Author: Momo Chan

From the moment I was born, I knew I deserved the best. In my modest adoptive family, they called it “Princess Syndrome.” My adoptive mother saved for months to buy a silk blouse, then locked it away. I’d wear it secretly under my uniform. When caught, I’d lose dinner—so I’d find her hidden snacks and eat them all. My adoptive father claimed he couldn’t afford tutoring, yet kept expensive liquor and cigarettes. I took some and sold them to the corner store owner. With the money, I enrolled in the best prep course and bought imported stationery. Once, my grandmother hid two chicken drumsticks for her biological grandson. At the table, I calmly took both for myself. “I study the hardest,” I said. “I need the nutrition.” They called me selfish, ungrateful—a princess without the pedigree. I never argued. Then, on my eighteenth birthday, a black Maybach arrived outside our old apartment. My real parents—the wealthy Sterlings—had found me. Watching the shock and fear on my adoptive family’s faces, I felt completely calm. It wasn’t Princess Syndrome. I was a real princess all along. … Sliding into the back of the Maybach, I felt no unease. Seated next to me was the girl the Sterling family had raised for eighteen years as their own, Anabelle. “You must be Vivian,” she said, her voice soft. “It must have been so difficult for you all these years.” She took my hand. Hers was soft and delicate; mine had a thin layer of calluses from years of writing. I didn’t answer her question about “difficulty.” Instead, I gently pulled my hand away and traced the edge of the window frame. “This car is due for a service,” I said calmly. The driver’s hands twitched on the wheel, and the car swerved almost imperceptibly. My mother, Eleanor, turned from the front seat to look at me, her eyes wide with surprise. Anabelle’s smile froze. “What did you say, Vivian?” “I said, this car is due for a service,” I repeated. I pointed to an air vent. “The air filter needs changing, too. I can smell fine dust in the air.” A dead silence fell over the car. My father, Richard Sterling, sitting in the passenger seat, looked at me properly for the first time in the rearview mirror. His eyes were sharp as a hawk’s, filled with scrutiny and intrigue. Anabelle’s face cycled through shades of pink and white. She had likely expected a country mouse, either timid and stuttering or gaudy and materialistic. She had a whole script of condescending comforts prepared, and I had just rendered it all useless with one quiet observation. She forced a laugh. “You know so much, Vivian. Unlike me, I just know how to ride in a car.” “That’s alright. You can learn,” I replied, looking her directly in the eye. My tone was sincere. “After all, representing the Sterling family is a heavy responsibility. A basic understanding of luxury goods is essential. You can’t just recognize a brand name. That’s how people mistake you for new money.” A choked chuckle escaped the driver. A sharp glare from Richard in the mirror silenced him instantly. Anabelle’s smile completely vanished. My mother, Eleanor, finally spoke, her voice laced with a complex emotion. “Vivian, dear… how do you know all this?” “If you want to know something, there are always ways to find out,” I answered, my tone light. I didn’t tell them that with the money from my adoptive father’s secret stash, a small portion that wasn’t spent on tutoring went to buying every fashion, automotive, and financial magazine I could get my hands on. The Sterling mansion was perched atop Silvercrest Peak, a breathtaking display of wealth and power. The butler and a line of staff were already waiting at the entrance. “Welcome home, Miss Sterling,” they chorused. I accepted their greeting without flinching. Behind me, Anabelle’s nails were digging so hard into her palms they nearly drew blood. For eighteen years, that title had been hers. The welcome-home dinner was a lavish affair. Eleanor led me into a walk-in closet with three walls lined with haute couture gowns and designer bags. “Vivian, this is all for you. Pick whatever you like.” Anabelle followed us in. “Mother,” she said sweetly, “Vivian just got here. She might not be used to such formal clothes. I have some simpler dresses in my closet. Perhaps she’d like to try one of those first?” She reached for my arm. I sidestepped her touch, my gaze sweeping over the magnificent gowns. From a corner, I pulled out a simple, elegant white dress. “This one,” I said. Eleanor paused. “But Vivian, that’s so plain. It was meant for everyday wear.” “It’s fine. I prefer simple.” A flicker of triumph crossed Anabelle’s eyes. “Yes, Mother, whatever makes Vivian happy. Simple is more approachable, anyway.” I met her fake smile with a cold one of my own. The ballroom was a galaxy of shimmering lights and expensive perfume. I stood by Richard and Eleanor’s side in my simple white dress. Anabelle, in a frothy pink Dior gown, moved like a proud peacock among her flock of friends. It wasn’t long before they descended upon me. The leader of the pack, a girl named Mina, was Anabelle’s chief sycophant. She looked me up and down with an exaggerated laugh. “Anabelle, is this really your long-lost sister from the countryside? She looks so… quaint.” The others giggled, their laughter dripping with unconcealed superiority. Anabelle feigned annoyance. “Mina, don’t be rude. This is my sister.” Then she turned to me, her face a mask of apology. “Vivian, don’t mind her. She just says whatever she thinks.” Before I could reply, another girl chimed in. “Anabelle, you’re just too nice. So, Vivian, where did you live before? Was it like one of those places they do fundraisers for on TV?” The laughter grew louder. I saw my father, Richard, across the room, deep in conversation with several business tycoons. He glanced over, a slight frown on his face, but made no move to intervene. He was testing me. I took a deep breath and smiled, a warm, harmless expression. “Yes, the place I grew up was small and rundown. Nothing like this.” I admitted it freely, my voice quiet but clear enough for everyone to hear. The smirks on their faces widened. Then, I changed my tone. “But because of that, I learned to appreciate things. Unlike some people, who are born in Rome but treat it like their personal playground, squandering everything without a second thought.” My gaze rested gently on Anabelle. Her smile froze. Mina’s face darkened. “What’s that supposed to mean? Who are you talking about?” “I’m not talking about anyone,” I said, still smiling. “I’m just stating facts. For instance, I know my father is in talks with Mr. Lin of Lin Corp, a project vital to Sterling Group’s next five years. I also know that Mr. Davies’s company stock has been unstable and he’s in desperate need of a capital injection. And I know that Mr. Cole’s son”—I gestured to a young man in their group—”lost an eight-figure sum in Macau last month and still hasn’t told his family.” My voice was calm, but with each sentence, the air grew colder. The Cole heir’s face turned sheet white. Mina and her friends were no longer laughing. They stared at me as if I were some kind of monster. Before I arrived, I had spent the afternoon with the butler, memorizing the portfolio he had prepared on every single guest attending that night. I walked over to the utterly stunned Anabelle and, with a small smile, straightened a crease in her gown. “Sister, thank you for this lovely party. But as daughters of the Sterling family, our words and actions reflect on our name. Joking with friends is one thing, but if a few harmless jokes were to jeopardize Father’s business deals, or worse, expose a friend’s private struggles, that wouldn’t be very wise, would it? After all,” I said, my voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “we can’t just wear the pretty dresses the family provides without doing anything to benefit the family, can we?” My words were soft, but they landed like a slap across her face. She wanted to make a fool of me. So I showed everyone who the real fool was—the one who knew nothing but parties and pleasure, contributing nothing to the family that gave her everything. The mood of the party shifted. The group that had been mocking me now watched me with a new expression, a mixture of fear and curiosity. Richard Sterling walked toward me, a glass of wine in his hand. He studied me for a long moment, then addressed the nearby guests. “Everyone, this is my daughter, Vivian. She’s just returned home and is still learning the ropes. Please excuse her if she seems a bit rough around the edges.” His words were apologetic, but his face held no apology at all. In fact, there was a glimmer of pride in his eyes. I knew I had passed the first test. Anabelle’s face was a storm of emotions. She forced a smile and linked her arm through mine, a picture of sisterly affection. “Yes, my sister is a quick learner. I’m sure the two of us will be a great help to Father in the future.” I smiled and let her cling to me. The game had just begun. Halfway through the party, it was time to cut the cake. A massive, three-tiered creation was wheeled out. Richard gave a short speech welcoming me home, thanking the guests—the usual pleasantries. Then, he handed me the cake knife. “Vivian, you cut the first slice.” As I reached for it, under the watchful eyes of every guest, Anabelle suddenly cried out, “Oh!” She stumbled as if losing her balance, and the full glass of champagne in her hand flew directly at me. I had no time to dodge. The cold liquid soaked the front of my white dress, a sticky, unpleasant sensation. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Vivian! I didn’t mean to!” Anabelle exclaimed, dabbing at my dress with a napkin, only succeeding in smearing the stain into a large, ugly yellow blotch. The room erupted in gasps. Everyone was staring at my predicament. It was a perfectly orchestrated “accident.” She had chosen this moment to ruin my spotlight, to make me the laughingstock of the evening. Eleanor rushed over. “Oh dear, what a mess! Come, Vivian, let’s go upstairs and change.” I looked up at Anabelle’s face, a perfect portrait of innocence and guilt, but I could see the glint of triumph hidden deep in her eyes. I gently pushed her hand away, shook my head, and then smiled at the room. “It’s alright. Just a little accident.” I turned to the butler. “Alfred, would you please bring me the black dress from my wardrobe? It’s the third one from the left. Thank you.” The butler, after a moment’s surprise, nodded. “Of course, Miss Sterling.” While I waited, I didn’t scurry away in embarrassment. I stood my ground, even picking up a small pastry from a tray. My composure surprised those who were expecting a scene. Anabelle tried to speak several times, but my calm gaze silenced her. Soon, Alfred returned with a dress box. I took it and offered an apologetic smile to the guests. “If you’ll excuse me for five minutes.” I didn’t go upstairs. I walked into a small parlor adjacent to the ballroom. Five minutes later, when the parlor door opened again, the entire ballroom seemed to hold its breath. All eyes were on me, filled with astonishment. I had replaced the stained white dress with a sleek, black velvet gown. The cut was simple but impeccably tailored, accentuating my slender, poised figure. My hair was swept up in a simple twist, revealing the long, elegant line of my neck. Most importantly, I had put on makeup. Before coming to the Sterlings, my makeup consisted of cheap products from a discount store. But I had spent countless nights practicing, studying magazines and videos. I knew how to use the simplest techniques to maximize my features: my cool, clear eyes, my straight nose, and a striking slash of red on my lips. If the girl in the white dress was an unpolished wildflower, pretty but forgettable, the woman before them now was a black rose, blooming in the dead of night—mysterious, dangerous, and utterly captivating. I walked slowly to the cake and took the knife from my father’s hand. My eyes swept across the room, finally landing on the pale, stunned face of Anabelle. I raised the knife and sliced cleanly through the cake. Then, I looked up, and a brilliant, radiant smile lit up my face. “Thank you all for coming tonight. Please, enjoy the party.” I knew that from this night forward, no one in this city’s elite circles would ever dare to underestimate the “country girl” again. After the party, my position in the Sterling household underwent a subtle but significant change. The staff treated me with a new level of respect, one born of fear rather than duty. Eleanor’s attitude shifted from cautious guilt to genuine affection and reliance. She started taking me on shopping sprees, showering me with jewelry, as if trying to make up for eighteen years of absence in a matter of weeks. And Richard, my father, began discussing company matters with me at the dinner table, quizzing me on finance and market trends. I answered every question flawlessly. The approval and satisfaction in his eyes grew with each passing day. All of this sent Anabelle into a full-blown panic. She felt her world crumbling. She started mimicking me, a desperate attempt to regain our parents’ attention. I woke up at 6 a.m. for a morning run; she dragged herself out of bed, only to collapse in exhaustion after two days. I read the financial news; she ostentatiously carried around a copy of The Wall Street Journal, but when I asked her what “quantitative easing” was, she couldn’t utter a single word. I took the keys to the Porsche Panamera in the garage, the one she had coveted for years. The next day, she threw a tantrum until Richard bought her a newer, more expensive Ferrari. He bought it for her, but the displeasure on his face was obvious. I knew Anabelle had lost her footing. In the eyes of a businessman like Richard, the choice between a daughter who could only cry and demand, and a daughter who could bring tangible value to the family, was crystal clear. I, on the other hand, never asked for anything. I simply accepted what they offered, and then, in my own way, I showed them that their investment in me was worthwhile. For example, the family chef prepared the freshest Norwegian salmon every day. Anabelle disliked raw fish, so most of it used to go to waste. I made a point of finishing my portion every single time. Eleanor noticed and said, her voice full of tenderness, “Vivian, if you like it so much, I’ll have the kitchen make more for you.” I shook my head. “That’s not necessary, Mother. The standard portion is perfect. The finest ingredients, like the finest things in life, are best appreciated with precision and control. Too much of a good thing becomes tiresome. Just like affection.” My words were pointed. Eleanor froze, a thoughtful expression on her face. From that day on, the kitchen never prepared an excess portion of salmon again. When Anabelle later whined that she wanted some, Eleanor replied coolly, “Resources in this house are allocated based on need. If you want something, you must request it in advance. We don’t waste things.” Anabelle stormed off and smashed something in her room. I knew this was just the beginning. I was going to take back everything that was supposed to be mine, piece by piece. Not just material possessions, but the power to set the rules in this house.

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When the elevator jolted, a sickening lurch, and the first person my boyfriend shielded was his assistant. Meanwhile, I, his actual girlfriend, was left to crumple in the corner, my arm fractured and forgotten. And in that single, clarifying moment, I knew. Whatever love I had for him was gone. On my phone screen, a cloyingly sweet post from Lila’s Instagram feed glowed back at me: “Life is only whole when you’re in it.” I felt nothing. I calmly liked the post and left a comment: “His left jawline is sharper. Try that angle next time.” Then, I opened the documentary about the Northern Lights I’d been meaning to watch for ages and finished it alone. It wasn’t until I was about to sleep that I noticed the fifty-plus missed calls on my phone. A text from him followed. “Lila’s young, she’s just dramatic. Don’t let it get to you. I’ll be back tomorrow, and we’ll do a proper birthday celebration.” I didn’t reply. My mind was filled with the dancing auroras from the film, and a single thought crystallized with perfect clarity. Go chase the light. Don’t stay trapped here anymore. … The next day, Ethan never showed. It was exactly what I expected. I felt no disappointment. Instead, the first thing I did when I got to the office was hand in my resignation letter. Then I booked a flight to Iceland, departing in ten days. I’ve always been swift and decisive in everything I do. It was only in love that I’d allowed myself to be dragged down, indecisive and weak. In ten days, it would have been my five-year anniversary with Ethan. A fitting end to it all. A clean break. On the third night, Ethan stumbled through the door, smelling of whiskey. He stood by the entrance for a long moment, clutching his coat. He was waiting for me to rush over, to take his jacket and fetch his slippers like I always did. But I didn’t move. He found me curled up on the sofa, planning my trip. He shook his head and chuckled. “Still mad at me? Is that why you’ve been giving me the silent treatment?” He loosened his tie, his voice laced with an easy arrogance. “Alright, I’m home now. My head’s killing me. Go make me some of that porridge.” He entertained clients often and refused to take anything to protect his liver. I had once gone out of my way to get a special recipe for a stomach-soothing porridge. Every time he came home drunk, a warm bowl would be waiting for him. I was trying to decide on the third stop of my itinerary and answered without looking up. “There are hangover pills in the nightstand. Take one if you feel sick.” The living room fell silent. I belatedly looked up. Ethan’s face had hardened. “Sloane, there’s a limit to this childish behavior.” “Lila is all alone in this city. She has no one to look after her but me.” “Can’t you be a little more generous? Are you really going to be jealous of a kid?” He seemed to have forgotten that Lila, his “kid,” was only four years younger than me. I raised my bandaged arm. “It’s not me being childish. It’s the fractured arm. I can’t cook. But if you’re really craving that porridge, why not invite Lila over? I can walk her through the recipe.” He froze. In the past, the mere mention of her name would make me lose control. Now, I was calmly suggesting she come cook for him. “Is your arm… okay?” His tone softened. “Lila was feeling unwell that day. She said she has severe claustrophobia, so I wanted to get her to the hospital first, then I was going to come back for you…” His voice trailed off as he met my gaze. Lila just had claustrophobia. She would have been fine once she was out of the elevator. As for him “coming back,” it sounded like a pathetic joke. He coughed to cover his embarrassment and produced a takeout container. “I remembered you love truffle risotto. I brought this specially for you.” “Doctor’s orders. I have to avoid mushrooms. They’re bad for the healing process.” Rejected again and again, the man who had always held the upper hand in our relationship finally lost his patience. “Unbelievable. You’re impossible!” He slammed the container into the trash can and stormed into the bathroom. His phone buzzed on the coffee table. I picked it up without thinking. The screen lit up with a notification. It was a message from Lila. “OMG, the boss’s treat is the best! That risotto was heavenly. Soooo good!” Another message followed. “To show my eternal gratitude, I’ll cook you a feast fit for a king sometime soon!” I glanced at the risotto container sitting in the trash and couldn’t help but let out a small, bitter laugh. The next morning, I was up early, putting on my makeup, ready to go out. Ethan woke up. “Where are you going on a weekend?” “Company retreat.” I paused at the door. “Oh, by the way, if Lila is moving in, you should probably buy some new condoms. The ones in the drawer were expired. I threw them all out.” Without a backward glance, I walked out and pressed the elevator button. The architecture firm where I worked was male-dominated, a fact that had always bothered Ethan. For five years, he had constantly urged me to quit. To put his mind at ease, I had cut off nearly all social contact outside of work. I’d never once attended a team-building event, not even the annual holiday party. Over time, I became the unapproachable loner in the eyes of my colleagues. Since I was leaving anyway, I made an exception and joined the three-day retreat. As I finally let myself relax, playing games, barbecuing, and chatting with everyone, I realized how friendly they all were. When I mentioned my travel plans for Iceland, Carla, a senior designer, gently patted my shoulder. “A young woman like you should be out seeing the world. Don’t keep yourself caged in.” I clutched my cup of juice, my fingertips suddenly cold. “You’re right. I’m only just realizing how many sights I’ve missed all these years.” For a relationship with no future, I had nearly missed out on the entire world. During the retreat, Ethan’s messages were relentless: “Are you having fun? Who are you with?” “Where are you staying tonight? Do you want me to come keep you company?” “When are you coming back? Should I pick you up?” “Why aren’t you answering me?” My phone screen lit up again and again inside my backpack. I remembered how, in the past, I would proactively share my entire itinerary whenever I traveled for work, terrified he might misunderstand something. But when I needed the same sense of security from him, he would always say: “Everyone needs their own space, Sloane. You can’t make me your entire life.” I got home late. To my surprise, Ethan was waiting in the living room. “So, you finally decided to grace me with your presence?” he said, his voice sharp. I dropped my luggage, exhausted. “There was an accident on the road. We were delayed.” He shot up from the sofa. “I’m asking why you ignored my messages for three days! Have you decided to start playing the silent treatment game now?” It hit me then. It wasn’t that he didn’t understand how much that kind of coldness could hurt someone. It was just that for all these years, he had been the one using it on me, watching me toss and turn at night, only to finally accept my timid apologies. “I was just busy with the retreat. I didn’t have time to reply,” I answered calmly. “You, of all people, should understand. After all, it was always your excuse.” I turned and went into the bathroom. When I came out, the living room lights were dimmed, and red wine swirled in two glasses on the table. “The documentary you’ve been wanting to see,” he said, his tone much softer. “I’ll watch it with you tonight.” I shook my head, overcome with weariness. “I already watched it. On my birthday.” Without a second glance at his frozen expression, I walked into the bedroom and locked the door. In the middle of the night, I was startled awake by the violent slam of the front door. The next morning, Ethan was gone. As soon as I got to the office, Carla came over with a smile. “Sloane, about that Iceland trip you mentioned… my nephew happens to be going in a few days too. You two might be able to look out for each other on the road.” Her enthusiasm made me hesitate, but she quickly convinced me. “He’s a professional travel blogger. He’s amazing at planning itineraries. With him as a guide, you’ll have a much easier time.” She clapped my shoulder cheerfully. “It’s settled, then! I’ll have him add you on social media.” My initial reluctance faded. Truthfully, planning a long-distance trip by myself was stressful. I hadn’t traveled for years, and a flicker of anxiety mingled with my excitement. That afternoon, I took time off to attend my university’s alumni day. In front of the administration building, a group of students was taking photos. A man in a sharp suit and a girl with a radiant smile on his arm stood out from the crowd. “Kiss her! This is for the campus couples feature!” someone shouted. Amid the catcalls, the girl blushed and stood on her toes. The sunlight cast a golden halo around them, a picture-perfect scene from a teen movie. “Isn’t that Ethan Vance? He was the big man on campus back in our day. Still has it, I guess,” an old classmate next to me remarked. The comment made Ethan turn his head. The moment our eyes met, a flash of panic crossed his face. He instinctively started to walk towards me, but Lila tightened her grip on his arm. She whispered something to him, and he stopped. My phone vibrated. A message from Ethan. “Don’t misunderstand. I was just helping a student with a photo shoot.” I didn’t reply. I followed the others into a familiar teahouse. As we chatted, my old classmates asked how I was doing. I held my teacup and replied softly: “Single.” Someone immediately jumped in. “You should take a page from Ethan’s book. Find someone young and lively. Look how perfect he and his little girlfriend are together.” I smiled. “Yes. They do make a beautiful couple.” As the words left my lips, I saw Ethan standing right behind me. His face was dark. I had no idea how long he’d been listening. “We need to talk,” he said, his voice clipped. I found it almost laughable. In five years, he had never once publicly acknowledged our relationship. I remember once, for his firm’s annual gala, I’d dressed up to surprise him. In front of everyone, he introduced me as just “a friend from college.” And now that I was finally playing by his rules and drawing a line, he couldn’t handle it? “Is there something you need, Ethan? This is a class reunion. I don’t think this is the right place.” He opened his mouth to say something else, but Lila’s bright voice cut through from the doorway. “Ethan! Everyone’s waiting for you!” He gave me one last, deep look before she pulled him away. After the alumni events ended, I was saying goodbye to my classmates at the gate when a familiar car pulled up silently beside me. The window rolled down, revealing Ethan’s tense profile, cold and hard in the evening light. “Get in.” Exhausted from the long day, I didn’t want to argue on the street. I quietly opened the door and got in. The air in the car was thick with unspoken tension. Before, I would have desperately tried to fill the silence, and he would have cut me off with a frown. “Sloane, can you just be quiet for a minute?” This time, I took out my phone and calmly scrolled through the fresh “couple photos” of him and Lila on the campus forum. Suddenly, the car screeched to a halt. Before I could react, he was leaning over me, his hand clamping down on the back of my neck. We had been together for five years. We’d been wild in this car countless times; it had once been our favorite private space. But now, the image of him kissing Lila in the afternoon sun flooded my mind. I shoved him away, throwing open the door. I stumbled out and retched on the pavement, my body heaving. My stomach spasmed, but only bitter bile came up. Ethan stood by the car, his face shifting from ashen to ghostly white under the streetlight, a mixture of shock and hurt in his eyes. I pulled myself up, wiping my mouth. “You see that? That’s the physical reaction I have to you now. We’re over…” Before I could finish, he slammed the car door and sped away, leaving me in a cloud of exhaust. That night, Ethan, who never posted anything personal, shared an intimate photo of himself with Lila. The caption read: “Finally found the right one.” Congratulations from our mutual friends instantly flooded the comments. My phone buzzed incessantly with concerned messages. I didn’t answer any of them. I made myself some bacon fried rice and, surprisingly, had a great appetite. Late that night, the dip of the mattress woke me. A shadow loomed in the darkness. I almost screamed. “Don’t be scared. It’s me.” I let out a breath of relief, then rolled over, turning my back to him. He flicked on the bedside lamp. The harsh light blinded me. He leaned over me, his eyes bloodshot. “You didn’t see my post? You have nothing to say?” I was exhausted and had no energy for his late-night drama. “I saw it. Congratulations.” His breath hitched. His voice suddenly dropped, laced with a hint of vulnerability. “When I used to come home late, you’d always leave a light on for me… Now you don’t even call.” “Lila and I are just… it’s a mentor-mentee thing. If it bothers you, I’ll have her transferred to another department tomorrow.” I just looked at him, feeling nothing but tired. I once cried and begged him to care about me just a little more, and he always told me I was too clingy. Now that I was letting go, he was tripping over himself to be attentive. Too bad. My flight was in two days. He was a man I no longer wanted. And anything he had to offer, I no longer desired. After that night, Ethan was like a different person. He not only had Lila transferred, but he also replaced his female assistant with a man. Every night he had a work dinner, he would proactively send me his location and photos, though I never responded. The new, young male assistant came by the apartment to pick up a pair of shoes and told me with a cheerful grin, “Ma’am, tomorrow is your five-year anniversary! Mr. Vance has a huge surprise planned. You have to keep your schedule free!” Five years. It was certainly a milestone that deserved a proper goodbye. I opened the couple’s location-sharing app we hadn’t used in ages and followed the pin to the most luxurious hotel in the city.

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A murder in the city. A city-wide APB. But Lila Monroe, a precinct intern, secretly replaced the bulletin with a love letter to my husband, Detective Mark Vance. The internet erupted. Criticism and outrage flooded in. “A love confession on an APB?” “So unprofessional!” “Misuse of public resources! Neglect of duty!” “He’s married—is he having an affair with the intern?” “Disgusting!” “I hope his wife, the Chief Forensic Pathologist, takes a scalpel to them both!” My husband was suspended. I watched silently. Because in my last life, I caught Lila’s scheme early. I stopped her, reported it, and she was fired. Drunk and devastated, she fell into a river and drowned. My husband blamed me for her death. Later, during a case, I was taken hostage. Mark didn’t try to save me—he provoked the kidnapper, cornering him. I bled out on a dirty floor, a knife in my chest. Watching from above, I saw no grief on Mark’s face—only savage satisfaction. “Evelyn,” he spat at my body, “if not for your pettiness, Lila would be alive!” “It was just a love letter! Was her life worth taking for that?” “You owed Lila a life. Today, you paid.” Mark packed my ashes into fireworks and set them off over Lila’s grave. I could not rest. Then I opened my eyes—and was reborn. 1 I was back. One year earlier. Sitting in the task force briefing room. The entire department’s most urgent priority was solving the “927 Homicide.” A beautiful university student, out for a nightly jog, had been dragged into a park, assaulted, and brutally murdered. The case sent shockwaves through the city. Public outcry was deafening, and our superiors demanded a swift resolution. As the Captain of the Homicide Division, my husband, Mark Vance, was under immense pressure. His eyes were bloodshot, his voice raw from consecutive sleepless nights. There were no surveillance cameras on the section of road where the attack happened, making the investigation incredibly difficult. But after extensive canvassing, the team finally found a blurry image of the suspect, captured on the dashcam of a car that had passed the park at the time of the incident. The resolution was terrible, a mosaic of pixels that completely obscured his face, but it was our only lead. Mark was in the middle of dictating the details for the APB. “Suspect is a male, estimated age between 35 and 45.” “Gait analysis shows a slight inward turn of the left foot. Stride is average, pace is brisk.” “Wearing a black hooded sweatshirt, dark blue cargo pants…” “A fifty-thousand-dollar reward is offered for any information leading to the arrest of the suspect…” Mark spoke slowly and meticulously. When he finished, he looked at Lila, who was taking notes. “Lila, you get all that? This APB is critical to the case. There can be no mistakes. Every single word has to be one hundred percent accurate.” Lila had just graduated and was still an intern. “Got it, Captain! Your voice is so steady… so magnetic. I wasn’t just listening with my ears; I was listening with my heart.” Her eyes shone with undisguised adoration. “Hehe, just the sound of your voice could give a girl chills… the good kind.” She was openly flirting with him, right in front of me, his wife. It was clear she saw me as nothing more than thin air. “That’s enough nonsense. Get to the comms room and issue it, now!” Mark feigned a reprimand, but there was no heat in his words. Only indulgence. It was precisely this indulgence that had allowed the little troublemaker to become more and more reckless, daring to pull a stunt of this magnitude. “On it!” Lila chirped sweetly. “Captain, I promise to complete the mission you’ve given me!” She grabbed her notepad and skipped off to the communications room. As she passed me, she shot me a smug little arch of her eyebrow. That triumphant look was identical to the one in my memories from my past life. In my previous life, shortly after she left, I’d remembered we needed to add information about the suspect’s shoes to the APB. I’d chased her down to the comms room and found her in the middle of altering the bulletin. She had deleted the entire suspect description. And replaced it with a fawning tribute to my husband. I had been furious. I stopped her immediately, saving the department from humiliation and preventing Mark from becoming a public laughingstock. Professionally and personally, my conscience was clear. I was defending the dignity of the law and protecting my family. How was it my fault that Lila, consumed by shame, got drunk and died? But what did it get me? Only in my last life, as the killer’s knife pierced my chest, did I finally see Mark’s true face. My husband was a man incapable of reason, devoid of gratitude. He was a monster in a policeman’s uniform. I had saved him, and in doing so, destroyed myself. The memories of my past life were like a corpse preserved in formaldehyde, every detail painfully sharp. Reborn, I wouldn’t be so foolish again. So this time, I did nothing. I let Lila work her mischief. I glanced at Mark’s profile. A cold smile played on my lips. Mark, your world is about to come crashing down. After Lila left, the case meeting continued. Mark picked up the autopsy report I had submitted. “Dr. Reed, based on the victim’s wounds, can you determine the type of weapon used?” Though we were married, in public, we always addressed each other by our professional titles. We kept things separate. Except when it came to that little siren, Lila. Then, all of Mark’s principles vanished. I had worked overtime to complete that report; I could recite it from memory. “The wound edges are serrated. I suspect the weapon was something like a butcher’s knife or a boning knife.” Mark nodded. “That suggests the killer likely works as a butcher, a chef, or in a similar trade. That’s the demographic we need to focus our search on.” Mark dispatched officers to canvass businesses near the crime scene. A moment later, Lila breezed back in. A thick cloud of perfume preceded her. Female officers rarely wore perfume. Especially us in forensics. To avoid compromising an autopsy, we wore no cosmetics at all while on duty. Lila, with her heavy makeup, overpowering scent, and uniform blouse paired with black stockings and high heels, was an anomaly. But as Mark’s gaze fell on her, his tired eyes suddenly lit up. Pathetic. Let a man think with his dick, and his brain turns to mush. “Lila, is the APB out?” A grin spread across Lila’s face. “It’s up, Captain! Want to check your phone and see how it looks?” Mark waved a hand dismissively. “No need. I trust you to get it done.” Lila’s smile widened. She turned and brought in a large bag filled with bubble tea and pastries. “Everyone’s working so hard. I ordered some treats for you all.” The team swarmed around her, praising her for being so thoughtful. Lila came from a wealthy family and was always generous, buying loyalty with small gifts and favors. That, combined with Mark’s blatant favoritism, had made her the precinct’s pet. “Captain, I brought you this ginseng from home. You need to take care of yourself. It breaks my heart to see you so worn out.” She handed him a box of expensive supplements. Her words were a cocktail of flattery and thinly veiled insults aimed at me. “Not like some people, who can’t even look after their own husband. So incompetent.” She was always doing this, trying to drive a wedge between us. In my past life, I would have argued back. But now, I acted as if I hadn’t heard a thing, my head bowed over the case file. In my last life, this case was never solved. It went cold. The victim’s parents lived in a state of perpetual grief, and the case became a stain on the city police department’s record. Since fate had given me a second chance. I wouldn’t just change my own tragic destiny; I would find a way to solve this case. To get justice for the victim and bring peace to her family. A mean-spirited person like her only feels a sense of accomplishment when her provocations get a reaction. My impassive silence clearly disappointed Lila. Her eyes darted around, and a new, malicious idea took root. Swaying her hips, Lila brought a cup of bubble tea over to my desk. “Dr. Reed, I got this for you. I made sure to tell them no ice. I know how you older women are always afraid of the cold, not like us young girls who don’t have to worry about such things.” It was another direct provocation. Even Mark looked uncomfortable. He started to speak, but couldn’t bring himself to scold her. He just pursed his lips and pretended to be deaf. I remained unmoved. “No, thank you. I don’t like sweet drinks.” Lila’s hand froze in mid-air. Her eyes reddened as if she’d suffered a terrible injustice. “Dr. Reed, did I do something wrong? Is that why you won’t take it?” Mark immediately forgot Lila’s provocation and turned on me. “Evelyn, Lila was being nice. Why do you have to be so rude?” “We’re colleagues in the same unit. You need to show some solidarity.” Emboldened by his support, Lila pushed her luck. She deliberately tried to force the cup into my hand. “Come on, Dr. Reed. Don’t be like that.” Her back was to the others. Only I could see the scheming look on her face. “Oops!” She “accidentally” tilted her hand, spilling the hot tea all over the back of her own. Like a seasoned actress, tears instantly welled in her eyes. “It’s burning!” Mark rushed over, grabbing her hand and blowing on it tenderly. “It’s all red!” “Does it hurt?” “Should we go to the hospital?” Tears streamed down Lila’s face. “Captain, I… I’m fine… sob…” This only made Mark more distressed. He spun on me, his voice a roar. “Evelyn, you’ve gone too far!” “This is workplace harassment, you know that?” “Apologize to her! Right now!” “Don’t think you get special privileges just because you’re my wife!” The rest of the team gathered around, siding with Lila. “Dr. Reed, even if you don’t like Lila, you can’t bully her like this.” “She’s just a kid.” I ignored them and looked straight at Mark. “Captain Vance, you remember I’m your wife? You remember you’re a married man?” “For a moment there, I thought you’d developed amnesia.” “Or are you also a child who doesn’t understand professional boundaries?” “And as for special privileges, I wouldn’t dare claim any. The only person here who gets to wear stockings and heels to work is Lila.” A flush crept up Mark’s neck. “Evelyn, don’t change the subject! We’re talking about you harassing a colleague!” “I didn’t harass her. I never touched that cup. If you don’t believe me, have the forensics unit dust it for my prints.” “I’m a medical examiner. Trying to frame me is a losing game.” Lila’s face paled slightly. She had clearly forgotten she was in a police station, a place where evidence was everything. Framing someone wasn’t so easy here. So she just cried harder. “Captain, it was… I was clumsy… I spilled it myself…” “It’s just… Dr. Reed glared at me. She’s so intimidating. It scared me.” “She works with dead bodies all day. Who wouldn’t be creeped out?” “I’ve heard old folks say that women who are always around corpses carry a dark energy. It brings bad luck. Curses their husbands and children. They either can’t have kids, or they die in childbirth, and their husbands are destined for disaster…” When framing me failed, Lila resorted to curses. It was a vile thing to say. It wasn’t just an insult to me; it was an insult to the sacred profession of forensic pathology. What is a forensic pathologist? We are the ones who stand beside a cold steel table and scrape a killer’s skin cells from under a victim’s fingernails. We are the ones who find trace amounts of poison in decaying flesh to reconstruct how a victim was murdered. We are the ones who painstakingly compare wound patterns to sketch the murder weapon, leaving a killer with nowhere to hide their methods. We don’t deal in “dark energy.” We give the dead their final chance to speak. We face cold bodies. But we protect the burning heat of justice. The falsely accused are exonerated by our reports. The victims who cannot rest in peace find justice when our expertise forces a killer to confess. These hands of mine have touched dismembered bodies and examined bloated corpses. But they are clean. And they will not be defiled. In the eyes of a forensic pathologist, the dead are never what’s truly frightening. It’s the living. Corpses never lie. Only living people spew poison. Hell is empty, and all the devils are here. She could covet my husband. That man was rotten to the core anyway. I no longer wanted him. But she would not slander the profession I had dedicated my life to. CRACK! I raised my hand and slapped Lila hard across the face. “Lila Monroe, you watch your damn mouth.” A red handprint bloomed on Lila’s delicate cheek. I could see the flicker of triumph in her eyes. She’d been hit, but the homewrecker had achieved her goal of provoking me. Of course, she didn’t show her delight. She clutched her face, the tears falling even faster. “Captain!” “Does Dr. Reed really hate me this much?” “What did I ever do wrong?!” How could a woman like her, who knowingly pursued a married man, have the audacity to play the victim? Mark, like a protective mother hen, rushed forward and pulled Lila into his arms. Then he shoved me violently away. “Evelyn, are you insane? Why are you being so barbaric?!” “I’m barbaric?” I stared at him, a cold, humorless laugh bubbling up. “You’re a police officer. Don’t you understand the importance of forensic science?” “The filth she just spewed, was that human? And you just let her?” “Mark, you’re headed for disaster!” “But it won’t be because of me. It will be because of this little troublemaker.” Mark’s face was beet red. He knew perfectly well that what Lila had said was superstitious nonsense. But he couldn’t bear to see her punished by me. So he gritted his teeth and stood his ground. “Evelyn, don’t make a mountain out of a molehill!” “Lila is just a naive girl. She speaks her mind, that’s all. What trouble could she possibly cause?” He was still trying to defend her when an officer, staring at his phone, froze. He rubbed his eyes as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing, then looked again. Finally certain it wasn’t a hallucination, his voice trembled. “Captain! You need to see the official site! Now!” “The APB… there’s a problem with the APB!” Mark was startled. “What kind of problem? A typo?” He took the officer’s phone. One look, and the color drained from his face. I pulled out my own phone and opened the webpage. The page that should have contained the suspect’s information now displayed a few lines of sickeningly sweet text. “Captain, I know you have a wife, but I can’t stop myself from loving you.” “Every time I watch you catch a killer, I think you’re so handsome!” “I’m willing to wait for you, even if I have to be your shadow for the rest of my life. I have no regrets.” “Love, your kitten, Lila Monroe.” It was identical to the letter from my previous life. Not even a single punctuation mark was different. I looked at my petrified husband. Let’s see you get out of this one, Mark. The rest of the team had now seen the altered APB online. The normally bustling precinct fell silent. You could have heard a pin drop. It was as quiet as the vacuum of space. Homicide detectives are a hardened bunch. They can face murder and arson without batting an eye. But now, every face in the room was grim. Many had broken out in a cold sweat. This was a catastrophe. Though it had only been online for half an hour, it had already gone viral. It wasn’t just the hundreds of thousands of hits and tens of thousands of shares and comments on the official site. It had been reposted across every social media platform. #APBloveletter was trending. The comments were a tidal wave of condemnation, sarcasm, and outrage. “My God! I’ve seen it all now! A police APB turned into a love letter? Are they treating this murder case like a joke?” “So irresponsible! Someone needs to file a complaint for this gross negligence!” “The victim isn’t even cold in her grave, the killer is still out there, and you’re pulling this disgusting stunt? What do you think her family feels right now? You’re just rubbing salt in their wounds!” “The killer must be laughing his ass off.” “Is this a police department or the set of a cheesy drama?” “I suggest a thorough investigation into this Lila Monroe. Bet she got the job through connections!” “This is a gross misuse of public resources! Dereliction of duty!” Of course, a few outliers tried to defend her. “I think it’s kind of romantic.” “Yeah, a girl has the right to pursue love.” This, naturally, was met with even fiercer backlash. “Romantic? The detective is married! This is an affair with a homewrecker!” “This is messed up!” “I heard his wife is the Chief Forensic Pathologist. I support her taking a scalpel to these two degenerates!” “Pursuing love is one thing. Pursuing an adulterous affair is unforgivable!” Mark finally snapped out of his stupor, roaring like a cornered lion. “What the hell is this?” “Who changed the APB?!” “Lila, did someone mess with you? Who was at the comms computer? Did someone threaten you?” He stared at her, wide-eyed. Everyone knew what had happened. But Mark was still trying to shift the blame, to protect Lila. But Lila was a spoiled, reckless brat. Seeing Mark’s frantic state, she wasn’t scared at all. In fact, a radiant smile bloomed on her face, and she giggled. “I did it myself, Captain.” “Surprise! Bet you didn’t see that coming, did you?” She took a step forward, her eyes gleaming with a manic obsession. “I love you, Captain!” “So what if you’re married? I have the right to love you! And I want the whole world to know how I feel!” “Don’t listen to those boring people online! Homewrecker? In love, the one who isn’t loved is the third wheel!” “You’re not happy with Evelyn. Only I can save your lonely soul!” She turned, her eyes flashing with defiance as she declared war on me. “Dr. Reed, I hope you know when to quit. You need to face reality.” “You might be able to keep his body, but you’ll never have his heart!” “Mark’s heart is filled with me, Lila Monroe. There’s no room for you anymore.” “You’re the unloved one in this marriage. You’re the real third wheel. If you have any sense, you’ll leave with your dignity intact.” “You can’t beg for love. Don’t use a marriage certificate to hold Captain Vance’s happiness hostage.” “Set love free!” She spoke with righteous conviction, as if she were the heroine of this story. I’d met my fair share of mistresses, but Lila was the first one I’d ever seen who was so shameless, so fearless, who wore her homewrecker status like a badge of honor. She was a complete failure of moral education. But then again. If her worldview wasn’t already twisted into a pretzel, she never would have been stupid enough to swap a wanted poster for a love letter. Lila was still ranting. I remained calm. But Mark had heard enough. He understood perfectly the catastrophic consequences this would have for him. “Lila, shut up!” “You’re insane!” Mark’s hands were trembling with rage. “This is an APB! It’s for catching a murderer! You turned it into a love letter! What will the public think of this department?” “How am I supposed to explain this to my superiors?” “You’ve ruined me!” Seeing Mark genuinely furious, Lila finally realized she’d gone too far. A flicker of panic crossed her face, but there was no remorse. Instead, she immediately put on a show and started to cry. “Captain, I just love you so much, I wasn’t thinking straight… Please forgive me this one time, okay?” “I promise I’ll be good next time, okay?” Her tears were like a fire extinguisher, instantly dousing the flames of Mark’s anger. He was still furious, of course, but he couldn’t bring himself to scold her further. He let out a long sigh. “Lila, what am I going to do with you…?” “Go back to the comms room, delete the letter, and post the real APB. Then issue a press release.” “Just say… just say the website was hacked. That it wasn’t our fault.” Seeing that Mark was no longer raging, Lila’s face broke into the sly, triumphant smile of a fox that had just stolen a piece of rotten meat. I had remained silent throughout Lila’s tirade. I hadn’t argued with her. Not because I couldn’t win, but because her words were so utterly debased. Arguing with trash like her would only lower myself to her level. What was the point of arguing with a shameless creature who had no regard for the law and zero moral compass? It would be like barking back at a rabid dog on the street. But when I heard Mark’s crisis management plan, a cold smile touched my lips, and I finally spoke. Because his plan was even stupider. It would do even more damage to the department’s reputation. “Mark, do you really think that excuse will work? Do you think the public will believe it?” “And what if they do? What’s worse than them not believing it?” “If the police department’s own website can be hacked, if we can’t even secure our own digital territory, how are we supposed to protect the public? That would be an even greater embarrassment!” “Have you lost your mind?” “Instead of taking that ginseng, maybe you should try eating some pig brains!” “The only thing you can do now is issue a public apology! And then you fire this troublemaker, Lila Monroe!” “Someone with such a blatant disregard for discipline has no place in this department!” “The only way to restore the department’s honor is to focus on catching the killer, and fast!” My words were sharp and merciless. Mark was speechless, his face flushing red, then pale. He was furious. “No matter what, we are not firing Lila!” “She just made a mistake! A warning will be sufficient!” “I’m the Captain, and what I say goes!” This man was a lost cause. Even now, he was still protecting and covering for this reckless girl. Just then, the door swung open, and the Chief of Police walked in, his face a thundercloud. “This is an absolute disgrace!” “Lila Monroe, pack your things and get out! Now!” “We have no room for a liability like you in this department!” Lila panicked and grabbed Mark’s arm. “Captain, save me!” “I don’t want to leave you! I can’t!” A muscle twitched in Mark’s jaw. Though nervous, he spoke up for her. “Chief, this was her first offense, and she’s still so young. Can’t you give her another chance?” “You can’t fire her!” The Chief slammed his hand on the table. “Mark, have you lost your mind?” “Do you have any idea how bad this looks?” Mark dug in his heels. He pulled out his badge and slapped it on the table. “Chief, the public is just looking for entertainment. This is a big deal now, but in a few days, there will be a new scandal, and they’ll forget all about it. Who’s going to care?” “We’re police officers. As long as we catch the killer, we haven’t failed in our duty.” “If you insist on firing Lila, then I’ll resign too. I’m partly responsible for this, after all.” “Lila and I will take responsibility together. That’s only fair.” “But the department is already short-staffed. If I leave, this case will be even harder to solve, and the killer will be harder to catch. That would be truly irresponsible to the victim’s family.” “And the public will be even angrier then.” He was using the case to threaten the Chief. Lila’s eyes lit up. She grabbed Mark’s hand. “Oh, Captain, you’re so good to me!” “I knew I wasn’t wrong to love you!” “If you resign, so what? My family owns a company. You can be a manager at my parents’ firm. It’s a much better job than being captain of this stupid precinct!” Mark was one of the best detectives in the city. The Chief was in a bind. The rest of the team immediately chimed in. They had all benefited from Lila’s generosity in the past, so of course, they sided with her. “He’s right, Chief. Lila is usually a hard worker. She just messed up this one time. She’s young, give her another chance. Don’t be so harsh.” “We’re in the middle of a major case. We can’t afford to lose anyone, especially not Captain Vance’s leadership.” The Chief frowned and looked at me. “Dr. Reed, what are your thoughts?” He knew my relationship with Mark, which is why he asked for my opinion.

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1 Before the Thanksgiving break, Ken promised he’d spend the entire break with me, helping with wedding preparations. But the night before the holiday officially began, he called to say something had come up at the lab and he wouldn’t be able to make it back. Ken has always been the cool, aloof, scholarly type. I should have trusted him completely. But just a few minutes before his call, I’d received a text confirming a hotel room booking in his name. I stared at the message, stunned. It was a well-known hotel for couples. At first, I thought my stuffy, unromantic professor had finally learned a thing or two about romance. Then he called with his excuse about the lab. Like hell I’d believe that. I floored the gas pedal and sped over. The room door was unlocked. A beautiful young woman, wrapped in a bath towel, was sitting cross-legged on the bed with a laptop. She didn’t seem surprised to see me. In fact, she offered a sweet smile. “Hello, Ms. Bernstein.” I narrowed my eyes and looked at Ken. His back was to us, deep in a phone conversation, completely oblivious to my arrival. “Ms. Bernstein, I’m one of Professor Miller’s students. My name is Zoe,” she said, her smile creating two charming dimples. “We had some data we hadn’t finished processing. The professor was worried that being in the lab so late, just the two of us, might damage my reputation if someone saw us. So he brought me here to work. Please don’t misunderstand.” She finished with a playful stick of her tongue. My heart sank like a stone. Ken was a man of few emotions, his world revolving around his experiments and his teaching. He’d never shown any particular concern for any woman. That included me, his fiancée of five years. But now, Zoe was telling me that Ken had gone out of his way to book a hotel room, all for the sake of her reputation. A bitter taste filled my mouth. Suddenly, I didn’t care about being poised and graceful anymore. “If you’re here to work, then work. Who are you trying to impress, sitting there with your bare arms on display?” The girl froze. She clearly hadn’t expected my sudden outburst. Her beautiful eyes instantly filled with tears. “I’m sorry, I’ll get dressed right now.” As she stood up, I noticed she had Ken’s jacket draped over her legs. The commotion finally caught Ken’s attention. He hung up the phone, his face a mask of surprise. “What are you doing here?” “I’m here. What about it?” My tone was sharp, and he realized I was angry. With an almost imperceptible sigh, the man started to pack his things to leave with me. “And get rid of that damn jacket,” I snapped, pointing at the coat in his hands. “You know I’m a germaphobe. How dare you let some clueless girl touch my things!” The tension in the room was thick. Zoe’s face was as white as a sheet. Ken frowned at me, but he put down the jacket and left with me. It was the first time I had ever lost my temper in front of him. In the past, a girl with a face as punchable as Zoe’s wouldn’t have escaped without a few slaps from me. But Ken was a refined, well-educated man. To fit the image of a professor’s wife, I had curbed my temper significantly. But he didn’t see it that way. “Zoe is just a kid. You shouldn’t have been so harsh with her.” A kid? I let out a cold laugh. “What kind of kid goes to a couples’ hotel with her professor? Ken, are you trying to sabotage your own career?” Ken slammed on the brakes. The sudden stop sent me lurching forward. “Audrey, watch your mouth! We were just there to process data!” I couldn’t remember him ever raising his voice at me like that. Ken was perfect, the object of countless young girls’ affections. But his mind was always on his experiments, and he never gave anyone outside his academic circle a second glance. That’s why I’d always felt so secure with him. But now, he had changed. “Ken, this is the first time we’ve ever fought over another woman.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, his face etched with exhaustion. “I don’t want to fight. You’re being unreasonable.” “I’m going to stay somewhere else for a few days. You need to cool down. We’ll talk when you’re ready.” The September night air in the city was chilly. Without a moment’s hesitation, my fiancé left me on a deserted street and drove away. I pulled my coat tighter around me. Suddenly, I had a feeling this wedding was not going to happen. I went home that night and came down with a high fever. I slept for a full day and night before I remembered that today was the day Ken and I were supposed to try on our wedding dress. But I’d been sick and hadn’t reminded him, and he hadn’t sent me a single message. Instead, Zoe’s social media was updated. The first post was a picture of a table laden with desserts, captioned: [Master said that eating sweet things makes you feel better. So Master doesn’t worry, I’m going to eat all of this!] My breath caught in my throat. I had asked Ken to take me to that dessert shop countless times, but he was always either “too busy” or he’d forget and stand me up. An indescribable feeling spread through my chest. I kept scrolling. The second post was taken at a bridal salon. She was wearing my custom-made wedding dress, a sweet smile on her face. Behind her, Ken’s gaze was tender. They looked like a loving couple. The caption read: [A little birdie told me to help out~ Master asked me to try on the wedding dress and give my opinion. Everyone, help me out, is there anything wrong with this dress?] My mind went blank. When I came to my senses, my hands and feet were cold. Trembling. A wave of nausea washed over me. It was like finding a swarm of cockroaches in a garden I’d lovingly tended for five years. The flowers were still there. But it was disgusting. For a moment, I wanted to march right up to Zoe and tear that dress off her. But you can’t just swat at cockroaches. It only makes things messier. I called my brother and asked to borrow one of his handsome friends. Then I instructed my housekeeper and driver to prepare some expensive gift baskets. Finally, I made a reservation at the most famous restaurant in the city. The next morning. I treated Ken’s students to a meal, and as a reward for their hard work, I gave each of them a gift basket. Everyone except Zoe. University students love to gossip. I answered all of their questions truthfully. The looks on their faces were a mixture of shock and disgust. Before the meal was even over, the story about Zoe was all over the campus confession page. After lunch, my brother’s friend, Leo, picked me up right on time to go to the bridal salon. Leo was handsome, with perfect model-like proportions. Compared to Ken’s cool demeanor, Leo had the eye-catching presence of a cover model. Most importantly, Leo was patient. No matter how many dresses I tried on, he was happy to change into a new suit for a photo with me. Thirty-two wedding dresses, and every single photo was perfect. It was an experience I had never had in my five years with Ken. Afterwards, I posted all the photos on social media. The caption read: [My fiancé was busy eating dessert with someone else, so I had to find a stand-in. Everyone, help me choose, which one looks best?] By the time I was done, Zoe’s world had imploded. Someone followed the clues from her social media posts and exposed her on the campus confession page. Zoe’s two-faced behavior at school had already earned her a fair share of enemies. This incident just gave them a reason to pounce. The situation escalated quickly, and Zoe was called into the dean’s office. She came out after a three-hour meeting, pale and with red-rimmed eyes. On her way back to the dorm, she was met with open jeers and laughter. Zoe couldn’t take it. She called Ken in tears, threatening to drop out of school. And so, two days later, Ken once again set foot in our marital home. “Audrey, do you really have to target my student like this?” “Causing such a scene right before the wedding, do you even want to get married anymore?” This was the second time in five years I had seen Ken truly angry. Both times, it was because of the same woman. I’m not one to get angry easily. By this point, I was just tired of it all. “Ken, I need you to understand something.” “I didn’t do this on a whim, and I’m not making things up.” It was a reminder. This whole mess started with him. When he realized this, he was the first to back down. “I don’t understand all that social etiquette stuff. I just do what I think is right without thinking too much about it.” “You told me that girls like to eat sweets. She was crying all night because of you. As your fiancé and her professor, I felt I should make it up to her.” “As for the wedding dress, the designer is going abroad. You were sick, and I was afraid you wouldn’t have time, so I asked Zoe to help.” His calm, steady eyes didn’t seem to be lying. For Ken, offering an explanation was a concession. He hadn’t made any unforgivable mistakes, so I didn’t need to keep pushing. Otherwise, our relationship would be over. “If there’s something you don’t understand, I can teach you. But I don’t like you creating conflict between us because of another woman.” With a man as dense as Ken, throwing tantrums was useless. Stating my needs was more effective than arguing. “And one more thing.” “You may be stuffy and boring in the eyes of the world, but I love that your emotional world is clean and untainted.” “Ken, I don’t tolerate any gray areas. I hope you don’t lose that quality.” The air was finally cleared. A smile spread across Ken’s face as he pulled me into his arms. “Don’t worry. You will always be my only wife.” Ken was never one to procrastinate. As soon as I made my feelings clear, he transferred Zoe to another professor’s supervision. I also went to the school and cleared up the rumors to save her from further embarrassment. Life returned to normal. We went back to the bridal salon to try on the dress again. I don’t like second-hand clothes. So I arranged with the designer to have an identical dress made after the alterations were complete. When I finally put on the wedding dress I’d been waiting for for over half a year, the gloom of the past few days vanished. Every detail of the dress was exactly as I had designed it. The perfect skirt accentuated my figure flawlessly. Ken was mesmerized. He wrapped his arms around me from behind, looking at our reflection in the mirror. “Audrey, you are the most beautiful bride.” Belatedly, Ken became jealous of the photos I’d taken with Leo and insisted on having a photo shoot with me that very day. The dressing rooms were separate.

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1 My husband developed a second personality right after I got pregnant. By night, my Adrian still loved me more than life itself. But by day, his other self was devoted to his young secretary. My rival, Andrew, told me repeatedly that Adrian was faking it, but I refused to believe him. Not until I went to Adrian’s office to drop off his lunch and overheard him on the phone with his best friend. “Adrian, man, this whole split personality act… You’re playing with fire. Aren’t you worried Ella will find out? You’re gonna regret this.” Adrian just scoffed. “It’s just a bit of fun, and I’ve got it covered. Besides, ten years is a long time. A man gets bored.” He continued, his voice dripping with condescension, “Once she has the baby and I’ve had my fun, I’ll just ‘recover.’ Just keep your mouth shut.” My hand flew to my belly, a chill seeping deep into my bones. I turned on my heel and dialed Andrew’s number. “You said you’d raise my child as your own. Your proposal… I accept.” “I’ll be there in three days to get you.” … “Who’s there?” The moment I hung up, the office door flew open. “Ella? What… what are you doing here?” Adrian’s eyes darted around, a flicker of panic in their depths. He quickly composed himself, his face hardening into the cold mask of his “other” self. “I’ve told you, Autumn is the one I love. This obsession of yours is pointless.” Before, I would have seen that flicker of panic as a sign of my real husband trying to break through. Now, I saw it for what it was: a shoddy performance. “Fine,” I said, my voice eerily calm. “I get it.” I turned to leave, clutching the lunch box. “Wait!” Adrian’s hand clamped down on my arm, his face grim. “Did you hear anything just now?” The cloying scent of Autumn’s signature perfume, a scent he once told me he loathed, wafted from his suit. A wave of nausea rolled through me. I laughed, a bitter, hollow sound. “The man I see in the daytime only loves Autumn. What could I have possibly heard that would matter to you?” My gaze drifted to the wastebasket beside his desk. A tangle of used condom wrappers caught the light, and my blood ran cold. “It’s normal to desire the person you love,” he snapped, stepping in front of the bin to block my view. “Don’t start making a scene.” Even in our most passionate moments, he had never been this… prolific. The blisters on my hand, earned from cooking for him, suddenly burned with a searing pain. The lunch box, filled with the meal I’d spent all morning carefully preparing, slipped from my grasp and crashed to the floor. The food scattered across the expensive rug. A muscle twitched in Adrian’s jaw. “Didn’t I tell you Autumn doesn’t like red meat?” he seethed. “If you can’t even do this right, maybe we should just get a divorce!” To keep his “daytime self” from divorcing me, I’d signed every humiliating contract he’d put in front of me. Autumn has a stressful job, so you will cook her a nutritious meal every day. Autumn’s commute is tiring, so you will give her our apartment and move to the suburbs. Autumn is sensitive, so you will tell everyone we are already divorced. … I lifted my chin, forcing back the tears that threatened to fall. “Eat it or don’t. I’m done!” I was done with him, too. The words had barely left my mouth when a sharp, twisting pain shot through my abdomen. My face went pale, and I stumbled toward the door, needing to get away. Just then, the door swung inward with reckless force, and a petite, doll-faced girl stumbled in. “Oops!” The impact sent me sprawling to the floor. “Careful, you little klutz,” Adrian cooed, catching her in his arms. He knelt down, his touch infinitely gentle as he checked her ankle, completely ignoring me on the ground. “You’ll twist your ankle again and then you’ll be whining to me about the pain.” I remembered a time when a simple prick from a sewing needle on my finger had brought tears to his eyes. “Ella, as long as I’m here, I’ll never let you get hurt again,” he had sworn, his voice thick with emotion. “When you hurt, I feel it a thousand times more.” That promise was now a mocking echo. “For God’s sake, Ella,” Adrian’s voice was laced with irritation. “She barely touched you. You’re not even bleeding. Stop being so dramatic.” The pain in my heart was as sharp as the cramps in my belly. I tried to push myself up, my hands slipping on the polished floor, but my body wouldn’t cooperate. A dreadful premonition began to form. “What are you, made of glass?” Autumn sneered, rolling her eyes. Then, the stiletto of her high heel dug viciously into my pregnant belly. “Ah!” A scream tore from my throat. Autumn just smirked, a triumphant glint in her eyes. “See, Adrian? She’s got plenty of energy to scream. She’s fine. Just trying to get your attention.” A flash of alarm crossed Adrian’s face. “What did you do? She’s pregnant! The baby is innocent.” Autumn pouted, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Oh, sweetie, I was just trying to borrow some of her baby luck. I’m just a girl, how hard could I have possibly stepped?” Adrian’s resolve melted. He sighed, tapping her nose playfully. “You’re trouble.” Then he turned his glare on me. “Get up, Ella. Since the baby’s fine, stop the act. I told you, I’m not him. Don’t try to use the baby to manipulate me.” But it was him, the real Adrian, who had once pressed his ear to my belly, whispering promises of protection for me and our child. He really thought his performance was flawless, that I couldn’t see through his pathetic charade. I tried to speak, but a pain so intense it felt like a knife twisting in my gut ripped the air from my lungs. A dreadful warmth spread beneath me. Something was terribly wrong. Panic seized me. I crawled forward, ignoring the mess and the pain, and grabbed the cuff of his pants. “My stomach… it hurts so much. Adrian, please… help me. Help our baby.” “Autumn barely touched you. There’s a limit to how far you can take this act, I swear to…” He looked down, his impatient retort dying on his lips as he saw the spreading pool of crimson on the floor beneath me. Panic finally broke through his mask. He scooped me into his arms, his voice suddenly frantic, shifting back to the man I knew. “Don’t be scared, Ella, it’s me! The real me is back! I’m taking you to the hospital.” Even now, he couldn’t drop the act. A final wave of agony washed over me, and the world went black. I woke up in a hospital bed. My hand instinctively went to my stomach. It was flat. A raw panic clawed at my throat. “My baby? Where’s my baby?” A nurse rushed to my side, gently restraining me. “Easy, easy. You’ve been through a lot, and you need to rest. The baby is in the NICU incubator. He’s stable.” He. A boy. But I sensed a hesitation in her voice. Our eyes met, and she sighed, her expression softening with pity. “Your son was born prematurely, and the trauma… well, he’s not as strong as other newborns. He’s going to require very careful, dedicated care.” The knot of terror in my chest loosened slightly. I could do that. I could give him all the care in the world. After thanking the nurse, Adrian walked in. He helped me sit up, his eyes filled with a familiar, aching tenderness. “Ella, you suffered so much.” He held up a small, elegant box. “I went to The Gilded Spoon and got you your favorite blueberry cake. Will you have some?” The Gilded Spoon was on the opposite side of town from the hospital. He’d gone to a lot of trouble. But I love strawberry cake. Blueberry was her favorite. Seeing my silence, he pulled me into a hug, his voice cracking. “My love, I’m so sorry. I can only break through to protect you for a moment when you’re hurt. This is all my fault.” He pulled back and slapped himself hard across the face, then again, without a hint of hesitation, not caring about the bruises he’d have to explain at work tomorrow. The old me would have rushed to stop him, my heart breaking for his torment. Now, watching his one-man show, I only felt a cold, bitter amusement. “Bring Autumn in here,” he commanded a nurse. Autumn was brought in, her feet swollen, her eyes shooting daggers at me. Adrian kicked the back of her knees, forcing her to the ground. “You’re lucky Ella is okay,” he snarled. “Otherwise, your worthless life wouldn’t be enough to pay for it. You dare glare at her? You’ll kneel in the hallway all night and think about what you did.” The punishment was meaningless. I just felt tired. Lying in the sterile bed, my eyes burned. I had to ask. “Adrian, do you really love me? Is there anything… anything at all you’ve been hiding from me?” He stroked my hair, a weary smile on his face. “Of course I love you. Why else would I have been able to fight through my condition to get you here? Ella, what could possibly make you think I’m hiding something from you?” Hearing his probing question, I just shook my head. “Nothing. Just asking.” “We’re childhood sweethearts. We’ve loved each other for ten years. Don’t let your mind wander. Get some rest, sweetheart.” He kissed my forehead. “I’ll find a way to make this other me disappear for good.” He seemed to relax, then left the room. I closed my eyes, exhaustion washing over me. Yes. Ten years. From high school sweethearts to husband and wife. But in the end, it couldn’t compete with a cheap thrill. He was still lying to me. And I was done with it. Before I fell asleep, I pushed my weakened body up, wanting to see my son. As I passed Autumn’s room, I saw the light was on. Through the crack in the door, I saw Adrian kneeling on her bed, gently massaging her legs, whispering soft words of comfort. He was so meticulous. He must have told her his ‘main personality’ broke through her punishment. I looked away and continued down the hall to the NICU. He was so tiny. His little face was pale, almost translucent, and he was sucking on his own fist. He looked so fragile, so perfect. My heart ached with a love so fierce it stole my breath. I traced the outline of his face on the glass, making a silent vow. Be strong, my little one. Just three more days. Then Mommy is taking you away from all this. In my dreams, I was back in the beginning. An eighteen-year-old Adrian, blushing furiously, handed me a love letter. “Ella, will you be my girlfriend? I’ll spend my whole life making you happy.” A twenty-year-old Adrian, shielding me with his own body as thugs beat him bloody. “How a woman dresses is her choice! It’s not an invitation for scum like you to harass her.” A twenty-four-year-old Adrian, down on one knee with a ring. “Ella, marry me. I promise to love you, cherish you, and be faithful to you for all my days.” A twenty-eight-year-old Adrian, his arm wrapped around Autumn, looking down at me with contempt. “So what if we had ten years, Ella? I’m bored. Autumn is the one I love now.” The Adrian in my dream blurred, and I woke to a searing pain in my cheek. My eyes flew open to see the real Adrian standing over me, his face a thunderous mask. “You are a vicious, heartless woman, Ella.” “Autumn already knew she was wrong, and you made her kneel all night? Do you have any idea she almost had a miscarriage?” “It seems you still haven’t learned your lesson.” Two burly security guards entered the room, each holding a baseball bat. My mind was a confused jumble, but I had the presence of mind to glance out the window. It was daytime. I was dragged from my bed and forced to my knees in front of Autumn. “Don’t you worry, my love,” Adrian said to her, his voice cold and menacing as he looked at me. “I’ll break her legs for you right now.” The bat slammed into my shin, and I screamed. How could I forget? The one time I’d called Autumn a homewrecker, Adrian had hired some thugs to corner me in an alley, just to “teach me a lesson.” I only got away after kneeling on the pavement and begging for his forgiveness, calling myself worthless a hundred times. Even though I’d seen him tending to Autumn’s swollen legs last night, I knew he would never admit it. He would only be crueler to me. The bones in my leg felt like they were shattering. I couldn’t take it anymore. “Adrian, I was wrong! I shouldn’t have made her kneel. I didn’t know she was pregnant. Please, just let me go.” I looked up at him, pleading, but he just kicked me hard in the stomach. A fresh wave of agony tore through me. His face was a mask of disappointment. “You’re still lying. You’ve been pregnant. You’re telling me you couldn’t tell that she was?” The wound from my C-section ripped open. Suddenly, I had no desire to argue. The Adrian I knew would have believed me without question. This man wouldn’t believe me if I tore my own heart out to prove my innocence. My consciousness began to fade. Just as I thought I would die from the pain, Adrian finally signaled for the men to stop. “So you don’t forget this lesson, you can stay here and reflect. I’ll have a doctor see to you in three hours.” … I lay crumpled on the cold hospital floor, a spectacle for every passerby. “Serves her right! Trying to break up a happy couple. What a homewrecker.” “He’s so handsome and she’s so beautiful. And he dotes on her! I heard he’s buying her a private island as a gift now that she’s pregnant.” I listened to their insults numbly, wincing as someone kicked my side. They didn’t know. I was Adrian’s wife. That island was where we got married. He promised we’d take our child there one day to show him where our love story began. Now, looking down at my numb, useless lower body, my heart turned to stone. Three hours later, no doctor came. I crawled back to his room. He was sitting by Autumn’s bed, peeling a pear for her. “Oh, Adrian, don’t share a pear with me! Don’t you know the superstition? It means we’ll be separated,” Autumn chirped, playfully pushing the fruit away. Adrian chuckled and apologized. “You’re right, you’re right. My mistake.” But that’s not what he used to say to me. “Ella, that’s just an old wives’ tale. We’ll never be separated.” He’d said, popping a piece of shared pear into my mouth. “See? If the tale were true, we’d be doomed to part ways now.” Today, his words had become a prophecy. I pushed the memory aside and looked at him, my voice flat. “Adrian. I want a divorce.” The knife in his hand stilled. A sudden, suffocating panic seemed to grip him, the fear of losing something vital. He avoided my eyes. “You still haven’t learned your lesson, have you, Ella?” He gestured dismissively at my torn, dirty clothes. “I had a doctor sent for you. Who are you trying to disgust by showing up like this?” Autumn shook her head, pointing an accusing finger at me. “She’s not confused, Adrian! She’s doing this on purpose! She wants revenge. She wants to get rid of me.” She continued, her voice rising hysterically, “Think about it! When you’re gone, that other personality will find out what happened and he’ll kill me! Then she can have you all to herself!” Hearing this, Adrian seemed to let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Enough. I don’t have time for your theatrics,” he said to me. “I’ll have a nurse take you back to your room.” I knew what he was thinking. He was sure I loved him too much to ever leave him. But he was wrong. I had no love left to give. That night, Adrian came to my room. He knelt by my bed, his fingers gently tracing the bandages on my legs. “Ella, I’ve already contacted the best orthopedic surgeons in the country. Don’t be afraid. They said there’s a 50% chance they can fix your legs. You’re going to be okay.” His voice was thick with emotion. “Ella, I know my illness has made you suffer. I’ll have someone break Autumn’s legs right now. Just… just don’t leave me, okay? Please?” He looked up at me, his eyes red-rimmed and shining with tears in the moonlight. “I’ll die without you.” I reached out and gently touched the face of the man I had loved for a decade. “Really?” Adrian nodded desperately. “Sweetheart, you have to believe me.” But I couldn’t. I couldn’t tell his lies from the truth anymore. It didn’t matter. I was leaving soon with my son. When I woke up next, I was being wheeled into an operating room. Autumn was leaning against Adrian, a smug look on her face. “I knew you’d try to have that other personality come after me. Good thing my Adrian hid me away.” Adrian stroked her hair, then shot me a look of pure disgust. “You never learn, do you, Ella? Go ahead. Amputate.” The hope of walking again was snuffed out, just like that. When I woke again, I had prosthetics. “Mr. Sterling says that while it may be painful, your duties to Miss Autumn cannot be delayed,” the doctor told me clinically. “He hopes you will adapt quickly.” At the same time, a text from Autumn arrived. You have five minutes to get over here. Or else something might happen to that little weakling of yours… The raw stumps of my legs screamed in protest against the unfamiliar press of the prosthetics, but I didn’t care. I scrambled into my wheelchair and rushed to the NICU. My son was sleeping peacefully in his incubator. My heart settled. I took a deep breath and went to see what new hell Autumn had devised. I kept my face a cold mask. “What do you want, Autumn? I’m warning you, if you touch my son, I will kill you.” She laughed, a high, tinkling sound. “Is that a threat? Adrian cares about the baby in my belly. Yours is just a preemie destined to die young. He’ll always protect me.” I snapped. The slap echoed in the quiet room. No mother could hear someone curse her child like that and do nothing. “Say that again.” Instead of anger, she just smiled, a strange, twisted expression. “Oh, Ella, I know everything. I know you and Adrian aren’t really divorced. He just lied to me because he was afraid the stress would hurt my baby.” “But you’re in your thirties now. You’re old news. Why are you still clinging to him so shamelessly?” she taunted. “He deserves better. He deserves me.” I felt nothing. “I don’t want him anymore. If you want him, he’s all yours.” Autumn’s smile widened. “As long as his ‘main personality’ exists, I’ll never truly have him,” she said. “So I’ll just have to use you to provoke him. Push him until he finally kills that other part of himself for good.” I was about to tell her it was all an act when she suddenly grabbed a fruit knife from the bedside table, forced it into my hand, and plunged it deep into her own stomach. “Your son…” As I stared in shock, she leaned close to my ear and whispered, “A baby is nothing. Compared to Adrian, a baby is nothing at all.” The next second, Adrian burst through the door and saw the scene. A raw, primal scream tore from his throat. “Autumn! Don’t worry, I’ll get a doctor! You’re going to be okay!” “Yes, Adrian… I love you,” she whispered weakly. He carefully lifted her and rushed her to the operating room. Then he stormed back, his face contorted with rage, and kicked me so hard I flew across the room and slammed into the wall. “You’re a monster! That was an innocent child!” “No! It wasn’t me! She stabbed herself! The security cameras… check the cameras!” I fumbled for my phone, showing him the threatening text she’d sent. He shook his head, his face a canvas of pure disappointment. “I don’t need to. You’re still lying, even now. I saw it with my own eyes. Do you think I’m a fool?” “Since you refuse to repent,” he snarled, his eyes glinting with a terrifying coldness, “you’re going to feel the same pain.” He dragged me, kicking and screaming, to the NICU. As I watched in horror, he reached behind my son’s incubator and yanked the power cord from the wall. “NO! Adrian, please! He’s a preemie, he’s so fragile! He’ll die! He’s your son, too!” “Whatever you’re angry about, take it out on me! Don’t hurt the baby, I’m begging you!” I sobbed, banging my head on the floor, pleading with him, but he just sneered. “Now you know how Autumn feels. Maybe this will finally teach you a lesson.” Half an hour later, a doctor appeared. “Miss Autumn is awake. The family can see her now.” “Remember this, Ella,” Adrian spat, his voice low and menacing. “If you ever hurt Autumn again, I will make you pay a hundred times over.” He turned and left without a backward glance. My hands trembling, I crawled to the outlet and plugged the cord back in. But inside the incubator, my son was perfectly still. … Three hours later, I was on a plane, leaving the country forever. At that exact moment, Adrian’s phone rang. It was his friend, Leo. “Adrian, bad news! Ella knows! She knows the split personality was a fake!” “You’ve got to get to the airport, man! She’s taking the baby and she’s leaving!”

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Crestview Estates owed us $1.5 million in unpaid fees over ten years. They used all our services while secretly refusing to pay. A lawsuit went nowhere. I met their leader privately. He promised full payment by month’s end. On that day, our office belongings were dumped in the lobby. I went to see Mark Hanlon, the residents’ new leader. “Mark, have we offended someone? All our things are thrown out.” He took a slow drag. “Claire, we talked. Ten years of fees at once is too much.” He smirked. “Anything you can do, we can do ourselves.” “Here’s the deal: $100,000 clears the debt. Take it or leave it.” My silence filled the room. I hardened. “Professionals exist for a reason. You can manage yourselves. But the debt is owed.” Mark threw his glass at my feet. “There are hundreds of us. We’ll drag this out forever. You’ll be bankrupt first.” “Don’t like our offer? Get out. We don’t need you.” I nodded slowly. “Fine. When this place falls apart, don’t come crawling back.” “Whoever crawls back is the pathetic one!” 1 I returned to the lobby to find my staff picking their personal items out of the heap on the floor. A crowd of residents stood around, gloating. Someone was humming a cheerful tune. “Heard the news! She didn’t take the deal. That means no more HOA fees for us!” “Exactly! We can just look out for each other. Management just leeches off us anyway. Without us, they’re nothing!” “Right? And those key fobs that only let you go to your own floor, and having to sign in guests at the front gate? Such a pain. It’s all just for show!” “She got too greedy. A woman’s job, anyway. Mark can do it better. We can just vote on whatever we want to change. We’re all owners and managers now. Let those parasites find real jobs!” Mrs. Gable, a resident who always had to be the center of attention, squatted down and started wrestling with one of my employees over a box. “Don’t you touch that! This is community property now that you’re gone. It has nothing to do with you. If you fight me, I’ll fall over and say you pushed me!” “She’s right! You’ve been kicked out! Put it all down!” “I call dibs on this rice cooker! It’s at least fifty bucks online. Give it to me!” “You damn leeches, let go! You were bound to get fired. Don’t make us get physical!” “We’re about to start our own management. All this equipment is ready to go, and we don’t have to buy a thing. It’s perfect!” They descended like locusts, trying to snatch even the most meager of our personal belongings. These ungrateful people. They’d forgotten the ten years we’d spent tirelessly solving their problems. We operated at a loss every year, but we couldn’t stand to see the quality of life decline for the few who did pay their dues. Mrs. Gable was a hoarder. She’d shamelessly take things other people left outside their doors. We had pleaded with her countless times, but she never listened. Now that we were leaving, she was stirring up the mob to pick our bones clean, a final act of revenge. A hot, white rage surged through me. I spotted a cashmere scarf in the pile—a gift I had prepared years ago as an incentive to encourage fee payments. Amidst the chaotic grabbing, I pulled out a lighter and set it aflame. They froze, their eyes wide with alarm, fixed on the growing flame. “What… what are you doing?” Mrs. Gable stammered. My team, understanding my signal perfectly, quickly gathered what they could carry. I held the residents’ hostile gazes, escorting my employees out of the lobby before stomping out the fire with my boot. But the moment I turned my back, Mrs. Gable crouched down again, and a new wave of looting began. The air grew cold. I wrapped my arms around myself. Ten years of dedicated service, and in the end, we were worth less than the trash they were fighting over on the floor. My team looked utterly dejected. I felt it too, a deep, hollow ache in my chest. No matter how strong a front I put on, this place had been my life for a decade. How many decades does a person even get? I could say with absolute confidence that no other management company could have done a better job. Every corner of this community, every aspect of daily life, had been meticulously planned and managed by us to meet the residents’ needs. As for being replaced, I’d seen it coming. Three months ago, Mark Hanlon’s wife, Tiffany, started cozying up to our staff for no apparent reason. She kept mentioning the debt they owed us while asking to “learn” how to manage a community. She claimed she wanted the homeowners to understand our perspective and even recorded our general workflow on her phone. I couldn’t refuse without causing a scene. Mark had influence in the community group chat. If they started stirring up trouble online, it could make our daily work impossible. I never imagined that the simple tasks I showed her would become the basis for Mark’s confidence in ousting us. But there’s a reason no one else wanted this job. It was a ticking time bomb. 2 I went to the parking garage to get my car. Tiffany Hanlon was waiting for me. Draped in gold and designer brands, she was a stark contrast to my own disheveled state. She squeezed out a few crocodile tears and greeted me with feigned awkwardness. “Claire, honey, I had no idea everyone was so upset with you. I mean, we’ve gotten along so well these past few months. It feels so empty now that you’re just… gone.” I didn’t say a word, just opened my car door and got in. She deliberately stood in front of my car, then sidestepped with a theatrical little gasp, as if she’d just noticed. If our first meetings had been tinged with a thin veneer of politeness, her current arrogance was overflowing. “Fine. We won’t leave. Just pay the ten years of fees you owe,” I said coolly, raising an eyebrow. Her brow instantly furrowed, a wave of hostility radiating from her. She tilted her head back, her eyes practically shooting sparks. Then she spat on the ground, a contemptuous smile spreading across her face. “Pah! You actually took my polite act seriously? Why the hell would I give you money?” She climbed onto the hood of my car, pointing a perfectly manicured finger at my face. “You should take a good look in the mirror. We didn’t pay you for ten years, and you still worked, didn’t you? Just from recycling, you probably pocketed thousands every day from all the bottles you collected!” “How do we even calculate that? You lined your pockets with money that belongs to us. You should be grateful we’re not suing you to get it back!” She slid off the hood, her nails dragging across my window. “I’m not one to hold a grudge. If it weren’t for your incompetence, we never would have realized how useless property management is. My Mark wouldn’t have had this opportunity.” She gestured grandly at the parking spot. “Once you’re gone, this prime spot is all mine.” Her every move reeked of smug superiority. “Management is useless, is it?” I asked, my voice calm but my gaze sharp. “The delivery services for Crestview drop everything in the lobby. Most residents are working professionals who get home after the mail room closes. If we weren’t sorting every package and making sure they got delivered to your doors, your apartment would be a disaster zone.” “Every holiday, you’d complain that other communities gave out gifts. So I’d make dumplings in the management office for everyone. You’d all insist they were gifts and fight over them until every last one was gone. If your family couldn’t produce ‘gifts’ like that, the whole community would be camped on your doorstep demanding them!” I had only pointed out two minor things, but they hit their mark. The smugness drained from Tiffany’s face, replaced by a blotchy, angry red. Her voice rose, trembling slightly. “That’s none of your damn business! My Mark used to run a whole street when he was younger!” Her voice echoed in the empty garage, but she couldn’t meet my eyes. “You’re reacting so strongly. Looks like I hit a nerve,” I said calmly. “The public facilities in this community were paid for and are maintained by us. Your access fobs will all be deactivated tonight. The security gates will become useless decorations. I’ll be contacting the manufacturer to repossess them, so they don’t block your way.” “The elevator maintenance hasn’t been paid for in three years. As per the contract, they’ll be coming to disable them. Starting tomorrow, all residents will be taking the stairs.” Beads of sweat formed on Tiffany’s forehead. Each of these seemingly simple issues would be a nightmare for her and Mark to handle. I knew about Mark’s “management experience”—it consisted of shaking down local shops for protection money over a decade ago. In today’s world, the slightest show of force from him would trigger a massive backlash. We’re all homeowners here, what makes you so special? Tiffany swallowed hard and stumbled back a step. She shot me a furious glare, then took off her stiletto and viciously stabbed it into my tire. Again and again. The front left tire hissed and deflated. “No security cameras down here,” she spat. “A little reward for your smart mouth!” My fists clenched. I grabbed the heavy insulated thermos from my passenger seat and jumped out of the car, raising it to strike. But I stopped myself. If I hit her, she’d twist the story, and I’d likely lose my car in the legal mess. “I’ll take this loss,” I said through gritted teeth. I got back in the car and started the engine. Then I made two phone calls. “Our management contract has been terminated. You can come and collect your equipment.” 3 The next morning, I woke up to over a dozen missed calls from Mark. I’d silenced my phone for a peaceful night. I answered groggily. An angry torrent of words immediately assaulted my ear. “Claire, what the hell is this? You had the elevators disabled first thing in the morning! Everyone who lives on the 20th and 30th floors was late for work! We had to send some of the older folks to the hospital from the exertion!” On the security feed I still had access to, I could see Mark pacing frantically in our old office. I’d left the cameras active for this very reason. “Claire, sweetie, please help us out,” Tiffany cooed into the phone, her voice dripping with false sincerity. In the video, her expression was pure disgust. “Just have them turn the elevators back on. Give us some time to transition!” Mark took the phone back. “Claire, you should know better than to burn your bridges! You never know when you might need someone!” His voice rose to a yell. “You are a cold-hearted bitch! I’m giving you a chance to fix this. Get over here now so we can talk.” “Fix it?” I stretched luxuriously and chuckled. “Your wife stabbed my tire to send me a message. This is just my message back. Tit for tat. Seems fair to me.” There was a pause. On the monitor, I saw him cover the phone and exchange a few hushed words with Tiffany. After she nodded, he cleared his throat. “I’ll pay for a new tire. You solve this problem.” Tiffany forced a smile. “Claire, let’s be adults here. This is about business, not right and wrong. I was a little impulsive yesterday. I’m sorry.” “No,” I said simply. Mark’s temper flared. His body language on the screen screamed, My wife apologized, now do what you’re told. “Claire! Don’t push your luck! If you don’t help, it’ll just take me a few extra days to sort this out. But you’ll have lost me as a friend! You can just rot at home until society forgets you exist!” I hung up, not feeling a shred of anger. My housekeeper brought up breakfast, and I ate while watching the security feed. Mrs. Gable was dragging two huge plaid laundry bags full of cardboard boxes. Everyone dodged her. She stood at the entrance to her building and ran into Mark and Tiffany. “Mark, why isn’t the elevator working? You said you’d fix it today.” “Mrs. Gable, please don’t add to the chaos. Just leave your things in the lobby for now. We’ll let you know when the elevator is running.” Annoyed, Mrs. Gable started hauling her bags toward the stairs. “No way. I live on the thirtieth floor, and I’m taking these with me. What if someone steals them from the lobby?” Mark looked like he’d swallowed a bug and stalked off. A smile touched my lips. This was only day one. They were in for a long ride. After breakfast, my husband came home. Seeing my cheerful mood, he came over to watch the monitors with me. He hadn’t been worried at all when we were forced out. “I’ve already secured you the management contract for the new luxury villa complex. You can even bring your old team back,” he said. “I told you from the beginning, the Crestview Estates was a complicated mess. You should have been firm the first year they didn’t pay. Dragging it out was bound to end in an explosion.” He wrapped his arms around me. “I’m always in your corner. According to plan, Crestview is about to become infamous.” I snuggled into his embrace. His family’s property management company was one of the top three in the country. Without his backing, I never would have won the Crestview contract ten years ago. He was the one who gave me the freedom to take risks. Otherwise, that $1.5 million debt would have bankrupted me long ago. We spent the next few days together, taking our son to amusement parks. Life was good. I had my assistant manager move our team to the new villa complex. After the ordeal at Crestview, they found the new job, with fewer residents and even fewer demands, to be a dream. Plus, their salaries doubled. It was a blessing in disguise. Meanwhile, at Crestview Estates, the elevator problem festered. Mark tried to collect $20 from each household for repairs, but almost no one was willing to pay. Having tasted the sweetness of getting services for free, they weren’t about to start paying now. And Mark certainly wasn’t going to pay out of his own pocket. With the elevators out, a new problem emerged: food delivery. 4 Without the security gates, Crestview had become a semi-open community. I had always enforced strict zones outside the main lobby. E-scooters had designated parking, and traffic flowed in an orderly fashion. Now, delivery drivers zipped through the complex on their scooters at all hours. The grounds were a chaotic mess. You had to watch your step constantly to avoid being hit. “Watch it! You almost ran me over, you idiot!” a resident would yell. The drivers didn’t care. They were on a timer. They would ride right up to the building entrance, but they would only deliver to floors ten and below. Anything higher required a tip. Either you paid extra, or you had to come down to the tenth floor to get your food. After a week, the tenth-floor residents had had enough. I had a burner account in the residents’ group chat and saw the tirades firsthand. “ARE YOU KIDDING ME? HAVE SOME DAMN DECENCY! IF YOU CAN’T AFFORD DELIVERY, DON’T ORDER IT! OUR HALLWAY IS WORSE THAN THE LOBBY! STRANGERS ARE COMING AND GOING ALL DAY!” “The trash piling up outside my door is a mountain! My kid is scared to even leave the apartment!” “And the late-night orders wake me up constantly! The next time I see a delivery bag in my hallway, I’m throwing it out the window!” The residents on the upper floors fought back just as fiercely. “Tough luck you live on the tenth floor! There are twenty more floors above you! You throw one bag, we’ll see what happens. We’ll camp outside your door!” “Yeah, have a little consideration! You might be in a tough spot one day too. If you can cook, maybe I’ll buy from you instead!” “Some of us work night shifts! Are we not allowed to eat when we get home? Late-night delivery is already expensive. I shouldn’t have to pay extra just to get my own food! Let us live!” A lightbulb went off in Mark’s head. He seized the opportunity to bring up the elevator repairs again. This time, most of the residents paid up. The elevators were back in service. He posted on social media, a clear jab at me: “Elevator problem solved, easy peasy. Someone must be fuming right now!” Mark thought he was a genius, solving two problems at once. But he hadn’t implemented any rules about the e-scooters. The delivery drivers, looking to save even more time, found a new shortcut. They started riding their e-scooters directly into the elevators. Once one person did it, everyone followed. Until one day, an e-scooter battery spontaneously combusted inside an elevator. My phone blew up with calls from Mark. “Claire, you need to get over here right now,” he demanded.

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1 At thirty-two, my mother launched an all-out, indiscriminate matchmaking assault on me. I promptly broke up with my supermodel boyfriend of four years, packed my bags, and moved back to my hometown. My best friend was aghast. “Are you insane? Weren’t you obsessed with Julian Chase’s face and that body? You’re really letting him go?” I scoffed. “I’m not an idiot. A guy like him is fun for a fling, a little excitement. But marry him? Do I want to spend the rest of my life cycling between catching him cheating and forgiving him?” The words had barely left my mouth when a familiar voice, cold as ice, spoke from behind me. “So, Claire. Is that the reason you dumped me?” … Dragging my suitcase back to the apartment I shared with Julian, I ran into a woman walking out. She wore a flimsy slip dress, loosely covered by Julian’s silk shirt. Barefoot, she dangled a pair of limited-edition heels from her fingers. I recognized her—a rising young designer Julian had been working with recently. Allie. Barely twenty, bursting with youth. I instinctively stepped back, hiding in the shadows of the elevator bay. A few seconds later, Julian followed her out. He was wrapped in nothing but a towel, his hair still dripping, his skin flushed. He leaned against the doorframe, lit a long, thin cigarette, and looked utterly languid. After a moment, he tossed an unopened, brand-new watch box at her. “Here.” Allie’s eyes lit up. She threw herself at him with a delighted squeal. “Oh my god! Is this the Celestial collection? Julian, you’re the best!” “Picked it up in Milan during fashion week. It was nothing.” “I love you to death, baby!” Allie tried to kiss him. But Julian’s patience had worn thin. He frowned slightly, turning his head to avoid her lips. “Alright, that’s enough. Get going.” The girl wasn’t offended. She pouted, half-joking, half-complaining. “So cruel. Use me and toss me aside. Just a minute ago in bed you were calling me your little vixen.” She hugged the watch box gleefully and blew him a kiss before she left. “Bye! See you at the studio tomorrow.” Only after she was gone did I step out of the shadows. Julian clearly hadn’t expected me back from my business trip so soon. He froze for a second before his usual mask of indifference slipped back into place. “You’re back. Didn’t think to call?” I stared at him. “My flight was changed. It was late, I didn’t want to wake you.” A fresh, incriminating red mark bloomed on his collarbone, yet he showed no shame. He walked over, reaching for my suitcase. “You must be exhausted. I’ll run you a bath.” As he bent down, the towel loosened, revealing more of his sculpted torso. It was as if the last five minutes had never happened. Seeing me stand motionless, he raised an eyebrow. “What’s wrong?” Then, realization dawned, and a lazy smile played on his lips. “Miss me?” He leaned in close, his skin smelling of my body wash and another woman’s perfume. His hand expertly slipped under the hem of my shirt. “Then let’s get down to business first, and then—” Years of runway work and gym sessions had left his fingertips with faint calluses. They traced a path across my skin, sending a familiar shiver through me. I closed my eyes and, with a wave of exhaustion, pushed him away. I had to admit, I was addicted to Julian’s body. I’d pursued him in the first place after a single, breathtaking glance backstage at a fashion show. But maybe it was the dozen hours I’d just spent on a plane, or maybe it was the woman who had just left, but right now, all I felt was a rising nausea. I had zero interest. Julian was rarely rejected by me. He stared, stunned for a moment, and his face darkened. “What’s the attitude for?” I looked down and saw a woman’s earring, not mine, lying on the entryway rug. Julian obviously saw it too. He clicked his tongue, his expression turning impatient. A heavy silence fell between us. He pulled another cigarette from the case and lit it, smoke curling around his face. “She’s just a designer. Got drunk, had nowhere to go. I let her crash for the night.” “We didn’t do anything.” 2 I looked at him, our gazes obscured by a veil of white smoke. We couldn’t see each other’s expressions, but we both knew how pathetic that excuse was. This wasn’t the first time Julian had cheated. He was born to live among a garden of women. He was like this when I met him. At the time, my company was launching a high-end fashion collaboration. My best friend took me to meet the top supermodel of the moment, warning me that while his look was unique, his temper was foul. I’d never been impressed by models, always thinking them empty, beautiful shells. Until Julian walked in. He wore a simple black turtleneck, his posture impeccable, a few strands of hair falling across his high-bridged nose. The moment he entered, the air in the conference room seemed to still. That face, that body—it was the work of a biased creator. He glanced up, and his deep-set eyes swept over us with a careless detachment. I didn’t hear a single word he said that day. My mind was consumed with one thought: how to make him mine. After the meeting, people swarmed him, trying to get his number, but he coldly rebuffed them all. Only I persisted, waiting for him in the parking garage. After twenty-six years of being single, it was the boldest I had ever been. Julian was either annoyed by my persistence or intrigued by the novelty of it. In any case, I became his girlfriend. And that’s how it had been, until now. But I knew that in our four years together, Julian had never truly loved me. Or rather, he loved parts of me. He loved that I was independent, that I was sensible, that I could handle the messy PR crises that followed him around. He loved that I never questioned the gossip that swirled around him. Whenever I caught him, he’d offer a flimsy excuse, and I would forgive him. He once sneered that I was too pragmatic, not very womanly. He’d also joked that the day he met his true soulmate, he’d kick me to the curb without a second thought. Our entire relationship was held together by my tolerance alone. “You promised me you wouldn’t bring people home anymore,” I said, my voice low, my eyes fixed on the expensive piece of jewelry on the floor. A flicker of derision crossed Julian’s eyes. He had no intention of placating me. “Since when did you get so serious?” He leaned closer, blowing smoke in my face, his eyes glinting with malice. “Can’t handle it?” “If you can’t handle it, you can get the hell out.” He had said those words to me countless times over the past four years. Each time, it ended with me lowering my head, apologizing, and begging him not to be angry. Over time, he’d learned exactly how to control me. He knew that when he said that, I was powerless. I turned away. “I’m tired. I’m going to bed.” Julian’s hand shot out and grabbed my wrist. His brow was prominent, giving his neutral expression a severe, intimidating edge. “Claire, quit while you’re ahead. Don’t push it.” I shook off his hand and went into the guest room. A few moments later, the front door slammed shut with a deafening crash. Julian was gone. He was angry. I knew it. In our relationship, I was always the one to compromise, to soothe his ego. I had never given him the cold shoulder like I had tonight. I turned over and opened my phone. In the family group chat, my mom had sent another picture of a man. “Claire, this is the one Aunt Linda introduced. A university professor, stable and reliable. You’re thirty-two this year. It’s time to think about settling down.” I switched to my work chat. My boss had tagged me. “Claire, HQ is opening a new brand strategy department and they need a director. I think you’re a perfect fit. The resources and platform at headquarters are on a completely different level. Think about it.” My mom wanted me to come home for blind dates. My company was offering me a promotion to headquarters, which was located in my hometown. The timing, the opportunity, the circumstances—it seemed there was truly no reason for me to stay in this city any longer. I sighed. Honestly, I really did like Julian. He was handsome enough, his body was incredible, and we were perfect for each other in bed. Most importantly, he was the perfect player. Being with him was easy. I didn’t have to think about the future, and I wasn’t responsible for him. The first few years of my career were incredibly stressful. I just wanted someone to blow off steam with, but I was a hopeless snob when it came to looks. I was picky, until I met Julian. The best years of his prime were spent with me. He and his body soothed me through countless late nights when I was drowning in KPIs. And although he had a constant stream of women, he was meticulous about it—all his flings had to provide clean health screenings. I was always careful, so I wasn’t worried about catching anything. Finding another… partner… who was this compatible would be difficult. But that couldn’t be helped. Dating was one thing; marriage was another. I liked Julian a lot. But I also knew, with absolute clarity, that he was not a man to build a life with. The game was over. 3 Julian didn’t come home that night. For the next few days, he completely vanished. My texts went unanswered. My calls went straight to voicemail. Then, a red exclamation mark appeared next to my messages. He had blocked me. It was his signature move: the cold shoulder. It had happened before. Julian was a master of the silent treatment. Each time, I’d have to hunt him down at his agency or his gym, swallow my pride, and coax him until he finally unblocked me. But this time, I was busy wrapping up my work. I didn’t have time for his games. That evening, I was booking a flight to headquarters when my phone rang. It was Julian’s assistant. The music on his end was deafening, mixed with the laughter of men and women. “Ms. Sullivan? Julian’s had a bit too much to drink. He’s at the Rosemary Club. Would you be able to come pick him up?” Julian loved to party. He came from a wealthy family; modeling was just a hobby that he happened to be good at. I’d once asked him why he didn’t just take over the family business. He’d scoffed and said his father’s mistresses and illegitimate children were already tearing each other apart over the inheritance, and he couldn’t be bothered to join the fight. His grandfather’s and mother’s shares would eventually be his anyway. He just wanted to live his life as he pleased. Julian had zero ambition, which was the complete opposite of me. Whenever I landed a big account or got a promotion, I’d tell him, and he’d seem utterly bored. He once said dismissively that working yourself to death for a salary that couldn’t even buy one of his watches was pointless. I knew we were fundamentally different people. We had nothing in common except for physical chemistry. I didn’t understand his soul; I only craved his body. He ignored my ambitions and only valued my compliance. It was for the best. That way, when we parted, neither of us would be heartbroken. I thought for a moment and said I would go. I put down the phone and glanced at my flight details. Ten a.m., the day after tomorrow. I sighed. I hadn’t wanted to break up just yet. Julian and I were just so good in bed. With the stress of changing jobs, I was hoping for one last romp. I clicked my tongue, a little disappointed. But since the opportunity had presented itself, I might as well go with the flow. … When I arrived at the club, Julian was surrounded by a crowd in a VIP booth. Men and women, all impossibly glamorous and young. It was no surprise. Julian was handsome, rich, and generous. On him, even promiscuity seemed like a charming, model-esque eccentricity. I touched the fine lines around my own eyes, remembering something Julian had once said. “Claire, you’re thirty-two. Can’t you take better care of yourself? Stop living so rough.” No wonder he was tired of me. He was surrounded by girls in their early twenties. I stood on the edge of the crowd, my eyes meeting his. He saw me but looked away almost immediately. Allie was flushed, practically draped over him, her voice syrupy. “Come on, Julian, just one more drink.” Julian smiled. Under the club lights, his deep-set eyes shimmered, breathtakingly handsome but utterly devoid of warmth. “Drinking like this is boring. You feed it to me.” “How?” Julian said nothing, just lowered his gaze to her lips. A half-second later, Allie understood. A flash of ecstasy crossed her face. She tilted her head back and downed the glass of whiskey in one go. Then Julian grabbed the back of her head and kissed her, hard. It wasn’t a tender kiss; it was a punishment, an assertion of power. Allie tilted her head back to receive it, the corners of her eyes turning red from lack of oxygen. Liquor dribbled from the corner of their joined lips. The atmosphere around them erupted. Screams and whistles filled the air. I knew he was doing it on purpose. He was punishing me for not placating him that day, for daring to give him the cold shoulder. It wasn’t until I walked right up to their booth that the crowd quieted down, all eyes on me, waiting for the show. Julian looked up, his expression blank. “What are you doing here?” I looked at that face and was hit with a wave of nostalgia for the countless nights we’d spent entangled over the past four years. In the heat of the moment, we had even said we loved each other. Did it hurt? A little, maybe. But it wasn’t unbearable. After all, I had always known this was who Julian was. A flirt, always chasing the next new thing, incapable of saying no. Selfish, raised on a pedestal, always the center of his own universe, with no regard for anyone else’s feelings. My voice trembled as I spoke. “Julian, you’ve gone too far.” He looked at me. He was sitting, and I was standing, yet I felt as if he was looking down on me. He still had that same detached expression, a contemptuous smile playing on his lips. “Too far? You can always break up with me. I’m not stopping you.” I said nothing, just looked at him. I couldn’t count how many times he had threatened me with a breakup. Eighty? A hundred? A friend next to him must have thought he was going too far. “Come on, Julian, that’s enough. Look at Claire, she’s about to cry.” In fact, my eyes were red. If you’re going to act, you have to commit. As a single tear fell onto the carpet, I saw Julian’s expression flicker. The hand holding his cigarette twitched, but he remained silent, his gaze cold. The next second, I spoke softly. “Fine, Julian.” “Let’s break up.” The expression on Julian’s face froze. For a second, I thought he was going to flip the table. But instead, he laughed. The smile didn’t reach his eyes; it looked like it was squeezed out from between his teeth. “Alright, Claire. You’ve got guts now. But you remember this: I, Julian Chase, never go back for seconds. Don’t come crawling back to me like a goddamn dog.” “I won’t,” I said, nodding and wiping away my tears. Then I turned and walked away without looking back. Julian didn’t come home that night. I spent the night deleting all his contact information and packing my remaining belongings. The next morning, I was on the earliest flight to headquarters. As the plane soared into the clouds, I pulled out my SIM card and dropped it into the trash. 4 I had no further contact with Julian. Life at headquarters quickly fell into a routine. I adapted to the new department’s pace and even went on a date with a man my mother had arranged. Across from me, a thirty-year-old man in a stiff suit was pontificating. “I believe that women, before thirty, should prioritize family. Being too career-driven isn’t a good thing. What I mean is, after we’re married, you should focus more on the home, taking care of the children…” As he droned on, I smiled and stirred my coffee, fighting the urge to throw it in his self-satisfied face. When he finally finished, he pushed up his glasses. “Did you get all that? Do you have any objections?” I maintained my smile. “None at all. However, Mr. Harris, I don’t think we’re a good match. Let’s just split the bill.” I left him muttering about how “women over thirty can’t be picky” and “old maids…” In the weeks since I’d been back, my mother had set me up on no fewer than ten blind dates. Some of them were decent men, on paper. But after four years with a man who looked like Julian, I found it impossible to feel any spark of interest in these average men. This gloomy mood persisted until the corporate strategy meeting on Monday. Everyone was already there, the room silent and tense. “What’s going on?” I whispered to the colleague next to me. She leaned in. “The board brought in the heir apparent. He’s parachuting in to get a feel for the domestic market before he takes over the entire Asia-Pacific region. They say this Mr. Ekhardt is an Ivy League law grad, worked in M&A on Wall Street with a perfect record. He started his own VC firm when he came back and took it to the top in just a few years. The old chairman had to basically bribe him with shares to get him to come back. He’s a real killer. Be careful what you say.” A few moments later, a man in a dark grey three-piece suit walked in. He wore no tie, the top two buttons of his shirt undone. As he stepped into the room, an assistant respectfully took his briefcase. I looked up. For a second, it felt like everyone in the room had stopped breathing. The first thing that hit you was his presence—an aura of absolute command. He had a neutral expression, but everyone, including me, instinctively sat up straighter, afraid to meet his gaze. The second thing I noticed was his eyes—almond-shaped, tilting up slightly at the corners, framed by thin, gold-rimmed glasses. Behind the lenses, his gaze was cold and analytical. He was incredibly handsome, a completely different type from Julian. If Julian was a scorching, brilliant flame, this man was a frozen undercurrent in the deep sea. “Apologies, my flight was delayed. I’m late.” His voice was cool and crisp. He sat at the head of the table. “My name is Pierce Ekhardt. As of today, I’m in charge of corporate strategy. I’ve already reviewed all departmental reports and the last three years of financials. Let’s begin with Group A. Each person has three minutes to present their results from the past year and their plans for the future.” One by one, department heads went up, their voices trembling. Pierce was as sharp as the rumors claimed, pointing out every loophole and doctored number with precision. “I don’t like wasting time, and I don’t like being treated like an idiot,” he said, his voice level. “I prefer to communicate efficiently with intelligent people. If that proves ineffective, I will consider other methods.” He wasn’t yelling, but the directors he’d called out were sweating through their shirts. When it was my turn, my palms were slick with sweat. But I was well-prepared, and my performance over the past year was strong. Once I started speaking, my confidence returned. My education and my career were my pride, my foundation. I never slacked off at work. Pierce didn’t interrupt me. Through his glasses, I thought I saw a flicker of appreciation in his eyes. When I finished, I signaled that my presentation was complete. He nodded. “Claire Sullivan. Good work. From now on, all reports will be held to this standard.” … After Pierce’s arrival, the entire department was thrown into a trial by fire. He ruthlessly cut redundant projects and people, but he also brought in top-tier resources that had previously been out of our reach. We were working longer hours, but our projected year-end bonuses had doubled. My colleagues, especially the younger women, were captivated by him. Two new interns, perhaps having read too many romance novels, tried to get his attention. One publicly contradicted him in a meeting. The other “accidentally” spilled coffee on his custom suit and tried to wipe it off. The first one was gone the next day. The second was packing her desk that afternoon. After that, the women in the office learned their lesson. But the gossip in the break room continued. “I heard he’s single. Not even a rumor of a girlfriend. Do you think he’s inexperienced?” “No way! A man like that? People are lining up. He probably just has ridiculously high standards.” “Oh my god, did you see him in that three-piece suit today? That shoulder-to-waist ratio… If I could land him, I’d give him my entire paycheck!” … Listening to them, a thought sparked in my mind. Without Julian, this Pierce Ekhardt seemed like a far more intriguing prey. This man… I wanted to try. 5 I began to strategically place myself in Pierce’s path. He arrived an hour early every day. Three times a week, I would “happen” to catch the same elevator. It was usually just the two of us. I kept my words brief, a polite “Good morning, Mr. Ekhardt,” and then stood quietly. Every day at three p.m., like clockwork, I went to the break room for a black coffee. He usually took his break around the same time. I made sure never to run into him in the break room, always leaving just before he arrived, but making sure he saw my back as I left. Occasionally, I worked late. He would pass my desk on his way out. In short, I maximized my visibility without ever saying an unnecessary word. Finally, on the twelfth time he saw me working late, he stopped and walked over to my desk. “I’ve noticed you’ve been staying late a lot. Is the project running into trouble?” I feigned surprise, then hesitated before handing him the proposal I was working on. “It’s about the Eastside commercial real estate project. I’m a little concerned about some of the legal clauses in the partner’s contract, but I can’t quite put my finger on it. I wanted to study it more.” Pierce sat down naturally in the empty chair beside me. “Let me see.” He smelled of cool cedarwood, a scent that mingled with my own subtle woody perfume, creating an unexpectedly intimate atmosphere. “This project’s risk assessment is an A-minus. It’s viable. Look at their financials from last year, their cash flow is healthy, and…” He spoke eloquently, and I listened intently, interjecting with a few highly technical questions. After he answered each one, I let my face break into a smile of comprehension. “Oh, I see! Thank you, Mr. Ekhardt. I hadn’t thought of it from that angle at all.” “You have strong professional skills, you just lack a bit of experience. Don’t put too much pressure on yourself.” He made a rare joke. “Go home early. I don’t want people thinking I’m some kind of tyrant.” I nodded, gathered my files, and we walked downstairs together. Just as we stepped out of the building, a cold wind carrying a fine mist hit me. I hesitated and stopped. Pierce, who had been walking toward his car, turned back. “What is it?” I waved a hand. “It’s nothing, Mr. Ekhardt. You go ahead. I… I just remembered I left something upstairs.” He didn’t press, just nodded and left. Five minutes later, his car pulled out of the underground garage. I was still standing under the awning at the company entrance. Pierce rolled down the window. “Didn’t drive?” I looked embarrassed. “No. It’s raining, so hailing a ride is slow. It’s fine, Mr. Ekhardt, I’ll just wait a bit longer.” “Get in,” he said. “I’ll give you a ride.” … On the way, Pierce and I talked quite a bit. He seemed surprised to find that we shared the same views on many financial news stories. Even a very niche management studies book I was reading was one of his favorites. Pierce’s demeanor gradually shifted from polite and distant to more engaged and talkative. He was so engrossed in our conversation that he drove right past my apartment complex without slowing down. I was about to point it out when he realized it himself. “Sorry,” he said. “I got carried away.” After he pulled over, I thanked him again. Pierce just nodded, his lips parting as if he wanted to say something more, but he held back. “Is something wrong, Mr. Ekhardt?” I asked, looking at him. “The scent you’re wearing… it’s nice.” The moment the words were out, he seemed to regret them, looking down and falling silent. I hid a smile. “Well, Mr. Ekhardt. See you tomorrow.”

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My fiancé accused me of murder. That’s how I ended up in prison. On the day of my public trial, the court live-streamed the proceedings for the entire nation to see. The man who once loved me, Aiden, pushed me onto the Memory Trial platform, a fate reserved for the worst death row inmates. But they didn’t know something crucial. Buried in my mind was the proof: the real killer, his perfect first love, framing me for her crime. 1. Today was the day of my execution. Shackled at the wrists and ankles, I was led from my cell to the courtroom by two stern-faced guards. As we entered, my fiancé, Aiden, lunged forward. His hands clamped around my throat, his voice a raw, furious roar. “Murderer! Why did you pull the plug on my mom’s oxygen?” He shook me, his face contorted with rage. “Killing my mother wasn’t enough for you? You had to put Livia’s sister in a coma, too!” I stared at him, my eyes hollow and empty. “I told you I didn’t do it. Would you believe me now?” “Bullshit! My mother treated you like a daughter! Why would you do this?” he screamed, his voice cracking. “Give me back my mom!” Police officers finally managed to tear him away, dragging him back as they shoved me toward the stand. I remained silent, letting them move me like a doll. A year ago, Aiden himself had pointed the finger at me. The motive they’d invented was simple: I was jealous of Livia, the woman he’d loved before me. I was bitter that his mother, Mrs. Vance, had never approved of our marriage. But it was all a lie. I was innocent. “Order in the court!” the judge’s gavel cracked against the wood. “This court hereby declares that the death sentence for the defendant will be carried out immediately—” “Wait!” Aiden’s voice, sharp and cold, cut through the room. “Your Honor, I formally request a Memory Trial for the defendant,” he said, his face a mask of grim determination. “Letting her die so easily would be a mercy she doesn’t deserve.” The judge conferred with his associates for a moment before turning his gaze back to me. “At the plaintiff’s request, the court orders a Memory Trial to be conducted for the defendant!” Still, I said nothing. No protest, no plea. The guards forced me onto the Memory Trial platform. The technology was new, developed only six months ago to prevent criminals from denying their guilt or recanting confessions. It was a tool to force the truth into the light. The process was agony. A needle-thin neural probe would be inserted directly into the brain to extract memories. It felt like every thought, every feeling, was being violently vacuumed out of your skull. Most death row inmates couldn’t withstand the pain; many died halfway through, their hearts giving out from the sheer torment. As they prepared the gleaming silver apparatus, I looked at Aiden one last time. “Aiden, I have one question for you.” His face was glacial, his eyes filled with a disgust that pierced me deeper than any needle could. “Ask it.” “After my memories are displayed for the world to see… will you regret any of this?” Aiden let out a short, harsh laugh. “Never.” A wave of numb despair washed over me. It was done. “Memory Trial commencing! Execution protocol officially initiated.” The probe plunged into my skull. My body convulsed, a scream tearing from my throat, but in the depths of that white-hot pain, I felt a strange sense of release. After a year of this living hell, I was finally free. On the massive screen above the courtroom, my stolen memories began to flicker to life. 2. The first scene was the hospital. Aiden’s mother, Mrs. Vance, was recovering from heart surgery. I was holding a container of homemade soup, about to go into her room, when I heard voices from inside. A heated argument. Mrs. Vance’s voice was frail, barely a whisper. “I will never… allow you to marry into this family…” “All those filthy things you’ve done… You’re not worthy…” Then, another voice, sharp and cruel. “You old hag. Once you’re dead, I’ll walk into the Vance family whenever I please!” My heart seized. I threw the door open. Livia was standing by the hospital bed, holding the clear plastic oxygen tube in her hand. On the bed, Mrs. Vance’s eyes were wide with terror, her face turning a horrifying shade of blue as she clawed at her own throat. I stared, frozen in disbelief. “Livia, what are you doing?” A flicker of panic crossed her face before it settled back into a chilling calm. “I was just helping Mrs. Vance adjust her oxygen tube.” I snapped out of my shock, snatching the tube from her hand and slamming the emergency call button on the wall. I tried to reconnect the tube, but it was too late. The heart monitor beside the bed began to scream, a single, piercing tone. “The tube was fine, Livia! What the hell were you thinking, pulling it out?” I yelled, my voice shaking. Livia just smiled, a venomous, triumphant little smirk. “Emma, did you really think marrying into the Vance family would make you a princess? Dream on. I was Aiden’s first love. All I have to do is cry a little, and he’ll come running back to me.” Just then, the door burst open. Doctors and nurses rushed in, and right behind them were Aiden and his father. “What happened?” Aiden demanded, his eyes wide. “Aiden, it was Livia! She—” “Aiden! Mr. Vance! Emma killed her!” Livia shrieked, bursting into tears and pointing a trembling finger at me. “She pulled out Mrs. Vance’s oxygen tube!” I stood there, stunned into silence. “No, I didn’t, I—” Aiden’s gaze fell to my hands. I was still holding the tube. From behind his back, where only I could see, Livia shot me a look of pure, wicked victory. “Emma, why would you do this?!” Aiden screamed, grabbing my shoulders and shaking me violently. “It wasn’t me, Aiden, you have to believe me! It wasn’t me!” I pleaded, tears streaming down my face, but his grief had already turned to blind rage. The sharp crack of his hand across my face echoed in the sterile room. Mrs. Vance couldn’t be revived. She was gone. The hospital room descended into chaos. As the first memory faded from the screen, a stunned silence fell over the courtroom. Aiden stared, his face ashen. “How is that possible? Livia swore she saw Emma pull the tube.” He looked at the screen, then at his father, his expression a mixture of confusion and dawning horror. “Dad… did we get it wrong? The Memory Trial… it can’t lie, can it?” Mr. Vance was equally stunned. All he and Aiden had seen that day was me, Emma, holding the murder weapon. They had never imagined a scene like this. The courtroom gallery erupted in murmurs. “Wait, so she didn’t do it? She was framed!” Aiden, snapping back to reality, shouted at the judge. “What about Livia’s sister, Julia? Emma was the one who ran her off the road! She’s still in a coma because of her!” The judge gestured to the technicians. The process continued, pulling another memory from the depths of my screaming mind.

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The moment my son was born, my best friend, Lydia, shoved my husband aside, her eyes gleaming with a manic light. She snatched our newborn from the nurse’s arms and declared, her voice ringing through the delivery room: “Your son is the great villain of this world! But don’t you worry. I will be the one to save him. In the end, I will marry him, and we’ll be together forever!” My husband and I were stunned, but we dismissed it as a bizarre, tasteless joke. She was just being dramatic. For years, Lydia doted on our son. She was a constant presence, always the first to arrive whenever danger was near. Despite her “protection,” our son was plagued by tragedy. He was diagnosed with autism, then severe depression, among a host of other issues. We poured every penny we had into his treatment. Then, on his tenth birthday, a runaway truck slammed into our car. As I lay dying on the pavement, I saw her looming over me. “A villain’s life is meant to be full of suffering,” she sneered, her voice dripping with contempt. “How else am I supposed to save him? How else will he learn to love me?” “You two just wouldn’t die,” she sighed, as if bored. “I gave him all those illnesses, and you still weren’t worn down to nothing. I had to handle it myself. What a pain.” When I opened my eyes again, I was back, months before my son was born. We immediately booked a flight out of the country, leaving our son in the care of his grandparents. Then we returned home with a baby girl. Let’s see her try to marry my son now. 1 A shrill alarm cut through the silence. I gasped, my eyes flying open, my chest heaving. Lydia’s name glowed on my phone screen. My hand trembled as I fumbled to answer it, her excited voice chirping from the speaker. “Clara! Your due date is any day now, right? When are you heading to the hospital? I want to be there with you.” I instinctively looked down at my swollen belly, my heart hammering against my ribs. I was back. My son hadn’t been born yet. There was still time to fix everything. I swallowed hard, trying to keep my voice steady. “That’s too much trouble, Lydia. You have work. My husband, Noah, will be with me. That’s all I need.” Her voice instantly sharpened. “Absolutely not! He’s my future husband! I have to be the first one to see him! No one is stealing that spot from me!” Her words were a venom-tipped needle, plunging deep into my soul. A chilling dread washed over me, cold as ice. In my last life, Lydia had become obsessed the moment I got pregnant. She called my belly her “little husband.” She bought piles of baby clothes, embroidering them with her initials and the words “Property of His Future Wife,” then forced them on me. When my son was born, she’d acted like a woman possessed, shoving everyone out of the way to be the first to hold him. Her eyes had burned with a feverish intensity as she’d made her grand pronouncement. “Your son is destined to be the villain of this story. He’ll suffer endlessly before becoming the nation’s wealthiest man. But because of all that pain, he’ll be corrupted and turn against the story’s true hero and heroine. In the end, they’ll have him sent to prison and executed.” “But don’t worry,” she’d added with a beatific smile. “With me here, I’ll save him. I will marry him, and we’ll be together forever!” At the time, we thought she’d just read one too many fantasy novels. Her behavior was extreme, but we’d been friends for so long. We wrote it off as a joke. For the next ten years, Lydia was a constant presence, more attentive to our son than we were. And just as she’d predicted, his life was one disaster after another. But every single time, Lydia was there, miraculously appearing just in time to prevent the worst from happening. Because of this, our son grew closer to her than to us. At a young age, he was already learning how to take care of her, to soothe her. But it wasn’t enough. He was diagnosed with one psychological disorder after another. We took him to countless specialists, bankrupted ourselves paying for treatments, and exhausted our spirits, but he never got better. In fact, he only got worse as he grew older. On his tenth birthday, Lydia recommended a new doctor. Clinging to a final shred of hope, we drove to the appointment. On the way, a truck lost control and crushed our car. In my dying moments, I finally understood. Every illness, every accident, every ounce of his suffering had been orchestrated by her. All for her so-called “redemption.” I took a deep breath, forcing down the hatred boiling in my gut. I kept my voice light. “Alright, then. It should be in the next few days. I’ll call you the second we head to the hospital.” “Perfect. It’s a date.” The moment she hung up, I threw off the covers and went to find my husband. This time, I would keep my son away from Lydia, no matter the cost. Noah was in his study, wrapping up work before his paternity leave. He saw me and rushed to my side, his hands gently steadying me. “You should be resting. Is everything okay?” I gripped his hand, hesitating for only a second before looking him straight in the eye. “Noah, do you trust me?” He guided me to the sofa, his voice calm and slow. “You’re my wife. Of course, I trust you. Sit down. Tell me what’s wrong.” The tension in my shoulders began to ease. I let out a long breath and told him everything, from my rebirth to the phone call. “I know it sounds insane,” I finished, my voice catching in a sob as the memories of my past life flooded back. “But I lived it. Or, if you can’t believe that, just think of it as a premonition, a nightmare that felt too real. I just don’t want our child to…” 2 Noah wrapped his arms around me, his voice a soft murmur against my hair. “I believe you. What do you want to do?” “Let’s leave. Let’s get out of this city, go somewhere else to have the baby.” My due date was just days away. The best plan was to put as much distance as possible between us and Lydia, then figure out the rest later. Noah took my hands in his, his grip firm and reassuring. “Okay. I’ll book the flights. We can leave right now.” He quickly packed a bag while I changed. A few minutes later, he was helping me to the door. The moment he opened it, a cold dread shot up my spine. My blood turned to ice. Lydia. She was standing on our doorstep. How? In my past life, she hadn’t shown up here. Noah’s hand on my back was a silent source of strength. I forced a smile. “Lydia, what are you doing here?” Her gaze flickered to the suitcase in Noah’s hand, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. “You’re about to give birth. I was worried, so I decided to stay with you for the next few days.” Her eyes locked onto mine. “Are you two headed to the hospital already? You were supposed to call me. Why were you leaving without a word? Or were you trying to keep me from my little husband?” My heart skipped a beat. Noah stepped in front of me, his voice perfectly calm. “You’ve misunderstood, Lydia. Clara’s been feeling a lot of movement the last couple of days. We were just heading to a private wellness retreat owned by a friend of mine. It’s quiet, and they have doctors on call 24/7. It’s safer.” Before I could say a word, Lydia’s gaze, sharp and venomous, pinned me in place. “Great, I’ll come with you. It’s perfect! I need to get the nursery ready for my little husband!” She chattered on, completely ignoring us as she linked her arm through mine. Her grip was surprisingly strong. This wasn’t the time to fight her. If she became truly suspicious, getting away would be impossible. Noah and I exchanged a look. We had no choice. We took Lydia with us to the retreat. It was clear now. To escape her, we had to go somewhere she could never find us. At the retreat, Lydia never left my side, a 24/7 shadow. She spent hours just staring at my belly, her eyes glowing with a proprietary zeal. She wouldn’t let anyone else touch it. Once, I accidentally brushed my own hand against it, and she slapped it away. “He’s my future husband,” she hissed. “Don’t you dare touch him!” Her glare was so poisonous that I flinched, snatching my hand back as if I’d been burned. The baby was moving more and more frequently now, and Lydia’s anticipation grew with each passing day. She stroked my stomach, her face alight with excitement. “Clara, I can’t wait to meet him. Why don’t you just have the C-section today?” A shiver of pure horror went through me. I stared at her in disbelief. “What? It’s not time yet! A premature C-section is dangerous for both of us!” “No, it’s not. I already asked the doctor. He’s fully developed. It’s perfectly fine to deliver him now.” I’d had enough. I shoved her hand away. “No! Don’t you even think about it!” Her face darkened for a moment, then softened into an apologetic smile. “Oh, Clara, I’m sorry. I was just talking nonsense. Don’t be angry with me.” I closed my eyes, a deep sense of unease settling in my stomach. I tossed and turned all night, only managing to drift off as the sun began to rise. In a hazy dream, I felt the bed was moving. My eyes snapped open. Lydia, along with a doctor and two nurses, were wheeling me down the hall toward an operating room. “What are you doing? Stop!” I screamed. Lydia just smiled, patting my arm. “Don’t worry, Clara. You’ll get to meet our baby soon. I’ll be right here.” “I don’t consent to this! This is illegal! Stop right now!” The medical staff ignored me. I struggled to get up, but Lydia and the nurses held me down. “Just listen to me, Clara,” she cooed. “It’ll be better for everyone if our little husband comes out early.” “Now!” she barked at the doctor. “Inject the anesthetic! Quiet her down!” The cold sting of an alcohol swab on my arm. The glint of a needle poised to pierce my skin. I closed my eyes, a wave of despair washing over me.

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When it was time to announce year-end bonuses, I declared that everyone’s would be doubled. The company group chat instantly erupted. A flood of insults, all aimed at me, filled the screen. Assuming they thought it was too little, I immediately announced the bonus would be increased to ten times the original amount. That only made them angrier. This time, someone smashed up my office. Baffled, I gritted my teeth and raised it to one hundred times. The next morning, the moment I stepped into the company building, my employees swarmed me. Without a word, they beat me to death. Even as I died, I had no idea why. When I opened my eyes again, I was back. It was the day I was supposed to announce the year-end bonuses. … I stared at the message I had just typed out, the one announcing the doubled bonus. A jolt of terror shot through me, and I frantically deleted every word. The memory of being killed by my own staff for being too generous was a chilling, incomprehensible puzzle. I’d always treated my employees well. More than well. They had every benefit imaginable, a four-day work week, and a strict no-overtime policy. I even had a suggestion box, and I personally reviewed and implemented every reasonable idea they submitted. They had even nominated me for the city’s “Five-Star Employer” award, and the certificate hung proudly in my office. As I wracked my brain, my boyfriend, Liam, walked in with a gentle smile. “Ava, the team sent me as their ambassador to ask about the year-end bonus. Have you made a decision?” I froze. In my previous life, Liam had died trying to protect me. This was about both of our lives now. I had to be careful. After a moment’s thought, I asked tentatively, “What’s the consensus? I’d rather hear what everyone wants.” Liam shook his head with a helpless smile. “I knew you’d say that, so I already asked around. But they all said they’d follow your lead.” The ball was back in my court. I weighed my options, then tapped my desk lightly. “How about we just stick to last year’s standard?” Playing it safe was the only logical move. “That could work…” Liam nodded, but then he hesitated. “But business was way up this year. If the bonus is the same, do you think people might be… disappointed?” My heart leaped into my throat. “Okay, new plan,” I said quickly. “In addition to the standard bonus, everyone gets a thirty-thousand-dollar gift card!” Last time, the escalating cash bonus was the problem. If I changed it to a physical gift, surely that would be fine, right? Liam agreed it was a good idea and posted the announcement in the group chat. I watched my phone, my heart pounding in my chest. Thankfully, the first reply was a big thumbs-up emoji. More followed, a cascade of positive reactions. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. It seemed I’d dodged the bullet. But just as I was about to turn to other work, Liam’s face went pale. “Ava, look at the chat. Now.” My stomach tightened. I opened the app again. A new wave of messages was flooding in. “We doubled last year’s performance, and our CEO graciously gives us a $30k shopping spree. How wonderful.” “Innovate Corp’s numbers are half of ours, but their benefits are double. Our CEO is just so generous.” “When did our boss become so ‘magnanimous’?” … The messages were dripping with sarcasm. A cold sweat broke out on my forehead, but something felt wrong. I knew Innovate Corp’s benefits package. Their year-end bonus barely hit twenty thousand dollars. Our standard bonus alone was forty thousand, not to mention the thirty-thousand-dollar gift card. The math didn’t add up. While I was puzzling over it, Liam was already panicking. “Ava, they’re clearly not happy with this! We need a new plan, fast!” I gritted my teeth. If gift cards weren’t the answer, I’d try something else. I had Liam type out a new announcement. “In addition to the previously mentioned benefits, every employee will also receive the latest top-of-the-line iPhone and an iPad.” The moment the message was sent, the chat went silent. But I remained tense, bracing for another explosion. Half an hour passed. Still nothing. Liam was the first to relax, managing a weak smile. “I guess they’re satisfied now. They’re probably just too embarrassed to backtrack after all the complaining.” I finally let myself breathe. But as I set my phone down, a few new messages popped up. It was from my manager, Jenna. “Ms. Vance, I’ve muted everyone in the group. They were being completely unreasonable, insulting you over a bonus! It was disgraceful.” “Don’t you worry, I’ll have a word with them. I promise this will never happen again.” She even added a few fawning emojis, clearly proud of herself. My brain exploded. I hit the voice message button, my voice a furious hiss. “Who told you to do that?! Unmute them in the next three seconds or you’re fired!” Not two seconds after my voice message went through, the chat detonated again, every message aimed directly at me. “What a power move from our dear CEO. First, she nickel-and-dimes our benefits, and now she’s trying to silence us!” “Heh, so much for her ‘Five-Star Employer’ image. The mask is finally off.” “Why are we even wasting time talking to this black-hearted capitalist? Let’s just file a complaint with the Department of Labor. We’ll sue her for everything she’s worth!” … Reading the messages, my world spun. I had offered everything I could think of. The benefits package was far more generous than any other year. I couldn’t understand why they were getting angrier, why they were attacking me with such venom. Liam was pacing beside me like a caged animal, muttering, “What do we do, what do we do?” He even suggested trying to multiply the cash bonus again. I shot that idea down instantly. After a moment of frantic thought, I made a decision: I would talk to them face-to-face and find out what they really wanted. But when I stood before them and asked, they all just stared back, silent and stony-faced. This was even stranger. “If you’re unhappy with my bonus proposals, you need to tell me what you want,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “How can I fix this if you don’t talk to me?” An employee named Rebecca sneered. “Ms. Vance, you know exactly what this is about. Why are you putting on this act?” “If you want to exploit us, just say so. You don’t have to play these games. It’s exhausting for everyone.” Another employee, Jessica, scoffed. “Exactly. And here I thought you were some kind of saint. Turns out you were just setting a trap for us all along.” “I’ve seen shameless bosses before, but you take the cake. You make me sick.” A chorus of angry murmurs rose from the crowd. Everyone was glaring at me as if I’d personally wronged them. After being inexplicably attacked for so long, even my patience wore thin. “You were unhappy with the bonus, so I kept adding more! The benefits I’m offering now are better than any other company in our industry!” I exclaimed, my voice rising. “And if you’re still not satisfied, you can just tell me what you want, and I’ll make it happen!” “But you won’t say anything! You just stand there and insult me! How is that supposed to solve anything?” I thought that, surely, someone would finally tell me the truth. Instead, they all just smirked at me, their silence more unnerving than their anger. A chill ran down my spine as I looked at their faces, remembering how these same people had killed me. I turned and walked away. Behind me, I heard a few mocking laughs. “See? She’s running away. Guilty conscience.” “She played the innocent victim so well, I almost bought it.” The insults followed me all the way back to my office. I collapsed into my chair, staring blankly at the ceiling. I had done everything I could, but I was no closer to understanding why my generosity was being met with such hatred. If this continued, I didn’t know what I was going to do. My phone rang. It was Liam. “Ava, I’ve been thinking. It has to be about the money. They just want a bigger cash bonus. I know you said no when I suggested it before.” “You’re worried about the company’s finances. I get it. So, I’ll cover the difference personally.” “I’ve already sent out the announcement for you: everyone’s bonus has been increased to ten times the original amount!” My mind went blank with sheer terror. “Liam, undo it, right now—” I shrieked into the phone. But it was too late. A roar of fury erupted from outside, growing louder by the second. The next thing I knew, the glass wall of my office shattered. The door frame splintered as someone kicked it in. I scrambled into the reinforced supply closet I’d had installed for emergencies, clamping my hand over my mouth to stifle my own screams. The sounds of destruction continued for another ten minutes before finally fading. When I was sure it was safe, I crept out. The office was a disaster zone. A wave of cold fear washed over me. Based on my last life, a ten-times bonus wasn’t a death sentence, but if they had caught me, I wouldn’t have walked away unscathed. I called Liam. My frustration with him boiled over. “Liam, from this moment on, you are not to make a single decision without my explicit approval. Do you understand me?” He sounded completely bewildered, but after another stern warning, he meekly agreed. Jenna called soon after. She explained that it was just a few hot-headed male employees who had trashed the office. Most people weren’t involved, and the situation was now under control. I breathed a sigh of relief and asked her to schedule an all-hands meeting. Next, I called my bank manager. I requested ten million dollars in cash, delivered immediately with a team of armed guards. In the conference room, my employees stared in stunned silence at the mountain of cash stacked behind me and the line of armed guards standing along the wall. Liam and Jenna looked just as confused, clearly wondering what I had up my sleeve. I let my gaze sweep across the room. “Given everyone’s hard work this year,” I began, my voice clear and firm, “I have decided to increase the year-end bonus to one hundred times the standard amount. It will be paid out today, in cash.” The room exploded. Not with cheers, but with rage. Nearly every face was contorted with fury. I could feel the murderous intent radiating from them. If it weren’t for the armed guards, I have no doubt they would have rushed me right then and there. No one moved, but a tidal wave of curses washed over me. “Ava, we worked our asses off to build this company, and this is how you repay us? You’re trying to ruin us! Are you even human?” “You do this, and you’ll have my family’s blood on your hands! I’ll haunt you from my grave!” “I’m going to kill you, Ava!” A few employees couldn’t control themselves. They grabbed chairs and charged at me, their faces promising violence. The guards intercepted them easily. The others stayed put, but their glares were filled with a venom that made my skin crawl. I took a steadying breath. “I’m not here to threaten anyone,” I continued. “I just want to know one thing. Giving you a bonus should be a good thing. Why are you all so against it?”

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