so you despise me so much, ah…” The sharp cry went straight to the eardrum. My dad and I tacitly ignored her, and then I shyly told my dad: “I like Auntie Lisa. If she were my mother, it would be great.” My dad’s eyes looking at me changed instantly. “Do you really think so?” I nodded shyly, and my dad got my answer, his eyes flickering. My heart instantly had a bottom. Lisa was my dad’s first love and the woman my mother hated most in her life. Since in my previous life my mother brought my most hated cousin Ashley home and treated her like her own daughter, then in this life, I will learn from her and bring her most hated rival home and treat her like my own mother.

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