Author: Momo Chan

The night before our engagement party, my A-list celebrity boyfriend, Liam Scott, lost a race on a reality TV show. The penalty? He had to play a “couple for a day” with his childhood best friend, Rina. But he took the act a little too far. Right there, on camera, he exchanged rings with her. Liam just laughed it off when he explained it to me later. “It was all for the show, Luna. We grew up together, practically shared a crib. You think I’d ever be serious about her?” But Rina, nestled against his side, flashed the new ring on her finger. “Liam’s first ‘proposal’ was to me, guys. Don’t you think that’s worth a celebration?” The crowd was full of their childhood friends, and they all started cheering. “C’mon, none of us have ever beaten Liam on the track,” one of them yelled. “He obviously threw the race for Rina. Hey, if Rina can beat me, I’ll give her anything she wants!” The energy was electric. I stepped out from the shadows, my helmet tucked under my arm. Every head turned in my direction, and the boisterous atmosphere immediately went cold. I pulled the helmet over my head, my eyes locking on Liam’s disapproving face. “What are you all staring at me for? You wanted a celebration, right? As the fiancée, I thought I’d add to the fun.” 1 I swung my leg over the gleaming new motorcycle. Liam’s brow furrowed. He strode over, his hand clamping down on mine just as I was about to ignite the engine. “Luna, don’t be ridiculous. It’s Rina’s birthday, everyone’s just teasing her. Racing isn’t a game. What if you get hurt?” He softened his voice. “Just be a good girl and cheer for me from the sidelines.” It was always the same story. No matter what they were doing, my role was always the cheerleader. I subtly pulled my hand free from his grasp. Staring into those soulful eyes that could make a puppy fall in love, I contradicted him for the very first time. “I don’t think I’ll be cheering for you today.” I jutted my chin toward Rina. “Your ‘girlfriend’ for the day is over there. Let her do it.” A few snickers rippled through the group. Someone joked that I was jealous, telling Liam he’d better smooth things over. A flash of embarrassment crossed Liam’s face. “I’m just worried about you. You’ve never even touched a bike before. I’m scared you’ll get hurt.” He lowered his voice, leaning in. “We all grew up with Rina. Ask anyone here if they actually see her as a girl.” The glances exchanged around us were suddenly thick with insinuation. This wasn’t the first time. They had all grown up in the same exclusive neighborhood, their families moving in the same elite circles. Whenever the seven of them got together, they created an impenetrable bubble with Rina at its center. Because they didn’t see her as a woman, they’d pass out drunk in the same bed. Because they didn’t see her as a woman, she could call him away from our date nights to help her buy tampons. Because they didn’t see her as a woman, he’d ditch me on our anniversary to go drinking with her when she was in a bad mood. I used to fight him on it, but it always ended the same way. Once, he even snapped at me, “We’ve always been this close. Are you going to accuse the other five guys of sleeping with her too?” After that, I never brought up Rina’s name in an argument again. Until now. Only this time, I wasn’t here to argue. Rina sauntered over, draping an arm casually around Liam’s shoulders. She grinned at me. “He’s right, Luna. This is just how we are. They really don’t see me as a girl. We used to have peeing contests as kids to see who could go the farthest.” She patted Liam’s chest. “You didn’t grow up with a crew like this, so you wouldn’t get it. Just listen to your boyfriend like a good girl. We’ll let you have him back when we’re done playing.” No one seemed to think there was anything wrong with what she said. Liam’s expression was hardening, his disapproval of my ‘childish tantrum’ written all over his face. I fought down the wave of nausea rising in my throat and twisted the throttle. Over the engine’s roar, I met Rina’s gaze and said coldly, “Since it’s a birthday party, wouldn’t adding one more make it even more exciting?” “Let’s stick to your rules,” I continued. “If you beat me, you can have any gift you want.” Seeing me defy him so openly, Liam’s face tightened. The mask was slipping. Another guy from their group nudged his friend, smirking. “Damn, Liam’s losing his touch. Guess he can’t keep his fiancée on a leash.” The warmth vanished completely from Liam’s expression. His eyes on me turned to ice. “Luna Jiang.” He used my full name. “You really want to do this? Fine. But don’t come crying to me to end the game when you lose.” I scoffed. Rina saw my expression and raised an eyebrow. “Well, well. Looks like I have a lot of challengers tonight.” She adopted a regal air. “Alright, here’s how it’ll be. We’ll do it king-of-the-hill style. You have to beat everyone who wants a shot at me. Only then do you earn the right to challenge me.” She pointed a finger at the big guy who had started the heckling. “Mark, I know what you’re capable of. If you go easy on her… I’ll double the prize!” Mark stepped forward, playing the peacemaker. “Hey, Mrs. Scott, look… it’s Rina’s birthday, so she makes the rules. Maybe we should just call it a night? This bike is a beast, hard to handle.” “I’ll cover the double prize myself!” he declared. The crowd erupted. “The prize should come from Liam! What’s your deal, Mark? You got a thing for your friend’s girl?” Mark’s face turned bright red. Liam shot me a sideways glance, then smirked and gave Rina a light pat. “The night’s not over yet. Your future sister-in-law is right here.” Rina just hopped onto the seat behind Liam, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist. A chorus of whistles went up. I was used to it. I revved the engine and snapped my visor down. “Enough talk. Let’s ride.” 2 The wind howled past my helmet. Behind me, I could hear a collective gasp of shock. No one had expected me to actually know how to ride, let alone be good at it. I leaned hard into a series of tight curves, steadily pulling away from Mark. Liam shot me a look, his expression filled with something I couldn’t quite read. Surprise? The cheers and shouts didn’t break my focus. On the final turn, I calculated my entry line, planning to accelerate hard on the exit. Just then, a blinding beam of light shot out from the side of the track, aimed directly at me. It was Rina, holding a high-powered flashlight she must have grabbed from somewhere, waving it wildly in my direction. My vision exploded in a wash of white. I cursed under my breath, instinctively slamming the brakes and fighting to keep the bike balanced. But I was going too fast. The front wheel skidded out at the apex of the turn. The bike went into an uncontrolled slide, the shriek of metal on asphalt tearing through the night. I wrestled with the handlebars, using every ounce of my strength to stay upright, but my knee and elbow scraped hard against the pavement, a searing pain shooting through me. Mark’s bike blurred past as he crossed the finish line. I managed to push myself and the bike up, barely standing. The throbbing in my elbow and knee was beginning to spread. I took off my helmet, my gaze fixed coldly on Rina. She tossed the flashlight aside and came jogging over, all feigned concern. “Oh my God! I’m so sorry, are you okay? I was just so excited! You were riding so well, I wanted to cheer you on, I had no idea… that you’d lose control.” Liam rushed to my side, his brow deeply creased. “Serves you right for trying to show off when you don’t have the skills,” he muttered, his voice laced with annoyance. Mark circled back, clearing his throat. “Luna… let’s just say you won that round. Seriously, your technique is way better than mine.” I tried to smile, but the pull on the scrapes on my face made me wince. The peanut gallery started up again. “What’s with you today, Mark? Playing the white knight?” “Yeah, man, bad form. Liam’s about to get married. You can’t be moving in on his girl now.” Mark fell silent, trapped. I waved a dismissive hand. “A loss is a loss. No need for charity.” I turned my attention to Rina, my voice flat. “What do you want?” Her eyes landed on the necklace I was wearing. Liam had fastened it around my neck the day we made our relationship official. It was a unique pendant, a delicate gear with a diamond at its center that spun a full 360 degrees. He’d said it was a symbol of how inseparable we were, our love stronger than steel. I hadn’t taken it off in three years. I reached back, unclasped it, and tossed it straight at her. She caught it deftly, letting it dangle from her fingers. Liam’s face darkened instantly. “Rina, that’s…” She tilted her head, looking at his strained expression. “What’s wrong, Liam? Luna’s willing to part with it. Are you telling me you’re not?” Liam’s Adam’s apple bobbed. He finally looked away. “…If you like it, you can have it.” Rina smiled, a triumphant glint in her eyes. She turned her back to Liam. “Put it on for me.” As Liam fumbled with the clasp around Rina’s neck, the other guys crowded around me, eager for more action. “Wow, Mrs. Scott, you’re full of surprises! I’m next!” “Me too!” But Rina cut them off, her eyes sparkling with a new, malicious idea as she looked at me. “Hold on. Luna’s so good, if we’re going to keep playing, we need to set the stakes first. We wouldn’t want anyone thinking we’re ganging up on you.” Her gaze roamed over me, and then her face lit up. “I remember, your marriage certificate was calligraphed by your grandfather, right? You know how rare his work was. Why don’t we bet that?” The moment she said it, the chatter died. Everyone stared at her, their expressions a mixture of shock and unease. She flashed me a perfectly innocent smile. “Let’s make that the prize, what do you say? If you lose, you just let me… admire it for a bit. Don’t worry, I’m not trying to steal your…” She paused, casting a long, meaningful look at Liam. Liam’s breath hitched. He spoke in a low, placating tone. “Rina, that’s enough.” I had to laugh. Even he knew she was taking it too far. But he always let her. That marriage certificate was my grandfather’s final work, the only thing he left me. On it, he’d written his blessing for Liam and me, wishing us a hundred years of happiness, a life without sorrow. Rina, however, was not intimidated by Liam’s tone. She stuck her chin out. “What are you so nervous about? I can’t even look at it? If you’re going to be this stingy, I might just tell everyone about the time you—” Liam clapped a hand over her mouth, the tips of his ears turning bright red. He turned back to me, his voice coaxing. “Luna, why don’t you just show it to her? Then we can call it a night. No more racing.” Of course. Between them, Rina always won. I watched their intimate little struggle, the throbbing in my knee and elbow a dull, distant ache. My heart felt hollow, empty. I nodded slowly. “Alright.” Liam let out a breath of relief. And then I spoke my next words. “If I lose, the certificate is yours.”

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1 I had a happy childhood, loved and spoiled by my parents. My only problem was my dad. He still treated me like a little girl, with no sense of personal boundaries. I finally couldn’t take it anymore. “Dad,” I said one day, “can you please knock before you come in next time?” He agreed, but nothing changed. I told my mom how uncomfortable it made me feel. She just laughed. “Your father adores you, Lily. He’s held you in the palm of his hand since you were a baby. He saw you crawling around naked in your crib. What hasn’t he seen?” A lump formed in my throat. “But I’m not a baby anymore.” When my dad found out I’d complained to Mom, he put on a wounded expression. “My little girl is all grown up. She doesn’t need her old dad anymore. Teenagers are just so sensitive. I’ll just stay away from now on.” My dad was always so good to me. His words made me feel a pang of guilt. Mom said I was being difficult and letting my imagination run wild. It wasn’t until I posted a video online, asking for advice on how to deal with my feelings, that our happy home began to fall apart. … The candlelight from my fifteenth birthday cake flickered across my face as I closed my eyes to make a wish. I hadn’t even lowered my hands when a wet, hot kiss landed on my cheek. “My Lily is another year older!” Dad said, beaming. I went rigid. The damp sensation sent a shiver of revulsion through me. I grabbed a napkin and scrubbed at my cheek, my face contorted in disgust. “Dad! Don’t do that! You got spit all over me!” His smile froze. It was quickly replaced by an exaggerated pout. He clutched his chest, speaking to my mom in a joking tone. “Our daughter’s all grown up, Sarah. She’s too good for her dad now! She used to beg for kisses and hugs, and now I can’t even get a peck on the cheek? My heart is breaking!” Mom shot me a disapproving look. “Is that any way to talk to your father? He spoils you rotten! Look, he just bought you the newest phone for your birthday, and this is how you thank him? Such an ungrateful little thing.” I stared at the expensive phone box on the table, my throat feeling tight. “I just think… I’m older now. There should be boundaries…” “What boundaries? You’ll always be a child in our eyes!” Mom cut me off. She leaned over and planted a loud kiss on my little brother’s chubby cheek. “See, sweetie? Isn’t your sister being silly? Mommy and Daddy love you both so much, we could just kiss you all day!” That night, I tossed and turned in bed, unable to sleep. It was true, my dad had always doted on me, giving me anything I wanted. Very few kids at my school had a phone that expensive. I remembered other girls in my class complaining about their dads being clueless and not paying attention to details, but none of them seemed to have a reaction as strong as mine. Maybe I really am just being too sensitive, I thought. The memory of my dad’s hurt expression made me feel guilty. “Lily? Are you asleep?” The door suddenly swung open, shattering my thoughts. My dad stood in the doorway, his long shadow stretching across my bed. I flinched, pulling the blanket up to my chin, my heart hammering in my chest. “Dad! You didn’t knock again!” He acted as if he hadn’t heard me and walked straight in. “Just checking if your window is closed. The forecast said there’s a big storm tonight. The wind will be strong.” He closed the window and turned to leave. At the door, he looked back and smiled. “Alright, alright. I know you’re a big girl now, you have your rules. I’ll knock next time.” The door clicked shut. The room was dark again, but my heart refused to calm down. That creeping sense of unease was back, wrapping itself around me. The next day, after much hesitation, I went to my mom. “Mom, I talked to Dad last night about knocking before…” She didn’t even look up from feeding my brother applesauce. “He told me. Said you’re getting quite the attitude. Now he needs an official announcement to enter your room.” “It’s not an announcement! It’s just knocking!” I said, my voice rising with frustration. “I’ve told him so many times, but he never knocks. It makes me feel really uncomfortable, like I have no safety.” Her hand finally paused. She looked up at me, her brow furrowed. “What is wrong with you?” “That is your father! He changed your diapers, he gave you baths. What part of you hasn’t he seen? And now you’re talking to me about ‘safety’ from your own dad?” 2 Her tone turned serious. “Your father loves you. He treats you like you’re made of glass. How could you even think such twisted things about him? That thought itself isn’t normal!” “But I…” I wanted to argue, to tell her that the way he looked at me had changed. “No buts!” she cut me off, her voice sharp and final. “You’re a teenager. You’re hormonal, you’re overthinking things! You’ve got too much time on your hands. You should be studying, figuring out how to get your grades up.” “You’re in high school now. Things are much harder. Stop obsessing over this nonsense!” She turned her attention back to my brother, her face instantly softening into a smile. “Is my sweet boy getting impatient? Let’s have some more apple.” Listening to her coo at my brother, the words died in my throat. What if she’s right? What if my thoughts aren’t normal? The lock on the bathroom door had been broken for months. I’d mentioned it countless times. Mom would always say, “I know, I’ll get to it,” and then nothing would happen. Taking a shower became the most stressful part of my day. Dad often needed something from the bathroom while I was in there. “Lily, did I leave my razor in there?” “Your mom needs the laundry basket!” Sometimes, he wouldn’t even wait for a response before the handle started to turn. Today, I discovered the lock on my bedroom door was broken too. I couldn’t lock it from the inside. I went to my mom again. “Mom, my bedroom lock is broken. We need to get it replaced soon.” She was busy changing my brother’s diaper and didn’t look up. “You used to lock your door all the time to play on your phone. Now that you’re in high school, you can’t be doing that. It’s a good thing it’s broken. Makes it easier for me to check on you.” “I wasn’t!” I stomped my foot, furious. “I just want some privacy!” “Alright, alright, nobody’s spying on you,” she said, her voice laced with impatience. “Teenagers are so difficult. Your mind should be on your studies.” “If you get in the top ten on your midterms, I’ll get the lock fixed. I’m doing this for your own good, to help you stay focused.” I didn’t want to believe my dad had bad intentions, but I couldn’t convince myself to ignore how I felt. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t concentrate in class. I needed an answer. I needed someone to tell me if this was normal. And if I was the one in the wrong, I needed to know how to fix my way of thinking. That evening, my dad came into my room again, using the excuse of “checking the air conditioner temperature,” and stayed for a long time. His gaze lingered on my neck and arms. The feelings I’d been suppressing finally reached their breaking point. I secretly turned on my phone’s video recorder. “Dad, why are you always like this? I’ve told you so many times to knock! Why don’t you ever listen?” “And when I’m in the shower, why do you always find an excuse to open the door?” “I’m fifteen years old! I’m not a little kid anymore! You’re scaring me! What do you want?” My dad’s expression shifted from surprise to sullen anger. “What are you talking about? I’m your father!” My mom’s voice drifted in from the living room. “Alright, keep it down, you’ll scare the baby. Honey, just remember to knock, okay?” I posted the video online. I described my dad’s chronic lack of boundaries, my mom’s dismissiveness, and the immense stress and self-doubt it was causing me. [Am I just being too sensitive? How do I fix my mindset? Please, someone tell me.] I was waiting for advice and analysis from strangers when my mom saw the video. She stormed into my room, her face pale with fury, shoving her phone in my face. “Lily! Look what you’ve done! Look what these people are saying!” 3 The screen was a blur of furious comments and shares. “What kind of father is this? He’s clearly a creep!” “Is the mom dead? Her daughter is literally begging for help and she’s just sitting there doing nothing!” “She’s probably one of those mothers who only cares about the son. She doesn’t give a damn about her daughter.” My mom’s eyes were red with rage. She slapped me, hard, across the face. I cupped my cheek, staring at her in disbelief. It was the first time she had ever hit me. My mind went blank. “Mom…” “They’re strangers! What do they know?” she screamed, not giving me a chance to speak. “You’re his daughter! He’s watched you grow up! So what if he looks at you? Is a piece of you going to fall off?” “Are you trying to ruin your father’s reputation? Will that make you happy?” I’d never seen her this angry before. I was terrified. “No, Mom, that’s not it. I was just confused…” Just then, her phone rang. She answered it, exasperated. “Hello, is this Sarah? This is CPS.” “We’ve seen a video concerning your daughter online, and its contents are very troubling.” “We’d like to understand the situation at home to ensure your daughter’s safety and well-being. When would be a good time for us to…” As soon as she hung up, her face was a mask of pure fury. “Are you satisfied now? You wanted your father investigated? You wanted me to be called a bad mother? You wanted to tear this family apart? Is that what you wanted?” “Delete that video! Now!” “Look at the trouble you’ve caused!” I never imagined it would blow up like this. I was scared to death. I deleted the video, tears streaming down my face. “Mom, I didn’t mean to cause trouble.” The video was gone, but her anger still burned. “You spend all day watching toxic videos online, it’s rotting your brain!” “We raised you, we fed you, we sent you to a good school, and you turn on us like an enemy?” “Your father is the one who spoils you the most, and this is how you repay him? By slandering him?” I tried to make her understand. “But what he’s doing is wrong!” She looked down at me, her voice dripping with contempt. “Did he hit you? Did he yell at you? Did we ever deny you food or clothes?” “All he did was not knock. And for that, you wanted to ruin his life?” “Lily, when did your heart become so poisonous?” Every word she said felt logical. I couldn’t argue. But an unspeakable sadness filled my heart. To fix the mess I’d made, my mom took out her phone and filmed a new video. “I want to apologize to everyone for taking up your time,” she said, her voice full of weary regret. “Our daughter has been spending too much time online. She thought it would be fun to make a ‘scripted video’ like the influencers she sees. We never expected it to cause such a misunderstanding. We are so sorry for the trouble.” The camera turned to my dad. He walked over to me and gently clipped a strawberry barrette into my hair. “Silly girl,” he said, his voice dripping with affection. “You can’t pull stunts like this anymore.” I nodded and whispered, “I know.” After the video of our happy, reconciled family was posted, public opinion flipped instantly. 4 “See? You always have to wait for the full story!” “Kids these days will do anything to get famous, even throw their own dad under the bus.” “What a waste of my sympathy! I was so worried about her, turns out she’s just an actress!” The online mockery spilled over into my school life. My classmates looked at me differently. “That’s her. The one who made up a story about her dad to go viral.” “You’d never guess. She’s so quiet in class, but she’s so calculating.” Even my homeroom teacher called me in for a talk. “Lily,” she said, her voice thick with disappointment, “seeking attention through dishonest means will not help you in the long run. You need to focus your energy on the right things.” I had no way to defend myself. Everyone thought I was the problem. But how was I supposed to quiet the unease in my own heart? Everyone who knew my dad said he was a model husband and father, loving and caring, without a single flaw. I was trapped in a prison of self-doubt. I couldn’t focus. I was in a constant daze. On my first high school midterms, my grades plummeted. My mom looked at me, her face a mask of disappointment. “Lily, you were never like this before. What happened to you?” A tremor went through me. Her quiet disappointment was scarier than her yelling. Does this mean she won’t fix my lock? The thought sent a wave of panic through me. That night, as I was struggling with my homework, there was a knock on my door. I was surprised. Dad had actually knocked. He came in, closed the door behind him, and sat on the edge of my bed, ready for a heart-to-heart. “Lily, I saw your report card. Don’t put too much pressure on yourself. I know you’re hurting.” Being alone with him in a closed room made me nervous. I didn’t say anything. He continued, “Your mother’s attention is all on your brother now. I’ve seen it. She hasn’t really paid attention to you in a long time, has she? I know you feel neglected.” My nose began to sting. His words hit the deepest, most secret wounds in my heart. He leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice, and dropped a bombshell. “There’s something I’ve been thinking about for a long time, and I think you have a right to know. You… you are not my biological daughter.” I snapped my head up, so shocked that I didn’t even notice how close he was to me now. “She was already pregnant with you when she married me.” His voice grew even softer. “I was the one who took you both in, who gave you a home.” “The only one who truly cares about you is me.” “Your mother has given up on you because she depends on me. She knows you’re unhappy, but she pretends not to see. She’s doing it on purpose.” “That’s not true!” I cried, shaking my head. “You don’t believe me?” He chuckled softly and gestured toward my door. “Go on, check. See if the lock is fixed.” I stumbled to the door, my fingers trembling as I reached for the knob. Click. The door could be locked from the inside. But Mom had said she wouldn’t fix it unless I got in the top ten! “Why do you think she fixed it? Why do you think she took your brother out tonight?” “She’s doing me a favor.” He pinned me against the door, his fingers tracing a line down my cheek, his gaze sticky and vile. “I’ve raised you for fifteen years. It’s time I collected some interest. If you’re a good girl, we can continue to be a happy family.” “But if you’re not…” He paused, his lips brushing against my ear. “No one will believe you anyway. You’ll always be my good little girl. There’s no escape.” The shock of my parentage, my mother’s betrayal, my father’s threats—my world shattered into a million pieces. I don’t know how much time passed before I heard a commotion from downstairs. My mom, carrying groceries and pushing a stroller, returned to our apartment complex to find a crowd gathered at the base of our building. “What’s going on?” she asked a neighbor. “Oh, it’s awful! I think someone jumped!” the neighbor said, her face pale. “Oh, Lord. I hope the kids don’t see. Lily needs to study,” my mom muttered, trying to navigate the stroller around the crowd. As she passed a gap in the people, her eyes glanced inward. Her pupils shrank to pinpricks. The bags in her hand crashed to the ground, groceries scattering across the pavement.

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1 On the day of our engagement party, Sebastian shoved me aside. The heirloom ring and the wedding gifts, meant for me, he handed to my father’s illegitimate daughter. My mother’s face went pale. “Sebastian, what is the meaning of this? Do you not even recognize your own fiancée?” But the man who had been tangled in my sheets just last night, my fiancé of six years, now looked at me with an unnerving calm. “I’ve been appointed to a diplomatic post in Paris. A four-year term. Elara… she knows nothing. She’d just be a burden.” “Besides,” he added, “I’ve already put Chloe’s name down as my accompanying partner. Her French is flawless. She can be my assistant.” Ignoring the ballroom full of stunned guests, he took Chloe Blake’s hand and walked away, leaving me to become the laughingstock of Sterling Harbor. Four years later, he returned with a newly pregnant Chloe in tow. But when he saw me sitting beside his mother, his face darkened instantly. “Elara, the Ashworths have done more than enough to support the Blakes these past few years. You’re not my wife, so why are you still clinging to my family like a leech?” “I know I broke my promise back then, but it’s over. Even if you try to suck up to my mother now, I’ll never marry you. Chloe is pregnant!” I froze. So he still didn’t know. In this family, by rank, he now had to call me ‘Aunt’. … “Such disrespect!” Mrs. Ashworth’s smile vanished. She slammed her water glass down on the table with a crack. Her gaze, sharp with disapproval, swept over Chloe. “You come back here without even greeting Elara first, and you bring this… classless woman with you.” “Get her out of my sight. Now!” I lifted my teacup, the rising steam veiling the smile in my eyes. Sebastian’s father had a string of mistresses, which is why his mother despised illegitimate children more than anything. Chloe never stood a chance. Hearing the contempt in Mrs. Ashworth’s voice, Chloe’s face turned ashen. I thought she’d have the sense to retreat. Instead, she placed an ultrasound report on the table and sank to her knees, a picture of fragile vulnerability. “Mrs. Ashworth, I know I’m not worthy of you… but the babies, they’re innocent!” She shot a timid glance my way. “I know my sister was the one engaged to Sebastian, but I’m carrying his children now. The doctor confirmed it… a healthy pair of twins.” “Please, Elara, I’m begging you, have mercy. Give my children a name! I’ll even be your son’s mistress, hidden away from the world!” With that, she covered her face and broke into heart-wrenching sobs, casting a mournful look over her shoulder. Sebastian’s eyes immediately reddened with emotion. He rushed over and pulled Chloe into a fierce embrace. “Don’t say such foolish things. You’re the only woman I love, the one I’m going to marry!” At the mention of twins, Mrs. Ashworth’s eyes lit up. She hesitated, then turned to me for my opinion. “Elara, what do you think?” I took a sip of my tea before answering. “The mother of the Ashworth grandchildren being a mistress… It wouldn’t look right, would it?” My intention was to push them toward marriage. But to Sebastian’s ears, it sounded like I wouldn’t even grant her the position of a mistress. His face contorted with rage. He kicked over a nearby vase, shattering it against the floor, and snarled at me, “Who the hell do you think you are, Elara? This is the Ashworth house. You have no say here!” “It was the same back at the Blake estate! You could never stand Chloe, always giving her hell! Well, she’s my woman now. In my eyes, you’re not worth a single strand of her hair.” My fingers curled into a fist. The day Chloe came to live with us, she stole my father’s affection, moved into my bedroom, and then, claiming a sudden allergy, drowned my dog. When I screamed at her, my father slapped me twice across the face. Between the two of us, who was it that couldn’t stand whom? Snapping back to the present, I looked at the furious man before me and couldn’t help but laugh. “Sebastian, did you leave your brain in Paris along with your diplomatic credentials? When did I ever say I wanted to marry you?” His mother, equally incensed, pointed a trembling finger at him. “Insolent boy! Is that any way to speak to your elders?” 2 “My elders? Mom, I wasn’t talking to you, I was talking to Elara!” Before his mother could retort, a nanny’s frantic voice cut through the tension. “Mrs. Ashworth, it’s terrible! The young master… I don’t know what happened, he suddenly can’t breathe!” The anger on Mrs. Ashworth’s face was instantly replaced by sheer panic. If something happened to her brother-in-law’s son in her house, that man would tear their whole world down… “How could you be so careless? Call the family doctor, quickly!” The baby’s face was a horrifying shade of purple, his only sounds strangled whimpers from deep in his throat. “Leo!” My voice cracked with terror as I lunged forward to take him. But before I could reach him, Sebastian had swept the baby into his arms. He chuckled, playfully poking the child’s cheek. “Whose little tyke is this? Cute little thing.” My eyes burned with desperate tears, my voice a raw scream. “Sebastian! Give me back my son!” Mrs. Ashworth shot to her feet, her voice a thunderous command. “You reckless boy, stop it! If anything happens to that child, none of us will be safe!” “Relax, Mom.” Sebastian just smiled, nonchalantly passing the baby to Chloe. “Chloe’s been studying child care for two years in preparation for our baby. She’ll know what’s wrong in a second.” And just as he said, after a single glance, Chloe let out a smug laugh. “Oh, it’s probably just a blocked bladder.” With that, she delivered a hard, forceful slap to the baby’s back. The sickening thud made my heart stop. My legs gave out and I crumpled to the floor. “Leo!” Mrs. Ashworth was trembling, her face drained of all color. Then, the nanny cried out in relief. “He wet himself! The young master really did it!” She quickly took the baby and brought him over for us to see. “Look, his color is returning to normal.” Seeing the purple tinge fade from my son’s face, I finally let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. Tears I hadn’t realized I was holding back finally streamed down my face. “Thank God…” “See, Mom? I told you she’d be a wonderful mother!” Sebastian said, lovingly tapping Chloe’s nose. She tilted her chin up, beaming with pride. “But Elara,” she started, her eyes darting around before she feigned a sudden realization, covering her mouth with her hand. “Sebastian, now that I look closer… doesn’t the baby look a little like my sister?” “Could this be her child? But we never heard anything about her getting married…” Sebastian’s pupils contracted. He snatched the baby back, his gaze flickering between the child’s face and mine. His eyes blazed with fury. “Elara, you dare cheat on me?!” Understanding dawned on his face. “No wonder you never contacted me all these years. You were hiding away, having someone else’s child!” “Whose bastard is this? Which animal did you have this mutt with, and how dare you bring him into our home to disgust me!” At his words, every servant in the room went pale, lowering their heads in silence. I rose to my feet, my voice trembling with rage as I held up my left hand, displaying the massive wedding band on my ring finger. “He is my child, you’re right about that. But I’m already married.” “And you know my husband. His name is Julian Ashworth!” 3 “Julian? You mean my uncle? The one who’s practically allergic to women?” Sebastian muttered to himself, then snapped his head up, his eyes locking on mine. A scornful laugh escaped his lips. “Everyone in Sterling Harbor knows my uncle can’t stand women. Forget women, even a female cat can’t get near him!” “Someone once tried to drug him and send a girl to his bed. The next day, their entire family vanished from the city.” “Elara, if you’re going to lie, at least make it believable.” Allergic to women? I resisted the urge to rub my temples. I almost wished it were true. It would save my body from being wrecked every night. My silence was taken as an admission of guilt. Chloe shot me a triumphant look and cooed, “Sebastian, don’t you remember? My sister declared to all of Sterling Harbor that she’d marry no one but you. When you were kidnapped by your rivals, she cried and screamed that she wanted to die with you. How could she possibly marry someone else?” “She probably got lonely these past few years and had an… accident.” “But a child of unknown origin like this… it’s not appropriate for him to stay in the Ashworth home, is it?” The memory hit me as suddenly as the gunshot had that night. Sebastian had nearly died during that kidnapping. The kidnappers demanded his father sign over the Mariner’s Point development, but they didn’t know his father had several other sons. Sebastian’s life was nothing compared to that massive profit. It was me who stole the project contracts from my family’s safe. I went to the kidnappers alone and traded them for Sebastian’s freedom. That night, my father beat me with a cane, ninety-nine lashes. My mouth was filled with blood, but I never made a sound. Only when he asked if I knew my mistake did I answer with unwavering resolve. “If Sebastian dies, I won’t live without him.” They threw me out of the house, bleeding and broken. Sebastian held me, his body wracked with sobs. Without hesitation, he took the cane and gave himself ninety-nine lashes, marking his own body with the same scars as mine. Looking at my swollen eyes, he made a promise. “Elara, you’re the love of my life. These scars are the proof of our love. As soon as I prove myself to my father, I will make you my wife!” I waited and waited. I waited until Sebastian became a diplomat, until he dealt with all the other illegitimate sons in the Ashworth family. But in the end, I never got to see him come for me. It seemed Sebastian remembered, too. His expression softened, but the disgust in his eyes when he looked at my son remained. “Elara, because you saved my life once, I’ll let you stay with the Ashworths.” “Sebastian!” Chloe cried out, her eyes filling with hurt. He immediately pulled her into his arms, comforting her. “Don’t cry, Chloe. I only meant she can stay as a nanny, to take care of you and our babies.” “After all, she’s the woman the Ashworths publicly rejected. No one in Sterling Harbor would dare marry her now. You have a generous heart, my love. Think of it as giving her a place to eat.” Chloe’s tears vanished, replaced by a triumphant smile. “What about the child, Sebastian?” Looking at the baby in his arms, who bore a slight resemblance to me, Sebastian sighed. His warning gaze fell on me. “I abandoned you at our engagement party, and now you’ve cheated on me. Let’s call it even.” “I’m allowing you to stay, but this bastard child has to go. I won’t have him under my roof. From now on, your job is to take care of Chloe and her babies. And don’t you dare try to seduce me again.” 4 I had reached my limit and was about to unleash a torrent of curses. But out of the corner of my eye, I saw my son’s face turning purple again! “Leo!” I whirled around, glaring at the nanny. “What on earth did you feed him?” The nanny’s eyes darted nervously. “Nothing… nothing special. Just some milk.” “Just milk? Then why is his face turning that color?” His symptoms… he had to be choking on something. I grabbed the nanny’s arm, but Chloe stepped in front of me. “Have you no manners, sister? This is an Ashworth family nanny. You’re in no position to yell at her!” “Besides, he’s just some bastard child you had with a stranger. Is he really worth all this drama?” I ignored Chloe’s taunts and rushed forward, snatching my son into my arms. Seeing the deep purple hue on his face and the faintness of his breathing, a wave of unbearable pain washed over me. Tears streamed down my cheeks. “Get a doctor! Now!” Footsteps sounded behind me, but Sebastian blocked the way. “Nobody move!” “Elara, do you think this is a public market? You can’t just order my family’s staff around!” I shot him a look of pure hatred. “Sebastian, if anything happens to my son today, I swear I will make you pay!” “What?” His eyes reddened, filled with disbelief. “Elara, you’d talk to me like that? For a bastard you had with some other man?” I ignored his wounded expression, collapsing as I held my son, my tears a wild flood. “Leo… my Leo…” I dug my nails into my palms, my mind racing for a solution. I remembered reading about the Heimlich maneuver online and immediately tried to position my son to perform it. But in the next second, my arms were empty. Sebastian had taken him. Seeing the raw grief on my face, he trembled with rage. “Elara, he’s just a fatherless mutt! Why do you care so much?” “Unless… his father is that old flame of yours!” he roared, a look of sudden, ugly realization on his face. “So that’s it. No wonder you didn’t say a word when I left with Chloe from the engagement party. I thought you had finally grown up, but you had already found my replacement behind my back. You disgust me, Elara!” Hearing this, Chloe gasped dramatically. “Sister, I can’t believe you’re that kind of woman! If father finds out, he’ll throw you out of the family for good!” My son’s chest had almost stopped moving. Forgetting everything else, I dropped to my knees before Sebastian, my voice shattering as I begged, “Sebastian, please, I’m begging you, give me back my son.” “Just give him back to me, and I’ll forget any of this ever happened!” He had never seen me so utterly broken, and all for a child whose father was a mystery. Sebastian stumbled back a step, then his voice rose to a fever pitch. “That’s enough, Elara! I know this is all just a pathetic act to get my mother’s sympathy so you can marry me.” “Fine! I’ll marry you. Are you happy now?” “Sebastian!” Chloe cried out, swaying on her feet as tears streamed down her face. He immediately turned to wipe them away, his voice softening. “It’s just an empty title for her.” “You’ll be the one walking down the aisle with me, the one on the marriage license. My heart, my body… everything is yours.” Chloe’s tears stopped, and she gave me a magnanimous look. “Well, if you put it that way, I suppose I won’t fight my sister for it.” When Sebastian looked back at me, I was already lunging for my son. He lifted the baby high above his head. “First, you tell me who the father is. Then you can have him back.” A wave of terror washed over me, and I screamed, my voice raw and trembling, “Sebastian, put my son down!” Even his mother shot to her feet, her usually composed face slick with sweat and fear. “You crazy boy! Put that child down right now, or I swear I’ll have your father break your legs!” Sebastian just laughed. “Don’t worry, Mom. The Blakes have no real power. They won’t acknowledge a bastard child. And even if something happened, Uncle Julian would clean it up for us.” “Today, even if I dash this baby’s brains out right here, the Blakes won’t dare to say a word!” As if to prove his point, he raised his hand higher. His grip slipped. The baby fell. “NO!” I shrieked, my voice tearing from my throat. I tried to scramble forward to catch him, but Chloe stuck out her foot, tripping me. As my son plunged towards the hard floor, I squeezed my eyes shut in utter despair. But in the next second, a pair of strong hands snatched him from the air. Then, a resounding crack echoed through the room as Sebastian’s father slapped him across the face. “You worthless fool! How dare you touch your uncle’s son!”

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After taking over my father’s company, my best friend Maya insisted we act out her favorite CEO romance fantasy. I rented an entire amusement park for the night, ready to set off fireworks just for her. But as the first rocket was about to launch, a woman clutching a child burst from the bushes. Maya screamed, “Holy crap, is that a ghost from a daytime drama? Babe, save me!” The woman grabbed my leg, tears and snot covering her face. “You promised to come back and marry me when you succeeded! Why have you been gone three years? Who is she? Are you abandoning me and our son?” I froze, one hand touching my short, boyish haircut—cut to avoid an arranged marriage. Her desperation grew. “When we were together, you said I was the most beautiful woman alive! Now that our child is born, you pretend not to know me?” Before I could speak, her toddler wiped snot all over my pants. “Daddy, hold me!” Phones rose from the crowd, cameras flashing. The murmurs turned into loud accusations, branding me a deadbeat dad who abandoned his family. I looked desperately at Maya, but she was crying harder than the stranger. “Babe, say something! Who is she? You owe me an explanation tonight!” 1 Maya stood before me, pounding her fists against my chest in a dramatic display of heartbreak. “Say something! Who is this woman? And who is this ugly little kid?” “So this is what you do! You tell me I’m your first, but behind my back, you’ve got a whole collection of mistresses! How could you do this to me? Today is our five-year anniversary!” Maya was so deep in character that the other woman actually believed her. She wiped away a tear and whimpered. “So… you were already with someone when we met. No wonder you disappeared the morning after we slept together.” “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have fallen for you so easily. I’ve ruined our child’s life!” “I don’t want anything now. I know I can’t compete with this lady. Just… please take care of our son. If you could give me two thousand dollars a month for living expenses, I’d be content.” Two thousand dollars?! I nearly choked on a boba pearl. If I hadn’t just inherited the family business, two grand would be more than enough to buy my silence, not the other way around. Realizing this wasn’t part of the game, Maya dropped the act. “Wait, you’ve misunderstood. She’s not—” The woman cut her off frantically. “Enough! What are you trying to say? That your man isn’t that kind of person? Which scumbag has ‘scumbag’ written on his forehead?” “If he hadn’t forced himself on me, I never would have believed this could happen!” “I’m a woman who has thrown away her pride and dignity! I’m not even asking for the justice I deserve. All I want is for him to provide for his child. Is that too much to ask?” Gossip is a powerful force. The moment she said “forced,” the air went still. I deeply regretted not clearing the park of bystanders as the staff had suggested. I gave Maya a look that screamed, This is all your fault. If you wanted an audience for your CEO fantasy, I could have hired actors. Now we’re the main event! Maya looked so guilty she seemed ready to bury her head in the nearest planter. Before I could speak, a guy covered in tattoos stormed up to me. “It’s bad enough you look like a pretty boy, but you don’t even have the balls to act like a man. You’re a disgrace to men everywhere!” “Don’t you feel any shame when you look in the mirror?” I nodded earnestly. “Not really.” He sputtered, half-choked with rage. I’m a woman. The short hair was just a tactic to avoid being married off by my family. Why should I feel ashamed for disgracing manhood? The guy’s face turned beet red. “Fine, fine! You’re shameless, I can’t argue with you! Let’s call the police and let them sort it out!” 2 As he reached for his phone, the woman, Jenny, lunged forward and grabbed his hand. “No! Calling the police will hurt his career! I don’t want to cause him any more trouble.” She turned to me, her voice breaking. “Please, I’m begging you. Just help me with the baby. I wouldn’t have come to you if I wasn’t completely desperate… My last few bosses haven’t paid me in six months. I can’t even afford formula for little Ben!” Tears streamed down her face, and some of the onlookers were visibly moved. A few started to chime in. “Come on, man, be a decent human being. It’s your son. This poor girl has been through enough. She’s not even asking for damages.” “A son just fell into your lap from the sky! If I were you, I’d be so happy I couldn’t sleep for three days! Stop acting so high and mighty. If you can’t afford to raise a kid, you shouldn’t be taking a girl’s clothes off!” Maya, furious, tried to defend me, but everything she said only made us look worse. Soon, the crowd was calling us a pair of sickos—me, the predator, and her, the accomplice who paid off my victims. My temples throbbed with a building rage. Finally, I spoke, my voice tight. “I am not an irresponsible person,” I began. “But I need to make one thing perfectly clear. I have absolutely, completely, never met you before in my life! I sympathize with what you’ve been through, and it’s outrageous, but is it possible you have the wrong person?” Maya immediately jumped in. “Exactly! You must be mistaken! She’s not that kind of person. Besides, it’s impossible for her to get you pregnant!” A bystander shot back, “And how would you know? Are you a worm in his stomach? Or have you two been partners in crime this whole time, so you know exactly which women your boyfriend has slept with?” “Oh, I get it now,” another woman sneered. “You know all about his cheating. You probably help him find his victims! As a woman, how can you be so vile?” Maya was about to lose it and lunge at the woman, but Jenny’s sharp voice stopped her. “Your name is Corbin Jiang! That’s right, isn’t it?” I froze. She actually knew my name. “The night you took me to that hotel, I was drunk, but I saw your ID for a second. I remember your name! For three years, I haven’t forgotten you for a single day! Corbin Jiang, you ruined my life! Why should you get away with it?” Her hysterical cries ignited the crowd’s fury. “I thought it might be a mistake, but she knows his name! What else is there to say?” “Hey, you slept with her. Just admit it! Don’t be such a coward!” “You’re panicking now, but you were all too eager back at the hotel, weren’t you?” I stared hard at her, noticing the way her eyes darted away from mine. “Since you saw my name, you must be very familiar with it. Write it down. In front of everyone.” A sheen of cold sweat appeared on her forehead. “I already said it, why do I have to write it? You’re the one who won’t admit what you did, and now you’re doubting me?” “I never said I doubted you. I just want to confirm it was you that night. It’s just a name; it won’t take long. Unless… you’re hiding something?” I leaned in closer, lowering my voice. “Or maybe you don’t actually know how to spell my name at all. So who did you really sleep with that night? And whose ID did you see?” 3 Jenny’s face flushed with anger. “Of course, I know! I just… I didn’t bring a pen!” “That’s okay,” I said smoothly, pulling a pen from my jacket pocket. “I have one. And I have my ID, too. Don’t worry, I’m not going to run out on my responsibilities.” She sputtered, trapped. Finally, defeated, she took the pen and a napkin and began to write. She wrote slowly, as if each stroke was a monumental effort. When she was done, I took the paper and looked at it. And I laughed. Corbin Jiang. A man’s name. She had no idea I was a woman. My real name was Corinne. Close, but crucially different. I pulled out my ID, covering everything but my name. “Take a good look.” The name was clearly printed: Corinne Jiang. “Miss Jenny,” I said, my voice cold, “if you’re going to hunt someone down, at least do your homework. Rushing in blindly just gets you played.” The crowd started whispering among themselves, now suspecting that Jenny had indeed made a mistake. Seeing the tide turn against her, Jenny burst into tears. “You’re doing this on purpose! You got me drunk and drugged me that night! Of course, I don’t remember everything perfectly! Even if I forgot exactly how to spell your name, I’ll never forget the Porsche you were driving! You used that car to trick me!” Ah. So that was it. She was after the car. As for my name, she must have overheard Maya calling me and latched onto it. I nodded, stepping closer. “Then please, tell me. How, exactly, did I trick you? Since you hate me so much, you must remember that part vividly, right?” Her face went white. “That was the most painful night of my life. Are you really going to make me recount it in public? I’m already at rock bottom. Are you trying to push me over the edge?” As she spoke, she lowered her head and, hidden from the crowd, gave the child in her arms a sharp pinch. The sleeping toddler instantly erupted into shrieks. The crowd’s attention shifted. Forgetting their anger at me, they rushed to help her soothe the crying child. I turned to leave with Maya, but a hand shot out and clamped down on my wrist. The next thing I knew, I was flying backward, landing hard on the pavement. “Your son is still crying, and you’re trying to run? What kind of man are you?” The tattooed guy stood over me, fuming. To Jenny, he said, “Miss, I’ve got him for you. He’s going to acknowledge this kid today, one way or another. If he won’t, I’ll beat him until he does!” Maya burst into tears, trying to rush to my side, but the crowd blocked her. I slowly pushed myself up, my eyes fixed on Jenny. “So, what do you want?” She put on a pained, pitiful expression. “I just… I can’t raise a child alone. I really don’t have the means…” I cut her off with an impatient wave of my hand. “Get to the point. How much?” “I told you, I’m not that kind of person…” I gave a cold laugh and slipped the bank card I’d just taken out back into my wallet. “Fine. If you came here to give me a child, then consider him received. You can go now.” Jenny’s smile froze, her eyes filled with hurt. “How could you think of me like that? That’s not what I meant. I don’t want your money, but I had to borrow from all my relatives to raise him so far, so—” I took a deep breath. “You want me to pay off your debts?” “Would you?” Her innocent, manipulative expression almost made me puke. “You spelled my name wrong. You know nothing about my car besides the brand. What makes you think a few sob stories are enough to make me pay your debts? Do I look like an idiot? Find the man who actually slept with you. If you slander me again, I’ll see you in court.” 4 I rose shakily to my feet, ready to leave. Jenny panicked, trying to soothe her screaming child while yelling at my back, “Fine, go! If you walk away now, you’ll never see your son again! I’ll jump with him right now! We’ll die right in front of you, so we won’t get in the way of you and your new girlfriend!” Before anyone could react, she broke through the crowd, clutching the child, and sprinted away. Two minutes later, the emergency lights at the very top of the roller coaster switched on. She was sitting up there, the child in her arms, her figure swaying precariously against the night sky. “Corbin Jiang,” her voice, amplified by the park’s speakers, echoed around us, “I don’t blame you for not recognizing me, or for forgetting me. I only blame myself for choosing the wrong man. If we meet in the next life, if I had the same kind of family as that lady by your side… would our story have ended differently?” Her tragic monologue struck a chord with every person there. Maya and I were stunned. We never thought a shakedown artist would take it this far. Someone shoved me hard from behind. “What are you waiting for? Go save them!” a bystander roared. “Just agree to whatever she wants! A life is at stake! If she dies, it’s on you!” “I’ve never seen a more shameless man in my life! Your wife and child are about to commit suicide, and you’re just standing there! Will you be this calm when your own parents die? You’ll get what’s coming to you!” I wanted to scream that he wasn’t my son, that I didn’t care if she jumped. But I knew this wasn’t the time. Someone had started a live stream, and the camera was pointed directly at me. For the sake of views, the streamers were embellishing the story. In their narrative, I was a monster who had abandoned his first family and was now driving them to their deaths for my new girlfriend. Hundreds of thousands of viewers flooded the stream, the comments a torrent of curses. “GIRL, DON’T DO IT! HE’S THE ONE WHO SHOULD DIE!” “IF YOU DIE, YOU’RE JUST GIVING THE SCUMBAG AND HIS MISTRESS WHAT THEY WANT!” “WAKE UP! YOUR SON NEEDS YOU!” “THAT BASTARD BETTER GET STRUCK BY LIGHTNING!” The cameras, the insults, the online vitriol—it was a tidal wave threatening to drown me. Left with no choice, I tried to negotiate. But no matter what I said, Jenny wouldn’t budge from her demand: two million dollars. After a thirty-minute standoff, the police arrived. I finally breathed a sigh of relief. “Officer, I want to report her! She’s falsely accusing me of getting her pregnant and trying to extort me for two million dollars! But I’m not even a—” Before I could say the word “man,” Jenny’s broken sobs rained down from above. “Officer, don’t believe him! I have proof! I had a paternity test done!” The police urged her to come down, promising they would help her. But she refused, instead throwing two sheets of paper down from the coaster. I stared at the fluttering papers, a growing sense of dread coiling in my stomach. “Officer,” I said quietly, “can she even hear me from all the way up there? I wasn’t speaking very loudly. How did she know what I said?” A bystander looked ready to hit me. “Officer, are you hearing this? What kind of monster is he? He didn’t believe the poor girl, so of course, she brought evidence! It’s perfectly normal!” I tried to explain, but no one was listening. An officer picked up the report and slowly opened it. The crowd fell silent, their eyes glued to the paper. At that exact moment, a message from an unknown number popped up on my phone. “After today, you’re finished. Corinne Jiang, consider this my first gift to you.” Suddenly, a sickening thud echoed from the distance. Panic erupted. “Someone jumped! Someone jumped! Somebody help!” “That poor girl… her ghost will haunt this bastard forever!” The officer holding the report froze, shoved it into my hands, and sprinted towards the commotion. “The kid is yours,” he’d said before he ran. “You’ll never be able to explain this now.”

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1 My husband and my best friend were obsessed with their polar plunges. I always told them they were getting too old for that sort of thing, that something bad could happen, but they’d just laugh and say I didn’t get it. Yesterday, I went to the beach to pick them up, just like any other day. But this time, I found them floating naked in the water, their lower bodies still tangled together. Panic and shock washed over me in a tidal wave. I didn’t think to call for help. I didn’t even scream. I just fainted. By the time I woke up, they were both stiff. And that’s when my real trouble began. Just last week, to get back in my good graces, my husband had taken out a billion-dollar life insurance policy. The beneficiary was me. Now, how in the world was I supposed to explain this to the insurance company? … Someone was shaking me awake. My ears were filled with hushed whispers. “They were really in love, huh? Took the medical examiner hours to separate them.” “I know, right? I heard the old couple came here every day for their winter swim. So devoted!” “Less of a swim and more of a… romantic dip, if you ask me.” I shook my head, trying to clear the fog, and slowly sat up. The sight before me snapped me into sharp focus. Two naked bodies lay on the sand, completely exposed. My hand trembled as I tugged on the sleeve of a person standing nearby. “What… what happened to them?” The man sighed, his eyes full of pity. “They’re gone.” Gone? Just yesterday morning, they were so full of life. I remember Chloe showing up at our house, playfully punching Leo on the chest. “What, you’re backing out? A real man never says no!” she’d laughed, her smile radiant. “It’s barely forty degrees out, and you’re already scared?” Then she’d shot me a dirty look. “Or is it Olivia? Getting on in your years and still jealous of us? Is that why you won’t let him come?” “Honestly, Olivia,” she’d continued, her tone patronizing, “you need to loosen the leash a little. Leo and I have been swimming together for ages. If something was going to happen between us, don’t you think it would have by now?” “But fine, if Leo’s too scared, I’ll just go alone.” That was all it took. Right in front of me, Leo ripped off his shirt. “You know I’m not scared of anything,” he’d boomed, laughing. “What does a housewife like Olivia know about our hobbies, anyway? Don’t mind her. Let’s go.” They had tag-teamed me with their words until I finally gave in. And now, they were telling me they were dead? I couldn’t accept it. Tears flooded my eyes, and my body shook with sobs. “Ma’am, you must have been terrified.” A young man in a police uniform approached me, his voice gentle. “I mean, seeing two people… intertwined like that, just floating in the water… anyone would have passed out. We don’t blame you.” “But you were the first witness. We’ll need you to answer a few questions for our investigation when you’re ready.” His words only made me cry harder. Leo was dead. As a woman on her own, I had so much to deal with. Not only did I have to take over his company and inherit his massive fortune, but now I had to figure out how to explain this mess to the insurance company that just issued a billion-dollar policy… I simply didn’t have time for an investigation. The young officer, misinterpreting my distress, shook his head at the two bodies. “All that passion didn’t do them much good in the end.” “Getting on in years, looking for a thrill… all that vigorous activity in the cold water. They must have gotten cramps.” “And because they were… stuck together so tightly, neither of them could make it back to shore.” I froze. Vigorous activity? Stuck together so tightly? The scene from last night flashed back into my mind. They had been pressed together, their lower halves joined in a position that was unmistakably… My heart seized, and I couldn’t breathe. I had been married to Leo for thirty years. I had known Chloe for forty. I couldn’t believe it. The two people I trusted most in the world had been betraying me like this. The evidence was lying right there on the sand. I clutched my chest, feeling the air leave my lungs. But then, a different thought pushed through the pain. They were still my husband and my best friend. One was a powerful CEO, the other a renowned dance instructor. They were proud people who cared about their reputations. As much as I hated them, the dead deserved some dignity. I couldn’t let them be exposed like this. I took a deep breath, scrambled to my feet, and snatched up the matching pair of designer underwear they’d left on the beach. I walked over and draped one over each of their faces. Then I collapsed to the ground and wailed. “Please! Stop taking pictures!” “My husband and my best friend are dead! Please, just leave them alone!” I cried, my voice tearing from my throat. I was torn between rage and a strange kind of pity. Rage at their betrayal. Pity for myself… they were dead, but they’d left me with a mountain of paperwork. The crowd of onlookers grew, and my words sent a shockwave through them. “Wait, they weren’t a couple? She’s his wife? So they were having an affair?” “Oh my god, her husband and her best friend? This is juicier than a soap opera!” “No wonder they came all the way out here… it was a secret rendezvous!” “They probably did this all the time. It was bound to end badly.” “That poor woman… to find them like that and faint from the shock!” Their words felt like a physical weight on my chest, crushing me. The young officer finally understood. His expression softened with even deeper sympathy. “Ma’am, please get up. The ground is cold. By the way… do you two have… any children?” We did. But our son, Dylan, was on his honeymoon with Chloe’s daughter, Sophie. He wouldn’t want to be bothered. Still, with so many concerned eyes on me, I made the call. As expected, Dylan answered with an annoyed sigh. “What do you want now? I told you not to bother me and Sophie.” “Is it that you can’t be happy with Dad, so you don’t want us to be happy either?” I swallowed the pain in my throat and choked out the words. “Dylan… your father is dead.” There was a pause, then a burst of disbelieving laughter. “You’re insane.” “You’ll die before my dad does! Can’t you go one day without wishing he was dead?” I could hear Sophie laughing in the background. “Oh, Dylan, you know how she is. Just hang up.” “Sophie,” I cut in, my voice rising with a fresh wave of sobs, “your mother is dead, too.” The line went silent for a few seconds. Then came her sharp, piercing shriek. “Olivia! Just because my mother is close to your husband, you’re going to curse her like that?” “Their relationship is completely innocent! Why do you have to make things so miserable for everyone?” Ignoring her tirade, I repeated, my voice trembling, “They were having sex in the ocean, got cramps, and couldn’t get out. They drowned. Together.” I said it slowly, word for word, to make sure she understood. But they still didn’t believe me. Dylan’s voice was raw with anger. “Chloe is a lady! She would never do something like that in a place like that!” “Just because you have a dirty mind doesn’t mean everyone else does! I think you’re just jealous of her, and that’s why you’ve never liked Sophie! You’re just trying to ruin our honeymoon!” The young officer couldn’t stand it anymore. He took the phone from my hand. “Sir, this is Officer Miller with the….” He didn’t even get to finish. Dylan cut him off. “Wow, you even hired an actor? Nice try! We’re not falling for it! Spread all the rumors you want! We’ll deal with you when we get back!” The line went dead. When I tried to call back, I’d been blocked. I closed my eyes, all the fight gone out of me. The officer gently helped me into the back of an ambulance. “It’s okay, ma’am. You fainted anyway; you wouldn’t have seen anything useful. I won’t ask any more questions. Just go to the hospital and get some rest. Then you can start making arrangements.” As he spoke, paramedics covered Leo and Chloe with white sheets. Once they were covered, it was as if the naked, tangled scene had never happened. I looked at the two white forms, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. Cry? I had no more tears. Laugh? I didn’t dare. But I pulled myself together quickly. I made a call to the company. “It is with great sadness that I must inform you that Mr. Harrison has passed away. I will be in this afternoon to take over his duties… I… I will not let Leo’s legacy fall apart!” Leo had no other family in this world besides me and Dylan. I couldn’t bear the thought of him lying alone in a cold morgue. I arranged for the cremation immediately. Afterward, I went straight to the office. “Mrs. Harrison, you are so strong…” “To lose your husband so tragically and still come back to work for the company…” “She’s the sole heiress of the Rhodes family, you know. Grew up a pampered socialite, and now she has to manage all this herself…” “She’s all alone now that Mr. Harrison is gone…” My voice choked with emotion as I clasped their hands. “Leo is gone, but the company must go on. I will hold it together.” I walked into the president’s office and signed the appointment papers to become the new chairwoman. This company had been a wedding gift from my father to his new son-in-law, Leo. It was only right that I take it back. The next few days were a blur. There were billions in inheritance to process and the billion-dollar insurance policy to claim. The insurance agent was initially suspicious about the timing of the death, but after reviewing the official case file, he just sighed and stamped the paperwork. A week later, Dylan and Sophie returned from their honeymoon. They arrived on the day of Leo’s memorial. I had prepared the offerings that morning and was carrying the urn out of the house. Dylan saw me and frowned. “I heard.” He glanced at the urn in my hands, his tone impatient. “It was just a dog. Do you really have to be so dramatic?” A dog? I remembered then. The circumstances of Leo’s death were so scandalous that I had paid a hefty sum to keep the media quiet. I hadn’t realized their official story was that I was mourning my beloved pet. It seemed a small price to pay for their discretion, so I hadn’t argued. I opened my mouth to explain, but Sophie let out a derisive laugh. “Olivia, you do realize that all of Leo’s money belongs to Dylan and me now, right? So every penny you’re wasting is our money! Did you ask for our permission to spend our money on a funeral for a dog?” She turned to the bodyguards standing by. “What are you waiting for? Get rid of all this junk!” The guards exchanged uneasy glances, unsure what to do. I trembled with rage. “Dylan! Look at this wonderful wife you’ve chosen! She is completely out of line!” Dylan seemed taken aback. He’d rarely seen me lose my temper. After a moment, he shouted back, “Mom! Sophie’s not wrong! She even bought you a gift!” He pulled a seashell out of his pocket. “See? What more could you want in a daughter-in-law?” I glanced at the designer shopping bags Sophie was holding. They were clearly meant for her mother, Chloe. But I was too tired to care. Chloe wouldn’t be receiving any gifts now. I clutched the urn tighter and started to walk past them. “If you have any respect left for your father, you’ll follow me.” I had only taken a few steps when a hand grabbed my hair from behind, yanking me backward. “I go out of my way to buy you a present, and you just ignore me? You care more about a dead dog than me! Don’t you ever expect me to call you ‘Mom’!” Caught off guard, I lost my grip. The urn slipped from my hands and shattered on the ground. The ashes scattered across the stone patio. My eyes turned red. “You! Do you have any idea what that is?” Sophie looked down and poked the pile of ashes with the toe of her shoe. “It’s just dog ashes.” She wrinkled her nose in disgust and ground her heel into them. “What’s the difference between this and trash?” “My mother was right about you,” she sneered. “You’re nothing but a jealous shrew! If my mom had met Leo first, you never would have even been in the picture!” I stared at the gray dust on the ground, a roaring in my ears. But Dylan, instead of reprimanding her, pulled a few bills from his pocket and tossed them onto the ashes. “Mom, stop making a scene. Here, this is enough to buy a few new dogs. Now clean this up before you make a mess of the whole house.” I completely lost it. I grabbed a wooden stake from the corner of the garden and swung it at him with all my might. “You monster! You ungrateful child! Your father is dead, and you desecrate his remains? I’ll kill you!” Dylan dodged the blow, shouting back, “Are you ever going to stop? Stop cursing my dad! He loved Chloe for years! He never should have been soft on you; he should have divorced you ages ago—” He never finished his sentence. A group of people dressed in black walked through the garden gate. They were carrying white funeral wreaths and black banners. In the center, one of them held a large, black-and-white portrait of Leo. The man in charge saw the scene and froze. “Mrs. Harrison… why are Mr. Harrison’s ashes… all over the ground?”

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My mother told me I was the long-lost heiress and dumped me on the Sterling family’s doorstep. But the moment I arrived, my supposed brothers circled around the fake heiress, Lily, like a protective wall. “Lily is the only sister we’ll ever have. Don’t even think about replacing her!” My wealthy new parents banished me to a servant’s room, warning me not to cause any trouble. They all assumed I was there to fight Lily for their affection. So when they discovered I had no biological connection to my new father, they were ready to throw me out, waving a DNA test in my face. “The Sterling family will not tolerate a bastard child sullying our bloodline!” That’s when I calmly produced a DNA test of my own. “I’m not the switched-at-birth heiress,” I said, offering my so-called father a small smile. “But my mother is.” “Uncle,” I added sweetly, “you’ve never actually had your DNA tested against my grandparents, have you?” 1 The moment I stepped through the grand entrance of the Sterling estate, I was met with a volley of hostile glares. In the living room, a middle-aged couple and three young men were huddled around a girl on the sofa, murmuring words of comfort. Their eyes flickered over me with contempt for a fraction of a second before snapping back to her. The lady of the house, a woman dripping with jewels, hugged the girl tightly. “Oh, Lily, darling, don’t cry. You’re breaking my heart.” “You grew up in this house. We’ve cherished you for twenty years. How could we possibly let some uncultured girl from the sticks replace you?” Lily dabbed at her eyes, her voice a pathetic little whisper. “But… she’s the real heiress. I’m not truly a Sterling. If she and I ever disagree, Mom, Dad, and my brothers will have to take her side.” She let out a dramatic sigh. “It’s probably better if I just leave now, on my own terms, before I’m eventually thrown out.” Her words made the eldest brother, Ethan, scowl with concern. “How could you even think that? We’re the ones who’ve spent our lives together. We’re family. Some girl from a backwater town could never mean as much to us as you do.” The second brother, Liam, chimed in with a solemn promise. “I swear, Lily, no matter what happens, you’re our only sister. Even if that… Clara… shares our blood, she’s nothing more than a stranger to us.” The third, Noah, shot me a look so sharp it could have cut glass. “Exactly! If she dares to use her position as a biological daughter to bully you, I’ll make her regret ever coming back!” Their father, Richard Sterling, didn’t even bother to look at me, but his words were a clear warning aimed in my direction. “In the Sterling house, you follow Sterling rules. And as long as I’m the head of this family, no one will ever harm the apple of our eye!” Watching them perform this little play, I almost had to laugh. I hadn’t said a single word, and they had already scripted an entire drama where I was the villain tormenting poor, innocent Lily. While they were busy consoling her, I took the opportunity to study their faces. It was a professional habit, honed by years of sketching suspects for the criminal investigation unit. Richard Sterling had double eyelids, a bulbous nose, and a square jaw. He was short and stout, built like a fire hydrant. Yet his three sons all had monolids, narrow noses, and sharp, angular faces. They were built like greyhounds. Each one looked shrewder than the last, and all of them were tall and lanky. The longer I looked, the more something felt deeply wrong. It was one thing for Lily, the adopted daughter, to look nothing like them. But how could a man’s three biological sons not share a single one of his features? How did a boar sire three greyhounds? 2 As I mulled this over, the family finally managed to coax a smile out of Lily, and their attention swung back to me. My supposed mother, Victoria, looked me up and down with a critical eye. “You’re Clara, the one the old lady insisted we bring here?” I came back to myself and nodded. My simple response seemed to irritate her. “You don’t even greet us when you walk in the door. Just as I thought. Raised in the country. No manners.” Before I could open my mouth to speak, she waved a dismissive hand and barked an order at a maid. “Mrs. Gable, take her to one of the empty rooms next to the kitchen.” Next to the kitchen. Where the staff slept. Victoria then adopted the regal air of a true matriarch. “I don’t care what your life was like before,” she said coolly. “But now that you’re in the Sterling house, you will shed those crude habits of yours.” Richard’s voice was a low rumble. “We’re not like those other old-money families. We value affection over bloodlines. Lily is, and always will be, our only treasured daughter.” “If you dare to bring your low-class, manipulative games into this house,” he warned, “don’t blame me for ignoring my parents’ wishes and sending you right back to where you came from.” I said nothing, my gaze shifting between his face and Victoria’s, the puzzle deepening. The bone structure of their faces and mine didn’t just fail to overlap; there wasn’t a single point of correspondence. How could I possibly be their child? My silent scrutiny seemed to unnerve them. Richard’s voice rose. “Did you hear me?!” Lily frowned, her voice laced with faux concern. “Mother, I’ve heard that people from poor neighborhoods often get sick as children and can’t afford treatment. Sometimes, a high fever can… damage their minds.” Her eyes met mine, a flash of triumph and insult in them. “Do you think Clara might have… a problem?” She tapped her temple meaningfully. At her words, Victoria’s expression soured from disapproval to outright disgust. She flapped her hand as if shooing away a fly. “Mrs. Gable, are you deaf? Get her out of my sight!” Her three sons and Lily watched me with unconcealed glee, their expressions of contempt mirroring their mother’s perfectly. It wasn’t just our looks that were different; our very natures were worlds apart. Confident now that I was not their biological child, I felt a sense of relief and followed Mrs. Gable to the servants’ quarters. Victoria’s voice, dripping with venom, floated after me. “That Clara is the spitting image of the old lady. I can’t stand to look at her.” Then, her tone sweetened as she turned to Lily. “Not like my sweet, darling Lily. You’re such a comfort to me.” The voices faded, but her words didn’t stir any emotion in me. A family where no one bore a resemblance to each other was a statistical anomaly. Besides inbreeding or some wild genetic mutation, I couldn’t fathom any other reason for a son to look nothing like his father. To solve this mystery, I knew I had to stay. I needed to find out what secrets this family was hiding. 3 Under pressure from my grandmother, the Sterlings reluctantly paid to enroll me in a prestigious local university, in the same program as Lily. I hadn’t been in school for long before Lily decided it was time to make her move. It was an eight a.m. class. The moment I stepped through the door, I felt every eye in the room lock onto me. Lily was at the front, speaking with our professor. When she saw me, tears instantly welled in her eyes. “Clara,” she cried, her voice breaking dramatically, “if you wanted the gold medal in the competition, you just had to ask! I would have gladly given it to you.” She wrung her hands. “I know you’re jealous that I had the life that was meant to be yours, that I got all the opportunities… but I couldn’t control that!” “I’m willing to give you everything back, I swear! But why would you resort to something so dishonest? Why would you steal my work?” Just as she’d planned, the gazes of my classmates turned from curious to contemptuous. Ever since my first day, Lily had been carefully crafting a narrative, painting me as an interloper and herself as the kind, tragic victim. And I had to admit, her plan was working. The professor turned his laptop screen toward me, displaying the winners’ list. My name was at the top, in first place. I hadn’t even entered the competition. He addressed me with a sneer. “Clara, would you care to explain why your name is on the entry that Lily submitted?” I shrugged, my hands open in a gesture of honesty. “She’s the one who submitted it. How would I know?” He let out a cold, humorless laugh. “Our department has a strict code of conduct. We do not tolerate plagiarism or theft.” He pulled out his phone and began tapping out a message. “Don’t you worry, Lily. I’m contacting the dean and the competition judges right now. We will make this right.” Hearing this, the students started whispering amongst themselves. “Is he getting her expelled?” “Figures. Someone from the sticks wouldn’t know any better. Cheating in a national sketch competition? She’s got some nerve.” “And stealing from Lily, of all people. Doesn’t she know Lily is the best in our program?” Someone else snorted. “What would she know? She only got in because her parents pulled some strings. Does she even know how to draw?” “The Sterlings are a family of artists, but this Clara can’t draw, and she doesn’t look anything like them.” “Maybe they got it wrong. Maybe she’s not their long-lost daughter after all.” Not their daughter? And who told them I couldn’t draw? I found the whole situation amusing and didn’t bother to correct them. But at that last comment, Lily’s head snapped toward me, her eyes gleaming as if she’d just discovered a hidden treasure. I saw her discreetly pull out her phone and fire off several messages. 4 Half an hour later, the classroom was packed. The dean, the competition judges, and the entire Sterling family had arrived. They even brought a few police officers with them. “Who reported a crime?” the lead officer, Detective Miller, asked, his eyes scanning the crowded room. When he saw me, his expression flickered with surprise. “Clar—” I gave him a subtle shake of my head. Lily had worked so hard to stage this drama for me. It would be a shame not to let her finish her performance. Miller and his colleagues caught my signal and fell silent. “I did!” the professor announced, pointing an accusatory finger at me. He looked at the officers with righteous indignation. “This student stole another’s artwork to enter a competition, tarnishing the reputation of our institution!” “I tolerated the fact that she got in through family connections,” he huffed. “But this… this is a disgrace. I cannot, in good conscience, cover this up!” The Sterlings flushed with embarrassment, glaring at me as if I were a stain on their family name. Not a single one of them moved to defend me. The university officials looked at the professor, bewildered. The dean opened his mouth to speak, but Miller put a firm hand on his shoulder, silently signaling him to stay quiet. “Her? She stole someone’s artwork?” Miller couldn’t suppress a smirk. “Whose work did she supposedly steal?” His amused tone threw the professor, Lily, and everyone else for a loop. After a moment’s hesitation, Lily stepped forward. “It was mine,” she said, then put on a show of magnanimity. “But Clara is the sister my parents just brought home. I know she’s picked up some… bad habits. But she’s still my sister. I promise she won’t do it again.” She pleaded with the officials. “I’m begging you, Mr. Dean, and the judges, please give her a second chance. Don’t put this on her record.” Every word was a performance of perfect, selfless sincerity. The Sterlings were deeply moved. Victoria wrapped a protective arm around her. “Oh, my sweet Lily. You’re just too kind for your own good.” Richard Sterling’s voice was grave. “Detective, handle this as the law requires. The Sterling family will not shelter a criminal.” Sensing the tide, the professor added his two cents. “Lily, you’ve been too sheltered. You don’t understand how cruel the world can be. In my opinion, a student with such poor moral character should be expelled!” The other students, swept up in the mob mentality, began to chime in. “Yes! We don’t want a thief in our class!” “She stole from her own sister today! Who knows who she’ll target next?” “We demand she be expelled!” They were so caught up in their righteous fury that none of them noticed the dean’s face had turned a shade of purple. After listening to their tirade, Miller nodded slowly, a playful glint in his eye as he looked at me. “Well, miss? Do you have anything to say for yourself?” he drawled. “If not, you’d better come with us down to the station.” 5 Lily, believing she had already won, shot me a triumphant smirk. I let out a long sigh, deciding it was time to end this farce. “Alright, that’s enough. It’s not that complicated.” “Just find Lily’s original artwork and send it to forensics. Check the signature and the fingerprints.” As soon as I finished, Miller’s voice dripped with mock surprise. “What? A full forensic analysis?” He raised an eyebrow theatrically. “Seems like a waste of police resources, don’t you think… Profiler?” The word hung in the air, and the entire room fell silent. Lily’s brain seemed to short-circuit. The professor’s eyes widened, and he turned slowly to Miller. “…What did you just call her?” Miller gave him a thin smile. “Clara Vance. She’s a criminal profiler on loan to our department from D.C. Graduated top of her class from the joint program at Quantico two years ago.” The dean, finally finding his voice, shot the professor a furious glare. “Not only that, Ms. Vance is a judge for the national finals of this very competition, and she is our university’s guest lecturer for the upcoming semester!” Miller continued, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “She’s going to steal someone’s work? For a campus-level competition?” He let out a short, derisive laugh and turned his gaze to a rapidly paling Lily. “Tell me, little sister, did you also graduate at the top of a national program?” Lily’s face was ashen. “That’s impossible!” she blurted out. “She’s just some girl they found in the countryside! Where would she have learned to draw?” Realizing she had just shattered her carefully constructed persona, she quickly tried to backtrack as all eyes turned to her. “I… I just mean, my sister never had the chance to study with a master. Perhaps there’s been a mistake?” Miller rolled his eyes. “Genius is in her DNA. That’s a bit different from someone like you, who has no natural talent to speak of.” Lily looked like she was about to be sick. But then, a spark of an idea seemed to flash in her mind. She fumbled for her phone, her eyes scanning a message. Suddenly, the light returned to her eyes. She held up her phone, waving it victoriously in my direction. “So what if you have talent, Clara?” “I had our maid take a few strands of hair from your brush and run a DNA test with Mom and Dad’s.” My heart skipped a beat. I stared at her, genuinely surprised. Seeing my reaction, Lily’s smile widened into a malicious grin. “I even paid extra for a rush job. And guess what the results said?” “You’re not their daughter at all!”

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My cooking video went viral for the first time. All because I let my wife, Eva—a certified kitchen disaster—make a plate of sweet and sour ribs that came out looking like a twisted, blackened nightmare. The comments section exploded: 【OMG! How did she mess up every single step?】 【My dog could cook better than that!】 I sighed. At least it was getting views. Then, a few comments scrolled by that stopped my heart. 【Wait a second! Isn’t that Eva Burke? The culinary goddess who disappeared years ago?!】 【Back in the day, she and her partner, Ross Grey, were legends in the food world!】 Suddenly, the screen was flooded with a new narrative. 【Case closed! The goddess hasn’t forgotten how to cook. She just reserves her skills for Ross Grey!】 【Who is this husband guy? What gives him the right to make a legend like her break her sacred vow?】 I sat there, bathed in the cold light of my phone, and looked at the woman who had been a quiet, unassuming presence in my life for years. And for the first time, she felt like a complete stranger. 1 My fingers scrolled down mechanically, unearthing more and more comments that pieced together a dazzling, brilliant version of my wife I never knew existed. Eva Burke. She was once a rising star in the culinary scene, a food blogger with breathtaking skill and a perfect partner named Ross Grey. “Eva & Ross’s Table.” I whispered the unfamiliar name, my finger trembling as I typed it into the search bar. The account had been dormant for years, but the old videos were still there. In the thumbnail, a younger Eva, her eyes sparkling with life, wore a crisp chef’s coat. Her arm was casually draped around a handsome, smiling man. She looked so different from the Eva I married, who was always composed, always serene, always distant. This was a version of her I had never seen—brimming with confidence and passion. I clicked on the video with the most views. In it, Eva was expertly filleting a fish. Her hands were as steady as a surgeon’s, the knife gliding effortlessly, creating slices as thin as dragonfly wings. She turned to Ross, her smile soft and genuine. “Jules, can you pass me the spiced honey? You always did like things a little sweeter, right?” Ross’s warm, laughing voice came from off-screen. “You know it. You’re the only one who remembers.” The intimacy in his tone was a physical sting. My mind reeled back to just last week. I was in the kitchen, buried under a mountain of invoices for the bistro, so stressed that my lip was chapped and bleeding. Eva came home from work, glanced at the stove, and frowned. “Still not done? Just whip something up we can eat.” I had hoped she might offer to help, even just to wash some vegetables. “I’m swamped, Eva,” I pleaded. “Could you maybe…” She cut me off, her voice flat. “I don’t cook, Leo. You know that. Let’s just order takeout.” She said it so matter-of-factly. Just like she always did. Every time I was drowning in the stress of keeping the bistro afloat; every time I stayed up until the early hours of the morning perfecting a new recipe; every time she saw my hands shaking from sheer exhaustion—she just stood by, offering a simple, dismissive, “I don’t cook.” It turns out, it wasn’t that she couldn’t. She just wouldn’t. Not for me. In the video, she saw a tiny drop of hot oil splash near Ross and immediately grabbed his hand, inspecting it with frantic concern. “We have to protect Jules,” she said to the camera, “not a single scratch.” But I remembered last month when I threw out my back hauling sacks of flour. I was sweating through my shirt from the pain, and she just watched me, finally saying, “If you can’t handle it, then don’t do it. Why push yourself?” The brutal contrast was a freezing tide washing over my heart, a dull, suffocating ache. This bistro was my father’s life’s work. On his deathbed, he had gripped my hand and made me promise to keep it going. I had poured every cent of my savings, every ounce of my soul into it. I barely ate, barely slept. I was stretched as taut as a violin string. Eva saw all of it. She had the skill to save this place. A single demonstration of her talent could have been the lifeline we needed. But she chose to hide it. She chose to watch my father’s legacy, my entire world, slide slowly into bankruptcy. She even played along with my stupid video, acting the part of the kitchen disaster, leaving me to struggle alone in my despair. I switched off the video and took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to calm the storm raging in my chest. No, I can’t think like that. Maybe… maybe she had her reasons. Everyone has a past. And besides the cooking, she was a good wife. She contributed her salary to the household, remembered my birthday and our son’s, and brought me a glass of water when I was sick. She wasn’t overly affectionate with our son, Toby, but she held him, she took care of him. She did her duty as a mother. I had to believe there was more to the story. I decided to give myself, and our family, one more chance. I called her, forcing my voice to sound calm and sincere. “Eva, you know what this bistro means to me. It’s the last piece of my dad I have left.” My voice trembled, betraying me. “It’s about to go under. I’m asking you, just this once, to please… please cook something for real. Do it for me. Can you do that?” There was a pause on the other end, and then her voice came back, laced with that familiar impatience. “Leo, I don’t cook. You’ve always known that.” In that instant, my heart sank to the bottom of a cold, dark ocean. My voice was barely a whisper, but it carried the weight of all my broken hope. “Then what about ‘Eva & Ross’s Table’?” 2 The line went silent for a moment. When Eva spoke again, her voice was as calm and placid as ever. “Since you know, I might as well be clear.” There was no hesitation, no attempt to hide. Each word was a sharp, deliberate cut into my heart. “I promised Jules my cooking was for him and him alone. That’s a promise I made to him, and I won’t break it for anyone.” A promise? For a promise to another man, she would stand by and watch my entire world crumble? A wave of fury, mixed with a bitter taste of despair, crashed over me. “So that’s it?” I demanded, my voice shaking. “You’d just watch the bistro die? Watch me drown in anxiety every single day? Eva, with your reputation, you wouldn’t even have to cook! You could just show up, say a few words, or—or even just let me use your name! That alone could have saved us!” My voice rose to a sharp, unfamiliar pitch. Eva just listened quietly. When I was done shouting, she delivered her final, cruel blow. “That bistro was always going to fail, Leo. Stop fighting a losing battle.” Her words severed my last thread of hope. “You’re disgusting, Eva.” I spat the words out with what little defiance I had left and hung up, feeling like all the strength had been drained from my body. Just then, a notification popped up on my screen. 【Eva & Ross’s Table is LIVE! Ross’s back in the country for a surprise reunion with Eva!】 My thumb moved on its own, clicking the link. There was Ross, as charming as ever. And next to him, wearing an apron and expertly tossing a wok, was my wife. The woman who, in my kitchen, couldn’t tell salt from sugar was now a whirlwind of graceful precision, her control over the heat and ingredients absolute. She would occasionally turn to speak with Ross, her eyes filled with a focus and warmth I had never, ever seen directed at me. “Be careful, Jules. It’s hot.” She took a plate from his hands, her movements gentle and natural. Then, a little boy, maybe five or six years old, appeared on camera. Ross introduced him as his son, who was fascinated by cooking. Eva knelt, her patience seemingly infinite, and guided the boy’s hands as he tried to chop a vegetable. Her voice was softer than I’d ever heard it. “That’s right, sweetheart, keep your wrist steady. You’re so smart.” She called him sweetheart. She smiled at him with such genuine tenderness. My son, Toby… she would hold him sometimes, but she had never once shown him that kind of patient affection. When Toby would bring her a picture book, begging for a story, she’d always say, “Mommy’s tired.” When he proudly showed her a gold star he’d earned at preschool, she’d offer a lukewarm, “Hmm, that’s nice.” … These images were razor blades, shredding the last of my delusions. I closed the livestream, my chest heaving, but my eyes remained stubbornly dry. Just then, the front door opened. It was Toby, home from school. He didn’t even take off his little backpack before he threw himself into my arms and burst into tears. “Daddy… sniff… the other kids said… they said Mommy doesn’t want us anymore… They said she has a new baby now, and she doesn’t want Toby…” He sobbed hysterically, his little face turning red. “I want Mommy! I can’t live without Mommy…” Seeing my son’s raw fear and pain extinguished the fire of my own rage. My resolve to burn everything to the ground vanished. He was right. Toby needed his mother. What would happen to him if Eva and I were at war? I held my son tight, forcing myself to breathe, to calm down. I decided to give her one last chance. I sent her a text. “Toby’s birthday is tomorrow. Be home early.” It took a long time for her to reply. “Got it.” 3 The clock struck ten. On the dining table, the birthday dinner I’d made for Toby had been reheated for the third time. Toby had gone from bouncing with excitement, to anxiously peering out the window, to now, curled up in the corner of the sofa, his little head nodding with sleep. He was still clutching the drawing he had made for his mom. “Daddy, did Mommy forget?” he mumbled, rubbing his sleepy eyes, his voice thick with disappointment. “Mommy’s probably just busy with work…” I said, the excuse tasting like ash in my mouth. I didn’t even believe it myself. The hands on the clock ticked mercilessly past midnight. His birthday was over. My heart sank into the darkness with the night. I stared at the plate of sweet and sour ribs, now misshapen and dull from being reheated so many times. I remembered when we were first married; even though she wouldn’t cook, she would at least look at this dish when I served it and say, “It’s delicious.” When did even that small, feigned warmth disappear? This marriage was just like this dish—spoiled, sticky, and giving off a sickening stench. I called her one last time. It rang for a long time before she picked up. The background was a chaotic symphony of voices and clattering cookware, a stark contrast to the dead silence of my home. “Hello?” Her voice was sharp with the impatience of being busy. “Eva, where are you? It was Toby’s birthday. You promised…” “Something came up. I can’t make it back.” She cut me off without a hint of apology, as if she were canceling a casual coffee date. My knuckles turned white as I gripped the phone. “What could possibly be more important than your son’s birthday?” “Jules needs help calibrating the equipment for the livestream. I can’t leave,” she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Then her tone shifted, becoming demanding. “By the way, that batch of black truffles you got—they’re still at the bistro, right? Bring them over now. Ross needs them for his next dish.” I was stunned into silence, then let out a cold, bitter laugh. That batch of top-grade black truffles… I had pulled so many strings, gone through hell and back, and used nearly the last of my cash flow to get them. I was banking on them for a new signature dish, a final, desperate attempt to save my restaurant. “Those truffles are for—” I started, trying to explain how important they were to me. “I know you got them,” she interrupted again, her voice dripping with undisguised contempt. “But that kind of ingredient is wasted on you. Its true potential can only be realized in the hands of a real chef, like Ross. Stop wasting time and bring them over. We need them now.” Wasted on me? In her eyes, all my effort, all my passion, was just a waste? And whatever Ross needed was simply her command? The dam of resentment, anger, and humiliation that had been building not just all night, but for years, finally burst. My voice trembled, but the words came out with chilling clarity. “Evelyn! Have you no shame?!” I slammed the phone down. The tears finally came, hot and furious, but I bit my lip, refusing to make a sound. A small, warm hand gently touched my cheek. Toby was awake, standing in front of me. His own face was streaked with tears, but he looked at me with a solemnity far beyond his years. “Daddy, don’t cry,” he said. “Mommy’s bad. She made Daddy sad. I don’t want her anymore either.” My son’s words were like a splash of ice water, instantly dousing the flames of my rage and replacing them with a cold, hard clarity. The family I had fought so desperately to hold together was, in Eva’s eyes, something she could cast aside at a moment’s notice. Could my son ever truly be happy in a home like this? I took a deep breath, wiped my tears, and pulled Toby into a hug. In that moment, my decision was made. I stood up, walked to the bookshelf, and took down a dusty folder. Inside were our marriage certificate and our family’s official documents. I placed them on the table, my gaze calm. Since she was so busy being a mother to someone else’s child, my son and I didn’t need her anymore. 4 Meanwhile, at Ross’s studio, preparations for the live broadcast were in full swing. Eva stared at her phone, frowning. Her calls to me were going straight to voicemail. “What’s wrong? Hasn’t Leo brought the truffles yet?” Ross asked, handing her a glass of water. His voice was gentle, but a flicker of calculation crossed his eyes. He sighed dramatically. “I bet he’s still mad at me… It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have asked you to do this. I know he’s in a tough spot right now, so it’s only natural he’d take it out on you… It’s just a shame it might affect tonight’s broadcast…” Eva rubbed her temples, annoyed. Leo had never been this defiant before. “It’s fine,” she said coolly, turning to an assistant. “Go to The Hearthstone Bistro. Go to the back kitchen and get that batch of black truffles.” The assistant nodded and left. With the addition of the premium ingredient, Ross’s livestream was a massive success. The reunion of the legendary pair ignited a wave of nostalgia across the internet, and the video went viral overnight. The next day, the media descended on them like vultures. Ross smiled at the cameras, the picture of refined charm. “I really have to thank Eva for last night’s success. Without her, none of this would have been possible. The chemistry between us… it’s never changed.” The implication in his words sent a ripple of excitement through the reporters. One journalist pushed a microphone towards Eva. “It seems your connection with Mr. Grey is truly special! Will you two be officially teaming up again to bring back the glory of ‘Eva & Ross’s Table’?” Eva faced the flashing cameras, her expression as calm as ever. “No,” she said after a moment’s thought. “I have a family to consider. I have to respect my husband’s feelings. It wouldn’t be appropriate.” As she finished, a strange, awkward silence fell over the crowd. The smile on Ross’s face froze. Just then, a reporter in the back raised his phone high in the air. “Ms. Burke, are you referring to your husband, Leo?” he shouted. “Because this morning, your husband posted a new video on his social media.” “It was a divorce announcement.” 5 The reporter’s words were a thunderclap in Eva’s ears. A divorce announcement? She instinctively pulled out her phone. On my social media page, the embarrassing “kitchen disaster” video was gone. In its place was a new, pinned video with a simple black-and-white thumbnail. 【Moving On. A Statement on My Divorce.】 The caption underneath was even more cutting: “Your talent belongs to someone else. My future belongs to me.” The comment section was a war zone. Some accused me of riding her coattails for fame, others sympathized with my situation, and many tagged her directly, asking if she had cheated. The more Eva read, the tighter her frown became, and a sense of dread washed over her. “Eva, don’t worry,” Ross whispered, his voice laced with the perfect amount of concern. “Leo is probably just being impulsive… He probably saw how well we work together and got jealous. This is just his way of getting your attention…” On any other day, Eva might have found his words comforting. But now, her mind was a chaotic mess. She turned and walked away from the press conference without another word. Ross, stunned for a second, hurried after her. Eva dialed my number again and again, only to be met with the cold tone of a busy signal. She sped home. The house was eerily quiet. Most of my and Toby’s belongings were gone, making the living room feel vast and empty. On the coffee table sat a crisp, new set of divorce papers. A flame of anger ignited in her chest. Her first thought was the bistro—the only thing she knew I still cared about. She stormed into The Hearthstone Bistro to find me at the stove, my back to her, calmly sautéing vegetables. Ross immediately stepped forward, putting on his best puppy-dog face. “Leo, please don’t misunderstand Eva. It’s all my fault. I’m the one who begged her to help… We’re just colleagues, really. She’s always telling me how wonderful you are, how much you’ve sacrificed for your family…” Wonderful? I almost laughed out loud. Eva seized on his words as if they were proof. “Did you hear that? Ross is defending you. He’s not like you, throwing tantrums, giving the silent treatment, and threatening divorce!” I turned off the stove, plated the food, and finally turned to face them. My eyes were cold, devoid of any warmth. “Did you read the papers? Sign them. Toby and I will be moved out in a few days.” Seeing my unyielding resolve, a flash of panic crossed Ross’s eyes. He stepped closer, his voice cracking with manufactured pain. “Leo, how could you? Can’t we talk about this? Why would you use divorce, use your own child, to blackmail Eva? Toby is so young! What’s he going to do?” Eva’s eyes lit up with understanding. She composed herself, looking down at me with a condescending air. “Don’t think you can control me with Toby and this divorce stunt, Leo. Take down the announcement right now, and we can talk.” I finally met their gaze, and the raw disgust and ice in my eyes made Eva flinch.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “387766”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 Three years after I broke up with Ethan, I returned to Riverton only to become the town’s laughingstock. They all said I was a fool who couldn’t see the diamond right in front of me, who willingly threw away the prize of a lifetime. Some even whispered that I was back to win Ethan over, hoping to use him to pull the Vance family back from the brink of ruin. The rumors swirled, growing more vicious by the day, but I paid them no mind. Then, I ran into Ethan’s protégé, Zoe, at a restaurant—the same woman who had wedged herself between us three years ago. As Zoe’s taunts washed over me, my gaze drifted past her to Ethan, who stood silently by the entrance. I decided then and there to shatter his cool composure. “Ethan,” I said, my voice clear and steady, “when have you ever known me to turn back?” … My words hung in the air, plunging the bustling restaurant into a sudden, dead silence. The other patrons, who had been eagerly watching the drama unfold, now held their breath, their eyes fixed on Ethan’s darkening expression. No one dared to make a sound. Zoe turned, and upon seeing Ethan, she flitted to his side like a hummingbird drawn to a flower. “Good that you know your place,” she chirped, her voice dripping with scorn. “You’re not nearly good enough for him now.” … She spoke with the unshakeable confidence of someone who had always been cherished by him, each word a carefully crafted jab meant to belittle me. Ethan’s eyes flickered at her words. His dark, intense gaze was like a vortex, threatening to pull me in and swallow me whole. He said nothing, simply allowing Zoe to continue her thinly veiled insults. It was a scene chillingly familiar, a perfect echo of the past three years. Ever since Zoe entered our lives, it had always been the two of them, standing together, against me. “Eleanor.” My best friend, Claire, returned to my side, her presence a solid anchor. She glanced at Zoe, who was now clinging possessively to Ethan’s arm. “Well, well,” Claire scoffed. “Look at them. The bastard and the bitch, finally a pair.” Her words sliced through the tense air, and the atmosphere crackled with hostility. “You…” Zoe’s cheeks flushed with rage. “Ethan, did you hear what she just—” she whined, tugging at his sleeve. Claire leaned in, whispering in my ear, “Disgusting.” I couldn’t help it; a small laugh escaped my lips. Ethan’s gaze snapped to me, his eyes narrowing. “Eleanor, control your friend.” His cold, commanding tone was a blade that sent me hurtling back three years into the past. Seeing him today had resurrected all the ghosts I thought I’d left behind. I took Claire’s hand and stepped slightly in front of her, facing him directly. “Ethan, you control your woman,” I retorted, my voice as sharp as his. “Don’t let her out in public if all she’s going to do is bite.” Then, I turned my head, my eyes locking with Zoe’s. “The bone you’re fighting so desperately for is one I’ve already thrown away,” I said, my voice low and cutting. “Where I stand, he’s the one who isn’t good enough for me.” With that, I took Claire’s hand and walked toward the door. As I passed Ethan, I saw the tight, white-knuckled fist clenched at his side. It turns out, words that cut deep are surprisingly simple to say. But I wasn’t just trying to hurt him. It was the truth. From the moment he started taking Zoe’s side, again and again, he had ceased to be worthy of me in my heart. The man I love can be poor, he can be unsuccessful. But he must, without question, be in my corner, always. He cannot stand with another woman, using cold logic to tell me I’m wrong. 2 “Damn, Eleanor! It’s like you went away and got a Ph.D. in clapbacks.” Claire was still buzzing with excitement on the drive home. After all, three years ago, Zoe’s taunts would often leave me speechless and fuming. This time, I was the one who left them both pale with rage. I offered a small smile, feeling myself retreat into the quiet, reserved person I used to be. Claire reached over and gently pinched my cheek. “There she is. My sweet little lamb.” Honestly, everything I’d said back there was fueled by a surge of protective anger. I didn’t care what they said about me, but Claire had stood up for me. I couldn’t let them tear her down. I didn’t need to explain that to her, though. “I guess being cooped up in the hospital for so long left me with a lot of pent-up frustration,” I said quietly. “It all just came out.” Hearing this, Claire waited for a red light, then reached over and patted my head gently. “Congratulations,” she said, her voice soft. “You finally made it back from the gates of hell.” Her words struck a chord deep inside me, and suddenly, I felt an overwhelming urge to cry. In this entire world, Claire was the only one who knew I had been sick. But three years ago, the moment the doctor handed me that diagnosis, the only person I wanted to find was Ethan. I searched for him all day. I called. I texted. I contacted his friends, his colleagues. No one knew where he was. They only knew he’d driven off somewhere with Zoe. He was unreachable. Only Claire, sensing the panic in my voice over the phone, had rushed to my side. She was the one who took me back to the hospital, who spoke with the doctors, who found out about a specialized research program overseas. By the time night fell, we were both emotionally and physically drained. And that’s when Ethan finally showed up. He saw the two of us, his expression unreadable. “Eleanor, you were looking for me? My phone died today.” Claire, incensed, lunged forward to confront him, but I held her back. “Claire, I need to talk to him alone.” Though she was still furious, she respected my wish and left. The apartment was suffocatingly quiet. Ethan stood before me. After a long moment, he came and sat beside me on the couch. The cushion sank under his weight as he pulled me into his arms. “There was an issue with some experimental data at the company today,” he began, his voice a low murmur against my hair. “It was Zoe’s section, so I went back to the lab with her to sort it out. My phone was off, I didn’t see your messages. Eleanor, don’t be angry. I’ll be more careful from now on.” His words were a dam breaking inside me, and tears flooded my eyes. I fought them back, refusing to let them fall. The scent clinging to him had changed. It was no longer his familiar cologne, but something else… laced with a cloyingly sweet fragrance, the kind a younger girl would wear. It was faint, but it made my stomach churn. But I couldn’t bear to let go. Not yet. So I said, “Ethan, Zoe has feelings for you. Can you please fire her?” He pulled away, his hands falling from my shoulders. He studied my face, and when his gaze met my tear-filled eyes, I saw his fingertips tremble. A long silence stretched between us before he finally spoke, his voice frustratingly rational. “If I fire her, she might not be able to graduate. Besides, what you’re saying… it’s just your assumption. Eleanor, I can’t ruin her life based on a suspicion.” … He kept talking, his logical explanations filling the air, but all I could hear was a dull roar as my world turned to gray. “Fine,” I said, my voice heavy with exhaustion, cutting through his monologue. “Then let’s break up.” My words stopped him cold. He left in a storm of anger, slamming the door behind him. But just before he disappeared, he shot back a furious question. “Eleanor, what’s wrong with you? When did you become like this?” He stormed out so quickly, he never heard my whispered reply. “Ethan, I’m sick.” A sharp pain lanced through my chest. I curled into a ball on the couch, my body trembling as silent tears finally soaked into the pillow. In this world, nothing is less reliable than the human heart. So I refused to gamble on it, refused to bet on his loyalty. I just wanted a definitive answer. And really, all I wanted was to get rid of the woman circling my partner before I left the country for treatment. What was so wrong with that? 3 I never contacted Ethan again after that day. I moved out of the villa we shared, leaving behind every gift he had ever given me. I took only what was mine. The day before I was due to fly out, Claire asked me, “Are you really not going to tell him?” My hands, busy packing, paused for a moment. I shook my head. “There’s no point.” After she left, I sat motionless for a long time. My fingers, acting of their own accord, found my phone and opened my chat with Ethan. The screen was filled with the messages I had sent that day: [Ethan, where are you?] [Ethan, why aren’t you picking up?] [Ethan…] … Countless messages, all met with a single, hollow explanation. And that final, damning question: “When did you become like this?” The memory was a physical blow, and I doubled over, clutching my chest. Just then, my phone rang. It was Ethan. “Eleanor…” Before he could say more, Zoe’s voice cut through from his end. “Ethan, you’ve had way too much to drink.” The words I had been about to say died in my throat. I just listened, silent, to the rustle of fabric and Zoe’s concerned murmurs as she fussed over him. The call ended. I stared at the chat screen. At the top, the “typing…” bubble appeared, then vanished. Appeared, then vanished again. Finally, it disappeared for good, leaving nothing behind. In the dead of night, in those few short hours, I replayed the entire fifteen years of our history together. From my parents’ funeral, where he stood by my side greeting mourners, to his parents’ funeral, where I stood by his. In the eyes of everyone who knew us, we were already life partners, inseparable. But everything changed the moment he started arguing with me over Zoe. I had told him more than once that she was in love with him. He always dismissed it as my imagination, my paranoia. Perhaps she was just that good at hiding it in front of him. But I had seen it. I had seen the look in her eyes when she thought he wasn’t watching. It was a look of intense, burning adoration. [Ethan, I’m leaving the country.] [Don’t call me anymore.] [We’re over.] After sending the messages, I blocked him everywhere. On every platform. It was decisive, absolute, leaving no room for doubt. I was afraid. Afraid that if I left even the smallest crack open, my weak heart would betray me, and I would find myself unable to let him go. I knew, with absolute clarity, that I still loved him. But I was so, so tired. Tired of the endless fights over Zoe. Tired of watching him stand on her side, criticizing me, refuting my feelings. He said I had changed. But what woman could tolerate a rival hovering around the man she loved? When I needed him most, he was with her. When I found out from his own company that he had left with Zoe that day, I thought I was going to lose my mind. If Claire hadn’t been there to catch me, I would have collapsed right then and there. The memories replayed all the way home, a past that needed to be left behind. When I arrived, Claire asked, “Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you for your check-up tomorrow?” I shook my head. “It’s just to get my file set up. Nothing major. If there’s a real problem, I’ll have to go back overseas for treatment anyway.” I knew she had just taken on a huge new project and was incredibly busy. She was my best friend, but she had her own life to live. Claire sighed. “Okay. But you have to promise to call me if anything happens.” After she left, I stood by the door for a long time. Suddenly, I didn’t feel so alone in the world anymore. I might have lost love, but I still had my friendship. 4 On the drive to the hospital, my mind drifted back to my time abroad. During that last year, I lived completely on my own. My parents had died in a car crash, and for the longest time, I thought I’d never get behind the wheel again. But after missing the bus a few too many times, I had no choice. If I wanted to get to the research institute for my treatments, I had to drive. The first time I got in the car, my entire body trembled. I crawled along the whole way at less than 25 miles per hour. But slowly, I got used to it. The old Eleanor Vance, the one who depended on others for everything, had, step by painful step, learned to stand on her own. Now, here I was, sitting alone in a hospital corridor, clutching my latest report. The doctor said I was recovering well, but I’d need a check-up every six months to watch for any recurrence. In that moment, it finally hit me, with breathtaking clarity: I had stared death in the face, and I had won. That year of lonely hospital rooms. The three times I was wheeled out of surgery. The moments I felt myself slipping away. I survived. I wanted to smile, but tears came first. At the beginning, I had wanted to give up. Death had seemed like a release, a welcome escape. But now I knew. I wanted to live. Tears splashed onto the report, blurring the ink. In this hallway, my weeping wasn’t out of place. It was a space that held the desperate pleas of the dying and the euphoric relief of the reborn. I don’t know how long I sat there, but eventually, a handkerchief was offered to me. Embroidered on the corner was a familiar spray of freesia. I looked up, my vision still hazy with tears. “Eleanor.” Ethan’s face was a mask of calm, but the hand holding the handkerchief trembled for a fraction of a second. I didn’t take it. I used the crumpled tissue in my own hand to wipe my cheeks. Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I stood up and walked past him, our shoulders brushing. “Eleanor,” he called out behind me. I was walking too fast, and his next words were lost to the sterile echo of the hallway. I had more important things to do than get tangled up with Ethan, to listen to whatever words of pity or regret he had to offer. Outside the hospital, I texted Claire the good news. She must have been busy, as she didn’t reply right away. Then, I drove to North Ridge Cemetery. At the foot of the hill, I bought two bouquets of flowers. One for my parents, and the other for his. After my parents passed, they had treated me like their own daughter. Whatever had happened between Ethan and me, I would always be grateful for their kindness. After placing the flowers on their grave, I went to my parents’. “Mom, Dad,” I whispered, wiping a fresh tear from my eye as I looked at their loving faces in the photograph. “I’m going to live for a very, very long time. That’s good news, right?” I leaned against the cool stone of the steps, imagining it was their embrace. I stayed there for a long time, until Claire finally came to find me and take me home. Before she left, I gave her a tight hug. “Claire, thank you. For always being there for me.” She pushed me away gently, her expression serious. “Don’t get all sappy on me.” I smiled, not pointing out the tell-tale shimmer in her eyes. I knew she was just as happy for me as I was. When I got upstairs, I saw him again. Ethan was waiting outside my apartment door. The truth was, Ethan and I were never the kind of people who could be severed by one person’s decision. We had known each other since childhood; our families were best friends. He knew about the properties in my name, and I knew where he lived. That’s why that first year abroad had been so excruciating. He knew exactly where I was, but he never came for me. Seeing me, Ethan’s head snapped up. The composed, indifferent façade he had worn earlier shattered completely. His eyes were red-rimmed, his hands trembling as he reached for me, yet he didn’t dare touch me. The motion-sensor light in the hallway flickered on, then off again. In the faint moonlight filtering through the window, I heard his voice, ragged and raw. “Eleanor… it must have been so hard, wasn’t it?” 5 His words stirred nothing in me. The moment I moved past him, his hand shot out and grabbed my wrist. “Eleanor.” His fingers pressed down hard on the silver bracelet I wore, digging it painfully into my skin. I looked up at him, my voice cold. “Let go, Ethan.” The raw pain in his eyes was unmistakable, but he didn’t release me. “Ethan…” Suddenly, his other hand came up and covered my eyes. The world went black. I blinked in discomfort as his palm tightened slightly against my face. His voice was a desperate plea in my ear. “Eleanor, please… don’t look at me like that.” His words were so absurd, I almost laughed. Before I could struggle, the pressure on my wrist vanished. He let me go, but only for a second. The next moment, I was pulled into his arms, trapped in an embrace I couldn’t break. “Eleanor, Eleanor, just for a moment,” he begged, his voice muffled against my shoulder. “Just one moment.” He buried his face in my shoulder, his words choked with sobs. “I’m such a bastard.” “Eleanor, I’m so sorry.” “You were sick… and I never even knew.” “You must have been so scared that day.” His voice was hoarse, each word a tear-soaked confession. But it was all too late. Too late. The wounds had already scarred over. “Eleanor, I should have come for you.” That sentence sent a wave of profound sorrow through me. I waited for him for a whole year. For one entire year, I believed he would come. What I got instead were press photos from a new product launch, featuring Ethan with Zoe smiling by his side. Ethan had used his own company’s project as a launchpad to the heavens for her. In that single instant, my world had completely shattered. The ache where the bracelet had dug into my wrist was still there. Underneath it was an ugly scar. It was because of that scar that I had finally, truly, let him go. I had died once already, and I cherished the life I had now more than anything. Ethan’s whispered regrets continued, a litany of remorse breathed against my ear, like the most devout sinner confessing to his god. My patience wore thin. “Ethan, let me go,” I interrupted, my tone flat and hard. Perhaps it was the coldness in my voice that finally got through to him. He stiffened, then slowly, reluctantly, released me. When I met his gaze, I saw the unshed tears glistening in his red-rimmed eyes. My heart gave a painful lurch. The agony he felt for me in this moment was real. But the agony I felt three years ago was just as real. Remembering everything, a bitter smile touched my lips. I reached up and gently wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. “It’s too late, Ethan.” My eyes held his, unwavering. “Your apologies, your regrets… I don’t need them anymore.” 6 “Can you believe it? Ethan actually fired Zoe.” Claire dropped the bombshell during our video call, and I could practically feel her shock through the screen. “He actually let her go? Willingly?” I was just as surprised. “Yep. And the official reason was brutal. She’s going to have a hell of a time finding another job in this industry.” Claire paused, then asked tentatively, “Eleanor…” “Stop. Just stop. Whatever you’re thinking, shut it down.” After a decade of friendship, I knew exactly where her mind was going. She was worried I’d fall for him again. She gave a sheepish laugh, backing down. “Claire, I told you that day I would never turn back,” I said, my voice firm. “I meant it.” Maybe, right after we broke up, I had my moments of regret. If Ethan had fired Zoe back then and come to me, I probably would have taken him back without a second thought. But that time passed. And my heart had long since grown cold. No miracle cure could ever bring it back to life. After we hung up, I curled into a ball on the couch. It was a habit I’d picked up during that first year abroad. Back then, I was convinced Ethan would come for me. I wanted to wait for him before having the surgery. I felt like I could only be safe if he was with me. The pain was often so bad that the medicine didn’t work. I learned to curl my body up tight, and somehow, it seemed to hurt a little less. I woke the next morning feeling completely unaffected by the news. As I was getting ready to head out for a run, I glanced at the security camera feed. Ethan was standing outside my door. As if sensing my presence, he reached out and rang the doorbell. My hand tightened on the doorknob. I didn’t want to open it. I didn’t want to see him again. “Eleanor, I know you’re in there,” his voice drifted through the small speaker, tinny and distant. “Eleanor… I was so stupid.” On the blurry screen, he gave a bitter, self-deprecating smile. “All that time… you told me over and over that Zoe had feelings for me. I never believed you.” Outside my door, his shoulders slumped, and he seemed to radiate an aura of utter defeat. “I wasn’t a good partner.” “But, Eleanor… I love you. That has always been true.” His declaration, or whatever it was, felt like a joke. When I finally opened the door, he looked up, the dark circles under his eyes stark against his pale skin. I said nothing, letting my silence be his dismissal. But he ignored it, continuing as if I’d invited him to speak. “Was it because of that day?” he asked, his voice cracking. “The one time you needed me most, and I wasn’t there. Is that why? Is that why you’ll never need me again?” His eyes pleaded with me, begging me not to confirm his fears. I let my gaze drift over the decor in the hallway. We had decorated this place together. I’d only been back a few days and had neither the mood nor the energy to change it. Traces of a younger Ethan were everywhere. I sighed softly. “It wasn’t just once.” His head shot up, his eyes wide with shock. As he stared at me in disbelief, I unclasped the bracelet from my wrist. A jagged, ugly scar was revealed beneath it. The raised, keloid tissue was a testament to how hard I must have pressed down.

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Just as I was about to clock out for the day, a text message lit up my phone. A deposit of over three million dollars. Memo: Salary. My first thought was that it had to be a scam. I scrambled to open my banking app. But there it was, plain as day. Three million dollars sitting in my account. The sender? My own company. I was completely stunned. I couldn’t earn that much money in a lifetime of work. My first instinct wasn’t to keep it, but to run straight to accounting. Call me a coward, but I’d seen the news stories. Keeping quiet in a situation like this is illegal. It’s called unjust enrichment. If it went to court, paying it back would be the least of my worries. I could end up with a criminal record. I’m a man with a clean record, and I planned on keeping it that way. . 1 “Did the company just send me a wire transfer?” I asked the woman in accounting, my voice tight with urgency. Her expression was even more nervous than mine. “Yes,” she said. “And you’d best not ask me about it. I just do what the boss tells me to.” “Do you have any idea how much money you sent me?!” I exclaimed. “Are you deaf?” she snapped. “I told you, if you have a problem, take it up with the boss!” Our company was small. The accountant, Heather, also handled HR and admin. She was also the boss’s sister-in-law. She used that connection to boss everyone around, but today, her attitude was just bizarre. I was here to return a massive sum of money, and she was acting like I owed her. Our raised voices had attracted the attention of the few other people in the office. Just then, the boss poked his head out of his office. He glanced in our direction. “Cole,” he said. “My office. Now.” He shut the door. Heather shot me a triumphant glare. I had no idea what was going on, but I squared my shoulders and walked to the boss’s office. When I stepped inside, I saw the boss’s wife was there too, sitting beside him. She was dripping with jewelry, an Hermès bag perched on the desk in front of her as she casually clipped her nails. My boss, Ross, gave me a toothy smile and asked with feigned concern, “So, you have a problem with your commission?” I was completely lost. “Was that transfer my commission? The amount is wrong…” Before I could finish, Ross cut me off. “Oh, come on. Three thousand is nothing to sneeze at. In this economy, you can’t be picky.” Suddenly, it all clicked into place. A few months ago, our second team took on a new project, but the project manager had just been forced out by Ross. Ross came to me, asking me to step in and manage it. He promised me a three-percent cut of the final project value as a bonus. It was a million-dollar project. Three percent was thirty thousand dollars. Even though my own team was swamped, I’d agreed. Thirty grand was several months’ salary. I worked myself to the bone for two months, pulling strings, calling in favors, dealing with vendors, drawing up quotes. I lost ten pounds. But after the project wrapped, the promised bonus never appeared. So that was it. The client had paid today, and Ross was only planning to give me three thousand dollars. No wonder Heather was so jumpy when she saw me. If she hadn’t made that massive typo on the transfer, I would have been the world’s biggest sucker. Just to be sure, I asked cautiously, “So, the thirty-thousand-dollar commission we agreed on is now three thousand. Is that right, Ross?” The smile vanished from his face. He stared at me blankly. “You’re not satisfied with three thousand? And when did I ever promise you thirty?” “You said it yourself,” I insisted. “A three-percent cut. On a million-dollar project, isn’t that thirty thousand?” Ross actually laughed. I couldn’t figure out what was so funny. He turned to his wife. “What did I tell you? Give them an inch, they take a mile. Some employees are just ungrateful. I knew he’d make a fuss.” His wife nodded sagely. Ross turned back to me, his expression sour. “I said three percent, yes. But do you think projects run on thin air? Don’t they have costs? You’ve managed projects before. You should have that much common sense.” His words left me speechless. That wasn’t his tone when he was begging me to take over the project. He’d invited me into his office for tea, told me the company was in a tough spot and that this client was too important to lose. He’d promised me, hand on heart, that if I saved the day, I’d get not only the three-percent commission but also a promotion and a raise at the end of the year. So, according to his logic now, he’d always meant three percent of the net profit. He was just playing word games. And even if it was three percent of the net, the commission shouldn’t have been only three thousand dollars. My patience was wearing thin. “Ross, if I’d known I was going to kill myself for two months for just three grand, who in their right mind would have taken this project?” “Am I not paying you a salary on top of that?” he shot back. “Show me another company that even offers a commission for project work. I’ve been more than generous!” His words hit me like a bucket of cold water. The company was short-staffed. I had stepped up to save a major project. Even if there was no glory, there was certainly hard labor. I thought he would at least acknowledge that. I was wrong. In his eyes, giving me three thousand was an act of charity. Sensing the rising tension, his wife stepped in to play peacemaker. “Cole, you’re partly to blame here too. Why were you arguing with Heather out there? It’s bad for morale. Something that could have been discussed calmly is now impossible.” I was dumbfounded. I wasn’t arguing with Heather. I was trying to return the three million dollars she’d mistakenly sent me. The irony was laughable. Ross was playing me for a fool, and I was worried about giving him his money back. In that moment, I felt like a complete idiot. Seeing my silence, the wife continued, “And don’t blame your boss. You think he doesn’t want to give you more? Blame the client. They’re the ones who screwed us!” I looked at her, confused. The project had been exhausting, but the client, a liquor company, had been surprisingly decent. They were straightforward, no corporate nonsense, and always polite. “What did the client do?” I asked. “They cut our payment!” she declared. “You didn’t know? They only paid out half a million on a million-dollar project. That’s why Ross could only give you three thousand.” I glanced at Ross. He quickly chimed in, “That’s right! After all the costs, there’s barely anything left. And you know we’re a small company. We still owe money to suppliers, the account is nearly empty. I had to scrape this three thousand together for you because you worked hard.” Listening to them plead poverty was almost comical. Ross owed a lot of people money, sure, but the two of them never skimped on themselves. One look at his wife’s designer outfit told you that. I just couldn’t understand it. Why were they so tight-fisted when they clearly had money? When it was time to make money, they expected you to give your all. When it was time to share it, they’d rather let it rot in their hands than give you a dime. The old me might have believed their sincere performance. But with three million of their dollars sitting in my bank account, how could I? I didn’t bother calling their bluff. I just asked coldly, “Are you sure the client only paid half a million?” “Why won’t you believe me?” Ross said, his patience gone. “Would I lie to you? You want me to get Heather in here to confirm?” I took a deep breath. “Fine. Then just give me fifteen thousand. I won’t ask for more.” Ross’s eyes bulged. “Are you deaf? I just told you, there are costs to deduct!” “Alright,” I said with a sigh. “Then let’s calculate the costs. I managed the project. I know the numbers.” I regretted it now, not getting our original agreement in writing. He was going back on his word, and I had no real proof. But who could have predicted he’d be this shameless? I’d made up my mind. I would take the loss, but I was going to get as much as I could. This was also me, giving Ross one last chance. If he decided to be a decent human being, I’d return the three million. If he kept playing games and crying poor, then I’d have to start thinking about where that money should really go. Ross was taken aback. He probably thought his little song and dance with his wife would be enough to make me back down. He never expected me to dig in my heels over the commission. He stared at me in disbelief and sneered, “You want to audit me?” “It’s not an audit,” I said. “It’s about settling the account properly. I can’t just take three thousand dollars without understanding why.” I pulled out my phone, brought up the project quote, and started listing the expenses on a piece of paper right in front of him. He knew better than I did that a PR project like this had huge margins. The bulk of the cost was in media distribution, paying some content farms to post articles, hiring a few cheap influencers to make some videos, and slipping the client’s marketing head a kickback. It was all smoke and mirrors. The quote was ridiculously high, but the actual cost of the project was only about two hundred thousand dollars. Even if the client had only paid half a million, the profit was still three hundred thousand. And by his own logic, three percent of that profit should have been nine thousand dollars, not three! As I scribbled down the numbers, Ross’s face grew redder and redder. “You’re just an employee!” he finally exploded. “How dare you come in here and try to audit my books?” I tossed the pen on the desk. “What’s there to be scared of? Business is business. Look, even after costs, you’re left with over three hundred thousand.” Ross glanced at my figures and waved a dismissive hand. “Those are just the obvious costs! What about overhead? Does the office internet pay for itself? Do the lights and computers run on magic? What about the rent? Those are all costs!” I was floored. I couldn’t believe he had the gall to say that. But I was done arguing. I drew a line through my numbers and subtracted another twenty thousand. “There aren’t that many people in this company. You can’t pin the entire office’s utility bills on my project. Twenty thousand is more than generous. That still leaves two hundred and ninety thousand.” He was furious. “Are you an idiot?” he screamed. “What about the client kickback?!” Fine. I subtracted another ninety thousand. “Happy now? That’s still two hundred thousand left!” At this point, my commission had dwindled to just six thousand dollars. But I was determined. I was going to get every last cent of it. But I had clearly overestimated Ross’s moral character. He was cornered. He glared at the paper, his face twisting in anger. Suddenly, he pointed a trembling finger at me. “Fine! You want to play with numbers? Let me tell you something. Without this company, you’re nothing! You want to calculate costs? You’re the biggest cost of all!” I almost laughed. I was so angry, a laugh actually escaped. I had worked my ass off for this company, poured my soul into this project, not to mention the countless hours of unpaid overtime. And now, I was the biggest cost? “What cost am I, Ross?” I asked, my voice ice cold. “My salary is my salary, the commission is the commission. Don’t tell me you’re counting my salary as a project cost.” “Heather!” Ross roared. “Get in here! And bring Cole’s file! All of it!” A moment later, Heather walked in carrying a thick folder. I stood there, completely baffled. I worked diligently. What violations? What file? Heather shot me a cold smile and spread the documents across the desk, one by one. Ross was practically vibrating with rage. He jabbed a finger at the papers, spittle flying from his mouth. “I was trying to be nice! You got some nerve, arguing with me? Look at this! Since the day you started, how many times have you been late, left early, or been absent without leave? How do we calculate that!” I looked down at the printouts of my attendance records and my blood ran cold. So this was his “evidence.” I’d only ever seen this kind of thing in the news. Companies digging up years of attendance records to find a reason to fire someone. Even being one minute late or leaving thirty seconds early was counted. I never thought it would happen to me. I saw records dating back to 2022. Heather had them all printed out. Which meant Ross had been preparing this for a long time, just waiting for a moment to use it against me. He had gone back three full years, to the very beginning of my employment. I felt a chill run down my spine. No wonder people always said the smaller the company, the shadier it is. No wonder the project manager Ross forced out had warned me to watch my back. They had learned from bitter experience. Seeing me frozen in place, Ross sneered, “See for yourself. You should be grateful we’ve kept you around this long!” Heather added with a smirk, “What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue? You were pretty cocky when you were demanding an audit from me earlier. Don’t worry, I’ve got a record of everything.” I was shaking with rage. When I was hired, Ross himself told me that small companies were flexible and that clocking in was just a formality. Now, those same instances were being used as evidence against me. And many of those “late” arrivals were because I had been working at the office until three or four in the morning! How was I supposed to show up on time after that? I glared at Heather. “Are you serious?! You know damn well why I was late!” She stared past me, a smug look on her face. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. You never reported anything to me.” “I was working overtime on the project!” I yelled. “Ross knew! How could I possibly get up on time after working that late?” “Did we force you to work overtime?” she retorted, her voice dripping with condescension. “No. That sounds like a personal efficiency problem.” She threw her hands up. “Why should we have to pay for your problems?” She glanced at Ross and his wife, who both nodded in approval. Looking at her smug, punchable face, I felt a murderous rage boil up inside me. I had voluntarily worked overtime to get the project done, and now they were using it as leverage against me. And to think, I was actually going to return their three million dollars. Just then, the boss’s wife coughed. “That’s enough, Heather. No need to rub it in. Why don’t you step out and let me have a word with Cole.” Heather shot me a look of contempt. “I just can’t stand his arrogance. My brother-in-law is a successful business owner, and even he doesn’t nitpick over every penny like this.” She gathered the attendance records from the desk and reluctantly left the office. Once she was gone, the wife put on a sincere expression. She sighed and said, “Cole, I don’t usually get involved in company business, but you’ve really gone too far this time.” “How have I gone too far?” I asked, confused. “Relationships are a two-way street,” she said sagely. “How your boss treats you, and how you treat him in return… it’s all very clear, isn’t it?” Ross, hearing his wife’s words, put on a magnanimous air. “Cole, I might have been a bit heated earlier. But think about it. Without the company as a platform, where would you get the chance to manage a project like this? I gave you an opportunity. And what do you do? Instead of being grateful, you turn on me.” I stared at them, dumbfounded. How could they say things like that? This was a simple business transaction: I do the work, you pay me. But in their world, my job was some kind of moral test. It was an opportunity they had graciously bestowed upon me, and I was expected to be eternally grateful. But one thing his wife said stuck with me. Relationships are a two-way street. They were clever. But I wasn’t a fool anymore. “Are you sure about that?” I asked coldly. “That it’s a two-way street?” “Of course,” she said. “As long as you buckle down and do your job from now on, we can pretend none of this ever happened.” “And the commission is off the table?” I pressed. “What do you think?” Ross snapped. “Of course, you’re free to leave the company. In that case, I’ll just consider that three thousand dollars as a handout to an ungrateful dog.” I nodded. “Alright. I’ll think about it.” The wife smiled. “We know this is a lot to take in… Why don’t you take some time? We have to go meet a client, but we’ll be right back.” With that, she grabbed Ross and they hurried out of the office. As I watched them leave, a stampede of a thousand wild animals thundered through my mind. This was absolutely insane. These two bloodsucking capitalists reneged on a promised commission, threatened me with termination, and were now trying to gaslight me? Fine. Let’s play. Even if I lose my job, I’m out a few months’ salary. But you two? You won’t see a single cent of that three million dollars by the end of today. I took a moment to calm myself. The coast was clear. I pulled out my phone and called my wife. “Honey,” I said, “I need you to go to the bank right now. Withdraw the maximum amount you can from my account. In cash.” She was terrified. “Did you do something illegal?” “Don’t ask questions. Just get the money. I’ll explain everything tonight.” After hanging up, I dialed another number, a supplier. “Hey, Sam? It’s Cole. I need you to find out how much money our company owes in outstanding debts. The boss is settling all accounts today.” Sam was ecstatic. “What?! Did hell freeze over? Since when does that deadbeat Ross pay his bills?” “No time to explain. Just find out who else he owes money to, and fast!” “Well, I know of at least five or six other suppliers off the top of my head,” he said. “We’re talking two, maybe three million in total.” “Perfect,” I said, my heart pounding. “Tell every single one of them to get down to the office right now. If they’re late, I can’t guarantee they’ll get paid.” Sam was skeptical. “Brother, are you messing with me? We’ve tried to collect from that bastard a dozen times. He always dodges us.” “He’ll see you today,” I assured him. “If security tries to stop you at the door, just force your way up.” After hanging up, worried he still might not believe me, I sent him a screenshot of the three-million-dollar deposit. A series of three triumphant emojis popped up in response, and then silence. Just as I finished my calls, the boss walked back in, looking pleased as punch.

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A decade after leaving home, I saw my sister at our alma mater. She was a rising psychology star, giving a lecture. I was in the crowd, a bubble tea courier. She told the hall, “My work is for my brother Alan. I’ll cure his depression, no matter how long it takes.” Our parents beamed with pride in the front row—until they spotted me. My father found me outside, his voice strained. “You chose this? Hiding from us? Struggling?” They stood speechless until I mumbled, “Excuse me, my daughter’s waiting.” They erupted. “What woman would marry you like this?” my mother spat. “Marrying on a whim, having a child you can’t raise properly! Another failure!” “We’re renowned professors! You were top of your class! And you throw it all away?!” I just stared, bewildered. They were the ones who’d accused me of poisoning my brother, who’d ruined my life. Now I had my own family, my own peace. What more did they want? 1 Before I could answer, the Dean of Students rushed over, grabbing my arm to help my parents restrain me. “Professor Vance, I got him! Is this the delivery guy who tried to steal from you?” he panted, turning to glare at me. “I’ve always said we shouldn’t let people like this on campus! These lowlifes will do anything for a buck!” He jabbed a finger at my face, completely oblivious to the fact that I was once his prized student, the one he boasted was a shoo-in for the Ivy League. My father’s face went crimson, as if he’d been slapped in public. He looked even more flustered than I felt. “No, he’s not a thief! He’s…” He stammered, the words failing him, until he finally forced out three through clenched teeth. “I know him.” The dean’s hand fell away, his eyes darting between me and my parents, confusion clouding his features. I kept my head down and pushed my scooter forward, trying to get away. My mother scurried after me, her voice dripping with frustrated disappointment. “Ethan, you can be angry with us, but that’s no reason to debase yourself! Come home with us! We’ll find you a respectable job, so you don’t have to endure this shame!” I bent down, stuck the key in the ignition, and turned it. “There’s no need,” I said, my voice flat. “I’m doing just fine.” My mother stomped her foot, infuriated by my “willingness to wallow in mediocrity.” She grabbed my handlebars, her face darkening as she prepared to unleash a torrent of abuse, but she was cut off by my sister, Ruby, who had just finished her lecture. “Mom, what are you doing? We need to go. We promised to celebrate Alan’s birthday! You know how he gets… that little crybaby will start weeping buckets if we’re late…” Ruby’s voice, full of doting affection, trailed off as she got closer and finally saw who she was talking to. The master of emotional control, the psychology expert, suddenly had red-rimmed eyes. She looked down, as if explaining herself to the pavement. “Alan’s condition… it hasn’t improved. He needs us all there to sing ‘Happy Birthday,’ or he’ll cry for days. He’s not like you, he can’t…” But I only cared about one thing. “Are you done?” My mother and my father, who had just walked over, both flinched. This wasn’t the son they remembered. There was a time I couldn’t stop talking to them, desperate for their attention. I would shove my math competition trophies and perfect report cards in their faces, even as they tore them up, scolding me, “Don’t you dare upset your brother!” Now, I just pointed to the faded, washed-out apron I was wearing. “The bubble tea shop gets busy around this time.” Ignoring their complicated stares, I continued, “I have a lot of orders, and I need to clean up the shop to avoid any complaints. Please, move.” They started to argue, to try and persuade me to quit, but Ruby placed a hand on their shoulders, forcing a stiff smile onto her face. “Dad, Mom, let’s not push it. We did just show up unannounced.” After all these years, my sister had developed a surprising trace of empathy. She held out a business card. “If you need anything, call me.” I glanced at the card, at the gold-embossed lettering, the title of ‘Internationally Certified Specialist,’ and the prestigious downtown office address. I almost laughed. “I won’t.” “I just sell bubble tea,” I said, meeting her eyes. “Besides, if Alan found out we were in contact, his depression might take a nosedive.” That one sentence was enough. It stopped their arguments cold. I pushed my mother’s hand away and swung my leg over the scooter. I heard a few frantic footsteps behind me, but they stopped as a phone began to ring, replaced by anxious cries. “Alan, please, stop crying!” “You’re breaking our hearts!” “Ruby brought you a special gift all the way from Europe…” I rode off, the wind whipping against me, chilling me to the bone. On the way, I picked up some groceries. When I got back to the shop, my daughter, Rosie, launched herself into my arms. “Daddy, I missed you so much!” “It’s cold out! Let Rosie warm up your hands!” She took my hands in her tiny ones, rubbing them together and breathing little puffs of warm air onto my skin. She had the same earnest, goofy look as her mother. It made me smile. “Yay, Daddy’s smiling! You looked so serious when you came in, I was scared…” I froze, about to reassure her, when my wife, Mia, who had closed her own work early to help mind the shop, pulled me toward her and started examining me from head to toe. “What are you doing? Are you crazy?” I asked. Her eyes were wide with worry. “A student who came in earlier said you ran into some trouble at the university today?” she whispered. “She said it was with that famous law professor, Dr. Evelyn Vance! The one who wouldn’t let you leave…” Mia frowned. “But that doesn’t make sense! I’ve seen her interviews. She’s so devoted to her younger son, the one with depression. She seems like such a good person. How could you possibly have gotten on her bad side?” 2 I gently pulled away from Mia’s embrace and walked over to the counter, grabbing a cloth and wiping away at a non-existent water stain with furious energy. “It’s nothing,” I muttered. “It’s all in the past.” She watched me for a few seconds. “We’re a family, Ethan.” “Yeah, I know.” I turned my back, printing out an order and starting to mix a drink. Mia went back to helping customers and manning the register. Several times, she braved the biting wind to make deliveries for me. Our daughter sat quietly at a small table, her homework spread out before her. Whenever I looked tired, she would climb onto a little stool, reaching up on her tiptoes. “You worked hard, Daddy! Let Rosie give you a shoulder massage!” Later that night, when the last customer had left, I finally gave in to Mia’s worried gaze and sighed. “Alright. Seeing as they’re not going to give up, I guess I can’t hide it from you forever.” “Dr. Evelyn Vance… is my mother.” She was the woman who gave birth to me. And she was the woman who had sworn I was a monster, who told the world I had maliciously tried to poison my own brother. Mia shook her head frantically, her eyes wide with disbelief. I gave a bitter laugh. What did it matter if she didn’t believe it? The case was closed. I just laid out the facts, my voice devoid of emotion. In that house, I was a disappointment from the day I was born. My parents and my sister were the geniuses. Ruby took her college entrance exams at nine and had her PhD from an Ivy League school by fifteen, poised for a brilliant career abroad. At five, I was still playing in the mud. My parents rushed me to get my IQ tested, only to have the results confirm their fears: I was utterly, painfully average. From then on, I was handed over to the nanny. “When are Mommy and Daddy coming to see me?” I’d ask, day after day. “Be a good boy, Ethan. They’re very busy,” she would say. That answer was the soundtrack to my childhood, marking the passage of seasons. “But… but it’s my birthday! Why aren’t they here yet?” A small boy in a paper crown, guarding a cake he’d been dreaming of, waiting for the people who were supposed to cherish him most. “Waaaah! Mommy and Daddy don’t want me anymore!” In the end, I saw them on TV. On my birthday, they were with Ruby at an international competition. As I watched the camera zoom in on the gleaming trophy in her hands and the radiant smiles on my parents’ faces, a thought took root in my mind. If I had a trophy, would they spend time with me, too? From that day forward, I locked my beloved race cars away. When my friends called for me to come out and play, I gritted my teeth and refused. At six, I started devouring dictionaries and memorizing entire collections of classic poetry. But I wasn’t a prodigy. Often, my head would spin, unable to absorb a single new word. I’d cry in frustration, hitting my own head with my small fists. It hurt. But the ache in my heart from my parents’ absence was so much worse. When I started school, I bought every textbook and study guide I could find, teaching myself the entire curriculum a semester ahead of time. Other students did three practice exams; I did ten, fifteen. The light in my study never went out before three in the morning. The day I finally clawed my way to the top of my class, I called my parents, my voice trembling with excitement. For the first time in years, they agreed to celebrate my birthday with me. “Ethan, we’ll celebrate in Paris this year,” my father had said. “There’s an academic symposium there. You and Ruby can both attend. It will be good for you to start networking.” For the first time, I stood beside them in a tailored suit, a matching part of the family. My parents proudly introduced me to their colleagues. It felt like a dream. After that, I worked even harder, desperate to maintain this new image in their eyes. So when they asked me to look after my younger brother, Alan, I agreed without hesitation. “Your brother isn’t like you,” they’d explained. “He’s just an ordinary little boy. He’s very sensitive, so you need to be extra patient with him…” But I was once an ordinary little boy, too. Why… why couldn’t you… I swallowed the bitterness and told myself it was for the best. Alan could live the happy, carefree childhood I never had. “Don’t worry,” I promised them. “You can count on me.” That promise was the first step on my path to hell. Because of my “generosity,” whenever Alan wanted me to play with him, I had to drop my homework and entertain him until ten at night. My parents saw nothing wrong with it. “Ethan, you’re a genius, just like your sister. Schoolwork should be a breeze for you.” They never saw the effort. They never saw me studying until the dead of night, only to be woken at dawn by the sound of Alan jumping rope outside my door. “He’s just a child! Kids are supposed to be playful,” they’d say, defending him. “He can’t be sullen like you, always showing off your grades.” It felt like a stone was lodged in my chest. Then they told me I had to move into the small guest room. They were knocking down the wall of my bedroom to give Alan a bigger play area. Mia couldn’t listen anymore, her voice cracking with anger. “So when you were ordinary, they didn’t want you. Then you worked yourself to the bone to become exceptional, and suddenly they preferred the ordinary one? What kind of sick game were they playing?!” she cried. “And after you were so good to your brother, he couldn’t say a single word for you?” 3 I just shook my head. With my parents backing him, Alan only got worse. He would sneak into my room and tear my notebooks to shreds, then run to our parents crying, “Ethan doesn’t want me to study, he’s trying to sabotage me!” I’d make him fresh juice to try and appease him, and he’d throw rocks and grass in it, then scream, “Stop trying to poison me!” Exhausted, I’d stay up all night rewriting my notes. One time, the power went out. Alan pointed to the severed cable and claimed I’d cut it in a fit of rage. At first, my parents would just give me disapproving looks. “It’s not just about grades, Ethan. A person’s character is what truly matters.” But as it happened more and more, they became convinced I was a bully. After all, how could a sweet little boy like Alan lie? My sister, a fiery teenager back then, was especially harsh. “You’re just jealous!” she would snarl. “You can’t stand that we love Alan more!” “Well, we’re going to give him everything! You could drop dead, and no one would ever love you!” I tried to defend myself, but my words were always drowned out by Alan’s wails. My parents would yell at me for scaring him. My usually aloof sister would glare at me before turning to make silly faces to cheer Alan up. And I would be left standing there, invisible. My standing in the family plummeted. They’d be chatting happily, but the moment I walked into a room, the conversation would die, as if an outsider had intruded. Then came Ruby’s birthday. Alan wanted to sing for her, and I, mustering all my courage, offered to accompany him on my violin. He agreed enthusiastically, even offering to walk with me to get it. For a moment, I thought we had reconciled. But as we walked down the long hallway, he suddenly sprinted ahead and vanished. I called out his name in panic, only to be met with the stinging slap of my father’s hand across my face. “Still putting on an act!” he roared. “You were born rotten! Tell me, where did you hide Alan this time?!” I clutched my bleeding lip, tears streaming down my face, sobbing that I didn’t do it. A sharp pain exploded in my knee as my mother kicked me to the ground. Ruby rushed forward, ready to land another blow. “You won’t talk until you’re half-dead, will you? You need to be taught a serious lesson tonight!” My mother grabbed a fistful of my hair. “Still not talking? Fine! Solitary confinement it is! You can starve in there until you’re ready to confess, you little monster!” She threw me into my room. I didn’t see the wall coming. My body went limp and slid to the floor. Stars burst behind my eyes. I felt a warm trickle of blood run down my forehead, but a deep, penetrating cold started in my fingertips and spread through my whole body. It felt like I was freezing, merging with the cold night. As my consciousness faded, I heard Alan’s frantic cries from outside. “Mommy, Daddy, why does Ethan hate me so much?!” “He’s always taunting me with his grades! Just now, he called me useless and said he was going to drown me in the pool! I was so scared I just ran and ran…” My parents’ voices were thick with pity and rage. “Oh, our poor Alan! Don’t you worry, we won’t let that little bastard get away with this! We’ll make him get on his knees and beg for your forgiveness!” Ruby shouted that they should kick me a few more times to make sure I learned my lesson. I struggled to crawl to the door. I had to explain. But the pain was too intense, I couldn’t form words. All I could do was scratch at the locked door until my fingernails split and bled. On the other side of that door, I heard my parents’ sickeningly sweet coos. “Come on, my little prince. Mommy and Daddy will take you out for a feast!” Then, deliberately louder, “From now on, this is what happens to bullies! They get punished! And our sweet, adorable boy gets rewarded!” Tears streamed relentlessly down my face. I heard the front door slam shut. The pain in my body and soul was tearing me apart. The darkness and silence swallowed me whole. It felt like being buried alive. My hands, slick with blood, finally went still as I lost consciousness. In a hazy dream, I heard a scream. “Ethan, hang on!” “An ambulance! Someone call an ambulance!” At the hospital, even the doctor was sympathetic. “This boy has been running on fumes for a long time, severe exhaustion… and now he has a serious concussion, not to mention fractures in his knee and thigh…” My parents, however, were barely listening. Their attention was captured by Alan’s piercing shriek. “Don’t kill me, Ethan! I’ll be good, I’ll hide! I won’t try to take Mommy and Daddy from you ever again!” Ruby burst into the room and threw a medical report at my face. The words “Severe Depression” were stamped across the top. It was all my fault, she said. “You did this, you monster! Are you happy now?” she screamed. “You and your stupid grades, you pushed him to this… You’re nothing but an animal to us!” I looked at my parents’ faces, twisted with hatred. I turned my head away, closed my tear-filled eyes, and wondered why. Why had everyone I loved abandoned me? 4 After that, they treated me like a dangerous criminal. They took Alan and moved to another state, leaving me behind. They said they were being generous, leaving me enough money to get by. “This is enough to get you through college,” the note read. “We hope you use your education to correct your vicious nature.” “Consider it blood money. A payment for you to finally leave Alan alone.” I had just been discharged from the hospital that day. I stood in the empty house, leaning on my crutches, the gauze on my head still spotted with blood, a dull ache throbbing in my skull as I read their words. I threw myself into my studies, using them as an anesthetic for the pain. I became the star student at a top high school. No one knew I spent my subway commutes memorizing formulas. I grew taller, my features sharpened, and I became the handsome academic prodigy of the school. No one knew I woke up at dawn every day to run and exercise, to maintain a body that felt healthy and strong. People started pairing me with the most popular girl in school, another academic powerhouse. We had already made a pact: we would get into the Ivy League together. And we did. For the first time, it felt like my life was turning around. I couldn’t resist. I took a photo with my girlfriend and posted it online. To my shock, my parents, who hadn’t spoken to me in years, left a comment. “You got into a top university. You’ve done well.” “To be accepted by a school like that, you must have matured over the years.” They were the same as ever, obsessed with achievement. They finally felt it was safe to come back for a visit. I should have been cold. I should have ignored them. But instead, a foolish hope bloomed in my chest. I spent the whole day cooking, preparing a feast. The first thing I did when they arrived was hand Alan a glass of warm milk. And that was my final mistake. When my brother started to tremble and cry, claiming he saw me secretly slip rat poison into the glass, I knew it was over. My own parents dragged me to the police station. “We were ready to forgive you,” my mother hissed, “but you don’t deserve it.” “This time, you will pay for what you’ve done!” I finally broke. I screamed, I roared, I demanded to know why Alan was so cruel, how he could destroy my life without a shred of guilt. But he just trembled in Ruby’s arms like a delicate flower caught in a storm. “Brother, I want to ask you the same thing,” he whispered, tears rolling down his cheeks. “Why do you keep trying to kill me?” Before I could say another word, my father’s fist sent me crashing to the floor. “You bastard! Still trying to intimidate him!” My mother grabbed my leg and dragged me into the station like a dead dog. “Save it for the police, you criminal!” she shrieked. “From this day on, you are no longer our son! You’re lower than dirt!” And so it began. My mother, the pharmacology professor, produced a lab report confirming the presence of poison. My father, the law professor, drew up a list of my crimes. Together, they were determined to send me to prison. In the end, there wasn’t enough evidence. I was only detained for a few days. But the damage was done. I was expelled from my university, my reputation was in tatters, and my girlfriend left me. Friends and relatives turned their backs on me. I was kicked out of the house with nothing. With no degree, I drifted from one dead-end job to another, worse off than I had ever been. And they? They moved abroad, living their lives as if I had never existed. Back in the bubble tea shop, Mia was weeping, her heart breaking for me. “They’re monsters! How could they not even ask a few questions when your entire future was on the line?” “They’re your parents, Ethan! Your own parents!” As her heartbroken cry echoed in the small shop, I looked up and saw them. My parents. Standing right there at the counter.

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