Author: Momo Chan

My husband, David, had been overseas for six months on a research fellowship, leaving me to manage life and our daughter, Lily, on my own. The daily school run was my responsibility. Jenna, the mother of Lily’s best friend, asked if we could carpool. She said we could look out for each other, and I agreed. She was a warm, friendly woman, always ready with a bag of snacks for the girls when she climbed into the car. But there was one thing about her that grated on my nerves. She had a habit of prying, subtly digging for details about my job, my income, and even whether or not my husband and I were getting a divorce. I had to draw a line. I told her to respect my privacy, or she’d have to find another ride. She backed off for a couple of days, but then I stumbled upon a gossip thread on a local community forum. [DEEP DIVE] The Porsche-driving soccer mom in my neighborhood, living all alone. Rich, dumb, and waiting for a new man. Got all the inside info, DM for details, highest bidder wins. A few days later, a black sedan started tailing my car. And Jenna, sitting in my passenger seat, was secretly tapping out a message on her phone. 1 The post was trending. The replies were a cesspool of vulgar comments. The original poster’s username was “GoWithTheFlow,” and their IP address was local. The post laid out the “subject’s” details with unnerving accuracy: Drives a white Porsche Cayenne. Husband’s abroad, probably abandoned her. Lives in The Grandview Estates. Drops her kid off at Bright Horizons Academy every morning at 8 AM. It even described the little teddy bear charm hanging from my daughter’s backpack. But the detail that sent a chill down my spine was the photo. It was taken from the passenger’s seat. A candid shot of my profile and my phone resting on the center console. The screen was lit up, showing my chat window with David. Though it was slightly blurred, I recognized the trench coat I was wearing. I had worn it last Wednesday. And last Wednesday, the only person who had been in my passenger seat was Jenna. My fingers went cold as I held the phone, not from fear, but from a white-hot rage. I had been nothing but kind to her. Her house wasn’t far from mine, and with her husband working as a long-haul trucker, I knew it wasn’t easy for her to raise her daughter alone. When she’d complained about her electric scooter being too cold in the winter and asked for a ride, she’d offered to pay for gas. I refused the money, thinking it was no trouble to help a friend. I had treated her like a friend. She had treated me like a product for sale. The last line of the post was chillingly clear: Interested parties, DM for her detailed schedule and opportunities for an introduction. Success guaranteed. Price negotiable. Someone had replied: For real? Aren’t rich women like her hard to get? “GoWithTheFlow” had answered: Don’t worry, her husband’s gone. She’s lonely. With the right moves, she’s an easy catch. This one’s a whale. One score and you’ll be set for three years. I took a deep breath, screenshot everything, and turned off my phone. The next morning, I pulled up to the curb outside my building as usual. Jenna appeared, holding her daughter Daisy’s hand, a bright, sunny smile on her face. “Morning, Megan!” She opened the door and slid into the passenger seat, a practiced move by now. She handed me an insulated bag. “I made some brown sugar muffins this morning. They’re still warm. For Lily’s breakfast.” If I hadn’t seen that post, I would have thought she was a thoughtful, caring mother. But now, looking at the crinkles around her smiling eyes, all I felt was disgust. “Thanks, but Lily already ate,” I said coolly, not taking the bag. Jenna paused for a fraction of a second, then smoothly retracted her hand and buckled her seatbelt. “Hey, Megan, shouldn’t you get your car serviced? I think that little light on the dashboard is on.” She pointed, leaning forward, but her eyes darted toward my phone. I picked up the phone and placed it face down in the armrest compartment. “It’s not on. You’re seeing things.” Jenna gave a weak laugh and pulled out her own phone, her thumbs immediately starting to fly. As we merged onto the main road, I watched her in the rearview mirror. Her fingers moved at lightning speed across the screen, her expression focused, a strange, knowing smirk occasionally touching her lips. At the same time, I noticed it. A black Hyundai sedan in the mirror, keeping a steady distance behind us. I changed lanes. It changed lanes. I sped up. It sped up. The light ahead turned red, and I eased onto the brake. Jenna suddenly looked up, her voice laced with an odd urgency. “You’re such a steady driver, Megan. But this intersection is a real accident hotspot. You should be careful.” The words were barely out of her mouth when a deafening crash jolted the car. The impact was violent. My seatbelt dug hard into my chest, and from the back seat, Lily screamed in terror. We’d been rear-ended. 2 My first instinct was to twist around and soothe my daughter. Once I was sure she wasn’t hurt, I unbuckled my seatbelt and got out. The car behind us was the black Hyundai. Its front end was crumpled, pressed tightly against my rear bumper. The driver’s door opened, and a man in a black leather jacket stepped out. He looked to be in his early thirties, his hair slicked back with too much gel, a tacky gold chain around his neck. His eyes darted around nervously. He didn’t look at the damage first. He looked at me. There was something in his gaze that made my skin crawl. It was invasive, predatory. “Whoa, hey, beautiful! My bad, my bad! Totally spaced out for a second!” he exclaimed, his voice overly loud. He moved closer, and a wave of cheap cologne and stale cigarette smoke washed over me. I took a step back and pulled out my phone to take pictures. “You want to go through insurance, or handle this privately?” I asked. Before the man could answer, Jenna burst out of the passenger side. “Oh my God, look at this mess!” She ran up to the man, pretending to inspect the damage before turning to me with a frantic look. “Megan, this is going to cost a fortune to fix! I don’t think this gentleman did it on purpose, and he seems really sorry. Maybe we can just talk it out?” I watched her performance with cold eyes. Not once had she asked if the child in the car was okay. The man in the leather jacket immediately jumped in. “Yeah, beautiful, look, I’m in a huge hurry. This is your fault… no, wait, my fault. It’s all my fault, I admit it.” He pulled out his phone and held a QR code up to me. “I don’t have any cash on me, and I… uh… I don’t have insurance. How about this? We can connect on social media. You send me the bill for the repairs, and I’ll transfer the money right over. Promise. I’m in construction, this is nothing to me.” No insurance? A businessman in construction with no car insurance? The lie was almost laughable. “I’m not adding you. We’ll go through the police.” I turned to dial 911. Jenna grabbed my hand. “Megan, don’t be so difficult! The man said he’ll pay. Calling the cops is such a hassle. We’ll have to get damage assessments, and we’re already late getting the kids to school.” As she spoke, she shot me a desperate look, as if to say, He’s cute, just play along. “He seems like a nice guy, and he’s not bad looking,” she hissed under her breath. “Just make a new friend. You never know when you’ll need one.” Her voice was sharp, grating. I shook her hand off. “If you’re such good friends, why don’t you pay for him?” Jenna’s face fell, her expression turning ugly. “What is wrong with you? I’m trying to help you out here!” Seeing his opening, the man swaggered a step closer, his tone becoming sleazy. “Hey, gorgeous, don’t be like that. Adding me online won’t hurt. I’ve always heard that women who drive Cayennes have class. Now I see it’s true.” As he spoke, he reached out to put a hand on my shoulder. I twisted away, pointing a sharp finger at the traffic camera on the corner. “Back off. This entire intersection is under surveillance. You touch me, and this stops being about a fender-bender.” His hand froze in mid-air. A flicker of malice crossed his face before he plastered on the same smarmy grin. “Alright, alright, no touching. So what’s the plan?” “I’m calling the police.” I dialed the number right in front of them. Jenna stomped her foot in frustration, muttering just loud enough for me to hear, “Stubborn bitch. No wonder you don’t have a man.” The police arrived quickly and determined the other driver was 100% at fault. Since he was uninsured, it would be a complicated process to get the money for repairs, requiring official assessments and legal claims. By the time we were done, an hour had passed. After dropping the kids at school, Jenna didn’t leave as she usually did. Instead, she lingered in the car. “Megan, that guy, Rick? I was looking at his social media. It’s all pictures of luxury cars and fancy watches. I think he might actually be a big shot.” She was scrolling through her phone. She had already added him. I ignored her and started the car. She kept rambling. “He told me he really admires independent women like you. He even said he wants to take you out to dinner to apologize. Come on, Megan. David’s been gone for so long. Don’t you ever just want… someone to talk to?” I slammed on the brakes, screeching to a halt at the side of the road. Jenna lurched forward, startled. “What are you doing? Are you crazy?” “Get out,” I said. “What?” “Don’t get in my car again. We’re not on the same route anymore.” Jenna’s eyes widened in disbelief. She clearly hadn’t expected me to be so blunt. “Megan, what the hell is your problem? I’m trying to hook you up, and this is the thanks I get? You kick me out? You think you’re better than everyone just because you drive a stupid Porsche?” I turned and stared directly into her eyes. “You know I drive a Porsche, Jenna. Not a garbage truck.” Her face turned a mottled shade of purple. “Fine, Megan. You think you’re so tough. We’ll see.” She slammed the door and stormed off.

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1 It was adoption day at the orphanage. I shoved Leo, the boy I’d grown up with, into the fountain and stepped forward to present myself to the couple instead. Just like that, I became the daughter of a wealthy family, and Leo Holt remained an orphan. Eight years later, I was thrown out of the Hawthorne household for my wild and unruly behavior. Leo, on the other hand, had clawed his way up to become the formidable CEO of Holt Industries. We met again at his adoptive father’s funeral. Only this time, my role was that of a posthumous bride, a symbolic wife for the deceased. Leo’s eyes locked onto me, his gaze lingering for a long, heavy moment. Then, he did something I never expected. He knelt beside me, grabbed the back of my neck, and forced my head to the ground. His voice, as cold and distant as it was all those years ago, cut through the silence. “Stella… have you ever regretted it?” What regrets could a dying woman have? All I wanted was a gravestone to call my own. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. “Pay me enough, and I’ll tell you whatever you want to hear.” … In my dreams, I’d imagined our reunion a thousand times. But never, not once, did I picture this. The moment I stepped into the memorial hall, I saw him standing in the distance, his eyes fixed on me. Eight years. Leo had grown tall and lean, a man who carried himself with a quiet, solid confidence that clung to him like an expensive suit. Our gazes met across the crowded room for a fleeting second before I broke away, my own eyes darting elsewhere. I, who had always prided myself on my thick skin, could feel a hot blush creeping up my neck. Leo acted as if he didn’t even know me, turning his attention to the funeral director to discuss the arrangements. “Is that the woman they hired for old Mr. Holt? She’s so young.” “These days, there’s nothing a woman won’t do for money. Fifty grand to play bride to a corpse? Of course, she’d jump at the chance.” “She doesn’t even think it’s bad luck? She looks even younger than Mr. Holt himself.” Standing before the casket, I picked at my fingernails, their whispers buzzing around me like flies. Bad luck? My days among the living were already a nightmare. I didn’t have the energy to worry about the afterlife. Two weeks ago, my doctor told me I didn’t have much time left and urged me to check into a hospital. I glanced at my bank account balance and refused. A proper burial plot costs fifty thousand dollars. I’d been a stray for too long; I refused to be a wandering ghost after death. I had no choice. I had to take the odd job Mrs. Gable had found for me: becoming the symbolic bride for an old man who had never married. The number of guests who came to pay their respects told me Leo had done well for himself. After I stole his chance at adoption, I’d kept tabs on him. He’d aged out of the system on his eighteenth birthday and was thrown into the world to fend for himself. He fought hard. He had to, or he never would have met the man whose funeral this was. The late Mr. Holt, a multimillionaire, had remained a bachelor his entire life, heartbroken after the love of his life married another. He had no children of his own. Eventually, I stopped seeking news of Leo. All I knew was that Mr. Holt had adopted him as his son and heir, leaving him his entire fortune. The funeral director’s voice pulled me from my thoughts, instructing me to kneel by the coffin for the ceremony. I was just about to bow my head when Leo’s sharp voice cut in. “I’m not satisfied with this woman.” “My father loved one person his entire life. This woman is not worthy of him.” I knew he might try to sabotage this. But to wait until all the guests were assembled, until the ceremony was seconds from beginning… he was doing this purely to humiliate me. But I was out of time. I clutched at the hem of his tailored suit jacket. “You aren’t your father. How do you know he wouldn’t have liked someone like me? I’m already here. You have to pay me for today!” His eyes shot down to my hand on his clothes, and he flinched back as if burned, shoving me away. He seized my chin, his fingers digging into my skin. His lips trembled with rage. “You’re just as disgusting as you’ve always been. Is money really that important to you?” His voice was a low growl. “In all these eight years, was there ever a single moment you regretted leaving me?” The past might not matter to him, but the money mattered to me. Right now. “Pay me enough, and I’ll tell you whatever you want to hear.” A crack appeared in his stoic facade. Suddenly, he dropped to his knees in front of me, grabbed the back of my head, and slammed it toward the polished floor. He used all his strength. The heat that had been confined to my face now felt like it was engulfing my entire body. As my forehead hit the ground with a sickening thud, my vision swam with black spots, a high-pitched ringing screaming in my ears. The fever was back. I struggled instinctively, but he held me fast, pulling me up only to force my head down again, completing the three traditional bows. When it was over, he tossed me aside like a ragdoll. The illness washed over me in a dizzying wave, leaving me too weak to stand. The letter I had tucked inside my jacket slipped out and fell to the floor. He couldn’t see that. Not yet. But it was too late. Leo picked up the envelope. I didn’t have much of an education, so I’d simply copied the melodramatic TV shows I’d watched, scrawling “LAST WORDS” across the front in big, clumsy letters. “Stella, are you trying to tell me you have some terminal illness? Some noble reason for leaving me?” he sneered, his voice dripping with scorn. “What kind of fatal disease waits eight years before you finally get around to writing a will?” He tossed the letter, and it fluttered down, landing on my face. My eyes fixed on the words I had written, and a hysterical laugh bubbled in my chest. It was as pathetic as my entire life. Fighting through the pain, I forced myself to speak. “Yeah, that was the idea. Thought I could guilt you into feeling sorry for me. A bigger payout is always nice.” I took a shaky breath. “For old times’ sake, add another ten thousand.” Ten thousand. That should be enough to hire a professional mourning team. Someone to kneel at my vigil and cry for me. Someone to hold my portrait so I wouldn’t feel so alone in the end. Leo’s eyes widened, shocked by my brazenness. A vein throbbed in his temple. “Stella! Do you really think I could still be hung up on you after what you did?” I felt a sudden warmth on the back of my hand. A drop of blood from my nose, then another. The world tilted, and as I fell, the last thing I saw was the panic flooding Leo’s face. He hadn’t forgotten me after all. Of course he hadn’t. He never even changed his name. The first time I met him, I was eight. He was eight, too. That night, I heard him crying softly in a bathroom stall at the orphanage. As the self-proclaimed leader of the orphan kids, I felt it was my duty to comfort him. That was when I learned his parents had died in a car crash on the way to celebrate his birthday. He was the only survivor. I wiped his tears away. “They’ve turned into stars,” I told him. “They’re watching you, so don’t be scared.” “Did your mommy and daddy turn into stars too?” he asked, his small hand gripping mine, his face still streaked with tears. But my mother was a sex worker who didn’t even know who my father was. When I was five, she couldn’t afford me anymore. She pressed a lollipop into my hand and left me on the steps of the orphanage. No one loved me. I wanted so badly for one of the stars in the sky to love me, but I knew it was an empty wish. That’s why I named myself Stella. Leo didn’t fully understand, but he squeezed my hand tighter. “Then I’ll be Leo,” he whispered. “That way, you won’t be a lonely star anymore.” From that day on, he was my shadow. We were older, and the chances of anyone wanting to adopt us were slim to none. When we were fifteen, a family finally came looking for a boy. They were taken with Leo’s handsome features. But in front of the prospective parents, he took my hand. “If you adopt me, please take Stella with me. We promised we’d never be separated.” The result was predictable. Neither of us went. He spent a whole week apologizing and trying to cheer me up. When we were seventeen, the Hawthornes came to the orphanage. We stood in the courtyard, lined up like merchandise on a shelf. I swallowed nervously, my palms slick with cold sweat. Leo secretly squeezed my hand. “Don’t worry,” he whispered. “We made a promise. Whichever one of us gets picked, we won’t forget the other.” Mr. Hawthorne pointed at Leo. Just as he was about to speak, I shoved him with all my might. He stumbled backward, falling into the decorative stone fountain. His head hit the edge, and blood started to trickle from a cut on his forehead. The Hawthornes had one non-negotiable condition: the child had to be perfectly healthy, without a single scratch. In that instant, I became their only choice. As I was driven away in their sleek black car, I saw Leo staring after me, his eyes filled with a pain and confusion that stabbed at my heart. I wanted to look back, to give him one last glance, but I couldn’t. “Stella, I know you’re awake. Stop playing dead.” I slowly opened my eyes. I was in the back of his car. “Just low blood sugar,” I mumbled. “After all these jobs, you’d think I’d learn to expect that some clients don’t serve food.” His grip on my wrist tightened, his eyes blazing with a fury that seemed ready to spill over. “So this is just routine for you, isn’t it! You were a Hawthorne, for God’s sake. Have you no shame, no decency left?” I met his fiery gaze with a cool, steady one of my own. “If you pay me,” I said calmly, “I’ll even spend the night with you. I don’t care.” A bitter, humorless laugh escaped him. He yanked me closer by the chin, his hand shaking with rage. “Is that right? You’ll do anything for money?” His face was inches from mine. I closed my eyes, bracing myself. I expected a kiss. Instead, he shoved me away violently. “A woman like you… God knows how many men that mouth has been on. You make me sick.” He turned and got out of the car, slamming the door behind him. I watched his retreating back, a profound sadness settling in my chest. That mouth had only ever kissed him. It was the last New Year’s Eve we spent together. Leo and I bought a small bundle of sparklers, pooling together the twenty dollars we’d managed to scrounge up. He knew how much I loved the cheesy scenes from romance movies. In the snow-covered yard, he arranged the lit sparklers in a circle around us. We sat on the frozen ground, watching our breath fog in the air as we looked up at the stars. “I turn eighteen next year,” he said softly. “Let’s leave this place together. Let’s never be apart. Okay?” He was never good with words, not like the leading men in the dramas I watched. But his simple promise brought tears to my eyes. I leaned in and pressed my lips to his. My nose started bleeding again. I fumbled frantically for the bottle of pills in my pocket, shaking a few into my palm and swallowing them dry. I rushed to the restroom, splashing cold water on my face, trying to wash away the crimson stains. “Need a tissue? Here.” I turned. A woman in a long black dress was holding one out to me. “Thanks.” She smiled, but before she could say anything, Leo’s voice called from outside. “Chloe, are you ready? I brought you something to eat.” She linked her arm through his. “Just helping a lady with a nosebleed,” she said sweetly. My eyes fell to their entwined arms, and my fingers tightened around the flimsy tissue in my hand. Leo followed her gaze to me, and his brow furrowed in annoyance. “What is wrong with you? That’s the second time in a few hours. The procession is starting soon. You’d better not cause any trouble.” Chloe studied me for a moment. “She’s the one they hired for your father? Why is she so young?” “For money,” Leo said, his voice flat. “She’d do anything.” Hearing that, the kindness in Chloe’s eyes vanished, replaced by a cool disdain. “As long as your money comes through, there won’t be any trouble from me,” I said, smoothing down my dress before walking out. The rest of the ceremony was a blur. I stood beside Leo as he held the memorial tablet, bowing three times in unison. I somehow managed to hold myself together until it was over. Just as I was about to slip away, he grabbed my wrist. “Stay for the farewell dinner.” I almost laughed. Did he really think I was that desperate for a free meal? But when I looked up and saw the raw red in his eyes, I heard myself agreeing. Just a little longer. Let me be greedy and stay with him just a little longer. At the dinner, I sat in a corner, watching Leo as he was swarmed by guests and colleagues. It was for the best. He didn’t need me anymore. I tried to leave quietly, but my limbs felt heavy, my legs weak. A strange, unnatural heat flushed my face. This wasn’t my illness. I’d been drugged. A man’s arms wrapped around me from behind, his greasy voice slithering into my ear like a snake. “I hear you’re for hire. Spend the night with me. I’ll pay you well.” Thankfully, I was used to this. I grabbed a nearby wine glass and smashed it over his head, then stumbled into the hallway, running. My vision was blurring, the walls seeming to melt around me. I shoved open the first door I could find and locked myself inside. Through the haze, I saw a figure appear in the doorway. A bitter smile touched my lips. So he found me after all. The figure swept me into a fierce embrace, holding me so tightly I felt like my bones would fuse with his. “Get off… you can’t…” “You’ll do it for anyone, so why not for me!” Leo’s mouth crashed down on mine. His kiss wasn’t the tender caress of our youth. It was the savage bite of a wild animal, intent on tearing me apart and devouring me whole. Suddenly, I couldn’t breathe. It wasn’t because of his kiss. It was the blood, thick and hot, surging up my windpipe. I shoved Leo away with all my strength, my hand striking his cheek with a sharp crack. I scrambled out of the room, hailed a cab, and gasped the name of the hospital. Blood was now pouring from my mouth and nose. I collapsed the moment I stumbled through the hospital entrance. Dr. Evans saw me and immediately scooped me into his arms, rushing me toward the emergency room. The bright white lights overhead seared my eyes. I’m dying, aren’t I? My life flashed before my eyes. The day before the Hawthornes came to the orphanage, I overheard the director on the phone with them. “There are only two older children with the right blood type.” “I understand your sister needs a long-term blood supply. I’d recommend the boy, Leo. He’s healthier.” Perhaps that was the moment I made my decision. I would go in his place. The director was already tired of us, two older kids no one wanted. He was determined to make this adoption happen. My only option was to push Leo into the fountain, to make myself the sole candidate. The look of betrayal in Leo’s eyes had cut me deeper than any knife. It’s okay, I had told myself. In the movies, the heroine always leaves with a misunderstanding, but when she returns, she and the hero clear things up and live happily ever after. Leo was smart; he would make something of himself. He’d become a CEO, just like in the stories, and then he would understand, and we would finally have our happy ending. And he did become a CEO. But I forgot one crucial detail. I wasn’t the heroine. From the day I stepped into the Hawthorne house, my life was a living hell. Clara, the true Hawthorne daughter, was critically ill. And I, her secret donor, slowly transitioned from a living blood bank to a spare parts depot. A kidney. Half my liver. To the world, I was the pampered, adopted daughter. In private, I was a permanent resident of the hospital’s surgical wing. Until there was nothing left of me to take. Then, the Hawthornes manufactured a reason and threw me out. They weren’t worried I’d expose them. They knew I wouldn’t live long enough. But I wouldn’t go down that easily. I would show them that even a trampled ant could bite back. The blockage in my throat grew worse until I coughed up a great gush of blood. “Dr. Evans,” I choked out, “I’m out of time… My funeral… someone will handle it… I’ve already paid…”

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1 For the third time, Scott Cole, Celine’s junior from college, called asking for money to cover his gambling debts. I tried to reason with her. “An addict will only fall deeper if you keep enabling him. We should get Scott into rehab.” “Besides,” I added, “we don’t have the money. The last time, you had to borrow thirty thousand dollars from your friends to help him. This time he’s asking for over a hundred thousand.” Celine just shot me a glare, her beautiful eyes flashing with anger. “Can’t you have a little compassion? Scott is my friend! Is it a crime to want to help?” “And anyway,” she scoffed, “we’re already in deep. What’s a little more debt?” Watching her grab her coat and hurry out into the cold night, a wave of disappointment washed over me. I shook my head. “Celine,” I said, my voice low. “It’s not compassion. You’ve just had a change of heart.” … Celine didn’t return until dawn, and she wasn’t alone. Scott. He gave me a sheepish grin. “Hey, Noah. Mind if I crash here for a few days?” There was a faint note of mockery in his voice that didn’t escape me. “Why would I mind? You’re practically family,” Celine said, brushing past me. She turned and snapped, “What are you standing there for? Go make some soup to warm Scott up. Can’t you see his hands are frozen?” “Oh, and don’t use any shrimp,” she added quickly. “Scott’s been having skin allergies.” Listening to her fuss over him, her voice filled with a tenderness she no longer showed me, I felt the cold wind from the open door seep deep into my bones. I must have been staring, because she frowned and shoved me toward the kitchen. “Scott is my friend from college,” she warned, her voice low and tight. “Don’t you dare start anything. Push me, and I’ll file for divorce.” She spun around and left me there. Any time an argument involved Scott, the word “divorce” was her weapon of choice. Like the time I’d objected to her borrowing money to pay off his debts. Or when they were acting out a scene during a murder mystery game night with her friends, and I had to step in when the others goaded them into a near-kiss. She was always the one being irrational, yet somehow, I was always the one to blame. I reheated last night’s leftovers and brought them out. Celine was busy fussing with Scott’s clothes. “I can’t believe this sweater fits you perfectly,” she said, her voice bright. “It looks great on you!” It was the sweater she’d given me for my birthday. I hadn’t even had a chance to wear it yet. They laughed and chatted for a full five minutes before they even noticed me standing there, watching them. A flicker of embarrassment crossed Celine’s face before she saw the leftovers on the table. Her expression soured instantly. “Noah Beck!” she snapped, her eyebrows knitting together. “What is this supposed to mean?” Scott immediately jumped in, playing the peacemaker. “Celine, don’t fight. It’s all my fault.” “Of course it’s your fault,” I said with a cold smile. “When are you planning on paying us back? Didn’t you say you were done with gambling last time? How did you manage to rack up another hundred thousand in debt?” Scott froze, then lowered his head and squeezed out a few tears. “I was trying to win the money back to pay you,” he mumbled, his voice thick with fake emotion. “I was winning, but then they set me up.” “I’ll go sell my blood to pay you back,” he choked out. I didn’t believe a word of it. The first time, he’d cried and claimed his friends had tricked him into it. The second time, he’d sworn his boss had cheated him in a high-stakes game. But Celine’s heart broke for him. “Noah, you are absolutely heartless!” she screamed at me. “Can’t you see what he’s going through? And you’re still pressuring him for money! I never realized how cruel you were. I regret ever marrying you.” If I were truly heartless, would I have given in twice and let her help him? But all I got in return was her blind defense of him. This “caring for a friend” had long since crossed a line, a line that should be sacred in a marriage. “Scott, don’t you worry,” she cooed, turning back to him. “I call the shots in this house. I’ll get the money for you.” She grabbed his arm. “Come on. We’re going out to eat.” As they headed for the door, she shoved me out of the way. “Get out of my sight,” she hissed. “This past year of marriage has been the darkest time of my life. Push me any further, and I’ll get that agreement we signed. We can go our separate ways.” With that, she linked her arm through Scott’s and walked away without a backward glance. 2 Her departure was a sharp, decisive cut, like a knife slicing deeper into the already frayed thread of our relationship. It was hard to believe that the two people who had once cherished each other could now be so at odds. Was I being too suspicious? Thinking back, I knew I wasn’t. I’d had a crush on Celine in college. She was the untouchable ice queen, so I never confessed, and we barely spoke. Then, two years ago, we ran into each other at a singles’ event. That old spark flared to life. I worked up the courage to talk to her, and to my surprise, she was warm and engaging. We talked for the entire afternoon and were officially a couple within a week. The year we dated was a dream. She was gentle and kind, always at my place helping cook and chatting with my mom. She’d drag me out for walks in the park, our hands clasped as we watched the sunset. Under the moonlight, we were blissfully happy. Right before the wedding, she’d said to me, “If you ever fall out of love with me, let’s just part peacefully. That’s why I’ve prepared a divorce agreement. I’ll respect your decision.” She signed her name right there. I thought it was a joke, a document we’d never need. I thought we’d be happy forever. But everything changed so fast. Just six months into our marriage, Scott Cole, the heartthrob from her college days, reappeared. Celine found him an apartment and brought him meals. She helped him find a job. They were on the phone constantly. She grew impatient with me, telling me I couldn’t compare to Scott. She called me a failure, stuck in a dead-end job with a fixed salary. She praised Scott, calling him a dragon in shallow waters, destined for greatness. We fought about it constantly. When I’d try to tell her to be more mindful of boundaries, she’d accuse me of being jealous and paranoid. As a fairly traditional guy, I found the idea of divorce humiliating, especially after only a year of marriage. But my head was telling me to cut my losses before things got any worse. Buzz. Buzz. My phone vibrated, pulling me from my thoughts. It was my mother. “Son,” she said, “the bank just called. They said large personal transfers are now subject to a 24-hour delay.” I froze. “Mom, what are you talking about? Why are you transferring money?” “Celine called,” she explained. “She said you two had a failed investment and were deeply in debt. She asked me to transfer all my retirement savings to her. I haven’t been able to reach her since, so I thought I’d check with you.” My blood ran cold. My fists clenched so tightly my knuckles cracked. I never thought… I never thought Celine would stoop so low as to target my own mother to pay off her college crush’s gambling debts. How could she? The audacity was insane. “Don’t worry, son,” my mother said, her voice filled with concern. “I’ll ask some friends to borrow money.” “No!” I said, my voice sharp. “Don’t borrow anything. And you hold onto your retirement money. Don’t give it to anyone, especially not Celine. You’ll never see it again.” When Celine and I got married, her family demanded a new house and a huge sum for the wedding, draining every penny my mother and I had saved. And now she was after my mother’s life savings? Not a chance. My mom was silent for a few seconds. “Son, did you and Celine have a fight?” “It’s okay, Mom. I can handle it. I’ll explain everything in a few days.” I reassured her and hung up. Moments later, my phone rang again. It was Celine. “Noah Beck!” she yelled, her voice shrill. “What did you tell your family? I already told you, what’s a little more debt? What are you so afraid of? We can just default if we have to!” “I’m at the karaoke bar, the one from that party we went to,” she continued, not letting me get a word in. “You have ten minutes to get over here and explain yourself! Or you’ll lose me for good!” She hung up before I could reply. I pulled on my down jacket and headed out. Not to explain. But to end this. 3 The moment I stepped into the private karaoke room, I saw Celine and Scott surrounded by a cheering crowd. “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” “Just think of it as making up for your missed chance back in college!” In that instant, it all clicked. All my doubts, all my questions, were answered. No wonder she went to such great lengths to help him. No wonder she was always comparing me to him. No wonder his arrival had shattered our once peaceful life. They had been in love all along. “Celine, you have to forgive me,” Scott said, feigning reluctance as he leaned in, puckering his lips. “It’s a dare. I have to do it.” A blush crept up Celine’s cheeks. Then, she spotted me standing in the doorway. She shot to her feet, calling my name. Everyone turned. “Ugh, buzzkill!” “Worst timing ever.” “He just appears out of nowhere like a ghost. Trying to give us a heart attack?” The complaints came one after another. And my wife, Celine, said nothing in my defense. She just listened. I guess she agreed. I had ruined her moment with Scott. “Ahem.” Scott cleared his throat and forced a smile. “Noah, man, don’t get the wrong idea. We were just playing a game.” All eyes were on me again, expecting an explosion. But I just nodded calmly. Celine blinked in surprise, then a slow, smug smile spread across her face. She sat back down, crossing her arms. “Well? Explain.” She thought I was backing down, surrendering. She put on her queenly airs, ready to receive my apology. The air in the room was thick with mockery. Scott, in particular, looked triumphant. I met Celine’s gaze, my voice even. “There’s nothing to explain.” “My father died young. My mother raised me by herself. It wasn’t easy. You will not touch a single cent of her retirement savings.” The room fell silent. Everyone stared, shocked. The smile vanished from Celine’s face. She jumped to her feet, pointing a finger at me. “Noah Beck! Your mother had it tough? What about Scott? He’s had it tough too! And it’s not like we wouldn’t pay her back.” I shook my head and glanced at Scott. “Can he?” “I promise I’ll pay it back!” Scott declared, puffing out his chest. His words were empty. A gambler’s promise is worth nothing. But Celine still believed him. “You hear that? Scott promised. What more do you want?” Her friends chimed in. “Scott was the campus heartthrob, top of his class. He could get a high-paying job anywhere. What are you worried about?” “It’s just a loan. You’re so cheap you won’t even do it for your own wife.” “We’re all friends here. We’re supposed to help each other out! Besides, what’s a little more debt? People online owe millions and still live it up.” “Yeah! Can’t you be a man and take a risk for once?” “Celine really has to put up with a lot, being with you…” “Do you really want to lose her?” Listening to them, I finally understood what it meant to fan the flames. I couldn’t be bothered to argue. “Noah Beck!” Celine shouted, seeing my silence. She played her trump card again. “Don’t think I won’t divorce you!” “Then let’s get a divorce,” I said quietly.

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Chapter 1 Every tabloid in New York City knew the dirty truth: Julian Vance would rather sleep with a cheap escort than touch me, his lawful wife. The headlines were relentless: When will Mrs. Vance finally cash in her V-card? Facing the flashing cameras, Julian looked straight at me, his arrogance palpable. “If you don’t like it, Sarah, go find someone else. We can have an open marriage.” With that, he shoved his hands into his pockets and walked away, leaving me standing there. That same night, photos of him and his latest fling hit the trending topics on Twitter. Everyone expected me to sit in our penthouse and cry until dawn. Instead, I called a paparazzo and booked my own headline. I tore my lace nightgown, messed up the silk sheets, and snapped a selfie from a “lover’s” perspective—just a hint of shoulder, a mess of hair, and a man’s arm (which was actually a prop, but who needed to know?). I sent an anonymous text to Julian: 【 Hey bro, your wife smells amazing. Let me know when you sign the divorce papers. 】 … Watching my bought headline rocket to #1, I turned off the lights, ready for a good night’s sleep. Less than thirty minutes later, heavy, frantic footsteps thundered down the hallway. “Sarah Lane! Is this how you get back at me? Who the hell is he?!” Julian stormed in and threw a stack of printed photos in my face. Half were my staged “affair” photos. The other half were high-definition shots of Julian pinning Chloe against a floor-to-ceiling window. Those were the ones I had tipped the paparazzi to take. BREAKING: The Vances’ New Arrangement—Open Marriage, No Strings Attached. I sat on the edge of the bed, pulling my robe tighter. “Isn’t this exactly what you wanted?” “You shouldn’t have done this. You don’t get to step on my pride just to play games with my father’s illegitimate daughter!” Julian’s breath hitched. He didn’t deny the affair. instead, he gritted his teeth. “Who is the guy?” “You don’t need to know. That’s what makes it fair.” Once upon a time, I would have dug through hell to find out who he was sleeping with. I was young then. I couldn’t tolerate a speck of dust in my eye. But I learned quickly. Every time I cleared one mistress out, he’d just replace her with another. So, I stopped asking. Julian let out a sudden, dark laugh. “You’ve got some nerve, Sarah.” His gaze dropped to a red mark on my collarbone—makeup I’d applied earlier. His eyes went black. He lunged, pinning me to the mattress. I struggled, screaming. “Get off me!” A sharp pain shot through my shoulder. He was holding a letter opener he’d grabbed from the nightstand, pressing the tip into my skin until blood welled up, covering the fake hickey. “You’re crazy! Let me go!” Julian loomed over me, eyes bloodshot, veins popping on his forehead. “First time, and the last time.” “I’m taking the trending topic down. You better go back to being normal before I lose control completely.” By “normal,” he meant the version of me that stayed silent while his sex tapes leaked. The version of me that politely accepted packages from his mistresses containing used condoms and stained panties. Julian stared into my eyes for a long time. Only when he saw the physiological tears streaming down my face did he let go. He opened the drawer and tossed me some gauze. I shoved him away. “Don’t touch me.” Julian stood up, his face hardening into a mask of cold indifference. “You put on this show just to piss me off, didn’t you? What are you pretending for now?” “You’d debase yourself just to get my attention. You really have no shame left.” The blade in his hand had accidentally grazed my arm when he stood up. Blood soaked into the expensive silk sheets. I was sweating from the pain. But my heart? My heart felt like it was being ground into dust. Julian didn’t blink. His look was merciless. “My mother was right. A woman like you, crawling up from the gutter, will never have class.” “Stop the acting. If you had any guts, you’d actually divorce me. Your sister is worth ten of you.” With that, he stormed out. Moments later, a digital divorce agreement hit my inbox. The terms were humiliating. A 70-30 split of assets, in my favor. He was so confident I wouldn’t leave. He thought money was the tether. I signed it immediately. Then I dialed a number I had memorized long ago and confirmed my departure time. Julian Vance, what makes you so sure that the “other man” doesn’t exist? Chapter 2 The moment I hung up the phone, the tears I’d been holding back finally fell. When Julian insisted on marrying me years ago, the whole world opposed it. His parents looked down on my background. The New York Chamber of Commerce nearly blacklisted him. But he weathered the storm and gave me the wedding of the century. Everyone said I was the luckiest woman in Manhattan. Unfortunately, I wasn’t the only one who wanted this god-like man. On our wedding night, he took a phone call and left. I sat in my wedding dress until sunrise. He came back drunk at 4 AM, patted my head calmly, and said: “You know what I like most about you, Sarah? You’re sensible. You don’t cause trouble. The Vance family needs a decoration like you.” In that instant, the fire in my heart was doused with ice water. I learned to be good. Quiet. A trophy wife. But now, he was sleeping with the one person I hated most in this world: Chloe Lane. Years ago, my father brought Chloe home and forced my mother to accept her as a “daughter.” My mother, a proud woman, didn’t say a word. She gave my father two choices: Send Chloe away, or she would take me and leave the Lane family. Father didn’t speak. He stood on the balcony all night in the wind. When I went back to my parents’ room, I found the window open. My mother had jumped. That night, the rain washed away her blood on the pavement. Julian had rushed over, holding me while I punched his chest, sobbing, “It’s okay, it’s okay…” And now, he chose Chloe as his new favorite. What dignity did I have left as Mrs. Vance? Julian didn’t come home that night. He buried the hashtag I started. It vanished from the internet. Instead, he took Chloe to a charity gala, letting her parade around as if she were the lady of the house. He announced a massive party for Chloe’s birthday tomorrow. He knew perfectly well that her birthday was the anniversary of my mother’s death. He was forcing me to face reality: A person like me could never fight him. Julian sent a private doctor to stitch up the wound on my collarbone where the bone had been exposed. “Mr. Vance still cares about you,” the doctor said. “He remembered you have a condition where your blood doesn’t clot easily.” I smiled bitterly and said nothing. A second later, I received an anonymous video file on my phone. It was footage from years ago. Chloe, losing control: “That night, I went to convince her to accept me. But she hit me! She said I wasn’t worthy!” “We fought, and I… I accidentally pushed her. It was self-defense! Dad, Julian… what do I do?” In the video, Chloe was slapping her own face, crying about how sorry she was. My ears rang. The world spun. My father slapped her hard, clutching his chest. “How did I raise a monster like you? That was my wife!” Chloe, red handprint on her face, looked at Julian’s back. “You’ll help me, right? You love me, don’t you?” Silence stretched for a century. My heart was in my throat. On the screen, Julian’s expression was unreadable, but his voice was steady and cold. “Go hide for a while. I’ll handle the police.” Chapter 3 Every word Julian spoke was a dagger. The truth about my mother’s death… everyone had kept it from me. Including Julian, the man I trusted with my life. That rainy night years ago, when I ran to the police station, Julian got into a car accident chasing me. He had crawled out of the wreckage, grabbing my ankle with a bloody hand. “Sarah, go back. I’ll handle this.” I naively thought he was going to get justice for me and Mom. I never believed she would abandon me. I never imagined my father and my husband were accomplices in her murder. The next day, I showed up at Chloe’s birthday gala looking like a ghost. Unwashed hair, no makeup. Chloe was clinging to Julian’s arm, flashing the family heirloom jade ring he had given her. As if she were already Mrs. Vance. When I entered, the room went silent. Looks of disdain and mockery followed me. Only Julian looked relaxed. He thought I was there to beg for forgiveness, like always. He slightly opened his arms. He was about to be disappointed. “Julian. Chloe killed my mother, didn’t she? And you helped cover it up, didn’t you?” His breath hitched, a flicker of guilt passing through his eyes before vanishing. “Today is Chloe’s birthday. Don’t make a scene.” Even my father rushed up from the crowd and slapped me across the face. Seeing the warning glares from both men, I finally accepted reality. The video was real. Suddenly, Chloe threw herself at me, weeping. “Sister, I know your mother hated me, she wanted to kill me! But sister, we only have each other now. Please stop trying to hurt me…” “I won’t even press charges for how you abused me growing up. I’ll be good, I promise.” She subtly revealed a scar on her arm. A victim. Julian frowned, his heart clearly aching for her. He looked at me with utter disappointment. “Sarah Lane, she is your sister. How could you be so cruel?” The crowd gasped. “So Sarah’s mother tried to kill the mistress’s daughter and fell? Karma.” “I can’t believe Sarah is so shameless. Playing the victim to fight for favor. Frigid women are always the craziest.” “Like mother, like daughter. Trash from the gutter.” The insults washed over me. The image of my mother falling played on a loop in my mind. I snapped. Before I knew it, my hands were around Chloe’s throat. “I want you to pay with your life!” She struggled. A second later, a massive force shoved me away. Julian raised a trembling hand and slapped me. Hard. “Sarah! What the hell are you doing?!” “I order you to apologize to everyone right now. Admit you framed Chloe. Admit you bullied her. Or else…” His voice dropped to a whisper. Gentle, yet demonic. “Or else I level your mother’s grave. Isn’t today her anniversary?” Chapter 4 I looked up in shock. Meeting his cruel gaze, I saw he wasn’t bluffing. His face was still handsome, but it no longer matched the man who once swore to protect me. I stared at him, my eyes bloodshot. “No.” Before the word fully left my lips, he pulled a remote control from his pocket. “There are explosives buried under the cemetery plot, Sarah. Be a good girl. Don’t force my hand.” He used his pet name for me, but it sounded like a curse. He had prepared for this. To protect Chloe, he held my dead mother hostage. That grave was the only thing keeping me tethered to this world. I couldn’t let my mother’s resting place be disturbed. I swallowed the blood in my throat, pushed myself up, and crawled to Chloe’s feet. “Chloe… Mom and I… we wronged you.” “I. Am. Sorry.” I looked at Chloe’s smug face, then at Julian. “Is that enough?” Julian’s chest heaved. He cleared his throat. “As long as you know your place. Go. Go pay your respects to your mother.” He threw out the dismissal, wrapped his arm around Chloe’s waist, and turned back to the party. Guests whispered as the music started up again. “No wonder Mr. Vance won’t touch her. Her heart is rotten.” “She bullied her sister and stole her fiancé. She’s the real homewrecker.” “Married five years and still a virgin? Who would want her? Probably has a disease.” I knelt on the floor, listening numbly. The promises of forever, the vows… I didn’t care to save them anymore. As I struggled to stand and leave, I heard a sharp beep. Out of the corner of my eye, unseen by everyone else, Chloe waved a duplicate remote control at me. The countdown timer was ticking. My blood ran cold. I scrambled up and ran. I stumbled out of the banquet hall, desperate. Julian watched me go. He almost took a step to follow, but Chloe grabbed his arm. “Come make a toast with me, Julian.” He forced a smile, turning his attention back to her. At the cemetery. I was digging at the tombstone with my bare hands, fingers bleeding, nails broken. Boom. A deafening explosion erupted next to me. Debris flew. My mother’s headstone shattered into four pieces. The urn buried beneath was blasted apart. Watching the ashes drift into the night air, my heart finally died. Then, a wave of heat hit me, and my world went black. … Julian didn’t stay for Chloe’s cake. He grabbed a bouquet of white lilies and drove to the cemetery. But the moment he stepped through the gates, his pupils dilated in horror.

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Chapter 1 I saw my college roommate, Jessica, post a wedding photo on Instagram, so I double-tapped to like it. A second later, a DM popped up. “Who is this? Why are you hacking this account? I’m calling the police if you don’t answer!” I was confused, so I tried to FaceTime her. The moment the call connected and she saw my face, she screamed and slammed the phone down. I called back. She declined and sent a text. “Aren’t you supposed to be dead?” … The question was so absurd I laughed out loud. I called her again. It took a long time for her to answer. “Prove it,” she demanded, her voice shaking. “Touch your nose. Now wave. Now pinch your cheek.” I did a series of ridiculous facial gymnastics until she finally exhaled, looking like she’d seen a ghost. “You’re really Clara? You’re… alive?” Jessica told me she had cried for days when she heard the news. She’d even posted a long, sentimental tribute. I scrolled back through our chat history. She had sent a few messages a year ago. Back then, I had just given birth to my daughter, Lily. I was drowning in diapers and sleepless nights. I barely touched my phone for months. Later, I became a full-time stay-at-home mom. My social life evaporated. I just assumed people were busy. But claiming I was dead? That wasn’t a joke. That was insanity. I demanded an apology. Jessica felt wronged. “I only repeated what I saw!” She dug through her archives and sent me a screenshot. It was a Facebook post from over a year ago. A black-and-white photo of me. A date of death. A cause: “Complications from Postpartum Depression.” No wonder no one called. No wonder the invites stopped coming. Everyone thought I was in the ground. My blood boiled. I immediately tried to mass-message my old college group chat to tell them I was alive. But when I hit send, a red exclamation mark appeared. You are not a member of this group. I had been kicked out. I messaged Jessica: “Who started this? Who posted that obituary?” A minute later, a voice memo came through. “Clara… I heard it from Chloe. Do you remember her?” Chloe? She was in our major, different sorority. I remembered her because she was close with my husband, Mark, back in college. One of “the guys,” a “female bro.” After Mark and I started dating, she faded into the background. I hadn’t heard her name in years. “Why would she say I’m dead?” I typed furiously. “I don’t know the details,” Jessica replied. “Last year, Chloe posted that screenshot. She said you passed away. Everyone was comforting her in the comments because she was organizing your ‘online memorial.’” My hand started to tremble. “Send me the post.” “She deleted it a long time ago. Said it was too painful to look at. Clara, did you really not know?” Know what? My entire world for the last year had been Lily. Formula, burping, nap schedules, purees. I was exhausted daily. I didn’t have time to doom-scroll. And I wasn’t friends with Chloe on social media. I asked Jessica for Chloe’s contact info and sent a friend request. Thirty minutes. No response. I tried again. Request Declined. The fire in my chest was raging. I called Jessica. “She won’t add me. Give me her number.” “Clara, this feels weird. Maybe you should calm down first.” “I’ve been ‘dead’ for a year, Jess. How do I calm down?” She sighed and texted me the digits. I typed the number into my keypad. My finger hovered over the call button. Then I stopped. Something was wrong. Chloe started a rumor that I was dead. She and Mark were close in college. Did Mark know about this? Chapter 2 I stared at the number, but didn’t dial. Instead, I scrolled through my contacts until I found Sarah Jenkins. Sarah was a lawyer my old company used. Sharp, aggressive, and expensive. I took a deep breath and called. “Sarah, it’s Clara. I have a bizarre situation.” I explained everything. Sarah listened without interrupting. When she spoke, her tone was clinical. “First, you need to post a public clarification. Prove you exist. That’s damage control.” “Second, we need to find out the source and the motive.” She paused. “But Clara, I need to manage your expectations. Defamation lawsuits are expensive and hard to win unless you can prove actual financial damages. Best case scenario? You get an apology and a small settlement.” “So I just let her tell people I’m dead?” “No. We gather evidence. Screenshots, timestamps, witness statements. Then we find out why.” I hung up, feeling slightly steadier. Evidence first. Confrontation second. I decided to call Mark. “Hey,” he answered, sounding distracted. “Is Lily crying again?” “Mark, something crazy happened.” I told him the story. I expected him to be furious. Instead, he laughed. “Babe, it’s probably just a prank. Or someone hacked her account. I’m swamped at work, I gotta go.” “A prank?” I raised my voice. “It was posted last June. Right after I had Lily. It was Chloe. Do you remember her?” Mark paused. “Chloe? That must be a mistake. Don’t overthink it. It’s just social media drama.” “I’m literally being told I’m dead, Mark. You don’t think that matters?” “I didn’t say that. I said ignore the trolls. Look, I have a meeting.” “I’m going to post a clarification. Right now.” “Don’t do that,” he said quickly. “It’s morbid. People will think you’re crazy. Let’s talk about it tomorrow.” Click. He hung up. I was shaking with rage. I called him back, we screamed at each other, and he stopped answering. Fine. If he wouldn’t help, I’d do it myself. I typed out a post on Facebook: “I am very much alive. rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated…” I hit ‘Post’. Suddenly, a pop-up appeared on my screen. [Session Expired. Your account has been logged in on another device.] I froze. My phone was in my hand. Who just logged into my account? Chapter 3 My first thought was a hacker. But to log in on a new device, you need a two-factor authentication code. I opened my text messages and scrolled. Buried under promo codes and delivery notifications, I found it. A verification code from Facebook. Date: June 12th. Last year. I remembered that week. Mark had borrowed my phone constantly. He said he was playing some mobile game or checking sports scores while his phone charged. Was it Mark? I checked my cloud backups. There were gaps in the sync history. Someone had been deleting messages. I dialed Mark again. He answered on the fifth ring. “What now?” “Did you log into my Facebook?” “What? No. Why would I do that?” “Someone kicked me off. Who else has my password?” “You’re paranoid,” he snapped. “I’m working my ass off to pay the mortgage, and you’re sitting at home inventing conspiracies. Is this postpartum psychosis?” “Mark, I—” “Post whatever you want. Stop blaming me.” Before he hung up, I heard something in the background. A faint, female giggle. “Wait, who is that—” The line went dead. I sat on the couch in the dark, shivering. Mark came home at 1:00 AM. “You’re up?” He kicked off his shoes. “Why were you so late?” “Project deadline.” He walked past me to the shower. “Mark,” I said to his back. “Remember Chloe? Why is she the one who said I died?” He turned, his face a mask of exhaustion. “I haven’t spoken to her in years. Stop digging for problems that don’t exist.” “Then why was my account accessed from your IP address?” I lied, bluffing. “I said it wasn’t me!” He shouted. “God, you’re impossible lately.” He slammed the bathroom door. I listened to the water running. His phone was on the coffee table. Face down. I knew the passcode. Our anniversary. I had never checked his phone before. I believed in privacy. But privacy is a luxury for people who aren’t being gaslit. I unlocked it. Text messages were clean. Boring, even. I searched contacts for “Chloe.” Nothing. Then I opened his banking apps. My heart stopped. Venmo. Zelle. CashApp. Starting last year, there was a steady stream of transfers to a user named “CC_Design.” $520. $888. $1,314. Numbers that meant “I love you” in internet slang. Three days ago: $2,000. Note: For the stroller. Bank of America transfer: $20,000. Last month. Note: Reno costs. In total, he had moved over $150,000 out of our accounts. I knew exactly where that money came from. It was supposed to be our savings. He told me his bonus was cut this year. He was lying. He was funding another life. Chapter 4 I took photos of every transaction with my own phone. Then I saw it. A calculator app that looked slightly off. It was a vault app. I tried our anniversary. Incorrect Passcode. I tried his birthday. Incorrect. My hands were sweating. The shower water turned off. I had seconds. I tried Chloe’s birthday. I remembered it because we threw her a party junior year. Access Granted. The folder opened. My blood turned to ice. Hundreds of photos. Mark and Chloe. Kissing. Traveling. And then, the timeline shifted to last year. Chloe, sitting on a bay window, visibly pregnant. Mark’s caption: “Can’t wait to meet you, little one.” While I was bleeding, recovering from a C-section, struggling to breastfeed our daughter… he was playing house with her. I bit my lip so hard I tasted copper. Stay calm, Clara. Sarah said evidence first. I air-dropped everything to my phone’s hidden folder. Then I found a document in his “Files” app. Medical Report: Mercy Hospital. Patient: Mark Miller. Diagnosis: Hepatocellular Carcinoma (Liver Cancer). Stage III. Date: Three months ago. He was dying. And he hadn’t told me. The pieces slammed together. He wasn’t just cheating. He was liquidating our assets. He faked my death socially so that when he died, Chloe could step in without anyone asking questions. He was transferring the money so I couldn’t claim it in probate. He was setting up his mistress and his secret child with my money, before leaving me a widow with nothing but debt. I put the phone back exactly as I found it. Mark walked out, toweling off his hair. “You look pale,” he said. “You okay?” “Just tired,” I whispered. “Get some sleep.” He picked up his phone, checked it casually, and went to the balcony to smoke. I watched him. A stranger. A monster. I didn’t sleep that night. I formulated a plan.

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Chapter 1 My girlfriend is getting married. The groom is my wife’s lover. I didn’t dare make a sound when I cried, terrified someone would find out I was heartbroken. My girlfriend invited me to the reception. My wife insisted I accompany her to congratulate the happy couple. Terrified of being exposed, I had no choice. I decided to fake my death and run. Before I skipped town, I made sure a friend called them both with the bad news: “I am so sorry to inform you that Mr. Julian Vance was involved in a severe car accident on his way to the event. Despite emergency efforts, he didn’t make it.” When I got the call from Chloe, I completely lost it. She was getting married. And the guy was my wife’s “white knight,” her childhood crush. This world is disgusting. Why can’t I ever be the protagonist in one of those “begging for forgiveness” romance novels? I was so angry I felt like I was mutating. “We’ve been together for two years, Chloe! Haven’t I treated you well? Didn’t I promise you the world? Is my wife’s money not green enough for you?” The other end of the line went silent. I almost forgot. She’s never actually spent a dime of my wife’s money. For the two years I’ve been with Chloe, I’ve been feeding her nothing but false hope and empty promises. My marriage to Victoria Sterling was something I shamelessly hustled for. I thought marrying into old money meant I’d be living the good life. But reality hit me hard: The rich didn’t get rich by being stupid. Victoria only opened her wallet when the utility bills came due, and even then, she made me split it 50/50. Not a penny more. She guarded her money like a dragon. She practically sewed her wallet into her dress lining. I sat in front of the floor-to-ceiling window of her downtown penthouse, wearing $10 polyester pajamas, eating a $5 cup of instant noodles I bought with a coupon. Before Victoria left, she told me to open the window after eating. Otherwise, she’d charge me a fifty-dollar “Air Quality Violation” fee. The only thing that changed after I climbed the social ladder was that I moved from a doghouse to a gilded cage. I wasn’t resigned to this fate. Since I was living in a golden cage, I decided to monetize it. Behind Victoria’s back, I started booking the penthouse for influencers who wanted “luxury lifestyle” photoshoots. I made a little cash on the side. But before the money even warmed my pocket, Victoria stormed back home. She rummaged around and claimed she lost a watch. She blamed me for being a terrible house sitter and demanded I pay for it. I was furious, but thinking about the unauthorized photoshoots, I felt guilty. Terrified she’d dig deeper and find out about my side hustle, I reluctantly agreed to pay up. “How much? I’ll pay you.” Victoria didn’t even blink. “$3,792.16.” Down to the cent. I went silent. I didn’t know if the watch was actually worth that much. But I knew that the money I made from the influencers was exactly $3,792.16. I handed over my blood money with a grimace. I hid under the covers that night, cursing Victoria for hours. I didn’t dare try any more shady hustles. Instead, I bought a secondhand cart and started selling gourmet grilled cheese sandwiches near the university campus. Five bucks a pop. Cheap, filling, greasy goodness. That’s how I met Chloe. She stood in front of my cart, shuffling her feet for ages before asking: “Excuse me, are you hiring?” Hiring? It was a one-man grilled cheese operation. But when I looked up and saw her face, I swallowed my rejection. “Yeah, I’m hiring. Free meals, no housing. I provide the cheese, you flip the bread.” Leaning against my cart, I became a “boss.” Chloe said her schedule was too erratic for a corporate job, so she needed gig work. She worked. I counted cash. She was pretty. People lined up just to see her flipping sandwiches. Her spatula hand was a blur. At night, when we closed up, my family’s driver would pick me up in the Maybach. Wearing my floral apron, holding a crate of leftover cheddar, I’d turn to Chloe, who was staring at the luxury car with stars in her eyes. “Selling grilled cheese,” I’d say elegantly, “is just one of my family’s many small ventures.” Ideally, naive girls are easy to fool. I told her my wife was an eighty-year-old woman, bedridden, childless, and hovering at death’s door. I told her once the old lady kicked the bucket, I’d inherit millions and marry Chloe. I used the “last breath” of a fictional eighty-year-old woman to string Chloe along for two years. Life was exhilaratingly risky. When I was happy, I held Chloe’s hand. When I was mad, I’d call Victoria to “check in” just so I could pick a fight and vent. I thought this paradise would last until Chloe finally got wise. I didn’t expect to hear she was getting married so soon. Chloe’s voice on the phone was filled with a strange pride. “Julian, I don’t want to struggle anymore.” You think you’re struggling now?! I screamed internally. Chloe explained, “Don’t worry, it’s a fake marriage. I only love you.” “His first love is Victoria Sterling. She’s obsessed with him. She spends money on him constantly. But Victoria is a married woman. He’s afraid of gossip, so he’s hiring me to be his beard.” “We made a deal. We can spend Victoria’s money together.” Chloe paused for dramatic effect, then whispered affectionately: “Julian, I’m going to embezzle Victoria’s money to support us.” Me: “…” The money I couldn’t get from my wife… was coming to me through my girlfriend? My emotions were complicated. Before hanging up, Chloe added: “You have to come to the wedding. I reserved a VIP table just for you. Right in the front. I ordered double portions of the braised pork shank you love.” Just then, my phone pinged. Victoria texted me. 【 Nate Blackwood is getting married. You will attend with me. 】 I stared at the message for a long time. I couldn’t imagine this wedding. I didn’t know how to explain to Chloe why the “eighty-year-old woman” had suddenly de-aged into a supermodel CEO. And I couldn’t explain to Victoria why the groom’s wife had set up a shrine of pork shanks for me. I replied to Victoria with grave seriousness. 【 Victoria, let’s get a divorce. 】 Victoria didn’t reply. That was her style. Every time I had a manic episode or demanded to know where she was, she’d just listen and hang up. I assumed this time would be the same. But that night, Victoria came home. She leaned against the doorframe, looking at me with a half-smile. “What are we throwing a tantrum about this time? Is it because I hired a top designer for Nate’s suit?” The smell of tobacco and expensive perfume clung to her, chilled by the night air. I only smelled it when I got close. She’d clearly rushed back from some gala. I have a nose like a bloodhound. Usually, I’d use the scent to accuse her of being loose, shameless, or forgetting she was a married woman. But today, my head was full of the wedding. I didn’t have the energy to fight. I whispered, “I haven’t been feeling well lately. I don’t want to go to Nate’s wedding.” Victoria laughed, a cold sound. “You don’t want to go? Or are you too guilty to go? You know you owe him.” Victoria was forced to marry me. If not for me—the accident of fate—her husband should have been Nate Blackwood. They grew up together. Old money. Childhood sweethearts. Their families had planned the union for decades. Victoria played the field, sure, but no one dared dream of being her husband. Everyone knew that spot belonged to Nate. Except me. I was the clueless idiot. These damn rich people always play games with honest men like me. Victoria lost a game of Truth or Dare. Her friends dared her to confess her love to me. The heiress lowering herself to hit on the broke guy. Hilarious, right? But they underestimated me. I was so out of the loop I didn’t know who Victoria Sterling was. I just saw a gorgeous woman saying she liked me. When she smiled, she looked like a fox spirit. I was bewitched. My heart pounded. I nodded like a bobblehead. “You’re safe with me, girl. I’ll make you happy.” Victoria’s smile vanished instantly. I went home and told everyone—my mom, my aunts, the mailman—that I had found a stunning girlfriend. Victoria thought I was insane and ignored me for months. But I kept treating her as my girlfriend. Six months later, she couldn’t take it anymore and told me the truth. I was furious. “What do you mean? You were playing with an honest man’s heart?” Instead of apologizing, she mocked me. “Count yourself lucky. Me confessing to you is a story you can brag about for years.” I couldn’t sleep for days. Fine. You want me to brag? I’ll brag. I created twenty social media accounts. I wrote insane, cringy captions every day. 【 The day Victoria confessed, she said my charisma was blinding. She said my posture was regal. She said one look at me was forever. 】 【 My darling Victoria gets so shy. When her friends pushed her to talk to me, she just stared with wet, puppy-dog eyes. She was so nervous she hiccuped. Then she cried because she was embarrassed. So cute. 】 【 Victoria is versatile. A gentle wife at home, a wild queen in public. But once a queen is protected by a real man, she’ll never look at stray cats again. 】 I wrote the captions. Victoria took the humiliation. After spamming dozens of these posts daily, people couldn’t tell if it was satire or real. People started giving her nicknames. “The Hiccuping Wife.” “The Shy Queen.” She showed up to class with dark circles under her eyes. People even started nicknaming Nate Blackwood: “The Man Who Missed Out on the Queen.” Nate started avoiding her. He stayed twenty feet away at all times. Victoria’s friends vanished. They were afraid of being “part of the Queen’s layout.” She went from socialite queen to social pariah in a month. Her fiancé ran. Her friends bailed. Victoria snapped. She got drunk, stormed over to my place, and screamed: “Nate is gone! My friends are gone! You got what you wanted! You wanted to be with me? Fine! I’ll satisfy you! But don’t expect a single happy day!” She dragged me to the courthouse in a drunken rage. I thought I was walking into luxury. Worst case scenario? At least I wouldn’t be poor. Turns out, post-marriage life was still poor. The marriage license was basically a roommate agreement. Goddammit. She scammed me! Since then, we’ve tortured each other. But we never mentioned divorce. Until today. Victoria frowned, silence stretching between us. “I don’t want to hear the word ‘divorce’ again. You used dirty tricks to get this marriage. You think you can just leave when you want?”

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I was recently reading a high school romance novel, and the heroine was basically my dream girl—exactly my type. Just as I was screaming “Wifey!” at the pages in the middle of the night, I transmigrated. But I didn’t wake up as the male lead. I woke up as the invisible side character the male lead doesn’t even glance at. I grieved. I stomped my feet. I cried. I gave up. If I couldn’t win the heroine’s heart, I would win at the GPA game. So, I studied like my life depended on it. I read while eating. I read while walking between classes. I even studied on the toilet. By some twist of fate, my grades got me moved into the same Honors homeroom as the heroine. Just when I thought I could stay invisible and ride out the plot, the male lead cornered me. He accused me of stealing his woman. Chapter 1 The first day I woke up in this book, I fell for the heroine, Elena Vance. It wasn’t love at first sight; I had been coveting her for a long time. Back when I was reading the book, I’d bury my face in my pillow and squeal. The cold, aloof, academic goddess—she checked every single one of my boxes. Seeing her in person? I could barely control myself. But the situation had changed. In this world, she couldn’t be my fictional “waifu.” She was a real person, destined to be a stranger to me. I could only watch from a distance as her sweet romance with the male lead, Julian Sterling, unfolded. A sense of loss sat heavy on my chest, suffocating me. At that point in the timeline, she and Julian weren’t together yet. Plenty of brave guys confessed to Elena. Without exception, she rejected them all with an icy stare. I figured my crush would have to be buried six feet under. I was just a background character with zero presence. Broken family, average looks, zero confidence. I didn’t even get the standard “Transmigrator System” or a cheat code. I couldn’t just snap my fingers and get what I wanted. So, I turned my grief into motivation. I threw myself into my studies. Partly because it’s what a teenager is supposed to do. Partly out of selfishness. I wanted to be closer to Elena. I didn’t ask for much. Just being in the same room as her would be enough. From then on, I became that kid—the first one at school, the one reading textbooks during lunch. After the placement exams, I jumped two hundred spots in the rankings and got placed into the Honors Block—the same homeroom as the main characters. On my first day in the new class, Julian ran up to me immediately. “Liam? Who are you looking for?” In the original text, “Liam” (me) was a total slacker. I was Julian’s “plastic bro”—fair-weather friends. By day, I’d gossip with him; by night, I’d bite my blanket in jealousy of his golden-boy aura. I used to be too busy being a bitter, shady loser to study. That’s why he assumed I was lost. “I tested into this class,” I explained. “Huh?” He froze, then ran to the bulletin board to check the roster. He came back, looking me up and down. “Hell of an improvement, man.” I gave an awkward smile and kept my head down as I took my seat. Elena was sitting on the other side of the room. I pretended to look out the window, but I was watching her from the corner of my eye. Julian seemed to be telling her about me testing in. She didn’t look interested, but she did glance in my direction. I held my breath and smoothly shifted my gaze to my notebook. Close call. Almost made eye contact. Chapter 2 The atmosphere in the Honors Block was definitely different. Intense. At least here, I wasn’t a freak. Everyone else was also solving equations during breaks and forming study groups in the hallways. I stabilized my rank near the top of the grade, attending the same elite prep school as Elena and Julian. Based on entrance scores, I barely scraped into their class. Elena was #1. I was third from the last. Julian, however, dropped to a regular class. Elena’s character setting was the “Genius Ice Queen.” Julian’s setting was the “Charming Natural Talent”—the guy who never does homework but somehow pulls a B+ or A-. The author separated them to let the heroine meet the “Second Male Lead” in her class. The Second Lead falls for her, creating the necessary angst and drama. But none of that concerned me. I was just grinding XP in real life. For the first two years, aside from being classmates, Elena and I had zero interaction. Occasionally, Julian would come to find me, and I’d inevitably be in the same frame as them. It was a relationship where we’d pass each other outside school and not even wave. She truly didn’t care. I, on the other hand, was faking it. My heart would pound every time I saw her, but I kept my face as stiff as a board. Flawless poker face. Good job, me. Because I was addicted to studying, my fake friendship with Julian faded to almost nothing. By the time we hit junior year, he had almost forgotten I existed. But once high school started, he suddenly got enthusiastic again. He said I was studying myself to death and needed to relax. One time, he invited Elena and dragged me along to hang out. If you asked if I wanted to go, the answer was hell no. I could have finished three practice exams in that time. But he wouldn’t take no for an answer. I figured I’d just watch them play while mentally reviewing my error log. When we got to the location, my brain short-circuited. It was the amusement park. Six Flags. According to the plot, this is where they share their first kiss. This is where they break the tension and officially start dating. My mind was a mess. I don’t remember what I ate or what rides we went on. Night fell, and the park lit up with neon lights. Julian pulled Elena away to watch the fireworks. I trailed fifty feet behind them, getting jostled by the crowd. Under the exploding fireworks, they confessed their feelings. Julian lowered his head and shyly kissed Elena. The scene was too beautiful. I couldn’t watch. I lowered my head in panic. Tears fell, one by one, soaking the pages of the notebook I was clutching. I fled. I texted Julian, lying that I had a strict curfew and had to bounce. Naturally, no reply. They had already forgotten me. While they held hands, young and certain, I—the third wheel—ran home wiping my eyes. Then, in my empty house, I broke down and sobbed. I’m sorry. I really couldn’t pretend anymore. But even as I cried until I couldn’t breathe, I gritted my teeth, pulled out a workbook, and forced myself to solve problems. Unrequited love is torture, especially when you have nothing else. My only “cheat code” was that I had been an adult once. I knew the importance of education. I knew not to destroy myself over a love that had no future. Chapter 3 Elena and Julian were officially a couple. They were about to start their decade-long romantic marathon. Sure, they would fight, they would break up. But the text said: Elena never stopped loving Julian, and Julian’s heart always belonged to Elena. Such a beautiful sentence. Such a cruel sentence for me. I wasn’t the only one suffering. There was Chloe. Chloe (the female antagonist/villainess) was a rich girl who loved Julian. In the book, she’d do crazy things out of jealousy. Originally, I was supposed to be her henchman, fanning the flames. But honestly, I was more worried about my AP Calculus midterm. When the teacher beamed and told me I ranked second in the class, I finally felt a little better. I entered as the bottom of the class. By midterms, I was flying. I didn’t let my efforts down. In this class, seats were assigned by GPA. Elena was the immovable #1. I was assigned the desk right next to her. Desk mates! According to romance tropes, this is where the sparks fly, right? Nope. We sat inches apart, but we didn’t speak for days. She was naturally cold. I was guilty of loving her. I didn’t dare speak. The only thing she said to me was a reminder. “Caleb, your water bottle is leaking.” I wiped up the spill and couldn’t help but correct her. “My name is Liam…” Haha. She didn’t even know my name. We existed in this indifferent bubble for a while. Then, suddenly, Julian stormed in and started an argument with Elena right in front of me. He demanded to know why she hadn’t told him she was sitting next to me. Elena frowned, genuinely confused. “Does it matter?” Since the semester started, we’d been through diagnostic tests, monthly exams, and midterms. She had cycled through several desk mates. But Julian only seemed to care about me. He looked at me, then at her, and finally stormed off without saying another word. I figured it was because I was technically someone Julian “knew.” Put yourself in his shoes: his girlfriend is sitting next to his (former) friend and didn’t mention it. He probably felt ignored. After lunch, I wanted to apologize to Julian. “Julian…” I called his name, but he acted like I was invisible, laughing and joking with his crew. “Bro, that movie you mentioned yesterday? I watched it, almost died laughing…” I stood there awkwardly for two seconds and decided not to press my luck. I barely talked to Julian anymore anyway. Bringing up a seating chart change would just make it weird. As for Elena, we really weren’t close. She’d explain it to him eventually. Thinking about this burned too many brain cells, so I dropped it. But two days later, someone ambushed me on my walk home. “Liam, right?” It was Chloe. The villainess. I had my AirPods in, listening to a Spanish listening practice, so I didn’t hear her call me. I just walked past her. Furious, she hopped in front of me and yanked an AirPod out of my ear. “…” I frowned. “Can I help you?” I’m sure I looked annoyed. Chloe looked guilty for a split second before recovering her “mean girl” face. “Listen to me!” She said viciously, “I may not like Elena, that ice block, but I will not allow you to hurt Julian or ruin their relationship.” What a niche accusation. I processed this for a moment. “How am I ruining their relationship?” “Stop pretending. You’re shameless,” Chloe crossed her arms. “You’re the one seducing Elena, aren’t you? Hmph. You have some nerve. I thought you’d be some hot guy, but you don’t even compare to a single hair on Julian’s head.” Me? Seducing Elena? How did I miss such a major life event? “Do you have evidence?” I asked. “Of course!” She said self-righteous. “The evidence is that you’re sitting next to her!” “…You do realize seats are assigned by GPA?” I thought about it. “Oh, you mean I should have tanked my exam on purpose to avoid sitting there?” “That would have been best.” Chloe smiled, satisfied. She didn’t hear the sarcasm. Usually, I ignore people like this. But she was rude, speaking nonsense, and stepping on my last nerve. “Unfortunately.” I sneered, “I’m not like you. I didn’t get in here on a donor’s check. I can’t afford to treat my grades like a joke.” Chloe was a rich kid, forced into this school by her parents. Her parents were self-made; they preferred the elite public magnet school environment over a soft private school. But the concept that “money rules everything” was deeply ingrained in her. She had the capital to treat life like a game. I didn’t. Sitting next to Elena was great. But even if she wasn’t there, I deserved that seat. I deserved her seat. Chloe was enraged and threatened to make me pay. In the book, this was her character. Impulsive, but not inherently evil. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be threatening me to protect the male lead while simultaneously crying about him dating the heroine. I didn’t take her words to heart. Until the next monthly exam. I was caught cheating. Chapter 4 Halfway through the exam, I was dragged out. The proctor said a student reported me for bringing notes into the testing hall. Then, like a magician, he pulled a semi-transparent slip of paper from my hoodie pocket. It was covered in microscopic text—all the key formulas for this test. “Liam! Liam, I always thought you were an honest, hardworking kid. How could you do this?!” “You’re not just disrespecting yourself! You’re shaming your family and this class!” “You came in with average grades and improved so fast… was it all just tricks like this?” I stood in the administrative office. Teachers took turns scolding me, heartbroken. They denied my character. They questioned my past achievements. I said the cheat sheet wasn’t mine. That just earned me another round of yelling for “lying.” I thought back. Before the test, I left my hoodie on my chair to go to the bathroom. That must be when someone slipped the note in and reported me. Obviously, it was Chloe, or someone she hired. It was a low-blow tactic, but impossible to defend against. I mean, who frames someone like this in high school? I had no proof of innocence. I told them it was likely related to the person who reported me. They said they had to protect the whistleblower’s identity. So, I took the fall. Public humiliation. The Dean of Students was strict. He didn’t keep it anonymous. He wanted to make an example of me. [Liam (ID #xxxx) caught cheating during monthly exams. Grade invalidated.] The text scrolled across the digital announcement boards in the hallway. Everyone who walked in saw it. Naturally, I was ostracized. No one wanted to be in my group for projects. No one picked me for PE. During cleanup duty, I was assigned to sweep the outside perimeter alone. “Don’t let the cheater touch it,” they’d whisper, making exaggerated disgusted faces. Luckily. I wasn’t actually sixteen mentally. This frame-up couldn’t break me. When the results came out, my score was voided, and I was moved to the “shame corner” at the back of the room. A new guy took the seat next to Elena. He was a top student, openly crushing on her. He’d bring her water during volleyball, fake being tired during study hall just to lean on her shoulder. Julian didn’t care. Sometimes he’d even link arms with Elena just to make the new guy’s eyes turn red with jealousy. Chloe didn’t bother the new guy either. She just leaned against the back door, watching me with glee. She mouthed a word at me. Deserved. Reading the book, I hadn’t realized Chloe was this childish. I was isolated, and she got a kick out of it. But did it actually affect me? I studied. I ate. During PE, when no one would partner with me, I snuck back to the empty classroom to solve calculus problems. I finished the last question and realized someone was standing next to me. It was Elena. I didn’t know how long she had been watching. Not watching me. Watching my exam paper. She was holding a volleyball loosely; she must have come back to grab it. She stood close. For me, it was close enough. I could smell the clean scent of her laundry detergent. For some reason, neither of us spoke. The classroom was silent. I could hear my own heartbeat. A wave of indescribable melancholy washed over me. I didn’t want to speak. I didn’t want to move. I wished time would stop right here. But I didn’t dare be greedy. I was afraid that if I let it go on for a few more seconds, the atmosphere would become ambiguous. Eventually, I broke the silence. “What’s up?” “Mmm…” She hummed, thinking. “You missed a step in the calculation.” —Which step? Can you teach me? That’s what I should have said. There was an empty seat right next to me—the seat no one wanted. If I asked, maybe she would sit down and explain the complex derivation. Instead, I calmly picked up my phone and opened a scanning app. “Oh. I’ll just look it up on Chegg.” “Okay.” Elena turned and walked away. I uploaded the photo, crying internally. Stupid mouth. Hopeless.

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I got doxxed and cyberbullied because I paid out of pocket to open a subsidized food counter in the school cafeteria for low-income students. They called me a fake humanitarian and said I was insulting people with “pig slop.” But the meal plan I set was: an entrée, two sides, and a soup for just $1. When I rushed into the cafeteria, scholarship student Lily was smashing her tray onto the counter. Braised pork and gravy splattered everywhere. Mrs. Higgins, the lunch lady, stood there frozen, her face pale. Those hands, which always gave an extra scoop for the students on financial aid, were now trembling uncontrollably. I walked past Lily, went straight to Mrs. Higgins, picked up a napkin, and gently wiped the gravy from her face. It turns out, kindness is the cheapest thing in the world. If that’s the case, this counter is closed. Permanently. Chapter 1 “Isn’t a dollar still money?” Lily’s voice was piercing. “Why do they get to eat seared tuna while we’re stuck eating this greasy braised pork?” She emphasized the word “greasy,” her phone camera pointed straight at Mrs. Higgins’ face. The comments on her livestream were scrolling like crazy: “We support you, Lily!” “Aren’t poor students human too?” Mrs. Higgins was so flustered she could barely speak: “This… this pork was bought fresh this morning. I picked the best cuts myself and slow-cooked it for two whole hours…” “Who cares about slow-cooking!” Lily shoved the tray violently, sending chunks of greasy meat rolling onto the floor. “Look at this fat! The grease is practically oozing out! Feeding us this pig slop… do you have no conscience?” The words “pig slop” stabbed right into my heart. Mrs. Higgins’ eyes instantly turned red. “Lily!” I pushed through the crowd of onlookers, my voice shaking. She immediately turned the camera on me, her voice filled with excitement: “Look everyone! Our rich princess, Quinn, finally decided to show her face!” “Come on, tell everyone right here. Did you serve us this low-quality trash on purpose just to humiliate us?” I forced down the anger rising in my chest: “Mrs. Higgins went to the market before dawn to hand-pick every single ingredient…” “Spare me the fake speech!” She cut me off with a shriek, spittle practically flying into my face. “If you really cared about us, why isn’t the food the same at every station? We want tuna too! Why the discrimination?” I was shaking with rage, my nails digging deep into my palms. The same? Is she insane? She wants seared tuna for a dollar? Why doesn’t she just go rob a bank? The viewer count on the livestream was skyrocketing, and the comments were filled with vile insults. Just then, I saw the most blinding comment of all—it was from Brandon. “Team Lily! Smash the privilege!” Brandon. The guy whose tuition I had covered for three full years. I remember when he first enrolled, he didn’t even have a decent coat. I paid his tuition. I gave him a living stipend. Last year, when his mother needed surgery, I even covered the medical bills. But now, here he was, leading the charge against me online. Suddenly, my phone started vibrating like crazy. Insulting texts from unknown numbers flooded in, one after another. Chapter 2 “Go to hell!” “Think you’re special just because you have money?” “People like you deserve to rot!” On the campus forum, my photo was photoshopped into a black-and-white funeral portrait with the words “Got What She Deserved” plastered over it. My name was trending on Twitter, followed by the hashtag #FakePhilanthropist. What chilled me even more was seeing avatars I recognized in the comments section. The sophomore whose financial aid application I stayed up all night helping revise. The senior I used my connections to get an internship for. Now, they were all kicking me while I was down, attacking me with the most vicious words imaginable. I watched Lily fake-wiping tears for the camera. I looked at the mob reveling in the chat, and at Brandon’s ungrateful comment. In that moment, my heart turned to ice. I turned to leave. The jeers of the wealthy students surrounded me: “I told you not to meddle.” “See? This is what happens to do-gooders.” “Thought she was a savior, but nobody even cares.” I finally understood. Feeding kindness to dogs is the stupidest thing you can do in this world. You think this meal is disgusting? Fine. Then from now on, nobody eats. Back in my dorm, my phone wouldn’t stop buzzing. Toxic DMs kept popping up on the screen: “You think money lets you do whatever you want?” “Why haven’t you offed yourself yet?” … I turned my phone off. The world finally went quiet. But the insults kept echoing in my brain. Then, a knock on the door. “Quinn, it’s Mr. Davis from the Dean’s Office.” “The administration requires you to come to the admin building immediately to explain today’s situation. You’ve brought negative publicity to the university!” I stayed silent. Getting no response, Mr. Davis’s tone hardened: “Quinn Sterling, if you continue to hide, the school will take necessary measures.” I laughed out loud, coldly. They aren’t going after the rioters, but they’re coming for me? Do they really think I’m a pushover? After his footsteps faded, I turned my phone back on and made a call. “It’s me.” My voice was ice. “Investigate a few people. Lily, Brandon, and the ones leading the charge in the livestream. I want to know everything about them.” The voice on the other end responded quickly: “Understood. How deep?” “As deep as it goes.” I said. “Especially Brandon.” I hung up and opened my laptop. Threads attacking me had already sprung up on the forum, the titles getting nastier by the minute: Exposing the Sterling Family’s Dark Secrets The Dirty Deals Behind the Charity Counter The True Face of a Hypocrite The funniest part was that beneath these posts, many students I had previously helped were jumping on the bandwagon to spread rumors. The guy whose medical bills I paid was now swearing I harassed him. The girl I helped find a job was claiming I stole her wages. Human hearts, it turns out, can be this poisonous. Early the next morning. I was woken up by violent banging on my door. “Quinn Sterling, get out here! We want justice for all low-income students!” Through the peephole, I saw Lily leading a group of twenty people, all of them livestreaming. “See everyone? She’s hiding in there like a turtle!” Chapter 3 Lily cried into the camera. “This is the true face of the rich! She did something guilty and doesn’t even have the courage to face us!” I took a deep breath and threw the door open. “Finally brave enough to come out?” Lily shoved her phone right in my face. “Please explain to everyone right now, why did you poison low-income students with substandard ingredients?” I looked at her coldly. “Are you done?” She clearly didn’t expect that reaction. Her face froze. “Since you’re done, now it’s my turn.” I took a step forward, looking directly into her camera lens. “Lily, do you dare tell everyone how much that ‘simple’ dress you’re wearing costs?” The crowd stirred. I turned to face all the cameras, speaking word for word: “In three days, I will hold a press conference in the cafeteria. At that time, the whole truth will come out.” With that, I slammed the door shut. The show was just beginning. The public outcry grew worse. Even the stock price of my dad’s company took a hit. The night before the press conference, as I was double-checking documents, my dorm door was knocked on again. It was Lily again. She couldn’t hide the smugness on her face. I opened the door and didn’t give her a chance to speak. “Oh, Miss Lily. Visiting so late? Are you here to give me a final ultimatum?” I deliberately hunched my shoulders. “Seeing those comments online, and my family’s stock price! I’m so scared.” Lily clearly didn’t expect this reaction. She paused, then contempt flashed in her eyes. “Now you know fear? Where was this before? Let me tell you, Quinn, at the press conference tomorrow, you better do exactly as we say.” “Publicly apologize, and upgrade our meal standard to match the wealthy students! Or else…” She sneered, the threat heavy in the air. I continued to play the terrified victim, looking at her with anxious eyes: “Or else… or else what? Can you really make my family…?” “Hmph, what do you think?” Seeing me cower, Lily grew even more arrogant. “You can’t even imagine the power of public opinion! A wise person knows when to yield. Bow your head, admit your mistake, and it’ll be better for everyone, right?” She even took a step forward, offering fake comfort: “Quinn, your family has money anyway! What’s the difference between 5 million and 50 million to you? If you let us eat well, we’ll even thank you!” I suppressed a sneer, forcing a look of gratitude and fear onto my face: “R-Really? Thank you for reminding me, Lily… I-I will consider it carefully…” “That’s more like it.” Lily nodded with satisfaction, then turned and walked away with her head held high. Closing the door, the mask dropped instantly. She actually believed I would cave? Tomorrow, when the truth comes out, I wonder how wonderful that smug look on her face will be. I’m actually looking forward to it. On the day of the press conference, the cafeteria was packed. Even the aisles were full. Reporters were ready and waiting. Before I could even get on stage, Lily rushed to the microphone first. Chapter 4 She spoke, voice choking back sobs: “Fellow students, members of the media, standing here today, my heart is heavy.” “We low-income students never wanted to take advantage of anyone. We just wanted fairness!” Tears streamed down her face. “Why can some people eat tuna while we only get pork? Is being poor a sin?” Applause erupted from the crowd. Many scholarship students wiped their eyes. Seeing this, Lily performed even harder: “Today, we only hope Quinn Sterling can give us an answer. We don’t ask for much, just that the food at all stations be standardized…” I watched her performance quietly. Only when she finished did I calmly walk up to the podium. Lily glanced at me triumphantly, as if victory was already in the bag. “Miss Sterling, what is your response?” “Do you admit to discriminating against low-income students?” “How do you intend to compensate the students for the harm caused?” Reporters fired questions like a machine gun. I adjusted the microphone gently. The room went silent. “First, I want to thank Lily for her speech.” I said calmly. “She made me realize my mistake more clearly.” A victorious smile appeared on Lily’s face. She even flashed a peace sign at the livestream camera. “My biggest mistake was treating low-income students differently from wealthy students.” I continued. “I shouldn’t have assumed that scholarship students needed special care. I shouldn’t have assumed they would cherish that kindness.” Lily’s smile began to stiffen. She seemed to sense something was wrong. “So, I have decided to correct this mistake.” I looked around the room, enunciating every word. “Starting today, the subsidized counter is permanently closed. All students will be treated equally and pay market price for meals.” “Since you think a one-dollar braised pork meal is an insult, then go eat the fifty-dollar tuna.”

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Chapter 1 During a reality show shoot, my sister and I both fell into the water. My husband, Julian, didn’t even hesitate. He dove in and saved my sister. He held her, looking distressed and frantic, and walked away without once looking back. He left me sinking toward the bottom of the lake. I was barely conscious when the crew finally pulled me out. The next day, when I handed Julian the divorce papers, his face darkened. “Lily can’t swim, so I saved her first. Are you seriously jealous over that?” I looked him calmly in the eye. “Yeah. Just sign it.” Julian and I finalized the divorce quietly. Julian kept frowning, his brow furrowed in that way I used to find so attractive. But now? It didn’t stir a single emotion in me. He shoved the decree into his pocket. “I’ll drive you.” I shook my head. “No need.” Julian seemed annoyed by my attitude. “Jessie, you don’t have to be like this. We were married for three years. Divorce doesn’t mean we have to be enemies.” I was genuinely shocked for a second. I couldn’t believe those words were coming out of his mouth. Now that Lily was back, he should be thrilled I was stepping aside so easily. “Julian, to me, divorced means divorced. We aren’t family, and we certainly can’t be friends.” “You…” “Besides, we don’t have kids. There’s really no reason to stay in touch.” Julian, clearly irritated by my indifference, turned and stormed off. I watched his retreating back and let out a sigh. But then I thought about my bank account balance, and the heaviness vanished. Although I was technically the second daughter of the Sterling family, I hadn’t seen a dime of their money. This divorce, however, had made me a very wealthy woman. I knew I wouldn’t get half of the Thorne empire, so when I had my lawyer draft the agreement, I asked for twenty million dollars. Julian agreed. He also threw in a penthouse in New York, a villa in Los Angeles, and several commercial properties in prime locations. It was enough to ensure I’d never have to worry about money again. Looking at the numbers on my screen, I laughed out loud. Finally. I could start living for myself. Within twenty-four hours, I moved into a sleek apartment in Manhattan. Seeing my name on the deed gave me a sense of security I’d never felt before. I thought leaving Julian would shatter me. For three years, I had truly loved him. But surprisingly, that night, I slept better than I had in years. A wave of relief washed over me, and I didn’t wake up until noon the next day. Chapter 2 Julian and I were a business arrangement. A merger between the Thorne and Sterling families. Grandfather Thorne and my grandfather had served in the military together. That bond sealed the marriage pact years ago. But the engagement was originally meant for Lily. She was the Sterlings’ golden child, raised like a princess for eighteen years. I was the biological daughter who had been switched at birth. Julian Thorne was New York royalty. A guy like him and a girl like me were never supposed to meet, let alone fall in love. Until I was eighteen. The Sterlings found me, crying about how a nurse’s mistake had separated us. They said I was their flesh and blood. Back then, I was living in a foster home. When I saw my biological parents in their luxury sedan, I thought my life was about to get easier. I thought I wouldn’t have to collect cans to pay for school fees anymore. But I didn’t get love or compensation. I got indifference. They told me the “fake” daughter’s parents had passed away, so they couldn’t just send her away. But the way they treated us? Night and day. I didn’t feel like the second daughter. I felt like the help. I didn’t mind. I just wanted to finish college. Then came the marriage pact. I found out that Julian, the handsome boy Lily had been following around like a puppy, had been in a severe car accident. Doctors said his leg would never fully heal. He would walk with a limp forever. Lily screamed and cried, refusing to marry a “cripple.” So, the duty fell to me. I could have said no. But I remembered seeing Julian once, years ago, before I knew who he was. He was brilliant, kind, and handsome. I was twenty, a sophomore at Columbia. My parents made me take a leave of absence to get married. When I first met Julian after the accident, he was furious. He smashed a vase near my feet, screaming for Lily. But Lily? She had already taken her parents’ black card and fled to Paris for “art school.” The Sterling family business relied on the Thornes. Lily wouldn’t marry him, but they needed a body to secure the alliance. That body was me. That was the first time my mother, Mrs. Sterling, showed me any kindness. She wept about how hard it was for the family, how pitiful Lily was, how my father’s hair was turning gray from stress. I didn’t care about their tears. I wanted to marry him. Not for them, but for him. When I was a freshman, Julian was a senior. He was the campus legend—brilliant, wealthy, unattainable. And back then, Lily was always by his side. Everyone admired his looks, but I admired his mind. He published papers on advanced mathematics that blew me away. I read every single one. They helped me solve problems I was stuck on. I fell in love with his brain first. On our wedding day, Julian didn’t smile once. I was so nervous my hands were sweating. When he took my hand, I almost tripped. The guests chuckled. I felt like an embarrassment. I heard people whispering about Lily, and Julian’s face went black. He loved Lily. I knew that. That’s why he resented me. For a moment, I regretted everything. The marriage. The secret crush. That night, Julian was rough, venting his anger. But his leg was hurting him. I saw him wince. So I pushed him back gently, straddled him, and took control. Soon, the anger faded into something else. His face flushed, and we both got lost in the rhythm. Chapter 3 Life at the Thorne estate was quiet. I actually liked it better than the Sterling house. I loved to read and study. Even though I had dropped out, I never stopped learning. Julian changed, too. He went from staying out late to coming home on time every day. Even when work was crazy, he’d text me to let me know where he was. I started learning massage therapy from an old specialist. I thought maybe I could help his leg. When I first suggested it, I was shy. But six months later, I knew every pressure point on his body. Julian went from resisting it to waiting for it every night. My hands grew stronger, more confident. Life was peaceful, if a bit boring. One day, while dropping off documents for Julian at Thorne Enterprises, a producer spotted me. He asked if I wanted to audition for a small role in a web series. The character was a quiet genius. I said yes on a whim. Julian didn’t object. Unexpectedly, the show blew up. I gained a small, loyal fanbase. It was fun. I never thought I’d be part of the entertainment industry. The Thorne family owned a massive media conglomerate, Rainmaker Entertainment. Julian told me I could do whatever I wanted, as long as I didn’t use the Thorne name to get ahead. So, I got an agent, Sarah, and started booking small roles. I became a C-list actress, and honestly? I loved it. Sometimes, I’d lie in bed and read fan comments to Julian while massaging his leg. One night, my hand slipped higher than intended. Julian groaned. I tried to pull away, but he pinned me to the bed. The kiss was natural. The intimacy that followed was explosive. From that moment on, everything changed. He bought me my favorite pastries. He bought me jewelry. We went to movies and walked by the lake. We were like a normal, happy couple. And thanks to my massages, his leg improved miraculously. Unless he walked very fast, you couldn’t even tell he had been injured. Three years into our marriage, Lily came back. That day, for the first time in a long time, Julian didn’t cling to me in the morning. My parents called—the first time in three years—demanding we come for dinner. Lily hadn’t returned once in three years. My parents always made excuses for her. Julian’s face was cold. I didn’t know what he was thinking. When we arrived at the Sterling estate, a vision in white threw herself into Julian’s arms. I stood there, watching. He didn’t push her away. She was crying, ruining his custom suit with tears, calling him “Julian, Julian.” My heart felt like it was being stabbed with a thousand needles. Seeing me, Lily straightened up. “I’m so sorry, Jessie. I was just so happy. Julian… oh wait, should I call you brother-in-law now?” Julian’s jaw tightened. He took my hand and led me to the table. Lily stared at our joined hands in shock. Dinner was torture. My parents ignored me completely, spending the entire meal trying to get Julian to talk to Lily. It felt like they were trying to sell her to him. From that day on, Lily was everywhere. Julian went from annoyed to accepting in less than a month. Lily wanted to act. Julian assigned Rainmaker’s top agent to her. She strutted around Thorne Tower like she owned the place. Everyone assumed she was Mrs. Thorne because I had kept my identity a secret. Lily would call Julian on speakerphone, whining and flirting, then bring lunch to his office. I had visited his office once. He scolded me for interrupting. I never went back. People just thought I was some starlet trying to sleep her way to the top. With Julian’s backing, Lily became an overnight sensation. My agent, Sarah, asked if I knew her. I said no. Sarah vented about what a diva Lily was, stealing endorsements left and right. When I lost three contracts in a row to her, I realized she was targeting me. And Julian? He gave me nothing. If we passed in the hallway, he looked right through me. I hadn’t thought about divorce yet. I still loved him. Chapter 4 Until the accident. The moment I realized we were over. It happened on a reality survival show. Both Lily and I were cast. Lily played the delicate flower. I was the capable quiet one. Julian came to visit the set. We were filming near a lake. The old wooden dock Lily and I were standing on suddenly collapsed. We both plunged into the water. Chaos erupted. Crew members shouted. But before anyone could react, Julian—billionaire CEO Julian Thorne—dove into the water. I can’t swim. When I saw him diving, I thought he was coming for me. I was his wife. But when I saw him grab Lily and swim toward the shore, something in me broke. I realized then: He doesn’t love me. It was like he didn’t even see me. He carried Lily to his car, frantic, treating her like fine china. As I sank into the darkness, the last thing I saw was his car driving away. By the time the crew fished me out, I was unconscious. Because Julian had caused such a scene saving Lily, everyone assumed I was safe. It took the assistant director screaming to make them realize I was still under. I woke up in the hospital. Only Sarah was there. She was crying. “Sarah, I’m not dead,” I croaked. “Oh my god, Jessie! You scared me to death! You have the worst luck. Julian made such a scene saving that green tea b*tch that everyone forgot about you!” “It’s okay.” My heart was calm. Dead calm. I thought we were one. Reality slapped me awake. That afternoon, I was discharged. I saw them in the lobby. Julian was supporting Lily. My parents were trailing behind them, fussing over her, putting a coat over her shoulders. They looked like a happy family. They had completely forgotten I existed. I watched them walk away. Then I pulled out my phone and called the lawyer Sarah had recommended. “Draw up the papers,” I said.

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After our family business went bankrupt, my brother was diagnosed with ALS. I dropped out of college, shouldered an astronomical debt, and took on the responsibility of caring for my terminally ill brother for the rest of his life. For five years, When debt collectors beat me until I coughed up blood, I wouldn’t spend a dime on painkillers. When I fainted from exhaustion working five jobs a day, I wouldn’t take a single day off. Every penny went to keeping my brother alive. Until one night, while delivering drinks at an exclusive club, I saw my brother—who should have been in a wheelchair, waiting for me to come home— Dressed in a bespoke suit, looking relaxed, laughing and chatting with friends. “Julian, you’ve been faking ALS for five years now. Aurora has practically worked herself to death trying to cure you. Isn’t that punishment enough?” My brother scoffed lightly. “It’s about enough. If Aurora hadn’t been so selfish and made Chloe upset by yelling at her, I wouldn’t have had to fake bankruptcy and ALS for so long just to punish her.” “Chloe has been traveling abroad for five years and is finally in a better mood. She’s agreed to forgive Aurora. Once the time is right, I’ll have the doctor stage a ‘miraculous recovery.’ Then Aurora can go back to being the Sterling family princess. Consider it her atonement for being so willful.” His friend hesitated. “ALS is terminal. How could you possibly recover? Will Aurora even believe that?” My brother smiled with absolute confidence. “That silly girl believes every word I say. When haven’t she?” “After this lesson, I’m sure she’s realized her mistake. Chloe is adopted and naturally insecure; as the older sister, Aurora should have yielded to her. I did this for her own good. I’ll make it up to her later.” I lowered my head, tears falling silently. But Julian, there is no “later” for us. Your terminal illness is fake. But mine is real. Chapter 1 The draft in the hallway cut through me like a knife. It was freezing. I stood there like a numb puppet, rooted to the spot. Enduring the slow, agonizing execution of my faith crumbling after five years. Every slice took away a piece of my soul. Julian’s friend, Tom, sighed. “You really are ruthless. That’s your biological sister. The genius scholar of Columbia University. She dropped out just like that for you. She’s only in her early twenties, but she’s worn herself out like an old woman. Just a few days ago, she was short three hundred bucks for your medicine and begged me to lend it to her.” My brother’s face instantly darkened. “Did you lend it to her?” Tom shook his head helplessly. “You gave a strict order. Would I dare?” “That girl knelt outside my door all afternoon. Even when she fainted from low blood sugar, I didn’t dare call an ambulance. She eventually woke up and crawled away on her own.” What Tom didn’t say was, That day, I had begged shamelessly. I had even started unbuttoning my shirt, willing to let him touch me if he wanted. Julian had been off his imported medication for a week. If he didn’t take it, he would get worse. But I had nowhere else to borrow money. Tom, however, had looked at me like he’d seen a ghost, And hurriedly kicked me out. It turned out, It wasn’t that he didn’t want to lend me the money. It was that he couldn’t. My brother scoffed. “Listen closely, everyone. Until I bring Chloe back, no one is allowed to help Aurora. Whether she kneels, begs, or even dies in front of you, ignore her. Chloe is sensitive and has depression. I barely managed to keep her stable by letting her travel for five years. If I cut Aurora’s punishment short by even one day, Chloe might get upset and have an episode. If anyone makes my precious little sister unhappy, I’ll make their whole family unhappy.” Everyone looked at each other, Probably finding it absurd and ridiculous. Someone awkwardly reminded him, “Julian, aren’t you afraid Aurora will find out the truth and leave you?” As soon as the words were spoken, my brother burst out laughing. “Are you kidding? We’re biological siblings. No conflict is big enough to separate us. Aurora treats me like her life. Even if someone held a knife to her throat, she wouldn’t leave me. Besides, it’s just a little lesson. Chloe is different; she’s already suffered because she’s not blood-related. Being good to her is only right.” “But remember this, if what was said in this room today reaches Aurora’s ears, don’t expect us to remain friends.” I leaned against the wall. My hands and feet were numb. It turned out that the five years I risked my life for were just a worthless joke. My life, my freedom, Even my health, Only needed one word of grievance from Chloe. To become a trivial matter in my brother’s mouth. I wanted to laugh, but tears fell like broken beads, uncontrollable. A phone rang inside the room, and footsteps approached the door simultaneously. I didn’t have time to leave. I turned hurriedly and bumped into the manager rushing from behind. The bottle of wine in my hand, worth thousands, shattered on the floor. The manager’s face turned black as coal instantly. He slapped me to the ground. My brother, coming out of the room, brushed past us and hugged Chloe, who threw herself at him like a butterfly. “Why did you come back on your own? Didn’t we agree I’d pick you up? Are you tired? I arranged a professional spa team for you; you can get a full body treatment when we get home.” Chloe giggled, “I missed you, Julian! I wanted to surprise you!” I was wearing a mask, kneeling less than a yard away from them, daring not to move or speak. My red eyes stung from the diamonds covering Chloe’s high heels. One of them could pay for a year of Julian’s imported medicine. The manager whispered apologetically, “Mr. Sterling, I am so sorry. Your wine was broken by this clumsy idiot.” Chapter 2 Black leather shoes stopped in front of me. The manager knew his status, terrified he would get angry. “Mr. Sterling, so sorry to interrupt your reunion with Miss Chloe. It’s all because of this blind fool who can’t even hold a few bottles. I’ll have someone bring better ones immediately.” He grabbed my arm and pinched it hard several times. This pain was nothing compared to when debt collectors broke my ribs. But I shrank back, Feeling like my internal organs were twisting into a knot. My brother frowned impatiently. “Enough.” He pointed at me. “Since you broke it, pick up every shard on this carpet with your hands. If my sister steps on even one piece, I’ll make you swallow it.” The hallway was covered in thick, soundproof carpet. The glass shards were embedded deep, hard to find. I could only kneel, using my palms to rub and feel for them bit by bit. Chloe narrowed her eyes at my back, then suddenly linked arms with my brother and pouted. “Julian, I’m tired.” “Princess, I’ll carry you out. It’s too dangerous here.” Black leather shoes stepped on the back of my hand, twisted, And then walked away without noticing. I knelt there, looking at the glass embedded in my palm. I cried until I laughed. The manager was terrified by my appearance. “What’s wrong with you? Why is your nose bleeding?” I staggered to my feet and wiped it messily with my sleeve. “Probably because I’m dying.” Without looking at his shocked face, I let the blood drip all the way as I stumbled out. I pushed open the door to my home. From the kitchen came the sound of something breaking. My brother was struggling to push himself up from his tipped-over wheelchair. Seeing me at the door, He looked like a child who had done something wrong, his eyes red with embarrassment. “Aurora, I just wanted to make you something to eat…” “I’m so useless. I’m just a burden!” His speech was slurred, his words jumbled. Tears mixed with saliva ran down his face. Just like a helpless, broken patient who had been paralyzed for years. I vaguely remembered, Before being diagnosed with ‘ALS,’ my brother had severe OCD. A man who washed his hands twenty times a day and wouldn’t tolerate a spec of dust on his clothes, Could endure this filthy, messy life for five years just for Chloe. For five whole years, I was trapped in his hypocritical, masterful performance, Living like a complete clown. In this moment, I wanted so badly to cut open his chest and look. To see if what was inside was flesh and blood, or cold, hard stone. Seeing I didn’t speak, my brother hung his head. “Aurora, are you disgusted by me?” “You should be. A burden like me shouldn’t drag you down anymore. Just go, leave me alone. Let me rot.” He sat amidst the mess, gripping the wheelchair armrest stubbornly. Veins popped on his arms, but he couldn’t get up. I walked over silently, righted the wheelchair, and helped him into it. I turned, wrung out a towel, and wiped his face and hands. I had done this routine for five years; it was engraved in my bones. He grabbed my wrist, noticing the wound on my palm. “How did this happen? Who bullied you?” I stared at the genuine concern in his eyes. The bitterness in my heart almost overflowed. “Yeah, bullied by someone who looks just like you.” I paused, looking straight into his eyes, and added, “At the Starlight Club.” Chapter 3 Watching my brother’s jaw tighten instantly, I smiled again. “But I know that wasn’t you, Julian. My brother would never lie to me, right?” My gaze made him guilty. He looked away and spoke unnaturally. “Of course. You’re my only family, Aurora. I would never lie to you.” I forced down the surging pain in my eyes and pushed him out of the kitchen before the tears could fall. When I finished cooking and came out, the living room was empty. I walked to his bedroom door and heard him whispering on the phone. “Be a good girl. I’ve prepared the biggest birthday party for you. I’ll celebrate with you personally tomorrow.” On the other end, Chloe feigned concern. “But tomorrow is Aurora’s birthday too. Won’t she be mad if you don’t spend it with her?” “Silly girl, you are my only precious sister. Your happiness is what matters most. Aurora hasn’t celebrated her birthday in five years; she’s used to it. One more year won’t matter.” Chloe cheered happily. “I knew you were the best, Julian!” I stood in silence for a long time, then took off my apron and turned away. When my brother came out, I was gone. On the table sat a bowl of noodles boiled soft for easy swallowing and one imported pill. He knew I had a night shift at this time. Thinking of the wound on my palm, My unnaturally pale face, And my back, thin as a rail while I was cooking, He suddenly felt a panic. He realized he couldn’t remember what I looked like when I was bright and happy. It felt like something sharp stabbed his heart. An indescribable unease and guilt crept up silently. He picked up his phone and quickly made a call. The next day, I took my brother for a checkup. His doctor looked excited. “Miss Sterling, we just got news. A private research institute in Switzerland has developed a specific drug for ALS. Clinical trials are very mature, but they’re only recruiting two subjects. I’ve secured a spot for your brother.” Compared to his enthusiasm, I just nodded calmly. “What are the chances of recovery?” “Eighty percent.” My brother played along, crying tears of joy. “Aurora, I can get better. I can be with you forever.” I forced a smile. “If only one of us can live, I hope it’s always you, Julian.” He froze. As if frightened by my seriousness, he forgot to slur his words. He frowned and scolded, “Don’t talk nonsense. We will both live well. When I recover, I will rebuild the Sterling Group, and you will be the princess of the family again.” But this princess title, I don’t want it anymore. And you, Julian, I give you both to Chloe. The doctor sent me out of the office, claiming the examination would take a long time. Before, I believed it was true, leaving my brother at the hospital while I raced against time to work part-time jobs. Now I knew these were just excuses to get rid of me. I stood at the empty corridor corner, watching my brother change clothes and eagerly enter the elevator. Downstairs, a luxury car had been waiting for a long time. I withdrew my gaze blankly and walked into another doctor’s office. “Miss Sterling, your brain tumor is too large for surgery. If it had been half a month ago, there might have been hope.” He sighed. “It’s just a matter of days now. Say goodbye to your family.” I was silent for a long time before nodding gently. “After I die, please cremate me directly. Send the ashes to the Sterling Villa, to CEO Julian Sterling.” Leaving my remaining money, I walked out of the hospital. A message popped up on my phone. “Come to the villa and take a look.” It was Chloe. I took a taxi to the most luxurious villa district in the city center. Five years had passed. The home I thought had been auctioned off long ago was now decorated festively. Guests gathered, luxury dazzled the eyes. It was a different world from me, standing alone outside the carved iron gates. Chloe wore a glittering tiara and a custom haute couture gown. Holding my brother’s arm, She stood blissfully in front of a six-tier cake, surrounded by people. Behind her was a wall of gifts. She clasped her hands and made a wish. “I wish to be Julian’s only sister for life, his little princess forever.” My brother took a velvet box from his pocket. The moment the box opened, my blood ran cold. Chapter 4 It was a jade amulet. When Julian and I were born, our parents had high monks bless two jade amulets for a whole year, carving our names on them. We wore them since birth. It was our parents’ blessing and hope, the continuation of the Sterling family, and my only memento after they passed away. Even in my hardest times, I couldn’t bear to sell it. Now, my brother had changed the carving to Chloe’s name. In front of everyone, he solemnly placed it around her neck. “My little princess, congratulations on your wish coming true.” I don’t know how I left. My phone kept vibrating. “Actually, I recognized you at the Starlight Club that day.” “See clearly now?” “The jade is mine, and Julian is mine. You look like an unwanted stray dog.” “Your life is such a failure, why don’t you just go die, big sister? Hee hee.” Seeing no response, Chloe sent one last message. “Sister, I asked Julian to bring you a birthday gift. Enjoy it.” I wandered like a ghost all day. When I stumbled back to the rental apartment in a daze, I found out what Chloe’s birthday gift was. The door was wide open. The room was a mess. My brother was pinned to the ground. Like a dying dog struggling for breath. This scene was so familiar I trembled all over. My ribs, once broken, seemed to ache in phantom pain. “Little girl, long time no see. When are you paying back this month’s money?” I was pale. “Didn’t I pay off all the debt? What do I still owe?” The leader picked his teeth and spat on the floor. “If I say you owe, you owe. Don’t want to pay? I wonder how many hits your brother’s rotten bones can take.” He gestured with the iron rod over my brother’s back. “Aurora, I’m a burden to you. Leave me, just go. I’m a cripple anyway. If they kill me, they kill me. I don’t want to drag you down.” The exact same words. I’ve heard them countless times over five years. I looked wearily at the room full of debt collectors, then at my brother on the ground—looking pathetic, yet his eyes were clear. Everything was painfully obvious. It was laughable that I only realized now. They threatened debt collection countless times, but never actually touched a hair on his head. And I, to protect my lying brother, Had broken ribs, limped on a bad leg, and suffered countless injuries. Swallowing the dryness in my throat, I asked hoarsely, “What do you want?” The man looked me up and down and laughed. “Little girl, I don’t like your stubbornness. How about this? Crawl between the legs of all ten of my brothers here and bark like a dog three times. Then we’ll call it even for today.” My brother roared, “No! Aurora, don’t do it!” I smiled numbly. The last bit of warmth in my heart went completely cold. “Since this is what you want, let’s call it even.” Although I was speaking to the man, Julian suddenly panicked. He wanted to say something, but then remembered this was the last punishment he promised Chloe. As long as I learned this final lesson, he would restore my identity as the Sterling heiress. He would never let me suffer again. He confidently thought there was a long future to make it up to me. As if convincing himself, he looked away, secretly took a photo of my humiliation, and sent it to Chloe. The crowd dispersed. I lay on the floor for a long time before having the strength to stand. My brother crawled over with red eyes, intending to play the victim. But seeing my dead eyes, the words stuck in his throat. The next day, the doctor came to take him to Switzerland for treatment. Before leaving, he looked back three times. “Aurora, wait for me to come back. I will make you the most dazzling princess of the Sterling family again. No one will ever bully you again.” I smiled and said nothing. After watching them leave, I covered my mouth and couldn’t hold back a mouthful of blood. The doctor said when the tumor ruptures, it’s the end. Strange. The moment I fell, I felt no fear. My mind was filled with how good Julian was to me when we were little. Braiding my hair. Feeding me candy. Staying by my side when I had a high fever. He said, “When I grow up, I’ll make lots of money, build the biggest castle for Aurora, and spoil her into the happiest princess in the world.” I swallowed my tears, and with bloody hands, tremblingly tapped on my phone. I sent the last message to my brother. “Julian, I’m not waiting for you. I give my life to pay you and Chloe back. Bury me next to Mom and Dad.” After sending it, I closed my eyes weakly. At that moment, the phone on the floor vibrated like crazy.

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