Author: Momo Chan

1 Our doctor called Caspian Hamblett and me a match made in heaven—a cruel twist of fate, really. His fertility rate was practically zero, a severe case of male infertility. Mine was the exact opposite; I was hyper-fertile. We were a biological paradox. And so, in our third year of marriage, the impossible happened: I conceived naturally. I tucked the positive pregnancy test into a small, elegant box, planning to give it to him on his birthday. The perfect surprise. But he beat me to it, exploding across the internet first: #HamblettHeirCaspianAndSupermodelGirlfriendInSteamyHotelRomp #SeraphinaRowesBody #LearningNewTricksAtTheApexHotel I felt like I’d been plunged into a cavern of ice. I called Caspian, my hand trembling. He answered, his voice a low, intimate murmur. “Babe, I’ve got a business dinner tonight. Don’t wait up.” Before I could utter a single word, he hung up, leaving me frozen in silence. I didn’t sleep that night. … The comments online were a torrent of poison. [You can’t really blame him for finding another woman. His wife is barren.] [Exactly. He’s handsome, rich, incredible in bed. He has everything. Genes like that deserve to be passed on.] [Please, Seraphina Rowe is an international supermodel. Can you imagine how perfect their kid would be?] Through the long lens of a paparazzi camera, Caspian made no effort to hide as he pressed the woman against the floor-to-ceiling window. His large hands were strategically placed, cupping her private areas, his movements powerful yet tender. Below, on the street, a crowd of onlookers and photographers grew, their cameras flashing until night fell. [Damn, three hours, four rounds. Caspian Hamblett is a god.] [Seraphina must be in heaven.] For me, those three hours were an eternity of torture. I watched the man who had promised to love me for a lifetime tear off his mask for the world to see, losing himself in another woman. I remembered a year ago, after a full year of trying for a baby with no success, when his parents pressured us into getting checked. The results came back. The doctor told me the problem was Caspian. To protect his pride, his fragile male ego, I begged the doctor to keep it a secret. I told everyone the problem was me. That I was the one who couldn’t conceive. That night, his mother laid out dozens of photos in front of him. “The Hamblett family empire is enormous. We can’t let it die without an heir.” “This one is from Harvard, high IQ. This one is a professor at Juilliard, artistic, from a family of intellectuals…” Right in front of me, Caspian swept the photos into the trash can. “Mom, forget it. I only love Elara.” “I can’t separate my body from my heart.” His mother tried everything to force us apart—tears, tantrums, threats. But he just held my hand tighter and we moved out of the Hamblett mansion. He even threatened to publicly disown his family. “You two can have more kids if you want,” he’d told his parents. “That way you won’t have to worry about the Hamblett legacy.” “Elara and I are going to live a happy, carefree life, just the two of us.” The conviction in his eyes back then was absolute. I truly believed we would love each other for the rest of our lives. But now… Tears blurred my vision. I rested a hand on my stomach, on the precious new life I was carrying, and sent Caspian a text. [Are you sure you don’t want to know what your surprise is?] I stared at my phone, praying for a reply. If he would just apologize, even with a pathetic excuse like he’d lost his head for a moment, I would keep our child. I would give him one more chance. But the only reply I received was a city-wide firework display, lighting up the night sky with a message for everyone to see: [To Seraphina Rowe’s first love, Mr. Hamblett. It began with you, it will be true to you, and it will end with you. I love you~] [Happy Birthday. Here’s to many more with me.] The fireworks spelled out the words, one by one, for a full thirty minutes. Their grand romantic gesture was trending again. They were on a yacht on the Hudson, having a candlelit dinner. [I heard Caspian bought that yacht for her. It’s their private love boat now.] [Wow, so romantic. I can only imagine what happens on that thing~] My heart shattered, piece by piece. Today wasn’t just his twenty-eighth birthday. It was our tenth anniversary. We were eighteen when we got into the same university. One kiss, and we were inseparable. Now, he had clearly forgotten all about the woman waiting at home to celebrate with him. I sat at the dining table for five hours, watching the food grow cold and the cake I’d baked collapse in on itself. Finally, my phone buzzed. It was from Seraphina. [Caspian and I had a wild night. He just fell asleep.] [If you want to know what happened, it’s all online. Need me to send you a highlight reel?] A flood of video files came through, eating up nearly twenty gigabytes of my phone’s memory. [Here’s the whole thing. Enjoy the show, honey.] [Okay, I’m exhausted. Going to cuddle with your husband now. Bye.] The last message was a photo of Caspian asleep. His brow was furrowed with fatigue, but a sweet, satisfied smile played on his lips. A wave of nausea washed over me. I ran to the bathroom and dry-heaved over the toilet. The baby kicked restlessly inside me. I bit my lip until I tasted blood as tears streamed down my face. “I’m sorry, little one,” I whispered. “It’s not that I don’t want you. It’s that I can’t have you.” I wanted so badly to give our child a happy home. But I couldn’t. Not anymore. I couldn’t pretend nothing had happened and continue to share a bed with Caspian. After I was done being sick, I pulled myself up from the floor. I started packing a bag, my mind set on going to the hospital for an abortion. Just then, there was a knock at the door. It was Alfred, his parents’ driver. “Ma’am, Mrs. Hamblett would like to see you.” I went with him. His mother slid a divorce agreement across the table. “I’m sure you’re aware of what happened yesterday.” “Caspian has been carrying on with that woman in public, for the whole city to see. He’s made it perfectly clear he’s ready for a divorce.” “You need to accept the fact that he doesn’t love you anymore. Sign the papers. Don’t hold him back.” After a sleepless night, I had already steeled myself to end our ten-year relationship. To lose his child. To divorce him. I just hadn’t expected the Hamblett family to be in such a hurry to throw me out. I picked up the agreement with a bitter taste in my mouth. The terms were simple: I would leave with nothing. I laughed, a harsh, humorless sound. I pushed the papers back. “I’ll agree to a divorce. But I’m not signing this.” “Caspian’s affair is public knowledge. I want a seventy-thirty split of the assets.” “Seventy for me, thirty for him.” His mother slammed her hand on the table. “How dare you!” “In all the years you’ve been married into this family, you haven’t produced a single heir.” “Marrying Caspian elevated you, a girl from a bankrupt family, to a status and respect you never deserved.” “And now you have the audacity to demand money? You should be compensating us!” The absurdity of it all was suffocating. “Has it ever occurred to you that the reason I can’t have a baby is because your son is the one who’s broken?” SLAP. The force of the blow sent a ringing through my ears. She threw a debit card at my face. “Don’t you dare spew such nonsense.” “Your youth was worth about five hundred dollars.” “Take it, and get out of my house.” Just then, the door opened. Caspian walked in, holding Seraphina’s hand. He flinched when he saw me, a flicker of guilt in his eyes. He tried to pull his hand away, but Seraphina gripped it tighter, linking her arm through his. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Mrs. Hamblett,” Seraphina cooed. “Caspian and I were up so late last night, we overslept a little.” She pulled a sapphire necklace and an envelope from her purse. “This is for you. It was the grand prize from the modeling competition. A royal blue sapphire. The moment I saw it, I thought of you.” His mother’s eyes lit up. “This is a priceless piece, almost impossible to find at auction now. And you’re just giving it to me?” Seraphina nodded. “Of course. You’re Caspian’s mother. You raised this incredible man. I don’t know how else to thank you.” His mother beamed. “You are too thoughtful, my dear. It seems our Caspian has finally opened his eyes.” “I didn’t have time to prepare a proper gift for you, but please, take this.” She handed Seraphina a black credit card. “It has a five-million-dollar monthly limit. Spend it as you wish. I know you models have to maintain a certain image.” Seraphina hugged her sweetly. “Thank you so much! I’m opening the fashion show tomorrow. You have to come!” A bitter pang shot through my heart. In all my years with Caspian, I had never been treated with such warmth. I grabbed my bag to leave, but Caspian stopped me. “Stay for dinner.” I shook him off. “No, thank you. Let’s get a divorce.” “I’ll meet you at the city clerk’s office tomorrow at nine.” His brow furrowed with impatience. “Yes, I’m with Seraphina now. But she doesn’t mind you being around. You can keep your title as Mrs. Hamblett.” He leaned in, his voice low. “You need to remember, you have no one but me now.” “Throwing a tantrum and demanding a divorce won’t do you any good.” He was right. I had no one else. Ever since my parents died in a car crash that was meant for him, a deliberate act of sabotage, I had clung to him like he was life itself. He was the only one left who would be good to me. And now, this blatant betrayal. If I had known this would happen, I would have stayed away from him ten years ago. Then my parents would still be alive. Seraphina approached me with a bright, false smile, as if just noticing me. “Oh, Elara, you’re here! I actually had a little favor to ask you.” “Listen to Caspian. Stay for dinner.” I took a step back. “No.” Caspian’s face darkened. “Elara, don’t take your anger out on Seraphina.” “She’s sincerely asking for your help, not for your cold shoulder.” He shoved me into a dining chair. Seraphina poured me a glass of red wine. “The jewelry I was planning to wear for the show tomorrow has gone missing.” “This is a special exhibition. The pieces need to have a story. The other models are wearing family heirlooms or purchased antiques. I can’t find a suitable replacement on such short notice.” “So, I was hoping to borrow yours.” Her eyes were fixed on the necklace I was wearing. “With the story behind it, your necklace would be the talk of the show.” Her earnest expression was a mask for raw provocation. My heart seized. I instinctively covered the necklace with my hand. I had taken it from my mother’s body. I remember that day with sickening clarity. A massive truck plowing straight into my parents’ car. Their multi-million dollar Rolls-Royce, crushed like a tin can. Blood pooling on the asphalt. It was the darkest day of my life. I knelt before their mangled bodies, my screams tearing through the air, and salvaged the broken half of the necklace from my mother’s neck. It was the only thing I had left of her. And now, Seraphina wanted to use my tragedy as a prop for her career. “Never. My pain is not a tool for your publicity.” Caspian glanced at her, then at me. “Let it go, Seraphina. That was her mother’s.” Tears welled in Seraphina’s eyes, her hand, holding a wine glass, frozen in mid-air. “I just wanted to borrow it,” she choked out. “It’s not like I wasn’t going to give it back.” “Caspian, you know how important this show is to me. I’m on the verge of breaking into the international market.” As her tears fell, Caspian’s expression softened, his brief sternness melting into concern. “Elara, maybe you could just…” “Impossible,” I cut him off. I stood to leave, but Seraphina grabbed my arm. “Please, Elara. I’m begging you.” “I really don’t have time to find anything else. If you’re angry at me because of Caspian, you can hit me, you can yell at me, whatever you want.” I tried to pull away. “Let go of me.” She stumbled backward and fell to the floor, the red wine staining her dress like a fresh wound. Caspian rushed to her side, his face a mask of fury. “That’s enough, Elara.” “Your parents are dead. They’re gone. What’s the point of clinging to a necklace? You’d be better off visiting their graves.” He reached over and ripped the necklace from my neck. “Seraphina is borrowing it. Stop making a scene.” He scooped her up into his arms. “Mom, this woman has ruined dinner.” “I’m taking Seraphina to change. We’ll see you at the show tomorrow.” He carried her out the door. I stumbled after them, my voice raw. “Caspian, that belonged to my mother! You can’t!” “Give it back to me!” He settled Seraphina into the car, then turned to me, his face flushed with anger. “Maybe I’ve been too good to you, Elara. Is that why you feel like you can treat Seraphina this way?” “All she did was ask to borrow something.” He had forgotten. That crash was orchestrated by one of his family’s enemies. They thought he was in the car that day. My parents had died for him. I remember him kneeling at their memorial, sobbing, swearing an oath. “Mom, Dad, don’t worry. I’ll take care of Elara for the rest of my life. I’ll love her and protect her.” “I’ll never let anyone hurt her. I’ll never let something like this happen to her.” All those promises were now dust. A man’s heart changes so easily. For his new love, he could steal my most precious memory. Disappointment was etched across his face. He slammed his foot on the gas, the car screeching away, leaving me standing alone in the road. I didn’t care. I scrambled to my feet and ran after him. At an intersection, there was a deafening screech of tires and a sickening crunch. The next thing I knew, I was flying through the air, thrown several meters by the impact of a car. Blood poured from my nose and mouth. My clothes were soaked with it, a sticky, warm wetness spreading from beneath me. I tried to move, but my body was a dead weight. Through a hazy fog, I heard the wail of a siren. “Quick, call Mr. Hamblett!” “She’s losing too much blood. The baby’s gone. We have to focus on saving her.” “If we lose her, Mr. Hamblett will tear this hospital apart!” A doctor’s voice, choked with tears, “Director, he’s not answering.” “Then use her phone.” They fished my phone from my pocket. The screen was shattered but somehow still worked. A few seconds after they dialed, he picked up. “It’s the middle of the night, Elara. What do you want now?” The paramedic spoke quickly. “Mr. Hamblett, this is City General Hospital. Your wife—” A cold laugh cut him off. “Is Elara being dramatic again? Did she hire actors to try and guilt me into coming home?” “Seraphina has a huge show tomorrow. She’s nervous and needs me with her.” “I’ll come home after it’s over.” “And don’t worry, I’ll bring your necklace back with me.” “No, sir, you don’t understand,” the paramedic insisted. “Your wife has been in a serious car accident.” “She’s in critical condition.” “And she’s miscarried. You need to get to the hospital.” Caspian’s voice was laced with annoyance. “She can’t get pregnant, so how could she have a miscarriage?” “I told you, I’m busy tonight. Tell her to stop acting like a child.” Click. The line went dead. Caspian’s eyelid twitched all night. It was still twitching the next day. A knot of anxiety tightened in his gut. After the fashion show, he hurriedly dismissed the reporters. As he was heading to his car, a man stopped him. “Mr. Hamblett? Miss Elara asked me to give this to you.” In front of all the flashing cameras, the man handed Caspian a small, ornate wooden box. The media swarmed, their lenses focused tightly on it as he lifted the lid.

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Being a trophy wife in a world of immense wealth isn’t without its troubles. But a problem you can solve with money isn’t really a problem at all. So I spent three hundred thousand dollars to hire a master of seduction. His one job: to ensnare the mistress who was trying to take my place. 1 The rich in this world come in two flavors. There are the ones you see on the Forbes list, with their assets laid bare for all to see. And then there are the others—the ones who can move capital and resources on a scale that defies public accounting. My husband, Marcus Sterling, is the latter. His name is unknown to the masses, but the assets he manages approach a trillion dollars. In this world, there are very few things he wants that he cannot have. I am under no illusions. If he ever wanted to divorce me, he could, with a single word, have me thrown out with nothing but the clothes on my back. It would be a mercy if he didn’t saddle me with a mountain of debt to crush me for the rest of my days. After more than twenty years together, perhaps he wouldn’t be quite so cruel. But why should I stand by and let someone else harvest the fruit from the tree I spent my life planting? At my age, I’m long past caring about love. He can sleep with whomever he wants. But touch my money? Not a chance. The problem was, this mistress was a master of her craft. First, she was younger and more beautiful than me. To a man like Marcus, she was a more presentable accessory. Second, her manipulation of men was flawless. She was playing the lead in some grand, pure love story. She never asked my husband for money or connections, never hinted at wanting to replace me. It was all about pure, unadulterated love. She was content to be the other woman, satisfied with the moments he could spare to grace her bed. In her own words, her income was more than enough to support her; all she wanted was love. A pretty lie. Every project she landed was backed by my husband’s resources, his silent endorsement. She was a competent executive, yes, but she knew as well as I did that without a titan propping her up, she wouldn’t have secured a single deal. Third, she and my husband were in the same world: finance. They had endless things to talk about. In contrast, after years as a full-time homemaker, my world had shrunk. I couldn’t compete with her on an intellectual or spiritual level, and the common ground between Marcus and me had eroded to almost nothing. She offered him high-quality emotional support without any pressure. What man wouldn’t fall for that? And finally, the most important point of all. Marcus was her first. And I know my husband—he has a severe virgin complex. In his heart, I suspect he feels a deep sense of indebtedness to her. The less she asked for, the more he felt he owed her a lifetime of responsibility. The only reason he hadn’t divorced me yet was likely because of the three children I had borne him. But I had already heard him, more than once, praising her to the media and to our friends, talking about how brilliant she was, how much she helped his career. She was outmaneuvering me on every front. A war was coming, and the only card I had left to play was the faint, flickering ember of our shared history. The stress was so immense that during my postpartum recovery, I lost twenty pounds. I didn’t know if our marriage would even last until our youngest child’s first birthday. To be honest, I’m not afraid of being without a man. But I have three children. My eldest son just started college, studying finance. In that industry, without his father’s backing, his path would be brutally difficult. My daughter is at an international boarding school that costs a million a year. Her dream is to study art abroad, an endeavor that will require a multi-million-dollar investment to even have a chance at success. And my youngest, another son, was an unexpected blessing. The bills from his first month of life could cover an average person’s annual salary. Behind me, I also have my aging parents. Last year, a simple cold sent my father to the ICU. The cost was twenty thousand dollars a day. He was there for six months. If my money-tree of a husband hadn’t been willing to pay, I would no longer have a father. All of these threads wove a net that I couldn’t escape. I couldn’t leave Marcus. If I could, who wouldn’t want to be the hero of her own story, a woman of immense talent who could handle everything on her own? But I am just a woman of ordinary talents. I don’t have the genius to get into the Ivy League, nor the wealthy family to back me, nor any special powers. The one thing I had—my beauty—has faded. But no one should ever underestimate a mother’s will to protect her family. I couldn’t touch Marcus. But moving a pawn like Isabelle Jiang… that was another story. 2 As soon as my postpartum recovery was over, I went to meet someone. Jian Fang. I’d met him in a bar I invested in—a scoundrel, but the most masterful PUA I had ever witnessed. I once watched him, with nothing more than a glass of water, pick up a stunningly beautiful woman. Within days, he had moved on, and she was threatening suicide, swearing she would never marry anyone else. At the time, my daughter had started going to clubs with her friends, and I was a nervous wreck. I found out their usual spot and invested some money, asking the management to keep an eye on the kids and make sure they stayed out of trouble. Then Jian appeared. The staff wasn’t sure how to handle him, so they called me to come see for myself. Hiding behind the bar, I witnessed his entire seduction process. Afterward, I warned him to stay away from my club. He had looked at me then, his gaze wicked, a slow smile playing on his lips. In that single glance, I understood what the ancients meant by a soul-stealing gaze. Luckily, I was prepared for his type. Otherwise, that look would have sent my heart fluttering. Seeing my lack of reaction, he lazily blew a smoke ring and drawled, “Too much mom energy. Boring.” Then he slid a business card to me. “Let’s be friends. You never know, you might need me someday.” I remember thinking, What could I possibly need a hustler for? I never imagined I’d be eating my words so soon. When I saw him again, he seemed even more captivating than before. He had a rugged, devil-may-care charm, like a vampire from the shadows—mysterious, dangerous, and radiating raw sex appeal. “Well, well, if it isn’t the beautiful boss. You finally called.” “Mr. Fang, you’re as prescient as ever. I do have a matter that requires your assistance.” He raised an eyebrow, gesturing for me to continue. I laid out the situation with the mistress, the pressure she was applying. My request was simple: seduce Isabelle Jiang. Even a single night would be enough. Knowing Marcus’s complex, he would never touch her again. “A mission of this difficulty, you say?” He stroked his chin, feigning reluctance. “Name your price.” “A woman like Isabelle has seen it all. A typical persona will be sniffed out in a second. I’ll need to establish myself as a diamond bachelor. Luxury yacht, private jet, fancy cars, expensive watches—all essential. And a generous expense account.” “I’m not a blank check. I’ve seen your social media; you already own the clothes and accessories. As for the rest, I trust a professional like you can find cost-effective solutions.” “So stingy. The enemy is at your gates, and you’re not willing to bleed a little?” “I’d rather not lose my marriage only to be scammed out of a fortune by you.” “You don’t trust me? Then why did you call?” he said, pretending to get up and leave. I didn’t stop him. The bartender had told me Jian was ordering cheaper drinks lately. He was probably short on cash. “Hey! You’re really not going to beg me?” As expected, he couldn’t hold out. He turned back. “I’m the client. I’m hiring you for a job. If you don’t want the contract, I’ll find someone else. I’m sure you’re not the only ‘top graduate’ from those pickup artist bootcamps.” He smirked but sat back down. “Fifty thousand. On completion, I’ll pay you a fifty-thousand-dollar fee. All other operational expenses will be reimbursed with receipts. And you’ll wear a listening device. I want to monitor the project’s execution.” “Deal.” This time, he didn’t play hard to get. He agreed instantly. Just as I was preparing to meticulously plan a “chance encounter” for Jian and Isabelle, he gave me a masterclass in the art of the approach. In less than five minutes, he had already made his first intimate contact with Isabelle Jiang. 3 I had compiled a comprehensive dossier on Isabelle and presented it to him. He glanced at it, his eyes lingering on her photo before he muttered a few callous words: “Looks like a black widow. An easy takedown.” Then he tossed the file back at me. “Aren’t you going to study your target? Even romance scammers prepare multiple scripts. Isabelle is a wealthy woman in her own right. Could you please show some respect for the client?” “The client?” He suddenly leaned in close, our faces inches apart. I could feel his breath on my skin. “The person who pays is the client,” he murmured, his voice dangerously low. “If I’m respecting anyone, it should be you.” I grabbed the dossier and slapped it across his face, pushing him back. “Ow! This nose was expensive. You break it, you buy it.” “Get over yourself! Rule number one: do not harass the employer!” This man was too much. If I didn’t lay down the law now, this would happen again. He shot me another sidelong grin. “Boring.” He pocketed the listening device I gave him and held up one finger as he turned away. “One month. Keep your husband out of the way. Don’t interfere.” One month? Isabelle was no fool. He was arrogant. For a moment, I regretted hiring him. But my doubts vanished after their very first encounter. That day, I was sitting in a Starbucks on the second floor of a high-end mall, watching as Jian walked toward Isabelle with a gentle, restrained smile. It was a completely different look from his usual swagger. He was wearing a Loro Piana-esque cashmere sweater in a deep burgundy, making him look warm and effortlessly confident—the kind of sunny disposition only seen in boys who have been coddled in luxury their entire lives. Combined with his strong, chiseled features, he had the air of the affable, slightly clueless heir of an old-money dynasty. I expected him to approach Isabelle directly. Instead, he ignored her completely and addressed the older woman beside her—Isabelle’s mother. “Excuse me, I found this card. I was wondering if it might be yours.” It was a uniquely designed membership card for a restaurant called “The Study.” It was a small, exclusive private kitchen, known for its high-profile clientele. You couldn’t get in without connections. I had no idea where Jian had procured such a prop. Isabelle’s mother naturally shook her head, but I saw Isabelle’s eyes fix on the card. Jian feigned a shy smile, even scratching the back of his head. “Actually… this is a bit forward, but I was hoping to meet your daughter. But I felt I should ask for your permission first.” Her mother had probably never been approached by a handsome young man in such a courtly manner. She glanced at Isabelle and said generously, “It’s fine for you young people to get to know each other.” Isabelle was the golden child of her family, a phoenix risen from humble beginnings. Her mother’s status was entirely dependent on her success. This was likely the first time in her life her mother had been granted such a position of authority. It was a simple move, but Jian’s execution was flawless. And Isabelle? Every woman in finance is an opportunist, no exceptions. Jian’s old-money style, the Patek Philippe that peeked from his cuff, and this incredibly rare membership card were more than enough to make her want to know him. As expected, she extended her hand. “Isabelle Jiang, from Apex Capital. Have we met somewhere before?” Jian acted as if he were completely charmed by her forwardness. He took her hand, giving it a light, respectful squeeze. “I don’t think so. If we had, you’d already be in my contacts.” He grinned, a flash of bright white teeth, looking utterly captivated and, frankly, easy to fool. They exchanged numbers. I immediately checked the social media profile Jian had curated. It was filled with pictures of him competing in Codeforces Rounds, one of the world’s most prestigious programming competitions. Scrolling further back, I found a photo of him at the Royal Ascot in England. In one fell swoop, he had established himself as not only wealthy, but also a high-IQ tech genius with a deep family pedigree. The photos were expertly doctored, the timeline seamless. I wondered how many of these fake personas he maintained. If I didn’t know his real story, I would have been completely taken in. With Jian making swift progress, it was time for me to make my move. The baby’s hundred-day feast was approaching. It was the perfect opportunity to strike a nerve.

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The real heiress, after enduring years of abuse in the countryside, was finally reunited with the Ashworth family. In her second year back, she killed our father, the city’s richest man, with a single knife wound. And I, the fake heiress, was the only witness. I called the police immediately, swearing she would pay with her life. Every piece of evidence at the crime scene, every forensic finding, and the autopsy report all corroborated my testimony. The real heiress, Seraphina, had no defense. She could only confess. But the lead detective on the case, Miles Corbin, was convinced there was more to the story. To uncover the truth, he latched onto me and refused to let go. But later, when I finally told him everything, the sharpest blade in South Crest Homicide completely broke down. “Stop,” he begged, his voice cracking. “That’s enough. Please…” 1 The harsh light of the interrogation room beat down on my face, making my eyes ache. Across from me sat the man leading the questioning: Detective Miles Corbin, head of the South Crest Police Department’s Homicide Division. Every question he threw at me was a hammer blow against my nerves. “After Seraphina Ashworth was brought back to the family, you repeatedly tried to force her out. Why?” “We hear that Mr. Ashworth planned to transfer a five percent stake in the Ashworth Corporation to her at her college acceptance party. He was also going to announce her engagement to the Prescott family.” “You grew up with Julian Prescott, the youngest son of the Prescott family. You’ve been in love with him since you were children, haven’t you?” “Seraphina came back and took everything that was supposed to be hers. You must have wanted her to disappear, didn’t you?” I remained silent. An eerie quiet settled over the room. Suddenly, Detective Corbin slammed his hand on the table, the sound echoing through the sterile space. SLAM! It was just like the thud of my father’s body hitting the bed after the knife went in. “Seraphina confessed so quickly,” he said, his voice low and intense. “Your statements match perfectly. Almost too perfectly.” “But you both overlooked one crucial detail. Seraphina had no motive!” He leaned forward, his eyes locking onto mine. “Chloe Ashworth, she’s taking the fall for you, isn’t she?” I closed my eyes, my hands clenching into fists at my sides. It was always like this. People who had never walked a mile in my shoes felt they could so easily judge me. After all, in every story about the swapped heiress, the real villain is always the vicious, jealous fake. Detective Corbin watched me, not missing the slightest flicker of emotion on my face. When I still didn’t speak, he tapped the table, a slow, deliberate rhythm. “Conrad Ashworth was in his prime. He was fit. Seraphina, on the other hand, is malnourished and frail. Assuming she was the killer, tell me, how did she manage a single, fatal blow?” “We’ve looked into Seraphina’s past. The sixteen years she spent in that rural village… it was hell. Her adoptive parents’ actions constituted severe abuse and neglect. Yet, she never gave up. She fought with everything she had to find her way back to her real family.” “Do you really think someone who cherishes life that much, someone who clawed her way toward the light, would kill her own father over a little favoritism?” His gaze deepened, his tone heavy with meaning. “Mr. Conrad Ashworth was a great philanthropist. You can go outside and see for yourself how many people in South Crest, and across the country, have benefited from his generosity!” “He didn’t deserve to die like this.” I slowly opened my eyes. I hadn’t had a single night of proper sleep since the murder. Now, the sound of Corbin’s voice, the rhythmic tap of his fingers on the table, felt like a drill boring into my skull. But my lawyer, Mr. Davies, had warned me. Everything in this room was a calculated psychological game. I had to stay sharp. “I have already recounted the events of that night as they occurred,” I said, my voice steady. “The law expressly prohibits the use of inducement or deception to obtain evidence.” “You have been leading me with your questions. I request that this line of questioning be noted in the record, and that this entire session is being recorded.” Corbin shot to his feet, leaning over the table on his knuckles. His eyes, sharp as a hawk’s, pinned me in place. “When Seraphina was in that remote mountain village, she did everything she could just to attend school. After returning to the Ashworths, she was given the best educational resources imaginable. Your father not only hired the finest tutors for her, but he also enrolled her in South Crest’s top preparatory academy.” “As long as Conrad Ashworth was alive, Seraphina’s future and fortune were secure. What possible reason could she have to kill him?” “According to the autopsy, the weapon entered at a 35-degree upward angle, right through the diaphragm. It didn’t strike the heart directly at first, but the killer then twisted the blade, severing the major blood vessels nearby.” His voice was a low growl. “That’s a special kind of hatred. Making sure he wouldn’t survive.” This man, the embodiment of justice, stood before me. He was an immovable mountain, before which all evil was exposed. His voice was crushing. “Chloe Ashworth, tell me. What are you hiding? Or maybe the question is, what are you holding over Seraphina’s head to make her confess?” He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “Your mother’s death last year… was it really an accident?” The thread I’d been holding onto snapped. I shot up from my chair and shoved him, but it was like pushing against a brick wall. “Why are you dragging my mother into this?! She’s dead! She’s already dead! Why can’t you just let her rest?!” “Seraphina killed him! The evidence is there, the witnesses are there, why won’t you believe it?!” “Go interrogate the murderer! Why are you in here grilling me, the witness?!” The female officer taking notes rushed over, shouting, “Sit down! Hands on your lap!” I was trembling all over, my eyes burning with hatred as I stared at Corbin. After a long moment, I sank back into the chair, my eyes red, and slowly forced my breathing to even out. “Fine,” I said, my voice thick with emotion. “I’ll prove her motive.” “…Two years ago, the very first day Seraphina, no, she was called Daisy back then, the very first day Daisy set foot in our house, she tried to kill me.” 2 That day, Julian Prescott and I were coming home from school. I was on my period and in a foul mood, so I stormed out of the car and headed straight for the house. Julian trailed behind me, holding a thermos of the ginger tea he’d brewed just for my cramps, trying every trick in the book to cheer me up. “Your Highness, your humble servant skipped class to prepare this elixir. Won’t you grace it with a sip?” The household staff nearby covered their mouths, trying to stifle their laughter. My face flushed. I snatched the thermos from him, twisted the cap open, and took a small sip. Julian stood there, grinning as he watched me. Suddenly, he spoke. “Huh, who’s that?” “Why are there cops at your house? Did something happen?” I followed his gaze and saw them, two police officers standing outside the main house, and next to them, a thin, sun-darkened girl. Daisy. She wore an ill-fitting red dress. Her thin, straw-colored hair was pulled into a braid over her shoulder, and on her feet were a pair of faded black cloth shoes. Everything about her screamed cheap and out of place, yet she held herself with a strange, clean dignity. She was clearly nervous, but her back was ramrod straight. Her eyes were fixed on me, the girl who had everything, and they were filled with a profound sadness. She had obviously seen the whole exchange with Julian. When she noticed me looking, she took a clumsy step back, as if trying to hide the worn-out toes of her shoes. My father was gratefully seeing the officers off. My mother, Eleanor, was crying, pulling Daisy into her arms without a hint of hesitation. “My daughter,” she wept. “I’m so sorry. Chloe’s blood type was the same as yours… we never knew those monsters swapped you. All these years… how much you must have suffered…” The thermos slipped from my hand and clattered onto the stone path. Julian was stunned. He recovered quickly, his hand finding mine, his grip full of concern. My mother turned to me, her expression a mix of emotions. Wiping her tears, she spoke in a soft voice. “Chloe, this is your sister. My… my other child. She grew up in the countryside and has been through so much. From now on, you need to be understanding with her.” My father, usually so stern, looked at Daisy with undisguised pity. He gently patted her back. “You’re home now. That’s all that matters.” “We won’t call you Daisy anymore,” he declared. “To match Chloe, we’ll call you Seraphina.” “Everything you’ve missed, your mother and I will give it back to you.” “You and Chloe are the same age. You can keep each other company. You’ll get used to each other in no time.” My nose tingled, my eyes burned. I opened my mouth to say “Okay,” but all that came out was a weak, trembling smile. Daisy’s lips remained a thin line. The affection from her biological parents didn’t seem to move her. If anything, she looked disappointed. Her eyes landed on me again, her focus intense. She studied my face, then my school uniform, the designer backpack slung over my shoulder, and the simple but expensive leather shoes on my feet. Her gaze swept over to Julian, who stood protectively beside me, his refined air screaming old money. Finally, she looked back at our parents and forced a smile that was more painful than a grimace. “You raised her well.” Slowly, she pushed up her sleeves, revealing arms littered with scars. “I assume the police notified you of my existence a few days ago.” “I don’t know how much they told you, or what you’ve found out on your own, but before we make this official, before you change my name, I want you to hear my version.” “Chloe’s biological parents stole me and took me back to their village in the mountains. It’s so remote the bus lines don’t even go there. Most people live their whole lives without ever seeing a city.” “My earliest memories are of being chained in a pigsty, fighting animals for scraps.” “My ‘parents’ couldn’t have a son, and in the village, that was a disgrace. They took all their bitterness out on me. They cursed me, beat me, tried to break my spirit, and made me kneel on the ground and lick up my food like a dog.” “Later, a charity school opened in the village. I insisted on going. They would have rather beaten me to death than let me. I begged the village chief. I worked myself to exhaustion at the homes of the village elders, collapsing several times in the dead of winter, just to earn the chance to go to school.” “As long as they didn’t kill me, I was going to study. To escape that hell, I was so careful, so patient. But last year, they sold me to an old bachelor in the village.” “Five hundred dollars. That’s all it took for them to ruin my life.” “I didn’t know the truth about my birth then. There’s a taboo in the village about marrying relatives, but they sold me to a distant cousin, and no one stopped them. Now I understand. They all knew. Every single one of them was an accomplice.” “My hands and feet were bound, and I was carried to his house. I was pregnant within three months. I was only fifteen… The next year, I had a difficult birth. I begged him to take me to a hospital.” “The county hospital had a maternity ward. It was my only chance to get to a city. I was hemorrhaging, but I screamed for help from the doctors and nurses.” “I almost died on that operating table. The baby didn’t make it. I sent my ‘parents’ and that man to prison.” “Back then, I thought my life was completely ruined. But at the police station, they told me I had other parents.” “So I thought, even though I was broken, I had to get better. I had to face my real parents looking my best.” “I had let go of the hate. They weren’t my real parents, so it wasn’t my fault they treated me that way.” “But coming here, seeing the child you raised like a precious jewel, I realize… that all the cruelty I endured, all those years I was treated worse than an animal… you can’t just erase it with a simple ‘we didn’t know’.” My mother nearly fainted from grief. My father’s face was etched with sorrow. Even Julian’s eyes were red. Daisy raised a scarred finger and pointed it at me. “So, Chloe and I can never be at peace.” “I will only stay in this house until I graduate from high school. After that, I’m leaving. I won’t fight Chloe for anything, and don’t you dare try to use family to tie me down.” Her words pinned me to the spot. Only then did I understand what kind of life we had traded. The novels and TV shows always start the story when the real heiress returns, but the heartbreaking past, which is only ever shown in flashbacks, seems to be a pain only she bears. But for two girls who have lived such a twisted fate, can there ever be an easy reconciliation? Julian brushed my cheek with the back of his hand. I hadn’t realized I was crying. He looked at Daisy and said earnestly, “But Chloe is a wonderful person. You can’t blame her for what happened. It’s not fair to her.” “You’re back with your family now. It’s a new beginning. Why not let go of the past so you can all be a family?” He gave me a gentle push forward. I stumbled a few steps. Timidly, I reached out my hand. “Seraphina… sister, I…” But it was like a switch flipped inside her. Her face contorted with rage. She lunged at me, her hands closing around my throat, and slammed me against the wall. “I can’t let it go! I will never let it go!” she screamed, her voice raw. “Don’t call me sister! Don’t talk to me! Don’t you dare look at me with those pathetic, pitying eyes!” “Chloe Ashworth, your very existence is a sin!” Her eyes were filled with hate, with despair, and with tears. Our parents’ attempts to pull her off were useless. She was like a cornered animal, fighting with a suicidal ferocity. Julian, enraged, kicked her hard, sending her stumbling away. I gasped for air, my throat burning. Angry red marks were already blooming on my neck. In that moment, I knew. She truly wanted me dead. Julian hadn’t held back. Daisy’s head hit the corner of the coffee table, and blood streamed down her forehead. She ignored it, pushing herself back to her feet. Her voice was cold, empty. “Are you angry? That feeling of suffocation, of near-death? I’ve felt it more times than I can count.” She straightened her dress. “I’m not taking anyone’s name. From now on, I’m Seraphina. Seraphina Ashworth.” “From this day forward, my life is my own.” The timid, awestruck, hysterical girl who had arrived just moments before was gone. In her place was a warrior in a suit of armor, her eyes devoid of any warmth. I shrank into my mother’s arms, watching her through a blur of tears. It was like looking at a demon summoned from the depths of hell. 3 As the memory faded, I snapped my head up to look at Detective Corbin, my voice rising with agitation. “She’s just born bad! She’s violent! She’s the one who killed my father!” “She hated me for taking her place. She hated our parents for losing her. She only came back for revenge!” “But what did I do wrong? What was my crime in all of this?!” The young female officer looked on with a pained expression, her eyes welling up, though for whom, I couldn’t tell. Detective Corbin, however, remained impassive. After a long pause, he gave a small, humorless smile. “You’re smart. You’re using this emotional outburst to hide the truth.” “But you’re still young, Chloe. You’re not talking to some random person on the street. You’re talking to a seasoned detective who has dealt with countless criminals.” The young officer beside him awkwardly scratched her nose. Corbin’s fingers resumed their soft, rhythmic tapping on the table. “Anger is sharp. It’s easy to express with your body. But hatred… hatred is chronic. It’s much harder to fake.” “Your eyes tell a different story. You don’t hate Seraphina. On the contrary, you’re heartbroken by what she went through.” “So, what was that display of anger meant to accomplish?” “Chloe Ashworth, let me remind you. Providing a false statement not only obstructs justice, it carries legal consequences. We don’t need your clever games. We just need the truth.” “Did Seraphina Ashworth really kill your father?” My pupils constricted. A chill ran through me. I remembered something Seraphina had once said to me. “You’re a little greenhouse flower. You wear every emotion on your face. Don’t even try to play games with me. Only a fool like Julian would fall for it.” “So when you’re dealing with someone like me, you have two choices: either swallow your little schemes, or tell the truth.” I dug my nails into my thighs, forcing myself to meet Corbin’s gaze. My voice was calm, earnest. “Then I’m afraid I’m going to have to disappoint you, Detective.” “I know you suspect me, but I did not kill my father.” He studied me, and for the first time, a hint of uncertainty flickered in the veteran detective’s eyes. Corbin thought for a moment, then spoke in a low voice. “Studies show that when women commit crimes, their motives are often directly tied to external triggers.” “Chloe, you’re the only witness. You say the killer is Seraphina. Even if the evidence is solid, the trigger you’ve given me isn’t strong enough. It doesn’t convince me.” “Now, tell me again what happened on the night of the murder.” I lowered my eyes. My mind was dragged back to that night. “After Seraphina came back, my mother was consumed with guilt. She wanted to give her everything. Slowly, she started to neglect me.” “Because of that, my father paid more attention to me. Whenever my mother treated us differently, he would defend me. He took me to business events, bought me priceless jewelry at auctions, and made it clear to everyone that I was still his cherished daughter.” “During that time, my parents fought almost every day. I felt caught in the middle and just tried to avoid it. But Seraphina would always stand in front of my mother, a wall of thorns, confronting my father head-on. The tension between them just got worse and worse…” “Then my mother died suddenly. After that, Seraphina stopped calling him ‘Dad.’ She blamed his indifference for my mother’s decline.” “That night…” That night, the rain was torrential. In the dead of night, a flash of lightning tore the sky in two, as if a god had slashed it with a blade. My eyes flew open. I scrambled out of bed in terror and fell to the floor. Cold sweat soaked my back, and my breathing came in ragged gasps. Just then, my bedroom door creaked open. “Chloe, the thunder is bad. Are you okay? I was worried.” The next flash of lightning illuminated his face, twisting his features into a monstrous mask, as if he’d grown fangs. A scream tore from my throat. My father immediately flipped on the light and rushed in. He was still wearing the expensive suit he’d left in, clearly just having returned home. Seeing my terror, he knelt beside me, his eyes full of concern. “A nightmare? Don’t be scared, Chloe. Daddy’s here.” He held out a jewelry box. “I went to the villa to get your mother’s favorite necklace. Want to see?” “Silly girl. Mommy’s gone, but you still have me. And you have your sister…” He unfastened his cufflinks, took off his watch, and shed his suit jacket, rolling up his sleeves. Then he took out the priceless sapphire necklace and gently fastened it around my neck. I replayed the scene in my mind. “My father was talking to me, trying to calm me down. Then, Seraphina burst into my room. When she saw the necklace on me, she went insane and lunged for it.” “She had never known a moment of kindness in her life. My mother was the only light she’d ever had. Like me, she couldn’t accept her death. She couldn’t stand my father touching my mother’s things.” “She pulled so hard the chain scraped my neck and drew blood. My father got angry and slapped her…” “They kept arguing, breaking things. Then the thunder started again. I was so scared…” “When I came to my senses, my father was lying in a pool of blood. Seraphina was standing there, holding the bloody knife, her face a mask of shock…” Tears streamed down my face. I wrapped my arms around myself. “There was blood everywhere… on the floor, the walls… I couldn’t tell if it was his or hers… all I could do was scream…” My vision blurred. My voice broke, losing the line between reality and memory. But Corbin cut through the haze, his voice sharp. “That bread knife. Why was it in your room?” “The Ashworths need you to slice your own bread?” I paused, then answered in a low voice. “I have trouble sleeping. I often get up to study at night. My mother worried I’d get hungry, so she had a small kitchenette set up in my room with some basic supplies…” The words were barely out of my mouth when Corbin fired another question. “You and Mr. Ashworth were close?” My face was a calm mask, but a sharp spasm shot through my left hand. I quickly used my right to grip my thumb, stilling the tremor. In psychology, when a suspect is lying, you increase the pace of questioning. So, he thought I was lying. I squeezed my eyes shut. When I opened them again, they were swimming with tears. “As everyone knows,” I said, my voice trembling, “I was the person my father loved most in this world.” Corbin scrutinized me. After a long moment, he stood up abruptly. He paced back and forth, thinking. “No.” “That’s not right.” “The first half of your story was incredibly detailed. But the second half… you glossed over certain parts, rushing through them.” “Between the moment your father put the necklace on you and the moment Seraphina burst in… what happened in that gap?” “Someone truly terrified wouldn’t be able to recall details so clearly. But you remember every step he took. Unfastening his cufflinks, removing his watch, taking off his jacket, rolling up his sleeves.” “Your attention must have been completely fixed on him. You were watching his every move. So what happened next?” My curled fingers twitched. Then, my body began to shake uncontrollably. I tried to stop it, but my teeth started chattering. When I looked up, my eyes were wide with a primal fear, as if I were staring into an abyss. Corbin’s pupils dilated slightly. He returned to his seat. I braced for him to dig deeper, but instead, he changed the subject entirely. “What is your assessment of the relationship between Julian Prescott and Seraphina Ashworth?” 4 I fought to regain control, waiting for the wave of terror to pass. When it did, I spoke softly. “Julian…” It felt like a lifetime since we had truly spoken. My memory drifted back to the summer Seraphina arrived. To help her catch up academically, my father hired the best tutors in South Crest. South Crest Preparatory Academy was the top school in the state, where both Julian and I were students. At first, because of the animosity between Seraphina and me, Julian was firmly on my side. He not only ignored Seraphina himself but also acted as my bodyguard, making sure I was never left alone with her, terrified she might hurt me again. That changed one day when we overheard Seraphina’s English tutor complaining to her physics tutor in the garden. “It’s like teaching a toddler to speak,” the English tutor said with dramatic flair. “But at least toddlers are clever. They can learn and adapt.” “This ‘real heiress’ speaks English with such a thick rural accent… I just can’t get rid of it.” The physics tutor sighed. “They said she finished middle school, but I looked into it. The school was at the foot of a mountain, understaffed… the same teachers taught both middle and elementary school.” “Mr. Ashworth expects us to get her up to speed with the academy’s curriculum. It’s an impossible task.” I saw a sliver of Seraphina’s dress from behind a nearby wall. She was listening. Mortified for her, I was about to pull Julian away, but he was already marching over to them. “Is that how a teacher is supposed to speak?” he demanded, his voice sharp. “You were hired by Mr. Ashworth to teach, and you’re being paid handsomely for it. The least you can do is provide the service you were hired for!” “I will report every word you just said to him. You’d better think about that.” The two tutors jumped, stammering apologies. The genuine anger on Julian’s face vanished the moment Seraphina stepped out from behind the wall. He looked flustered, tugging at the collar of his uniform. “Don’t get the wrong idea. I just…” “Thank you,” Seraphina cut him off. They stood there in awkward silence. After that, whenever Julian saw Seraphina, he would still look uncomfortable, but he would offer a simple greeting. And Seraphina, instead of her usual icy glare, would usually give a curt nod in return. I watched as the boy I’d known my whole life started mentioning her more and more. His nickname for her changed from “that violent girl” to “your sister,” and finally, to “Seraphina.” Summer ended, and autumn flew by. By the first snowfall of winter, Julian was tutoring her himself. “She’s brilliant, you know,” he told me once. “And tough. She never backs down from a challenge.” “If she had grown up here, she would have been one of the most remarkable women of our generation.” More than once at parties, he would say with a sigh, “Compared to Seraphina, Chloe, you’ve had such a blessed life.” He took her to fine restaurants, to the symphony, to amusement parks where they screamed on rollercoasters. He introduced her to a world she had never known. During their tutoring sessions, he poured all his knowledge into her. The time he spent with me dwindled to almost nothing. Eventually, Seraphina’s grades broke into the top hundred in our year. And then, our two families sat down to discuss the engagement. Julian’s father proposed that the engagement be with Seraphina instead. Seraphina did not refuse. Julian did not object. As the decision was finalized, I saw it clearly. A small, subtle smile touched the lips of the boy I had cherished for more than a decade. No one heard the sound of my heart shattering. I skipped school and sat at my mother’s grave for the entire day. Even though I was no longer the center of her world, in my deepest sorrow, she was the only one I wanted to be near. I remembered when I was very small, my mother holding my hand, leading me to Julian for the first time. She had smiled and said, “Julian, this is my little treasure. She’s starting at your preschool tomorrow. Can you be her knight and protect her for me?” A young Julian had looked at me with curiosity, then puffed out his little chest. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Ashworth! I’m the best protector there is!” And just like that, he had taken my hand and protected me as I grew up. But in the same year my mother died, he let my hand go. As I left the cemetery, I told my mother that my boy was no longer mine, and that I was all alone in the world. The life I had stolen was finally being returned. As I finished recounting the memory, my eyes welled with tears. Suddenly, the interrogation room door was pushed open. “Detective,” an officer said, “we’ve got new evidence.”

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I think my girlfriend has been reborn. It’s like she’s suddenly realized I’m the bad guy, that I’ve been playing with her heart. And she’s started being incredibly kind to my sweet, innocent younger brother. The other day, I saw them together, tucked away in a quiet corner. Her eyes were red as she said: “I was so stupid. So blind.” “It was you. You’re the one I was always meant to find.” “I missed you in my last life.” “In this one, let me make it up to you with everything I have. Please?” 1 This was the fifth time Elara had bailed on dinner. Before, that would have been unthinkable. I sat by the window, staring out at the relentless rain. Then, I ran out into the storm. 2 Elara Hollingworth and Aiden were sitting in a café. They looked completely absorbed in each other. I shoved the door open and stormed inside. A little bell chimed, slicing through the quiet atmosphere. My brother’s face went pale with shock. Elara pulled her hand back and looked up at me. “What are you doing here?” I managed a weak, fragile smile. I’d checked my reflection in the glass door on my way in. I looked pathetic enough to inspire pity. So, when I slid into the booth beside Elara, she didn’t push me away. “You said you’d have dinner with me. Did you forget again?” I leaned in close, our noses almost touching. I’ve always been confident in my looks, especially when I put on this wounded, pleading act. As expected, the woman hesitated, then apologized. “I’m sorry.” “Aiden had some homework he needed help with, and I lost track of time…” “We didn’t eat together.” “…” I smiled, playing the part of the magnanimous boyfriend. “It’s okay.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my dear brother. His fists were clenched tightly under the table. He was struggling to hide the pain on his face. 3 Back in middle school, when those bullies were shoving my head into a toilet, I made a vow. I would do whatever it took to get the life I wanted. I would never let anyone see me broken again. So no, I’m not a good person. I never have been. I studied relentlessly, perfected my posture, and learned how to present the best version of myself to everyone, constantly expanding my social circle. I was ruthless in my pursuit of excellence, becoming so outstanding that whenever people mentioned my name, they’d say: “Sam Thorne? How can a guy that perfect even exist?” I finally earned the approval of my stoic, demanding father. My teachers adored me. My friends supported me. I thought I could maintain this delicate balance forever. Until Aiden showed up. 4 He was my father’s illegitimate son. Aiden found his way to us on his own. The moment he appeared, the balance of our family shattered. I demanded to know why my father had cheated, but he only met my questions with silence. And Aiden just stood in the corner of the room, shrinking away as if none of it was his fault. Worse, there was a kind of magic about him. It was an innate, effortless vulnerability, completely different from my carefully constructed facade. It was as if everyone around him was compelled to protect him. Soon, my own father was defending him. My friends all told me to be nicer to him, that it wasn’t his fault, that I shouldn’t become some evil step-brother from a TV drama. That old sense of crisis washed over me again. I realized he was slowly, quietly stealing everyone from my life. I had to defend my territory. 5 So I took Elara from him. Although, it was less “taking” and more that Aiden handed her to me on a silver platter. Aiden, ever the selfless hero, had volunteered for a disaster relief team after an earthquake. He’d rescued Elara Hollingworth, a debutante who had been hiking in the mountains. Unfortunately for him, Elara’s vision was blurred, her consciousness fading in and out. She never got a clear look at her savior. So I stepped in and took his place. Elara had been desperately searching for the man who saved her. But for some reason, Aiden refused to admit it was him. So I said, “Brother, if you really don’t want her to know, why don’t you introduce her to me?” At the time, he agreed. But I imagine, by now, he’s regretting it. 6 Elara. Elara was a good person, full of warmth and a fierce sense of justice. When she was good to me, she was all in. She’d do anything for me. She’d peel my grapes for me, for God’s sake. But then, overnight… She changed. Her warmth turned to ice. She started ignoring my calls. On Saturday morning, I went to her studio. She’s an oil painter, a graduate of a top international art academy. The studio smelled of sunlight and turpentine. I walked into the wide, open space and saw her, slumped over her easel, asleep. She must have pulled an all-nighter. Her breathing was slow and even. I crept closer to look at her canvas. The man in the portrait looked about thirty, maybe forty percent like me. He was smiling at the artist. The colors hadn’t been filled in yet. It took me a moment to realize. It wasn’t me. It was Aiden. 7 I must have been staring at the painting too intently, because I didn’t even notice her wake up behind me. I was crouching. When I turned, she was watching me silently. “What’s this? Painting my brother now?” “How about you paint me next time?” She sighed and wrapped her arms around me from behind. “No time.” The gesture was gentle, but the words were pure ice. I think the phrase “each with their own ulterior motives” described our current state of mind perfectly. But I’ve always been good at wearing a mask. I blinked and turned back to face her. “Elara, listen. If I ever do something you don’t like, you have to tell me, okay?” “Don’t keep it bottled up, you dummy.” I reached out and gently pinched her nose. It wasn’t just about playing the part of the gentle, sensitive boyfriend. It was an attempt to find a way back to what we had. Sometimes, silence is the deadliest poison in a relationship. And right now, I still needed Elara. Her brown eyes stared at me for a long moment. She looked so serious, so intense, that I had the distinct feeling I was digging my own grave. Then, I heard her ask: “That day… was it really you who saved me?” 8 “…” That was a difficult question to answer. Elara was an elite graduate, and her family’s business empire spanned half the city. She was the ideal, perfect partner for the perfect life I was building. At first, I had pursued her with marriage in mind. But after we got together, I discovered that when it came to love, I was just as clueless as any other guy. To put it simply, I had fallen for her. And that made lying to her… complicated. But she didn’t wait for my answer. For the first time, I saw genuine disappointment in her eyes. “Don’t answer.” “…” She was right. My silence was an answer in itself. A hollow feeling opened up in my chest. It was like the fortress I had spent my whole life building… Had just been effortlessly torn down by a single question. 9 “So? Did you and Elara break up?” On the school rooftop, I was sharing a coffee with another girl. Her name was Maya. She was a year below me. But she was one of the few people I considered a true friend. We’d known each other since middle school. She had seen me when I was bullied. She’d even helped me get revenge on those guys. I rubbed my thumb over the rim of the can. The way things were, even if Elara hadn’t officially ended it, we were close. “Oh, by the way, your brother has been coming to see me a lot lately.” Maya stretched lazily and grinned at me. … Looking back now. I should have paid more attention to what she said that day. “Oh, by the way, your brother has been coming to see me a lot lately.” Because slowly, gradually… Aiden’s name started popping up more and more in my conversations with Maya. After Elara started ghosting me, Maya was the main person I talked to. My life was still a frantic rush. I had countless competitions to win. It wasn’t just about relationships. I had to be perfect in every single area to maintain my image. It was exhausting. But it was the only way I knew how to live. I never complained. Until one day, before a public speaking competition. Something happened backstage that made my entire life feel like a joke. 10 I was the last speaker of the night. The headliner. So, I was the only one left in the dressing room. The door was thrown open with a bang. I was just tightening my tie. The person who stormed in was my girlfriend, Elara, who I hadn’t seen in ages. Oh, and she was holding someone’s hand. My brother, Aiden. She was furious. Aiden looked like he was on the verge of tears. She dragged the boy in front of me and shoved his sleeve up for me to see. “You did this, didn’t you?” The boy’s pale arm was covered in angry red welts. They looked like they were made by a whip. I raised an eyebrow. That small movement seemed to enrage her even more. “What’s that look on your face?” “Hah. Sam, you couldn’t even leave your own brother alone, could you?” My dear brother was still playing the victim, tugging on Elara’s sleeve. “Please, Elara, don’t,” he whimpered. “It wasn’t… it wasn’t Sam’s fault…” Elara. So familiar. I looked down at the marks on his arm. I had no idea how he got them. But it was clear Elara had already decided I was the villain. I was about to explain. But then someone else walked in. Maya, her hands shoved in her pockets. I felt a wave of relief. I tried to smile, to look composed. “Elara, think about it. Why would I do something like this to my own brother?” “Maya, you’re just in time. You know my history. You know I was bullied. Why would I…” My words died in my throat. Because I saw the look on Maya’s face. I had never seen her look at me with such disgust. My mind reeled, uncontrollably replaying the last few weeks. Maya, constantly bringing up Aiden. “Your brother is so shy.” “Your brother is seriously terrible at calculus.” “I ran into your brother in the cafeteria today.” “Your brother…” In the silent dressing room, her voice finally cut through the air. I heard her say, word by word. “Sam, I was so wrong about you.” “Just because you were bullied, does that give you the right to bully someone else?” 11 The scene felt sickeningly familiar. I watched Aiden pathetically clutching Elara’s sleeve. I watched Maya instinctively step in front of him, shielding him. I smiled at them, even as my eyelashes trembled. “Is that so? If you think I’m a bully, then call the police.” “Let them handle it. How about that?” I moved to walk past them. Elara grabbed my wrist, her grip like iron. I heard her hiss, “Apologize to your brother.” Maya blocked my path. “Sam, don’t become this person. Don’t be so cruel.” I haven’t done anything wrong, so why is everyone attacking me? I glanced over at Aiden. His eyes were red-rimmed. He knew. He had to know I wasn’t the one who hurt him. But he said nothing. I wrenched my arm free, shoving both of them aside. “Excuse me, ladies. I’m a very busy man.” “I have a speech to give. And I intend to win. I don’t have time for this.” “At a time like this, you’re still thinking about your stupid speech?” Maya’s voice followed me, but I didn’t care. I didn’t look back. I walked onto the stage. Even with nothing but emptiness behind me, I would keep moving forward. 12 The speech went off without a hitch. The applause at the end was thunderous. I smiled and bowed. But my mind was elsewhere. I looked out at the audience. I saw Aiden, in his crisp white shirt, being led away by Elara. Maya trailed behind them, her fingers playfully flicking the ends of his hair. But why? The spotlight was on me. I hadn’t lost. I hadn’t let them humiliate me. So why… Why was my heart being swallowed by this overwhelming, crushing wave of despair? … A few days later, Elara contacted me out of the blue. Honestly, I didn’t have time for relationship drama. If Elara was gone, another woman could take her place. But as I stared at her name on my phone screen… I realized it wasn’t that easy to let her go. It was true. She was the only girl I’d ever been with. It started as a strategic move for my future, but somewhere along the way, I had actually started to like her. I held onto a tiny sliver of hope. Hope that she’d come back to me. Or that she’d realize I could never have bullied my own brother. But she summoned me to a deserted gymnasium. And then she was gripping my wrist, her voice dripping with venom. “Sam, can you just leave your brother alone?” “Why are you spreading rumors that he’s the one who broke us up?” “We’re over. Have some damn dignity, Sam.” I blinked, almost laughing from the sheer absurdity of it. That tiny bit of lingering affection I had for her vanished in an instant. “Wait, Elara, who told you I was spreading rumors?” She scoffed. “Who else could it be?” “Your brother is a saint. He’s always telling me how great you are.” “Can you stop projecting your own pathetic jealousy onto him?” “???” I was about to explode. “You two are together 24/7! Anyone with eyes can see what’s going on! Why is this my fault?” She sneered at me. “There it is. Your true colors. Let me tell you something, Sam. Your brother is a thousand times purer and kinder than you’ll ever be.” “I won’t let you hurt him.” “Not in this lifetime. Never again.” ??? I wanted to scream at her, but my only reply was the sound of a heavy door slamming shut. When I tried the handle, it wouldn’t budge. ??? She locked me in here? For the first time, my composure was about to completely shatter. I rattled the door violently, the noise echoing in the empty gym. “Hey! Elara! Get back here!” “What gives you the right to say that to me?!!” “You…!” “Are you an idiot???” No one was around. I let it all out. I kicked the locked door until my leg ached and my nose stung with the threat of tears. I’d been playing a part for so long, this was a perfect release. Just as I was exhausted, spent, and miserable… A soft laugh came from nearby. “Sam Thorne?” “So this is the real you.” 13 I slowly turned my head. A girl I didn’t recognize at all was sitting on a stack of old gym mats. She was swinging her legs, watching me. She must have been sleeping there, which is why neither Elara nor I had noticed her. My first thought when I saw her was, how many holes does this person have in her face? An eyebrow stud, a lip ring, a constellation of earrings. I despised anything that challenged my traditional sensibilities. But she was beautiful, in a wild, untamed way. I froze for a second, my usual mask taking too long to slip back on. “Hm? Do I know you?” She smiled, a pure, innocent kind of smile. “Quite the quick-change artist, aren’t you? Weren’t you just kicking the door down a second ago?” “How did you turn back into the perfect student so fast?” I ignored her teasing. I smiled my polished smile. “Excuse me, do you know if there’s another way out of here?” She shook her head. “Just that one. And your lovely girlfriend locked it.” “…” I nodded and pulled out my phone to call a friend for help. She hopped off the mats, hands in her pockets, and sauntered over to me. She leaned in and whispered with a laugh. “Sam, you really don’t remember me?” I turned to look at her. Hmm. She had the kind of face that suggested a long list of ex-boyfriends. I would never get involved with a girl like this. She didn’t fit any of my criteria for a future partner. “No.” She raised an eyebrow. “We have each other’s contact info.” “Impossible.” Refusing to believe it, I held out my phone for her to type her number. She leaned over, entered her digits, and sure enough, a contact popped up. The nickname I had saved for her was: “Rich Girl – No Reply” “…” She was silent for a moment, then let out a sly laugh right next to my ear. I suddenly remembered. Back when I was searching for a suitable girlfriend, I had… categorized… the girls in my contact list. “Sam, don’t you even remember the fish you try to catch?” She had to twist the knife, didn’t she? … I took another look at her. My memory is excellent. I hadn’t forgotten her. Her name was Vesper Liang. But the girl in my memory was completely different from the one standing in front of me now. I had met her at a gala my father dragged me to. If Elara’s family’s empire covered half the city, Vesper’s family was one of those colossal dynasties woven into the very fabric of the metropolis. Even my father had to grovel before them. The reason I didn’t recognize her… Was because I remembered her clearly from that night. She was wearing a black evening gown, an untouchable ice queen. And on social media, she ignored me. Completely cold. I had asked her out several times, only to be rejected every single time. 14 After that encounter in the gym, Vesper started showing up everywhere. Consequently, the nickname in my phone for her changed from: “Rich Girl – No Reply” To: “Rich Girl – Certified Psycho” I would never tell her that, of course. Her family was powerful, which meant connections. If she was interested in me, it suited my purposes perfectly. As for romance… I had learned a valuable lesson: Women were nothing but trouble. Elara and I were officially over. Though it didn’t seem like she was with Aiden, either. Sometimes I’d see her waiting for him outside his classroom. So, she was still chasing him? I didn’t have time for any of it. My father had started handing over company responsibilities to me, and I was busier than ever. I knew he had originally planned to train Aiden, but Aiden was… not very bright. I thought I had finally beaten him. I thought I had proven myself, that I could finally have my father back. But one afternoon, my father sat me down in his study and poured me a cup of tea. He spoke slowly, each word deliberate. “Sam.” “Study hard.” “In the future, you will need to support your brother.” 15 I had worked so hard. I studied from dawn until dusk. I had no time for fun, no time for myself. I fought tooth and nail for everyone’s approval. And for what? My father wanted me to learn all this… Just to pave the way for my love-sick, useless brother? That afternoon, I had a massive fight with my father. He smashed his inkstone on the floor, pointing a trembling finger at me, too furious to speak. “Don’t you know, the truth is, you’re…” In that moment, I felt like he was about to reveal the secret he’d been hiding from me for years. But a shadow burst into the room. “Enough! Dad, don’t say any more.” Aiden stood between us. His eyes were red. “Sam, please don’t be mad at Dad, okay?” “It’s… it’s all my fault…” “If it weren’t for me, none of this would have happened.” “I’m just a curse…” He started playing the victim again. I didn’t understand. I wasn’t the one crying, so what right did he have to? I laughed, leaned in close to him, and said, word for word: “You’re right. You are a curse.” He flinched, like a startled rabbit. My father had already grabbed a dictionary from his desk and hurled it at me. This time, I didn’t dodge. The sharp pain in my forehead was blinding, but I refused to cry. I wanted to laugh, but I couldn’t. I turned and walked out of the room, my father’s roars echoing behind me. He told me to get out and never set foot in this house again. 16 When did it all start? Everyone leaving me, one by one. No matter how hard I tried, it was useless. They all ended up standing behind someone else. My brother, Aiden. It was strange, wasn’t it? As if an invisible hand was orchestrating everything. I stopped winning competitions. First place went to my brother. Not because he was more skilled, but because the judges saw his “effort” and were “moved” by it. My brother would always add my friends on social media, under the pretext of wanting to be closer to me. And after a while, for reasons I never understood, those friends would drift away. Lately, the rumors at school had started again. That I was a bully. That I was a vicious, two-faced hypocrite. That I had been bullied myself, and now I was taking it out on my own brother. Some of the old photos from when I was bullied were leaked. They were like a knife, slicing open old wounds. Only Maya had those photos… I confronted her, demanding to know why she would do it. Spreading rumors was one thing, but posting pictures of my deepest humiliation on the school forum? She said. “You deserve it.” “This is what you get for hurting your brother.” 17 “What’s the point of hanging upside down like that?” Vesper stood in front of me, her head tilted. I was, in fact, hanging upside down from the parallel bars in the abandoned gym. It was the only way to keep the tears from falling. I’d forgotten that Vesper also used this place as her private napping spot. We had gotten to know each other over the past few weeks. I learned that beneath her cold exterior, she was a complete weirdo. I learned that she was lonely, too, which was why she always sought me out. No one else hung out with her. They all said she was bad luck. “Vesper, I was reading a novel recently.” “It’s about a fake young master living the high life, and then the real young master returns.” “I think… I think I’m the fake young master.” “I’m the villain who stole someone’s place, the evil side character, the one who ends up abandoned by everyone and gets his face slapped in the end.” She looked at me, then smiled. “Really? I’ve never seen such a cute side character.” She laughed and helped me down from the bars. “Come on, you’re going to get a brain hemorrhage. Are you a bat?” Outside, the rain continued its endless drumming. I suddenly asked her, “Do you think I’m a bully too?” She blinked, looked down, and pulled out the necklace she always wore. It was a tarnished, brass-colored, six-pointed star. A girl like her had no business wearing something so cheap. “This… a boy gave this to me back when I was in the orphanage.” The star glowed dully in the light of the setting sun. “That little boy… he was my reason for living back then.” “He told me that it’s the cracks in life that let the light in.” “Sam.” “You can be the kind, good person. You can be the determined protagonist. You can be the one who gets a happy ending.” “It’s your path to choose, isn’t it?” … Yes. So what if fate was playing games with me? So what if the whole world was against me? Even if I had to die, I was going to die beautifully. 18 That’s how I survived. Even if my bones were broken, I would get back up. Even if I wasn’t happy, I would act happy for the world to see. I thought if I was stubborn enough, if I refused to lose, fate would eventually have to side with me. I was wrong. … After spending so much time together, Vesper had heard a lot about Aiden. They had never met, and Aiden didn’t know I knew her, so he hadn’t tried to add her. “You know, I’m kind of curious what your little white-rabbit brother is actually like,” Vesper said one day, chewing on her straw. “White Rabbit” was her nickname for him. I could tell from her tone she didn’t like him. But I still frowned instinctively. “Don’t go near him.” “There’s something… wrong about him. Something dangerous…” I didn’t know what was wrong with me. I didn’t actually believe Vesper would be swayed by Aiden. She wasn’t like the others. For one thing, she was a psycho, and the thoughts of a psycho are hard to predict. But I still felt a deep unease. “What? Are you afraid I’ll get stolen away by him, hmm?” Vesper was enjoying this, teasing me. …Yes. That’s exactly what I was afraid of. Vesper was the only person left on my side, even if she was crazy. “Seriously? Like I would ever leave you.” Vesper laughed it off. At the same moment, a gentle voice sounded behind me. “Oh? Sam, what are you doing here?” It was too late. I watched as the woman across from me, the one who had just been laughing, froze solid when she saw Aiden. For the first time, I felt like I was in the grip of a giant, cosmic hand. Vesper had a necklace given to her by a little boy in an orphanage, a necklace she still wore to this day. Who was that little boy? My brother’s expression was one of pure surprise. He smiled at Vesper. “Vesper! What are you doing here?” “Sunny Meadows Orphanage… do you remember me?” …Remember him? She had said. He was her reason for living.

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1 My husband has such crippling social anxiety that he bailed on our wedding day. Later, when I was hemorrhaging after giving birth, my mother fell to her knees and begged him, but he never came to sign the papers. My son was branded the “fatherless boy,” and I wore the title of “widow” for eight years. Until one day, a madman broke into our yard and plunged a knife into my stomach. Looking at Liam standing by the window, I cried out for help. But he only watched for two seconds before looking away. His voice was ice. “Just hold on. I’ll call the police for you.” My mind went blank. In that instant, something inside me died. Just as I thought I was going to bleed out right there, Liam’s young assistant suddenly burst through the door, and the madman found a new target. The second he touched her, Liam transformed into a raging lion, lunging forward and knocking the man to the ground with a single punch. As the paramedics loaded me, covered in blood, into the ambulance, one of them leaned down and asked, “Where is the accompanying family member?” My gaze drifted from Liam, who was holding his assistant and whispering reassurances, back to the paramedic. My lips parted, my voice quiet but final. “I’m a widow. My family is dead.” … After two grueling hours in surgery, I managed to cheat death. As the nurse wheeled me out, I saw Liam across the hall, sitting with his assistant while she received counseling. I froze. The hallway was crowded, yet Liam, the man with crippling social anxiety, seemed completely at ease, as if in a world of his own. This was the same man who had fled his own wedding. The same man who, afterward, had held a knife to his own wrist and screamed, “Stop pushing me! Do you want me to just die?!” So I had given in. For eight years of marriage, he never left the house except to go to the office. He wouldn’t go to our son’s parent-teacher conferences. He wouldn’t visit relatives during the holidays. Even moments ago, when my life was hanging by a thread, all I got from him was, “I’ll call the police for you.” The nurse, who knew he was my husband, hesitated before whispering, “Do you want me to get him? You’ll need someone to stay with you.” “No.” Her eyes filled with pity. I’d overheard the nurses whispering earlier. “I’ve never seen anything so tragic. The wife is clinging to life, and the husband is off with his mistress at a therapy session. The way he’s hovering over her, you’d think the other woman was his wife.” A sharp pain lanced through my chest. I closed my eyes as they wheeled me into my room. It wasn’t until dusk that Liam seemed to remember I existed. He shuffled in hesitantly. “Aria, you’ve been through a lot.” I flinched away from his touch, my voice weak. “Don’t let Leo know.” Leo was so young, and he’d just recovered from a serious illness. I didn’t want to upset him. The next second, the door opened, and his assistant, Chloe, walked in, holding Leo’s hand. “Mommy!” Tears streamed down Leo’s face as he rushed to my bedside, too scared to touch me. I shot a death glare at Chloe. I had explicitly texted her not to bring him here. Chloe’s eyes immediately reddened. She looked utterly pathetic. “Aria, Leo wanted to see his mommy. What’s wrong with that? If you’re upset, just hit me.” She raised a hand to slap herself. Liam instantly stopped her, turning to me with fury in his eyes. “Why are you blaming her? Leo wanted to come! Chloe has a good heart, but you’re just relentless.” A good heart? The thought was so bitter it made me want to laugh. This wasn’t the first time. Everyone knew Leo was severely allergic to shellfish, yet Chloe had taken him out for lobster. Leo had an immediate anaphylactic reaction, his face turning purple. It was only after the doctors administered the injection that I could hold my son, who I had almost lost, and break down in tears. But Chloe cried even harder than I did. “I didn’t think lobster would be a problem,” she’d sobbed. “It was a moment of carelessness. If anything had happened to Leo, I couldn’t have lived with myself.” But I wouldn’t forgive her. I demanded that Liam fire her. His face was a mask of impatience. “Aria, don’t be so unforgiving. Everyone makes mistakes.” That time, I was truly ready to divorce him. It was Leo, his little face flushed with tears, who begged me over and over. “Mommy, please don’t divorce Daddy.” My moment of weakness only emboldened them. I couldn’t let Leo grow up around people like this. “Get out! Both of you, get out!” Liam looked worried, as if he didn’t want to leave. I grabbed the cup from my bedside table and threw it at them. Chloe shrieked, and Liam immediately shielded her, backing out of the room. “Aria, calm down. I’ll come back in a few days.” My son’s hand trembled in mine. His eyes held a maturity far beyond his years. “Don’t be angry, Mommy. It’s not good for you.” My eyes stung. I forced a smile to reassure him. “I’m fine, sweetie. Don’t you worry.” That night, Liam hired a nurse for me. A few days later, once I could manage on my own, I took my son and rented an apartment. When Liam discovered we were gone, he bombarded me with messages. I didn’t reply to a single one. But the next morning, my mother-in-law burst through the door. She was furious. “Aria Thorne, have you no shame? How dare you run off with the heir to the Thorne family!” Chloe stood beside her, the picture of concern. It was clear she’d been stirring the pot again. Over the years, whenever Liam and I had a disagreement, she would run to his mother and add fuel to the fire. “Aria yelled at Mr. Thorne again. She said he was useless…” “Mr. Thorne is so pitiful. He came to work with a scratch on his face, and all the employees were laughing at him.” “Aria has been seeing other men lately…” By the time I realized what was happening, my mother-in-law’s dislike for me had solidified into a deep-seated hatred. “Aria, don’t blame Mr. Thorne,” Chloe started in again. “He’s ill. You can’t expect too much from him.” “What does this have to do with you?” I clutched my still-healing wound and slowly got to my feet. “What do you do besides cause trouble?” “You keep saying he’s ill. Then what were you two doing the day before yesterday?” They had gone to a concert together, in a packed hall. Liam had even pulled some strings to get Chloe a photo with the conductor. But just last month, when I had begged him to take our son to an amusement park, he had refused without a second thought. “You can’t even handle a simple thing like that? Are you useless?” Chloe was speechless, cowering behind my mother-in-law. Just as the older woman was about to erupt, Liam appeared. His mother and Chloe immediately flocked to him. “Look at this wonderful wife you’ve found! Look at how she’s treating your mother! How am I supposed to live like this!” “Mr. Thorne, your mother just wanted to see her grandson, and Aria told us to get out.” Hearing her twist the truth, the blood rushed to my head. “What are you talking about!” “Enough!” Liam’s voice was a sharp rebuke, his eyes filled with disappointment. “Aria, can’t you just be normal for once? You always have to make a scene over every little thing.” My mind went blank. I stared at him, my eyes burning. “I’m not normal?” A husband with selective social anxiety, a backstabbing homewrecker, and a mother-in-law who couldn’t see the truth. And he called me the abnormal one. Eight years of thankless sacrifice turned to dust in that single moment. “Liam, let’s get a divorce.” My voice was quiet, but the finality in it was unmistakable. Liam’s face froze. For once, he looked completely lost. “Aria, don’t joke around…” “I’m not joking,” I repeated. “Do you have your ID? Let’s go today.” The room fell silent. When my mother-in-law recovered, she started screaming. “Just divorce the bitch already! She doesn’t want you anymore! What are you holding on for?” A vein throbbed in Liam’s forehead. His eyes were like chips of ice. “Aria, I’m asking you one last time. Do you really want a divorce? Because you are not getting the kid.” Just then, Leo burst out of the bedroom. Tears streamed down his face as he yelled, “I want to stay with my mommy! I’m not going with you!” My mother-in-law looked like she was about to have a stroke. She pointed a trembling finger at me. “Look what this woman has done to a perfectly good child!” Chloe lunged for Leo. He struggled wildly. “Mommy, help me!” I rushed to him, but his grandmother grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked. “You bitch! Trying to poison my grandson against us!” The pain was excruciating. Liam instinctively cried out, “Mom, let her go! Her wound hasn’t healed!” At that moment, Chloe’s sharp nails dug into the back of my hand. I screamed in pain. My son’s eyes turned red. He bit down hard on her hand. “Ah!” Chloe shrieked. Liam’s face contorted with rage. He slapped our son across the face. Leo fell to the floor, his mouth bleeding. My heart shattered. I scrambled to him, holding him tight. “Leo, let me see.” “Mommy, don’t cry. It doesn’t hurt.” Leo managed a weak smile, but beads of sweat dotted his forehead. Liam was blind to it all. He pointed at the bite mark on Chloe’s hand and yelled at me, “Is this how you raise him? Is he a dog? I can’t believe I ever trusted you with him.” With a dark look, he hoisted Leo over his shoulder. “Mommy! Mommy!” Leo’s hoarse cries tore through me, but his grandmother and Chloe held me back. They started hitting me. “You bitch! You think you can get away with this?” My lip split open, and my wound began to bleed again. They didn’t stop until I was limp on the floor. Then they left, leaving me in a heap. I gasped for air. As soon as I could move, I called a lawyer. My parents, though ordinary people, supported me completely, immediately transferring me twenty thousand dollars. On the eve of the court date, Liam came to my office. It was the first time in eight years. “Aria, can you stop this? Chloe is just my assistant. Nothing has ever happened between us.” I pointed to the bruises on my face. “She did this after you left that day. She hates me, you know that?” A flicker of pain crossed Liam’s eyes. He reached out to gently touch my face. “I’m sorry, Aria… Chloe was just emotional.” I pulled away, pointing to the scar on my stomach. “And was it ’emotional’ when you stood there and watched me get stabbed, but ran to save her?” Liam looked away, his voice stiff. “Think whatever you want.” My voice was cold. “I want a divorce.” We parted on bad terms. As he left, Liam gave me one last, long look. “Aria, you won’t win this.” I didn’t believe him. I had years of evidence of his neglect. I couldn’t believe they wouldn’t give me custody of Leo. But on the day of the hearing, Liam had a string of witnesses. The household staff said I was unstable. The neighbors said I was erratic. “Aria is just high-strung. She’s always yelling at her husband or her son.” “She even taught her son to hit his grandmother. She’s not human!” “She had postpartum depression. She tried to kill herself.” … With all the rumors swirling, I was painted as a monster. My explanations were useless. I lost the case. Then, Liam released a video. It showed Leo pushing his grandmother, crying and screaming, “You’re a bad person! I want my mommy! I only want my mommy!” The internet exploded. “His mother must have taught him that. He’s turning into a monster.” “That kid is ruined. What kind of person is he going to grow up to be? No discipline at all!” “Like mother, like son!” The vicious comments were endless. People started recognizing me on the street. Someone threw a rotten egg at me. I fell to the ground, vomiting. After the crowd dispersed, Liam walked up to me. His eyes were filled with pity. “Aria, why can’t you just listen? I do love you.” I slapped him, my eyes burning with hatred. He grabbed my wrist, his own face turning red with anger. “Fine. Let’s see how long you can keep this up.” Exhausted, I went home and started planning how to get to Leo. The next morning, Leo burst into the apartment, his face a mask of terror. “Mommy, help me!” He was pale and sweating. I held him close. “What is it, sweetie? Tell me slowly.” “Auntie Chloe’s neck is bleeding! She says I did it! Daddy’s going to kill me!” My blood ran cold. So this was Chloe’s plan all along. To get Leo back just to destroy him. Just then, we heard shouting at the door. I shoved my son into the bedroom. “Leo, don’t come out,” I said sternly. “No matter what you hear, do not come out!” Leo was crying too hard to breathe. I knew what he was afraid of. I forced a smile. “I’m a grown-up, sweetie. I’ll be fine. Just cover your ears and don’t listen.” I locked the door just as Liam and a red-eyed Chloe burst in. Her neck was wrapped in thick gauze. It looked serious. Before I could speak, Chloe dropped to her knees. “Aria, I don’t deserve to die. That knife wound from Leo almost killed me.” “What good will it do you for your son to be a murderer at his age?” She was a picture of wronged innocence, her voice choked with tears. Liam was beside himself with concern. He helped her up, his eyes like daggers when he looked at me. “Get him out here!” “What proof do you have that Leo did it? Is there a security camera?” I screamed, my heart breaking for my son, for his father who was so blind. “Enough!” Liam’s roar nearly deafened me. He strode forward, his pent-up anger finally erupting. He said, word by word, “I regret it. I regret ever having that little bastard!” I stood rooted to the spot. After a long moment, a trembling smile spread across my face. “Little bastard?” He, a father, was calling his own child a bastard. Liam pretended not to hear. His face was grim. “Chloe found a boarding school. We’ll send him there for a year.” He started for the bedroom. He was moving so fast he didn’t see the madness, the final, desperate resolve in my eyes. Just as he was about to break down the door, I lunged at him and bit down on his neck. The pain made him roar. He threw me off. He clutched his bleeding neck, his voice full of rage. “Aria, you’re going to be the death of me!” I hit the floor hard, but I was laughing, a wild, crazed sound. I felt a strange, wet sensation beneath me. A triumphant, painful smile stretched my lips. I pointed to my stomach and laughed, my voice rising with hysteria. “You said Leo was a bastard? Well, here. You can have this little bastard back, too!”

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1 Three days after my husband vanished, I had stomach ulcer surgery alone. Waking from anesthesia, I saw a post on a confession blog. It’s usually about cheating partners, but this was from a man. He wrote: “My wife’s stomach was bothering her, but my girlfriend missed me. I lied about a business trip to be unreachable. My wife is understanding—she won’t call. She texted she felt sick, but my girlfriend got upset, so I silenced my phone.” “The girl also complained of a stomachache and kept me in bed. I rubbed her belly and bought her whatever she wanted. Seeing her act spoiled… I found it cute.” “After she slept, I checked my card bill and saw my wife’s message: she’d just had surgery. Guilt hit me. My wife agonizes over one expensive necklace, yet what I spent on this girl could buy several.” Stomach pain. A necklace. It clicked, chilling me like the IV drip. Weeks earlier, I’d loved a $10,000 necklace but walked away. Frugality is ingrained. When we started our business, we lived in a basement, used subway AC, and often ate once a day. Old habits stay, even with money now. Comments erupted: “And people wonder why the birth rate is falling…” I turned off my phone, clinging to hope—it had to be a coincidence. Stomach issues are common. I can’t be the only woman who wanted that necklace. Just as dawn was breaking, Ethan finally arrived at the hospital. He rushed to my bedside, his hand immediately going to my forehead. “Lily, I am so, so sorry. I had no idea the client last night would be so difficult.” The worry and concern in his eyes seemed genuine. But then I noticed it. His shirt was buttoned wrong. And it wasn’t the shirt he’d been wearing before he left. Ethan was always meticulous about his appearance. What kind of business meeting would require a complete change of clothes before he could see his wife? He pulled a small box from his pocket. When I opened it, my heart plummeted. It was the necklace. “Honey, isn’t this the one you’ve wanted for so long? You wouldn’t buy it for yourself, so I did. What’s the point of earning all this money if we don’t spend it? If you want something, just buy it.” He mistook my pale, shocked face for post-surgery weakness. But a comment from the blog post echoed in my mind. “Sudden grand gestures are just compensation for secrets kept.” 2 After a restless night, I went home, my heart heavy with suspicion. It was Saturday, and we were both exhausted. I, from my surgery. But him? What was his excuse? He went to take a shower, leaving his phone on the nightstand. On a dark impulse, I picked it up and unlocked it. I opened his social media and checked his direct messages. There it was. The profile picture of the confessional blog. My heart felt like it was being squeezed by an icy hand. Still in denial, I opened his WhatsApp. The pinned contact at the very top was nicknamed ‘Kiddo.’ The intimacy of it was a slap in the face. The chat history was a blatant, undeniable record of his affair with that girl. And I knew her. Her name was Aria, a name as ethereal and spirited as she was. All the little details I’d dismissed, all the red flags I’d ignored, came flooding back. Aria had started as a college intern, a senior, yet was inexplicably promoted to be Ethan’s executive assistant. There was the time Ethan came home blind drunk from a work dinner, leaning heavily on Aria. She’d helped him onto the sofa, her voice a mix of apology and concern. “Lily, please don’t be mad at him. It’s my fault, I can’t handle my liquor. Mr. Hayes was trying to protect me from having to drink, that’s why he got like this.” Before she left, she reminded me to make him some honey water to ease his hangover. “Lily, I remember you keep the honey in the top kitchen cabinet. Don’t forget.” She knew her way around my home. At the time, I’d brushed it off as a young girl fresh out of college, her head filled with silly romance novels and unrealistic fantasies. I had complete faith in Ethan. We had known each other for twenty-eight years. But now, their messages burned that faith to ashes. For Aria’s birthday, Ethan had filled her apartment with flowers, a grand romantic gesture to win her over. A thirty-year-old man, writing a personal note on every single bouquet. How romantic. Her texts were tinged with a playful jealousy. “Do you do this for your wife on her birthday?” “No,” he’d replied. “She’s… immune to romance.” He used to buy me a single flower for every birthday and holiday. But flowers were expensive, a luxury I saw as a waste. Twenty bucks for something that would just wilt. I’d told him how much I appreciated the thought, but that a home-cooked meal would make me happier. All the sacrifices I’d made, all the little things I’d asked him to save, were now being lavished on someone else. I scrolled to the last message, and Ethan’s words twisted the knife. “If only I’d been born a few years later, or if I wasn’t married right now.” Aria’s reply was smug. “Hmph. You’re terrible. As punishment, I’m taking your good luck charm. The one your wife gave you. I hate seeing it.” I heard something inside me shatter. That charm. I’d gone on a pilgrimage for it, to a remote monastery deep in the mountains. Three steps and a bow, five steps and a prayer, all for his safety. Our wedding vows rang in my ears. “Lily, I finally get to marry the love of my life. I’ve never felt so lucky.” And now, he was telling another woman, “If only I wasn’t married right now.” The pain was a suffocating net, wrapping around me, tighter and tighter. 3 Ethan came out of the shower to find me holding his phone. The color drained from his face. He lunged for it, snatching it from my hands. “Lillian! What the hell? Since when do you have no respect for privacy? Who said you could go through my phone!” I stared at his neck. It was bare. “I was just picking it up to put it on the charger,” I said, my voice flat. Ethan let out a breath of relief. No respect for privacy? He was the one who’d set his phone’s passcode to my birthday. “My phone is your phone,” he used to say. “I have nothing to hide from you.” “Ethan,” I asked quietly, “did your business deal go well last night?” He froze for a second, his lips tightening. “It was fine.” Tears welled up in my eyes, silently at first, then spilling over, fat drops soaking into the duvet. I rarely cried like this. He was stunned. He reached out, pulling me into his arms. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped at you. It was just a reflex. Come on, don’t cry.” “Ethan… it hurts so much,” I sobbed, my voice muffled against his chest. “It hurts.” He apologized again for not being there the night before, thinking my pain was purely physical. He got a hot water bottle, gently placing it on my stomach, and started massaging the area, his eyes filled with a soft, tender love. After twenty-eight years of knowing him and ten years of loving him, I couldn’t tell what was real anymore. I’m not some badass heroine from a novel. I couldn’t just walk away. Our lives, our twenty-eight years, were woven together, flesh and blood. The intricate web of our shared business interests was impossible to untangle. I couldn’t just rip him out of my life. It would mean ripping myself apart. “Ethan,” I said, my voice cold. “Your assistant. I was at headquarters the other day. She was rude to me. Fire her. I don’t like her.” He looked taken aback. “She’s just a kid, Lily. Why are you picking a fight with her?” I just looked at him, saying nothing. Then, a slow smile spread across his face. “Is that all? She’s just an assistant. If you don’t like her, we’ll get a new one. Hell, if you didn’t like one of my managers, I’d replace him without blinking an eye.” 4 Ethan started coming home more often, bringing small gifts each time. He would roll up his sleeves and cook, filling the table with all my favorite dishes. Sweet and sour fish, honey-glazed ribs, slow-braised pork… These were the dishes that had defined my youth. We were so poor back then, always hungry, so I craved hearty, filling meals. We could only afford to treat ourselves to one of these dishes every couple of weeks. Ethan would cook, giving me all the meat and taking the bony pieces for himself. Maybe this was for the best. With Aria gone, perhaps I could pretend nothing had ever happened. Right? But as I looked at the food, my appetite vanished. She was a shard of glass in my heart. The thought of her was agony. The sight of Ethan made me sick. I couldn’t stand being in the same room with him, couldn’t eat his food, couldn’t sleep in the same bed. His presence was a constant, nauseating reminder of his betrayal. I wanted to scream at him to get out. But I had to keep playing the part of his wife. Ethan raised his glass in a toast to me, thanking me for standing by him. I forced myself to lift my glass and drain it. The mood was right. He leaned in to kiss me. His face was so close, his breath on my skin. The revulsion was too much to suppress. I bolted to the bathroom and threw up until there was nothing left. Ethan followed me in, handing me a glass of water. “Sorry,” I mumbled, wiping my mouth. “My stomach’s just really sensitive.” Years of drinking at business dinners had wrecked my stomach. It was the perfect excuse. He rubbed my back, his face a mask of pity. “I’m so sorry, Lily. You did all this for me.” Our company had only survived its early years because I was the one out there, drinking myself sick to woo clients and secure deals. I threw myself back into work, hoping to channel my turmoil into something productive. I had a meeting at a client’s office. After we wrapped up, the project manager suggested we grab dinner. As we walked out, I saw a familiar car parked across the street. I froze. How did Ethan know I was here? I was about to cancel on my colleague when I saw her. A lively figure bouncing toward his car, crashing right into his arms. It was Aria. I heard Ethan’s voice, thick with affection. “You’re a professional now, you can’t keep being so clumsy. It’s chilly today, why aren’t you wearing a warmer coat?” Her tone was playfully demanding, just like mine used to be years ago. “You fired me. I haven’t forgiven you for that. Not unless you tell me you love me, every single day.” Ethan’s reply was a sigh of helpless indulgence. “Okay, okay. I love you. I love you the most.” Aria, satisfied, stood on her toes and playfully kissed him. Ethan took control, deepening the kiss until it was anything but playful. My blood ran cold. So, “the most” wasn’t an exclusive term in Ethan’s vocabulary. He could be at home, bending over backwards to please me one minute, and the next, he was whispering “I love you the most” to another woman. He hadn’t just replaced his assistant. He had simply moved their affair from the office to the bedroom. “Kids these days, huh?” my colleague remarked with a chuckle. “So open about everything. Not like us old folks.” I forced a smile. “Who is she? One of your company’s employees?” “Yeah. Some executive’s friend, I think. She was assigned to my team. Useless, to be honest. But the boss said someone important asked him to look out for her, so I can’t even reprimand her.” That night, Ethan didn’t come home. He was “out with clients.” I numbly called his phone. No answer. A moment later, a friend request from an unknown account popped up on my screen. I knew that profile picture instantly. It was Aria. “You saw us today, didn’t you? You’re really good at pretending.” “Ethan’s in the shower right now. He can’t take your call.” It was a childish, pathetic attempt at provocation. I ignored it. Apparently, that wasn’t the reaction she was hoping for. She sent me a screenshot of a social media post. “Dare you to look?” 5 I stared at the screenshot, a profound sense of dread washing over me. I had a feeling that whatever was in that link would destroy what was left of us. But Lillian, are you really going to keep running? It was Aria’s private blog, a chronicle of their love story. The cute, clumsy intern meets the handsome, domineering CEO. Sparks fly, and like magic, the two are drawn together in an unstoppable romance. Like a thief in the night, I scrolled through her life, meticulously comparing every picture, every date. The week I was in the ER with a bleeding ulcer, they were in San Francisco, feeding seagulls on the pier. The night I was delirious with a fever of 104, they were in Miami, playing in the waves. The day they watched the sunrise together from a mountain peak, I was being humiliated by a client, forced to drink an entire bottle of whiskey. My eyes landed on one date, and the world stopped. It was from the darkest period of my life. My grandmother, the only person in my family who had ever truly loved me, had passed away. Ethan was supposedly on a business trip to Orlando and got stuck there because of a sudden lockdown. But on that same day, Aria’s blog read: “He finally had time to take me to Disney, but we got unlucky with the pandemic and got locked down in our hotel. He basically turned into a wolf. Omg, I’ll never say a 30-year-old man is past his prime again, lol.” The accompanying photo was of a man’s back in the shower. I could clearly see a few long, angry scratch marks. Ethan knew what my grandmother meant to me. While I was at her funeral, sobbing my heart out, he was tangled up in a hotel bed with another woman. His text messages from that day were hollow and dismissive. “Everyone dies eventually. You have to stay strong.” My stomach twisted into a knot of searing pain. Disgust, pure and vile, rose in my throat. Everyone deserves to feel this pain. Only then will it be fair. 6 Maybe when you get close to thirty, you stop believing in fairy tales. Realism sets in. If ten years of love was all a lie, then I was going to maximize my return on that investment. Once the initial shock subsided, I scheduled a meeting with the last person on earth I wanted to see. Aria. Youth really is something. Her eyes were full of that clear, unfiltered stupidity. “Ethan and I are meant to be. This marriage is the only thing holding him back. He told me he’s only truly happy when he’s with me.” “Does it feel good, pretending you don’t know what’s happening? If you’re afraid you won’t find anyone else after the divorce, I’m sure Ethan will give you a generous settlement.” Her condescending, naive words almost made me laugh. “Miss Aria, you went to a good school. It’s a shame you didn’t learn anything. Naivete isn’t a virtue; it’s just a nicer word for stupid. You’re a homewrecker, and you’re proud of it?” I didn’t bother lowering my voice. People at the surrounding tables turned to look. Aria’s face flushed, a mottled mix of red and white. “Don’t you dare try to guilt-trip me! That won’t work on me!” Seeing her so flustered, an idea began to form. I pulled a checkbook from my purse. “How much do you want? Fill it in yourself. Take the money and learn some self-respect. I’ve seen plenty of gold-diggers like you. A little dignity goes a long way for a young woman.” She looked as if I’d just slapped her across the face. She snatched the check and tore it to shreds. “You know nothing about love!” I scoffed. “Quite the appetite. Maybe I don’t know love, but I know decency. Was my offer not high enough for you?” Completely enraged, she lunged at me, trying to grab my purse. In the scuffle, she gave me a hard shove. I didn’t resist. I let my body go limp, allowing her to send me stumbling backward, crashing hard onto the floor. A sharp, tearing pain shot through my abdomen. Something warm and wet trickled down my leg. I heard gasps from the people around us, and saw the color drain from Aria’s face.

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My heiress best friend, Mimi, was about to leave for Europe to expand her business. Before she left, she tearfully begged her brother to look after her “darling baby girl,” who apparently couldn’t survive on her own. Over the phone, a man’s voice—cool, lazy, and laced with disdain—drifted through. “What kind of turtle is so high-maintenance? It needs temperature and humidity control?” Mimi’s whining was completely shameless. “Come on, Matt! Just think of it as your good deed for the year. Can you just watch her for three months? Please?” “Fine. Send it over. But let me be clear: if it dies, I’m not paying for a new one.” I clutched the phone, my palms sweating as I listened to the voice that had haunted my dreams. What Matt Shen didn’t know was that the so-called “turtle” was a living, breathing person. And that person was me, Rosie Lin, the girl who had been silently in love with him from the shadows for six long years. I had to get myself packed and delivered to him. Immediately. 1 My best friend, Mimi, was a woman of action. Less than half an hour after she hung up, her driver was already waiting outside my apartment building. “Miss Lin, Miss Shen instructed me to ensure your safe arrival at Mr. Shen’s residence.” I stared at the stretch limousine and fell into a deep thought. I was moving in temporarily, not ascending to a throne. And more importantly, did Matt even know that the “turtle” was me? Probably not. After all, in Mimi’s words, I was basically a decorative pet who did nothing but eat and sleep. With a heart torn between the thrill of a honeymoon and the dread of facing a firing squad, I knocked on the door of Matt’s apartment. It was a sprawling condo in the city center, one unit per floor. Mimi had told me Matt bought it to escape the noise of their family estate. The doorbell chimed three times. I heard the scuff of slippers against the floor from inside—slow, heavy footsteps that seemed to tread directly on my last nerve. Click. The door swung open. Matt had obviously just woken up. He was dressed in dark gray silk pajamas, the collar gaping open to reveal the faint outline of his abs and the shadow of a dangerously sexy V-line. A few strands of his hair stuck up in a messy rebellion, and his face was a thundercloud of “don’t you dare speak to me” morning grumpiness. He squinted, his gaze lingering on my face for a bare two seconds before sliding past me, looking at the empty air behind me. “Mimi sent you?” My fingers were trembling so hard I could barely control them. I just nodded dumbly. “Mhm.” Matt yawned, stepping aside to let me in. “Come on in.” He turned and walked back into the apartment, his voice still rough with sleep. “Leave the suitcase by the door. Find a spot for yourself somewhere.” “I’m going back to bed.” “Oh, right.” He took two steps, then stopped and turned back to me. Those almond-shaped eyes of his, slightly upturned, scanned me with a critical look. “Where’s the thing?” I blinked. “What?” Matt pointed at my empty hands, then at my enormous suitcase. “Mimi’s precious little treasure.” “The turtle.” “Where is it? In the suitcase?” He frowned, as if the idea was completely absurd. “Hope it doesn’t suffocate in there.” I was frozen to the spot, my face flushing a deep, mortified crimson. How was I supposed to tell him? There was no turtle. The “darling baby girl” that needed to be fed and cared for… Was me. My mouth opened, but before I could explain, Matt waved a dismissive hand, his patience clearly wearing thin. “Whatever. I’ll deal with it when I wake up.” “Just don’t let it crawl all over the place. I’m a neat freak.” And with that, he slammed his bedroom door shut, leaving me standing alone in the vast, empty living room, feeling like a complete idiot caught in a hurricane. He really, genuinely thought I was a delivery person dropping off a turtle. 2 I sat on the sofa like a statue for two hours, waging a fierce internal war. Maybe I should just leave? This misunderstanding is way too big. But the thought of living under the same roof as Matt for three whole months was a temptation I couldn’t resist. That single thought crushed all my instincts to flee. I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t bear to leave. Matt was a senior from my high school and Mimi’s older brother. He was known for his sharp tongue and arrogant attitude, looking at everyone as if they were idiots. But I’d seen him feed stray cats when he thought no one was looking. I’d seen him give his umbrella to an old woman picking through trash in a downpour, then sprint back to his car through the rain. He wasn’t unkind; he was just too proud to show it. As I was lost in thought, the bedroom door opened again. Matt emerged, showered and changed into a set of casual loungewear. He looked refreshed, the sharp edges of his morning temper softened. He was sipping from a bottle of ice water as he walked into the living room. He stopped short when he saw me still sitting there. “You’re still here?” I shot up from the sofa, my palms slick with sweat. “Um… Matt.” He raised an eyebrow, strolling over to the armchair opposite me and sinking into it, crossing his long legs casually. “You know me?” “I’m Mimi’s best friend, Rosie Lin.” He gave a slight nod, his reaction placid. “Oh. Rosie.” “I think she’s mentioned you. The one who can’t take care of herself…” My soul withered. Mimi, what on earth have you been telling him about me? Matt set his water bottle down, his eyes scanning the room once more. “So, where’s the turtle?” “I wanted to see what kind it is. I did a quick search, and some tortoises are pretty high-maintenance. You have to control the temperature and humidity.” He had actually researched how to care for a turtle. I took a deep breath, deciding it was time to come clean. “Matt, actually…” “There is no turtle.” He froze, his gaze snapping to mine. “What do you mean?” I pointed a shaky finger at myself, my voice barely a whisper. “The one Mimi was talking about…” “That’s me.” The air in the room solidified. For a full minute, the silence was so absolute you could have heard a pin drop. Matt just stared at me. He looked me up and down, a slow, meticulous appraisal that made my skin burn. Finally, he let out a short laugh. It wasn’t mocking; it was the sound of someone confronting the utterly absurd. “Did Mimi hit her head on something?” He pulled out his phone and immediately started a video call with her. She picked up instantly. Her face appeared on the screen, the background noise suggesting she was in an airport lounge. “Jules! Did you get Rosie? Be nice, she’s really shy!” Matt flipped the camera around to show me sitting awkwardly on the sofa. “This is the turtle you wanted me to raise?” Mimi was completely unfazed. “My darling girl! What’s the problem?” “Rosie’s not feeling well, and she has low blood sugar. I didn’t want her living alone,” she said, her voice full of righteous indignation. “Besides, you’re on vacation with nothing to do. It’s just one extra plate at the table.” Matt scoffed. “I’m your brother, not your nanny.” “And besides,” he added, his eyes landing on me with a playful glint, “this breed… looks like a handful.” My face exploded in a blush. I wished the ground would swallow me whole. Mimi shrieked from the phone. “Matt Shen! You promised me! You can’t go back on your word!” “If you dare kick Rosie out, I’ll tell Mom that the girl you brought to that blind date was a hired actress!” Matt’s expression darkened. “Mimi, are you trying to get yourself killed?” “Just tell me, are you going to keep her or not?” The two of them bickered through the screen while I sat trapped in the middle—small, pathetic, and utterly helpless. Finally, Matt ended the call with a frustrated sigh. He tossed his phone onto the sofa and looked at me. “Fine,” he said. “You can stay.” “The guest room is on the left. Get yourself settled.” Feeling like I’d just been granted a royal pardon, I grabbed my suitcase and made a break for it. “Wait.” His voice stopped me in my tracks. I turned around stiffly. Matt was leaning back against the sofa, his fingertips drumming a light rhythm on his knee. “Since Mimi entrusted you to me, let’s get a few things straight.” “I have a bad temper, and I don’t like waiting on people.” “If you’re hungry, order takeout. Don’t expect me to cook for you.” I nodded frantically. “I know! I can take care of myself!” He let out a short, disbelieving huff. “We’ll see about that.” 3 The first day of our cohabitation passed peacefully. Aside from his sharp tongue, Matt was actually a pretty good roommate. He mostly ignored me, which was a relief. I was happy to make myself as invisible as possible. Until the next morning. I’m an early riser, so I was up at six. I figured since I was living in his house, I should at least try to be useful. I crept into the kitchen, determined to make breakfast. Fried eggs, bacon, and hot milk. Simple. Except I had severely underestimated the complexity of Matt’s high-tech stove. I turned the flame up way too high. The oil in the pan instantly started smoking. The moment the eggs hit the pan, they sizzled violently, and a plume of black smoke erupted. In my panic to turn off the stove, I knocked over the bottle of cooking oil. CRASH! The kitchen was a disaster. As I stood there, spatula in hand, completely lost, a cool voice came from behind me. “Are you trying to blow up my kitchen?” I jumped, the spatula clattering into the smoking pan. I whipped around to see Matt standing in the doorway, his arms crossed, a look on his face you’d give a complete idiot. “I-I’m so sorry…” My eyes started to well up. “I just wanted to make breakfast…” Matt walked past me and expertly switched off the stove. He turned on the exhaust fan and threw open the window, all in one smooth, practiced motion. He glanced at the two black, carbonized lumps in the pan, then at me, smelling faintly of smoke and grease. He sighed. “Mimi was right.” “You really can’t take care of yourself.” Shame washed over me. I stared at my feet. “Get out,” he commanded. “Huh?” “Go wash your face and change your clothes.” He gave me a gentle nudge towards the door. “You stink of oil. It’s disgusting.” I scurried back to my room in disgrace. When I emerged, clean and changed, two plates of breakfast were already on the dining table. Perfectly cooked sunny-side-up eggs, golden-brown toast, and a glass of warm milk. Matt was sitting across from me, methodically cutting his bacon. He saw me and jutted his chin towards the empty chair. “Eat.” I sat down, feeling flustered and grateful. “Did… did you make this?” “Who else? The cleaning fairy?” he retorted without looking up. But as he spoke his cutting words, he pushed the plate of bacon he had just cut across the table to me. “I don’t eat the lean parts. This is for you.” Something soft and warm nudged my heart. He remembered. At a high school gathering once, I had meticulously picked all the fatty pieces out of my pork dish. Everyone else had laughed at me for being so picky. Only Matt, who had been sitting quietly in the corner, had silently traded his plate of lean meat for mine. He remembered that? “Thank you,” I said softly. Matt grunted. “Don’t get any ideas.” “I just don’t want Mimi coming back from Europe to murder me for mistreating her precious ‘turtle’.” I took a bite of toast to hide the smile creeping across my face. Being his “turtle” wasn’t so bad after all. 4 Life continued this way for a quiet, peaceful two weeks. Against all odds, Matt was actually taking pretty good care of me. I would wake up ten minutes before him to preheat the coffee machine, and he would make breakfast for both of us when he got up. If he came home early from work, he’d bring back dessert, or sometimes a roasted sweet potato from a street vendor. They were always my favorite things. This comfortable routine started to create an illusion in my mind, as if we had been living together for a very, very long time. Until a phone call shattered the peace. It was a Friday night. Matt was in his study working, and I was curled up on the living room sofa watching a movie. My phone suddenly buzzed. It was an unknown number, a local area code. My heart gave a violent lurch, and a sense of foreboding washed over me. After a few seconds of hesitation, I answered. “Hello?” A ragged, heavy breath came through the receiver, followed by a voice that had haunted my nightmares for a decade. “Well, well, little girl. You’re good at hiding.”

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At ten o’clock at night, my neighbor from next door, whose screen name was StillWaters, suddenly tagged me in the resident group chat: 【To the fucking bitch in 705, can you tone it down a little? The whole building is supposed to listen to your bedsprings squeal all night? Are you trying to keep everyone awake?】 【My baby has a congenital heart defect. If you wake him up again, I’ll kill your whole family!】 I quickly tried to explain that I lived alone, but she refused to believe me. After a few patient attempts, I gave up and ignored her. I never imagined that two weeks later, she would burst into my apartment with a knife and stab me eighteen times. As I collapsed in a pool of my own blood, she kept slashing like a madwoman, her screams tearing through the air. “This is all your fault! My baby died last night! You’ll pay for his life with yours!” My vision blurred, and I lost consciousness. Even in death, I couldn’t understand how I had ever harmed her child. When I opened my eyes again, I was back. Back to the very day she had cursed me in the group chat. Faced with her familiar tirade, I didn’t back down. This time, I shot back with fury: “Stop your goddamn crazy talk! Your baby died three years ago!” 1 After I sent the message, the once-lively group chat fell silent. A few minutes later, my neighbor exploded: 【What the hell are you talking about, you whore? My baby is about to turn one! How dare you curse my child to die!】 【Everyone see this? The bitch in 705 can’t have kids of her own, so she’s cursing other people’s!】 The other residents saw our exchange and immediately jumped to her defense: 【706, that’s way out of line. How could you say something so horrible about a child?】 Another person tried to placate her: 【Linda, calm down. We’re all neighbors here. Let’s just talk this out peacefully.】 That only made Linda angrier: 【Talk peacefully my ass! What is there to say to a slut like her? She’s just jealous that my baby is happy and healthy!】 【My baby has a heart condition! It’s a miracle he’s made it to his first birthday. The doctor said we have to be extremely careful!】 【And this whore? She’s shaking her bed like there’s no tomorrow! If anything happens to my son, she’ll be the first person I kill!】 The other neighbors piled on, their accusations aimed at me: 【Linda has a point. It’s late. You two should show some restraint.】 【Yeah, it’s ten o’clock. Give it a rest!】 Reading their messages, I felt a wave of absurdity wash over me. I’d lived in 705 alone since the day I moved in. There was no man in my apartment. As for Linda next door, her baby had died shortly after birth. How could I, with a non-existent man, possibly disturb the sleep of a child who was already dead? Just as I was about to explain, Linda started spamming the chat again: 【Are you starting up again, you bitch? Will you die if you don’t get fucked for one night?】 【Are you doing this on purpose? You don’t want my baby to live, do you? He’s fought so hard to survive, and you’re trying to kill him!】 【If he has a heart attack because of you, can you take responsibility for that?】 A few other neighbors chimed in, their messages dripping with annoyance. 【705, her kid has a heart condition. Do you really have to pick on a sick child?】 【Exactly. Linda’s a single mom, it’s not easy. The least you could do is be considerate, but instead, you curse her child.】 In my past life, I had explained over and over that I lived alone, but no one listened. Instead, Linda’s harassment escalated. I called building management, I called the police, but nothing worked. Finally, I’d had enough and went to stay with my best friend for a few days. When I returned, Linda forced her way into my apartment with a knife and murdered me. Even now, whenever I close my eyes, I can see her deranged face. The fury inside me finally boiled over. I switched to voice memo and sent a message to the group, my voice shaking with rage: “Can you just leave me the hell alone?! Your child is already dead!” 2 The group chat went silent for several seconds. I thought she’d finally shut up, but then a frantic pounding erupted at my front door. I looked through the peephole and saw Linda, her eyes wide with fury, screaming at my door. “You bitch, you’re asking for it! How dare you say my baby is dead!” “I just got him back to sleep, and you say that! Are you trying to kill him on purpose?” “If anything happens to my baby, I’ll kill you!” The commotion brought other neighbors out of their apartments. They immediately started pointing fingers at me. “Vera, you’ve gone too far! Linda’s baby is barely a year old. Have some decency!” “Exactly! You’ll have kids of your own one day. How would you feel if someone said something so vile about them?” “Picking on a baby… you’re just asking for bad karma!” Linda was still hammering on my door, her eyes bulging as if she wanted to tear me apart with her bare hands. “You goddamn bitch! Slut! Why are you cursing my son?” “I’m going to kill you! I’m going to kill your whole family!” Her shrieks were piercing, drilling into my eardrums and making the late-night hallway feel terrifyingly cold. The memory of being falsely accused and then stabbed to death by this lunatic made my body tremble uncontrollably. When she screamed about killing my family, I snapped. I yanked the door open and slapped her hard across the face. “Shut the hell up! Where is this baby of yours? How come I don’t hear him crying?” “Bring your precious baby out here right now. Let me see him with my own eyes, and I will gladly be your free nanny for life!” The slap stunned her. She froze for a few seconds, then lunged at me with her nails out. I quickly dodged back into my apartment and stuck my foot out, tripping her. As the memory of my own murder flooded my mind, a fresh wave of rage consumed me. I sat on her back, grabbed her hair, and started pulling. “You like to scream? You like to bang on my door? Let’s see what you’ve got now!” Pinned beneath me, Linda could only let out strangled shrieks. “Vera, you’re an animal! This is insane! I’m calling the police!” Her cries brought the neighbors running. They swarmed in, pulling us apart and calling for the building manager. I glared at Linda, still breathing heavily, my anger far from satisfied. By my calculation, I had only been reborn for about an hour. An hour ago, I had been murdered by this very woman. How was I supposed to stay calm? But as the others held me back, they all turned on me. “Vera, you were already in the wrong, and now you’re getting physical? You think you can bully a single mother just because she’s alone?” “I never realized we had such a vicious person living on our floor!” “I’ve already called management! If you keep this up, we’re calling the cops and letting them handle it!” 3 Freed from my grip, Linda’s arrogance returned. She gritted her teeth and slapped me twice across the face, the sound echoing so loudly in the hallway that all the motion-activated lights flickered on. “You bitch! You disturb my child’s sleep, and then you dare to hit me! This is what you get!” I struggled to fight back, but the neighbors held me tight. “Are you still trying to fight? Just calm down!” Linda taunted me, her insults growing viler by the second, while the other neighbors scolded me for my lack of public decency. One woman, holding a small child, looked at me with pure hatred. “You’re a grown woman! Have you no shame? You woke up every child on this floor! Are any of us supposed to get any sleep?” “Linda is a single mother, and her baby has a heart condition! Who can stand you making all this trouble?” I fought against their grip, shouting back, “How many times do I have to explain? I live alone! What bed am I shaking? Am I shaking it with a ghost?” “And another thing—she says I woke her baby. Has a single one of you ever actually seen her baby?” My words gave them pause. A flicker of doubt crossed their faces. But Linda quickly retorted, “I just fed my baby! He’s sleeping soundly in his room right now!” I laughed coldly. “A minute ago, you said I was shaking the bed and keeping him awake. Now you’re out here screaming your head off, and suddenly he can sleep through it?” Everyone froze. The mother holding her child muttered to herself, “My baby is a pretty deep sleeper, but her kid is supposed to be sensitive to noise. How did he not cry through all that commotion?” Just then, the building manager rushed over. Hearing the argument, he immediately stepped in. “Ms. Linda, the sound you’re hearing might be coming from the aging wooden structures in your own apartment.” “If it’s convenient, we can come in and check for you now, so it doesn’t disturb the baby’s rest.” Linda, who had been so aggressive just moments before, suddenly went silent. After a long pause, she said reluctantly, “Come back tomorrow. My baby is already asleep. You’ll just wake him up with all your banging around.” I wasn’t about to let her off that easily. “I think you’re just hiding something. I’ve lived here for months, and I have never once seen your child!” Linda grabbed my arm. “You keep saying my baby is dead. Fine. Let me ask you this: if my baby is sleeping peacefully in his room, what will you do then?” I didn’t hesitate. “If your baby is in there, I will move out of this complex immediately. I guarantee you won’t hear another peep from me!” Linda turned to the others. “You all heard her! She said it herself!” With that, she dragged me into her apartment. “Fine! I’ll let you see him with your own eyes!” The neighbors and I followed her inside. The moment we stepped through the door, we were hit by the strong smell of milk. The living room table was cluttered with baby formula and half-empty bottles. Tiny clothes hung on a drying rack on the balcony. We walked into the bedroom. A crib, a mobile, soft floor mats, and padded corner guards—it was a perfect nursery. For a moment, I started to doubt myself. Did Linda really have a baby? She yanked me over to the crib. “Take a good look! Isn’t my baby right there?” I peered into the crib and was struck dumb. Linda was gloating. “You all heard her! Vera is getting kicked out of this building!” After she finished, she glanced into the crib herself. And then, with a choked gasp, she collapsed to the floor. Because the crib was completely empty. 4 Linda scrambled back to her feet and started tearing the room apart, muttering frantically, “Where’s my baby? Baby, where did you go?” She searched every inch of the room, but there was no child. The mother from the hallway tried to comfort her. “Linda, think carefully. Did you maybe move the baby somewhere else? A one-year-old can’t climb out of a crib by himself.” At her words, something seemed to click in Linda’s mind. Her eyes lit up. “Right! Someone must have taken him just now!” She spun around and grabbed my shoulders. “Aha! I knew it! I was wondering where your lover was. He must have snuck in and run off with my baby while we were arguing!” “Vera, if you’ve done anything to my son, I’ll kill you!” She screamed for the manager to lock down the complex. Security guards and the neighbors who knew what was happening joined the search. For over half an hour, thirty or forty people scoured the property, but they found no trace of anyone suspicious. The manager tried to calm Linda down. “Don’t worry. If the child is still in the complex, we’ll find him. If not, we have to call the police.” Linda shook her head violently. “No! We can’t call the police! It will scare the baby! My baby has a congenital heart defect!” The manager frowned. “But this is serious. You have to tell your family. What about your husband?” Linda’s reaction was even more extreme. “No! I can’t tell him yet! The baby isn’t one year old! I wanted it to be a surprise!” Her words left everyone baffled. Everyone except me. I sensed something was deeply wrong. I spoke up, my voice firm. “Her baby is no longer in this complex. You could turn this place upside down and you still wouldn’t find him.” The manager’s face flushed with anger. “Did you really take her child? Do you have any idea that kidnapping is a serious crime?” A male neighbor, his face twisted in disgust, slapped me hard across the face. “You animal! This is all because Linda interrupted you and your lover, isn’t it? This is your revenge!” Hearing this, Linda lunged at me, grabbing my arms in a death grip. “You bitch! My baby is so small, and he has a heart condition! How could you be so evil?” “Tell me, where is my baby?!” I gritted my teeth. “I told you. Your baby is already dead.” A collective gasp went through the crowd. They all assumed I had killed the child. They spat insults at me, calling me a heartless monster, completely ignoring my attempts to explain. Finally, the manager said, “We have to call the police.” The police arrived quickly. The neighbor across the hall from Linda provided security footage from his doorway camera. The video showed the entire sequence of events, from Linda banging on my door until the moment her “baby” disappeared. No one had entered her apartment. Next, the building management pulled footage from all the main gates. No one was seen leaving the complex with a child. After a thorough investigation, the police found no evidence that Linda’s child had been taken. In fact, over the past month, the only person seen entering or leaving her apartment was Linda herself. There was never any sign of a baby. All eyes turned back to me. Because from the very beginning, I was the only one who had been saying that Linda’s child was already dead.

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I saved a pregnant woman on the side of the road, but I was in a hurry for a blind date and had no time to take her to the hospital. So I called her husband’s number. “Hello? Dad-to-be? Your wife’s in my hands. She’s about to pop, and I don’t have time to wait around. I’m just going to cut the baby out myself. It’ll be better for everyone. Your call. And don’t forget to bring cash.” I glanced down. The pregnant woman, drenched in a cold sweat from the pain, watched me hang up with a look of pure terror. I never would have guessed that five minutes later, twenty private helicopters would land on the hospital lawn. I couldn’t help but marvel. Are families this extra these days? It’s just childbirth, not a full-scale military invasion. 1. The roar of the massive rotor blades felt like it was trying to tear my skull open. A hurricane of wind kicked up debris from the lawn, stinging my face. I squinted, my eyes fixed on the line of matte-black attack helicopters hovering in the air. Ropes dropped, and heavily armed men slid down with chilling efficiency. Anyone else would have thought they were filming a Hollywood blockbuster, or that some head of state had just been assassinated. But I knew. This whole spectacle was for me. Or more accurately, for the pregnant woman at my feet, who had just broken her water and was writhing in agony. Just five minutes ago, I’d done the craziest thing of my life. I’m a former surgeon, suspended from the hospital and desperate to appease my furious mother by going on a blind date. On my way there, I found this poor woman. The ambulance was stuck in rush-hour traffic on the interstate. She had acute placental abruption. Ten more minutes, and it would be two bodies instead of one. I didn’t have time to explain medical jargon to her family or waste precious seconds on pleasantries. To get the fastest response, you have to use the most extreme methods. So I snatched her phone, called the top contact labeled “Hubby,” and delivered a threat that could have landed me in prison. The effect was immediate. But it seemed I had provoked someone I really shouldn’t have. This wasn’t just any family. This was the devil himself. Dozens of men in black suits swarmed the area, forming a tight perimeter. The dark muzzles of their guns—though they tried to conceal them, I could smell the metallic tang of rust in the air—were vaguely pointed in my direction. The man leading them was built like a tower, his custom-tailored suit doing little to hide his formidable frame. His face, while criminally handsome, was dark enough to curdle milk. He strode toward me, his presence so commanding that the very air around us seemed to freeze. “Who’s the one who’s going to cut my wife open?” His voice was a low growl, laced with a bloodthirsty chill. I swallowed hard, but my hands didn’t stop moving. I was using a brand-new eyebrow razor—sterilized with an alcohol wipe—to cut away the fabric of the woman’s dress, performing emergency triage. “That would be me,” I said without looking up, my hands a blur of motion. “And tell your pilot to hold steady. The wind is kicking up too much dust. We don’t want the wound getting infected.” The man stopped in his tracks. He probably wasn’t used to kidnappers being concerned about their hostage’s risk of infection. He stood over me, his shadow swallowing me whole. “How much money do you want?” he asked coldly. “Or is it your life you’re after?” “I need gauze, hemostats, antibiotics, and a gurney on wheels that won’t get stuck in traffic. Now!” I finally looked up and shot him a glare. “Your wife is fully dilated, but the baby is in the wrong position. Keep wasting my time, and you can prepare for a funeral.” The man was stunned into silence. Just then, the woman on the ground found a sliver of strength and weakly grabbed his trouser leg. “Damien… Mr. Knight… She’s a doctor… She’s saving me…” Mr. Knight? My mind flashed to the one and only Damien Knight, the tycoon who controlled half the city’s economy and was rumored to have his hands in both legitimate and shady dealings. I was so screwed. I had just threatened to gut his wife. 2. The misunderstanding was cleared up faster than I expected, mainly because Damien Knight, while terrifying, wasn’t an idiot. With a single wave of his hand, the men who had been pointing guns at me transformed into the most professional team of paramedics, gently lifting the woman onto a waiting stretcher. An accompanying medical team rappelled down from one of the helicopters and immediately took over. I let out a sigh of relief, tucked the bloody eyebrow razor into my purse, and stood up, dusting off my pants. “Well, since the cavalry has arrived, I’ll be on my way.” I glanced at my watch, and my heart sank. Only ten minutes left until my blind date. The guy was a “premium catch” my mom had meticulously selected—an elite professional who’d worked on Wall Street, with a six-figure salary. If I was late, my mom would lecture me for a year straight. “Wait,” Damien called out. He had already regained his composure, looking every bit the untouchable CEO, though his eyes now held a flicker of curiosity as he looked at me. “What you said on the phone…” “A tactical threat,” I cut him off. “If I hadn’t scared the hell out of you, would you have deployed your helicopters? The ambulance is still crawling along the freeway.” Damien was silent for a moment, processing the logic. Then, he pulled a gold-embossed business card from his jacket and held it out to me. “Damien Knight. I owe you one.” I didn’t take it. My hands were covered in blood; I’d only smear it. “No need, Mr. Knight. Saving lives is instinct, even if I’m currently suspended.” I gave a self-deprecating laugh. “Instead of a favor, could you have one of your men give me a ride to The Sterling Cafe? I’m about to be late.” Damien raised an eyebrow. “A blind date?” “Obviously,” I said, gesturing to the designer tweed suit I’d worn for the occasion, which was now wrinkled and stained with blood. A ghost of a smirk played on his lips. “Get in. I’ll drive you.” It turns out, arriving at your blind date in a Rolls-Royce definitely makes a better impression than taking the subway. If only I didn’t smell faintly of blood. Damien drove himself, handling the car like a Formula 1 racer—impossibly fast, yet impeccably smooth. “You said you were suspended?” he asked suddenly. I watched the city blur past the window and grunted in affirmation. “Yeah. Pissed off the wrong people. Sometimes, in a hospital, saving a life is the wrong thing to do.” He didn’t press further. The car pulled up to the cafe right on time. “Thanks,” I said, hopping out without a backward glance. I heard the window roll down behind me. “If you’re in trouble, use that number.” I waved a hand over my shoulder and rushed inside. At that moment, I had no idea how much that promise was worth. Nor did I have any idea what kind of freak I was about to meet. 3. When I found table 18, the so-called “elite professional” was impatiently tapping his watch. He was decent-looking, I guess, but the shrewd, calculating glint in his eyes immediately put me on edge. I didn’t waste time with small talk and sat down. “Sorry, something came up on the way. I was delayed.” The man looked me up and down. His gaze lingered on my blood-stained sleeve and disheveled hair, his brow furrowing in disgust. “Alex, right?” he began, his tone dripping with annoyance. “You’re a full thirty seconds late.” I was speechless. Was this guy for real? “And what’s with your outfit?” he continued, pinching his nose with a napkin. “You smell… strange. I thought you were a doctor. Don’t you people care about hygiene?” I took a deep breath, fighting the urge to throw my glass of water in his face. “I had to save someone on the way here. Didn’t have time to change. You must be Kevin? The matchmaker said you’re in finance.” Kevin scoffed, puffing out his chest. “That’s right. Just back from Wall Street. We don’t need to talk salary; you wouldn’t understand the complex financial models anyway.” He picked up the menu but didn’t offer it to me, flipping through it himself. “Since we’re both here, let’s get straight to the point. I have very high standards for a partner.” “First, you’ll have to quit your job after we’re married. A doctor’s schedule is too demanding, and you won’t be able to manage the household. I need a full-time housewife to take care of me and our future children.” “Second, my mother will live with us. She’s had a hard life, coming from a small town. You’ll need to be respectful and never talk back to her.” “Third, I don’t like women who are frivolous with money. Your salary will be deposited into an account my mother controls. After all, I’m the finance expert. I’ll manage our assets.” “Fourth…” I listened, utterly stunned. He wasn’t looking for a wife; he was hiring an unpaid nanny and a baby-making machine. A machine that had to hand over its own paycheck, no less. “Kevin,” I interrupted his monologue. “I think there’s been a misunderstanding. I’m here for a blind date, not to apply for a position as your personal slave.” Kevin’s face darkened. “What kind of attitude is that, Alex? You’re a suspended doctor with a ruined reputation. I’m doing you a favor by even showing up. Do you really think you’re in any position to be picky?” My heart skipped a beat. How did he know I was suspended? That information was supposed to be internal to the hospital. No one on the outside knew. Unless… “Who told you?” I asked, my voice turning to ice. Kevin smirked. “It’s a small world. My cousin works at your hospital. Laura. She told me you were suspended for taking bribes from patients and causing a medical accident. Said you’ve been blacklisted from the entire industry.” Laura. The name hit me like a punch to the gut. My dear cousin. The one who stole my promotion, framed me for taking bribes, and ultimately got me kicked out of the hospital. It really was a small world. And it was full of my enemies. 4. “If you know why I was suspended, what are you doing here?” I sneered at him. “Not worried I might slip something into your drink if I’m in a bad mood?” Kevin’s face paled for a second, but his arrogance quickly returned. “Don’t try to scare me. Laura said you’re a total pushover. Marrying me would be the best thing that ever happened to you. I suggest you get smart and agree. With your reputation, you’ll never find another man.” As he spoke, he reached across the table to grab my hand. “Your reputation might be trash, but you’re not bad to look at. As long as you learn to behave…” CRACK! I slapped him across the face. The sound was crisp and loud, silencing the entire cafe. Kevin clutched his cheek, staring at me in disbelief. “You… you hit me?” “So what if I did?” I stood up, looming over him. “That was to teach you some respect. And you can go back and tell Laura that she shouldn’t assume her dirty little secrets are safe. I may be suspended, but I’m not dead yet.” I grabbed my purse and turned to leave. Kevin, seething with rage, jumped up and seized my arm. “You bitch! You think you can hit me and just walk away? Not a chance! You’re going to kneel and apologize right now, or I’ll make sure you can never work in this city again!” His grip was strong, and I couldn’t break free. People around us started to whisper and point, but no one moved to help. Just as I was preparing to use my self-defense training to introduce his groin to my knee, a cold voice cut through the air. “Make her kneel? Who the hell do you think you are?” The cafe door swung open. Two of Damien’s bodyguards strode in, plucked Kevin off me like he was a bag of garbage, and threw him to the floor. Following them was Damien Knight himself. He’d changed into a dark grey trench coat that made him look even taller and more imposing. He didn’t even glance at the whimpering man on the ground, walking straight to me and frowning at the red marks on my wrist. “Finished here?” I nodded, stunned. “Mr. Knight? What are you doing here?” “Just passing by,” Damien said coolly, his gaze finally shifting to Kevin. “This is your blind date? You have terrible taste.” Kevin, dazed from the fall, scrambled to his feet, ready to curse them out. But when he saw Damien’s face, the color drained from his. “M-Mr. Knight?” As someone in finance, he of course recognized the most powerful man in the industry. Damien ignored him, turning back to me. “Do you need me to take out the trash for you?” I looked at Kevin’s pathetic, trembling form and suddenly felt nothing but boredom. “No, thanks. Not worth getting my hands dirty.” I straightened my clothes. “He’s not worth it.” Damien nodded and gave a slight flick of his wrist. The bodyguards understood immediately, grabbing Kevin and dragging him out. “Mr. Knight! Please, I’m sorry! I didn’t know she was with you…” Kevin’s desperate cries faded into the distance. The cafe was deathly silent. I sighed and looked at Damien. “Mr. Knight, isn’t this a bit much? You scared off my blind date. My mother is going to kill me.” The corner of Damien’s mouth twitched into a smile. “Perfect. I happen to be in need of a private physician. Room and board included, with a salary triple what you used to make. Interested?” I was speechless. Wasn’t this plot moving a little too fast? “Besides,” he paused, his gaze deepening, “my wife is awake. She wants to meet the woman who threatened to cut her open to save her life.”

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1 The day my father signed over 30% of the company to the golden boy he raised instead of me, the woman I’d loved for ten years dumped me. “Omid,” Kiki said, sitting across from me in the cafe booth. “This is it for us.” A tremor ran through my fingertips. “Why?” “I’ve been waiting for five years,” she said, her eyes welling up. “You told me that once you got your stake in the family business, we could finally buy a place in the city, get married. And now? Where’s the equity, Omid?” I started to explain, but she cut me off. “In your parents’ eyes, you, their real son, are worth less than the one they adopted. I’m thirty, Omid. I don’t have time to be part of your family’s psychodrama anymore.” She grabbed her coat and walked away without a backward glance. My phone screen lit up. It was a picture from my mother, a photo of Leo at the equity signing ceremony. The voice message that followed was bubbling with joy. “Leo is officially a shareholder! We can finally relax.” The look of smug satisfaction on Leo’s face in the photo made me laugh until tears streamed down my face. I left the “Shaw Family” group chat and blocked every last one of them. Since you chose him, so be it. Your precious reputation, your web of obligations… they mean nothing to me now. I just wonder if you’ll remember the son you threw away when your darling boy, the one you poured everything into, burns your entire world to the ground. Three days later, an unfamiliar number buzzed relentlessly. “Omid, how could you just block your parents? That’s so childish!” It was my Aunt Carol, my mother’s younger sister. “Is there something you need?” My voice was flat. “Your mother is sick with worry! Her heart is acting up! She couldn’t reach you, so she had to call me.” The accusations rained down on me like hail. “You need to unblock them right now and call your mother.” “We have nothing to say to each other,” I bit out. “You…” Aunt Carol was speechless for a moment, then her tone turned sour. “Is this really just because they gave the shares to Leo? He grew up in the company, he knows the business…” “Knows the business?” I let out a cold laugh. “Aunt Carol, is giving the adopted son a million dollars’ worth of company stock what you call ‘knowing the business’? While I, the biological son, get nothing?” Silence on the other end. “Last month, I found a condo in Queens I wanted to buy. A million bucks. The down payment was three hundred thousand. I was a hundred and fifty grand short.” “I begged them to lend me the money for the down payment. I promised to pay it all back, with interest. Do you know what they said?” My aunt said nothing. I scoffed. “My father told me a man needs to stand on his own two feet, that it wasn’t their obligation. My mother told me New York was too expensive and asked why I didn’t just move back home.” The line was dead quiet. “And then,” my voice trembled with a rage I couldn’t contain, “they turned around and handed a million-dollar stake in the company to Leo. He’s twenty-five, an art major making eight grand a month who does nothing but shop and party. My mother said he needed a foothold in the company.” “Well…” “Aunt Carol, I’m not jealous of Leo. I just want to know one thing: am I their son or not? I’m out here killing myself trying to build a life, and they tell me to do it on my own. But the spoiled brat who only knows how to spend their money? They couldn’t wait to hand him the keys to the kingdom.” “Omid, your parents were just thinking about the company’s future…” “The company?” I cut her off. “They didn’t even find me until I was twenty-two. Haven’t they done enough to ‘compensate’ him in the last eight years? Leo’s designer clothes, his tuition to study abroad—the family paid for all of it. And now that he wants to play businessman, they’re willing to give him a core stake in the company, all for the sake of their reputation as ‘generous, loyal’ people?” Aunt Carol sighed. “Your parents are from a different generation. They feel a responsibility to the son they raised.” “And what about their responsibility to their actual son?” I shot back. “I’m thirty years old. A five-year relationship just ended because of this. Aunt Carol, you tell me. What am I supposed to do?” “Kiki… broke up with you?” she asked, surprised. “The day after my mother sent me that picture.” My laugh was bitter. “She said she couldn’t marry a man who meant nothing to his own parents.” My aunt was completely silent. “They want to be saints. Fine. I’ll let them,” I said. “But from this day forward, they can consider me dead. If they get sick, if they need anything, they can go to their precious investment. The one they bought for a million dollars.” “Omid, don’t say things you don’t mean…” I hung up. The world was finally quiet. I opened my laptop and started searching for cheap apartments on the outskirts of the city. The Bronx, Jersey City… I didn’t care how far or how rundown it was, as long as I could stay in this city. That three-hundred-thousand-dollar down payment? I’d earn it myself. Without anyone’s help. A week later, I was working late when an unknown number called. “Hello?” “Omid. It’s me.” It was my father. His voice sounded exhausted. I said nothing. “You’re not even going to answer my calls now?” “What do you want?” “Your mother’s in the hospital. High blood pressure.” My heart sank, but a layer of ice quickly formed over it. “Is it serious?” “She needs to be kept for observation.” He paused. “Take a few days off and come home.” “I’m busy. I can’t get away.” “Work is more important than your mother?” he demanded, his voice rising. “Yes,” I answered calmly. “Since I can’t rely on my mother, work is all I have left to rely on.” I could hear his heavy, ragged breathing on the other end. “Omid, do you think you’re so tough now? You’d throw away your own parents over a little stock?” “Dad, it wasn’t ‘a little stock.’ It was a million dollars,” I corrected him. “It was our chance at a life in this city, a chance you personally destroyed.” “It’s our company! We can give it to whoever we want!” he roared. “You’re right,” I agreed. “And my time and energy belong to me. Right now, I need to give them to my job.” “You…” He was choking on his anger. “Mom’s in the hospital, but you’re there, aren’t you? And you have your beloved Leo. He just came into a million dollars. Shouldn’t he be the one to step up and play the devoted son?” “You ungrateful bastard!” “Dad, let’s do the math,” I cut him off. “I make twelve grand a month. If I take time off, I lose my salary plus my attendance bonus. That’s about two thousand dollars down the drain. The round-trip train ticket is another thousand. And the cost of my time is even higher. This trip would cost me at least ten grand.” He was silent, his breathing growing heavier. “You still have 70% of the company, don’t you? Can’t you afford her medical bills?” He gasped. “How did you know there was 70% left?” That question shattered the last shred of warmth I had for him. “So it’s true. You did keep 70%,” I said, my laugh ice-cold. “Last week, Aunt Carol told me you practically bankrupted yourselves giving Leo his shares, that you had to bribe the board. I almost believed her.” They weren’t stupid. They’d kept a safety net for themselves. A safety net that never included me. “One hundred percent of the company,” I said, spelling it out. “You gave 30% to your adopted son and kept 70% for yourselves. But you wouldn’t even lend your biological son a hundred and fifty grand.” I paused. “Dad, what are your hearts made of?” A long, heavy silence. “Omid…” he started, trying to explain. “Don’t,” I interrupted. “You have the money for Mom’s treatment. You have the time to take care of her. And so does Leo. It doesn’t matter whether I come back or not.” “You’re really not coming?” He sounded incredulous. “No,” I said. “Take care.” I hung up and blocked his number. The fluorescent lights of the office made my face look ghostly pale. I slumped over my desk, my shoulders shaking uncontrollably. So it was true. In their eyes, I was worthless. They would rather give their fortune to a stranger than spare a dime for me. Fine. This way, the break was cleaner. I had nothing to feel guilty about. A month later, a party was held at a lavish hotel back home to celebrate Leo’s appointment as Vice President. Photos and videos flooded the family group chat. Even though I’d left, a “well-meaning” cousin sent them to me privately. “Omid, look how amazing your brother is doing! Your parents must be so proud!” “How could you not come back for something this important?” I deleted everything without a flicker of emotion. The next day, my grandmother called. “Omid, honey. Are you still angry?” “Grandma,” I said, my voice softening. “You didn’t come to Leo’s party yesterday. Your parents lost a lot of face,” she sighed. “All the relatives were asking about you. They had to tell everyone you were busy with a big project.” “I am busy.” “I heard about you and Kiki…” “Yeah.” “Such a shame,” she sighed again. “Your parents really messed this one up. Ignoring their own son just to put on a show for everyone else.” The phrase “messed this one up” made my eyes burn. It was the first time since this whole nightmare began that a family member had taken my side. “I’m okay, Grandma.” “Oh, you…” she said. “Your father is obsessed with his image. He’s always felt like he owed Leo something. Giving him the shares was his way of paying a debt and showing off at the same time.” “So he traded my happiness for his pride?” “He wasn’t thinking clearly,” she said. “I bet your mother and Leo’s biological mother put him up to it.” “The result is the same.” “They got drunk last night, bragging about how the whole family respects them now.” Her tone was dismissive. “I told them off. I said, ‘Your own house is falling apart, and you’re busy fixing someone else’s roof!’” I listened quietly. “Don’t hold a grudge, honey. You can always make more money, but when family is gone, they’re gone for good.” “I’m not holding a grudge,” I said. “I just see things clearly now.” “What do you see?” “That you can’t rely on anyone but yourself,” I said. “I’ll buy my own house. I’ll build my own life. They have their golden boy to take care of them in their old age. That’s great.” “Oh, you stubborn child…” “Don’t worry, Grandma. I’m doing fine,” I said. “When I buy my place, you’ll be the first guest.” “Okay, honey. Okay,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. After we hung up, I stared out the window. The New York skyline was a glittering tapestry of dreams, but I knew that from now on, I would be walking this path alone. I opened my laptop and sent a proposal to my boss with a note attached: “If any overseas projects in the Middle East or Africa open up, please consider me first. I’m not afraid of hard work. I want the highest possible hazard pay.” He replied instantly: “Omid, are you crazy?” I typed back: “Not crazy. Just need to make money.” To scrape together the down payment, I put myself through hell. I moved out of my $2,500-a-month apartment in Queens and into a tiny, rundown studio in the Bronx that was a twenty-minute bike ride from the nearest subway station. The rent dropped to $1,500. My commute went from ninety minutes to three hours each way. I was up at 5:30 AM and home after 10:00 PM. I cut out every non-essential expense. Coffee, dinners with friends, movies, new clothes—all gone. Breakfast was two stale bagels. Lunch was the cheapest special in the cafeteria. Dinner was whatever discounted instant meal I could find at the grocery store. I took on a manic amount of freelance work. On weekends and late nights, I wrote proposals and reports for small companies, making a few thousand dollars per project. It was exhausting, but the money was fast. In three months, I lost twenty pounds. My eyes were sunken, my skin sallow. A coworker joked that I looked like I’d been abducted by aliens. Only I knew the truth: I was trading my life force for cash. The number in my bank account grew slowly but steadily. $80,000, $85,000, $92,000… Every thousand dollars was a step closer to my goal. During this time, my parents tried to reach me through relatives. My aunt: “Your mother cries every day, thinking about you.” My reply: “A shame she can’t call me, then.” My uncle: “Your dad’s blood pressure is through the roof. Are you trying to kill them?” My reply: “They have 70% of a company and a million-dollar son. They’ll be fine.” Even Leo called, his voice dripping with false sincerity and a hint of gloating. “Hey, bro. Heard you were having a tough time. Need any help? Now that I’m VP, I’ve got cash to spare.” “No, thanks.” “Don’t blame Mom and Dad. They just love me a little more, you know? How about I send you five hundred a month for living expenses?” He said it like he was offering a handout to a beggar. I laughed, a harsh, humorless sound. “Leo, how does that million-dollar stake feel in your hands? Enjoying the VP title? Does it feel good having everyone kiss your ass?” He was stunned. “What’s that supposed to mean?” “Stay out of my life,” I said. “And make sure you use that stock to take care of Mom and Dad in their old age. After all, you’re their successful investment.” I hung up and blocked his number. At the end-of-year company gala, I was named Salesman of the Year for my outstanding performance. The prize was a $50,000 bonus. My boss handed me the award and asked me to say a few words. Standing in front of hundreds of colleagues, my mind was a blank. “Thank you to the company, thank you to my managers…” I recited the clichés, my mind racing. Fifty grand, plus my savings and freelance income… that’s almost two hundred and fifty thousand. Only fifty thousand to go. Then, my eyes fell on someone in the audience. Kiki. She’d been invited as a former employee. She was dressed in a sharp power suit, laughing with the man next to her. Our eyes met for a split second. A flash of surprise and something more complicated flickered across her face. I gave her a curt nod and looked away. My heart, a placid lake. After the gala, I skipped the after-party and went home alone. My phone rang. It was Kiki. “Omid. Congratulations.” “Thanks.” “You’ve… lost a lot of weight.” “I’m fine.” “I heard about what happened with your family,” she said. “And I heard how hard you’ve been working.” “Yeah.” After a moment of silence, she said, “Could we… maybe start over?” I stopped on the sidewalk and looked at my reflection in a store window. Thin, exhausted, but my eyes were like steel. “Kiki,” I said calmly. “We can’t go back.” “Why not? Everything you were doing was for us, for our home. You’re almost there with the down payment…” “It was,” I cut her off. “But now, I’m doing this for me.” She was silent. “I wish you the best,” I said, and hung up. That night, I dreamed of college. Kiki and I were walking across the campus green. She asked me where I wanted to settle down. New York, I’d said. I want to give you a home here. I woke up to a cold, damp pillow. I opened my banking app and stared at the balance: $240,000. Almost there. I was almost there. I worked through the holidays, earning triple pay. On New Year’s Eve, I sat alone in the empty office, eating instant noodles while reviewing project data. Outside, fireworks exploded over the city, celebrating other people’s reunions. My phone buzzed. It was a video from my grandmother. In the video, she was at the head of the dinner table, surrounded by my parents, Leo’s biological mother Brenda, and Leo and his new wife. “Omid, Happy New Year! Make sure you’re eating well in New York!” Grandma shouted. My parents’ expressions were stiff. My mother’s eyes were red; my father’s face was a stony mask. Leo raised his glass toward the camera, his face flushed with wine. “Happy New Year, bro! Hope you get rich and find a new girl soon!” In the background, I could hear Brenda’s shrill voice. “Why would you say that? You’ll just make him feel worse! Our Leo is just so much more fortunate!” The video cut off. I finished my noodle soup and shut off my phone, my face impassive. Three days later, my aunt called. “You’re really not coming home? Your mom barely touched her food on New Year’s. She just cried the whole time.” “Oh.” “And your dad got drunk and called you an ungrateful wolf.” “He can say what he wants.” “You should see Leo now! He’s the king of the castle!” my aunt said, her voice giddy. “Your parents are talking about throwing another party to celebrate his success!” “Congratulations.” “Brenda has been dropping hints that they should just give the other 70% to Leo too, let him run the whole show.” My heart seized. “Did they agree?” “Your mom is hesitant, but your dad hasn’t said no. Brenda is in their ear every day, saying Leo is so much more capable than you, that he was groomed for this…” My aunt paused. “If you don’t come back soon, that 70% is really gone for good.” My knuckles turned white from gripping the phone. “I understand.” I hung up and immediately booked a train ticket. Not to fight for the shares. But to sever the ties for good. I arrived home at three in the afternoon to a living room full of people. My parents, Brenda, Leo and his wife, and a few gossipy neighbors were all there, deep in a lively discussion about the company’s future. “Don’t you worry, the company will be in great hands with Leo!” Brenda was saying, beaming at Leo’s in-laws. “And besides, Omid is their only son. Everything they have will be Leo’s one day anyway!” Leo’s mother-in-law smiled graciously. “You’re too kind!” My father sat in his armchair like a king, smoking a cigarette with a proud look on his face. My mother sat beside him, forcing a smile, her eyes darting nervously. I pushed the door open and walked in. The laughter died instantly. Everyone froze, staring at me as if I were a ghost. “Omid? What are you…” my mother stammered, jumping to her feet. My father’s face darkened. I ignored them, walking to the center of the room and scanning the crowd. “I hear you’re planning to give the remaining 70% of the company to Leo,” I said, getting straight to the point. Dead silence. Brenda’s face contorted. “Omid, don’t say things like that. It’s hurtful. We were just talking…” “Talking?” I looked at my father. “Dad, have you made a decision? Is he getting it or not?” My father, furious and embarrassed, crushed his cigarette in the ashtray. “This is Shaw family business. It’s none of your concern!” “Isn’t it?” I sneered. “When you gave him the first 30%, you said the rest was your retirement fund. Now you’re going to give that away too?” “I…” He was at a loss for words. “Big brother,” Brenda said, trying to smooth things over. “Omid is just worried about you. But Leo is managing the company so well! We’ll take care of you in your old age, don’t you worry!” She shot Leo a look. Leo took the cue and stood up. “Don’t worry, big brother. I’ll take care of Dad and Mom!” “You’ll take care of them?” I laughed. “With the money my parents gave you?” Leo’s face turned bright red. “Omid! Watch your mouth!” my father yelled, slamming his hand on the table. “Am I wrong?” I met his gaze without flinching. “What does an art major know about running a business? The only reason the company is still afloat is because of loyal clients and longtime employees. The second he runs it into the ground—and he will—you’ll be lucky if he doesn’t come begging you for more money. Take care of you? Dad, have you lost your mind?” “You insolent brat!” My father raised his hand to strike me. I didn’t move. Didn’t even blink. “Go ahead,” I stared at him. “You hit me, and whatever is left between us is officially over.” His hand froze in mid-air, then fell limply to his side. My mother started sobbing. “Please, don’t upset your father. His health isn’t good…” “I’m upsetting him?” I turned to her. “Mom, I’m asking you one last time. What are you going to do with the other 70%?” She just stammered and cried. “I’ll tell you what they’re going to do!” Brenda shrieked. “The shares should go to Leo! He’s earned them, running this company for the family! What have you done? You couldn’t even keep your own girlfriend!” “Shut up,” I snarled. The venom in my voice made her flinch. I took a deep breath, reached into my bag, and pulled out two things, slapping them down on the coffee table. The first was a bank statement, showing a balance of $240,000. The second was a document titled “Declaration of Familial Severance.” “First,” I said, “this is the money I earned through my own blood and sweat. It’s enough for a down payment on a small place. I did it without you, and I will never ask you for anything again.” “Second,” I held up the document for everyone to see. “Let’s get this straight, here and now, in front of everyone. You can give that 70% to whoever you want. I don’t want a single penny. But you sign this document, and from this day on, we are strangers. Your health, your life, your death—they have nothing to do with me. When I get married, when I have children, you will not be notified.” The room was utterly silent. My father stared at the document, his face ashen. My mother collapsed into a heap, sobbing. “Dad. Mom,” my voice was terrifyingly cold. “You wanted your reputation. You wanted to be ‘loyal.’ You wanted an adopted son who could run your company. I’m giving you what you want.” “All I want is my own life.” I placed a pen on top of the agreement. “Sign it.”

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