Author: Momo Chan

It was the night before my wedding when my mother, Denise, walked into the private dining room, clutching a bundled infant. Her face was a mask of proud, wrinkled smiles. She declared it a wedding present from her and my fiancé, Owen. The surprise: a baby, conceived by my own first cousin, Willow, and carrying Owen’s blood. They claimed I was too focused on my career—too busy to conceive—so they’d decided to “help me out.” Willow, tears streaming down her face, hid behind a curtain of damp hair. “Sloan, I was only doing what was best for you…” Owen, my fiancé of ten years, stood stiffly, staring at his expensive leather shoes. He wouldn’t look at me. Denise was still showing off, a smug glow radiating from her. “Look at this darling boy! Doesn’t he look exactly like you and Owen?” The air in the high-end private room was thick with a nauseating, misguided celebration. Every person there seemed to be waiting for me to dissolve into tears of grateful joy. I smiled. As their expressions shifted from smugness to confusion, I picked up the near-full bottle of vintage Bordeaux from the table. I walked slowly toward my mother. 1 The deep red wine cascaded down my mother’s meticulously styled silver curls, washing over her stunned face and soaking into the butter-soft cashmere of her beige sweater. The room instantly plunged into dead silence. Owen’s head snapped up. His eyes were wide with pure, unadulterated shock. “Sloan! What the hell is wrong with you? Are you crazy?” Denise finally reacted, letting out a sharp, ear-splitting shriek as she launched herself off her chair. “You ungrateful brat! How dare you do this to your own mother!” Willow, startled, retreated further behind Owen, her whimpers escalating into gut-wrenching sobs, as if she were the victim of a heinous crime. “Please, Sloan! Don’t blame Aunt Denise! It was all my fault…” I took in their three contorted faces—each more dramatic than the last. Ignoring their frantic noise, I slammed the empty bottle onto the lazy Susan, the resulting CRASH echoing like a gunshot. “Whose child?” I asked. My voice was unnervingly level, a stranger’s voice, even to me. Denise wiped the sticky wine from her cheek, jabbing a finger directly at my nose. “It’s yours and Owen’s, obviously! You heartless girl! I worried myself sick for you, and this is how you repay me? Throwing wine in my face?” I didn’t look at her. My gaze was a physical weight, pinned to Owen. He shifted uncomfortably, his eyes darting away. His lips worked, but it took him several attempts to force out a sentence. “S-Sloan, please just calm down. We… we truly thought this was for the best.” “‘For the best?’” I repeated the phrase, a hysterical laugh bubbling up in my throat. “You thought finding another woman to bear my fiancé’s child behind my back was ‘for the best’?” “She’s not just ‘another woman’!” My mother shrilled, yanking Willow out from behind Owen. “This is your cousin! She’s family! We’re keeping the good stuff in the family!” Good stuff in the family. I looked at Willow, who was now clutching my mother’s arm, her face a pathetic, tear-soaked mess. A year ago, she’d shown up at my door with a battered suitcase, claiming her family was poor and she couldn’t afford college. She’d looked so small and lost, shyly asking if she could find a job in the city. Denise had insisted I help her. I was swamped, running a crucial project at my firm, but I pulled strings to get her a receptionist job at one of our partner companies. I even let her move into the condo Owen and I bought—our wedding condo—to save on rent, saying she could help with light housework. I thought I was extending kindness to a struggling relative. I had, in fact, invited the fox into the henhouse. “When did it start?” I pressed Owen, each syllable sounding squeezed through a filter of pure venom. His face cycled through shades of red and white. He stammered incoherently. Denise cut him off, eager to tell her side of the heroic tale. “Just six months ago! You were working late every single night! I saw Owen all alone, and my heart broke for him! You two are almost thirty—it’s now or never for a baby—and since you weren’t stepping up, I had to take control!” Her words felt like a surgical scalpel twisting in my gut. “I had Willow move in to ‘take care’ of Owen. They’re young! Things heat up! And boom—now we have a baby!” She finished with a self-satisfied shrug, as if I were the one who owed her an apology. Willow lifted her head, her watery eyes fixed on me, full of feigned remorse. “Sloan, I… I never wanted to hurt you or ruin your relationship. Aunt Denise said you were too tired from work and didn’t want children, but Owen loves kids so much… I… I just wanted to help you.” “Help me?” I scoffed. “Help me by having his child, then marrying my fiancé yourself, is that the plan?” Willow’s face went instantly white. She shook her head violently. “No! Sloan, no! I never asked for a title! The baby is yours! I’ll sign the papers and leave, right away!” “Leave? Where would you go?” Denise grabbed her, pulling her close like a protective shield. “Don’t you worry, Willow! You stay right here with me! You’ve delivered our first grandson! You are a hero to this family!” Our first grandson? My name is Sloan. My mother is Denise. Owen is Owen. Whose family was she talking about? Watching this obscene tableau, a profound, soul-deep chill settled over me. Twenty years of a difficult mother-daughter relationship, ten years of a shared history with the man I was supposed to marry—in this instant, it was all reduced to a pathetic punchline. I spun around and grabbed my designer tote bag. “Sloan! You stop right there!” Denise’s voice roared behind me. “If you walk out that door, you are no daughter of mine!” Owen rushed forward, grabbing my arm, panicked. “Sloan, don’t be impulsive! We need to sit down and talk this through. The baby is innocent…” I yanked my arm free with a violence that shocked him. “Don’t touch me.” I looked him in the eye, speaking with cold, deliberate clarity. “You make me sick.” Without a backward glance, I walked out of the banquet room. Behind me, the chaotic cacophony of my mother’s enraged cursing, Willow’s wounded sobs, and the infant’s piercing cries followed me. The baby’s cry was a sharp, final shard of glass in my heart. But I didn’t look back. I knew, in that precise moment, that I had lost my past, but I had gained my freedom. 2 I drove aimlessly through the city streets after leaving the restaurant. My phone vibrated constantly—a tag team of calls and texts from Denise and Owen. I ignored every one, finally powering the device down. I pulled over outside a brightly lit 24-hour convenience store, went in, and bought a pack of cheap cigarettes and a miniature bottle of the strongest whiskey I could find. I had never smoked. The first drag seared my lungs, sending tears streaming down my face. I coughed, but then I started to laugh, a broken, manic sound that made me feel like a stranger in my own skin. I sat in my car all night, watching the city breathe. At dawn, I started the engine and drove back to the place I still reflexively called “home.” I needed my personal documents and, more importantly, all the original drafts and portfolios from my design career. They were my professional life. I opened the front door. The living room looked like a war zone. Denise was slumped on the sofa, her eyes swollen and bloodshot. The second she saw me, she transformed into a raging mother bear and lunged. “You have the nerve to come back here, you demon child! I’ll beat the decency back into you!” She raised her hand to strike me, but Owen caught her arm just in time. “Mom, please. Stop.” Owen looked utterly exhausted, dark circles bruised beneath his eyes. He turned to me, his voice a low, gravelly rasp. “Sloan. Let’s talk.” Willow stood in the doorway of the master bedroom, clutching the baby, peering out timidly. Her eyes were puffy and red, like bruised plums. I walked past all of them, ignoring the tension, and headed straight for my home office. The door was locked. I frowned, pulling out my key, but the keyhole was stuffed. I tried to clear it, but it was solid. “Aunt Denise said she was worried you might come back and… and take things, so she used super glue to clog the lock,” Willow whispered from the hallway, her voice carrying a faint, sickening trace of smug victory. I turned slowly and looked at her. She flinched, shrinking back behind Owen. Without a word, I walked to the utility closet and grabbed a claw hammer. “Sloan! What are you doing?!” Denise shrieked. I didn’t answer. I raised the hammer and brought it down hard on the deadbolt. CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! After three furious, wrenching blows, the lock shattered and fell to the floor. I pushed the door open and stepped inside. The room was a mess. My files had been rifled through. The architectural drafts I’d left on my desk were scattered across the floor, several bearing clear, muddy footprints. My most prized possession—a rare, limited-edition set of influential design volumes—had been ripped to shreds and were soaking in a bucket of murky mop water, with cigarette butts floating on the surface. The final, fatal blow: the ink-splattered wreckage of my Memorial series. This was the collection I had poured six months of my life into, a tribute to my late father. Now, the original designs were ruined, smeared beyond recognition with black ink. I crouched down, retrieving a sodden sheet of vellum. The sight of it felt like my skin was being flayed off, piece by piece. This work was everything. It was my life. It was my identity. “I… I didn’t mean to do it…” Willow’s voice was shaky, ringing with false remorse from the doorway. “I was just trying to clean up your office, and I guess…” “You guess?” I stood up slowly, the claw hammer still heavy in my hand. I started walking toward her. She stumbled backward, her face ashen. “Was it an accident, Willow? Or was it intentional?” I bore down on her. “I… I swear I didn’t mean to, Sloan. Please, s-sister…” “That’s enough!” Owen suddenly shoved himself between us, pushing me hard enough to make me stagger. “Sloan, are you done with this drama? She apologized! What do you want? They’re just a couple of junk papers!” “Junk papers?” I looked at him, standing there, shielding Willow. Rage clawed its way up my throat. “Say that again, Owen.” “Those ‘junk papers’ are the centerpiece of my next major bid! They are the collection I stayed up nights for to honor my father! They are destroyed! Now you ask me what I want?” “Your father has been dead for decades! Why mourn a dead man!” Denise hissed from the side, a cold, calculating edge to her voice. “You would be better off focusing on your fiancé and your child! Getting hysterical over a few pieces of paper is pathetic!” Her words were the spark that ignited the explosion. “Yes, in your eyes, my career, my ambition, and my dedication are all ‘junk paper’!” I screamed back. “Only the bastard you’re holding is precious!” “Don’t you dare call my grandson a bastard!” Denise roared, tearing herself free from Owen and lunging for my mouth, intent on ripping the words out of my throat. Owen struggled to restrain her. The scene descended into a blinding vortex of screams, curses, and the frantic wails of the infant. Then, my phone buzzed. A number I didn’t recognize. I answered, almost shouting into the receiver, “Who is this?” A moment of silence, followed by a man’s low, composed voice. “Is this Ms. Sloan Riley? I am Marcus King, the private attorney for Mr. James Riley, your father.” I froze. My father? My father died in a tragic accident when I was five years old. Where was this lawyer coming from?

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The message popped up completely out of the blue: I’d been accidentally added to the St. Jude’s Prep Swap & Sell group chat. Then came the direct message from the admin, cold and to the point: 【Blake Donovan and Ethan Cole are betting on who can sleep with the new scholarship girl in under a month. Any intel that helps them win can be traded for cash in this group.】 A swarm of floating text—the system’s strange, persistent “bullet comments”—flashed across my vision, an unsettling reality overlay: “Six-sixty-six, the female villain got pulled into the group chat specifically designed to prank her.” “They have to avenge Cassidy Lane! She took the Queen Bee’s spot as class valedictorian as soon as she arrived.” “Heh. The country bumpkin thinks they actually like her. She’ll stop studying, let herself get ruined, they’ll dump her, and it’ll be epic.” They were talking about me. Eliza Reed. I took a deep breath, smiled a small, vicious smile, and typed a message into the group. 【Hey everyone. I’m that scholarship girl’s ex-boyfriend. I know every single one of her secrets. The more intimate the detail, the higher the price. Check my pinned post for the full menu. Happy to take your orders.】 My information was surgically accurate. One by one, they paid me for intel. Details ranged from her favorite comfort food to the day her cycle made her cramps the worst, from her most sensitive body parts to her preferred kissing style. In the end, I was drowning in cash, and they were green with frustrated jealousy. 【We’ve been practically worshiping her. Why doesn’t she like us?】 【Seriously, how the hell do you, a mere ex-boyfriend, know this much? Does she still like you?】 1 The chat went silent for a few seconds. Then, the rich kids exploded. 【Wait, you’re actually Eliza Reed’s ex?】 【And you know all her secrets?】 【Sounds like a scam.】 I sent back an easy smiley face: 【It’s real, gents. Genuine, honest-to-god goods.】 Blake Donovan, the school’s notorious jock/bully, snorted. 【We’ll see about that. Tell me where Eliza is right now. Two grand if you’re right.】 The bullet comments flared again: “Here we go. Blake Donovan is the resident psycho. Pure hatred. He worships Cassidy, and when the female villain stole her top spot, he went ballistic, calling Eliza a hillbilly and a gutter-rat.” Calling me names, huh? Fine. I’ll take his money. I typed immediately: 【At this time of day, Eliza should be in the library, third floor, fifth row by the window.】 【If you go now, it’ll look like a perfect coincidence.】 Ten minutes later. Blake Donovan was sitting directly across from me in the library, a loose, predatory smile playing on his lips. He messaged the group: 【She’s here. He was right.】 The group chat erupted. I laughed internally. 【Of course I was right. I am the person who understands her best in the world. You can call me The Ex-Files.】 Blake responded: 【Alright, Ex-Files. Pay up is pay up.】 He Venmo’d me two thousand dollars. My hands trembled with excitement. The sheer, intoxicating rush of it was better than any drug. How did I not see this business opportunity before? I looked up at Blake, who was now leaning back, toying with me. He was the only son of the Donovans, raised on a silver spoon. The school’s untouchable bad boy—hot, rugged, and completely unhinged. I immediately lowered my gaze, forcing a dull, disinterested mask. Blake messaged the group: 【Interesting. I’m a handsome guy, and she won’t even blush when I sit right in front of her.】 A rich kid in the chat piped up: 【I’ve seen her. She’s definitely got that innocent look.】 Blake: 【Ha. She looks innocent now. Who knows how wild she is in bed, though.】 【Hey, Ex-Files. Did you ever sleep with her?】 I typed back: 【Nope. We planned to break the rules on graduation night, but we broke up before that.】 【If you succeed, be sure to send me a bonus.】 Blake grinned. 【Done. You get a big bonus when I get her into my bed.】 【Now, how do I get her number?】 I replied: 【That’s strategic consulting. That’ll be four grand.】 Blake transferred the money instantly. I hit ‘Collect’ and typed back: 【She desperately needs money. She’s been trying to find a tutoring gig to pay for her living expenses. Use that.】 Blake scoffed: 【Didn’t she just get a twenty-thousand dollar scholarship for valedictorian? That’s not enough?】 【Typical. Poor kid with expensive tastes.】 I returned his cynicism with a cold truth: 【It’s complicated. Eliza’s family situation is grim. Dead mother, gambling father, and a sick grandmother.】 【Her grandmother is in the ICU. She sent the entire scholarship to the hospital. She needs tutoring money just to eat.】 Blake paused. 【She… she’s that hard up?】 【Fine. I’ll try the tutoring angle.】 The next second, my physics textbook was abruptly yanked away. I looked up to see Blake leaning against the table’s edge, speaking with a casual drawl. “You’re Eliza Reed, right?” “Heard you’re the best. You want to tutor me?” “I’ll pay you ten thousand a month.” I was internally ecstatic, but my face remained demure. “That’s too much. I can’t take it. Three or four thousand is plenty.” Blake raised an eyebrow, the entitled young lord. “Are you insulting me? That’s what I pay all my tutors.” I pursed my lips. “Understood. We can start next week.” Blake smiled. “Great. Let’s swap contact info.” A few minutes later, Blake was back in the chat: 【She agreed. Got her number.】 I quickly replied: 【Congrats!】 The other rich boys cheered: 【Damn, Ex-Files’ info is solid!】 【He got her number. Blake might actually be the first to bag her.】 2 The weekend arrived, and I was at Blake’s private study room, drilling him on physics. My tutoring sessions were intense. By the end, Blake’s eyes were practically crossing from the effort. During a much-needed break, Blake messaged the group, agitated: 【Seriously, this is just a damn tutoring session.】 【But, not gonna lie, she breaks down the concepts so clearly…】 【Ex-Files, I need to make a move. Which spot on her body is the most sensitive to touch?】 Just then, the chat alert announced: Ethan Cole has joined the group. Ethan Cole. The ridiculously popular student council president. Elegant, high-value, the quintessential Golden Boy—everything a perfect, unattainable crush should be. The group chat went wild: 【Whoa, the Golden Boy is here!】 【Didn’t you leave the group chat because you were ‘bored’?】 Ethan replied: 【I heard Eliza Reed’s ex was here, and it seems Blake is actually making progress. Thought I’d check it out.】 【If he can buy intel from this hustler, why can’t I?】 I sent a small wave: 【Happy to help. Everyone is welcome to buy my intel. Call me The Ex-Files.】 Blake tagged me: 【Stop flirting with him. Spit it out. What part of Eliza is the most sensitive?】 【Transferring 10,000.】 I quickly accepted the payment. The truth was, I had no idea what part of me was most sensitive. But it didn’t matter. I just needed to sell the fantasy. I replied: 【She has a mole on the back of her neck. Every time I kissed her there, she’d start to tremble.】 Blake laughed. 【Nice. I’ll try it.】 Ethan Cole sent a laughing emoji: 【Kissing her neck on the first tutoring session? Blake, they’re going to call you a creep.】 Blake reconsidered and transferred four more thousand: 【Any other, more subtle physical contact ideas?】 I replied: 【Let me think. Her ears are quite sensitive. A light brush and they turn crimson.】 【Want more sensitive spots? Keep the money coming.】 One of the rich kids grumbled: 【Wow, Ex-Files, you’re seriously trashy. Selling your ex-girlfriend’s secrets for cash.】 I shot back: 【Hey, every man for himself, right? We’re all just doing business here.】 Ethan chimed in: 【Stop insulting the hustler. We aren’t exactly saints either. We created this group to break Eliza Reed, make her fall in love with us, then destroy her reputation and her future, all to get back at her for Cassidy.】 【Cassidy was crying pitifully in the stairwell after Eliza stole her valedictorian spot. I felt bad for her.】 I followed up: 【Exactly. We’re all getting what we want. No shame in that.】 Putting down my phone, I looked at Blake. “Break’s over. Back to work.” Blake just oh’d, his eyes distant. Only a few minutes into the next session, he suddenly leaned in, his voice a low, confidential murmur. “Tutor, I still don’t get this problem.” I moved closer. “Which one?” “Right here.” I pointed to the equation, about to speak. He suddenly closed the gap and blew gently into my ear. I jumped, clutching my earlobe. I hadn’t expected that. My ear was actually… surprisingly sensitive. Blake froze, staring at my ear as it slowly turned bright red. His eyes drifted lower to the mole on my neck. He swallowed unconsciously, then leaned back, a low, playful smirk on his face. “Tutor, your ear is sensitive.” I hardened my expression. “Focus on the problem.” After the session, Blake was back in the chat: 【Her ear went red!】 【It’s super sensitive. I bet if I sneak a little lick of her lobe when she wasn’t looking, her whole face would flush. That would be fun.】 The group members poured in: 【Hahaha, Ex-Files must have tried it. Tell us!】 I replied: 【Hahaha, I did. During our honeymoon phase, I’d lick her earlobe while she was studying. She’d jump every time.】 【More stimulating sensitive spots? Next time, five times the price.】 【Anyone else want intel? I’ve got some really hot stuff left.】 Seeing me advertise again, Blake suddenly turned nasty. 【You’re awful. Seriously. Profiting off your ex-girlfriend. I can’t believe she ever liked you.】 The rich kids were confused: 【Woah, why the breakdown?】 【Dude, you’re eating the pot and then cursing the cook.】 【Did one tutoring session make you fall for her?】 【I guess Eliza does have that pure, sweet look. She seems like your type.】 Blake scoffed: 【No way. She’s nothing compared to Cassidy Lane. I’d never like her.】 【By the way, I noticed a clear burn scar on Eliza’s hand during the session. What’s the story?】 I replied: 【Pay first.】 Blake transferred two grand. I quickly accepted the payment and slowly replied: 【Oh, that’s from her father’s abuse. When she was little, he’d chain her up during the day. When he got drunk at night and was in a bad mood, he’d put out his cigarettes on her hand.】 【So she really hates drunk men.】 The chat went silent for a moment. Blake typed slowly: 【She… she had it that bad?】 Ethan Cole’s laughing emoji popped up: 【Speaking of which, Blake loves to drink. Looks like I win.】 Blake immediately retorted: 【Ha, don’t get ahead of yourself. I’ll quit.】 3 In just two days, I’d made over twenty thousand in side money. That was faster than any scholarship. Tonight, I splurged on a little luxury: a bottle of premium cold-brew coffee. Ethan Cole messaged me privately: 【I’m curious. How did Eliza fall for you?】 【Since you were her ex, you must have had a reason she liked you.】 【That idiot Blake asks the stupidest questions. This is the valuable intel.】 【Two hundred thousand, and I get priority on all effective information like this.】 The bullet comments were full of praise: “Ethan Cole is so smart. The Golden Boy is actually a Black-Slick-White villain.” “LOL, the female villain better not think he likes her. The real reason is that Cassidy bet them that whoever destroys Eliza gets Cassidy’s first kiss.” So that was the real prize. But two hundred thousand was two hundred thousand. I collected the money immediately: 【Deal. No problem.】 【I’ll start here: She likes the gentle type. I remembered every one of her preferences, right down to the day her period pain was worst, the exact spot on her back that felt best when massaged, and even her favorite lingerie color.】 【I can send you the full details if you want.】 A while later, Ethan was back in the main group, boasting: 【Just had a private session with The Ex-Files. He gave me some very valuable information.】 Blake was furious: 【Whatever. She’s tutoring me every day. We’re alone together. With my looks, it’s only a matter of time before things heat up.】 Ethan laughed: 【Why are you fighting me? Have you forgotten why we’re in this group? We want to ruin Eliza. Make her fall in love with one of us, cause her to self-destruct, destroy her future. Isn’t that the fun part?】 Blake was silent for a moment. 【…Damn it. I know.】 【Wait, will her ex-boyfriend hear all this and rat us out?】 I immediately jumped in: 【Don’t worry. I fully support you guys. I need your business, after all. I only care about money. I couldn’t care less about what happens to her.】 Blake: 【God, you’re a complete sociopath.】 I almost burst out laughing. Sociopath? These people, who built a betting pool to ruin a girl, had the nerve to call me a sociopath? 4 The next day after school, I was counting my cash, walking back to my rented apartment. In the hallway, a man reeking of stale alcohol blocked my path. He growled: “Looks like you’re doing well at the new school, you little bitch.” “I heard you got a twenty-grand scholarship. Hand it over, now. I need to pay off my debt.” I sneered. “It’s long gone.” He glared. “You slut! How dare you talk to me like that.” He raised his hand, ready to strike. I backed away and turned to run. I hid in the alley, pulling out my phone, ready to dial 911. Just then, a message from Ethan Cole popped up: 【Anything I can do to get closer to Eliza right now?】 I smirked. 【Breaking news. Want it for thirty thousand?】 【Spill it.】 【Hot tip: Her deadbeat father, the one who took out a loan shark debt, is at her apartment looking for trouble. Perfect timing for a heroic rescue.】 “There you are, you little pest.” My father’s sneering voice cut through the air. He grabbed my hair and dragged me out. I struggled violently. A few passersby noticed and tried to intervene. He screamed at the top of his lungs: “I’m hitting my own daughter! It’s my right!” “This bitch goes to a good school and disowns her own father! I raised her, but she’s just a gold-digger! Should have strangled her at birth!” The crowd grew, and confused onlookers started pointing their fingers at me. Suddenly, a figure slammed into my father. Ethan Cole had rushed in, kicking my father hard, sending him sprawling. His eyes were ice cold. “Borrowing from loan sharks and demanding your high school daughter pay for it? You’re pathetic.” My father’s eyes turned red with rage. He scrambled up, grabbed a brick from a nearby pile, and swung it at Ethan’s head. Ethan didn’t have time to dodge. That kind of blow could be fatal. I hadn’t planned for anyone to get killed. Acting purely on instinct, I threw myself forward, shielding Ethan with my body. The brick slammed heavily into my hand. A dull, searing pain shot through me like an electric current. I cried out. Ethan’s pupils contracted violently. He reacted with surprising speed, slamming my father against the ground. I knelt, clutching my hand in agony, tears streaming down my face. Half the tears were real—from the pain—and half were for the performance. Ethan completely panicked. He registered the subtle tremors of my body and pulled me into an awkward embrace. “Don’t be scared. It’s over, it’s over.” He gently patted my back, his voice low, soothing me like a frightened animal. “Just hold on, okay? I’m taking you to the hospital right now.” 5 At the hospital, Ethan was the perfect gentleman. He handled the registration, the X-rays—he wouldn’t let me lift a finger. He even crouched down in front of me, full of remorse. “If I’d gotten here sooner, this wouldn’t have happened.” His acting was magnificent. If I hadn’t had that group chat, I might actually believe he cared. While he was getting the prescriptions, Ethan messaged the group: 【Eliza just cried in my arms.】 【She even got hurt protecting me.】 【And when she was close, I noticed she has this incredible, distinct scent. Amazing.】 Blake was almost instantaneous: 【What? She’s hurt!】 【Ethan, you’re useless! You couldn’t even protect a girl.】 【If I’d been there, she wouldn’t have gotten hurt.】 Ethan was silent for a few seconds. 【Why are you so agitated? You’re just jealous my plan is working faster than yours.】 【I’ll bet she’s completely fallen for me now. From now on, the hustler is going to be selling me info about her favorite ways to confess, her kissing techniques, and where she likes to be touched.】 Blake went ballistic: 【You make me sick!】 【Why is that hustler so quiet today? Doesn’t he have anything to say?】 I carefully used my right hand to type—the one I hadn’t shielded him with. 【He’s right. Ethan was the hero today. He utterly humiliated Eliza’s scumbag father. Her opinion of him has definitely skyrocketed.】 【Remember, her biggest trauma is her dad. I won her over originally by protecting her.】 Blake was stunned, then frantic: 【Ex-Files! Why didn’t you give me priority on that intel?】 I answered with smug righteousness: 【Ethan paid me two hundred thousand. He gets first dibs.】 Blake immediately transferred three hundred thousand. 【Is this enough?】 Ethan sneered, and added two hundred thousand more. Blake countered with five hundred thousand. The other rich boys were speechless: 【Hold on, this turned into an auction!】 【They must really want Cassidy Lane’s first kiss!】 Watching the flood of transfer notifications, my heart was racing. I was so overwhelmed I almost forgot where I was. Just then, Ethan looked up nervously. “Eliza, why are you shaking? Are you in pain?” I instantly collected myself, putting the phone away. “No, I’m fine. It doesn’t hurt as much anymore.” I changed the subject. “Ethan, why did you help me today?” He paused, lowering his eyes, clearly scrambling for a convincing lie. I smiled, not waiting for his answer. “It doesn’t matter what the reason is. Thank you. You really are a good person.” This part was true. The best person in the world to me was, and always would be, me. Ethan stiffened, forcing a strained smile. “I’m not as good as you think.” I pressed on. “You are. Besides my ex-boyfriend, no one has ever been this kind to me.” Ethan froze, his expression turning deeply complex.

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Ten years into my marriage, my multi-millionaire husband became fixated on the new company assistant. She was nearly forty, less striking than I, and certainly not as meticulously maintained, yet in three short months, she had injected a fierce, brand-new emotional vitality into Rhys. He looked at me, exhaustion etched across his face, and said: “You can have the real estate and the shares if we separate. Audrey, can you please just let me go?” I raised my eyes and replied softly, “All right.” Then I tore a small square from a sticky note and drew a star on it. Divorce Countdown: 30 days. 1 I handed Rhys the divorce agreement a mere twenty-eight minutes after he confessed his affair and asked for a separation. As agreed, the mansion, the luxury cars, and our daughter would all be mine. He would pay me a one-time settlement and child support of $30 million. After that, neither I nor our daughter would contact him again. Rhys was in the middle of a video conference. He glanced up, his eyes catching the words “DIVORCE SETTLEMENT AGREEMENT,” and his lashes gave the faintest, almost imperceptible tremor. He lifted his chin, signaling that he understood. I slipped out of the study. To expedite his departure, I had packed all of Rhys’s personal belongings. Five massive suitcases in total. Concerned about forgetting anything, I even carefully tucked away the commendations he’d earned during his college years, stored deep in the utility room. My gaze finally rested on the framed wedding photo in the corner. In the picture, Rhys’s eyes were focused only on me, and my expression was one of shy devotion. We were clasped in a tight embrace beneath the canopy of an old oak tree. Back then, he would hold me and whisper sweet words: “Honey, I’ll always love you.” “The luckiest moment of my life was marrying you.” Rhys and I met in graduate school. He was a struggling student back then, wearing faded corduroy and threadbare sweaters. I had plenty of suitors, but I fell for Rhys instantly. He was brilliant, ambitious, and handsome. He possessed every virtue I could count. After graduation, we married seamlessly, and he and his partners founded their company. To support his endeavor, I stepped back from my own career. I dedicated myself to caring for Rhys and managing our home. As the business grew, Rhys’s travel and networking became increasingly frequent. I maintained my yoga and skincare routine between the grocery runs and the housework. And Rhys never truly slacked off. Even when exhausted, he would come home, help Willow with her homework, and sometimes even load the dishwasher, helping me navigate family and neighbor relations. To outsiders, we were a perfect couple, the model of a successful marriage. I can’t pinpoint when Rhys started scheduling his trips for the weekends. Sometimes he’d be gone for entire weeks, a continuous blur. My friend, Ava, would often joke, urging me to keep a closer watch, warning me about possible changes. I’d assure her I wasn’t worried, but my gut would tighten. I’d delivered documents to Rhys’s office a few times. Everything seemed normal. His team was busy working late, and the woman in question was busy at her desk. Her name was Sienna. Nearly forty, not stunning, and dressed plainly. She had soft, long, wavy hair and spoke with a gentle, almost Southern drawl. She politely offered me tea. I had imagined this scenario over the years. I thought it might be a sharp, powerful female director, a glamorous intern, or maybe a cool, high-profile client. I never once considered his assistant. I’d heard she was newly single after a long-term relationship ended due to infidelity. This was her first job back, and she was exceptionally dedicated. She volunteered for overtime, remembered everyone’s coffee order, and often brought in homemade gourmet cookies. Some colleagues, for convenience, even asked her to run errands for them. When I found out, I told Rhys she sounded hardworking and suggested he look out for her. Rhys was typically nonchalant. “The workplace isn’t about favors. I’ve already warned her not to engage in personal transactions.” Back then, I laughed, thinking my husband was just a stereotypical, rigid boss. Now, I realize he was likely protecting Sienna, worried about her having to run errands after working late. As for why Rhys chose today to confess? It was simply because, as was my routine, I had prepared him a light, late-night soup after a business function. He stared at the bowl, frowned slightly, gently pushed it away, and remained silent for a long time. He then looked up at me, his eyes drained of warmth, and asked if we could divorce. He admitted the affair had been going on for three months. He’d met her during his “travels.” My heart felt as if it had been pricked by a thousand needles, but I forced myself to maintain my composure. I asked who it was. When he said Sienna, I genuinely thought I had misheard. A dizzying sensation of numbness and sharp pain spread through my limbs. 2 By the time Rhys finished his meeting, I had completed my yoga routine, ironed a few items, and was sitting on the balcony arranging flowers. I looked as if nothing had happened. He went to change and, finding his closet empty, called out to me from the dressing room, out of habit. “Honey, where are my shirts?” I didn’t turn around. “They’re all packed in the suitcases. If you don’t mind, wear yesterday’s. It’s going to be thrown out soon anyway.” I was met with a long, heavy silence. When Rhys emerged, he saw the five large suitcases stacked by the entryway. He sat down beside me and tapped the divorce agreement with his fingertip. “I’ll transfer $20 million of the settlement now; the rest will be in installments…” I cut him off. “That won’t be necessary. Let’s finalize it all at once.” “I doubt she wants you to maintain any contact with me.” Rhys’s expression was one of confusion. “Our daughter isn’t yours alone. I have a responsibility to be involved in her life.” “I know I’m wrong, and I’m willing to compensate, but don’t use Willow as leverage.” I put down the pruning shears and looked Rhys squarely in the eye. “Cheating was your choice. Your compensation and support are a given. Considering your net worth, the house and cars are not a greedy request.” “Willow has always had me by her side. She is emotionally sensitive and needs attention. How much energy can you dedicate to her during your new relationship? Involvement isn’t just about money; it requires time and patience.” Rhys was rendered speechless. After a moment, he said, “In any case, I won’t buy out my relationship with my daughter for $30 million.” I reached out and flipped the agreement open. “$30 million is the settlement and support. If you have extra emotional needs, you can transfer money to her account; I will open one specifically for her.” Rhys suddenly scoffed. “Audrey, I never knew you cared so much about money. Everything you say is about money.” “What else? Is loving you proving useful?” Rhys was silenced. His face darkened, and he quickly signed the divorce agreement. He arranged for us to file the petition tomorrow. Then, he called a car service. I finished arranging the flowers and went to bed. He was gone when I woke up early. Willow burst out of her room and hugged me, excitedly telling me about her dream of going to Disneyland. As she spoke, I carefully told her that Daddy was busy with a project and might be traveling for a while. Unusually, she didn’t throw a fit. Instead, she video-called him and asked, “Daddy, when are you coming home?” “I’ll be busy for a while.” She simply mumbled, “Okay,” and pursed her lips. “It’s fine. Having Mommy with me is enough.” I crumbled immediately, tears welling up, and I used the excuse of tidying the kitchen to hide them. My agreement to the divorce stemmed from pain, but mostly from guilt toward my daughter—guilt over not being able to give her a complete home. Yet, I knew that this brokenness was not my fault. After dropping Willow off at school, Rhys and I went to file the application. The cooling-off period was 30 days, after which we could finalize the divorce. Back in the car, I drew a star on the sticky note, marking the day. Divorce Countdown: 30 days. 3 I hesitated about whether to tell my parents immediately. I grew up in this city, and all my family and friends are here. My parents are retired doctors, and I am their only child. They are open-minded, but my mother’s blood pressure hasn’t been stable lately. I planned to delay it, but two days later, Rhys called. He rarely called; usually, he texted because I always responded instantly, which he considered efficient. But I had deleted his number last night. I answered. Rhys’s tone was normal. “Audrey, your mother just called. She made soup and wants us to come over for dinner.” “Your mom’s blood pressure is high… maybe we should wait until she’s more stable to tell her about the divorce. What time works for you? Also, next Friday is her birthday. I should still go with you.” His words instantly resolved my hesitation. I decided to be blunt. I replied, “That won’t be necessary.” Rhys said, “Don’t pretend to be strong. Your parents’ health is important.” I said coolly, “If you truly cared, you wouldn’t have cheated and filed for divorce right now. My mother has high blood pressure, but she’s not confused. I doubt she wants me to maintain a broken marriage.” “Rhys.” “What is it?” “Don’t contact me again. Visits with Willow will be according to the agreement—twice a month.” At this, Rhys’s tone turned cold. “Audrey, I’m saying this one more time: Willow is my daughter. She is my family…” “But you were the one who broke her home, weren’t you?” I heard Rhys loudly slam down the phone. I hung up immediately, taking a moment to calm my churning emotions. I drove straight to a home furnishings store. I bought new curtains, new bedding, and replaced every decorative item Rhys preferred in the house. Everything had to be delivered the same day. After the house was scrubbed clean and transformed, I drove to my parents’ house. My father saw I was alone and assumed Rhys was busy. I was silent for a moment, then softly said, “Dad.” He noticed the abnormality instantly, putting down his newspaper and watching me quietly. He then gently patted my back. I didn’t say anything, but my father understood my suppressed pain and hurt. I narrated the story as calmly as I could. My father handed me a warm washcloth to wipe my face. His voice was gentle. “It’s okay. Divorce isn’t shameful now. He didn’t treasure you; he betrayed you. It’s better to leave sooner rather than later.” “Audrey, I only have one request.” His eyes were slightly red as he squeezed my hand. “Since you’ve decided to separate, never look back, no matter what.” I nodded, choking up. “I won’t.” After dinner, my parents talked in the study for a long time. When my mother emerged, she pressed a thick check into my hand. She said today was a new beginning and worth celebrating. “May my precious daughter find happiness and freedom from now on.” I cried for a long time in the car after leaving my parents’ house. Before coming, I was so afraid of disappointing them. They have been fiercely devoted to each other their entire lives. When everyone questioned my choice to marry Rhys, they said they trusted me. Now that Rhys was successful and praised by everyone, they calmly supported my decision to divorce. I wiped my tears and looked at the note. Divorce Countdown: 28 days. 4 When I picked up Willow from school, she said her grandmother had called and missed her, asking if she could stay for a few days. She asked me to take her over. I paused, then took her home to pack her small backpack. She was ecstatic, saying her grandmother promised to teach her how to knit a scarf. After dropping her off, my father walked me to the car. “Audrey, try to be happy. Go out and clear your head.” As I got into the car, my father stood there watching me, reluctant to go inside. I glanced at the rearview mirror and saw how haggard and somber I looked. I returned home, packed a suitcase, and traveled for a week, quickly moving through several cities, witnessing many stories along the way. I returned looking much better. I checked the note. Divorce Countdown: 21 days. 5 I returned just in time for my mother’s birthday. They held a small gathering for close family and friends at a hotel. Many people asked about Rhys. Thankfully, Willow had a dance class and wasn’t with me. My parents evaded the questions. Just before the meal began, my mother went up to the small stage to give a toast. That’s when Rhys arrived. He wore a custom suit, carrying several gift boxes and a thick envelope. Friends and family greeted him. He waited for my mother to step down and handed her the envelope. “Mom, happy birthday.” My mother glanced at it coolly. “Mr. Caldwell, that’s too kind. We won’t accept your money. After all, you and Audrey are divorced. We wouldn’t want you to spend unnecessarily.” Rhys’s expression froze instantly. A stunned silence fell over the guests, but they quickly resumed their low-level chatter. He whispered, “We’re still in the cooling-off period…” My mother waved her hand. “It makes no difference.” She then turned to usher everyone to the tables. Rhys stood rigid, clutching the gift bag. My father politely returned the other presents. Rhys didn’t stay; he turned and left. Once he was gone, the friends and family, with mutual understanding, never mentioned Rhys again. No one would ask me about him in the future. It was a good sign. My heart gradually calmed. I was adapting, processing, and shedding the title of Mrs. Caldwell. I was simply Audrey now. Even the security guards and property management at our building, somehow catching wind of the news, stopped calling me “Sister-in-law,” opting for “Ms. Audrey” instead. I quickly immersed myself in work, planning to open a floral design studio. A suitable storefront was available for lease—the décor and location were perfect—so I signed the contract immediately. I kept the existing staff but planned to adjust the floral style, refresh the window displays, and tentatively open for a soft launch. After a full day working on the design plans at the shop, I prepared to head home. I looked at the sticky note in my car. Divorce Countdown: 15 days. 6 Just as I arrived home, a young woman from Rhys’s company named Lexi messaged me. She was cheerful, friendly, and well-liked. She asked if I was busy, and when I confirmed I was free, she immediately complained, asking if the rumors about Rhys and me divorcing were true. I didn’t deny it. She asked if it was because of Sienna. I didn’t answer, sensing Rhys might have made the affair public. Seeing my silence, Lexi wailed. “Oh my gosh, Ms. Audrey, it is because of that woman! No wonder you haven’t brought in your amazing pastries lately!” “I miss them so much!” When Rhys and I were together, I brought in desserts almost every week as a thank you. Some colleagues even joked they’d stay at the company forever just for my baking. “Don’t worry. I’m about to open a flower shop. You come visit, and I’ll send you home with a custom bouquet.” Lexi cheered and immediately asked for the address. I told her I’d send it later. She agreed, then continued her rant. “You have no idea about Sienna. Since you stopped coming, she went straight from assistant to Administrative Lead, and her attitude toward everyone has completely changed.” “She used to smile at everyone; now she nitpicks everything. She can’t even hide how smug she is. And she bought the exact same designer dress and bag as you! Everyone can see what she’s doing. What is Rhys even thinking?” She concluded that if it weren’t for her car payment, she’d quit; she couldn’t stand being under Sienna’s thumb. I pulled into the driveway and, seeing Lexi was still chatting, offered a few words of comfort before she reluctantly hung up. By now, I had no desire to know the details of Sienna’s actions. It wasn’t like the night Rhys confessed, when I obsessively wanted to know what kind of magic she possessed. I pushed the front door open and was surprised to see Rhys’s sneakers by the door. He was playing with Willow, building Legos. Willow saw me and shouted excitedly, “Mommy, come here! Play with us! Let’s see who can build faster!” Before, Rhys would always lift Willow and spin her around, then pull me into a hug. The house would be filled with laughter. Now, Rhys just cleared his throat and patted Willow’s head. “Mommy’s been busy and is tired. Maybe next time, sweetie?” “Okay. Daddy, when will you stop traveling?” Rhys thought for a moment and said softly, “As soon as possible,” before ushering Willow to the bathroom to wash up. After a long day at the flower shop, I had no energy to deal with him. I simply reminded him to lock the door when he left. He said he had promised Willow he would stay and sleep in her room tonight. I didn’t argue. I closed my bedroom door. I heard Rhys’s phone ring in the living room. He answered, repeating a few simple responses. Finally, his voice dropped, laced with slight impatience. “I told you I’m just here for Willow. What are you worried about? We’ve already signed the agreement! How many times do I have to explain—we’re sleeping in separate rooms!” Then I heard Rhys hang up abruptly. He came and knocked on my door. “Audrey, an urgent matter came up at the office. I have to leave. I’ll make time to come back for Willow tomorrow.” I didn’t open the door. I simply called back, “Fine.” The volume was just loud enough for Rhys to hear outside the door. Before he even reached the main gate, I received a text notification: $8,000 had been deposited into Willow’s account. The memo read: For new dresses with Mommy. Ignoring the text, I opened my laptop to work on the flower shop plan. However, a message popped up from an unknown number. No text, just a single smiley face emoji. The profile picture was a blurry photo of a beach; the background was blank, and there was no content on their feed. I didn’t even remember when I added this person. Checking the chat history, the last message was two years ago. As I was trying to recall, she sent a single sentence. [You must be very pleased with yourself, aren’t you?] The realization was instantaneous. I guessed this was Sienna. But Sienna had only been at the company for half a year. Why did she have my number from two years ago? Could it be that this account has been silently watching my daily life for almost two years? I sucked in a sharp breath. I replied with a question mark. The other side typed quickly. [No matter what you do to hold onto him, I can make him come back to me instantly.] It was her. Sienna. Did this mean Rhys had known Sienna for two years? Perhaps even longer? Sienna sent a photograph. I opened it and saw Rhys, shirtless, asleep in a hotel bed, a woman’s hand draped over his waist. The date stamp in the lower right corner read: 2023.5.20. I stared at the picture. My stomach churned, and a wave of nausea rose in my throat. I gagged violently into the waste bin. May 20, 2023. That was the day my mother was in the hospital for her major check-up. Rhys had been incredibly busy all of May, constantly traveling for conferences. To rush back and be with me, he compressed his schedule. He spent the entire night on the phone, gently reassuring me, telling me not to be afraid. Because I was anxious and couldn’t sleep, Rhys stayed on the line all night. He finally made it back in the early hours of May 20th and waited outside the exam room with me. Yet, on that same day, in the midst of his ‘busyness,’ he found time to be with Sienna. How did he manage to return and face me with such an easy conscience? Seeing I hadn’t responded, Sienna became bolder. She sent several more photos, all marked with dates. Our wedding anniversary. Willow’s birthday. Every single time, he first spent time with Sienna, then rushed back to be with us. An intense wave of pure disgust washed over me, drowning out the pain. Yes. I had initially thought Rhys was just tired of us after three months. Tired of our simple, cozy life. Or maybe he’d found “true love” in middle age. It turned out he’d been rotten for much longer. I splashed cold water on my face in the bathroom. I returned to my computer and saved every piece of evidence. I knew Sienna dared to send these because the $30 million settlement hadn’t been fully paid yet. Rhys had transferred $12 million over the past two weeks, but $18 million was still pending, which he said he needed time to arrange. The properties and cars were already in my name, unencumbered; since he’d agreed, there was no dispute. If I created a scene now, it would damage Rhys’s business. He would be furious, and I would lose more than I gained. Our daughter would also lose her father. When Rhys asked for the divorce, he might have expected me to break down and fight. But given my focus on maintaining composure, he knew I wouldn’t cause a scene at his office. What Sienna didn’t anticipate was how readily I agreed. I didn’t fight, and I didn’t even confront Rhys. This was outside her expectation. She knew that whoever caused a scene first would lose. But one thing was odd. Sienna had managed to stay by Rhys’s side and remain hidden for so long, even successfully playing the role of the harmless new assistant for six months. Why was she suddenly so impatient? In just two more weeks, Rhys and I would be completely separated. Yet, she had a meltdown just because Rhys came home once to spend the night with his daughter. I checked the time. It wasn’t too late. I called Lexi. She was having a late dinner with department colleagues and gossiping about Rhys and Sienna. They were exchanging information. I learned a few new things. Last week, Rhys had too much to drink at a corporate event and was driven home by a beautiful female CEO from a partner company. Since then, the CEO had privately asked Rhys out a few times. Coupled with my two-week absence from the office with my pastries, everyone was guessing Rhys and I had fought. They suspected he would soon be single again. Once the rumor spread, several ambitious young women began openly showing interest in Rhys. That’s when Sienna lost her composure. “Ms. Audrey, you’re so kind; I hate to tell you this, and please don’t be sad, but while Rhys is great, he’s a total jerk.” “You’ll definitely meet someone better! Wait, scratch that. Who needs men? Ms. Audrey, you’re going to crush it with your business, your flower shop will boom, and then you can find a man! Haha.” Lexi’s honesty made my low mood lift. “Thank you. I’m working on it.” I hung up, noting the time. It was past midnight. The reminder on the sticky note was stark. Divorce Countdown: 14 days.

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The moment I found out Elias had rushed out to bring his little assistant flu medicine, completely ignoring me—trapped in a broken elevator, my claustrophobia spiraling—I filed for divorce. Elias signed the papers without a second thought, a smug smile playing on his lips. I overheard him telling his friend, “It’s just a little tantrum. Her parents are gone, she has no one else. She’s not actually going to leave me.” “Besides,” he added, sipping his scotch. “There’s that thirty-day cooling-off period, right? When she regrets it, I’ll be magnanimous, forgive her little outburst, and she’ll come crawling back.” The very next day, he posted a photo of himself and the assistant, Piper, wearing matching sweaters. The caption: “Capturing all your sweet, shy moments.” I started counting the days. Calmly, methodically, I packed my things. Then, I dialed a number. “Uncle Robert, can you book me a flight to New York?” 1 “That’s wonderful, Audrey! After all these years, I’m so happy you’re finally willing to come home.” My uncle’s voice on the other end of the line was bright, soaring with genuine joy. The moment I hung up, the bedroom door opened. Elias walked in, trailing a sweet, unfamiliar cloud of cheap, cloying perfume. It was overpowering. “Who was that on the phone?” he asked, though he didn’t care. His eyes were glued to his phone screen, not sparing me a glance. Before I could answer, his phone rang. Piper’s excessively saccharine voice chirped from the speaker: “Mr. Thorne, thank you so much for bringing me those meds the other day! If it wasn’t for you, my cold would have gotten so much worse. I don’t know what I’d do without you!” Elias shot me a look, self-consciously lowering the volume. I clamped my mouth shut, feeling a profound sense of futility. We were getting divorced anyway, weren’t we? I went back to silently sorting through my belongings and warming a glass of milk. Elias finished his little moment of tender banter and settled onto the sofa to skim the Wall Street Journal. Out of habit, he reached for the ceramic mug where I usually placed his herbal tea, only to find the spot empty. Finally, he looked at me, his face tight with impatience. “So I didn’t come rescue you when the elevator stalled,” he began, his voice flat. “Piper’s cousin, who’s in med school, said your claustrophobia is just anxiety. It’s not a big deal, Audrey. Stop being so dramatic.” “Besides,” he added, tossing the paper aside. “You filed for divorce, and I agreed. Do you really need to keep that storm cloud hanging over the house twenty-four seven?” That night, I had worked late. When the elevator jolted to a stop and the lights flickered out, my phone was almost dead. The familiar, sickening surge of panic hit me. My hands trembling, I managed to call Elias. His response: “Can’t you figure it out yourself? I’m busy.” Then my phone died, and I blacked out. It was only later I learned he had given his assistant, Piper, a few days off—because he’d been busy delivering flu medicine to her apartment that night. I filed for divorce. “Don’t worry,” I said now, without looking up. “Once the divorce is finalized, you won’t have to look at my face at all.” I didn’t pause my packing. I thought he’d be relieved, but instead, Elias’s voice ratcheted up in volume. “You’d better not regret this, Audrey!” Seeing that I was only focused on my task, he slammed the door and was gone. I couldn’t summon the energy to dissect his emotions. I finished what I was doing, drank my milk, and took a long, hot shower before heading to bed. A text message from Elias buzzed on my nightstand: “Drunk. Come pick me up. Bring a sports drink.” I didn’t want to go. A second text followed immediately: “We haven’t gotten the certificate yet. You still have to fulfill your duties as a wife.” Exhausted, I gathered my things and drove out. When I reached the club entrance, the sound of Elias and Piper giggling was painfully clear, leaking through the heavy mahogany doors. I thought back to the night I first filed for divorce. He was drunk, and his friend had asked, “Elias, are you really going to let Audrey leave?” He had scoffed. “It’s just a fit of pique. Her parents are gone. She has no one. She’ll never actually divorce me.” “There’s a thirty-day cooling-off period. If Audrey backs out, I’ll be gracious and she’ll come straight home.” He thought my being an orphan was a reason for my dependency, never a reason for him to treat me with care and loyalty. I pushed the door open. Elias looked up, genuinely startled, his brow furrowed in annoyance. “What are you doing here? Are you tracking me?” he demanded. I held up my phone. “You texted me to come.” Piper pouted, tugging on his arm. “Mr. Thorne, I just made a little joke about having Audrey come bring the drink. You aren’t mad at me, are you?” Elias’s tightly drawn eyebrows immediately softened. Strangely, I felt no surge of anger, no familiar urge to be hysterical over Piper’s taunt or Elias’s immediate deference to her. I merely nodded, indicating I understood. Elias, surprisingly, felt the need to explain. “Audrey, Piper was just here for a business dinner, it’s nothing—” I cut him off, reaching out and handing him the sports drink. He had been drinking and couldn’t drive. He settled Piper into a cab, then joined me. Our ride was waiting across the street. As I started to walk, Elias suddenly grabbed my arm, pulling me back hard. I only then noticed the car that had whizzed past, barely missing me. If it hadn’t been for him, I would have been hit. “Watch where you’re going,” he scolded, his voice sharp with alarm. He didn’t let go, his hand gripping mine tightly. For a moment, I flashed back to every crosswalk we’d ever shared, his hand always finding mine. It felt like a lifetime ago—so long ago that the touch felt strange and foreign. Once we crossed, I subtly pulled my hand free. The next morning, I was getting ready for work. Elias offered to drive me. “I’ll take you.” His business the night before had kept me up late. Taking the subway would make me late now, so I didn’t argue. But as I opened the passenger door, I was assaulted by that same cloying, sweet perfume. The seat cushion was bright pink, with a plush Hello Kitty pillow wedged against the window. A small, glittery decal stuck to the dash read: “Piper’s Spot, Hands Off.” Elias, a man renowned for his rigid, uncompromising cleanliness and meticulous order, a man who received industry awards for his disciplined severity, was allowing this childish clutter in his car. It was utterly ridiculous. A flicker of discomfort crossed his face. He quickly explained: “Piper is just a kid, Audrey. Don’t read too much into it.” A “kid” he takes couple’s photos with? I didn’t voice the thought. The day after we filed for divorce, he’d posted those pictures with the caption: “Capturing all your sweet, shy moments.” Whether it was to punish me for leaving or something else entirely, his heart had moved on long ago. I was just catching up. I walked around the car. “I’ll sit in the back.” “You haven’t had breakfast.” Sensing the uncomfortable silence, Elias passed me a small bottle of chilled milk. I looked up. There was a clear plastic snack bin wedged into the center console, filled with an array of cookies, dried fruit, and gelatin cups. I remembered his severe germophobia, his steadfast rule: absolutely no eating in his car. Years ago, I’d had a sudden bout of low blood sugar in his car. My lips were white, my vision swimming. I had barely been able to whisper for a sip of my half-finished coffee, and he hadn’t allowed it. Now, Piper had easy access to an entire snack bar and his indulgence. Love and indifference are never subtle. I shook my head, declining the milk, and turned to watch the streaming traffic outside the window. We arrived quickly. I rushed to my desk. Logically, with the divorce pending, I should have submitted my resignation. But I was tied to two major projects, and my professional sense of responsibility dictated I finish them first. I worked furiously through the morning and into the afternoon. Lack of sleep made me feel foggy and slow. I reached for my mug to make coffee. Just then, a delivery guy brought in a massive haul of iced lattes and mini red velvet cakes. My coworkers immediately cheered. “Our boss is treating us to afternoon tea! He’s so generous!” “Are you kidding? It’s because Piper’s trying to diet and the boss felt sorry for her, so he bought her a treat and just included us as a bonus!” “Wait, isn’t Mr. Thorne married to Audrey?” “Keep it down, Audrey is right there!” “Audrey, we’re just kidding. Don’t take it personally.” I looked at the selection—every single coffee order was a specific iced latte, and every cake was Red Velvet. It was clearly for her. He worried about Piper’s diet, so he bought the whole company a treat. A testament to their love. I, however, was allergic to the kind of syrup in those lattes and hated red velvet. I remembered when Elias was courting me. It had been just as grand. He’d worried about me skipping meals, so he would invent reasons to keep me late and share dinner with him. Once, when I was sick but insisted on working, he’d secretly hidden my medicine in a small chocolate tart, tricking me into taking it just so he could watch my face scrunch up in surprise. Our relationship had made the dull office vibrant. Now, all that energy and sentiment had been transferred. I didn’t have time to dwell. The project was complex. I’d pulled several all-nighters for this. Tonight, it looked like I’d be staying late again. The outside world faded to black. I didn’t even notice Elias standing beside my desk until he spoke. “Audrey, still working?” I wasn’t sure what he wanted. “Mr. Thorne, do you need something?” He seemed thrown by my formal tone but ignored it, getting straight to the point. “I think we should hand this project over to Piper.” I had prepared myself for anything, but the request still felt like a physical blow. “Piper has been subjected to too much gossip lately. If this project is credited to her, it will silence the critics who question her ability.” He knew how hard I had fought for this account—the late nights, the marathon pitch meetings, the sheer exhaustion. And now he was casually suggesting I hand it over to shield her reputation. Every syllable was about protecting Piper from “gossip,” with zero regard for how profoundly unfair this was to me. I laughed, a dry, humorless sound. The irony was suffocating. “Fine,” I said. “Give it to her. Tell her to come see me tomorrow to transition the files.” I was done. I’d done my duty to the company. After tomorrow, I could resign, and she could deal with the messy follow-up. Elias was clearly surprised by my immediate acceptance. He pulled a small, velvet box from his pocket. “You always wanted a necklace from this designer, didn’t you? I haven’t been my best self lately. Girls like pretty things. I’ll make it up to you, slowly.” It was a brand I loved. I’d mentioned wanting one of their pieces months ago. But he hadn’t given it to me when I wanted it most, and now the gesture felt hollow. I disliked the pattern of being slapped, then offered a sweet reward. Once I agreed to the project handover, Elias’s voice became noticeably warmer. He draped his tailored suit jacket over my shoulders. “Stop being so difficult. What happened the other day was my fault. Let’s go cancel the divorce application this week. And you wanted to go to Napa Valley, right? I’ll take you.” I stayed silent. Elias took my quiet as assent and continued to ramble on about their plans. On the ride home, I checked my social feed. Piper had posted an hour ago. The exact same jewelry brand. The exact same box. But her necklace was the expensive, limited-edition piece. Mine was the complimentary gift included with the purchase. How pathetic. He knew exactly what I liked, yet couldn’t even be bothered to pick out a unique one for me. Tomorrow was the last day of the cooling-off period. After tomorrow, Elias and I would be finally, irrevocably finished. I stood on the balcony, watering the small herb garden I’d started. The wedding band on my middle finger suddenly slipped and clattered over the railing. Instinctively, I leaned over the edge to see where it had fallen. “What are you doing!” Elias’s voice was a roar. He yanked my arm, pulling me back violently. “Are you insane?! Do you know how dangerous that is?” His eyes were wide with genuine terror and concern. He still cared about me, after all. “My ring fell,” I murmured. It was a piece he’d custom-designed and helped make with his own hands years ago. I loved the sentiment, which was why I still wore it, why I’d been so reckless trying to find it. Elias let out a ragged breath. “It’s just a ring, Audrey. I’ll buy you a new one. Don’t risk your life over it.” “Just a ring.” I glanced at his middle finger. It was bare. He’d taken his off long ago. “Tomorrow is our wedding anniversary,” he said softly. “I’ll pick you up. Let’s spend it together.” How long had it been since we’d properly celebrated an anniversary? I considered it for a moment. I decided to view it as a final, quiet period to our marriage. The next day, our anniversary, I sat at the upscale downtown restaurant we’d reserved. I waited and waited. I was starving, but he never showed. I picked up my phone to text him. If he truly wasn’t going to come, he should have just said so instead of letting me waste my time. I tried calling several times—no answer. I unlocked my phone again and saw a flurry of activity in the company chat. An anonymous account had posted a long message. “Piper is a whore who seduced a married CEO! She uses her looks and body to climb the corporate ladder. Disgusting!” The post was quickly followed by evidence that I had handed the project over to Piper. While the message condemned Piper, every single line subtly pointed fingers at me. Minutes later, the restaurant door burst open. Elias stormed in, kicking the doorstop aside. “I thought you were mature enough to hand over the project gracefully,” he raged, his face blotched with fury. “I never imagined you were this venomous! You agreed to the handover just so you could stab Piper in the back and smear her reputation!” “Audrey, how can you be so disgusting?” Piper was hiding behind him, weeping inconsolably, as if she were the victim of a brutal assault. “It’s okay, Mr. Thorne,” she wailed, her voice thick with fake emotion. “I don’t need the project! I don’t care what people say about me, but Audrey! I thought we were friends! Why would you do this?” “It wasn’t me,” I stated calmly, the noise washing over me. “I agreed to give her the project. I have no need for these kinds of petty games.” “Who else would have a reason to target Piper?” “You are a phony, manipulative woman, Audrey!” “And after all the trouble Piper went to, finding this place and booking this table for us! You don’t deserve her kindness!” He was absolutely incandescent with rage on Piper’s behalf, and he picked up a nearby plate and threw it at the floor. Ceramic shards sprayed across the room. Twelve years of shared life, and he still didn’t trust my character. I took the signed divorce agreement from my purse. “In that case,” I said, sliding the papers across the table. “The thirty-day cooling-off period is up. You might as well sign this, too.” I placed my letter of resignation underneath the papers. He let out a cold laugh, snatched the pen, and signed with three furious, slashing strokes. “As you wish!” Then, he wrapped his arm around the sobbing Piper and hurried out. I remained seated, watching his back disappear. I suppose we wouldn’t be having that final anniversary dinner after all. I looked down at the cold pasta dish, picked up my fork, and ate it, bite by bite. When I was finished, I retrieved the small suitcase I’d hidden in the corner, hailed a ride-share, and headed to the airport. On the way, I sent one last text to Elias: “The keys are on the living room table. We are done. Don’t ever contact me again.” I switched off my phone and boarded the plane to New York.

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The college reunion was exactly the high-wattage, performative social minefield I’d expected. I declined the glass of Pinot that Leo—the perennial Campus Heartthrob—held out to me. Lowering my gaze, I idly scrolled through my phone. On my feed, a discussion post immediately caught my attention: [I’ve been in a cold war with my ex for five years. She still won’t drink the wine I pour for her. Should I finally break and forgive her?] I froze, my eyes drifting across the room to the man across the table, who was typing furiously on his own phone. After a moment’s pause, I tapped out a comment beneath the post: [Is there a chance, perhaps, that she’s pregnant?] 1 The user, the original poster, shattered immediately. A cascade of frantic, typed-out retaliation followed. [What are you even saying? She’s so in love with me—there’s no way I would be pregnant, much less her! She’s definitely just mad at me still.] Before I could even reply, the comment thread had exploded with people piling on him. [Stop being so ridiculous. People are already showing by now, and you still haven’t moved on.] [The undisputed Self-Delusion Champion. We recommend seeking immediate medical help for that level of denial.] [Um, OP, is it possible that a ‘cold war’ of five years isn’t a cold war, but a breakup?] [LMAO, I am dead. The sheer audacity of this man’s main character syndrome.] […] The poster was active, replying to every single comment with a furious, eloquent defense of his position, determined to prove he was right. Directly across from me, Leo, hammering away on his screen, grew visibly paler. His brow furrowed into a deep, frustrated V. It was an unnerving, almost comical parallel. I’d always known Leo possessed a certain level of self-absorption, but this… this felt like a mirror I hadn’t wanted to look into. I was pregnant now. And no, the child was not his. 2 The small drama had barely caused a ripple in the reunion’s loud festivities. Harper, the one who’d always been the most gregarious, raised her voice over the noise. “Leo, you big shot! An award-winning actor! You’re the biggest success story here. You owe us all an autograph before you leave.” Leo gave a non-committal hum, still staring at his phone, a faint, stormy cloud around his head. Harper smoothly pivoted, looking at me. “But the biggest change has to be Eve here! That time abroad did you well, girl. You look incredible. Not just the figure, but you have this… this gentle aura. What’s the word… right! A certain maternal glow.” My hand instinctively moved to my lower abdomen, and I offered a soft, quiet laugh. Before I could comment, Harper winked conspiratorially. “I remember you two were quite the item back in the day. Still look like a power couple!” It was then that Leo finally looked up from his phone. “I wouldn’t dare,” he said, his voice flat. “Some people aren’t even willing to accept a drink from me anymore.” His tone was mild, yet the corner of his mouth curved into a faint, challenging arc. It was the first time he’d truly smiled all night. I ignored his veiled accusation. I met the eyes of the group and simply shook my head. “You’ve got it wrong,” I explained, the smile staying put. “I have a boyfriend now.” Truth be told, it was more accurate to say ‘husband-to-be’—we were legally married, but with the big wedding reception still to come, I chose the simpler, more diplomatic title. The next second, the sharp crack of glass hitting the floor sliced through the air. Leo’s tumbler shattered. Wine splattered his expensive shirt. His faint smile vanished. His eyes, now dark and opaque, fixed on me as he stood up. His hands, hanging at his sides, clenched so tight I could hear the faint, sickening click of his knuckles locking. “I need to step out and clean this up,” he said, his voice dangerously low, “before I further offend some people who feel the need to invent boyfriends to spite me.” He turned sideways and walked straight out of the door. He didn’t look at me again. The room settled into a low hum of hushed conversation. Then, my phone vibrated. It was Rhys. While Leo was frantically typing earlier, I had messaged Rhys to pick me up. He was waiting downstairs. Perfect timing. I grabbed my bag and stood up. “Excuse me, everyone,” I announced. “My boyfriend is here. I have to run.” Harper looked genuinely surprised. “Wait, I thought you were just messing with Leo! You’re serious? Who is this guy? Who managed to outshine King Leo?” Her eyes were wide with genuine gossip hunger. Thinking of Rhys, I couldn’t help but picture the way he’d kissed me last night—a tender, possessive kiss born of a simple, silly jealousy. My face warmed. “He’s… a very accomplished man,” I said, blushing slightly. “And he’s incredibly kind to me.” Before leaving, I reached into my bag and pulled out a stack of pristine, crimson wedding invitations. I distributed them to the circle of classmates. “Rhys and I are getting married next Friday at the Skylark Room. I’d love for all of you to join us.” A moment of stunned silence gave way to an explosion of excited congratulations. Harper was the loudest, immediately asking for the address. But then, her gaze—and mine—landed on the one empty seat at the table. The one seat that had no invitation waiting. It was Leo’s. “Him?” I shook my head without hesitation. “No. Not him.” I didn’t want a single memory, especially a bad one, of him mixed into the perfect celebration I was finally getting. 3 To be fair, not all memories of Leo were bad. The beginning of any relationship is always coated in a thick, unrealistic layer of sugar. In college, I was quiet and frankly, a bit dull. My only real escape was drawing clothes on scrap paper—one sketch after another. I wasn’t a design major, but I loved it. Unlike me, those clothes had color. They had a future. They possessed an unlimited potential that I lacked. It was my roommate—who was in the modeling club—who accidentally found my work. She immediately submitted the sketches for the club’s next show, which was lacking a theme. “Eve, you have such incredible talent,” she insisted. “How can you bury it like this?” I was overwhelmed. Talent was a word I had never associated with myself. The show was held under the stars at a mountain clearing, illuminated by a bonfire—the theme was ‘Cosmos.’ I was backstage, the designer, trying desperately to keep up with the demands of the models. My last piece—the one I was proudest of, the centerpiece of the whole show—was meant to be showcased by Leo. He was the club’s star, the one eighty percent of the audience came to see. My hands were shaking as I tried to adjust his necktie. “Nervous?” Leo caught my hand and straightened the knot himself, a teasing smile playing on his lips. “I’m the one walking out there, and I’m not nervous. Why are you?” He paused, then leaned in, close enough that I could smell his cologne. He was impossibly charming, the kind of flirt who knew exactly how attractive he was. “Or is it…” he whispered, “because I’m just too handsome?” Confidence on most men tips quickly into arrogance, but Leo, well, he genuinely was that handsome. Staring up at his perfectly symmetrical face, I couldn’t form a coherent word. I was suddenly dizzy with nerves. It was time for his cue. He nodded, then turned to walk onto the stage. But he stopped just as he brushed past me. He turned his head and gave me a genuine smile. “Just kidding,” he murmured. “Don’t worry. This is the best design I’ve ever seen.” In that instant, my heart hammered against my ribs like a frantic bird. I watched him walk out. The firelight flickered across the fabric of the coat, making the sequins look like a thousand stars had coalesced around him. The crowd went silent. Leo was transcendent. The performance was a dream. And when the dream ended, I reverted back to my quiet, unremarkable self. But then, at the after-party, Leo came over and sat right next to me. I instinctively shifted away. He propped his elbow on the table, challenging me with a raised eyebrow. “What, nervous again?” He closed the distance. My heartbeat immediately stuttered. Perhaps it was the slight buzz from a few too many drinks. Or maybe it was a moment of reckless abandon. I lifted my chin and dared to say the most outrageous thing of my life. “What, do you like me?” The moment the words left my mouth, I felt a wave of shock, and Leo clearly felt it too. We stared at each other in a silence that stretched for several awkward minutes. The air between us grew thick, hot, almost tangible. The distance narrowed, unconsciously, then purposefully. Until a soft warmth landed on my lips. If that kind of heady anticipation could be spun into silk, we would have been wrapped in layers of cotton candy. I heard his soft whisper against my ear. “Eve, do you know how beautiful your eyes are? They’re brighter than the stars.” I had never known that. Just as I had never known two people could start a relationship so haphazardly. We became a couple, year after year. That year, we were secretly voted the “Impossible Couple” on campus—the most unexpected combination: the unremarkable me, and the dazzling Leo. But as time went on, and all the naysayers graduated, people got used to us. Until our final year, when a talent scout discovered Leo, and he stepped into the world of entertainment. 4 Entering the industry came with a hundred caveats. Fortunately, Leo had a brilliant and ruthless agent, a woman named Ms. Thorne, who controlled everything. But she had one iron rule: No public relationship exposure. The subtext was clear: he could not have a visible girlfriend. Leo argued with Ms. Thorne repeatedly. During the most tense period, she completely shut down all his ongoing projects. We were living together in a small apartment off-campus. Though Leo pretended to be carefree, saying he could use the time to practice lines, his frustration and palpable anxiety were a constant presence. I eventually gave in. “Don’t worry about me,” I told him. “Just do what you need to do. I’m busy working on my portfolio here anyway.” “We can still be together privately,” I added. “And when you get through the early stages…” I was cut off as Leo wrapped his arms around me from behind. He buried his head in the hollow of my shoulder, rubbing against me like a grateful, furry dog. “Eve, why are you so good to me?” His voice was muffled, thick with emotion. “So good that… I feel like I don’t deserve you.” “Once I’m a star, I’ll announce you to the world,” he promised. “Heaven itself won’t be able to stop us. We’ll get one of those big villas with the garden you love…” The dampness on my neck was cold, but my heart felt incandescently warm. Yet, it’s hard for a person to empathize with their past self. As time wore on, Leo acted in a few web dramas and started to gain a little fame. At parties, people who knew us would ask about our relationship. I could only offer an awkward silence and gulp down my coffee. God, that coffee was bitter. It was so bitter that I felt my eyes prickle with tears. The truth was, it was different. And I wasn’t as unbreakable as I thought. Rumors started circulating on campus that we had broken up. I stopped going to school as often, staying home instead. I buried myself in my design drafts, and waited for Leo. But the more famous he got, the less he was home. Soon, he appeared on the screen more often than he appeared in real life. His striking looks landed him mostly romantic leads. Hugs, passionate gazes, and kiss scenes became the norm. I watched him on screen, delivering deep, soulful promises to other women. I had to admit, he was a brilliant actor. So brilliant that one night, I couldn’t hold back. I cornered him when he was home and asked the question that had been eating at me. “Be honest. Do you ever catch feelings for the people you act with?” Leo paused, then quickly leaned in and kissed me fiercely. “What are you thinking? Of course not.” he said. And I believed him. But in the deep, quiet hours of the night, a creeping dread always returned. That feeling peaked the following year when the high school drama he starred in became a massive hit. Their ‘love theme’ song was playing everywhere. One night, he returned home from a celebratory dinner with the cast. He was so drunk he forgot to take off his clothes or wash up. I struggled to get him settled and finally managed to pull him onto the bed. It was then that Leo suddenly gripped my wrist and pressed a lingering, soft kiss to my hand. He used to do this often when he was being affectionate. But this time, he was laughing a silly, drunken laugh, tears shining in his eyes. “Seraphina,” he mumbled, his voice thick. “Let me kiss you, please don’t leave me.” I had watched all of Leo’s shows a hundred times. I knew the line—it was a key piece of dialogue from the hit drama. But the name wasn’t. Seraphina was the name of his co-star, the girl who played the lead role. I don’t remember how I managed to finally drag him into a sleeping position. I only remember that he called out Seraphina and Fish (the character’s nickname) repeatedly that night. Suddenly, a quote I’d seen online years ago flashed into my mind: “They wear other people’s costumes, but the tears they cry are their own.” And then, my tears—my own tears—started to fall. People always say you have to give yourself security. But facing yourself is the hardest part. 5 I stayed awake until dawn. When Leo finally woke up, I lost all composure. I stared at him, desperately, hysterically demanding to know what had happened the night before. I demanded an explanation of his relationship with Seraphina. This time, he didn’t try to soothe me. Leo sighed, his brow furrowed in irritation. “Have you finally finished with the drama?” His tone was quiet, but his face was etched with exhaustion and annoyance. “I’ve explained this a hundred times, Eve. I’m done explaining. If you’re going to constantly doubt me, what’s the point of us being together?” I gave a dry, choking laugh. “You’re right. There’s no point anymore.” That simple agreement seemed to finally anger him. His eyes turned to chipped ice as he stared at me. He stood up and slammed the door behind him on his way out. Moments later, I received his text: [When you figure out what you want, I’ll be back.] But someone else returned before Leo did. His agent, Ms. Thorne. Ms. Thorne was, indeed, a very responsible professional. She brought a bank card. She placed it on the table without preamble and laid out the facts. She knew I was working on my portfolio for a Master’s application. This money, she stated, was more than enough to cover my schooling abroad. The one condition was simple: I had to leave Leo. “Ms. Hu,” she said, her voice measured. “You’re a smart woman. You need to think about the long-term.” Her sharp, astute eyes swept over me. She saw through me completely. “The drama blew up. Shipping him with his co-star is inevitable. If you can’t handle this now, how will you handle the constant scrutiny later?” She leaned in, her voice softening, but her words gaining an insidious weight. “You know, Leo has already wasted several opportunities because of you. Do you truly want to keep doing this, for both his sake and yours? This is the best choice for both of you.” As she left, she paused and gave me a long, assessing look. She whispered one last piece of advice into my ear: “Go look in the mirror.” It sounded like a sneer. But when I walked to the mirror, I saw how truly awful I looked. My eyes were swollen and red, my hair a tangled mess. I felt cornered, pushed to the edge of a cliff, completely out of options. Big life choices are often made in a split second. I picked up the card, dragged my suitcase out the front door, and took one last, self-deceiving action. I called Leo one last time. He didn’t pick up. I switched to a text message: [We’re done. Take care of yourself.] After I sent it, I felt a flicker of cruel humor. He was a grown man. What was there to take care of? Our relationship ended in a simple text message. It had started with a meaningless flirtation, and it ended with a meaningless text. Perhaps this was the most appropriate end for us.

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It was just after the New Year when my cousin was sentenced to prison for hitting and killing a heavily pregnant woman with his car. The victim’s family was demanding a multi-million-dollar settlement, and I was the only lawyer in the city willing to take the case. After days without sleep gathering evidence, I was about to rush to the courthouse in my cousin’s car when my aunt stopped me. “Seriously? Another poor relative showing up only to beg for money or borrow a ride?” She planted her hands on her hips, her expression a sneer. “You think just because my son is easygoing you don’t even need to ask to take his car? Who gave you the audacity! This is a custom-spec G-Wagen. Even if I charged you a thousand an hour—ten thousand a day—you’re not driving it off this property without cash.” Court was about to start. I held up the files, trying to reason with her. She looked at me with open disdain. “A lawyer who graduated from some third-rate college thinks she can handle my son’s case? Are you kidding me? The heavy-hitters from the top White-Shoe firms were just having dinner with him yesterday!” “I see what this is,” she accused, narrowing her eyes. “You just want to drive my son’s car to look important, don’t you?” I shook my head urgently. “Aunt Brenda, no. Wesley is in serious trouble, I need to—” I didn’t even finish the sentence before she slapped me. “Stop with the nonsense! You already drove the car out of the garage. If you don’t pay me now, you’re not leaving this driveway!” As she yelled, she snatched the evidence—the one thing that could save my cousin—and ripped it to shreds. Watching my all-night effort get destroyed, I heard my phone vibrate repeatedly with calls from the courthouse. I simply offered a faint smile. “You don’t need me? Fine. I won’t go. Let’s see how long it takes for my cousin to come home.” 1 “Sienna, I hit someone. Every lawyer in the city is refusing to help me. I have nowhere else to turn!” “The victim was pregnant, two lives, Sienna. And I swear I wasn’t drinking, but they found alcohol in my system. Please, you have to get back here, or my life is over!” My cousin, Wesley, had called me in the middle of the night. I’d flown back immediately. It was just after the New Year holiday. Wesley was driving to his company to hand out employee bonuses when he collided with a heavily pregnant woman. She died instantly, a double fatality. Worse, when the police arrived, they charged him with a DUI, compounding the felony. Wesley insisted he hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol. He’d thrown half his company’s operating budget at high-profile connections, but no reputable attorney would touch the case—everyone considered it a guaranteed loss. That’s when he finally called me. After days of relentless investigation, I’d found the smoking gun hidden in his bathroom: a bottle of potent, alcohol-based mouthwash. It was the only way to challenge the DUI charge. If I could clear him of drunk driving, we could focus on a settlement and securing forgiveness from the victim’s family to reduce the sentence. I checked my watch. One hour until the hearing. I didn’t have time to go home for my own car, and catching a ride-share was too risky. I grabbed the keys to Wesley’s G-Wagen and prepared to leave for the courthouse. That’s when Aunt Brenda materialized, blocking the driveway and motioning for me to get out. “Another broke relative. Always hitting my son up for a loan or his car. Get out!” I rolled down the window. “Aunt Brenda, I’m on my way to a crisis. I’ll explain everything later.” She didn’t care. She reached in, yanked the door open, and physically dragged me out of the driver’s seat. “Your crisis is not my problem! You’re just trying to drive my son’s car for clout while he’s gone, aren’t you?” she spat. “My Wesley is too good-natured, he lets all you poor relatives walk all over him. But why did you pick his most expensive car? How dare you! If you put so much as a scratch on this, your annual salary wouldn’t cover the repair bill!” Assuming she still didn’t know the extent of Wesley’s trouble, I tried to stay patient. “Aunt Brenda, I’m not lying. I’m going to handle something urgent for Wesley. If I’m late, he’s in serious trouble…” She threw her head back and laughed maniacally. “You mean my son begged you to handle something for him? You’ve got some nerve trying to flatter yourself like that!” “What are you, anyway? He has no need to beg you. Stop trying to con me. This car is imported, it’s expensive. Fine, since we’re family, I’ll charge you a thousand-dollar rental fee per hour. If you’re not back by noon, that’s ten thousand dollars!” She stood directly in front of the vehicle. “You pay me what you owe before you leave this spot.” 2 I was genuinely stunned. I rarely interacted with Wesley’s family and had never, as she claimed, borrowed anything from them. If I hadn’t been cutting it so close, needing to avoid the risk of traffic or a canceled ride-share, I never would have taken Wesley’s car. I had zero interest in taking advantage of them. And honestly, if Wesley hadn’t always been relatively decent to me growing up, I wouldn’t have taken this toxic, high-risk case in the first place. He was the one who was begging me, and she was demanding an exorbitant rental fee? I anxiously checked my watch again. Another ten minutes wasted. If I was late, Wesley wouldn’t have a defense lawyer. The outcome was predictable: either the death penalty or life imprisonment. “Aunt Brenda, I am telling you the truth. Wesley hit someone. The court opens in fifty minutes. I am his defense attorney. You have to let me go.” She froze for two seconds. Her expression suggested she registered the seriousness of the situation. I thought, This is it. She’s going to move. But just as I reached for the door handle, she roared with laughter and slammed the door shut on my hand. My fingers throbbed instantly. “Aunt Brenda, what are you doing?” She stared at me with contempt. “Doing? You have the wildest stories! My son was just out of the city on a business trip two days ago. How could he have hit someone?” “Besides, even if he did hit someone, he knows dozens of high-powered lawyers. Why would he need you, a fresh graduate from some online degree mill?” “I bet you’re the one who’s desperate. You probably begged him, and he threw you a bone, didn’t he? Don’t you dare curse my son again! See how I deal with you!” I was numb from her abuse. She’d always looked down on my side of the family. My studying abroad was dismissed as attending a “fake foreign university.” Because Wesley had dropped out and made a pile of cash, she felt she was superior, that no one could measure up to her son. What she didn’t know was that I earned just as much as Wesley, and I definitely preferred my own reliable sedan to her son’s ostentatious G-Wagen. I couldn’t waste any more time arguing about status. I decided to drop the bomb. “He hit someone and was charged with a DUI. Right now, no one except me will touch his case!” Seeing her hesitation, I immediately pulled the case files from the car to show her. “Look, Aunt Brenda, this is the official filing. My name and Wesley’s are on it. Please, let me go. I have less than half an hour now!” The seconds were dissolving. I was terrified of failing my cousin, of going back on my word. His fate rested entirely on my shoulders. Aunt Brenda snatched the file. She looked at it, not with understanding, but with sheer fury. “Settlement with the family for two million dollars! Sienna Thorne, you’re trying to use Wesley’s absence to steal his company stamp and scam money, aren’t you? Pay the car fee immediately, or I’ll make sure you regret this!” 3 Aunt Brenda held my wrist, her fingernails digging into my flesh, refusing to let go no matter how much I protested. The phone in my pocket vibrated incessantly. It was the court clerk. They were probably calling to remind me, seeing as I was late. I thought, If she hears it from the court, she has to believe me. “The court is calling! If you don’t believe me, listen!” I answered quickly, put it on speaker, and held it near her ear. The clerk’s frantic voice cut through the air. “Ms. Thorne, why aren’t you here? The court is about to start! Your client’s position is already tenuous. If you’re a no-show, sentencing is a certainty. It’s either the death penalty or life without parole. If you have any evidence, get here immediately!” I hung up, thinking, Now she finally gets it. Instead, she burst into high-pitched laughter. “Sienna Thorne, you cheap tramp! You’re really desperate, aren’t you? Spending all that money to hire actors to trick me and my son? How many more do you have lined up? Bring them all out!” “And you, a lawyer from a diploma mill? You think you even qualify to step into a real courtroom?” “Without my son, all of you would starve!” I was stunned. I regretted everything. If I hadn’t already promised Wesley, I’d wash my hands of the whole toxic family right then. Aunt Brenda pointed triumphantly at the G-Wagen. “You drove my son’s car out of the garage. It’s sitting here baking in the sun. I bet you bumpkins don’t know how bad that is for the paint and the interior.” “So?” I asked, confused about what else she could possibly want. “So, ten thousand dollars is no longer enough! You owe me an extra five thousand for the detailing and maintenance fee!” “And I’m warning you—you drag this out any longer, and you’ll owe me the full purchase price of the car!” Looking at her face, I knew arguing was pointless. I still had fifteen minutes. If I drove fast, I might still make it. I grit my teeth. “Fine, I’ll transfer the money.” Everything could wait until after Wesley’s initial hearing. I quickly transferred the funds to her account and reached for the car door to leave. I hadn’t even sat down when she grabbed a handful of my hair and yanked me out of the car with all her strength. The pain was blinding. I landed hard on the asphalt. A vicious look was in her eyes. “Did I say you could leave? You paid the rental fee, but we still have to settle the matter of you trying to scam me and my son out of two million dollars!” I was horrified. I genuinely couldn’t believe her level of delusion and malice. When had I tried to scam them? That was the settlement money for the victim’s family! Two million dollars couldn’t buy back a life, and the family might not even accept it! My scalp was throbbing. “I am telling you, I didn’t try to steal your money! If you don’t believe me, call Wesley right now!” 4 “Oh, I will call my son right now!” The phone rang for a long time before someone picked up. It was Tiffany, Wesley’s wife. “Hello, Mom? What’s going on?” Hearing her voice, a wave of despair washed over me. I’d forgotten that Wesley hadn’t taken his phone with him—he’d called me from his assistant’s line. Aunt Brenda glared at me. “This tramp, Sienna Thorne, says my son hit someone with his car. Is that true?” On the other end, Tiffany was immediately agitated. “Nonsense! My husband said he had an urgent matter to deal with two days ago! There’s no way he hit anyone!” “Mom, don’t you dare let that foul-mouthed woman get away with this! The New Year hasn’t even passed, and she’s already cursing my husband!” “Don’t worry. I won’t let her!” I pulled out the mouthwash bottle. “This is the evidence I found…” I didn’t get another word out. Aunt Brenda slapped me hard across the face in a burst of sheer rage. “You tramp, still trying to fool me? I’ll tell you something right now! Even if my son did hit someone, they must have been standing in the road and deserved it! It’s their own fault for getting in the way of my son’s business!” “With all my son’s connections in this town, you think he can’t handle a little thing like that?” I couldn’t help but recoil. “Aunt Brenda, that was a pregnant woman. Two lives. How can you say that?” If this was Wesley’s attitude, there was no way I would help him. She kicked me hard in the stomach. “Are you trying to teach me a lesson? It’s the truth! In this world, the poor have cheap lives!” “And you poor relatives are all the same, like parasites living in the sewer! You can’t survive without my son!” She snatched the bottle of mouthwash from my hand and raised it high. Seeing her intention, I screamed desperately. “Don’t break it! That is the only evidence proving Wesley wasn’t drunk driving! You will regret this!” She was resolute. “What kind of damn evidence? You think I’ll still believe you?” Crash! The bottle shattered, the glass fragments and the clear, strong-smelling liquid scattering across the asphalt. It was the end of the only defense we had. Seeing my panic, Aunt Brenda looked even more pleased. “You told me not to break it, so I did.” I tried to ignore the pain and reached for the case files. They couldn’t be damaged, or Wesley would be completely doomed. But Aunt Brenda got to them first. She tore them to pieces while shouting: “Let’s see how you lie now! No wonder my son says you’re the worst of the lot, thinking you’re hot stuff just because you went to college!” “He always dreaded getting a call from your family—it always meant you were asking for money!” I suddenly understood. No wonder he never answered my calls or holiday texts, only replying days later that he was “too busy.” He didn’t want to talk to me because he was afraid I was going to ask him for money. He was just too cheap. My phone rang again. It was the court clerk. “Ms. Thorne, did you run into an emergency? Should I ask the judge for ten more minutes?” Aunt Brenda lunged for the phone. “Ten more minutes of what? You’re saying my son will be sentenced in ten minutes?” She laughed loudly, treating the call like a silly prank. “I’d like to see that! I want to see what happens to my son in ten minutes!” I made up my mind. My voice was calm and steady. “No, thank you. Could you please tell my cousin that Aunt Brenda insisted I stay, so I won’t be coming.” The moment the words left my mouth, Wesley’s enraged shout echoed over the line: “Mom, shut the hell up! I’m serious, I’m in deep trouble! Sienna, my good cousin, don’t listen to her! Get here now, you’re my only chance!” 5 Aunt Brenda snatched the phone back and listened intently to Wesley’s voice. Her certainty wavered. Her face went from flushed to pale. “That… that’s my son’s voice? How can that be?” She immediately shook her head. “Impossible. Absolutely impossible. Sienna Thorne, how much did you pay for that AI deepfake of my son’s voice? It must be worth it, considering the two million dollars you’re after.” “My son’s voice has a rasp. He’s a long-time smoker, he always has a little cough. You can’t fool me!” I found her ridiculous. Wesley was under police custody. Of course, he couldn’t smoke. His voice would naturally sound clearer. Wesley, who had heard the entire exchange, became even more frantic. “Cousin! Explain it to her! Mom, please, shut up! Are you trying to kill me?” “I bet you have a secret child out there, and you’re trying to get me out of the way!” Wesley screamed, his panic making him lash out. He couldn’t have realized in that moment that the person pulling the last life raft from his hands was his own mother. Stung by his accusation, Aunt Brenda looked ready to jump through the phone and tear him apart. “Don’t you dare talk nonsense! I’ll rip your mouth off! I don’t have a secret child, and my son is perfectly fine!” “I AM YOUR SON! Don’t you understand me? I’m about to be sentenced to death! If I go down, your comfortable life goes down with me!” Wesley was right about that. Aunt Brenda’s family used to be dirt-poor. If Wesley hadn’t struck out and found success, starting his own business, she would never have lived this life of a suburban socialite, thanks to my lazy, good-for-nothing uncle. She was the one stopping me from saving him. I was now morbidly curious to see the look on her face when she realized she was responsible for her son’s ruin. “I’m about to go to trial, you need to immediately transfer…” Wesley’s words were cut off as Aunt Brenda furiously hung up the phone. She muttered curses under her breath. “The New Year isn’t even over and he’s cursing himself? My son is not in trouble!” She was utterly convinced. I snatched my phone back from her. Her eyes held a menacing glint, reminding me of a protective mother wolf I’d seen as a child in the countryside. “Sienna Thorne, you malicious bitch! How dare you curse my son! I almost fell for your trick!” She raised her hand to hit me again, but this time I grabbed her wrist and shoved her back hard. “You almost had a chance to save your son,” I said, my voice flat. I sighed dramatically. “Well, I guess fate decided otherwise. The two million dollars you didn’t want to pay? You don’t have to pay it now.” She sneered. “You know you can’t scam me, don’t you? You think you can overpower me because you’re young? I’m calling everyone outside! I’ll make sure you can never work in this town again!” She stormed out of Wesley’s mansion and yelled at the top of her lungs: “Everyone come look! My husband’s nephew’s shameless daughter drove my son’s car without permission—and that’s not all! She hired someone to impersonate my son and tried to scam two million dollars from us!” Within minutes, a crowd gathered outside Wesley’s house. I knew exactly what Aunt Brenda was doing. Wesley lived in a wealthy, exclusive enclave. These non-profit, high-net-worth neighbors were my potential clients. Ruining my reputation here would dry up my business pipeline. Too bad her plan was flawed. With my current standing and connections, I didn’t have time for these small-scale local cases anyway. The crowd buzzed with gossip: “That young girl, so malicious?” “Two million dollars! That’s felony territory. She dared to try that?” “Why wouldn’t she? Young girls these days all try to be mistresses. I caught one just last week! Scamming a little money is nothing. She’s just unlucky to be caught.” Aunt Brenda put on a poor victim act. “You all know how generous my family is to relatives. I never thought she’d take advantage of us like this.” “Look closely, everyone! She’s a lawyer! If you ever need legal counsel, you better be careful!” She gave me a smug, victorious look. “She’s a lawyer? I heard that crowd is nothing but trouble.” “Tell me about it. The lawyer my husband hired last month was a young thing. She even dared to text me and provoke me! This one probably just wants to be a homewrecker, too.” “If she’s trying to scam money, she’s probably been a mistress as well.” “Let’s take pictures quickly so we can warn our friends.” Aunt Brenda beamed as they snapped photos, feeling completely vindicated. Take your pictures, I thought. My assistant has plenty of time to file defamation lawsuits against every single one of you. I’ll make a profit on it. Someone eventually called the police. A siren wailed in the distance. Two officers arrived, asked a few simple questions, and escorted both Aunt Brenda and me to the precinct. I glanced at my watch. Wesley’s hearing had definitely ended.

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When the heatwave apocalypse hit, I got into a huge fight with my roommate because I wouldn’t let her open the window. While I was out on the balcony collecting laundry, she locked me out. Outside, it was 122°F (50°C). Inside, my roommate blasted the AC and laughed at me through the glass. “Bitch! That’s what you get for not letting me open the window!” I pounded on the door, begging, but she ignored me. I died of heatstroke on that balcony, never making it back inside. When I opened my eyes again, I was back. And this time, I decided to build a secret bunker and survive this apocalypse alone! 1 “Why won’t you let me open the window? Do you know how stuffy it’s been in here for days? How am I supposed to live?” My roommate, Lisa, stood with her hands on her hips, looking at me with pure venom. “It’s scorching outside. If you open the window, the inside temperature will match the outside in minutes. Our dorm will turn into a sauna,” I tried to reason with her, keeping my voice calm. “Why is no one else saying anything? Why are you always the one with a problem?” “What if we get sick from the bacteria in here because we don’t ventilate?” “If something happens to us, are you taking responsibility?” “Or do you just want us to die in this dusty room? You got your grad school acceptance, so why care if we live or die, right?” “If you hate being here so much, why don’t you just go die?” Why don’t you just go die? That sentence shattered my last line of defense. My heart went cold. I looked around at my other roommates. They sat at their desks, glued to their phones, pretending not to hear a thing. I was used to this. Ever since I told them I got accepted into grad school with a full ride, their attitude did a 180. At first, I thought I was being sensitive. Now I knew—they really wanted me dead. Tears rolled down my face. Lisa just sneered. “Crying again? What, gonna go tattle to the RA? Not like you haven’t done that before.” “Let’s see if she believes us or you this time.” I didn’t have the energy to fight Lisa anymore. The weather was getting hotter by the day. Clothes hung on the balcony dried in less than thirty minutes. This temperature spike wasn’t normal. The dorm AC was blasting at 64°F (18°C) 24/7, but it still didn’t feel cool enough. I looked at the laundry I’d washed an hour ago on the balcony and decided to bring it in. In this weather, you didn’t even need to leave the building to be drenched in sweat; just a few steps would do it. Lisa had followed me. The moment I stepped onto the balcony, I heard the click of the lock. She stood behind the glass door, staring at me coldly. The sheer malice in her eyes gave me goosebumps. “Lisa, open the door! Let me in!” The heat outside was unbearable. Just standing there, the sunlight felt like it was burning my skin. My forehead was already dripping with sweat. Because of the extreme heat and the enclosed nature of the balcony, I quickly found it hard to breathe. But Lisa wasn’t listening. She crossed her arms and smirked. “Don’t think you’re so special just because you got into grad school. Who gave you the right to order me around?” “Think about that while you cool off out there!” 2 I never imagined that the roommates I’d lived with for four years, people I was about to graduate with, could harbor such evil. I banged on the door, screaming their names. “Chloe! Sarah! Say something! Open the door, please!” But they kept their heads down, scrolling on their phones like I didn’t exist. Not a single person looked up. I deeply regretted not moving out sooner. The temperature kept climbing. I looked outside. The sun was blinding, but a strange fog covered the ground, obscuring everything. A loud bang echoed from below. I squinted—an electric scooter parked outside the next building had exploded from the heat. I grabbed a clothes hanger and tried to smash the glass door. If I could break it, I might survive. But no matter how hard I hit, the glass didn’t even crack. I smashed until I was exhausted and soaked in sweat. The oxygen on the balcony was thinning. I tried to crack open the outer window for air, but the moment I did, a wave of heat hit me like a physical blow. I felt like I was being boiled alive. The air was too hot to breathe. Lisa’s voice came from inside. “Hey, didn’t you say not to open the windows for ventilation? What are you doing?” I tried to turn my head to look at her face, but I had no strength left. I collapsed, dehydrated. Before I blacked out completely, I heard Lisa say to the others, “Don’t worry, she’s faking it. Just trying to trick us into opening the door.” I watched the world spin and distort. People fighting for water, corpses drying in the sun. Social order collapsed. People killed for a sip of water. I don’t know how long passed before I opened my eyes again. The burning sensation was gone, replaced by the cool comfort of my blanket. I grabbed my phone. Was it all a dream? I climbed out of bed carefully. Lisa was sitting in her chair, gaming. Seeing me, she shot me a nasty look. “Jenna, can I open the window? It’s stuffy in here.” The exact same words. I checked the date: July 20, 2025. I was reborn, back before I died. I didn’t try to reason with her this time. I tossed the AC remote at her. “Whatever. Open it if you want. Don’t ask me.” Lisa looked surprised, then grabbed the remote, turned off the AC, and ran to open the balcony door. The moment she opened it, she screamed. “Holy sh*t! Why is it so hot outside?!” The others, hearing her, put down their phones and walked to the balcony. “It’s roasting. Why is this summer so hot?” “This isn’t normal. Let’s not go out for hotpot at noon. Let’s just order delivery.” Lisa nodded. “Yeah, I’ll call the restaurant and cancel the reservation.” I looked at them. When did they plan a hotpot lunch behind my back? Maybe realizing something, they suddenly turned to look at me. Chloe said awkwardly, “Jenna, you’ve been so busy with grad school stuff, we thought you wouldn’t have time to eat, so we didn’t ask.” 3 I didn’t show any hurt like I used to. “It’s fine. I am busy. I’m going to the library to check some materials my advisor sent. You guys want to come?” Lisa rolled her eyes, her voice dripping with acid. “We’re not special like you. We didn’t get into grad school. Are we even worthy of the library?” I didn’t bother responding. I grabbed a few bottles of water and left. I am a nepo baby. A genuine, loaded nepo baby. But I got where I am without using a dime of my family’s money. To spite my family, I secretly changed my college application preferences and ran off to a university in the South. My mom, unable to stop me, secretly deposited 10 million dollars into my account behind my dad’s back. For years, out of stubbornness, I never touched a cent. I went to the bank and checked the balance. Then I walked out, relieved. Originally, I planned to take my roommates to live off-campus. Now I realized what a saintly idiot I was. They were jealous, plotted against me, and now they weren’t even hiding it. My nails dug into my palms. I was shaking. In my past life, they locked me on a balcony to die. In this life, why should I care if they live or die? Since God gave me a second chance, I was going to survive with the people I loved. I dialed a number I hadn’t called in years. My hands were trembling. The call connected, and a familiar voice came through. “Sweetie, is that you?” My mom sounded cautious. I took a deep breath, my voice thick with tears. “Mom, it’s me!” “I have something important to tell you!” Hearing me cry, my parents immediately started comforting me. I checked into a nearby hotel. “Mom, Dad, listen to me. The world is about to change. Something big is happening.” “You need to reinforce the house immediately. A heatwave apocalypse is coming.” “In a week, temperatures will hit 158°F (70°C). Anyone outside will die instantly.” “Then comes a global drought. At first, people will survive on stored food.” “Later, people will die on the streets looking for supplies.” “We need to prepare now.” I didn’t know if they’d believe me. After I told them everything about my past life, there was silence on the other end. A few minutes later, my dad spoke. “Sweetie, I’m calling contractors now to reinforce the villa. We’re installing industrial AC and insulation panels.” “When are you coming home?” “We really miss you.” I was grateful for their unconditional love. But I had my own plans. I wasn’t going to let those girls in the dorm get off easy! When I got back to the dorm, the windows were shut. They were laughing until I walked in, then silence fell. I paused at the door, then walked to my bed. As I climbed up, I felt a wet spot. Lisa walked over, arms crossed. “Jenna, it was too hot, so we sprayed some water to cool down. You don’t mind, right?” 4 I held my breath, face turning red. I looked up to see Lisa’s smug face. “I didn’t mean to, Jenna. Maybe you should sleep somewhere else tonight.” She sounded so self-righteous. I looked at the other two. “You guys think this is okay?” They turned away. Lisa was the aggressor, but their silence was just another form of violence. I nodded. “Fine.” “But before I go…” I took out my phone, climbed onto my bed, and took photos of all the wet bedding. “This set cost $4,500. It’s dry-clean only. Please pay up.” I pulled up the receipt on my phone. “And these plushies? That’s another $400. Pay me, and I’ll leave.” Ignoring Lisa’s shocked expression, I shook my phone impatiently. “Hurry up. Or I’ll post this in the RA group chat, the department chat, and the class chat. Let everyone see what kind of person you are.” Lisa glared, hands on hips. “Who knows if you’re lying! How can a student afford this? My monthly allowance is only $200!” “Who knows if some sugar daddy bought that for you?” I looked her up and down with disdain. “I didn’t tell you my family was rich because I didn’t want you to feel insecure.” “Turns out my kindness just made you entitled.” Lisa lunged at me. Luckily, my dad forced me into Taekwondo as a kid. I was rusty, but the muscle memory was there. I flipped her onto the floor. “Not paying?” “Fine. Wait for it.” I grabbed my bag and walked out, uploading the photos and videos to the group chats as I went. Seeing me leave, Lisa scrambled up, grabbed my phone, and smashed it against the wall. “Why is your life so perfect?!” “A kept woman like you doesn’t deserve grad school!” I didn’t want to argue. I shook her off to leave. But Lisa grabbed my hair and yanked me back. My scalp burned. I kicked her hard, then grabbed a basin and went to the bathroom. I filled it to the brim and dumped the water all over Lisa’s bed. The AC was on, but I felt a fire burning inside me. The two silent roommates finally spoke up. “Jenna, Lisa, stop fighting.” “What will the other dorms think? We’ll be a laughingstock.” I pointed at Chloe and Sarah. “You two hypocrites. You enjoyed the show while we fought, pretending to be dignified!” “You poor, nasty bitches. Just wait to roast to death in a few days!” I grabbed my bag and slammed the door, ignoring their protests. Outside, a heatwave hit my face. I gasped for air. The apocalypse was really coming. School wasn’t out yet. When the end came, schools and densely populated areas would fall first. People would loot, or die trying. Humanity’s ugly side—and its good side—would reveal itself in an instant.

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My sister was desperate to get rich overnight. So desperate that she orchestrated an “accident,” gravely injuring the grandson of the influential Harrington family. A piece of rebar pierced the child’s chest. She played the hero, rushing him to the hospital and donating 800cc of her own blood. To maximize her reward later, she pulled a “selfless hero” act and disappeared from the hospital as soon as the kid was out of danger. I didn’t stop her. In fact, I stood guard in the hallway for her. In my past life, when I saw her tampering with the construction site, I tried to stop her. I warned her we couldn’t afford to mess with the Harringtons. She pretended to give up and even praised me for being sensible. But on the way home, she dragged me to the top of the steel mill and pushed me off. I died impaled on rebar, my eyes wide open in disbelief. She blamed me for ruining her chance at wealth. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on that day. This time, I’m going to watch her dig her own grave. 1 The Harrington heir was in emergency surgery. My sister, Jessica, was busy donating blood at the window. Her perfectly made-up face was etched with worry for the child. Her expensive dress was stained with blood. If you hadn’t seen it with your own eyes, you’d never connect her to the crime. After the nurse drew her blood, Jessica anxiously asked: “Is this enough? If not, keep drawing! I have plenty!” “He’s just a child, you have to save him! I’ll never forgive myself if he doesn’t make it!” The nurse praised her kindness and beauty, reassuring her that a child doesn’t need that much blood. She had already given far more than necessary. Jessica continued her act, bowing gratefully with tears in her eyes. But when the nurse asked for her name, she subtly changed the subject. This was part of her plan. Her information would be on the blood donation forms anyway. As long as she played the anonymous hero who wanted no reward… The Harringtons would give her even more. The Harrington family, the kings of the capital, never lacked money. After the transfusion, the nurse rushed back into the OR. Jessica finally dropped the mask. She pinched my arm hard. I hissed in pain. “From now on, watch your mouth. You know what to say and what not to say.” “We’re in this together. If the plan fails and the Harringtons find out, don’t think you can walk away clean!” She expected me, the cowardly sister, to try and stop her like before. But this time, I shook off her hand. “Don’t worry, you’re my sister. Who else would I side with?” “Just remember me when the Harringtons pay up and you start your company. A receptionist job is all I ask.” Jessica glanced at me with satisfaction, snorted, and wiped the blood off her dress with disgust. “Mom and Dad were right. You really are useless. Destined to be a wage slave forever. Without me, you’d work yourself to death and never afford a decent apartment!” I nodded eagerly, feigning fear. In our past life, she decided I ruined her big break and made sure I died a gruesome death. This time, I won’t stop her. I’ll help her. I want to see how she destroys herself by messing with the Harringtons! Jessica didn’t think twice. Seeing my fear, she smirked triumphantly: “Alright, stop acting like a wimp. It pisses me off!” “When I open my company, I’ll make you a secretary. Maybe hook you up with a driver. That should be enough to feed you for life!” With that, she dragged me to the elevator. Sure enough, as the doors opened, we ran into the Harrington scion, Julian Harrington, rushing in. 2 She shot me a sharp look. I quickly made an excuse about a stomachache and hid in the restroom. What a joke. Get involved with her now? And get dragged down when her scheme blows up? No thanks. Soon, I heard Jessica’s sweet, fake voice: “No need to thank me. Saving people is just the right thing to do. He’s only five; I couldn’t just stand by.” “I just wanted to help. I don’t want any reward. I have something to do, so I’ll be going now.” Just as the assistant pulled out a checkbook, she hurried away. But she deliberately left a business card behind. With her contact info on it. I came out and hid at the end of the hallway. I wanted to leave, but I overheard Julian talking to his assistant: “Find out if this was an accident or deliberate.” “Don’t call the police. I’ll handle it myself. If anyone dares hurt my son, I have ways to make them stay silent forever!” “Question everyone around the construction site at the time of the incident. Check the broken rebar. I want to see how poorly it was secured! Let’s see which is harder: the steel or the culprit’s neck!” The assistant nodded repeatedly. Seeing Jessica’s card, he hesitated: “What about this Jessica woman…” “Leave it for now. Let’s check on my son first. I’ll ask him when he wakes up.” Once Julian and his entourage got on the elevator, I finally left the hospital. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. The Harringtons controlled the capital. Jessica dared to mess with the crown prince. Her future was doomed. I walked out of the hospital. Her car was gone. She didn’t answer her phone. I had to take a taxi home. The moment I walked in, Dad threw an ashtray at my head. Blood trickled down instantly. My ears rang with Mom’s screaming: “Jane, can’t you do anything right? You’re useless!” “Your dad worked at that site for years just for a chance like this! If you can’t help your sister, at least don’t drag her down!” Dad slapped the wound on my forehead. I trembled with pain. “Jessica told you to leave the hospital immediately! Are you deaf or did you want to steal her credit? How did I raise such a useless thing!” “If Mr. Harrington saw you, the whole act would be ruined! How would we ask for money?! Why don’t you just tattoo ‘blackmail’ on your forehead? Idiot!” So they knew it was blackmail. And they still helped Jessica commit crimes. Remembering how they blamed me in my past life and didn’t even collect my body… I had no love left for them. “Steal her credit? Or take the fall for her almost killing someone?” “I don’t have such grand ambitions! My heart is dirty, so everything looks dirty to me!” Dad was furious, ready to hit me again. Jessica, who had come home early, stopped him. “Ignore her. She’s useless anyway. I didn’t expect Mr. Harrington to come so fast. Good thing I was smart and left a card before running.” Hearing this, Mom’s angry face bloomed into a smile. “Jessica is capable! I always said you were smart since you were little. You’ll go far!” “Unlike some people. Good for nothing but trouble. Lazy mule! Raised for twenty years and still a money pit!” I ignored them and went to my room to grab tissues for the bleeding. In the living room, Jessica was excitedly recounting the events. 3 When she mentioned the child “accidentally fell,” I couldn’t help but sneer: “Just because you’re stupid doesn’t mean Mr. Harrington is. ‘Accidentally fell’? Do you really think your messy work will fool anyone?” “How hard is rebar? Does it just snap? And land perfectly on a kid? You can lie to others, but don’t lie to yourself!” Mom and Dad panicked. They rushed into my room. Each slapped me across the face. “I knew we couldn’t count on you! Useless thing! Keep your mouth shut! If you ruin your sister’s good fortune, I’ll break your legs!” “Remember, this was an accident! Your sister kindly saved the Harrington boy! It’s only right that the Harringtons pay us! It’d be heartless if they didn’t!” I held my face, laughing at their shamelessness. “So making money honestly makes me useless? Not joining her in blackmail makes me a waste?” “I’d rather starve to death than make money against my conscience!” Dad was enraged. He picked up the broken ashtray and smashed it on my head again. “Your conscience? What good is it! By the time you make money, your mom and I won’t even be able to afford a grave!” “You’re useless and you dare criticize your sister? Look at yourself! Worthless!” “If I knew it would be like this, I would’ve married you off for dowry money long ago!” The infection in my wound burned hot. But my heart was freezing cold. “I’m your daughter, not a product to be sold! If you hated me so much, why didn’t you stop at Jessica?” A flash of panic crossed their eyes. Before they could explode, Jessica spoke up smugly: “Ignore her. Born poor, stay poor. At the hospital, she was begging for a receptionist job at my future company. What good words can come out of a loser like her?” “The way Mr. Harrington looked at me today was special. His wife died years ago. Maybe he’ll call me in a couple of days. If he takes a liking to me, we’ll get way more than five million!” Mom and Dad laughed until they cried. Praising Jessica for being so capable. Only I knew that Julian’s look today was pure suspicion. Scheming against the Harringtons? She wouldn’t survive even with nine lives! They treated Jessica like a queen. Brought out the expensive supplements they’d been saving and gave them to her. Didn’t even look at me. I ignored them too. Priority one: cut ties and survive. I took the opportunity to insult their greedy, sinful faces. Predictably, they exploded. They told me to get out. Dad grabbed the family register, ripped out the page with my name, and threw it at me. “Get out! Get out now! I don’t have such a useless daughter!” Mom looked at me with disappointment and disgust. Jessica stared at her phone, waiting for Julian’s message. Without looking up, she sneered: “I was going to give you a job when I opened my company. Since you think you’re so high and mighty, get lost. Don’t come crawling back when you get laid off.” Goal achieved. I smiled and picked up the page from the floor. “One day you’ll realize the Harringtons aren’t simple.” “Dare to scheme against him? We’ll see who ends up begging on their knees.” I left the house and went to a pharmacy to treat my wound. The clerk looked at my bloody head with concern and urged me to go to the hospital. 4 But before I could leave the pharmacy, I collapsed from the infection. When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed. Two nurses were chatting nearby, not noticing I was awake. “Did you hear? The VIP downstairs is the Harrington grandson! Hurt pretty bad. Mr. Harrington is going crazy! Flew in specialists from abroad overnight!” “How does a kid get hurt like that? Corporate rivalry?” “Who knows. Mr. Harrington’s wife died early, that kid is his life. Whoever targeted the kid must have a death wish! He’s still not out of the woods!” “Are those bodyguards outside here to…” “Shh! Don’t talk about it! Those guys look like mercenaries. Let’s not get involved!” They finished changing the IV and left. I felt a chill run down my spine. The Harringtons were definitely not simple. Jessica was done for. I struggled up to check myself out. But I bumped into Julian’s assistant paying bills. He looked frantic. Asking everyone in the hallway for their blood type. Saying the kid’s wound was infected, massive blood loss, the blood bank was empty. I hesitated for two seconds, then gritted my teeth and followed him. Consider it atonement for Jessica’s sins. The situation was critical. The Harringtons bypassed all procedures. No paperwork, straight to transfusion and surgery. After the surgery, hearing the child was out of danger, I pulled out the IV and fled the hospital. I left no information. After getting discharged, I rented a room immediately. My salary was low, so I could only afford a place in the suburbs. The apartment happened to be right next to the construction site where the accident happened. Through the window, I saw the site was shut down, cordoned off with caution tape. A group of workers were being questioned inside. Leading the interrogation was Julian Harrington. Terrified of being discovered, I hid in my rental, afraid to go out. Jessica was the opposite. She hung around the hospital entrance every day. Hoping Julian would pass by and recognize her as the “Good Samaritan.” But three days passed, and no one approached her. She got impatient. She went directly to the ward. Claiming she was worried about the child. Her actions got her noticed by Julian’s people. The assistant recognized her too. After hearing the child talk about the “nice big sister” who saved him… They thanked her profusely. Promising to visit her home personally once the child was discharged. This scene was filmed by someone Jessica hired and posted online. That day, the news of Jessica saving the Harrington heir went viral. She went from nobody to internet celebrity overnight. People trying to get to the Harringtons broke down our door. Everyone thanked her on Julian’s behalf. Saying she saved a life and a family. She was voted “Most Beautiful Face.” Banners and plaques flooded the house. Riding the wave, Jessica released a video. Saying she didn’t want a reward, that she would have saved any child. Her righteous speech cemented her image as a saint. The internet was flooded with praise. I panicked completely. I moved my household registration out that very night. When I went back to pack, my parents’ chins were so high they could see their own brains.

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I knew from the moment I could understand words that my life wasn’t my own. I was a tool, born and raised by my parents to secure an alliance with the wealthy Sterling family of the capital. In my freshman year, my parents transferred me to the elite high school where Leo Sterling studied. They wanted me to flatter him, to stand out among the throngs of girls vying for his attention, and ultimately become the Sterling family’s daughter-in-law. But Leo already had a girl by his side. I watched him lower his usually arrogant gaze for her, watched him kiss her forehead with a reverence he never showed anyone else. I witnessed the passionate youth Leo shared with her. Even after I married him, those memories remained vivid in my mind. I knew that even though I had him, he was still the boy shining brightly in someone else’s story. So, when fate gave me a second chance, I rebelled. 1 I slapped a band-aid on the cut on my neck. Looking back at the sprawling villa complex behind me, I smiled, finally feeling a sense of release. Reborn. The first thing I did was threaten suicide. I forced my parents to give up their schemes for me. The price was steep—a contract promising to repay them $150,000 for “raising costs” before I turned 30 in exchange for my freedom. But it worked. They withdrew all their “investments” in me, only guaranteeing basic living expenses until I graduated high school. College tuition and living costs? That was on me now. … Sitting in the classroom, the reality of my rebirth finally hit me. I looked toward the seat at the front left—Leo Sterling. A cool breeze ruffled his oversized white uniform shirt. He radiated youth and confidence. He was smiling, his eyes soft and tender. But that look was reserved for the girl next to him. Sarah Summers. His deskmate, and his girlfriend. They were the golden couple. Talented, beautiful, the envy of the school since freshman year. Even the school administration, usually strict about dating, turned a blind eye because their grades were impeccable. They were even used as examples: “Want to date? Sure, beat Leo and Sarah’s grades first.” Who would have thought this perfect love story would end? That a thief like me, watching from the shadows, would eventually steal him away. I was secretly thrilled at first. But after the marriage, Leo’s coldness… Even in bed, he treated intimacy like a chore to be completed. I finally realized. Even though I possessed him, he wasn’t the shining boy from my youth anymore. I fought, I cried. I even steeled myself for a divorce. But he refused. He said he would fulfill his duties as a husband. To my outbursts, he responded with silence. He spent less and less time at home, practically living at the office. I lost myself in self-pity, becoming a shadow of a person. Then, one day. Leo was driving me to a medical checkup. We got into an accident. As the truck barreled towards us, I felt no fear, only relief. The impact shattered my consciousness. In my final moments, I hallucinated Leo holding my broken body, weeping. I quickly dismissed the thought. Why would Leo cry for me? When I opened my eyes, I thought I had miraculously survived. Instead, I was back in high school. Watching the two figures leaning close together in front of me, the last shred of my old desire vanished. It was time to write a new script for my youth. 2 “Tessa, are you sure?” In the office, my homeroom teacher looked at me gravely. I nodded. She was still puzzled. “Your science grades are excellent, but you were so adamant about choosing liberal arts before. Why the sudden change?” I lowered my head. Choosing liberal arts was my parents’ decree. Because Sarah Summers was a liberal arts student. Their logic was simple: mimic the girl Leo loved to win his heart. But now, I didn’t have to follow their script. I looked up and smiled brightly. “Because the sun came up.” … It was a weird answer, but the teacher seemed relieved I was back on the science track. The summer after freshman year ended. With my switch to science, classes were reshuffled. On the last day of break, I went to the salon. I chopped off my long hair and heavy bangs. I got a shoulder-length bob. “Wow, you have a good eye, miss,” the stylist praised, admiring his work in the mirror. “This cut frames your face perfectly. You look much more sophisticated!” I looked at the new me in the mirror and smiled. On the first day back, classmates gathered around, surprised. “Tessa! You cut your hair?” “Short hair looks so good on you! Totally different vibe!” “Yeah, you look like those smart scientists in zombie movies!” … The chatter caught the attention of Leo, who was napping on his desk. He glanced back casually, then turned away. My parents’ dream of me marrying into the Sterling family was just that—a dream. Our family wasn’t even qualified to sit at the same table as the Sterlings. Getting into the same school as Leo took a massive effort on their part. So, despite being fed information about Leo my whole life, I had never actually spoken to him. To Leo, I was a total stranger. And that was perfect. Strangers we would remain. … High school flew by. Sophomore year arrived. I spent freshman year filling in the gaps in my knowledge. I was back to my previous academic level. In my past life, I was consistently top 10 in science before the split. Now, with future memories, I was pushing top 5. In the first exam of sophomore year, I hit second place. Only Leo Sterling was ahead of me. “Whoa, Leo, your number one spot is in danger!” “This Tessa girl is in our class. Do you know her?” A crowd gathered around the ranking board. I overheard Leo and his friend. Leo didn’t answer immediately. He stared at the scores—only a 5-point difference. After a minute, he walked away. Dropping two words: “Not familiar.” A few weeks later, during math class. The teacher put a competition-level problem on the board. It was a test for those interested in the math Olympiad. Since switching to science, I had my sights set on it. Climbing higher peaks was the only way to learn more. To add new color to my youth. The teacher wrote problem after problem until the last one. The question alone filled the blackboard. The class fell silent. I raised my hand. I solved it. The class exploded. 3 “Holy crap, Tessa is a beast! She solved a problem Leo couldn’t!” “Looks like her taking the number one spot is inevitable.” “Seriously, her progress is insane. That scholar vibe is making me sapiosexual!” “Bullshit, you just think she’s hot!” Amidst the laughter and gossip, someone suddenly said: “Hey, do you think Tessa and Leo would make a good couple?” “Both good-looking, both geniuses!” “Hard to say. We’re in the same class, but I’ve never seen them talk.” “Plus, Leo has a girlfriend!” “Yeah, Sarah is totally different from Tessa. Leo probably doesn’t like Tessa’s type.” “It’s okay, I like Tessa’s type.” “Get lost, like she’d look at you.” … I heard it all. I just smiled to myself. I didn’t care. Focused on the math problem, I didn’t notice Leo looking back at me, his expression unreadable. The midterm exams coincided with the lead-up to the competition. In that midterm, I finally surpassed Leo. Number one in science. My classmates congratulated me. I thanked them, my mind already on tomorrow’s competition. The prelims and state rounds were over. The finals were international. Leo and I were the top seeds. Our beaming math teacher led us overseas. On the day of the finals. My four hours of sleep per night paid off. Math requires talent, yes. But effort is non-negotiable. I didn’t think I was a genius. I just wanted to be diligent. When I received the gold medal, I was proud. Proud that I had changed. Proud of my growth. At the ceremony, I met the man I had been waiting to see. “Professor Tang, I want to be your student.” I mustered my courage and approached the legendary figure in aerospace engineering. He was surprised, but his eyes shone with appreciation. “You like aerospace?” I nodded vigorously. The old man smiled. He gave me his contact info. He told me to find him in the capital when I was ready. This was my goal. To qualify for early admission in sophomore year, skip straight to university-level studies in the capital. And start earning money to pay back my parents’ $150,000 debt. My math teacher patted my shoulder, emotional. “Tessa, that’s a tough road.” “But with ambition like that, I support you!” The competition ended. I achieved my goal, met my idol, and stated my ambition. Everything was going according to plan. I was happy. Relaxed, I wandered the foreign streets for hours. As dusk fell, I walked back to the hotel, needing to rest for the early flight home. At the hotel entrance, I saw Leo. He seemed to be waiting for someone. I didn’t ask. As my classmates said, in this life, we weren’t familiar. I planned to walk past him as if I didn’t see him. But he blocked my path. I looked up, meeting his deep eyes. “The teacher saw you weren’t back and asked me to check.” He explained. I nodded. “Sorry, lost track of time walking.” “Thanks for waiting. Go rest, we have an early flight.” I turned to leave. But after two steps, he grabbed my wrist. I froze, turning back in confusion. “Anything else, Leo?” He didn’t speak. He just looked at me, emotions swirling in his eyes that I couldn’t decipher. Finally, he spoke. “Do we have beef?” I was baffled. I shook my head. “No…” “Then why do you keep avoiding me?” Leo stared straight at me, his gaze probing. 4 I was stunned. I tried to pull my wrist back, but his grip tightened. His palm was warm, calloused, his grip unusually strong. “I’m not avoiding you.” I kept my voice calm. “We just don’t know each other well. There’s nothing to say.” It was the truth. In my past life, before we married, we exchanged fewer than fifty sentences. He was busy with family business. I was busy trying to please him. We were parallel lines, forced under one roof but never touching. Leo frowned. The streetlight cast a shadow over his sharp nose. “Not familiar?” He repeated the words, his tone strange. “We’ve been in the same class for almost two years.” “You never say hello.” “Last time my friend asked who you were, I couldn’t even answer.” I stayed silent. I couldn’t tell him I saw how much he loved someone else in my past life. That I knew I was just a replacement, so in this life, I wanted to stay far away. “In the competition, the auxiliary line you used for the last problem…” He changed the subject abruptly, eyes locked on my face. “That was a method I used in middle school Olympiad training. No one knew it except the teacher back then.” My heart skipped a beat. I saw that in his old notebook when I was organizing his study in my past life. I memorized it like a fool, hoping it would give us something to talk about. I never thought it would be useful now. “Coincidence.” I looked away, avoiding his eyes. “I saw a similar problem while studying.” He stared at me for a few more seconds, then suddenly let go. “Maybe.” He turned and walked into the hotel, his voice drifting back. “Rest early. Don’t be late tomorrow.” I watched his back disappear through the revolving doors before exhaling. My palms were sweating. My wrist still felt the heat of his grip. Back in my room, I threw myself onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. Leo’s reaction was weird. Why did he care if I avoided him? Because I took his number one spot? Because of the math problem? I couldn’t figure it out. I grabbed the reading list Professor Tang gave me. Two pages in, I was absorbed. Aerospace knowledge was a vast ocean. Once I dove in, I forgot everything else. Back home, life returned to normal.

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My childhood best friend’s girlfriend is terminally online, always chasing the latest viral trends. She pestered him with a meme she saw recently: “Julian, you’re a year older than me. Why didn’t you visit me when I was born? Do you even love me?” Julian laughed, playing along with his girlfriend’s joke. He turned to his usually serious and strait-laced uncle, who happened to be there, and asked: “Uncle, how would you answer that?” His usually stoic uncle replied, “I did visit.” “Not only did I visit, I held her when she was a baby.” As he spoke, his gaze slowly drifted and landed on me. 1 Julian and I were childhood sweethearts. For the first twenty years of our lives, we were inseparable. Not just me, but both our parents and all our friends thought we were a match made in heaven. When I was 18, my parents brought up the idea of a marriage alliance with the Thorne family and asked for my opinion. I actually had feelings for Julian. A union between our families would have been a beautiful story. But since we were young, the engagement was put on hold, and we ended up at the same university. For two years, we were more than friends but less than lovers. Everyone thought it was just a matter of time. I allowed my feelings for Julian to deepen, bit by bit. Until the winter of our sophomore year, Julian excitedly told me, “Liv, I met someone I like!” It wasn’t me. Seeing him so happy, I realized the past twenty years hadn’t sparked any romantic feelings in him. The hand-holding and hugs were just friendship to Julian. Love can’t be forced, and I wouldn’t debase myself. I reined in my heart. So, under the shocked gazes of everyone around us, Julian started dating a girl from an average middle-class family. She was pretty, a little spoiled, clearly a girl doted on by her parents. He introduced his girlfriend to everyone in our circle. My presence became slightly awkward. But our mutual friends didn’t think they would last. They always believed that once the novelty wore off, Julian would realize that he and I were the perfect match. Someone comforted me: “Liv, Julian is just caught up in the moment. He’s never met such a naive and innocent girl before. He’ll get bored soon.” He didn’t. Julian dated her for two years. For two years, he paraded his girlfriend around town. Not just me, but my parents and his parents heard all about it. My dad was so angry he wanted to go over and yell at them. My mom stopped him: “If the marriage doesn’t happen, it doesn’t happen. Why ruin the relationship? Our daughter won’t have trouble finding someone.” “Is this just about the marriage?” My dad was still fuming. When our families discussed the union back then, Julian couldn’t have been unaware. He was an adult too. At the very least, his attitude was a tacit agreement. Even though we were never officially together, we almost got engaged. It was my mom who said we were too young and should spend more time getting to know each other. In terms of social etiquette, he embarrassed me and my family. But we remained friends. Our families had business dealings, so we had to maintain appearances. But we could only be friends. Tonight was Julian’s birthday. He booked a large private room and invited a lot of people out to celebrate. I was among them. Of course, so was his girlfriend, Chloe. 2 After Julian started dating, we contacted each other less. But there was still some historical baggage. Before Julian met Chloe, our chat history and interactions on social media weren’t exactly platonic. After he got a girlfriend, she naturally had the right to check his phone. They argued about it a few times. Once, when Julian apologized to me, I found out Chloe had used his phone to delete my contact information. We hadn’t been in touch for a while then, so I hadn’t even noticed. For Chloe to enter Julian’s circle, hearing about me was inevitable. These rich kids who grew up together were somewhat exclusive, so someone must have said something to her. I understood the situation and kept my distance from Julian. For his birthday, I originally planned to drop off a gift and leave. But as I walked in, my gaze swept over a figure in the corner, and I froze. Then my phone lit up. After checking the message, I silently found a seat. “Liv, you made it?” Julian looked pleasantly surprised. “I heard you’ve been learning the ropes with your dad recently, thought you wouldn’t have time.” I smiled and handed him the birthday gift. “Happy birthday.” “Liv,” Chloe’s voice piped up. “Haven’t seen you in a while. Why the mature look lately? You look like you’re pushing thirty.” Chloe was wearing a custom-made pink evening gown worth tens of thousands, with her hair curled, looking exceptionally perky. Of course, she wasn’t lacking in emotional intelligence; she was doing it on purpose. I glanced down at my women’s suit and chuckled lightly. “Really? Guess I’ve got that girl boss vibe down.” Julian tried to smooth things over. “Liv, Chloe’s just joking, don’t take it to heart.” Of course I wouldn’t take it to heart. Not just anyone gets to live in my heart. I wasn’t sitting very close to them, but my eyesight and hearing were decent. Chloe probably saw a new meme online and suddenly said to Julian: “Julian, you’re a year older than me. Why didn’t you visit me when I was born? Do you even love me?” After she said this, not only did Julian laugh, but the people around them laughed too, chiming in: “Yeah, Julian, why didn’t you bring baby formula to visit your future girlfriend back then?” The teasing was good-natured. Chloe was pretty, the innocent kind of pretty. Her personality wasn’t bad either. Having dated Julian for two years, she had some standing with part of the group. So her EQ wasn’t low. Julian casually replied, “I was busy getting spanked by my mom for not drinking my milk properly.” Another round of laughter ensued. Julian turned his head and saw his uncle, who had unexpectedly come to celebrate with him, still there. He jokingly asked, “Uncle, if it were you, how would you answer?” Julian’s uncle, Elias Thorne, was five years older than us. He was an unexpected late addition to the Thorne family. Since childhood, he was the “other people’s kid” parents compared us to. Although only a few years older, his seniority and his overly impressive resume made the second-generation rich kids in the circle quite afraid of him. I used to call him Uncle too. Julian probably just wanted to see what kind of brain circuit his steady, slightly old-fashioned uncle had. Someone nearby laughed: “Julian, don’t make it hard for your uncle. He’s busy with a million things, where would he find time for romance?” The next second, Elias spoke: “I did visit.” “Huh?” The man who usually didn’t smile added softly, “Not only did I visit, I held her when she was a baby.” No one noticed his gaze fixed directly on me. “…” Others thought he was joking: “Hahahaha Uncle, didn’t know you were so good at playing along.” No one took it seriously. Except me. Elias’s gaze didn’t shift. Even without meeting his eyes, I felt it was a bit too blatant. After the party, I found my car in the parking lot. I got in only to find someone already there. The driver hesitated in the front seat. Elias’s soft chuckle came from the back: “Mind giving me a ride? I didn’t drive tonight.” As the door closed, I heard the person next to me say, “I can’t remember the way home. Miss Liv, would you mind letting me stay the night?” 3 Elias pretended to be drunk and leaned on my shoulder. His warm breath occasionally brushed against the skin of my neck, making his presence impossible to ignore. I looked out the window, remembering the night Julian made his relationship official on social media two years ago. It would be a lie to say I wasn’t heartbroken. Less than a month after Julian told me he met a girl he liked, he went public. I was still wondering how our families would handle the fallout. Even more unexpectedly, at the same time, he took his girlfriend to meet our mutual friends. Maybe Julian just wanted to show off how much he liked her, but there were always people in the circle who didn’t like me. During that time, sarcastic remarks naturally followed. Whether I showed I cared or not, I couldn’t avoid the ridicule. That was when Elias returned to the country. He seemed to have a project in New York that wasn’t finished yet. Ideally, I didn’t want to see anyone from the Thorne family those days, but Elias appeared directly in front of me. It was winter break. Elias asked if I wanted to go to the US with him to clear my mind. I was dazed, didn’t understand what he meant. For a long time, both Julian and I were a bit afraid of his uncle. Although only five years older, for as long as I could remember, Elias clearly couldn’t mesh with us childish kids. Blessed by genetics, Elias was excellent beyond words. As we grew older, he gradually became someone we looked up to. With courage and handsome looks clearly superior to his peers, there was no shortage of girls who liked him. I didn’t speak to him much. Most of our interactions were because of Julian. So when he invited me to the US, I didn’t get it. Elias asked me, “Do you still like Julian?” I was silent for a moment, unsure how to answer. “It’s okay if you still do. He’s just a man,” Elias said. “You’ll meet others in your life.” I couldn’t tell if he was comforting me. “Julian likes someone else. Would you consider liking someone else?” Elias looked at me calmly and said, “Would you consider me?” Shock overwhelmed sadness. Tears that were welling up fell, but my eyes were filled with speechless shock. Elias gently wiped a tear from my cheek with a tissue. “Don’t cry for people who aren’t worth it,” he paused, then added slowly, “Of course, you can consider it a detox.” “…” It was the first time I knew Elias had a sense of humor. He said, “If your initial choice of Julian was based on the alliance between our families, then my conditions overall should be better than his.” More than just better. Elias was practically the guaranteed next head of the Thorne family. Julian didn’t have that ambition; his shrewdness was far inferior to his uncle’s. “If you simply liked Julian as a person, well, he’s withdrawn from the conquest for your heart. I don’t think I’m being immoral.” 4 I went to New York with Elias not because I was moved by his words, but because he asked, “Do you plan to join your family’s company after graduation?” “I’m negotiating a project in New York. Want to come along and see?” Elias’s abilities were obvious to all. Like many others, I admired him. Admiration for the strong is a normal mindset. I really wanted to see Elias work. So even after he volunteered to be my marriage partner, I still went to New York with him. Elias kept me by his side for two weeks, without any adult ambiguity. Like a senior mentoring a junior, he taught me a lot. I witnessed his strategic planning and calmness in business. Without any personal feelings involved, choosing Elias was far better than Julian. The benefits were more direct. “But, Uncle, Julian is your biological nephew.” The night before leaving New York, in the hotel bar, Elias and I sat facing each other, soothing English songs playing in the background. The dim bar lighting added a touch of ambiguity. Elias’s expression didn’t change. His calm eyes rested on my face, meeting my gaze: “Yeah, he did you dirty. You can consider becoming his aunt. You’ll be his elder from now on.” “…” Become Julian’s aunt? I admit Elias’s words were tempting, but I had other considerations for my life. Julian hurt me, but he couldn’t influence my next steps. “Uncle, I have another question.” Elias: “You can ask many questions. Also, you can call me by my name.” Call him by his name. I’ve called him Uncle since I was a kid, following Julian. Naturally, I treated him as an elder. But now, our relationship was heading in another direction, adding a sense of taboo. “What is your…” I paused, “view of me?” “You want to know if I’m pursuing you for profit or something else?” Elias asked back. Before I could answer, he said, “Liv, a five-year age gap shouldn’t be too big. Besides Julian, you and I are childhood acquaintances too, right?” I froze. “I’m a few years older. After you started kindergarten, you often ran over to play with Julian. back then the adults were busy, and both you and Julian were quite clingy with me, remember?” Elias said softly. His words brought back memories. It seems little kids always like playing with older kids. Julian and I both pestered Elias when we were small. But as we grew up, Elias got busy with school, then his career. He became the best among his peers, and our relationship naturally changed. “When you graduated high school, my brother and sister-in-law wanted you as their daughter-in-law and discussed engagement with your parents. Back then, you and Julian were innocent playmates,” Elias changed the subject, “But Liv, now he’s backed out first. Even if I am his elder, pursuing a single woman isn’t immoral, right?” Elias took me home. During the half-month in New York, he didn’t cross the line once. That Chinese New Year, Julian and his parents probably felt too ashamed to visit my house because of his relationship. The Thorne family sent Elias instead. There were many people that day. No one knew that in my room, Elias asked me: “Liv, have you thought about it?”

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