Author: Momo Chan

The words hit me on the drive to drop my sister off at college. “You know, Mindy,” she said suddenly, “you’re such a show-off.” I slammed on the brakes. My sister, Stella, just waved her phone at me, unfazed. “Insisting on driving me to campus in this thing,” she scoffed. “It’s all about flaunting your new car.” “You buy me a thousand-dollar phone but can’t even be bothered to get me a case for it.” “Mom and Dad are right,” she continued, her voice dripping with disdain. “You don’t actually care about us. You just like showing off how much money you have.” From the back seat, my parents chimed in. “All you do is throw money at us, but there’s no heart in it,” my mother said. “You’re just not close to us.” A bitter laugh escaped my lips. I spun the steering wheel, pulling a sharp U-turn and heading straight for the train station. “Fine,” I said, my voice dangerously calm. “To keep me from ‘showing off,’ you can all take the train.” 1 My mom’s temper flared instantly. “What is that supposed to mean? We say a few words and suddenly you’re throwing a tantrum at your own parents?” Stella was lounging in her seat, scrolling through her phone. She shot me a classic eye-roll. “My sister’s making the big bucks now, can’t you tell? You guys better apologize. We can’t afford to get on her bad side.” My dad’s hand shot up, his face contorted with rage, ready to teach me a lesson. “We’ve spoiled you rotten,” he roared. “How dare you expect your elders to apologize to you!” I felt like a spectator watching a bizarre family drama unfold. I hadn’t said another word, yet somehow, I was the villain again. Seeing my stony silence, my mom’s tone softened, a practiced, manipulative shift. “Look at you,” she chided my dad. “Are you really going to hit your own child? We’re the grown-ups here. She just needs to say she’s sorry, and we can put this all behind us.” “Why should I apologize?” I asked. “What did I do wrong?” My voice was flat, as if I were asking if they preferred coffee or tea. But my detached tone was like gasoline on my father’s fire. His hand flew, and a sharp crack echoed through the car. “Still talking back!” he bellowed. I cupped my swelling cheek, the shock rendering me speechless. Stella burst into delighted laughter. “Careful, Dad,” she chirped. “She’s not the same old Mindy. She might call the cops on you for domestic abuse.” My mom made a disapproving sound at Stella before stepping closer to inspect my face. “Who do you have to blame but yourself?” she said coolly. “You know your father’s temper. You should have known better than to provoke him.” Not a single one of them asked if I was okay. It was all my fault. Always. “Alright, you’ve made your point,” my mom sighed, as if I were the one being dramatic. “Now be a good girl and drive your sister to school before she’s late.” A hollow laugh escaped me. “No,” I said, my voice firm. “I’m not taking her to school.” The smug, theatrical smile on Stella’s face froze. “You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you? You want me to beg.” My mom immediately jumped in. “Forget your sister begging. I’m begging you, okay?” My dad just snorted with contempt. The tension in the car was thick enough to cut with a knife, and it was starting to attract attention from passersby at the station. Someone leaned in, their face a mask of nosy concern. “It’s a family matter,” a woman clucked. “Just talk it out.” That was all the opening my mother needed. Her lips started moving, and in an instant, I was painted as the jealous, disrespectful daughter who hated her sister and defied her parents. The onlookers stared at me with judgmental eyes. “Young lady, you reap what you sow,” one woman said, shaking her head. “Being cruel to your own family will bring you nothing but bad luck.” An elderly woman at the front of the small crowd fixed me with a piercing glare. “A girl like that is poison to a home.” My mom and Stella were a well-oiled machine. “Mindy, it was just a small thing,” Stella pleaded, her voice suddenly sweet and wounded. “If you just apologize now, we can all forget this happened.” They couldn’t even articulate what I was supposed to be sorry for, but they were determined to force an apology out of me. My sanity was fraying. My fists clenched so tight my knuckles turned white. “Looking at those clothes, you must make good money,” a man in the crowd sneered, holding up his phone. “Big companies care about character, you know. You don’t apologize, we put this online. Your career will be over.” He shoved the phone right in my face. My mother stood just behind him, her expression a perfect portrait of wronged, tearful motherhood. “Just say you’re sorry, sweetie,” she whispered. My dad grunted. “Words are useless. A couple more slaps is what she needs. I bet she’ll apologize then.” 2 A fire ignited in my gut. I lunged, grabbing my dad, and landed a solid punch right in his jaw. He stumbled back, stunned. My mom and sister froze, their mouths hanging open in disbelief. “What the hell, you crazy bitch!” my dad roared, regaining his senses. “You dare hit your own father?” He charged at me, fists flailing wildly. It was his go-to move. Anytime life didn’t go his way, his fists found me. My mom would just watch, pulling my sister into a protective embrace. “Just take it, Mindy,” she’d say. “He’s your father. He won’t kill you.” But I wasn’t that helpless girl anymore. From my first year of college until now, I’d spent seven years training in Taekwondo. I had been waiting for this moment. When his fist came flying at my face again, I blocked it effortlessly and slammed my own fist back into him, hard. He lost his balance and crashed to the ground. My mom and Stella rushed to his side. “That’s your father!” my mom shrieked, her calm facade shattered. “How could you hit him?” “I’m his daughter, aren’t I?” I shot back. “He hit me.” “You have a heart of stone.” A heart of stone? I thought my heart was far too soft. The clothes on their backs, the phones in their hands, what part of their comfortable lives hadn’t I paid for? And what did I get in return? Not a single kind word. Just a slap in the face. Well, I was done feeding the ungrateful wolves. I lost it, raining blows down on my father. My mother screamed for me to stop, but her only action was to shield Stella, pulling her further away from the scene. “Mindy, he’s your dad, you can’t kill him!” “Don’t worry,” I said, my voice cold. “I’m his dear daughter. I won’t kill him.” The crowd of gawkers instantly scattered, backing away as if the violence was contagious. No one wanted to get involved now. My mom frantically dialed her phone, trying to call for reinforcements, even pleading with the strangers who were now keeping a wide berth. I watched her, a bitter memory surfacing. The year I got into college, they told me they couldn’t afford my tuition. Then, a week later, they booked an international tour for the three of them. I’d cried, I’d begged. My mother had just covered her face and whimpered, “This is just how it is, honey. We don’t have the money.” They had the money for a family vacation abroad, but not for my education. I was the one who had to take out student loans to make it through. “Mom,” I asked, my voice trembling with years of unspoken pain. “Am I even your real daughter?” She turned to me, tears streaming down her face. “How can you ask me that? After I raised you from a baby, after everything I’ve done for you?” She hadn’t raised me. Not really. She’d raised Stella. I’d raised myself on the scraps they left behind. “I used to desperately want an answer to that question, Mom,” I said, my voice steadying. “But I think I have my answer now.” She stared at me, confused. “What are you talking about?” “Nothing,” I said. “It means nothing.” And it was true. It was all so meaningless, trying to squeeze love from people who had none to give. I’d earned my own money, and I’d showered it on them, hoping to finally buy their affection. But all I got was their contempt. This love… I wasn’t going to beg for it anymore. 3 Instead of calling the police, my mother called our relatives—the family’s jury and executioners. My aunt and uncle, Carol and Kevin, arrived and herded us all back home, where the verbal assault began. “You’re not a child anymore, Mindy,” Aunt Carol scolded, her voice sharp. “Why do you have to be so difficult with your parents?” “Your sister is younger than you,” Uncle Kevin added. “It’s only natural for them to dote on her a little more. Making a scene in public like that just embarrasses everyone.” “Doting on her a little more” meant Stella went to a private international school while I went to a public one. It meant my mother didn’t hesitate to spend three thousand dollars on a summer camp for Stella but refused to pay twenty dollars for my school uniform. She even stormed into the school to complain. “My daughter doesn’t like wearing a uniform! If you force her to buy one, I’ll report you to the school board!” After that spectacle, the teachers avoided me. The other students steered clear. They’d whisper behind my back. “Her mom’s crazy, so she must be crazy too.” I grew up isolated, a ghost in the hallways. I didn’t make a real friend until I got to college. But my parents hated that, too. They complained that my new friends were cutting into my part-time work hours, that the money I sent home was less than before. They sent an anonymous letter to the university, accusing my friends of being a bad influence. Just like that, my friendships were severed. No one wanted to be near the girl with a ticking time bomb for a family. I broke down. I gave them every penny I had, sobbing, begging them to just leave my school life alone. The next week, they used that money to treat all of Stella’s friends to a lavish dinner at a five-star hotel. I stood outside the private dining room, watching through a crack in the door, feeling like a rat spying on a world of warmth and belonging that would never be mine. It wasn’t that they were just biased. It was that, in their hearts, there was never any room for me at all. “Every time we try to talk to you, you just clam up,” Aunt Carol said, snapping me back to the present. “You’re not charming like your sister. No wonder your parents don’t love you.” I was done listening to their brainwashing. “There’s no grudge between a father and daughter that lasts overnight,” Uncle Kevin declared. “Take your dad to the hospital, look after him, and this will all be over.” “I’d rather he were dead,” I said, the words tasting like poison. Uncle Kevin lunged forward, his finger pointed at my forehead, but he froze when he saw the feral look in my eyes. “You’ve really lost your mind,” he muttered. “From this day forward, I have nothing to do with any of you,” I announced, my voice ringing with finality. “Don’t ever contact me again.” I stormed out to my car and started pulling their luggage out, tossing it onto the curb. My mother, completely ignoring my declaration, yelped in protest. “Be careful! That stuff is expensive!” I shot her a smile devoid of any warmth. “I paid for all of it with my credit card. If I want to smash it to pieces, no one can say a word.” That set Stella off. She stepped in front of my mom, her chin high. “Those are my things! How dare you touch them with your filthy hands?” “Your things?” I laughed. “Did you pay a single cent for any of them?” With that, I picked up her favorite possession, a delicate music box, and smashed it on the pavement. “My music box!” she shrieked, her voice cracking. Onlookers were starting to gather again, pointing and murmuring, but no one dared to step closer this time. It wasn’t like I could resell any of it anyway. One by one, I destroyed everything. A shard of glass from a shattered picture frame sliced my hand. Blood welled up, but I felt no pain. Only then did my mother seem to feel a pang of something. “You wasteful child! That’s thousands of dollars’ worth of stuff!” Fueled by a fresh wave of rage, I reached out and ripped the pearl necklace from her neck and the diamond pendant from Stella’s. “The clothes you wear, the jewelry you flaunt, wasn’t it all bought with my money?” I spat. “You have no right to judge me. You three are nothing but leeches, living by sucking my blood. I’m the one who feeds you, who keeps you. I have the right to destroy you, too.” That was the final straw. My mother collapsed onto the ground, wailing and slapping her thighs. “We’re done!” she screamed. “As of today, you are not my daughter!” 4 I packed a bag and left without a second glance. My company had offered me a general manager position at a branch in another state. I’d been hesitant to accept, thinking my family needed me. Now, I called my boss immediately. That same day, I was on a plane. A month passed before my mother finally called. “We’ve given you a month to think things over,” she said, her tone imperious. “It’s time for you to come home and apologize.” I hung up without a word and blocked her number. But I forgot about her on my messaging app. A barrage of texts followed, all variations on the theme of my ungratefulness. I was so tired of hearing it. I blocked her there, too. Soon, Aunt Carol and Uncle Kevin began their telephone assault. I blocked them all. But this family was relentless. They used an unknown number to finally get through to me. It was Uncle Kevin. “What’s the meaning of this, staying away for a whole month?” he demanded. “If I recall correctly, it was Mom who said we were done,” I replied coldly. “That isn’t my home anymore.” My directness seemed to stump him. He resorted to blustering. “That’s your mother! She was just angry. You can’t take her words to heart.” No one knew the killing power of words better than I did. They were like curved blades, hacking away at my heart, piece by piece. Sensing my resolve, Uncle Kevin softened his tone. “A mother and daughter don’t hold grudges overnight. Come back for dinner. Let’s talk.” Dinner wasn’t the point. If we were truly going to separate, I needed to get my name off the family’s official records. When I walked through the door, my mother shot me a look of pure disdain. Stella, ever the actress, gasped dramatically. “Well, well, look what the cat dragged in! The princess has returned! Mom, Dad, roll out the red carpet!” “She’s no damn princess,” my dad grumbled from the couch. He had recovered well enough to curse at me with his usual vigor. I held out my hand. “I need the household register.” “What do you want that for?” my mom asked, not even bothering to look up from the vegetables she was chopping in the kitchen. “Are you really serious about cutting ties with us?” she scoffed, finally turning to face me. “You don’t have the guts.” A heavy, suffocating weight settled in my chest. If I could, I would sever the past along with our ties. But I knew that was impossible. Aunt Carol was unusually pleasant, and Uncle Kevin even brought me a glass of water. It was all deeply strange, until they led me to the dining table. Then it all became clear. “Mindy,” Aunt Carol began, her smile stretched thin. “Your parents tell us you’re doing very well at your company. We were thinking you could get your cousins, Brian and Jessica, jobs there.” It wasn’t a request; it was a royal decree. I understood now. This wasn’t a family dinner; it was a shakedown. I put down my chopsticks. “I don’t have that kind of power.” Their friendly masks dropped instantly. “We’re family,” Uncle Kevin snapped. “We ask for one small favor, and you make excuses? Are you saying you’re too good for us now?” “Don’t think you’re hot stuff just because you’ve got some fancy job,” my dad chimed in. “You need your own people in the company. Brian and Jessica would be loyal to you.” His business philosophy was decades out of date. I couldn’t even begin to argue with him. “I don’t need them,” I said flatly. “I only came here today for one thing.” “Fine,” he snarled. “Say it and get out.” The moment he realized he wasn’t getting what he wanted, he couldn’t stand the sight of me. Aunt Carol and Uncle Kevin just sniffed dismissively. “No wonder you two always favored the younger one,” Aunt Carol muttered. “The older one is useless.” I’d heard it a million times. It was just their way of trying to manipulate me. “The household register. I’m moving my name off the records.” My mother’s face went pale. “What? Are you really disowning us?” I didn’t answer, just kept my hand outstretched. But she clutched her purse, refusing to give it to me. “You never loved me,” I said, my voice cracking. “Can’t you at least let me leave in peace?” While they were distracted, I made a break for my parents’ bedroom. All the important family documents were kept in the bottom drawer of their wardrobe. There it was, a bright red folder at the very bottom. I pulled it out triumphantly and opened it. And then I froze. I wasn’t on the family’s household register at all.

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One day, I woke up in a “wife-chasing crematorium” novel. I wasn’t the long-suffering heroine or the vicious side character. I was the scumbag male lead’s mother. As I recalled the plot, my son committed every despicable act imaginable. He tortured the heroine’s body, broke her heart, and even desecrated her memory. Meanwhile, he was handing over money, fathering a child, and even offering up a kidney for the “other woman.” It all culminated in the heroine, driven to despair, leaping to her death from a skyscraper. Only then did he clutch her ashes and put on a grand performance of undying love. My blood pressure skyrocketed. My liver ached with pure rage. This son was a lost cause. But they say the child’s sins are the mother’s fault. Since I was now his mother, he could blame me for the coming storm. Because I was about to overhaul this entire family. “Unhand my daughter-in-law, Benny Ford! Your mother has arrived, and she is not pleased!” 1 “Sign it! Don’t make me say it again. Isla can’t wait.” A man’s voice pierced through the fog of my consciousness. My eyes focused on a lavish, European-style living room. A pale woman in a simple dress was kneeling on the floor. This scene, this dialogue… Wasn’t this from that trashy, melodramatic novel I was ranting about last night? In the story, the heroine, Elara Vance, enters into a business marriage with the male lead, Benny Ford. She gives him her whole heart, only to have it thrown to the dogs. Benny is obsessed with his first love, Isla Shen, and treats his wife with icy contempt. After Isla returns to the country, she frames Elara for pushing her down the stairs. Benny, the brainless idiot, not only believes the lie but demands that Elara, who is already pregnant, donate one of her kidneys to Isla. Remembering the infuriating plot and seeing the scene play out before me, I let a string of curses fly. “Benny! What the hell is wrong with you?” My outburst plunged the entire villa into a dead silence. The kneeling heroine stared at me, her tear-filled eyes wide with astonishment. Benny was stunned, looking at me in utter disbelief. “Mom?” That one word sent a jolt through me. I looked down at myself. I was dressed in a chic Chanel suit, a diamond ring big enough to blind someone sparkling on my finger. My face was smooth and youthful, looking no older than thirty-five. I was the picture of a wealthy socialite. I… I had become the scumbag male lead’s mother? The background character who just stood by and watched as her son destroyed himself and his wife? Benny had already recovered, tossing the donation consent form in front of Elara. “Mom, don’t make this more complicated. Elara pushed Isla. She has to donate a kidney.” I rushed forward, shielding Elara behind me. “Is Isla Shen the only person in the world who needs a kidney? There are countless donors on the registry, but you have to force my pregnant daughter-in-law to give up hers? Is she your personal, on-demand organ bank?” Benny’s face darkened. “Mom! Elara viciously pushed Isla down the stairs, rupturing her kidney! This is the punishment she deserves!” Listening to this garbage, I let out a cold laugh. “Do you have proof? Isla opens her mouth and you just believe her? Does this mansion not have security cameras? Do you run your investigations on gut feelings and your company on fortune-telling?” My rapid-fire accusations left Benny speechless, his face turning a furious shade of red. He was breathing heavily. “Mom! You’re being completely unreasonable!” “You’re the one being unreasonable!” I shot back. “Check the security footage right now! If it proves Elara is innocent, you just wait and see how I deal with you!” “Fine! We’ll check it!” Benny snapped, calling for the staff. “Mr. Henderson, bring up the footage from the landing!” A small crowd gathered in the living room to wait. Soon, the butler returned with a tablet, his expression hesitant. Benny snatched it from his hands. The video was crystal clear. On the landing, Isla and Elara appeared to be arguing. Suddenly, Isla threw herself backward. Elara’s hand shot out, clearly trying to catch her, but she didn’t even touch the hem of Isla’s dress. No one pushed her. She fell on her own. Benny stared at the screen, the color draining from his face. “Do you see it clearly now, my dear son?” I asked, my voice dripping with ice. “Did she push her? Or did your precious Isla stage the whole thing?” I turned and gently patted Elara’s hand. “My dear, what do you think should happen next?” Elara looked at Benny, her eyes red-rimmed. “Benny, you’ve seen the video. I’m innocent. You have to make Isla Shen apologize to me.” My heart sank. That’s it? Just an apology? Had this girl been abused into submission? With concrete proof in her hands, shouldn’t she be seizing the opportunity to divorce him, escape this hell, and take half his fortune to live her best life? All she wanted was an apology? “No. Isla can’t apologize. She’s too fragile, she can’t handle the stress. We’ll just drop the matter this time.” 2 I was even more shocked to find that Benny’s bias was so deeply ingrained. He wouldn’t even allow for an apology. “Drop the matter?” A bitter laugh escaped Elara’s lips. “Benny Ford, you and Isla Shen truly disgust me.” With that, she turned and walked away. I looked at my stupid son, who stood frozen with a dark expression on his face, and sighed. I had no desire to see the rest of this tragic story play out. Just as I was plotting how to get them divorced, Isla herself arrived. “Mrs. Ford! You have to stand up for me!” she cried, rushing over and clinging to my arm before I could say a word. “I never wanted to take anything from Elara, but ever since I came back, she’s been so hostile. Last time, she even pushed me down the stairs…” I frowned, impatiently pulling my arm away. “Enough. We’ve already seen the security footage. You fell on your own. Stop the act.” Isla was taken aback, her pitiful expression nearly slipping. But she clearly had a backup plan. She pulled me aside and mysteriously took out several photos from her purse. “Mrs. Ford, I don’t mean to stir up trouble, but even though Elara is carrying a Ford heir, she was involved with another man right before she got pregnant. Look at this…” She pointed to photos of Elara hugging and having dinner with another man. “I’m afraid the baby’s origins are… questionable.” I took the photos and looked closely. The man’s face was vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place it. Seeing my expression, Isla thought she had me convinced. She raised her voice. “Benny! Come look at this!” Benny strode over. As his eyes fell on the photos, his face turned black as thunder. “Elara!” he roared up the stairs. “Get your ass down here!” I slapped him on the back of the head. “What is wrong with you now? Does the sight of this woman just melt your brain?” “Mom!” Benny stood his ground, his eyes bloodshot. “Are you just going to stand there and watch this woman cheat on your son?” Yes! Absolutely! I screamed internally. I hope she cheats on you, divorces you, and runs for the hills! Before I could place the man in the photo, Benny had grabbed Elara by the wrist. “Elara! Explain this to me! Who is this bastard?” He yanked her so hard she stumbled and fell to the floor. “Benny! We’ve been married for five years! Don’t you know whose child I’m carrying? How could you suspect me…?” Seeing her crumpled on the floor, my heart clenched. I was about to intervene again when a flash of insight struck me. I remembered! The man in the photo bore a striking resemblance to Elara. It was her younger brother, who was studying abroad! “Let her go!” I pried Benny’s fingers off her wrist and threw the photos in his face. “Open your eyes and look properly! That’s Elara’s brother! Your own brother-in-law! You don’t even recognize him? Is your head stuffed with hay?” “Wh-what?” Benny was dumbfounded. Elara picked up a photo and glanced at it. “This is my brother, Liam. He came back to visit last month. We had dinner.” Isla’s face went deathly pale. She tried to argue. “But the baby in her belly might not be…” “Might not be what?” I cut her off sharply. “Are you only happy when you’re trying to brand my son as a cuckold for no reason? I trust my daughter-in-law’s character! It’s not your place, an outsider, to sow discord here!” The more I spoke, the angrier I got. I pointed a trembling finger at the door. “Get out! Get out of the Ford house right now! And don’t you ever set foot in here again!” Isla flinched, and with no one left to defend her, she had no choice but to leave. Benny finally hung his head. “Elara,” he mumbled. “I’m sorry.” 3 After dealing with Isla, I subjected Benny to a crash course in how to be a decent husband, trying to steer him off the path of a scumbag. But after just two days of peace, the butler delivered some shocking news. Benny’s father was coming home. Which meant my husband, Donovan Ford, was arriving. The original novel didn’t say much about him, only that he was a workaholic who spent most of his time abroad. He was extremely strict with Benny but paid little attention to his family. “Mom, I’m a bit tired. I’m going upstairs to rest,” Elara said, her expression changing at the news. Seeing my confused look, Benny explained. “Dad was never happy about my business marriage with Elara. He’s a bit old-fashioned and felt our family got the short end of the stick, so he’s always had a problem with her.” “What kind of problem?” I pressed. Benny seemed reluctant to elaborate. “It’s all in the past. Mom, please don’t ask. Dad will be back tomorrow. You should watch what you say, too. Don’t be like you were today.” Oh, this little brat was trying to lecture me now? “Was I wrong to protect my daughter-in-law? Let me tell you something, Benny. If your father starts talking nonsense, I’ll take him on too!” I glared at him. Benny, choked by my response, had nothing more to say and left. I sat alone in the living room, my mind racing. Old-fashioned? A problem with his daughter-in-law? Combined with Elara’s reaction… this was bad. Very, very bad. That evening, Donovan Ford, looking like a man in his thirties despite his age, walked in wearing a deep gray bespoke suit. And behind him were two women. Isla, dressed in her signature white dress, looked as fragile as ever, her eyes darting toward Benny. But the real eye-sore was the sophisticated woman next to her, who bore a striking resemblance to her—Mrs. Shen. “Vivian,” Donovan said, his voice smooth. “Isla and her mother happened to be nearby, so I invited them over.” Mrs. Shen smiled and looped her arm through Donovan’s. “That’s right. Donovan said there was a small misunderstanding at home and asked us to come help mediate.” She acted as if she were the lady of the house. I sneered internally, waiting to see what new trick they had up their sleeves. “I heard about what happened with Elara,” Donovan began, waving a dismissive hand as if he were a great peacemaker. “Young people can be impulsive. But Isla is a Shen, after all. Our families have worked together for years. There’s no need to let a small tiff ruin our relationship.” Mrs. Shen immediately chimed in, her voice soft and cloying. “Exactly, Mrs. Ford. As women, we should be more magnanimous, more virtuous. That’s what makes us appealing. Causing a scene over trivial matters just disrupts the harmony of the home.” She finished with a glance in my direction, her eyes filled with unconcealed provocation. I looked at her, clinging to my husband’s arm. I looked at Donovan’s nonchalant attitude. And then, I understood everything. No wonder Benny’s favoritism was so extreme. It was hereditary. Like father, like son. The rot started at the top. SMACK! I slammed my palm on the table so hard that the tea in Donovan’s cup splashed out. “Donovan Ford! Are you trying to relive your glory days? Has some little flower outside addled your brain?” I pointed directly at Mrs. Shen, who was practically fused to Donovan’s side. “Bringing these two outsiders into my home to lecture my legally-wed daughter-in-law, who is carrying your grandchild! Who do these people think they are, trying to teach the Fords how to behave?”

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Five years into our marriage, my husband died from a sudden asthma attack, leaving me and our son utterly alone in the world. My friends pitied me, a young widow. My parents urged me to take our son and remarry quickly. But I refused. I was determined to stay and honor my husband’s memory. Then, on the third anniversary of his death, I overheard my father-in-law in a furious argument with my brother-in-law. “David was the one with asthma, David was the one who died! But you… you faked your own death, all to take care of his widow. You threw away your own family for her. Was it worth it?” “For three years, Lena has mourned you, raising Leo all by herself. You gave your niece a home, but have you ever stopped to think? The day you decided to ‘die,’ Leo lost his father, too.” In that moment, a chill washed over me, so cold it felt like my blood was turning to ice. I finally understood. The man who died three years ago wasn’t my husband, Daniel. It was his identical twin brother, David. My three years of devoted mourning were nothing but a cruel joke. That night, I called my parents. “Mom, Dad,” I said, my voice firm. “I’ll remarry.” 1 After my husband’s supposed death, his parents were consumed with guilt. They couldn’t even look me in the eye, catering to my every need, terrified that I would take their grandson and remarry, severing their last link to their son. My own parents, meanwhile, were constantly trying to set me up on dates. “You can’t be a widow for the rest of your life,” they’d say. But I was stubborn, immovable. I insisted on honoring Daniel’s memory. I even reassured my in-laws that I would never let our son call another man “Dad.” For three years, I endured the hardship and exhaustion of being a single mother, gritting my teeth through every lonely day. But then came the third anniversary of his death. And I overheard my father-in-law yelling at the man I knew as my brother-in-law, David. “Daniel Ford! It was your brother who had asthma since we were in the womb, your brother who passed away! Why did you have to stage your own death and steal his identity?” Daniel Ford? That was my husband’s name. Stage your own death? I stood frozen, unable to process it, when the other man’s voice cut through the air. “Dad, my sister-in-law was pregnant at the time. How could she have handled that kind of shock? As for Lena… I gave her a son. She won’t have to spend the rest of her life childless. That’s enough.” “From that day on,” he continued, his voice cold and resolute, “I decided to take on my brother’s responsibility of caring for his wife. As for the identity of Daniel Ford, let it be buried forever.” I couldn’t bear to listen to another word. My limbs felt like ice, and a sharp, piercing pain throbbed in my head. So, it wasn’t my husband who had died. It was his twin. And the man who should have been my partner, my love, had faked his own death to take care of another man’s wife, abandoning me and our son without a second thought. Tears finally streamed down my face, hot and furious. Daniel had been my savior. He had pulled me from the darkest time in my life. After I was kidnapped, my reputation in our small town was ruined, but he didn’t care. He got down on one knee and proposed, swearing he would love me forever. And for five years, he had. He treated me like a queen, never letting me suffer the slightest grievance. Everyone said I had married the most devoted man in the world. I was the envy of every woman in town. That was why I had chosen to remain his widow. Now, I saw how pathetic I had been. Daniel had always been perfectly healthy. He never even caught a cold. How could he have died from an asthma attack? It was all an act. He had put on a three-year performance, all to take care of the woman he truly loved. And what about me and our son? What were we to him? I clamped a hand over my mouth to stifle a sob and fled. Back in my room, the noise woke our son, Leo. He sat up, rubbing his eyes. I looked at his small face, a perfect miniature of Daniel’s, and my heart shattered. How could Daniel, his own father, be so cruel as to let his son grow up thinking his dad was dead? Seeing the grief on my face, Leo looked at me with heartbreaking sympathy. “Mommy, is Daddy pretending he doesn’t know you again?” His words hit me like a physical blow. I remembered how, after Daniel reappeared as “Uncle David,” Leo would run to him, crying “Daddy!” I had always gently corrected him, telling him it was his uncle, not his father. I thought it was just a child’s wishful thinking, his inability to distinguish between two identical faces. I never imagined that I was the one who was blind. My son’s eyes had been clear all along. He always knew his own father. What he couldn’t understand was why, overnight, his daddy refused to recognize him. No wonder “Uncle David” had been so kind to us. He bought Leo gifts, checked in on him constantly, brought us groceries, and even secretly gave us money. But the moment Leo called him “Daddy,” he would become stern, instantly correcting him. Everyone said he was the best uncle in the world, more attentive than most fathers. Before I knew the truth, I had been so grateful, promising myself I would repay his kindness one day. Now, the irony was nauseating. He was Leo’s father. Wasn’t it his duty to be good to his own son? How could he do all those things without his conscience tearing him apart? A bitter taste filled my mouth. The Daniel I knew was well and truly dead. He had buried himself. And my three years of mourning him had officially ended our relationship. After composing myself, I looked at my son. “Leo,” I said softly, “what if Mommy remarries? What if I find you a new daddy? Would you be okay with that?” “Mommy, I don’t know why Daddy keeps pretending not to know me,” he said, his little voice wise beyond his years. “But if you don’t want him anymore, then I don’t want him either. Wherever you go, I’ll go with you. If Daddy won’t protect you, I will!” Feeling my sorrow, Leo threw his arms around my neck, his small hands patting my back. At that, a fresh wave of tears escaped. “Okay,” I whispered, holding him tight. I picked up the phone and called my parents. The moment they answered, they launched into their usual speech. “Lena, honey, since Daniel passed, Jacob Vance has been to the house a dozen times to ask for your hand. You’ve known each other since you were kids, and he’s a Captain now. Why are you so stubborn? Why won’t you just…” “Mom, Dad,” I cut in. “I’ve changed my mind. I’ll do it. I’ll remarry.” There were five seconds of stunned silence, then an eruption of joyous disbelief. “Are you serious? Oh, that’s wonderful! We’ll call him right away and start planning! Don’t you worry, Jacob has promised us over and over that he’ll treat Leo like his own son. All you have to do is be happy.” I could feel their excitement through the phone. They had worried about me for three long years. My devotion to Daniel had disappointed them time and again. Not anymore. The next morning, I took Leo downstairs for breakfast. Daniel was fussing over his “sister-in-law” and niece, a perfect picture of a happy family. Before, I had envied her, imagining Daniel would have treated me with the same care if he were still alive. Now, the scene just made me sick. My eyes stung, but I refused to cry. There was no one left to wipe my tears. Daniel caught sight of my pale face and served me and Leo some bacon. “You should eat more, Lena,” he said, his tone casual and concerned, the perfect brother-in-law. “Daniel is gone, but you have to think of your son.” He spoke as if the dead man he mentioned wasn’t himself. “It’s okay, Uncle,” Leo piped up, using his fork to put a piece of bacon on my plate. “I can help Mommy.” The word “Uncle” struck Daniel like a bolt of lightning. He froze, knocking over his glass with a clatter. It was the first time Leo had ever called him that. For three years, no matter how much Daniel had corrected him, Leo had stubbornly called him “Daddy.” “Leo,” he said, struggling to keep his voice steady. “You… you always thought of me as your dad before. What changed?” Leo smiled a small, sad smile. “Uncle, I was just a little kid before. I get it now. My daddy died three years ago. Don’t worry, I won’t make that mistake again.” Daniel stared, speechless. Finally, he managed a hollow laugh. “Oh. Well, that’s good.” But his eyes darted between me and Leo, searching for a clue, his fork hovering over his plate, untouched. We ignored him, eating our breakfast in silence. His anxiety grew, his gaze constantly flicking toward us. “Even though I’m not Leo’s father,” he finally said, testing the waters, “I love him like my own son. Don’t be such a stranger. We’re family. If you ever need anything, just ask me. You don’t have to carry everything by yourself.” I forced a bitter smile. Was he regretting it now that his son no longer called him “Daddy”? But he was the one who chose to fake his death, to abandon his child. I put down my fork and stood up, taking Leo’s hand. I didn’t thank him for his “care,” as I usually did. Instead, I looked him straight in his shocked eyes. “You’re right, David,” I said, using his brother’s name. “No matter how close we are, you’re not Leo’s real father. We’ll be just fine on our own.” The next day, I went to the department store. I bought Leo the milk candies and pastries he’d been craving, and then I went to the bridal section. I pointed to a stunning crimson dress and asked the clerk if I could try it on. Stepping out of the dressing room, I stared at my reflection, surprised at how much younger I looked. “Is this for your wedding?” the clerk gushed. “Red is so festive! Of all the women who have tried on this dress, you’re the first to make it look so beautiful.” But I silently took it off and pointed to a simple, elegant ivory dress instead. “I’ll take this one,” I said. A widow, I’d been told, shouldn’t wear a celebratory color for her second wedding. As I left the store, my arms full of bags, I ran right into Daniel, who was out shopping with his sister-in-law. He froze, then gave me an awkward greeting. “Lena? What are you doing out?” In the three years since his “death,” I had barely left the house. Seeing me out shopping, laden with bags, clearly surprised him. I mumbled an excuse, trying to brush past him. But as I did, he caught a glimpse of the dress bag. His expression turned grave. We had bought our wedding things in this very store. But back then, my dress had been crimson. Now, the dress in my bag was a subtle ivory. Why would a widow be buying a wedding dress? He stood there for a long time, so lost in thought that even his sister-in-law noticed something was wrong. That evening, when I brought Leo home from school, Daniel was waiting at our door, holding a brand-new backpack. The tag from the expensive international store was still attached. “Leo, your uncle got you a new backpack as a present for getting perfect scores on your test. Do you like it?” Leo looked at me, then shook his head at Daniel. “Thank you, Uncle, but I like the old one Mommy made for me.” The warm smile on Daniel’s face shattered. Panic flickered in his eyes. I sent Leo inside and blocked Daniel’s path. “We can’t keep taking things from you. You don’t need to buy him anything else.” He looked anxious, almost desperate. “Lena, I’m his uncle. It’s my duty to take care of you both. Don’t be like this.” I just laughed, a cold, empty sound. He frowned, unsettled. “I’m still your brother-in-law. Do you have to have this attitude with me?” I stared at him, my gaze boring into him, wondering how he had the audacity. “You said it yourself. You’re my brother-in-law. Not my husband. You have no right to question my attitude.” My behavior, combined with Leo’s, finally made him snap. He reached for my arm, his voice rising. “What’s going on, Lena? Why have you changed overnight?” I stepped back, out of his reach. “I’m your sister-in-law. Watch yourself.” Then I went inside and shut the door in his face. Daniel stood on the porch, silenced. For three years, even while living as David, his life hadn’t really changed. He still cared for me and Leo, our relationship still intimate and familiar. My warning was the first time he was forced to realize that we were no longer what we once were. He had to keep his distance. That night, Daniel rushed out and spent all his savings on three large tins of malted milk powder. He planned to bring them over the next morning, to apologize, to do whatever it took to fix things with us. He didn’t know it was our last night in that house. At dawn the next day, Leo and I, with all our luggage, were driven to the military base. As we entered, the young soldier at the gate smiled and called me Mrs. Vance. He said I was beautiful and my son was adorable, and that their Captain was a lucky man. I smiled back. For three years, I had worn nothing but drab colors. I barely ate meat. I lived like a nun, and my son, out of sympathy, had joined me, his face always pale. Now, that was over. Even Leo’s face was bright with anticipation for his new father. My fiancé, Captain Jacob Vance, had spared no expense for our wedding reception. He’d ordered dozens of tables of food from the best restaurant in the city and invited the entire base. He even sent men into town to announce that anyone who came to offer congratulations would receive wedding candy. Every detail was a testament to how much he valued me. Meanwhile, back at the Ford house, Daniel waited with his peace offerings. He waited and waited, but Leo and I never came down for breakfast. He looked up at our window, a sense of unease creeping over him. He went upstairs with his gifts and knocked, but there was no answer. The unease grew into dread. He threw his shoulder against the door, breaking it open. The rooms were empty. In the three years since his fake death, I had been a ghost in that house, either praying for his soul or lost in sorrow. I almost never went out. Where could we have gone so early in the morning? The memory of the ivory dress flashed in his mind. The certainty he’d felt just a day ago vanished. He rushed out, intending to find my parents, but was intercepted by one of his old army buddies, who dragged him toward the base. “It’s the Captain’s wedding day!” the man cheered. “We have to be there to celebrate!” “I heard the bride’s first husband died,” the friend chattered on. “Left her and her son in a tough spot. It’s a real blessing she found our Captain. A match made in heaven.” Daniel, his mind a chaotic mess, barely heard him. He just nodded along. It wasn’t until they entered the base and he heard the chorus of congratulations—”To Captain Vance and his bride, Lena, a hundred years of happiness!”—that the words finally registered. He stopped dead in his tracks, as if struck by lightning. He grabbed his friend’s shoulder, his eyes wide with panic. “The bride’s name is Lena? Which Lena?” Before the man could answer, I emerged from the main hall, holding hands with Jacob on one side and Leo on the other, walking straight into Daniel’s look of utter disbelief.

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My colleague had been chasing a client for six months with zero progress. My boss handed the account to me. A month later, I closed a twenty-million-dollar deal and pocketed a one-million-dollar commission. My boss called me his good luck charm. My colleague seethed with resentment. From that day on, my money began to vanish, piece by piece, without a trace. My colleague clapped me on the shoulder, her voice dripping with schadenfreude. “A good luck charm? You can’t even hold onto your own money. More like a dead fish, I’d say.” I smiled. Stealing a little cash from me was so… unimaginative. If she loved getting something for nothing so much, then fine. I’d give her what she wanted. I’d send 10.1 billion her way. After all, I really am a good luck charm. A black koi, the kind that bites back. 1 In the conference room, my boss, Mr. Reed, was beaming from ear to ear. “Emma is truly our company’s lucky charm,” he declared. “No matter how tough the client, she gets the deal done.” I accepted the compliment with a smile. Just as the applause died down, my colleague, Kelly, let out a “tsk” sound—not too loud, but just loud enough for everyone to hear. “I have to hand it to Emma, she’s really something else,” Kelly said, her voice deceptively sweet. “I slaved away on that account for six months and got nowhere. She swoops in, and it’s a done deal.” She paused, letting her words hang in the air. “There are some skills we just can’t learn, I guess. Young people these days really need to take care of their bodies.” It sounded like a compliment, but every word was a poisoned dart. Mr. Reed’s brow furrowed. “Kelly, if you have something to say, say it. Don’t play these passive-aggressive games.” “Oh, I wouldn’t dare have an opinion,” she said, blinking innocently. “I’m just curious what special methods Emma used. Maybe she could teach us? After all, some of us old-fashioned types only know how to do the actual work.” I met her malicious gaze and smiled calmly. “Kelly, the Apex deal closing actually had nothing to do with your work. In fact, I never even looked at the files you left.” Her face stiffened. “I happened to run into the mother of Apex’s CEO, Mr. Evans,” I continued. “I recommended a holistic specialist who cured her chronic migraines. Mr. Evans was so grateful he called Mr. Reed himself to sign the contract. I never even spoke to him directly. If you’d like to ‘learn,’ I can give you the specialist’s contact info right now.” Kelly’s expression flickered, and she forced a dry laugh. A murmur of understanding went through the room. “Wow, Mr. Reed was right. Emma really is a lucky charm. That’s some incredible luck.” “No wonder Kelly didn’t get any of the bonus.” Company policy was clear: when a deal closed, the commission was split among those who contributed. Kelly’s bitterness wasn’t about the deal; it was about the fact that she didn’t see a single dime. “Do you know why you didn’t get a bonus, Kelly?” Mr. Reed cut in, his voice cold. “Because you drove the client away.” “You took your nephew to an amusement park, cut in line, and pushed over Mr. Evans’s daughter. Then you showed up at their house disguised as a delivery driver and dropped to your knees to apologize, nearly giving his elderly mother a heart attack. Mr. Evans blocked my number because of you. Why don’t you mention that little mess?” Colleagues started whispering, casting contemptuous glances her way. Kelly’s face went pale, then she buried her face in her hands and started sobbing. “You’re all ganging up on me! My family was going through a crisis back then, my depression was acting up… I didn’t mean for any of it to happen!” She wept as if she were the world’s greatest victim. I just waved a dismissive hand, too tired to care. A colleague like her wasn’t worth my energy. The contract was mine. The commission was mine. That’s all that mattered. On Friday, after Kelly returned from a few days off, I offered to treat the entire office to dinner to celebrate. Kelly acted as if nothing had happened, linking her arm through mine affectionately. “Emma, I was out of line before. I owe you a proper toast tonight.” Later, after everyone had eaten their fill, I went to the counter to pay. Card declined. I tried paying with my phone. Insufficient funds. I stared in disbelief and quickly opened my banking app. The balance read: $100. That was impossible. Just before dinner, I’d bought over a dozen coffees for my colleagues. In the time it took to eat a meal, a hundred thousand dollars had vanished from my account without a single notification. I had to call my best friend to bail me out. When I returned to the table, my colleagues were looking at me with strange expressions. Kelly’s voice rang out with false concern. “Emma, if you’re short on cash, you should’ve just said so! We’re all colleagues, we could have just split the bill. No need to pretend you can afford it when you can’t.” Her announcement drew the attention of half the restaurant. My face burned with humiliation. “The bill is paid,” I explained, my voice tight. “I think my account was just compromised.” “Compromised?” Sarah from accounting immediately perked up. “You need to call your bank, right now!” The bank’s fraud department confirmed that a $100,000 transfer had been made half an hour ago. But the recipient’s account information was completely blank. The funds were untraceable. From the side, Kelly’s cool voice drifted over. “Even a lucky charm’s luck runs out sometimes, huh?” I ignored her jab and headed straight for the police station. 2 After I filed the report, the officer gently told me the money was likely wired overseas. The chances of getting it back were slim to none. I walked out of the precinct simmering with rage. Thankfully, payday was Monday. The few hundred dollars I had in cash would have to last me the weekend. I got a new bank account set up first thing and went to work, eagerly awaiting my direct deposit. My phone buzzed. My salary plus the commission—a total of $1.2 million—had arrived. I immediately transferred $20,000 to my friend to pay her back. Just as I breathed a sigh of relief, Mr. Reed called me into a meeting. When I came out, I saw over a dozen missed calls from my mom. My grandfather had suffered a bad fall and was in a coma. He needed emergency surgery, but my mom was short $30,000 for the deposit, and her card was at its daily limit. I rushed to transfer the money, only to be met with the same chilling notification: “Insufficient Funds.” I checked my account. Once again, all that was left was $100. My knuckles turned white as I gripped my phone. This was beyond a prank. This was a declaration of war. Swallowing my fury, I went to Mr. Reed and asked for an advance. He shot up from his chair. “The $1.2 million that just came in… it’s gone too?” Thankfully, he was a good man. He wired me $30,000 on the spot. “Go, take care of your grandfather. I’ll drive you to the police station myself afterward.” My colleagues gathered around to offer sympathy, but Kelly just smirked and patted my shoulder. “A lucky charm? You can’t even hold onto your own money. More like a dead fish, I’d say.” I snapped my head up to retort, but stopped cold. I could see it clearly now. Floating above her head were two dark, swirling clouds shaped like koi fish. It was the mark. Anyone who stole from a Black Koi was branded with it. So, it was her. She had stolen my money. The light in the restaurant must have been too dim for me to notice it before. All my anger evaporated, replaced by an icy calm. I looked at her, my voice level. “A thief should know when to stop. When you push things too far, you’re the one who ends up paying the price.” “Who are you calling a thief?” she shrieked, instantly defensive. “So now you’re making baseless accusations just because I said a few words? Ever heard of free speech?” “You know exactly what you’ve done,” I said. “Give the money back now, and I can pretend this never happened.” Kelly’s face twitched, then twisted into a sneer. “You suspect me? Then go to the police with your proof. Otherwise, I can sue you for slander.” She leaned in, her voice dripping with venom. “You’re just getting what you deserve. Stealing my client brought you bad karma. Why else would money keep disappearing from your account?” “You’re not a lucky charm; you’re a jinx. Now you don’t even have the money to save your grandfather. I almost feel sorry for him.” “Kelly!” Mr. Reed’s voice boomed. “That’s enough!” “What? I’m not wrong,” she shot back, raising an eyebrow defiantly. “So you do believe in karma, then,” I said, looking at her with something like pity. “Good. Then just wait. You’ll get to spend the rest of your life proving it’s real.” She spat on the floor. “Save your empty threats!” I didn’t bother responding. I calmly followed Mr. Reed out the door and back to the police station. The same officer from the other night, Detective Miles, was on duty. “Emma? You’re back already?” Mr. Reed explained grimly, “Her paycheck, all $1.2 million of it, just vanished.” The detective’s shock mirrored the bank teller’s. Once again, my money had been transferred to a ghost account, its destination a complete mystery. “We understand how you feel,” Detective Miles said, his expression sympathetic. “But the chance of recovery… it’s extremely low.” I just nodded calmly. People lost millions to scams like this all the time. What was my little million-plus in the grand scheme of things? Besides, this wasn’t some ordinary scam. If Kelly was bold enough to do this, she wasn’t going to just give the money back. Mr. Reed hesitated. “Emma, maybe we should pay you in cash from now on?” “No, that’s not necessary,” I said, my gaze fixed on the window. My voice was firm. “I won’t keep losing money. And I won’t change my life because of someone else’s crime.” If she loved getting something for nothing this much, then fine. I’d give her a gift so large it would choke her. After all, a Black Koi doesn’t just attract wealth. It delivers retribution. 3 I was ready to fight back. Kelly, you wouldn’t listen to reason. So now, you’ll learn your lesson the hard way. On my way home, I stopped at a convenience store and spent $30 on a Powerball ticket. That night, as the numbers were drawn, I matched them one by one on the screen. Just as I expected. I’d won the jackpot: $125 million. The next morning, I went straight to the lottery commission headquarters and walked out with a check for $100 million after taxes. I angled my phone just right, snapped a picture of myself holding the giant check, and posted it to my social media with a simple caption: A lucky charm is a lucky charm. I set the privacy so only Kelly could see it. On my way to the bank, I called my colleague Lily, who sat right next to Kelly. “Lily, could you do me a favor and send the product specs to Mr. Kim at Synergy? I have to run an errand at the bank, I’ll be back a little later.” Before Lily could even answer, I heard Kelly’s sneering voice in the background. “Going to the bank again, Emma? Don’t tell me you lost more money. Please don’t come back crying to the boss for another advance. It’s just embarrassing at this point.” I ignored her and repeated my instructions to Lily. Lily mumbled a hurried “okay” and hung up. I put my phone away and smiled. Kelly was watching my every move, just as I’d planned. She was addicted to her social media feed; she’d see my post within the half-hour. The bait was in the water. Now, I just had to wait for the greedy fish to bite. Before walking into the bank, I checked my feed again. A new post had popped up. It was from Kelly. She’d posted a picture of a fish washed up on a beach. The caption: A fish out of water is just a fish out of water. Heh. I couldn’t help but laugh. Humming a little tune, I walked into the bank. The manager, Mr. Davison, and the tellers all looked at me with a mixture of pity and concern. I just smiled and waved the check. “Here to make a deposit. Looks like I’ll need you to open another new account for me.” The account was opened in minutes. This time, I was smarter. I didn’t even set up online access. Mr. Davison ushered me into his private office, eagerly pitching various investment products. I pretended to listen, making idle chit-chat. I was stalling for time, waiting for my big fish to take the bait. An hour later, my phone pinged with a text alert. The $100 million had been deposited. I suppressed a thrill of excitement and handed my phone to Mr. Davison. “Could you take a look? This text is real, right?” He grinned even wider than I was. “Absolutely! I’ve been monitoring it myself. It’s the real deal!” “Great,” I said, taking the phone back. “In that case, could you help me set up online banking now? I think I’d like to invest fifty million.” With his guidance, I downloaded the bank’s mobile app and carefully entered a new password several times. The little loading circle started to spin. I propped my chin on my hand, my eyes glued to the screen. Come on, Kelly, I thought. What’s it going to be? Are you going to back off, or are you going to get greedier? “Don’t be nervous,” Mr. Davison said with a chuckle, mistaking my intensity for excitement. “Alright, let’s count down. This is the moment your life changes.” He had no idea. The life-changing moment I was waiting for wasn’t mine. “Five!” “Four!” “Three!” “Two!” “One!” The screen refreshed. I held my breath, staring. Account Balance: $0.00.

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I was scrolling through a forum when a post caught my eye: “My Ex-Husband’s Bank Account Is My Personal Piggy Bank. Here’s How.” Below it was a long stream of censored screenshots of bank transfers. Someone did the math in the comments. “Damn, that’s tens of thousands of dollars. You’re a legend!” “Please, teach me your ways! I’m begging you!” The original poster replied, smug. “That’s nothing. There were so many transfers, I got tired of taking screenshots.” “It’s easy. You just play them both.” “For example, my daughter’s birthday is coming up. I tell my ex that she’s been acting out, wants a new car, and if he doesn’t buy it, she’s going to run off with some bad-news biker type.” “Then I turn around and tell my daughter that her dad is so wrapped up in his new family that he won’t even spare a dime for her. She gets heartbroken, starts ignoring her dad completely, and all the money she earns, she gives to me.” “I play them both, I profit from both, and I get a daughter who’s completely devoted to me. It doesn’t get much better than that.” And this woman had the nerve to call herself a mother? I scoffed in disgust, about to close the tab. Just then, my mom walked in, her face a mask of fury. “Honey! Your father is getting more and more ridiculous! He has enough money to buy his new wife a diamond ring, but for your birthday, he won’t even buy you a cake!” 1 I froze, a wave of anger and bitterness washing over me. “Then don’t buy it. Who cares!” “Even if he did, I wouldn’t take a single bite. I’d throw it to the stray dogs on the street!” “Why should he get away with it!” Mom was fuming. “You’re his own flesh and blood!” “The money he earns should be spent on you! Why should that old snake get to enjoy it?” She paused, and then her eyes started to well up with tears. “It’s my fault. I’m not good enough. I see you suffering through a two-hour subway commute every day, not even getting a full night’s sleep, and I don’t have the money to buy you a car.” “My poor Chloe. Your own father makes so much money, but for you, it’s like you don’t have a father at all.” She pulled me into a hug, her tears falling freely. “Oh, Chloe, you’ve suffered so much. It’s all my fault. I wasn’t strong enough back then. I couldn’t stop that shameless homewrecker from stealing his heart, and now you have to grow up without a dad. I’m so sorry.” A lump formed in my throat, and my own eyes began to burn. Back in middle school, my mom had caught my dad cheating. An endless storm of arguments followed. Even though he was the one in the wrong, he walked away from the divorce with most of their assets and had even declared he didn’t want me, calling me a burden. After that, the monthly child support payments were never on time. Not once. I remember one time the school required us to buy new uniforms; it was fifty dollars. Seeing my mom worry about money every day, I secretly went to my dad’s house. But the moment he saw me, his first question was what kind of trouble I’d gotten into this time. He said he was utterly disappointed in me. The words I had practiced died in my throat. Before he could say more, I turned and ran, tears streaming down my face. When my mom found out, she held me and cried all night. In the end, she had to beg her boss at her part-time job for an advance on her salary. But raising a child is expensive. A fifty-dollar advance was just a drop in the ocean. My freshman year of high school, I wasn’t eating well and didn’t have warm enough clothes. Just before winter, I came down with acute pneumonia. My fever was so high my skin was red as a boiled shrimp. I needed to be hospitalized immediately. But just the initial tests wiped out all of my mom’s savings. She called my dad, crying. She must have thought I was asleep because she didn’t bother to hide the conversation. But I was wide awake. I heard every word of her low, pleading voice, and I saw the utter despair on her face as she covered it with her hands and wept after he refused her. From that day on, I told myself: I don’t have a father. I only have a mother. I only need my mother. But there was one thing I could never understand. My dad used to be so good to me. He cared for me, spoiled me rotten. Sometimes, he doted on me so much that even my mom would get a little jealous. But he never changed, just laughed and said I was his little princess, the apple of his eye. Why did everything change the moment they started talking about divorce? Was it true what they say? When a new wife comes in, the old kids are forgotten. Now, I’d graduated from college. In eight years, my father hadn’t visited me once. The number of times he’d called I could count on one hand. Even though I’d given up hope, what child doesn’t yearn for their father’s love? Especially when you’ve had it and then lost it. The ache never truly goes away. Slap! A sharp sound pulled me from my thoughts. My mom, lost in her sorrow, had slapped herself in a fit of self-blame. “Mom, don’t do that,” I cried, grabbing her hand to stop her from hurting herself again. “I’ve never blamed you. In my heart, you are the best mother in the world,” I said, my voice choked with emotion. But that only made her cry harder. “My sweet Chloe. You’re so good, so devoted. How could that blind, heartless bastard be so cruel!” “It all comes back to me. I’m not good enough. I’ve dragged you down with me, made it so you’ve never had a single good day.” “Forget everything else, he goes and buys that snake a diamond ring out of nowhere, but not only have I never worn one in my life, when you get married in a few years, I won’t have the money to buy you one either.” The anger and bitterness in my chest swelled, and the tears finally fell. He was the one who cheated. I was his daughter. Why were our lives so hard? Especially my mom. She had worked herself to the bone her whole life to raise me, and she had never even owned a ring. “Mom, I’m not even dating anyone. Marriage is a long way off. There’s no rush.” “And besides, I just…” I was about to say that I’d just gotten my annual bonus, and with my savings, I had enough to buy her a ring. But as the words were on my lips, the image of that online post flashed through my mind. My heart gave a violent thud. I changed my sentence. “Besides, I was thinking of getting a mortgage on a small apartment near my office. That way I won’t have to deal with the subway commute anymore.” “Mom, I’m going to go ask my dad for the money. The child support he owes me from all these years should be more than enough for a down payment.” 2 My mom’s sobs stopped instantly. My heart hammered against my ribs again. I made a move to stand up. She panicked, her arms tightening around me. “Don’t go!” Her crying grew even louder. “I can’t bear to see you go, Chloe.” “Have you forgotten that time you went behind my back to ask for the uniform money? You didn’t get a penny, and he yelled at you in front of everyone.” “I can still see your face, streaked with tears, when you ran home. The pain in my heart… it was like being stabbed.” “That wasn’t asking for money. That was asking for my life!” “Chloe, sweetheart, if anyone’s going, it’ll be me. I can’t stand to see you get hurt like that again.” She cupped my face, pressing her forehead against mine, her voice trembling with sobs. My resolve softened. I wanted to slap myself. My mother was a saint. For so many years, she had worked tirelessly to raise me. To protect me from more pain, she had never even considered remarrying, dedicating her entire life to me. How could I be so heartless? How could I even begin to doubt her? “Mom, please don’t cry.” I gently wiped her tears away. All my suspicion and the idea of hiding anything from her vanished. However… “Mom, I’m not a little girl anymore. I’m not the same kid who runs away crying after a few harsh words.” “I don’t want what isn’t mine. But what I’m owed, he won’t short me a single cent.” I let out a cold snort, my eyes filled with resentment. “He owes me that child support, and I’m going to get it. If he refuses to pay, I’ll go to his office and make a scene. I’ll take him to court. I’ll expose him online!” “I don’t believe it. He might not be afraid of us, but he has to be afraid of his boss, the courts, of being publicly shamed, right? I… ouch!” A sharp pain shot through my arm, making me hiss. My mom realized what she was doing and quickly let go of my arm where her fingers had dug in. “Mom, what’s wrong?” I asked, worried. “Are you not feeling well?” “It’s-it’s my stomach. It just started hurting. Maybe it’s my old problem acting up again.” A flash of panic in her eyes, but she quickly composed herself. Her expression was still a little unnatural. “Chloe, honey, could you make me some soup? It’s good for my stomach. I could really use some.” The suspicion I had just suppressed began to creep back. I bit my lip, nodded, and went to the kitchen. All these years, to raise me, my mom had been both a mother and a father. She worked three jobs to make ends meet and still had to worry about my meals and my schoolwork when she got home. She rarely ate on time; sometimes she’d go the whole day without even a sip of water. She had developed stomach problems years ago. A sudden stomachache was normal. In contrast, my dad’s career had soared. He made more and more money, and his life got better and better. There was no justice in the world. Why did a man who abandoned his wife and daughter, who wouldn’t even pay child support for the sake of some homewrecker, get to live so well? He should know what it feels like to be hungry and cold. The more I thought about it, the more unfair it felt. I pulled out my phone and sent him a message. 3 [It’s my birthday. Where’s my present?] A moment later, he replied. [No money. Ask your mother.] Even though I was already completely disillusioned, even though I had no expectations, seeing that reply still made my eyes burn with angry tears. How could he? He was the one who brought me into this world and then abandoned me. How could he be so shameless! I scrolled through his social media. It was filled with pictures of him taking his new wife out to fancy dinners, buying her expensive gifts, going on vacations. How was that fair! [Child support was part of the divorce settlement. It’s legally binding! You’ve been illegally withholding it for years! Pay me back what you owe, with interest, or I’m suing you for abandonment!] I furiously typed out the message and hit send, only to be met with a glaring red exclamation mark. He had blocked me. Tears of frustration streamed down my face. I was about to call him. But then I saw the forum tab, still open on my phone. On a strange impulse, I paused and clicked back into the thread. The original poster had just updated it. “Not sure what happened, but I did my usual routine, and this time my daughter didn’t fall for it so easily. Instead of giving me money to comfort me, she insisted on going to her dad to ask for it.” “Tsk. I guess when they grow up, they’re not so easy to fool anymore.” The comments section was quickly filled with ridicule. “You play with fire, you get burned. Serves you right! Your daughter’s probably suspicious. You’re about to get caught.” “I’ve never seen a mother like you. For a bit of cash, you let your child grow up without a father’s love. Don’t you feel bad seeing her so sad?” “She doesn’t feel a damn thing. Anyone who could do this doesn’t deserve to be a mother. She’s a monster.” “Fuck, if I had a mother like that, I hope I’d never find out. Otherwise, I’d probably stab her. I can’t even imagine what that poor girl went through, crying herself to sleep thinking her own father didn’t want her.” Even the people who had been begging for her “advice” before were disgusted now. But some defended her. “What’s wrong with a mother trying to get some money? So she got her heart broken and her life ruined by some scumbag, and she’s not allowed to take some of his money after the divorce? Why the hell not?” “Exactly. A woman has to be herself first, then a mother! If her daughter is gullible enough to be fooled, that’s on her. She deserves it!” “OP, if things are looking bad, just go for the big score. Drain your ex and your daughter dry, then get the hell out of there and live your best life. Your daughter’s an adult now, she won’t starve!” The original poster immediately liked those comments. She even pinned the last one that gave her advice, replying to it directly. “Girl, you and I are on the exact same wavelength. That’s exactly what I was thinking.” “You guys don’t know, but when my daughter said she wanted to ask her dad for a down payment on a house, it gave me a brilliant idea!” “A house, you know? The down payment alone is tens of thousands. If things go south, I’ll use that as an excuse to get all the money from both of them. Hehe.” Staring at the words on the screen, I felt like I had fallen through ice into a frozen river. A chill that had nothing to do with the temperature seeped into my bones. I stood there, paralyzed, an uncontrollable tremor running through my body. 4 Both divorced mothers with daughters. Both daughters celebrating a birthday today. I had just mentioned buying a house and asking my dad for money, and immediately the poster says her daughter is getting harder to fool and that the house idea gave her an inspiration… How could it be such a coincidence? How was that even possible? The suspicion I had just suppressed came rushing back with the force of a tidal wave. Forgetting the soup simmering on the stove, I tiptoed as quietly as I could towards my mother’s room to see what she was doing. Through the half-open door, I saw her. She was comfortably propped up against the headboard, her fingers flying across her phone screen as she typed. I didn’t know if she was chatting with someone or replying to the post. But her lips were curved into a smile. Her face was alight with excitement and triumph. There was no trace of the woman who, moments ago, had been in so much stomach pain that she’d accidentally dug her nails into my arm. Just then, her typing stopped. I immediately retreated to the kitchen. As expected, the post had a new reply. It was a response to the comment that said she was about to get caught. “Thanks for the concern, sis, but I’m not getting caught anytime soon. You know why?” “Hehehe, because I was smart. Years ago, I told my daughter her dad had a new phone number and had her save a second number of mine as his contact.” “I did the same thing on his end.” “So now, their social media, their text messages… they only see what I want them to see.” “Hmph. My daughter just tried to text her ‘dad’ behind my back. I just replied ‘no money’ and then blocked her. How’s that for a pro move?” Of course. Of course. That’s why my dad, who used to adore me, had only called a few times in the beginning and then went completely silent for eight years. So that was it. It was all a lie. But I was her daughter. The child she carried for ten months. How could she do this to me? In that moment, I no longer felt like I was in my home, a place of safety. It felt like I was standing on the edge of a bottomless abyss that was about to swallow me whole. Everything was a lie. What was even real anymore? Dark spots danced in front of my eyes, the world twisting into a grotesque caricature of itself. Biting my lip hard, I forced myself to move, slipping out of the house as quietly as I could. Once outside, I didn’t care about anything else. I hailed a cab and ran to my father’s house. As I got out of the car, I saw him walking out of his apartment complex. “Chloe?” We hadn’t seen each other in almost eight years, but he recognized me instantly. He frowned, his expression grim. “Why are you taking a cab? Didn’t you throw a fit until I bought you that car? If I bought it, why aren’t you driving it?”

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It was a completely ordinary day. After we’d both washed up, my husband, Isla, suddenly asked me a question. “Beth, why don’t you try growing your hair out?” “It’s always short. To be honest, I’m getting a little tired of it.” My hand, holding the hairdryer, paused mid-air. In that single instant, I understood everything. He had a point of comparison out there. Someone new, someone with long hair, someone who made him feel a spark of novelty. 1 I didn’t have any proof. And I was pregnant. So I didn’t say anything. After a brief pause, I just went back to drying my hair. Isla, lying on the bed, wouldn’t let it go. “I’m serious. You have a round face, and you’ve put on some weight. The short hair just doesn’t look good on you.” “I’ll go with you to the salon to get extensions. We can get some of those trendy waves put in. It would look amazing.” He was smiling, completely oblivious to how each word he spoke made my face grow colder. We’d been together since we were eighteen. I knew him too well. He couldn’t tell the difference between face shapes, let alone one type of curl from another. The only possible explanation was that someone else out there knew the difference. And she had taught him. I stayed silent for a moment, my left hand resting on my now-showing belly. I reminded him, “Isla, I’m pregnant. I can’t get my hair permed.” Just last week, he had been with me at my check-up. The doctor had specifically told him to make sure I avoided any harsh chemicals. Especially salons. He was told to keep me away from them. But Isla had forgotten. Worse, after I reminded him, his brow furrowed in annoyance. “You’re such a buzzkill. No wonder they say women turn into shrews when they get pregnant.” “I’m a man. How am I supposed to know little details like pregnant women can’t get their hair done? You always have to make a big deal out of nothing.” I unplugged the hairdryer, pulled back the covers, and got into bed. Isla was right. I did love to make a big deal out of nothing. For example, when we first got married, he’d said one little thing about wanting to “give me a better life,” and I had pestered my father until he invested the time and money to establish Apex Innovations, the tech company where Isla was now CEO. And tonight, because of a few little words like “long hair” and “tired of it,” I decided that after my check-up tomorrow, I would make some time to visit the office. I wanted to see for myself what this person who had sparked Isla’s “novelty” looked like. 2 The next day, I had our driver take me to the company. On the way, I reviewed the information our house manager had sent over. The girl’s name was Mia. The black Maybach pulled up in front of the office building. I held my back and walked in slowly. The first person to see me was the receptionist. She was a fresh graduate from last year. During her interview, she was so nervous and inexperienced she could barely speak, and I found her crying alone in the fire escape. I had wiped her tears, taken her hand, and walked her into Isla’s office, asking him to give her a chance. Ever since, every time I visited, she would greet me with a sweet, “Hi, Mrs. Evans!” But today, when she saw me, her hands and feet started to tremble. “Mrs. Evans, you—what are you doing here?” “Mr. Evans is in a meeting. Should I… should I give him a call?” “No need. I’m looking for Mia.” The moment I said the name “Mia,” the color drained from the young woman’s face. “Mia is… she’s busy right now. Maybe I should just call Mr. Evans.” She forced a smile and reached for the phone. I knew instantly. She knew. She knew about Isla and Mia betraying me. A sharp, needle-like pain pricked at my heart. I gave her a cold look and reminded her, “This company belongs to my family, not to him.” Isla came from a modest background; his parents were simple, working-class people. In a city this large, they were practically invisible. It was because of me that my father funded his education abroad, polished his resume, and then helped him start this company, turning him into the widely respected “Mr. Evans.” He had walked a smooth, easy path for so long that he had probably forgotten. My father held a 68% controlling stake in this company. As for Isla, he was nothing more than a well-paid executive manager that my family had hired. My words seemed to stun the receptionist. Her fingers froze over the keypad. I didn’t spare her another glance and walked straight toward the main office area. At the turn in the hallway, I ran into Kevin, the HR manager. He was carrying a stack of files. The moment he saw me, his hands went slack, and the folders clattered to the floor. “Mrs. Evans? What are you doing at the office?” “Does Mr. Evans know you’re here?” I had personally hired Kevin. Last month, his mother was diagnosed with kidney failure, and he couldn’t afford the medical bills. I had quietly approached him and given him twenty thousand dollars. And now, it seemed he had betrayed me too. I let out a small, bitter laugh and walked around him. Kevin scrambled to follow, trying to block my path while stammering excuses. “Mrs. Evans, Mr. Evans said that with the pregnancy, you shouldn’t come to the office. He’s worried someone might bump into you.” “Let me take you home. When Mr. Evans gets back, you can…” I stopped and stared directly into his eyes. My voice was flat, devoid of warmth. “Kevin, are your mother’s medical bills all paid up?” The man’s expression froze. He looked away, unable to meet my gaze. “But… but Mr. Evans said that tomorrow, the new subsidiary he’s starting is signing a contract with Sterling Corp. If it’s successful, we can all move to his new company and get a huge bonus. We can’t have a scandal right now.” “Mrs. Evans, please, can’t you just be understanding for our sake?” Understanding? I laughed, a humorless sound. I was supposed to tolerate my husband keeping a mistress in the office for the sake of these employees who took my family’s money and then stabbed me in the back? I remembered the chat logs I had secretly found last night. A girl with a pink kitten avatar, saved as “Mia,” had messaged Isla. “Honey, did she take my suggestion?” “Don’t worry, I asked the stylist. That little bit of chemical won’t hurt the baby. It’ll just make her a little uncomfortable.” “I’m so jealous of Beth. She gets to have you all to herself with that same old look she’s had forever.” “If I were her, I’d be changing up my style every month, just to make sure you never get bored.” The memory of last night washed over me, and a wave of nausea rose in my throat. The temperature in my voice dropped to absolute zero. “Move,” I said coldly. Kevin flinched but still hesitated. I didn’t wait. I pushed open the door to the office. “Which one of you is Mia?” 3 The buzz of the office died instantly. After a long moment, a girl in a yellow dress stood up. She had long, light brown hair that fell in waves to her waist. She looked young and fashionable. “You—you’re looking for me?” The moment she saw me, her eyes darted around in a flicker of panic, like a startled deer. But she quickly composed herself, forcing a self-righteous smile. “Ma’am, this is an office. Everyone is busy. Please don’t disturb our work.” With that one sentence, she painted me as the troublemaker. The other employees started to stare at me with suspicion. If I were just an ordinary wife, perhaps her prim and proper words would have made me back down. But luckily for me, I wasn’t. I was the real owner of this company. I smiled, walked up to her, and fixed my gaze on her deceptively innocent face. I said, enunciating each word, “Mia, is it? You’re fired.” The girl’s composure shattered. She looked up, her voice rising in protest. “On what grounds? Mr. Evans hired me personally!” “Just yesterday, he praised my work ethic and said he was giving me the ‘Employee of the Month’ award. You can’t just—” “I can because I am his wife, and this company is my family’s property. And you…” I paused, my pregnant belly doing nothing to diminish my authority. “Do you really think Isla would divorce me for you?” The color drained from Mia’s face, inch by inch, until it was a translucent white. I felt a profound sense of boredom. I ripped the employee ID from her chest, turned, and walked away. The moment I got home, my phone rang. It was Isla. “Beth! Are you insane? Who gave you the right to come to my office and cause a scene?” “Mia is a good employee! Why would you fire her? You need to apologize to her, right now!” On cue, I could hear Mia’s sobs in the background. “Mr. Evans, I really don’t know what I did to offend Mrs. Evans… After what she did, I’m too embarrassed to even show my face at the office anymore, sob…” Watching their pathetic performance, I was debating whether to just throw the divorce papers in his face. But Isla beat me to it. “Beth, you have disappointed me more than I can say. I cannot have a shrew for a wife. Let’s get a divorce.” The words died in my throat. I looked at my reflection in the mirror, at the tired face pregnancy had given me, and my eyes suddenly burned with a fierce, terrible redness. It was sadness, but it was overshadowed by a bitter indignation. I never imagined that after discovering his affair, he would be the one to ask for the divorce. “Fine, we can get a divorce,” I said, wiping away a tear, trying to keep my voice steady. “But you walk away with nothing.” Isla didn’t hesitate for a second. “Done. No problem.” After he said it, he couldn’t wait. He rushed home and handed me the divorce agreement. After signing, I held my back and went to my room, unable to look at his disgusting face for another second. As I walked away, he looked at my heavy, cumbersome back and suddenly spoke. “You know, Beth, sometimes I almost feel sorry for you.” I froze, not understanding what he meant. He must have thought he had my attention, because his voice grew more excited. “You don’t know, do you? I’ve already secured the deal with Sterling Corp. Mr. Sterling is very impressed with me. Once this project is signed, the company I’m starting on my own will see its assets multiply thirtyfold in less than six months. So what if you make me leave with nothing now? The moment that contract is signed, I’ll be the youngest tech billionaire in the city.” “At the signing ceremony tomorrow, Mia will be there by my side as the new woman of the company. Try not to get too jealous.” It all clicked into place. No wonder he had agreed to the divorce so easily. He thought he was finally independent, about to ascend to a new social stratum. It seemed I had forgotten to tell him one small detail. The owner of Sterling Corp, Mr. Sterling, was my father’s best friend. He was investing as a favor to me. At the signing ceremony tomorrow, when my “Uncle Sterling” saw that the niece he had doted on since she was a child had been replaced… I wasn’t sure Isla would be able to handle the shock.

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By the time I, the long-lost daughter, was brought back to the Sterling estate, my place in the family—or lack thereof—was already carved in stone. My brother, Marcin, three years my senior, was the designated heir to the Sterling Corporation. And the impostor, the girl who had stolen my life, was already married to a man of equal stature, living her own fairytale. And me? I was the country girl who’d barely finished high school, a ghost from a past they’d rather forget, stumbling over my words in their polished world. My biological parents could only sigh at the sight of me before tucking me away in the old west wing of the mansion. They promised to support me for life, yet they were too stingy to even share a single meal at the same table. After three months in this gilded cage, I made a decision—I had to escape. 01 “Oh, my sweet grandson, come, come! Look what Grandma has for you!” “Mom, you’re spoiling him.” “He’s my precious boy. Isn’t spoiling him my job?” The mother and daughter laughed, their playful banter filling the grand living room as they led a little boy of about three inside. It was a scene of domestic bliss that had played out countless times over the past three months. But none of it had anything to do with me. I had returned to this house three months ago. My adoptive parents had just passed away when a man who shared a faint resemblance to me found me. He said he was my brother. He told me the family had been searching for me for years, that our parents were desperate to have me home. I’d always known I wasn’t my parents’ biological child. I was curious to see what my real parents were like, to understand why I was lost in the first place. But when I arrived, I learned that another daughter had long since taken my place, basking in the warmth of their affection: Annelise Sterling. It was Annelise’s biological mother who had stolen me from the hospital and abandoned me. By some miracle, someone found me and took me in. Now, Annelise was a graduate of a top university, the Director of Public Relations at the Sterling Corporation, and married to Julian Kensington, the heir to a family as powerful as our own. They had a son. And me? I was just a girl from a fishing town who hadn’t even finished high school. My parents took one look at me and sent me to live in the estate’s forgotten west wing. The constant flurry of activity and celebration at the main house was a world away. My only connection to them was the half-million dollars my brother deposited into my account—”pocket money,” he’d called it. I stood for a moment under the rose arbor, listening to my mother, Eleanor, ask when Mr. Kensington would be arriving for dinner. Just then, the housekeeper assigned to me came rushing over, grabbing my arm and pulling me back toward my solitary wing. “Honestly, Miss Stella, don’t you know your place? Why are you loitering in the main courtyard? You can’t possibly understand what the madam and Lady Annelise are discussing. Why embarrass yourself? Don’t tell me you still dream of replacing her and marrying Mr. Kensington? You should take a good, long look in the mirror and see if you even come close!” The Sterlings and the Kensingtons had an old family arrangement, a promise made before either child was born. If Annelise’s mother hadn’t thrown me away, the one marrying Julian Kensington should have been me. I’d actually met him once during these three months. I was looking for a stray kitten I’d been feeding when I accidentally stepped in front of his car. My so-called mother, Eleanor, had rushed out, yanking me aside with a look of pure mortification. “What are you doing making a scene out here? I told you, it was that woman’s fault you were taken! Annelise was just a newborn baby; you can’t blame her! She and Julian grew up together, they have years of history. You can’t just wedge yourself in with your high school education. Have some self-respect! The Sterling family won’t let you starve, so stop causing trouble!” Three months in, and Annelise was still the only Sterling daughter. I was just the girl in the west wing, so unfamiliar with their state-of-the-art kitchen that I had to rely on the housekeeper’s whims for every meal. As dusk painted the sky, I looked at her face, contorted with a vicious sort of glee, and a slow, genuine laugh escaped my lips. She dragged me back to my rooms and darted into the kitchen, tossing a final warning over her shoulder. “You wait right here! You’re not a child anymore. You should be trying to get on the good side of the young madam and Lady Annelise. Maybe they’ll set you up with a widower or something. If they kick you out, who will you go crying to then?” She sounded more entitled than the actual daughter of the house. I didn’t wait for her. I turned and walked out of the west wing. In truth, I only came here to see what my biological parents looked like. Just now, I was only thinking of saying a quiet goodbye. If this was how it was, then so be it. 02 I walked out with only three things: my ID, the bank card, and my phone. I followed the long, paved driveway until I was beyond the Sterling estate’s imposing gates. A taxi was already waiting. I had arrived on the Sterlings’ private jet. For my departure, I chose the cheapest ticket on a slow, rocking train. After buying a sleeper ticket, I picked up some takeout—a warm roast chicken, some fresh bread, and a box of pastries—and boarded. The train chugged along at its own leisurely pace. I ate, drank, and watched the world go by. A week later, I was back in the small seaside town where I’d grown up. I shared the supplies I’d shipped ahead with my neighbors, then went to the marina to look at boats. The people here have been fishermen for generations. Just over three months ago, my parents were lost at sea during a sudden squall while trying to rescue another boat. Their own vessel was badly damaged, no longer seaworthy. I never thought I’d own a boat of my own again, but fate had a strange sense of humor. Now I had half a million dollars. With two hundred thousand, I bought a boat that had only ever existed in my wildest dreams. I took her out on the water immediately. The salty wind whipped through my hair, and the feeling of being suffocated by that grand mansion finally began to fade. My parents had taught me everything: how to helm a boat, how to read the winds, how to find the fish. I didn’t need modern gadgets; I could find a school just by instinct, by the feel of the wind and the currents. As the drag on the nets grew heavier, a smile spread across my face. This was my life. As for the future… I hauled in the nets, sold the catch at the docks, and went back to town to pay off the rest of the boat. By the time I got home, the sky was dark. I lit three sticks of incense for my parents and cleaned the small house. Mrs. Gable from next door came over with a hot meal, her face etched with worry. My mom once told me it was Mrs. Gable who found me by the shore, nearly frozen to death, and brought me to them. “Were they cruel to you, dear? But I thought they were your real family.” I shook my head, a small smile on my face. “It seems blood isn’t thicker than water. Besides, she really is exceptional.” Annelise, I mean. Top university, sharp and capable. Mrs. Gable sighed. “But you’re a young woman all alone. How long can you manage out on the sea by yourself?” I walked her home, then went to see the town mayor. Most of the fishermen here sell their catch to a large processing plant, which then distributes it across the country. But the plant pays pennies on the dollar. In recent years, more and more young people had left for the cities, leaving only the elderly and children to struggle on. I pitched an idea to the mayor. I was willing to use some of the remaining money to buy equipment and set up our own direct-to-consumer livestreaming channel. We could increase our profits by at least thirty percent. The mayor was overjoyed. He immediately gathered a group of sharp, nimble-fingered women from the town to set up a temporary processing station at the docks, where they would sort, ice, and pack orders. For our hosts, we chose young people who had worked in the cities, the ones with clear voices and a knack for storytelling. I started my own channel too, but mine was different. I took my viewers out to sea, showing them how to find fish, identify seafood, read the tides, chase the wind, and even survive an emergency fall overboard. Life alone was a little lonely, but it was also freeing. I could go home when I wanted, or just drift on the waves if I didn’t. Being alone meant I could venture into more remote waters and catch more valuable seafood. 03 One afternoon, I fell asleep on the deck. I was drifting in that space between dream and reality when my other phone, the one the Sterlings had given me, suddenly rang. The moment I answered, my brother Marcin’s voice, cold and tight with fury, shot through the line. “Stella, are you done with this childish tantrum? How old are you, still playing these running-away games? You think this makes you interesting? Get your ass back here right now! Grandfather wants to see you!” It took me a groggy moment to remember the Sterling family had a patriarch, an old man who had been recuperating overseas. So, he was back and wanted to meet me. That’s the only reason they’d even noticed I was gone. “Give him my best. I’m busy with work. I’m not coming back.” “Work?” His voice jumped an octave. “You’re a high school dropout. What kind of work could you possibly have? Waiting tables? Working on an assembly line? Aren’t you ashamed?” “I’m giving you one day, Stella. Get back here immediately! Apologize to Mom and Dad, and then stay put in the west wing where you belong. We have enough money to feed you, so stop embarrassing me out in the world!” I lay back, feeling the breeze on my face, my sailor’s instincts already kicking in. I shouted an order to adjust the boat’s course, then realized Marcin had finally stopped his tirade. “Are you done?” “You…” “I wasn’t asking for your opinion. I was informing you. I’m not coming back. And you don’t have to worry about me embarrassing your family. After all, your name is Sterling. Mine is Morgan. Oh, and thanks for the half-million dollars and the three months of hospitality. From now on, you don’t need to concern yourselves with my life.” 04 After splashing some water on my face, I remembered my livestream was still on. The chat had exploded. The viewer count was soaring. Everyone was asking which Sterling family I was talking about, what my connection to them was. The Sterlings thought I was an uneducated embarrassment. I wanted nothing more to do with them, so I ignored the questions. After waterproofing my gear, I dove into the ocean, taking my audience on an underwater tour to see a world more beautiful than any starry sky. But it wasn’t long before my channel was shut down due to complaints. I started a new account. It got banned too. I had to head back to town to get a new SIM card, but as I approached the village, the atmosphere felt… off. A line of black sedans was parked at the pier. When he saw me, Marcin stepped out of the lead car, his face a thundercloud. A moment later, the rear door opened, and my mother, Eleanor, emerged, her expression pinched with distaste. “Stella, how long are you going to keep this up?” Her voice dripped with undisguised disappointment. “Are you doing this on purpose? Staying in this backwater town just to make us the laughingstock of our entire social circle?” Annelise appeared from behind her, a supportive hand on her arm. Her face mirrored Eleanor’s disgust, but her words were laced with a pained, sorrowful tone. “Stella, I know. What my birth mother and I did… we wronged you. But what good does this do you? Putting yourself on display like this… the sea is so dangerous, so difficult. You’re breaking Mom and Dad’s hearts. I know you’re angry, but… to me, they are my only parents. If… if you don’t like me, if you can’t stand the sight of me, I’ll stay away. I can meet them and Marcin somewhere else, would that be better?” Little Jack, Mrs. Gable’s grandson, ran up and hugged my leg, trying to pull me toward his house for dinner. I scooped him up and lifted him over my head, spinning him around until he squealed with laughter. “Stella!” Marcin roared, his patience gone. I sighed, then walked a few steps closer with Jack in my arms, and looked Marcin straight in the eye. “Do you remember what I told you before I agreed to go back with you?” Marcin frowned. Clearly, my words had never meant anything to him. “I said, I would go and see.” “I’ve seen it. Now I’ve left. What’s the problem?” “We don’t like each other. Why force it?” “You… Where do you get the nerve?” he sputtered. “Right here, isn’t it?” I retorted, pointing to my head. As if on cue, little Jack reached out and patted Marcin’s cheek. “It’s right here,” he said in his tiny voice. I turned my gaze to Eleanor. “The family won’t let me starve, right? When did I ever need you to feed me? If you truly missed me, if you felt guilty, if you loved me, wouldn’t you have thought of me all the time? I lived there for three months. When, in all that time, did you ever once think of me as anything other than an embarrassment? It’s true, I’m not educated, I’m not refined. But when I was dying, it was my adoptive parents who fed me, who taught me to read and to be a decent person! Don’t think that just because you contributed some DNA, you get to dictate my life.” As for Annelise, I shot her a glance and laughed. “Do you have any idea what I was like when I was found? A newborn baby, floating alone in the sea, with nothing. Do you know what could have happened? Drowning is the obvious one. Or hypothermia from the cold water, leading to heart failure and organ shutdown. Or maybe the shock of the temperature change could have caused a laryngeal spasm, suffocating me. Or I could have been torn apart by the currents, or eaten by marine life. You’re the one who benefited from all of this. Don’t play the victim with me. Do you really think I’m stupid enough to not tell a real apology from a fake one?” Marcin erupted. “Stella, you watch your mouth!” Eleanor was trembling with rage. “You… You’re being completely unreasonable!” She gestured to the black-suited bodyguards who had emerged from the cars. “Bring her back!” Two men lunged forward. They snatched Jack from my arms, tossing him onto the ground, and started forcing me toward the car. I was small and thin, completely powerless against them. “Hey! What are you doing?!” A young man from the village, Mike, came running over, holding a selfie stick with his phone attached. He grabbed me, trying to pull me back. His livestream was on. Eleanor was furious. “I’m taking my own daughter home! This is none of your business!” Mike shoved the camera right in her face. “Say that again!” She gritted her teeth and fell silent, her face a mask of hatred. I let out a dry laugh. “So disgusted with me? Then let’s just say that half-million dollars was the price to sever our ties for good.” I scooped up Jack, grabbed Mike’s arm, and walked away without looking back.

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My boyfriend was obsessed with his car. Clinically, pathologically obsessed. He called his supercar his ‘baby.’ Me, his girlfriend? I was just the passenger. His social media feed was a shrine to his car, with not a single picture of me. When he upgraded the rearview mirrors, the caption read: Got my baby a new toy. I respected his hobby. I never said a word. Until the day I overheard him and his friends outside a private lounge, playing a game they called ‘trading trophies.’ And there, on the massive screen in front of them, was me. A private video of us, playing on a loop, from every angle, capturing every expression. One of his friends sneered, “Beckett, man, your girl’s whole shy-and-innocent act was hot at first, but it gets old fast.” Beckett just laughed, a careless, easy sound. “She’s just a girl. Not as thrilling as the engine, you know? Whatever.” But when that same guy suggested he film something similar with his best friend, Blair, Beckett’s fist flew. 1. The room was filled with the sound of my own soft cries, but outside the door, my face was as white as a ghost. One of Beckett’s friends picked his teeth with a toothpick, looking bored. “Seriously, Beck, she’s no fun. Same few moves over and over. Like a block of wood.” “All that prim and proper stuff is a total turn-off. I’m not even getting hard watching this. That’s a skill, I guess.” The room erupted in derisive laughter. Beckett didn’t defend me. He just laughed along with them, that same carefree sound. “Hey, at least you have something to watch. If it wasn’t for our game, I probably wouldn’t even touch her. She’s plain. My car has more personality.” His friend’s eyebrow shot up, a sly grin spreading across his face. “You’ve been in a dry spell, man. And you’ve got a bombshell like Blair around you all the time. You’re not tempted? C’mon, we’re all friends here. You and Blair should give it a shot. Keep it in the crew, you know? You could even make some new videos for us, spice things up a little.” The easy-going look on Beckett’s face vanished the second he heard Blair’s name. His expression turned thunderous, his face darkening like an ink spill. Without a second thought, he swung, his fist connecting with his friend’s jaw. A tooth went flying. “Don’t you ever talk about her like that,” Beckett snarled. “Blair is family. If I ever hear you thinking that kind of trash again, you’ll answer to me.” The other guys jumped in, trying to de-escalate. “Whoa, Beckett, take it easy. They’re both just girls, right? You didn’t get this bent out of shape sharing your girlfriend’s video. Dave just mentioned Blair, it’s not worth breaking up the crew over.” Beckett shook out his hand, his voice low and dangerous. “My best friend and my girlfriend are two different things. If you can’t even respect one of our own, what kind of friends are you? Let me make this clear for all of you: Blair comes before anyone else. And you will respect her like one of the guys.” That shut them up. They nodded, mumbling apologies. Just like that, Beckett’s roguish grin returned. “Alright, my girl’s coming to pick me up soon. Turn that crap off and keep your mouths shut. She’s sweet. A game like this would break her.” The air felt thick, impossible to breathe. My own hands were digging into my palms, drawing blood, but the pain was a distant echo to the chasm opening in my chest. I pressed a hand to my heart, which felt like it was seizing, and stumbled away from the door, leaning against the wall to stay upright. The veins in my neck pulsed, visible beneath the skin. The small, crimson mole just under the corner of my eye—my family’s sigil—seemed to burn a brighter red. Beckett didn’t know. I wasn’t just some ordinary girl. I come from the Thorne dynasty—a family famous for two things: breathtaking beauty and hearts of ice. We’re born predators, cold and brilliant. I was the anomaly, born with a gentle nature and a softer, quieter beauty. My family believed that only a severe emotional trauma could trigger my true awakening, the surfacing of my Thorne bloodline. They sent me out into the world to be “tempered.” I chose Beckett. He was the city’s resident bad boy, notorious for loving cars more than women. I basically chose him as my trial by fire. But after all this time, I had genuinely fallen in love with him. I’d even considered walking away from my family, from my birthright, to stay with him forever as the person I was now. But in the end, he broke my heart anyway. I found the number I hadn’t used in years and dialed. “Julian? It’s time. I’m coming home. Give me three days.” 2. As I turned, I saw Blair storming toward Beckett, and she kicked his car. Hard. “You asshole! You have these meetups all the time and never invite me! I’m gonna find out what you’re really up to!” Beckett’s expression tightened, and for a second, I thought he would explode. But he just sighed. “Come on, B. Don’t take it out on my car. You’re going to hurt your foot.” “It’s not that I don’t want you here. It’s just a bunch of guys. It stinks. It’s not for you.” “Whatever,” Blair scoffed. “I told you, stop treating me like a girl. I’m not like your little girlfriend. And for that, you little shit, you’re going to be punished.” She slung her purse over her shoulder, the chain dragging a long, ugly scratch across the perfect paint job. Then she climbed right onto the hood, leaving two dirty footprints. “What are you waiting for? Give your old man a hand. I’m making a whole collection of these for my Insta story.” Normally, Beckett would fly into a rage if someone even breathed too close to his car. But with Blair, he just shook his head with a helpless smile. He wrapped his hands around her waist and lifted her fully onto the hood, letting her stomp her feet all over his prized possession. Then he took a picture of her with her “trophies” and posted it. The comments from their mutual friends flooded in immediately. “Blair is literally the only person on earth who can touch Beckett’s car!” “Damn right! Anyone else would have a broken wrist by now! Blair’s a legend!” Beckett laughed and flicked her forehead. “You’re such a child.” Then he commented on his own post: It’s just metal. My friends are what matter. The words were a stark, brutal contrast to what he’d said about me. She’s just a girl. Not as thrilling as the engine. Blair was loving it, though she pretended to pout. “Hey, son. Don’t you think my feet are too small? Not very tough. People might see these prints and think some little fling of yours did it.” Playing along, Beckett looked at her feet with mock seriousness. “They are a little dainty.” She smacked him on the back of the head. “Asshole! Don’t you talk down to your dad?” Then an idea struck her. She pulled out her phone and started recording him. “Repeat after me! My dad Blair’s size six feet are the cutest! My girlfriend Seraphina has size eight Sasquatch feet, and no one will ever marry a girl with big feet!” Beckett hesitated. Blair’s face fell. “What’s the problem? It’s just a little punishment. Or have you forgotten who your friends are now that you have a girlfriend? You ungrateful little shit!” That was all it took. He caved instantly. “Fine, fine, I’ll say it! I’d rather piss off my sweet, understanding girlfriend than deal with you when you’re mad.” I watched from the shadows, my heart turning to ice, and only stepped out when they were done. 3. When Beckett saw me, he told Blair to get in the car. She slid right into the passenger seat without a second thought. I didn’t say anything. I just reached for the handle of the back door. The second my fingertips brushed against the car, Beckett’s reflexes took over. He grabbed my arm and yanked it away, shoving me back. I stumbled, slamming into a metal pole. The sharp edge of a nail sticking out of it sliced my forehead open. I remembered the first time we met. I had accidentally touched his car then, too. He’d kicked me away. “Your hands are filthy! Haven’t you ever seen a car before, you hick? This isn’t something you can just touch!” Later, when he was trying to win me over, he’d sent a fleet of luxury cars to deliver flowers to me for a month straight. He promised he’d work on his “obsession,” that he would always put me first. A year had passed. He hadn’t changed at all. I thought he was like that with everyone. I never imagined Blair was the exception. And I was nothing. Still just a stranger who wasn’t allowed to get close to his car. I pressed a hand to my bleeding forehead and bowed my head in apology. Beckett froze for a second, realizing he’d gone too far. He looked flustered. “I’m sorry. I overreacted. Sera, you know how I am about my car. I can’t help it. Don’t be mad at me.” “Let’s get you to a hospital. That was a rusty nail, you need a tetanus shot.” I nodded, assuming that out of guilt, he would finally let me ride in his car. But when I took a step forward, he stopped me. He led me to the trunk and opened it. Inside was a small, pink electric scooter. “Sera, you know my car is for racing, not for carrying passengers. So, I bought you this! See? I decorated it with all the things you like. I even put on the little bows myself.” “From now on, you can just ride this behind me. I’ll clear a path for you on your way to work.” His face was lit up with a happy, blissful smile as he imagined our future. My heart went completely cold. So, he still thought we had a future. I didn’t. I glanced at Blair in the passenger seat, a smirk playing on her lips, and the bitterness was so strong I could taste it. Noticing my expression, Beckett actually tried to explain. “Sera, don’t get the wrong idea. Blair’s different. She’s always been terrible with directions, gets lost so easily. I can’t let her go home alone. I have to drive her. It’s just this once.” Any other day, I would have swallowed the humiliation and quietly obeyed. But today, a fire I couldn’t control was roaring to life inside me. I fought the overwhelming urge to smash his car to pieces and spoke in a flat, mechanical voice. “No, thank you. My head hurts. I don’t have the strength to ride. You take her home. I’ll take the subway.” To my shock, he nodded, relieved. “Okay, the subway is safer anyway. It’s late for Blair to be out, so I’ll just drop her off.” I watched his car speed away, the engine roaring, and a familiar ache pulsed in my chest. He was worried about Blair getting home late, but he was perfectly fine with me taking the subway alone at night, injured. A bitter laugh escaped my lips as I sank to the curb. Just then, a sleek, black luxury car pulled up beside me. A cold, familiar voice cut through the night. “Get in.” I slid into the passenger seat, feeling a little lost. “Julian? What are you doing here? I said three days.” My family was cold, but they were fiercely protective. As long as I was a Thorne, they would have my back, no questions asked. “Mother and Father are pleased you’re coming home. But they did mention that for someone about to have her awakening, you’re still crying over a boy on the side of the road.” I traced the crimson mole under my eye. “It’s coming. I can feel it… I’m having trouble controlling my temper. Next time, I might just smash his car. It’s not like we can’t afford it.” A rare, faint smile touched my brother’s lips. He half-closed his eyes, his voice a lazy drawl. “Good.” A beat. “Consider the budget for smashing his cars approved. As many as you like.” 4. The next day, a message from Blair popped up on my phone. Seraphina, you’re going to miss the race today. I heard Beckett is planning to announce you as his girlfriend to the whole world after he wins. But I might have swapped his announcement video for something a little more… fun. You should come see it. It’s going to be a show. A jolt of alarm went through me. “What are you planning?” She didn’t reply. Instead, she sent a video file. I opened it. It was the video from the lounge. The private, intimate video of me and Beckett. Blair was going to play it for everyone at the racetrack. How did she even get it? There was only one person who could have given it to her. Beckett. The pain was like a thousand needles stabbing my heart. How could he be so cruel? I jumped on the scooter and raced toward the track, praying I could stop her before it was too late. I pushed the little motor to its limit, weaving through traffic. I finally arrived just as the race was ending. What I didn’t see were the hundreds of thumbtacks scattered across the entrance. The moment my tires hit them, they popped, one after another, hissing as the air escaped. But I was going too fast to stop. I could only watch in horror as the scooter careened forward, completely out of my control. And then, Blair appeared out of nowhere. She just stood there, directly in my path. The crowd screamed. The racers on the track noticed the commotion. I saw Beckett, who had been fighting for first place, wrench his steering wheel in a 180-degree turn, throwing his car into a reckless, desperate drift. Panic seized me. I looked at him, my face a mask of terror, and screamed his name. “Beckett, I’m scared!” But the look he gave me wasn’t one of concern. It was disappointment. Accusation. Hatred. Then he closed his eyes for a split second, and gunned the engine, aiming his car directly at me. “Sera, you shouldn’t have done this to Blair,” his voice crackled through my memory. “To save her, I have to hit you first. Don’t worry. I’ll be quick. It won’t hurt too much.” The world dissolved into a ringing silence as my body was thrown through the air. I saw his car, its trajectory broken by the impact, slam into the track barrier. CRUNCH. The front end crumpled like paper. Beckett stumbled out of the wreck, clutching a face slick with blood, but his eyes were fixed on one person. He ran, staggering, straight to Blair. The last thing I saw before I lost consciousness was him cradling a stunned Blair in his arms, whispering words of comfort, without a single glance in my direction. When I woke up, I was in a hospital. My brother, Julian, was sitting by my bed. From outside the door, I could hear Beckett’s frantic shouts. “Let me go! I need to see her!” But the person in that bed was no longer the girl he knew. An uncontrollable rage surged through me. I grabbed the fruit bowl from the bedside table and hurled it at the door with all my strength. “Shut up! You’re so loud! Get out! All of you, GET OUT!”

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1 On my wedding day, I accidentally stumbled upon a video that seemed like it was designed to mock me. It showed a tearful eighteen-year-old girl saying, “What do I do? He rejected my confession. Will I ever see him again?” Cut to a twenty-five-year-old woman, beaming. “Don’t cry, silly! Not only will you see him again, but you just got your marriage license today! What’s meant to be will be!” I couldn’t help but smile as I watched. After all, my fiancé, Matthew Lloyd, and I had been childhood sweethearts for fifteen years, and we were celebrating our marriage today. As I went to type a congratulatory message, I hesitated. The video zoomed in on a collage of photos the woman had secretly taken of the same man, from eighteen to twenty-five. It ended with a shot of a marriage license. The man who had inspired such devotion, the guy the internet was rooting for, was my husband, Matthew Lloyd. … The video played on, the woman’s sweet voice filling my ears. “I’m sharing this video to tell girls who are crushing on someone: never give up! Eventually, he’ll love you back.” My hands shaking, I dragged the timeline back and stared at her eighteen-year-old face. Recognition slammed into me. This was Blair Lancaster. The girl who had been obsessed with Matthew for years, following him around like a lost puppy. She’d been invisible back then—plain, unremarkable. A far cry from who she was now. Love is like raising a flower. My love has nurtured me so well… I closed my eyes, forcing myself to stay calm. Then, I clicked into the comments. A comment posted just three minutes earlier, already at the top, caught my eye. You are the rose I cultivated with my own hands. The profile picture was the back of a man’s head. One I had taken. The truth crashed down on me. My mind went blank. Then, I heard the front door open. Matthew walked in carrying a cake, his handsome face as warm and familiar as always. “I knew you’d be waiting up for me. It’s our wedding night, after all.” “I got this for you on the way back from the office. Try it.” He moved to embrace me, like he always did. Instinctively, I took a step back, switching off my phone and hiding it behind me. My voice trembled. “You really went to the office?” Matthew froze, a flicker of something like frustration crossing his brow. “Where else would I have been?” “Everyone else gets pre-wedding jitters. How come you’re having them after we get married?” His casual tone made me doubt myself. Maybe I was overreacting. After all, Blair had tried to drive a wedge between us back then. As I stood there, lost in thought, Matthew pulled me down onto the sofa and spooned a bite of cake into my mouth. My head was spinning. Then, he laughed. “Oh, right. There’s some stuff I have to take care of at work tomorrow. Let’s wait on getting the marriage license, okay?” “We’ve been together for so long. A few more days won’t matter, will it?” Before the wedding, I’d suggested we get the license first, but he had brushed it off, saying he was too busy. Now, he was delaying it again. I looked up at him, meeting his gaze. There was no hint of guilt, nothing to betray his words. My heart twisted. I nodded, unable to speak. While Matthew went to take a shower, I grabbed his phone. The password was still my birthday. The wallpaper was still a picture of me. So was his profile picture. I let out a small sigh of relief and clicked into his video apps. There was only one account. Not the one that had commented on Blair’s video. A hand reached around me, snatching the phone from my grasp. Matthew picked me up in his arms. “Stop checking my phone. Come see how good my stamina is instead.” I tried to tell myself that this was all just a coincidence, forcing a smile. “Okay…” Before I could finish the word, a ringtone shattered the moment. Matthew practically leaped out of my arms and answered the phone. Two seconds later, he was throwing on his clothes. “I have to go. There’s a problem at the office.” “Don’t wait up for me tonight. I’ll be back late. Be good.” He pressed a kiss to my forehead and hurried out. Not long after he left, I saw a new comment from Blair under her video. Someone pretended to get a call from work just to see me. Guess who finally got the undivided attention she deserves tonight? My blood ran cold. I called Matthew. He didn’t answer. I tried again, and again. Finally, after a dozen calls, he picked up, his voice edged with irritation. “I was in a meeting. It was urgent.” “An urgent meeting? In bed, maybe?” I couldn’t stop the sarcasm. Matthew was silent for a moment, and then, there was a flash of anger. “Seraphina, what is wrong with you tonight?” “First you’re grilling me about work, then you’re checking my phone, and now you’re accusing me of cheating?” I bit down hard on my lip, forcing the words out. “Fine.” I hung up and drove to his office. Ignoring the blare of horns as I ran red lights, I finally arrived, and saw Matthew was, in fact, in his office. When he saw me, he sighed and tugged at his tie. “You actually came here?” “What is going on with you? Why are you so suspicious?” The relief I had felt just moments before was instantly replaced by ice when I saw his tie. I clenched my fists, my voice shaking. “You weren’t wearing a tie when you left the house.” A flicker of panic crossed his face, but he quickly recovered. “Oh. I keep a spare at the office.” We’d been friends for years. I knew the subtle tells. He was lying. I didn’t want to play games. I held up Blair’s video. “Explain. What is this?” Matthew’s pupils contracted. He hadn’t expected me to see it. Then, he frowned. “Why is Blair so obsessed with me?” He rose and started pacing, feigning annoyance. “She spent her whole life trying to ruin what we had. You know I hate her. How could you think I would marry her?” “Okay, I admit it. I lied. I ran into her a while back. She applied for a secretarial position. I turned her down.” “But then, her brain snapped, and she made up this whole fantasy.” “Honey, we just had our wedding. Why would she post something like this now, unless she was trying to cause trouble?” Before he could finish, the door opened. Blair waltzed in, looking sweet and innocent, holding a man’s jacket. “Matthew, you forgot this.” The office went silent, with only the video’s soundtrack echoing through the air. Matthew was the first to react. He grabbed Blair, his voice dangerously low. “That’s not my jacket. Stop making things up.” “Tell my wife what’s going on. Tell her about the video.” I watched as Blair’s eyes turned red. She seemed to resist, but she lowered her head to me. “Seraphina, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have posted the video. I just wanted to fulfill an old fantasy.” “It’s not real. It was all faked. I’m so sorry…” Before she could finish, I raised my hand to strike. But Matthew seized my wrist, his face darkening. “That’s enough. Don’t get violent—” Smack! I swung with my other hand, the slap echoing through the office. Matthew’s cheek was red. He stared at me, stunned. “Seraphina! I explained everything! Why won’t you trust me?” “There’s a limit to how much nonsense I’m willing to take!” Pain tightened my chest. I took a shaky breath, trying to stay calm, and threw a document at him. It was a certificate of marriage, obtained by my lawyer. “Explain this. I dare you.” “Matthew Lloyd. Marital status: not single. Spouse: Blair Lancaster.” His face turned sheet white. Afraid of what I might do next, he pulled me out of the office. Back home, he dropped to his knees, his eyes red-rimmed. “I’m sorry, Sera. I lied.” “But I’m telling the truth. Blair and I ran into each other a while ago. She applied to be my secretary.” “I didn’t want anything to do with her. But then she begged me to give her a chance.” “You know what she’s like. She didn’t do well in school, she never got a degree, she can’t find a decent job. And she only has her grandmother, who needs expensive medical care. I felt sorry for her, so I gave her a chance.” “After a while, I started to… waver. When she begged me for the tenth time to marry her, to fulfill her grandmother’s dying wish, I gave in.” “I thought, what harm could it do? I could marry her for a little while, let her be happy, and then divorce her. And then, I would tell you everything. I never imagined she would post that video! She said she would block you from seeing it.” “It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have lied to you. But Sera, you were raised by your grandmother. You understand, don’t you?” By the end of his speech, my heart had gone numb. I wanted to laugh. I looked at him, a flicker of desperate hope still alive in his eyes, and a cold laugh escaped my lips. “I understand you? Who understands me?” “You also know I was raised by my grandmother. When I dropped everything to go abroad with you, my grandmother died alone, and I never got to say goodbye. You said you would give me a family.” “And now? Matthew, you’re spinning an affair to make yourself look good. It’s disgusting.” His face hardened. After a long pause, he rose, his voice flat with disappointment. “I can’t believe you’re like this. Blair has been waiting for me for so long, and I just wanted to make her dream come true.” “She’s been waiting for you? What about me?” I couldn’t stop myself from screaming. “When you couldn’t pay your rent abroad, who worked day and night to send you money?” “When you came back and needed capital, who sold her grandmother’s house to fund your business?” “How many times did I negotiate deals for you until I was throwing up blood? How many times was I almost assaulted?” “I didn’t want anything in return! I just wanted you to be happy, and to build a life with me!” “Enough!” Matthew’s face was a mask of anger. “All you ever talk about is money.” “Fine. I’ll pay you.” He pulled out his phone and transferred three million dollars to my account. With interest, down to the penny. It was the money I had scrounged together, my entire savings. Now, it was pocket change to him. There were so many things I wanted to say, but suddenly, I didn’t have the strength. Looking at his cold, unfamiliar face, I knew it was over. Seeing my silence, a mocking smile touched his lips. “All you care about is money, Seraphina. You have no right to judge me for having an affair.” “I never mistreated you after I made my fortune. I paid you back. I’m still paying Blair back, so I had to marry her. You’ve waited for me for so long. A little longer won’t kill you. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.” He reached out, trying to soothe me, but I recoiled. A wave of nausea washed over me. I ran to the bathroom, gagging, and heard his phone ring. “What? What happened to your grandmother? I’m coming now.” I heard the door slam. I flushed the toilet, sending all our happy memories spiraling into the drain. I washed my face and stood up. I opened my phone and messaged my lawyer, Julian Hayes: File for divorce. For a week, Matthew didn’t come home. Instead, I saw him flaunting his new romance on social media, posting picture after picture with Blair. Only, he never showed her face. Friends who had been at our wedding kept messaging, asking about the honeymoon. I didn’t reply. Instead, I posted a single line to my feed: Husband had an affair. Do not disturb. My phone exploded. Then, Matthew called, his voice rough. “Seraphina, are you out of your mind?” I laughed softly. “What’s the matter? Can’t handle the truth?” He hung up. Then, my old high school principal called, his voice excited. “The alumni gala is tomorrow! Distinguished alumni can bring their spouses. I told Matthew about it a week ago, right?” I paused. “No.” “Oh. Well, he probably forgot. Be sure to come. It’ll be broadcast live.” I squeezed my phone, hard. He hadn’t forgotten. He just hadn’t intended to bring me. I agreed to attend. All week, I barely slept. My tears had dried up, and my heart had gone numb. So, when Matthew finally came home that night and started yelling at me, I was strangely calm. “Seraphina, are you trying to ruin me?” “Was it you who told Blair’s grandmother about our situation? Did you cause her to have a heart attack? Blair nearly killed herself because of you!” “Now, you’re going to come to the hospital and apologize!” He reached for me. I dodged him, my voice quiet. “Who are you taking to the alumni gala tomorrow?” Matthew hesitated, rubbing his temples. “You thought you could ruin my reputation by posting on social media? So why would I want to take you?” “Blair’s reputation was destroyed by you. I’m going to help her fix it.” “That’s not important right now. We need to go to the hospital—” “Why should I apologize to the woman you had an affair with?” Smack! The slap sent me crashing to the floor, pain shooting through my abdomen. Matthew reached for me, then stopped. A flicker of something flashed in his eyes, his voice turning cold. “Seraphina, watch your mouth!” “Besides, you’re the other woman. Blair and I are married!” That sentence seared my heart. I stood up, shaking. “You’re right. I’m the other woman.” I turned and walked out. Behind me, Matthew’s footsteps came to a halt. “Seraphina, if you walk out that door, we’re done!” His rage was a distant echo as I left, never once looking back. That night, he posted a picture of his marriage certificate with Blair: No affair here. Just fake news. Married. I switched off my phone and stared at Julian, the lawyer, his gaze steady and sure. “Everything’s ready, right?” He nodded, his eyes filled with concern. “Are you sure about this?” I forced a smile. “Yes. I have to do it.” The emptiness in my stomach mirrored the hollowness in my heart. Even the last tie to Matthew was gone. What else was there to hold on to? As the alumni gala began, all the cameras focused on the stage. The principal excitedly invited Matthew Lloyd to deliver a speech. After all, he was the school’s most successful graduate. I watched as he spoke, crediting all the achievements to Blair. The ones that I had bled and sweat for. But I didn’t feel anything. In fact, I wanted to laugh. Ignoring the principal’s confused expression and the sympathetic glances from our friends, I slowly started to clap. Matthew froze when he saw me, then quickly looked away. After his speech, Julian was invited to speak. He scanned the room, his gaze coming to rest on Matthew. “Before I start, I’d like to take care of a little business. I’m filing a lawsuit against Mr. Lloyd for fraud and misrepresentation.” The room went silent. Every eye turned to me. I rose, ignoring Matthew’s furious glare, and walked to the podium. I smiled faintly. “I’m Julian’s client, and the victim of Mr. Lloyd’s fraud. My name is Seraphina Hayes.”

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She locked our five-year-old twins in the basement. All because they’d upset her childhood flame. I was on my knees, the cold floor biting into my skin as I begged her. “They’re just kids, Alice! It’s pitch black down there, they’ll be terrified. If you want to punish someone, punish me. Please, I’m their father…” But Alice just leaned back into Ethan’s arms, looking down at me with an icy disdain. “It’s because you coddle them that they’ve become so arrogant. I’m their mother. Don’t I have the right to discipline my own children?” Down in the dark, the twins grew desperate with hunger. They found a forgotten bag of dried shrimp somewhere in the clutter. That night, both of them were rushed to the hospital, their little bodies struggling to breathe, their airways swelling shut from a severe seafood allergy. Meanwhile, Ethan was posting on social media, celebrating the news that Alice was pregnant. When my brother-in-law, Mark, arrived at the hospital, he found me collapsed outside the emergency room. “Mark,” I choked out, my voice raw. “Please, just let me go. I don’t want anything. I just want my kids to be okay.” 1 The light above the ER doors burned like a cruel, unblinking eye. My heart felt like it was being devoured by a million tiny ants, the pain so sharp it stole my breath. Mark looked at me, his face etched with a pity I couldn’t bear. “Don’t say that, Liam. The kids are the only thing that matters right now. As soon as they’re out of danger, I swear I’ll deal with Alice…” His voice trailed off as I trembling, held up my phone. It was Ethan’s post, made just half an hour ago. “To the little one we’ve dreamed of, Mom and Dad already love you more than words can say.” The picture was an ultrasound scan. The name was clear: Alice Blackwood. Six weeks pregnant. Mark fell silent. A moment later, he stammered, “I’m calling her right now. Liam, don’t worry. You’re the only son-in-law the Blackwood family recognizes…” This time, I was the one who made the call. I hit the speakerphone button, and Alice’s impatient voice crackled through. “Are you going to feed me that same garbage about the kids being in the ER? I locked them up for a day, Liam, one day. How could they possibly need emergency care? If you’re going to make up excuses, at least make them believable. God, you disgust me.” She hung up before I could say a single word. The color drained from Mark’s face. He looked like a man who had run out of words, out of hope. Tears streamed down my face, splashing onto the sterile tile floor. “Mark, I have nothing left. They’re all I have. Please… let me go. Let them go…” He started to speak, but just then, the light above the ER doors went out. I scrambled to my feet and rushed toward the doctor, who met my desperate gaze with a slow, somber shake of his head. “Anaphylactic shock from the seafood allergy. Their airways swelled shut. They were without oxygen for too long… they were in cardiac arrest by the time they arrived.” He paused, his voice gentle. “We did everything we could. I’m so sorry.” Two small gurneys were wheeled out from the emergency room. Two tiny forms lay still beneath white sheets, all their laughter and life silenced forever. My legs gave out from under me. I crumpled to the floor, the world dissolving into a black, roaring void. Mark made the call to the funeral home. I followed him like a ghost, a hollow shell moving through a nightmare. It wasn’t until the attendants were loading the small bodies into the back of the hearse that something inside me snapped. I lunged forward, clawing at the vehicle’s doors, refusing to let them close. “My children aren’t dead! Where are you taking them? Give them back to me!” My voice shredded into a raw scream. “LET THEM GO! I want to take them home! I have to take them home!” Mark wrapped his arms around me, holding me tight as his own tears fell. “Liam, stop. Please, stop. I know it hurts, I know…” Other hands joined his, pulling me away. The moment my fingers lost their grip on the cold metal, the hearse pulled away, its taillights shrinking into the distance. Watching them disappear, a final wave of darkness crashed over me, and I knew no more. When I woke, I was in a bed at the Blackwood family estate. Mark was sitting beside me, his eyes red and swollen. He wiped at his own tears when he saw mine were open. “Liam. You’re awake. Do you need some water? Are you hungry?” I tried to smile, but the effort just made a fresh wave of tears spill down my temples. “Mark… please. Let me go. There’s nothing left for me here.” 2 Mark stiffened, then, after a long moment, he nodded as if coming to a heavy decision. “Okay,” he said softly. “I’ll go talk to Grandfather.” As I watched him leave, I pressed the back of my hand to my eyes and finally let the sobs wrack my body. I came to live with the Blackwoods when I was six. My grandfather and Mr. Blackwood were old army buddies, brothers-in-arms who had saved each other’s lives. My parents died in an accident when I was three, and my grandfather raised me until he passed away, leaving me utterly alone in the world. Mr. Blackwood took me in and raised me as his own grandson. For all these years, both he and Mark had treated me like family, like a son, a brother. That was why, for seven years, I had endured Alice’s cruelty. I stayed home, managed the household, and raised our children while she did as she pleased. It was my duty, my way of repaying their kindness. I thought that as long as I had my children, my life had meaning. But now, I had nothing. Sometime later, Mark returned. “Grandfather wants to see you.” When I entered the study, Mr. Blackwood was sitting in his old rocking chair. The look he gave me was full of a deep, aching sorrow. “My boy,” he said, his voice raspy with age. “I’ve heard everything. It was my stubbornness that ruined your life all these years.” He took a shaky breath. “The cremation is tomorrow. After the service… you’re free to go. That wretched girl has failed you. She was never worthy of you.” I said nothing. I simply bowed deeply before him, my body bent in a posture of final respect. I watched my tears fall, big, fat drops hitting the polished floorboards. I was eternally grateful for the twenty-plus years they had given me, for the home they had provided. But I could never forgive Alice. And I could no longer be her husband. There was nothing left to say. Mr. Blackwood sighed, a sound heavy with defeat. “Go on, then. Leave us.” I had just returned to my room when Alice stormed in, a familiar sneer on her face. “What, did you run straight to Grandfather to tattle on me again? Liam, do you really think that just because you’ve charmed him and my brother, I’ll bend to your will?” She shook her head in disbelief. “I don’t know what kind of spell you’ve cast on them, but it’s incredible how they always take your side.” The sight of her ignited a rage so pure it nearly consumed me. I wanted to kill her. I wanted her to pay for what she did to my children. But then, I heard their voices, soft echoes in the chambers of my heart. “Daddy, where’s Mommy? Is she busy with work again today? We haven’t seen her in so long.” “Even if Mommy doesn’t like us much, we still miss her.” “We love you so much, Daddy. And we love Mommy, too.” The last thing my son said to me, as I carried him from the basement, was a whispered plea. “Daddy, don’t be mad at Mommy. We made her upset. Please don’t fight with her because of us…” I took a deep, shuddering breath and turned away from her, sinking onto the edge of the bed. My silence only seemed to fuel her anger. She grabbed my wrist, yanked me onto the mattress, and climbed on top of me. “What’s this act? Weren’t you the one who begged Grandfather to make me come home? Now that I’m here, you’re not happy?” She leaned down to kiss me. I couldn’t push her off, so I did the only thing I could. I bit down on her lip, hard. She yelped in pain and shot upright. “Are you insane? What is this, some kind of pathetic purity protest?” She scoffed. “You’re full of tricks lately, Liam. First, you lie about the kids being in the ER to force me back. When that doesn’t work, you run to the estate and have Grandfather pressure me. And now you’re playing hard to get.” Her voice dripped with venom. “You’re so desperate to keep me, you’d even abandon your own children. Where are they, anyway? They’re five years old, Liam. Did you just leave them home alone? You really are a monster…” My hands clenched into fists at my sides. “They’re dead,” I said, my voice flat and cold, cutting through her tirade. 3 Alice froze for a second, then let out a sharp, mocking laugh. “Wow, Liam. I really underestimated you. You’d say anything to win my affection, wouldn’t you?” Without another glance at me, she stood up and walked to the door. As she pulled it open, she tossed a final, cold remark over her shoulder. “You’re the one who pushed me away. So don’t go crying to Grandfather that I’m neglecting you. It only makes you more pathetic.” The door clicked shut, and the room was silent again. I scrubbed at my lips, trying to wipe away the phantom sensation of her touch, the lingering scent of her perfume. We had been in love once. On her eighteenth birthday, she had stood before me, twenty years old myself, her cheeks flushed a charming shade of pink. “Liam… can I like you?” she’d asked, her voice barely a whisper. “I promise, I’ll be so good to you.” Looking into her shy, hopeful eyes, my heart had melted. As if in a trance, I had nodded. For the next two years, I treated her like she was the center of the universe, and she, in turn, acted as if she would pluck the stars from the sky for me. It was perfect. Until we were twenty-two. Her grandfather summoned us to his study. “Alice, Liam,” he’d said, his voice firm but kind. “You’re both of marrying age. I’ve taken the liberty of choosing an auspicious date for your wedding.” From that day forward, everything changed. Alice’s warmth vanished, replaced by a constant, simmering resentment. Her eyes, which once held adoration, now held only irritation and disgust. I never understood what I had done wrong, and she never offered an explanation. A year after we were married, she became pregnant. After the twins were born, she grew even more distant, spending her nights out, neglecting the children entirely. She flaunted her relationship with Ethan publicly, parading him around town without a single thought for my dignity. I tried to fight it. I argued, I pleaded. But Alice would just stare at me with a cold, dismissive smirk. “I gave you what you wanted, didn’t I? The position as the Blackwood son-in-law, the children. What more do you want?” she’d sneer. “Do you know how pathetic you sound, Liam? Your whining just makes me sick.” After that, I stopped asking for reasons. I stopped asking about her nights with him. I simply focused on my children, building a life with them in the quiet corners of our cold house. In seven years of marriage, Alice never loved me, and she never loved our children. I thought we could continue like that, that I could find enough joy in my children to sustain me. I thought my life still had purpose. But now, even that had been taken from me. The next morning, Mr. Blackwood and Mark took me to the crematorium. As the two small caskets were pushed into the furnace, the tears I had been holding back finally broke free, streaming silently down my face. I bit my lip until I tasted blood, determined not to make a sound. Mark looked at me, his face a mask of worry. “Liam, if you need to cry, just let it out. It’s okay.” I just shook my head, unable to speak. Mr. Blackwood slammed his cane against the floor. “That monster!” he roared. “Where is she? On a day like this, how could a mother not be here?” A flicker of anger crossed Mark’s face, followed by a guilty glance in my direction. He lowered his voice. “I tried calling her. Her phone is off.” When the attendant returned with two small, ornate boxes, Mr. Blackwood reached out with a trembling hand. But I stepped forward first, taking the urns and clutching them to my chest. “I’ll take them,” I said, my voice hollow. “They’re my children.” Mr. Blackwood opened his mouth to protest, but I sank to my knees before him. “Grandfather, I owe you a debt I can never repay. But these are my children. I’m begging you…” My throat tightened, but I forced the words out. “They are my children. They will not be buried in the Blackwood family plot. They will not carry the Blackwood name in death.” Mr. Blackwood’s brow furrowed in pain. Mark quickly put a steadying hand on his arm, his eyes full of sympathy for me. “Okay, Liam,” Mark said. “You’re their father. It’s your decision.” I gave him a grateful look before rising to my feet. Cradling the two urns, I walked out of the crematorium and went straight home. I had to pack their things. I couldn’t leave a single trace of them behind in that cold, empty house. But as I pushed open the front door, a vulgar sound met my ears. “Oh, Ethan, stop it… I just got pregnant. The doctor said we need to be careful…” 4 The man’s voice was thick with lust. “I know, I know, I’ll be gentle. I promise I won’t hurt our precious little baby.” A moment later, the sounds of their lovemaking filled the living room. They were in the master bedroom. I couldn’t go in, couldn’t pack. All I could do was stand there, rooted to the spot, forcing myself to listen to every sordid sound. It was a form of self-torture, a punishment I felt I deserved. I don’t know how long I stood there before they finally emerged. Ethan had a smug, triumphant look on his face, though he feigned politeness. “Oh, Liam! When did you get back? It’s all Alice’s fault, she insisted the kids were at daycare and dragged me back here. So sorry about that, man.” Alice emerged from behind him, melting into his embrace as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Why are you even talking to him? He has no right to question what we do.” She turned her face up to Ethan. “Come on, let’s go. Weren’t you hungry?” Throughout the entire exchange, Alice never once let her gaze fall on me. I stepped aside, clearing a path for them to leave. As she passed, her eyes finally landed on the two boxes I was holding. “What are those?” she said, wrinkling her nose. “They look so dusty and grim. Disgusting.” With that, she took Ethan’s arm, and they walked out the door. I looked down at the urns in my arms and gently wiped their surfaces. “It’s okay,” I whispered. “Mommy wasn’t talking about you. Don’t listen.” I carefully placed the urns on the coffee table and began to pack. Their clothes, their toys, their easel. His last painting was still on it, unfinished. My hands trembled as I removed the canvas. At the top, in a child’s clumsy scrawl, were three words. OUR FAMILY. And below the drawing, a smaller line of text. MOMMY LOVES DADDY, followed by a tiny heart. Clutching the canvas to my chest, I finally broke down, my body shaking with silent, agonizing sobs. In the five years I raised them alone, no matter how bad things got between Alice and me, I never said a single bad word about her in front of our children. But they weren’t blind. They could see it for themselves. Mommy didn’t love Daddy. By the time night fell, I had packed several boxes with their belongings. I had already scheduled a long-distance moving company. I watched as the movers carried everything out to the truck, piece by piece. “Everything’s loaded, Mr. Hayes,” the foreman said. “We’re ready to go.” I nodded, then walked back inside one last time. On the coffee table, I placed the divorce papers I had already signed. As I left the house, clutching the urns tight, a strange sense of relief washed over me. I had just settled into the passenger seat of the truck when my phone buzzed. A message from Ethan. Hey Liam. Sorry, but Alice won’t be home for the next few days. She’s insisting on taking me to Hawaii for a vacation. Tough luck! Attached was a photo, but I didn’t bother opening it. The message stirred nothing in me. No anger, no pain. Just a hollow, echoing emptiness. I pulled out my SIM card, snapped it in two, and as the truck pulled away from the curb, I tossed the pieces out the window. Holding my children close, I watched in the side mirror as the house I had lived in for seven years grew smaller and smaller, until it was nothing but a memory. Meanwhile, at the airport, Mr. Blackwood and Mark intercepted Alice and Ethan as they were about to go through security. Alice’s face instantly darkened. “Is Liam insane? He acts all magnanimous to my face, then sends you two to chase me down at the airport? He’s absolutely pathetic…” Before she could finish, her grandfather’s hand cracked across her face, the sound sharp and final. “You monster! You murder your own children and you still have the gall to run off on a trip with this parasite? How did the Blackwood family ever produce a heartless beast like you?” Alice staggered back, stunned. “Grandfather… what… what are you saying?”

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