Author: Momo Chan

1 My cat had been missing for ten years. Wait, no. My ten-year-old cat had been missing for a week, and I had barely slept a wink since. Right as my mind was teetering on the edge of a total breakdown, a video popped up on my feed. What should you do when a cat attacks you? The girl in the video was sobbing, giant crocodile tears rolling down her cheeks as she claimed a cat had viciously scratched her. She held up her wrist to the camera. The “wound” was nothing more than a faint, barely visible red line. But when the camera flipped, my heart completely stopped. The girl filming the video was Bella, my boyfriend Rowan’s ex-girlfriend. And curled up in the background, trapped in a rusty wire cage, was my missing cat, Peanut. His normally vibrant gray fur was dull and matted. He was so severely emaciated that his spine protruded sharply against his skin. He just lay there on the cold floor, his eyes vacant and lifeless. “Some people say that when a cat attacks a human, it needs to be put down. Honestly, I think they might be right.” Bella sniffled perfectly for the camera. “Don’t get me wrong, guys, I’m not going to abuse it. After all, cats have nine lives, right?” She kept crying to her audience, but I couldn’t listen to another word. My hands shook violently as I dialed Rowan’s number. He paused for a second when he picked up, his tone completely indifferent. “Didn’t you always say that having Peanut around instantly cures your anxiety? Bella has been super depressed lately. I just brought the cat over to her place to cheer her up. Don’t be so petty about it.” Listening to his calm, rational voice, a hollow laugh escaped my throat. So in his eyes, my childhood pet was nothing more than a disposable anti-depressant for his ex-girlfriend. If that was the case, I was completely done with this man. I drove like a maniac to Bella’s apartment complex. Her front door was unlocked. I burst inside, only to hear her voice echoing from the kitchen. She was still live-streaming. “You guys are totally right in the chat. Filthy strays like this need to be sanitized, otherwise they bring diseases into the house.” Bella picked up her phone, walking toward the stove. “The water is already boiling. I’m going to go give him a nice hot bath.” I charged into the kitchen. A massive stainless steel pot of water was boiling violently on the burner. Peanut was locked inside a cramped, rusted metal cage on the floor. He was curled into a tight ball in the corner. When he saw me, he opened his mouth, but he was so weak that no sound came out. He was a senior cat, and his health had always been fragile. After a week of being tortured in Bella’s apartment, he was clinging to life by a thread. Bella grabbed the heavy pot of boiling water and tilted it directly toward Peanut’s cage. My heart flatlined. A bloodcurdling scream ripped from my lungs. “No!” Bella jumped, acting as if my sudden appearance had terrified her. Her hands conveniently slipped. Instead of hitting the cage, the entire pot of boiling water splashed directly toward me. In a split second of pure adrenaline, I twisted my body and scrambled backward, but it wasn’t enough. A wave of scalding water soaked the back of my dress and my thigh. I could instantly feel my skin blistering and swelling beneath the wet fabric. Half of my body erupted in a searing, agonizing fire. Bella gasped, pressing a hand to her chest in exaggerated horror. “Oh my god, Ivy! What are you doing here?” I ignored the blinding pain, dropping to my knees and ripping the cage door open. I scooped Peanut into my arms, holding him tightly against my chest. When I felt his weight, my stomach dropped. He felt like a skeleton. He had lost almost half his body weight. His fur was sticky and clumped together. His bright, expressive eyes were sealed shut with thick crust and discharge. He managed to crack one eye open just enough to look at me, the tip of his tail giving a weak, barely noticeable twitch. The room started spinning. Black spots danced in my vision. My mother had given this cat to me right before she died. On her deathbed, she had held my hand, gently stroking Peanut’s tiny head. “Ivy, when I’m gone, Peanut is going to be here to keep you company.” For the last ten years, this little cat was the one who sat with me through every single lonely, grief-stricken night. He saw me through high school, college, and my first real relationship. I always thought he would live long enough to see me get married. I thought he would meet my future children. But now, he was staring at me with the hazy, exhausted look of a creature that was about to cross the rainbow bridge. The dam broke. Hot tears streamed down my face. I held him tight, ready to sprint to the nearest emergency vet. But Bella suddenly stepped sideways, blocking the kitchen doorway. “Ivy, you can’t just take him.” She pointed to her phone, which was still broadcasting. “I’m on a live stream! Thousands of people saw him scratch me. They are waiting to see how I discipline him!” I clutched Peanut tighter to my chest. “If you touch a single hair on his body again, I will kill you.” Bella reached out to grab my arm. Just as I was about to shove her away, the front door clicked open. Rowan walked in. He stood in the entryway, his brows pulling together in heavy annoyance when he saw me. “Ivy? How did you even find this place?” In the blink of an eye, Bella burst into hysterical tears and threw herself against Rowan’s chest. “Rowan, I told you she was petty! She wouldn’t even let me borrow her cat for a few days.” She pointed a trembling finger at me. “Look at her! She broke into my house to steal the cat back, and she just tried to hit me!” Rowan instinctively wrapped his arms around her, gently rubbing her back to soothe her. “Shh, it’s okay. I’m here.” He turned his cold gaze toward me. “Ivy, it is just a cat. Are you seriously acting like this?” I stood there, trembling from the agonizing burns on my skin and the dying weight in my arms. “Rowan, do you have any idea how long this cat has been in my life? He is dying!” His frown deepened into absolute disgust. “Ivy, your animal attacked Bella. Instead of checking on the actual human being who got hurt, you are throwing a fit over a pet.” He shook his head slowly. “When did you become so completely heartless?” I stared at the man I had loved for three years. I didn’t have a single word left to say to him. I pushed past them, holding Peanut securely, and ran out the door. Once I was on the street, I pulled out my phone and searched for the nearest animal hospital. I sprinted for twenty agonizing minutes, the burns on my legs stinging with every step. When I finally burst through the glass doors of the clinic, I rushed straight to the front desk. But the receptionist immediately held up her hand to stop me. “Miss, I’m sorry, but our entire veterinary team is currently occupied conducting a medical assessment for Ms. Bella’s injuries.” She glanced at my dying cat. “Mr. Rowan left instructions. He said you need to wait in the lobby. Once the doctors are free, they will take a look at the animal.” I looked up at the glowing sign above the reception desk. Whitmore Veterinary Care. Rowan’s family owned this clinic. The next closest emergency vet was at least twenty miles away in heavy traffic. Peanut wouldn’t survive the drive. A desperate sob ripped from my throat. “This is an animal hospital! Why the hell are your veterinarians doing a medical assessment on a human being?” I begged her. “Please, just get a doctor to look at Peanut. He’s not going to make it.” The receptionist looked incredibly uncomfortable. “But Ms. Bella’s situation is also an emergency.” I followed her line of sight. Through the glass wall of examination room one, I saw Bella sitting on a sterile table. A group of vet techs hovered around her, taking high-resolution photos of that tiny, pathetic red scratch on her wrist. A senior veterinarian was crouching next to her, speaking in a soothing, overly gentle voice. “Don’t worry, Ms. Bella, we are documenting everything for your records. If this leaves a scar, we can write a formal medical certificate for you.” My vision went completely red. I couldn’t take it anymore. I bolted straight toward the trauma bay with Peanut in my arms. Rowan stepped out of nowhere, blocking the double doors with his broad shoulders. “Ivy, stop making a scene. This is a medical facility. We have protocols.” At that moment, an ER vet stepped out of the trauma bay. He took one look at Peanut’s condition, and all the color drained from his face. “Code red, get this cat in here right now.” I lunged forward like a drowning woman reaching for a life raft. But Rowan stuck his arm out, blocking the doctor. He looked down at me with absolute authority. “You want us to save your cat? Fine. But you need to record a video first.” He shoved his phone into my face. The screen showed the comment section of Bella’s viral video. The internet was violently divided. Some people were accusing her of animal abuse, while others called her a victim. A few people had already started doxxing her personal information. Rowan pointed at the vicious comments, his voice dropping into a dangerous, commanding tone. “You are going to record a public clarification. You will look into the camera and say that you voluntarily lent the cat to Bella.” He paused, staring into my eyes. “You will say that Bella followed all of your feeding instructions, and that she absolutely did not abuse it.” I stared at him, my mind completely blanking out from the sheer audacity of his words. “Rowan… I spent an entire week tearing the city apart looking for him.” My voice was a shredded whisper. “I printed hundreds of flyers. I begged security guards to check surveillance tapes. I haven’t slept in seven days. And you want me to tell the internet that I happily lent him to her?” Rowan sighed, completely exasperated. “Ivy, can you stop being so unbelievably stubborn? I gave her the cat on your behalf. Is there really a difference?” In my arms, Peanut let out a tiny, rattling gasp. His fragile body twitched violently against my chest. That tiny, desperate movement felt like a spike driven straight through my heart, instantly deflating all my rage and replacing it with pure terror. I looked down at him. He didn’t even have the strength to open his eyes anymore. Bella walked over, dabbing her perfectly dry eyes with a tissue. “It’s okay, Rowan. If Ivy doesn’t want to clear my name, she doesn’t have to.” She sniffled. “I only got attacked by a vicious animal. It’s not a big deal.” She glanced down at Peanut, a flicker of genuine malice flashing in her eyes before she hid it behind her tears. “He really is so aggressive, though. Just looking at him makes me shake.” She started crying even louder, making sure the entire lobby could hear her. Rowan immediately lost his temper. He glared down at me. “Ivy. Get on your knees. Apologize to Bella on behalf of your vicious animal.” I stared at him. “You want me to kneel?” My voice cracked. “She tortured him for a week! She is the reason he is dying!” Rowan’s expression was made of stone. “Don’t make wild accusations without evidence. If you want your cat saved, you fix Bella’s reputation first.” My tears finally broke free, silently tracking down my face. We were surrounded. The receptionists, the vet techs, the doctors, the paying customers in the waiting room. Every single pair of eyes was glued to me. I had no other choice. I slowly bent my knees, the agonizing burn on my thigh screaming in protest, and knelt on the cold tile floor right in front of Bella. A momentary flash of pure, intoxicating triumph crossed Bella’s face. But she quickly slapped her hands over her mouth, acting horrified. “Oh my god, Ivy, what are you doing?” I raised my phone, flipping the camera to face my tear-streaked face. My hands shook so badly I could barely hold it steady. “I… I completely misunderstood Bella.” My voice was dead. Hollow. “I asked Rowan to bring Peanut over to keep her company. She did not abuse my cat. Peanut scratched her, and I take full responsibility for my animal’s behavior.” With every single syllable I choked out, I could feel my dignity being ground into dust under their shoes. I could hear the hushed whispers of the customers around me. “Oh wow, I guess everyone really did misunderstand the streamer.” “If the owner is literally kneeling to apologize, that cat must have severe behavioral issues.” I tuned it all out. I looked up, locking eyes with Rowan. “Can they save him now?” Rowan looked away, avoiding my gaze, and gave the ER doctor a curt nod. Peanut was finally rushed through the double doors into the trauma bay. The moment the doors swung shut, I stayed kneeling on the floor, my palms slick with cold sweat. Bella stepped closer, bending down to pretend to help me up. She leaned in, her lips brushing against my ear. Her voice was a venomous, triumphant whisper meant only for me. “You treat this cat like he’s your actual child, Ivy.” She laughed softly. “Your dead mother’s precious little gift. And now, the only way he gets to live is if you beg on your knees like a dog for me.” She patted my shoulder. “You look so pathetic. I just wanted to see if watching your cat suffer would hurt worse than what I felt when Rowan dumped me.” My entire body went rigid. My nails dug into my palms so hard they drew blood. I wanted to rip her face off. But the red lights above the trauma bay were still on. Peanut was still on that operating table. I couldn’t fight back. I had to swallow every single ounce of hatred, choking it down into the deepest pit of my stomach. I watched in silence as Bella and Rowan walked out of the clinic arm in arm, looking like the absolute picture of a loving couple. I waited outside those doors for three agonizing hours. Finally, the doctor stepped out. His face was incredibly grim. “Miss Ivy, Peanut suffered extreme psychological trauma. He was entirely deprived of food and water for seven days.” The doctor paused, his voice dropping. “But the worst part is the blunt force trauma. He was severely beaten. One of his legs and several of his ribs are completely shattered.” “His vitals are crashing. We have him stabilized on life support in the ICU, but he cannot leave the incubator or the monitoring equipment.” My throat locked up. I couldn’t form a single word. I just sat on the plastic chair outside the ICU, staring through the glass at Peanut’s tiny, broken body as his chest barely rose and fell. As long as he was breathing. That was all I needed to keep going. Late that night, Rowan and Bella returned to the clinic. “Wow, I guess the saying is true. Cats really do have nine lives. It’s so hard to kill them!” Bella practically skipped toward me, her voice dripping with fake cheer. She was holding a brand new, expensive ragdoll kitten in her arms. And strapped around that new kitten’s neck… was a faded, hand-woven collar. The moment I saw it, a deafening ring exploded in my ears. That was Peanut’s collar. My mother had woven that collar by hand the day before she died. I shot up from the chair and walked straight toward her. “Give me the collar back. That belonged to my mother.” Bella looked at me, a cruel smirk playing on her lips. Right in front of my face, she unclipped the collar from her new kitten and tossed it casually into the biohazard trash can. “It’s just a dirty piece of string, Ivy. Why are you getting so hysterical?” She rolled her eyes. “If your mom is watching from heaven, I’m sure she’d want you to be a little more generous, don’t you think?” I lunged forward, dropping to my knees to dig through the bloody gauze and medical waste in the trash bin to find it. Bella suddenly shrieked at the top of her lungs, throwing herself backward against the wall. “Ah! Ivy, stop, please don’t hit me!” Rowan instantly sprinted over, shoving me hard away from the trash can and standing protectively in front of Bella. “Ivy, what is wrong with you?” I knelt on the floor, clutching the soiled, filthy collar in my trembling hands. “She threw away the last thing my mother gave me.” Rowan’s face darkened with anger. “That doesn’t give you the right to act like a complete psychopath in public.” Bella started sobbing again, burying her face in Rowan’s chest. “Rowan, I swear I wasn’t trying to provoke her. I was just trying to give the collar back.” She sniffled. “But she’s just like that feral cat. The second she gets emotional, she attacks people.” I whipped my head up. “You liar!” Bella pulled out her phone. She pressed play. It was the video of me kneeling in the lobby, taking the blame. Her tears flowed faster. “Ivy, you literally admitted everything on camera this morning. And now you’re attacking me again.” She looked at me with wide, innocent eyes. “Is it because I didn’t forgive you fast enough? Is that why you hate me?” Rowan glared at me, his eyes filled with absolute contempt. “Ivy, that is enough!” He pointed a finger at me. “Your cat is going to require thousands of dollars in medical care. Stop causing drama and making things worse for yourself.” I looked through the glass at Peanut, his tiny chest barely moving. I wanted to scream in Rowan’s face. I wanted to tear Bella limb from limb. But I couldn’t. Peanut was still in Rowan’s hospital. He was reliant on their oxygen and their IV drips to survive the night. I closed my eyes. My voice was a hollow, broken rasp. “I’m sorry.” Rowan let out a heavy sigh of relief. “If you had just acted like a rational adult from the start, we wouldn’t be dealing with this mess.” I didn’t answer him. I just wanted to go back to the window. I just wanted to watch my cat. As long as he survived. I could endure any humiliation in the world. I didn’t sleep a single second that night. I sat on the cold floor of the hallway, clutching my mother’s soiled collar to my chest. I don’t know what time it was when the shrill, deafening scream of a medical alarm shattered the silence. I shot up from the floor and sprinted toward the ICU. When I pushed the heavy doors open, my blood froze in my veins. Bella was standing inside the sterile room. The door to Peanut’s incubator was wide open. The oxygen and the heating elements had been manually turned off. Peanut was curled into a stiff ball in the corner of the plastic box, his body completely still. Bella was leaning over the incubator, staring down at my dying cat, her voice a soft, venomous whisper. “Your owner loves you so much.” She smiled. “If you actually die, do you think she’ll go completely crazy? Honestly, I hope she does. Rowan absolutely hates crazy women.” I stood paralyzed in the doorway. Bella glanced over her shoulder. When she saw me standing there, actual panic flashed across her face for a fraction of a second. But a moment later, she unleashed a piercing, terrified scream. “Ivy, what are you doing!” She backed away from the incubator, holding her hands up defensively. “I just wanted to check on him, why did you have to scare me like that?” I shoved her out of the way, practically climbing onto the table to reach into the incubator. “Peanut. Peanut, look at me. Please.” His eyelids fluttered open, just a fraction of an inch. He opened his mouth, trying to give me one last meow. But he couldn’t. His tail just gave one final, almost imperceptible twitch against the sterile padding. My entire body began to violently shake. The night shift doctors and nurses flooded into the room, pushing me aside to start CPR. Rowan sprinted through the doors a second later. Bella immediately threw herself into his arms, sobbing uncontrollably. “Rowan, I just wanted to see if the cat was doing better, but Ivy just charged in here like a maniac!” She buried her face in his neck. “She shoved me so hard, I got scared and accidentally bumped into the machine’s power cord.” I whipped around, staring at her with murder in my eyes. “Bella, how long are you going to keep lying?” Bella wailed louder. “I know you hate me, Ivy!” She pointed at me. “But you already posted the video admitting you were wrong. You can’t just blame me every time something goes wrong with this sick cat!” Rowan looked at me, his eyes filled with profound disappointment. “Ivy, why do you have to be like this every single time?” He pulled Bella closer to him. “You have already bullied her to the point of a mental breakdown.” I stared at the man I had given three years of my life to. He was a complete joke. “She tortured him. And she just snuck into the ICU and turned off his life support.” My voice was dead calm. “And you still take her side?” Rowan frowned, clearly losing his patience. “Stop making insane allegations without proof.” He sighed. “Even if Bella bumped the machine, it was an accident because she was terrified of you. Are you going to force her to kill herself before you’re finally satisfied?” Inside the trauma bay, the frantic shouting of the medical team suddenly stopped. My heart skipped a beat. The lead ER vet walked out, slowly pulling down his surgical mask. “Miss Ivy. I am so sorry. Peanut… his heart stopped.” I stood perfectly still. It felt like he was speaking a foreign language. I had already knelt. I had apologized. I took the blame for everything she did to him. I swallowed every single ounce of my pride just to keep him breathing. Why didn’t he make it? I took a slow, heavy step into the room. Peanut was lying so quietly on the metal table. He didn’t have to be afraid anymore. He didn’t have to feel pain anymore. I reached out with a trembling hand and gently stroked his frail, bony spine. My voice was so quiet it was barely a whisper. “Peanut… mommy was too late.” By the door, Bella was still putting on her performance. “Ivy, please don’t be like this. I swear it was an accident.” She sniffled. “He was already so old. You can’t put all the blame on me, it’s just his time to go.” I slowly lifted my head and looked at the two of them. A smile crept onto my face. I laughed. I laughed as the tears poured out of my eyes, falling onto the cold metal table. “Alright. Rowan. Bella.” My voice was a razor blade. “From this exact moment, I have no weaknesses left to exploit.” “I am going to make the two of you experience every single ounce of despair my cat felt in his final days.”

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1 When Tony appointed Alyson as his personal assistant, I knew my marriage was over. This husband of mine was the culmination of my third serious relationship. And my first two? Both had ended because of the exact same woman: my half-sister. Faced with my fury, Tony had once looked me in the eye and said, “Your father just made the kind of mistake any man could make. Why do you have to cling to the past and refuse to forgive him?” So, I turned around and introduced a gorgeous, young mistress to my father-in-law. She promptly gave him a healthy, bouncing baby boy. When Tony screamed at me in hysterics over the threat to his inheritance, I gave him a cold smile. “Your father just made the kind of mistake any man could make. Why do you have to cling to the past and refuse to forgive him?” … Tony was half-kneeling on the hardwood floor while Alyson was perched on our velvet sofa. He was gently sliding a heel onto her foot. They looked up and shared a soft, intimate smile, looking far more like a long-married couple than Tony and I ever did. The moment I walked in, Tony scrambled up as if he had been electrocuted. “Vivian,” he stammered, offering a quick explanation. “I ran into Alyson nearby. Her heel snapped, and since you two wear the same shoe size, I thought I would lend her a pair of yours.” I set the cake box on the console table without looking up. “You do not need to explain yourself to me when you bring people into this house,” I said, my voice ice-cold. “But let us get one thing straight. My mother only had one daughter. I took her maiden name, Sinclair. I am not a Pendleton.” Tony’s expression hardened. “Don’t be so childish, Vivian. You have been fighting with your father for years. We have all been patient and let it slide, but it is time for our families to make peace.” I turned to face him. “Make peace? With whom? That woman and her daughter? Or the cheating bastard who calls himself my father?” Alyson’s eyes welled with tears on cue. “Vivian, I know you hate me. But I could not choose how I was born. It is not my fault. Why do you always treat me like this?” Tony stepped in front of her. “What does this have to do with Alyson? She is completely innocent.” Innocent. That was the exact same innocent act she had used to steal my last two boyfriends. “It has been years,” Tony pressured. “Let it go. Don’t be so bitter.” My past heartbreaks had taught me one valuable lesson: do not waste energy on pointless arguments. I looked at the man I had shared the last three years of my life with. “If you want me to forgive and forget, then you had better prepare for a divorce.” Tony froze, completely blindsided by my decisiveness. Irritation flared across his face. Alyson scrambled to her feet, grabbing her designer bag from the sofa. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. This is all my fault. Vivian does not want to see me, so I will just leave. Please do not fight because of me.” Tears spilled down her cheeks, making her look incredibly fragile. “Vivian, we are family. No matter how long it takes, we will wait for you to heal and come home.” I felt nothing but pure disgust. Ignoring my icy glare, Tony walked her out. I could hear him reassuring her at the door, promising he would talk some sense into me. When he came back inside, his face was dark. “No wonder you do not get along with your family,” he spat, his words cutting like glass. “With a rotten attitude like yours, you get exactly what you deserve. No wonder your exes dumped you.” I stared at him, unable to believe my ears. “What did you just say?” “You heard me,” Tony sneered. “If I had known you were this cold-hearted, I never would have married you. Always crying about your toxic family, when in reality, you bring all this misery on yourself. You deserve to suffer.” My blood ran cold. When Tony was pursuing me, I had been completely honest with him about my past and why my previous relationships had failed. I had opened up my heart and told him the one thing I could never forgive: my father’s infidelity and the mistress who had driven my mother to suicide. Back then, he had held me tight and sworn, “Vivian, I will never betray you. I will never let you experience that pain again.” Exhausted by my past, I had let his warmth melt my defenses. We fell in love and married. He was even the one who had shielded me with his own body when my father threw a heavy paperweight at me during a family dispute. The scar on his back was proof of his protection. He knew exactly what that house represented to me. He knew the wounds beneath the surface had never truly healed. Yet, for the sake of his assistant, he was using my deepest trauma to tear me apart. The people you love always know exactly where to strike to hurt you the most. Seeing how pale I had turned, Tony’s lips trembled. He took a step back, trying to soften his tone. “I’m sorry, Vivian. I just want you and Alyson’s family to get along so you can finally feel the warmth of a normal home. I got frustrated and spoke without thinking. I did not mean it.” My heart went completely numb. “Right,” I muttered, turning away to unpack the table. Seeing no further reaction from me, Tony assumed the storm had passed. He figured a quick apology was enough and did not care whether I actually forgave him. He believed that since we had been married for years, I would eventually get over it on my own. Satisfied with his own logic, he quietly retreated to the bedroom. I listened to his retreating footsteps, then slowly opened the cake box. If Tony had cared even a little, he would have realized this was a birthday cake. If he cared, he would have remembered today was my birthday. But he forgot. Just like he forgot the vows he had made to me. Instead, he had brought Alyson into our home. I lit the single candle, watched the flame flicker, and blew it out. “Happy birthday, Vivian.” I knew then that I had to leave. I refused to drown in a marriage that was doomed to fail, begging a man to love me. The next morning, I was preparing breakfast. The moment I set the food down, Tony sat at the table and grabbed it. “Babe, that smells amazing,” he said, taking a massive bite of the breakfast wrap I had prepared. “How did you know I wanted this today? I’ll take this with me and eat it on the way.” I have always been amazed by how easily men can hurt a woman and then act as if absolutely nothing happened, expecting her to move on immediately. “I did not make that for you,” I said calmly. Tony paused, then laughed. “Don’t be petty, babe. I have already packed it.” “That was my lunch. It has nothing to do with you.” His eyes drifted to the trash can, where the empty cake box sat. He pulled out his phone, checked the calendar, and realized what day it was. A look of guilt crossed his face, quickly replaced by a placating smile. “I’m so sorry, babe. Yesterday was crazy. I will make it up to you tonight. Thanks for the breakfast. I’ll cherish every bite.” With that, he grabbed his coat and hurried out. I grit my teeth. It was an open kitchen; he could easily see I had only made one serving. I ended up buying a quick pastry near the office. As I walked into the lobby, I saw Tony’s assistant, Ross, walking toward the elevators with a very familiar woman. “Ross?” I called out. Ross turned around. “Mrs. Harrison? Is something wrong?” Alyson turned as well, a triumphant smirk playing on her lips. “I am starting my new job today. Tony personally arranged it for me.” Ross, entirely oblivious to the tension, smiled. “Yes, Mr. Harrison specifically asked me to place Miss Pendleton in the executive assistant pool. Since you two have different last names, I had no idea you were sisters! You are both so beautiful.” I let out a cold laugh. “Of course you did not know. She is the bastard daughter my blind father had with his mistress.” Ross’s smile froze instantly, the friendly words dying in his throat. He looked between the two of us, suddenly realizing he had walked into a minefield. Alyson’s eyes welled with tears again. “Vivian, why do you say such horrible things? Our parents are married now. It is a legitimate marriage! I have never done anything to hurt you. Why do you keep bringing up the past? I know you want to keep me down. I have given in to you at every turn, and now I just wanted an internship. Why can’t you even let me have this?” Her loud, trembling voice began to draw looks from the surrounding employees. She reached into her bag and pulled out a neatly wrapped breakfast wrap: the exact one Tony had taken from my kitchen. “Here, take this. It is homemade and clean. I saw you buying food from a street cart down there.” I almost laughed out loud. My husband had taken the breakfast I made and handed it straight to her. “Whether you have done anything to hurt me is something only you know,” I said, locking eyes with her. “But you can skip the HR onboarding. This company will not be hiring you.” Alyson’s face flushed with anger. “I am here because Tony brought me in. You cannot just fire me on a whim.” “Why can’t I?” I stepped closer. “I am the co-owner here. I have shares, and I have status. Why shouldn’t I?” “Because I said so!” Tony’s sharp voice cut through the lobby. He strode over and pulled Alyson behind his back. “Vivian, you have disappointed me,” Tony said, his voice dripping with disdain. “You are completely unrecognizable. Abusing your power just because you are throwing a tantrum? Are you really this petty?” My disappointment ran far deeper than his. “Tony, I told you before. It is her or me. If she stays, I leave. Are you still keeping her as your assistant?” Tony did not even look back at me as he shielded Alyson. “Then pack your bags and resign.” His words hit me like a physical blow. “Fine.” Ross stood there awkwardly, wishing he could disappear into the floorboards. I turned on my heel, walked up to my office, and sat in front of my computer. Within minutes, I drafted my resignation letter. After submitting it to HR, I packed my things and handed over my projects to my deputy, Victoria. “We have worked together for years, so you know how to handle everything,” I told her. “If anything comes up, just call me.” Victoria, an older woman who had seen it all, sighed heavily. “Men are all the same, Vivian. They only behave when they are six feet under. If you hadn’t pulled all those late nights with him, his father would have never handed over the reins so early.” “I am not wasting my best years on a toxic man,” I replied. Back at the villa, I began packing my belongings. Halfway through, my phone buzzed with a message from Tony. Babe, long day at work. Let me take you out to a nice dinner. I replied with two words: Not happening. A flurry of messages immediately followed. Come on, babe. Are you still mad? I didn’t mean to forget your birthday. Give me a chance to make it up to you. I really want to make things right. He was acting as if we were still a happy couple, completely ignoring the ultimatum he had given me that morning. But since I had already made my decision, I decided to go. I wanted to discuss the division of our assets and get him to sign the divorce papers. But when I opened the door to the private dining room, my stomach dropped. Sitting at the table was my father, my stepmother, and Alyson. Tony immediately stood up from his seat next to Alyson. “Surprise! I know you only have me, so I wanted to use this opportunity to build a bridge and help you guys reconcile. Alyson wanted to keep it a secret to surprise you.” My birthday was officially ruined. “Vivian, we have been waiting for you,” Evelyn, my stepmother, said with a sweet smile as she stood up. “I always knew there was no grudge a family couldn’t overcome. Look, Richard, she came!” She reached out to hold my hand, acting as if we were a loving mother and daughter. My father sat in his chair, scoffing quietly, waiting for me to bow my head and apologize. I pulled my hand back. “Don’t touch me. You make my skin crawl.” Evelyn’s smile froze. Tony’s face darkened instantly. “Vivian! How dare you speak to your mother like that?” “Mother? Whose mother? Yours? Didn’t your mother die in a car crash years ago? Where did you dig up a new one?” Tony choked on his rage. “Vivian, I am trying to help you fix your family. Don’t be an ungrateful brat!” Alyson fake-intervened, placing a hand on Tony’s arm. “It’s Vivian’s birthday, don’t upset her.” She then turned to me, her voice dripping with artificial sweet sympathy. “Vivian, you ran away after college and never came back. Dad has been worried sick all these years, he’s just not good at showing it. Just apologize, and we can be a happy family again.” I remembered how they had moved into my home immediately after my mother’s suicide, making my life a living hell. If my mother hadn’t left me a small trust fund, I wouldn’t have even been able to afford college. My father’s harsh voice broke the silence. “Alyson, don’t bother. I have never begged anyone in my life.” Tony’s eyes locked onto mine, his voice dropping to an urgent whisper. “Apologize to your father right now.”

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1 On her twenty-eighth birthday, my older sister, Serena, signed her name on an organ donor registry. A month later, she was killed in a tragic car crash. My parents, unable to survive the crushing weight of their grief, followed her to the grave soon after. Five years later, Chicago’s wealthiest heirs, the Montgomery siblings, held their joint wedding on the exact same day. At one end of the crimson carpet, Finn and I stood in absolute silence, waiting as the Montgomery siblings slowly walked toward us from the other end. Finn and I locked eyes for a brief second, our gazes cold as shards of ice. Do not let them off the hook. … Today was the day the Montgomery heiress, Brenda, was marrying Finn. It was also the day her brother, Jack, was marrying me. As the siblings walked down the aisle arm-in-arm, the red rose petals scattered beneath their feet looked disturbingly like the blood pooled at my sister’s crash site five years ago. When the crowd cheered, prompting us to seal our vows with a kiss, the giant projector screens behind us suddenly crackled with static. The next second, the screens were flooded with graphic, sickening footage of Jack tangled naked with another woman, surrounded by an array of grotesque torture instruments. The images were so depraved and violent that they made the stomach churn. “Shut it off! Shut it off now!” Jack’s frantic roars clashed with the moans echoing from the speakers. The technical staff scrambled at the control panel, sweat pouring down their faces. “We can’t shut it down! We can’t locate the broadcast source!” “Pull the plug! Pull the damn power cord!” Brenda pulled me into her arms, trying to shield my tear-streaked face while glaring at her brother with absolute fury. I quietly peered over her shoulder at Finn, the man who had once been deeply in love with my sister. The dark, lethal vengeance in his eyes was identical to the look he wore five years ago in the cold room of the morgue. Finn and I had spent five agonizing years clawing our way into the inner circle of the Montgomery family, all for this very moment. My sister’s fatal accident was no accident. It was a calculated murder. She had to die so that two people could live: Brenda and Jack. We were here to make them pay. Brenda was a hopelessly romantic socialite, easily blinded and manipulated by Finn’s charm. Jack, however, was a different story. He was a notoriously wild, arrogant playboy. I held zero physical appeal for him. But I didn’t try to seduce him. Instead, I worked diligently as his father’s personal secretary for three years, remaining quiet, efficient, and entirely unbothered by office politics. I earned Charles Montgomery’s absolute trust, and he hand-picked me to be his future daughter-in-law. Jack had destroyed his own body through years of reckless debauchery. Even after receiving my sister’s kidney, he refused to slow down. Within six months, the organ began to fail, leaving him completely impotent. To satisfy his twisted, fragile ego, he resorted to torturing women in a secret basement chamber at Hillside Manor. “You ungrateful bastard!” Charles Montgomery gasped, his hand trembling so violently that his heart medication spilled onto the floor. The aging billionaire’s eyes rolled back, and he collapsed, unconscious, onto the stage. The grand ballroom erupted into total chaos. The wedding of the century had become the joke of the nation. Outside the emergency room, Brenda screamed at her brother. “You didn’t just give Father a stroke! You ruined my wedding!” Jack leaned against the wall, casually dragging on a cigarette. “If the old man kicks the bucket, how do you think we are splitting the inheritance?” Brenda slapped him hard across the face. “He is in surgery, and you are already wishing him dead! Do you have any conscience left?” “Cut the act,” Jack sneered, stepping into her space. “Like you aren’t counting the days until his will is read? I know exactly who you are. I am the only son in this family. You are just a daughter who is going to take her share and leave.” The siblings began clawing at each other right there in the hospital corridor. Finn and I stood in the shadows, watching them tear each other apart. Not enough. This is nowhere near enough. Charles’s surgery was a success, and he managed to cling to life. The moment he regained consciousness, he asked to see me alone. “Mary, my son is an absolute fool, but you must stay strong,” he rasped, reaching for my hand. “I will find out who leaked those videos. Men make mistakes, and with our family’s wealth, women will always throw themselves at him. I know you are sensible. At a time like this, you must stand by his side. No matter what those trashy girls do, your position as the lady of the Montgomery house is secure.” I wiped a tear from my eye and nodded slowly. “I understand, Father.” Charles moved quickly. He immediately ordered his chief assistant, Jude West, to handle the crisis. By that evening, the corporate legal team released a statement claiming the wedding footage was a malicious, AI-generated deepfake. They poured millions into shifting the public narrative, burying the scandal. It was the usual billionaire playbook. If they could cover up my sister’s murder as a simple traffic accident, manipulating the media was child’s play. With his father out of danger, Jack relaxed. To keep me quiet, he began trailing after me like a stray dog. “I won’t lie to you, I have certain tastes,” he said, offering a shameless grin. “But I care about you, Mary. I would never dream of putting you through that. That is why I find other women to blow off steam. Those cheap girls are nothing compared to you. You are my wife, chosen by my father.” The fact that he could say something so depraved with a smile made my skin crawl. “I have always looked the other way regarding your lifestyle,” I replied, keeping my voice flat. “But I have one demand: we maintain our public image as a devoted couple.” His constant absence suited me perfectly. It meant he would never touch me. Jack nodded eagerly, clearly relieved. “Of course, of course. I’ll do whatever you want. But the will, Mary! The will is everything right now.” He leaned closer, trying to look endearing. “My father trusts you more than anyone. Can you dig around and see what he’s planning?” His sudden affection, as expected, came with a price tag. “If I were you,” I murmured, “I would focus on playing nice with your sister. She is your blood, after all. When your father passes, she might be the one deciding your place in the company.” Jack’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean by that? Is he giving the company to Brenda?” Instead of answering, I walked toward the door and picked up Brenda’s Siamese cat. “Your sister asked me to take her cat to the groomer before we head to the hospital to see your father. Do you want to come?” Before I could finish, Jack snatched the cat from my arms. His face contorted with pure rage as he threw the animal violently onto the hardwood floor and stomped on it with his heavy boot. “Who does she think she is?” he screamed, his face red. “Our father isn’t even dead yet, and she’s already acting like the master of this estate! Sending you on errands like a servant is a direct slap to my face! I am going to show her exactly who she is dealing with!” The poor animal was dead within seconds, its body crushed. Still unsatisfied, Jack picked up the bloody corpse, stormed into Brenda’s bedroom, and threw it directly onto her silk bedsheets. I watched from the doorway, a cold smile touching my lips. Keep fighting. Destroy each other. When Brenda returned home and saw the bloody mess on her bed, she screamed and fainted from the shock. If Finn hadn’t been there to administer emergency medical aid, her weak heart might have given out right then. But we couldn’t let her die so easily. Not yet. The heart beating inside her chest belonged to my sister. Charles Montgomery was a monster, and his children were his karma. One had a failing heart; the other had ruined kidneys. My sister had only wanted to help others after her death, but her kindness had been twisted into a death sentence by this greedy family. I urged Finn to take Brenda to the hospital, but he refused. “She is just in shock. We picked up her medication today. She just needs to rest.” He pulled a bottle from his bag, unscrewed the cap, and fed her the pills. Finn had been a talented surgeon before he abandoned his career to join the Montgomery Group. Since Brenda adored him, she trusted his medical advice blindly. Even the arrogant Jack showed up later, uncharacteristically bowing his head and offering a quiet apology to his sister. But knowing Jack, I knew he was merely biding his time to strike back. My suspicions were confirmed three nights later. Jack woke me up in the dead of night, his face twisted with manic excitement. “Mary, you won’t believe what I found,” he whispered, gripping my shoulder. “I went to swap Brenda’s heart medication to get rid of her, but I caught Finn doing it first!” My heart stopped. I forced myself to stay calm. “Don’t be ridiculous. They are married. Why would he do that?” “I am telling you the truth!” Jack insisted. “I saw him with my own eyes. He swapped her actual pills with harmless vitamins. The bastard is trying to kill her slowly so he can inherit her share of the estate! And she thinks he is her prince charming. If I tell her the truth, the shock alone will kill her.” Suddenly, a wave of intense nausea hit me. I pushed him away, stumbling to the bathroom as my stomach violently turned. “Disgusting! You got it all over me!” Jack grumbled, wiping his shirt. Then, his eyes widened as a sudden realization hit him. He grabbed my wrist. “Are you pregnant?” Without waiting for the morning, he dragged me out of the house and forced me into his car, speeding toward the private clinic. As we pulled out of the driveway, I glanced at the rearview mirror. High up on the villa’s balcony, Finn stood half-hidden behind the curtains, watching our car disappear into the dark. The test results came back positive. I was three months pregnant. Jack completely forgot about Finn’s betrayal. He was ecstatic, convinced this child would secure his place as the sole heir in his father’s will. He immediately called Brenda and Finn to the hospital, wanting to gloat in front of them. When Charles heard the news, he wept tears of joy and immediately instructed Jude to bring his estate lawyer to the clinic. Jude gently placed a pillow behind my lower back before slipping out to make the call. I had personally trained Jude. He was meticulous, loyal, and incredibly sharp. After I began dating Jack, I had stepped down from my role as Charles’s secretary and handed the position to Jude, moving myself to run one of the Montgomery family’s charitable foundations. “Congratulations, sister-in-law,” Brenda said, her voice dripping with venom. The jealousy on her face was impossible to hide. A new baby meant a massive portion of the estate would be carved out of her share. “Thank you, Brenda,” I replied with a warm, innocent smile. “I hope you and Finn will have good news to share soon, too.” I met Finn’s gaze. His eyes held a mixture of shock, confusion, and a quiet, lingering tenderness. “We will,” Finn said, nodding at me with a soft, hidden smile. Later that afternoon, Finn cornered me in the secluded greenhouse behind the clinic. “The baby…” he breathed, his hands trembling. “Yes,” I confessed without hesitation. “It’s yours.” On the anniversary of Serena’s death three months ago, we had both drowned our sorrows in alcohol, letting our shared grief consume us. Afterward, Finn had been riddled with guilt, swearing to take responsibility for me once our vengeance was complete. “But I don’t plan on keeping it,” I added, my voice turning to ice.

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1 I was having a drink and chatting with some friends when Robert walked in. I had been planning to propose to him once the party wrapped up. My fingers nervously brushed against the small velvet box containing our matching bands in my pocket, my heart fluttering with anticipation. But then, Robert walked through the door with a meticulously styled woman on his arm. She wore a royal blue silk dress, looking elegant and poised. Robert’s eyes softened as he looked down at her, a tender smile playing on his lips—a look he had never once given me. “Nora,” Robert said, his tone casual but his eyes locking onto mine with a sharp, warning glare, as if terrified I would make a scene. “Say hello to your future sister-in-law.” I froze, the words trapping themselves in my throat. Nate quickly stepped in to break the sudden silence. “Robert, keeping secrets from us? You didn’t tell us you had a girlfriend.” Robert let out a soft laugh. “She just returned from her studies abroad yesterday. I wanted to bring her to meet everyone right away.” He gently caressed her hand, acting as if she were the most precious thing in the world. Another friend chimed in. “Ah, this must be Molly, your first love. I still remember on Nora’s birthday years ago, when Molly left for her residency, you got so drunk we had to carry you home. You finally got your girl back. Congratulations!” My birthday. How ironic. I stood there, my mind going completely blank as a dull, throbbing ache started behind my eyes. I was a complete and utter fool. Robert and I had grown up as next-door neighbors. Our families had been close for generations. He was older than me, my childhood protector, and I had loved him for as long as I could remember. I loved his wild, carefree laughter; I loved watching him play basketball in the summer heat; I loved how, despite his forgetfulness, he always remembered to bring back my favorite pastries on his way home. I had convinced myself that he must feel the same way. So, on my eighteenth birthday, I gathered my courage and confessed my feelings. His response was a cold, polite rejection. “Nora, I only see you as a sister. It isn’t like that.” But I was young and stubborn. I believed that if I stayed by his side, he would eventually see me. Since he didn’t date anyone else over the next few years, I held onto that hope. After my confession, he continued to treat me just as he always had. On my twentieth birthday, we both drank a little too much. Robert took me to a nearby boutique hotel. He gently wiped my face and hands with a warm towel and fed me water. Looking up at him, I lost my head and kissed him. He froze, a dark, unreadable emotion crossing his face, before he leaned down and kissed me back with a fierce, almost desperate intensity. When I woke up the next morning to our clothes scattered across the floor, my initial panic quickly melted into a quiet, tentative happiness. After that night, it became a habit. He would visit my apartment every few days. In the dark, we would lose ourselves in each other. During those intense, quiet hours, he would murmur sweet, breathless words, kissing my neck and telling me he loved me. I thought my dream had finally come true. But he never officially asked me to be his girlfriend. When I finally gathered the courage to ask him about us, he remained silent for a long moment before murmuring, “Nora, we are doing all of this. Do I really need to spell it out?” I took his silence as a secret understanding. I foolishly believed we would eventually marry. Now, looking at the man I had loved for a decade, I realized I had never truly known him. It felt as though a bucket of freezing water had been poured over my head. Robert stared at me, his voice dropping slightly. “Nora, I asked you to greet your sister-in-law.” He was forcing me to bow my head, to accept the sisterly role he had assigned to me. Molly looked at me properly for the first time, her eyes scanning me with a cold, analytical gaze. I forced a tight, mocking smile and nodded at her. “I have to go.” Ignoring the protests of my friends, I grabbed my bag and bolted toward the exit, desperate to escape the suffocating room. Robert caught up to me in the lobby, grabbing my arm. I stared down at his hand on my skin with such cold disgust that he slowly let go. “Nora, this is Molly’s first time meeting the group,” Robert said, his tone defensive. “You can’t just humiliate her like that. Come back inside and apologize.” I let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “Apologize? For what? Where do you get the nerve to ask me that, Robert?” A flash of guilt crossed his eyes, but his voice remained firm. “I’m sorry about the past, Nora. But we were never actually dating. We are both consenting adults; do we really need to get dramatic about it?” “My mistake for not understanding your version of adult boundaries,” I said, my voice turning to ice. “It was my own fault for being blind. But do me a favor and stay away from me.” I took a step forward, then paused and looked back at him. “And don’t worry. I won’t tell your precious girlfriend about what we did in the dark. I have no interest in fighting over garbage.” Robert’s eyes darkened with anger. “Nora, even if I have a partner, I will still take care of you like a little sister. Stop throwing a tantrum.” I looked at his handsome face, the sharp jawline, the dark eyes that I had adored for ten years. He looked exactly the same, yet he was a complete stranger. I wiped a stray tear from my cheek. “You don’t deserve to.” I walked out of the hotel and pulled the velvet box from my bag, throwing the matching bands into the decorative fountain without a second thought. Even though I knew he was rotten to the core, the realization still tore a hole in my chest. I drove down to the coastline, needing to clear my head. I sat on a wooden bench, watching the dark waves crash against the shore as the tears finally spilled over. Suddenly, a crack of thunder rattled the sky, and a torrential downpour began. I didn’t move. The rain was perfect; it hid my tears and my humiliation. Then, the rain stopped hitting my head. I looked up and saw a large black umbrella. Standing beside me was a tall, imposing man in a tailored charcoal suit, his sharp, aristocratic face looking down at me with quiet concern. I scrambled to my feet. “Dominic? What are you doing here?” Dominic Lu was Robert’s older half-brother, born to their father’s late first wife. After his mother passed, their father had married Robert’s mother. Over the years, Dominic had been sent abroad to manage the company’s European market. Everyone in our social circle whispered that their father favored Robert’s mother, meaning Robert would inherit the family empire while Dominic was effectively exiled. Dominic had always been a serious, highly disciplined, and intimidating figure. When Robert and I were kids causing trouble, one look from Dominic would make us freeze and behave. Yet, he had never been cruel to us; he used to bring us rare chocolates and toys from his travels. Dominic looked down at me, his deep voice incredibly gentle. “Why are you crying, Nora? Did Robert do something to you?” I felt a sudden wave of embarrassment. “No, Dominic. I’m just having a bad day.” He didn’t pry. “Let me take you home.” Dominic had always been a man of few words, so his quiet concern felt incredibly grounding. I followed him to his car. “When did you get back?” I asked as he started the engine. “Are you staying long?” “I arrived yesterday,” he replied, keeping his eyes on the road. “I have to leave in a few days.” “So soon?” Dominic glanced at me, a faint, rare smile touching his lips. “Why? Do you want me to stay?” His voice was incredibly low and rich, and the sudden shift in his tone caught me off guard. “Of course,” I stammered, trying to keep it casual. “Robert and I always wish you could stay longer.” Dominic’s smile faded, and he turned his attention back to the road. The atmosphere in the car suddenly felt a few degrees colder. He dropped me off at my family’s villa. I crawled into bed after a hot shower and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. Over the next two months, I kept to myself. At first, I had no energy for anything, but slowly, the pain began to fade. I found myself thinking of Robert less and less. Most women in our circle were married off in arranged matches by their mid-twenties, but my parents had always wanted me to marry for love. They never pressured me, always telling me that their little princess deserved the absolute best. Seeing my quiet melancholy, my mother eventually approached me one afternoon. “Nora, a friend of mine has a wonderful son she wants to introduce to you,” she said gently. “Would you be open to meeting him? Just as friends.” I knew my parents had seen the social media posts of Robert high-profile displays of affection for Molly. Robert was showing the world what it looked like when he actually loved someone. “I’d love to, Mom,” I replied. My mother looked surprised by my quick agreement. “You don’t have to force yourself, sweetheart.” “I want to go,” I said, and I meant it. The next evening, I drove to a high-end restaurant called The Hourglass. But when I was shown to the private table, I froze. Sitting across from me was Dominic. “Dominic?” I stammered, my hands freezing on my purse. “What are you doing here? I thought you went back to Europe.” Dominic’s dark eyes softened as he smiled. “I decided I didn’t want to leave. Are you disappointed it’s me?” “No! No, of course not,” I said quickly, sitting down. “I’m just incredibly surprised.” Dominic leaned forward slightly, his expression turning serious. “Dominic Lu. Master’s from Yale, twenty-eight, no vice or bad habits. I have a successful firm abroad, and I’ve officially returned to take over the Lu Group. Do I meet the standards to court you, Miss Nora?” I stared at him, my heart skipping a beat. I was shocked that he was taking over the family business, but even more shocked by his proposal. “Dominic… did you know the blind date was with me?” “Of course,” he said, his eyes shining with a quiet warmth. “Nora, can we try dating?” Dominic had always been an untouchable figure in my eyes, someone far out of my league. But looking at his sharp, elegant features and the intense sincerity in his eyes, I found myself nodding. I figured that if I had to marry eventually, marrying Dominic wouldn’t be a bad deal at all. Sensing my lingering gaze on him, Dominic let out a soft chuckle. “Are you satisfied with what you see, Nora?” His teasing tone was a far cry from the polite distance he used to keep. My face flushed, and I quickly looked away. “You didn’t use to talk to me like this.” “You’ll have to get used to it,” he murmured. After dinner, we walked along the river. Dominic stopped and gently tucked a stray lock of hair behind my ear. My heart hammered against my ribs, and I instinctively flinched away from the unfamiliar intimacy. Dominic’s hand paused in the air before slowly dropping to his side. “Nora, I am your boyfriend now,” he said, a trace of vulnerability in his voice. “Don’t push me away.” “I’m sorry,” I said softly, feeling a pang of guilt. “I’m just not used to this yet.” Dominic let out a quiet laugh. “Then we will take it slow, my girlfriend.” He reached out and gently slid his fingers between mine, locking our hands together. His palm was warm and dry, and the scent of his woodsy cologne wrapped around me, making me feel incredibly safe. For the next two months, we spent almost all our free time together. We took long walks, tried new restaurants, and on weekends, I would read or paint in his study while he worked. Despite our different worlds, we fell into a comfortable, effortless rhythm. Dominic spoiled me completely, respecting my boundaries while anticipating my every need. I had never felt so cherished. One afternoon, we were walking through a sunlit park. The golden light caught the sharp angles of his face, and I realized with a sudden jolt that I was falling for him. My phone rang, breaking the quiet moment. It was Nate. “Nora, where are you? Robert’s birthday party started an hour ago.” Before I could reply, the phone was snatched on the other end, and Robert’s voice came through the speaker. “Nora, are you really not coming to my birthday?” My good mood vanished instantly. “Your birthday has nothing to do with me,” I said, my voice cold. “Stop calling me.” I hung up. At the KTV lounge, Robert stared at his phone in disbelief. He had assumed I was just playing hard to get over the last few weeks. He was used to me throwing tantrums whenever another woman got too close, but I always came back. Molly leaned against his shoulder, feeding him a strawberry. “Is Nora really that important to you, Robert?” Robert kissed her cheek. “Of course not. She is just a sister. You are the only one who matters.” But as the night wore on and the party ended, I never showed up. For the first time, a cold wave of panic washed over him. He began calling my phone repeatedly. Exhausted by the constant buzzing, I finally picked up. “What do you want, Robert?” “Nora, I’m drunk,” he mumbled, his voice slurred. “Can you come pick me up?” “Do you not speak English?” I snapped. “Call your girlfriend. If you call me again, I am blocking your number.” I hung up and let out a long sigh. Dominic raised an eyebrow. “Is everything alright?” “I’m fine,” I said, trying to shake off the irritation. Dominic stopped walking and turned to me. “Nora, you don’t have to tell me anything if you aren’t ready. But I want you to know that I am always here for you. Always.” His quiet strength instantly soothed my frayed nerves. But my phone began to buzz again—this time with messages from our mutual friends, clearly sent at Robert’s behest. I knew this wouldn’t stop until I drew a hard line. I looked up at Dominic. “Can you come with me to settle this once and for all?” Dominic smiled, his eyes softening. “Of course. A boyfriend is always at your service.” We drove to the private KTV lounge where the party was being held. When I pushed open the heavy door, Robert was sitting in the center of the room. The moment he saw me walk in, a smug, relieved look crossed his face. He assumed his plan had worked. But then, Dominic walked in behind me, and Robert’s smile froze. Robert had always been intimidated by his older brother. Dominic’s recent takeover of the Lu Group had left the company board completely loyal to him, stripping Robert of any real power. The rest of our friends quickly stood up to greet Dominic with quiet respect. Dominic gave them a brief, polite nod and stepped back, letting me take the lead. Robert looked at me, a trace of hurt in his eyes. “Nora, why are you only getting here now?” “Robert, I am saying this for the last time,” I said, my voice steady and clear. “Do not ever contact me again.” Robert’s irritation flared. “Nora, stop throwing a tantrum. I’ve already given you an out. What more do you want?” I looked at him with pity. “I have a boyfriend now, Robert.” I reached back and took Dominic’s hand. Dominic stepped forward, his eyes locking onto Robert with an icy glare. “Robert,” Dominic said, his deep voice carrying a dangerous edge. “From now on, I don’t want to see you harassing your future sister-in-law again.”

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1 I’m the entertainment industry’s resident villainess. Three steps, a slap. Five steps, a punch. After cooperating with David for the N-th time, the moment he saw me, his face subconsciously tilted toward my hand. I was utterly horrified. The internet was equally horrified. Wait, is this normal? How did a few projects train him into this? He’s practically a puppy! God, me next! Step on me, big sister! I had a reputation in the industry that everyone knew. The Go-To Bad Woman. I’d played the homewrecker running through a rainstorm for “love”, the tyrannical duchess who slapped ten maids in a single scene, the toxic wife who ruined her parents, her husband, and herself, alongside a countless array of other wicked characters. Initially, my agent barely paid attention to me. It was only after I played so many villainesses that I went viral for being delightfully wicked, with my clips spreading like wildfire, that he finally realized I existed. My agent spent days pulling his hair out, staring at scripts without knowing which way to steer my career. Nurturing my talent had suddenly become an incredibly difficult puzzle. “How did you even land those past roles?” he asked. “I just went to open casting calls,” I replied honestly. He looked suspicious. “Open casting calls?” He asked me to show him how I did it. Since I hadn’t gone to drama school and lacked professional guidance, I had survived in the industry purely on my face and sheer luck. He still couldn’t comprehend how I actually booked the jobs. “Which one do you want to see, boss?” I asked meekly. He pondered for a moment. “Show me that tyrannical duchess.” I closed my eyes. When I opened them again, the atmosphere shifted. “You worthless tramp!” My agent flinched, his shoulders tensing. “I saw you lurking around the parlor earlier,” I sneered, my voice dripping with icy venom. “What’s the matter? Looking for my husband?” I snapped out of it instantly, returning to my quiet, timid self. “Boss, I’m done.” My agent wiped a bead of cold sweat from his forehead. “Right… great. Well, just take a look at the scripts we can get our hands on and choose whatever you like.” 2 I was getting restless. A person couldn’t play the villain forever. The past was the past, but now, if I had a choice, I wanted to play a good person. I couldn’t wait to pick a 1920s Prohibition-era period drama, selecting the only character who was supposed to be a pure, innocent white lily. During the audition, the director didn’t look particularly pleased. “Gemma, try it one more time.” I was sweating bullets. I tried my absolute best to perform according to my understanding of the character, reading lines with another actress who was playing the antagonist. The director observed us closely. After a moment, he suddenly spoke up. “How about this? The two of you swap scripts and do it again.” The other actress and I silently exchanged glances, then handed over our pages. Her character had roughly the same amount of screen time as mine. When we ran the scene again, a pure white lily and a fiercely calculating dark lotus came alive in the room. The director’s eyes lit up, and he slammed his hand on the desk, standing up. “Now that is what I’m talking about!” I had walked into the room carrying a lily, but I walked out holding nightshade. The other actress let out a long sigh of relief, quietly falling into step beside me as we left. “You’re Gemma, right?” she asked curiously. I nodded. She scratched her head, looking a little embarrassed. “Your acting was incredible. You were so deliciously wicked that it made my skin crawl. For a second, I thought we actually had some deep, ancient vendetta. You’re honestly born for these roles.” I remained silent, weeping in my heart over my tragic fate. 3 The new project was officially announced. The comments section was in absolute chaos. There were fans supporting their favorite leads, people just watching the drama unfold, and then there were comments about me. Gemma is playing the villainess again. We’re used to it at this point. Honestly, it’s kind of hot. Look at that promotional poster. The way she looks down at us like we’re dirt… it’s amazing! I quietly closed the comments. My phone buzzed. It was a message from David. Looking forward to working together again. I let out a miserable sigh. To be honest, if I were David, I would run the other way the moment I saw my face. I had worked with David at least five or six times now. In every different project, I played the exact same brand of wicked. In every different project, he was always the exact same brand of saint. The ultimate golden boy of television. Devoted, gentle, and constantly getting slapped by me. Our scenes together consisted almost entirely of me slapping him, kicking him, or screaming at him. When I played the mistress, he was my devoted pursuer, getting kicked, beaten, and used. When I played the duchess, he was my sweet cousin, whom I manipulated until he was stripped of his title and exiled. And this time… Oh, no. It was the seductive stepmother. 4 It was incredibly awkward. In our last project, we were a detective and a criminal. This time, I had to sit on his lap and slap him. The moment the director yelled “Cut!”, I scrambled off David’s lap as fast as my legs could carry me. “I’m so sorry, David!” David’s left cheek was flushed bright red. I was frantic, fussing over him with a bottle of water and an ice pack. “Did I hit you too hard?” David shook his head. The scene was intense, and we had agreed beforehand to make the slap real to get the best take, so I had put a bit too much force into it. The director was thrilled, but I was terrified of getting dragged by his fans. What if his fans outside the set saw this? I looked around guiltily, spotting a few young girls staring in our direction with glowing eyes. I silently shifted my body to block David’s reddened cheek, looking up at the sky and whistling casually. “Gemma,” David called out suddenly. He wanted to discuss the slap we just did. “You can actually go a bit harder next time. It’d look more natural if my head snapped back more. It’ll make the scene pop.” I was dumbfounded. Was he serious? Did he really have to be this dedicated to the craft? David’s expression was completely earnest. He was incredibly handsome, and with his flushed cheek and dark eyes, there was something undeniably destabilizing about the sight. I silently opened my contacts and edited his nickname. I added a few words. David (The Ultimate Workaholic) David spent the entire afternoon either getting beaten or screamed at by me. He usually played noble, heroic characters, but this time he had chosen a rare, morally grey role. Our characters were partners in crime who also constantly double crossed each other. My character, naturally, was the more ruthless of the two. I could already visualize the grand premiere. It was going to be a beautiful symphony of internet outrage. My feelings toward David were complex, a mix of mutual respect and a tiny bit of jealousy. He had played so many virtuous heroes that all the fan edits of him on social media were set to romantic music, whereas mine were always compilations of me committing fictional crimes. When we wrapped for the day, David walked ahead while I lagged behind. The fans waiting outside the studio gates stood up in a massive wave. I ducked my head, chanting a silent prayer. You can’t see me, you can’t see me… “Gemma! Big sister!” I looked up. A few girls were waving at me, jumping up and down. They looked familiar, they were the same girls from earlier. They cupped their hands around their mouths like megaphones. “You’re so beautiful!” “Your acting is incredible!” “We’ll always support you, Gemma!” I froze in my tracks. They were my fans. I actually had fans waiting to see me after work. Taking advantage of the crew’s distraction, I ran over happily to squeeze their hands and say hello. They clearly hadn’t expected me to actually approach them, and their faces were filled with shock. Before my agent dragged me away, I caught one of them whispering about how good I smelled. As I climbed into the car, they yelled in unison. “Gemma, you smell like heaven!” My face flushed a deep pink. 5 Work consumed my entire life. Having projects to shoot meant keeping food on the table. Discussing the script with David was always incredibly comfortable. He would teach me how to immerse myself in the emotions, helping me elevate my performance to a new level. He really was a trained theater actor. Do you have any thoughts on this scene? he texted. I thought about the stepmother character, letting my mind wander into the darker psychological elements of the role. I was thinking about her complex emotions, specifically her toxic, almost possessive hold over her stepson. David agreed. Yes, her childhood trauma makes her crave control over everything within her reach. The stepson was slowly being led astray by his stepmother. A naive young man stepping into a beautifully disguised trap, realizing too late that they would both sink into ruin together. This kind of taboo dynamic was always a bit controversial, but David had his own perspective. Don’t worry, the script is tight, the pacing is fast, and the characters are complex. She isn’t just evil for the sake of being evil. She wasn’t just evil. I was only now reaching a level in my career where I could actually land these layered, complex roles. In the beginning, I only booked one dimensional, cartoonish villains. Three steps, a slap. Five steps, a punch. I’d have no real emotional connection to the main characters, I just existed to make their lives miserable because the writer felt like it. I often wondered what went through those writers’ heads. Even so, playing those roles had been oddly therapeutic. David had high hopes for this new project. He comforted me. I trust the audience will see the depth in your performance. I rubbed my nose. The audience would definitely see my hand connecting with his face first. I typed back cautiously. Are you absolutely sure those slaps don’t hurt? It took a while for David to reply. They’re fine. Maybe you can send me some soothing face masks? Then, David sent a voice message. I tapped it, and his soft, low chuckle filled the quiet room. “It’s fine. Your hands are sweet. It doesn’t hurt.” Smooth. Too smooth. Our chemistry on set grew more natural with each passing day. One afternoon, he casually asked, “We’ve worked together five or six times now, which means we’ve known each other for years. Since we’re such good friends, do you want to grab dinner after we wrap?” I scratched my head. Since when were we such good friends? A smart actress who maintained a healthy dose of caution in the industry knew better than to easily agree to private dinners with co-stars. “I don’t think—” David spoke in a calm, breezy tone. “I know a really fantastic, private bistro downtown.” “Actually, I really should—” “My treat. Private car, door-to-door service, and the food is legendary.” My mouth took a sharp detour. “What time are we leaving?” “Now.” I couldn’t help but wonder how David knew my exact weakness. I had no expensive hobbies, I just loved good food. 6 The project finally wrapped. I had finished playing another villainess, and I felt completely refreshed. There was something about tapping into that dark energy that left me feeling energized, as if years of pent-up frustrations had been safely released through the character. I recalled the early days of my career, when I dragged myself through countless failed pilots before finally catching a break with a minor villain role. It was a brilliantly wicked character, and I had poured my absolute soul into making her as terrible as possible. The audience hated her with a passion. Even though some reasonable viewers tried to separate the actress from the character, it didn’t stop a massive wave of online hate from crashing down on me. As a small-time actress with no backing, my comments section was quickly overrun. Countless people begged me to stop acting. But I couldn’t do that. I watched the chaos unfold, and immediately signed on for my next villain role. With the algorithm pushing my name, I had to strike while the iron was hot. Soon, directors realized they had a go-to actress for their worst female antagonists. If they could write it, I could play it. By the time I was twenty-six, I had played almost every variation of a bad woman on the studio lots. My performances were so memorable that the audience’s attitude slowly began to shift. Gemma is amazing, but why does that gorgeous face only play evil characters? Eventually, even casual viewers started defending me. The moment her face appears on screen, you know someone is getting slapped! She’s too pretty. I can’t even stay mad at her characters. Let’s count how many times she slaps someone in this episode. The audience had slowly leaned into the absurdity of it all. I lounged on my couch, reading a message from David. There’s a role in a new drama that would be perfect for you. I recommended you to the director, do you want to audition? I sat up straight, sniffing back a wave of emotion. David, how did you know I was running out of money? 7 David was practically my lucky charm. We were in entirely different leagues, as he was a permanent fixture in A-list leading roles. During our very first project together, I played an assassin disguised as a maid whose sole job was to choke David with a wire before he managed to overpower me. I had smiled weakly when I read the script. The entire main cast was on set that day, all of them established stars, while I was the only fresh face. I had taken a deep breath. “Mr. David, please forgive me in advance.” David had been incredibly gracious. “Don’t worry about it. Just do whatever feels comfortable for you.” Under the watchful eyes of the entire crew, I had performed the scene seamlessly. The director later described my physical acting as highly professional. We got it in one take, no resets needed. There was a popular young starlet named Phoebe whose acting was frequently criticized by viewers. She had quietly approached me in private to ask for advice. I had comforted her. “You think I’m doing well, but the truth is, I’m just stuck in this villain comfort zone. If you threw me into a heroic, sweet role, I’d probably look completely lost.” She gasped. “A comfort zone? A villainess comfort zone?” I nodded. “Exactly. You, on the other hand, are perfect for those beautiful, tragic characters who get written off quickly. A few minutes of screen time, and the audience will remember you forever.” Phoebe actually took my advice to heart. From then on, she became the go-to beautiful casualty in various dramas. She arrived quickly, and her characters died quickly. The audience’s complaints about her acting began to dwindle, replaced by discussions about her tragic characters. I felt quite proud of her. She was a quick learner. Phoebe was thrilled and we became close friends. She started sharing casting opportunities for villain roles with me, becoming my other lucky charm. We grew so close that she would regularly crash on my sofa to watch my dramas with me. “My god, Gemma, you are so evil.” She grabbed a handful of chips, pointing dramatically at the TV screen. “If I didn’t know you in real life, I’d be terrified of you.” I crossed my arms. “That is the power of a professional villainess.” She giggled, leaning over to nudge my shoulder. “Let me rephrase that. Sister, you smell amazing.” I immediately retreated three feet, rubbing the goosebumps on my arms and pulling out a prop wooden stake from under the cushion. “Who possessed you? Get away from me.” Phoebe rolled her eyes, waving her phone in front of my face. “You’re so boring. Look, your after-work video is going viral, and you haven’t even noticed. Where did you even get a wooden stake?” I tossed the stake aside and took her phone. It was indeed the video of me with my fans from the other day. The audio was a bit muffled, but one loud, enthusiastic shout of “Gemma, you smell like heaven!” echoed clearly through the speaker. My hand trembled. A viral video of me. “I actually have a viral video,” I murmured, feeling a rush of warmth. “That’s not the point. The point is how sweet you are in real life.” I quietly pretended not to hear her, but that night, after slipping under my covers, I secretly scrolled through the comments. The comments were flooded with people asking what perfume I used. To be honest, Gemma’s beauty often makes you forget how awful her characters are. She actually makes me want to protect her… I think I’m falling for her. She’s so cute in real life! One second she’s a ruthless villainess, and the next she’s speaking so softly to her fans. The duality is insane. Following her seems so rewarding… It seemed I was actually starting to gain some real traction. 8 My previous brush with viral fame had been a brief spark that went out quickly. This time, however, felt different. The warmth was steady and growing. David sent a message soon after. Congratulations. I quickly replied. It’s just a temporary trend. People are probably just curious and will move on soon. Not that I’m trying to curse myself, of course. I was just trying to be humble. David sent a voice note, his voice light with amusement. “I understand.” He didn’t understand. I was nervous out of my mind. Over the years, I had played so many unhinged characters and endured so much criticism, and I had learned to handle all of it with a thick skin. But suddenly being embraced by the public made me feel incredibly vulnerable, as if my private self was being exposed. I had only ever seen famous actors get mobbed by fans, recognized everywhere they went. I wondered what that felt like. Wait. The perfect source of information was right in front of me. I opened our chat and nudged David. David replied almost instantly. ? David, rumor has it you’re incredibly famous, I wrote. There was no response from his end. I grew impatient and nudged him again. David? Where did you go? You’re going to make me lose my mind, he finally replied. He had a decent sense of humor. If you suddenly got a massive wave of attention, how would you feel? I asked. Exactly how you’re feeling right now, he wrote. I tried to deflect. I’m not talking about myself. I’m asking for a friend. Tell your friend to get ready. The internet is about to dig up her entire past. I stared at the screen in silence. I had almost forgotten the golden rule of the entertainment industry: the moment you start getting popular, the internet begins digging up your history.

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My husband was on his way to the attorney’s office with his mistress to finalize our divorce when a car crash turned him into a vegetable. Now, in the sterile hospital room, his mistress was sobbing over his bed, playing the role of the devoted wife far better than I ever did. I scoffed under my breath. “Serves you right.” Shut up! I stared at my comatose husband in absolute shock. I could actually hear his inner thoughts. A chill crawled up my spine. Terrified, I instinctively shrank back, bumping right into the chest of the tall, broad-shouldered man standing behind me. 1 Through the thin fabric of his cotton shirt, I could feel the hard, defined lines of his abs. “Nice build,” I blurted out before I could stop myself. Rowan cleared his throat, taking a shy step back as a faint flush of pink crept up his pale neck. Rowan was a junior partner at a law firm. I had originally hired him to handle the asset division for my divorce, but after the accident, he had insisted on accompanying me to the hospital. We had only communicated through emails and phone calls before today. Seeing him in person, I realized he perfectly fit the modern ideal of a man, built like a predator but with the gentle, protective demeanor of a golden retriever. Right then, a furious roar echoed in my ears. Joanna! We are not divorced yet! The realization hit me again. I had somehow awakened a telepathic connection, but only with my brain-dead husband. Victor had always been so stingy with his words during our marriage, treating every conversation with me like a chore. Who knew turning into a vegetable would make him so damn noisy. I glanced at Scarlett, who was practically draped over Victor’s motionless body, and rolled my eyes. What a hypocrite. The doctor had explained that a blood clot was pressing against Victor’s neurological pathways, causing the coma. The good news was that he could wake up. The bad news was the timeline. It could be months, or it could be years. He told us to prepare for the worst. Before leaving the room, the doctor had cast a very knowing look at Scarlett. She was an actress. Back when she was a nobody, Victor’s company had spent a fortune to sign her as their brand ambassador. She had just recently snagged a Best Actress award at an indie film festival. The doctor had definitely recognized her. Seeing a famous actress weeping hysterically over another woman’s husband painted a very clear picture. Scarlett’s sobs hitched in her throat. Catching my stare, she glared at me with venomous eyes. “What are you looking at? If it weren’t for that crash, I’d be the legal Mrs. Blackwood right now.” She wasn’t wrong. Victor had planned to sign the divorce papers with me and immediately drive to city hall to marry Scarlett. Just a few days ago, Scarlett had posted a photo on her Instagram story hinting that her “happily ever after” was coming. The picture showed two hands intertwined, sporting matching diamond engagement bands. It was Victor’s hand. There was a tiny, faint mole on his index finger. It was small, but to me, it had been blindingly obvious. 2 Years ago, right out of college, Victor had big dreams for a tech startup but absolutely no capital. Some arrogant venture capitalists had invited him to a dinner party, expecting him to beg. Victor had walked out, claiming he didn’t need investors who required their egos stroked with expensive whiskey. His arrogance cost him dearly. Soon enough, his little company couldn’t even make payroll. Drunk and defeated, he had collapsed into my arms, asking why no one could see the genius of his business model. Why were there no real visionaries out there? I held him tight and told him they were coming. Not long after, an anonymous angel investor pumped millions into his startup in exchange for thirty percent of the equity. With that lifeline, Victor’s company skyrocketed. I stood by him for three grueling years. He hated corporate networking, so I became the one attending the galas, drinking executives under the table until I was numb. On those nights, he would hold me with red-rimmed eyes, swearing to the heavens that he would never betray me. Together, we turned a third-rate startup into a publicly traded empire. But as the money rolled in, the resentment grew. On countless late nights, he would whisper his frustrations into the dark. “Jo, every time I look at the company ledgers, I think about that thirty percent we gave away for just a few million. It makes me sick.” He always said it with a laugh, but the undertone of regret and blame was heavy enough to make me feel overwhelmingly guilty. So, after we got married, the moment he uttered the words “let me take care of you,” I handed in my resignation. I happily traded my tailored suits for the life of a full-time housewife. I wore my wedding band every single day. Victor, on the other hand, casually tossed his onto his nightstand, claiming it dug into his skin when he typed. That was the cause of our first real screaming match. We were standing under the massive crystal chandelier in our foyer. He was dressed in a bespoke Italian suit, looking every inch the refined billionaire. I was standing there in a stained apron with messy hair, looking like a hysterical maid. He had yanked at his silk tie with a look of pure disgust. “Joanna, let’s just cool off, okay? We’ll talk later.” The roar of his sports car engine echoed through the driveway. He didn’t come home for a week. Eventually, I was the one who caved. It wasn’t that the ring was uncomfortable. He just didn’t want to wear it for me. The ocean took my parents when I was young. I had told Victor time and time again that he was the only family I had left in this world. But his grand promise of forever barely lasted five years. He used to say that if he ever broke my heart, God could strike him down. I just didn’t expect karma to work so efficiently. 3 During the crash, Victor had thrown himself over Scarlett to shield her, taking the brunt of the impact. As soon as the doctor’s footsteps faded down the hall, Scarlett’s tears magically evaporated. She stood up so abruptly that the metal chair scraped violently against the linoleum floor. Trapped in the dark, Victor heard the noise and panicked. Joanna! What happened to Scarlett? Is she okay? Rowan, clearly sensing the toxic atmosphere, mumbled an excuse about checking some paperwork and slipped out of the room. Scarlett grabbed her designer bag and stormed out right after him. Now, it was just me and Victor. When I didn’t say a word, Victor’s internal voice grew frantic, losing any trace of decency. Joanna, I swear to God, if you dare touch a single hair on her head, I will make your life a living hell! “Really?” I pulled up a chair and sat down, staring at the empty space next to his bed. A sudden urge to mess with him bubbled up in my chest. “How exactly is a vegetable going to make my life hell?” I leaned in closer. “Victor, Scarlett just collapsed. She’s lying right here on the floor. But you know what? I don’t think I’m going to press the call button. I wonder how long it’ll take for her to wake up on her own.” His psychic roar nearly shattered my eardrums. You psychotic bitch! You knew she was pregnant, didn’t you? I never realized how utterly evil you were, Joanna. You’d actually kill an unborn child! So Scarlett was pregnant. No wonder he had risked his life to play the hero. Something warm and wet slid down my cheek. I honestly thought I was entirely numb to Victor by now, that his words couldn’t possibly carve any more pieces out of my heart. “Victor.” My voice was ice cold, cutting right through his panicked thoughts. “We had a child once, too. You were the one who killed her.” After the wedding, Victor lived at the office. I hated having maids or strangers in the house, so most days, I was completely alone in that massive, echoing mansion. I just wanted a baby to keep me company. Victor had hated the idea. He fed me a million excuses. He was too busy. He didn’t have time for a kid. We were still young and needed to enjoy our time together. Eventually, I wore him down. He agreed. But after months of trying, my tests kept coming back negative. I secretly went to a fertility clinic, convinced my body was broken. I drank vile herbal teas and took every supplement on the market. Nothing worked. Then, one afternoon, I found a prescription bottle hidden in his gym bag. That was how I learned Victor had been taking male contraceptives the entire time. He couldn’t win the argument with words, so he controlled my body in secret. The betrayal and his deliberate emotional distance pushed me into a deep depression. I threw the bottle at his chest, screaming, begging to know why. “Joanna, I grew up without a father. I know exactly how much that hurts. I refuse to bring a child into this world when I don’t have the time to actually be a dad.” It was a pathetic, disgusting lie. His father had died. Victor just loved his money more than his family. Three years of dating. Two years of marriage. I was exhausted. The Victor in my memories used to take the subway for an hour across town in the freezing snow just to bring me my favorite strawberry tart. He used to spend half his paycheck to buy me a coat just because I looked at it twice in a catalog. He used to say, “Whatever other girls have, my Jo gets double.” Back then, his eyes were full of nothing but pure, unadulterated love. Looking at the man standing in front of me now, I realized I was living with a stranger. I didn’t argue. I walked down to the cellar, pulled out his most expensive bottle of vintage Bordeaux, and poured myself a brimming glass. The wine was unbreathed. It tasted bitter and heavy with tannins. As I swallowed the last drop, I looked him dead in the eye. “I don’t want a baby anymore. And I don’t want you, either. I want a divorce.” 4 “Absolutely not.” Victor snatched the empty crystal glass from my hand and poured one for himself. Tasting of rich wine and desperation, he kissed me. That was the night our daughter was conceived. When I went into labor, he wasn’t there. I lay in the sterile hospital bed, calling his private number over and over. He kept sending me to voicemail. Right as my strength was completely giving out, he finally picked up. “Joanna, I am in the middle of a board meeting.” The line went dead. The delivery nurse held my phone, her face flushed with secondhand embarrassment as she tried to comfort me. The birth was brutal. Trembling through the agonizing pain, I signed my own surgical consent forms. Miraculously, my little girl survived. From the moment she was born, she became my entire universe. She was an absolute angel, always giggling, always reaching for me. Victor had no interest in her. He rarely looked at her, yet her very first word was “Dada.” Something about hearing that word seemed to awaken a tiny shred of humanity in him. For a few rare, fleeting days, he came home early. He would put her on his shoulders and run around the living room while she squealed with joy. Just a few days before her first birthday, I caught a nasty flu. Terrified of getting her sick, I checked myself into a clinic across town and left her in Victor’s care. I never imagined that would be the last time I saw her breathing. The coroner said a sudden, violent spike in fever took her in her sleep. I had cornered Victor in the hallway, gripping the lapels of his suit, screaming until my vocal cords tore. Where the hell was he when she was burning up? He offered absolutely no explanation. He just stood there like a statue, telling me to calm down, looking as detached as if the dead infant were a stranger on the evening news. It took me a long time to uncover the truth. That night, a thunderstorm had rolled through the city. Scarlett had called him, crying that she was scared of the lightning. And just like that, for a woman playing the victim, Victor abandoned his sick, one-year-old daughter. That was the second time I demanded a divorce. Again, he refused. “Victor, is there really any point to this marriage? Just let me go.” “Jo, did you forget? You were the one who taught me the golden rule. Only the person holding more than fifty percent of the shares gets the final say.” A suffocating, endless darkness swallowed me whole. The blood in my veins turned to ice. It was so, so cold. 5 When our company finally went public, Victor and I held an equal fifty percent of the founder’s shares. Over the years, we brought in other board members, diluting our combined stake to exactly sixty-four percent. I remembered smiling at him, shaking my head. “Only the person holding more than fifty percent has absolute authority, Mr. CEO.” Victor had pulled me into his arms, kissing the top of my head. “Jo, we’re getting married. What’s mine is yours.” He had insisted on transferring his shares to my name. Eventually, I compromised. I refused to take his equity, but I made him sign a legal contingency. If we ever divorced, I would take back what was rightfully mine. It was supposed to be a fail-safe, a punishment if he ever broke my heart. He had pinned me to the bed that night, swearing he would never give me the chance to use it. “So, you refuse to divorce me,” I whispered into the quiet hospital room, “not because you feel guilty about me, and not because you feel guilty about our dead daughter. You’re just terrified of losing your precious company.” Victor’s inner voice fell dead silent. He knew I had finally given up my claim on those shares just to buy my freedom. I just hadn’t anticipated he would be so utterly shameless as to schedule his wedding to Scarlett on the exact same day our divorce was supposed to be finalized. Hearing me mention our child, Victor’s aggressive thoughts completely deflated. When he finally spoke in my mind, his tone was pathetic and begging. Joanna, I know I failed you. I know I did. But this is the only child I have left. Please, just leave him alone. It was true. The emergency room doctor had mentioned that the steering column had crushed his pelvis during the crash. Victor was permanently sterile. They always say karma is a mirror. Why should a monster like him get to be a father anyway? His thoughts kept rambling, growing more desperate and frantic by the second. I leaned down until my lips were inches from his ear and let out a soft, mocking laugh. “Oh, Victor, what should I do? There’s so much blood on the floor. I think it’s coming from Scarlett.” Joanna, you will burn in hell for this! People like you deserve to rot in hell! “Maybe I will,” I whispered. “But your kid is already waiting for me down there. Victor, let’s just cool off, okay?” 6 Victor clearly wasn’t cooling off. The heart monitors hooked up to him started blaring a piercing alarm. A team of nurses and doctors sprinted into the room. They rushed around him with syringes and paddles. For a moment, I really thought he was going to die. But after stabilizing him, the lead doctor turned to me with wide eyes, explaining that the massive spike in blood pressure had somehow shifted the clot. He was going to wake up in a few days. What a resilient cockroach. Even before his eyes could open, his consciousness was fully awake, hurling mental obscenities at me. He screamed in his mind that marrying me was the biggest mistake of his miserable life. I almost laughed. I leaned over him one last time, keeping my voice sweet and low. “Do you really think Scarlett loves you? The second the doctor said you might be a vegetable for years, your little soulmate packed up her designer bags and bolted. She’s probably already swiping for her next sugar daddy.” Hearing that, Victor completely snapped. He started mentally screaming for a divorce immediately. In the past, I was the desperate one, giving up everything just to escape. Now, the tables had turned. I was setting the terms. “I want half of your shares.” Impossible. Don’t even dream about it. It’s my empire. “Then we stay married.” You… Ten percent. That’s my final offer. Don’t push your luck. If his eyes were open, I knew exactly what his face would look like. Jaw clenched, veins popping, utterly disgusted. “Half. It was always mine to begin with.” Fifteen. “Half.” Twenty. His mental voice was practically vibrating with rage, signaling he had reached his absolute limit. “Deal. Have your lawyer call mine the second they discharge you.” I didn’t waste another breath on him. I picked up my purse and walked out into the sunlight. I just didn’t expect him to move so fast. Barely two days later, his legal team reached out. Standing on the steps of the courthouse with my fresh divorce decree in hand, I glanced behind him. He was completely alone. Now that he was awake, the telepathic connection had vanished. I couldn’t hear a thing. “What, no double celebration today? Did Scarlett really find herself a new sponsor?” I was only mocking him, but Victor’s face instantly turned the color of bruised plums. He spat out something about me minding my own business and limped to his waiting town car. Turns out, my joke was a prophecy. Scarlett had indeed found a new billionaire backer. And surprisingly, it was someone I knew very well. 7 Following the reallocation of my new shares, the company called an emergency Board of Directors meeting. Victor arrogantly took the massive leather chair at the head of the mahogany table, assuming it belonged to the largest shareholder. The seat to his right was conspicuously empty. His executive assistant nervously announced that the mysterious angel investor, who still held thirty percent of the company, was finally making an appearance today. At the exact moment the clock struck the hour, the heavy oak doors swung open. A man and a woman walked in arm-in-arm. My jaw nearly dropped. Scarlett was clinging to Rowan’s bicep. She whispered something in his ear, and they both let out a soft laugh. “Scarlett!” Victor’s voice cracked like a whip, cutting her laughter short. She froze, staring at him in absolute terror. “V-Victor? You’re out of the hospital?” Her voice trembled violently. A bead of cold sweat rolled down her perfectly powdered temple. I watched her desperately try to yank her arm away from Rowan, but his grip was ironclad. Rowan leaned down, his lips brushing her ear, looking like the picture of an intimate lover. “Babe, you okay?” Victor looked absolutely murderous. His glare could have melted glass. The sheer absurdity of the love triangle was too much. I let out a sharp laugh, which earned me a vicious glare from my ex-husband. Victor stood up, violently grabbing Scarlett’s wrist and yanking her behind his back. He turned his venom on Rowan. “I don’t care who you are, you are trespassing. Get the hell out of my boardroom.” He picked up the intercom to call security. “Take a breath, Mr. Blackwood. I have every right to be at this meeting.” Rowan waved a hand dismissively. So Rowan was the phantom investor. While everyone else at the table was suffocating in Tom Ford suits, Rowan was wearing a crisp white t-shirt and vintage denim, looking like a harmless college frat boy. Victor slammed the phone down, barking at the guards to stand down. As he moved to sit back in the CEO’s chair, Rowan stepped right in his path. “Actually, Victor, your seat is over there.” Rowan offered a polite smile, pointing a long finger toward a chair near the middle of the table. With his other hand, he grabbed the back of the CEO’s chair and casually sat down in it. Leaning back, Rowan gestured to the secretary. “Alright, let’s get this show on the road.” I watched Victor’s face transition from red to purple, finally settling on a sickly, furious gray. He looked like a chameleon having a stroke. But with the entire board watching, he forced his rage down. “I currently hold thirty-four percent of this company. I believe that makes me the majority, Mr. Gallagher.” Victor smiled, though his eyes were completely dead. Rowan didn’t even look at him. Instead, he waved Scarlett over with a bright, charming smile. “Come here, babe. Why don’t you explain the math to your ex-boyfriend.” Rowan emphasized the word ex heavily. The entire room held its breath, eyes darting between the three of them. The secretary leaned down and whispered in my ear that this was better than reality TV. Scarlett looked like she was going to throw up. Trembling like a leaf, she stuttered out a confession. She had gifted half of her personal five percent equity to Rowan. “That makes thirty-five percent.” Rowan grinned, mimicking Victor’s soulless smile perfectly. “Looks like I beat you by one percent. My apologies.” Victor stared at Scarlett, the color draining completely from his face. Scarlett grabbed her stomach, rolled her eyes to the back of her head, and dramatically fainted onto the carpet. Honestly, the Best Actress award must have been bought by Victor. That was a terrible performance. The board meeting was effectively adjourned, but the executives left the room fighting back smiles. Victor was the only one who looked like he was attending a funeral. Once the room cleared, I pulled out my phone and opened a chat window. Great acting today. Proceed to phase two. Almost instantly, a sticker of a golden retriever wagging its tail popped up on my screen. 8 According to the secretary’s frantic gossip, Scarlett’s ambulance had been intercepted by paparazzi on the way to the ER. Desperate to protect her image, Victor had forced his driver to lose the tabloid cars on the freeway, driving recklessly for hours. The stress nearly caused Scarlett to miscarry. Victor had thrown an absolute tantrum. He even hired some thugs to jump the lead photographer in an alley. Desperate to legitimize his relationship and the child, he was planning an exclusive magazine interview to announce their engagement. I couldn’t let him control the narrative. I had to pass the torch on my own terms. I drafted a beautifully devastating post on Twitter and Instagram. I painted a tragic, poetic picture of a man so deeply in love with Miss Scarlett that he abandoned his dying daughter during a thunderstorm just to comfort her. I praised Miss Scarlett’s immense bravery for getting pregnant so quickly to heal his grieving heart. I called myself a bitter, wicked woman who was standing in the way of true love, and publicly announced that I was stepping aside to let their beautiful romance blossom. To ensure nobody thought I was making it up, I attached pristine, high-resolution scans of our divorce decree and Scarlett’s ultrasound report. The dates were impossible to misinterpret. By midnight, the internet exploded. Victor’s reputation was incinerated. Scarlett was canceled globally. The stress sent her back to the hospital, and this time, the baby didn’t make it. At the same time, I reached out to the beaten paparazzi photographer and covered his medical bills. During our chat, he let it slip that the guys who jumped him were wearing boots issued by Victor’s corporate security team. I smiled. Victor was practically handing me the nails for his own coffin. While the internet was still out for blood, I helped the photographer file a police report, gifting Victor a beautiful fifteen-day stay in the county jail for assault. On the day of his release, Scarlett was waiting for him at the gates. I tipped off the tabloids. The photographer was a true professional. That evening, a new hashtag trended at number one. #ToxicSoulmates. The comments were entirely people praying that Victor and Scarlett would stay together forever so they couldn’t ruin anyone else’s lives. Because of the massive PR nightmare, the company’s stock took a nosedive. Millions in market cap vanished overnight. Several international clients pulled their contracts. As the acting CEO, Victor was forced to eat the losses. Desperate for liquidity, he sold his penthouse and his fleet of sports cars just to plug the bleeding holes in the corporate accounts. Stripped of his cash flow, he rented a dingy two-bedroom apartment near the financial district. It was a massive fall from grace, but at least Scarlett was still playing the loyal girlfriend. “You really think she’s staying out of love?” The photographer sneered over coffee, sliding his phone across the table to me. “Her agency dropped her and slapped her with a breach of contract suit. She literally has nowhere else to go.” On the screen, a grainy video showed Scarlett in a cheap apron, screaming at Victor in a cramped kitchen. Victor threw a coffee mug at the wall and slammed the door behind him. His new apartment was a walk-up in a bad neighborhood. Stomping down the dark stairwell, he missed a step and face-planted on the concrete, chipping his front tooth and ripping his cheap dress shirt. The rest of the footage was repetitive. Victor getting blackout drunk, coming home, and engaging in screaming matches with Scarlett. The photographer mentioned that Victor was spending every night at dive bars and cheap steakhouses, drinking cheap whiskey and begging lower-tier suppliers for contracts like a desperate dog. I pushed the phone back across the table, losing interest. I told him to keep a tail on them. Victor was holding out longer than I anticipated. I thought he would have started liquidating his shares by now. He needed a harder push. I opened the chat window with Rowan and typed a quick message. Go comfort your girlfriend. She’s probably missing you.

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On the third day of dating, my boyfriend lost his memory. My reaction: … This was the man I had chased for three grueling years. I’m exhausted. Let’s just burn it all down. I honestly didn’t have the energy to try and win him over again. So, when he looked at me, his eyes blank, and asked who I was, I simply replied, under the silent, tense gazes of his family, “I’m your assistant.” As soon as the words left my mouth, I felt a collective sigh of relief. Including me. And, perhaps, even him. 1 Alexander stared at me, as if trying to discern a lie on my face. But I met his gaze calmly. Are you kidding? He was such a pain to chase. If I had to do it all over again, it would literally kill me. I weighed the pros and cons for all of three seconds. Then, I decided: I was out. There are plenty of handsome men in the world. I wasn’t going to waste another three years on him. When I first started pursuing him, it was purely because of his face. So, I interviewed at his company and landed a job as his assistant. After chasing him for a year, I actually fell in love with him. He had this quiet gravitas, a self-possession I lacked. Two years in, I almost gave up. He was so emotionally distant. But I felt like I’d invested too much to quit then. It would be a waste. By the third year, I was completely drained. I was ready to throw in the towel. But right when I was about to walk away, he finally agreed to be with me. I basked in three blissful days of happiness. And then, poof, amnesia. I let out a bitter laugh. Amnesia. How perfect. His younger brother, Cody, stayed by his bedside, his eyes glued to me. I placed a folder of documents in front of Alex. “Mr. Alexander, please review this contract. If everything looks good, it’s ready for your signature.” Cody frowned. “My brother just woke up.” I handed Alex a pen. “And? Are we abandoning the company? Giving up on profits? Should the employees starve?” Alex picked up the contract, read it for a good fifteen minutes, and then signed. He handed it back to me. “Thank you for your hard work.” I shook my head. “It’s nothing.” I checked my watch. “Mr. Alexander, Mr. Harrison, the Vice President, will handle all other matters that don’t require your direct approval. So, I won’t need to disturb you during your recovery. Get well soon. I’ll return to the office now.” I gave a polite bow, then turned and walked away without a single backward glance. “Ms. Joanna.” I paused, turning to face him. “Is there anything else, Mr. Alexander?” Alex stared at me. “You are just my assistant, right?” I froze for a split second, then plastered a wide, toothy grin on my face. “Yes, Mr. Alexander.” He nodded. I said nothing more, turning to leave. It wasn’t until I reached the parking garage and settled into my driver’s seat that the smile finally fell from my face. Damn it. If he wanted to break up, why the hell did he have to fake amnesia? It’s not like I haven’t seen what real amnesia looks like. His acting was terrible. Plus, that whole memory loss act felt straight out of a cheesy soap opera. It was so fake. I grabbed the tin of candies from the passenger seat, popped one into my mouth. Life was too bitter. I needed some sweetness. The first thing I did when I got back to the office was write a letter of resignation. I was done playing his games. Even if I lived to be ninety, I’d wasted a thirtieth of my life on him. Not only did I not make any money, I couldn’t even recoup my investment. This deal was a complete loss. Forget it. I submitted my resignation request through the internal system. With Alex in the hospital, I had transferred my approval authority to Mr. Harrison. Alex would never even see my resignation. Mr. Harrison burst into my office the moment he saw it. “Ms. Joanna, what’s going on?” I took a sip of my coffee and spun a ridiculous lie. “Well, Alex is in the hospital, right? He needs constant care. I’ve decided to dedicate myself to looking after him. And after he’s discharged, I’ll still need to be home, taking care of him. His health is paramount.” Mr. Harrison was one of the few people who knew about our relationship. So, he completely bought my story. “Is Mr. Alexander’s condition serious?” I waved a hand dismissively. “Not serious at all. Physically, he’s fine. Just a little memory loss. When you visit him, don’t mention my resignation. I wouldn’t want him to get agitated, thinking I quit just to take care of him.” Mr. Harrison nodded vigorously. “I understand, I understand.” “So, I’m counting on you to hold down the fort. I’ll spend the next month transitioning my responsibilities. I’ll still go to the hospital to brief Alex on critical matters. This month, I’ll gently prepare him for my eventual departure. By the end of it, he should be ready for me to officially leave.” As Mr. Harrison left, I gave him one last reminder. “Oh, and Mr. Harrison, please make sure to approve my resignation on the system, okay?” “No problem.” I breathed a sigh of relief as he walked away. Actually, when I was contemplating giving up on Alex before, I had already delegated most of my work. Then he suddenly told me he wanted to be together, and I put the brakes on the transition. Looking back, I was incredibly farsighted. My replacements were already trained. Handing over the remaining tasks should be a breeze. 2 When I got home that evening, I felt utterly drained. Just as I was about to eat dinner, a text popped up from my friend. Jake: [Wanna come out?] Me: [For what?] Jake: [? I’m just asking. You always say no when I ask.] Me: [Then why bother asking?] Jake: [Just in case, you know? It’s been three years since you set foot in my club. Someone asked about you recently, so I figured I’d try again.] Me: [Where?] Anyway, I didn’t have to stay up late organizing documents for Alex anymore. My evenings were wide open. Jake: [My club, of course. We have a new dancer. He’s incredibly hot. Reminds a lot of people of you back in the day. Come check him out.] I grabbed my car keys. [Half an hour.] Jake: [Alright, perfect. I’ll get your usual drink ready.] Five years ago, Jake and I opened that club together. Back then, all I wanted was a carefree life. Jake managed it, and I collected my dividends. I made a decent living. To get the party started, I used to hit the dance floor myself. Those were the days. Life was amazing. I had suitors lining up around the block. Then I ran into Alex at the club. One look, and I was smitten. The next thing I knew, I was interviewing to be his assistant. Now that I’d quit, I could go back to my old life of just chilling and enjoying myself. The moment I stepped into the club, Jake enveloped me in a bear hug. “Waaah, I missed you so much! You were slaving away at that godforsaken company every day. It was impossible to even see you.” I patted his back. “It’s fine now. I quit. I’m with you from now on.” Jake’s sobs abruptly stopped. “Quit? What do you mean?” I laughed. “We broke up.” Jake: “But it’s only been three days?” “He had a change of heart.” Jake: “What the f***, that son of a b****! He’s a complete a******! You poured your heart out for a dog! That piece of s***! I’m gonna find someone to break his damn legs!” I clamped my arm around his neck. “Still so volatile, man. It’s fine. In a month, I’ll be officially gone. He’ll be out of my life for good. I’m just a little bummed. Never even got a proper kiss. You have no idea what a hellhole the last three years have been. I’ve been starved for action.” Jake: “You? There are a hundred hot people in this club. If you want, you could kiss every single one of them tonight.” I burst out laughing. “Alright, alright, enough about that. So, who’s this dancer you mentioned? Let’s see if he’s got anything on my old moves.” 3 The moment I saw Dylan, I was captivated. “Wow, someone actually hotter than me.” Jake looked exasperated. “Dude, you’ve gotten more narcissistic over the last twenty years.” I laughed, patting his shoulder. “Where did you find him? He looks pretty young.” “He’s got a sad story. Graduated high school, no money for college, so he came out to work. Started as a server. I noticed his good looks and moves, so I paid for him to take dance lessons. Six months later, he was incredible. So, I gave him a raise, hehehe.” I frowned. He hadn’t gone to college after high school? “Tell him to come to my private booth after his set.” Jake’s eyes widened. “What are you planning? Are you going to take advantage of him?” I kicked him. “Get lost.” When Dylan entered the booth, I was sipping my drink. Seeing him, I raised a hand, motioning for him to sit on the sofa opposite me. “Boss.” I choked on my drink. “Just call me Jo. I don’t actually run anything here. No need for ‘boss’.” Dylan looked wary, sitting precariously on the edge of the sofa as if ready to bolt. His caution amused me. “What are you scared of? I’m not going to eat you.” Dylan’s lips curved into a small smile, but he didn’t speak. “Jake told me you couldn’t afford college after high school. What’s your situation now?” Dylan bit his lip. “I started freshman year, but I couldn’t afford to continue, so I took a leave of absence. My family also needs money, so I’ve been working ever since.” “How long have you been on leave?” “Two years.” I leaned back against the cushions. “How much money does your family need?” “About six thousand. My younger brother is still in the hospital. The doctors said he needs surgery that costs twelve thousand. I’ve saved six thousand, so I still need another six thousand.” I nodded. “I’ll cover the six thousand. I’ll also pay for your four years of college tuition. You go back to school.” He looked up abruptly, his eyes wide. “Jo, I…” “Just tell me if you want to go back to school.” He nodded again. “More than anything, Jo.” “Then go back.” “I’ll consider it a loan from you. I can work part-time while studying to pay you back.” I stood up, adjusting my shirt. “Alright. But you only start paying me back after you graduate. While you’re in school, if you want to work part-time, fine, but don’t pay me back yet. You’ll likely need money for other things.” “Thank you, Jo. Thank you.” “Add me on social media. Send me your bank account details, and I’ll transfer the money.” Dylan pulled out his phone and handed it to me. After transferring the funds, I drained my glass, then left the booth amidst his heartfelt thanks. It had been a while since I’d truly let loose. I motioned for the DJ to crank up the music. Then, I shucked off my blazer and tossed it into Dylan’s arms. Back in college, I was president of the dance club for two years. Over a decade of practice wasn’t for nothing. The moment the beat dropped, I sprang onto the stage. I tore off my tie, then unbuttoned the top two buttons of my shirt. The dark red silk shimmered under the lights, like spilled wine staining my skin. My movements were broad and fluid. The hem of my shirt pulled free from my waistband. I tilted my head, grinning at Dylan. Kid, let me show you how to really seduce an audience. I let out a low chuckle, my fingertips tracing a path from my Adam’s apple, down my collarbone, across my chest, finally resting at the edge of my jeans… The roar from the crowd threatened to blow the roof off the club. When the song ended, I leaped off the stage. It had been far too long since I’d danced with such uninhibited passion. I took my blazer back from Dylan and draped it over my shoulders. “So, what do you think?” Dylan’s face was flushed, his voice trembling with excitement. “You’re even better than my dance instructor, Jo.” Jake clapped enthusiastically from the side. “The Dance God returns! You’ve still got it, man. Not a day over twenty.” “Screw you, I’m twenty-six. I’m in my prime, alright?” As we bantered, my phone rang. I picked it up and saw the caller ID. Alex? I frowned. What did he want this late at night? I answered. “Mr. Alexander.” “Come to the hospital.” Me: … I took a deep breath. “Mr. Alexander, it’s after hours. And there are no contracts requiring your signature.” “Someone told me you’re dancing at a club.” I froze. Damn it. I’d forgotten. The first time I ever met him was here. He was with his usual group of friends. Even though Alex rarely came to the club anymore, his friends were still regulars. “I am at a club. Is there a problem?” “You…” Alex fell silent. After about ten seconds, he hung up. I stared at the phone, bewildered. Jerk. Jake glanced at my screen. “What the f***, your ex? Does he have no shame? He broke up with you, why is he calling?” Hearing him say that made my teeth ache. “Don’t even mention him. He’s a pain.” Dylan stood rooted to the spot, looking a little shocked. Great. I scared the kid. Well, he was only twenty. He probably hadn’t seen this kind of drama before. Jake, ever the instigator, piped up, “Oh, our Jo gave his heart to the wrong man, but luckily he’s seen the light now!” I kicked him. “Don’t say everything in front of the kid.” Dylan’s lips curved into a small smile. Damn it, I’m being mocked by a brat. Just as I was about to scold Dylan, I saw him looking at me, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He said, “You’re amazing, Jo. Everyone should like you. It’s that guy’s loss for letting you go. Anyone you choose to love would be the happiest, luckiest person in the world.” My heart skipped a beat. Before I could figure out how to respond, my arm was suddenly grabbed. 4 I turned around, utterly confused. It was Alex’s brother, Cody. What was he doing here? Cody’s gaze swept over Jake and Dylan, then he pulled me out of the club. “My brother sent me to pick you up.” Jake: “Hey, hey, what are you doing? Is this a kidnapping in broad daylight?” I waved a hand at Jake. “It’s fine, little bro. You guys carry on. I’ll see you later.” Dragged out of the club, I was then shoved into a car. “What is wrong with you? Your brother lost his memory, and you’ve lost your mind? Didn’t your whole family want us to break up? Now that we have, what else do you want?” Cody’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. “Why don’t you choose me instead?” My brain crashed. “What the hell are you talking about? Choose you for what?” “My brother and I look pretty similar, don’t we?” Me: … “Are you serious?” Cody grit his teeth. “We came to this club together that night, when we first saw you dance. It was me who saw you first. I regret ever pointing you out to my brother.” “I never thought you’d fall for him so hard.” “When you chased my brother, I respected your choice.” “But he treated you badly.” He turned to look at me. “I thought you’d give up after he pushed you away. I was waiting for you to walk away, so I could pursue you. But you actually kept going for three years, and then you actually ended up together.” “I was completely desperate. Then my brother lost his memory.” He looked at me with intense seriousness. “Joanna, will you give me a chance to pursue you?” Me: ? What in God’s name? In the end, all my complex thoughts condensed into one simple question: “Are you okay?” Cody lowered his head, composing himself. “I’m sorry. I just don’t know what else to do. You liked my brother for three years. I’ve liked you for three years. I just want to fight for a chance.” I leaned against the car window, watching him. “Did your brother send you here, or was this your own idea?” “My brother. Someone sent him the video of you dancing.” I scoffed. “And your brother told me to go to the hospital?” “My brother told me to drive you home.” I crossed my legs. “So you’re trying to steal his ex?” “My brother treated you badly. Besides, you two are over. There’s no future there.” 5 “What do you like about me?” He kept driving, his voice steady. “You’re beautiful, you have a great personality. Being with you is so easy. Every time you came to our house, I was genuinely happy, even if it was for my brother.” “I’m not telling you all this to cause you trouble. I just want to seize an opportunity for myself. You don’t have to feel pressured.” I sighed, then sat up straight. “Don’t bother. We’re not going to happen.” He nodded. “I know. I just wanted to try.” I was about to say more, but my phone rang again. I pulled it out. It was Marcus, Alex’s best friend. We’d hung out a lot over the past three years. “Weren’t you just dancing at the club? How’d you disappear after I went to the restroom?” I cleared my throat. “I went home.” “So early? I was planning on buying you a drink.” “Another time.” The other end was silent for three seconds. Then, “I heard you and Alex broke up?” I hummed in affirmation. “Can I pursue you?” My hand twitched, losing its grip. My phone clattered, sliding into the seat gap. As it dropped, it accidentally switched to speakerphone. “Why aren’t you saying anything? You two are over, so I’m not stealing anyone. I actually fell for you the moment I saw you, but since you liked Alex, I couldn’t say anything.” “Is it okay if we meet up tomorrow? I’ll pick you up.” Me: … I finally managed to fish my phone out of the gap, sweat trickling down my back. Oh my God. Am I the protagonist of some reverse harem novel? Seriously, I’m a magnet for trouble. I stole a glance at Cody. He didn’t say anything, but his jaw was clenched so tight I thought his teeth might shatter. “Uh, that’s not really convenient.” “Just to talk. No pressure. What if we actually hit it off? I know you’re into looks, and I’m just as handsome as Alex.” “Haha, we’ll see. I’m busy with work these days.” “Alright then. Come to the club more often. You danced incredibly well tonight, just like three years ago. Without Alex weighing you down, you’re finally living again. Congratulations on your new lease on life.” What exactly did I dance three years ago? The cold sweat wouldn’t stop. After I hung up, the car fell silent. A minute later, Cody spoke. “That jerk. I knew he had a thing for you. He stared at you blankly just as much as I did these past three years. You don’t hit on your friend’s partner. Does he have no shame?” Me: … I couldn’t help but think: Then what does that make you, hitting on your brother’s ex-girlfriend? This conversation was going nowhere. After he dropped me off at my place, Cody got out of the car too. I stood at my front door, watching him. Was he expecting to come in for tea? Given our current situation, it really wasn’t appropriate. Cody seemed to sense my discomfort. “Just making sure you get in safely. Go on.” Oh, okay. I nodded and went inside.

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To invite good fortune into their lives, the Bennetts, the wealthiest family in the city, took me in from the orphanage. Sure enough, during my second year with them, my adoptive mother gave birth to their biological daughter, Mona. Everyone whispered that my golden days were over, but Mona never treated me like an outsider. When I was five, we both made it to the National Youth Dance Championship. Just before we were set to perform, our dance instructor, Teri Diamond, noticed that Mona’s silver tiara was crooked and offered to take her backstage for a quick touch-up. Instead, Mona was separated from the crowd and taken by kidnappers. Over the next three years, the endless ransom calls drove my parents to the brink of insanity. The kidnappers fed them a lie, claiming that I, consumed by jealousy over Mona being their flesh and blood, had intentionally handed her over. My parents believed them. In the end, they locked me in the dark basement and beat me to death. When I opened my eyes again, I was five years old once more. The blaring music of the backstage area filled my ears. Teri Diamond was kneeling right in front of us, her smile sweet and gentle. “Mona, sweetie, come with me to touch up your lipstick. Your tiara is a bit crooked, and it’s almost time for you to go on stage.” She reached out her hand toward my little sister. Trembling violently, I threw my arms around Mona and held her tight. “Don’t touch her!” I screamed. “You’re going to steal my sister away!” 1 Teri was the most popular instructor at our academy. She smoothed out the tulle of Mona’s dress and tapped her nose playfully. “Mona looks so beautiful today. You’re going to shine brighter than anyone else out there.” Mona shyly hid behind my back. “Rebecca is beautiful too.” Teri smiled, turning her gaze toward my mother. “Mrs. Bennett, Mona’s lipstick is fading a bit, and her tiara is slipping. I’ll take her to the vanity for a quick fix and bring her right back.” My mother was about to nod. My heart seized as if gripped by an icy fist. In my past life, this was exactly how she had lured Mona away. I gripped my sister even tighter, screaming, “No! Don’t go!” The bustling backstage fell dead silent for a moment. Teri’s hand froze in midair, her smile faltering slightly. “Are you just nervous about the competition, Rebecca? I’m only taking Mona to touch up her makeup.” I held onto Mona like my life depended on it. “You’re a liar! You’re a bad teacher! You’re going to steal my sister!” Terrified by my sudden outburst, Mona wrapped her tiny arms around my neck, whispering, “Rebecca…” People around us started to stare. Some parents frowned, muttering to one another. “What’s wrong with that child? Why is she making things up?” “Miss Teri has been teaching here for years. She’s so dedicated.” “Is the adopted girl afraid the real daughter will outshine her?” Adopted girl. Real daughter. Those words Diamondd my mind like needles. They had said the exact same things in my past life. They claimed I was wicked because I wasn’t a real Bennett. They said Mona was the true princess, and I couldn’t stand her success. But I had never envied Mona. She was my sister. She was the very first person in that house who hugged me and told me, “You’re a baby too, Rebecca.” I sobbed, gasping for air. “Daddy, Mommy, please don’t let her take Mona. Please, I beg you.” My father, Arthur, had been speaking with the event coordinator. Hearing my hysterical cries, he strode over, his brow furrowed deeply. “What’s going on here?” Mommy knelt beside me, wrapping her arms around us. “Rebecca, talk to me. What’s wrong? Are you hurting somewhere?” I couldn’t explain. I only had the body of a five-year-old. I couldn’t tell them about the kidnappers, the ransom demands, the audio recordings, and the bloody end of my past life. Even if I did, no one would believe me. I could only cling to Mona, crying out over and over, “Don’t let Mona go! No one can take my sister alone!” Teri’s eyes welled with tears. “Mr. Bennett, Mrs. Bennett, I have no idea why Rebecca is suddenly so terrified of me. I only wanted Mona to look her best for the judges. If I’ve done something wrong, I’m truly sorry.” 2 She looked so incredibly wronged. Naturally, bystanders immediately jumped to her defense. “Poor Miss Teri.” “How can a child be allowed to slander a teacher like that?” Daddy looked down at me, his eyes filled with confusion, but also with deep concern. Shaking with sobs, I clutched his sleeve. “Daddy, please don’t let Mona out of your sight. Please.” He was quiet for two agonizing seconds. When he looked up, his voice was cold. “We can do the touch-up here. Bring the makeup artist over.” Teri’s face paled slightly. “But the waiting area is so crowded, and the lighting is poor…” Daddy cut her off. “Then bring over some extra lights. My daughter is frightened. Today, no one takes either of them away alone.” Mommy held Mona tight, her voice soft but firm. “Please understand, Miss Teri. The girls are clearly overwhelmed.” Teri’s fingers clenched into her palms. But she quickly forced another smile. “Of course. The children’s comfort comes first.” She turned to call the makeup artist. I stared at her retreating figure. For a brief second, I thought I had rewritten our fate. But I had forgotten one crucial detail. Since she dared to execute this plot at a national championship, she wouldn’t have relied on just one plan. The makeup artist arrived and touched up Mona’s lipstick right there, fixing her tiara under the watchful eyes of my parents. Throughout it all, Mommy kept her arms around Mona, while I sat beside them, my hands squeezing the hem of Mona’s sparkly dress. Four-year-old Mona whispered to me, “Rebecca, are you scared of the teacher?” Looking into her innocent eyes, my nose stung. “Yes.” “Then I’m scared too.” She shook her wrist, making her silver bells ring softly. “Listen, Rebecca. The bells are here, and so am I.” I nearly burst into tears. In my past life, in her final voice recording, her voice had been completely hoarse. She had begged over and over, “Mommy, I want to go home. Rebecca, I want some cake.” But we could never reach her. This time, I would never let go. The event proceeded rapidly. The speakers began calling our dance group’s name. Our director, Mrs. Gable, was sweating profusely. She was usually kind, but she cared deeply about the competition. This was the first time her troupe had reached the national finals, and since the Bennett family was their primary sponsor, she needed everything to be flawless. She hurried over, lowering her voice. “Mr. Bennett, the girls need to move to the wings now. It’s almost their turn.” Daddy looked at me. I immediately gripped Mona’s hand. “I’m going too.” Standing a short distance away, Teri offered a gentle smile. “Of course. Rebecca and Mona are performing together, so they must walk over together.” She seemed absolutely harmless. But her calm only made my blood run cold. In the end, Daddy instructed two of our personal bodyguards to follow the line of children. That was something that had never happened in my past life. I breathed a sigh of relief. But just as we entered the dim backstage corridor, the overhead lights suddenly went dead with a loud click. Darkness draped over us like a heavy shroud. The children began to scream. Makeup cases crashed to the floor. Kids cried out for their mothers. My first instinct was to reach for Mona. Her hand was still in my palm, small and soft. “Rebecca…” she whimpered. But before I could pull her closer, someone shoved me hard from behind. I slammed onto the concrete floor, my elbows scraping painfully. A hand clamped over my mouth in the pitch black. I smelled the sharp, chemical scent of fresh paint, mixed with the sweet fragrance of gardenias, Teri’s signature perfume. I thrashed wildly, but I was only five years old. A hand came out of the dark and violently ripped my sister from my grasp. The silver bells jingled frantically for a second, then they faded into the distance. “Sissy!” My sister only screamed once before she went completely silent. When the emergency lights flickered on, everything was in total chaos. I lay on the floor, skin scraped raw. My hands were empty. My sister was gone. 3 My brain went numb, like I was falling from a great height. “Mona!” I shrieked, scrambling to my feet. Mommy spun around, her face turning paper-white. “Where is Mona? Where is my baby?” Daddy rushed over, his voice tight with panic. “Where did she go?” The bodyguards looked terrified. They had been blocked by panicking parents and equipment carts. It had only been a matter of seconds, but in those seconds, my sister had vanished. The nightmare of my past life rushed back with suffocating force. Fury and dread warred in Daddy’s eyes. The crowd erupted into confusion. “Did she wander off?” “It’s so crowded, she must be hiding somewhere.” “Don’t call the police yet. The competition is streaming live.” Mrs. Gable, pale and trembling, still tried to downplay the situation. “Mr. Bennett, I’m sure she just got scared and hid. We will find her immediately.” I looked up. In my past life, it had been exactly like this. Everyone urged us not to make a scene, suggesting she was just lost and that the show must go on. That wasted time was what allowed them to smuggle Mona out of the venue. I lunged forward, grabbing Daddy’s trousers, sobbing hysterically. “Call the police! Lock the doors! Miss Teri is taking her out through the side exit!” Teri stood near the edge of the crowd, her hair slightly messy, her eyes red as if she too were terrified. “Rebecca, stop making things up. When the lights went out, I was right here. Mona must have just gotten separated in the rush.” Several other instructors nodded in agreement. “Yes, Miss Teri was right next to us, trying to calm the kids.” “We all saw her. She didn’t leave.” They were all testifying for her. I knew she had planned this meticulously. But I couldn’t back down. Mona was gone, and this time, I had to bring her back. Daddy didn’t hesitate. He ordered his security team to seal every single exit in the backstage area. Then he dialed the police himself. “My daughter has been abducted from the backstage of the arena. This is a kidnapping. Send units immediately.” Mrs. Gable gasped. “Mr. Bennett, please, don’t say kidnapping! The reputation of the event…” Daddy glared at her, his eyes cold enough to kill. “My daughter is missing, and you are talking about reputation?” She fell silent, terrified. Mommy was losing her mind, screaming Mona’s name and trying to push through the crowd. Daddy held her close. “Eleanor, stay with me. She is still in this building. I will find her.” Mommy clutched his coat, weeping. “What if we don’t?” Those words felt like a knife. In my past life, we didn’t find her. And that was when everything fell apart. Ignoring the pain in my knees, I ran up to Teri and pointed a shaking finger at her. “It’s her! She took my sister!” Tears streamed down Teri’s face. “Rebecca, why do you hate me so much? I wasn’t even near Mona when the power went out. All these teachers can prove it.” One female instructor muttered, “That’s true. She was right beside me.” A parent added, “I saw her helping a child who fell.” Teri looked incredibly victimized. “Mr. Bennett, I know your family is wealthy and influential, but I am an innocent woman. Rebecca has been calling me a bad teacher all day, and now that Mona is lost, she blames me again. Is it because I’m strict during rehearsals? Does she dislike me that much?” 4 Whispers began to ripple through the onlookers. “Why is that adopted girl pointing fingers at the teacher?” “Her sister is missing, and she’s busy framing people.” “Maybe she’s the one with issues. Did you see how she refused to let her sister perform earlier?” Those whispers mirrored the anonymous letters from my past life. My blood ran cold. Teri was the monster who had stolen Mona, yet a few tears from her had everyone doubting me. Hearing the word “adopted,” Mommy’s face paled further. She looked down at me. My heart stopped. Would she suspect me too? Would she think I had harmed Mona, just like before? I choked on my tears. “Mommy, I didn’t do it. I didn’t hurt her.” Mommy stared at me for a fraction of a second, then she knelt and pulled me into a fierce embrace. “I know, sweetie. I know. You’re scared too. Don’t listen to them.” I froze in her arms, my tears flowing faster. She believed me. Even though Mona was gone, she still chose to believe me. Daddy strode over, lifting me into his arms. “Rebecca, look at Daddy. You said Teri did this. Did you see anything else?” I sniffled, forcing my panicked mind to think. Before the lights went out, the red string on Teri’s wrist. The scent of fresh paint on the culprit. The fragrance of gardenias in the dark. And when Mona was dragged away, the sound of her bells moving to the right. The right side. The prop corridor. In my past life, the police eventually discovered that a massive peacock prop box had left the venue early. By the time they found it, it had been burned to ashes. But right now, Mona was likely trapped inside that very box. I pointed toward the right corridor. “The big bird box! Mona is inside the big bird box! Go to the side exit!” Teri’s expression stiffened for a split second. She quickly chimed in, “Rebecca, there are hundreds of props backstage. You’re just making wild guesses. Finding Mona is what matters, not playing games because you’re angry with me.” Daddy ignored her completely. Holding me tight, he sprinted toward the right corridor, with Mommy close behind. Teri tried to block our path. “Mr. Bennett, the organizers said the right corridor is blocked with equipment. It’s off-limits.” Daddy glared at her. “Get out of my way.” “But…” “Stand down, or I will have you arrested as an accomplice to kidnapping.” Teri went pale and stepped back. We rushed into the right corridor. The air was thick with dust and the sharp smell of wet paint. On the floor lay a tiny silver sequin from Mona’s dress. I wriggled out of Daddy’s arms, picked up the sequin, and sobbed, “She was here.” Mommy gasped, nearly collapsing. Daddy caught her, his eyes bloodshot. “Search. Open every single box.” The bodyguards immediately began tearing through the crates. Just then, from the far end of the corridor, we heard the squeak of rolling wheels. Someone was pushing a heavy object toward the exit. I pointed. “She’s in there!” 5 At the end of the hall, a man in a black stage crew uniform was pushing a massive peacock prop box. The prop was towering, covered in blue and green feathers, rolling on heavy casters. Hearing our footsteps, the man glanced back. There was a faint scar across his cheek. I recognized him. In the ransom videos from my past life, a man’s scarred hand had handed water to Mona. Seeing us, he started to push the cart faster. “Stop right there!” Daddy roared. Two bodyguards dashed forward. The man shoved the heavy box toward them and turned to flee. The peacock box slammed into the wall with a loud thud. From inside came a muffled, trembling whimper. Mommy froze. “Mona!” She lunged toward the box. Daddy pinned the lock mechanism. The bodyguards tackled the man to the ground. He struggled wildly, shouting, “What are you doing? This is just a prop! Let me go!” Daddy stepped on his wrist, pinning him to the floor. “Open it.” The man screamed in pain but gritted his teeth. “I don’t have the key!” One of the bodyguards used a metal tool to force the lock open. As the heavy lid swung wide, Mommy let out a gut-wrenching cry. Mona was inside. She was strapped to the bottom of the box with a wide nylon belt, heavy tape sealing her mouth shut, her face drenched in tears. Beside her lay a small oxygen tank, rolls of duct tape, a wig cap, a change of clothes, and a camera. The silver bell bracelet lay broken on the padding next to her. Seeing Mommy, Mona wept harder, but she could only make muffled, desperate sounds. Mommy’s hands shook so violently she couldn’t peel off the tape. Daddy tried to help, but his fingers were trembling just as much. Finally, our family doctor, who had run after us, stepped in. He carefully removed the tape and unbuckled the straps. “Mommy!” Mona wailed, throwing herself into Mommy’s arms. “Rebecca!” I threw my arms around her too, burying my face in her neck. Feeling her warm skin, I finally let out the breath I had been holding. I had made it in time. Daddy knelt beside us, wrapping his arms around the three of us. His voice was cracked and hoarse. “You’re safe now, Mona. Daddy’s here. Rebecca is here.” Mommy held Mona tight, sobbing uncontrollably. “I’m so sorry, sweetie. I’m so sorry I let go of your hand.” Mona whimpered, “It was dark. The bad man… I was so scared.” The medical team quickly examined her. Aside from being terrified, she only had a slight red mark on her face from the tape and faint bruising on her wrists from the straps. Since she had been rescued quickly, she hadn’t suffered from oxygen deprivation. Meanwhile, the man who had pushed the cart was pinned to the floor. His name was Matthew Doyle, a temporary stagehand hired for the event. Daddy stared down at him, his gaze lethal. “Who put you up to this?” Matthew spat, “I didn’t know there was a kid in there! I was just moving a prop!” I pointed at him. “You’re lying! You have a scar on your face! You’re the bad man!” Matthew sneered, “What does a kid know?” Teri rushed into the corridor just then. Seeing Mona safe, a flash of pure resentment crossed her face, though she quickly masked it with tears. “Thank goodness she’s safe. I was worried sick.” She marched up to Matthew, acting utterly shocked. “Matthew? How could you do this? Why would you put a child in a prop box?” Matthew glared up at her. “Teri, don’t you dare pin this all on me!”

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My best friend was green with envy because I married into wealth. She lured me into going hiking, orchestrating a deadly trap to steal my place. But the universe had other plans. In a chaotic twist of fate, we both tumbled over the edge of the cliff together. When I opened my eyes again, we had both been reborn, returned to the very eve of our college graduation. Without wasting a second, she rushed straight to my ex-husband, showering him with desperate affection. She was hell-bent on stealing the life I once lived. I simply shrugged and let out a quiet laugh. “Since you’ve made your choice, don’t you dare regret it.” 1 My husband, Matt Fabian, was the illegitimate son of the billionaire chairman of the Fabian Group. Shortly after our wedding, the Fabian family suddenly took him in. Later, he even became the CEO of the entire conglomerate. And I went from a soul-crushing corporate grind to a wealthy socialite overnight. My college roommate, Sally, had the opposite trajectory. She was our campus queen, blessed with a striking face. Right after graduation, she threw herself into the entertainment industry, finding temporary fame on a reality survival show. Unfortunately, she had nothing but her looks. Singing, dancing, acting, she was mediocre at all of them. In an industry overflowing with beautiful faces, Sally was quickly washed away by the next wave of fresh talent, fading into obscurity. Everyone envied my luck, whispering about how I had hit the jackpot with a perfect husband. Hearing of my fortune, Sally grew bitter. After all, Matt had liked her first. But back then, Matt was dirt poor, completely beneath her notice. When he confessed his feelings to her in college, she hadn’t just rejected him; she had humiliated him ruthlessly. Now, she was eating her heart out with regret. Using a college reunion as an excuse, Sally reconnected with me. She started calling me daily, calling me her darling, her sweetest friend. At first, I thought she just wanted to use my connections to secure some roles and revive her dying career. I never imagined her real target was my entire life. The day of the accident, Sally invited me to go hiking. As we neared the peak, she lured me toward an isolated ledge and gave me a violent shove. In a desperate panic, I grabbed her ankle, dragging her down into the abyss with me. When I opened my eyes, I was lying in my old college dorm bed. Everything felt surreal. Just moments ago, Sally’s vicious screams were ringing in my ears: “Go to hell, Andrea! You don’t deserve him!” My body ached with phantom pain. As my mind cleared, I realized this wasn’t a nightmare. I had been reborn. “Sally, you look gorgeous today. Do you have a date?” A roommate’s voice snapped me out of my trance. I turned and saw Sally standing in front of the mirror. Through the glass, our eyes met. She curled her lips into a smug, provocative smile. A cold shiver ran down my spine. She had returned too. We were back in our senior year. Seeing me awake, Sally hurriedly grabbed her bag and left the room. Where was she rushing to? I checked my phone to look at the date. Today was the eve of our college graduation. In my past life, only one significant thing had happened on this day. Matt had confessed his love to Sally. Back then, Matt didn’t go by Matt Fabian. His name was Matt Mercer. He only took the Fabian name years later when the family acknowledged him. At this moment, nobody knew his true lineage. To our classmates, he was just a charity-case student living on financial aid. I remembered how Sally had returned to the dorm that night in our past life, mocking him to us. “You guys wouldn’t believe how hilarious that guy is! Wearing knockoff Nikes and actually having the nerve to ask me out! What a joke!” But look at her now. To meet Matt, she had spent hours doling herself up. Even though she had left minutes ago, her expensive perfume still lingered in the air. I suppose it made sense. In our first life, Sally always believed I had merely stumbled into a goldmine by picking up the Fabian family’s abandoned heir. She thought that as long as she married Matt, she would automatically inherit a life of endless luxury. So she ran to him, desperate to claim her prize before I could steal him. But she was dead wrong. Heaven had granted me a second chance, and I wasn’t going to waste it. This time, I had absolutely no intention of stepping foot into the viper’s nest of the Fabian family. 2 The next day. With graduation behind us, everyone was busy packing up, eager to chase their futures. Once our other two roommates left, Sally finally dropped her sweet facade. She grabbed my wrist, her grip painfully tight, glaring at me with raw venom. “Andrea, I’m warning you. Matt is my boyfriend now. Stay the hell away from him, and don’t even think about making a move.” “Otherwise, I won’t hesitate to kill you again.” “This time, I am taking back everything that belongs to me.” Hearing her pathetic threats, I couldn’t help it. I laughed. In our past life, she was the one who despised his poverty and refused to be with him. I hadn’t even started dating Matt until six months after graduation. They were two entirely unrelated chapters. Yet, the way she spoke, she made it sound like I was the home-wrecker who snatched her destiny. “Everything that belongs to me”? Did she think she was the star of some cheap melodrama? I wrenched my hand free from her grip, keeping a calm smile on my face. “Are you absolutely sure you want to be with Matt?” “Of course! Only I am worthy of him! Only I deserve to be the wife of the Fabian Group’s CEO!” Sally shrieked, her face flushed with ambition. Seeing her so resolute, I nodded with genuine satisfaction. “Since you’ve made your choice, don’t you dare regret it.” With that, I grabbed my suitcase and walked out of the dorm without looking back. I knew a brand-new life was waiting for me. And I had waited for this freedom for far too long. Two years passed. I became a jewelry designer. My latest collection won first place in an international competition, earning me a handsome cash prize. I used that prize money as seed capital to launch my own independent studio. This had always been my dream. Unfortunately, in my previous life, due to the Fabian family’s relentless pressure, Matt and I could barely catch our breath during those first two years. Dreams were a luxury we couldn’t afford. When you can’t even afford groceries, survival is the only thing on your mind. And yes. The Fabian family had always known Matt existed. But they had ignored him for over two decades. Simply put, they never wanted to acknowledge him. Worse, there were members of the family actively working behind the scenes to keep him down. I only learned these ugly truths after surviving a near-death experience in my past life. 3 That turning point had occurred in the third year after graduation in my past life. Matt and I were already married by then. Though those three years had been a constant struggle, I hadn’t suspected anything sinister, assuming we were just plagued by bad luck. Until the day Matt was fired. The company accused him of leaking highly classified trade secrets to a competitor for a massive payout. The moment I heard the accusation, I knew it was a lie. I knew Matt. He was timid, submissive, and utterly terrified of conflict. He didn’t have the spine to pull off a corporate heist. But no matter how much I begged him for answers, he refused to tell me what was happening. Because of the leaked data, his former employer suffered catastrophic losses. Blaming Matt, the vengeful business owner hired thugs to set fire to our apartment in the middle of the night. We were nearly burned to ashes. The place we rented was a dilapidated unit in a sketchy neighborhood. The streets were pitch black, devoid of any security cameras. The police investigated for a night and found absolutely nothing. As a result, all the damages fell squarely on Matt and me. In a city like New York, real estate was astronomically expensive. Even a run-down apartment carried a debt that would take us lifetimes to pay off. I would never forget that freezing winter morning. Matt and I sat on the rooftop of our charred building, shivering in our tattered pajamas, without a single penny to our names. Matt smoked eight cigarettes in thirty minutes. Finally, he whispered in a raspy, broken voice, “Andrea, I’m so sorry. We can’t get out of this. Why don’t we just jump? It’ll all be over…” “Matt, you are a pathetic excuse for a man!” I had married him because I thought his quiet nature meant he was decent and reliable. Only then did I see his true colors. He was a coward who ran from his problems, choosing suicide over facing reality. I screamed at him, unleashing years of pent-up frustration. Under my relentless pressure, Matt finally broke down and confessed everything. He told me about his illegitimate status and the toxic civil war raging within the Fabian family. Only then did I realize the truth. The reason my career had been systematically ruined was because I was married to a man who was standing in the crosshairs of billionaires. Matt hadn’t leaked those secrets. But someone powerful wanted him to be the scapegoat, so he was. Recalling those dark days, my heart still pounded with lingering dread. But mostly, I felt a profound sense of relief. I no longer had to deal with that nightmare. Someone else was carrying that heavy cross for me now. Knowing that Sally was currently cramped up in that dingy apartment with Matt, screaming at each other over pennies, the thought filled me with an exquisite sense of satisfaction. I stood by the floor-to-ceiling window of my studio, looking out at the glittering New York skyline. Suddenly, a bright flash of light caught my eye. I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. But as I squinted, I realized it was real. A few blocks away, a building was engulfed in roaring flames. 4 I saw Matt and Sally on television again. A news reporter was doing a live broadcast from the scene of the fire. The two of them appeared in the background, standing just a few yards behind the reporter, screaming at each other until their faces turned red. What a pathetic spectacle. The fire from my past life had happened even earlier this time. I immediately grabbed my keys and drove over. A show like this was too good to miss. But as I drew closer to the burning building, the dark amusement faded. Before me, a massive inferno consumed the old apartment complex, its orange flames painting the night sky in a sickening hue. This fire was far worse than the one in my past life. Sirens wailed as police cars, ambulances, and fire trucks jammed the narrow, crowded street. The sidewalk was packed with displaced tenants, their faces covered in soot, shivering in thin sleepwear against the biting wind. They looked exactly as I had years ago. I overheard a group of elderly neighbors muttering angrily nearby. “Everything is gone! My whole life, burned to ash! What am I supposed to do now?” “We have to make those two pay! If they hadn’t been screaming and throwing things in the middle of the night, this never would have happened!” An older woman pointed furiously toward the end of the block, cursing under her breath. Following her gaze, I saw those two familiar faces. Just a few feet away, Sally was shrieking at Matt, who kept his head low, utterly silent. They say poverty breeds misery in a marriage. Moreover, Sally had tasted the high life as a minor celebrity. Now, forced to endure squalor with Matt, her facade of a loving partner had cracked. I knew her sweet act wouldn’t last. I stepped closer to the complaining neighbor. “Excuse me, what did those two have to do with the fire?” “Oh, honey, you have no idea!” the woman cried, eager to share the gossip. The others quickly chimed in, crowding around me. “Ever since those two moved in, they’ve done nothing but scream at each other day and night!” “Tonight was the worst of it. I live right next door. I heard her screaming at him.” “She said if he didn’t take her to see his real family, she was going to light a fire and burn them both to death!” “Honestly, I feel bad for the boy. He seems quiet and harmless, but he ended up tied to an absolute psycho.” The former starlet, once adored by thousands, had now become the neighborhood psycho. This was the life Sally had fought so hard to steal. The real family the neighbors mentioned was, of course, the Fabians. It seemed Sally had finally lost her patience and forced Matt’s hand. She couldn’t stomach the poverty anymore, demanding he take her to the Fabian mansion to claim her rightful throne. How hilarious. Two years in, and she was still dreaming of a fairy-tale ending. How could a spineless coward like Matt ever force his way into the Fabian estate on his own? “Sally, long time no see.” Since I was here to watch the show, I might as well play my part. I walked right up to her. She stood there in a charred, dirty nightgown, while I wore a pristine, warm wool coat. When Sally turned and saw me, something in her snapped. She lunged at me like a feral animal, grabbing my collar with filthy, ash-stained hands. “Andrea! You did this to me! You ruined my life!” “Tell me! What did you do? Why is everything different this time?!” Her eyes were bloodshot, her face twisted with the same manic rage she had shown when she pushed me off the cliff. She blamed me for her misery, yet she was the one who had made every single choice to get here. Nothing had changed about the world. She was simply too blind to see the traps. I didn’t bother answering her. I merely glanced down at her hands on my coat, my voice cold. “You’re getting ash on my wool coat. It’s expensive.” Hearing the word “expensive,” Sally recoiled as if stung. She looked at her hands, then at the black smudges she had left on my collar. She swallowed hard, her eyes darting away, unable to meet my gaze. It seemed two years of harsh reality had successfully beaten some of the arrogance out of her. The proud campus queen had finally learned what it felt like to be humbled by poverty.

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After three years of marriage, I finally got pregnant. I called to tell him. “Hey, come home early tonight. I have some amazing news.” Silence on the other end for a second. “I can’t make it tonight, Iris. Amber really wants some mango crepe cake, so I’m taking her to line up for it. After that, we’re going hiking to catch the sunrise.” “When I wanted to watch the sunrise, you told me it was a waste of time.” “Why do you always have to ruin the mood? She’s all by herself. I can’t just leave her alone, can I?” After he hung up, his childhood friend Amber sent me a text. “Hey babe, he belongs to me tonight. I’ll watch the sunrise for you.” I stared at the positive pregnancy test in my hand, two bright pink lines, and let out a soft laugh. Then, I texted her back: “He belongs to you forever now.” 1 After sending that message, I opened the hospital’s app and scheduled an abortion for the next morning. I didn’t sleep at all that night. I sat alone on the living room sofa, watching the sky fade from pitch black to a cold gray, and then to bright morning light. My phone stayed completely silent. Patrick was busy, of course. Busy chasing the sunrise with Amber. At eight the next morning, I arrived at the clinic right on time. I checked in, waited for my name, and signed the consent forms. The nurse looked at my paperwork and asked, “Is there no one here with you?” “He’s busy.” She didn’t press further, simply handing me a cup of warm water. The lights in the operating room were blindingly bright. The anesthesiologist told me to count down. I only made it to seven before slipping into the dark. When I woke up, I was lying in the recovery room. I stayed there for two hours. Not a single call came to ask where I was. Slowly, I sat up, pulled on my coat, and took a cab back home by myself. It was already two in the afternoon when I unlocked the front door. The sound of laughter drifted from the living room. Patrick and Amber were curled up on the sofa, with snacks and drinks scattered across the coffee table. They were looking at photos on a phone, laughing hysterically. “Look at this angle! The light hitting the clouds is absolutely stunning,” Amber purred, her voice dripping with sweetness. Patrick leaned toward her, a smile on his face that I hadn’t seen in ages. That was the smile that used to belong only to me. I stood by the entryway, changing my shoes, but neither of them noticed. It wasn’t until I walked over to the kitchen to pour a glass of water that Amber finally looked up. She stared at me for a moment, her eyes lingering on my pale face, and then she smiled. “Oh, you’re back! Where did you go today? You look terrible.” Patrick finally turned his head, his brow furrowing. “Where have you been? You could have at least called.” I didn’t answer. I took my glass and sat down at the dining table. Amber spoke up again. “Are you mad at us for watching the sunrise last night?” My hand tightened around the glass. Patrick’s expression hardened as he glared at me. “Iris, seriously? It was just a sunrise. Who are you throwing a tantrum for?” I looked up at him. There was no concern in his eyes, no guilt, only pure irritation. “I’m not throwing a tantrum.” “Then why do you look like someone died?” “Amber finally had a good day, and you have to ruin it?” Amber tugged gently on Patrick’s sleeve. “Patrick, don’t. She’s probably just tired.” That small gesture immediately softened Patrick’s tone. “You’re always so understanding.” He stood up and walked to the kitchen, retrieving a takeout box from the fridge. “By the way, I saved you a slice of that mango crepe cake from last night.” He pushed the box toward me like it was a grand gesture of charity. “Go ahead. The line was incredibly long.” I stared at the cake. The bright yellow mango slices peeked through layers of cream. “I’m not eating that.” “Why not? You love sweets.” “I’m allergic to mangoes.” A heavy silence filled the room. Patrick froze for a split second, but he quickly recovered his defensive frown. Amber tilted her head, a mock-puzzled expression on her face. “But sweetie, most people with mango allergies only break out if the juice touches their skin. Eating it is usually totally fine. I have a friend who gets a rash if she touches them, but she can eat mangoes all day without any issues.” Patrick nodded instantly, seizing her words. “See? Amber said it herself. You’re just being dramatic, dramatic about everything. Since when are you allergic to eating them? It’s just a slice of cake. What’s the worst that could happen?” 2 I looked at Amber. She offered me a sweet, almost imperceptible smirk. I set my glass down, my voice flat and calm. “I said no.” The smile vanished from Amber’s face. She lowered her head, her voice dropping to a whimper. “Are you mad at me, Iris? Is it because I went with him? I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have gone.” As she spoke, her eyes brimmed with tears. Patrick lost his temper immediately. “Look at what you’re doing! Amber is just trying to help, and you have to act like this?” He shoved the cake box right against my hands. “Eat it.” I didn’t move. “Iris, I told you to eat it. Didn’t you hear me?” I remained perfectly still. Patrick snapped. He snatched up the fork, scooped up a massive piece of the crepe cake, and forced it to my lips. “Open your mouth.” I jerked my head away, but the fork scraped against my cheek. The sticky cream and mango juice smeared onto my skin, and an instant, burning itch began to spread. Amber gasped softly. “Patrick, stop. If she doesn’t want it, don’t force her.” “No, she’s eating it today. She does this every single time, throwing a fit over nothing. I’m sick of pampering her.” He scooped another piece, pinched my jaw tight, and shoved it directly into my mouth. The sickly sweet taste of mango exploded on my tongue, and my stomach violently rebelled. I doubled over, gagging forcefully as tears sprang to my eyes. Amber stood up, looking utterly devastated. “Patrick, if she hates me that much, she could have just said so. Did she really have to humiliate me like this? I went out of my way to save that cake for her.” Patrick’s face darkened further. Watching me dry-heave, he felt no sympathy at all. He truly believed I was putting on a show. “Iris, you are going to finish this entire box today.” I propped myself up against the table, wiping the cream from my chin, my voice barely a whisper. “Patrick, you know I’m allergic.” “Amber said eating it is fine! You’re just being dramatic! Eat it now!” He forced the fork into my mouth, spoon after spoon. I thrashed against him, but he pinned me down, forcing me to swallow every single bite of the mango crepe cake. Once the box was empty, Patrick slammed it onto the table. “There. It’s done. Look at that, you’re perfectly fine. What was all that drama for?” He glanced at Amber. “I didn’t sleep well last night. Let’s go take a nap in the guest room.” Amber nodded obediently, following Patrick down the hall. I sat alone at the table, staring at the empty plastic container. Red hives were already blooming across my hands. My throat was starting to itch. I looked down at my phone. It was 2:45 PM. Slowly, I stood up, grabbed my bag, and walked out the door. As soon as I reached the street, I dialed 911. “I’m having a severe allergic reaction to mangoes. I need an ambulance.” “Ma’am, can you still breathe?” “Yes.” “Stay calm. The paramedics are on their way.” 3 By the time the ambulance arrived, I could no longer form words. My throat was constricting, and my breathing had become shallow and frantic. The hives had spread from my arms to my neck and face, itching so intensely it felt like millions of ants crawling under my skin. As the paramedics lifted me onto the gurney, I heard the radio crackle. “Female patient, twenty-six, severe mango allergy. Full-body urticaria, suspected laryngeal edema. ETA ten minutes.” I closed my eyes on the stretcher, thinking, at least I am still conscious. At least I am still alive. In the ER, the doctors immediately hooked me up to oxygen and started an IV. Lying on the hospital bed, I stared at the ceiling lights. They were just as harsh and white as the ones in the operating room this morning. Twice in one day, I had ended up on a medical table. First, to lose my baby. Second, to almost lose my life. Once the reaction was under control, the attending physician came to check on me. He flipped through my chart with a grim expression. “Your allergy to mangoes is severe. If you had arrived thirty minutes later, the swelling in your throat would have completely blocked your airway. You would have gone into anaphylactic shock, or worse, suffocated.” I nodded, unable to speak. The doctor looked around. “Where is your family? Why are you alone?” “He’s busy.” It was the exact same answer I gave the nurse that morning. The doctor gave me a long look, didn’t pry further, and wrote “hold for six hours of observation” on my file. The room was quiet. Only the faint snoring of the elderly lady in the next bed broke the silence. I watched the IV drip fall, drop by drop, when my phone suddenly vibrated. It was Patrick. I picked up. “Iris, where the hell are you? Why isn’t dinner ready?” His voice carried no warmth, only a harsh demand. “I’m at the hospital.” “The hospital? What did you do now?” “Mango allergy.” The line went silent for a moment. Then, Amber’s voice drifted through the receiver, loud enough for me to hear. “Patrick, is she blaming that piece of cake? But eating it doesn’t cause allergies…” She sounded so hurt, as if she were the victim here. Patrick’s tone shifted instantly. “Iris, are you doing this on purpose?” “What?” “Amber said eating it wouldn’t do anything, but suddenly you’re having an emergency? Are you trying to make me apologize to you?” My fingers tightened around the phone, turning my knuckles white. “Patrick, the doctor said if I had been thirty minutes later, I would have suffocated.” “Don’t exaggerate. Stop trying to manipulate me.” Amber’s voice floated over again. “Patrick, don’t be too hard on her. Maybe she’s just delicate. But then again, she’s home alone all the time. Now that you’re finally back, she probably just wants your attention.” Delicate. Attention-seeking. A cheap stunt. These words pierced through me like needles, but I didn’t even have the energy to feel the pain. Patrick sighed, his disgust palpable. “Iris, that’s enough. If you got sick from eating something, get it treated and come home. Stop lingering in the hospital to play the victim. There’s a house full of chores waiting for you. I’m hanging up.” The line went dead. I set the phone on the pillow and stared at the ceiling. The lady in the next bed rolled over, murmuring, “Sweetheart, your husband is a piece of work.” I offered a faint, bitter smile but said nothing. 4 By the time my six hours of observation ended, it was 1:00 AM. The doctor gave me strict instructions to rest, avoid any exposure to the allergen, and return in a week for a follow-up. I signed the discharge papers and took a cab home. Standing in front of the door, I rang the bell. It took a long time before the lock clicked. Patrick stood there in his pajamas, his hair messy, his eyes half-closed. He glanced at me, then turned around to walk back inside. “You’re back? Done throwing your fit?” I stood at the entryway, motionless. The guest room door was shut. Amber was likely asleep inside. Patrick walked into the living room, flopped onto the sofa, and checked the time on his phone. “It’s past one in the morning. What exactly do you want from me?” I walked over, standing on the other side of the coffee table. “Patrick, let’s get a divorce.” 5 He looked up at me, stunned. Then, he let out a scoffing laugh. “What did you just say?” “I said, I want a divorce.” “Iris, have you lost your mind? Over a slice of cake?” “It’s not about the cake.” “Then what? Because I didn’t let you watch the sunrise? Can you stop being so childish?” I stared at him. There was still no concern in his eyes. From the moment I walked through the door, he hadn’t asked if I was okay, or how my allergy was. He only thought I was acting out. “Tomorrow morning at ten. We’ll meet at city hall.” Patrick stood up, towering over me. “Do you honestly think that if you threaten divorce, I’ll beg you to stay?” “No.” “Then what do you want?” “I don’t want anything anymore.” Patrick’s face darkened completely. “Fine. You want to split? Let’s do it. I’m done coddling your miserable attitude.” “Ten o’clock tomorrow.” “Fine.” He turned to walk toward the bedroom, pausing at the threshold. “Iris, don’t you dare regret this.” I watched his back disappear into the room, the door shutting behind him. I stood in the silent living room. I didn’t cry. I didn’t shake. My heart was perfectly still, like a lake bed dried up by the wind. I walked into the study, opened the drawer, and gathered my ID, social security card, and marriage certificate. Then, I went to the closet, packing a few changes of clothes, my passport, and my credit cards. I packed everything into a single suitcase and zipped it shut. I took one last look at the house we had shared for three years. Then, I wheeled my suitcase out and quietly closed the door behind me. The next morning, I arrived at city hall at precisely 9:30 AM. The wait wasn’t long. I took a number and sat on a plastic chair in the lobby. At ten sharp, I checked my phone. No missed calls, no messages. By 10:30, still nothing. I called Patrick. It rang four times before he picked up. “Yeah?” “I’m at city hall. It’s past ten.” The sounds of a bustling shopping mall echoed in the background, along with Amber’s giggles. “Iris, what is this call supposed to mean?” “We agreed to sign the papers today.” “I’m out helping Amber pick out clothes for the new season. She doesn’t know how to shop for herself.” “You’ve had your little tantrum. Don’t push your luck.” “I’m not throwing a tantrum. I’ve been waiting for you for forty minutes.” “Yeah, yeah, I get it. Stop nagging. I’ll get there when I get there.” “Patrick, I will wait until noon. If you aren’t here, I’m filing a lawsuit.” The line went silent. “Are you threatening me?” “I’m informing you.” I hung up and continued to wait. 6 At 11:40 AM, hurried footsteps echoed near the entrance. Patrick pushed the doors open, with Amber following close behind, holding two shopping bags. His face was tense, sweat beading on his forehead. Amber, on the other hand, was wearing full makeup, a brand-new dress, and high heels. Patrick marched up to me. “Alright, I’m here. Are you happy now?” I stood up, handing our marriage certificate and IDs to the clerk at the desk. “We’re here to file for divorce.” Amber suddenly grabbed my arm. “Iris, have you really thought this through? You and Patrick have been together for so many years. You’re throwing it all away over a silly misunderstanding?” I pulled my arm away, looking at her coldly. “I’ve made up my mind.” “But Iris, Patrick really cares about you. Please, just sleep on it.” Her eyes welled with tears. Patrick added, “Amber is begging you, and you’re still doing this?” “I want the divorce.” Patrick’s jaw clenched. “Iris, is there someone else?” “No.” “Then you’re just out of your mind. Throwing away a perfectly good life to tear our home apart. Do you think you’ll find anyone better than me?” The clerk looked up, completely indifferent. “Is this divorce mutual and voluntary?” “Yes,” I said. Patrick gritted his teeth, taking a long moment before forcing the word out. “Yes.” The clerk asked a few quick questions about dividing our assets. I told her he could keep the house and the car. We would split the savings fifty-fifty. No objections. Patrick looked stunned, clearly not expecting me to walk away with so little. “You’re certainly eager to get rid of me.” “Yes.” We signed the papers, pressed our thumbs to the ink, and took our photos. The clerk handed us our final paperwork. It was a thin document, much lighter than a marriage certificate. I slipped my copy into my bag. Patrick clutched his copy, staring at it. Then, he let out a bitter sneer. “Iris, don’t you dare regret this. Without me, you’re absolutely nothing.” I didn’t argue. Because I knew, better than anyone, how wrong he was. I turned and walked toward the exit. Amber called out behind me, “Take care of yourself, Iris!” I didn’t look back. Outside city hall, the sunlight was blinding. I stood on the sidewalk for a moment, taking a deep breath of fresh air. My phone buzzed. It was a text from Amber. “Thanks for stepping aside, Iris. I’ll take good care of Patrick from now on.” I looked at the screen, my lips curling into a faint smile. I didn’t reply. I blocked the number and deleted the conversation. I returned to the house to pack the remaining things I hadn’t taken the night before. Patrick wasn’t home, probably out celebrating with Amber. Within two hours, I erased every single trace of my existence from that apartment. I left the keys on the shoe cabinet, pulled my suitcase behind me, and walked out. At eleven that night, I checked into a quiet boutique hotel. The girl at the front desk looked at me kindly. “Just for one, ma’am?” “Yes.” “How many nights?” “Just tonight.” She handed me the key card, and I thanked her. The room was small but spotless. I set my suitcase against the wall and sat on the edge of the bed. A notification popped up on my phone, a bank alert showing my balance. It was just enough to start over in another city. I turned off the lights and lay down. As I closed my eyes, my heart felt completely light. My three-year marriage was over. No tears, no regrets. Only a profound, beautiful sense of relief. I only learned about the events of that night much later, from Dr. Cooper. Dr. Cooper had been my classmate in college, and he was the physician who treated me in the ER that afternoon. He told me he knew it wasn’t his place to interfere, but when he saw Patrick, he couldn’t stay silent. That night, Amber had slipped on the stairs at Patrick’s apartment, twisting her ankle. Patrick rushed her to the emergency room. Dr. Cooper happened to be on the night shift. He watched Patrick walk in, supporting a weeping girl, and recognized him immediately. “Patrick? What are you doing here so late?” “Amber hurt her ankle. Can you take a look?” Amber clung to Patrick’s shoulder, tears streaming down her face. Dr. Cooper examined her ankle, ordered an X-ray, and had a nurse wheel her down to radiology. With Amber gone, the hallway fell silent. Dr. Cooper leaned against the wall, asking casually, “By the way, did you know your wife was in the ER yesterday afternoon?” Patrick froze. “What do you mean, the ER?” “Severe mango allergy. Hives, throat swelling, almost suffocated. She was entirely alone when she came in, and she left alone, too.” Patrick didn’t say a word. Dr. Cooper flipped through the chart, shaking his head. “Your wife had an abortion yesterday morning, and then she was rushed here in anaphylactic shock in the afternoon. As her husband, don’t you think you failed her?” He looked up as he finished speaking. Patrick’s face had turned as white as a sheet.

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