Author: Momo Chan

Just because I peeled a shrimp for my husband, I was secretly filmed by “Feminist_Icon_Bella,” a massive influencer, and labeled a “Trad Wife Pick-Me” who sets women back fifty years. Within minutes, my social media was flooded with hate. My husband, heartbroken, wanted to unleash his legal team to defend me, but I stopped him just in time. In my past life, we did exactly that—we used the law to fight back. But just as we were about to win, Bella livestreamed her “suicide attempt,” and overnight, we were branded murderers. The public backlash destroyed my husband’s law firm. My parents died from heart attacks brought on by the stress. And finally, I was pushed into oncoming traffic by one of her deranged fans. After my death, Bella miraculously “survived,” gained six million followers, and became the top streamer on the platform. Only then did I realize it was all a orchestrated stunt for clout. And she targeted me simply because the guy she liked rejected her that day, using me—a random passerby—as his excuse. When I opened my eyes again, the first thing I did was put on my best “battle armor”—a designer dress—and apply the most perfect “no-makeup” makeup look to become the ultimate “Trad Wife.” This time, I’m going to use her as my stepping stone to the top. … When I got home, my social media was, predictably, under siege, just like in my past life. The same filthy comments, filled with creative insults about my mother. My husband, Mark, was furious. He wanted his lawyers to get justice for me immediately, but I stopped him. He was confused. “Honey, this influencer, Bella, is clearly using us for clout. Are we really going to do nothing?” I smiled and shook my head. “Of course not. But we can’t explain ourselves. Instead, we need to lean into it.” Seeing his confusion, I air-dropped him several clips of me looking my best. In every video, my skin looked like a peeled hard-boiled egg—smooth, soft, and radiating a vibe that made people want to protect me. “Instead of explaining, let’s drown them in aesthetics. Pretty privilege is real. I’m going to be the most beautiful ‘Trad Wife’ they’ve ever seen.” Mark didn’t get it, but he followed my lead. I didn’t stay idle either. After he left, I found the best angle, made sure I looked stunning, and started a livestream. Because of the trending topic, people flooded in. Some, total strangers, immediately started calling me a gold-digger and a disgrace to women. I didn’t get angry. I just apologized softly, constantly emphasizing how sorry I was for “shaming women.” I even adjusted the angle to show off my best side, sniffing tearfully as I said I shouldn’t have served food to the man I love. Instantly, half the aggressive comments died down. Many people started telling me not to cry, saying I only served some food and didn’t commit a crime. Of course, some were determined to smear me from start to finish. I saw a familiar alt account and recognized it immediately as Bella. I leaned in close to the camera, maximizing the impact of my face. Seeing the comments shift to praising my looks, I started reading the hate comments through my tears. “This… ‘Princess_Slayer’… I don’t… even know you… You can insult me… but please… don’t bring my family into this…” My tear-stained face was pitiful and endearing. The netizens turned their fire on Bella’s alt account, throwing the same insults she hurled at me right back at her. I waved my hands frantically, crying out, “Please, everyone, don’t be angry for my sake. It’s her fault for being mean, but if you get angry because of me, then it’s my fault.” Being so understanding only made people pity me more. Countless commenters shouted that I wasn’t a “Trad Wife” but a sweet, soft angel. I widened my eyes, red like a rabbit’s, and pouted. “Ah, thank you everyone… thank you for believing in me… To thank you, I…” I paused deliberately, looked around, then trotted away and came back with a plate of shrimp. “I love peeling shrimp for people I like… Can I peel them for you guys?” The chat was charmed, teasing me to make me happy. A “shrimp-peeling Trad Wife” scandal unknowingly became the stepping stone for my own traffic. In one livestream, I gained 100,000 followers. Looking at that number, the smile never left my face. I was so stupid in my last life. Why fight head-on? Water can float a boat, but it can also capsize it. If I use the traffic Bella sent me correctly, it can become the ladder I use to climb over her. The next morning, I went viral again. Because of the livestream clips, the marketing accounts were reposting videos where I looked simply too beautiful. Anyone who saw me couldn’t help but follow. Aside from a few hate DMs, my inbox was full of girls asking how my skin was so perfect. To answer them, I posted my first video, focusing on my skincare routine. I studied medical aesthetics, and with my naturally good skin, the video quickly got over 300,000 likes. The niche skincare products I recommended sold out instantly. Seeing my purchasing power, brands realized my value. Many reached out for collaborations. I didn’t rush. I politely declined them for now. But to annoy Bella, I screenshotted the offers and posted them. Caption: [I only recommend products I actually use. If I do ads in the future, I’ll let everyone know!] Seeing this, Bella went insane. Her alt account unleashed a tirade on me. [You b*tch, seducing men wasn’t enough? You have to steal my other things too? You really look like a fox.] [Don’t get cocky. The higher people lift you now, the harder you’ll fall later!] [Just you wait. I will ruin you. I’ll make you and your family rot in hell.] … In my past life, I would have fought back. But now, I just screenshotted everything as evidence. When Bella starts to crumble, this will be the fatal blow. She was furious. She posted two angry videos emphasizing that my shrimp peeling was “self-debasement,” putting myself beneath a man for his love. She also claimed my love for makeup and skincare was for men, calling it the “beauty tax” and severe objectification—treating myself as a tool to please men. Listening to her jealousy overflowing through the screen, I only found it laughable. In my past life, on International Women’s Day, she was exposed for getting a nose job at a clinic, accompanied by a sugar daddy ten years her senior. Later, those trending topics were suddenly removed, and she cried “fake news” to win back her fans. It’s March 5th now. Only three days left. I’m going to watch her dig her own grave, and then I’ll help kick her in. But before that, I need to get close to her obsession, Kevin. The other murderer who destroyed my family! The first time I heard of this man was the day my family was ruined by Bella. I asked her why she wouldn’t let me go. She said I stole the person she loved. I explained I didn’t know him at all. But she paranoidly asked why Kevin praised my beauty if I didn’t know him, and why he said he’d only date someone like me. I couldn’t answer. It wasn’t until after I died, as my soul was fading, that I heard Kevin’s friend ask him why he used me as an excuse to reject Bella. “She’s insanely jealous. She hates it when I say others are prettier than her. This way, even if I reject her, she won’t blame me or ask for her money back.” His friend praised his cleverness. I shook with rage. Because of this undeserved disaster, my family was dead or insane. Intense resentment made me want to tear this trash apart, but I could only watch as my soul dissipated. Thank god fate gave me another chance. This time, I won’t just punish Bella. I’m dragging Kevin to hell with her. Bella fell in love with Kevin at first sight when he “saved” her at her lowest point. She spent money on him endlessly, granting his every wish. Kevin was a master manipulator. He used her money to play the rich playboy outside, mixing with the wealthy crowd and constantly finding new women. But Bella, afraid of angering him, didn’t dare monitor him and obeyed his every word. But now, to guard against me, she has people watching me. I’m going to use that. I’ll deliberately parade in front of Kevin, forcing her to see who he really is. Let them destroy each other. The location: The Nightshade Bar. Kevin was known here as “Young Master Kevin,” always buying rounds. Every night, he booked VIP Room 302. Bella knew this, but she didn’t know what Kevin did in that room! So when I appeared at the bar, she automatically assumed I was there to seduce Kevin. Half an hour later, hearing the roar of a Porsche, I handed a red bill to the bartender. “If anyone asks where I went, make sure to say Room 302.” The bartender took the cash and agreed smoothly. When Bella found out, she stormed over and kicked open the door to Room 302. When the door opened, Kevin was making out with the women around him. Not one, but five. Bella broke down. She grabbed a glass and smashed it on the sofa. Liquor splashed everywhere. Kevin’s degenerate friends looked furious. “Kevin, where did you find this psycho? She has no manners!” “Yeah, how can a man let a woman ride on his head like this? If you’re this whipped, we can’t hang with you anymore!” Bella exploded at the word “psycho.” She grabbed a bottle and threw it at the man who said it. Luckily, Kevin pulled him away just in time, or it would have hit his head. Filming from a distance, I sighed. Pity no one died. “Have you caused enough trouble, Bella?!” Kevin raised his hand and slapped her hard across the face, saying coldly: “If you keep this up, you never need to see me again.” That one sentence brought her back to reality. She lowered her head and apologized meekly. Kevin’s friends whistled, praising him for being a “real man” who knew how to handle women. Having regained face, Kevin, to show off further, pushed Bella to sit next to Nick, the rich kid she almost hit. “Toast him. You can leave when Nick forgives you.” Bella, who preached independence and strength in her videos, didn’t say a word. She tilted her head back and chugged. After downing three full bottles, she hugged the toilet, vomiting and having diarrhea. But this didn’t earn her a shred of sympathy from Kevin. While she was passed out, he shoved her into Nick’s car. Watching the car drive away, I felt nothing. This is what she owes me. What she owes my family. Sneering, I anonymously sent the photos to Nick’s fiancée. The next day, Nick’s fiancée, Ms. Cao, stormed a villa to catch the mistress, and the video trended at number one. The mistress’s face was clearly visible: a terrified Bella. A feminist icon who taught women self-love was proven to be a mistress. The irony was palpable, and it broke the internet. Her fans felt humiliated and frantically demanded the truth. But Bella disappeared, refusing to respond. This is a classic internet tactic: thinking silence will make people forget. Later, she plans to make a comeback once the storm passes. But she underestimated how many enemies she made this year, and how terrible her character truly is. Soon, influencers came out to expose her one by one. Plastic surgery, stealing boyfriends, maliciously gossiping about other influencers’ looks… the dirt piled up. It stank to high heaven. I also released screenshots of her alt account abusing me, adding “cyberbullying a regular person” to her list of sins. But she had plenty of bots and die-hard fans crying that she was being framed. They listed her charity work over the years. Many comments read: [I don’t believe someone who loves charity can be that bad.] [Exactly. We must trust her. We refuse to participate in a witch hunt against a woman.] [Everyone, remember: Girls help Girls.] Reading the comments, I felt sick. The rise of feminism is hard enough without people like her exploiting the movement for clout. The netizens aren’t wrong; the people using them are. And Bella played this game perfectly. That night, looking pale, she started a livestream. She started by crying. When she was tired of crying, she mentioned the events of the previous night. I knew she was looking for a scapegoat to whitewash herself, but I didn’t expect her to choose me! “I didn’t know anything… Vivian (me) wanted me to help her change her ‘Pick-Me’ mindset. She asked me out for drinks.” “But after I drank, she left mysteriously. I was dizzy and got put into Nick’s car.” She held up her phone, showing “evidence” that we were in the same surveillance footage, editing the timestamps to make it look like we arrived one after another. This montage was enough for netizens to construct a narrative where I maliciously set her up for revenge. In an instant, I knew why she picked me. She hates me, but she dares not offend Nick. She needed someone she had a conflict with who was also at the bar. I fit the bill perfectly. Except she didn’t count on me having a detailed video. I started a livestream and boldly requested a PK (battle) with Bella. She refused, so I cried, bit my lip, and showed my evidence. “I don’t know why a big influencer is targeting me like this. If my friend hadn’t sent me this, I would have died with this injustice.” “She called me a Pick-Me, abused me on her alt, and now she’s framing me. She really wants to drive me to death. If that’s the case, I have to use the law to protect myself.” Bella was terrified. She immediately ended her stream and fled. This brief victory resulted in her losing followers and me gaining 500,000. But I knew it wasn’t over. That night, she went to scout the abandoned building where she “committed suicide” in my past life. According to my monitor, she wasn’t just picking the best angle; she had someone rig a wire and specifically set up a safety cushion. In my past life, she claimed she would prove her innocence with death. In the suicide video, she edited out the wire using the night sky. Then she quickly had herself “cremated,” leaving only a pile of ash for the police. Because death absolves all, public opinion flipped. We, who were in the right, became murderers. Thinking of this, I anonymously called a number from my memory. “The chance for revenge is here. Want to cooperate?” “How?” “I’ll help you put Kevin in jail. You help me deal with Bella.” Lydia agreed without hesitation. If there’s anyone in this world who hates them more than me, it’s her. Her daughter, whom she loved for twenty years, was Bella’s assistant. Kevin raped her. Afterward, Bella not only didn’t help but accused the daughter of seduction, driving her to a mental breakdown and suicide. In my past life, Lydia sought me out to join forces. The hatred in her eyes was unforgettable. This time, I didn’t hesitate to make her my ally. Especially since she used to work in maintenance. She knows exactly how to make a wire fatal. After verifying the plan, we hung up. Then, I received an anonymous message.

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Liam Thorne sent a video to the group chat of me walking out of the bathroom, wrapped in nothing but a towel. Every rich kid who ever chased me was in that chat, but Liam was undoubtedly the prettiest. [Liam, you’re a legend. What does the Ice Queen taste like? Let us have a turn?] [Liam really took one for the team. Sacrificing his body to seduce the valedictorian just to get revenge for his childhood sweetheart.] [Cold-hearted b*stard. Telling the nerd you have cancer right before finals? Her eyes have been red for days.] [Dumping her right after graduation.] I heard Liam send a lazy voice memo, his tone nothing like the pitiful act he put on for me. I skipped class constantly to be with him at the hospital; my grades plummeted. Liam lay weakly in the hospital bed, pulling out a forged cancer diagnosis, his eyes full of deep emotion. “Aria, I’m sorry. I’m dragging you down. Don’t spend any more money on my treatment.” He knew I was broke from trying to save him. Liam waited for me to give up on him. He never expected me to pull out another fifty thousand dollars—my life savings. The group chat blew up again: [B*tch! What does he have besides a pretty face! Why did Aria fall for him!] [She sold her apartment for him! That was her mom’s only legacy!] [Shameless scum. Carter, did you tell Aria the truth yet?] [Sh*t! Idiot! You sent that to the wrong chat! Liam is in this one! Delete it, quick!] The messages were retracted one by one. In the hospital bed, Liam’s face went pale. 1 Academics were always easy for me. Since I was little, if I wanted to be first in my grade, I was. I also inherited my mother’s good looks. Aside from being poor, I had almost no flaws. In middle school, my mother married a wealthy businessman. She left me a bank card. “Don’t contact me. I’ll wire you money every year.” She told everyone she was single; she didn’t want my existence to affect her second marriage. I felt nothing. I took the card and told everyone I was an orphan. I was born emotionally detached. My mother didn’t like me. She preferred daughters who could call her “Mommy” sweetly, even if it was a stepdaughter. Photos of a girl soon appeared frequently on her social media—the daughter of the businessman’s ex-wife. Her name was Bella Cruz, and she was stunning. My mother hugged her, while Bella pouted, wearing a fake, reluctant smile. For the first time, seeing someone else smile stung my eyes. Life was bland and boring. My only joy was finding people who could stir my emotions. So, I moved. I bought a small, 600-square-foot apartment in a good school district and transferred to Bella’s high school. 2 Just as I felt the first time I saw her, Bella loathed me. She led her little clique to bully me constantly. I didn’t argue with her. I just deliberately skipped school the week before the eight-school joint exam. Our school, Eastwood High, had been suppressed by the neighboring prep school for a long time. My grades were consistently first in the year; the administration would never want to see me miss the exam. When my homeroom teacher called, I gathered my courage and said, “Ms. Baker, can I transfer classes?” “Transfer?” Ms. Baker quickly picked up on the wrongness in my tone. She softened her voice. “Is someone in the class bothering you? Don’t be afraid, I’ll handle it for you!” I stammered, “No, no. It’s just… I don’t fit in very well.” Hanging up the phone, I put away the insecurity and cowardice I had feigned. I knew I was never a good person. I always pay back what I’m owed. Two days later, Ms. Baker called me to the school. The school had cameras everywhere. Ms. Baker spent a whole day checking the footage. After discovering that Bella had been targeting me openly and secretly for two months, she immediately reported it to the administration. The school took it very seriously. Bella stood under the flag during the assembly, red-eyed, choking back tears as she read her apology. She lost face completely and hated me to the bone from then on. “It’s all her fault! If her grades weren’t so good, the teachers wouldn’t protect her like this!” “Fake b*tch! Pick-me girl!” “Carter! Tell me! Will you help me or not!” Outside the corner coffee shop, Bella was crying and hugging a boy. The boy whispered comfortingly, “Don’t cry. Liam and I will definitely help you.” “Really?” Bella looked up, her nose red from crying. “What do you want me to do?” “Find someone to ruin her, take her virginity, then post the photos in the group chat. I want to see what right that b*tch has to be arrogant then!” Bella’s voice was venomous. The tall boy held her in his arms, smiling cynically. “A poor girl with no background is worth my princess crying like this? Wait till I train her to lick your feet on the ground.” 3 My boring life suddenly became much more interesting. For example, suddenly many people wanted to be my friends, all of them rich or noble. “Aria, that Michelin-star restaurant is great. I’ll take you.” Carter Reeves was in Class 11, 6’1″, a master at flirting. He was one of Bella’s helpers, her cousin. Good-looking, good family, loved to play the field. He pursued me openly. Because he was the only guy I occasionally responded to, rumors spread that we were dating. Ms. Baker called us to the office; the homeroom teacher of Class 11 was sitting next to her. Carter’s teacher was a stern man. He looked at Carter coldly. “Focus on your studies. If your grades are bad, don’t drag others down. I called your parents; write a 1,000-word reflection by tomorrow.” “Also, I talked to your parents yesterday. They don’t agree with you studying art. Don’t think art is a shortcut. Your art teacher told me you have too many ideas and aren’t suited for exams.” Carter clenched his fists tightly. His teacher rattled on like a machine gun. Noisy. When his teacher said again that Carter shouldn’t affect my studies, I interrupted him, my eyes devoid of emotion. “Sir, he won’t have any effect on me. I will take first place.” The teacher choked, about to explode, but Ms. Baker blocked him like a protective mother hen. “Alright, alright, you two can go.” 4 Later, Carter’s pursuit became even more intense. Always giving bags, money, finding boring topics. If he were chasing my mom, it would work. Too bad my mom had many suitors in the past; I was tired of these tricks. I looked at Carter wearily and rejected his advances. “Your grades are too bad.” Carter looked aggrieved. “Aria, not everyone finds studying as easy as you do.” “But you’re talented at drawing.” Carter’s face changed; the cynical expression vanished, and he sat up straight. “You really think I’m talented? The teachers say I draw nonsense, not following the rules.” “Mm.” I hummed a response. “You don’t think it’s useless?” He asked again. Then, he began to complain that his family wouldn’t let him paint and wanted to send him abroad. I interrupted him. “Okay, I’m going home.” If he were an experienced playboy, he would know not to expose his weakness to a woman who didn’t love him yet. He would be manipulated. “Aria, do you want me to teach you to draw?” Carter’s eyes were the best feature on his face—peach blossom eyes, full of affection. I liked beautiful things. I looked at him, smiling. “Your eyes are beautiful. Teach me to draw your eyes.” His ears turned red, his hand holding the brush trembling for a second. No matter how wild, he was only eighteen; sometimes, innocence slipped through. I looked at his ears and chuckled lightly. This was the person who said he’d make me lick feet on the ground? Just so-so. I compared his drawing with the horrific thing I just drew and said regretfully, “Looks like I have no talent for painting.” Carter laughed. “Aria, you’re really cute.” I put down the brush. “The painting got dirty. I don’t like dirty things. Same with men.” Carter’s face changed; he looked into my eyes. And I looked at the new drawing under his hand. The eyes in the drawing were mine. Those eyes were calm, without any love or ripples. He forced a smile and left in a hurry. I felt a malicious gaze. Bella stared at the brush on the ground. Carter treated his brushes like treasures, but today he left one behind. I picked up the brush and threw it in the trash. Maybe he’ll switch out soon. I hope the next one is more interesting.

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The internship ended, and I broke up with him. Owen Maxwell looked at me, a hint of an almost-smile playing on his lips. “Miss Sterling, is this really necessary?” The cold, sharp light of the high-rise office outlined his defined profile. “All this because I helped her close a client instead of you?” I nodded. “Of course it’s necessary. I’m breaking up with you.” He propped his chin on his hand, one eyebrow faintly raised. “Have you even kept count of how many times you’ve done this, Harper?” 1 I paused. He was lounging in his oversized leather chair, the picture of practiced ease. “The eighth? Ninth? Or the tenth?” He let out a low chuckle, his usual air of control fully intact. “Stop the drama. We’ve known each other for twenty years, Harper. You can’t leave me.” Seven years old when we met, twenty years of ingrained understanding—he genuinely believed I was essential to him, and he to me. I shook my head. “There’s no such thing as ‘can’t leave.’ Everyone survives just fine without anyone else.” “Oh, that’s your take, is it?” His lip curled, a touch of amusement in his eyes. “Fine. Don’t regret it.” “Never.” I turned to walk away, just as Willow Davis pushed the door open. She was holding a file. “Owen, the Launchpad project… I, I’m still a little unsure about the proposal. Could you possibly look over the strategy again?” Willow’s voice was soft and gentle, the perfect pitch of vulnerable appeal. Owen gave a noncommittal response, his attention still fixed on me. In the past, I would have coldly demanded, Your project. Why should Owen drop everything for you? But having this same fight, again and again, had simply exhausted me. I started to leave, but Willow reached out and lightly touched my arm. “Harper, please don’t misunderstand. Owen and I are just colleagues,” she said, a troubled look on her face and wide, innocent eyes. “I’m inexperienced, and this project is critical for my conversion to full-time, so I only asked Owen for some guidance. Please don’t fight with him over these small things. He stayed up several nights helping me outline the strategy, and it made his stomach problems flare up again…” I couldn’t stop myself. “Oh, ‘ordinary colleagues’ who text each other every night for ‘details’?” “‘Ordinary colleagues’ who insist he accompany you to every client dinner?” “‘Ordinary colleagues’ who make him test-drive your new car?” “‘Ordinary colleagues’ who call to ‘report on work’ specifically on our anniversary?” “Are you brainless or just have no boundaries? Since you know you’re the intern his mother pulled strings for, not his girlfriend, did that basic professional boundary you’re supposed to keep with colleagues just fly out the window?” Willow froze, her face instantly draining of color. She lowered her eyes, her long lashes fluttering as if she’d been subjected to some unimaginable cruelty. “Harper Sterling.” Owen got to his feet, pulling a tissue from his desk and holding it out to Willow. He sighed. “I know you’re headstrong, but do you always have to pick on someone who’s just trying to get by?” Willow’s lips trembled, and her eyes quickly filled with tears. The sound of her heavily suppressed sobs echoed in the quiet office. Suddenly, a profound, crushing flatness settled over me. I turned and left his office. 2 I slept for a few hours in my apartment and woke up deep in the night. I checked my phone, and the first thing I saw was Willow’s latest Instagram story. “The project is finally gaining traction. First time being brought to a high-end dinner like this—a little nervous! Thank you for the mentorship and believing in me. A scholarship kid from a small town truly understands that connections are never a shortcut, but a ladder to growth.” The accompanying photo: A high-angle shot from a sophisticated restaurant window overlooking the city lights. A woman’s hand, clearly Willow’s, is holding a slender Champagne flute. Next to it, a masculine hand, also holding a glass. On that hand, he was wearing the custom-made watch I gave him. At that moment, my phone buzzed. “Send me the final proposal for the Launchpad project. I’ll make sure it’s solid.” Seven hours. It took him seven hours, after finishing dinner with someone else, to finally think of me. I stared at his profile picture for a while—the one I’d chosen for him, a picture of the stray cat we adopted together. He hadn’t changed it in all these years. I tapped the screen, then blocked the familiar number. A half hour later, I went downstairs for a coffee. The local deli owner looked at me. “Woah, sweetie, why are your eyes so red?” I mumbled, “Too many late nights.” “You young people need to watch your health even when you’re chasing a career,” the owner said, recognizing me. “Still, that Owen Maxwell is quite the success. Running the core family projects right out of school. He’s set, but you’re working until dawn just to be in the same building as him. I get tired just watching you.” I ripped open the coffee packet. “Actually, I put in a transfer request, Ma’am. I’m moving to the divisional office in a few days.” The owner looked surprised. “But the Group’s HQ is here. The division is in California. What about you and Owen?” “Career and a relationship. I know which one to prioritize.” I took a sip of my coffee. “The opportunities are better out west. The moment the transfer is finalized, I’m gone.” She didn’t press further. My phone buzzed again. It was my best friend, Savannah, telling me to meet her at the yoga studio. “Go on, clear your head,” the owner said, waving me off. “You’ve been strung too tight lately.” 3 I got to the yoga studio twenty minutes later. Savannah told me to change, and as I was stuffing my bag into a locker, I heard a familiar voice from the adjacent lounge area. “I said relax, Maxell. Why are you still glued to your phone?” “Got blocked,” came Owen’s dismissive voice. “By who? Who dares to block you, Mr. CEO?” “Who else? My high-maintenance princess.” His voice held a note of weary inevitability. “Harper Sterling,” the other person realized. “Honestly, with her firecracker temper, I don’t know how anyone but you puts up with it.” Owen let out a low laugh. “My own doing. What can I do? I deal with it.” “What was it this time?” “I helped Willow with a project.” “That’s it?” The friend sounded incredulous. “Harper really has the smallest heart.” “But truly,” another voice cut in, “when we talk privately, we all agree. If we were choosing a girlfriend, we’d pick someone like Willow—gentle, understanding, considerate, a real caregiver…” I didn’t stay to hear more. I headed straight to the meditation area. When I met up with Savannah, I saw her arguing fiercely with Willow, who was wearing the yoga studio’s front-desk uniform. Of course. The universe found a way. Willow was working here part-time. “We booked VIP Room 3. Why did you assign us to a public class? You know Harper hates crowds!” Savannah demanded. Willow’s face was bright red. “Tonight is overbooked, and the system had a glitch…” “Then switch us! What do you mean you can’t switch us?” Willow saw me, as if I were a lifeline. She rushed forward. “Harper, I know I made a mistake with the booking, but I’ve already messed up twice tonight. If I make another error, I’ll lose this job… You, you don’t need the money, do you? Just help me out and manage in the public area tonight. Please?” I unrolled my yoga mat without looking up. “Are you confused? I don’t like public classes. You made a mistake. Why should I make accommodations for it? I didn’t fill out the form incorrectly.” “I’ll pay you the difference between the VIP and public class! I’m begging you, as a colleague…” Her tone was near-pleading. “I’m not like you. I need this money for rent and a down payment. This job is important to me…” “If it’s so important, why did you mess up? And why should someone else bear the consequences of your mistake?” My tone was impatient. “If Savannah hadn’t noticed, we would have been fighting for floor space in the crowded class. Now, I’m not even in the mood for it. I haven’t even filed a complaint, and you want me to pay for your error?” Savannah backed me up. “Seriously, that’s an insane demand.” Despite the fact that Willow was clearly in the wrong, her expression shifted to one of deep humiliation. “So you people with money and influence, you really think you can look down on everyone else…” She abruptly snatched the reservation sheet from the desk and rushed out, nearly colliding with a group of men entering the studio. “Willow?” one of them, sharp-eyed, called out. “What’s wrong? Who upset you?” Willow shook her head, but her tear-filled eyes immediately sought out Owen, who was standing behind the group. “What’s going on?” Owen walked toward us. “She messed up the reservation, canceled our VIP room, and refused to switch us, insisting we squeeze into the public class,” Savannah explained. “It wasn’t intentional,” Willow muttered, head bowed. “It’s just a misunderstanding, everyone here is connected,” someone tried to smooth things over. “You two ladies can’t just pay for another VIP slot?” “It’s not ‘just’ a misunderstanding! You know Harper hates crowds! She almost had an anxiety attack at the company retreat because the ballroom was too packed.” Owen looked into the room and saw me. His brow furrowed almost imperceptibly. “Did you touch her?” I scoffed. “You hope I touched her, don’t you? I wouldn’t give the studio the trouble.” He walked closer, softening his voice. “Enough. It’s not like there was a scene in the public area. Why are you fighting? She didn’t do it on purpose. Take your anger out on me, not someone who’s just trying to make it. It’s not easy for her just starting out.” “Mr. Maxwell, do you truly think your face is the only thing that matters? I’m taking my anger out on you? Are you blind or deaf? The person who messed up is the victim in your story?” “It’s fine, Owen. I’ll try to coordinate and see if there are any other empty VIP rooms.” Willow sniffled, gently tugging his sleeve. “I don’t want my commission for tonight. Don’t, don’t cause any trouble…” Seeing her play the role of the martyr, my temper flared. “Who asked you to play the good Samaritan? You’re the one who made the mistake, yet you’re acting all self-sacrificing. Where do you get the nerve?” “Harper Sterling.” Owen’s voice went dangerously low. “That’s enough. Don’t take it too far.” He turned to Willow. “Book them another VIP room. Put the cost on my personal tab.” “No need,” I said, gathering my mat and handing it to Savannah. “Owen can donate to charity on his own time. Savannah, let’s go.” “Tch, what a temper,” someone muttered under their breath. 4 Savannah and I walked out together. “I’m sorry, Harp,” she said, frustrated. “I should have just let it go and booked another VIP room myself. Then you wouldn’t have had to deal with Owen again.” “Why should I let it go?” I walked quickly. “Just because she knows how to look pathetic, her mistake becomes someone else’s problem?” “Besides,” I stopped walking. “I broke up with him this afternoon.” Savannah walked silently beside me. “You don’t believe me?” She sighed. “To be honest, Harper, no one will believe you’ve actually broken up with Owen Maxwell for good.” “And anyway,” she looked at me. “Can you actually let him go?” Sitting in the cab on the way back, Savannah’s words echoed in my mind. Can you actually let him go? I asked the driver to pull over a block from my apartment. I needed to walk. The first time I saw Owen was on this very tree-lined avenue. I had just been brought back to the city by my aunt, and the neighborhood kids always pointed and whispered about me. “Heard her parents divorced and neither of them wanted her?” “Her mom ran off, and her dad doesn’t care about her…” “Tsk. A rootless wild child.” That evening, I avoided everyone, walked to the river embankment, and climbed over the rail. I thought that if I were gone, my aunt wouldn’t have to worry about me anymore. I don’t know how Owen appeared, but he grabbed the back of my jacket and held on for dear life. From that day on, the seven-year-old boy constantly trailed me, as if he was afraid I’d find another opportunity to jump. The change in my family made me sensitive and stubborn. I bristled, I yelled, I cursed, I even shoved him, but he never got angry. And he never left. When the Maxwell adults called him home, he’d look up at them with his small face and say he couldn’t leave, because he had to stand guard, to make sure his particular star didn’t burn out or fall into the river. Idiot, I thought. In elementary school, some girls laughed and called me a rootless wild child. Owen charged at them like a small leopard. “Who said she doesn’t have a family?!” His face was scratched, but he yelled, head held high, “My home is her home!” The crowd dispersed, and I looked at him coldly. “Your home isn’t my home.” “It will be,” he tried to smile, but winced from the pain of his injury. “You’ll marry me later, won’t you?” The wall around my heart cracked right then. I reached out and helped him up from the ground. Two small, dirty hands clasped together, and they stayed that way for twenty years. Until our sophomore year in college, when Willow Davis came to the Group for an internship. She was a scholarship student funded by Owen’s mother. Because she showed decent aptitude, she was placed in the corporate summer program. The first time I saw her was after the celebration party for Owen’s first independent project. I went to his apartment with a gift, planning to surprise him, but I heard him talking to Willow in the hallway. “This, this is just a small token of my appreciation—a scarf I knitted for you myself.” Willow’s voice was humble. “It’s certainly not as expensive as what Harper gives you, but… it’s the result of several all-nighters.” “Thank you. Sincerity is the most precious gift,” Owen said. A spark of raw anger shot through me. I pushed the door open. “What do you mean, ‘not as expensive as what I send’? Send what you want, but why do you have to step on me? Are things I buy with money suddenly void of sincerity?” “I, I didn’t mean that.” Seeing me, she jumped, quickly trying to explain. Owen walked her out. “What’s the big deal?” He closed the door, smiling as he ruffled my hair. “I don’t like her.” “Her family has had a rough time—father passed away, mother is often sick. It wasn’t easy for her to get into a top university and land this internship. My mom asked me to mentor her.” He said it would only be a few months. But those few months became the period when we argued the most. Willow would always show up during my dates with Owen, either asking for advice on a proposal or needing him to introduce her to clients or handle a difficult account executive. When I gave her the cold shoulder, she would just lower her eyes and remain silent. Everyone who saw us assumed I was bullying her. Even Owen thought I was overreacting. “It’s just a small favor, Harper. Why can’t I help her out? I don’t like her. Why are you always so jealous?” But she just got under my skin. She called him away on his birthday, claiming her project had an emergency she couldn’t handle. She ruined a client meeting and made Owen go bail her out, while I waited for him at the restaurant until the food was cold. She’d hound him every night to help her revise her presentations; sometimes, I’d be standing right behind him, and they would be so focused they wouldn’t even notice. Everyone told me not to be petty. She has a hard life. Just help her. But the splinter in my heart couldn’t be pulled out. I’d fought, given him the silent treatment, and broken up with him. But every time we separated, I’d suffer from insomnia, and inevitably, I’d be the one to swallow my pride and ask to reconcile, even trying to convince myself to be more accommodating. Savannah was right. I couldn’t let go. It was true. Twenty years of entanglement was rooted in my very marrow; every attempt to peel it away was agonizing. I feared the pain, so I compromised repeatedly. Until last month. My critical project was maliciously attacked by a rival firm and ended up in a stalemate. I called Owen over a dozen times; no answer. I fought alone until past midnight, relying on my own years of networking to barely stabilize the situation. Afterward, I learned he was preparing a crucial presentation for Willow and had his phone on silent. He had no idea my project was about to collapse. In that moment, I suddenly felt that breaking up, actually, might not be that hard.

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The day before New Year’s, I stumbled across a goodbye post from a guy online. He wrote that he’d been diagnosed with cancer, and the woman he loved was about to marry someone else. The raw ache and profound regret woven into every sentence stopped me cold, and I felt a pang of sympathy for a total stranger. It wasn’t until I recognized the familiar user profile picture that my blood ran cold. The man posting was my best friend, the brother I’d been inseparable from for more than two decades: Leo. He ended the post with a final, devastating line: “I left a letter for her—my last will, maybe—and I won’t be at the wedding.” “Sometimes, parting ways is the only way to be together forever.” Panic seized me. Without a second thought, I rushed to find my fiancée, Scarlett. I had to convince her to help me track down Leo before he did something drastic. Instead, I found what I was looking for, tucked deep inside the pocket of her winter coat: the thousand-word letter Leo had mentioned. And I, Dean—the man scheduled to get engaged to Scarlett on New Year’s Day—was holding it. 1 My frantic, ragged breathing eventually began to steady. My fingers—sweat-slicked and trembling—clutched the envelope I’d taken from Scarlett’s coat. My mind was a dead zone. She was currently in a meeting, just steps away. The script on the front, elegant and achingly familiar, belonged to my lifelong best friend, Leo. A visceral fear coiled in my stomach. If this was the letter Leo had written, the will he mentioned… then Scarlett was the woman he loved, the one he couldn’t be with. My heart hammered against my ribs, a trapped bird desperate to escape. I slipped into the nearest restroom, feeling like a thief, and tore open the seal. All my desperate prayers for a misunderstanding turned to ash the moment my eyes scanned the contents. Leo, my closest friend, and Scarlett, my fiancée, had been betraying me for the last three years. In his final words, Leo detailed how they used burner accounts to talk through the night. How they’d planned a future while I remained clueless. They had even adopted a stray dog behind my back. They named it together, then lied to me, pretending it was a chance encounter. I read, word by painful word, the entire, intricate history of their profound entanglement. The letter ended with the paper stained with his tears and his despair. “Scarlett, I can’t bear to watch you exchange vows with Dean.” “You and Dean are the people I love most. I hope you both find your happily-ever-after.” “I can’t let Dean down. Falling for you was the single most pathetic, selfish thing I’ve ever done.” “Maybe fate is punishing me, taking back the rest of my life. I’m not doing the chemo. I’ll tell Dean I’m leaving the country. You don’t need to mourn me.” “Scarlett, forget me. Be good to Dean. Next life, just choose me first. How great would that be?” I stumbled back, bracing myself against the cold tile wall, sucking in air in huge, shallow gasps. Leo was dying. And so, he had decided to “give” Scarlett to me. The sheer absurdity of the thought made me want to scream.

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“Who the hell adjusted the threading tolerance by seven-thousandths of a millimeter?!” “I did. Got a problem with that?” The factory’s resident Human Lucky Charm was applying lip gloss in the reflection of a polished machine panel, not even bothering to look up. “I just thought it looked better, so I made a tiny adjustment. Why are you screaming?” The production line had been running to the wrong specification for twenty-four hours. I slammed the emergency stop button. I forced my anger down. “It doesn’t meet the export standard now. We can’t ship tomorrow. We’ve worked overtime for a month, and the penalties will wipe out any profit—and then some!” “Seriously? It’s one number. You’re being so dramatic.” Skylar Bloom snapped her compact shut. “It’s New Year’s Eve, and I have a date. I’m not sticking around to watch you panic!” Before she could reach the exit, I motioned for a floor manager to lock the main bay doors. “On a precision component like this, that one number represents a million dollars.” I fixed her with a cold stare. “You can take this pile of defective parts and explain that to the regulatory inspectors.” 1 Skylar paused, stunned for a fraction of a second, then scoffed. “Don’t go acting like this is the apocalypse. What difference does 0.007mm make? You can still screw it in, right?” She grabbed a nearby component and twisted it into a wooden block a few times, her expression smug. “See? No difference. You’re just jealous of my easy job and looking for a fight.” I suppressed a weary sigh and picked up the spec sheet. “The buyer for this batch is a high-tech firm overseas. Their compliance standards are strict. 28 TPI corresponds to a pitch of 0.907mm. This is for precision instruments.” I tapped the sheet. “Your little adjustment of 0.007mm is going to cause slippage, strip the threads, and damage expensive equipment. We won’t pass customs and compliance, and the company won’t just owe massive penalties for late delivery—our entire corporate credibility will be destroyed.” “You call this ‘looking for a fight’?” Watching the blank look in Skylar’s eyes, I knew her simple brain couldn’t process the technical complexity. Sure enough, the next second, she huffed and faced me. “Don’t think you can baffle me with a bunch of fancy technical jargon.” “I’m calling someone who knows what they’re talking about. Let’s see if you still have the guts to bully me then!” The phone connected quickly. Loud bar noise crackled through the speaker. “Skylar, where are you? I’ve been waiting forever.” Skylar’s voice immediately turned whiny. “Brad, I wanted to come, but Anya’s locking the doors and won’t let me leave.” “She keeps saying that because of me, we won’t meet the delivery deadline tomorrow—” “Nonsense!” Brad Harrison roared. “Put her on speaker. I’ll talk to her.” Skylar hit the speaker button, her eyes daring me, the look clearly saying, Let’s see you squirm. “Brad, Skylar unilaterally adjusted the production specs. The screws we produced are non-compliant with international standards—” Brad cut me off, his voice laced with aggression. “Anya Reed, are you still struggling to understand your place here?” “Skylar is the Human Lucky Charm I brought in to draw in prosperity. She’s willing to even step onto the floor, and that’s a privilege for you. How dare you cross her?” “If she gets upset, the company will have bad luck. Can you handle the consequences of that?!” I knew that business owners often believe in luck or superstition. But whatever the future held, the immediate disaster was the priority. I was about to explain, but Skylar jumped in. “Brad, that’s what I told her! But she keeps using this scary professional language to intimidate me.” “She even threatened that the company is doomed! I was so angry, I had to call you.” Eighteen years in this industry. It was the first time I’d ever met someone so gifted at twisting the truth. Logic told me I couldn’t waste any more time arguing with her. I needed to immediately convey the severity of the situation. I grabbed the contract and pointed to the fine print. “Brad, I’m not threatening bad luck. If we can’t deliver tomorrow, the buyer has the right to demand three times the penalty fee.” “Plus, they are a major global player. Messing up this order means we lose access to the entire Western market. The losses are truly incalculable!” Brad Harrison, Mr. Maxwell’s sister’s husband and the newest VP, usually acted like the big shot, but he valued money above all else. I thought this would finally get his attention. Instead, he sneered. “It hasn’t happened yet, has it?” “If it weren’t for Skylar gracing the floor with her presence, do you think we would have even landed those contracts?” “And besides, failing to meet the production deadline is your job, not hers. Don’t try to pin your failure on Skylar. You deliver that product tomorrow, or I’m holding you responsible!” I nearly laughed out loud from the sheer ridiculousness of it all. This order took our sales team three months to secure. It had nothing to do with Skylar. All she’d done since arriving was cause chaos. I gritted my teeth. “Brad, I refuse to knowingly ship defective products. Customs will never clear it.” The laughter on the other end grew louder. Brad sounded completely irritated. “I hired you to solve problems, not create headaches for me.” “Give me a straight answer, Anya: Do you want this job or not?” 2 Mr. Maxwell—Brad’s brother-in-law and the actual owner of the company—had lured me away from my last job with a salary 20% above the industry average. He respected my stringent quality control. I took a deep breath. “Brad, since you refuse to address this situation, I have no choice but to report directly to Mr. Maxwell.” At the mention of the owner, Brad’s fury intensified. “Anya, going over my head is a serious offense. Besides, my brother-in-law is ill and recovering. If you upset him, can you handle the consequences?” “I’m in charge of this floor now. Reporting to him undermines my authority. Where does that leave me?” “Stay right there. Don’t move. I’m coming down.” It wasn’t long before Brad stormed into the factory bay. The first thing he did was snatch my phone. “I hate people who don’t follow the chain of command.” He flopped into a chair, his tone mocking. “So, tell me. What is this earth-shattering issue you’re threatening to take to the owner?” I ignored the sarcasm and recounted Skylar’s unauthorized spec change. Brad leaned back, contemplating. “Skylar, why did you do that?” I thought, finally, he’s listening. “Because the Vibe Consultant said I shouldn’t see too many decimal points,” Skylar said, linking her arm through his. “You’ve been complaining that this department’s profits are shrinking. But everyone says Anya is so competent. It doesn’t add up. I think Anya is exaggerating, Brad. She’s probably padding the specs by 0.007mm just to claim extra material costs. That’s at least seven thousand dollars per million screws. She’s probably been skimming off the top for years!” Skylar was accusing me of fraud, and everyone understood it. A few workers spoke up for me. “Brad, Anya is not like that!” “She’s incredibly responsible. Anyone else, maybe, but never her.” “She pays for our late-night catering out of her own pocket when we work overtime. She won’t even accept a bottle of water from us. She would never steal!” Most of these men and women had followed me from my previous company years ago. My eyes stung a little. To speak up when Brad was at his most aggressive meant risking their jobs. Skylar sneered. “That just proves Anya thinks your little contributions are beneath her.” “Brad, she’s so desperate she’s threatening the owner. I think something suspicious is going on. You should have Internal Affairs audit her books!” Brad, eager for an excuse to assert his power, immediately agreed. “Audit her! I want a deep dive into everything!” He then ordered the remaining crew to triple their efforts to meet the deadline. A few veteran employees tried to object, but he shouted them down. “Anyone who doesn’t want to work can leave right now!” he bellowed. “But consider it a voluntary resignation. Don’t expect severance or any of that piled-up overtime pay!” They had all been working crazy hours for this order for a month. Losing their jobs and their paychecks would ruin their families. The workers lowered their heads, defeated. I raised my voice again. “Brad, the screws we made yesterday are defective. We can’t—” Before I could finish, Brad had two security guards clamp a hand over my mouth and drag me away. He had me locked in a utility closet. A short while later, two Internal Affairs staff arrived. Skylar followed, acting as the lead whistleblower. She pointed a finger at me. “I saw Anya giving an envelope of cash to the Accounting Department!” “Do you have proof?” one of the IA staff asked. “Yes, look at this!” 3 Skylar produced a grainy photo. It showed me handing a thick manila envelope to our staff accountant, who was holding it to her chest. The IA officer’s expression hardened. “Anya Reed, how do you explain this?” I stared at the picture. That was the day I had taken the factory’s collective donation—I was the representative who visited her in the hospital. But the angle was deliberately misleading. It looked less like a charitable gift and more like a clandestine transaction. The IA officer adjusted his glasses. “We will verify your account. Next, let’s discuss the alleged financial discrepancy.” I was frustrated but detailed the situation again, explaining why the 0.007mm adjustment was not padding the books but sabotage. The IA staff were older employees, not yet fully swayed by Brad. They finished their questions and left. My young apprentice, Leo, slipped into the closet while the door was momentarily unguarded. He whispered that Skylar had already posted everything online. Skylar had already built a minor online following based on her ‘Human Lucky Charm’ persona—everyone admired her high salary and easy job. She had just posted a video detailing how she had discovered a management loophole and saved the company from a major fraud. The comments section was a toxic mess. “OMG, the audacity! Not only is this girl lucky, she’s smart too! The Human Lucky Charm is real!” “That Plant Manager totally deserved it! Who messes with the Good Luck Mascot? Busted for embezzlement, serves her right.” “Finally! My parents work on the floor, they work so hard, and people like Anya hurt their paychecks. She should be fired and prosecuted!” “Piece of trash! If I saw her on the street, I’d punch her!” …A rare comment defending me was instantly buried. Reading the venom, I felt icy cold. Skylar wasn’t just looking for a win; she was trying to destroy my career. I quickly regained my focus and gave Leo instructions. “Copy the surveillance footage from the past week. Especially the part where Skylar changed the numbers and our confrontation.” “Also, Brad is useless. Go to my desk, find Mr. Maxwell’s private contact card in the top drawer, and tell him everything that’s happening.” Leo looked distressed. “The footage I can get, but your office is locked. I can’t get in.” “Find a way, Leo. Mr. Maxwell is the only person who can stop Brad now!” Leo nodded and slipped out. Skylar returned after seeing the IA staff off. She smiled, watching me sitting there disheveled. “Anya, everyone knows Brad favors me. Why would you set yourself up for this?” She picked up the technical documents I had compiled, scribbling all over them with a permanent marker. “What good is all this work? I can get more done with one sentence than you can with a hundred pages.” “Brad told me to keep an eye on production. I missed my New Year’s Eve date, but ruining your career is a good enough substitute!” I couldn’t fathom the depth of her malice. I had only been professional. Yet, she had constantly disrupted my work, picked fights, and even rear-ended my car trying to beat me to the parking lot. Seeing my confusion, a flash of pure spite crossed her eyes. “Don’t play innocent, Anya. I’ve hated you since the day I walked in.” “Yes, you’re competent, but you think I only got this job because of my ‘lucky chart,’ and I earned this! You wouldn’t let me drop the decimal points? Fine. Then I’ll change the strength ratings—the 4.8, 8.8, and 12.8—to 5, 9, and 13. You can’t complain about those numbers, can you?” Her ignorance horrified me. Those numbers represented the tensile strength and load-bearing capacity. Exceeding the maximum could lead to structural failure and collapse! “Skylar, you’ve made a catastrophic mistake! You can’t touch those numbers!” I jumped up to run out and stop the production line, but Skylar mistook my panic for an escape attempt. She immediately yelled for the guards outside. “Tie her up! And muzzle that doom-and-gloom mouth! Brad said she’s not to leave until the investigation is complete!” 4 My mouth was taped shut, and I was tied to a chair. I could only watch Skylar sashay out. I struggled, but the combination of exhaustion and the tight ropes made me lose my balance, and I crashed to the floor, chair and all. I knew the company was doomed. Early the next morning, Brad arrived to oversee the shipping. He finished the process and burst into the closet, grinning triumphantly. He dangled a thick document in front of me. “Anya, you’re stuck in a junior manager mindset because you’re not flexible enough. See this? Customs clearance!” “If I had listened to you and delayed the shipment, we would have paid a fortune in penalties!” I managed a strained smile, despite the gag. Originally, it was just a delay and a penalty. Now that they had shipped and used the defective screws, the entire finished product would be affected. This was far beyond a simple breach of contract. There’s no reasoning with the willfully blind. I was helpless. With the shipment out, Brad was ecstatic. He draped an arm around Skylar. “Skylar, thanks to your presence, we delivered the goods without paying a single penalty. Name your reward!” Skylar’s eyes immediately welled up. “Brad, you’re already so good to me.” “I don’t want anything… except a public apology from Anya. I want her to clear my name.” “Done! Consider it handled.” Brad had the guards haul me out and gather everyone on the floor. “I called this meeting to address Anya Reed’s abuse of power and alleged embezzlement,” he announced. “Skylar Bloom uncovered the fraud and saved the company from a major economic loss. Effective immediately, Skylar is the new Department Head!” “As for Anya, once the investigation is complete, we’ll turn her over to the authorities.” He had the guards pull the tape off my mouth. “Anya, you owe Skylar an apology.” I stretched my jaw, which was sore from the tape. “I won’t apologize for something I didn’t do.” “Brad Harrison, you’re celebrating too soon. The hole Skylar just dug is too deep for you to climb out of.” Perhaps Brad hadn’t expected me to refuse, especially after he’d ostensibly ‘solved’ the problem. I had publicly humiliated him. He grabbed my collar, eyes blazing. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be, Anya. Once this is out, no firm in this industry will touch you.” He was still using that as leverage, clearly unaware Skylar had already posted everything online. It wouldn’t work on me. He leaned in, his voice low and cruel. “You brought fifty people with you when you jumped ship, right? They’re older, they have families to feed. What if I fire all of them?” His threat sent a jolt through the crowd. The workers who had followed me were skilled technicians. They erupted in anger. “Anya, don’t listen to him! We’re skilled workers; we can find jobs anywhere!” “Yeah! A pigheaded leader like him is a liability! We don’t need him!” “Brad, you don’t fire us—we fire you!” A few of them tore off their company uniforms and moved to usher me out. The situation was spiraling out of Brad’s control. He started to panic. Then, a stern, booming voice cut through the chaos. “What is going on here?!” Brad spun around, his face lighting up with relief. “Brother-in-law, you’re finally here!”

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I was scrolling through the Eastwood University online forum, The Campus Confessional, in the pre-dawn hours when a new thread popped up. “Does anyone know this girl? She’s been sitting there for three hours without turning a single page! It’s seriously giving me the creeps.” A reply: “Is that the girl in the fourth row, far right, wearing the old uniform?” The poster: “That’s the one.” “Holy sh*t! Wait a minute! Fourth row, far right?!” “Haven’t you heard the rumor? Three years ago, there was a fire in that study room—faulty wiring in the library!” “A senior was trapped in that exact seat, she couldn’t get out… she was burned to a crisp!” “The school sealed off that row. It’s supposed to be empty.” 1 The thread continued to pile up. A photo was attached: a girl in a faded blue uniform, sitting at a library table, reading. Her hair covered most of her face. “What’s the big deal? She’s just reading, she’s not bothering anyone.” “Yeah, what’s so weird about that?” “You’re a total creep for secretly taking pictures of women.” The poster: “No! She hasn’t moved for three hours. Not one page turned. I’m honestly freaked out.” “Maybe she’s just spaced out?” “Three hours of spacing out without moving? Poster, can you check if she has feet?” The poster: “Um… I really can’t see her feet… she’s wearing a really long black skirt that covers them.” “Well, then check for a shadow. No shadow means she’s a ghost.” The poster: “The lighting in the library is dim, and where she’s sitting… I don’t think she has a shadow.” “Whoa. I’ve got goosebumps now. Seriously, is it a ghost?” “Don’t say that word in the middle of the night! Scaring me to death!” “Poster, what are you doing staring at her in the library so late?” The poster: “I’m working on my final paper! Why else would I be in the library at this hour?” “What? Now? It’s past 1 AM. The library closed hours ago.” “Exactly, the library locks up at 10 PM. Nobody’s there. Poster is lying. Confirmed.” The poster: “No way! The reading room is still open! I swear, look!” Another photo appeared, clearly showing the study room with a clock in the corner: 1:09 AM. Looking at that photo, a sudden chill crept up my spine, and my fingers nearly lost their grip on my phone. Stiffly, I lifted my head, inch by painful inch, and looked out the window. 2 The library was directly across from our dorm. It was pitch black, not a single light on. Empty. My scalp prickled, and I tried to close the thread. But the unread notifications were flashing, and within moments, another dozen replies had stacked up. “All the libraries close at ten. The poster must be having a breakdown.” “Zoom in on the photo. That uniform is ancient, right? They changed the design years ago.” “Poster, look closer at the book she’s holding. Is it a dark red, thick hardcover? Is the title Tectonics and Terrestrial Shift?” “No way! I’m a Geo-Sci major! That book is a textbook from five years ago. It’s completely out of print.” “Poster, are you still there? Say something!” “Hello, Poster?” After a long few minutes, the poster finally replied. The poster: “Don’t, don’t talk about it… I just pretended to go get water and glanced over. That book is Tectonics and Terrestrial Shift.” The poster: “And her uniform is definitely the old style.” The poster: “Oh God, am I in a study room with a ghost?” The poster: “Can someone please come over? I’m terrified. I can’t move!” “Dude, it’s 1 AM. The dorms are locked. How are we going to get there?” “Yeah, not everyone is a night owl like you, sleeping out of their room.” The poster: “Please, I’m begging you, I’m a girl… I’m really scared. I’m shaking.” “Oh, you’re a girl? Sorry, I thought you were some weird guy taking pictures.” “If you’re telling the truth, my roommate and I will climb out the window and come take a look. We live on the first floor in the South Wing.” The poster: “I swear, I promise! Please hurry…” I couldn’t take it anymore. I quickly typed out a message: “Don’t go, this person is a liar! Our graduate dorm is right across from the library. It’s been locked and dark for hours.” I snapped a picture of the view from my window and posted it. In the photo, the Hartley Library was a black silhouette, its four stories of windows like countless empty eye sockets, devoid of any light. Me: “Look, does that look like a place where anyone is working?” My message instantly set off the poster. The poster: “Ah! Don’t scare me! I am in the study room on the fourth floor.” The poster: “All the lights in the study room are on! The hallway and the bathroom lights are on too!” The poster: “I’m going to walk to the window and wave outside. Can you look again?” 3 Puzzled, I sat up, leaned forward, and peered out the window again… The four-story library across the way remained completely dark, exactly as it had been moments ago. I bent down and started typing furiously: “Stop lying! There’s not a soul near the fourth-floor window, not even a gh…” My head was down, and my fingers were flying, when I suddenly felt a cold dread. There was a dark shape by the ladder to my bunk. Thump-thump-thump… My heart went wild, practically jumping into my throat. I nervously lifted my head. Finally, I saw it: a disheveled black shape with hair covering its face. One eye peered out from the tangled strands, staring intently at me. Just as a scream was about to tear from my lungs, a hand clamped over my mouth. “Shh, Anya, it’s me.” It was Jade, my roommate. We were both first-year grad students and had moved into this double room three months ago. “You, you’re up in the middle of the night. Why are you standing by my bed?” Jade brushed back her messy hair. “I wasn’t asleep. I saw you keep looking out the window, so I got up to see what was wrong.” “I…” I was figuring out how to explain when she spoke again. “Anya, I saw the thread too. That girl sounds so convinced, and the photo she took is the study room.” “You think she’s not lying?” I challenged. Jade nodded. I shook my head. “But I’ve checked multiple times! There is absolutely no one over there!” Jade coughed. “Isn’t that suspicious? Whether it’s true or false, we’ll know if we go look, right?” Curiosity battled with logic, but in the end, I agreed. Before going downstairs, I sent a final message to the thread: We’re on our way to the library now. If you’re playing a sick prank, we’re calling campus security on you! The graduate dorms didn’t have a strict curfew, and two minutes later, we were standing at the base of the library. The main door was locked. I peered through the crack, and the hallway inside was completely dark. We found an unlocked window near the ground-floor restrooms and climbed inside, then headed toward the stairs. The building was pitch black. The only sounds were our muffled footsteps. Finally, we stopped outside the door of the fourth-floor reading room. Just as I was about to reach for the handle, Jade glanced at her phone. “Anya, look at the thread… it updated.” 4 I looked, and my eyes nearly popped out of my head. The poster: “Hurry! Please believe me, I’m not lying.” “Oh, a grad student is coming? Be safe, everyone.” “Yeah, let us know what happens, I’m glued to this thread.” “What? I’m not sleeping either, waiting for the update…” The poster: “Are they here? It’s been a minute…” The poster: “Not here yet?” “Chill out, they can’t fly, can they?” The poster: “I’m scared… I feel like something is wrong. I must have hallucinated, that girl was in the fourth row, far right, but now she’s in the fifth row…” “What? Are you losing it? Didn’t you say she hadn’t moved for three hours?” The poster: “Yes, yes. But she really did change seats… look, look at the photo.” In the photo she sent, the girl in the blue uniform was indeed closer. But her head was still bowed, staring at the red book, completely motionless. “You’re crazy. This is getting too freaky. Did she teleport?” “The poster definitely just got confused.” “Wait, I checked the earlier photos. She does look like she shifted by one row.” The poster: “I’m staring at her now, frozen. I’m terrified she’ll suddenly turn around…” The poster: “Senior, are you here? Please hurry, I don’t think I can hold out much longer.” The poster: “My eyes are so tired…” “HOLY SH*T! Wait a minute! The fourth row, far right seat?! Poster, are you sure the girl was sitting there?” The poster: “Y-yes, why?” “Haven’t you heard the rumor? Three years ago, the library had a fire, faulty wiring in this study room! A senior was trapped in that seat, she couldn’t escape… she was burned… burned to a crisp! The school has kept that row empty ever since. It’s off-limits.” “Seriously? Is that true? Don’t start a fake rumor!” “It’s true! It’s in the old school forum archives! Go look! They say the school covered it up, but the older students know.” “Right, I heard that too. They said the senior was wearing her school uniform when it happened. She was rushing a thesis and using a rare, out-of-print book called Tectonics and Terrestrial Shift!” Reading this, the hair on my arms stood up. I had seen that rumor on the old forums, but I’d dismissed it. Every university has its ghost stories; I’d always assumed they were made up. But combined with what was happening tonight, this felt… real. The poster: “Don’t, don’t say those things, please don’t scare me…” The poster: “H-help! I just blinked, and she moved again! Look!” In the latest photo, the girl in the blue uniform had moved to the sixth row! 5 “What the hell! How is she moving? A new seat every time you blink?” “This is definitely not a person! Holy sh*t, dude, run! That’s a ghost!” “Run, Poster, run! Get downstairs now. The grad students should be close. Take the stairs, don’t take the elevator.” The poster: “I… I can’t move…” The poster: “I tried to turn around just now, but the second I moved, that girl got so much closer…” The poster: “She’s only about fifteen feet away from me now. Wh-what do I do!” The poster: “Help! Her head is moving, she’s… she’s slowly, slowly looking up! I can see her eyes!” The poster: “Her eyes are empty, they’re black holes! Th-there are no eyeballs. She’s staring… staring at me!” A terrifying image filled the screen: a disheveled, horrifying woman taking up most of the frame. Her face was deathly white, and her hollow, blackened eye sockets were chillingly clear. I shrieked, nearly dropping my phone. “Ja-Jade, the burnt senior is in there!” But Jade stared intently at the photo. “Is she? Well, I want to see for myself.” Before I could stop her, she walked right up to the reading room door, pressed her face to the narrow crack, and peered in. I backed up against the wall, my body rigid with fear. I had no idea Jade was this brave… Was she not afraid of a ghost? As I stood there, dumbfounded, her voice drifted back to me: “Anya, there’s… nothing in this study room.” “Nothing?” “Nope. Come see for yourself.” I hesitated. Despite my fear, intense curiosity finally dragged me forward. Cautiously, I peered through the door crack… The desks and chairs were neatly arranged. The room was empty. Just like the view from our dorm window. The deeper we thought about it, the stranger it became. We opened the thread again, and the comments had stacked up even more. “Poster, Poster, are you okay?” “Is that photo real or fake? I dropped my phone!” “Don’t freak out people late at night! You’ll give me a heart attack, and you’ll be liable.” “Did the grad students go in? It’s been ten minutes. Did everyone just vanish?” “Ugh, never mind. It’s probably just a troll. Treating us like fools.” As everyone was debating, the poster sent a few new messages. The poster: “I’m s-scared to death, I just…” 6 The poster: “I got out of the study room. I’m hiding in one of the stalls in the fourth-floor restroom. Th-that thing won’t come here, right…” The poster: “That thing must still be looking for me… I can feel it…” The poster: “Why haven’t the seniors arrived yet? Please, hurry up. If you don’t, I’m going to die!” Jade looked down at her phone. “That’s too weird. We’ve been standing right by the door. Nobody came out.” “R-right.” I nervously glanced down the hallway. “The restroom is dark, too.” To verify, we walked to the women’s restroom, opening and checking every stall. Not a shadow. Furious, I hammered out several replies on the thread: “Are you still going to lie? We are here, in the restroom, right now. What’s the point of this sick joke in the middle of the night?” “There’s no one in the restroom, and no one in the study room. We’ve already contacted campus security. Get ready to be reported!” “Is it fun to mess with people? When the school finds you, you’ll be expelled!” I expected the person to be terrified and disappear. Instead, her emotions shattered. “If I’m lying, may I be struck by lightning and hit by a car the second I step outside!” Jade stared at the phone. “Hmm.” She began typing rapidly. “I have to figure out what’s going on.” A moment later, she posted: “Poster, if you’re not lying, what college are you in? What year? What is your name?” The poster: “Huh? I’m Autumn Harper, a sophomore in the Engineering program.” Jade posted again: “Everyone, does anyone know this student?” “I don’t know her. I’m in Computer Science.” “I’m in Public Administration in the South Campus. I wouldn’t know.” Finally, a useful piece of information appeared. “I’m a sophomore in Engineering. We don’t have a student named Autumn Harper in our program.” The poster: “How is that possible! My classroom is in Crestview Hall 404, and my dorm is next to the sports field. Here, I’ll show you my student ID…” She quickly sent a photo: a round-faced girl with a ponytail. The Engineering student replied: “I helped the professor organize the sophomore student files. I have definitely never seen this girl.” The poster exploded: “How can you say that! Don’t lie to me!” She posted several angry messages, but no one was engaging with her anymore. I took Jade’s hand and led her back the way we came. “Forget it, we met a lunatic. Let’s go back to bed.” “Anya…” Jade stood still, her eyes strange. “She’s not lying.” “But her own classmates said there’s no Autumn Harper!” Jade slowly shook her head. “What if she’s not a current sophomore? What if she’s from a few years ago?” I stared at her. “Jade, what are you talking about?” Jade’s expression was serious. “Did I ever tell you I transferred to the grad program from the undergraduate Engineering school?” “You did. So?” “I was an Engineering undergrad.” Jade’s eyes were unsettling. “Our classroom was in Crestview Hall 404. Our dorm was next to the sports field. And the library was open 24 hours back then.” “So… you know her?” My voice trembled. Jade nodded hard. “Yes, we were on the same floor in the dorms. I saw her a few times! Then I got sick and took a semester off. After that, I never saw her again.” “But… that can’t be right. That was years ago. Why would she still… still be at the university?” Jade’s face was pale. “Exactly. She should have graduated. Why is she still here? No, I have to ask her.” She bent her head, tapping at her phone. A moment later, her finger shook. “She r-replied.” “What did she say?” Jade looked up, her face ashen. “I asked her what year it is. She said… it’s December 2022.” A cold shiver ran down my spine. I couldn’t believe my ears. Jade was the same; her body was trembling like a leaf. After a long moment, I finally found my voice. “Do you know any of her former roommates? Let’s find out what actually happened.” “I’m in an alumni group. I’ll ask now!” The response nearly scared us both to death.

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My husband calls me a manipulative leech, but he has no idea: my “little brother” is actually the son I gave birth to when I was nineteen. … I looked at the divorce papers on the coffee table and at Nolan’s face, twisted with rage, and a strange calm washed over me. “Sierra, I’m finished! This marriage is over!” Nolan slammed the glass ashtray onto the hardwood floor. Shards scattered everywhere. A tiny sliver grazed my ankle, and a bead of blood surfaced, slowly growing. “Last month you Venmo’d your brother five hundred bucks for ‘living expenses,’ and this month you want to drop another three hundred on a pair of designer sneakers for him! Do you think I’m an ATM, Sierra? Huh? Is your brother handicapped? Are his parents dead? Why do you, his sister, have to play mother and provider?” I sat on the sofa, carefully dabbing the cut on my ankle. My voice was low, almost detached. “He’s my brother. He’s in high school. What’s wrong with him having nice shoes? Besides, that money was from my freelance writing gigs.” “Your money? You married me, your body is mine, and your money is shared marital property!” Nolan tore at the knot of his tie, spitting mad. “I’ve tolerated this long enough, Sierra. For three years of marriage, that brother of yours has been a parasite clinging to us. The paperwork is right there. We are getting a divorce today!” I finally looked up at him. This man. When he was chasing me, he swore he loved my generous heart, my commitment to family. Now, my generosity was ‘being naïve,’ and my commitment was ‘enabling a leech.’ The truth was, I knew the three-hundred-dollar sneakers were just an excuse. The real reason was his ‘understanding’ assistant, Jenna. “Fine. Let’s do it,” I said, wadding up the bloody tissue. “The condo is mine—I bought it before we were married. The car is yours. We split the savings fifty-fifty.” Nolan let out a cold, calculating laugh, his eyes sharp with greed. “Dream on! You’ve funneled at least twenty thousand to that brother of yours over the past three years. That’s marital funds and it’s coming out of your share! And sure, you bought the place, but I chipped in ten thousand for the renovation. The property value has tripled, so you owe me eighty thousand for the appreciation!” I couldn’t help but laugh back. It was real, genuine amusement. I genuinely hadn’t realized until this very moment how loudly Nolan’s mental abacus was clicking. The beads were practically hitting me in the face. “Nolan, draw the line somewhere. Leo… Leo’s situation is,” I paused, my heart twisting painfully in my chest, “you know it’s special.” “Special my ass! He’s just a spoiled kid!” Nolan sneered, his face full of disgust. “I’m telling you, you are signing those papers today, whether you want to or not! I’ve already called my parents and your own manipulative mother. We’re settling the score right now, face to face!” The doorbell rang the moment he finished speaking. When he opened the door, a small crowd filed in. Nolan’s parents, my mother, and… Jenna, clutching Nolan’s arm, wearing a wide-eyed, timid expression. Well. Everyone was here. This wasn’t a discussion about divorce; it felt more like a damn firing squad. The moment my mother saw the mess on the floor, she rushed over and slapped my arm. “You stupid girl! What did you do to make Nolan so angry this time? Didn’t I tell you to stop spending so much money on your brother? Why won’t you ever listen!” There she was. My mother. In her mind, if Nolan and I fought, I was always the one at fault. Because I was the sister with ‘baggage,’ and landing an ‘upstanding man’ like Nolan was a miracle. I rubbed my stinging arm and looked at her coolly. “Mom, is Leo your son, or mine?” My mother’s face went stiff, her eyes darting away before she quickly raised her voice. “What kind of nonsense is that? He’s your little brother! A big sister is like a mother. If you don’t take care of him, who will?” A big sister is like a mother. I chewed on the phrase, finding it utterly, sickeningly ironic. I was nineteen. Pregnant and unmarried. The man vanished without a trace. I’d wanted an abortion, but the doctor warned me my body was unusual—terminating the pregnancy could mean I’d never conceive again. So I kept him. To protect the family’s reputation, to save my father, a lifelong community college professor, from gossip, the newborn was immediately put on my parents’ birth certificate. My son became my ‘brother.’ Leo, Leo. I wasn’t just grieving the deadbeat father; I was grieving the shattered piece of my youth he took. Nolan put his arm around Jenna and walked over, looking self-righteously victimized. “Mother-in-law, I’m not being unreasonable. Sierra is just too much. Look at Jenna, she’s so mature, never spends money carelessly, and stays late to help me with work. And look at Sierra, constantly draining our account for her family.” Jenna, wearing a loose white sundress, subtly cradled her stomach. Her eyes were red-rimmed. “Sierra, please don’t blame Nolan. He’s just under so much stress. Honestly… if you just stop spending so much on your brother, Nolan is still willing to forgive you.” Forgive me? I stood up, my gaze sweeping over every face in the room. The greedy Nolan, the fake Jenna, my biased mother, and his two parents who just nodded along. “Nolan, did you forget who bailed you out last month when you gambled away ten thousand dollars of our savings on a penny stock and lost everything?” Nolan’s face flushed. “You… why bring that up now!” “And you, Jenna.” My eyes settled on her slightly protruding belly. “Three months along, right? That ‘business trip’ Nolan took you on to Cabo last month? The ocean-view suite was charged to my secondary credit card.” Jenna’s face instantly went white. She instinctively tried to hide behind Nolan. Nolan’s parents’ eyes lit up at the word ‘pregnant.’ Their stern expressions instantly melted into eager, affectionate concern for Jenna. My mother froze. She pointed a trembling finger at Nolan. “You… you cheated?” Nolan stopped pretending. He jutted his neck out. “So what if I did! Jenna is carrying the next heir to the Nolan name! Sierra couldn’t give me a child. Am I not allowed to find someone who can?” Couldn’t give me a child? I looked down at my own flat stomach. Three years ago, I was pregnant once. Nolan had just gotten a promotion, gotten blackout drunk celebrating, and pushed me in a drunken rage when he came home. I lost the baby. He had begged for my forgiveness on his knees at the hospital, swearing he’d make it up to me for the rest of his life. Now, it was his weapon. “Fine. Since we’ve laid everything bare.” I picked up the pen and quickly signed the divorce papers. “The divorce is on. But let me warn you, Nolan, you won’t take one penny more than you’re owed.” “That’s not up to you!” Nolan grabbed the papers, a triumphant smirk on his face. “Sierra, I hear your little brother got into some trouble at school recently. Put a kid in the hospital, didn’t he? Without a settlement, he’s getting expelled. If you agree to sign the condo over to me, I’ll loan you the cash to fix it.” A cold knot formed in my stomach. Leo got into a fight? Why didn’t I know? Just then, my phone rang. It was a video call request. The contact name: Little Trouble. That was my nickname for Leo. Nolan snatched the phone, instantly answered, put it on speaker, and mirrored the screen onto the living room’s large flat-screen TV. “Perfect! Let this spoiled brat hear it, too! He’s not getting another cent from me!” The TV screen flashed, connecting the call. The background wasn’t a high school dorm or a police station. It looked like… an incredibly luxurious corner office. Through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, the city’s most glittering downtown skyline glowed at night. Leo, wearing the expensive sneakers I’d just bought him, was sitting back in a leather club chair, his legs crossed, holding a limited-edition gaming console. He was only thirteen, but his features were already sharp. Those startling, intense eyes were an exact replica of the other man’s. “Sis?” Leo lifted his head lazily, a lollipop stick hanging from his mouth. “What took so long? I ran out of allowance. Send me eight hundred more. I need to buy a new skin.” Nolan’s anger spiked, hitting the ceiling. He jabbed a finger at the screen, unleashing a torrent of abuse. “Leo! You lowlife scum, you useless bastard! Your sister and I are getting divorced! Don’t you dare show your face around us again begging for money! And every dollar your sister gave you came from my account! You better spit it all back right now, or I’ll call the school and report you for fraud!” The living room fell into a deathly silence. My mother’s face was chalk-white. She tried to clap a hand over Nolan’s mouth, but he roughly shoved her away. On the other end, Leo froze. He slowly lowered the game console. The lazy indifference in his eyes was instantly replaced by a sharp, lethal glare. “What did you just call me?” “I called you a bastard! A blood-sucking parasite! What are you going to do about it?” Nolan was manic, screaming, as if years of resentment were finally being dumped onto a child. “Tell your trashy sister to take you and get out! The farther, the better!” Leo suddenly smiled. The smile was ice-cold, unsettling. He didn’t reply to Nolan. Instead, he turned his head and yelled out to someone off-camera: “Dad, some guy just called your son a bastard and your girl a tramp.”

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I found out my brother was an undercover cop the day I was kidnapped. The drug lord forced him to inject me with a high-purity, experimental substance. It was the only way to earn enough trust to handle the shipment. From that moment on, I, who had dreamed of becoming a prima ballerina, was turned into an addict—a pariah everyone kept their distance from. My brother, Caden, knelt before me, his eyes raw and bloodshot. “I ruined you, Sloan… Just hold on. I swear I will make you well again.” That promise was the anchor that kept me biting back on countless nights when I wanted to end it all. The breaking point came this New Year’s Day when Caden’s superior officer came to our house for a welfare visit. A familiar coldness crawled up my spine. As the officer watched in stunned silence, I convulsed, knocking an entire serving dish of holiday casserole onto the floor. Mom instantly lunged forward, pressing me down hard and explaining on instinct. “I am so sorry, Chief! She… she has epilepsy…” Caden hauled me up and locked me inside my bedroom. A long time later, I heard strained, quiet voices drifting from the living room. “Caden, this family… we are barely holding on.” “Mom, sometimes… sometimes I wish she had died the day she was taken, instead of living like this…” Yet, when I finally gave them their wish and died the very next day, why did their tears look like they had lost everything? 1 The withdrawal was seizing me again. Mom held me tightly, stopping me from clawing at my own hair. It felt like tiny insects were crawling through my bone marrow, alternating between freezing cold and searing hot. My consciousness frayed under the torture, my voice a thin, reedy whisper. “Mom, please…” Before I could finish, Mom raised her hand and delivered a slap that snapped my head sideways. “Be quiet!” Her eyes were edged with a desperate kind of ferocity. “Your father and your brother are police officers. How can you be doing this? How can you disgrace them? If your Dad in heaven knew you were like this—a shell of yourself—it would kill him all over again!” To keep the secret, Caden hadn’t told her the truth. He had just said I’d been carelessly dosed by someone when I was out with friends. The door burst open. It was Caden. He dropped the things in his hands and rushed to stand in front of me. “Mom, don’t blame Sloan. She… she was victimized.” Tears streamed from Mom’s swollen, red eyes. Her voice was choked. “If she hadn’t been out running around with God knows what kind of lowlifes, how would this have happened?!” “If she hadn’t gone to those places, who would have had the chance to do this to her?!” She started sobbing uncontrollably. “My perfect daughter, my little girl… my daughter…” She dissolved into wrenching cries. Caden’s face cycled through pain and internal conflict. Finally, he started hitting himself, open-handed slaps across his own face. “Mom, hit me. It’s my fault… Don’t hurt her.” He hit himself hard. His face quickly began to swell. Mom rushed forward, wrapping her arms around both of us. She wept with a terrifying, heart-wrenching sound. I watched my nearest and dearest break down before me. And yet, my eyes remained dry. I was numb. I stared blankly at the ceiling. Only a few months ago, my life felt full of infinite possibility. Accepted into my dream school, ready to step onto the big stage. Now, all that was left was a hollow casing—a body I inhabited only so they wouldn’t hurt more. Caden eventually managed to coax Mom back to her room. He came back into mine, crouching by the bed. He carefully avoided the bruises on my arms and took my hand. “Sloan, I have failed you…” He had said those words too many times. “I found a specialist overseas. They have a new drug in clinical trials. Once it’s approved, you’ll get better…” “Later… later we can start slow. Dancing isn’t totally off the table…” My hand was ice-cold. His palm was slick with sweat. I lowered my head and pressed my fingers into my own calf. It felt soft and spongy, like it was stuffed with cotton. Before, when I flexed, I could see beautiful, taut muscle definition. I closed my eyes, refusing to think about it. “Caden, stop torturing yourself.” In this state, I couldn’t dance. Not ever again. “How can you call this torturing myself!” His voice spiked suddenly, his eyes immediately welling up. “You will get better, do you hear me? I’m staking my life on it, Sloan, you will!” I nodded and quickly changed the subject. “Caden, help me walk. I want to go outside.” I hadn’t left this room in weeks. Thinking his words had worked, he happily helped me up, offering to walk me around the block. As we walked through the living room, I noticed the top of the entertainment center was empty. It used to be lined with photos of me dancing since I was a child. The frame from my first big award, hanging on the wall, was gone too. It left a clean, rectangular outline where the sun hadn’t faded the paint. The trophies, medals, and certificates had all been boxed up. Inside an open cardboard box, right on top, was the photo of me winning the gold medal for Giselle last year. Caden’s grip on my elbow tightened instantly. He offered a rushed, flustered explanation. “Mom… Mom was afraid you’d dwell on the past, so she packed it away. Please don’t be mad…” I cut him off. “I know. I don’t blame Mom.” “I… I don’t want to see them either, anymore.” He stared at me, his hand clutching my wrist, not letting go for a long time. In my peripheral vision, I saw the master bedroom door, which had been left slightly ajar, click quietly shut. “Sloan, I got you a New Year’s gift. You’re going to love it.” To distract me, he quickly spoke up. Then, with a mysterious air, he pulled out an elegant shopping bag. I paused, then opened it. Inside was the red, mermaid-style cocktail dress I had wanted for ages. I was completely stunned. Caden had remembered that I wanted this specific dress. But he had forgotten why. I wanted it to wear on stage to accept my next major award. 2 Caden urged me, his tone artificially cheerful, to try the dress on. “New year, new clothes. Go try it on quickly. We’ll show Mom when you’re done.” I pinched the soft fabric between my fingers. My fingertips were cold. He pressed my shoulder and ushered me into the room, saying jokingly. “Don’t be shy in front of your big brother. Take your time changing. I’ll wait right outside.” Closing the door, I took off my sweats. The person in the mirror had ribs showing clearly, and skin that was an unhealthy, bluish-white. The firm, fluid muscle lines I used to have were now just a layer of thin skin stretched over bone. Mechanically, I shook out the red dress and slipped it on. The waist was loose. I stared at the skeleton draped in the gorgeous red silk in the mirror. My stomach flipped with nausea. “Sloan? Are you ready? How does it fit?” Caden tapped lightly on the door. His voice held a tense nervousness. I took a deep breath and opened the door. Silence hung heavy in the air. He immediately forced a smile. “… My sister looks good in anything. This color really brightens your complexion.” His voice was dry. “It’s just… a little too big. You need to eat more, starting now.” He avoided my eyes. I couldn’t stand the oppressive silence. “Caden, I really want to go for a walk.” A look of relief flashed across his face. “Let’s go. I’ll go with you.” We walked slowly around the complex. A light snow was beginning to fall. I suddenly saw a small dog whose paw was frozen to the ice on the ornamental pond. It was barely breathing, unable to even whimper. I was about to tug on Caden’s sleeve. That was when his phone vibrated. “Sloan, I…” He clenched the phone in his hand, his knuckles white. “Something came up with the unit—it’s urgent. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Go home first and wait for me, okay? I promise I’ll make it up to you.” I nodded. After some hesitation, I rescued the puppy. I was soaked and freezing. After dropping the dog off at the building management office, I went home. The first thing I did was rush into the bathroom and dry-heave over the toilet. Tears sprang from my eyes. That was when Mom opened the door. She froze at the sight of me hunched over the toilet bowl. Her eyes instantly turned cold as ice. “You touched it again, didn’t you?” Her voice trembled. “Sloan, you are truly beyond hope. Look at you. How are you anything like my daughter anymore?” Her gaze was nearly despairing, as if she was crushed beneath an unbearable weight. She violently yanked me off the floor and lashed out with accusations. “Do you know your brother is up for a major commendation this year? Can you stop screwing things up for him right now?! Do you want to drag him down, ruin him, and destroy this family for good?!” “I didn’t—” I was just with Caden. But before I could speak, she raised her hand. Another slap, stinging my cheek. More painful than the slap was the disappointment and contempt in her eyes. “How could I have given birth to such a… thing…” She broke down crying. I slid down onto the floor, staring at the bathroom ceiling. I recalled the past few minutes. After dropping the puppy off, I had run into Mrs. Peterson from upstairs having a seizure. I rushed to stop her from biting her tongue. But I was too late. She had thrown up all over me. The smell was awful, mixed with the wet, fishy scent of the puppy. It had made me dry-heave uncontrollably. But all she saw was me clutching the toilet. And she assumed I had relapsed. Tears traced paths down my cheeks. I finally understood, with chilling clarity. I had become the permanent, unforgivable stain on my father’s, mother’s, and brother’s lives. But I had once shone so brightly. I had once been cherished, held in their palms as their greatest treasure. I reached out, trying to touch Mom’s hand, wanting to tell her. Don’t cry. Your daughter didn’t let you down. But the moment I touched her, she recoiled sharply. We both froze. I closed my eyes in self-derision. God, I was so tired. 3 On the first day of the new year, Caden had to attend his commendation ceremony. Mom prepared breakfast and lunch for us. Before leaving, she tapped on my door, reminding me to eat. Then she locked me in and left with Caden. Listening to the click of the front door, I walked out of my bedroom. I looked at the apartment, now scrubbed clean of any trace of my former life. I walked to the window and resolutely climbed out. Mom. Caden. I am so tired. I’m going to go see Dad. My body hit the ground with a heavy thud. Soon, the sirens started. My face was already unrecognizable. I was only wearing the red dress Caden had given me. No one would know who I was. I sighed a tiny breath of relief. It was better if no one did. After I died, I didn’t vanish. My soul simply returned to the apartment. There was an invisible, transparent wall preventing me from leaving. The downstairs area grew quiet again. The smell of cooking drifted up from outside. I heard the front door open. Mom walked in, her face beaming, carrying a large bouquet of lilies. Caden had another bar on his shoulder epaulet. They were talking about the ceremony. “Caden, who was that cute girl who presented you with the flowers on stage?” Mom gave him a knowing look, then gestured with the lilies in her hand. Caden flushed shyly, quickly waving her off. “Just a co-worker, Mom. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have just brought lilies.” Mom reached out and pinched his bright red earlobe. “Sounds like you’re disappointed she didn’t bring you roses? Lilies, lilies, lasting harmony—you young people don’t know anything. I think that girl is quite nice—” Mom’s cheerful tone died abruptly when she saw the untouched food sitting on the kitchen table. Caden followed her gaze. The smile vanished from his face, replaced by a deep frown. “Why hasn’t Sloan eaten anything?” He started walking toward my room. Mom suddenly grabbed his arm. “Let her stew. She’s an adult. She has to take responsibility for her own mistakes. She can’t just throw a tantrum and hide. I’ve spoiled her too much.” Caden glanced at the table and lowered his voice, as if afraid I’d hear. “Mom, don’t talk like that. She’s been very strong, she…” Something in his words suddenly struck a nerve with Mom. Her voice rose sharply. “Strong? If she was strong, would she have gone to those trashy places and picked up that stuff? I should have chained her to her bed! Saved her from throwing herself away!” “Mom!” Caden’s voice was urgent, his volume involuntarily increasing. “Don’t say that. It’s not like that. The truth is…” He suddenly stopped, as if someone had choked him. Not a single word came out. I understood. He had an oath. He couldn’t tell her. He was also afraid the truth would crush Mom or put her in danger. But it didn’t matter now. Let her keep the misunderstanding. Perhaps it would make her hurt less. Mom stared at Caden, sharply sensing his distress. “Are you two keeping something from me?” Caden instinctively shook his head. “No, Mom. Nothing. Sloan knows she made a mistake. She never wanted this…” Mom waved a hand impatiently. She had clearly tired of those words. No matter how many times they were repeated, the proud daughter she remembered was never coming back. That night, Caden brought home my favorite snacks and knocked on my door. “Sloan, don’t be mad at Mom. This is hard on her too…” When I didn’t open the door, he sighed. “I know you don’t want to hear this, and I know you feel cheated, but please think about Mom. She doesn’t know anything.” “I’ll leave the snacks here by your door. Get them when you’re ready.” He stood there for a moment longer, then slowly put the bag down. His face held an immense fatigue, and a flicker of disappointment. He must have thought I was sulking, mad at Mom, and avoiding both of them. But he didn’t know that I would never walk out of that door again. And I would never be mad at them again. How could the dead hold grudges against the living? 4 The next morning, Caden left for work. He saw the snacks still sitting by the door and paused. He knocked once, then sighed. “Sloan, when I get back, I’ll take you for a walk, or wherever you want to go. I promise I won’t leave you alone again this time.” There was no reply from inside. Caden walked away, his steps heavy. Mom got up and glanced at the snacks on the floor. Her expression mirrored Caden’s. But she didn’t knock on my door. She seemed determined to teach me a lesson. When she walked into the kitchen, she noticed the balcony window was open just a crack. She froze for a second, then casually shut it. She prepared and ate her breakfast as usual. Suddenly, the doorbell rang. It was urgent. My soul leaped up. The police? Mom got up to answer it. I floated over. But I saw Mrs. Peterson holding several bags of fruit. “Evelyn, where’s Sloan? I came to thank her.” Mom seemed confused, but invited Mrs. Peterson in. The older woman grabbed Mom’s hand. “Evelyn, you’re a gem. My kids are far away, and I’m so lucky you look out for me. Sloan, she takes after you—kind-hearted, exactly your temper.” Mom hadn’t quite processed it, accepting the fruit stiffly. It took her a moment to find her voice. “Mrs. Peterson, that’s kind of you. Just being neighbors. But you came to thank Sloan?” “Yes! If it weren’t for Sloan, I’d be dead. I had a seizure two days ago, collapsed on the ground. It was your Sloan—she put her hand in my mouth to keep me from biting my tongue. I even threw up all over her. If she doesn’t mind, I want to take her out to buy some new clothes today.” Mom froze completely at Mrs. Peterson’s words, her eyes widening. “Mrs. Peterson, are you saying… that was your vomit on Sloan the other day?” “She saved you?” Mom finally registered the truth, and a flash of guilt crossed her eyes. “Yes, she did! Why isn’t she here? Go call her out. I want to tell her myself.” Mom shook her head. A look of resigned guilt appeared on her face as she forced a small, apologetic laugh. “I misunderstood her over this yesterday. She’s giving me the silent treatment now. Please sit down, Auntie. I’ll go get her.” Mom walked toward my bedroom door, step by step. Just as she raised her hand to knock. The doorbell rang again. More insistent and urgent this time. Mom frowned instinctively and went to open the door first. Three people in police uniforms showed their badges. Mom recognized the lead officer from the commendation ceremony yesterday. Her face went pale, and she asked anxiously. “Did something happen to my Caden?” The officer’s expression was somber. He shook his head. “Ma’am, it’s not Caden. It’s your daughter, Sloan.” “Someone jumped from an apartment building in the complex yesterday. We suspect it may be Sloan. We need you to come with us to make an identification.”

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The moment I agreed to take Rhys Easton back, his so-called ‘sister-figure’ was right back on his lap. Her arm draped around his neck, she shot me a condescending smirk. “Chill out, Avery. Don’t get all psycho-jealous again. It’s no big deal. You know I don’t even like this jerk.” I simply offered a thin smile and said, “It’s fine.” From the second we reunited, I had committed to becoming Rhys Easton’s idea of the perfect girlfriend. No more raging fits of jealousy over his casual banter with his female ‘bro.’ No more secretly installing GPS trackers on his phone to monitor his every move. Now, even if he and his sister-figure shared a joke-kiss, slept in the same bed, or—as they had last night—had a drunken hookup, I could deliver the morning-after pill without a flicker of emotion. “I get it,” I said calmly, placing the water bottle and foil packet on his nightstand. “It was an accident. You were just drunk. I’m not mad.” It wasn’t because my love for Rhys Easton was that deep. It was because the System had promised me that anything I gained from him—any physical asset—I could take back with me to my original world. I wasn’t going to waste three years of my life with him for nothing. 1 “Why aren’t you angry?” Rhys looked at me, his brow tightly furrowed. I already knew what I would find behind the door when an anonymous text led me here. I used to be angry. I used to be an inferno of rage. From the start, Rhys had indulged his childhood friend, Dakota Riley. He called her his best friend, his ride-or-die. But when he started eating off her fork, I’d flipped the table. When they lost a game of Truth or Dare and kissed, I’d slapped Dakota so hard her face swelled up, and then I put a tracker on Rhys’s phone. His friends hated me. Rhys called me crazy, hysterical. Dakota, crying, swore she’d cut him out of her life. The breaking point was when Dakota fell critically ill with a 104-degree fever. After she was rushed to the ER and stabilized, she looked at Rhys, weak but furious. “Why did you even bother, you asshole? Your psycho-girlfriend is just going to show up and beat me senseless again. She’ll finish the job for the fever, you idiot!” The fear of losing Dakota was what finally made Rhys snap. He dumped me. I had only come to this world for him. Once the initial mission failed, the System went silent. I was stranded. No documentation, no degree, no way to get home. I went from the pampered girlfriend of the City’s richest heir to scrubbing floors and waiting tables. The fall from grace was devastating. Rhys and Dakota had even come to look down on me once. “When you finally learn some grace and forgiveness, when you can actually tolerate Dakota, maybe I’ll consider taking you back.” Then, the System reappeared. I swore I would never endure that kind of humiliation and pain again. I smiled, my voice slow and steady. “Because…” (Because I don’t love you.) “Because this was an accident. It wasn’t your true intention.” I had finally mastered the “tolerance and grace” he demanded. Rhys watched me in silence for a few seconds, then let out a visible sigh of relief. On the bed, Dakota, covered in hickey marks, impatiently threw a pillow at Rhys. “Rhys Easton, your technique is awful. You hurt me, and then you wouldn’t stop when I asked. Annoying.” She waved him away. “Now get out. Stop with the nauseating couple act. Trying to make me feel bad for being single, asshole?” On the drive back, Rhys kept glancing at me. Once I was buckled in, he spoke, his voice low. “Avery, you’ve changed. A lot.” I was scrolling through my phone, comparing prices on bespoke high-end jewelry, and didn’t look up. “I love you, of course I’m going to change for you,” I cooed, flashing the phone screen at him. “It’s my birthday, remember? I want this necklace. Can you get it for me?” I had chosen the most expensive piece with the highest collector’s value. Rhys was the sole heir to an immense fortune. He was never stingy, but he was completely devoid of romance. He usually only bought me ridiculously priced things after I had a jealous fit about him and Dakota. It was guilt money. Pure and simple. Rhys hadn’t answered when Dakota suddenly called. 2 “Get your ass back here now! That… stuff you left on me leaked all over the floor and I slipped and can’t get up.” Dakota’s voice was loud, even though he wasn’t on speaker. She seemed to want me to hear. “Are you trying to murder me so your girlfriend can take my place? Hurry up, or I’m cutting you out of my life, you ungrateful jerk!” This was the same old routine. In the past, no matter how much I’d begged or pleaded, Rhys would have left, probably accusing me of being dramatic and manipulative. But now, I smiled sweetly at him. “Go ahead. I can grab an Uber or the subway home.” He froze, his thin lips pressed into a line. Then, astonishingly, he spoke into the phone. “Can’t you handle it yourself? I’m going home with Avery. It’s her birthday.” I was genuinely taken aback, but I immediately suppressed the flicker of warmth I felt. Don’t be a fool. Don’t be sentimental. I didn’t hear what Dakota said next, but Rhys eventually pulled the car over and asked me to get out. He looked genuinely guilty. “I’ll get you the necklace, I promise. I just need to check on her first. I’ll come back tonight, and we’ll celebrate.” But by the time evening rolled around, Rhys was—as usual—missing in action. The promised necklace? It was already on Dakota’s neck, judging by the triumphant posts on her social media account. I wasn’t upset. Every single item Rhys promised me, I could take with me when I left. “Host, are you sure you want to leave this world? The male lead’s love index is at ninety percent, you know. His family is so rich. If you stay and marry him, you’ll escape your old, miserable life.” I shrugged internally. “That’s still a ten percent failure rate, and I’m not interested in eating lukewarm leftovers. Who cares about the scraps?” He’d been at one-hundred percent love before, but he’d still dropped ten points for Dakota. He could lose it all again just as easily. Love, in the end, was too brittle. Money was hard, cold, and solid. At ten p.m., Rhys finally called, saying Dakota had thrown me a surprise birthday party. When I arrived, they were playing Truth or Dare. Dakota was holding up a deck of cards, a look of gleeful malice on her face. “Whoever pulls an Ace gets the grand prize: ten seconds of kissing me! Don’t be shy, boys. A kiss from me is worth more than gold.” Rhys turned his card. It was the Ace of Spades. The sudden silence in the room was deafening. Everyone immediately looked at me. I walked over to Rhys, sat down calmly beside him, and pulled out my phone. “Go for it,” I said cheerfully. “I’ll record it. It’ll be a great memory for you two to look back on when you’re old.” No screaming. No table-flipping. No cursing. My expression was perfectly serene. Rhys’s face darkened. The next second, Dakota hooked her arms around his neck. “Avery gave the green light, so what, are you a coward now? You were manhandling me all night last night, and now you can’t kiss your sister-figure? Is that what I taught you?” She shoved him away in fake annoyance. “Whatever. If you’re not willing, I’ll find someone else to sub in.” She reached for the guy next to her, but Rhys yanked her back, hard. They started kissing. It was a vicious, competitive exchange, lasting far longer than the ten seconds. Seeing that I wasn’t reacting, the surrounding crowd started cheering, elbowing me in the arm. “Attagirl, Avery. You’re finally being chill about this. You’re smart. Since you’re so understanding, we’ll start inviting you out with the guys.” I was finally accepted by Rhys’s inner circle. How wonderfully ironic, just when I stopped caring about him entirely. Rhys wasn’t kissing with any real passion. Every few seconds, his eyes darted to me. I wasn’t sure what he wanted, so I just gave him a thumbs-up, signaling that he was doing a great job. Rhys’s face turned glacial. He abruptly shoved Dakota away, grabbed my hand, and dragged me out into the hallway. “Why don’t you get jealous?” 3 I paused, then laughed lightly. “You’re siblings, aren’t you? Isn’t kissing your sibling normal?” I had thrown his own words, the very words he’d used to wound me, right back in his face. Rhys’s expression was an ugly mask of displeasure. “This new you… I can’t read you at all. Just stop hiding what you’re thinking, okay?” “I’m not hiding anything. What’s wrong with you?” I countered. His voice rose in frustration. “It’s your attitude! The way you’re acting! It just… makes me uncomfortable.” I feigned confusion. “What attitude do you want? Do you want me to grab Dakota’s hair and slap her until—” My sentence was cut short by his sudden roar of anger. “Do you have to be a crazy bitch who only knows how to hit people? Try touching her again, I dare you!” I stared at him, saying nothing. Rhys couldn’t articulate why he was so enraged. In the midst of the stalemate, Dakota ran out, wrapped her arms around Rhys’s elbow, and playfully punched him on the arm. “What are you two fighting about this time? Don’t bully Avery. You know she’s sensitive. Come on, be a man, take a page from my book.” She winked at me. “I never bother with little people or women. Let’s go cut the cake.” Rhys’s friends, though morally questionable, were generous when it came to appearances. I walked away from that party with nearly a million dollars in gifts. “Avery, I didn’t get you a gift, but I’ll give you a demo of the new moves I taught Rhys in bed last night. His old ones are boring as hell. And he kept calling me ‘baby’ and ‘sweetheart’—so tacky. Really—” Dakota’s bragging was interrupted by the sound of Rhys slamming his phone against the wall. “Enough! Why are you talking about this?” Dakota rolled her eyes. “I can talk about whatever I want! You were willing to do it, but you’re too scared to let me talk about it? Why? Was it not you calling me ‘baby’?” She sat down intimately next to me and took my hand. The necklace around her throat slipped out of her shirt—the one Rhys had promised me. I stared at it, a fraction of a second too long. Dakota noticed. “This necklace is eighty million dollars. They called it ‘Heart of True Love’—such a cheesy name. But hey, the ungrateful son bought it for me, so I’ll take it.” Rhys looked sick. Instinctively, I reached out. Rhys’s expression snapped into horror, and he roughly yanked my wrist away, shoving me aside. “Are you trying to hurt Dakota again? When are you going to get rid of this toxic need to attack her?” My head slammed against the edge of the low table. I felt the warm flow of blood instantly. “You…” Rhys stammered, his mouth open. It hurt, sure. But it was nothing new. Rhys had let me suffer plenty of small, stinging wounds for Dakota’s sake. The difference was that this time, the wound in my heart was already gone. I stood up calmly, walked over to Dakota, and plucked a stray strand of hair off the surface of the diamond necklace. “It’s a beautiful piece.” A snagged hair could easily pull a diamond out of its setting, devaluing it considerably. The room was silent. I looked at Rhys, perfectly composed. “I’m going to the ER to get stitched up. You should stay here and keep the party going.” Rhys followed me out. He grabbed my shoulders, his eyes full of anguish. “I’m sorry, I just had a knee-jerk reaction. Let me come with you to the doct—” “Rhys! Get back here! Dakota just passed out!” Rhys looked back and forth, torn. As his perfect, understanding girlfriend, I had to be empathetic. “Go back. She looks worse than I do.” His guilt deepened. “I… I’ll go back, then. I was wrong. I’ll make it up to you. Send me everything you want—I’ll buy you all of it!” The ATM had spoken. There was no way I was going to refuse. I was ruthless, selecting close to half a billion dollars in high-end assets. Perhaps due to extreme guilt, Rhys authorized the transfers without batting an eye. “Avery, I did a lot of thinking yesterday. I think it’s time we got married. Next week, maybe.” I paused mid-scroll, looking up at him with a playful smile. “Sounds great. What kind of prenup and settlement are we talking about?” Rhys frowned slightly. “I don’t really know about the specifics, but I promise I’ll make you the happiest bride in the entire City.” 4 I thought Rhys was just placating me with a fleeting promise, and I was only in it for the collateral. But he actually started planning the wedding. When his assistant came over to present the list of assets to be put in my name, it took half an hour just to read through it. “Mrs. Easton, the boss is so good to you. A royal princess wouldn’t receive half this much.” I just smiled, asking the System in my mind. “Anything designated for me, I can take, correct?” “Yes, Host. Also, I must inform you that the male lead’s love index has increased by five points.” “Oh.” And what of it? On the day of the wedding, I was debating whether to simply dematerialize in front of him just to watch him panic. Rhys burst into the room, his expression frantic. He walked straight up to me, eyes red-rimmed, and couldn’t speak. “What’s wrong with him?” I asked the System. “Dakota Riley staged a fake kidnapping because she’s pregnant and doesn’t want him to marry you. Also, she’s arranged for the fake kidnappers to target you next.” “Do I leave now? One less headache.” A headache? Not quite. “What happened?” I asked gently, taking Rhys’s trembling hand. He gasped for breath, his voice raw. “Dakota was kidnapped, Avery. I… I might have to postpone the wedding.” “It’s okay. Go. You have to find Dakota. A life is more important than a wedding.” Rhys hugged me tightly, overwhelmed with gratitude. “Thank you, Avery. When I get her back, I’ll make it up to you. I swear.” After he left, the wedding was canceled. On my way back to the apartment, I was ambushed and knocked unconscious. When I woke, I was tied up next to Dakota. One of the kidnappers held a knife, tracing the blade along Dakota’s throat, then mine. He looked at Rhys, who had arrived with a briefcase. “You have ten million dollars. It can only save one person. Your sister-figure, or your future wife?” Rhys clenched his fist, his eyes bloodshot. Before he could speak, Dakota cried out, hysterical. “Rhys! I’m pregnant! It’s your baby! Are you going to let both of us die?” “You’re pregnant?” Rhys sounded stunned. Dakota nodded desperately. “Rhys, my stomach hurts so badly! Save our child!” When he looked back at me, his eyes were full of tortured anguish. “I’m sorry, Avery. Dakota is in pain, I have to take her to the hospital first. But I will come back for you, I promise.” I burst into a desperate performance of tears and screams, struggling until the ropes cut into my wrists. “Rhys! I don’t want to die! I’m your fiancée! How can you leave me here to die?” Despite my tearful pleas, Rhys was silent. He lowered his head, trembling, and handed the ten million to the kidnappers. He picked up Dakota and looked back at me. “I’ll compensate you, Avery. Tell me what you want, and it’s yours.” His choice was solid, immutable. The person who mattered most to him was, and always would be, Dakota Riley. I offered a small, terrible smile, my eyes wide with manufactured despair. “I want your company. Do you still promise?” “I’ve already decided you’re my wife. You can have the company. Everything I have is yours. Just this once, Avery, please. Just this once. I promise I’ll be back for you. Wait for me!” He turned and walked away without looking back. I let the tears vanish from my face, replacing the anguish with a strange, cold indifference. “Rhys Easton, I don’t want you anymore.” His figure paused momentarily before disappearing from sight. “System, activate de-linking.” I was finally going home.

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After my mother and I married into the billionaire class, she decided being a shopping-obsessed socialite wasn’t enough. She wanted to be the Wicked Stepmother. To get rid of my stepbrother and monopolize the entire family fortune, one day she’d dose his juice with a laxative, the next she’d stick thumbtacks in his shoes. Our fabulous new life in a mansion was a daily circus of escalating, psychotic drama. Then, Robert’s Unattainable Ideal—the woman he’d loved and lost—saw her chance. She used the chaos my mother created as cover, setting a fire that severely burned my stepbrother, perfectly framing my mom for the attack. I, who should have been lounging by the pool as a carefree rich kid, was caught in the crossfire. My mother and I were thrown into the open ocean to die. Now I was back. Reborn. I watched my mother, Vivian, once again reaching for the bottle of laxatives, her perfectly manicured hand hovering over a glass of fresh-pressed orange juice. I pressed down hard on her wrist, fighting to stop her self-destructive insanity. “It’s just about teaching Leo a lesson, right, Mom? Don’t worry, you can leave the hard work to me.” This time, I had to take control. I had to permanently derail the horrific fate that ended us both. 1 While she was still frozen in shock, I quickly swapped the orange juice for the foul, hyper-bitter green detox concoction the chef had made for her cleanse. “Just wait, Mom. I’m going to make big brother cry, just for you.” Fearing she’d snap out of it, I clutched the noxious green liquid and stumbled over to Leo. “Leo, Mom says you have to drink this.” He shot me a glacial look, his handsome young face etched with defensive coldness. “Your psycho mom trying to give me the runs again?” I couldn’t blame him for the brutal tone. The last time he drank something from Vivian, he ended up hospitalized with severe dehydration, solidifying her reputation as the toxic stepmother. To immediately pivot Leo’s perception, I took two gulps of the bitter stuff myself. The flavor was a physical shock. “Mom said you have acne because you’re ‘too heated,’ so she wants you to drink this detox to cool down,” I said, trying to steady my voice. “Your face will clear up after this, and you’ll be back to being the hottest guy in school.” Leo watched me, tears stinging my eyes from the sheer bitterness, yet I was earnestly holding out the glass for him. He hesitated for a few seconds, then snatched the glass, swallowing the whole thing in one defiant gulp. “Done. Now stop bothering me.” The intense, bitter shock hit his system, and his eyes welled up instantly. I pulled a lollipop out of my pocket, unwrapped it, and shoved it into his mouth. “Here. Sucker. Takes the nasty taste out.” Leo looked utterly assaulted. He stared at me for a long moment, not even wiping away the tears still tracking down his cheeks. I gave him a mischievous, relieved smile and bolted back into the kitchen. “Mom, see? Big brother is crying and he can’t stop!” Though completely baffled, Vivian pulled me into a proud hug. “Stella, my genius! You’re finally thinking! Leo is the biggest obstacle to us getting the money!” “Once we team up and take him down, darling, this entire fortune belongs to us!” I hugged my beautiful but brainless mother back, silently weeping inside. Our billionaire father, Robert, treated me wonderfully, not like some piece of luggage. He gave me everything I could ever want. I was already perfectly content. I was a non-blood-related stepdaughter. Why should I scheme to take everything from his only son? But I knew I couldn’t change my mother’s mind overnight. I had no choice but to follow her around, secretly implementing my plan to change our fate. Night fell. Sure enough, Vivian crept into Leo’s room and started sticking thumbtacks into his dress shoes. The moment she was gone, I slipped in. I swapped out the thumbtacks for something else entirely. 2 The next morning, my mother stood poised, ready for the drama. “That stray dog’s child thinks he can compete with me for the inheritance? I’m going to make him suffer today!” Leo, as usual, skipped breakfast and headed toward the door to grab his backpack and shoes for school. The second he slipped his feet into his loafers, he let out a strangled cry of agony. “Who put an acupressure mat in my damn shoe?” Vivian sprayed a mouthful of coffee across the room. “A what? Where are my thumbtacks?” I quickly clamped my hand over her mouth. “Mom, keep your voice down! If anyone hears you admitting to trying to hurt Leo, you’re finished!” That was exactly what happened in the last life. Leo’s feet were bloody messes. He was in the hospital for two weeks. When Robert discovered Vivian was the culprit, he nearly handed her over to the police. She only got off after days of humiliating begging. The stain on her reputation was what gave Serena, Robert’s manipulative ex, her opening later on. I quickly pitched my alternative plan. “The acupressure insoles are perfect! He’s in pain, but he can’t report us. It’s a win-win!” As Vivian started to process this, I rushed over and grabbed Leo’s arm. “Big brother, Mom says these insoles massage your feet, help your circulation, and make you grow taller!” “Stella has a pair too! We can grow taller together!” I lifted my foot to show him the exact same spikey insole in my own sneaker. Leo’s profanity was visible on his face, but seeing my innocent, eager expression, he choked it back. He yanked his arm free, shouting impatiently, “Stop touching my stuff! And mind your own business!” But for all his bluster, a few seconds later, Leo slipped the loafers back on and hobbled out the door. In the last life, Leo always spoke so cruelly to me. I hated him, so I never intervened with my mother’s antics. But later, I understood. Leo lost his mother at birth, and Robert was always too busy running his company to be a father. He was lonely and isolated. Then he gained a vicious stepmother. It was a miserable situation for any kid. My heart ached with sudden empathy. I grabbed a milk carton and a pastry, stuffing them into his free hand. “You have to eat breakfast, Leo. You need to eat to grow tall with Stella.” He looked completely shocked again. He studied me with a complex expression for a long time, then quietly left, eating the pastry. Vivian threw her arms around me, praising me wildly. “Stella, you’re so smart! Look at him wincing with every step! He must be dying!” “His miserable face makes me so mad! Think of another way to get back at him!” I fought the urge to strangle her and opted for creative misdirection instead. “Didn’t he just tell us to mind our own business? The more he doesn’t want us involved, the more we should!” “He hates eating with us. We should force him to eat huge meals, smother him with expensive food every night, and turn him into a hideous, uncomfortable fat boy!” Vivian slapped her knee, declaring me a genius. That evening, the moment Leo got home, Vivian dragged him to the dining table. “From now on, you will eat exactly what I tell you to eat, every single meal!” Before Leo could react, plates of braised pork belly, abalone, and sticky ribs were piled onto his plate. I personally peeled two massive shrimp and held them to his mouth. “Big brother, you’re too skinny. You need to eat all the good meat!” Leo’s mouth twitched, his fury visible but trapped. Vivian only leaned in closer, shoving a massive chicken drumstick directly into his mouth. “I told you to eat! You don’t leave this table until your plate is clean!” she hissed, a triumphant, wicked gleam in her eyes. But just at that moment, Robert and Serena—the Unattainable Ideal—walked through the door. 3 Serena saw Vivian holding Leo down, her face twisted in a malicious grin. She pounced immediately. “Vivian, you wicked creature! I knew you were abusing Leo again!” “The staff told me everything! This monster forced Leo to drink poisonous juice and made him cry! She put nails in his shoes so he couldn’t walk! This malicious gold-digger belongs in prison!” Serena always positioned herself as Leo’s godmother, constantly antagonizing my mom. In the previous life, she was the one who ruthlessly burned Leo and then manipulated him into naming Vivian as the culprit, leading to our deaths. I watched Robert’s face flush with rage. He raised his hand, ready to strike Vivian. I frantically jumped forward. “My mother gave Leo bitter detox juice, not poison, and she put in massage insoles, not nails! Ask Leo!” Robert froze, his hand suspended in the air. He looked at Leo, doubtful. “Is Stella telling the truth?” Leo looked at me with a peculiar expression. My stomach dropped. I thought he was about to seize the moment to finally expose my mother. Instead, Leo calmly removed the chicken drumstick from his mouth and said faintly, “Yes.” “The detox juice cleared up my acne.” “And the acupressure insoles… after a while, they’re actually really comfortable. They relax my feet, and I don’t get tired when I play basketball.” Vivian and Serena stared, dumbfounded. Neither of them had expected Leo to defend my mother. Serena grabbed his shoulder, unwilling to give up. “Then why was she yelling at you just now?” I immediately cut in. “Mom thinks Leo is too thin, so she wanted him to eat more meat.” “She cooked this whole table of food herself.” Leo’s eyes flickered at my words. Robert’s face softened, overtaken by guilt. “Vivian, I’m sorry. I misjudged you.” Vivian, finally catching up, burst into tears and threw herself into Robert’s arms, sobbing. Serena tried to interject again. I proactively grabbed Robert’s and Leo’s hands. “Dad, it’s rare for you to be home for dinner. Let’s all eat together! I’ll peel shrimp for you and Leo!” I turned to Serena. “Aunt Serena, we don’t have a seat for you at the family table. Maybe you should eat at home tonight.” Serena gritted her teeth but was left with no choice but to retreat in humiliation. For the first time, our family of four sat down for a happy, peaceful dinner. After that day, Vivian kept up the act, determined to make Leo miserable by feeding him like a pig. Unexpectedly, Leo stopped complaining. His perpetually cold expression even started to soften. Sometimes, he’d pretend to casually drop a bag of chips or a candy bar for me after school. I breathed a sigh of relief. It felt like things were turning around. But Vivian wasn’t satisfied. “That brat has too much patience! I need a new way to make him truly suffer!” Fortunately, I had learned how to easily manipulate her. “Leo’s personality means he must hate being forced to study, Mom.” “If you start forcing him to read and do homework every day, he’ll be so furious he’ll run away from home for good!” Vivian’s eyes lit up. “If he runs away and never comes back, it’s his fault! He chose to abandon the inheritance! I can’t be blamed!” She rubbed her hands together and that very day returned with three boxes of test prep books. Leo was locked in the study right after dinner and wasn’t allowed out until after midnight. As predicted, on the first night, Leo stormed out, slamming the door. Serena’s secret maid, who was clearly spying, pressed her ear to the door. This routine went on for a while. Then, one evening, Serena dragged Robert back to the house. “Vivian verbally abuses Leo every day! I’ve heard her calling him an idiot, a deadbeat, a lazy fool—all the most degrading things!” “We hear crying from the study, and sometimes the sound of a belt hitting something! Vivian is definitely abusing him in secret!” The spy maid immediately backed her up, swearing she’d seen Leo run out crying, saying my mother was a monster who tortured him. Robert was livid. He kicked the study door open. But the scene inside stunned everyone. 4 My mother was sitting on the floor, head in her hands, sobbing. “I’m such an idiot! I don’t understand this simple English grammar! Even Stella is laughing at how stupid I am!” “I don’t care, you have to teach this idiot—me!—or my own daughter will look down on me.” Leo was fighting a smile, currently trying to bargain with her. “I’ll teach you, but you have to let me skip two of those practice tests today.” Vivian argued back. “No way! Your teacher said if you just do two more tests, you might get the number one spot in your grade!” “If you can’t get first place, you’re embarrassing your father!” As she finished, I hit her lightly with a toy belt. “Bad Mommy! Leo is already Third in his grade! That’s super good! Mommy can’t call him names!” Vivian shrieked dramatically. “Stella! You are asking for it!” Leo pulled me behind him, and the three of us dissolved into a tangled pile of play-fighting. Serena’s jaw went slack. Robert just stared. “What in the world are you doing?” Serena demanded. I took a moment to explain. “Mom wants Leo to be number one in his class, so she and I are supervising his study.” “But Mom is super dumb and can’t even do one problem, so she has to beg Leo to teach her! Shame on her!” Serena looked defeated. She grabbed Leo and frantically lifted his shirt, checking for any marks. Satisfied he wasn’t physically harmed, she glared at him. “Is this woman emotionally manipulating you? If she’s bullying you, you have to tell us!” She looked at Leo, desperate for him to turn the tide. Leo simply smiled. “Vivian isn’t bullying me. She even went to my parent-teacher conference for Dad.” “No one has ever cared about my schoolwork like this. I actually think it’s pretty good.” Leo’s words wiped the anger from Robert’s face. He embraced my mother. “Thank you, Vivian. You’ve done something I never managed to do.” The tension evaporated, replaced by unexpected warmth. Vivian grinned foolishly, giving me a secret thumbs-up, thanking me silently. The truth was, the more time Vivian spent playing this role, the more she actually softened toward Leo. And Leo, getting the family attention he’d missed for years, had genuinely bonded with us. I watched Serena storm off, and my anxiety finally eased. This life, I thought, we wouldn’t be thrown into the ocean. I could finally relax and be a rich kid. But the peace didn’t last two days… I came home from kindergarten to see two fire trucks parked outside the mansion. The familiar, terrifying sight made my heart seize up. It was the fire. Again. Shaking uncontrollably, I begged the chauffeur to rush me to the hospital. Inside the hospital room, Robert was predictably screaming at my mother. “How could you hate him so much? If anything happens to Leo, I swear, you will pay with your life!” Serena stood nearby, the familiar venomous look in her eyes. “Why did the security cameras break down today? You planned this! You wanted to burn Leo alive and steal the fortune!” My mother was sobbing, devastated. “I don’t know how it started! I’m the one who called 911! I swear, it wasn’t me…” Serena slapped her across the face. “You’ve been abusing him for months! The laxative incident proves you’re a monster! I haven’t forgotten your evil deeds!” I watched my mother crumple, unable to defend herself. My heart clenched. Then, Serena suddenly shrieked. “Leo’s awake!” She rushed to his bedside, whispered something into his ear, and then urged him loudly, “Tell us! Was it Vivian who set the fire?” Robert encouraged him. “Don’t be afraid to tell the truth, son. I’m here. No one will hurt you.” He shot a furious look at Vivian, who instantly paled. I saw Leo hesitating, the same gloomy, conflicted look he had in my past life. Sweat beaded on my palms. I prayed desperately. Please, not again. I can’t go back to the ocean. I can’t be fed to the sharks! The memory of our gruesome, agonizing death made my body stiffen, unable to breathe. In the agonizing silence, Leo slowly raised his finger and pointed directly at my mother.

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